Hyper-modern theory of Love

Well, I accept that the title is absolutely stupid. Theorizing love. Yet this is what the entertainment industry doing for centuries. Theorizing loves in the form of stories, novels, movies and epics. But love depicted in movies is in a distorted way, giving a misinterpreted picture and idea, thus overshadowing the natural feelings and emotions of love. Arguments can be that, movies are reflections of real life, but it is also to be remembered that ideas reflected in movies are reflected on the society too. This has certainly affected the larger population of youth, which is reaffirmed by more number of teenage clients in counseling centers.  So I felt a refreshing perspective is need of the hour. Though I may not be much experienced for this kind of write up, I believe, am as experienced as it takes. So here it is…

Love is togetherness, forever and more, till death and even after that in the havens of god.

But there must be spaces in that togetherness, and let the music dance in those little spaces.

Love one another, but let that love not be as strong and mighty as a mountain.

Let it rather be as elegant and serene as a calm mountain stream between the shores of hearts.

Fill each other with joy.

But let it not be the only source of happiness.

Stand together.

But let each of you to be alone, for strings of guitar are alone, but they melt in music when in harmony.

Love is not stealing away the heart, but to give it happily, yet not into each other’s keeping.

Love is not “I can’t live without you”,

But, “You gave me what it takes to go on without you”.

(Inspired from the works of Khalil Gibran)

Interesting personalities I have encountered: Part-4- Uncolored racism

…With these thoughts reverberating in my mind, I heard a sound that created a stir in my stomach…

…I believe every passenger who commutes in suburban train would be aware of that sound. It’s a clapping sound mixed with clanging of glass bangles. This particular sound in train indicates the arrival of transgender. They come asking for money. And they will not get anything less than 5 Rs. Sometimes they make vulgar gestures, and behave in embarrassing manners also.  I get severely uncomfortable and nervous, when they enter into the compartment I am travelling in.. Sometimes in the past, I have given away money just to get rid of them.

But that day, after encountering last two personalities, I was determined not to give them any money. If that visually challenged old man and the lady can make ends meet in their life, in an honorable way, why can’t these people make it? Also, they don’t even tell, “Please”. They ask money with authority.

By this time, she came near me. I grew nervous. I tried not to look at her in eyes.  I was adjusting my sitting position many times, and grew uncomfortable. She clapped in front of my face. I shook my head vigorously looking down at the floor, still not looking at her. She gently patted on my cheeks and went away. After making sure she’s not around, I lifted my head up. I got calmed down slowly, and had a sense of relief of escaping from something.

I saw her standing near the door. I thought, why should they do like this? They are healthy, why can’t they do some work for earning? The frontal lobe of my cerebral cortex asked me a question in turn, “Will you or your parents would be interested in having a transgender as your housemaid or recommend them for any work?” The question gave me answer for all my questions.

We are responsible for what they are. They are victims of an ‘uncolored racism’. And we are the one to take the blame. We never treated them as a fellow human, but as untouchables.  We never gave them a chance to live, to study, to work, to survive.  Then how can we expect them to earn money, and live a decent life?  I just tried to remember all the application forms, where I ticked ‘M’ in gender space, none had a space for transgender.

And it occurred to me that, there’s no wrong in them for taking money with authority. It is a penalty for whatever we did to them and still doing to them. We are liable to them for spoiling and still spoiling their lives. We are bound to give them money, until we give them a chance to live a honest and honorable life.

Honestly, amidst all this social hatred, mockery, invalidation and humility, thrown towards them, each and every transgender are indeed great personalities, as it should take Impeccable courage, determination and perseverance to live among creepy creatures like us humans.

P.S: A day before writing down this article, I met another transgender in her 40s, in market.  But this time I didn't shy away, even as she came near me. Because now I understood that she too has feelings. Surprisingly she talked to me in excellent English, “What are you doing kid?” I answered looking at her eyes, “M. Des”. She questioned back, "Means?", I replied, "Master of Design". She looked at me and understood that, I am struggling to buy things, as the shop was crowded.

In a bold voice, she ordered the shopkeeper, “Ask what this kid wants, and give it to him”. Surprisingly I got immediate attention. She looked at me, like am a small kid and said with kindness, “Get what you want and go home soon”. 

Next she talked in Tamil to my friend standing next to me, “Nee enna panra” (What are you doing). My friend replied “Am Telugu”.  And immediately she started conversing fluently with him in Telugu. She spoke to them with a charm. I lived in a cosmopolitan environment for over a year, didn't learnt more than a bunch of words from other languages. I don't know how many more languages she  knew, but the ease with which she spoke English, Tamil, and Telugu, made me to have a respect on her.  

 I felt ashamed for misunderstanding them all through my life.

END NOTE

The three different people, whom I came across in this train journey, gave me a new definition for greatness and survival. Bear Grylls surviving in a remote forest populated by animals and poisonous creatures, is not real survival. But these individuals surviving in an ordinary world populated by a species called Homo sapiens, is real survival.  

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persist and endure inspite of obstacles ”- Christopher Reeve

Interesting personalities I have encountered: Part-3

…He got down after two stops from the station he boarded, and got in the next compartment. I tried to keep looking at him until he went out of sight, but my view was blocked by a woman in her late 40s getting inside the train with a big baggage. As a decent citizen, I inquisitively looked into the bag. She caught me seeing it and walked slowly near me…

…And then she took a pack of pen from the bag, and started selling it. “5 pens 10 Rs…5 pens 10 Rs…” When she came near me, I hesitantly shook my head and looked the other side, out of the window. She moved on concentrating on her business.  After she moved away a comfortable distance from me, I looked into her face. I saw a wave of tiredness, and the pride of honesty in her face.

                And I thought, ‘Wait! What’s there for her to feel proud about? She’s living the most undesirable life of all’. She’s selling pens in suburban trains, fighting for her survival. I ran the thoughts again in my mind,’ most undesirable life of all’, and questioned myself, “What decides the quality of a life?”

                Drowning in thoughts, trying to find out the answer for my question, I got back into reality by the fluttering sound of the newspaper, read by a person sitting next to me.  ‘Indian’ly I slowly peeped into the paper.  There was photo of some famous politician who was being taken to jail for running some big scam. After a few pages, there was news about a multi- millionaire, who went bankrupt due to his fraudulent activities in the past, and approaching the court next day.  I thought what these guys would be doing that night. Can they sleep peacefully? Would they have slept peacefully in the past?

By the time, this lady came back after finishing her rounds in the compartment.  Her face was still tiered, little down, but still it carried hope and pride. By now, I know she has all the reasons for being proud. An honest day labor and a good night sleep. While the politician and millionaire, who seem to live a quality life, will be spending sleepless night thinking about the next day, this lady will be spending her night, cooking and dining along with her children. She’s a better citizen than most of the citizens who cheats and fools around in decent clothes, who hides scams in their shirt sleeves and corruption in white collars.

She sat near the train door, for some rest until the next station comes. I went to her and bought two packets of pen. She saw me in little surprise. So did the people around me.  But they didn’t understand the fact that, this money will actually feed or educate a needy child.

As she went off the compartment in the next stop, I got back with my thoughts. I was ashamed how bad my understanding of people was. I thanked the lady, and the old man for making me understand that, honesty, courage and humbleness, are the qualities that make people really great. Greater than the greatest personalities I have studied in books and magazines.

We walk looking up at the heaven, believing it will rain gold, unaware of the fact that we are walking on mountains of gold.

With these thoughts reverberating in my mind, I heard a sound that created a stir in my stomach…

To be continued...

Interesting personalities I have encountered: Part-2

(Inspired by true events)

This is about a boring routine train journey from Tambaram-Chennai beach, which became so special that you are reading it now.  I happened to see 4 different persons (whom most of us would have seen frequently in the electric train) in a different perspective, that they actually changed my understanding about people.

                First person is an elderly man in his 60s, lean body clad in a shabby vest and dhoti, grayed and soiled hair, wrinkled face with big dark glasses, boarded the train. He had a walking stick with bell in his left hand, which made me understood that he is a visually handicapped person. He held a vessel in his right arm, with coins creating jingling sound in it.

I thought he is about to ask for alms. As he inched into the train, feeling the way through his stick, a clear toned, high pitched voice began to sing an old classical MGR song in Tamil. It was a motivational song.  As I penetrated my eyes through the gaps I found amidst the crowd, searching for the source of sound, I was finally able to confirm that it was that old blind man’s voice.

Honestly his song soothed the noisy and clumsy air inside the train. It warmed the soul and refreshed the mood. The motivational song being sung by a visually handicapped nameless old man, made me feel better compared to reading Robin Sharma or Shiv Khera’s book.

He could have sat in front of a temple begging for alms, but what he does in train singing, I will not call it as begging. I will rather call it a one-man mobile concert on wheels. We are obliged to pay money for him in return to the change his song created in our soul and mood.

His survival means something; it tells stories to people high in senses but in low in confidence. I paid him for his song. He showed a gesture of blessing, even though he will never know who I am or how much I gave him. Just like a god in temple, who shows same gesture of blessing to all his disciples irrespective of the money they drop in hundiyal.

He got down after two stops from the station he boarded, and got in the next compartment. I tried to keep looking at him until he went out of sight, but my view was blocked by a woman in her late 40s getting inside the train with a big baggage. As a decent citizen, I inquisitively looked into the bag. She caught me seeing it and walked slowly near me…

To be continued on: 15/06/13

Interesting personalities I have encountered: Part-1

Matha Pitha Guru Deivam…

Gone are those days, where teaching is considered as a highly responsible and divine profession, and these are the days were teaching is considered as yet another profession to earn money without much difficulty. It’s a common perception these days that teachers are those who can’t get into any other good profession. Unfortunately the perceptions are turning into reality slowly, with amateurish fresh graduated who couldn't land up in any job, flock towards teaching, as a temporary money making profession. They aren't aware of the fact that, in any other profession, if the professional makes a fault, it will affect only the concerned project or industry he’s working in, if a teacher makes an error, it will affect the entire society and generations to come.

                Under these changing scenarios, I feel myself lucky to have studied under two different teachers, who still resist losing their value as teachers. They aren't the usual kind of teacher’s who teach from 9 A.M to 4 P.M.  The last thing they care about as a teacher is, money.  This is the first part of the two part article, about the teacher who demystified mathematics to me and the second part is about a farmer (also my teacher) who terrorized chess champions.

                The first man, about whom this first part is about, is a maths teacher. A short lean man in his 60s, dressed mostly in his dhotis, with half bald head and rest of them with completely grayed hair, but his face emanating a youthful glow. A man who still rides his old BSA-SLR bicycle, as he’s not one of those teachers who teaches the hazards of pollution due to refrigerants in a completely air-conditioned room. We fondly call him as “Sukru sir”. He lives in a village which didn't and will not find its place in Indian map.

Sukru sir is basically a farmer whose expertise is in Fourier series and transformations. He works in his farm during early morning hours and teaches school and college maths during free hours. It is to be noted that this farmer is an expert in English grammar also. I am not a formal student of him, but he accepted to teach me higher secondary maths during my summer vacation stay at my grandma’s home.  An interesting thing to note is that, my forefather and my father were also his former students, while he was teaching at school.

    

He never believed in conventional teaching methods. He mostly didn't teach in class rooms. He takes his class children out to mango groove to teach probability (out of X stones thrown, Y stones hit the mango, what is the probability of hitting the mango? is an example of his class question). Similarly river beds, playgrounds will also be turned into makeshift classrooms. He never worried about the completion of syllabus, for all his concern is about understanding of his students. He will be ready to teach the same concept any number of times, until the student got it perfect.

By this time there should be a question in your mind about his qualification. He’s not an untrained mathematician. He completed his Bachelor’s degree in mathematics during 60’s, and those days syllabus are considered much difficult compared to present B.Sc Maths, which explains his comfort with the present day maths. Later due to some unknown reasons to me, he didn't pursue his studies. I had always felt if he had studied further, things would have been much different.

I have earlier mentioned that, he stopped teaching at schools. It is due to an interesting incident that happened during his teaching session. Once he was teaching some long mathematical proof, which ends with an answer ‘4’. Throughout the class one mischievous guy was making pranks and trying to attract attention of his class mates. This got on to nerves of Sukru sir, who is basically short-tempered. And he called the boy out and asked, “What do you want?”

The guy replied, “Nothing Sir”

Sukru sir asked again calmly, “Them why were you disturbing the class throughout”

The guy replied with an innocent look, “I had a doubt”

Sukru sir asked in suspicion, “What doubt?”

The guy replied, “I didn't know how that ‘4’ came”

 Sukru sir fell into his trap, and eagerly went near the board to explain and asked, “From which step you didn't understood”

The guy now cracked his prank on Sukru sir too, “No doubt in that problem, but how the number 4 came into existence”

The whole class fell into laughter, which made Sukru sir’s anger go out of control, he twisted the guy’s ear and pulled him near the board, and drew three lines forming number “4”, and said, “This is how this 4 came, now get lost without wasting the class time” and thrashed him out of the class room.

                This guy turned out to be, son of some important big-shot from that village. So there was immense pressure on him to apologize to the student and take him back into his class. He plainly refused saying, “I will resign, instead of teaching one disobedient student”. And he didn't go to school after that.

He then set up his maths tuition class in his home. He usually taught for very low fee and free for students who couldn't afford to pay. He’s such an excellent teacher that almost all of his students topped their maths exams. I managed to score 97% in my higher secondary maths, which I owe to him. And that is the last time I did well in maths.

We have asked him lot of times to set up his maths institute in Chennai, so that he can earn well, due to the maths tuition craze for higher secondary Maths. He plainly refused each time, that his village students deserve him more, and that he’s not really interested in making money out of teaching.

Finally I like to quote one thing he said to me recently while talking.

“Humbleness is the greatest fee, a student can give to his teacher”

The story of a beautiful girl

It was fresher’s party at college. A beautiful young girl, with carefully applied make up and mesmerizing looks entered the party hall. Her long hairs had the beauty of night sky and her smile had the warmth of sunshine.

It was not a surprise that, within minutes of her entry, everyone’s eyes were transfixed on her.  Guys swarmed behind her to talk at least a word with her. Some guys invited her to dance, and some were asking for her contact number, many started to look out for her FB profile.

She got irritated by this situation. She refused to dance, lied to guys who asked for her contact number, that she has no mobile or FB accounts. She simply avoided the guys who tried to smile at her or talk to her. At last she got out of the party hall half way.

On the way back home, she thought, “Don’t these guys know any culture; is this the way to behave to a girl? Worst guys, Worst guys”

With these thoughts, one year passed for her and for everyone. Again she was invited for fresher’s party, as a senior.

Even after a year, she was as stunning as she was a year before. It won’t be an exaggeration to say that she was even prettier, with more carefully applied make up.

But the guys who got insulted by her last year, didn't care to notice her this time. So all through the party nobody disturbed her.

On the way back home, she thought, “Don’t these guys know any culture; is this the way to behave to a girl? Worst guys, Worst guys”

(Adapted from a story by Khalil Gibran)

We the people

Why do we have friends, enemies? Why do we marry? Why do we earn money? Why do we celebrate festivals?

                Once we were just an embryo created by our parents. Our mom took good care of us, without even seeing us, in the dark seclusion of her womb. A doctor brought us out from the safe confinement, into this brand new world. We survived many infections in our childhood, with the help of our mom and doctors. We were amazed at everything we saw, as everything was new to us. Every moment was a surprise. Once we started to talk, our father became our first teacher. We tirelessly asked about the things that amazed us.

"Pa, what is that?"

"That’s a car"

"Pa...That?"

"That's a bus"

"That..."

"That's another bus"

"That..."

"That's a big bus...enough for now"

"That..."

"It’s a cow..."

"That..."

"That's all..."

"..."

"..."

...and a million other questions.

                When the horizon of curiosity extends, such that our parents find it difficult to answer our questions, we get into a place called school. Where they 'trade' a great deal of knowledge. We learn a lot from our teachers, friends and people around us, in the fifteen years that followed. Each one around us taught us a new thing about life, and we finally graduate teenage with the support of our teachers and friends.

                Next part of our life came, where we used the experience and education to shape up our future. Every minute, we compare ourselves with that of the world, and advance in the direction of our dreams. We get married. We crave for social respect, power and popularity. In that quest, sometimes we even forget the people around us.

                Next we get aged. We lose the spark in us. At this point of time, money seems less important. What matters the most is, "People". A famous Australian politician, Katherine pritchard, said once,

"Don't sacrifice your life to work and ideals. The most important thing in life is human relationships. I found that out too late"

                If we ask a person who's age is in 20's, "which is the most important thing in life?" the most probable answer would be, "fun, education, happiness" or any other combination of vocabularies representing the previous three things. Similar question to a person in 40's would yield the most probable answer as "Wealth and power".

                But if we ask an elderly person, the same question, the answer would be, "People or human relationships". They are mostly said by elderly people, after all their experiments and experiences with life. It’s the essence of their life. The sad thing is, most of us realize it "Too late".

                We invented festivals, not to get glued to TV and rest, but the festivals are an excuse to get-together with our beloved ones, to feel the 'belongingness' of each other.

                'Friend' is a relationship that doesn't need to be explained.

            

    'Enemy' is a relationship, that's as important as a 'friend'. If we hadn't had any enemies, or anyone to compete with each other, we wouldn't have crossed even stone age.

                Thus the answer to all the questions in the beginning is, “The People". From the moment we get into this world (And even before that) to the moment we rest in peace, every one of us are dependent on every other around us, to survive. And the name given to this dependency is, mother, father, wife, friends, enemies, relatives, teachers, doctors, and so on and so forth.

               

       World as a whole is one single community. The human community. The people. It is the 'people' factor that directly or indirectly affects the way we are. A small fight between, some farmer and his wife in some corner of the world, has the capability to affect the world economy.

                Imagine if you can live in a world, where you are the only human alive. Respect and be thankful for every last person on this earth, for making your life livable and feel proud as you too are doing the same.

                

Thank God! Am lazy

(Inspired by true events...)

“You lazy idiot…When are you going to wash your clothes? They are looking like a garbage dump” asked ammu, my sister.

“Soon”, I answered in monosyllable, without taking my head out of FB.

“Soon?” came the reply.

“Ya, tomorrow evening for sure” And we both know, it won’t happen.

“if you keep dressing those shabby clothes, even the last girl in the earth won’t see you” Sarcasm from her.

“Ha..Einstein, Edison, and even Mark Zuckerberg were the worst dressed personalities in this world. Feel proud to be my sister”. History can come in handy, at crucial arguments if you know how to use it.

“I don’t know how they were, but I need my bro to be dressed neat and well”, she shattered my shield of history. She continued before I began, “My friends will be coming home tomorrow evening after my Thesis presentation. I will use your room”

I shook my head in affirmation, with my eyes still glued to the LCD monitor. I have never declined my sister’s requests. Perhaps, they were orders. Still she wandered around my room here and there, moving things from one place to another, For she’s so curious about the girl am chatting with in FB.

“Why don’t you yourself clean the room and wash my clothes, if you are so concerned” I asked in irritation, as she’s not moving out of my room.

“Ask your wife to do it, when you are married, she will kick you!!!” she replied plainly, as if a saint foresees my future and telling it out. And she continued in the same voice, “Atleast close that dirty window now, your table’s near it and anybody can pull out things through it easily, if they know a lazy fool is staying here”  She’s always successful in sneaking sarcasm into her caring voice.

 “ya..okay” I said without turning to her. I forced myself to show some attitude. She waited sometime, expecting me to move, and I expected the same from her. And I won. She walked to the door, stopped a second, turned again and said “Wash your clothes, you lazy goose”

                Washing clothes, according to me is the most difficult assignment. If anyone asks me whether, “Will you wash your clothes or solve ‘the millennium prize puzzle’”, I will happily choose the latter one. I turned back to see whether Ammu had left or not, and I noticed that Ammu was right, anybody can pull things through the window, as our home was on the ground floor. I felt little bad for behaving harsh on her.

Ten steps between my couch and window seemed to be a light year distance. Finally I moved out of the couch to close the window, to avoid feeling sorry in the future. But I received a call which made me stick back to the couch, and the call turned out to be a service call.

“Hey idiot, get up”, my sister shook me up the next day morning. “It’s not late, but you are gonna drop me in my college today, so better hurry up”

She looked around my room and seemed satisfied to find my garbage dump missing. Our parents were out, so we had simple breakfast and started out. Before firing my bike engine, I checked the bag for main door keys, while she screamed from the gate,

“Got the keysss…..”

So I started and picked her to college. I noticed Ammu through rear view mirror. She looked apparently nervous. “Are you alright dear?” I asked in a soothing tone. “its usual the exam’o’phobia, I will be alright” she managed to sound funny.

“Can I attend your seminar? You will feel good right?”

“There’s no better way to threaten me. Don’t think you can bunk your classes using me. Go to your college, I can manage” She seemed to be calmed down, by the time we reached her college.

Some phenomenon in this world cannot be explained by science, but works perfectly right. One such phenomenon is “Intuition”. Before doing something important, we will have this dilemma, whether it will workout or not, and somewhere inside our heart or mind, there will be a feeling that this would work out, or no it is ‘impossible’. And most of us will have some strange feeling, prior to something good or bad about to happen.

And I had that feeling, but a bad one. Something intrigued me, and I looked at Ammu. She was completely normal, excavating her handbag. Girls’ handbag can hold a survival kit to Antarctica. So I turned my bike, towards my college. “Thiru…” I heard Ammu calling me, and I know it’s for her naughty dialog, “Wish me worst luck”. When I turned towards her, panic was apparent in her eyes.

                “I forgot to take the pen drive from laptop after copying the presentation” the words came out calmly from her which is a storm indicator

“Ok be cool, don’t create a scene at middle of the road” even before I understood what I said, storm broke out as I guessed, “Create a scene? This is my life man” she screamed out.

                “Don’t panic and mess up your day, we still have a lot of time since we started earlier. I will bring the pen drive before your presentation starts. Give me the key” I panicked now.

                Bomb dropped on both of us this time.

“What the hell you mean, ‘get me the keys’, don’t you have the keys?”

“What the *****, Din't you screamed that you got the keys, from door, when I was checking for the keys” I lost my patience.

“Damn you man, I asked “Got the keyssss??????””

I stumbled without knowing, on whose side the mistake was, but it wasn't the time to judge.

“Break the lock” she said in a cold voice, as s in a Hollywood movie.

I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or get wild at her innocence. But chose a honest tone “Are you kidding me? Do you think it is a cardboard box? It will take much time”

                I got geared up for further arguments. But she sat broken at her college bus stop and gave an ‘It’s-not-your-mistake’ look which made me feel that it’s gonna be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

                I got down from my bike, sat near her and caressed her head. I know how hard she worked for her PhD. “Am sorry”, I said, “But even a skilled thief cant open that lock”

                She turned her head towards me. I saw a flash of excitement in her eyes. She laughed with tears welling up in her eyes.

                “What?” I asked, as I was clearly confused.

“Why are you laughing Idiot?” I thought my fear of her being crazy someday became true

“My dear lazy brother” She asked in a eager voice, “Did you locked that window last night?”

It slowly occurred to me, what happened last night when she said, “Atleast close that dirty window now, your table’s near it and anybody can pull out things through it easily, if they know a lazy fool is staying here” and the call that came after that which made me forget about the window. Adrenaline suddenly rushed through me, when I realized that laptop, which has the pen drive, is also on that table. I usually leave keys also on the same table.

                I joyously replied, “Why in the world, would I have locked that window” and ran towards my bike. Ammu’s voice stopped me, “Wait”. I looked puzzled at her.

She hugged me and said. “Thank god! My bro is lazy”, at the same time I was thinking, “Thank god! I am lazy”