Musings

Small is big I was reading the  Mahabharata  the other day. It seemed strange to me that Guru Dronacharya would so cruelly ask Ekalavya to give up his thumb as Gurudakshina - I wondered what the great teacher would do with it, until I realized that it is impossible to be an archer without a thumb. In order to test this, I tried writing, cutting, and throwing, without using my thumb and eventually understood how precious this little appendage is to me. Indeed, the small things that we own are most precious to us, from the small engagement rings on my parents' fingers that stand as timeless symbols of their love, to the tiny clip that keeps my locks from covering my eyes. Who can forget  Uncle Podger's  attempt to 'nail' a picture on the wall? It was no mean feat, after all… All that I had beheld in my life and would continue to, comes down to the little iris inside my eyes - what use are one's eyes without the gift of eyesight. Little DNA strands can prove an...

A bustling place by the day, a town dons a different avatar at night - quieter, darker and deeper than what one would perceive of it in daylight. A blend of romance and realism, a town by night is a phenomenon to reckon with... Soon after dusk, the dark townscape gets speckled with the bright electric lights illuminating homes and offices, and it is no less marvellous than the sky overhead that is dotted with stars, as though there is an imaginary mirror between the land and the sky, like a river reflecting the adorned sky in its dark water. The town does remain busy, only in a much subdued way. Now the stations and bus stops wait for the daily commuters - the friendly vegetable seller, the querulous fishmonger, the solemn clerk, the fatigued student, and the lonely vagabond. The look of toil and drudgery is etched on almost every face, as each person prepares to retire to the comfort of one's home. It is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot's   Preludes   - as if the dying evening...

Just as television and music help to de-stress our minds, a time comes when man tires out of his daily diet of mostly bland food. Running to a fast food restaurant is quite similar to taking a taking a vacation or immersing oneself in a sensational novel. However, contrary to the healing and educational effects of a vacation or book-reading, consuming fast food is more a bane than a boon, though temporarily therapeutic, nevertheless. The lust for fast food primarily comes out of boredom with home-cooked meals. People conveniently choose to forget the bitter truth that fast food is greasy, spicy, loaded with trans-saturated fat, and even food colours. It seems that the only thing they care about is the lip-smacking taste of cheese burgers, rolls, shakes and fries. It takes them to a world of pure bliss, where food serves to drown all their fears, sorrows and inadequacies, filling them with ecstasy that was hitherto unknown. In other words, the urge to consume fast food is more psych...

On my way back home from my workplace, I see some familiar faces, one of them being that of a lottery ticket seller. He got me thinking of many like him... A lottery ticket seller is probably the most sought-after man. It must be fascinating for him to watch thousands throng to his shop every day, each one hoping that fortune would smile upon him some day. He is the witness to numerous displays of hope, happiness and heartbreaks, yet we know very little about him. He is not as important as the ticket he sells, after all. A lottery ticket seller is likely to be a rather insignificant-looking person: more noticed for what he sells than for who he is. It is needless for him to convince his customers to buy the tickets he has for sale. One can imagine what he goes through the moment he begins his day. He is barraged with a salvo of screams, requests and questions from all those who believe in gambling with their destinies! He surely feels sorry for the faces he sees everyday - fac...

At first it was annoying to hear the tawny tomcat demand fish every morning by meowing away outside the window of my dining room but a few days later, I was surprised when I realized that I had started missing him. It became ritualistic to have him around at our meal times, morning and night. About a year later, the tomcat became quite chubby, courtesy his Piscian diet and my unuttered vows of love. Then came his family of two kittens and their elegant mother. One of them was white, streaked with grey, and the younger one, orange, a shade that was a tad lighter than his daddy's. The white, shy one always eluded my grasp and the orange one was impossible to locate, until one winter night. Sensing some unusual noises in the kitchen, I decided to unlock its door, fearing that I might find a thief that must have entered through the back door right next to the kitchen, in our moment of inattention (Yikes!), and got locked up. Well, this intruder was none other than the tiny Garfield...

Since time immemorial, man has had this uncontrollable urge to be the master of time, expressed adequately in his desire to pursue time travelling, to perhaps change a vignette from the past, or to catch a glimpse of the unknown future. Sadly though, such ambitions have remained confined to the pages of fiction. Though much about time remains mysterious and hypothetical, it is an undeniable fact that, time, after all, cannot be conquered. it travels fast when we need it to wait, and does not seem to pass over when we wish for it to. In other words, time is as we perceive it, and we begin to value it precisely when we run out of time! It is time that reaps lives, and time that renews, time that turns sweet relations bitter and brings arch enemies closer ; time that erects boundaries, and time that erases differences ; time divides and unites, destroys and preserves, helps us recall and forget. Time has witnessed the rise and fall of empires, and likewise, the rise to stardom and ...

Many words have been attributed to winter: cold, dark, dreary, fruitless, death-like...pleasant. In fact, winter derives its virtue from the context in which it prevails. What is dreadful to many comes as a blessing to the blazing tropics. Winter may be a curse for all those starved, listless faces, who would wish for the Happy Prince’s swallow to pluck off and drop leaves of gold on them! Winter may be an inspiration for many like Robert Frost, to write enduring verses on  Stopping by woods on a snowy evening , admiring the lovely, deep and dark surroundings, at the cost of a poor horse’s perplexity! Winter is when a Johnsy, in her morbid fancy might connect the falling of the last leaves to the remaining days of her sordid life. While most trees reach out to the heavens, stretching their dying arms, the more blessed birches, firs, pines, spruces and conifers enjoy their evergreen status. Birds fly away to warmer lands, leavin...