The Implacable Torment

The beads of perspiration clinging to every bit of my hair, dripping and meandering its lane over the surface of my body agitates me. The heat-induced lethargy would have the enthusiasm and progress of my daily endeavor deterred. I feel like I am being confined to a burning furnace. I remain inside the seclusion of the four walls of my room or classroom during the day time.

I become more of a nocturnal, stirring out of my den only when dusk superimposes the daybreak. Most of my time would be fleeting in taking shower where even twice a day wasn't a satiable one. Sweats keep on creeping now and then out of my body and trickling its way that agitates me immensely.

My four years of lodging in the tropic hasn't done much to acclimatize my body to the intense heat. Neither has it changed my attitude towards it. Ever since it takes its toll from mild warmth to the intolerable roasting heat, I land up protesting in a no-win situation.

In my agitated mood, I run to the bathroom to get some relief. Rather my agitation gets magnified when the hot water steams upon my body. I scuttle over to the terrace to gasp some fresh air, but the hot air circulating had a rather choking effect on me. I revisit my room, a reservoir of sizzling air and surrender myself under the fan that swirls and twirls the hot air within my room.

Even my bed became a place abandoned. The place which drew me instinctively and instantly for the rest of the season had me repelled for this particular season. The role that my blanket played in ushering me warmth became an asset of complete obsolescence.

The solutions worked out provided but a very little effect. I go out in dire anticipation of a mild air for cool air is a thing that I would term as being completely incongruous. The mosquitoes hovering and buzzing around my ears would be a thing of total dismay. In addition, the throbbing sting that it plunges into my tender flesh really vexes me. The ensuing scratches would be to the extent of bruising me.

In utter despair, I stride towards my bed, trusting the shield provided by the mosquito net. It does wonder in warding off the notorious creatures but it did an equally incredible work of blocking the air that I would die for. Enclosed and delimited by the case, I would remain rooted and heated a convalescent on the bed.

At least during the days, I was freed from the prickly attack of the mosquitoes. Contrary to the nocturne played by the mosquitoes, there is a roaring uproar of diurnal creatures. It keeps on illegally rummaging over all my stuff. This group of notorious creatures; the houseflies used to have a quick landing on the port of my body, irritating and titillating me with the sliding run-way they make over my body.

 Needless to mention that I bathe twice a day for these creatures are shameless enough to budge their filthy legs over mine. It isn't a rare thing to spot their corpse embedded in the rice and curries, and floating over curd and soups. The moment I spot them, my appetite clicks in the reverse direction. And as dusk overtakes the bright hue of the daylight, these creatures congregate over the ceilings like prayer beads in succession.

This is the height of destitution that I was thrown into amid mending my way for a brighter future; the day and night’s torment by these creatures coupled with the soaring temperatures.

With an intense heat as this, I can almost prophesy that I am going to be roasted, with the effect that I will be refined as fine as a toast. I am skeptical as to whether my peers and relatives could recognize me when I return to my serene native place.

This is the height of destitution that I was thrown into amid mending my way for a brighter future; the day and night’s torment by these creatures coupled with the soaring temperatures.

Be Mine for Eternity

Dear!

The moment you stepped into the journey of my life,

I had this feeling that I can never stop walking,

No matter whether the path is rugged,

Or overtaken by the bushes of prickly outgrowths,

Your presence has always adorned my path

With tiles so smooth and plants so exquisite,

And the streams so chilly, meandering about my path.

Now, would you whisper thy lovely words into my ears?

Would you hum the musical beat of your intone?

Would you carol a gentle stride along with me?

Or would you retaliate if your feet get pricked?

Would you rewind your route and let me move alone

If you envision a peril waiting at the end of our path?

For you, my only accomplice on the path of my life,

Midst millions have I chosen you as my sole companion,

I make a pledge here;

Please dear, don’t leave me on the path of my journey,

Don’t let me shed tears of forlornly cries.

For I can never be able to stroll on my path without you,

Be my Accomplice for eternity.

And There is More to Life

It is a common adage that “Genius is 1% Inspiration and 99% perspiration”. How far does the line comply with what you do or achieve?

Well, as for me, the more I plunge myself into hardships, the more immune I become to the vagaries of life. I emerge as a little stronger, bolder and more is the tenacity with which I come to know about the realities of life.

In addition, every hardship rewards me with the immense gratification that I was able to loom in front of the challenge rather than receding; with the happiness that I was able to confront challenge rather than running away from it; and the motivational impact that the challenge has left on me which can contribute towards my growth.

It is no doubt that many kids by virtue of their fortune or karmic association were born and raised on beds of roses. But the probability or the degree to which they understand the realities of life is seemingly minimal. And so is their ability to withstand the vagaries or hardships of life.

For instance, it is nothing difficult for a person like me to adjust to the South Indian dishes for I am someone who survived on a cupful of insipid kharang (ground corn flour) porridge or a ball of white rice with black tea as breakfast during my primary schooling. A credit to my upbringing in such situation for almost anything can slide down my gullet now. I find myself savoring everything that is laid on my dining table while many land up tossing an air of discontentment.

If we plunge into the inner realm of self, there is so much to be retrieved, rekindled and relished. I feel that we are so privileged to be born as an individual without any defect to our sense organs, contrary to the many handicapped that we often come across. We are gifted with the ability to express ourselves, to manifest the voice of our world within to the world without; as against a dumb or a man without a tongue.

We are ushered with the panoramic opportunity to study; a platform where we can mould our individuality, contrary to someone who couldn't afford to or who had to drop school and earn a living for his/her family.

If I cite a narration in this regard, the picture beneath is a boy name Suresh, whom I have spotted 4 years ago strolling care freely with his mother into our kitchen mess, oblivious of the purpose and direction of his presence. And now he is at the same place to do the chores that his mother used to run, when she succumbed to a dreadful illness.

Suresh with one of his co-workers.

I see him every day doing a myriad of chores; wiping the dining tables, brushing the floor with the broomstick, washing kitchen utensils, chopping  vegetables, kneading and rolling dough, carrying mess provisions from outside the hostel into the mess and the wastes laden buckets from inside to outside for disposal.

Many people are tethered in this way from excelling in their life, the unfavorable circumstances suppressing their latent potentialities from unfoldment. But WE are blessed with all the things set RIGHT for us to study and to explore the budding qualities within. All that we need to do is to exploit it and become someone who can upheaval those who are least fortunate rather than simply sympathizing.

Love Invincible

When the first thing that knocks me into consciousness

And along with the morning’s rays greet me,

Is your sweet name

How can you be out of my mind?

When among millions twinkling in the firmament above

Have I spotted only one

Whose iridescent beams had my reflexes set,

How can I let your glimmer dwindle?

When the E-mail address that I daily use

And the signature that I scribble on innumerable pages

Has your name incorporated in it,

How can I ever forget you?

When your name has rented

A permanent shelter in my heart

With its imprint so vivid,

How can I let it fade?

When the very thought of you

Or the mere utter of your name

Showers me with unprecedented happiness,

How can I not endure it?

When the incessant chant of your name

Deep within my heart

Is the only lullaby to help me shut my eyes,

How can I avoid you?

When I have you held hostage

In the prison of my heart

And have sealed all means of escape,

How can I let you go?

When engrossed am I with your thoughts

From dawn till twilight and long into the night

And from cradle of the infant to the silence of the grave,

How can I not remember you?

When all that I long for

Is to have you tethered forever

Under the tree of my love,

How can I let you leave?

When lest you slither into the deep abyss

Should I provide the necessary ledge

To help you up the rocky fall,

How can I let you be in dungeon?

When I have you busted

For the malicious act of stealing my heart

And have you fixed in the dock,

How can I let you escape?

When all that I wish

Is let time doth not diminish your love

Nor stale your trust in me,

How can I ever live without you?

Contradiction Implacable

The more I try to glean a view of the stars above,

And appreciate the beauty woven in it,

The further it tends to dissipate amid the dusty firmament.

The more I try to stroll to a rosy garden,

And gasp a fragrance emanated by the scarlet bloom,

The faster it tends to shed its petals on the gritty mud beneath.

The greater effort I plunk to reach the lush lawn,

And bask under the warmth of the sunny radiance,

The faster is the obscurity proliferated by the flimsy clouds.

The higher the frequency that I maintain to approach you,

And glitter a spark to our love life under reeling,

The faster is the pace at which you walk out on.

The harder I try to listen to my inner voice,

And try to understand my true self,

The more perplexed it becomes as the instincts of immorality pollute it.

The more I try to wander leisurely on the path of life,

And assign an essence to the transient life in possession,

Faster the time tends to drag the wheel of my existence.

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.