Saturday, February 27, 2010

My Name is KHAN: One Life and Many Paths.

The world is nothing but an inter twined lace-work of roads. Everyone born here have their own paths to walk on. Every person comes to this world along with the path that he or she is destined to walk.

Though, the number of roads are enormous, one can classify all of them into two groups-- roads of hatred and roads of love, just like the two paths taken by Mandira and Rizwan Khan, in the film, "My Name Is KHAN".

Image Courtesy: Google
Mandira, in losing her only son, was falling down the abyss of a huge loss. She wanted something to hold on, a support, something light that can help her lessen the pace of her fall. She found it in hatred against her own husband, Rizwan, a person suffering from Asperger's Syndrome, whose religious identity caused her to lose her son. He was a Muslim and the place they lived was the post -9/11 United States.

Mandira was broken terribly after the loss of her only son. She screamed eccentric to Khan asking him to leave her life, so that her dead son wouldn't be labeled as a terrorist's son, and she too would have a peaceful life. It was not Khan's fault, but Mandira's destiny or 'fate', in a sense that made her life worse. But as every other person in difficult times, Mandira also found fault with the person in her life, her husband. In return Khan had only one thing to ask her; a question, which enveloped all the innocence existing in the human world--"When'll I come back, Mandira?".

Image Courtesy: Google
It was Mandira's words in reply that wrote Khan's destiny. He started off his journey to meet the president of the United States. He met different people, experienced life in different regions, carried himself through all the difficult moments and no one he met, forgot him for, he had given them a very special gift: compassion.

Compassion is that form of love that human beings are capable of sharing with every other living being. Compassion is the opposite of the hatred disseminated by terrorism. Compassion is the soul of all great philosophies. That is why it is said: "Vasudhaivakutumbakam" or "The world is one family.".

When Rizwan Khan met the president, he had Manidra by his side, defeated in her battle of hatred. Khan wanted nothing else, but to return to Mandira's life. For that he had to meet the president and tell him that his name is Khan, and he is not a terrorist that is what Mandira had asked him to do out of hatred-- in which she sought solace-- for coming back  and he promised her to do out of his unfathomable love for her.

Indeed, there are only two paths in life, the path of love and the path of hatred, in which the latter is doomed to fail.
Image Courtesy: Google

Monday, February 22, 2010

Childhood

As an individual, when I perceive the childhood of the present day, I hardly make out any change in its inherent nature. Though this statement runs contrary to the conventional laments on the loss of the innocence of childhood in the present world, this suggests the inherent nature of childhood, its needs, its dreams, its way of pursuing the unknown. These are the same, years back and now.

Childhood is often pampered with the nostalgia for one of the happiest and free periods in human life, in the common understanding. Adults and even the youngsters who are just crossing their adolescence feel the same. The common understanding since the concept of understanding and reflection is something associated with the educated middle and upper middle and higher classes, often exists within the educated lot. It is, therefore, often commented through the art, education and the electronic media of the present age, incorporating the ideas of the well-learned, well-to-do population that childhood is the most wonderful period of human life.

Time when changes, it takes life also with it and childhood is also no exception. If the childhood of the common humanity is taken, it has been influenced by the drastic changes experienced in the socio-cultural and political realm of existence.

In my case I feel happy for being grown up. And there will be lots of people who also feel the same. The causes might be different. It might be the lack of facilities and the hardships one had faced during the childhood period or might be the lack of freedom. Anyway, try to be happy where we are in our lives.

Also find it on: Socyberty

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Ambiguities


I too want to be like you.
I too want to be understood.
Roosters resting on the verge trees,
are my words,
no where, any hunter can find.
Hunters are in dilemma,
the birds can fly there next door.
No one is sure.
They are now on the fence, on the margin.
You got me? No you can't.
I want them to be hunted,
I want them to be eaten;
the roosters, they are my words.
Don't make the scene more worse,
for they may try a different course.
Try it slowly. Shh. A little quiet.
Be patient and you will get them soon.
For I too want to be like you.
I too want to be understood.
------------------------------

Monday, February 15, 2010

Shivarathri and Valentine's Day

People stay awake all night during the day of Shivarathri. Shivarathri, the Hindu religious festival, celebrating the union of Siva, the Hindu God of Destruction with Parvathi, the daughter of Himalaya, is a day when all the spinsters fast and observe many rituals for getting a good person as husband, in Malabar. This festival has many other dimensions and patterns of rituals in many other parts of India. Even in many other parts of Kerala, this day is celebrated as the day of the dead.

In Malabar, it is a nice feeling, during Shivarathri, being a man; a good one of its kind, according to the norms and the conventions accepted for the Marriage Market in the locale. These norms and conventions range from physical appearance to education and from job to cast and creed. As for the nice feeling is concerned, it is from the thought that all these girls, with the angelic beauty, are fasting for the one who is good at heart, wealthy, and settled. And who else that one would be, other than one himself. This thought runs through every masculine heart during the Shivarathri season (I mean, bachelors' hearts), giving a very special glow on their faces.

They also participate in the 'Vrat' or fasting for the arrival of a good woman in their lives, not knowing the fact that he himself is the only one 'good', according to the picture in their expectations. In other words, these rituals instill an expectation in the minds of the people who are going to get married, of possibilities, which are not going to be fulfilled. In fact, this possibility exists even if one do not observe these rituals.Getting a good man or woman is only a matter of chance.

This problem-- if it is a problem-- of getting a good husband or a good wife, will only be resolved, if one understands the importance of acceptance. No individual will appear complete for us except ourselves. The only good human being living in this world is one him/herself. This is the wisdom of the new millennium. The olden periods had difficulty in accepting this fact. But they too, [even in the case of Jesus] crowned an individual good only after his or her death.

Since oneself is the greatest human being, it's one's duty to treat other individuals—full of flaws and mistakes-- with tolerance. Kindness, thus is a privilege.

It seems to be an interesting coincidence that Valentine's Day(14-2-10) follows Shivarathri (12-2-2010), this year. Both these days share love, kindness and humanity. But one thing is hopeless about these days—some people are badly in need of these "special" days to express their love to their beloved ones! Or is it my problem having difficulty in comprehending the significance of the rest 363 days!

[Find it also on: Socyberty]

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Tributes to Girish Puthanjeri.

Girish Puthanjeri,one of the prominent lyricists of the day in Malayalam film industry passed away, yesterday, 10-2-2010. The poem below is dedicated to his memories and to the melodious-verses he had created. I would like to note a strange coincidence that shook me yesterday. The poem below is not actually written after hearing the news and in no intention to give tribute to the writer. It was just after the poem was completed, I heard the news that Puthenjeri passed away.The poem exactly conveyed the same sense; a tribute to the lyricist. And I felt it really strange. The poem below—The Song-- is about a song that fades away, just like he faded away.

 The Song.
----------------------
I remember forgetting the song,
and remembering
the moments just before and after
the song played.

It was the moment before the song-
I died,
from the world of noise,
and brought to the world of music.

It was the moment after the song,
I resurrected.

I tried hard to recall,
but the song no more existed.

[Read it here as well:Authspot.]

Friday, February 5, 2010

A Friendly Chat

Writing some thing original is always a challenge. The world, which we live in is full of detractors to originality in the form of tradition, norms, rules, and form in a work of art. In order to make a new post, I thought of doing something different. It was then I came across an incident in the very same day I made this post that is, on 5-2-2010. I have published this material for it carries, as I believe, the form and it fits itself into the norms that are set for an artistic production. (These norms and rules are many and they vary according to multiple reasons.)

This is an e-mail chat with one of my new female friends and me. 

ME: You are looking more and more beautiful each day in the picture!!

Friend: Which picture???

ME: That one in the orkut profile.

FRIEND: Thank u so much........you liked me??hehheh

ME: Come on..shame on you.. putting an actress's picture instead of yours, and thus compromising with your own identity, unaware of the beauty that nature has gifted you with, how is it possible for you to laugh, yaar.....

FRIEND: Just joking yaar....sad.

ME: I know that was not a jock. that was a frustration that you always suffer.. from your inability to express yourself... [how is that!!!ha ha]
  
FRIEND: Noooooooooooooo. i cant paste my picture in Orkt....That's not good.........

ME: Why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FRIEND: Bla bla bla............tell you later..

ME:  You have a thousand dollar smile yaar!! why can't you put it on orkut. Let the world see you.  This is sad for the whole world. they can't see an angel or hoor freshly copied from the heavens, by some hi tech machine by god's special draftsmen. ..so sad...
 .
FRIEND:  Only on my face friend not in my mind..... (the smile).
 .
ME: Oh!that sounds intriguing. What is the matter? Is there any thing that I can do for you? you know I am a brave person, very much...
.
FRIEND: No friend.........leave it..........were are you now?? in library?   
.
MEYa. meet me if you want to talk. OK. don't feel bad or distanced.. life is all about learning. The most paradoxical thing is that learning from life occurs in those moments in which we think about learning, the least. So open your eyes and look around. Your lesson for the moment may be just near
you...try to take hold of it that will make you forget your sorrows...
.
FRIEND: Wow...........really you are a good person you can do every thing. i'm proud of you my friend...
.
ME: Thanks for that... keep that smile there. don't let it fade. the lesson of the moment is that a smile can bring down the infinite distance in friendship to a close. I smiled to a person sitting near me, now, and you know what happened, that guy gave me his pen, for I forgot to take one inside, the net cafe (in the library).. How is that!!
.
FRIEND:Your words are really interesting. OK..bye.. see you later.
.
I didn't reply, for I knew that my heart was sad in leaving the conversation thus, and I didn't want the sadness to betray my words...


Tuesday, February 2, 2010

The Myth

"The eagle controls the destiny of all living things-the eagle's gift is the chance to escape and be free."
---- Carlos Castaneda.

The Eagle needs nest,
though it is powerful,
and can endure a prolonged glide.
The nest is, but not to rest.
It is to contemplate the present,
and to hatch the future.
The nest is wide, infinite, but packed.
The nest is the World,
as the Eagle saw it through its vision-light,
It was brimming with everything.
Thoughts.
Dreams.
Fetters.
The Eagle saw everything in it,
but void.
There was only the myth:
the myth of the void.
The Eagle dreamed to be
a part of the void and be free.
But there were the fetters,
and the non-existence of the void.

[See this poem also under-Authspot   ]
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