Panipat-the Positivity Incarnate

Ten months ago when I received the marching orders from land of Srimad Bhagwadgita to historic Panipat, I had come without any expectation as I had little idea about my new place of work. The strange ness has its own charm and challenge. The warm welcome by people of Panipat was, I confess, unexpected but ofcourse very comforting and enthusing. The aura of open ness and affection set the tune and I could feel the strings inside yearning to compose a new song, sing once more in what hitherto seemed a strange land. In services the only certainty is uncertainty of tenure and this aspect enables one live (in Milton's words) 'what thou liv'st / live well/ long or short/ permit to Heaven.' 

The first public encounter was through a media organised interaction on the issues that the city was seized of.  The participation of people was encouraging, their grievances genuine, their anger justified, their angst against apathy and indifference of certain departments absolutely logical. And I did realise that they were sensitively concerned about 'the issues' affecting lives of common man; their ability and participation to be heard bespoke of their concern for Panipat, their own Panipat which had been ravaged by battle after battle yet built over and again by the relentless efforts of the people. 

Amidst the arena of positive expectations and silent but somehow assured peoples' participation, the agenda was set -not too long spread nor too impractical or idealistic but to take small steps and endeavour to do things that mean the most to the comman citizen of Panipat regardless of age, gender, ability and intellect. 

Small initiatives like Bus Queue shelter under elevated corridor, painting of pillars along this route, organising the fortnightly event of Raahgiri have brought rich dividend in terms of public participation, appreciation, inculcation of ownership amongst well meaning youth force of the town. An aura of enthusiasm the city abounds in, just-ready-to-say-I-can-do kind of zeal is heart touching indeed. I really wonder if a handful of enthusiasts have enabled change the overall environs, what would not happen for the good in Panipat if the population as a whole i.e. all the men, women, young people, children, teachers, businessmen, officers and employees, entrepreneurs and exporters start feeling with same gusto that its 'my Panipat (mera Panipat) !! The city needs the midas touch of affection and ownership by its own citizens, the wonders, it seems, are just about to happen.

Once I had written about the Pehowa spirit which taught me 'nothing is impossible' and I owe my gratitude to Pehowa for this. In my three decades if career, its Panipat which I feel has the potential and the spirit, the positivity incarnate this city is and all that is needed is the torch bearer amongst youth, icons, persons in seats of responsibility to lead the city in the direction of fulfilment of its dreams as the clean, green, well managed city. With back end support of administration 'ek prayas' can be a game changer; public schools too can come out of their elite environs to lend a helping hand in enhancing the happiness quotient of Panipat; all the local NGOs may join hands (as they do in celebrating Dussehra, Chelaiya, Gita Mahitsav) and put their best foot forward to make each ward competitively cleaner, parks greener, streets safe, traffic rules' following as a matter ofcourse; and who knows that business houses and exporters may come forward on their own to adopt a traffic junction or an area for upkeep of its street lights and maintenance of roads !! I see a healthy beginning having been made in 2018, the spirit of positivity may bloom and spread its fragrance and sunshine to enlighten Panipat in 2019.  

Amen

Pitaji's Sher Puttar

Meenakshi di was born third in the family but she was number one in so many ways: she was the tallest amongst all seven sisters; she was the best in sports and remained the Best Athlete during all four years in college; she was an all rounder- the best in theatre, the best speaker, the best in cracking jokes and instilling loud laughter; she was the smartest of us all; she was the most courageous daughter, a doting wife and mother.

Meenakshi di was different. When I was school going child, she would often have to complete my home work when my little strength and patience gave way. She was our role model in 'pitthoo' where she remained unchallenged champion for years amongst boys and girls of street no. 7, Abohar. She was not very studious and would always steal time to shirk for a hit in the street. In 'geete', she excelled with her broad hands and focussed attent. And in playground, she was unbeatable in athletics, shot put, discuss throw. When on stage, her oratory skills would mesmerise as she spoke with authority. It was due to these qualities of head and heart that she she was offered lectureship in DAV College, Abohar by Late Sh. ND Grover Principal even before her MA II result was declared. Pitaji was very fond of his third kamau puttar. She directed a number of dramas and also the one titled 'byah ka ghar' wherein she acted with other lecturer colleagues to showcase their theatre skills to students !

She was my teacher and mentor in college and taught us Economics. While explaining Keynsian law of diminishing marginal utility, she would often use the (mouth watering) example of gulabjamuns. She was strict disciplinarian and uncompromising, meticulous manager of events. Hordes of memories I find deluged with how she was a friend to her students and a very dedicated NSS programme officer. She made the whole of family including my father take part in manually cleaning of place in Bodiwala village she had organised camp in.

She had a brilliant career and rose to become Director, Ministry of Home Affairs, GOI after her elevation in the IES . She had an indomitable spirit and resilience. She could not hide if she was angry and the transparency in her nature endeared her to all peer and kin. She was so full of life, valued relationships and untiringly made efforts to keep the glow of warmth alive with her zeal and zest and above all uncomplaining nature. She gave the world two wonderful daughters Megha and Sugandha who are doing so well in their career. Bless them. 

God had willed short span for her in this life and we lost her when she was just 50. It us beyond human comprehension as to why lives as hers have to be so short. Miss you, Meenakshi di all the more on this day. Happy birthday.

Happy Birthday to An Awakened Soul

It was a chance meeting with Dr Subhashini Malik when I as teacher incharge of FCC hostel accompanied a girl in pain to Malik Nursing Home, Balsamand Road, Hisar. I saw the doc anxious and agitated giving piece of mind to a pregnant rural woman who had developed some complication due to utter negligence. She was angry and loud but her concern was  purely intensely human. When our turn came, she apologised for making us wait. I complimented her for her humane ness. She said: my name is Subhashini but I am  kubhashini. That was our first meeting.

Came to know more about her through a friend that she has read scriptures of all dharmas-Gurubani, Vedas, Puranam, Ramayana, Bhagwad Gita and she does six hours 'jap' daily. I was curious. In second meeting I asked her how she managed to do so much 'jap', she said she wanted to check veracity of some saintly person's saying that with one crore mantra jap one can have self revelation.

As chance would have it, I met her three four times during my seven years tenure in Hisar. Annual feature was wishing each other on birthday. When my maiden compilation of poems ' Amaltas' was published I sent her a copy . It was a treat to get a critique on Amaltas in hand written, beautiful, literary letter from her. Sharing of books that followed further enriched me with her generously complimentary missives. In span of almost thirty five years I have met her less than ten times but every time I meet her, her energy level, the aura of a deeply spiritual being, the crystal clear notions and above all her overflowing zeal for learning mesmerised me. She lost her mother at a very early age and is often reminiscent of how courageous her father brought the kids up nurturing in them 'sanskaras' and taste for literature. 

A few years ago the worst tragedy befell her when she lost her only son. In her utter grief, it was unbelievable to see how her spiritual upbringing brought her to terms with traumatic reality. Perhaps all her reading of literature and scriptures, 'jap', meditations had mentally prepared her involuntarily for this irreparable loss and save her from being shattered. 

There are very few people in this world who  have only the positive influence on us possession the ability to love unconditionally. The gifted selves like her are like Sun- givers without expectations. I have often wondered how its always rejuvenating only whenever I am able to connect to her on special occasion like her birthday. A soul like hers is indeed an awakened soul with a purpose of contributing in spread of positivity and human concern. 

Today ie 10th July, she is 77. Happy birthday to you, Mrs Malik.

Let Go...

Two simple, easy to comprehend, understand but are they as simple as a phrase 'let go" ? In Punjabi the equivalent is ' chhaddo jee', 'gall mukao' , 'mittie pao' or simply 'dheela Chhod dena' in hindi.

In spiritual discourses or guided meditations this is the most frequently used phrase 'let go' , take a deep breath, inhale deeply, exhale slowly and let go. Without a let go  there cannot be a 'move on', hence the first and the foremost requirement is to let go. Easy said than done, they say. 

Day in and day out we come across situations which, if taken to heart, can cause havoc. At work place especially, it calls for real good training in letting go or else stress, strain, anxiety, depression are natural corollories just waiting to take hold, seize by neck and overpower. Sometimes it feels like a garbage bin wherein everybody is hurling 'kachra' of negativity, Complaints, grievances, pain, turmoil, illness, depravity, accusations, criticism. But who can afford to be a dumping ground? Sooner than later we have to learn to manage, dispose, channelise, convert the waste to energy, power or be immune to all the negative connotations that the 'kachra' is capable of causing- stink, breathlessness, asphynxia, blood pressure, asthma, migraine et etc. The conversion of negativity to positivity is a herculean task and being immune is not the cup of tea for a sensitive person. 

Having been blessed with immense potential to store, hoarde, keep intact for years together, it becomes difficult for any of us to throw, discard, let off, let go. We keep them safe in our heart, add emotional texture and convert them into memories safe in our heart and provide our brain its remote control to bring them to forefront at the slightest beckoning.Positive things, feelings, words, compliments are short lived and we let them go easily, forget and move on. Somewhere we feel scared to let burdensome thoughts and allied feelings because clinging to them becomes our second nature involuntarily. Its hard to stick to exhortation of 'travel light'. 

The other day my Swimming Coach asked me to let go while I was learning floating without support. I realised that what mattered most was the feel of security- an assurance that I could afford to let go and someone will be there to save me if I start drowning. I was reminded of my maiden attempt in scuba diving where I did let go in deep sea waters mesmerised by the beauteous acqua forms surrounding me and all I had to do was to focus on breathing. Was it simple surety of an oxygen cylinder or my 'desire' to let go in order to inhale the joy that being underwater offered? Once I was one with this feel of letting go, everything became so beautiful, not an iota burden on my mind of whether or not I would go out alive.

Letting go can free us of all cudgels but be it in state of meditation or life, it requires deep faith, trust and courage of conviction. It is as difficult as a surrender and as easy as holding like a child the hand of mother or father and feeling safe, secure, nothing can go wrong-sharnagati. It does mean knowing and believing in someone other than ourselves- human or super human and the constant connect nurtured with utmost care and vigilance. As lesser mortals, we can be weak, vulnerable and underlings but the faith in that 'connect' does not belie. At some point of time or the other we all experience this subtle but sure feel of safety on letting go. The only thing required is making it a way of life. 

I am only trying to learn. Have you-already? 

Neelam Di

Neelam di, the eldest among we, seven proud daughters of our parents , had many firsts to her credit. My parents had resolved that they won't have children till india got independence and she was the first born in July, 1948; ' chhatie raat'- the auspicious ' naamkaran' ceremony which is associated with son's birth was celebrated for her; she was the first girl to be sent to newly opened DAV College, Abohar (PB) despite resistance by society; first to become Pitaji's 'Professor puttar'-the tradition followed by all her sisters; first to get into the IAS in Abohar region; the first to get family a fridge and a fiat car 

She was the pivot around whom revolved lives of all of us. Neelam Di was Pitaji's cuckoo bird in whom lay his 'jaan'. All of us, her younger sisters vied with each other as to who was her best admirer and Archana was deemed her biggest fan (72 inches). She was embodiment of sensitivity, delicacy and grace who was looked up to by all our maternal and paternal relations for guidance, resolving petty disputes and mentoring. I often wonder how she managed so much investment of time, patience, energy and money to keep the ties bound together in the Kataria clan. She was a class apart - a giver throughout her life- like Sun that spreads shine and takes back nothing. Her ability to love unconditionally made her the most loved person. She was a true friend in need who would go any extra mile to help. Beautiful, short statured Neelam Di stood taller than all with her uncanny ability to give give give. 

She was a strong personality with crystal clear views on subjects she shared with Pitaji. During one such discussion an argument arose, the difference of opinion asserted and the heated tone of my father hurt her paving way for a cold, terrifying silent spell in her short sojourn of two days at home. We as kids were wondering who would initiate a dialogue-cancerian(Neelam Di) or aries (Pitaji). She took the lead before leaving and what followed would remain in my memory till the last breath. My father hugged her and broke down murmuring : 'forgive me my darling daughter, forgive me'. And all were in tears.

She was voracious, avid Reader and a prolific writer whose pen wove magic of words in prose and poetry and missives she scribbled for mentoring her younger sisters. She wrote straight from the heart and what she wrote appealed straight to the heart. Her handwriting in both English and Hindi was so beautiful that I as a child used to touch it and feel the depth of beauty she sprinkled in language ambued in literature. Once she wrote to me: 'one has to be good and great not to nurse any 'katuta'(bitterness) -the exhortation like a touchstone has worked till date as a guiding force. She initiated me to writing by gifting me maiden diary when I was in class VI. I owe her gratitude for the first smart trousers, a chess board, a Parker pen, a Vivitar camera. She would bring her Murphy urphy transistor all the way from Delhi to Abohar to enable me listen to music I was so fond of. 

She was every bit our father's daughter- in temperament, aesthetic tastes, grace, humility, love for flowers especially roses, gait, penchant for literature, newspapers, impatience for anything casual or callous or lacking depth, adoration for the clan and passion for writing, idealism and unflinching patriotism, skill of oratory, taste for music, God fearing and respectful for all religions but unritualistic, spirit of celebration and making other feel special by the honour bestowed upon. Both died sooner than they should have. It has been nineteen years since she passed away on 29th June 1999 but not a day has lapsed when she has not been missed as her being had filled our lives with love, care, affection and protection. The void is irreparable. She was like the centre that holds things, relations from falling apart. Her going away from this world diminished each one of us separately and together as family. Since childhood I have lived with the desire to emulate her but I know I can never be like her. She was matchless personality and a human being par excellence. 

Attachment

Attachment'-in itself is the most common, natural, genuine, honest confession. Attachment is most commonly associated with persons, places and things. There are more than one hundred shlokas amongst 700 shlokas of Bhagwad Gita that attachment has been referred to and explained in threadbare details as to lure the bewildred Arjuna to shun it and do his 'karma' i.e. take part in the battle dispassionately, detatchedly. In normal parlance, is not each one of us 'smitten' by attachment? All our happiness emanates from it though sadly all our unhappiness, too germinates from attachment only. Is this my statement an exaggeration or a plain truth?  

With things our attachment is not very harmful as it is our individual domain. We are so much inclined to hoard, store, keep intact for years small things, dresses, playthings associated with our childhood-things that once upon a time gave us joy we want to keep them forever. This is another matter that after long intervals when we 'discover' them during some clear-the -clutter-campaign, they bring back memories which can moist our eyes or cause a lump in the throat and we hurriedly pack them to save them for some other time when we could afford the luxury of brooding or delving upon past as generally there is dearth of time in hand. 

We love the mess, too that the things we are attached to tend to create. Removal of any particle from near our bed side table or a cupboard can put us off. The bathrooms and lobbies and drawing rooms generally bespeak of our attachment with kinds of things we display therein. The almirahs hide in themselves nothing but our own penchant for things connected with one occasion or the other, gifts received, dresses we deem 'lucky'  (howsoever old and unfit they may become). With passage of time, this attachment does not lessen even though the things fall in Keynesian law of diminishing marginal utility. 

The most vulnerable aspect of attachment is with persons as it leaves the sanctum sactorum of our own individuality. Incidentally, this is also the cause of greatest happiness-seeding of attachment and romance of relationships quickly followed by rising expectations and aspirations and with expectations accompany as a natural corollory the disillusionment and  hurts. In this world of 'illusions' as all scriptures tend to prove, it is the attachment which is the root cause of all pains because what we deem to possess and gives us pure happiness and abundant joy  proves an illusion and becomes the cause of torment and hurt. Attachment is natural basis of human relationships and it takes a lifetime to understand all its nuances and complexities as to how the attachment, harbinger of all the joys of the world becomes the cause of the sorrows unfathomable and unbearable. If it is a  'thing of beauty' then why not 'a joy forever'? Why attachments denote that joy 'whose hands are forever at his lips/bidding adieu'( Ode on Melanhcoly by John Keats).

I feel it is not just in relationships that attachment becomes a cause of unhappiness, attachment of any kind tends to lead to some sorrow in any context- work, project, place of stay, transient things and even intransient ideas. Attachment is like a sheen which affects the ability to see things logically, rationally, judiciously. Somewhere it blurs our vision and perception. Attachment makes the prudence take a back seat and enables passion rein. It calls for constant vigilance against attachment when we work passionately for  projects with involvement of human kind. It does not mean-definitely it does not mean not doing things with heart but there is a very thin thread between the personal and professional-both deserve to be given due respect without affecting the other adversely. 

Attachment with past is the most harmful. In this our world where the only thing constant is the law of change, it is very natural that attachment with memories howsoever beautiful would cause pain. We tend to be attached to painful memories more which return to impact the joyous present every now and then. This attachment with past leads to negativity which has ample potential to cause a damper on every joy of the present. In short, this attachment is a 'kill joy'.

Opposite to attachment is detatchment. Generally it is associated with ascetics and seers who renounce the world. It takes a lifetime to meet such noble souls who have completely overcome attachment with persons, places, things, power, pelf and comforts. 

Attachment is humans' strength and weakness, too. It tests and poses challenges of human kind whether we are able to make it our strength or let it it be our weakness. Life takes the role of a teacher who examines how prepared we are for happiness and how vulnerable to pains and tribulations. We all love to be happy and joyous-our basic nature. Anandmohan, the ultimate joy is all we seek whatever the medium. To detach ourselves or to renounce is not our forte, cannot be as long as we are living on this planet as normal beings. But for sure, it is our duty to guard ourselves against pains and sorrows- come what may. The biggest is challenge is to follow the middle path between the detachment and attachment i.e. Anaskati-to be away from life while being in thick of it. 

Negativity- No More !

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our star's / but in ourselves/that we are underlings' says Cassius in Julius Caesar (William Shakepseare). 

Sometimes I really wonder how we have filled our lives and our world with so much of negativity that it has become a way of life for the most of us. We donot 'feel' the presence of dominant trait of negativity which gets eloquently revealed in our words, gestures, expressions of face and language of body. We refuse to believe ourselves to be smitten by the venomous demon of negativity because there is nothing we find worth blaming ourselves for and accept as a matter ofcourse the dominance of this vicious witch which overshadows our positivity, our goodness, all the finer qualities of head and heart we possess in abundance. We know and donot know how the hidden tentacles like scorpion's, negativity swallows the smiles and turn them to sarcasm, eats up the faith and makes us cynical, swirls the very perception and makes us see only the red and blinds us to all that is beauteous and joyful. We fail to realise its impact till the water is above the nose and the congestion makes its presence felt in overbearing stress and strain, melancholy and hopelessness utterly oblivious of the fact that this, too shall pass. We donot realise that the time lost in negative state is denial of simple, human joys we amply deserve day in and day out. 

The tools of expression of negativity are numerous- fear, anger, sorrow-to name a few. The expressions may take any number of forms e.g. hurting words, sarcasm, cynical smile or laugh, blast, physical hurt or plain sulking or violent silence. Every gesture or tone, tenor or demeanour of negativity is unwelcome for everyone-be it human friends or kin or even the pets well known for their unconditional love. 

Howsoever close a person may be when it comes to negative perceptions and expressions thereof, the  acceptance of the same is seldom voluntary and more often than not it is grudging acceptance. No wonder, in situations as such one may behave like a father (as in 'My Father Had a Bad Night') who fails to take simple fever of his son normally/ stoically. Our mood swings are directly affected by the resistible yet unavoidable conduct and disposition of the person who, unfortuately is in trap of devious negativity.

The triggers of negativity are abound in every nook and corner-the litter on the streets, the sites of unhygienic, unclean roads, the unfriendly weather, the persons with negative aura, the newspaper  true reporting of state of affairs of crime and agitations, the messy traffic and poor road sense, the delays in whatever-to name a few. Besides, the negativity stealthily emanates from people at work, their behavioural patterns, the non achievement of targets, the complaints' galore, the attitudinal issues of bosses and subordinates, the working conditions et aL. Almost anything and everything which does not go as per our own individual parameters seems negative, annoys, saddens or causes its 'hit' in expression of our moods. The more close to heart an issue, the greater the impact of negativity trigger. 

They say 'light at the end of the tunnel' but I feel the tunnel of negativity can be frightening and aloof, eerie and challenging, hugely patience testing and difficult. Unless one is blessedly vigilant, it can pave way for damage irreparable. The time it consumes is the time lost forever. Howsoever 'conscious' and spiritually enlightened one may be, negativity has ample capacity to catch one unawares and push all one's goodness and humanity behind. It poses the severest of tests to our fortitude and resilience. The million dollar question is: shall we let ourselves go as per its satanic command or stand our ground firmly to let it pass or push its demonic tentacles with grace and dignity, patience and perseverance? Once in negative fold, we donot accept the presnec or availability of choices, we feel limited, shut, withdrawn, surrendering our abilities to Her Highness, Neagtivity.

When we ourselves become the cause of spreading it, it leads to guilt and when we become the butt and are at receiving end, it affects our perceptions, relations and inherent goodness that each one of us  is abundantly blessed with. 

I feel it is our utmost duty to guard ourselves against any kind of negativity. It needs a tough handling. Moving away from place, person, situation causing negativity may always not be a matter of choice but definitely helps if so done. Prayer, meditation, ability to forgive and also forget are the traits, I feel we need to develop to save our souls. Above all the faith and trust that 'Sun is still in the sky and shining above us' and ability to sing: 'deep in our heart/we do believe/ we shall overcome..'.

Passion for the Lens

In childhood, it was a dream that some day I would have a camera of my own and the whole world would be mine. It was a big big thing -sort of unreachable as cameras have tradionally been treated as expensive and anyone having it seemed to have a different aura, would seem to possess something extraordinary, a magic like thing. And the one using a camera, too, would act  different, a -little -above- all-thing about himself (as generally those in possession were from  rich families). I think most of us in adolescence had 'My Hobby's  as 'Photography' as camera used to be much coveted thing. I cannot describe in words how happy I felt when my eldest sister Neelam didi brought a Vivitar for me from France when I was 25. It is another matter that her Nikon was more an attraction for me with a detatchable flash.

Pursuing this hobby used to be a costly and time consuming indeed. From a thing of romance( for me in 1970s) till the turn of the century, camera in a fon is a real in-thing adorning eveyone (proud to be) Indian or native of another land in any part of the world. This pride possession is visible in every nook and corner held high and above in a (more often than not) right hand taking a 'selfie' or plain clicking anything and everything that catches the eye. Not just taking a shot but also looking admirably after a click is such a common sight that sometimes I really wonder how parched our lives were before advent of this tiny little hidden thing in our smart phones, how very deprived we human beings had been till such time that Nokia, motorola and Samsung and Apple (and my dear BlackBerry)  came on the scene to offer this magical gift with varied pixels and features. Its a real dream come true to click the 'good morning', the soaked rainy afternoon, the charming green evening and the neon lighted late evenings. Nay..not just to click but also to share in an instant the same with the near and dear ones in distant lands. 

I had always been a camera shy person for reasons quite obvious but now fiddling with it gives me a child like pleasure. True, am not a good selfie taker but catching the sea or hills, rain or sunshine and sharing I generally do. I think cell camera is a good means to lull to rest the narscistic tendencies in us. The good shot followed by showing it to others around pacifies our overflowing urge to be appreciated. The adolescent girls, the young boys and even the children can be seen in every street and blind alley using the lens- the joy that the visually impaired children are sadly deprived of. Once a very renowned photographer late Mr Yog Joy had shared with  Amrita Pritam (Saat hastakshar) that the only sorrow he had was that lens could not portray dreams. True. Am reminded of Shakespeare's : we are such stuff/that dreams are made of/and our little life is surrounded/ with a sleep.' Till we actually exist its the 'thing of joy' and once gone, who knows, the best of what we could never shoot, may be there for the world to see! 

The Cellular Jail

' Watan ki aabroo ka paas dekhen koun karta hai/suna hai aaj maktal mein hamara imtihaan hoga' (Jagdamba Prasad Mishr 'Hitaishi')


Port Blair for me had only one meaning-my mother's memory of the Cellular Jail during her maiden visit to the place. Whenever she would recall how she felt having been to the Cellular Jail, her feeble voice murmured, shook and one could feel tears in the eyes and her choked words would give goosebumps as she would reminisce the height of torture the freedom fighters underwent at what was called 'kaala paani'-the forsaken place from where once in, the hope to return was nil.

  

It was like being with her that I visited the Cellular Jail and at the entrance the inscription read: ' ye tirth maha tirthon ka/mat kaho ise kaala paani/tum suno yanha ki dharti ke /kan kan se gaatha balidani.' The guide, well versed in history explained the concept how jail came into existence and was used to house mainly those Indians who rebelled against the tyrannies of the British Raj and were sentenced to rigorous life imprisonment. Every cell was 13x 7 ft with no provision of electricity and the day light could enter only through a small window which was covered in such a manner that the inmate could not see outside. The front was typical jail gate with latch on the side and this prison had the capacity to accommodate 693 prisoners. 

  Veer Savarkar who was sentenced twice the life imprisonment (fifty years) was also sent here in 1911 and he remained here for ten years. His was the special cell now named 'Savarkar Cell' as he was considered the most perilous of all prisoners. His brother too was in the same jail and for two years neither of them knew that they were in the same prison. Mostly the prisoners had to wear cross or bar fetters while they walked to workplace to grind coconut oil-the most arduous of tasks . The inability to accomplish daily target meant open  flogging leading to insanity or death of many of them. The jail had Gallows too which could hang three persons at a time and it was located centrally to enable all see it that incase of disobedience, this could be their fate, too. Nobody can tell how many were hanged during the eight decades of existence of this jail till 1938. The story of atrocious Dan Barry reminded one of General Dyer whose brazen, heartless decision  caused huge loss of innocent lives in Jalianwala Bagh.

 The three storeyed jail has an imposing structure in a triangular shape with tower in between for vigil of theprisoners. The saga of freedom struggle is powerfully delineated in the sound and light show with voice overs by Om Puri and Manohar Singh, the anchor. The place was declared National Memorial in 1979. 

Ii is so hard to imagine how the freedom fighters in prison cell of 13x7ft could languish for years and years with no communication or contact with any of inmates except through the chanting of slogans of Vande Matram, Bharat Mata ki Jai and Inqelab Zindabad. 

The long queues of people outside the Cellular Jail is a positive sign of people desirous of visiting the place and pay obeisance to memory of our freedom martyrs. I came back carrying memory of my mother how she must have felt.  I kept wondering whether we, the second and third generation since our country became an independent Republic  sensitive enough to feel the same way for those who died so that we could live honourably.  This place is a must visit to shake our own complascencies that what we have got today in abundance we owe to those who could also live life comfortably but they chose to stand for their mother India and did not care for their own kith, kin nor of their own lives and compelled the foreign rulers to flee the country.    I came out with deep sense of gratitude and value and love for my country. The whole place reverberated with the spirit of patriotism as if the would of those indomitable brave revolutionaries still resided there to bless their dear countrymen and instil in them the same fervour and ferocity of loyalty to their motherland.

It is definitely a must visit pilgrimage for all Indians to sensitise our own selves as well as our next generations for how our country became free and at what cost and how our forefathers laid down their lives so that we could live in a free country with '   our heads held high and mind without fear .' 

The Celebration Called Life

Life -the very word denotes liveliness, positivity, celebration. The spirit of celebration is imbued in life. On looking back, I feel that both my father and mother meant to teach us this- life is celebration. Even a cursary glance down the memory lane reveals how the celebratory moods were not confined to just the festivals of Diwali, Holi but 'Halwa' would be cooked or sweets were brought on all special days like Lohri, Republic Day,  Baisakhi, Independence Day.  On a rainy day the question hurled to us, the kids was: 'jal thal hoga ki nahi' and incase of heavy rain, mangoes' box marked thankfulness to Him  and sharing of joy with family. The kind of celebration would be different but the spirit was common- sharing happiness with gratitude. Even good weather, pleasant evening,  a cloudy morning, a drizzle in June or a starry night used to be suffice to kick off the spirit of gaiety. On the other hand the usage of a good word in language spoken or written, a marksheet with distinction in subject of English (rest of the subjects didn't matter), the narration of an appreciation by a teacher in the class (with emphasis on 'Kataria') would call for a 'chhaal' (jump) by Pitaji and 'inaam'(prize) of rupees ten. A neatly written letter, a good cup of tea, an impactful oration too could mean a call for the Celebration. 

I often wonder that with passage of time the spirit of celebration should go up or wane? In case of my parents it always went up howsoever long or short their life span was. Why a heartful guffaw oft makes us wonder as to when was it last that I had such a hearty laugh? Why every celebration would choke the throat or cause a lump? Why every joyous moment makes one cross the fingers so involuntarily and spontaneously? Why a silent prayer would always be there in a family gathering or seeing all enjoying with sense of abandonment?  May be the scarcity and scant ness of the moments of celebration makes us contemplative in face of joy and happiness. But who has caused this scarcity? God has always been abundantly kind and benevolent then how come we, the lesser mortals have 'chosen' to limit the supply of joy to ourselves? The fear of the unknown has always been there since times immemorial, then why do we deny ourselves the small pleasures, the joy of giving and sharing, the spirit of empathy and generosity?

Having lived all the years that each one of us has, the best is for sure yet to come. We only have to let go, take a chance, shrug off the fears of uncertain tomorrow and move a step forward, come out in the open, use our steps to play to the tune of our heart and there it is -the joy of living! 

Three years ago when I bought a bicycle for myself, it gave me the joy even the buying of a car could not give, for cycling ( after thirty three years of having left it ) meant being in the open and letting myself go the way I used to when I was eight years old!  

Today I gathered my guts to go for scuba diving. It was a difficult decision but I thought if I who has always been afraid of water, could do scuba diving, I could do anything. And there I was under the surface into the deep sea near Havelock mesmerised to see the acqua life, the varied coloured fish, jelly fish, the soft looking awesome rocks, the pebbles-all representing life as a whole. It was like being in another world with no choice but to let go once inside the sea. The calmness and the colourfulness I encountered gave me a feel of being in deep meditation when even the consciousness of breathing became non existent. When I came out, it was like having been to a wonderland of fairies !

Thank you, God, for making me feel happy, healthy and positive to partake in celebration called life. 

Anger

The very word is so negative, therefore, it is imaginable what an impact it can have on victims of anyone's anger. Is anger necessary? Controllable? Avoidable? Is it the worst of the vices? Is there any benefit that it may ever accrue? 

 
 Anger accompanies a sense of power that one feels one has over things, people, relationships, circumstances and it emanates from negation of or challenge to that authority. The slightest feel of disobedience or intimidation or denial causes huge surge of anger. 

 Anger is mirror to any unrest, malaise, unease which permeates inside howsoever  undefinable. The more ambiguous this feel, the more violent the expression of anger. Anger may be triggered by a small thing but once it gets vent, it becomes a no-holds-barred situation  where reason and rationality take a backseat, patience turns its face away, compassion becomes conspicuous by absence, love gets lost (for a while atleast). 

 Anger is not an uncommon phenomenon. We see everyone besieged by Anger's sting: Bosses, Parents, Children, employees, politicians, powerful people . Even the saints and sages are not spared by the hideous aura of Anger. 

 What does it or does it really gain anything? Not sure. But definitely once anger is let loose, it loses a lot of goodwill. It has ample power to cause an irreparable damage to psyche of people and mar the joy of things. I don't think it's ever welcome by anyone howsoever docile, humble, obedient follower one may be in a power relationship. The fear it generates and the extent to which it seems unreasonable (more often than not) casts a spell of gloom, helplessness. 

 While anyone who is gripped by it has one reason or the other to justify its hold, the victim always feels it is unjustified, uncalled for, un necessary, unjust, unkind..nay rude and rude through and through.

 Sometimes we blame it on an unfriendly planetary influence or plain frustration caused by someone or something else but invariably the one who gets blasted is a wrong person at a wrong moment.

 It is much better to know how to handle it by counting 1-5 before giving it an expression or to do some 'anulom vilom' or plain inhale deeply ,exhale deeply exercises or to do some 'mantras' jap or do whatever that can be done before this takes over the better of our self, lays a seige, seizes us by collar and makes us utter words which are not in normal parlance ever used by us. More importantly, the tone and tenor and gestrual nuances that are not associated with us generally sneak their way out to hit hard the way evn the words cannot damage.

 The aftermath of anger almost always creates a sense of sorrow, suffering by victim and repentance, sorry feeling by the angry person. In the world of 21st century when familial relationships are waning, soft feelings of love and compassion, affection and selflessness have become rare, negative expressions like anger and rage are not tolerable by anyone. The sharp reactions are not uncommon and the outbursts of protest against this negative feeling with more negative, violent and hostile output are testimony of Anger's non acceptance. God forbid, if ever one encounters an angry saint or sage, it is such a belittling, demeaning feeling-catastrophic beyond any shadow of doubt.

 Life is too short. It calls for celebration. Feelings of love, affection, compassion, empathy make the world a better place to live in and fill it with richness. Lets not mar this enrichment with negativity and feel of penury that Anger has the ability to cause.

Home Away From Home

‘Country roads/take me home/to the place /I belong...’   (A song by John Denever)

An Old Age Home-the very title evokes mixed feelings of empathy, sympathy, anger (how can children be so insensitive as to allow their parents live in old age home) and above all the fear unknown. Nobody would prima facie like the idea of a shelter home for the old and suggest or consider better at the most a day care centre for the old people and would not hesitate to state how un necessary are old age homes as they provide an option to the children to abandon their parents. ‘No homes no abandonment’  is their simple conclusion. 

Who would like to live in an old age home by choice?  I don't think anyone would. But what is the choice if there is no place to go to, no roof over head to shelter, no means to make ends meet, no access to medical health care to  nor children to take care after the age of utility is over. The circumstances as compelling as stated above may be rare but nevertheless the instances as such can be found in every nook and corner of  the world , howsoever prosperous a country may be, developed and proud of its value system et al, the old age homes' necessity cannot be ruled out anywhere. The nature, support systems, approach and mode may vary from area to area but one thing stands apart in all the old age homes across the world- the feelings they evoke.  

I happened to visit an Old Age Home the day before. The place was small consisting of a hall wherein lay twenty odd cots. More than the state of the hall, the frail, aged men and women walking around or sitting there drew attention. The ancient eyes, the wrinkled, lean demeanor, the brittle, feeble hands, the shaking gestures made me feel lump in the throat. I gathered myself and started meeting them one by one asking how they were and whether they were comfortable. I turned towards women and one of them suddenly bowed to touch my feet and I felt shocked!! Feebly I mumbled that we who should be touching their feet. She seemed charged and vulnerable and I just hugged her. Leaning on my shoulder she cried and cried and cried. Gradually when she calmed and I sat holding her hands, I asked if she was okay. She said she was all fine here and fumbled: ' suarg mein aa gyi main toh' and pointed to knees and thighs how hurt these were after beatings from her son in law. The 'suarg' she was in was actually so humble a place of living with no luxury of a TV or referigerator or microwave, dirty linen on bed, old towels, no ac nor even effective cooler in the scorching heat of May end. The 'suarg' only meant a roof over head, a peaceful life with no taunts and beatings, a square meal without an asking, a proper bathroom and a toilet which wasn't hers rightfully in the house she lived in. The 'suarg' she was in had nothing which she could call her own as she had come here with not even a 'potlee' of clothes of her own. The catharsis she had when tears and tears rolled down her cheeks was a small hug she got from a person unknown to her but she thought her to be the mentor because she had been to her office with a hope to be listened to..only to be heard-something which a DC would ( or should) do as a matter ofcourse. 

I came home depleted in energy and charged with emotions. I kept wondering if I or people around me in general deemed our own fate as being 'in suarg' blessed with all the comforts of the world, with absence of predicament of violence as she had gone through (God knows for how long). Do we ever thank God for all that we are blessed with as profusely as she did for something that was not really really much? 

Perhaps all that one needs in waning years is a human touch, a caring gesture, a few minutes to make one feel 'less forlorn', a patient ear, an affectionate, humane bearing to make them feel at ease, comfortable,an expression of love (not sympathy) to make them feel 'wanted' and 'valued'. Is it asking for too much? How many of us can give them this? No wonder their blessings could mean an assured 'suarg' and salvation, too.

'Let's go then you and I.....'

Humility

The first time that I had come across the word 'humble' was when my Pitaji had uttered it with his hand on my head to bless:  'always be humble and bold' . He was congratulating me on my having been awarded an All rounder Best student award-a rare feat for a junior class student in the college. I was 18 then. There have been numerous instances in the intervening years when I have paused to ponder whether I have lived upto my chief Mentor's exhortation. To be honest, more often than not the answer has been 'No'.

Humility, I feel, faces the toughest of challenges day in and day out while traversing the domain of this one human life that we have been blessed with. We do feel humbled by the generous appreciation bestowed upon us or rewarding gestures; we may feel humbled by the presence of healing aura of a sanctum sanctorum or presence of a spiritually elevated soul; in meditative, uplifting moments by Yeats like realisation 'we are blest by everything/everything we look upon is blest'  but humility to be a way of life needs constant and persistent cajoling and coaxing.

The biggest challenge  to humility is an unwelcome- situation as anything, yes, literally a n y t h i n g which is not easily and conveniently palatable or acceptable or say the least, agreeable instantaneously tests our dear trait 'humility'  that we generally boast of, take a lot of pride in. The ensuing and consequential reaction or outburst in form of anger or sadness, tears or sulking faced such testing situation or condition becomes the testimony of what we are -not humble. Once my eldest sister Neelam di had written to me: 'one really has to be good and great not to nurse any katuta (bitterness). The 'good' and the 'great' latent in us as humility is the first casualty in testing times and circumstances.

Our ability to pray has ample capacity to inculcate the trait of humility as prayer is acceptance of the all pervasive power of God or Nature or whomsoever or whatsoever we believe in, have faith in and trust their ability to grant what we seek. The moments of prayer -be it in sumiran or jap or meditation are modes of surrender to Higher souls. The gratitude that we feel in moments of prayer or in normal parlance also comes from humility.

When Shakespeare said: 'Blow blow thou winter wind/you are not so unkind/ as man's ingratitude', he was narrating simple, universal, most common truth about human frailty. Actually we endorse willingly to Keats' Ode to Melancholy where he refers to 'Joy whose hands are ever on his lips/bidding adieu'. Anything and everything inconvenient or unacceptable makes us fall in the trap of melancholy and ingratitude and in no time the citadel of humility befalls, the facade of humility gets exposed, the disguise broken. Sometimes we are blessed with satsang by a Guru or a pure soul, friend or a mentor whose soft exhortation or gentle reproof facilitates and enables us acknowledge an unagreeable situation or condition with stoicism, accept dispassionately and to say the least, with humility.

My father's one of the favourite quotes was: 'saaman sou baras ka/pal ki khabar nahi'- the attachment with things, places, persons also tests our humility and submission to Higher Power.  Actually its a lifelong learning face to face with not an uncommon dilemma: 'we know and do not know/ what is to act and suffer/ we know and do not know that action suffering, suffering action'. In the same vein three centuries before Eliot, John Milton had scribbled the whole truth of Providence in the line: 'They also serve who only stand and wait' when he confronted blindness and ensuing bitterness and anger ! The humility to accept needs, indeed a lot of strength and boldness.

Thats why I often wonder whether or not I have been able to live up to what my father urged and advised almost four decades ago.  Perhaps eternal vigilance coupled with constant and persistent self-questioning is essential in order to guard and safeguard the finest of human traits-humility.

The Extent of Insensitivity

We have often heard of extent of sensitivity, of care ,concern, affection, love‎. Juxtaposed to all good things which create good will and positivity, insensitivity of any kind or type breeds contempt, scorn disdain and disrespect. Perhaps every generation feels that present generation is not as sensitive as their predecessors. And this circle goes on unabated. I think it has something to do with being simple too. Our elders were more simple, straight forward, more compassionate and humane. The degree or proportion to which we are not able to match them in these traits tags us with that proportion of insensitivity. Or perhaps it does mean their ability to reach out, their circle of sympathy and affection was much wider than ours but the world today has shrunk, narrowed, become more individualistic and self oriented lacking in empathy which casts a shadow on it being sensitive.

Being not sensitive is okay, acceptable but being insensitive is not palpable. One may or may not be able to feel the sensitivity of the other person but the insensitivity speaks loudly, clearly, shockingly. Being rude does not always mean being insensitive but being insensitive is always rude, not acceptable.‎ Actually it bespeaks for itself, gets noticed more eloquently than words.Just as violence is not always openly expressed in words, deeds, actions, similarly, the insensitivity reaches the recepient to whom its voluntarily or involuntarily targetted: 'we are betrayed by whats is false within'. Like 'the most unkindest cut of all' (of Brutus to Juius Caesar), insensitivity hits the hardest from only those whose being there matters to us, from whom we tend to have some expectations, our aspirations are only from from the cared for lot. Rest of the world's insensitivity is taken as a matter ofcourse, routine, nothing unusual about it.


Given the marked demarcation of whose- sensitivity‎- matters- and- insensitivity-hurts- and -hits, in our heart of hearts we are also aware of the extent to which we can cope with. Thereby, what can be the 'last straw' is anybody's guess because thats to be decided only by the extent of patience and perseverance of the recipient.


In normal parlance, we come across insensitivity of the most common kinds- the ringing of mobile tones (sometimes extremely vulgar, too)‎ especially during the time of cremations or condolence meetings!! How can we be so ruthlessly unkind if we have the' feeling' to come all the way to condole a death? Day in and day out on whats app we see the messages of information regarding someone's departure from the world and I find it horrendous, atrocious and extremely appalling to read 'RIP'!! Its better not to react, keep silent than make the mockery of grief of someone's dear departed!!

Only a sensitive soul can fathom insensitivity‎. Some noble souls find it hard to believe that there are any bad people or that people with ill will too exist. Similarly, its not easy to' believe' there are people who do not have sensitivity for sensitivity and can be blatantly insensitive without meaning to be or do so. Demeanour of such people hurts only once but never thereafter. The most challenging is to accept what we deem as insensitive from the friends or people who we feel are sensitive but how they can afford to behave so insensitively is beyond acceptability and levels of tolerance however we tend to stretch those limits giving them margin after margin. Churned by these challenging experiences we grow-more often than not -the hard way. But one thing is sure i.e. our ability to forgive and pray and above all our ability to love wins even we are faced with insensitivity. Love enables us forgive and prayers absolve us ,free us of negativity caused by unbecoming behaviour of anyone and even if we donot possess the ability to forget, forgiveness heals and enables evolve ment of the culprit too from insensitivity to kindness. This is how the things fallen apart are built again.

The Dear Departed

Death diminishes. When it is the departure of a revered, dear parent or kin or sibling, it erodes, corrodes and wears away the inside of a being. It comes like the shutting of a door, closing with a rude thud. The blow as such is so strong and hits so hard that only the human being affected knows where its severe impact is felt and how the extinguishing of a flame which belongs to us inundates, suffocates, sinks, drowns.
As we grow in years, its an integral part of life to confront the hard reality of the dears departing but it is actually the grief or sorrow which makes us grow grey. The child in each one of us remains alive and kicking, bubbly and chirpy, spirited and joyful till the parents are alive. No amount of worldly, painful trials and tribulations, tests of patience and challenges unfathomable can hit us as hard as the departure of father or mother regardless of their age or health conditions. Nothing -absolutely nothing can solace or console or lessen the intensity or gravity of grief we undergo on loss of a parent. The catastrophe befalls us and we become like hapless, helpless and hopeless children with the whole world staring at us and demanding of us to get up, be and behave normal, go on to eat and drink and take on life as if nothing has happened. The void within, the vacuum like a whirlpool shakes and shocks, its intensity hollows us from within but as they say, the world goes on, life keeps moving on and we too cannot afford to stand still, grieve to our heart's content, cry our heart out and nevertheless there is something or the other which draws us back, exhorts us - sometimes for the worldly errands related to family or workplace and sometimes for the very survival of life which seems to be devoid of meaning and purpose when catastrophe as such befalls and seizes us.
The utter sense of loss annoys us, fills with angst and anxiety, makes us hurl that against God, fills us with bitterness against why-it-had-to -happen‎-to-us or we sulk and withdraw silently nurturing these feelings without caring to give vent in words spoken or written. As Dante says: 'I wailed not so of stone I grew within..'. The grief and stress of the dear departed makes us weak within, vulnerable and insecure and it takes time to come to terms with all the blessings of the world that we are still endowed with despite the terrible loss of a life close to us! Its the pain of transition which tests our nerves- transition from being pampered, loved, cared -for -like- a- child to the grown up independent individual without the protective shade of affection of parent(s). We inculcate strong sense of self centredness unable to appreciate law of nature, theory of karmas et al. All our spiritual upbringing and religious beliefs face the toughest test of Time in this process of growing through the hard way. The words choke us, others' bigger grief gives us little comfort, tears betray us and it becomes oh, so very lonesome!!
As Shelley puts it: 'many a green isles need must be in the deep deep sea of misery' , there is no way except to get going on with mundane chores of life, pressures of workplace, take care of family, kin, siblings and friends. The most crude, cruel, harsh and the most beautiful part of life is that it does not stop, goes on unabated and we too tend to fly and flow with its flow and current.
In exclusive moments of joy or pain the dear departed emerge, be with us and fill us with all memories sweet and sour, good or bad bringing tears well up or smiles spread. The truth is something within us dies with parent(s) and we are left with no choice except to cope with the gnawing sense of loss. Dom Morris wrote in My Son's Father: 'I can not forgive my father for half killing me by dying himself.' But somewhere, deep in our heart we do believe that they are watching us in what we are doing, the way we are performing as their children and they seem to bless us from the sky or the stars or the waves of the sea or the glimpse of the pious Ganges or the sanctum sanctorum of our inner selves.

May they be in peace always- wherever they dwell! Amen

Jozo

The tiny little Jozo came to my life more than twelve years ago. He was introduced to me by his mentor as a very possessive, short tempered smallest kid amongst the lot of eight. He was brought in a small basket with Pari and both looked awesome, so very cute snuggled together in cold winter. Gradually I realised his behaviour was always demanding and he would not let me fondle Pari and always asserted his presence silently seeking the touch of the palm on his forehead. A few months thereafter a month old Sharon, the german shepherd joined the lot but despite the spaniel cocker's size, Jozo had the audacity to dare sharon. Pari was submissive, more beautiful and soft spoken with all feminine qualities and graceful gait. Jozo remained the self proclaimed brat of the house till I was transferred to a place where I had neither the house nor the help to fend Jozo and Pari. The sensitive little pari couldn't take the separation in a stride and she succumbed to epileptic attack and left this world far too soon.
Jozo had to be in exile for seven years till the new year day of 2015 when I could take him to a decent livable accommodation with a help to enable him live respectfully. To my utter surprise, Jozo accepted the new environs quite easefully, uncomplainingly as perhaps he became the master of the house with no competition or challenge from anyone. I realised he had grown to be more insecure as he would definitely mind being taken away  as the workaholic  me was seen around lesser than he perhaps needed. His friendliness to all guests was exemplary. I remember vividly how he would not move an inch from under the settee I sat working for hours together with my team for official assignments at home perhaps fearing that unless he accepted the predicament, he might be forcefully sent out. Since then I have always found him following me to anywhere I moved in the house during  the sparse hours that I was home.
His entry to the sanctum sanctorum of the house was prohibited and he would always sit outside covering the entry to the room I performed Pooja in. Once I was a little upset with whatever and I cried while sitting in my sacred space and he could not hold himself and rushed to sit in my lap. It was such a touching gesture that I felt he just did not know how to wipe my tears but made an attempt to tell me he was there to share whatever was bothering me. Jozo is unable to take sportingly when I go to work in camp office in wee hours of night. He would force enter the room and make a space for himself under the table as if hiding himself even from me.
Jozo is actually not just a child (he is by any standard a senior citizen now!) but also a friend in need and a teacher who teaches without sermons. ‎He is perfect mentor personifying true and unconditional love. Like an elder one in the family he tries to show he cares in so many ways- in his pristine mood, he would lie down and seek touch of the feet; in his assertive self, he would jump on the sofa and sit like the master of the house; in his urge to motivate he would run while I walk (its another matter that he would want me to finish it asap and usher me inside the house); in his sulking mood, he would not like a n y o n e dare take him for a ride; in his humble  demeanour, he moves with his head lowered as if to prove his sense of obedience.
I shiver to think of his going away given the short span of life he can have as destined for the tribe. At the same time I also feel what if he were not there and how many many many joys I would have been deprived of that he has facilitated for me just by being there in my life.
I cannot thank God enough to bless me with such a kindred soul as Jozo

The Stress

Stress comes stealthily, furtively, secretly at times and grips surely, confident ally. From where it emerges and takes hold of the whole being-mind, body and soul -is generally  baffling and time consuming groping. No wonder that its take over is so strong that one feels at times devoid of desire, too to search for cause of its inception and initiation. All human species are prone to be affected by this malady regardless of caste, colour, creed, gender or age. Like scorpion tentacles Stress besieges, surrounds and encompasses and lays one weak, devoid of strength to speak, take command, express, or do things the way one does in normal parlance. From outer demeanour its not ascertain able but like termite it eats from within the positive of a being (albeit temporarily) and jeopardizes his/her ability to be, to behave and do things as per one's forte. So demonic is the impact of Stress that the good angel in an individual becomes limp, takes a back seat letting the Stress have its way in behaviour, work , rest or sleep pattern. It has the ability to empty, fill with negativity, close and shut silently but firmly! 

Stress sneaks out in many a forms like rude tone, loud tenor, sarcasm, insulting behaviour, anger, cries, moans and tears or at times silence deep, permeative and penetrative. Stress can never make but only mar things, it can never create but only destroy, it can never make one feel good but only bad, bad, bad. There is something like positive stress as prevalent in sports to excel the competitor but even that has the capacity to block the best in us from coming out and thwart victory and let down at the last and opportune moment. Sometimes I feel stress is like that line of  negativity which can in no way be lessened or made short except by drawing a bigger line of positivity which can make it dwarf, smaller, diminutive, powerless. 

Its very important to pause and ponder over what stresses and besieges our confidence and strength; its imperative to think and deliberate upon how best to guard ourselves against the causes and reasons which have ample power to stress and strain us; its a must to try to understand what, where, when, why and how stress is generated,  nurtured and whether we can see it coming from a distance or close proximity. Who are the people who cause stress, whose behaviour and what kind of attitude triggers set the ball rolling for Stress to take over us; its as important as to understand who are our friends and foes and whose energies inspire or demean us as to save ourselves before its too late. For sure prevention is better than cure! ‎

They say Time is a great healer but I feel stress is something which needs to be immediately addressed, taken by horns, dealt with firmly as it may swallow ‎the energies so vehemently that it can become difficult to get out of its cudgels. Sooner its handled and done away with, the better it is. The challenge that stress poses is serious. It threatens to engulf in such a way that the very sanity is put to stake and good energies are sapped leaving one unsure of how to do and what to do. If it is not handles timely, it can lead to what is abhorable-depression. The spiritual tools are many like meditation, chanting, healing at the pranic or aura level et al. But it is definitely more necessary to guard ourselves against it, our own positive energies should be channelised in such a manner that we are able to gauge this enemy's threat before it overpowers. Are we ever so ready and prepared is doubtful though. 

Stress demands action and response not reaction. The action may be in terms of activities of physical nature-cleaning (the wardrobe or house), writing, cooking( my God! This really a stress buster I realised so late!), playing a game, doing workouts and exercise ( dicey it is as it may further distress), playing with pets, walking ( not my cup of tea! ), ‎playing some instrument, listening to music( beware! It wud reveal your mood to everyone in the family!)and yes, breathing-inhaling, exhaling in open with eyes closed. The thin line lies between the inability to comrehend the root and the ability to analyse the situation and it is challenging to gain the latter and avert the former. 

I donot think there is any mortal who is 'deprived' of falling in the trap of stress or fortunate enough to overcome it as soon as it is encountered. But it is very important to know the Achilles' heel of  (this) enemy lest we  are defeated by it. It is so common and pervasive that we are at times prone to be treated as dustbins to others' stress and sure we have to be determined not to let this happen-come what may.

Stress has strong tendency to make us feel aloof, withdrawn,'alone alone all all alone‎/on a wide wide sea of misery'. This is the time when we need to get up and tell ourselves how precious we are, how very valued and a simple 'I love you' to oneself is suffice to bring back the energy to gather a smile and take the task of handling the stress head on! Humility doesn't mean we are weakling nor silence or non reaction means we are defeated. It is our primal duty to safeguard ourselves from feeling low and frail. It is  important  to be and also 'look' brave and bold and understand that this is going to pass. And sure it will. Amen.