Punch-tantra at 'Work' - Langur & The Crocodiles

Once upon a time there was a monkey named 'Vanar', who lived near a swamp infested with crocodiles. Nearby stood a cluster of trees bearing delicious mangoes. To get to those trees 'Vanar' had to cross the swamp tip-toeing on rocks in the slush, except that he could never differentiate between rocks and the crocks. Yet he remained unharmed because of his pact with the crocks. In return for his safety, he had to pluck fruits from the tree for them.

Soon the crocks were bored of mangoes and decided to eat 'Vanar' instead. But a lone monkey would not fulfill their hunger, so they invited 'Vanar' to bring along his troops to the mango cluster for a great mango carnival. They also assured him of their safety and right of way.

It so happened that the troop was already in a crisis. The tree on which they lived,in the midst of a sugarcane field,  had become home of a family of pythons. Everyday a monkey would disappear and the suspicion pointed to their new neighbors. Afraid and insecure, the troops were hunting for a new home. If possible, near to an orchard with abundant food. So when 'Vanar' came with the invite, they were really excited; unlike pythons, crocks could not climb trees, hence they could build a safer home among the crocks.

A general council was called for, chaired by ‘The Langur’ whom they had recently accepted into their folds. A great fighter, and visionary par excellence. He stood a good feet and half taller than the largest among them, a born leader, he quickly assumed the role of a commander of the troops.

Today the monkeys turned to 'Langur' for advice.

“Don't worry, let us go and explore the place. Make sure though that you carry few canes of the sweetest sugarcane along with you.”said the 'Langur'.

The troop arrived at the designated spot on D-Day. The crocks could not take their eyes off the 'Langur', clearly the juiciest amongst the troop. They waited for the monkeys to start feasting on the mangoes, and once the party started, they circled around the trees in a death dance.

The 'Langur' was no fool, he sensed danger. While all the monkeys were busy eating mangoes, the crocks  noticed that 'Langur' was chewing on a sugar cane.

One crock approached 'Langur' and asked him, “Hey honorable one, why are you not eating the mangoes and instead chewing on sugarcane.”

“Of what use is this mango? I chew on a magical sugarcane, which makes me double my size in 48 hours time, you may not believe it, but I was a small kid a week back. See how strong I am now.”

So saying he snatched a piece of the sugar cane and started munching it.

When the lead crock heard this he was astonished.  A magic sugarcane that could double ones size, that too within a week.? He suddenly started daydreaming about how juicy the monkeys would all become, if fed on this magic sugarcane  for a week?

“And why the monkeys, even the crocks could double in size to become all powerful and rule over the forest. The elephants would be easy meat if the Crocks could grow 4 times their size.” he thought to himself.

Quickly the ‘Lead’ crock changed strategy and abandoned all plans of eating the monkeys.

“Better days are yet to come”, he announced to his bask , “Let's wait for 10 more days, and make sure that all monkeys feed on this magic sugarcane,then we can all have 80 pounds of monkeys for each one of us, instead of these shriveled thin monkeys which are good for nothing.”,

  

He then slyly approached the 'Langur'.  

“Respected Sir,  as I can see, your troop is only half your size, they are weak and emancipated lot, they all could do with a lot of those sugar canes. Why just your troop, even mine are so weak, that its difficult for us to survive in this jungle. Like we jointly did this mango carnival, why don’t we organise a sugarcane carnival?

“Of course your majesty”, replied the 'Langur', “but for that you would all have to come back with us to our abode on a new moon day, when the wolves howl in the darkness and the leaves rustle, and one can’t even see the back of one’s hand. On that night the goddess of cane comes at midnight and bestows her magic on some of the canes. As a token of gratitude for this great mango carnival,  I shall harvest some of those best canes for you.”

“But there is a ‘condition’, since there is a limited number of canes which are magical, every month only 4 crocodiles can come with me”.

“Sure Mr.Langur. Please come over on the new mood day and escort us to you abode” he grinned the Crock, baring his razor sharp teeth.

Heaving a sigh, the troop escaped to safety. The clever 'Langur', then proceeded to the Python's  nest, and appealed to the large snake. Oh King Python, you have been our neighbours for a short while. I come with a prayer, We have been losing lot of monkeys  to your hunger. If you will spare our lives I can organise rich food supplies for you & keep you satiated for more than few years. On every new moon day I promise to bring you 4 fully grown crocodiles as a prey. They shall come to the sugarcane field at mid night, where you can partake of their succulent meat.    

The Python King was astonished at this bounty, His family was tired of chasing these small monkeys which could not appease their hunger for more than a day. A large crocodile would be enough to sustain them for a month. He suddenly looked at the 'Langur' with respect. Look I can’t shake on this deal, for I don’t have hands, but its a gentle-python’’s promise, that if you fulfill your promise we shall never touch your troops again.

Ever since that day the 'Langur' has been escorting 4 crocodiles to their death. Soon the swamp was rid of all the crocks. But nature has its own ‘trick up it sleeves’ or ‘leaves’ sound more appropriate. The Python population grew because of abundant food, the Crocks almost got extinct, and the monkeys multiplied in the absence of any predator.

In this process of natural balance, Mr.Langur like all leaders became a victim of his own game, when he could not bring anymore crocks, the King Python swallowed him whole.

Moral of the story :

1. if you are a niche player do have a larger partner to provide synergy.
2. Don’t trust your partner, he could do a hostile take over for the purposes of backward integration.
3. Always hire a smart CEO to counter threats to your  strategic interest.
4. Whenever your dominant collaborator becomes a threat, look for backups.
5.   
6.  
7.  
8. 
   

King Raa-won

Picture Courtesy http://www.express.co.uk/news/nature/483537

Once upon a time there was a king lets call him Raaa-won. He was known for his high principles and morals. He was fair in everything he did. He was famous for his sense of fair play and justice. People from adjoining counties would come to him for arbitration. Lesser kings without progeny would come and accede their counties to Raa-won, assured as they were  of his magnanimity and fair play

But the kings penchant for fair play became an Obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). He would fight wars by the rule book. In the first place he would avoid wars and be as liberal towards his adversaries as possible.  For example ; having captured  rogue invaders he would show compassion  and let them off when captured, only for them to regroup and emerge stronger.

He would hardly ever order death sentences to traitors and spies, and in the name of compassion he started being seen as a walk over.

The whole thing became so self defeating that his Commander in chief rushed to seek help from great sage living high up in the mountains.

The sage invited the king along with his wife to his cottage. Raa-won was delighted and promptly landed at the sage’s door. The sage made them comfortable and after a good night’s sleep he took  Raa-won for a tour around the jungle.

They were riding along when they saw a disturbing sight, a Royal Bengal tiger was limping along in a bad shape. Shreds of flesh were hanging from its hind legs, sores were present all over its once shiny coat. Raaa-won wanted to ask the sage the reason for the tiger’s condition, but the sage had marched on. Soon Raaa-won saw a pack of wild dogs attacking the tiger, who instead of retaliating seems to be patiently trying to avoid the dogs.

They went along a bit further, and noticed a huge male elephant trumpeting in agony, it had large gashes on its flanks and Raa-won saw a large sized buffalo goring the elephant from behind.

Raa-won then confronted the sage, “why is a role reversal happening in this jungle” he asked.

The sage replied. “Hey Raa-won, do you remember as a young teenager, your father had sent you here for your education, around  the same time the tiger and the elephant were cubs growing up, around these bushes. The day I was teaching you war-fare and fair-play, these little ones were listening from behind the bushes, but somewhere got the impression that fair-play was about avoiding confrontations or avoiding violence. In the process they became so tolerant of the world around them that they have forgotten their true strengths as lords of the jungle.

Hey Raa-won a similar fate awaits you. War and retributions are part and parcel of this life. One can't be strong without being firm, and being firm would need one to be harsh sometimes to be able to fulfill your Dharma' as a king. Since life itself is a war, one can't avoid participating in it, and fear of this war would need you to abdicate from all roles in life.

“So hey king be fair always, but also learn to fulfill your ‘Dharma' as  a protector and saviour of people looking up to you. Even if you are harsh people will still look up to you”.

“Everything may not be fair in love and war, but to be fair one has to be sometimes in love and war”.

A great realisation dawned upon Raa-won. He realised his folly and started administering his role more aggressively, much to the delight of his subjects

Life is a battle, which will get nasty sometimes, yet you can fight it from a pedestal, way above others. You would still be respected for your decisions. You may choose to avoid some battles sometimes, but you can't avoid all battles all times, yet you may choose your weapons according to your comfort. A soothing choose of words can be as useful in battle as a double edged sword.

So start sharpening your skills; the battle lies ahead.

Live life like from a 'Library'

http://www.scert.kerala.gov.in

  One of the pleasures of growing up in a non internet enabled world; a wonderful place called a ‘Library’.  A Mecca for someone pursuing technical education, a convenient  place of shelter for few. for those interested in reading, there were many in those days, it was a fascinating place, with so many windows to explore, shelves upon shelves of dreams and knowledge, little windows from the world of “Alice in Wonderland” which could take you to cities vast and minds of great thoughts.

The indescribable smell of freshly bound volumes, silence enforced so well mutually by its occupants, broken occasionally by the high pitched exclamations of a anorexic librarian being bothered by non compliant youngster, or by the clicking of her stiletto upon the wooden flooring as she went around rearranging books onto the shelves.

There were libraries and then there were libraries. Large institutional ones carrying the burden of educating its young readers and old professors, research associates and deans pouring over volumes, engrossed to even notice the coming and going of people. A choir could pass around tables without the occupants even noticing, not that the librarian would let one enter the serene surroundings.

Then there were the community libraries, dingy one room affairs, with everyone vying for the morning newspapers,  the papers crumbled beyond recognition by late afternoon. The college going youngsters trying to grab the latest sports and movie updates in a jiffy, the older gentry trying to lay their hand on the prized possession so they they could fold the sheets into eight folds and hold it close to their myopic eyes for hours together. children vying for the cartoon of the day, and the ladies standing no chance in all this melee. These sheets of newspaper would get separated soon, the central editorial grabbed by the old man in lungi, the ‘appointments’ classified sheet shuffling between the unemployed youth who could never afford a newspaper and the retired school teachers and post masters hunting for a groom for their aging daughters.

Of course beating them all in terms of liveliness was the local college library. Where samosas hidden in handkerchiefs could be smuggled in, leaving their telltale oil prints on the dog eared pages of the popular magazines. Young love trying to bloom among the many volumes of sanity lined up on the shelves. Naughty youngsters trying to giggle watching cupid in action, being shooed down by the librarian. Nerds pouring over volumes large, desperate examinees looking for that one book which would save them from failure that year.

More popular were the lending libraries,  you could become a member and own a card, each card entitling one to draw one or two books at a time, each borrowing having a time limit of a week or ten days within which to return the book or a resultant penalty to be paid. Borrowings in exchange for a small fee in commercial libraries, or for free in the libraries being run by the local government authorities.

But they all had do’s and don't’ to be adhered to,

• Do return books on time so that other could use the books, magazines, especially the ‘in demand’ ones,
• Don’t dog ear the pages, use a book-mark instead, any torn sheet of paper or comb, would work fine.
• Don't underline or doodle on the pages.  
• Don't forget to return books before proceeding on vacations, the resultant ‘fines’ could cost you a packet, apart from depriving others of the precious volumes.
• You could withdraw only one book at a time, one which you have already selected, and you choose to hide other rare books in wrong sections so that they remain out of circulation ;  another crime in the library world.
• Don't try to steal a book out
• Don't hoard books at your home by using multiple cards borrowed from your classmates.
• Finally handle them with care,  don't use open books as paper plates for parking samosas, or pry open tightly bound books to keep them from flipping over.  

That brings us to the joys of borrowing from the libraries,

• Hunting for the book so much in demand for months together, not finding it protesting to the librarian, shrugging in helplessness.
• Finding the book in question one fine morning and jumping up in joy before realising that , you have to sacrifice it for another interesting book which you need for your forthcoming exams.
• Half way through your favorite book, your parent giving you task to be completed which would keep you away from your book for few more hours.

Finally the love for the book borrowed, the feeling of joy of holding it tightly against your chest, feeling the threads from its hard bound cover, the sweet smell of the fresh glue staying with you for much latter.

Knowledge that the book is going to be yours for a short while, enhancing your value for it many times over.

Is life not to be taken like a borrowings from a library !!!

The knowledge that nothing is permanent, something that comes your way has to be returned to its rightful owner, this feeling can be juxtapositioned against all possessions that come on to you  in this world. The duplex flat that you bought with most of your life earnings, the car that you purchased which cost you the moon, none of these are permanent. The land that you say is owned by you stands millions of years old, owned by thousands across the ages, and thousands more in years to come, thou shall savor it for a few decades, not more, your kin will squat on it for some more, before the intensity of your genes dilutes and your kin remain your kin no more.

The joy of loving something that is not yours,  the care and sense of belonging it brings you, can be compared to life too. Should we not treat our possessions as borrowed things, relish the joy it gives us, and return it unblemished for other to savor, instead of mindlessly ravaging it with a sense of total ownership.

Should your possessions be stamped with your ego reflecting the spoils of a conquest, the blood it carries of multiple warriors who fought on either side of the battle and sit as a mantelpiece as a mark of your battles,  or should these be the reflections of borrowings from life experiences, to be savored and worshiped as gifts from the universe.

The anticipation and hunt for books, representing your hunt for varied experiences,  the disappointments when you don't find the books, the joy of discovering the favorite title hidden behind some boring literary compilations, the joy of grabbing it before someone else takes it away, represent your journeys and explorations of life.

Not many people today would relish the joys of borrowed joy. The world has moved on, people want absolute ownership. Affordability has meant, that the student is no more grateful to the ‘Neighborhood Trust’ which runs the community library, today he can afford to own may copies of the newspaper or magazine that the library professes, so what if he never even bothers to read even the headlines thereof.

The speed of today's life means that the headlines are at your beckoning, landing up hot straight from the newsroom,   a speed which cannot be matched by the erstwhile libraries. No more lazied afternoon's stroll to the nearby library, the kids are zooming to their Zumba classes, secure in the knowledge that information is only a click away. But the billboards scream at you on the highways “Speed Thrills but kills”, but who cares anyway, people are chasing the thrills in their lives.

If only saner sense prevails ‘the art of living in a library’ could possibly enhance your palette, widen the scope of your choices, you may have great affordability but nothing could compete with 2000 books lined up in one place, nothing could provide you the solace, the peace of shuffling pages, the smell of the wood converted into pulp, organic stuff that which is biodegradable waiting to go back to its roots, yet forming a doorway into worlds unexplored.

Live life like in a Library, take but to return, enjoy the collection, admire the magnificence of the storage so tall, don't rue  that you don’t own the library, cherish that you are a member, for that is enough to enjoy every moment of its vast treasures.

Live life like from a library.

Lessons from Spring Cleaning

Image borrowed from https://vegetarianirvana.wordpress.com/page/2/

After years I took up the duster again, the demands of my job,  the reliance on hired help, ensured that the cleaning chore was no more required to be shared among family members. But hired help have the habit of giving you the slip once in awhile, and this time around it was a ‘marriage in the family’ for the maid, gone as she was for a week. She went on a Friday, so come Sunday it was my time to wield the broom and the duster.

Years of regimentation at work played on my mind and I had to ensure that the project I took up was done professionally. I had to score higher than the maid, to prove my prowess and  also  keep the management (you guessed it right !) happy. That’s how I started with a flourish and ended up learning lot of life lessons from a simple job. Before I started the cleaning, I ensured that I shifted the entire furniture askew to access the remotest corner, this also ensured that I opened up old storages and rummaged through them. initially the intent was to set them right but encountered so much clutter that it became a herculean job, one which made me all the more wiser.

Avoid Clutter my guru had told me :I came across so much clutter that I could not think straight, trinkets, gifts that did not remind us any more of the giver, outdated items which were in good condition but could not be used, shrunken pants, and expanded elastics, you name it, it was all there, kept safe for a rainy day. The problem was that come a rainy day, one does not even remember, where one had kept the expanded elastic which could have been used to tie a window shut, a window banging in the wind with its latch broken. Had I stood firm to throw away all the old stuff, it would have meant convincing two women in the household, but I let it pass. Peace has it price to pay, and here the price was quite affordable.

Then it set me thinking, why so much possessiveness, should we not let go and be free instead of being tied down to so many lame logic's and be pulled back by such heavy baggage. What about me ? I was buying peace at the cost of so much clutter in life,  was it worth it ?

I discovered buttons : Tens and hundreds of them, under the sheets, in the drawers, in little boxes meant for buttons, unique buttons, suited to a particular garment, when one popped, you had to save it for future use, for one could not throw away the garment for the need of a button could we ?  I learnt that with new found affluence one could throw away a garment with a missing button after all, because, for none of the button that I found, I could locate the garment. But the buttons stayed loyal to its owner, and remained where they were kept, for years to come.

What a wonderful contraption a button, which partners with the button hole to protect your modesty. But the day it breaks from its moorings it has no value. If it pops off in public, you could pay a dear price, on top of that you loose the button too to the crowd, never to show its face again to you, after having failed in its duty of keeping the garment together.

Similarly in life we carry so many buttons. Buttons which saved your modesty once upon a time, but don’t mean anything at all in the present. Buttons of behavior, buttons of beliefs which have been proven wrong, buttons which held together relationships, ones which don’t exist any more. Buttons of faith, Buttons of false hope.

Discard those buttons, when things change, some buttons lose it, it’s easier to discard them and move on, rather than have them cluttering up your life.  

 

I found my fiddle : The old chest heaved, the lid immobilised by years of dust and disuse. The hinges creaked as I lifted the heavy lid. Sitting there in the garage it looked like the proverbial Pandora box. The plume of dust that blew into the air, made me sneeze, as the first thing I found underneath was the Wren & Martin’s Grammar book. I picked it up gently, the dog eared pages reminded me of my childhood, I opened the hardcover, the first page announced “ with love to Venkat” signed ‘Thomas Wickfield’ Nov’1932, it announced, the ink still radiant on the page gone brown with age. Thomas was the Englishman, who commanded the tea estate to which to my Grandfather, was a caretaker.  I remembered the difficult times at school, struggling with English Grammar, trying to differentiate active voice from passive voice, identifying nouns from a verbs, a pursuit which would in those days prove to be a difficult puzzle difficult to solve. English Grammar still remains a nightmare, compounded by its American usage.

I dig deeper into the chest, books and more books, an old box with the ceremonial dress worn by a relative in world war -I, a coffee bean roaster, a Kummuti (Tamil charcoal stove) and underneath all that stood a satin fiddle box. My grandfather’s Violin, snugly sitting there, waiting for someone to lift it, cradle it in one’s arms, and make it sing in deep pathos.

I lifted it up like one would pick up an infant, and gently tightened the strings. The knobs creaked in protest, yet complied with my nudge, I picked up the bow lying alongside, and gently played a sombre note, it purred like a cat woken from slumber. From one note to another I moved up the scale and speed, and was soon playing the ‘English Note” to a fast tempo. Lost to the word, unaware that wife and kid had come hearing the wafting notes, and were silently drinking from the gentle stream of music I was playing in my now dirty pyjamas. ‘Papa, you play the ‘Violin’ so well, said my son, that when my memories came tormenting back, my childhood dream of becoming a musician, the prizes and appreciations that I received as a child for my exploits with these strings, all came back, flooding me with tears.

Somewhere along the road I had lost my connect with the instrument, and went in pursuit of larger things in life, things which seemed so small now, compared to my larger than life dreams of making it big in music. Today with other priorities in life not so relevant, the discovery of this Violin meant a new hope to me, a straw to clutch upon, to fulfill those unfulfilled desires, pursuits which will make complete me, but may not be getting me great rewards in life..

There are many other fiddles lying lost and buried in everyone’s attic. Do revisit them,  and find out what it actually means to you now, strengths on which you dream of building those wonderful castles, are they still with you or lost somewhere in some meaningless pursuit. How about picking up the strings once more.

My old briefcase : was lying underneath the fiddle, pushed to the background, its numerical lock tightly in place,  since the number lock was configured to my birth date I still happened to remember the password, I twisted the tumblers to complete the combination and the lock dutifully clicked open. I opened the briefcase and found testimonials  from my early career. certificates, letter of appreciations, (there were no e-mails in those days), diaries, journals and so many things that was ‘me’.

Symbols and significance lost to time. Confidence and resolves dissolved with a few drops of turbulence called time. Revising these reignited the old ‘Me’ and brought in new meaning to my pursuits, recharged my batteries. I have a comparison now in front of me,  the erstwhile ‘me’ and the new ‘me’. Some of the shades seem better, the others seem to fade in comparison, time for another course correction ?  Quite likely.

In two hours time, I had cleaned up the place, rediscovered myself, set my place in order, discarded a pile of baggage,  dusted away a lot of dust from essential pages of life, and come away successful in one more project given to me by my ‘Superiors’. My faith in the management now strengthened, I looked up to them for the reward. “Besh Besh” ( 'great' an expression of delight in Tamil)  she smiled ‘what a great job you have done”, you now truly deserve a hot cup of coffee, she crooned. How could she have known that I have rewarded myself multiple times over by a simple act of housekeeping.

Let not the dust settle, when the hoofs beat the trail, dust is but natural, to avoid the dust means avoiding the pursuit, that does not warrant that one should not polish the saddle.

“Where is the brasso” ? I yelled eyeing the mantle piece gone dull.

The Milestones in your life.

‘The Milestone’ complained to ‘The Road’ in self pity, "look millions use us, yet we remain struck at one place, come let us progress, lets also go places and see the beautiful world out there, instead of standing here rooted at one place".

'The Road' smiled, it’s white teeth painted fresh, a new coating of tar, making it look dark handsome, and radiant.

It replied " dear ‘Milestone’, what you mistake for stagnation is in fact our basic character, my purpose in life is to take people places, a role of which I am proud of and that which I have been faithfully doing all these years. You regret being rooted at one place, but is that not your primary role? to be at one place so that you can guide the world around to its  destination. People look up to you to know that they are on the right path and it gives them real comfort to know that you are around somewhere out there. A reassurance of their own purpose in life. So have a heart, we go a long way back in time together and as a team our journey shall indeed be successful. Saying so the road twisted and turned and gave out a fluorescent smile in the gathering darkness.

As the darkness gathered around the sky, ‘The Milestone’ became gloomy and morose. Vehicles passed by, people looked at ‘The Milestone’, cheering kids and sombre workmen passed by. One could hear some exclaim, “Yes we are almost there”, and some sighed in relief from a journey about to end. Everyone acknowledged the Milestone, but no one gave it another thought, one more stone, buried knee deep on the kerb, it was a common sight, they expected more to come along on the way.

“But what about my own journey?” the Milestone protested to the road.

“I have a large number written on my forehead, “20 miles Agra” it says, but I have never been to Agra myself, I heard that one of my cousins was used for constructing the Taj, I want to visit that place at least once.

“Mathura 40 miles” says my cousin standing further up the road. You know Mathura the birthplace of Lord Krishna, I have not been there either.” continued the Milestone.

“Have you heard about the “The kingfisher calendar photo-shoot”, it happened few months back, just few hundred meters down the road, and I could not even cover such a short distance, because I was ordained to be standing here for life, with my face painted, rued the Milestone.

‘The Road’ was in splits by now. “Look, why do you have to think so much? You are performing well, the world respects you, they notice you, and they will miss you if you disappear, don’t you realise that standing here you can watch the world pass by you. People come from far away to look at you, they may not remember you, but then it’s a bitter truth of life that people's memories are short, and no one is remembered for long any way. Go to sleep now, let’s resume work in the morning, and look at the bright new world going around us, said ‘The Road’.

It had been a hard day’s work, letting so many people, dogs, bovines and vehicles walk all over you does no one good. The traffic ebbed and ‘The Road’ was soon asleep.

The screeching of tires woke up ‘The Road’; it opened its eyes to complete pandemonium. There was a huge ‘pile up’ on the highway, people were honking loudly, and the traffic had come to a halt. Trying to find reasons for the chaos, ‘The Road’ turned towards it colleague, ‘The Milestone’ and halted dead in its track, the ‘Milestone’ was nowhere to be seen, where it was last standing, there was a gaping hole. ‘The Road’, turned towards his colleague's cousin across the road, and was shocked to note that the cousin too was missing.

The Road was in a state of shock now.  It had not taken the Milestones ambition too seriously, never imagined that it too had a life of its own. Having always believed in true ‘Dharma’ the ‘’ Road  had tried its best in counseling  ‘The Milestone’ but alas the stone had woken up from slumber and decided to move on in life. The Road stood there in tears, a lonely road, laid out for miles together, without a milestone to help travelers onward. It felt sad indeed, in a way incomplete too. Life was not fast anymore, vehicles ambled slowly, unsure of the distance, stopping every now and then to enquire the way forward.

In the meanwhile what happened to the ‘Milestone’ itself? One does not know! People say it had moved on in life, realised its own potential and gone to see the world. Did it gain any satisfaction from its abandoning its post, was it successful in exploring the world, did it see the Taj, or the leaning tower of Pisa. Did it miss its past role of just being rooted, or did it draw power from its new exploits. There are no answers.

Some say good riddance, ‘Milestones’ are not needed any more, fresh pastures, hill tops, valleys and mountains, no one finds them anywhere. They have now been replaced by flashy neon-painted sign boards in green and some digital ones too. But the elderly swear by it, remember its rotund shape, cherish its colours, sometimes stark black and white, and sometimes yellow and cheerful, remember leaning against one tired from an evening walk, or sitting on it and waiting for the daily bus to college. 

Everyone remembers them by the assurance they gave us, the sense of permanence that they connoted. Will that permanence be missed in the fast changing lane, or do they not fit in anymore, because it’s the age of individual trips, not of group excursions anymore.

Was it the Milestone’s fault that it had stopped believing in itself, stopped taking satisfaction from ‘being’ there day after day, or was it that the crowd on the road that no more acknowledged milestones, too busy trying to hop from one journey to another.

How many Milestones have you had in your life, solid stones which were always there for you, sacrificing their own comfort, to help you accomplish your goals, dotting on you all the time?  Did they ever set off on their own journey, abandoning you? How often did you lean on them? Did you give them a proper closure, or did you leave them behind on an empty road, yearning for ever for a sight of you. Introspection and amends will do you good.

Milestones I have had many supporting me, always there from me, themselves taking a different path, because I had to traverse through those roads, My mother to start with for one, my wife for another, My sister, my kin, so many have I encountered that I have lost count, today my destination would not be measurable without their penance for me in the afternoon sun, their vigil as it grew dark, and their hope that I would reach somewhere in life.

I bow down to each one of them, them ‘Milestones’.

@ Calligrapher V Arun

Ten life learnings from Delhi’s roads.

Driving in this metropolitan city has become an ordeal which only the very skilled can accomplish. As in life at large, the number of new drivers coming on to Delhi roads run into a few thousand each day. Reaching your destination safe is as much dependent on your own skill set as also on how others decide to deal with you on the road.

Is that not what happens in life as well! So here are few lessons of life learnt while driving on Delhi's roads.

1.Enjoy your ride :The way you manage to navigate through life’s labyrinth is more of an art. If you mindfully enjoy it, you are all to gain, but sit behind the wheel teeth clenched, cursing and yelling at anything that passes you by, will only make your journey that much more dreadful. So freshen up your car interiors, add your favorite fragrance to the dashboard, load the CD of your choice, roll up the windows and drive through the journey full of smiles. Similarly in life, there are various stations that one passes through, some in hurry and some in leisure, but mostly with a pre-occupied mind. Don't miss the journey, in search of your destination.

2. Stick to your lane : Law of averages apply to moving traffic as much as it applies to life. It's most likely that when you are getting late for an appointment, is when you shall encounter the most number of red lights. Similarly, problems tend to pile up during bad times, so be calm and stick to your lane, you will reach your destination much faster than you anticipated. Frequent changing of lanes is only going to inconvenience your co-travellers, and will only antagonize them against your progress. They could quite end up acting as roadblocks, so stick to your lane for commanding the respect of your fellow drivers, and let them facilitate your passage as smoothly as possible.

3. Grant right of way : People who are faster, and smarter are bound to overtake you, sooner than latter. Blocking their movement is not going to benefit you in any manner, let them pass. Life has an uncanny habit of slowing down the fastest of travellers. If you keep at it, you are most likely to catch up with them soon, in a few kilometers. Look at the larger picture, since there is no race, there is no winner either. Races and Wars are there in the mind. Everything else is relativity.

4. Be patient : So often we find our lane being blocked by a person who is slow, either because he is trying to learn how to drive or simply because his journey has left him in a condition where zipping around is not a choice for him. Rather than honking furiously at him, wait for him to give way, and disengage as skilfully as possible, he will be thankful to you. This applies to our colleagues at work, and brothers in arms too. Sometimes relations in life drag you down, thank them for the teachings that they gave you and try to move on.

5. Look back at your rear view mirror :  Lot of people you thought you had left behind a long time back in fact surprise you by popping up quite close in your rearview mirror, and soon overtake you as well. Looking back to understand whether you treated those people fairly, when you were ahead, will determine how they treat you when you yourself are behind.

6. Each journey is different. Someone is rushing to attend to an emergency, the other is on a vacation, yet another one is going out to meet his beloved, while you are driving to the airport at the dead of the night to pick up your mother-in-law. Don't compare journeys. Everyone is on his own path. Neither the start nor the end matches, not even the purpose. Its futile comparing the speed, comfort, make and cost of the vehicle, or in fact the co-passengers look. How often do we see a red mercedes pass us by, and we place our nose in the air, when one notices the rustic group occupying the vehicle. Who travels in the car with us is immaterial, some are there as a chaperone to beautiful people, and some being accompanied by lawyers to be hanged. So compare neither the journeys nor the your passengers.

7. On long journeys take a break. Life is not a marathon, your engine is not a atomic reaction which will never cease. When on long journeys, slow down, pull over at appropriate places to enjoy the scenery, catch your breath, or simply to watch the sun set. Stoppages in life can be as exciting as the journey itself. Helps you rejuvenate and think through your journey so far. Sometimes we stop and have afterthoughts. Don’t think twice of abandoning the journey and turning back in case you are not convinced enough to carry on. A few litres of fuel wasted is better than a wasted journey of no consequence.

8.Indulge yourself, you can afford to : Some people have this habit of saving on fuel by not using the car air conditioner most parts of the year. They think that since the breeze is for free why spend on some extra fuel. Let me assure you that not only will you be blackening your face and lungs soon because of the pollution, but you will end up surrendering all your savings to the doctor or for a car shampoo. Similarly in life don't save on hair oil to spend in the saloon. If you earn by slogging round the year, spend enough to care for your own well being, because the day the machinery breaks down, there will be nothing to save. As they say in hindi “of what will you play the flute off when there is no bamboo” (na rahega baans na bajegi bansuri).

9. Love thy driver : There are so many people in life who drive us around, some drive us to safety, some drive us through our goals, some drive us around the bend. But all of them help you in giving direction to your journey. Take care of them as much as you would take care of yourself, don't slurp an ice cream sitting at the back sea, at ten in the night when your driver who has been on the job since morning has not even had his dinner. Be it your boss who pushes you just that bit, or a better half who wants the moon and makes you slog for it, had it not been for them, you may not even aspire to get out of bed. So thank him/her for the push.

10. Don’t read too many Instructions : Go by your heart and drive as you want. Reading these instruction manuals on life or buying books about how to sell your ferrari, will take you no where , especially all these articles which give you “10 reasons why…. Or 5 ways in which to…..”