A Conversation Within...

As I lay in my bed on a cold, chilly evening

With only my loneliness to keep me company

I contemplate on the dull tomorrow to come

And its promise of predictable monotony

The distance I travelled towards my goal

And yet my goal, ever distancing itself from me

It clouds the glimmer of joy within me

Guiding my thoughts to the edge of their sanity

What fuels my desire to go any further?

What powers me forward with cause?

As I ask these questions out in the darkness

I decide to confront Hope, the undying

“What gives you right to exist?

What steers you on, when reason is lost?

What births you each time I seek you?”

I ask Hope, hoping for an answer

“I am but a light that shines when lit

It is not my design to appear at will

You call me foolish, as I often come uninvited

And yet even in folly, I find welcome always

I am like the wind, I flow where needed

Maybe your question is best answered by Faith

For perhaps it’s by her call, that I spring eternal”

So I turn next to Faith, the unshakable

“What gives you strength, to carry on?

What fire lets you shrink and then grow even stronger?

What keeps you rooted to your spot,

When the storm blows everything out of its path?”

“I am but a servant of your will, your device

It is your belief in me that gives me form

Perhaps it is your Heart, that wills you on

That beats every beat to carry you forward”

So in the weary depths of night

I search within me to meet Heart

And while it still toils, with a soft rhythm

I pour to it, my questions still unanswered

“What fuels you on, every beat that you take?

What drives you on, what purpose indeed?

What is the reward that your work fetches?”

I implore of the Heart, the unwavering

Without changing its course or pace

In gentle harmony, it offers me its advice

“It is not in my power to question my work

I am but a servant to your existence

I merely do my job when I continue to beat

So you may find solace in my gentle rhythm

And to quicken when you run, or think of her

Maybe Soul can offer you the clarity you seek”

So I finally meet Soul, the untempered

And lay my doubts at its feet

“What is the meaning of life?

What is the purpose of this existence?”

“To live! To exist! Is that so hard?

The journey is much more exciting than the destination

Was never more true than in this case

For your journey will be the reward you seek

You dream of touching the lives of all

And yet you know not, how many you touch

With simple acts of kindness or compassion

And how in turn these lives touch your own

It is not your duty to change others

But you can merely aid them to change themselves

And while all your actions may seem random

It is they who change me and let me grow

For it is a lie that I will never change

That I give you form, your thoughts and dreams

In fact with each action, each song, each dance

It is you who shapes me in the moulds you build

So with every breath and every thought I grow

And it gives me strength to carry you forward”

I ponder on its words, trying to make sense of it

And the more I learn, the more I yearn

Content, I drift to sleep with a smile

Knowing tomorrow will take me away from today.

The Garden

'"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"' - A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

    It was a dreary Sunday afternoon, and I was standing on the highway, looking at a car fading into the distance. I had just bid a couple of very close friends goodbye on their journey far from home. I went back home and thought about the time we spent together, about all the memories we shared from our very young years. I had felt a sudden hollowness ever since I knew they were leaving. They had always been there for me when I needed, even though in the last few years I had sparingly met them. I had a horrid thought that I would soon not be close to them as I once was. I kept feeling that I was all alone in my home city, while all my close friends had begun spreading their wings. It was queer for me to feel the empty nest syndrome for my peers.

    That night I twisted and turned in my bed, not able to keep my eyelids shut. I kept telling myself that I was safe at home and it was the two of them who would be facing the world outside, but for all the emotions flowing through my mind, peace was one that eluded me. I kept thinking of all the friends I had made in my life, and how I couldn't exactly recall every name. I kept wondering if I would really lose my friends, all of them slowly but surely. It wasn't until deep into the night that I went to sleep.
In slumber, my thoughts wandered into a far off place. I was standing into a vast open space, that was filled with a wide assortment of plants. The sun shone brightly onto the land and I had to shade my eyes to realize where I was. I couldn't quite make out where I was, no memory of ever having been to this place.

    As I was contemplating walking away from this garden, I saw a silhouette approaching me from a short distance.

"Hello. Can you tell me where I am? I seem to be lost.", I said to the figure.

The person approached closer, and I could make out it was an old man.

"On the contrary, my son, you are exactly where you need to be." he said in a calming voice.

"I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?" I felt uneasy being at the mercy of a stranger, and yet somehow I felt there was no way, no reason I could feel unsafe in such a beautiful place.

"Its not important right now, for you to know who I am. What matters is for you to know who you are and where you stand."

"Okay. Where am I?"

"You are standing in your garden."

"My garden?" I had no recollection of ever planting or inheriting a garden.

"Yes. This is your garden. You are very fortunate to actually see it with your own eyes. Not many people get to see their garden in life, even though they put their work in it every day."

"I don't understand. How could I have a garden that I have never been to in my life?"

"The garden is a mysterious place. People don't really know what their garden looks like, and what it consists of. They just carry on with their lives, not knowing of the place all of them have that is their own."

"I am confused. Can you tell me what this garden is?", I asked curiously.

"This garden houses the plants of your relationships. Every tree, bush or weed you see represents your family and friends. Every person you meet, every friend you make, every romance you experience, plants a seed in your garden."

"You mean even the call-center employee who offers to sell me a credit card?", I jested.

"Sure. Everyone you encounter has an effect on your life, even though it might be momentary and insignificant. But if you let that person close, if you build your relationship with them, their seed is watered. It is fertilized. And it grows in your garden. Every tree you see growing to meet the sky, belongs to a dear friend."

I looked around and it heartened me to see quite a few tall trees in the garden.

"Then there are some flower bushes. Those are the relationships that you pursued based only on looks or convenience. You never really deeply cared for them, or even if you did, they never cared back. But you were merely blinded by beauty to realize that."

"And what about the weeds?", I asked.

"Those are the relationships that you soured. Maybe you took advantage of the kindness people showed you, or people in turn betrayed your own kindness. You should clean them while you have the opportunity to do so."

I looked around and realized the garden was vast. It was so big, I couldn't actually count how many different types of plants were housed there.

"It's really beautiful! I am privileged to know this place belongs to me. And that I have a hand in having created it."

"It's not enough to know this is yours. You need to realize it's your responsibility to protect it, to preserve it. Keep your friends close at heart. Keep talking to them from time to time. Try and find the time to meet them and rejoice their company. Sometimes they will do the same for you. Remember, even if they don't speak to you daily, you have a special place in their heart as well. You are a tree in their garden too.
And remember that you plant a seed in the garden of everyone you ever meet. A kind word, a gentle consolation, even the most menial of compliments; those are the best seeds you can plant."

And that was when my alarm went off. Although I felt a bit wiser and bit calmer after having had this dream, I knew well I had a lot of work to do. There was a garden that I needed to tend to for the rest of my life.

Hiatus No More...

It's probably been a year since my last post. It's not that I haven't had much to say in the past year, it's just that other I found other ways to say it. To be honest, the past year has been one of the most eventful years of my life. I wish I had written down all I had to say, so I could reflect on it some day in the future. Things I said... Things I did... are all a distant memory in the corner of my mind.

Also I have received some brilliant and sincere compliments for my blog and my writing, from some unexpected sources. People actually want to read what I have to write and that's basically the best feedback any writer could ask for. Which made me realize, I need to do this more often.

Keep watching this space for more of my wacky prose.

Cheers.

The Cynics And The Faithful

As I sat there in the cafeteria, finishing my lunch, I heard a fellow from the next table exclaim, "Abey Tendulkar 78 pe khel raha hai!"

Suddenly all my other tasks took a back seat, and I ran and went to the TV. There was Sachin, facing Rest of India in the Irani Trophy match, the crowd gathered to see the master in the twilight of his career. All around me people came and went just eyeing the score, busy with their daily activities.

But for me the world stood still. It was this one chance, to witness something I may not be free to witness again. As the batsman crosses the three digit mark, takes off his helmet and looks heavenwards, its one of the best feelings for a fan.

So I stood there, patiently. I kept waiting, knowing that I had no choice but to see this through. My feet had planted themselves in the ground, they would not easily move. I was adamant. I had just missed a paddle sweep off Bhajji, I was not going to miss anything else.

As soon as he Ojha for back to back 4s, I knew I was getting a treat today. Around me people just chuckled at the highlights.

Then suddenly, the cynics started flocking around. "He should give youngsters the chance to play. Why is he taking their place?" a man exclaimed. Though not many agreed to this point, they just scowled and went along their way. They probably knew better than to give that statement any decent rebuttal. A few moments later, another guy went on to say "He'll be out in no time."

Good, they are at the first step. I thought. Denial.

Suddenly he missed a delivery and a stumping appeal was put forth. The third umpire's counsel was called into question. While my heart skipped a beat, thinking the man's curse came true, I knew that Sachin's experience won't let him throw his wicket so easily. And just as I was sure, he had put his foot behind the line before any damage was dealt.

"Jaane de yaar. He'll need half an hour at least to get there." another one of the gems told his friends. Again most people went on with their day. But I couldn't move. I knew I had to stand there.

RoI took the new ball. Sachin managed a single in the first over with it. Sreesanth was called into the attack. For a moment, I was petrified. Not him, if he gets the wicket, his arrogant smirking will definitely spoil my day.

Sreesanth then bowled a short ball. Sachin tried to duck, but it caught him on the shoulder.

"Ab toh iska career barbaad ho jayega. Ab to isse kabhi team mein nahi lenge." one of the hecklers proclaimed. Yeah right, like Sachin would ever resort, or for that matter need to resort, to dirty politics for having Sreesanth axed.

Somewhere the cynics thought they were winning. They showed how the master was getting slow, how he had lost his sharpness. And then it happened. Vintage Tendulkar! A drive on the offside, that looked as though it came out of a cricket textbook. Everyone around me went quiet. He had reached to 99*. Now surely he could do it off the next ball.

The next ball went awkwardly behind on the legside, and though he ran 2 with his heart, we were all waiting to see the umpire. Even the umpire seemed to hesitate, lifting his leg half 2-3 times, he finally gave a leg bye. People groaned and started moving again. Its ok, I thought, we are supposed to wait more.

The next over passed without that one single run. And even those who had waited in the nineties started leaving. But I just knew I had to stay.

Sreesanth came in to bowl the next over. And finally the event we had been waiting for happened. With a single, the master had scored the ton. 81st First Class someone said, but for me it didn't mean that much. Every new Sachin ton made the news for some sort of record. There was a scattered applause, but for me the real celebration was happening in my mind. I took my leave, not waiting to see him raise his bat.

I went back to my desk after that. I felt a harmony deep in me, the world seemed a bit brighter to me for the rest of the day.
"Tendulkar scored a ton." I told my team members.
"Hmmm..." one them said quietly "that man still has a lot of cricket in him. Shame many are blind to that."

That made me a bit happier. People still had faith in their little master.