War at peace

"If you give me a ride, I will probably not kill you" read the lines on a cardboard on the sides of Interstate 40.

Hitchhiker alert! exclaimed Anna, a lonely traveler on the long, straight never ending roads of the wild west.

Basil, the stranger promptly thanked the driver for her risk taking endeavor and started with the customary small talk. After a few monosyllabic replies from Anna, the bookmarked copy of "War and peace" swiftly grabbed his attention. 

It was just the first chapter, and for reasons known to him alone, he started reading it aloud.

Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her...

Basil, cutting into his own reading: See, this is what I don't understand! Why create an image and then try to hang on to it, though you don't feel like it?!

Anna: Excuse me?!

Basil: Anna Pavlovna's character in this scene. Why does she have to do things she doesn't want to do?

Anna: Because we create those images for a reason, guided by our motives. Sometimes selfish, sometimes not. As long as we are in the pursuit of those motives, "not feeling like it" is just a brick in the wall.

Now, if you allow me to drive....

Basil, cutting in again: I still don't get it! Won't you be cheating yourself and others? Don't you see this as a passive form of lying?

(So much in Anna's eyes to say, if only he paid a little attention)

Basil, continuing: I would be so much more happier if people would just as be with me as they felt like it!

(Sound of brakes and a sudden halt)

Anna: Can you please get down from my car?

Basil: Why, What happened?!

Anna: Nothing, I just felt like it. 

As the Interstate 40 became home to the cardboard sign again, the pages from the novel in the car flipped back and forth...

The subdued smile which, though it did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed, as in a spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect, which she neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to correct.

"I'm fine" .. O really?!

"Hi, how are you?"
"I am fine"

I don't know how many times, the same exact combination of these words have been repeated since time immemorial. Who started this? whoever did, sure had a wicked sense of humor.

I remember the speaker in my first ever corporate training telling, no body really wants to know how you are actually doing, just make a habit of saying you are fine.

Being someone who was new to the etiquette of formal meets and greets I decided to nod on that topic and agree to do what was expected to be done.
(Are we out of ideas as a species to do something else than the ever repeated set of sentences to get our morning started or  get a conversation going?)

What is the point of asking someone how they are if you don't have the time or energy to spend in listening to them. If you want to ask me how I am, you better be prepared to listen a neurotic monologue! 

Speaking of monologues, you should listen to this (even if you have already!)

AND

What is the point of telling someone you are fine when you are actually not?!

Nobody is ever fine!

Its like setting life on cruise control. "Here we go 70 miles per hour. The road is long and straight and the music is on".

Really? I don't think so! I believe that the road is full of ups and downs, curves and company.

Accelerations, decelerations and sudden unexpected brakes. 
(I will take this one back, I should stop being too much of a traffic engineer!).

Anyway, the point is:
No! life can't be just fine. Fine is like those statistical measures, like average so so so of so so so is..

You have a hundred things on your mind! Ones that make you laugh your heart out, and the ones that make you sweat, bleed and have those moist eyes that you want to deny.
If your life is "fine", being the tiniest bit of the infinite randomness that you and me are, I ask you to get out and go take a fucking chance!

ಜೀವನ್ಮೊಹ

ಬರದ ಬವಣೆಯಲ್ಲೂ ಭಾವನೆಗಳ ಕೊರತೆ ಇಲ್ಲ,
ಇಂದು ನಾಳೆಗಳ, ಹುಟ್ಟು-ಸಾವುಗಳ ಬದುಕು.
ಆಸೆಗಳ ಆಗಸಕೆ ಏಣಿ ಇಡುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ.
ನೀಗದ ಹಸಿವಿಗೆ ಉಣಬಡಿಸುವ ಆಡಂಬರ.

ತೋದಲ್ ನುಡಿ ಮೊದಲ್ ನಡೆ
ತುಂಟ ಮನ, ಬಿಸಿಯ ತನು.
ಕಣ್ ಹನಿ, ಕಿರು ನಗೆ
ತುಂಬಿದ ಬಸಿರು, ಮೆಲ್ಲ ನಿಟ್ಟುಸಿರು.
ನೆನಪುಗಳ ಸಂತೆಯ ಕರೆತರುವ ನೆಪಗಳು.

ಈ ನಶೆಯ ಉಯ್ಯಾಲೆಯಲಿ ತೇಲದವರಾರು?
ಕಾಲನಾ ಚಕ್ರದಲಿ ಉರುಳದವರಾರು?
ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯಾ ಚಿತ್ರದಲಿ ಬಣ್ಣವಾಗದವರಾರು?

ಸ್ವ-ತಂತ್ರ

ನೂರಾರು ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳೆ, ಹದಿ ಹರೆಯದ ಹೃದಯಗಳೆ
ವಾಸ್ತವದ ಹಳ್ಳಕ್ಕೆ ಬೀಳುವಿರೇಕೆ?
ತಮ್ಮದೇ ರೆಕ್ಕೆಗೆ ಕೊಡಲಿಯೇಕೆ?

ಭಯದ ನೆರಳಲಿ ಸೂರ್ಯಕಾಂತಿ ಅರಳದು
ನಿಂತ ನೀರು ಸಾಗರವ ಸೇರದು

ಚಿಗುರಿದ ಮೊಳಕೆಯ ಚಿವುಟದಿರಿ
ಕಣ್ಣ ಮುಚ್ಚಿ ಸ್ವತಃ ಕುರುಡರಾಗದಿರಿ

ಭಾವನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಜೀವವುಂಟು
ಸಾದ್ಯತೆಯ ಅರಿವುಂಟು

ಛಲದಲ್ಲಿ ಶಾಂತಿ ನೆಲೆಸಲಿ
ಕನಸುಗಳು ನನಸಾಗಲಿ

ದೈನಂದಿನ ಹಿಗ್ಗಾಟಕೆ ಕೊನೆ ಇರಲಿ
ನಿಲ್ಲದ ಹೋರಾಟಕೆ ದನಿ ಇರಲಿ

Time!

Time. From scientists to poets, time has been a thing of fascination to all.

What does it mean to me?

It means everything is temporary, the sad times as well as the happy ones.
It means nothing lasts forever.
It means there is nothing to be sorrow for!
It means there is everything to be cherished.
Failures, heart breaks, shocks, embarrassments.
The joy, the happiness, the tears, the smiles.
Every breath, every thought, every pulse.

Well, that's what I think of time. (At this point of "time!")

It's everywhere, in the past, in the future, in the undefined, indefinite space.
This is the time of the times!

Oh no! Someone tell me I'm not in a racist moment!

It was about two years when I experienced it for the first time. I was relatively naive then and it happened in the downtown of Amsterdam in the middle of the night. Luckily though, I had few friends with their poker faces on showing me the best way to adopt.

This time, a couple of seconds into it when the skinny middle aged lady stood between me and the aisle in the bus and started confronting me with racial slur literally into my face, I had only one thing in my mind: Not to give a single piece of emotion, not even a micro expression.

While it went on for good 5-10 minutes, I didn't know what to do except maintaining the status-quo. Last time this happened, we were in a isolated alley with no one to hear or help us. But now, I'm in the bus with 50 other people in it! Without giving in to the banter, shouldn't I do something about it? Shouldn't any of the other 50 do something about it?

Fortunately, just when I was thinking all of this, two girls in the bus took up to themselves to give some piece of mind to the lady. Soon the voices reached the driver and a formal complaint was made, the police were called when the lady refused to leave the bus. Realizing the consequences, within few minutes she reversed her decision, said some of the most meanest, sickest things to the girls and ran away after spitting on them.
The girls took it in a lighter way and within few minutes normalcy was restored.

I was not bothered by the lady with the racist slurs (going back to my previous post, I've to terms with it).
I was not bothered that it took so long for anyone to react (the hesitation is understandable).
The thing that did bother me was there were 48 other people (including me) in the bus who chose to remain silent. I do not know what I would've done, if it had gone longer, I was certainly thinking about it.
But it did bother me that majority of people chose to ignore a fellow passenger being confronted racially. (Sitting silent is not being neutral! sometimes there is no stand like that!)

A friend of mine once used to say, jails are not for bad people who will do bad things anyway. They are to stop good people from doing bad things. Now, I don't want to assume people as "bad" by default! (Even though you are put to test when you are the lone brown guy in the full bus and the seat beside you will be the last one to get occupied. No, I don't want to assume things and raise the race card! It will be crazy living like that).

But, what keeps good people away from doing good things? (like taking a stand in this matter)

There is always this understandable hesitation in one's mind. You know something is wrong and you hope someone else takes an action before you may have to do it yourself. Thankfully there are some "Good Samaritan Laws" in many parts of the world, helping people to do the right thing than just being a bystander. (Though the applicability of law is somewhat limited).

Regardless of existence of laws or type of situation, mostly as we know and perhaps seen in many cases, some of us are early to put that thought into action than the others. It is this transition which makes all the difference in the situation. (Be it someone facing a racist confrontation or someone in need of any kind of help). It isn't about being a hero, it's just about doing the right thing. For some of us it is about killing the "what if?" fear, for some overcoming the "why me?" and for some just realizing being a helpful human is more important than being a cynic.

I don't consider myself to be an expert in moral measures, but I have penned down my thoughts here, hoping some of them strike a chord. Though I started with the story of my racist moment, I hope the reader will not get tied down to the particular event and rather ends up asking "Should I let myself to be a bystander?" in any day-to-day situation which can do better with an involvement.

I hope we all can overcome whatever is hindering us and put our thoughts into action in all walks of life.

Peace!

To be lost....

The road that was clearly marked seemed to disappear

and the moon cut itself into half.

The rain stopped, its droplets trickled down from the invisible tree.

They touched me and told me, I am lost.

I asked the rain, the moon and the tree,

"Lost?"

"Where did I intend to go other than where you took me?"

They all fell silent, the moon disappeared behind the clouds.

The wind started blowing and whispered in my ears

"To be lost is to be found"