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Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Moods

How effectively does the mood decide our acts is what I thought, when I felt a need to go back to my book collection and switch from one author to another in hasten, as if there were no time to be wasted or as if till now I did not realize my need; my starve for some of my hobbies. I started with Sudha Murthy’s simple writing where she recollects her incidents from life so very neatly and puts it forth in a less complex way. Every human being experiences plenty of interesting things in his/her life, but only those who have an habit of learning from these experiences; good or bad can write a “Wise and Otherwise”, or an “Old man and his God”, I thought.

Just when done with the book, I succumbed to my need for reading something different, from some other author, which would take me to another new world. People think differently, one from the other sitting may be just next to you and their writing, reflection of their thoughts and in works of an author boldly seen are his thoughts, his insight into several familiar or unfamiliar pools of events that encircle us in every moving hour. But how each one of us react to it makes all the difference. So it is, I thought, is what makes every author special, every book a new one to read.

I soon saw me lost in South American roads, as Che Guevara and his friend Alberto start their ambitious motorcycle ride through the entire Latin America (South America). I follow their track undisturbed and make plans of similar expeditions. How interesting it is to notice that some writings just connect so well to our thoughts and interests that it gives a new dimension to our thoughts until we respond saying – “Well, it was possible this way too.” After that interesting adventure on road by two friends whose life run in parallel for sometime , I wind up the “Motorcycle Diaries” only to find lying on my table waiting for the touch of my warmth – Diary Of Virginia Woolf -Vol 1 and Kahlil Gibran’s – “The Broken Wings”.

Diaries always make you grow. And when it’s of someone you admire the most, nothing needs to motivate the act of reading. VW’s writing itself is thrilling enough to fill my days with unimaginable enthusiasm, for it delivers the most positive way of looking at things; possibly everything.

While I enjoy a few days of her life, I also enjoy the poetic saga of Kahlil Gibran's writing where he recollects moments of his first love. But most importantly, it wins me over with the style of writing so unfamiliar to me. Wonderful, very poetic. When said so, they are not bunch of words describing beauty of just nature or women, but also describing state of mind, philosophy of life in the most unimaginable collection of words that bowled me over to enslave myself to the writing style and the book of course.

Every book is special, every author is a winner, as he dares to write about what he believes in; that he wishes to share the thoughts he is confident about. Did Kahlil Gibran think then, that decade’s after his death, somebody would be still reading his work? Did VW think that a group of readers would form a society by her name? A yahoo group for that matter would be formed to discuss her work and time? But I wonder if they least bothered of this fact. Write he would for his interest, not for the world.

Reading through these books, growing with them in various different aspects of life; different emotions of human kind, I realized that moods are just a state of mind created by us by reacting to circumstances around us. Moods do not control us or rather should not be controlling us, but we should control them or rather create them.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Few Smiles

I met a friend from school other day and we sat on to recollect some wonderful days of childhood. Two incidents that came up during our discussion makes me smile every time I think about it. When I need to smile, when I need some laughter, I prefer to think back of these fun moments which act like a medicine to cheer my strained nerves. May be I need some smiles now.

There was an eagle nest on top of a tree in our school ground. We would come to school early, throw our bags and the first place to assemble was near this tree. I guess I was in 7th or 8th at that time. We (About a 20 of us) would throw stones to the nest and the eagle would come hunting for us. The moment the eagle comes we run for our lives. That had become an interesting game for us every morning. Now, we were older enough to judge when to run but some kids, who followed our footsteps, did not. So after we would return, some kids had drilled holes on their head. A hole on their head with pouring blood, they would cry back to class. The next morning, as usual, unaware of this, we come to the tree and prepare to start the so called game; unaware that our math’s sir, who was no less than a terror, was observing us from the terrace. The moment we picked up the stone, he ordered the peons to surround us and not let us escape. That morning, during the daily assembly, there was no “Thought for the day”, no “Quiz” no “news reading”, but instead each one of us had to go to the mike and apologies thus –

“I was throwing stones at the eagle nest and will not repeat this.” :-)
While recollecting this, my friend adds, “A few bashings would have been better than speaking English in front of the entire school.” :-)
During 10th standard our math’s sir conducted a Math’s Olympiad. Three of my friends neatly copied and left no chance for mistake. “A” copied from “B”, “B” from “C’ and “C” from the books and others. The results where announced and a girl “D” from our class came first. Sir came to the class and asked “A” to stand up and he asked him- Whom did you copy from? He said- “B” and thus B was also made to stand and was asked the same question, he answered “C”. And “C” when asked said from book and other people.

Now our sir announced the real winners- “Do you know who came first, second and third? - these three.”

Predicting this behavior from the three he had deliberately chosen the right winner as “D” who came 4th. Just to prove his decision he asked “D” also to stand up.

“Amma, Now whom did you copy from?” Expecting a “No” from her he waited for her answer.

“D”, looked puzzled and worried. Every body had some share of copying and they had confessed. So she replied – “I also saw little from here and there.” :-)
Sir hit his hand onto his head and said “Ayiyooo,…..enu amma idu.” (What is this madam?)

D broke into tears as the entire class laughed at this pathetic situation. :-)