Idyllic Thoughts

A few evenings ago, I was sitting on the porch reading a book. When I looked up, I saw a black cat with white streaks which often runs around in our compound, crouching, staring at something intently. Its front paws were folded and eyes narrowed in concentration. It stealthily moved forward. A tiny bird was perching on the ground beneath a Crape Jasmine tree (Nandi Battalu). Fully engrossed in the book, I couldn't at first grasp the action or rather the inaction of the cat and when it dawned on me, I tried to shoo away the cat. Disturbed out of its intense concentration, it looked at me accusingly and without any further delay, pounced on the bird. However, the bird alerted by the commotion, flew away. Looking at the disappointed cat, a question arose in my mind. Did I just snatch away its natural prey and was it wrong from the viewpoint of nature's food chain? I don't know.

If all the world's a stage and we are all actors, then why bother playing to an empty gallery? -- Shwetha Halambi. More on this later.

"When do I make my mark in this world?" asked her mind. "Why do you need to make a mark in this world?" questioned a tiny voice from deep within her, trembling slightly as it's yet a child in the midst of towering consciousnesses. "Because I wish to be remembered for posterity," replied the mind, slightly irritated that a young one had bothered to question her, who is known for her age old wisdom and scientific temperament. "And then what?" the tiny voice sought to know, emboldened by now. "And then people will follow the path shown by me, my ideals, my thoughts..." the mind said proudly. "My thoughts will become their thoughts; my command their wish." "Later?" persisted the child within. "Later? What's there for later? People will idolise me and worship me for my knowledge and for bringing them onto the true path. I will be God," boomed the mind. "Then?" the child who did not wish...

A point and a series of points. One represents the end and the other continuity... while a dot has a finality to it, the other gives a hope that there is something to look forward to, beyond the end. It is the writer's prerogative to move the pen beyond the 'full stop' and engage the reader in intellectual conversations. 

I was a journalist till now. I would write/edit news and articles where my only cutting job was that of virtual sentences on the screen. Now, I have got something else to cut : vegetables. I am learning full-fledged cooking and loving it. Who knew cooking could be so enjoyable? From pen to knife is a major change which I am relishing right now. The sense of accomplishment that comes when you create an intellectual piece on the paper and one on the stove are quite delightful, as both are challenging and taxing; one to the mind and the other to both mind and the muscles. Balancing words and balancing flavour... so long. 

Bid adieu to 5 year-6 month-12 days of journalism. Loved it and will miss it. But now, I guess other doors are open for me to enter, peek in all corners and explore -- sniff at life, taste it and widen your eyes to its delectability. I wish what lies behind those doors is as exciting as I imagined it to be. Once upon a time, I wished to be busy 24x7, with no time left to ponder on life's issues, troubles and tribulations. And my wish came true. Now, I wish to take things in a stride and enjoy what comes as part of the mystery package called tomorrow. Isn't it fun to guess what will happen tomorrow and be surprised when something which you would never imagine come your way? But it's also fearful sometimes when things manage to shock you and damage you irreparably. For now, I don't wish to bore myself and others. So sayonara.

It was raining and mom was walking on the road. At a place where road work was going on, a one-year-old baby sat on the wet ground defecating on the road side. It was oblivious to the fact that rain was pouring on its head. A few steps further, she saw that an older child was eating puffed rice, unworried by the rain drops falling on the eatable making it sogged. The child went hopping and skipping to its father who was lifting soil along with his wife, took a handful of puffed rice and put it into his mouth, laughing happily at the ordeal. Aren't we just a wee bit too worried about our dress, our behaviour, our language, our hygiene, our wealth, our position, our showing off, our opinions, our attitude and our life? What matters and what does not? Why are we self-involved?