The Pidhi.

At another routine day back after the Pujas in the library today, I was staring off into nothingness, looking back at my research of over two years now, mentally restructuring and simultaneously trying to come up with a world-stopping theory, when I realised that for quite some time now I had been looking out of the window at the astrologer sitting on the pavement, complete with his parrot.

Now I had never quite shared the disdain that quite a few of my peers have for him- overt or covert.Rather, I quite like him. His bread is as much an honest living as any one else's. And it is a hard living. Imagine trying to make perfect strangers believe in obscure, inscrutable forces and unfelt energies in the fragmented, disillusioned and marketed world we live in today.

And as I looked at him again, I realised that but for his very, very benign looks,he could have been a terrifying figure.Would I really want to have his well-trained parrot choose a card for me and me come to know of an insipid or perhaps even painful future? Have the knowledge of the yet-to-come shadow my small beautiful moments? Even if the knowledge comes with the assurance of remedy, really, who in their right minds would want it? Because what really, really worries me is the question of whether we have the power to shape our own futures. Of course, over time I have come to understand that unless we look at it theologically, our answers to this would be directly dependent on the measure of success achieved.

But, again as I saw a man sit down on the pidhi  beside the parrot, I reflected that there is, after all a very fine line between foolishness and bravery, and till I manage to find the courage  to  make my way towards the now occupied pidhi, I remain sitting on a fence.

(Posted at 11:28 pm)

A Thought.

Its often only after the very tiring days that so many little reflections on life hit you. However its not always that you realize that these little nuggets were always there, right behind in the recesses of your mind and that it has just come to the fore in definable clarity and that there is no newness to it after all.


Que Sera Sera : Whatever will be will be.
There was a fly fallen in the ink pot of the Boss.He takes it out from the pot and places it on a fresh piece of blotting paper, to watch it dry itself and prepare itself for flight. But just before it flies off the Boss places another blot onto the fly, so that this time the task of drying itself is more arduous.Yet the fly like all mortals fights for its survival and raises itself for another time before a third blot wipes out its existence.
The fly has no consciousness of the boss and the blots are for it bolts of fate that keeps striking him down, with which he is utterly incapable of fighting, yet he fights unknowing that his existence is being overseen by a stout robust man over him.
We are different. And for us the knowledge that the ink blots shall drop on us are more terrifying than the drops that do eventually fall.
So we live our lives from one blot to another.


Whatever you can do:
There is this thing about your life just starting, you, very much like the fly think that you are responsible for your future and are filled with an overwhelming sense of enthusiasm and drive. You are determined not to make the wrong choices, you are determined not to slack off, you are determined and willing to start putting so many things on the backburner. Then you look around you to the many friends who have already gone off chasing dreams and your resolve turns stronger.

Then what happens??


'Hota wahi hai jo manzoore khuda hota hai.'
(only that which the God shall will will occur.)




P.S : Refernce to the fly taken from a short story by Katherine Mansfield