[Wishing all readers a very happy new and prosperous year ahead.]
I started writing diaries when I was in college.
Now you see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. Ergo, when the narrow spheres of mind made it difficult to contain the chaos within, a diary was born – born more than 12 years ago. At that time, it was like a passion. Daily or twice daily or thrice daily. More the agitation, more the frequency. Some times it was a friend, Sometimes it was a burden. Sometimes it was lovely, Sometimes it was a pain.
Over the years it lost its relevance.
Marriage meant conflict of interest. What does one write I thought? The true – or the untrue. To write for one self - or to write for the day when your spouse seeks answers when she finds what is written? Truth if found could be deadly or misused. The Untrue was irrelevant and unnecessary. And needless to mention the additional burden of keeping the diary hidden – and the challenge of explaining your better half why she could peek into the deepest corners of your heart and body and yet not read your diary. Consequence was simple. Most pages of the diary were now empty and unwritten. Except may be 1 (typically the last one) and if goings are good then 2 (first one and last one). On rarest of rare occasions the third page some where hidden in the middle was written yet almost oblivious. But yes, for last twelve years, each year has its own diary (though none has been found for 2009 till now nor is the last page of 2008 filled).
Despite this consequence, you still see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. What is possibly possible is to moderate it for the well-being of your family lest it goes totally out of control. So the new mantra is less thoughts and even lesser diaries.
---- **** ----
Till sometime back, each new year brought with it desire for new year resolutions, targets, goals and et al. Most of the goals remained unmet and those that had to be met were met. The diary, where these were jotted down, thus lost its utility.
With time, the approach towards life is to take things as they come.
However the agitated mind is not happy with the state of affairs. Many many time it shrieks that the life is going nowhere. It is as if we are just standing where we are, celebrating each new year in even lesser time, but nothing new to add, except the few inches gained by the kids, salaries and bank balances increased or decreased (depending upon economic conditions) and traffic (always increased despite many new flyovers) and roads (always worse then they previously were) and people (in even greater hurry to cross roads, overtake or reach the moon).
So the agitated mind constantly demands change – change from work for more salaries, more responsibilities, better environment or simply for the sake of it; and change from residences in search of better colonies and roads and neighbours. But change of job means risk of proving again to new set of people; to forego the comfort zone in which your supervisors have been placed by you and to forego the comfort zone in which you yourself are placed and reveled and worshipped (albeit needlessly) by others. So the chosen approach is to be the frog of the well. Changing residence too means more trouble, costs and loss of leaving aged yet independent parents. So again the chosen approach is to stay put and maintain the status quo.
Despite this modus operandi, you still see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. What is possibly possible is to divert attention lest it goes totally out of control. So the new mantra is less thoughts and even lesser diaries.
---- **** ----
Going back to college, where diaries had better days, there were some incidences that could never be forgotten. One dates back to the day when the diary had not even came into existence. It was the first or second day of college and we were still trying to settle in our hostels. My friendly neighbour then suggested that we go to the market for some shopping, may be to buy some indoor games. Off we went and brought back a chess board worth Rupees 20. The rickshaw wallah took about the same amount of money. Now, I don’t know whether I was naïve or a fool but eventually my friend (or probably the friendly neighbour) kept the chess board while I foot the rickshaw bill. And probably that was the only day I played chess game on that board!
---- **** ----
May be the sharing strategy was not well defined at that time, but even many years before that, it was still not clear. There was no diary to help either. A club was formed between few teenage friends where the money collected was used to buy the cricket bat, ball, clubs, pads et al. But within months of club formation, my father asked the family to pack the bags in search of greener pastures. What would happen to our contri I thought? Promptly we went to our captains house where the stuff was kept and we picked (you may say snatched) some cricket goods commensurate with our contribution. We thought that would be the end of matter. But that was not to be. The well-built and tall captain chased us and told us categorically that it was our decision to stay and use the stuff or leave the city and forget everything. The choice was clear. The stuff was forgotten. And since then it was decided and remembered never to share costs with friends or friendly neighbour. (except for the day in hostel where the chess board and rickshaw costs were shared).
---- **** ----
Still in college, it was a perfect love at first sight you may say – a sweet smiling face that glowed among lesser mortals. The ever increasing CGPA suddenly found a nemesis. And the diary (probably the reason for it to be born) got lot of ammunition for thoughts. And when the matters of heart did not make any progress, one last ditch attempt was to be made, “I have to talk to you”. “Talk what?” The response to this question was well laid out. In diary. In the mind. In pages. Pages after pages. In the mind, same thought repeating again and again and again, almost infinitely. It was as if it would break the head with constant reverberation. But the answer had to be prepared and so the rehearsal was done. Pages of diaries were underlined. As though they would speak for the inner heart. May be the diary could be couriered. The mind kept on asking this question, “I have to talk to you”, “Talk what?”. And the answer was given. About love. About the greatness of love. About its purity. About commitment. Pages. Pages after Pages. Pages after Pages after Pages.
One fateful day, almost unprepared, the encounter happened.
“I have to talk to you”.
“Talk what?”
No response!
“Talk what?”
No response! And that was the last time any more words were exchanged.
Chachu,
10th January, 2009
-----------------
Edited Comments on Chachu's Column Chachu's Column #40: Boom, Gloom and Disshum
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1. Usually a big fan. The single nugget of wisdom that is usually inherent in most of your columns was missing from this one. This one was all over the place. Materialism, Excess Population, Government Bureaucracy, Economics, and Environmentalism were compressed in as many paragraphs. (Courtesy Pankaj S).
2. Very nice article, I liked it very much. (Courtesy Manisha)
Web Resources
-------------
None
Previous Chachu's Columns
-------------------------
http://chachus- blog.blogspot.com
Comments/feedback
-----------------
[For online edition with images and giving comments online, visit my blog at:
http://chachus- blog.blogspot. com
Send your Comments/feedback to chachu321@yahoo.com or s.kasera@lycos.com
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--------------
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Invite Friends/Colleagues to Join the group.
---------------------------------------------
You are most welcome to forward this newsletter to Friends/Colleagues. You may also ask them to join this group. For this, they have to send a blank email to chachus_pen-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
I started writing diaries when I was in college.
Now you see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. Ergo, when the narrow spheres of mind made it difficult to contain the chaos within, a diary was born – born more than 12 years ago. At that time, it was like a passion. Daily or twice daily or thrice daily. More the agitation, more the frequency. Some times it was a friend, Sometimes it was a burden. Sometimes it was lovely, Sometimes it was a pain.
Over the years it lost its relevance.
Marriage meant conflict of interest. What does one write I thought? The true – or the untrue. To write for one self - or to write for the day when your spouse seeks answers when she finds what is written? Truth if found could be deadly or misused. The Untrue was irrelevant and unnecessary. And needless to mention the additional burden of keeping the diary hidden – and the challenge of explaining your better half why she could peek into the deepest corners of your heart and body and yet not read your diary. Consequence was simple. Most pages of the diary were now empty and unwritten. Except may be 1 (typically the last one) and if goings are good then 2 (first one and last one). On rarest of rare occasions the third page some where hidden in the middle was written yet almost oblivious. But yes, for last twelve years, each year has its own diary (though none has been found for 2009 till now nor is the last page of 2008 filled).
Despite this consequence, you still see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. What is possibly possible is to moderate it for the well-being of your family lest it goes totally out of control. So the new mantra is less thoughts and even lesser diaries.
---- **** ----
Till sometime back, each new year brought with it desire for new year resolutions, targets, goals and et al. Most of the goals remained unmet and those that had to be met were met. The diary, where these were jotted down, thus lost its utility.
With time, the approach towards life is to take things as they come.
However the agitated mind is not happy with the state of affairs. Many many time it shrieks that the life is going nowhere. It is as if we are just standing where we are, celebrating each new year in even lesser time, but nothing new to add, except the few inches gained by the kids, salaries and bank balances increased or decreased (depending upon economic conditions) and traffic (always increased despite many new flyovers) and roads (always worse then they previously were) and people (in even greater hurry to cross roads, overtake or reach the moon).
So the agitated mind constantly demands change – change from work for more salaries, more responsibilities, better environment or simply for the sake of it; and change from residences in search of better colonies and roads and neighbours. But change of job means risk of proving again to new set of people; to forego the comfort zone in which your supervisors have been placed by you and to forego the comfort zone in which you yourself are placed and reveled and worshipped (albeit needlessly) by others. So the chosen approach is to be the frog of the well. Changing residence too means more trouble, costs and loss of leaving aged yet independent parents. So again the chosen approach is to stay put and maintain the status quo.
Despite this modus operandi, you still see, the mind is an agile entity and it is difficult to fetter it with bounds and limits. What is possibly possible is to divert attention lest it goes totally out of control. So the new mantra is less thoughts and even lesser diaries.
---- **** ----
Going back to college, where diaries had better days, there were some incidences that could never be forgotten. One dates back to the day when the diary had not even came into existence. It was the first or second day of college and we were still trying to settle in our hostels. My friendly neighbour then suggested that we go to the market for some shopping, may be to buy some indoor games. Off we went and brought back a chess board worth Rupees 20. The rickshaw wallah took about the same amount of money. Now, I don’t know whether I was naïve or a fool but eventually my friend (or probably the friendly neighbour) kept the chess board while I foot the rickshaw bill. And probably that was the only day I played chess game on that board!
---- **** ----
May be the sharing strategy was not well defined at that time, but even many years before that, it was still not clear. There was no diary to help either. A club was formed between few teenage friends where the money collected was used to buy the cricket bat, ball, clubs, pads et al. But within months of club formation, my father asked the family to pack the bags in search of greener pastures. What would happen to our contri I thought? Promptly we went to our captains house where the stuff was kept and we picked (you may say snatched) some cricket goods commensurate with our contribution. We thought that would be the end of matter. But that was not to be. The well-built and tall captain chased us and told us categorically that it was our decision to stay and use the stuff or leave the city and forget everything. The choice was clear. The stuff was forgotten. And since then it was decided and remembered never to share costs with friends or friendly neighbour. (except for the day in hostel where the chess board and rickshaw costs were shared).
---- **** ----
Still in college, it was a perfect love at first sight you may say – a sweet smiling face that glowed among lesser mortals. The ever increasing CGPA suddenly found a nemesis. And the diary (probably the reason for it to be born) got lot of ammunition for thoughts. And when the matters of heart did not make any progress, one last ditch attempt was to be made, “I have to talk to you”. “Talk what?” The response to this question was well laid out. In diary. In the mind. In pages. Pages after pages. In the mind, same thought repeating again and again and again, almost infinitely. It was as if it would break the head with constant reverberation. But the answer had to be prepared and so the rehearsal was done. Pages of diaries were underlined. As though they would speak for the inner heart. May be the diary could be couriered. The mind kept on asking this question, “I have to talk to you”, “Talk what?”. And the answer was given. About love. About the greatness of love. About its purity. About commitment. Pages. Pages after Pages. Pages after Pages after Pages.
One fateful day, almost unprepared, the encounter happened.
“I have to talk to you”.
“Talk what?”
No response!
“Talk what?”
No response! And that was the last time any more words were exchanged.
Chachu,
10th January, 2009
-----------------
Edited Comments on Chachu's Column Chachu's Column #40: Boom, Gloom and Disshum
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1. Usually a big fan. The single nugget of wisdom that is usually inherent in most of your columns was missing from this one. This one was all over the place. Materialism, Excess Population, Government Bureaucracy, Economics, and Environmentalism were compressed in as many paragraphs. (Courtesy Pankaj S).
2. Very nice article, I liked it very much. (Courtesy Manisha)
Web Resources
-------------
None
Previous Chachu's Columns
-------------------------
http://chachus- blog.blogspot.com
Comments/feedback
-----------------
[For online edition with images and giving comments online, visit my blog at:
http://chachus- blog.blogspot. com
Send your Comments/feedback to chachu321@yahoo.com or s.kasera@lycos.com
List Managment
--------------
To subscribe, send a blank email to chachus_pen-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
To unsubscribe, send a blank email to chachus_pen-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com
Invite Friends/Colleagues to Join the group.
---------------------------------------------
You are most welcome to forward this newsletter to Friends/Colleagues. You may also ask them to join this group. For this, they have to send a blank email to chachus_pen-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
