What I see is not What You get to see

Last Friday we had a hectic day. Woke up 5,30 am, daily chores, dropped my wife at school (she teaches physics 10+2)had a depressing day at office picked up wife from school and caught up in traffic jam while returning home. It was too late to prepare dinner at home. We entered a restaurant on the way. Both of us were totally exhausted. Waiting for our order to materialise, we started reflecting on life. To make her come out of the dark mood, I took the salt & pepper pots and told her she is not seeing what I am seeing. She grew even more irritated and hissed, "what are you talking?".

The pots exist as matter and recognised through our sense and perception. Added to that are individual's mental formation and consciousness about articles of matter around them. For instance, if I say there is a table behind a closed door to a group of people, each one will perceive a table differently. As men are different from women I truly do not know how your mind is truly perceiving the pots.


The Physics teacher chipped in, "even as matter, the pots are different from as they existed few minutes back because particles in matter are constantly get changed as the electrons are shared between atoms".

Then I told her about an article I read in the newspaper about people who are left handed (the physics teacher is left handed) that they have diametrically opposite views from right handed people, which I said is not news to me! Well my temperature dropped down to 0-deg by the icy glare. I was saved by the arrival of the dishes we ordered.

I checked whether the dishes are same as we ordered. The taste of the pudding is in eating it.


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Grief

I was driving upto my office. It was about 8.30 early morning. Lazy sun and cool wind made traffic negotiation bearable. I was appreciating the majesty of two imposing structures, one on the right and other on the left side of the road. On the left stood the Southern Railway HQ building, built with grey sandstone during the colonial era. On my right stood Government General Hospital and Madras Medical College estabilished in 1664 and 1835 respectively. The Govt. Hospital is one of largest in South Asia and the Medical College was where one of the first European women student , Mary Scharlib was admitted in the year 1878. With these thoughts in my mind I stopped my car for the signal. Suddenly a shrill wailing sound jolted all the motorists. Those who regularly use the road know that the Hospital mortuary's outgates are right on at the signal intersection. I turned to see and was instantly agrieved to see two teenage girls inconsolably wailing. Their relatives' efforts could not calm them down. I felt heaviness in my heart and tears welled in my eyes. Long after arriving at my office I felt sad at a person's death whom I did not know, the gender, age, occupation, family, nothing was known. My sadness perhaps was only for the two wailing frail children who lost their dear one and not for the dead person, for whom all the worries have ceased to exist.

Life is like selling toys

The train compartment was cattle class with passengers continuously stuffing themselves with junk food pedelled by the railway caterers. Some catching a wink and some finding an uncomfortable shoulder of their neighbour to fall asleep. Vendors walked up and down the passage selling farm fresh vegetables, pirated DVDs, pocket diaries, eucalyptus oil and a near Methuselah potion. They created a cacophony. Not one of them appeared happy. They hated what they were doing. One could sense their utter contempt for the passengers. Some of them could even be bandits looting passengers of the night trains.

I looked at my watch and was wondering at my bad luck of not getting reservation in an upper class air conditioned coach. Then I saw her. She was small, dusky with soft flowing bobbed hair. A little dirty in a cream color frock with a lot of frills, looking confident and cheerful. A child of about 10 years, she was selling toys and rattlers made out of balloons. Plastic toy rifles sticking out of the cloth tied at her back in ninja style.

She enjoyed showing of her toys to the children. Negotiating confidently with difficult parent customers. Quick to move away from troublesome characters. I learnt a lesson from her on the day. Give a good fight to your life. Enjoy every bit of action that is enjoyable. Negotiate difficulties. Look forward to tomorrow.

You could meet her on Chennai - Bangalore day express trains. But you have to travel cattle class.

Who Am I?

It was a dark monsoon morning. I was in my morning prayers. This sudden thought crossed my mind. Who am I? what is the purpose of my life? Though these questions were not new to my mind or to anybody who is conscious, the clarity and calmness with which this question was raised and the thoughts that followed lead me to write this.

I have seen and heard friends with beaten ego and low spirit and hearts heavy with sadness. Some on the brink of damning God and some lamenting to Him. They came to me to talk about their woes. Was it because I appeared meek and friendly? Whatever, I heard them and I did. I spoke to them, did I? or was it I was being an instrument in the hands of a higher spirit? Leave, they did, with lighter hearts and a smiling face. Some stepped back from the brink. They required the reflections of my heart, spirit and empathy as their hearts were so laden with sadness like a mirror covered with soot.

I observed the high and mighty, their utter contempt for the meek and manipulation of the gentle ones' aspirations and need for recognition. The high and mighty felt like gods, the resources and minions at their beck and call. Yes, for them there was no need for God or spirit, except to talk the meek ones into their net.

It crossed my mind at the conclusion of my morning prayer, may be it is the purpose of my being a meek pilgrim at a dog eat dog office, to stand by the weak, oppressed and sad, through words, written or spoken so that they are happy at least when they talk to me. A bird perched on the neighbors large mango tree chirped thrice as if to confirm it.

Happy Days!!