Idyllic Thoughts

Many extol the virtues of a beautiful sculpture carved out of stone. They say that only when a stone endures the strikings of a sculptor's chisel and bloom into an attractive form can its life (!) be fulfilled. Don't you think its 'fulfillment' is quite unnatural? What the stone finally turns out to be is the dream of the sculptor, not that of the stone. The thoughts and aspirations belong to the sculptor. The stone, which though was 'deformed' earlier in the eyes of the beholder, had its own individuality and freedom which was lost when the chisel touched it for the first time. Did the stone want to become a beautiful, 'meaningful' statue? May be, may be not.

At last, India has become a Ramarajya - no, not the ideal kind but the kind where a Sita who crossed a 'boundary' was banished, where an unsuspecting Ahalya was turned into stone, where a Draupadi who loved Arjuna was married to his brothers too, where a rape victim is blamed to be the cause for her ordeal; in sum total, where a woman's opinions are not sought or heard, where a woman is supposed to be the epitome of silence and subservience. Wonder what makes people to think that love is shown through body and not mind? I also wonder what made sage Uddalaka, who too lived in an ancient era alien to women's freedom and equality concepts, tell his son Shvetaketu that "a woman is free to do as she pleases" when his wife went off with another man. When Shvetaketu questions his paternity, Uddalaka answers, "It is not my seed that makes you my child, it is my love.” Who is great? A person whose confusions regarding relationships were given the name of dharma...

Yesterday my bus home was stopped to allow a peaceful candlelight procession against Delhi's gangrape pass; and sitting silently inside a well-lit bus, watching those young men and women (may be they were just girls and boys a week ago, but now they have grown up) walk with determination holding placards and candles, I was filled with pride. Pride for being in a nation where there is still hope. Pride that our youth have come on to streets for something worthwhile, for a girl they have never seen, never heard of till now, never even know her name, and who lives far far away in a city most of them have never visited. Pride that till now I had watched youth coming onto streets for freedom or any other just cause in other countries, watched with envy that it may not happen in our country riddled with corruption, but it did. And I feel contented. I feel it will change the course of our nation, soon. I thought people would talk for some days, argue on TV channels over the need for a ...

"The world breaks us all and afterward, some are stronger at the broken places," said Ernest Hemingway. I read this somewhere yesterday and was very impressed. How true! I thought. But then I googled the line and got the rest of the sentence, which was not just true, but very funny; one may say 'philosophically funny.'-- "...But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry." So what's the hurry to get broken and killed? We may as well enjoy this life well before the world kills us leisurely. Don't you think so?

That Chinese curse 'You may find what you are looking for' is coming true again and again for me. I was unaware of the fact that I always get what I am looking for, with strings attached! Getting what I want badly, comes with a side effect. I guess this is just a way of universe balancing itself with some tears along with the smile. Do I want the smile at the cost of tears? Or do I have to forfeit the smile itself for the sake of a few tear drops? Does the universe really conspire to get you what you wholeheartedly want? Or is it just pure nonsense?

Sunday mornings are a time to sleep, get lazy and relax for most people. But for me, it is a time to enjoy the tranquility of empty boulevards, empty buses... there is a sort of peace in getting up early and travelling when most are cooped up in their cozy homes, watching TV and drinking morning coffee.  Today morning I saw a young woman from the window of my bus, who looked mentally imbalanced, walking on the footpath. She suddenly jumped onto the road and started rolling beneath the footpath, laughing to herself. I wondered what went through her mind which prompted her to do that. Next I saw a group of footpath dwellers, mostly labourers, who live near the City Railway Station, squatting on the road side. A little away from them, a beautiful baby was placed on a mat. It was covered in blanket. It was turned over, playing to itself oblivious to the world. I wonder what she will become when she grows up. I wonder what ordeals she will have to face when she stops playing and ...

The future is where we will live tomorrow. Whether you will live in it all alone, or with someone new walking in after every act, only to leave a short while later, still a stranger, or with someone who will hold your hand and walk with you till you both drop off the horizon would depend on you asking the right questions as you explore a new relationship. Reading the above lines in an article in Sunday Indian, I feel not all the times can the right questions sustain a relationship; sometimes you don't even need to. All pieces of puzzle fit perfectly some time though we don't know when and remain impatient and restless till the time comes.