The Beauty of Forgiveness

Sorry; just doesn't seem to cut it,

When harsh words sting a lovely heart.

But peace is restored in season,

When in tears, courage begets;

Words that hope, words that restore.

And the guilty one is amazed,

At the strength of the wronged.

Thanking God for such a spirit,

As realization dawns on the son of man,

That this kind of beauty never fades,

As eternal, as the face of God.

By her Side

I woke up yesterday in bed, all alone.
Cold, though through the window, the sun shone.
For it's that season in a man's lifetime,
When he pines for a woman he could call 'Mine'.

Strolling in the park, through wind swept pathways,
I watch lovers in each others arms sway.
Arms entwined eyes in love holding,
A beautiful future, seemed to be unfolding.

But here I walk through time all alone.
A sigh in my heart continually borne.
Dreams and conceived memories keeping company,
A man who had seen lonely times too many.

Still I fuel my passions and hopes everyday,
Praying God that he hold me steady along the way
Hoping one day to dance with my beautiful bride,
And spend the rest of my days by her side.

Dream On

If you would only pause awhile,
Close your eyes and wander a mile.
If you could only let go,
Of all your dreams that you need to sow.
Then You will see y’days tears and todays bumps,
Are washed away in tomorrows triumphs.
And with a smile creased forever on your lips,
You have reached for the stars with your fingertips.

In the arms of a child

Somebody's Child, though I wish, she would have been mine.

She yields as she lets me lift her up and hold her close.

Resting her cherubic face on my comforting shoulders,

She whispers sweet nothings into my eager ears.

The days troubles and tiredness vanish away,

And all those around me seem to melt away in a blur.

She has me mesmerized with those wide untamed eyes

While we hand in hand criscross the room
She said her goodbye distracted, as I kissed her cheek,

And I was left wondering whether it was her in my arms

Or was I consoled in the arms of a Child.

My Reading Habits!

I love reading. Its something that I caught on to very early in my life. And I must say that I have read quite a bit. Its dissapointing though that television and other pursuits have eaten into this facet of my life and maybe yours too. I have been making a conscious decision though to dedicate a certain amount of my everyday life to this. Broadening the depth, content and subject of your reading, I have found most certainly adds value to your thinking, outlook and perspective to life. Its a relaxing past time like no other. I have listed below some of the books I have read in the past four years. You could perhaps have a go at some of them.

Humor me!

Nobody wants to look stupid. Everybody to some degree derive their sense of worth from the opinions, views & comments of people that speak about or into their lives. Growing up I have noticed that every group setting whether in school, college or communities like church, deteriorate at some point to become a setting for one-upmanship. I do not know how it is among women, but I assume this is not restricted to the men. I can recall countless times, I myself have pandered like a court jester to the popular taste of the crowd, even as I cut down like a ruthless gladiator, the spirit of the person in front of me. I was reading an article today that convicted me of my own short-comings in this area. Here is an excerpt-

"Innocent" jests that inflict minor wounds have become accepted practice in every setting, from sporting events to church socials. We're exposed to a culture of trash talking, one-upmanship, and a false masculinity reinforced by every macho stereotype in society. If someone gives a man a verbal jab, he has to come up with a better one. The man who isn't quick enough with his comeback skulks away as the loser while the "guys" pat the glib-tongued winner on the back.

The words that struck me the most was 'false masculinity'. The problem is not that everybody wants to be a 'hero', 'the man of the moment', 'the happening guy', 'the cool witty dude'. The problem is that everybody wants to be that, at the expense of others. I remember times in school, college when discussions, arguments, the group etc could be won over by the most glib talking, loud mouthed, invective-spitting, XXX-rated speech guy. It took a lot of gritting of my teeth and patience to not resort to the same. Did I look stupid? Yes! Was I the hapenning guy? No!. But I am happy that I didn't call people names, didn't destroy their spirit, didn't abuse them or their dear ones in jest. To this day I can't understand how some people could use abuses like 'ar^$h#l$' & 'MF' as a 'greeting'. The problem is even more apparent when the recepient seems to approve the usage directed at him.

Just today I came back from meeting a few friends and found that I had done the same. While I don't abuse, I found that I take my wittiness a little far sometimes. One-upmanship, especially in humor, where it puts down the other person is not humor. The challenge I must say, is to throw my hands up & say- 'You got Me' and not get into a war of witty words that have the ability of surreptitiously slipping into sexual innuendoes, abuses, back-biting and pushing the limits of one's moral code. Is it difficult? Yes! But not impossible. To tackle this deeply rooted problem, the article gives a funny twist to the classic style of the movie 'Mission Impossible' as we craft a mission for men:

"Good afternoon, Mr. Phelps. It seems that a wild beast is loose in the dark regions of your mouth. It has the ability to spew acidic venom, causing the rapid breakdown of harmony in your relationships. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, requires you to tame this tantrum-throwing, invective-spitting, complaint-mumbling tyrant—your tongue. As usual, once your tongue begins to speak consistently with grace and kindness, your mission will be complete. Good luck, Jim."

A word rashly spoken cannot be brought back by a chariot and four horses.—Chinese Proverb

The Animal in Us!

I was having coffee at the Cafe Coffee Day outlet on 100 feet road with Pradeep, a friend of mine. It was supposed to be a quiet evening in Bangalore for me after a busy 10 days of travel to Kolkota. Ten minutes into our conversation we hear a commotion outside. Two of the customers were beating a third one with his girlfriend alongside pleading that they be left alone. (I later learnt that the girlfriend had complained to her scrawny boyfriend that the two hefty guys at the next table were staring at her. The scrawny boyfriend had in a fit of madness demanded that they refrain from the same; maybe in a not so polite way). Anyways the scrawny boyfriend was getting thrashed by these well dressed goondas as passers-by and cafe coffee day executives tried to prevent further violence. One of the goondas got hold of a garbage lid as a weapon. The poor boy was bleeding profusely. I had by then also gone out to help sort this out. Just when we thought all had quietened down and I had returned to my chair, it erupted again. The two men threatened an auto driver with dire consequences if he spirited the couple away. Finally one clenched fist uppercut knocked the poor guy into a ditch. By then the two guys were also spent and the couple caught a auto quickly and made good their escape. Personally I thought that I could have done a lot more than I did to stop that violence. But the apathy of the elite educated crowd sitting in the cafe, coolly sipping coffee and watching the violence unfold in front of their eyes will always be etched in my mind as an uncaring numbness that paralyzes our knees when the time comes to stand up and aid a fellow human in need. But the lesson that stood out that day was the realization that there is an animal in us, that believes in violence than the power of dialogue, an animal that is lurking in the dark recesses of an uncharted mind; that has the capability to unleash mayhem and hurt on all those around in a selfish act of self-preservation. The evening had too much energy for me and I was in a contemplative mood on my way home. I felt secure in my space, with a book in my hand.

Crossroads

Every now & then, one is faced with a few major decisions to make in life, the outcome of which could take the protagonist down any one of multiple uncertain paths. My first showdown at the crossroads was when I had to decide if I would stay on in St.Stephens, Delhi, to pursue a B.Sc Physics (Hons) degree or come back to base at Chennai to pursue an engineering degree in a nondescript local college. I favoured the former about a decade back and here I am, having done my MBA consequently and working in a Software firm in Bangalore. It wasn't scary at that time 'coz I knew that I would be doing a MBA eventually. But it was a big decision nevertheless for a 16 year old to make. The crossroad dilemna is much more stark when one talks about relocation, marriage, career changes etc. A friend of mine has got all three of them now at one shot and its hard to imagine his thought process. It takes some gumption to take hold of the reins in one's life & steer one way or another. Iron clad conviction is rare I guess, but hope & determination more than make up for that. Sometimes the very act of making a decision at the crossroads can be a defining moment. I learnt at my crossroad to be responsible for my decisions, my actions and that went a long way in standing on my own legs & being independent. But somewhere down that path, some of us toy with the 'What Ifs'. John could ask himself- 'What if I had accepted that job offer?' Sharon could ask herself- 'What if she had said yes to Murphy for marriage'. I asked myself a question sometime back, when reflecting on the years of struggle after b-school. I asked myself- "What if I had accepted the job offers I had got on campus, instead of gambling it away". But then I realized that it just doesn't make sense. You can only weigh in wisdom the consequences of your decisions & go ahead. Sometimes they turn out great, sometimes just about fine & sometimes bad. You just live with that and probably at the next crossroad, the deal may be favorable to you or maybe someone UP there who loves you may light up your runway as you take off.

Stupidity

I have done my share of stupid things in my lifetime. Some I am sure I have pushed to some far corner of my brain, just so that I do not embarass myself as my brain does some TV sitcom kinda reruns at some idle moment. Some stupid things I have done, have been a result of me not being thorough and fortunately did have happy endings with some amusement & laughter to boot. Here are a list of the top 3 and they all have to do with travel.

3. Had booked a return bus ticket for Krishnan, Pradeep & me from Madurai (friend's wedding) to Bangalore for 10 PM on 27th Dec. We landed there on 27th Dec, finished with the wedding formalities by 2.30 PM and were on our way back to YMCA where we were put up. Krishnan (must have had a premonition) decides to check with the travel company on the way, on where to board the bus. We then find that the ticket issued is for Bangalore-Chennai. Given that the handwriting was gibberish, my failure to check on the fine print makes this stupid on my part. We ended up breaking our journey into 2 and taking buses with lesser comforts. It ranks no. 3 only because there were no return tickets available anyways to Bangalore and we would have had to do what we did finally. Krishnan's premonition though saved us time, headaches & money.

2. Krishnan, Pradeep & I are sitting at the Bangalore Cantonment Station for a weekend trip to chennai. I had booked the ticket supposedly for the 11 PM train or so. We were sitting on a bench and we notice a family running to catch a train which just came in. Pradeep remarks- 'Why can't people come early to catch a train they know is going to arrive at a certain time'. Krishnan & I add to that & we share a good laugh. Then Krishnan asks me the train number & we realize that the train in front of us is the train we are supposed to board. In the end we end up running & just about manage to catch the train. No harm done. But ranked no. 2 for failure to read simple english on a simple ticket.

1. I had booked an online rail ticket to Salem from Bangalore. The evening I was supposed to leave, I get my bag, lock my room and just when I am to board my auto to the station, see the ticket & realize that the departure time is 6 AM & not 6 PM. I end up travelling on a crowded bus, standing non-stop for 4 hrs to Salem. This ranks no. 1 purely for the discomfort I faced due to my stupidity.

I do want to thank God, that all these incidents ended well with little or no discomfort. Having chilled out friends who reflect your attitude of 'Okay. Shit happens. Now what?' also helps. I am hoping I have learnt my lesson from all these incidents though.

Sachin

This is not a poem exactly. Its my attempt at Rap. And I must say that it isn't all that bad. In fact I think that its got influences of Rap, Ballad & Poems in it. I wrote it for a friend of mine from B-School, in 2001 I think. His name is Sachin Mehta. Yep! That's him & his wife Ankita in the pic. He's 6ft 5 inches, tall, thin, handsome, smart & a typical Delhi Punj attitude. I have picked on instances in college like rushing to college, Sachin's election as class Rep, dancing at parties, his birthday party, his unique basketball playing style of standing under the basket etc. He's a nice simple guy and somebody who kinda looks out for the whole group. I had fun writing this one. Its light hearted. Don't think I will write another one like this again though.

You know brother, first day I saw him,
I couldn't touch his damn shin.
No short man, tall & lanky,
Was no relation to our man Shanky.
Come morning come, I go damn, damn, damn,
Our tall lanking man and me scram, scram, scram.
Clever little class, want no responsibility, ya
Made him CR- fine print on his forehead- oh yeah!
A fine leader, got many assignments postponed.
End of class- 'Announcements' you hear baritoned.
Lets shake some leg, atleast one, I say,
Never see a man shake them all that way.
This man bro', and I mean trust me on this one bro',
Can make that black sportin jordan crow.
Party time, B'day time, bake a cake, man, bake a cake.
Trust me bro', the cake, from his ass he did scrape.
So here ends his story, no ballad and no funky
Sure! You wish, he was gay & kinky.
But no ordinary man bro', this guy is going places.
Its left to you and me, the storytellers to pick his traces.
So next time bro', in harlem, when we meet.
Lets remember, this good ol' legend and drink him neat.