Let the fall continue

Ego slips

Like rose petals

Lightly and gently

Swirling

Into depths of calmness.

The wobbling waves

Silence

And life sings a prayer

Happily

Beaming in the beams of nature.

And Eyes sleep

Under the lids

And I pray

“Let the fall continue

With openness of arms

And beatific smiles on lips.”

.

Let us be the change we want to see.

From 4^th April onwards my days are spent in scanning and awarding marks to the answer sheets of +2 council examinees. It is in the administrative block of V.D. Autonomous College at Jeypore. There I along with around 60 of other examiners am toiling hard to finish our valuation assignments as soon as possible and so that we can get relieved from the tedious work at the earliest. 

Valuation of answer sheets requires great concentration and persistent efforts. The long hours of valuation duty are naturally punctuated with visits to the washroom when the bladder gets full beyond toleration. But the entry into the washroom of that college will fill your nostrils with the worst kind of smell of stale urine as a result, if you are a male, reflexively you will hold your nostrils closed in one hand and the other hand will guide your penis to pass the urine. But if you are a female then perhaps the horrible alkaline smell of putrefied urine will call both of your hands to close your nostrils tightly to save your lungs & soul. The condition of the washroom becomes very unhygienic because everyday more than 200 bladders get emptied there for more than three times a day but no sanitary measures are taken by the college administration such as flushing the washroom with antiseptic………… 

I condemned the college administration for the washroom but to what extent is it logical and sensible?

In India Gandhi brought freedom and the whole country is indebted to him for all times to come. Most of the time, we fold our hands before the statue of Gandhi but shut our eyes to Gandhism. We never follow the ideals of Gandhi which says, “Do your work yourself”. We know to urinate but don’t know to flush it with antiseptic. We wait for Government provisions & schemes to solve our own problems.  

Let us be the change we want to see.            

BEAUTY

Now-a-days two things are very dearth-the first one is Beautiful handwriting and the second one is beautiful girl. You will instantly agree with me if you are appointed as an examiner in an examination valuation centre. The pile of illegible answer sheets will cause you headache and during the lunch break when you come out to have your meal and some refreshment, you will readily find many girls on the streets who dominate the streets with their thick make-ups. They are the fresh products of those numerous beauty-parlors that remain scattered in the city lanes. The beauty queens ascertain that,         “Beauty is skin deep.”  

I have informally surveyed and found that God sends one beautiful girl in 40 girls. I mean the ratio of beautiful girls and non-beautiful girls is 40:1. (Please verify it in your locality. You will be sure of my accuracy and wisdom.) This may be the reason why all beautiful girls are extremely proud. However, in another perspective, their pride might be a necessary mechanism to protect their beauty from the lustful wolves who move around them in human forms. On many grounds you may not agree with me because we are discussing about something which is very abstract and has no measuring standard rules. What is BEAUTIFUL to me may not be beautiful to you. Moreover, the concept of beauty is very relative. Let us suppose in my colony there is a beautiful college going girl in her sweet 16. So long as that girl shines in that colony the other female members who are in their late 30s and rearing two children on an average will hardly be noticed. They won’t be beautiful in any angle. But when that sweet girl packs up to somewhere else after completion of her studies, the other females of that respective colony will appear before eyes. And they may find places in the list of beauties. This is a natural phenomenon because beauty is relatively appreciated. In a nutshell I can say that in the desert the house maid of Aishwarya Roy may become the most beautiful women but in presence of Katrina and Sonakhsi you may not even find Aishwarya to be beautiful.   

 Up till now we discussed about beauty which is solely female body specific but the idea of beauty truly attains a divine meaning when it is of the mind and heart. I would like to ask the beauty-parlor-queens, “Which parlor do they attend to have a beautiful mind and a beautiful heart?” And I also warn the open-mouthed onlookers who often face accidents because they look the girls on the street longer than they could manage.

I would like to prescribe you BEAUTY YOGA for your general well being. Inwardly think you are a beautiful mind. Think that you are a beautiful heart harboring all good feelings. All the world will look beautiful to you.        

Artist

He was travelling with me. He smiled at me and so did I. The train was moving ahead and the trees, houses, bridges were breathlessly running behind. I asked him, " what do you do for a living? " He replied me that he was a worshipper. I paused a while and asked him, "which god do you worship & what is your religion? ". He did not answer anything. He looked unto the river that flowed from some unseen distant hills. I did not ask him anything more. The train ran over the bridges producing huge rattling sounds. At the end of a long bridge when the sound and vibration became normal he told with a smile, "BEAUTY is my God and LOVE is my religion. " I requested him for his visiting card. He opened his grey-coloured handbag and gave me a card which was empty and white. I gave him a puzzled look and indicated him that the card did not bear his name. He told me that he did not have any name. I was surprised. He sensed my bewilderment & thought to put an end to my confusions. Like a stoic with eyes fixed on the distant sky he uttered, " I don't have name. I am an artist. I worship BEAUTY. My religion is LOVE and my God is LIFE. "

blue sky above and a green earth under.

Sitting in a specific corner of his 8ftX10ft room in a remote land of Orissa, Raman closed his eyes in a prayerful mood. He could not hold his tears anymore. The evening news was broadcasting the heart-rending devastation caused by the catastrophic quake. All in a moment all of the Japan was upside down. The land of rising sun was covered with dangerous nuclear smoke and radiation. The colossal disaster and mounting death toll in Japan reminded Raman of the super cyclone of 1999 in which he had lost his 3year old sister. 

The cyclones pushed the walls and his small sister came under it. He had cried and did all his best to save her. But in the end the doctor had declared her dead. She had died of serious head injury. That year the cyclone snatched the roof and his lovely sister. 

11 years have passed meanwhile. During the preceding years Nature has issued warning after warning to the greedy man so that he may behave sensibly and in collaboration with nature. But man never heeds to the suggestions of nature. Raman wiped his tears. Lighted a candle before Lord Buddha’s image. He bowed his heads before the meditating deity. In the depths of silence he felt somebody inside him telling, “Rise, don’t shed tears. Crying in darkness will not dispel the darkness. You have to light a candle. Don’t complain of the problem, be a part of the solution. Go to the backyard and plant a tree. And name that tree PEACE.”

Raman envisioned 650 crore people planting trees in their backyards and white doves flying in the blue sky above and a green earth under.