Woman - a confused winner ?

I personally think that women are born winners. They are winners in their own realm of life.

A baby girl would construct her thoughts around those aspects of life that are owned by women - like - family, care, nurture…, and here I am not speaking about the exceptional. However, as the kid grows up, she works hard and tries to win in other aspects of life where her interest doesn’t really belong to. Her interests change and many a times she doesn’t even try to understand the simple fact that she is striving for something that she doesn’t own and she doesn’t like (at the bottom of her heart).

I blame the society, the books and the history that consistently persuaded the little kid, right from the day she was born, to prove that she can compete with men. This has a great impact on the way the kid constructs her thoughts and interests. But she misses the simple fact that she has been drawn away from her world…. and that her real world is more interesting and more challenging in its own way. As she does that the born winner eventually becomes a confused winner.

I am not saying that women can not compete with men. I strongly believe that women are capable enough to win the intellectual fight. I am not speaking about the ability. I would raise my full support to any woman who would like to lead a life as that of a man… but only if she wants to and not because she is made to.

In the above article, it is not the intent of the author to generalize all women.

Imagine my imagination.. J. Lenon did!

Imagine there's no Heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today

Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one

What hurts the most...

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house

that don’t bother me.

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out.

I am not afraid to cry every once in a while.

There are days every now and again I pretend I am okay,

But that’s not what gets me.

What hurts the most was

…being so close

…and having so much to say

…and watching you walk away

... Rascal Flatts

King of Tragedy

This is a story of man who grabbed my attention even when i was a kid. I read through his story and this is a small summary. Just read through his story patiently and i will reveal his name... i just wonder how many of you could rightly guess who he is while reading his story.
He was born in london in the late 1880s. His mother and father got sperated when he was less than three. Father was an alcoholic and died when he was twelve. Mother was mentally retarded and was sent to an asylum, and he had a careless step mother and a rude half-brother, lived a life which was dictated by poverty, added to all the troubles, he was born in the era when the great london plauge took place, which swept his shelter away in Kensington Road, London. What else can cause a little child more distress than this. At the sweet age of going to school, this kid had to work hard to get the bread and keep his life going while working towards his career. He was successful in his career as an actor. The poverty that he faced as a kid had an influence on his roles in his movies. Though he ended up in political controversies during his later years, it is not something that could take away the longest standing ovation from the crowd when he recieved honorary oscar award during his later years. When he received that award he was asked to speak and he said "you are all lovely people.. thank you" with tears rolling down his eyes, and that was humble enough.
You might be wondering who this man is. Just before revealing the person i am speaking about, i would like to say that he is truly a role model, a perfect gentleman, he has been kind to the then rude humanity, learnt to laugh... and to make others laugh and laugh and laugh... He himself described his debut attire in the movie "tramp" as a poet, a romantic fellow, a lonely person, an adventurist and many more... and yes he truly is.... Charlie Chaplin! Not many of us realise he was not only the actor for his movies, but directed most of them and more interestingly, the music scores were his compositions. His act in the movie "modern times" especially singing "je cherche apres titine" in Gibberish, his skating acts, his romantic moves, his escape sequences, his running and his innocent looks... all his acts just force me take my hat off.. the chaplin way!

My long history of being NOTHING

I am in my late twenties. Some of my close friends got married and they are even expecting a baby, which is a sweet blessing. By saying so, I am justifying the fact that I am no more part of the youth and again that doesn't mean that I am part of the elderly. I think this is a weird age, an age of understanding and reconciliation. When I was young, people expected a lot from me. People in the sense, both whom I know and whom I don’t know, whom I haven seen and whom I haven’t seen. However, I am now in an age where I could look back and see if I had reached any of their expectations. I carefully looked into various categories of people and what they expected and how I contributed to their expectations.

    The government of my country expected me to become a literate, grow wise, and serve the nation. I did my basic education in my country and then left to another without the gratitude towards serving it. 

    The police expected me to be a nuisance. Every now and then, police stop me on the road but with a license. I have never been a nuisance to the police. 

    Rebels and revolutionists expected me to be a power. I have always been an average student with an average personality and an average thinking. I have never been so emotional about all the social problems in the society. I couldn't help the lone working rebels and revolutionists.

    Friends wanted me to be good and trustworthy. If I would have been any source of goodness, their stupidity would have been a bit more polished.

    My parents, my sisters and my immediate family wanted me to be a good human being and expected me to protect them. While I have failed to do some of my mandatory jobs towards my family, the state of being able to protect them is imaginary.

    Just as how other people expected something out of me, I had my own expectations. Right after my graduation, I wanted to do something to the society in whatever way my ability drives. But, the lack of focus and passion saw me as a failure. Anyway, that all sounds so noble. Forget about it! ....and yea, this is "My Long History of being Nothing" 

 

Story of a Kid

The following story from an unknown author has not been substantiated but I like the underlying fact in the story… which is “A PERSON’S WILL-POWER, COURAGE, FAITH AND HOPE ARE VERY CLOSELY LINKED TO THE NATURE OF THE PERSON AT HEART”. I personally cant exhibit the sort of faith Tess has exhibited in the story below for the mere fact that I am just not comparable to her at heart!

Tess was a precocious eight-year-old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor's bills and the house too. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to the local Rexall Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was very busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!  "And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother --- here from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages, "he said without waiting for a reply to his question. "Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really --- really sick --- and I want to buy a miracle."  "I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist. "His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?""We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you, the pharmacist said, softening a little. "Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs." The pharmacist's brother was a well-dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?" "I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money". "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago. "One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audible. "And it's all themoney I have, but I can get some more if I need to. ”Well, what a
coincidence," smiled the well-dressed man, "A dollar and eleven cents - the exact price of a miracle for little brothers!" He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need." That well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neurosurgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her Mom whispered, "Was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost."  Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much that miracle cost – one dollar and eleven cents - plus the unmovable faith of a little child.

REBELLION Vs REVOLUTION

I have been to India recently and I spent considerable amount of time with my parents. On one nice evening, I was sitting on the stairs while my mom had to squeeze through to climb up. Suddenly, she came up with this great idea of re-doing the house because of the fact that it is becoming congested when all of us are around. I didn’t really like the idea and I contradicted her by saying so. My Dad who was sitting a step down to me said that he would like to construct another house else-where. My sister who was listening to this conversation agreed with what I said and supported me by saying that she is against re-doing the house. While the conversation carried, that night I had to rethink what has happened.

I stood against an idea and I contradicted it. While my Dad stood for what he liked and he promoted it. I was then a rebellion because I was AGAINST something that I hated and my Dad was a revolutionist because he stood FOR something that he liked.

Most interesting part is the response of my Sister. She liked my ideas so she agreed with me. I think a large percentage of people including me are like my Sister. We vote for rebels and we don’t consider revolutionists. Probably we might have to love/like people because of what they are for and not because what they are against to. I think revolutionists are always better than rebels, just the way my Dad is.

Spiral of Human Depravity...

  

      Now a days writing is making me more and more thoughtful. I started to think about all the phases that I have been through in  life.

I understood the phases had a recurring pattern and every now and then I stood at Square 1. 

 

I was once in BONDAGE and that lead me to RIGHTEOUSNESS

from RIGHTEOUSNESS to GREAT COURAGE

from COURAGE to LIBERTY

from LIBERTY to ABUNDANCE

from ABUNDANCE to WEAKNESS

from WEAKNESS to BONDAGE..... and this cycle of depravity ran without halt.

 

I think the extent of success is defined by which phase one is in and how long the phase lasts.

 

 

  

Pursuit of Comfortable Life

Once upon a time, I was a happy school going kid. As I grew, there came responsibilities, boundaries erupted to my freedom, goals and milestones were laid. I had what I call is a “list of things to be achieved”. All that I remember doing since I gained the knowledge of happening is my “pursuit of comfortable livelihood”… well, that is what I term it anyway.

I very lately realised that I was not the founder of my “list of things to be achieved”. No matter who the founder of the list was, I was taught that the bottom line of the list was to achieve comfortable living - posh life, good food, a decent house, a luxury car, so on and so forth.

Nevertheless, as time passed away, whenever I met each of these goals, I started to “feel” the success. At one point, I started to add goals to my list by myself.  At the end of the day, these goals helped me drive into comfortable living. The more goals I met, the more successful I was and hence more comfortable was my life.

I would not be entirely wrong if I say most of us are travelling in the same boat.

Very recently I started to re-think about this whole mystery idea of “Comfortable Living”.... I know that’s a bit too late. But, late is better than never!

Is it not right if I define “Comfortable” as a feeling that is more related to the state of mind? Someone might say “I feel more comfortable when I am with my Dad than when I am with my Mom?” which defines the persons mental feeling but not the physical feeling. If my definition for “Comfortable” is right, then whatever I have been doing to earn comfortable life is wrong.

I think it depends on the mind set of each individual as to what goes in their “List of things to be achieved” towards the pursuit of comfortable life. The bottom line of that list might not necessarily be - posh life, good food, a decent house, a luxury car, so on and so forth.

 Personally, I can still feel comfortable and be the happiest when I am with my loved one in a hut. I might not feel very comfortable when I am in a mansion with someone whom I don’t know or whom I don’t like.     

 

Citlights !!!

It was 10:30 at night when I started to drive from Romford Road. I was going back to my flat in Basingstoke. If driven to the speed limits, it would take approximately two hours to drive from London to Basingstoke. I had to cross the Dartford Crossing Bridge on the M25, the London orbital. I always liked European Classical music. I am an appreciator of the sorts of Michael Nyman, Boobley and Kenny G. I like Margaret's show "smooth classics at 6" on the Classic FM. I usually hear to Classic FM while I drive. As I drove up the bridge, I could see the London's skyline slowly unveiling. London is beautiful at night. Amazing!!! Citilights!!!

Citilights... few very bright...few very dim... all added together looks amazing!!!  I always reflected my life in the citilights. Each of the citilights relate to various incidents in my life, few very bright and few very dim, some hide and some shine, few made me laugh and few made me think, all added together, it is amazing. If there were no dim lights and all the citilights were bright, I would not imagine they look as attractive as they do. Similarly, if not for those thought provoking, rough incidents in my life, it would not have been such an exciting and beautiful journey so far.