Echoes in Joy and in Ashes

Broken. Crushed. Shattered. Smashed. Not the very best words to add value, in fact they will "devalue" anything that is associated with it. Something broken, crushed, shattered or smashed is thrown away, no longer valued or treasured. What more can we expect from broken things? Why waste our efforts on them? Get a new one. My broken cup has done its service, it's now time to move on. But then, in every "brokenness" is also an opportunity for restoration (a not-easy process). Yes, the flawless perfection will not be achieved again. The cracks can be healed but the lines will probably show, the scars may not altogether go away.  It will probably be a little harder to appreciate the "restored" look in comparison to the "perfect ones."  It's very sight will remind of the broken state that it was in. It will be a little more harder, a little more trying to keep things together, a little more effort to overlook the scars and to consider it ...

There is a “level” kind of thinking where we prioritize, which in its own right gives guidance and has its significance. A list is made, one is held higher than the other—more important, less important. However, it is quite possible that when prioritized on a scale of importance there is an implied corresponding degree (higher or lower) on the emphasis for excellence with the levels.  For instance, a task on a higher level seems to demands “better” efforts than one on a lower level. In other words, the effort may range from “just” get it done to pay “special” attention.  The proposal is that, a difference in the degree of importance among the variety of tasks, does not necessarily imply a difference in the “nature” of effort (or for that matter attitude) in carrying out a particular task. No “sloppy jobs” just because the task was deemed low on the priority scale. This thought arises from an attempt to see things in relationship with each other – a centre around which ev...

In high school I never ever participated during the sports week until I was in the tenth standard. So why did I sign up in the tenth standard? I signed up because my best friend said we should at least have the story to tell; in hindsight a story that is probably more colourful than the actual experience. So we joined our team, signed up for the marching team of our respective teams and got ready to put up a BIG fight.   We soon found out we would be competing with the bigger boys. What does that mean? Our school had this practice of categorizing us based on our weight and height. Category A was the tallest and heaviest ones, and Category B were their younger brothers that they could push around in a game. Well, you guessed it, me and my friend Category B playing against Category A.  As they say, "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" we found ourselves in high spirits but in want of loads of stamina. We also happened to be assi...

The headphone is a piece of modern marvel, or at least that's the way I see it. Miniature speakers ever ready to "sound off" and almost part of everyone's accessory.  I am not a very regular walker. My passion to walk does not meet the action plan charted but then I have enjoyed the "many" few taken. The headphone has been a faithful companion on such walks channeling music for an almost idyllic walk and at other times challenging the pace to be picked up. It is almost a common sight to see people plugged in whether they be walking like me, taking a ride, waiting for someone or even sitting with someone.  However, for all its credits, it can isolate a person from the "world" around him. As much as I celebrate its ability to give me my private space and cheer me, I am wary of its ability to make me deaf to the bigger world around. The trail I walk has trees that rise tall and in those trees are birds. Birds calling out as the sun rises and its ...

(on the occasion of a man humiliated and condemned) Yesterday marked a black day in the history of humanity. It will probably not be given the weight of leaving an imprint in the larger history but it will be forever one in my memory. And today is my day of lament for we have shown that we are no better than the “other,” no different from the “other.” We have rushed to the aid of justice and destroyed its very ideal in the process. We have “delivered” justice but within the prejudices of our "assumptions" and "affiliations." What if he was "one of us"? Would we seek the “same” justice? What have we achieved today? That at the very core of us lies a “barbarism” that can be unleashed fed by the fuels of our own rash actions though we could well pass off as sensible and civilized people. I mourn this day, not because I will condemn whatever “wrong” has been committed but more so because of the “wrongs” we have done without flinching, without remorse, without...

They talk today of the "happenings" around, the parts of the system that has gone wrong, the changes that are needed, the hostilities that persists. I know of a broken people in a broken time as this. A broken generation that seems to head nowhere. Frustrations and desperation, hurling of charges at each other, justification of oneself, everyone is wrong and everyone is right. Goals without motivations, jobs without satisfactions, life without passion - a broken generation that senses the need for change and its urgency but struggles to rise up against the pressure of the norm. Perhaps we need a generation in these broken times, a generation that will stand strong and united. A generation that is willing to sacrifice their comforts for the next. A generation that will call the "right" as "right" and the "wrong" as "wrong" and stand by it and rise up to heal and restore. Theirs will be the lot to bear the criticisms and intimidation, t...

It was not the first time that we met, but the first time we talked and I "picked" her up. We talked of "Spiderman," "Batman" and "Superman" and "Spiderman" emerged as the favourite hero. We "threw" spiderwebs and caught planes in the sky and climbed buildings. We discussed at length where I could get a "spidy" outfit since her's were too small for me to fit. We counted roses around the place and the people passing by. We picked up a book to read a story and the story we "read" was nowhere near the story that was written. We counted our ones, twos and threes and recited the A, B and C though we never got far in either. We discovered that she had powers in her shoes and had a head-to-head" fight and everytime she won. We made faces, danced around the room and went to lunch nearby and probably the only time we walked together.Then we got back to the carrying round, tiny hands clasped around to give ...