The Paradigm of Having the Right Attitude

Everyone motivates you to have the right attitude, but what’s the Right Attitude for you? Nobody questions that, so let’s discuss a little what is this right attitude.

The one that worked for that person?
Might be.
The one that works for the majority?
Might be.
The one that resonates with your individuality and dreams?
Definitely!

So, it would be wise to try out different options before concluding your right attitude towards life; the one that works for you. The one that resonates with you. And that’s how you will know that it’s the right one for you. 🙂

 

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Met the love of my life!

Adult: I bought you an ice-cream.
Child: Really? Which one?

Adult: It’s your favourite! Kwality Wall’s Cornetto, Black Disk!
Child: Hnn!! Thanks! Is today your b-day?

Adult: Nopes, but I am extremely happy today as I met the love of my life!
Child got confused..

Adult: What?
Child: You met your family today!?

Adult: No, No! This is different kind of love.
Child: Oh! Tell me more about it.

Adult: Well, you feel butterflies in your stomach and on her one touch you can teleport to another world.
Child: That’s not different. I remember I felt something similar when my little sis was born and and when she grabbed my finger for the first time.

Adult: Ahh! It’s different! You will understand it when you will grow up.
Child: Hmm, may be. But I like this love more as beside the butterflies, I felt something else too.

Adult: What did you feel?
Child: I don’t know, it was a different feeling. The same I have when mom cuddles me, or when I sit on my father’s shoulders. I asked mom so she replied, “it’s LOVE”.

Adult was flabbergasted, but smiled..

Adult: Yes, it’s LOVE.

P.s: Want to learn about LOVE, sit with a child!

It Was All Black!

There we were, standing outside our decorated house, watching fire engulfing almost all the memories we had preserved, and giving out a black smoke which was silently laughing at our tribulations; soaring to the sky to let other people know about it too. But what we could do then?

Phone calls had been made. Prayers were on a non-stop loop. And eyes….well, some were wet, some were gloomy, some were sad and mine….

Mine were lost…They refused to shed even a single tear. And our ears were seeking the wailing siren. Well,

The siren of fire brigade was never so soothing. Neither I had that much respect for my helpful neighbours prior to that day. But it was all black. The sky, the outer walls of my house, and the hope of resting after an eventful (and wonderful) 2 months.

The smoke persisted against its nemesis, water.

Water prevailed. A major adversity was averted as the gas cylinders just escaped the clutches of fire.

But it was all black. The inner walls, my room, and my preserved memories. Those pages which I cherished, turned black at the corners and lost their roots. My beloved guitar was nowhere to be found. Those letters which I had written were delivered to nowhere by smoke. Still, the eyes didn’t shed a tear.

As what was gone can be built again. As what was saved, our lives, was more important. And as the essence of making and enjoying those memories persisted even when the fire burnt everything materialistic regarding them. Maybe, it was all black except the colors those memories had spread in my heart; that’s why I didn’t cry.

 

P.s: I do sometimes miss those things, but it will pass!

She was home Alone!

Knock Knock Knock! The Voice creeped her out;

Clank Clank Clank! He took out a key.

Creak Creak Creak! The door wailed “incoming”;

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! The shoes smelt where’s She.

Click! Click! Click! The light was gone;

Rustle! Rustle! Rustle! She embraced her knee.

Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! The thunder cleared its throat;

Patter! Patter! Patter! The innocent windows screamed.

Mom! Mom! Mom! She murmured in fear.

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! The crickets veiled the murmurs indeed.

Squeak! Squeakk! Sqeakkk! She could hear him near.

Sssss ahhhh! Sssss ahhhh! Sssss ahhhh! He located her via her breath-feed.

Clang! Clangg! Clanggg! His arms’ shadow was getting big.

No! No! No! Her murmuring got intensified.

Zoop! Zoop! Zoop! He pulled away the table-sheet.

Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Her fear was about to get realized.

Blink! Blink! Blink! Light came and illuminated his face

Thump! Thump! Thump! She saw her daddy; and they embraced….

Contemplating Religion

Yesterday, while driving on the Baba Kharak Singh Marg in Delhi at CP, my friend asked about my devotion towards Bangla Sahib. And, without any pause, I could muster just a nod and the following statement. “Yes, I love being at Bangla Sahib.” And then, I saw its glittering dome and felt happy for some mysterious reason. I continued, “It’s strange how I feel at some places, be it Vaishno Devi, Jama Masjid, Bangla Sahib, in the midst of nature, in the midst of small children and so on. A certain sense of peace comes gushing from within and lifts my lips to form an arch and smile. It doesn’t come from the knowledge that I have had eaten and drunk along with a glass of milk during school that God lives there; but from the feel it gives while I am there. There, in the midst of God, maybe. And, it doesn’t matter what my religion is; as he never talks to the person who has a surname or who has a particular attire but to the soul who is nameless, naked, and pure,” before I got interrupted. “Bro, we are lost. Which turn shall I take? And why were you smiling looking outside?! “Nothing, I was just contemplating what my religion is.” Only this time, my voice was loud enough for him to hear.

Wordless Conversations are the Best Conversations

 

Words might need a conversation but a conversation doesn’t need words; it needs 2 people who want to interact.

Conversations are an essential part of our lives. We can’t really live without them. Even if you are a loner, you have conversations with yourself every time you stop yourself from talking to someone; or, when you look in the mirror; or, during a shower. We just can’t resist them. Especially, when we are told to hold them. And, we learn how to have them in different situations viz. formal, informal, while accosting a girl, while delivering an elevator pitch and so on.

It’s all about the right word, they say. 
It’s all about the right pause, they say.

And they are correct. It’s all about eloquence and how you present your information. And, accordingly, we equip our minds with appropriate syntaxes. But, sometimes, when these conversations get void of words, it results in absolute magic.

Such muted or wordless conversations strip us of all the eloquence or the layers of syntaxes, we have draped ourselves in. The conversation becomes ingenuous. It becomes what it’s meant to be, a pure exchange of information with energy as its rhetoric. Muted conversations seek our undivided attention, which make them holistic and captivating. We focus on other person’s gestures: our eyes swings from her eyebrows to her hands to perceive the eloquence of the information shared; our ears don’t fail to capture the sounds of her breath to measure the intensity of the feeling attached, and our heart starts beating heavier resulting in that AHA moment or Goosebumps sometimes. Why? Because it seized and lived the moment completely. Because it found a genuine moment in our whole day of continual pretence.

I had such a conversation today. I usually don’t talk to our neighbours or some familiar faces which I have seen while growing up –only the usual ‘Namastey’ after an eye contact. Except one person. This uncle lives just a few homes away from me, and I have hardly talked to him 5 times since 2008. However, I remember all those 5 times. He cannot hear but understands everything. He cannot talk but expresses everything better than I even could sometimes. I have never seen him slouching towards his way home. And I have never felt even a tinge of sadness in him while conversing. Every time when our path crosses, we take a break and converse for a minute or so. I said break because I won’t be able to converse properly if I don’t take a break from all the other things in mind, at that point. He hugs me and asks me about my well-being. When I had lost weight, a few years back, he applauded; and today, he filled his mouth with air and mimicked a fat person to ask why I had gained some of it again. And even after we took each other’s leave, my smile urged me to stay.

PS: As a writer, I believe that words are everything. But, somehow, today, while having the conversation I again realized that it’s the feelings behind words that give them the actual meaning.

 

He Was Not ‘Normal’

He sits on the front seat; he disliked studies but dreaded how the others treat.
He holds his lunch near; sometimes out of embarrassment, sometimes out of fear.
He stammers till the last sentence; the paragraph ends, not the scorning nuisance.
He weeps after he reaches home; he suffered from the ‘Why everyone hates me’ syndrome.

Was it his crime that during school, he needs the washroom more than 3 times?
Was it his fault that during reading, everybody flows but he takes halts?
Was it his obesity which he whispers it is, every time he stays with his Granny?
Was it his incapability to live in this world which prefers pretentiousness to humility?

On parents’ suggestion, he showered love but failed to receive even compassion.
On his own perception, he became a snitcher but even that failed to draw the desired conclusion.
On his teachers’ threat, their laughing suppressed but he couldn’t rejoice.
On his heart’s voice, he started paying attention to his passion which proved to be a blessing in disguise.

Some years later, the old bullies were bullied by competition and peer pressure.
They were laughed at, scorned at; on their bent backs, Karma sat.
And then they understood, how he had felt during his childhood.
A thousand of children fall prey to bullyism because they defy our definition of Normal; like him.
And only unconditional love and pursuit of their passion can save them like it saved him.
But some aren’t fortunate enough, their breaths take an endless halt;
And yes, it’s Normal’s fault; it’s Pretentiousness’ fault; it’s our fault.

 

PS. – If you are like him with a different set of idiosyncrasies, stay strong stay unique, you are strong, they are weak.
If you are one of them, show some compassion guys. 

Killing In The Name Of God

Learn An Art!

Make a living but don’t forget to live your life as well. And learning an art can help considerably.:)

Books Are More Than Just Memories!

A tribute to 3 of my favorite books. Thanks a lot!:)<3

• Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
• The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
• The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho