It is not what name others call you that matters,
But what name you respond to
that truly detrmines who
you are.
~*~*~
- Swahili saying
Monday, October 12, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
A Journey in Mind
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
~*~*~
The day approaches. I am about to tie-up my high heels of the corporate world, to ware my sneakers. The high heels were for an elite world. I need my walking shoes, to be sure that the soul wears out silently when I firmly step on the earth. The delicate heals renders no balance in rugged streets of life. I am about to move to a world beyond marble corridors, exquisite wall to wall carpets that are vacuum cleaned every hour by janitors who are always seen hunched at their work….
As I tie the laces of my "walkers", to set out, I see the gates opening to a “new” world. I approach the gate and push it open. I am drowned by a flood of light. There is nothing but the blinding light. I close my eyes almost instinctively. I draw my hand towards the beam, almost to stop it from blinding me. I stand momentarily out of my pulsating heart – out of a vision.
Before long, as I open my eyes, I see I am in a new world….
This probably is THE most surreal moment of my life as I am about to take the flight of suspended descend down the cliff. This will be a flight that brings to argument a thought that has stirred my deep consciousness in discovering who I am. In the suspended animation, I leave behind a familiar world, to ask myself what motives govern this journey. What is the purpose of life, when I know I am a mere atom in this cosmos?
As I go through these surreal moments, trying to tell myself, that each trail of thought will be recorded, I thought I would share the mappings of my mind – to know how how far I have come, when at the end of one road, that leads to an unknown path.
The surreal recounting has lead me to these brilliant articles. It is a sheer co-incidence that such writings should come my way, almost as if the world was egging me on in putting to practice a thought that has constantly lingered in my subconscious mind.
Shine sent me these links stating “it makes me think about how right your decision is” of making the choices to a “strong life”. There is always more to gain and grow through living a life from the so-called “pragmatic”, “safe”, seemingly “secure” life that most lead. Very few dare to take the path that looks bleak from afar.
For the trepidation that I feel within me, for the strength that I possess inside out, for the times to come, where I will now engage my intellect in the political, social, cultural fabric with the issues that wages in this country, I know I will be where life belongs. Elsewhere.
For that, I leave the links here, so that I can come back to it, when in need.
For that, I leave the links here, so that I can come back to it, when in need.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcus-buckingham/what-does-a-strong-life-l_b_309454.html
Knowing I carry hope as I reach the burley gates…I share the possibility to you, my dear friends…who have left baby imprints on the skin of my life’s journey…
To you ALL….
Will remain the SAME!
Ever,
The Bohemian
~~~*~~~
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Playing Midwife to My Cat
Tuesday, the 29th of March 2004. An Unexpected Arrival.
No! It is not a significant day by any yardstick, but I guess it’s a milestone of some sort, not to anyone else, but to me and my cat. It was a day when Cutie bore her first kitten. This was a day of numb shock to all of us at home. We had always believed that Cutie would never trouble us with endless periodical litter – and that was being dashed slowly but surely.
Cutie was brought home as a tiny little kitten. So cute she was that we christened her Cutie. Comical as it was, we allowed the abstract noun prevail. It is all about poetic justice, you would agree. I could see time turning one full circle. The entire neighborhood had booked the kittens of Cutie much in advance, hoping that the kittens would be a replica of this Persian looking furry cat. Her beautiful lush tail was her crowning glory. And she often breezed it in front of all the tom cats in the neighborhood. She was the soft-spoken queen, proud, with a stiff upper lip attitude. She rarely mews, and I often thought that she had a little bit of a language problem! I had wondered many a times of what would happen when her kittens would arrive. How would a nearly unspoken mother train her kittens the trick of the world? I was assured that the three years had passed without any unduly worry, and such a grace would continue to prevail. But not for long!
And come that holy Tuesday, I saw her entering my bookshelf. I asked her what she was doing there. She looked at me as if to say, “Allow me to take a look at your books and feel enlightened!” I cajoled her to get out, lest she tries to sharpen her claws on my books. I have encountered such nightmares before when cats have felt cozy on my books and had torn it to taters! A cozy place indeed to keep them away in a mull!
Having left my room, to run a few errands, I realized that Cutie was spending a little too much of her time in my bookshelf, and by now the novelty of the books should be worn out. What was she still doing there in my book shelf -- Plato and Aristotle and Aristophanes and Sophocles and the all the Greek trilogies would be of little interest! I rushed to see what was happening to my Greek Gods and Goddesses, only to find the frightened, ambivalent, nursing, bewildered, proud look writ all over her face. It was indeed a shock of my life to see a little soggy kitten that resembled a slimy rat. Before thinking twice, I rushed to help the playwrights away, lest they should cast a curse me, and tremble in fury in their graves.
That night was spent keeping watch over the mother and the baby giving my sweet, pretty cat company - brushing her, and patting her, and feeding her, and looking if the kitten was safe and sound. Well, and yes, the night passed with the tiff with Cutie, and the kitten. She would bite the kitten in her mouth and move it from one corner of the house to another, in search of the ultimate secure hideout. I could not tell her in as many words that the holy place where the little one was brought to life was the best of all the hideouts. I sometimes had to remover the kitten from its mouth and put it back in its original place!
The role of the midwife was just in the offing. Looking after the kitten that would take a fortnight to open its eyes, the curiosity to know if the kitten was a He or She, making sure the place was spic and span and above all, assuring Cutie that I was a well wisher meaning no harm to her delicate one when caring her meant a renewed relationship with my cat.
I suddenly realized that the ambivalent, disconcerted attitude that I had for this cat was changing. We had until now shared an amicable aloof attitude with each other and she reciprocated the same emotion with greater intensity. I couldn’t be too perturbed and so was she. But now things were changing. Now I could see cordiality oozing.
My being such had its reason. I had tried to be aloof with every pet that had its way into our household. But every cat and every kitten has seen tragic ends, with kittens being taken away to the gallows by threatened tom cats, and all the female cats being thrown away or simply left by the road, for people to pick them at take them home.
The coming of this kitten has brought all these memories back again. I have not christened the kitten as yet, and will not. Why you may ask? The answer is simple – with a name comes bonding and with bonding come the burdens of emotions. I do not want to re-live those countless moments yet again, of having cared for all the cats, been a mid wife to each, having buried and cried over every cat and kitten that I named.
The charm that this nameless kitten has is boundless. I plan to share the very same emotions of the mother to her kid. This time of a nanny that disciplines the kitten not to stray away, lest it should be in danger of tame animals – until a neighbor adopts the unnamed kitten.
~*~*~*~*~
Ps: This article was published in the Infosys online news magazine: Essence - Chronicaling Corporate Memories
Cutie was brought home as a tiny little kitten. So cute she was that we christened her Cutie. Comical as it was, we allowed the abstract noun prevail. It is all about poetic justice, you would agree. I could see time turning one full circle. The entire neighborhood had booked the kittens of Cutie much in advance, hoping that the kittens would be a replica of this Persian looking furry cat. Her beautiful lush tail was her crowning glory. And she often breezed it in front of all the tom cats in the neighborhood. She was the soft-spoken queen, proud, with a stiff upper lip attitude. She rarely mews, and I often thought that she had a little bit of a language problem! I had wondered many a times of what would happen when her kittens would arrive. How would a nearly unspoken mother train her kittens the trick of the world? I was assured that the three years had passed without any unduly worry, and such a grace would continue to prevail. But not for long!
And come that holy Tuesday, I saw her entering my bookshelf. I asked her what she was doing there. She looked at me as if to say, “Allow me to take a look at your books and feel enlightened!” I cajoled her to get out, lest she tries to sharpen her claws on my books. I have encountered such nightmares before when cats have felt cozy on my books and had torn it to taters! A cozy place indeed to keep them away in a mull!
Having left my room, to run a few errands, I realized that Cutie was spending a little too much of her time in my bookshelf, and by now the novelty of the books should be worn out. What was she still doing there in my book shelf -- Plato and Aristotle and Aristophanes and Sophocles and the all the Greek trilogies would be of little interest! I rushed to see what was happening to my Greek Gods and Goddesses, only to find the frightened, ambivalent, nursing, bewildered, proud look writ all over her face. It was indeed a shock of my life to see a little soggy kitten that resembled a slimy rat. Before thinking twice, I rushed to help the playwrights away, lest they should cast a curse me, and tremble in fury in their graves.
That night was spent keeping watch over the mother and the baby giving my sweet, pretty cat company - brushing her, and patting her, and feeding her, and looking if the kitten was safe and sound. Well, and yes, the night passed with the tiff with Cutie, and the kitten. She would bite the kitten in her mouth and move it from one corner of the house to another, in search of the ultimate secure hideout. I could not tell her in as many words that the holy place where the little one was brought to life was the best of all the hideouts. I sometimes had to remover the kitten from its mouth and put it back in its original place!
The role of the midwife was just in the offing. Looking after the kitten that would take a fortnight to open its eyes, the curiosity to know if the kitten was a He or She, making sure the place was spic and span and above all, assuring Cutie that I was a well wisher meaning no harm to her delicate one when caring her meant a renewed relationship with my cat.
I suddenly realized that the ambivalent, disconcerted attitude that I had for this cat was changing. We had until now shared an amicable aloof attitude with each other and she reciprocated the same emotion with greater intensity. I couldn’t be too perturbed and so was she. But now things were changing. Now I could see cordiality oozing.
My being such had its reason. I had tried to be aloof with every pet that had its way into our household. But every cat and every kitten has seen tragic ends, with kittens being taken away to the gallows by threatened tom cats, and all the female cats being thrown away or simply left by the road, for people to pick them at take them home.
The coming of this kitten has brought all these memories back again. I have not christened the kitten as yet, and will not. Why you may ask? The answer is simple – with a name comes bonding and with bonding come the burdens of emotions. I do not want to re-live those countless moments yet again, of having cared for all the cats, been a mid wife to each, having buried and cried over every cat and kitten that I named.
The charm that this nameless kitten has is boundless. I plan to share the very same emotions of the mother to her kid. This time of a nanny that disciplines the kitten not to stray away, lest it should be in danger of tame animals – until a neighbor adopts the unnamed kitten.
~*~*~*~*~
Ps: This article was published in the Infosys online news magazine: Essence - Chronicaling Corporate Memories
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