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.

CARING FOR OTHERS wherever you are.

Many people gathered at the local temple to attend a poets’ meet. Most of the fledgling poets thought that occasion as a platform to advertise themselves. Most of them were mentally occupied with their own poetic creations. Some were restlessly inducing others to read their works. Almost all of them pretended to listen to each other but inwardly each one of them was thinking of his own exposition of talents. 

The poets’ meet started and with recitation of around three dozens of mediocre poems the meet drew to a close. The meeting was followed by a feast. The priest of the temple had prepared the dinner for the poets and their invitees. I was one among the invitee. Everyone seemed to me cunning like foxes. During the eating time also the atmosphere was replete with boastful words, accolades, prizes, recognitions, etc. Everyone was talking tall talks but none touched my heart because I knew that all these talks of human sentiment, love and fine feelings were only skin deep and at the most only an outward show. The participants did not share true sincerity and intensity of feelings. I was sitting silently and sprang into action when the organizer announced the closure of the poets’ meeting and requested to have prasadam at that temple. I was first to finish my eatables. Without waiting for anyone, I went to the wash basin and washed my hands. Water was dripping from my hands so I searched for my handkerchief in my pockets. The pockets displayed some coins, a chocolate, and my wallet but no handkerchief. At the very moment the priest of the temple smilingly handed his towel which he had worn around his bare body and told me to wipe my hands. For a moment I was confused in what way to thank that person for his genuine concern towards me. I felt his concerned words a thousand times more poetic than all the poetic expressions made in that evening. Something happened in the level of feelings. I was touched by another human beings gentility and came home carrying that genuine human sentiment of CARING FOR OTHERS wherever you are.

it may be a moonless night but innumerable stars are twinkling

Today is HOLI, the 20^th of March 2011. Tomorrow is my birthday. Tomorrow I will touch the 33^rd year of my life. Today when the world was splashing in colors and celebrating life’s joys, I spent half of the day in a serene atmosphere of a remote village in a small hut. I was at Samarthaguda, a place that may not have its existence on the maps.

I rested there for some time with my eyes closed and analyzed the course of my life. My thoughts were unhindered and sprouted naturally. There was no noise of the vehicles. No distractions of a modern life. No electricity and no electronic devices that rule the minds of the elites. It was a place where I was with me. I spoke to myself and heard my own voice responding to each emerging wave of thoughts in the mental pool. I was thinking and re-thinking about my life’s course. I attempted to draw a comparison between my potencies and my achievements.  The more I thought, the more frustrated I became. I became poignant. I very much saw sands of time slipping out of my hands & my high ideals crumbling down like a house made up of cards. For a while I felt suffocated. I came out of the little hut.

In a mood of melancholy I came out to connect myself with Nature around. Outside, the world had something very special for me. The radiant sun and the lines of shady trees produced a beautiful feast to the eyes. No human form was visible and I stood alone with those silent enormous trees. From a distance I saw a tender-aged boy. He was half naked because his shirt was wrinkled and tattered. But he was rolling a worn out tyre replete with perfect happiness. His happy movements elated me from inside. I subtly experienced some of his happiness in some corner of my heart.  Without his knowledge, I went on looking at him. By the time I took my eyes off him, the meaning of my life had changed.  

I understood that Life is not what happens to us. It is rather how we perceive it. The tyre was worn out. The boy was half naked. The surface was rough but life still had the ingredients of enjoyment.

The nearby rocks corroborated this truth with green moss shinning on them.

In the preceding years my life has stagnated. I have remained in the same place and in the same situations. Many contemporaries of mine went ahead of me or changed their courses of lives but I remained as I was like an old banyan tree. Still in the depths of despair I have sufficient reasons to smile and sing. The 32^nd year of my life gave me a son and made me a father. Last year my sister was given in marriage to an engineer. So I can say, it may be a moonless night but innumerable stars are twinkling. The night may be too dark but hope is twinkling.