The sane river...

I find myself flowing like a river telling the tales of difficulties & singing the joys experienced. Tunes change during the course of the flow, the tempo of each tale & the song strikes a fresh note even when hit by stones embedded...But then the river beds, the banks on the either side, trees and all that the Lord has created standstill & fixed, but I keep flowing and will keep flowing on and on...Waiting for no one to embark me on my journey...Yes few sand particles, pebbles and gravels moved with me but journeyed only for a while....  The poignant part - I remember them but they don't. The pragmatic part - How can they when they were fixed... and so I keep flowing...to drive some more sand dust, some more pebbles and some more gravel. 

The only ordeal is that much later in the course some tangible elements embarked me on my journey which did not mix with me, kept flowing with me and journeyed well for a long time till I laid them on the banks of some different history. Strangely, some elements did mix with me and when they mixed with me I realized that they changed my sanity forever, they were colorful pollutants...But I know, I will soon find my way into the perpetual calm oceans where the horizons demarcates the land and the sky or I shall escape like a soul and become the free flowing clouds and the shower down to join some river to flow again, sing again and chant again on my way to the vicious cycle...

Back to the past

Few days back, I happened to write back to the past as my BBM personal message and there was no specific reason why I did it. On the same evening, I sincerely justified it to one of my colleague on the BBM chat and, couple of days later I drove home a Royal Enfield Bullet Electra 350CC. Had it been the case with some great man of honor, it would have been a saying today that, what ever you update on the BBM as your personal message, actually gets imbibed in real life in some way or the other, but I don’t mean that.

Today, June 4, 2011, while a rode my Babaji  (And trust me I just named my Bullet while I was  trying to frame my line) back to my home from Saket, I was thinking and I was thinking like I always do, not very specific, neither I was planning something nor was I concluding something. I just happened to realize that now I spend my liquid cash with great ease on basics, its not that I don’t feel it but it’s just that I can’t hold it and this thought of mine took me on a flash back.

6:30AM used to be the approximate time that we used to get up for school when we were in school, irrespective of any season. Daily routine was as simple and regular as ever, the eyes opened to the new day, struggling to leave the bed, getting fresh and brushing our teeth, bathing till dressing and the quick breakfast till we adjusted our hot plastic lunch box in our school bags. It all came to my mind not when I rode my Babaji but now when I started writing it, what I actually remembered was the last pick that each of one us did just before we stepped out of home was the 50 paisa coin which used to be kept on the old bulky dressing table as our pocket money. We kept picking the coins from nursery till I was in class 10^th and it all began at 25 paisa and ended at Re.1 and I never ever realized it then, that one day I will remember the simple act of picking the coins will make me so nostalgic that I will become so numb and would want to go back and just live that moment once and thank my mom for being so caring by managing to arrange and keep 3 separate coins of the same value for all 3 of us everyday. We never saw it on the dressing table when we woke up but we picked it magically once we were ready. How could she not miss it? How and where from, did she manage to get the 3 coins everyday? When would she keep it for us? These questions are really making me nostalgic. Over a period of month she managed to keep Rs.15 for each one of us and on an average Rs.45 for all 3 of us and today I simply buy a bottle of water worth Rs.15 in Saket to quench my thirst.

May be today I want to salute her or I am just missing her or I have been forced to realize that she needs to be loved but for sure Back to the past happened again.

Boycott

Sometimes, being a common man makes us feel so helpless, I felt the same today after reading so many demotivating stuff on CWG, 2010. Me and most of us slog daily and face various situations during the course of the day, when we work for our daily bread. As a law, we follow all rules and pay taxes to the Govt so that we reap the benefits of being a citizen of a developing nation, expecting basic amenities of better roads, well managed traffic by the traffic police, basic hygiene, electricity, water and off course extra steps towards bringing changes the future of the nation and making history some times.

The making of CWG has made me feel like a feud, who contributed enough for all the objectives to be met but the ordeal is that crores of rupees has been transferred to the pockets of the concerned CWG people.

I, therefore feel sad that how, my/our money is building luxuries for others. I am personally very sad but not pessimistic at the same time. Govt has simply taken up the habit of living on other people's money, I think this is what was once termed as Feudalism, that you work and share the bigger percentage with the owner and not the earned percentage.

I have thus decided to boycott CWG at personal level, although i know its not going to help anyone in anyway.

(The ordeal becomes  even worse when I think what would have been the case if the same crores of money would have been used for other important things in India, like simply upgrading basic amenities and not major modifications. We would have simply better roads, electricity and water.)

I still wait to see any positive effects of the great upgradation for CWG at the ground level but at the same time I am thankful and I appreciate what ever visible beautification that has happened in Delhi including metros.

I just wanted to park my thoughts some where so I wrote this bit and I don't intend to do anything beyond this.. no awareness, revolution, no nothing.

The Pragmatic.
4-Aug, 10