Eternal Traveller and the Mysterious Sojourner !

  ..  Gratitude to one and all, all this life is a gift from someone, I am here just as a  medium for  a specific reason …

PS:  The most tough part of story is “About me”,  we all can describe very beautifully about others, about him, about her, about them….
but take a lifetime to know a little about ‘About Me’, it takes so much time just to know that the source of my happiness lies inside me , remains the same for all human beings, looking in to each one of us….*

 

Greetings!

A perfect “life / day / moment / you/ everything” is not about adding too many details, on the contrary its all about “removing / eliminating the unwanted”, then enjoying whats left for us.

The pages are maintained, authored, and possessed over by my character, Sudama. 

Sudama represents most of the Indian diaspora, poor but good at heart mostly innocent often cheated by the rich and affluent, who devote their love and affection for those few special people/ places in there life.

Sudama is job less, [what it feels  like is the hardest feeling in the current social scenario] looking for a couple of part-time jobs and almost always a list of to-dos that elongate. All of this keeps him going though. 

Sudama loves to live in the present. He enjoys every single bit of it. Well, most of the time, anyway.  Well he knows one reality, his value is not in other’s eyes.  The eyes smile and his skin scales for him.

I know most people around me talk about how they started off working (to earn then prosper) but I may not do so. Though I feel obliged to share my story too.

I know most people around me talk about how they started off working (to earn then prosper) but I may not do so. My stories are all failures.  Though I feel obliged to share my story too. But then prosperous and enough of everything are not the only stories that humans have.

 

Actually my story is never ending.  I have a life , to live it happily or sad,till they(my moments)  die is the only choice I have.

I chose his character because he is not a chooser but he is a fighter. Beggars are not choosers , beggars are fighters.

 

Even  Sudama’s  story is no different story. Every day beggars live this life and yet they live it happily till they die.

One fine day I came across a beggar sitting , squatting with a torn rag spread, an aluminum tarnished broken & twisted plate, with a few large maggots around him.

He smiled at me and giggled. A cool wind blew his hair up. His face was garnished with grease as if he were working in a factory before being thrown out.   I feel pain for my headache, but does he know the meaning of pain.
I write about , technology, food and philosophy  blog. I thought it was pretty cool. Do i feel the meaning of embarrassment.  Years and months or so, I spent on writing, later. What do I have of my own although Iwas largely looking better than him.

”Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend.” – Bruce Lee

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And Sudama asked  me, “I am what i think about myself, And I know you wanna think about me…. But you have nobody to ask …. Ask me my friend , when you ask me,”who are you ?” , you may get a lot of answers …………

“I learnt from the poor man that asking is the only thing that we all do. “…  He continued

But remember questions come before all answers ………………. if you have questions then you are ready to seek the answers ………

You may have plenty of questions. There will be a lot of answers in your mind because by nature you will be expecting a good being in me. You know why , because you are a good human being too, with lots and lots of goodness. That is the beauty of this small and short life.

I might answer, but you may be impressed with something that i have. You know what i have………… I have the power to gift , I have the humility to accept, I have everything that you need , I have the zest for you, I am a human with the zeal to live forever for somebody whom i love… This is what is similar in me and you.

I am a human with the zeal to make a change forever for somebody whom changes have been difficult ….

I am a human with the zeal to live forever in the hearts of a few rather than a mere physical existence of no value ..

You know i know that you too might the same urge to meet a human and share … feel the care…. get submitted … feel cared for…. Surrender yourselves and learn the first art of love…. it may be a loving touch of your own mother or a stranger … but to get love we need to surrender …..

These are emotions which make our life beautiful… beauty is beauty when the person can see the inner beauty … MY EYES ARE Beautiful because they show me everything beautiful …. that means i got a beautiful pair of eyes ….. i hope when you look into my eyes you will find a new world , world waiting for you……

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The hardest part of missing loved ones is not their absence, but it is when you think of all the good times you have shared and  you ask yourself, “Will those moments ever happen again?”

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This entire blog is an expression of my feelings , which i felt in response to the situation i was in. Sometimes i felt like writing, sometimes i felt simply experiencing.

Let me start with a short story, we all are influenced by them ever since our childhood.  As kids we were told many stories.  As kids we loved to hear them and feel good about heroes.  My childhood friends were my grandma and my grandpa (both are  my mother’s parents). Its as if i  was a black pearl to them, pearl of oyster that brought luck to them.  I was so safe with them,  i spent two years of my early schooling with my granny in kerala. It was in Kollam (Quilon). Then i was taken to madhya pradesh for the rest of my education. They influenced me so much that i still miss my grandpa.  He is no more in this world. I wonder if the love that they showered upon was a natural source devoid of any impurity. One day i will meet him again to tell him how much i loved him.
Its a great tradition that the two generations had a bond which was inseparable. I am thankful to life for such a union.
The old grandma will pick me up for a walk everyday in the morning to the school, on the way telling me her childhood experiences and adventures. I remember being so small and walking next clinging to her fingers. I will ask her ,”When do i become mature granny?”.
“If u are sure about what you are doing, you can be considered matured.”, she will give a big smile to make me happy and introduce to people who cross our way to the school.  Always clad in a white traditional attire, she was like a fur of white cotton.

After long years, i went to my grandma last week *(Nov 2009).  Though i go there often, but this time i spent time with her. They say if we love something then we should spend time and care for it.  This time i had a whole day with her.  There is a garden in front of  our home. The car porch is a elongated structure with a seating edge at the very end. She will sit there at the end from early morning till evening, daily everyday after her husband passed away three years back.

She was my angel. She will sit with me for hours and out her mind, may be she found that i needed to learn all her stories and always preserve them. She will explain how she used to bunk her classes (She was educated upto 9th class, it was before india got independence). She was always impressed with the freedom fighter’s loyalty to the motherland. She remembers all those stories which made her my angel for this life and ever.

She was talking about money and marriage.How is it necessary to have lot of money and a settled life.
She told me a story in between, it was about a squirell in ramayana. I was wondering how much i had in common with that creature.

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Now in 2010, i again meet her.  She is admitted in a cardiac center. Struggling  for life.

i like to say about my hospital stay. One month and few days. My granny is not getting good. But she is maintaining her struggle, she is a champion of life.  She wants to come back to life, but her coma doesnt allow her to react outward.

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In Nov 2010,  I knew that granma has left me for ever.

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There is one story which i remember.

A short story from a book i read long back…

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths, only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.

If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.
“Today is a gift, that’s why it is called the present.  🙂

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We keep saying,” I wish i had a good friend whom i can share.”.  When we try to keep everything suppressed in our hearts, lot of good things go unnoticed in life. Sometimes we stand in a market place and not even bother to look at a beggar, who lies down handicapped with leprosy. He was yelling for help. Shouting and making noises with his steel bowl having a few coins. We were making more noises and shouting inside.
So many things to shout out that poor beggar left unnoticed by.  When i was standing in the Bangalore Majestic Bus Junction, a shop with a Blue T Shirt struck my attention.
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Lemme talk about myself now, i got a lot to say. May be a lot to confess and feel peaceful after telling it to you. Don laugh if i sound like a stupid to you.
About my words on love.  I thought it was happening only to  a lucky few.

One might wonder what do you mean by love, as it may sound and feel different to different human beings, But has it got anything to make you happy !  I used to call it “LOL”, I can tell exactly what it means . It means “Lyrics of life”.

Lyrics of life always look for a rhythm to settle, they flow from the innermost reservoirs of your heart. Those are the most clean and serene sources of our happiness. From them we get the desire and the strength to live and survive. We develop love once those lyrics are strung by another human being who makes us feel that we need them for our happiness.

She said once,”There are two things in life that are painful. One is when your love loves you and doesnt tell you.  Second when your love never loved you and keeps telling ‘I love you’ .”
“I wonder what was my love doing to me”, I told her.
She said,”You will get the most beautiful girl who will love and care for you.”

One interesting thing I noted about people calling you by names. Most of us have nick names or may be i call it pet names. For example , A lover might call his love , Sweetie or Muthe….., baby………….
Some call their superiors at work   by nick names. Some at home, some at play ground….   Most often all are called by a name other than the names they hear from their school register chants.

I am arun , nick named Mr. Arun, ap,hottie, monu, thankam, sweet, boss, stupid, crackie,pest, picku, crazy, mismatched, un compatible, financial failure, failed husband, poor father, unworthy son….. the list never ends.  Some call me good when they needed my support and help, they might call me something else when they have others to get support.  Some always love me whatever i am for others. And there are a few who will always hate me whatever i did for them.
But then this is life. You hardly have control on other’s emotions and rarely do we find a good match.
So did I, I too ran after the butterfly. I am an ordinary person with a mind full of dreams. Like any other ordinary man I dreamt of lot of things. A good life, love, job etc. I never thought i will ever fall into love with a girl. I used to dream about my princess, but meeting and getting close to a girl brought a change in my life and destiny.  She is there in my words and i attribute my prose skills to her. A sky of rainbows for her, let her color her life and moments and rise in the cumulus horizon.

Only thing is that she was kind enough to have to have given her love to me.
Was that a tragedy to tail my preludes of tragedies.  Because you know she is the most beautiful mind i have ever seen, i have ever felt . She has the sweetest tear when her eyes melted. A roll of her brows would mean a rain of expressions, why did she love me.
Perhaps she was an angel in the past lives, who was impressed with my innonence. Or she could have found the love of her past life in me.
She will walk towards the Footer Bridge of the Leela Hotel one day and shouted with love,”sweetu”. She had put a  crimson colored churidar and a chweet little hand bag hung from her shoulders. She was all happy to see me.

“Why did you love me , if we were to never meet”, she asked me crying  after two years into the relation. She had feelings for another man.  Her fantasies were involving  another man, whom she loved badly.  I am sure she will  have no feelings for me. I was a necessary pest in her love life. I knew it. But her innocent face was a joy to watch.
It reminded me of my childhood days when i used to play a game called “King and Queen” with my play mate, sweety. Sweety will be my queen and i will be her king.
My schooling was in madhya pradesh, a state in india. And those days were the gems in my life. My school will start at 07 00 am till 01 00 pm daily.
Almost on weekends , after the school i will look forward to the game.  Wearing  a knicker and a lose half sleeved shirt , i will be a thin skeleton bony enough to support the crease of the shirt.  In the evening when the family members watch television and keep themselves busy , we take out time to talk and express our happiness. I will go to the top most corner of the terrace of their home and make a home for the play. It will be a card board structure, and big enough to put my head in it and arrange things inside. She will bring the necessary toys and start decorating the home. There will be a toy baby, which will be our kid. I still remember she singing lullaby for the chubby lifeless kid, giving it a surreal life.
Love stories are also an important part of our lives. A girl once told me that she dreamt of a man in her dreams when she was seventeen. A man wearing a T shirt and standing a distant far from her. He was her dream man.

I always used to ask her , “did u ever see your dream man” .

“In that dream” , she will answer.
Some people attract us. They make us feel good. May be my girl friend did the same to me.

Whenever i had time before sleep, i dared to dream about her. Fantasies always took away a  lot of our frustrations. It would make a unreal come real in front of us, in which the characters were whom we loved and they only behaved as we intended. This absolute control over the situations is what made us happy and successful. “I am the King” I exclaimed to her happily, “And you are my queen”. Fantasies involve a lot of sensual moments, they are what make the love relations comfortable and intimate. We made our own world and the two of us lived in it. We were making a world for us.

I am into the technology business. IT industry. With a few years of exposure to software development and documentation, now i am exploring the quality assurance arena. With an industry that on the growth, experience is all that comes from how we commit and complete the tasks given to us.

You may ask me why do i write, i can only tell you one answer. To satisfy the young  kid in me, he is so innocent that every hurt and every joy seems like an experience worth telling it to his mother. Its his world of toys thats made up of words. The pen is his wonderful passtime. Every moment is a joy.

For my friend,

Sure dear
this life has given me beautiful thoughts and lovely friends
More love than i wanted,
More than i needed
How can i ever hate my life

I am always ur dear friend …. 🙂

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This is another incident which i remember from my office. This happened a few dys back.
How come … ? Asked me rish. rish  was a new comer to our company and was showing all symptoms of adjustments.
He was even afraid to drink a cup of tea, he went and asked the manager. Haha the manager said, “Why don you drink from the office coffeee machine”
“Its black tea”, informed rish. “Oh yeah, we only have black tea and coffee here”

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Misunderstandings are necessary in life..

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