Idyllic Thoughts

I am the Princess of Gaffes. Once an unthought or unintended word or sentence springs out of my mouth seeking hospitable ears, I chase it vainly finally falling flat on my face, adding one more hair-line crack on my wafer-thin ego. Since childhood, my versatile tongue would decide that it will start working at the oddest of times, in the oddest of situations, rendering any apology or salvaging the ruins of my self-respect impossible. That's why I chose silence. It has brought me a sort of respectability among my peers, a studious countenance and a whispered rumour that I am intelligent and knowledgeable. I have borne these untruths with magnanimity and a silent satisfaction that can be often seen on the faces of bad actors who perch high on collective praises from fans whose grey cells can be counted on fingertips. 

If a destitute person, with no kingdom, no palace, no princely robes, no wife and no children, had wandered in search of life, sat beneath a tree and realised that desire is the root of all ills, would he have become a Buddha? May be. May be not. It took a Siddhartha to become a Buddha.  May be there are many Buddhas around us, a destitute or a prince, who bring awakening in others and light up their lives.

My country has been studied, interpreted, discussed and judged. Whenever I read something about India, I ask myself, 'Has this person, whether Indian or outsider, really understood my country?' I haven't yet arrived at an answer. Is it that difficult to understand a people? May be. May be not. Many 'celebrated' writers and thinkers have arrived at conflicting conclusions, and most of them are right in their viewpoint, but only in parts. No one has been able to comprehend the potpourri of contradictions that is India, wholly. And then there are some who have fallen headlong into the muck of prejudice against India -- the weight of a prejudice they themselves lugged along even as they set foot in the country for the first time and emptied here. They are helped in the offloading by some of our own. Our cotton-clad, agenda-pushing men & women go abroad, attend seminars, charity balls, write columns in 'first world' newspapers, and drown the voices of t