The Scenes of My Life

Scene one:

There is a house beside the tranquil pond with swans splashing in it.  And I am sitting outside the house in a chair with legs splayed on the table across it, in an  evening intoxicated with the ruddiness of the setting Sun .The cool breeze carrying the fragrance of flowers  is touching my every pore and rejuvenating them. I want to soak up this ambience. No work, no worry, no hurry. Only flowers, fragrance and feathers.

Scene two:

It is the surface of the moon and I am wading through the garden of stars with different colors. Here I meet Chanda Mama and he tells me how he was waiting for me to take me through the orchard of chocolates and rivers of milk. He shows me the fairy with whom my mom had promised to marry me off. She is stunningly sultry. Chanda Mama leaves me be alone with her for few hours.  When I go close to her, the meaning of beauty gets a new definition. She embodies the word beauty in every inch of her body. Her juicy lips, curvaceous hips, fragrant hair and skin fare cast a spell on me. I am captive of her existence. I want to clutch her in my arms and become a part of her for the eternity.

Scene Three:

It is a night of Madhuvan, and an adolescent boy with a peacock feather sticking out at his turban is playing a flute. He is lord Krishna with his flute, creating magic and making all gopis (including Radha) and cows go mad for him. I have only heard about this musician’s ability to conjure up a spell that helps one  forget that is trivial(the temporal yearnings) and achieve that is magnanimous (spiritual acme), now I am watching him in person. The sound of his flute is so mellifluous that even sweetness of honey will feel ashamed. For the very first time in my life I am having a taste while listening to a sound. The dark and handsome lad is a sorcerer. When I lift my eyes up to the sky I see something that is unbelievable. The stars and the moon are dancing to the tune of the flute. And all planets are swaying in a rhythm to the sleight of the sound from a person who will recite one day verses to argue the meaning of life and death in this universe.

By now I must be sounding mad to you, but this is what I would like to be in the extra two hours that I get in a day. I would like to be mad and foolish and relinquishing all rational and reason to enjoy a part of life that I might never get to savor if I think practically. I would like to live all these scenes on daily basis with some variations of course to experience happiness that I might never taste amid the demand of the life to be rational and practical.

The way stains are good for cloths a bit of madness is good for mind!

P.S: This write-up is the part of a contest being held by Surf Excelmatic at Indiblogger.

The Journalism that Jars

Yesterday, I was watching the news on Zee News at 10 PM in Hindi. And it had its presenter: Punya Prasoon Bajpai.

There was news on the nose-diving plight of the Kingfisher Airlines. The presenter briefed about the news to the audience and entailed how the crony capitalism has been responsible for the deplorable state of the airline.

Mr. Bajpai was rubbing his palms frequently (that can be termed as his style) and making all roundabout sentences that he is famous for to make the audience understand the occult reality behind the Kingfisher’s plight.

What amazed me was the insensitivity with which he presented the news. He even sprinkled his inopportune smile on the news as well. Though his rubbing palms and inappropriate smile may sound natural and appropriate to many of his regular audiences, but to me it seemed out of the place.

 I mean as a news presenter he should be aware of the fact that such news has two aspects. One is related with the newswallahs being excited about being able to understand the nitty- gritty of a situation (good or bad) that is transpiring or transpired and other aspect is about those people who get affected by the activities related to the situation (news).

What I am trying to say is that when there are talks in the air about the Kingfisher Airlines being on the verge of shutting down, it directly means that there are people who will lose jobs. And such news should be tackled with utter care that it doesn’t hurt when it is informing.

I know that I am not a part of the intelligentsia that these senior journalists are, still I am of the opinion that such news demand sober and sensitive attitude. Patrakarita (Journalism) is not about only informing but also about how it is informing. Feeling elated that you have presented the news and used all your trademark sentences (without caring whether they are intelligible or not) is doing injustice to the responsibilities attached to presenting a news.

Digital age journalists should understand that it is not the omniscient-beard or the squeaky-clean suits that make a presenter worthwhile the job but the attitude adopted towards presenting the news-piece.

I think that the race of TRPs have squeezed the anxiety and restlessness (that a gloomy situation engenders) from the minds of people who were once regarded as thinkers on social upheavals (developments).

P.S: I don’t have anyone, be they relatives or friends, in the Kingfisher Airlines. I don’t have anything against Mr. Punya Prasoon Bajpai at personal level either. The views are just the outcome of the observation of a situation.

Air and Hair!

I have experienced some amazing and beautiful moments of human hair. Being air works to my benefit to know about the characters of a host of hairs to a tee.

When I breeze through the hair of a child, it makes me pure and innocent as well as the child itself. I get lost in the silky smoothness of cherubic hair. When I find myself unable to control my anger (that gets manifested in shape of storms on occasions), it is the innocence of these hairs that help me calm down.

When I breeze through the hair of teenagers, I get shiver. They have a tense hair. Tension of exams and their Ex-es is always entangled in those hairs. But you know what these hairs also swing with the dreams of future! I love the complex beauty of such hairs.

The hairs are at their raunchiest when their owner is in love.  They are, round the clock, in a trance that is away from any realization of time or space. To be part of such hairs is about losing one’s existence and becoming a part of the emotion-- called love-- that humankind has understood less but claims the opposite. Every curl and every swirl is smeared with fragrance of that person who has conquered the heart.

The hairs of parents, who are busy completing every ritual religiously of their daughter’s marriage, are quite an emotional one. Despite a dream getting shaped, the hairs are as much restless as the heart is. They have an amalgam of emotions entailing simultaneous grief and glee.

The grey hairs have twilight of time splattered over them. These hairs are embodiment of experience, struggle, and achievement: experience of the life, struggle of the world and achievement of the efforts. These hairs have a foresight that sees the end that is eternal yet inspiring to live on.

Love your hair because it expresses you in return. And its expression is its love for you. Indeed love is a two way street.

P.S: This article is a part of competition being held by Dove titled: Love is a two way street, love your hair and it loves you back.