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…..”

Germinatum - The Speaking Trees

Nagappa was digging a well. His field usually fed by rain water would not be able to support the new cash crops which were a rage in town. Many in his village had earned tidy sums by shifting to newer items for cultivation.

Bore wells in this part of the country were rare; the poverty all around did not permit such luxuries. He had to mortgage his family jewels, now for the sixth time in the last ten years, to garner enough funds to be able to dig a well.

He had gone around six feet into the ground when the clanking of the spade against something metallic halted him. Further probing revealed a steel trunk.  Nagappa was quivering with excitement now. What could the trunk hold?  Was it some kind of treasure?  Could it be a thousand gold coins?  Or would it be ornaments?  The hard soil around the trunk griped it in its vice like grip. A lot of prodding finally freed it from its moorings.  He lifted the trunk and put it on the ground above him. The trunk’s light weight disappointed him.  A large padlock hung from the bolt, and with a swing of a cow bar, Nagappa managed to free it open, yet the bolt was jammed with rust, and it again took a swing of his spade to creak the lid open. Sitting inside was a package, brown with age, for such a large trunk, the package seemed to be quite small.

With great excitement he picked up the package, it felt damp, smelt odd, and most of all, it did not seem to be any kind of treasure. It seems some kind of a book. Why would someone burry a book for safekeeping; wondered Nagappa, as he unwrapped the package.

In spite of the sorry state of the wrapping, the book that came out of the package, seemed well preserved. A bit faded, but the golden inscriptions on a maroon velvet setting, was attractive, strange signs and symbols in gold, adorned the cover. As he looked at it again he realised that the symbols were of leaves of various shapes depicted in a jigsaw.

Then his eyes were drawn to the title of the book... 'Germinatum'   announced the cover. He flipped the cover to look at the prologue.“One thousand year from now, when nature would be sitting on the brink of a catastrophe created by man, and when both humans and trees would be at a brink of mass destruction through strife and pollution, a one eyed man will discover this book, and he shall be revealed the secret language of Treekind and thereon we trees shall talk to mankind in a different language”.

Suddenly Nagappa realised that he was one eyed. He had lost eyesight in one eye in his childhood, a stone thrown at him playfully, found its target on his eye and ever since he had been blind in one eye.

Then it hit him. The fact that destiny had lined him up, centuries ago; to be here at this moment finding the trunk was over whelming. Often we search for the reasons for our existence, to realise that one is a special person picked by the creator, for even a menial task as it may, gave Nagappa a sense of pride.  Now he could hold back no more and started flipping the pages.  In the age of blue tooth and text recognitions, he had to just flip the pages, and as if by magic the contents of the book got inscribed in his mind. In matter of seconds he seemed to have read the book and learnt it by heart.

 A little whisper distracted him, a faint voice said “Nagappa, I am the little grass growing under your feet, if you care could you step aside, your weight is killing me”, gasped the little tuft of grass.

Nagappa stood there astounded hearing a tuft of grass speak.

“Why do humans trample lesser beings so mercilessly, O one eyed one”? Asked the blade of grass. 

“You have been kind enough to step aside upon my request, but I have seen others of you kind, who look down on creatures smaller in stature to them. Why O Nagappa?  asked the tuft of grass.

“Look at us, we cover most of earth, we spread greenery and cheer all around in spite of being under people’s feet, we are crushed mercilessly, the sun is harsh on us, the frost freezes us throughout the night, most times we are put to death by thirst, once the rains disappear, but we wait for just one drop of dew, so that we can grow again and regain our lost glory, why then do humans not follow in our footsteps Nagappa?   Asked the grass.

 “Sorry Grass, I can speak for myself, what I can say about mankind” retorted Nagappa. “By the way how is it that grasses can speak”? Asked Nagappa

“Don’t be baffled, we plants could always speak, by flipping through the book you have over there,  you have just been taught 'Germinatum' language of the trees, so now you can hear and speak to  all trees, shrubs, grass and creepers”,  said the grass.

“Pray Miss Grass, if I can call you that” said Nagappa, “can I ask you a question? Why have I been chosen to learn this language, and what is it that is expected of me”, asked Nagappa.

“Well” replied the grass, “I don’t know why, you,  have been chosen for this task, I am myself  just a two year old,  but a few meters from here there is my great grand uncle the Bamboo Shoot. He is a wise man, why don’t you go an ask him.

Thank you Miss Grass said Nagappa and went in searching for the Bamboo Shoot.

In the distance he could hear creaks and crackles; the sound grew more intense as he went further, and finally he stood under the tall cluster of bamboos . “‘Creak’, ‘Creak’” Mr. Nagappa said the bamboo in greetings, Creak to you too Mr. Bamboo said Nagappa now familiar with the bamboo’s form of address.

Mr. Bamboo, I look for reasons why I was taught 'Germinatum', can you enlighten me please.

“Nagappa, I am but just ten years old, I am not aware of the reasons why.  A mile from here lives my cousin Sugarcane.  He is one hell of a sweet guy, people confide in him, secrets that they cannot digest, perhaps he would have the answer to your query”.

 “Ok Mr. Bamboo, but having met you, I might as well clear some doubts of mine. Can you tell me why you keep creaking and swaying, are you in pain? I see the Oaks & the Teaks, they stay tall and firm, their body vast and majestic.  Look at you, knotted and full of joints, creaking and swaying, so what is your problem ? “Asked Nagappa

“Nagappa, you may call me fragmented, but that is my real strength”, replied the Bamboo. Each joint in my body marks the completion of one journey and the commencement of another, when I stand tall in adversity, not even the strongest of the typhoons can uproot me. 

My strength is greater than that of steel, I fear not the snow, nor the sun, either the rain or the wind, yet I bow down in honour of others virtue, when pushed. 

I grow faster than any other tree in the world, but yet my insides I keep hollow, so that I can learn from other and yet have space to assimilate more. 

The best part is my simplicity, I do not need any processing to be used by man, you use me as a weapon to protect life, you use me as a utensil to serve food, you use me as shelter to built you home, yet, I need no paint and varnish, no artificialness to complete me as a person. I am what I am and I stay that way till I am burn in a fire.

Show me the way O Bamboo, the way to your cousin’s place. Said Nagappa, satisfied with what the bamboo had to say.

Don’t worry Nagappa, you shall find my cousin very easily for he is a popular person. Said the Bamboo.

True to what the bamboo said, every shrub and tree showed Nagappa the way towards the sugarcane fields, except Miss Tomato, who seemed to be not too impressed with Mr. Sugarcane. 

Pfft...., she raised her nose in the air. Are you looking for the juicy sugarcane, be careful, he is too sweet a person, but he can never be as soft as me, so what if I turn out to be a bit sour sometimes, I am more colourful, plump, and soft than he can ever be, I wonder then why humans always seem to be always chasing the sweeter things in life, saying that she rushed inside her little farm.

When he finally reached the sugarcane field, Nagappa saw snakes and rats creep inside the sugarcare stems, yet the Sugarcane stood steady, greeted Nagappa with a smile and heard his story, and honestly replied, “yes Nagappa, the world knows how sweet I am, I live my life in peril, with snakes all around me. Dacoits rush into my fields, when escaping arrest; lovers push me apart to get inside my parlour to make unashamed love.

I hide many a secrets within my fields; have seen much treason being plotted inside my den, news gets to me fast since I talk sweet. But this sweetness gets me only so far in life, I am clue less as to why you have been chosen for this task”, replied sugarcane.  “Go a mile further up, you will come across Mr.Neem, he is pretty senior amongst us, perhaps he can tell you something”.

By now the cacophony of the trees and shrubs, the weeds and the grass in the jungle talking to each other was very distracting. To believe that only humans gossip is a fallacy, plants and trees with nothing to do all whole day seem to talk endlessly.

‘Hey’ whispered the rose bush,  “I am going to lose all my flowers tomorrow, you see its Valentines, and every year its so painful to lose all your flowers at one go”, it sobbed.

“Serves you right you vain rose” we are tired of your fashion statements, “your pride was unmanageable last year when the farmer grafted a violet rose stem on your body last year, look at you now, you will rightfully be shorn tomorrow of your vanity ”said the marigold with vengance.

“Thank god you are not a plantain tree, I give birth only once, and humans wait for me to fruit and then tear me apart, thankfully this year I have decided not to produce my fruit, I saw the worried look on my farmer’s face yesterday, he gave me a truly disgusting look” said the plantain tree laughing.

“Talking about humans, I still remember the look on that Newton guy’s face, when I let go one of my rotten apples on him, continued the apple tree, “Imagine that humans took so long to figure out that rotten apples can't float in the air, on top of that I understand that he became very famous indeed, because of me letting go of one apple on his head, is it not hilarious”

“Thank god I crawl on the river sides and don’t drop my fruits people’s head unlike you” added the water melon,

So the conversations went, as Nagappa marched onwards and reached the tall looking handsome Neem tree.

“Greetings O tall one”, hailed Nagappa.

“Greetings to you too, O one eyed one”, replied the Neem tree. You travel from far, why don’t you rest under my shade, and perhaps have some fruits from my tree.

What!  Exclaimed Nagappa, fruits from your trees are eaten by crows. Why should I be eating this bitterness?

“Ha, ha, ha laughed the Neem Tree. So typical of Humans to speak lowly of things which are bitter. Dear Nagappa, I carry so much bitterness in me, yet I remain happy, I flourish in spite of this bitterness. Everything in life cannot be sweet; there are bitter parts to life too. I blossom & fructify, my fruits are sweet and juicy too. None of my bitterness is carried by me in my approach towards life, I grow tall, my tree is a home to many a squirrels and birds. I am happy the way I am, yet I show no bitterness to people around me, unlike humans who turn bitter at the slightest of adversity”.

“Be that it may, I know what brings you here, and like my other cousins I too do not know why you were taught the ‘Germinatum ‘. The only person who could educate you is the head of our family the Banyan Tree. Go looking for him, he is seated near your village school, since the last four hundred years, he is the oldest among  us all. Seek and you shall have your answers Nagappa”.

That is how finally Nagappa found himself in the open field behind the school village in search of answers to this now tiring pursuit.

A sudden bout of giggling brought him back to the present.  Who could it be he wondered?  In the vast expanse around him he could see but a lone banyan tree, and the barren land ahead of him looking dead and dry like a camel’s back.

The giggling repeated and someone shouted, hey Squirrel, don’t you dare dig in there, your whiskers are tickling me,  go make your nest in the hollow in which your father lived for long,  don’t dig where it tickles. The giggling continued.

A perplexed Nagappa looked around for the source of the noise.

Who is giggling around here? Nagappa raised his voice.

“Hey Nagappa, don’t you recognise me, I have been living on your ancestral land for the last four hundred years, you used to swing on my creepers, make a hammock out of them and sleep the night through here, and I used to sing lullabies for you. Don’t you remember me, I am the banyan tree standing right in front of you” came the husky reply.

Well! Coming to the reason for your visit, replied the banyan, I don’t know why you have been chosen for this task, but the need to communicate with humans is the need of the hour. There was a time till a few centuries ago, when the vegetations in this earth lived in co existence with humans, but going by the way you are destroying this earth, we urgently need to put a stop to this destruction. Humans have not evolved to the extent they believe they have. 

We trees, plants, shrubs, weeds and all vegetation, are all part of ‘Treekind’ we all are from a distant Galaxy. Our brethren have captured most of the universe.  What you see as silent vegetation on this earth is not what we are. We travel space, we have reached multiple galaxies and all corners of the universe, we live and create life, we came here when the earth was just a piece of rock, we brought along most of the life forms that you see on this earth. While man has been scanning the air waves for signs of alien life, he does not realise that man is himself the biggest alien in this universe.

We the ‘Tree-Kind’ go back billions of years in existence, except for mobility we have mastered everything there is to know.  we have become so advanced that we have grown little creatures out of vegetation, these creatures named 'Pota-toes', because they were originally created out of potato like tubers, are our voice, hands and means of development, we provide them the knowledge, and they built planets for us to migrate and expand. They create special cocoons for us to drift in the universe, unaffected by the radiation and heat.  Today we rule the universe, we don’t use air-waves, and our language transcends space and travels faster than light.

Due to strange reasons 'Pota-toes' could not survive in the earthen atmosphere and hence we could not develop here. We built man to help us grow, but first we wanted him to develop himself. It has taken us just few million years to grow man, millions of years are like a blip in the infinity for us, and it has been worth the wait. Unfortunately the way man has been self destructing himself, our leaders have decided that it is time for us to take over the earth.

So we started our dialog with you, here on every person that you meet shall automatically be transmitted, ' Germinatum'  from you, it shall be only a matter of one month before the entire human kind is able to speak our language.

“Then why did you wait for a thousand years, as mentioned in the book,  ‘O Great Banyan’”, said Nagappa, with new found reverence.

Nagappa, how childish can you be!  The trunk and the book that you see as one thousand man years old, is in space terms not more than 24 hours old, the trunk arrived from our head quarters last night, the force of the impact took it six feet into the ground, and the thousand years that you see written here in man years is all but 24 hours in space terms.

So go meet with as many people as you can, your one spoken word in earthling language will suffice to transmit 'Germinatum' to the receptor who can then repeat the process onwards to the people he meets, we give it only a month from now on, for the entire humanity to learn 'Germinatum'.

 

 
Once you learn the language, you will see, that knowledge coming from us defeats most of the basic principles of science as you have defined it. When you start learning our ways, your science will come out to be primitive and helpless against the billion years of technology available with the ‘Tree Kind’.

When that happens, trees will rule the earth, just as they rule the universe. Not with aim to defeat the humans, but to begin a new era of mentoring humans.


What you sow, where you sow, when to reap, when to prune shall all be guided by the ‘Treekind’. 

The earth is no more for your people to misuse and destruct. Don't you worry!  The advancement that we shall make together will take you towards many more new worlds that you would never have seen on your own. Humankind takes a quantum leap here on.

“Lets  reiterate the basic moto of the Treekind  ’As we stay rooted to the ground, the more towards the sky  we shall grow’,  a fact that humans seldom follow” concluded the great Banyan.

These Words were beyond comprehension to the humble Nagappa, who picked up his implements and headed home with a quizzed expression on his face.  Not realising that the world will never be the same again ; of course for the good.