Make a Difference

Here we are, standing on the threshold of  life, waiting for  the right moment to take flight, taking all precautions to ensure that the launch pad is perfect, warranting the clear absence of all aberrations and anomalies, to want to acquire that coveted pair of wings that will take us thus afar, the great ambition to attain perfection, in reverie of the perfect life, a better tomorrow – Isn’t this, though somehow farfetched, ‘les essentielles de reve’ of every young adult today?

How far is any of this going to get us? The mere fact that one’s pre flight plan is more perfect than perfect in itself doesn’t entail that it would be the smooth journey that we perceive it to be. A vacuum is not what we live in. A world of pain, hunger, strife and hardship surrounds us; a world, though pretentious, consumed by the paroxysm of intricate complexities; the world that we are born into; the world that they are born into.

They, the children of the prospective and inevitable future, who can and will make this place the star of the universe if only they were moulded and given the right opportunities and avenues to expand, expend and synergize their creative and intellectual energies. Their naïve little minds need to be carved out into perfect and clear-cut sculptures with the aid of that chisel by the right pair of hands. It is not yonder, not far beyond, where they lie.

Within the depths of our feeble and unwilling souls, moulded as it is in this world of inhumane and sadistic competition, we will find that there is still, hidden deep in covert existence, an element of humanity that remains. Through this irrational gamble of life, it is not envisaged, but we just keep upping the stakes, jeopardizing our prospects, make the wrong plunges and don’t really count our money or mind the losses because we believe that one day, someday, we will find what it takes to get us to that pot of gold at the end of the iridescent rainbow. It is not ‘name, fame and the dirty game’ but rather a certain value addition that brings greater inner satisfaction. It may seem a much convoluted conundrum.

Delve, explore and implore from the farthest niches and corners of your much enriched and enlightened self and you would be surprised to realize that you don’t have to go any farther. In your hands, you bear a commodity much in demand and far less in supply – knowledge. The uncertainty and beguiling nature of life will not allow us to proceed on that path that we chartered out, the smooth ride through the expressway. Instead, let yourself free of those preconceived notions of what life should be, could be, would be and embrace reality. It won’t take too long to realize that the expressway is monotonous, prone to accidents and not life in its true essence, lacking of human value. Traverse paths untrodden, taste the feel of reality, revel in true satisfaction and desert ignorance.

Lead them; those less fortunate, those hardly close to having been intellectually enriched and yet those most enthusiastic, amazingly talented and now, upon whom you shine a beacon of hope.

Let’s walk together, holding their hands, shining the light to make every step clear through this exotic journey, and hope to make a difference.

Turtle Doves

What remain are but hazy memories of the past gone by – I hardly seem to remember. There wasn’t much that really caught the mind’s eye, nothing that would hold on to later reminisce. It seemed like I was living la Vida Buena, all in utopian balance. I guess I wasn’t wrong, but I do know that I wasn’t right either. The tones of my canvas, that then prevailed, were subtle, flawless and somehow clear – at least those instances that are still enshrined in the fazed out hollows of my memory.

There was some fundamental ingredient that was missing – something that would highlight those tones that, though becalming and dulcifying were still dull and subdued. They needed the touch of some amazingly conjured up alchemy, something magical. Where would that come from? I hoped to find out soon.

Seasons had since changed; time had passed as I still waited with living hope. Will the silent footsteps of time lead me to the holder of that magic wand and license our paths to cross?

And there, caught unawares was I, when you came by. It didn’t take too long to recognize. I couldn’t have been wrong and as my conviction still grows, I knew when I saw the light glow dim above your left shoulder. But, did you see it over mine?

There you were, you held that clairvoyant brush, the one that would, if it braced my portrait with a stroke, add colour and place every tone in note. With hope I breathe, I move, I pass, but a hope much different – a hope to live through a cherished dream of love like the turtle doves of Christmas. I shall keep this one, will you shield the other?

Chromatic hues of spring

Born in the land of festivities but brought up much like royalty who didn’t partake in the little euphoric moments of life and who dismissed the casual, carefree and somehow effervescent existence of common man as the lack of civility– that was I, one who was far too ‘prim n proper',one who was debonairly. Almost nineteen years of living life this way and being tagged ‘Monica’ somewhere down the lane for the extreme case of compulsive obsessive disorder that I do apparently ‘suffer’ from but never once did I imagine myself to be any different – not until today, the jovial, vivacious and insouciant day of the spring festival celebrated to mark the end of dark and demonic forces by burning effigies on the one hand and the smearing of coloured powder topped by water being thrown on one another – Holi.

Much opposed to the idea of ‘playing’ holi, the prospect of taking a day off and going somewhere else, somewhere where I wouldn’t be targeted (for that I definitely was!) was playing in the back of my mind. But, unfortunately, circumstances commanded me to stay, and so I did, fearing for dear life. With immeasurable persuasion and substantial coaxing, I did finally go out there.

And my, oh my! The array of colours that shrouded everyone did indeed scare me. (The only thoughts that ran through my mind at that very precise moment were of the chemical content of those colours and how hard it would be to clean up!) Once you are out there, there is no escape route. Initially filled with inhibitions, I did resist. But somehow, the element of fun couldn’t be ignored and then was when I did loosen up. With countless colours smeared on my face creating a bizarre shade that was spectral and uniquely reminded me of the grinch when I took a closer look in the mirror, drenched in a few buckets of water, a strangely content heart and half an hour later, I returned, realizing two things – one, it is ok to let go and two, it is never too late.

Here I am, it’s been a few hours, and I have expended great efforts on scrubbing, and yet, I still have a tinge of the pink gulal on my face and my fingers glare at me with the shade as I type. At the end of it all, it definitely was a day to remember (my first holi!), a day to bring alive the chromatic hues that paint the days of spring.