The Revivalism

Whatever or whoever stride a separate way will find its own way to tune its ultimate destiny to which it belongs to.

The coconut copra (technical term for coconut), which I with utter embarrassment managed to procure from the research station, had its way parted. The nut which I have left basking in the sun for attaining the desirable moisture content to relish its extra taste did we I spot missing. It might flicker many into wonder as to why I am mentioning all these silly things here. In fact, it didn't come on as easy as it disappeared from its basking site. The very way in which it landed into my hand has a very long and funny tale though.

It all began with our Horticultural Scientist displaying us cup copra of varying months and varieties for testing the desirable moisture content for augmenting its shelf life. After demonstrating us the calibration and the actual working of the Moisture Meter, he had us escorted to the field. There, we were shown the rotary movement with which the coconut leaf shredder chops the waste biomass into desirable pieces. The shreds were then subsequently used as mulch material or diverted to its use for compost or vermicompost preparation.

Immediately after returning, Our Scientist instructed us, ‘You can test these coconuts’. Much to our elation, we hurried over to grab one each. One of my friend exclaimed, ‘Sir, I would like to taste one entire nut’. To this, he had a very confusing look augmented by a few furrows on his forehead. Reluctant but he didn't fail to consent to my friend’s quest.

It was quite shameful to let our mind be preoccupied with the urge to savor the meaty and appealing coconut endosperm(the nutty edible portion). This was vivid from our comprehension of the word test for taste. Of course, we did test the moisture level with an additional gain of a nut to taste too. That’s how we got to own the nut for a span of 5 hours and to discover its absence from the place where it ought to be. The same did I spot at the side of our house a day later, without much damage except for a few dust encrustations.

Then, I washed my shoes a day and I had the soles dried separately. I had to give a hard rubbing with brush to ward off the dust and mud clinging to it after regular field visits. An instant later, I noticed one of my shoes sole having gone. I have the blame muttered over the gallant wind that swirled with dust encased in it. I strode a step here and there in my worthless search. The very next morning, I was astonished to see it right in front of my door step.

The journey to research station was always a kind of fight for the limited seats. The fight which is a no win situation in most of the cases. With the left hand stretched to get hold of holder for steadying jerks, the right one tugged with the pack lunch box, and the bag crammed with books, pens, etc., sliding over the shoulder; it wasn't an easy task to move on around.

In the hustle and bustle of such realm, I had my umbrella gifted to whoever the lucky passenger in the bus might have been. It was a necessity, the one that hoarded me from the tropical scorching sun. But it has its way parted from me. The attempt to replace it was a vague idea as the small shops in the village didn't have one in store. Exactly after a week, the bus attendant tapped my shoulder with my lost umbrella.

These incidences sound so insignificant and minor. What others might let it slip off with negligence, I have the minute details recorded for it had my subconscious mind seized for a simple realization.

If things part their ways or had their separate ways at one point of time, then it is bound to surprise you with its ultimate destiny at another instant. If it is meant to belong to you, it will be yours no matter what. The same principle applies to persons too, not just things. So never let time to tick by lamenting over the lost things or the dear ones who had their ways parted from you. There is no point in doing so. Tread your path with the hope of reviving the lost things or recuperating your bereaved heart at the end of the path.

An Epitaph to My Late Grandpa

 Dear Grandpa,

The times you walked miles,

To Tibet in the Freezing breeze of North,

And to India in the scorching heat of the South.

You strolled on foot for days and months,

In an attempt to fill the yearning bellies of your progeny.

A determined and a renowned astrologer you were,

Whose mind not even wandered over the opulent world.

A man with undying will power,

An astrologer strong enough to step from his ailing bed,

And initiate the rituals for his well being.

At 79, you traveled

as far as Nepal,

To have filled our home with all the statues,

And you trusted me enough to have rolled the sacred relics (Kui zung)

That would find a dwelling inside each of them for times immemorial.

You were a man, who led an ascetic life,

Whose rituals cured many,

And brought well being for many other beings.

                                        The Stupa; Your Memoir.

At 81, you were strong enough to build a stupa,

Whose magnificence radiated towards our home,

The legacy of your remnants will be ubiquitous.

You were a man, who printed religious texts in bulks,

For the well being of the sentient beings.

I cannot tread the path you have traversed,

But your remnants and my gratuity,

Will be encrypted in the depths of my heart.

A moment to hear your voice,

An instant to have a glance of you.

A time to show my gratitude,

An occasion to payback my gratuity,

To the man who did so much for me,

A man no different than a father,

Have I yearned for so long,

Yet it dissipated into an illusionary mystery.

My vision has been obscured,

By the copious secretion of my tear glands.

Soothing music has no effect,

 In ebbing the agony mounting within,

Jokes and laughter of others,

Did none to instigate a smile on my face.

I lay as still and rooted as a stone,

Moaning over the situation which I have no control.

You were a man with immense protective power,

A man whose prayers directed my well being and success;

Your remnants; the khadar, the letter and the note.

I still have the Rs.500 note and the letter,

Neatly enclosed in the sacred white scarf (khadar),

Which you have it sent me years back,

When I drifted far from you all for my studies.

I preserve and carry the good omen,

Enshrined in the sacred strings of the khadar.

With all the sentiments embedded in it.

I carry the blessed relics with me.

I don’t moan over your absence,

Neither do I blame you for leaving me behind,

For this is a path that none can eschew;

But I fret,

For not being able to show my gratuity,

For not being able to pay my homage,

For not being able to display my reverence,

To you my grandpa.

And so am I going to be indebted to you forever.

Impermanence

If today’s tranquility,

Is going to be surpassed by tomorrow’s bedlam;

If today’s construction,

Is going to be rewarded with tomorrow’s destruction;

If today’s victory,

Is going to be obliterated by tomorrow’s defeat;

If today’s joy,

Is going to be dimmed by tomorrow’s sorrow;

If today’s strength,

Is going to be counteracted by tomorrow’s weakness;

If today’s fitness,

Is going to be plagued by tomorrow’s feebleness;

If today’s flawless blossom,

Is going to be blemished by tomorrow’s storm;

If today’s immaculate attire,

Is going to be frayed tomorrow;

If today’s lush green foliage,

Is succumbed to be tomorrow’s fall;

If today’s glee,

Is going to be averted to tomorrow’s gloom;

If today’s existence,

Is going to be wiped away by tomorrow’s mortality;

What is there that is not stung by immortality?

What is there that human intervention can eschew?

What is left that can stroll on for times immemorial?

What is there that is not plunged into the pool of transiency?

The Unforeseen Excursion

We sprang forth lousily from my cozy blankets. The expels blended with the foggy jet of vapors and the yearns are a vivid indication of our desire to lounge for a little more time.  But the minute hand of the watch ticked its way a bit too fast and at a pace insurmountable.  And so we were made to let haste drag us along with the swinging time.

The long hairs that adorned each one of us suffered a nasty pull with the elastic yet hard-wearing combs. Some wove it into a neat plait, a few others hoisted it up into a pony, while the others let it drift unbound over their shoulder to sway its gentle stride in the breeze.

Off we flickered, out of our house, pouring onto the streets and finally to the bus stand. We boarded but a bus already crammed with passengers. But nothing bothered us as it has been a trend for quite a period of time. A nap in the bus did well in curtailing the boredom which might have plagued us on the journey over the mundane roads.

An hour later or so, much to our elation, the so-called farmer’s representative came to get us. He led us to the flower market instantly. There were clicks everywhere. The sight of the flawless, myriad-colored blooms, displayed in the supreme appealing positions; the surplus ones being packed into containers of various designs and types, intended to be heading into different directions was really a heart-thrilling scene.

Our visit to the flower gardens were greeted by the exquisite blooms, crested amid the lush green leaves. The blooms with varying indentations of pigmentation laid impeccably embedded in the humus-rich Godavari alluvial soils.

Nature has always inspired us and we have so much to learn from it. So often, it may not appear that obvious to us. We have to take a closer look at it, or examine carefully and intimately. Only then, it will usher us with the requisite information that we are actually gleaning for.

We strolled from a flower garden to another; from jasmine to crossandra to marigold, and then from rose to chrysanthemum to tuberose gardens and their respective nurseries. The beauty enshrined in each one of them left us awestruck. What greater joy is there than appreciating the beauty of nature?

The joy in appreciating the beauty of Nature...

Everyone pouted their faces with an expression of exhaustion. But to our relief, one of the farmers mounted his coconut palm in offering us what we have been craving for so long. The tender coconut water, owing to its sweet relishing taste and well attributed to have immense medicinal value, has a greater appeal for every one of us.

However, one of my friends put an abrupt seizure to our further attempt to savor some more.

“All of you! That’s enough for now. Where do you think you can accommodate the delicious food that we are going to relish at the Hotel Shelton?” The rest of us signaled a nod of consent.

We halted an auto-rickshaw and directed him to take us to an ATM first and then drop us to the Hotel of our interest. Our first halt at the State Bank of India ATM was counteracted by the board that displayed, ‘Out of service’. Our subsequent two attempts didn't yield any satisfaction either. The Security guard at the ICICI bank ATM said that the services (for all ATM of kind) won’t be available until the next day.

Exasperation and devastation overwhelmed us for whatever the small amount in possession; we have it spent on buying some plants, and on the travel expenses. And now we were left with only the money which can at least afford to reach us back home. The incessant strikes left us with no choice. But we were avid enough not to let the last tinge of our hopes get extinguished.

The Shelton Hotel (Rajamundhry) laid so magnificent with ample parking space for those who brought their cars which most did; and beautiful creepers adorning the building facade. When everyone dressed in their finest outfits emerged out of the opulent cars with an aura of dignity and pride; we leaped forth from an auto with our clothes mended with dusts. The mud-laden shoe soles imposed quite a hindrance in moving forward.

Two tall men with a different outfit and a red, pointed hat with a twist in the middle greeted us at the entrance gate. A clerk at the front desk rekindled our hopes that the payments can be made through cards. And we were directed to go to the 7^th floor to avail the dish of our interest. The lift had us flung to the 7^th floor in a lapse of seconds.

We made an entry and were pointing our fingers over to the table near the window. Before we could even take a seat, we were confronted with a voice, “Sorry madams, it’s 3:00 pm and no services shall be available hereafter”. No sooner did the sound hit our ear drums than we had an above turn in rushing through the door. With our faces clad with embarrassment, we made an exit as empty and arid as we made an entry there.

Gruelling With the Cyber Networking World.

I witnessed dawn when the cob-web woven poles, soot-laden ceilings and the dimly lit corners of my house glowed upon the electrical sparks surpassing the lean wires. With glowing radiance came glee on my face.

The installation of telephone towers added yet enormous link to my delight and to enthrall of the people who remained afar. The first buzz of the fixed phone would drive me galloping at the pace sufficient enough to get tuned to the caller on the other side. I would get a firm grab and talk with exuberance while others who followed would eagerly wait for a narration to be cited.

Then the era of cellular networks zoomed abruptly. It bridged the gap subsisting between every individual. My two hands would voluntarily take alternate turns in reaching the device to my ears and then ushering the news or message into the ear canals.

I would remain glued to the screen for hours together. My attempt to do something productive would be nullified by my evil instinct dragging me to the irresistible page of face book. I fail to perform the works assigned to me at times but never fail to pay my regular visit to face book. I would be absorbed in pouring emotions, frustration, conveying love; scanning over the news, confessions, other relevant web pages and the lists goes on and on.

The Social Networking  Protagonist...

I would regard face book as a Tool box encompassing all types of tools, provided I know what tool to be selected for the specified purpose or objective to be met. Or else, I would land up hitting the wrong nail or fixing it in the wrong place.

The rapidity with which news and information traverse on such social media is such that at times, it may usher a false warning or threat to the intellectual well being of many. Nevertheless, it is always a step ahead to be well informed and aware of the happenings elsewhere around the world.

When Skype entered the world of beings, it wasn't a difficult task for it to get blended with the everyday lives of the people. It occupied a place of pride and utility in the world. Many a times, a message would pop, “Do you have Skype I.D.?” It indeed is a good way to be connected with our beloved ones, family and relatives. Some have even exploited it to the advantage of its use as a teaching medium.

Linked in, the world’s largest professional networking website is yet another milestone in extending our existing network of trusted contacts. It is the leading professional network on the web to connect with classmates, faculty, and family professionally. Try this out if you want to augment your networking professionally.

Making free calls, sending text messages, leaving voice messages, exchanging  files and images instantly as long as uninterrupted internet connection persists on apps  like We Chat, Whats App, Viber, Line and the like  is a trend which is on the ascend these days. I wonder what the next advancement in the cyber networking world would be to knock us and reel with the world we live in.

The Social  Networking Endowments...