A light that guides...

In my search for the monologue of Roark (the main protagonist in the Fountainhead), I chanced upon this other conversation between Howard Roark (HR) and Gail Wynand (GW) .This is a glimpse of that conversation which these two very different men share on a yatch, under the blue skies, free from the presence of the rest of the world. A world which does not understand them and a world that does not accept them. They have both lived their lives their own ways... one indifferent to the world and one trying to fight the world by gaining more and more power. These two men share these very different approaches to world and the people in it and yet they have a common thread which binds them. Both share a complete disregard for the opinion of the masses and both have lived a life on their own terms. They share an understanding that is deep and all pervasive. There is a bond between the two men from when they meet for the first time. They share camaraderie and respect for each other that defines their friendship. The difference in their ideologies is very visible in the following conversation but there is also a great affection which binds them despite the differences.

Wynand is talking about Selflessness in the absolute sense as preached by Ellsworth Toohey. He is of the opinion that true selflessness does not exist and Roark contradicts him and the conversation that follows is a masterpiece in english writing.

HR: The thing that is destroying the world. The thing you were talking about. Actual selflessness.

GW: The ideal which they say does not exist?

HR: They are wrong. It does exist - though not in a way they imagine. Its what i couldn't understand about people for a long time. They have no self. They live within others. They live second-hand. Look at PK.

I've looked at PK - at what's left of him - and it's helped me to understand. He's paying the price and wondering for what sin and telling himself that he's been too selfish. In what act or thought of his has there ever been a self? What was his aim in life ? Greatness in other people's eyes. Fame, admiration, envy - all that which comes from others. Others dictated his convictions, which he did not hold, but he was satisfied that others believed he held them. Others were his motive power and his prime concern. He didn't want to be great, but to be thought great. He didn't want to build, but to be admired as a builder. He borrowed from others in order to make an impression on others. There's your actual selflessness. It's his ego that he has betrayed and given up. But everybody calls him selfish.

GW: That's pattern most people follow.

HR: Yes! And thats the root of every despicable action? Not selfishness but precisely the absence of a self. Look at them. The man who cheats and lies, but preserves a respectable front. He knows himself to be dishonest, but others think he is honest and he derives his self-respect from that, second-hand. The man who takes credit for the achievement which is not his own. He knows himself to be mediocre, but he's great in the eyes of others. The frustrated wretch who professes love for the inferior and clings to those less endowed, in order to establish his own superiority by comparison. The man whose sole aim to make money.Now, I don't see anything evil in the desire to make money. But money is only a means to some end. It man wants it for a personal purpose - to invest in an industry, to create, to study. to travel, to enjoy luxury, he's completely moral. But the men who place money first go much beyond that. Personal luxury is a limited endeavour. What they want is ostentation: to show, to stun, to entertain, to impress others.. They're second-handers. Look at our so called cultural endeavours. A lecturer who spouts some borrowed rehash of nothing at all that means nothing at all to him - and the people who listen and don' give a damn, but sit there in order to tell their friends that they have attended a lecture by a famous name. All second-handers.

GW: If I were Ellsworth Toohey, I'd say: aren't you making out a case against selfishness? Aren't they all acting on a selfish motive - to be notice, liked and admired.

HR: - by others. At the price of their own self respect. In the realm of greatest importance - the realm of values, of judgement, of spirit, of thought, they place others above self, in the exact manner which altruism demands. A truly selfish man cannot be affected by the approval of others. He doesn't need it.

I think Toohey understands that. That's what helps him spread his vicious nonsense. Just weakness and cowardice. It's so easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own accord. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can't fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousands to charity and to think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence - such as easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.

That, precisely, is the deadlines of second-handers. They have no concern for facts, ideas, work. They are concerned only with people. They dont ask: "Is this true?" They ask:"Is this what others think is true?".

Not to judge, but to repeat. Not to do, but to give the impression of doing. Not creation, but show. Not ability, but friendship. Not merit, but pull. What would happen to the world without those who do, think, work, produce? Those who are the egotists. You don't think through another's brain and you dont' work through another's brain. When you suspend your faculty of independent judgment, you suspend consciousness. To stop consciousness is to suspend life. Second-handers have no sense of reality. Their reality is not within them, but somewhere in that space which divides one human body from another. Not an entity but a relation - anchored to nothing. That's the emptiness i couldn't understand in people. That's what stopped me when i faced a committee. Men without an ego. Opinion without a rational process. Motion without brakes or motor. Power without responsibility. The second-hander acts but the source of his actions are scattered in every other living person. It's everywhere and nowhere and you cat reason with him. He is not open to reason. You cant speak to him - he can't hear. You're tried by an empty bench. A blind mass running amuck, to crush you without sense or purpose.

GW: I think your second-handers understand this, try as they might not to admit it to themselves. Notice how they'll accept anything except a man who stands alone. They recognize him at once. By instinct. There's a special insidious kind of hatred for him. They forgive criminals. They admire dictators. Crime and violence are a tie. They've got to force their miserable little personalities on every single person they meet. The independent man kills them - because they don't exist within him and that's the only form of existence they know. Notice the malignant kind of resentment against any idea that propounds independence. Notice the malice towards an independent man. Look back at your life Howard, and at the people you've met. They know. They are afraid. You're a reproach.

HR: That's because their sense of dignity always remains in them. They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive. They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive.

They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive. So after centuries of being pounded with the doctrine that altruism is the ultimate ideal, men have accepted it in the only way it could be accepted. By seeking self-esteem through others. By living second-hand. And it has opened the way for every kind of horror. It has become the dreadful form of selfishness which a truly selfish man couldn’t have conceived. And now, to cure a world perishing from selflessness, we’re asked to destroy the self. Listen to what is being preached today. Look at everyone around us. You’ve wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it. If any man stopped and asked himself whether he’s ever held a truly personal desire, he’d find the answer. He’d see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He’s not really struggling even for material wealth, but for the second-hander’s delusion--prestige. A stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded. He can’t say about a single thing: ’This is what I wanted because I wanted it, not because it made my neighbors gape at me.’ Then he wonders why he’s unhappy. Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. The things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing. But now we are taught to throw everything within us into public light and common pawing. To seek joy in meeting halls. We haven’t even got a word for the quality I mean--for the self-sufficiency of man’s spirit. It’s difficult to call it selfishness or egotism, the words have been perverted, they’ve come to mean Peter Keating. Gail, I think the only cardinal evil on earth is that of placing your prime concern within other men. I’ve always demanded a certain quality in the people I liked. I’ve always recognized it at once - and it’s the only quality I respect in men. I chose my friends by that. Now I know what it is. A self-sufficient ego. Nothing else matters."

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This is an ideal to aim for. This is a philosophy to live by but I am perhaps stuck somewhere in between. Stuck in transition. In between these two worlds, where I to care for the opinions of some people even as I try to build my life my way.

And then as Roark says, " I can die for my friends, but I can't live for them."

The true egotist...

The following is an excerpt from "Fountainhead" that I truly cherish. It is something that in essence has stayed with me since the day I read it the first time because I found perfect resonance in it. Some people and their ideas ever so often make me want to revisit the idea and every time I do that I have only found greater and greater acceptance for it. The book fountainhead came to me, out of the blue, through a friend who was reading it nearly 7 years ago. The opening page of the book gripped me to an extent that I just went and bought the book. This was quite special at that time because being a college student I wasn’t loaded with finances but the book's hold was such that the one page I read was enough to hook me on. Since then, it was only a matter of time that I read most of Ayn Rand's works and so far I have not found a more inspiring philosophy in all my readings.

Here is the excerpt which proceeds as a monologue by the main protagonist - Howard Roark, in the novel "Fountainhead" as he is defending himself in the court of law, indicted as he was for the charge of blowing up a major constructional project which was designed by him.

"Thousands of year ago, the first man discovered how to make fire. He was probably burned at the stake he had taught his brothers to light. He was considered an evil doer who had dealt with a demon mankind dreaded. But thereafter men had fire to keep them warm, to cook their food, to light their caves. He had left them a gist they had not conceived and he had lifted darkness off the earth. Centuries later, the first man invented the wheel. He was probably torn on the rack he had taught his brothers to build. He was considered a transgressor who ventured into forbidden territory. But thereafter, men could past an horizon. He had left them a gift they had not conceived and he had opened the roads of the world.

That man, the unsubmissive and the first, stands in the opening chapter of every legend mankind has recorded about its beginning. Prometheus was chained to a rock and torn by vultures - because he had stolen the fire of the gods. Adam was condemned to suffer - because he had eaten the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Whatever the legend, somewhere in the shadows of its memory mankind knew that its glory began with one, and that one paid for his courage.

Throughout the centuries there were man who took first steps down new roads armed with nothing but their own vision. Their goals differed, but they all had this in common: that the step was first, the road new, the vision unborrowed, and the response they received - hatred. The great creators, the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors - stood alone against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great new invention was denounced. The first motor was considered foolish. The aeroplane was considered impossible, The power loom was considered vicious. Anesthesia was considered sinful. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead. They fought, they suffered and they paid. But they won.

No creator was prompted by a desire to serve his brothers, for his brothers rejected the gift he offered and that gift destroyed the soulful routine of their lives. His truth was his only motive. His own truth and his own work to achieve it in his own way. A symphony, a book, an engine, a philosophy, an aeroplane or a building - that was his goal and his life. Not those who heard, read, operated, believed, flew or inhabited the thing he had created. The creation, not its users. The creation, not the benefits other derived from it. The creation which gave form to his truth. He held his truth above all things and against all men.

His vision, his strength, his courage came from his own spirit. A man's spirit however is his self. That entity which is his consciousness. To think, to feel, to judge, to act are functions of the ego.

The creators were not selfless. It is the whole secret of their power -that it was self - sufficient, self-motivated, self-generated. A first cause, a fount of energy, a life force, a prime mover. The caretor served nothing and no one. He lived for himself.

And only by living for himself was he able to achieve the thing which are the glory of mankind, Such is the nature of achievement....

Man cannot survive except through his mind. He comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only weapon. Animals obtain food by force. Man had no claws, no fangs, no horns, no great strength of muscle. He must plant his food or hunt it, To plant he needs a process of thought. To hunt, he needs weapons, and to make weapons - a process of thought. From this simplest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from a single attribute of man - the function of the reasoning mind.

But the mind is an attribute of the individual. There is no such thing as a collective thought. An agreement reached by a group of men is the compromise or an average drawn upon many individual thoughts. It is a secondary consequence. The primary act - the process of reasoning must be performed by each man alone. We can provide a meal to each man but we cannot digest it in a collective stomach. No man can use his lungs to breathe for another man. No man can use his brain to think for another. All the functions of the body and spirit are private. They cannot be shared or transferred.

We inherit the products of the thoughts of other men. We inherit the wheel. We make a cart. The cart becomes an automobile. The automobile becomes an aeroplane. But all through the process, whatever we receive from the others is only the end product of their thinking.

The moving force is the creative faculty which takes this product as material, uses it and originates the next step. This creative faculty cannot be given or received, shared or borrowed. It belongs to single, individual men. That which it creates is the property of the creator. Men learn from one another. But all learning is only the exchange of material. No man can give another the capacity to think. Yet that capacity is our only means of survival.

Nothing is given to man on earth. Everything he needs has to be produced. And here man faces his basic alternative: he can survive in only one of the two ways - by the independent work of his own mind or as a parasite fed by the minds of others. The creator originates. The parasite borrows. The creator faces nature alone. The parasite faces nature through an intermediary.

The creator's concern is the conquest of nature. The parasite's concern is the conquest of men. The creator lives for his work. He needs no other men. His primary goal is within himself. The parasite liuves second-hand. He needs other. Others become his prime motive.

The basic need of the creator is independence. The reasoning mind cannot work under ant form of compulsion. It cannot be curbed, sacrificed or subordinated to any consideration whatsoever. It demands total independence in function and in motive. To a creator, all relations with men are secondary.

The basic need of a second-hander is to secure his ties with men in order to be fed. He places relations first. He declares that man exists in order to serve others. He preaches altruism.

Altruism is the doctrine which demands that man live for others and place others above self.

No man can live for another. He cannot share his spirit just as he cannot share his body. But the second hander has used altruism as a weapon of exploitation and reversed the base of mankind's moral principles. Men have been taught every percept that destroys the creator. Men have been taught dependence as a virtue.

[How and why that came about is something I fail to understand because our need to create is so strong, I find it strange as to how it gets masked. The reason probably lies in the fact that we lack the confidence that comes from a very strong ego and therefore want the approval of other people who are not simply related to us. This is a rational way of living because you want to be loved and accepted for what you are not who you are. This noble intention however becomes a beast in its own as the self is lost and the opinion of others becomes the most important aim in life - What begins then is a vicious cycle where one becomes a slave to the society and loses a sense of self and then begins a downward spiral leading one to a second-handers' life!!

The man who lives for others is a dependant. He is a parasite in motive and makes parasites of those he serves. The relationship produces nothing but mutual corruption. It is impossible in concept. The nearest approach to it in reality - the man who lives to others - is the slave. If physical slavery is repulsive, how much more repulsive is the concept of servility of the spirit? The conquered slave has a vestige of honor. He has the merit of having resisted and of considering his condition evil. But the man who enslaves himself voluntarily in the name of love is the basest of creatures. He degrades the dignity of man and the conception of love. But this is the essence of altruism.

Men have been taught that the highest virtue is not to achieve but to give. Yet one cannot give that which has not been created. Creation comes before distribution - or there will be nothing to distribute. The need of the creator comes before the need of any possible beneficiary. Yet we are taught to admire the second-hander who dispenses gifts he has not produced above the man who made the gifts possible. We praise an act of charity. We shrug at an act of achievement.

Men have been taught that their first concern is to relived the suffering of others. But suffering is a disease. Should one come upon it, one tries to give relief and assistance. To make that the highest virtue is to make suffering the most important part of life. The man must wish to see others suffer - in order that he may be virtuous. Such is the nature of altruism. The creator is not concerned with disease, but with life, Yet the work of the creator has eliminated one form of disease after another, in man's body and spirit, and brought more relief from suffering than any altruist could ever conceive.

Men have been taught that it is a virtue to agree with others. But the creator is the man who disagrees. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to swim with the current. But the creator is the man who goes against the current. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to stand together. But the creator is the man who stands alone.

Men have been taught that the ego is the synonym of evil, and selflessness is the ideal if virtue. But the creator is the egotist in the absolute sense, and the selfless man is one who does not think, feel, judge, or act. These are functions of the self.

Here the basic reversal is the most deadly. The issue has been perverted and man has been left no alternative - and no freedom. As poles of good and evil- he was offered two conceptions: egotism and altruism. Egotism was held to mean the sacrifices of others to self. Altruism - the sacrifice of self to others. This tied man irrevocably to other man and left him nothing but the choice of pain: his own pain borne for the sake of others or pain inflicted upon others for the sake of self. When it was added that man must find joy in self-immolation the trap was closed. Man was forced to accept masochism as his ideal - under the threat that sadism was his only alternative. This was the greatest fraud perpetrated on mankind.

This was the device by which dependence and suffering were perpetuated as fundamentals of life. The choice is not self sacrifice or domination. The choice is independence or dependence. The code of the creator or the code of the second-hander. This is the basic issue. It rests upon the alternative of life or death. The code of the creator is built on the needs of the reasoning mind which allows man to survive. The code of the second-hander is built on the needs of a mind incapable of survival. All that which proceeds from man's dependence upon man is evil.

The egotist in the absolute sense of the word is not the man who sacrifices others. He is the man who stands above the need of using others in any manner. He does not function through them. He is not concerned with them in any primary manner. Not in his aim, not in his motive, mot in his thinking, not in his desires, not in the source of his energy. He does not exist for any other man - and he asks no other man to exist for him. This is the only form of brotherhood and mutual respect possible between men.

Degrees of ability vary, but the basic principle remains the same: the degree of a man's independence, initiative, and persona love for his work determines his talent as a worker and his worth as a man. Independence is the only gauge of human virtue and value. What a man is and makes of himself; not what he has or hasn’t done for others. There is no substitute for personal dignity. There is no standard for personal dignity except independence.

In all proper relationships there is no sacrifice of anyone to anyone. An architect needs clients, but he does not subordinate his work to their wishes. They need him, but they do not order a house just to give him commission. Men exchange their work by free, mutual consent to mutual advantage when their personal interests agree and they both desire the exchange. If they do not desire it, they are not forced to deal with each other. They seek further. This is the only possible form of relationship between equals. Anything else is a relation of slave to master, or victim to executioner.

No work is ever done collectively, by a majority decision. Every creative job is achieved under the guidance of a single individual thought. An architect requires a great many men ti erect his building. But he does not ask them to vote on his design. They work together by free agreement and each is free in his proper function. An architect uses steel, glass, concrete, produced by others. But the materials remain just so much steel, glass and concrete until he touches them. What he does with them is his individual property and his individual product. This is the only pattern for proper cooperation among men.

The first right on earth is the right of the ego. Man's first duty is to himself. His moral law is never to place his prime goal within the persons of others. His moral obligation is to do what he wishes provided his wish does not depend primarily on other men. This includes the whole sphere of his creative faculty, his thinking, his work. But it does not include the sphere of the gangster, the altruist and the dictator.

A man thinks and works alone. A man cannot rob, exploit or rule - alone. Robbery, exploitation and ruling presuppose victims. They imply dependence. They are the province of the second-hander.

Rulers of men are not egotists. They create nothing. They exist entirely through the persons of others. Their goal is in their subjects in the activity of enslaving. They are as dependent as the beggar, the social worker and the bandit. The form of dependence does not matter.

But men were taught to regard second-handers - tyrants, emperors, dictators as exponents of egotism. By this fraud they were made to destroy the ego, themselves and others. The purpose of the fraud was to destroy the creators. Or to harness them, Which is a synonym.

From the beginning of history, the two antagonists have stood face to face: the creator and the second-hander. When the first creator invented the wheel, the first second-hander responded. He invented altruism.

The creator - denied, opposed, persecuted, exploited - went on, moved forward and carried all humanity along on his energy. The second-hander contributed nothing to the process except the impediments. Te contest has another name -the individual against the collective.

The 'common good' of a collective - a race, a class, a state - was the claim and justification of every tyranny every established over men. Every major horror of history was committed in the name of an altruistic motive. Has any act of selfishness ever equaled the carnage perpetrated by disciples of altruism? Does the fault lie in men's hypocrisy or in the nature of the principle?

The only good me can do to one another and the only statement of their proper relationship is - Hands off!"

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This is a philosophy that is different to understand and appreciate and even more difficult to follow.

But, as I see it, a true egoist is someone whose sense of self is so high that he doesn't care for what the world thinks. He works of his own merit and creates what he wants for the sheer joy of it, not with an eye on what rewards or what awards he will get because of them. Public appreciation does not matter because his sense of self is above that and independent of the world. He does not dwell in the words, minds and hearts of others. He is his own person. Radical, Yes! Difficult to understand, Yes! Difficult to comprehend, Yes ! But it sure will be amazing to be able to live like that...

And If I Did Not Make Mistakes

And if I did not make mistakes
And give too brief a thought to heavy questions
And too much time to little matter;
Or if I always knew which road to travel
Where every step would lead me into daylight
And if each face that turned to watch me pass
Was broken by a smile;
Or if whenever I should choose to lay my heart
Bare upon the sun-warmed grass,
It always was returned with tender touches
And carried by a song;
And if my heaviest burden were only to be
A breeze upon my back, and blossom in my hair,
And my brow was never crossed with lines of pain;
If all this endless summer were my lot
And winter's fury never beat me back,
Then I never would have seen the stormy nights
Through which I've struggled, fought and won;
I never would have known the joy of needed comfort given,
Or the essence of a friend.

--- By Katie Paton, a scottish poet

The road...

As life takes another unexpected turn around the bend, I decide to sit by the side and just watch.

Through my weary eyes, I see people. They come and they go. Rushing, meeting deadlines, setting goals and attaining them….

They are told that the end justifies the means and so they run frantically towards the end.

They trample and run over the road in their hurry to see the end. They use the road for all their needs oblivious of its presence. Sometimes they fall and they curse the road. They blame the road for every folly of theirs without ceasing to imagine what the world would be like without that very road....

Weighed down as I was by my burdens, I sat down by the edges and watched the road as it stoically braved every footstep that walked over it…

Unacknowledged, uncared for and yet un-protesting….

It is bruised and grazed as people walked over it in their mad rush for the end… The forces of nature weather the road even as it continues to lead the way. Through night and day, through summer or fall, the road stood there, ready to help and ready to guide. To strangers and to friends, to seekers and to the revelers. It doesn’t protest.

Why ?

How does it stand being used like that ?

Is it just putting up with it because it cannot fight ?

Is it helpless and therefore accommodating or is it just a greater being ?

Is it gracious and benevolent, spreading its largesse or is it just another victim ?

Is it clinging on to the hope that somewhere deep down inside people probably will realize the importance of the road that led them….?

Does it care for the fame it gets as people spread the word about it ?

Is the road only fulfilling its destiny ?

Does it 'understand', somewhere deep down, that the means matter more than the end ?

Or perhaps, the road is just another traveler like you and me seeking the unknown ?

Why can't I be like the road ?

Why do I care who finds their way through me ? Why do I feel "used" when people form

relationships driven by nothing but need and convenience ? Why am I not able to disconnect from all but my journey… ? Why am I not able to live the thought that the "means is all there is"… Maybe the road does not complain because it 'knows' that the road is all there is - the means and the end. Maybe that is what I need to learn.

Tiny quirks !!

I believe in love. It may be hormonal and chemical and all that.. but hey, what is not ? We are alive due to these very hormones and chemical reactions and our life is no less questionable than love is…

So, I believe in love … but what kind of love ? Love at first sight … ??? Definitely not … I have somehow never felt that I could fall in love with someone at first sight … That’s for the movies and kids … not for grown ups like me.. :)

I hope to find love in the midst of everyday life, love with acceptance and tolerance… Love for what you are and not for what you can or should be because that may never happen and then love will be disappointed forever… I wait for people who will know me for what I am and accept me with all my quirkiness.

People

Who will love me not because of the relationships that bind us without any choice...

Who will love me when I walk into a book store with no cash in hand and a resolve to not buy any more books but then compelled by the presence of books around me, I end up "investing" some more of my finances in books that I wonder when I will be able to read…

Who will love me as I make resolves to get down to exercising but all I manage to do is eat more chocolates… :)

Who will love me with that irritating argumentative tendency of mine to have an opinion on anything and everything and to say it honestly…

Who will love me when I talk to the stray dog which leaps at me everyday in hope of playing with me, but then I don’t play with it because the "obsessed with cleanliness person" in me does not want to get my hands dirty…

Who will love me when foolishly I try to lie and am caught time and again, cos I just cannot lie…

Who will love me despite the fact that I never really know what I want.. I can only start addressing the problem with what I don’t want in life… (Imagine going to the restaurant with someone who doesn’t know what she wants but will work at trying to rule out things she doesn’t want… what a sheer waste of time…but that’s what I do ;) !!!

Who will love me when I gaze at the moon and the stars for an eternity in a clear sky not wanting to get up and get back…

Who will love me despite my uncanny knack of sleeping early and not being able to stay up through a movie….

Who love me for my silences and my gregarious laughter

Who love me for my hypocrisy when I want to stay behind the camera but I want everyone else to stay In front if it…

Who will love my lack of diplomacy and social inadequacy because I just don’t like pretenses…

Who will notice how my eyes light up at the thought of a problem or an idea…and who will notice the lines on my forehead when I cringe due to the vanity on display…

Who will see the little child in me wanting to be comforted even as I look ready to take on the world…

Who will love me for my ability to cry unabashedly in every movie despite my claims of being strong and sensible…

Who will love my incessant chatter when I am In the mood for it and my plentiful silences when I am not…

Who will love me for my tendency to make life difficult for myself because it scares me that I am heading the wrong way when things come easy…

Who will love the fact that I still hope for fairy tale endings but I still prepare for the worst…

Who will love me for the fact that I make lists and forget them, spend without thinking twice but religiously tally my expenses…

Who will see all the quirkiness but who will also see the little girl who wants to do all she can for the people she loves…

"Boulevard Of Broken Dreams"

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone

Read between the lines
What's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...

Songwriters: Pritchard, Michael; Wright, Frank E., Iii; Armstrong, Billie Joe

A River runs through...

Like the banks of a river, you and I are similar in so many ways and yet so different. We share, we exchange and we understand and yet, we can never be the same. We are as different as the fertile soil on one hand and the rock on the other, as the river of humanity runs through… Our past, present and future are shared in some ways and yet we are at very different stages of our beings.

I am the rock that has hardened with time and has weathered many a storm. I live for myself by my own code, unmindful of what the world may say or think. I reach out to the skies to find my highest potential for no one but me. I have battled all my life against the forces of nature, in holding my own. I was driven by perfection and by my vision of utopia. I spent my life like a constant struggle from one test to another trying to better myself and prove myself all over again. Driven by perfection there was always more to do and never enough to celebrate. Driven by expectations, of me and of others I was never able to accept people for what they are. I could only see their potential and this unfulfilled potential unsupported by hard work and determination only angered and disappointed me. Over the years, I have seen my world come crashing down many a times with expectations unfulfilled and dreams shattered. I have been chipped and bruised. I have been run down and I have been run over. Over the years, in the tiny crevices of my being there is new life in the form of new hopes and dreams. They are a result of all my toil and they make life worthwhile for me.

You, on the other hand are the fertile soil on the banks at the other end of the river. You have lived your life and enjoyed your intellect, unhurried by challenges, trials and tribulations. Like the fertile alluvial soils, the river carries you with it. You are moulded by the river of humanity as it charts its course. You exist with the river and because of the river. You live for the masses, oblivious of your true potential as your goals are different from mine. On your fertile soils grow many an idea. The river that makes you who you are and you live your life with the river.

You look at the rock in me and say "Why are you so stubborn ? Why not flow with the river ? Why stand at the periphery and watch the world go by ?". And I watch you being carried from shore to shore, tossed up and down, with very passing current and I wonder - "Why not hold your ground ? Why not let go of the river ? Why not live for your own sake for that is the highest purpose after all ?".

But then, that’s who we are… It is our nature and such it will be… Until you are hardened by the forces of nature into the rock that forms the river bed and I weathered by storms form the river bank… And then life would have perhaps come a full circle… I see your future like me and you could see my future like you… Who is to survive, who knows ? And who knows whose way is the right way to live… It is only our nature that makes us so and that's how we will be till the forces of nature and the winds of time work their charm...

Living in randomness...

Mornings have always been my favorite time of the day as the first rays of the sun gently nudge the world awake. The campus where I am currently residing in, is a wooded enclave and is beautiful sight in the early mornings. It is wonderful to see the first rays of the sun passing through the foliage…

Gently touched by the first rays of light, the leaves glow with a golden hue as if emanating a divine light… The sunlight filters through these leaves and envelopes you like a warm blanket. It is on one such morning that I 'saw' these trees standing tall in the early morning sun. Waking up early is not a rarity with me and I have often marveled at the beauty of this sight but then for some reason, the true import of this vision had just not hit me for so many years...

Every tree had leaves of different colors and shades not just because of their age and size but also because of how the sunlight illuminated them. Some of the leaves were shining with an inherent brilliance as the first rays of the sun gently nudged them… The others although not very far seemed to be still in the cold as they happened to be away from the path of light. Being in the same part of the world, on the same tree, on the same branch, two leaves in such close proximity indeed had very different fates. Was this destiny ? Was this fate ? Was this controlled by the hand of God ?

The only thought that sprang to my mind was "Of course not !!".... It was just chance and randomness that one leaf happened to be in the direct path of light while the other was not... And at some other point in time, the other leaf will get its share of light... in this day or another, in this month or another or perhaps even in this year or another !!!

Things will even out in the long run...

This thought actually led me to draw a parallel with our lives... Ever so often, I ask myself voicing the question of - "Why me ?", "How can life be so unfair ONLY to me?", "How can the other person be so lucky ?"... Every time things have not gone my way and randomness has played its part in keeping me at the losing end of the spectrum (at least in my perception at that point in time)…my heart and my mind have only cried out this one question… And for at least a decade now, I have explored the various possible answers to this question without a satisfactory explanation…. As a theist, an agnostic and sometimes as a deist, I have tried to understand and address this one question. It is now finally as a pantheist or perhaps an atheist that I think I have come close to finding an acceptable answer….

Why should I consider myself any different from the leaf on the tree ? Sometimes, I am farther away from the rays of light and sometimes, I get plenty of sunshine... This is just pure randomness whereby chance is shaping my life... The only difference is that I, being a sentient being, am capable of making my choices, and directing the course of my life... Why is such randomness easy to accept for me when it comes to a leaf but not when it affects me directly ?

And now every time things fall apart and don't go my way, I try and remind myself of the leaf on the tree at far end of the spectrum...

I cross my fingers and bide my time for the light to come my way... :-)

Happy Birthday...

Sometimes as you are rushing through life, running frantically towards an end, everything seems hazy and distorted... At such times, moments arise which cause you to pause and wonder, to sit back and reminisce, to look forward and hope... And then the world appears clear and sharp... and life feels good !

A birthday was that punctuation needed for me to sit down and take stock... Asked to write about a group of people and a relationship which bound them together... I was at a loss for words and starting from the beginning was the only way forward...

The story as I see began nearly half a decade back...

Like monochromatic beams of light streaking through the universe there were 7 independent people who saw the world in a completely different light.... They had their own hues, views, and perspectives which tinged their worlds.

However, as destiny and randomness would have it, the forces of nature converged these seven lives like a prism and bound them into the bonds of friendship. Their disparate lives and viewpoints converged and their hues blended in harmony. Wholesome and complete, like the pristine purity of white light which emerges through the convergence of the 7 colors in a prism this group of people complemented each others' strengths and weaknesses. This was one complete being. There was the geek and the dude, the nervous wreck and the lazy bum, the planner and the executor, the yakker and the soul searcher, the sweet toothed and the spice seeker, the fortunate and thunderstruck, the artist and the muse, workaholic and the 'alcoholic'... :-)

Like a crystal which grows as if with a life of its own around a nucleating point these relationships too grew and attained a form and a life of their own... It was a friendship that framed our lives together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle...

As we battled our daily horrors, we had each other to fall back on. Our sorrows were divided and our joys multiplied...

In this new light, the world seemed like a different place. As one of those 7 colors, I saw the world for what it was through these various perspectives. It was a new world for me as my tinted glasses gave way to a brighter and a clearer picture of the world and its people. I saw the world for what it was and I saw myself for what I could be....

And then as we wove our way through the warps and wefts of space and time, these relationships and the bonds that held us morphed....but like the rainbow that streaks the sky, we seven friends stayed together as we charted our life's trajectories and followed our destines. To the world this friendship was like a beautiful rainbow with seven different colors but to us we were all parts of the same whole... Our lives were intertwined as they were woven together with a shared past even though the future lay in the unknown....

And today, as I type trying to wish someone special a wonderful birthday, I see the beginning of an end, the end of an era...

I also cross my fingers and hope that this end as i see, is only the end of the beginning, a beginning which held great promise ! A beginning which I deeply cherish as it defines me in more ways than one... I hope that as our lives unfold, our past will hold us together even in the future.

But then the melancholy is for another day and another time. Today is a time to celebrate... Its a time to wish someone the best in the world with the faith that wishes do come true... And so...

Happy Birthday Girl !!!

I hope and wish that you have a wonderful birthday and an even better life ahead...

Of love that spurns....

What does one do when the worst comes to pass ? When what you dreaded for all those days, actually manifests ? When you have to stand at the periphery, helpless with your hands tied, watching your precious relationship drifting away….

What do I do when I see the people I love, giving up and going down… What do I do when people lose the spirit of life in them? When they choose inaction over action, submission over passion, fear over courage, obedience over defiance and tolerance over resistance ??

Can I interfere ?

Its their life and it has to be their decision. Its not my choice to make and so I have to stay away.

And so, with my hands tied, I stand at the periphery watching her give up… I scream and yell, wave my hands, but she can't see me. She is probably blinded by her tears. Her vision is probably blurred or maybe she has given up indeed. Away she goes from the dreams she hadn't yet dreamt of and the life she hadn't yet lived…

only because she refused to resist and she refused to dare.

What do you do when at such times, your heart tells you "I told you so"… when your mind refuses to accept that such irrationality can exist in the world…

When you feel cheated by hope and want to give up on it… I have always had a "love-hate" relationship with hope… It comes ever so easily into my life as if it were a lost soul mate visiting after many years… A chance encounter becomes a lovely affair as I fall in love with it all over again. My mind chooses to ignore the warnings of the heart as it lets hope rule… only till the day that reality hits back and I find myself hopeless and alone all over again…

I don’t mind hopelessness. Its brutal but its honest. It spares me the disappointment of failed hopes. It prepares me for the worst. It’s a companion for life. It stands by my side through the turmoil and does not leave me, as hope often does. It keeps me grounded for life as I take every step with caution avoiding every fall and hurt that might litter my path. It walks steady with me and holds on to me.

But then I find my will and my spirit only when hope is around. With her by my side, my labors feel lesser and my burdens lighter. My heart dares to fly only to hit the ground again but, for those few moments, it finds the wind beneath its wings and it flies. It soars above the sorrows and the miseries as it hopes for the best. It finds its spirit and its will. It dares to fight because it hopes for the change it wants.

And so my mind becomes a victim of my heart as it vacillates between hope and hopelessness.

A nameless thought...

Our lives are a result of our thoughts. Our lives are lived through our thoughts.

Every day and every moment, I try and fit my diverse thoughts into words. Words - these abstract entities that make my thoughts real. So much so, that, more often than not, our thoughts are trapped in the words we use. They sometimes find meaning and purpose through the words, only in the minds of a listener.

In this constant struggle to pick out the best of the words from the sea in front of me, I find my mind spaces to be crowded with words. Sometimes, I find my mind cluttered with words as I try and fit my thoughts into them. At other times, I find my mind cluttered with thoughts as I try and find words to fit them.

Not always do I find the perfect match.

Sometimes, however, in between these hours of madness, I discover silences.

Silences that fill me as I lose the need for words and thoughts. Silences that express everything beautifully.... Silences that abound in my mind spaces as I try and make sense of the world. Silences that resonate and remove the need for words. Silences that space out the words and de-clutter the mind. Silences that leave me wondering why I love these "words".

But then.... I soon realize the need for words. Words. My tools to think, to express, to feel and to let go...

And so, I switch between these two mind states alternately...
as my mind gets filled with words or silences....
as they resonate in me and I make sense of the world around me...

Two lives...

We are friends. Two friends who are bound by complementarity than similarity. Two people, whose hearts and souls are bound together as their minds and lives are moving apart. We are different. As different as people can be. She lives her life with others beliefs and I believe in making every mistake on my own. She lives in faith while i have worked hard to move away from it. I am strong-willed and want to build my life on my own while she is accommodating and ever so obedient. She believes in the power of the almighty and i in the human mind and spirit.

Could such different people be friends ? Seems unlikely, but we were. For nearly a decade now... through ups and downs and life's various trials.... As i fought through them and she made peace with them... Different approaches but who's to say what's better and what's not.

But today, we stand at the crossroads. She is walking on roads that she is not sure of but is doing so because people who love her have told her so. She walks in faith holding on to nothing but hope. They tell her life is a quicksand and we must all dive in to battle it and she has decided to take the plunge. I try telling her that this is not the only way and that there are other places in the world where the ground is hard and fertile and where flowers bloom. Where the sun shines not to burn you but to warm you, where the rains bring you joy and not a flood of tears, where happiness is attainable and not merely the horizon at the distance. I tell her and I wait. I wait for her call to pull her out. of these mires. But I can't do anything else because it is her life and her choice after all. I stand in the corner, feeling lost and helpless, counting my options and biding my time. Hoping that she will look back, hear my pleas and turn around. I want her to make her choice on her own, knowing fully well all the other options that she has before her.

Life is not just about one way. There are many ways and many places and we need to make those informed choices on our own. Not because someone else thinks they are right but because we think they are right. I want to scream out to her so she knows that we build our lives by our own two hands. No one else, not even her "God" up there will do that for us. We have to battle it out and build our lives. We have to make our choices, make our mistakes and live our lives. I want to pull her back but something holds me back... It's her life and I can't live it for her. I have to let go and its my lesson to learn.

But dear friend, I wish you 'd understand all that I am trying hard to not tell you. I wish you all the happiness in the world on this new journey of yours but please know that even though i might be on a different road, i will always be there for you. And I am just a call away. I wish that the quicksand i see ahead is nothing but a mirage and i hope that you are walking on a steady ground. I wish you all the happiness and the joy, because you deserve it and its time you had your share of the good things in life.

I realize that one of the most difficult things in life is to "let" people you care for make mistakes and go down roads that you know are wrong. But... its my lesson to learn and my road to take...

Writer's block...

With the ticking of the clock,
I can feel a writer's block.
nothing seems too good to write,
and no idea seems too bright.

My head is teeming with thoughts,
but they are all tied up in knots.
Have I lost my muse,
Or is that just a ruse ?

Sometimes, for lack of words, I am holding on to thoughts,
And at other times, for lack of thoughts, i am holding on to words.
I wish i could fit my thoughts into words,
and set them free from the chords.

I wish to see the end of this block...
I hope to find the key to this lock.
To set out my thoughts from the dock,
against the wind and against the rock...

Great expectations....

We build our lives and our relationships on the foundations of expectations...
Expectations we have from ourselves, expectations we have from others, expectations from certain days, lives and events....

Our lives are built on this soil of expectations. Sometimes soft and porous , helping us grow and yet sometimes hard and difficult as a rock... Expectations can work either ways...

Great expectations from oneself lead one to aspire for bigger achievements and is only motivational which is a of course a good thing! Like the fertile soils of a rich land they can help one bloom and realize one's true potential. The problem however arises when we have expectations out of others. What should or shouldn't be done by them, what should or shouldn't be said by them! This is the root cause for many a problems. At this point our expectations become like solid rock - rigid, strong and even brittle. They give way ever so often leaving us feeling neglected, unwanted and blue... Contemplation only reveals the cause to be expectation. Someone or something just did not match up to our expectations.

Why have expectations ? Why can't we build our lives free of this soil....? Can these be transformed ?

No matter how much I steer of this one folly, i find myself drifting towards it every now and then. As a relationship deepens or a friendship blossoms, we start building a framework in our mind of how things should be... we start expecting. And then our expectations keep increasing till the point that they are not realized and then we are stranded with a broken heart or a troubled mind. I am lost in the maze of expectations and i see myself struggling to get out of this vicious cycle ever so often. I do manage to but then its never without a blue day and quite a few hours of introspection.... I try to bubble wrap my relationships so that they are not drowned in this flood of expectations but rarely am i successful in my endeavors.

I wish I knew...a way to escape from this maze. To stop expecting and to be able to live each day and each relationship as a new beginning.

The Paradox of Life

A bit beyond perception's reach
I sometimes believe I see
that Life is two locked boxes, each
containing the other's key.

Piet Hein, Danish mathematician, physicist, philosopher, writer and creator of puzzles and games.

The circle of life...

A long time ago, a little girl came into the world as a daughter to parents who doted on her. She was the apple of their eye and they worked at protecting her from the harsh climes of the world.

She loved her daddy and he made her want to be just like him. He inspired in her the qualities of discipline, hard work, honesty and determination. Her mother imbibed in her the strength and the courage to face life as it came. Under the watchful eyes of her parents, she grew up to be a young adult with a mind of her own. She rebelled customs, traditions and norms and grew up questioning almost everything her parents believed in. They tried their best to fit her ideas into their world but it was always a compromise on both ends. She pursued her dreams and developed her ideas as her family helped her to soar. She wanted to excel at everything as her father and he became a role model to look up to. She grew up in her parents' shadow learning from their mistakes and building her own life minute by minute, year by year!

It was only a matter of time that she grew up and could respect their views without giving up on her own. She agreed to disagree with her parents on many accounts and learnt to respect them for their opinions and for the life they built together. She was learning the necessity for honesty and diplomacy in conveying her point of view. She was an adult and was growing up in the likeness of her father, just as she wanted!

She was still daddy's little girl though who always knew that he will be there to set things right and to help her with all her decisions. She grew up believing that her parents will watch over her just as they always have. She fought their shadow at times but she knew that she treasured the shade it provided.

But then one day, her dad called asking her for the solution to a problem.

She felt the shadow moving. She was no longer Daddy's little girl who could run to him for every little problem seeking comfort. She was an adult now and was responsible for them. Life had indeed come a full circle. It was that time when they needed the strength and the support to carry on with life as they knew. It was a time when their mind and body would both begin to fail them but she needed to be there to make a difference...

The shadow she fought all her life to walk away from was now moving and she could feel the heat ...

She could no longer be the little girl who thought "My daddy is the strongest"...

Life does come a full circle...