Captain of my Soul

Oh Life…. Is beautiful.. I console myself by chanting this sometimes.The truth could be quiet far from this, but the truth is we cannot stop, undo or cut paste your falling hair. Life goes on and as we are hounded by many weathers in life, many of them which overpowers our strength of will, our inner core and our strength to survive. We haze out in those doldrums and sometimes we succumb to those challenges. I guess there are times in all our lives when we stop living and we are forced into a situation where we compromise, we begin crumble to our knees and we start to battle between my purpose and the situation that just changed the course of our life. I have been a strong believer of faith, a purpose for everything that is happening to me, the universe conspiring and many things that we begin to believe as we grow wiser and stronger, something similar to coming to terms with the situation. But there are many times when I have thought that if the universe is conspiring on me, someone’s really wasting their time up there!
As I have come of age, and when I look back from where I began to where I am today, one thing that constantly comes to my mind. Is life all about a constant struggle to find that small piece of happiness, and then when we finally find that happiness, it lasts just for a moment and we start with the finding it all over again? Is there a permanent solution to this constant struggle? What does it take to be eternally happy, what does it take to finally realize that I have achieved all. In my effort to finally crack this code to happiness, I began to meet people, question them about happiness and life, struggles that they have gone through and their state of mind today.
And finally, have they achieved all, and is this sustainable for the years to come. At the end of it, when I heard everyone’s story, I realized that most the time, they spent telling me about the struggle they went through to find that happiness. So the major part of the life for almost everyone is the struggle, and as I am writing this, I know its true to all our lives! As a matter of fact, I realized that if I was to stay perennially happy, I think I will have a very short life! And at the end of it if I was asked to sum up my life, I will have noting much to say. Its these struggles in life and finally achieving what we need despite of these struggles, that makes life worthwhile and worth living. But not all the time, coz too much struggle can force us to become someone else or digress our aim in life. So what IS that one word, which is a weapon for our survival?
It’s the strength! Its that courage to face the deepest fears, the mighty power that lifts you up from the darkest fears or biggest fall, the vigor to challenge the darkest moments, the attitude to face them. Sometimes challenges in life can be summed up as a game of boxing. You know you are fighting someone who can blow you up, beat you down. The strength in life that I am talking about is similar to the fighter in you, that no matter how hard you are beaten up, no matter how intense was the blow, now matter how hard was his punch, when the countdown begins… are you able to get up and face your opponent before the countdown ends in ten! Is there a fighter in you that can challenge the mightiest? Life is tough to those who fear, life is beautiful to those who dare, its that simple! The stronger you are, the better you are coz you will live life to the fullest!

In order to find out the meaning of strength, I began to question people about what is the strength that you think you possess! And I had a very weird situation when I did so! Believe me, I almost gave up on this subject because I realized that the strength that I was talking about meant different for different individuals. And of course they are right, there are various ways of dealing with situations, there are various ways of dealing with how you want to fight it out!
Everyone has a different game plan! We all have our own understanding, our own capacity to face these challenges, I agree. But I just didn’t know how to put forth to few people that that was not the strength that I was talking about! Well, would you ever cut your hands with a knife to show how much your lover meant to you? Oh hell, I would not cut the dead chicken with a knife, how the hell do you want me to cut my own hands with a knife?! But look at his point of view… it needs strength to do that! Oh hell.. he is right! It needs strength to cut your own hands, I wouldn’t dare to do that and I would not encourage people to do that too, unless you are a doctor and you are certified to cut certain body parts under a strict guidance and infrastructure. But the point is, is that the strength we are talking about? It does need a certain amount of courage to jump off few floors from the tower when things go wrong, but that’s a weakness in you that gives you the strength to give up, there is a difference. What we are talking about is a fighter in you who does not give up in life from failure, the strength in you which brings that conviction to win, to survive, the invictus sole in you that will not falter. The attitude, the courage, the conviction in you that you will survive no matter what, that even when you fall down with consequences in life, you still have the assurance that you will stand up and fight it out no matter what. That’s the weapon in you that, if you discover and hold on to it, this will make you stronger, wiser and happier and mightier. If I have to sum up what’s the code to happiness, ironically it’s the strength to face the bitterness that leads you to happiness.

Happiness is never sustainable for more than few minutes, am joking! Consider yourself in a very happy state, I am not talking about happiness in an influence of alcohol or drugs or things like mozo or kaya. The very purpose all these influences, ironically again, is to seek that happiness, or that truth which you are not able to achieve on a normal state of mind. But the fact is, we don’t sustain happiness for a long time, and there is a reason behind it. Maybe its just true
with me, or maybe with you too.. its been a long time since I laughed my heart out! I don’t remember the last time, I seriously don’t. But I am constantly seeking a reason to do so, I am constantly working towards what makes me laugh, when I want to. So this makes me wonder,
sometimes, does having that strength or being stronger, mean that you are always unhappy? Being stronger person means that you have some quality in you which guide you towards a way out of a problem, no matter how big or small it is. It also means that you spend most of the time fighting those problems. Which also means that you are unhappy coz you are always fighting an issue? You are always in pursuit of that happiness, but what about happiness if you are constantly pursuing happiness? I really don’t have an answer to this, but the truth is, never giving up means that there is a better thing in store for you. Pursuing means thriving to achieve. Well, isn’t life all about thriving?

It’s a story about this old man who owned a crystal shop on the upcountry, am sure you know this story if you have read it somewhere. He lived his life trying to earn money to go to Mecca someday when he earns enough. Fortunate to for him, his business boomed, he had a lot of client who came up to him to buy his crystal from far off places, and he finally earned a lot of money. He had aged a lot doing so, it was time to finally fulfill his dream of going to Mecca, but he changed his mind. He decided not to go to Mecca, guess why? Because he will have no dream to pursuit if he fulfills this one! Sometimes life is an endless pursuit to happiness, to dream, that one day when we achieve them, we will have nothing left to live with. Well its just my thought, whether we are born for a reason or we are born because of a bad decision by our parents, the fact is we are born and we deserve the best. Each one of us are born for a reason, and nobody knows that reason, not even you are aware of it. And I don’t think you should know the reason why you are born because if you do, its like reading a book of which you already know the plot, or watching a movie of which you already know the story.. how boring will that be! But that’s the suspense of life that keeps us wondering, is this the reason for my existence, or will I finally know today whats my purpose in life? I don’t know if I will finally know it in my death bed, that’s if I have a good death and not accidental death. But I guess it doesn’t matter, as long as we have the strength to survive, conviction to face any situations, integrity to people who matters the
most, and passion for life itself. To sum this up, the only thing that’s coming to my mind is a poem by William Ernest Henley which has touched my soul and here is how it :

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be, For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance, My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears, Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years, Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

My early days : Magnets and Miracle

Someone said that life is an echo; it gives back what you have given. I agree…

The world of Magnets and Miracle.

I still don’t understand what it takes to feel the whole world below you, what it takes to feel on top, what does it really take to be fearless, to soar like an eagle with our head high and not feel that the world around you could let you down. Those few years that I spent with my grandfather were important for me to realize that the most important things in life comes in the simplest ways, like inner peace, happiness, compassion and truthfulness. As I walked with him, I realized that it takes a lot to be someone like him. He was my teacher, my guardian, my friend, my God and my everything. Our friendship started, maybe as soon as I was born, or maybe before. He always said that he held me when I was so tiny that I felt like a small doll in his huge arms, and I would stop to cry when he used to take for a stroll. Maybe we just clicked right from the beginning. I remember the road to my school so much, the muddy road, stone pebbles, pine trees on the either side of the road. Sometimes it used to be a foggy day, pine trees use to absorb the moist. We used to say that it always rains under a pine tree. The cold breezy weather, sometimes sunshine and sometimes rain, sometimes so much fog that we could not see the road ahead. I used walk tall besides my grandfather, holding his finger with my tiny hands. The narrow road used to lead us to school, my blazers to keep me warm, my school bag,Tiffin box and my Superman besides me. I used to feel so secure and proud; I started to depend on him for everything in my life! As we approach the school, he used to let his finger off my hand and ask me to carry on, that’s when I used to ask him ‘why can’t you come to class with me?’ He used to smile and tell me that he will be waiting the same place at 2:30. The class used to pass by, making noise, listening to the teacher, lectures, homework, punishments, crazy games, blackboard, questions and answers. It was almost predictable. I used to wait for the 2:30 bell to ring and my little world begin; my black dog Pita, my Grand-dad, and me – our world of magnets and miracle.

I used to rush home with my grandfather, sometimes I would run with all my excitement to be back home, hug my mama, Pita would be waiting for me to get back. He was a wild dog, as wild as me. But he would outrun me most of the time. Sometimes when I fall, he would come back to give me his shoulder to lift me up. I never felt the need for a brother or sister, or anyone else. With them around, my world was just perfect. I would reach home to see my mother waiting in the outside. She would first hug me, kiss my cheeks, then the dog would come running and start to lick. My mom would chase him out, saying nobody else is allowed to kiss my little angel. ‘Angel’!! The word used to strike me so much, sometimes I used to wonder. Then she would complain about how dirty my dress, and I would start to narrate all the stories in the classroom, the playground, how I outran my friends in football, the goal that I scored that made me so proud, and so on. My mom used to appreciate all, and tell me that she will come and watch me play someday. My mom cooked her favorite stuffs when I got back home; I used to grab them quickly, sometimes shared a little with pita too. Then it was time to play, with my grandfather and Pita. He used to take us to the valley, ‘rameetay dara’ – a hill of miracle.

The valley used to be green, with pine trees all around. Sunlight peeping through the narrow spaces of the dense Smokey woods, the sound of the windmill in the distance, the bird chirp from the woods above welcoming us to the narrow roads full of small colorful wild flowers. So colorful!! I would pick them up and my grandfather would tell me the names of them. He used to take me to watch the birds nest, he said the nest is like the home where the little babes live and the father bird and the mother bird would keep them secure till they fly away. I used the think about my home; I could understand what my grandfather was talking. He would lift me up, ask me to remain quiet and walk down in the narrow path inside the woods. In the narrow opening of the bushes, almost invisible otherwise, he used to show me the nest. The neatly weaved nest, with three little eggs so secure inside. I used to watch them with wonders, used to think to myself – what a miracle! Then he would take me to where the wild berries grow. He would teach me the art of plucking them out.

We would run in the openness and he would make me realize how vast this world is. Pita would run in front, then me, and as we did, the pollen from the flowers would fly out. The sun would slowly start to set, we would see the cattle herd returning home, after them followed the flocks of sparrows, then the sun would slowly start to set between the mountains, and then the color of the sky would change. My grandfather used to tell me stories from the Hindu mythology about how Surya, Sun-God, plays a very important role in our lives. We would sit in the top of the hills; the cold wind from the plays below would slowly start to blow. He would secure me in his arms and I would ask him questions about the Gods, heaven, and questions that would sometimes had no answers. We would look up to the stars and he would tell stories about Gods and Goddesses who live in heaven. Sometimes the sky and the earth used to be so perfect that it seemed like we are already there. He had strange ways of explaining things, he would tell stories and relate to our lives and this used to make me wonder. Suddenly the stars would fill the sky, he used to point out to the constellations of stars and tell me their names, how they evolved, the stories, and how everything is connected to our lives. This would make me realize how vast the universe is, most of the time it was beyond my imagination. And then I would ask him to tell me stories about them all, probably the best way for me to understand. Sometimes the evening was not enough and he would break to continue the next day. I would insist to finish because incomplete stories would make me impatience. Then he would remind that mama’s waiting with my favorite food, which would melt my mouth. Then we would walk back home.

He passed away in a Spring afternoon, silently, after three days sickness. He had his friends and family, all his three sons around. They said he knew his death was coming. He asked my mom to read Gita’s final verse and he left all of them wondering what next, including me. I watched him from a corner, silently. He told me about life and death, told me that when we die we become a star. But he never told me that death means going somewhere, never to come back. I realized it soon after he died, my mom broke down inconsolably, and my father did too. Somehow I never realized what was happening, the night came. I took Pita to the field and we looked up to the stars, wondering he must have reached the heaven. I was happy for him, pita was not. Three days after my grandfather passed away, Pita left the home too, never to come back, leaving me all alone. We did not know where she went, tried finding it back but we could never trace her.

Life had to go on; everybody moved on, I would go up to my grandfather’s room to find it empty. My tears would flow uncontrollably, it make me realize that at times it becomes difficult to move on and get used to a new surrounding. I would run out to look up to the sky, nothing seems to talk anymore. My life changed after he and pita left us. Most changes in life are difficult, but we all move on.

Then, a new journey with my mama began…