Its time...

Here is a story etched in my memory....

A certain rich merchant was walking through the market place of Baghdad when, standing across the street, he suddenly saw the figure of Death, beckoning him.
The terrified man ran home, mounted his fastest horse, and raced five hundred miles to Samara. Later that night, there was a knock at the door. When the man answered it, there stood Death.
"Why did you beckon me in the market place of Baghdad today?" asked the man. "I did not beckon you." replied Death. "I was merely surprised to see you, for I knew that tonight, we had an appointment in Samara.

Might feel depressing if that is the way you view death or destiny. But take a step back and see yourself. What are you running from? Will it go away? Will it stop chasing?

More than often, I find that the more I run away from something, the more likely I end up running towards it. When I avoid a new colleague at work who is insensitive to others' needs and muddles his way through life, I am pretty sure that my new boss (or the neighbour who just moved in) will just have the same habit. And I really cant avoid them...  

The lesson shall present itself till I learn. Hard though it may sound, but as soon as I learn to deal with this in a self-respecting way, I feel larger, bigger and grateful. 

So, when life throws a question at you which irks you, it is almost always better to accept that sooner or later you will have to deal with it. Avoid it if you are not ready. Run, if you are not ready. But run, lift weights and turn back to face it. It is only when you stop, that you are  no longer chased.

Sing. Never mind the words

Flipping through the channels today, my fingers stopped on a Charlie Chaplin movie.
He is preparing for a song, helped by his girlfriend. She is sitting on a table, her legs on the chair. He does a short walk and then poses but the words don't come out. He forgets. Another try. Same result.
Then she gets an idea. She writes the words on his cuff. He gets back to his position, does the walk, looks at the cuff and sings. Moves a few steps left, looks at the cuff and then sings again. Moves right, quick look at cuff and sings. He is happy. He has cracked it. He holds her hands and thanks her. It is his turn now to go before the audience.
As he does an opening waltz, he throws his arms in the air. The cuffs leap from his wrists. Gone. He is unaware as he does a couple of more steps. Poses. Looks the cuff. Disbelief. The music goes on. The crowd starts to boo. He looks at his girlfriend. What do I do? - the thought written on his face. She says, "Sing. Never mind the words." He bats his eyelids, uncomprehending. She says it again. "Sing".
He sings. The words are gibberish. A mix of Spanish, French and languages never heard of. "Se bella giu satore Je notre so cafore Je notre si cavore Je la tu la ti la twah " He dances as he sings. He mimes about the love story he is singing about. He breaks into silences and then sings again. The audience loves it. He is a hit.

And I wonder...do I always need to know the song before I sing it? Do I? The answer is not easy. A part of me is afraid of making a mess of myself. Of being embarrassed. Of being laughed at. But you know what, if I am in the mood, it does not matter. When I talk to life, life talks to me. It always does. It is like a law. So, let me do that next time when I am in the soup. When I don't know the words. Se bella giu satore....
If you want to see the video, click here

बहुत कुछ करना है, हाँ, बहुत कुछ।

अभी पंख लगाकर उङना बाकी है,

सागर की गहराई में क्या है, यह देखना बाकी है,

दौङते हुए बहुत दूर अा जाना बाकी है,

बिना बिजली के गाँव में रहना बाकी है,

फिर से बारिश में भीगना बाकी है,

सिर्फ किताबों में डूबे रहना बाकी है,

काम की मौज में लुट जाना बाकी है

गाना सीखना बाकी है, गाना सुनाना बाकी है

दिल खोल के हसँना बाकी है, रोना बाकी है

एक बार फिर से जीना बाकी है

बहुत कुछ करना है, हाँ, बहुत कुछ।

Haiku

Tried writing a haiku. Followed the 5-7-5 syllables and the where-what-when rule. Totally immersed trying to capture what I have been feeling this whole morning.

Crouched below a shade

Hot summer winds gush by

Childhood dreams

I am not sure if it makes sense when read once. Perhaps it is a poor haiku or perhaps it just takes time for the reader to engage with it and get to the layer underneath. I ll opt for the former. It will take time for me to become good at it. But at least it is a step and I feel nice.

One of those days...

One of those days when I want to put on wings and fly

One of those days when I want to give everything a try

Of a sun that sparkles as hours become fuller

Of hot summers nights as they become cooler

Those moments of breaking free from the everyday

Those days of making new memories that are here to stay

Days that are awake, full of creation

Days that forever sparkle with imagination