God, a Boundation or a Belief?

As a child, I used to dislike people who were biased. I had seen some bias at the hands of my school teachers. And I don't know if the teachers were genuine. I've never indulged in sycophancy. Well, it doesn't naturally come into my behavior.

Suddenly, now all grown up, one day, I realised, I've lived on a thought of foolishness. When I see beggars, when I see bad things happening to people not doing anything wrong, just at the wrong place or even otherwise owing to circumstances, my thought is that even God is biased. I have never questioned on the existence of God. Believe me, I love God for what I have and how "beautiful" the world is. And I will never question its existence. Some say, it is karma that leads you to what situations you're in. But would I ever be able to know what wrong I did in this or previous life? Then, how fair is it when I don't know mystery behind my own soul?

Religion at most places is decided at your birth. That decides to the "types" of God you may have. I believe (and many do) that God is one. It is a power that is making even a leaf fall from the tree. But because the society at large is praying, even if I pray in my mind, I should visit the temple, this is told. Now, here, it becomes a boundation. And even accepting a religeon from your birth is another boundation.

My trust in God is firm. It is in every creature I believe. But I don't feel everyone is good. So, how can God be all positive and without mistakes if it resides in its creations who are us. I believe more on the messenger of God, the modern day gurus.  The busy modern day doesn't make me calm and at times lonely. They help you think positive and make you feel that you are not alone.

God is certainly a belief for me. But, if you ask me as to whether I learned about the idea on my own, then I would say, I read stories sometimes told by my family and sometimes by reading books. I went to temple. During childhood, I did not think much. The idea of God was given to me. I could believe myself more but I believed in my God at some instances.

These thoughts that I share on God would be there to continue. I've seen some people becoming religious all of a sudden in life. These people accept whatever little good they have and are grateful to the creator. Waiting for a change to see in me. Waiting for a miracle like always.
Love God.

Nani

"Walking hand in hand with me was my Nani (that's how I called my granny), dropping me, my brother and my mother to the bus stop nearest to her place."
"Making chandan base at the temple, offering prayers to the almighty, talking to the priest."
"Taking care of my mother and me and so many times, travelling so far to our place just to look after us."
 I remember my Nani quite often as I walk past the same places again and even otherwise in my memory. I'm very grateful to her that she was the one who loved my mother the most among anyone can ever try to.
                       
                       Now, I will be telling my own personal reminiscences with her. I was a quiet child and I strike a chord with my Nani when most of cousins didn't (haha! all you brothers and sisters, now don't be jealous!). I asked my mother "What's her favorite dish from Nani?" She said "Curry Rice". The next time I visited her, I demanded it. And she cooked it! The joy of eating it stills brings happiness on my face.
                     
                        My mother was scared to get my ears pierced. I demanded it again ( ....Well, I can be very demanding! :D). My Nani came along with me and we got it done together. And from next morning to many a days, while I was dozing off, she was applying haldi to it so that my ear doesn't hurt much and remains soft. (Aah! This is a lifelong memory attached with my ears.).
                     
                        She treated me with a " Bar One" chocolate each day when I improved on my health as she came to look after me. I eat it even today with the same delight of that memory.
           
                     My granny had artificial teeth which she took out before sleeping. She once, asked me "Why don't you sleep?" Inquisitive in nature (by my very birth.. now I realise! :D), I told her "I want to see how you pluck it out?". My Nani burst out laughing. That's, one of the friendly comedy scenes I share with her.  I was embarrassed though at that time. Even now, sometimes, I wonder about the sadness of that in-depth laughter. But I'm glad the episode happened for me to have another memory of her.

                    

                       Granny could be my grand mom too. For she many a times, got angry with me and told me to behave well, not be stubborn, etc. And she was right in her way totally.

                        

                         She peeled off pomegranate whenever we visited her and telling us to eat (..Now you come into picture all my brothers and sisters!). She was all ears to all happy news, problems of all her relatives and us, the little kids. She was never short of putting forth her opinions and an optimistic endeavor. 

Today on this very auspicious occasion of Rakshabandhan where there might be your empty space but never an empty memory, Nani, I wish to say to you "I love you and I miss you!".

RIP Khushwant Singh

Have you ever seen a librarian not allowing someone to issue a book? Well, I saw it for the first time when I was in class 12th. It still brings back instant guffaws that I had when the librarian did not let my best friend issue a book. The book was "Women and Men in my life" by Khushwant Singh. My friend, well, did not stop there and went ahead to ask the librarian "Why can't I issue the book?". The librarian, ofcourse at that time avoided the question by saying "No, you can't issue the book". I still wonder what must be there in the book?!

This instance, I remembered today when I read that the great writer Khushwant Singh has passed away for his heavenly abode.

Well, Khushwant Singh is well known for his naughty and subtle humour. Even his weekly column in Hindustan Times "In malice towards one and all" checked the reality as well as had sparks of humour. I recount one such article where he was so angry with Sant Chatwal for having not invited him to his son's wedding. He refered to Chatwal's son as someone who looked like a "mouse". (Well, I felt Vikram Chatwal did actually look like a mouse! I could relate. "Chuckles!" ). This man, Khushwant Singh, can bring hysterical laughter by depicting things so apt! He was so upright and bold in whatever he felt like.

 Last year, when I read "Train to Pakistan", I could well feel the plight of people struck in the border area of the country. It unfolds an imagination in the eyes of the reader of how tragic was the partition. This is all described in a fiction. The lovers getting separated, the Hindu Muslim sudden divide in a village living in harmony otherwise, the feeling of alienation in your own land, all highlights the lucidity of his writings. The description of eagles being unable to eat more corpses was hard to gulp and left one teary eyed.

   The first time I read his writings was in class 10th in my English textbook. The story "The portrait of a lady" was written in such a manner, it brought tears to the eyes of many young readers like me. I vividly remember that part when the sparrows refuse to eat food because they can feel that the grandmother is no more. Its been so beautifully written.

Now when he is no more, one can recall so many of his writings that one realises that one has built a long association with the writer. This association would continue to be there, for there are still many of his novels and stories to be read. RIP Khushwant Singh.

Past passes by.. so is the present

The words come rolling here sitting alone in my hostel. Here I am remembering so many people at the same time. Every-time, I think of life I find it very weird or difficult (yeah, that might be a better word for it is full of doubts and uncertainties). I keep telling myself a dialogue from the movie kung fu panda -
"Past is a history,
Future is a mystery,
Present is a gift!
That is why it is called present"

Still its very difficult to detach yourself from the past. The good times are missed the most and so are the people. And,time changes everything! The time we spend with people face to face, a month or may be an year later, it seems so strange to hold a talk again. To me ( and might be the case with others as well), it seems like again we are on the same ends as strangers.

Like I was just talking to a school friend over chat, it doesn't feel bad if people for whom you were nothing special, to start finding you a friend once you have left (in fact, many a times its a pleasure!). But it certainly feels queer, that people with whom you shared special bonds are now the same people with whom it has become difficult to hold a conversation with.

Don't know how others feel like. But I'm sure they are as humans as me. These are my rolling words for tonight!