Happy Be

Happy be, on the weary sea

     Who hath fled the tempest and won the haven.

Happy whoso has risen, free,

     Above his striving. For strangely graven

Is the art of life that one and another

     In gold and power may outpass his brother.

.

.

.

But whoever can know,

     As the long days go,

That to Live is happy, hath found his Heaven!

- The Bacchae (Professor Gilbert Murray's Translation)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Bacchae is a greek tragedy based on the mythical story of how King Pentheus is punished by god Dionysius because the king refuses to worship the god. The play was originally written by Euripides.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Young Dennis loves sitting on the porch of the children's home he has been living since the first months of his life. He was a just born baby when his unknown mother threw him on a rail track and ran away. Before the train could crush him to death, a ferocious madman took the baby off the track and started biting his delicate legs. He still has those bite marks on his legs. Somehow a kind man happened to see this gruesome scene, chased away the madman and rescued the baby. The little one finally landed up in this place which, to people of the urban upbringing, would look like a dungeon of sorts. Well, this place is his only haven. While others might yew at their kitchen, flies, stinking toilet and the bugged-beds, he is a happy kid.

A gentle priest named him Dennis, not knowing the name originated from Dionysus, the Greek god of the grape harvest, wine and merriment. While both of their births have parallels, the mortal Dennis would certainly not want his life to be filled with the merriment Dionysus symbolizes. Because deep down, he knows that his mother was a slut in her secret life - and all that he goes through, as a child, is because someday after a wild party his probably unmarried mother possibly got drunk too much and certainly had sex with some stranger who turned out to be his father.

Dennis is 15 years old now. Goes to the government school. A topper, of course. And he very well understands who he is, though the nuns at the home have carefully not taught him to believe that he is an orphan. From the time the old watchman told him of the story of how he came to this orphanage, he is overcome with depressing thoughts and feels extremely bitter for his bastardized life. He would think that it would have been better had he not been born. 'It would have been better had I been destroyed in my promiscuous mother's womb', he weeps in silence.

But he is always happy, when he sits on the porch. What makes him happy? - I wanted to know. He would just smile and his face would gleam - free of all the worries he was getting used to. I noticed he was looking at something. I followed his line of sight and there I saw what made him happy. There was a pair of anthills and hundreds of ants marching up and down in strict order. I struck a conversation with him. He has been observing these ants and their behavior for at least two months. He would not allow anyone to break the colonies the ants have so strivingly built. I listen to all the stories he tells me about these ants. Such innocence in every word, and yes - the boy's heart was bubbling with happiness.

As I returned home, I was wondering how could a little boy with whom life had been so cruel find happiness in simple things. Simple things. Oh yes - SIMPLE THINGS. Ah, there it hammered on me. To find happiness, one need not wait till the rapture and the trumpet sound. We could all find bundles of happiness in the simple things life offers us every single day. We would just have to keep our eyes open to see them. God is so great that he has injected so much happiness into all that surrounds us. Without remorse, we need to just go and inherit them. This realization started to change my life. Now - I have reached a point where I can just sit in front of my computer and smile at all the quirks it makes at me. I have started to look at people in the way they ought to be looked; and have made friends with myself. My mind is in complete sync with my heart. Believe me, there is nothing as peaceful as this. You would just have to hum to life's happy tunes and make some loverly moves. The more you smile, the more life becomes paradise. There truly is no greater secret than this. May you be happy all the time!

"Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise."

[Proverbs 6:6]

Friendship, Boys And Girls!

This is a simple attempt at a painful juxtaposition of the lives of many. Well, well well. Whether this is similar to your story, or no - a different one - yet speaks volumes of your neighbors' spicy lives - is up to you to judge. But before I start, I would like to put forward a disclaimer for my own safety. All the characters discussed and the words written here do not directly or remotely refer to you or anyone you know.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A and B. [ A - guy friend; B - girl who is a friend ]

B's desk:

A comes straight to B every single day, pinches her cheek, caresses her hair, does a cheek-to-cheek touch with her before he starts doing anything of use (if at all there is any). This is 'friendship' - they defended themselves when word spread. Anyone who makes fun of this would be desecrating the divinity that surrounds their relationship. Such was the look this supposedly conservative girl gave at anyone who tried to tease or mock. What divinity would one get by rubbing one's prickly bristled skin against a fair smooth cheek! I keep wondering!!

At home:
A is a family boy. B is very virtuous and will be given in marriage soon. Both know that their families and cultures wouldn't allow for them to be married, so are comfortable remaining this way!

C and D. [ C - the babe in saree; D - the dude in shorts ]

Wedding function:

Lovely night. Celebration. Ethnic clothes. Party. People. Nice food. No alcohol. Lot of fun. After all this, C wanted to go to her friend's place for a girls night out. 9 in the night. She asks me to drop her at a certain G circle on my way home. I drop her at the circle. Interestingly, D was waiting to pick her up from there. I was shocked to see the bas****. She, with a sheepish grin, tells me that she would change at D's place and then go to meet her girl buddies. Oh, was she so shy to go to the girl's PG where her friends were waiting and change there? - I have no answer to this. Next day, both were absent. Ooomph. Oh  no, friendship!

At home.

C, now, has a husband who is a fool. D is the only son who their parents are fond of. And this friendship continues.

E and F. [ E - mumma to her daughter; F - the boss who is sincerely straight ]

Pub:

E has long been wanting a promotion. And one fine day she was promoted. She takes along a group of close friends for a drinks party. There, after a few shots, she goes high. Screams - 'I'll tell you all one of my stories'. The dirty story of how F tasted her. The reward, her promo. 'Hey hey, do not mistake us - we're good friends now!', she thunders.

At home:

E's parents who think highly of E take care of her daughter. F's parents are searching for a bride. E and F meet quite often if one of them 'gets bored' - or in other words - wants some fun.

G and H. [ G - guy who believes in connections; H - girl who is ugly ]

Chai shop:

G is a very cunning guy. He tells us - in his usual explicit tone - that he loves to f*** whenever he is pissed off. He tells us of all his steamy affairs thinking these things would inspire us. One fine day, he encounters a huge problem and is super pissed. He takes H home. Next day, he smiles a lot. Tells the guys that her special spots were all big-big. After few days, we grill H with questions during one special occasion. She gets pissed off and screams - 'we're best of friends, alright!' This is just not alright, baby!

At home:

G comes from a respectful household. H is a church-goer. She lies at home and stays at G's place every other Friday night.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are so many stories like this. For now, I would stop here. Because it gets dirtier as I write. This is how things are turning out to be. With no offense to anyone, friendship has been shamed by many neo-liberals and been made to look like one cauldron of liberated passions and stumbled morality. If this is called friendship - very sorry - the very definition of it needs to be changed by all means. Where is purity of thought! I have heard few friends who start loving each other and then marry. That, now, seems to be an acceptable notion. But this level of psychosis is unheard of. People think the world they live in, is Vegas. Let us drink, make merry, kiss, get wild, sleep, get up, shake hands and be friends. Who the hell are you fooling? This is a serious state of moral impairment. Deep down, you know it. What do I know, you might glibly ask! You know it well that you are scarring your own self! Scar it more, kill your conscience - and you will die in shame.

Do you seriously want to live with such suppressed guilt? How long can you possibly hide it under a fanciful word called 'friendship'? Imagine: years later if you have children and they start walking in your ways - and you instantly know that it has come from you, it would pain you more. Please turn from your ways before this becomes a trait, lest it passes on to your kids and your bloodline thereby defiled. No positive change is too late. Let love set you free.

Haloing Shades

             The abode of the dead, shades. Gradation of darkness, shades it is. Disembodied spirits - in shades you shall find them. Uninterpretable nuances, shades again. Some people think shades are cool because they are perceived to be evil. Few books bearing 'shades' as title have widened its influence to the world of eroticism. Shades of this ilk, certainly, are dangerous when they happen to fall right on us.

Disregarding the worldly definitions - shades, simply, could be seen as a state where not everything is fully revealed. There is something in the hiding. A tiger crouches through the bushes, sets its position right and then paws for its prey. Bands of defense personnel keep vigil in the night so the enemy wouldn't breach the boundaries unawares. There was a small boy who thought babies are formed in the womb when a husband and wife hug each other. Even procreation is kept in the shades. Well, these shades beautify and preserve our lives, don't they? Tigers get to quench their hunger, we sleep peacefully at night and new babies are born. Indeed these are haloing shades.

Most of us are blind because we tend to believe all that our naked eyes could see. We keep forgetting that lives are actually illuminated by things unseen. Busy trying to reason out everything, we miss out the nuances of symbolism that the simplest of life's events brings to the table. Our understanding goes holed and the right thoughts from our mind's clutter drain out in a fizzle, in a twinkle.

Truth alone triumphs - of course yes - but not without 'love', that allows itself to go unnoticed. Truth is always right. It is just and yes, harsh. Arrogant and sometimes, bitter. But love blends it, makes it more humane. There was a couple soon to be married in an arranged marriage setup. The girl had had premarital relationships with multiple men before. But everyone behaves as though nothing of that sort had ever happened. The broker conceals this, the parents prefer not to speak about the affairs of their once-promiscuous daughter, relatives and friends who know of this hush it down their burning bellies. The girl is scarred by her own folly. But for the marriage to happen and last, for her not to fornicate more and become a whore, a dosage of love had been most necessary. Years passed by, they are a happy couple now.

There was a prophet who cried out - 'My people are destroyed because of lack of knowledge'. But people could also be destroyed because they want to know everything - without any tinge of love. Do you not know that forgiveness is an offshoot of both love and truth? Do you not know that, in accordance to our culture, our women intentionally cover their body parts men desire the most? If our intent is to see and know more of whatever is concealed - desire would vanish and on the same note, forgiveness would disappear too. We need to apply love to whatever we have known as truth. I do not mean that you should limit your curiosity to know more of the truth. My only plea is that the more you know, let love exponentially increase. It was not with the pride-monger pharisee that God was pleased, but with the repenting sinner. Not everything in life is black and white. We need the courage to accept that. Only then could we see beauty in those shades that halo our lives with bliss and more bliss.

Eyes Dont Lie

When words malign and smiles turn sly - like those deceiving mirages in the desert, we have the eyes speak the truth. You can live stuck to the web of illusions flawlessly constructed by your own mind, fooling your self and the world around. But when the forest is set on fire, or when tonnes of brimstone happen to fall right on your head - oh verily yes - your eyes surely will tremble the tremble. Those loverly pair of apples in your socket will reveal what your mind tries to hide - for they, in boldness, speak the language of the heart.

Eyes don't lie

Lies, fully deny

Deny with fury

Fury in glory

Glory like Nemo's Dory

The blue tang with short memory

Memories, the lasting ones, remind me of the story

I cry, cry and I cry

Oh! Fallen have I in love - only to die!

So what of it? Would you die just because you have fallen in love? Was that a fall? Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Oh, poor you, are your limbs bleeding? Nay, I see your eyes and hear their voice. It is the heart that bleeds - you want to say. But you hush it down for no avail. Look at your eyes, they reveal. Why do you have to live in suppression? How could you bear that hell! Cut loose from all the dogma that pins you down to the dirt. Be ye free. Fall no more. Let love bring forth genuine smiles and spread happiness. For love that once lifted me would lift you up too, I pray!

Chicken Bone In My Throat!

All the weirdest of things in the world happen to me and I'm not surprised. And here's one more to the tally. A chicken bone in my throat.

It was a great lunch at Amrutha's - we were 7 of us, 5 non-vegetarians and we ordered three plates of fish and one plate chiken kabab. In the talk that was heating up, I lost track of what I was swallowing and boom - something was stuck in my throat. I tried a lot of things and yet, it wouldn't go. So I come back to office, eat 6 bananas, lot of steamed rice, gulp 3 orange juice and four bottles of water. And still, it wouldn't go. Pains more.

So, I continue with work. Write one macro for a friend. It was 7 pm and then it rings on my head, I have to go to Hebbagodi. I knew it would become a problem if mum and dad come to know. Before that I should get this out. A friend suggests me to try vomiting. So I try vomiting for a long time. In the end, my mouth turns red. Oh no, I started vomiting blood.

Then I take my bike, rush to hebbagodi. Have to tell my parents, no other choice. I tell them before I go to sleep. They scold me for being such an idiot. I smile. They scold more. So, next day to Narayana Hrudalaya hospital.

Mum and me at the reception. There was a Malayali family sitting next to us with a sweet baby girl - less than a year old. She smiles at me. And playtime starts. I make her smile more. She grabs me, wants me to show some more tricks. She laughs, laughs and laughs. Doctor calls.

Doctor Maneesh. He laughs as well, as we explain the situation. Asks me not to panic. Go for endoscopy. Mum calls Dad. Dad panics. Comes with a family friend. This freaks me more. Endoscopy at 5 pm. Anything that is stuck would easily be removed, come and meet me after that, Doctor says.

5 pm. Endoscopy. There was this beautiful Lady Doctor. Sad, I did not know her name. Dont panic, she says and puts those things into my mouth deep inside. I choke and choke more. I make loud noises for her to stop. She takes the tubes out. No Doc, I can't, I'm so scared. She smiles. Oh come on, don't worry. Just look at me. Do as I say. It is very easy. She tells this so sweetly. I listen to her. She pulls my tongue out, holds it tight with one hand and deep the tubes go. Breathe through your mouth, don't panic. It is easy. I breathe through my mouth. After some time, the bone is out. She tells me I have abrasions. The bone has scraped my throat and has caused it to bleed. Asks me to meet the other Doc.

Waiting for Doctor Maneesh. I meet another patient who tells me his worries. He had done endoscopy as well - just then. He tells me how they tortured him by inserting the tubes deep inside till they reached his stomach and how much pain it had caused him. I was much relieved that the bone was stuck in the throat and not anywhere else. I ask him not to worry. Things will be alright. My name is called out.

I go in with my mum. The Doc smiles again. All okay, he asks seeing the file. I say yes. He writes me medicines. I say thanks and bye to him and come out. Buy medicines and we reach home. And mum tells me it is time I get married. This time, I choke more without any bone in my throat. God save me.

The Parenthetical Limbo Of Being

He is very open. (Idiot!)

He is kind. (Such a coward!)

She is sexy. (Not a virgin definitely!)

He is straight-forward. (Aggressive moron!)

She talks so sweet. (B*tch!)

Parentheses don't come out usually. They hover in the invisible, the plot thickens with those pauses and the sweet smile camouflages the intent and the overtone. But these afterthoughts that second the diabolical nature of our minds are also matters that decide our judgmental prowess.

 

There was a cockroach which lived in the latrine commode. A small boy threw a piece of bread into the hole and it floated above the stinky waters. The poor insect wanted to have a bite of the bread and it went down. Right when he got hold of his food, the boy flushed. Water was rushing down with force. His life was in danger if he did not move. He stood on the piece of bread not willing to give away his catch, reflexes failed, petrified, stuck in the limbo, cursing the boy. And he died.

You should plot at the back of your mind keeping your demeanor cool and pleasing, stated the colleague. To hell with him. For if we keep on plotting and speculating things, we would be plotted to death ourselves. Yes, people will use us. Speak falsely of us. Try to stop our growth. However these do not come out in the open, but revel in the parenthetical capabilities of their behavior. All of these silly things would matter only if we start giving a damn.

Some of our daughters suffer from this. They become Nebuchadnezzars, desperately wanting their men to know what they think without even telling them what they think. Adding to the disharmony of thoughts, they would want their men to act in the seemingly according ways pleasing them all the time. One could only sense heightened dosage of sadism here. This is dictatorship at its best (what else could this possibly be!).

Life is simple. Things would look good if unnecessary complications are put away. Reading between lines doesn't help at all. It creates fissures. Breaks relationships. Amplifies question-marks. Shatters trust. But if things are taken in the right stride, love sprouts. Smiles become genuine. Our eyes gleam (not trying to hide things). Peace descends. Result, bright countenance. Bliss.

Discourse On The Lives Of Shy People

Elevator. Ground Floor. I have to go to the sixth floor. And the small box is filled with women. A lot of them. But there is little space for one to squeeze in. One waves her hand and asks me to get in. I smile and say - 'No thanks!'. 'What's wrong? Get in! There is space for one!', she asserts. I sweetly refuse in a matter-of-fact tone, 'No please, I am basically a shy person you see!'. They all burst into laughter. Yes. HR ladies, they are!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jokes apart, the life of an introvert is not to be snorted away but one that needs to be understood in the right way. While the whole world chooses to be in the center of the theme, we choose the corners. Is it wrong to like the corners? Has not God chosen the corners of the earth to station his angels? Well yes, attention is one thing we do not crave for. Recognition? - no thanks, keep it with you. We are not insecure or timid or suffer from low self esteem. We are people who love the quiet. We stand away from the normal standards of life. We do not go with the crowd. Nor do we pass judgments. Only that we wish if people could leave us alone the way we are.

Yes, we have the problem of those abrupt silences and awkward pauses sometimes. We might come across to you as screw-ups, silly idiots and extremely dumb. Or we might look like real crazy morons and you could be thinking that we are very aggressive folks. We do not have any problem as to how you see/treat us. Your conclusive remarks on us arise only out of your fail discernments. Never would you understand our inherent tendencies to be able to attach meanings to whatever we say/not say and do/don't do.

Not that we do not know to speak, just that at times we prefer not to. Not that we do not know to crack all those jokes, just that we prefer not to say things that would sound as lame as the ones that are generally cracked and expect people to laugh. But we observe. We precisely know the size of the freckles and the count of the wrinkles and moles on the visible parts of your body. We know the length of your brow and the wave-forms it makes as you speak. The lip twitching, the short shrugs and the walk styles. We understand your movements and derive the right meanings. We can mimic perfectly well. We are the best orators. Our minds are intricately beautiful - music, so, is in our blood. We do not hurry. We keep secrets. We are slow to judge. We are perfectionists. We wait for our perfect time. Even if we knew it wouldn't come, we would still wait. Deliberation and finesse are our ways of life. We articulate and create our own worlds which people of mediocre mentality cannot comprehend.

There is misconception that shy people are overcome by fear, cannot exhibit their talents - and so, people think that the best of our kind are glued to their books, deny the company of men , build labs, do researches there and become those boring, uncool scientists. To me, shy people - disregarding the worldly definitions of 'best' - are in fact the best when they are in the company of men. The simple reason being - they can easily stand out without fear of exclusion. Ella Fitzgerald, Elvis Presley, Ingrid Bergman, Tom Hanks and the list goes on and on. These stars have been in the company of men all their lives - not just the company but they have been admired by more than half the globe. If you read about them, you would know they were all shy even after they became celebrities. Ella is referred as the 'First Lady of Song', Elvis - the 'King of Rock and Roll', Bergman won 3 Academy Awards and is ranked the fourth greatest female star of American cinema and Hanks - do we need words to describe his talents!

We have a petition to make. We rarely find people who can understand us. That is a very sad thing. There are very few people who could read the intent of our thoughts right. We are always mistaken. Some foolishly believe that we cannot influence others - not knowing, the greatest revolutionaries the world has ever seen were of our kind. They have all successfully shaken the world in times past. Try observing us more, I am sure you would fall in love with us. Yes, you would be baffled by the fluency of our romances. We make the best of friends. We add to the human element even in a professional setup. You would have no idea how loud we could get in the company of friends. No one would dare take all those risks to value companionship like we do. We mean what we say or we don't say a thing. Period.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

P.S. Conclusively, It's okay to be shy! (*^.^*)