What's in a name afterall ?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Shakespeare said that in 17th century and I tended to agree with him even in the twenty first century till of course I encountered an identity crisis of my own.

What is in a name ? It is just a way of being addressed that you choose (or rather your parents choose and you live with).... Isn't it ? You as a person are going to stay the same no matter whether you are called Joe or a J or a Juliet.

Or so I thought for the first 29 odd years of my life, till experience came knocking...

And then I came to the United States of America where it seemed like all names were drawn from a limited pool of nouns. Almost every guy was a Robert (aka Bob) or a James (aka Jim) or a John (Thankfully stayed John) or a Fred (aka Rusty) or variations thereof. Almost every girl was a Stephanie or a Julie or a Wendy or a Jill or a Jane or a similar modification of these similar names. And then in between all these names was mine - Suvasini. It was rare enough in India but here, I sure was one in a million... :)

All through my life I had lived with an unusual name. A name which required some spelling and enunciation corrections but more often than not people would eventually be able to call me out. I have heard many a variation on this name - Subhashini, Suvashini, Savasini, Savasni, Suvasni, Suhasini, Suhashini, and sometimes very rarely someone would latch onto Suvasini, the right way. But as you see they are not very far from the desired name... And so i lived with the alterations. I lived with the mutations and I lived with Shakespeare's wisdom encapsulated in those opening few words.

Actually, more than the alterations (or the mutations as the biologist in me would like to call them), what irked me a little was the first question that many people would ask : "So were you named after the actress - Suhasini?". Well, there was a famous actress called Suhasini and she was pretty good at her job too (I was certainly not embarrassed by her - nothing like having Saddam Hussein being your name pal) but... And this is a major BUT, I wasn't named Suvasini in honor of Suhasini.... They are just similar sounding names which mean completely (or atleast) very different things (almost like but and butt)...

Now, Don't get me wrong !! I am not complaining about my parents' unusual choice for a name. I love the name and the sound of it. It is a beautiful name (and trust me I am taking no credit for it as i had no say in the matter). I also love the fact that my name has a wonderful meaning and It almost feels like a blessing that came to me the day I was named and that was going to stay with me for the rest of my life, no matter what (I am definitely counting out a name change or an entry into a witness protection program here - those are rare events after all)...

But, I realized that I had a problem on hand when people couldn't get themselves to say my name in this new country. They just couldn't wrap this one word around their tongues.... I encountered it on my first day of orientation but then the PR personnel in a multinational institution are skilled enough to get by (with an hour long conversation also) without using your name (or using it rarely) and by asking you to fill out the umpteen forms. And then realization dawned when I walked into an orientation with the staff for animal work. There I gave my name out three times, pronouncing it each time like I was spelling out "Tri nitro Toluene" and I had a feeling that spelling TNT might have been easier, than was my name. I finally decided to take a more elaborate way of getting people to appreciate the word. I launched into a small note about how Indian names usually have a meaning and how my very own meant "one who lives well" - coming from the Sanskrit for good which is "Su" and the "Vas" which means "living". While the explanation took a while, the mission was a success because John (beware, I dont always use the right names.. ;)), my instructor for the day, caught on with the name and remembers it 4 months hence and never forgets to wave me a "hi" with my full name right behind it... :)

Different people here have gotten through the challenge differently. Some have chosen to ask me for the abbreviated version and have referred to me by that. Some have shortened it on their own to Su or Sue (can't really detect the spelling from the enunciation). Some have stuck with the full name and made very good attempts at getting it right. Some however are unable to deal with it and are unable to ask me "n" number of times (n being more than 2) and so they chose to not refer to me by name. Now this could work in a lot of situations say with people who end up calling me "lady" or "roomie" or "buddy" or "girl" but then in some situations like a more formal setting this system doesn't quite work (as you very well can see). And so my instructor in one of the classes resorts to visual communication. While we are all made to read passages out of our notes, she is unable to come up with a tangible sound and only manages to give me a sorry/nervous glimpse every time it is my turn.

And I appropriately react but this did put me in the throes of an identity crisis of sorts.

For a while, I could hear the taunts of all those Indian-Americans (whom i had secretly taunted) who shorten or alter their names - Jayachandran becoming Jay, Ramakrishnan or variants thereof that become Ram or Lakshmi becoming just Lax or of Madhavan becoming Maddy... I had never been very fond of these Americanized (or rather westernized) names because to me they were patronizing and they took the essence out of the name (I mean names which had a meaning became just words or rather sounds). But then when it came to my name, i did start seeing a reason as to why people did it. I am still not overtly enthusiastic about my cutting short my name but then it is difficult to keep looking at people wondering when they are talking to you... And if people are going be sensitive about asking for my name more than a couple of times, it doesn't really give me much time or opportunity to explain the meaning of my name or its essence... I mean, I can't possibly give a speech on my name and its meeting for an introduction... Imagine meeting someone who went on and on and on about their name "Hi ! :) My name is Suvasini. Su-Va-sini. I am an Indian and in India, most of the names have meaning. My name is derived from the Sanskrit language and it means, some one who lives well. My parents had great hopes and/or illusions... ;P" bla bla bla

(I do realize that is exactly what I am doing right now but then you have the opportunity of shutting your browser and so if you are still reading, it is out of choice; but the poor listener would not have the option of that life saving click )!!!!

So anyways, while, I am occasionally tempted to trim my name a little, i almost always choose to stick it out and let people juggle with the tongue twister of sorts. It is an exercise at pronunciation for them... to make sure they can roll their tongues in all the right ways.

And before you do reach out for that mouse to click on the close button, I am going to shut my trap and let you have your peaceful moments.

You are however welcome to click on the comments button and sympathize with me or send in some bricks or bats.... I will bear with the consequences of my actions one way or another.

Ah as for Shakespeare... I guess, names do matter... !!

The landscape of a country...

Being in a new country is an experience in itself. You are looking at a whole new world and not all things make sense the same way. Every country has a landscape of its own. A place that makes it what it is, different from all others.

It has taken me a long time to find the pulse of this new country I am in - the United States of America. Somehow, as I moved into this new country, I felt like I have lost that intuitive understanding of a place and its people. Back home, in India, I was never left feeling out of place. In a new city or a new town, even when i didn't know the common language, I never felt lost. I had a mysterious sense of belonging, of assurance like from the needle of a compass always pointing in the same direction. This compass however seemed to have lost its bearings the moment I stepped in here (despite the familiar language). That maybe a consequence of the differences in the magnetic strength. The two countries are after all at different places with respect to the magnetic poles... ;)

However on a more serious note, it is difficult to find the reason for this disorientation; but when I think about it, there is a difference in the landscapes of the two countries.

While, the Indian landscape was defined by its people, the American people are united by a culture. In India, the cultures change like the wind patterns. There is a new language, a new dialect, a new culture every few hours. There are new festivals and foods being celebrated all over. The cities are morphing faster than the moulting of a caterpillar. But the people remain the same. They all have the distinct Indian features - physical and mental. They have similar concerns, they have similar thought processes and similar appearances. They share a common history that goes back several millenia and there is a common thread tying them all together as people. It was easier to understand them all as one collective mass of humanity with their idiosyncrasies, their follies and their foibles. And of course, my existence there for nearly three decades makes me understand them intuitively, as i understand myself.

But here, in the US, there are people from all over. People of all the different races and nationalities have found a home here in the US. In fact, when i think about it, if an alien spacecraft ever did a random sampling of America, it would not be able to identify the natives from the immigrants. And it wouldn't surprise me, if there were more Asians (Chinese, Japanese, Koreans and Indians) and europeans than native Americans. And they all have different mindscapes, origins, habits and concerns. They think differently and react differently. And this has made the american landscape more of a cultural thing than that of common ancestry. To me, America and its people are defined, not by their origins but by their life style - the american way of life. A life made of pre-cooked meals, frozen foods, of cars and gadgets, of technology and energy, of rap/rock music and of Hollywood. America is made of those quintessential family-homes, of people who have a 5 day work week and want to/try to/ exercise regularly. It is a country which is known by its culture - its culture of freedom, of speech, of families and of people. When I think of america, I don't see a face, or a common history - i see a culture, a way of life. A culture where education is expensive, where savings are non-existent, where heating food in the microwave is called cooking, where people follow rules of the road and where people wish strangers. I see children moving out of homes, and parents living independently till the very end. I see "use and throw" obliterating the practice of repair. I see massive energy consumption even as there are massive efforts to recycle and conserve (It sounds oxymoronic but it is true and this is one aspect I find most mind-bogglingly fascinating). I see a culture where superficially people are granted the freedom to be as they please but there is an invisible mold that they are expected to conform to. There is a cloak of open-mindedness that conceals a more deep rooted feeling of parochialism. There is a facade of mutual agreement, appearances and social courtesy that covers deep rooted feelings of disagreement, anger, jealousy and loneliness. Their apparent friendliness is limited by its boundaries, quite unlike the Indian hospitality and concern which can sometimes run you over like a herd of wildebeests. While these things make it seem like US is not a great place to be in, let me clarify, that like all other things - it has its share of perks too. There are quite a few things i really like here and i shall soon write about them.

And I guess, these many layers of the American being have confounded my understanding and left me a little disoriented. But i guess, I am slowly homing in and finding my coordinates all over again. I still don't understand it all completely but i am beginning to find trends that define a commonality.

Two friends....

Reason and Intuition are our companions for life. They walk into our lives at different stages and in different ways, but they are there to stay. Their characters and personalities are as different as night and day, leaving us ripped apart like the guy whose best friends don't get on well with each other.

Although, intuition comes early into our lives, he is shy and quiet. Like a reticent boy of few words, he speaks in quiet, muffled sounds. He goes unnoticed many a times and gets chided at many others, like the little child gently tugging at your trousers in a crowded marketplace. You have to strain to hear him as the world around drowns his words. Although, he grows with us, he is forever the gentle voice that we fail to hear as we struggle with making sense of the many voices in our head.

Reason, on the other hand has the stronger voice which keeps booming relentlessly in our head, making a point. The world basks in his glory and makes it seem like he can do no wrong. You like him too but sometimes, he is just too dictatorial and self righteous. With the years and the grey hairs, you rely on reason a lot more, but, he is never really your confidante. He is never really your sounding board, the friend who understands you, the friend who cares. He says the right things, not necessarily the things "right" for you. One is almost always fighting with him, trying to scream over his high pitch, trying to get heard. Even though, the voice of reason is loud and clear, it fails to find resonance in our heart. Reason fails to accept our fears and our limitations. Intuition on the other hand dwells in the unstated and in the unclear. He seems to have this uncanny ability to know what you want and guide you through life with a gentle hand. Quite unlike the pushes and shoves of reason.

With the years and the loud voices of reason echoing in our head, we fail to hear the whispers of intuition. So much so that somewhere along the way, we have forgotten that little friend whispering his fears and thoughts as we spend our days catching up with the voice of reason. But he is always there beside you and you can hear him when all the chatter in your head has quietened down... On some of those days, when nothing and no one seems to understand you, when your mind is dead with fatigue, when nothing seems to make sense, you can hear him whisper in a gentle but comforting manner....And you can feel life again. You can hear his pulse throbbing to the beat of your heart and things seem to fall in place.

All our life, we walk with these two. Sometimes relying on one and sometimes on the other. Disturbed by their contradicting voices, sometimes, you try and reconcile them. Sometimes, you invent reason to follow your intuition and at other times, you follow reason with a firm grip on intuition. But more often than not, while one is leading your way, the other is watching your back... and its good to never lose sight of either, because they both bring in different perspectives.

Deja vu...

I love reading but unlike some others I know, I don't happen to have too much of a head space for remembering what i have read. I can never remember the source of a statement, the names of the characters, the names of authors or books, the words used or the way the words are knit together. To summarize, a lot of the times or rather most of the time, I don't retain a lot of what i have read. All I have is a sense - a sense of what the book was about, a sense of the writing, a sense of the feelings that the writing evoked. I am usually left behind with this fuzzy feeling of familiarity, a sense of deja vu, that lingers with me, enough to indicate familiarity the next time i encounter those words. The following is a poem I had encountered long ago (at least my head seems to think so) and found again recently on another blog and it brought back that same wave of feelings that it had first evoked. I like it for the profound vision that is woven in its simplicity and for the bigger picture of life that it paints. Makes one pause and think about the many people and events that shape our lives without our even noticing it.

Candles

If on your grandmother's birthday you burn a candle
To honor her memory, you might think of burning an extra
To honor the memory of someone who never met her,
A man who may have come to the town she lived in
Looking for work and couldn't find it.
Picture him taking a stroll one morning,
After a wasted month with the want ads,
To refresh himself in the park before moving on.
Suppose he notices on the gravel path the shards
Of a green glass bottle that your grandmother,
Then still a girl, will be destined to step on
When she wanders barefoot away from her school picnic
If he doesnt stoop down and scoop the mess up
With the want-ad section and carry it to a trash can.

For you to burn a candle for him
You needn't suppose the cut would be a deep one,
Just deep enough to keep her at home
The night of the hayride when she meets Helen,
Who is soon to become her dearest friend;
Whose brother George, thirty years later,
Helps your grandfather with a loan so his shoe store
Doesn't go under in the Great Depression
And his son, your father, is able to stay in school
Where his love of learning is fanned into flames,
A love he labors, later, to kindle in you.

How grateful you are for your father's efforts
Is shown by the candles you've burned for him.
But today, for a change, why not a candle
For the man whose name is unknown to you?
Take a moment to wonder whether he died at home
With friends and family or alone on the road,
With noone to sit at his bedside
And hold his hand, the very hand
It's time for you to imagine holding.

---- Carl Dennis

Which tree are you ?

Jack and Jane had not seen each other for decades but when destiny brought them together after all those years, waves of nostalgia washed over them and they could view their lives in a whole new perspective.

They had started off as friends who had spent many an afternoon together, working through their school work, talking about their dreams and passions. They were friends but they were very different individuals and it was only a matter of time that their paths would diverge and they would be pulled apart by the forces of life. Today, after all those years, they could see the differences that made them who they were. They had started off from similar places but their lives had taken on very different trajectories.

Even as a kid, Jane was relentlessly determined. Somehow, she had this great sense of clarity and purpose about what she wanted to be and about how her life should be. Very early in life, she knew exactly what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it too. She strove for perfection, for immaculate precision and for sublime clarity in her field of interest. Nothing could distract her or shift her focus. She achieved her dreams with great elan and was soon a successful professional who was a respected figure in her field. She was a part of many landmark events in her area of interest but her interest and expertise did not extend to areas beyond that. She did not know or care about things other than her favorite subject. She had single-mindedly dedicated her life and her mind to the pursuit of excellence in her profession.

Jack, on the other hand, formed the other end of the spectrum with his inherent curiosity and sense of adventure. He had barely left any field untouched. He dabbled in almost anything under the sun. He was not the expert on anything but he sure knew a fair bit about almost anything under the sun. He tried his hand at many a thing and acquired these many skills with great panache. From photography, to mechanics, to science, to history, to art and food. He had diverse interests and he nurtured them at every available opportunity. He could not say he didn't like something till he actually tried it and he lacked the sense of surety with which Jane made her choices. He somehow lacked the dogged pursuit and fierce determination that pushed Jane ahead. But he was extremely passionate about every skill he acquired. He was a man with a great many talents and realized more about himself with every choice he made. His thirst for knowledge and desire for learning kept him on a lookout for newer arenas.

Two lives - that started the same way but ended differently. While Jane's life grew like a Date palm - tall and erect, with one single goal, and a single obsession. Jack tried many a different paths and branched out like the banyan. He was not as tall or specialized as the palm but he covered a lot of ground. They had two completely different approaches and two completely different perspectives. Who is to say which is better and which is not ? It's just who we are that determines what we become, not where we start off from.

I am not sure where my loyalties lie amidst these two schools of thought but a drive for the diversity in knowledge that Jack had seems more attractive to my mind than the expertise that Jane built over the years. While, the allure of perfection and brilliance is also very strong for me, it gets offset by the adventure and the thrill of learning and trying something new. And perhaps, somewhere deep down, I lack the courage to choose one option and to make my peace with it. My mind wants to explore everything that comes its way before making that "final" choice and before taking a call. So, I guess, despite learning through my entire childhood that "A jack of all trades is the master of none", I tend to grow more as a Banyan, than as a palm.

Which tree are you ?

The nullification of "self" ....

"Self absorbed" "Self- centered" "ego-centric" "selfish" "Narcissistic"

All these words paint only one abominable picture in our mind.

Don't they ? One of a self-loving individual who is inconsiderate to anyone else but himself.

But every time I come across these words, I am forced to pause and think. Not because they are evil qualities that we should get rid of but because they are who we all really are and there is no escaping it. And in all honesty, I see nothing wrong in being self-absorbed because you are the only thing that you can control in a world that is constantly rushing ahead.

Think about it.

By conventional definitions I think I am self absorbed and maybe even self-centered. I am involved with how I can learn about myself and improve myself. I am pre-occupied with doing what i think is right and with working on my life. I have my dreams and visions and I work towards them. I am affected by my thoughts and feeling and sometimes that's all that matters to me. And I fail to see why this would ever be the bane of a society. Because after all, that is what we can do and what we best understand. Our "self". And....if every one did this without harming another individual there really would not be a lot of our problems.

We, as men and women of independent will, can only mold our life through our choices. We can truly appreciate only our experiences and our lessons from them. We, as people, are limited in the dimensions of our perspectives. We can truly value an experience only after we've been through it ourselves or at least something closer to it. No amount of rambling, preaching or explaining can actually help us agree to something unless we "feel" it. We are unable to truly appreciate another point of view till we actually reach that place in "our" life. Years of evolution have built self preservation as a veritable part of our 'self'. All our actions are directed towards the self - even those which (happen to) help others. We do all things because they benefit us in one form or the other - either in the form of material gain or in the form of psychological gain. We donate because it makes us feel good. We help others because it gives us a sense of purpose. All our acts, no matter how righteous they are, have a large component directed towards the self. Take for example the basic life-force of our existence - children. Having kids is one of the most selfless acts as far as social perceptions go because you are bringing into this world another being who is completely helpless for the first few years. People say that parents venture into this big investment of time, money and energy with no gains, but the truth as I see it is that we have kids because we want to. We want to bring in someone into this world through whom we can leave a mark on this world. Through whom we can live our life all over again. Who is a key to helping us make a difference. And all this emotional baggage is the result of our biological instincts which have been shaped as such through millions years of evolution where he who did not reproduce, perished. Tomorrow, if I have any kids, it will be because i want them and not because I am doing it out of a sense of benevolence to the unborn child ! And this is the difference that we all need to accept and appreciate.

Why do we shy away from acknowledging this interest in the self...? Why is it perceived to be morally wrong to be self-absorbed ? I can only be legitimately involved in myself because that is the only perspective i see and can truly appreciate... and that is the only variable I can change through my efforts or my attitude. Why is the entire society built of the framework of nullifying and annihilating the sense of self, even though it is the most difficult thing to do and is completely contrary to our natures.

I should however clarify here that i do not mean to propound utter disregard for another human being or complete lack of empathy. In fact, i think, being self-limited has helped me become more empathetic. I am sure this sounds like an oxymoronic statement but the truth is, every time I encounter an opinion or a person, i put myself in the other pair of shoes and that "self-absorbed /self-centered" behavior makes me become truly tolerant and empathetic to another person because i then treat them like i would treat myself.

I hear criticism about people saying they are self-absorbed, and many a time, I have felt like screaming out aloud - "There is nothing wrong with that !!". There is nothing wrong in writing, talking or thinking about your life as long as you dont hurt another individual in your greed for space, time and attention. There is nothing wrong in drawing from your experiences and talking from your perspectives because that's all you can be honest about and that's all you know best.

I wish the world would appreciate the power of the "self" in places more than the "self-help" books which seem to be overflowing in bookstores. I hope that we are able to accept our selfish streak and to use it in the right way because to my mind, nullifying our sense of self is certainly not the way forward.

Spectator on the outside...

On a cold, windy day, as I sit by the window and look at life as it has been, I feel strangely disconnected, as if I am witnessing a movie of sorts (a rather boring one at that !).

Life in the past few years has moved at its steady pace but somewhere i am not living it the way I used to. I can barely feel my life - the unbearable agony or the ecstasy of being. I can see the days moving by, at a steady pace, governed by the sun and its relentless motion, but I can't feel them distinctly. So much so, that sometimes, I am left wondering about where one began and where it ended. It feels like it has been one steady flow like that of the river as it reached the plains - slow, meandering, almost effortless even though it is carrying a lot with it.

I have witnessed some great days and lived through some exceedingly painful events but while I have been through them all, I can't feel them - the pain nor the joy. It feels like they all came and went like the ripples on the surface of a deep pond when a stone is cast. There are disturbances on the surface but underneath it all, deep within, there is an undisturbed quiet. A sense of steadiness and stability. Is that where I am ?

I haven't jumped with joy or shrieked with excitement even for achievements that mark a lifetime. I haven't dwelled in the sorrows and moped around either, even though some days were just wretched and miserable. I have lived through them with these reactions which were essential but somehow nothing really managed to pierce through the exterior. I haven't been inactive either. I have met my goals, made my decisions and led my life. I have done the right things (at least as per how they seemed to me) and i have worked hard. And yet, I feel disconnected. Far from the daily ups and downs which were marked by a certain volatility that used to catch even me by surprise. It was a life with a lot of drama because I used to feel a lot more than I needed to. And how much I wished then to feel less, so that the pain would become more bearable and life would become more pleasant. These were not huge, life-threatening or existential problems that would impact a nation, but they were mine. The joys too were not landmark events. They were small jokes, few good moments, tiny successes, that were marked by a small treat.... nothing dramatic but I could feel them and I was ecstatic with them. Life was more like the journey of a river at its origins, tumultuous, tiring, bubbling forth and bursting through every obstacle that comes forth.

But not now. I am at a different stage now. Is it that I have just grown older and have found the maturity to appreciate life in all its essence away from the sinusoidal curves of daily existence... ? Is it that my mind had adapted itself in some "evolutionarily" competent way to make me survive through the worst by dimming my perceptions and sensitivities ? I mean, if I don't feel the miseries, I am bound to live a happier, less complicated life, ain't I? Have I finally found a sense of equanimity with my approach to life, as opposed to the volatility of my earlier years, when every tiny event would trigger a surge of adrenaline or endorphin.... ? Or is it that I have actually become indifferent to life around me ?

Have I become calm and level-headed or simply indifferent to life ??

A day and a lesson to remember...

There are some days in life that sneak up on you like the first rains after a long dry season and leave you feeling just as rejuvenated. April 2nd 2011. It was one such day in the lives of many Indians. It was just another Saturday in every aspect but for the fact that India won the cricket world cup.

I was caught by the cricket bug in childhood itself just as almost every other Indian kid. Playing some gully cricket to watching test matches between exams were a big part of my life till adulthood took charge. A few lost matches, a match-fixing scandal, a bad season, a busy schedule, physical distances and the call of duty had all played a part in estranging me from the entire euphoria of the 2011 World cup. It would have seemed like a complete remission in medical terms but then it took only one grand victory over Australia and Pakistan and a place in the finals for me to be showing symptoms of the bug all over again... :)

I was hooked on to the final match. It was a great day but then there have been other such great days earlier. Will we actually repeat history as it had happened nearly three decades ago or will it be a recap of events much closer in time... ? Despite these fears, I couldn't resist waking up early to watch the match on a weak internet connection. The scenes from the match kept drifting in and out of my computer like the curtains on my window but then this was a match I couldn't have stopped watching. And so I valiantly sat there garnering information from two different websites and trying to keep my nails intact as they were keeping pace with the tension in the game. It was a comfortable victory as things turned out but then Indian cricket is famous for its roller coaster rides. And just when you thought that all was well and under control, one could feel a tug on the carpet beneath your feet as the opposition tried to sneak in. And this would just prompt complete attention and stunned silence to the game. And there I was sitting in front of my computer screen, trying multiple websites for a live feed and looking for some good quality telecast as my brain swung from hope to euphoria to disappointment to ecstasy.

The end of this long story of course is not unknown to anyone who cares to look up the news once in a while because though cricket is not the biggest game in the world, it has a fair share of its followers. To put it in the mildest terms, India won the match with a bang and the entire country of 1.2 billion erupted. It is just a game but the influence of this game and its grip on the Indian social structure and psyche is difficult to estimate till you see such historic days. Even sitting 8000 miles away with a few facebook updates and a glimpse on the bbc news, i knew that it was a momentous day and that the entire country would have behaved like it were stoned with Tequilla. There were celebrations on the streets, rituals and functions, rallies and processions as if all the problems of this emerging "developing" nation were solved in one single swoop by acquiring the magic of the world cup. I am sure everyone was filled with a sense of pride, respect, joy and nationality. You dont expect anything less from a nation where cricket and religion as equals in attention seeking.

And through all this, somewhere, halfway across the world, I was sitting watching this day as if it were just another dream. I wished I could scream just to share my happiness (but then you don't expect your American, Chinese and Japanese neighbors to understand your sentiments about cricket) and so I sat there in silence watching the joy and pride on a million faces. I wanted to celebrate but here i was struggling to even watch the celebrations (the internet really seemed to follow murphy's law because it would decide to take a break at all the crucial moments in the match).

Even with the nationalistic sentiments surging through my mind, in those few moments, i realized one thing for certain. They were right when they said that happiness grows when you share it and is incomplete when you can't. For some reason, I had never accepted this idiom and its value. Why would you think that joys are never complete until you share them....? After all, they are so few and far in between that when you find them you should be happy irrespective of who is around you or not. But on this day amidst all the euphoria that I was witnessing, i had learnt a lesson. I had understood the words I had heard forever and i could feel their true import. My joy too felt incomplete till i could rejoice with the other. See the smiles that wouldn't fade. Till I could hear the drums in the distance and the screams in the streets and smell the sweets from the kitchen.

It remained a dream till i heard some Indians chatting in the bus about India's performance. Till I heard those facebook comments and saw those pictures of glorious celebrations. It was a landmark and will be remembered for a long time to come. And though I was a witness to it, somewhere deep inside, I know i was nowhere near to experiencing it.

Nonethless, it was a day I wish to remember for days and years to come and it came with a wonderful lesson too.

And since for me a picture says what a thousand words can, I have included some pictures of that landmark day when history was drafted by 11 men and witnessed by 1.2 billion...

The Gray invasion...

From the clarity of black and white, my world has been invaded by the grays. It started silently like those first obscure strands of gray that you suddenly notice on one fine day.

I left them unattended and now I can see that quietly and surely, the grays have invaded my world as they constantly cloud my perspectives. Nothing seems right or wrong and every perspective seems understandable given the circumstances. No one seems right and no one seems wrong. No answer seems complete and no question feels simple. Every problem has a million variables and is never taken care of. Every decision feels like a gamble as nothing ever is completely right for all concerned. My thoughts of me are burdened by my thoughts of others. My fears for others have become my own.

Where is that simple world of yonder where people were either good or bad, honest or dishonest, right or wrong... ? I feel like I am trying to see the world through a lens that becomes misty every time I breathe. How does one make decisions when everything has its own pitfalls and its own merits, when everyone is bound by their circumstances and when every choice is driven by its own problems.... ??

With age and maturity, I have found the grays and maybe even accepted them. I know now that they are here to stay. At times, I feel like not breathing just so the mist would clear and the images would become sharper.... At others, I like this fuzzy world where I can judge no one, where is no one is right and no one is wrong. Where people are just people and everyone is beyond my understanding, reproach or opinion because i will never know in entirety of the past that made them what they are, the present that holds them where they are or the future that drives them forward. And that is sometimes liberating.

But in this gray world, I do sometimes hold my breath and wait for the mirror to clear up because after all decisions have to be made one way or another. While sometimes chance comes up as the blustery wind that clears my vision, at other times, it is my heart which sheds some light. In a world where rational thought seems to fail me, I am learning to listen to my heart which has many a things to say through those gentle whispers, nods, notes of disgust, anger, confusion, misery and joy. While my mind is relentlessly trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, knowing deep within that it is almost impossible without a picture to go with, my heart takes a stand and gives me a small, feeble indication. I try to listen and I struggle to interpret. But with the years spent together we now seem to have a sense of trust as i have begun to understand its voices.

I guess with the loss of clarity in vision, i have sharpened my auditory acuity... :)

I walk...

We all have our own ways of dealing with things. Some eat. Some pray. Some sing. Some love and some drink. Some talk while some cry. Some sleep and some fight. I walk.

I walk to escape problems and I walk to confront them. I walk to remember and i walk to forget. I walk when i am happy and I walk when I am lonely.
I walk and the road walks with me. We follow a steady rhythm. I walk for miles on end trying to clear my mind. I walk in silence and I walk to the sound of music to forget the noise in my head. I walk hoping that the thoughts in my head would follow the rhythm of my feet. I walk for miles on end and then somewhere along the way, my mind just wants to break into a run. To run through all shackles and to run through the wind.

And then the steady rhythm of the heart is accelerated as my feet pick up, like this is what they always wanted to do. And I run.

I run and all I feel is the Wind. Within me and around me.
The blood rushes through my veins and a new warmth surges through me breaking the cold walls that had held me back. I strain to hear the whispers from the wind amidst my pulse and the sound of my feet on the concrete. I listen and I keep running. My heart and my feet had started together but soon enough the synchrony is lost as my heart is racing away and my feet are still following the steady rhythm they started off with.

And then somewhere along the way there is a disconnect. My heart has gone way ahead of me. As I keep running, somewhere along the way, for a few brief moments, I and the road have become one. I can see no further than the next few steps. And all that remains of me is the wind in my chest and the fatigue in my legs.

I will stop soon but not before the walls of my lungs have gasped for every breath they have taken and my feet have labored for every step. I feel like I have been purified by fire and I feel like I am new all over again. I slow down as my heart and my feet catch up with their tales. They both have more to talk about and i feel like an intruder there. My mind soon hops into the conversation and we are all back in our elements. I feel at one with myself all over again. All of me in back together and moving to one constant rhythm. To the beat of my heart.

I am now at the happy place in my mind where i should always be. Where silence is welcomed as is noise. Where no problem is too big and no solution is too small. Where problems are welcomed as are solutions. I lose myself only to find myself all over again.

I walk to freedom.

Dreams of wanderlust.... :)

Every now and then, i snuggle up to some travelogues and dream of traveling the world. My list keeps growing but for now i have decided to make a small note of the places that i want to experience before hitting the bucket !!!

Machu Pichu
Masai Mara, Kenya
Ladakh
North-Eastern India
Lakshwadweep
Galapagos Islands
Venice




Fingers crossed... :)

Feeling lucky... :)

It has been raining for two days now. The heavens seem to be tired of battling gravity as the waters have been relentlessly. Dark clouds gather all around and somehow they reflect my state of mind. Not melancholic, but my mind is certainly in throes of fatigue. Tired to fight. It has come to accept certain things as they are almost like how the clouds let earth have its way. It is acceptance that has come with a long day's struggle.

As i saw the raindrops trickling down the walls, I decided to venture out for some air and some clarity. It was not raining, just a weak drizzle. But there was still a chillness in the air as a cold breeze danced around reveling in its freedom. I walked through the courtyard, glistening because of the daylong rain and I am wondering what to think about. Somehow an empty mind makes a lot of noise and I am happier with my mind flowing in one direction than scattering all over like the water from the fountain behind me. I hear the gushing sounds of water as it rushes to hit the ground below. The water sounds agitated as if in a hurry to get somewhere. As if by hurrying in the present, he would be able to change the future. I listen to his flow and strangely i feel calm. I smile. The sound of the water behind me has dulled the sounds in my head. Sounds of his anxiety have strangely calmed me and i stood there listening, i could suddenly feel the warmth of a blanket around me.

I see the sun peek out of the dark, ominous looking clouds. He is radiant and suddenly i feel the warmth of an embrace even as the cold winds surge along. I feel happy and peaceful. It feels like the sun came out only to give me a hug. It is irrational and too self involved but somewhere i was happy with that belief. I felt special as i stood there humming a song in my mind.

But in that warmth, i can feel your presence. I can feel your reassurance. Because just like the sun you too made me feel special today. Special beyond my realms of reasoning or explanation. Beyond my words and beyond my imagination. As you scrambled through your mind to come up with those words, I was grateful for your effort and i was happy for the change. Even as i see you take your first few steps with a push, i hope that you would walk the rest of way of your own desire. But i sure feel blessed today for having seen you take the first step... May it be the beginning of many more great things to come...

"vous souhaite un heureux voyage" :)

and thank you for the warm glow i have on a cloudy day ... :)

Lines that build a home...

Some say, nations are just lines that divide. They are nothing but accidents of fate. They break people of one kind into many. They say humanity is the only true reality and all others are just collective nouns that pull people apart. They say that nationalities breed stereotypes and parochialism and that we are all after all inhabitants of the same world.

Some say, a nation is the true identity of a people. It is what gave them life and love. It is what makes them who they are and teaches them all they know. They will fight for their nation no matter what the cost. They love their nation beyond reason and logic. For them, their nation is the holy land - a land to be venerated and revered, and to be protected from the evil eyes of the others. For them, the nation comes before its people and lives are a price you sometimes pay for the sake of your motherland.

In an alien land, I wonder where i stand.

I step out of the house, and i dont feel the same. There is a kinship missing with the place. A dialog I used to have back "home". I feel lost here as if constantly searching for something. For directions, for familiarity, for the sights and smells. My stride lacks the spring that a child has when he sees his mom across the street after school. I walk, wary and cautious, not because i should be afraid but because i feel like a trespasser. Its not that i am berated or ill treated. I am left to my own means here even as freedom acquires a new meaning. But I felt more at ease with all those shackles back "home" because it was where i had always been. I knew the land, the men and women, the birds and beasts. I knew the winds and climes. I knew the bricks and the bats, the hills and the valleys, the streets and the corners. There was a certain kinship with the land and all its people that is difficult to describe in words. There is a flutter in my heart when i see someone from my land. A connection that makes my heart want to reach out to the perfect stranger just because he comes from where I come.

But wasn't my nation just an accident ? An accident of fate, that determined where i was born and brought up ? Wouldn't i feel differently if I were born here and not back "home" ? Why do I feel offended when they point a finger at my country ? Its not that they are always wrong for many a times I have complained too. Its not that I dont see the flaws and the problems that plague us. But its different when you fight with your parents and when a stranger raises his voice at them, isn't it ? Is it the land that I care for or the people ? What is it that ties me to my "nation" ? Like the umbilical cord that nurtures the fetus, there is an invisible bond that tethers me, that gives me my sense of self and that gives me my life.

Yes, it also binds me to my stereotypes and makes my world view a little narrower but then it would be the same anywhere else. Wouldn't it ? I would be just as attached to another piece of land if only the cards of fate had played out differently ?

An accident of fate it is but what a wonderful accident ! It gives me a home to call my own and a place to hold onto. It saves me from being a nomad even as I travel the world because there is a place on my compass that i always look forward to. There is no other place that can truly feel like "home" but home itself.... and maybe that's why they call it a motherland...

Time and Perspectives....

Time and Perspectives.

Ever changing and yet ever present...
The two things that we are often racing against and the two things that are constantly chipping away at us.

While time zones change as move through the world, our perspectives change as we move through life. They are changing even as we are struggling to encompass our lives into them.

Is there an absolute measure of time ? When there is night in one part of the world, the sun is shining bright in another. Is there an absolute right in a perspective ? Things may seem completely different depending on where you are standing....

But then, don't we all stand by a benchmark? The presence of the sun dictates the day and the absence of it brings on the night. Aren't our viewpoints too like that ? In some ways, we all have an absolute standard of righteousness and morality. True, there are many a gray areas like the dusk and the dawn, but at least there is a sign post to look for.

Time and perspectives.
They mould our lives and they direct our actions. They break through our molds even as we struggle to keep them under control. They change us like nothing else can. They work on our minds and our bodies. They break us and they build us.

Its true that you can escape the warps of time and stay in one place and never move ahead. You can hold onto your views and never look at another. But that's not the truth my dear ! You truly see the world only when you see the many time zones and the many perspectives. You lead a life only when you can accept the truth that sometimes there is no absolute truth.

You need to be a "traveler" to see the world and to see life as it is. And you need to be a "traveler" to accept the world for what it is.

Matters of faith ?

You say, that you like me are a person of reason and logic. You say that you, like me, are a man/woman of science and that unbridled inquiry is your objective.

You say we share a lot in common but for one difference...
We are separated by a gulf somewhere in how we approach life.

You believe that our lives are controlled by a divine entity and that we are puppets on a string. You believe in faith and you live a life of religion. You have faith in the divine and the supernatural. You believe that someone is watching over you and that the world can be a better place through the lord himself. You believe in helping others as a means to reach the divine. You glorify the "one" with your words and songs. You aim to live a life by the code of the "one". You lead your life sheltered by that code even as your life is cloaked in the fabric of religion.

I, on the other hand, believe that life is but a series of coincidences and random events. I see our world riddled with randomness even as i struggle to find some semblance of meaning. I see constellations in the sky but i know they hold no pattern or deeper meaning. I guard myself against hope and blind faith. I battle with my beliefs and question my thoughts and prejudices. My faith, is on me. My faith, is on goodness and honesty but i am unable to reach out to the divine that you are holding onto. I try and live a life of reason and logic. Of hard work and sincerity. Of passion and joy. I believe that we make our world our way. I help others because I can and because it helps me. I moved out of the fold of religion a long time ago, in my search for the truth. I make my own codes and I live by them and even as I live by my rules, I let others live with theirs. You may think I am self centered, but I think my life is just centered around me.

After all, we cant live for someone and no one can live for us.

But is this gulf big enough ?
I see that despite my self-centeredness, I am able to respect your opinion and live with it as long as I am granted my freedom. You on the other hand, struggle to accept my spirit of inquiry despite your moral code and faith. You struggle to accept my questions and my answers.

I try to understand how reason gets blinded like this ? How do we all get entrapped by these rigid walls of religion and tradition ? How do we forget that "not believing" is just another choice some people can make as is "believing" ? Faith can't make us a better person. Religion is a code that scares people into submission. Can faith be so important ? Can religion unify us despite all other differences ?

We may be like the banks of a river, moving ahead in the same direction but never together. But we could still share our thoughts just like the waters between the river banks ?

I struggle to understand how faith becomes so important to a man who believes and so irrelevant to someone who doesn't.... If religion is meant to encourage harmony and tolerance, isn't it achieving the exact opposite now ?

Strangers in the night...

It was a gusty night and I was all alone even though I was surrounded by a crowd. Was I lost ? I knew something was wrong but my mind was not cooperating. It was staring at something beyond nothingness and I could feel nothing but a deep chill seeping down till my bones. I felt devoid of air, devoid of life, as if i had been stuffed into a freezer with no protection.

I needed a familiar face and I needed someone to hold on to. I needed someone to pull me out. But amidst all those people, i couldn't find a familiar soul. Someone to reach out to. They were strangers, chattering among themselves, unaware of my existence., unaware of my pain. I felt like I was the last person standing and yet i felt dead. And then from somewhere I felt a hand reaching out and holding mine. I could feel the warmth spreading through me. I could feel life coming back to me. I was no longer numb with fear and pain. I could suddenly feel pain. Tears rolled down even as my heart melted away. into nothingness. There were no words exchanged, just a glance, i think. But as those two hands held me, I knew things will be fine. I don't know whose hands they were but i know they gave me succor. I know they brought me back from the vast never ending emptiness. I was staring into. I could feel the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I was back and with that realization, I snapped out of it.

I opened my eyes only to find myself in my bed. It was just a dream ! But a dream that is etched in my memory. A dream that I vividly remember which is an unusual thing in itself. Even today when i see things going wrong, i can feel that warmth of those hands and that is the only thing that lets me carry on. I can feel the warmth and i can feel my heart as it started beating with renewed hope. But today reality clouds my perception. I cannot completely feel the intensity of that one moment. I don't feel the pain either. Just the feeling of life coming back. Just the feeling of having found someone to hold onto. I wish i could get that same feeling, just one more time. Sometimes, I wish i were dreaming still. Only to feel that warmth again. Only to hold those hands again. Only to see those eyes filled with understanding again.

Some moments are like that. They leave an imprint on your life, for a very long time to come.

Those deep brown eyes...

I see your little brown eyes staring at me through the bars and I try not to think of what they can see. I give you food and water and my silent words. I follow your life as I would follow mine. I have seen you grow up from that tiny helpless being to this scampering, fighting adult. Over the months, I have cared for you with all my might but then one day I know, it is going to be the time for your last night. For the day when you will be just another subject. Just another answer and just another number. I tell myself this over and over again but your eyes still pierce my shell.

I can see death as I stare into the mirror. I can feel the pain that you may never feel. I feel your heart racing in my hand and I feel my heart racing too. Out of fear and out of guilt. I try to keep you away from the truth through a veil of darkness but somewhere, deep down inside, I think you know.

I feel your soft skin as I hold you in my hand. I can see the future and I know I am the cause. I see your struggle against the inevitable. I know you sense the future and I know you don't like it. I try not to pain you, even as I do the unmentionable. They tell me you don't feel a thing and that you are now in a blissful sleep. I pinch and prod only to make sure they are right. They tell me I should be calm, for you can feel my pulse through my fingers and I hope that you can feel my pain too.

My pain at giving you pain. My regrets at letting them do it. But then they tell me, it is inevitable and that I should look at the bigger picture. That some people must suffer for the greater good of many. And that your death was inevitable, and this way I just learnt more through it. They tell me you've made a difference in your death. I rationalize my actions and I try to look at the bigger picture. I say to myself, I am only the means and the end is already pre-ordained. I say to myself though I find it hard to believe that your life is justified by the end because that's what you were meant to do.

And then, I wonder if I too am just another mode of inquiry. If my life too rests at someone's mercy ? And if I too am fighting the inevitable ? Am also just another pawn who is unable to see the bigger picture ? Am I struggling in vain for someone higher up is pulling my strings too? Am I also clothed in veil of darkness, a veil I am trying to break through.

Even as these thoughts haunt me, I know I have other things to take care of. And so I listen to them and shut my mind off. I get busy and my mind moves onto other matters, only to be reminded again when I find another you peeking through those doors and nibbling at my fingers.

For those who are wondering ....

Something to Laugh about... :)

Word Games - Alternate Meaning for Various Words

The Washington Post published a contest for readers in which they were asked to supply alternate meanings for various words.

The following were some of the winning entries:

Coffee (n.), a person who is coughed upon.

Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.

Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.

Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent

Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightie.

Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.

Gargoyle (n.), an olive-flavored mouthwash.

Flatulence (n.) the emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.

Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.

Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.

Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified demeanor assumed by a proctologist immediately before he examines you.

Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddish expressions.

Circumvent (n.), the opening in the front of boxer shorts.

Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck there.

Pokemon (n), A Jamaican proctologist.

Meagre (adj), What an ogre calls him- or herself

Buccaneer(n), an awfully high price to pay for corn (Buck an ear)

Liabilities (n), the ability to lie

Semantics : Pranks conducted by young men studying for priesthood

Thanks are due to R and R for sharing these on facebook...

Some food for thought about food.... :)

As I sit here almost 8000 miles away from home, trying to pen down an article on request, there are many things that are flooding my mind. But since I have been asked to talk about food, I am going to try and restrict myself to it. I am not a connoisseur or a gastronome. I am a simple person who eats to live (and not the lives to eat kind) and who believes in cooking well to eat well. I have very few preferences in terms of food and as Phoebe once said, I can eat almost anything without a face (being brought up as a vegetarian does leave you a little disadvantaged in that one arena that faces become unappetizing…). I have also almost always had a very high threshold for taste and smell perceptions and that just means that I need a lot of salt to taste the saltiness, a lot of spice to taste the spiciness, a lot of sugar to get the sweetness, I am sure you get the drift by now which is that, I basically needed a lot of anything to sense it, one way or another. I was a survivor in some sense. Quite unlike the gourmet friends of mine, I could eat almost any food and not complain – be it the mess food or the food at some other unmentionable places (unmentionable because I am still not rich enough to spend money on libel cases, you see !).

My introduction to food as an art and an experience happened after my introduction to IISc and a few people (unmentionable now, because of privacy issues than the fear of libel) who surrounded me and who kept talking about the texture of food, the smells, the looks, the subtle tastes and a whole lot of such stuff which was completely unpalatable (pun intended) to someone like me. More often than not, I was left amazed at the sensory acuity of my friends… (one of them could actually smell food and tell if the salt was right.. !!! (Wowo… and at this point you should imagine me staring at her with my not so very well-known “jaw-dropping look”)

But that was the beginning and from that shaky beginning I have now evolved to see the very many pleasures of food. I have started to explore diverse cuisines and to note the finer points of the entire culinary expedition. I find it fascinating to now eat a morsel of food and to try and discern the components that built it… I mean, the spices, the herbs, the vegetables that went in… The subtle flavor of oregano or pepper, salt or mustard, basil or cumin, garlic or ginger etc etc…. I find it fascinating that people can actually do that !! I have also started noticing the kind of food that I like more than a few others, I have started paying attention to the texture of food, the amount of oil, the possible variations etc (the fact that I didn’t have a PhD on going to pay attention to did help enormously… truth be told). I assure you that it would have seemed like a lot of indulgence and vanity to me too perhaps a few years ago but now I can see the art and the craft underneath. I have started to appreciate the view of the connoisseurs. After all no pursuit can be trivial and while books interest me, food could interest someone else. And more often than not having food could kill you while not having a book will only upset you a little.

I also realize now that my unbridled spirit in dealing with ingredients was kind of kept in check by the fear that I could have others consuming (and perhaps commenting) on the fruits of my labor. A physical distance from such daunting responsibility and a solitary existence in distant lands, has now truly liberated me from the bonds of tradition and culinary shows. I now cook for myself knowing fully well that I will still love myself no matter how the food turns out and I experiment with gay abandon. I mix ingredients just because they appeal to me and I match recipes. The fact that I have to cook for myself has only opened up a new journey and I am loving it so far. Cooking can be therapeutic in some ways. Coming back from a crazy day at work with a disastrous experiments, pushy bosses and dumb colleagues, cooking can be a relaxing activity. One at least gets a good meal at the end of the day and the joy of creating something new is an added bonus. It is an experience that I treasure and look forward to. I am exploring a whole new world and as Mac Donald’s says it “I’m lovin it”.

But then through all these years, there has been one thing that has been a constant in my life – my sweet tooth (I didn’t lose it when I lost my milk teeth and grew the permanent set !!). While, I was quite unaffected by most food and not really choosy about what I put in my mouth (well, there is a child in me still ;)); there was one thing which really got me dreaming and drooling. Desserts!!! Oooo wonderful desserts!! Through the more physiological endorphin and dopamine release the desserts – cakes, pastries, cheese cakes, mousse, muffins, chocolates… have made many a rotten day feel better. I have often craved for some simple sugar and chocolate combination when things have been going far from good and my friends have pampered me through. From a cheese cake at amma’s to the ganashe tart at Freska’s to sometimes the Tiramisu at Miller’s, I have relished many a fine desserts. I have also realised that my weakness lies in the combination of a bitter-sweet taste of dark chocolate or coffee and sugar, like life as it is (well… I knew there was a philosopher in me all along). I love the chocolate melting in my mouth even as the nuts give me something to chew upon. I love the warmth of the molten chocolate as it seeps through the cold vanilla ice cream and I love the sweet mascarpone cheese even as the coffee soaked sponge cake crumbles in my mouth. If there were a heaven, I would say that I have seen glimpses of it and I am very happy with it too… J

But then, here lies the challenge for the future, through my culinary explorations, I have still not ventured into the land of desserts, simply because it sounds like a sacrilege to me!!! But one day I do hope to make a leap of faith and try my hand at some of these bits of heaven accessible to ordinary mortals like us… Till then I console myself saying that there should be something in man’s reach but just out of his grasp. After all it gives us something to look forward to. So as I prepare myself for my giant leap (sometime in the future) I continue to dabble with smells, textures, colors and tastes as I explore the world of culinary perfection though my own humble means.

As a sincere advice, I would say “the devil lies in the details” and one must watch out for what one puts into their mouth… it is a rewarding experience…

Happy eating and happier cooking to you all !!

The value of self...

I have dwelled for the past week in the classical era of european art music and have been a part of the lives of the Mozart family.

I am not being delusional or schizophrenic but my introduction to the Mozarts comes through a book by Nancy Moser called as "Mozart's sister". Reading about the book in one of the other blogs had piqued my interest a long time ago but then I finally got around to getting and reading the book only recently.

Through this work of historical fiction the author traces the life of Nannerl Mozart, the sister of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a composer whose name will not be forgotten from the history of music for eons to come. But then why this focus on the life of his sister and not on the maestro himself ?

Well, Nannerl was an equally gifted musician, if not as prodigious as Mozart. However, despite the talent and the ability, the world sang paeans to Mozart and his musical gifts, while the name of Nannerl Mozart was gradually erased from the sands of time. She was a dutiful daughter and a sister in addition to being an accomplished musician but her gender and the social mores of her time bound her talent and kept them captive to the demands of domesticity. While I empathized with her and her limitations, i also thought that she lacked a certain spirit and will which are essential for people, especially women to survive in a society dominated by men. The book is written through the character of Nannerl and does a fairly good job of giving you an understanding of her circumstances. One can feel her pain as she sees opportunities snatched from her and handed over to her brother. She is tormented by her desire for fame and opportunity along with a sense of jealousy for her brother. She battles with these emotions till much later into her life and the book does justice to her sentiments.

But what really caught my mind was the simple, one lined, question on the dust jacket - "Is the recognition she longs for the truest measure of her gifts ?"

It is a question that comes up every now and then. We are all social creatures and the opinions of the society do have a grip on us. I have often attempted to wrest myself free of this "need/desire" for appreciation and approval and after many years, i find myself much better off. But, i still do value the opinions of a few dear to me.

Why do we crave for this sense of appreciation realizing fully well that it does not in any way, shape or form truly reflect our ability or potential ? A society's perception of good and bad is determined by many factors and they are based on components other than the objective truth. Yet we crave for approval. For fame. For appreciation. For recognition.

Why ?
I guess, I want to be sure of my evaluation of myself and my work and perhaps i also want to be more objective of what I do and think ! I often worry that I am perhaps more human than I realize and give myself a lot more leeway than is rightfully deserved. At such points I like to hear the honest opinion of a trusted few to know that I have indeed done the right thing in the right way.

Being able to be immune to the words of others is a quality that serves as a double edged sword. On the one hand, it leads me to imagine characters such as Howard Roark who work for the sheer joy it brings and not for the appreciation or the rewards that it may entail. These are people who are extremely egoistic (in the truest sense of the word) and are beyond caring for the opinions of other people. On the other extreme are also the self centered people who are unable to think beyond themselves and their needs. They work to further their interests without any concern for anyone else but their concerns are usually dependent on the existence of others... the prestige, the honor, the pleasure - all in the eyes of the others ! These are a class of selfish parasites who have been ably dealt with by Ayn Rand in her books. But in between these two extremes, lies perhaps, the majority of mankind !! We are all not egositic enough to be beyond the need for the approval and praise of the society... But then, neither are we willing to live a life of complete selfishness.

We still crave for approval and appreciation even as we try and pursue our dreams.
But, is it worth it ?
"Is the recognition we long for the truest measure of our gifts ?"

Ignorance is Bliss ?

"Yet ah ! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies ?
Thought would destroy their paradise,
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise. "

- A Poem by Thomas Gray.

"Was ignorance bliss ? Was it folly to be wise ? Although sometimes I longed for God to tell me what was in store, I knew it best that He kept it from me. There was enough pain in the present. Why borrow it from the future ?"

An excerpt from "Mozart's sister", a novel by Nancy Moser which is currently keeping me engrossed.

Kahlil Gibran and his works have fascinated me for a couple of years now but I have never managed to read a book of his from beginning to end. Every now and then I revisit his work (this time the reason was a post I read) and glean a few gems... a few words that stay with me, a few thoughts that I echo and a few images that I cannot forget...

Here are a few from my visit this time....

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Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, "You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams."
Said the leaf indignant, "Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing."
Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again -- and she was a blade of grass.
And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, "O these autumn leaves! They make such a noise! They scatter all my winter dreams."

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"Your thought is a tree rooted deep in the soil of tradition and whose branches grow in the power of continuity. My thought is a cloud moving in the space. It turns into drops which, as they fall, form a brook that sings its way into the sea. Then it rises as vapour into the sky. Your thought is a fortress that neither gale nor the lightning can shake. My thought is a tender leaf that sways in every direction and finds pleasure in its swaying. Your thought is an ancient dogma that cannot change you nor can you change it. My thought is new, and it tests me and I test it morn and eve.

You have your thought and I have mine.

Your thought allows you to believe in the unequal contest of the strong against the weak, and in the tricking of the simple by the subtle ones. My thought creates in me the desire to till the earth with my hoe, and harvest the crops with my sickle, and build my home with stones and mortar, and weave my raiment with woollen and linen threads. Your thought urges you to marry wealth and notability. Mine commends self-reliance. Your thought advocates fame and show. Mine counsels me and implores me to cast aside notoriety and treat it like a grain of sand cast upon the shore of eternity. Your thought instils in your heart arrogance and superiority. Mine plants within me love for peace and the desire for independence. Your thought begets dreams of palaces with furniture of sandalwood studded with jewels, and beds made of twisted silk threads. My thought speaks softly in my ears, “Be clean in body and spirit even if you have nowhere to lay your head.” Your thought makes you aspire to titles and offices. Mine exhorts me to humble service.

You have your thought and I have mine."

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"Everything in life is good; even gold, for it teaches a lesson. Money is like a stringed instrument; he who does not know how to use it properly will hear only discordant music. Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and it enlivens the other who turns it upon his fellow man."

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Song of the flower ...

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.

At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.

I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

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When my sorrow was born...

When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.
Amd when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.
And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neghbors sat at their windows and listenend; for our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness. And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.
And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, "See, there lies the man whose Sorrow is dead."

And when my joy was born...

And when my joy was born I held it in my arms and stood on the house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that laugheth in the sun."
But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was my astonishment.
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the house-top -- and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone, unsought and unvisited.
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.
Then my Joy died of isolation.
And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my dead Sorrow. But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs in the wind and then is heard no more.

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On Friendship

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.


When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.


And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

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Till my next visit... :)