Saturday, February 24, 2018

A Heart-Warming Tale

Eddie the Eagle

Apparently, a tad old review. Be that as it may, I wanna write it anyways.

This one is such a heart-warming true narrative of Eddie, a kid who aspires to be at the Olympics. The movie's director manages to create the endearing feeling for the protagonist by showcasing his zeal to participate in the Olympics, despite his shortcomings. You kinda get a feeling of having won a medal for Eddie when the only thing that he achieves is the minuscule victory of having qualified for the Olympics, and that too when there were hardly any stringent minimum qualifications laid for qualifying for participating in the Olympics.

Most of us are mediocre folks, who live a life of a cigar that is either smoked or trampled, all done too quickly. So, this one eggs us to dream, and go after it. Another remarkable point is about the freedom that Eddie's parents give him, especially his mom who is super-supportive of Eddie's dreams. Consistently, the endearing mom that she is, she puts his aspirations at the top of her list and forgives and encourages that self-motivating lad. And, all of this, despite Eddie's dad who had long given up on him. Wish we could have a person like Eddie's mom in our home team!

And, not really sure why the handsome Hugh Jackman would have wanted to do the role of a prodigal ski jumper. Anyways, good to be seeing him without the metal prongs.

Saturday, February 17, 2018


Looking in the rear-view mirror of your two-wheeler after you leave the parking lot is almost like the loving ritual of dropping a peck on your loved one when you say goodbye after you reach the destination; of course, when you are in a good and chirpy mood. And yeah, at times when you both are not really doing well after a 'i-beg-to-differ' situation, you have a second or two of gaining composure and you think on how you really want to word your bye--do I scratch and scar the scab, or leave it to rest for it to heal.

Something that I now remember is a quote that establishes a relationship between a person's outlook and what they do in front of a mirror. It goes something like 'you really have a bad sense of humor if you don't smile at yourself in the mirror.' Long live such quotes, because at times, in our dreary lives, those are the only times we smile.

So, I park my vehicle and the rear-view mirror on my two-wheeler invited me as usual. I look at the speckles, on my face and on it. No... I only realize the speckles on it after peering deep into my face for a good one minute. And then, slowly I see those aberrations distracting me. Something like, you instantly are able to realize how you are doing on the outside almost instantly as you see yourself. But then, getting to notice the speckles on the mirror is like realizing how well you are doing in the inside, and it is not on a normal day that the aberrations show up. It actually interferes with what you are seeing—the physical self—your thought that you are doing just fine. However, think about it...

Blessed are those who realize this intervention and set on the act of cleaning the mirror, of getting rid of the distortions. You give the speckles a cursory wipe first; this is that acknowledgement thought on something that is bothering you. And then after the wipe, you see those stubborn speckles, the one that is much deeper that you thought; that's the root cause that you manage to point fingers at. Then you employ your nails, or apply pressure and try hard to wipe things off clean. After the job at the epicenter is done, you work on the inner edges to finish the cleaning. Ta-da! Now you are able to see things really crystal clear. There...! isn’t it obvious that after you mend the inner stuff, you look even better on the outer.

And there are times, when things are going too fast, you know there are specks but then you lose control of things, the mending act gets sidelined, and then you go down the spiraling path! Something like, you are late to a destination and just happened to wipe your mirror after you started the bike, and then realize those speckles. You cannot cleanse when your mind is in a chaos; it is impossible to mend it when you are in haste. You've got to pause, stop, mend, and surge ahead.

From introspection to mending stuff! I wish the realization and the mending act was as easy as realizing the specks on the mirror and cleaning it, partnering with time and priority!

Friday, February 09, 2018

The Growing Neem

About a year ago, at about eight in the night
when I was among the lot after a day's fight,
I saw a sapling in an almost wretched state.

Hardly did I know that I were to seal its fate.

I did see a steel strap beside the stooping sap,
And wanted did I to mend its breaking back.

I choked its neck with this rusted strap.
I was yelling at it, 
'think of yourself steady and strong!'

I fought until I stitched it back to its kin,
Even though I knew I was hurting its skin.

I left it there, hoping to have done a job so fair.

Today, it was just about the same time,
after a day's work not so fine...
I see a strange groove on a growing tree.

Hey...! He's the same dude who was so helpless 
and let to sway until he almost fell.

Now, here he is, grown twenty feet tall.
Proud was I to have seen him done so well.

But then, hold on for a second y'all...

This trough on his trunk that is running around
and about five feet from the ground?

Was I the one who left that scar?

I wonder about the neem's tale to the leaves!
Am I being damned or being thanked,
for the scarred life or for the breath of life?

Friday, February 02, 2018

Your Beautiful Eyes

The steady flicker of your naive eyes
always marked by a carefree candour
that which feast on the world's wonder,
and drenching it
with an imagination so splendour

Is like

The flame of a divine lamp
that which drinks the ether around,
neither too fast nor too slow,
living its fullest life
in each moment of its lustrous glow.

Beautiful, isn't it, to see...
both dancing
to the song of a thanking ode,
for being blessed to just be?

Thursday, January 25, 2018


The point is not just about 
taking the blows or your deftness.
It is about being able to realize 
that you are about to be blown.

But, it is not that easy with words.

You... your mind may be poisoned 
without you being cognizant of it.

That is the difference...

in refusing to take poison
versus realizing 
that you are being poisoned.

We ought to be agile and immune.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018


How about this for a coincidence?

Long ago, when I had overcome a bout of greediness--OK... let's be a bit positive and call it enthusiasm, or love for books, or... eagerness, for lack of any other word--in buying books that have a good rating... I must talk about my book selection routine a little later; perhaps, that's an entirely different conversation (monologue?) altogether. Too much of meandering... I know. Anyways, the book, 'All the light we cannot see' by Anthony Doerr was one among them. And then, when I start reading it, I enthusiastically pursue the habit of jotting down the stuff that really impresses me, shakes me or whatever kind of emotion it brings out of me. So, of the three pages of ravings about the book, the one praise that I bother to write down is by J. R. Moehringer, author of Sutton and the Tender Bar. 

"Doerr sees the world as a scientist, but feels as a poet. He knows about everything - radios, diamonds, molluscs, birds, flowers, locks, guns, - but he also writes a line so beautiful, creates an image or scene so haunting, it makes you think foerver differenty about the big things - love, fear, cruelty, kindness, the countless facets of the human heart ... Doerr's new novel is that novel, the one you savour, and ponder, and happily lose sleep over, then go around urging all your friends to read - now"

It is indeed an amazing take on the book; no doubt about it. That is the reason why it takes a place in my beloved notebook. Now, the date was 28 Dec 2016. I have entries, more from books that I cared to leave midway, than from those that I bothered to finish. Just a rude reminder to myself that 2017 has been the worst of all the un-self years I have had to deal with so far. Un-self? I mean, not being myself or having very less time for myself. 

The last fews book that I read (in 2016) were 'Wonder' by RJ Palacio, 'When breath becomes air', by Paul Kalanithi, 'The One and Only Ivan' by Katherine Applegate, and in 2017, just one book: 'The Gita for Children', by Roopa Pai. And for the books that I deserted too quickly are Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild, David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, Malala's I am Malala, John Grisham's The Firm, Kiran Desai's Inheritance of Loss, Jennifer Niven's All the Bright Places, Atul Gawande's Being Mortal, Jandy Nelson's I'll Give You the Sun, Harari's Sapiens, Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, and Thich Nhat Hanh's Old Path White clouds. I know... Whatever!

And today, in a history of firsts, I manage to finish a book, and that's 'Open' by Andre Agassi. Rarely have books been able to catch my attention early on (he starts off like a wounded soldier and yet having to face the battle with such hate for the battlefield), and have made me read it till the last word. And this is one among such; I finished reading in one week, given my hectic schedule. In the last two pages of the book... a kind of closing statement from Andre, is the 'acknowledgements' section.

It reads, 'This book would not exist without my friend J. R. Moehringer. It was J.R., before we even met, who first made me think seriously about putting my story on paper. During my final U.S. Open, in 2006, I spent all my free time reading J.R.'s staggering memoir, The Tender Bar.'

And then, it is quite obvious that I would not remember that I had written that name a long ago, that too for some other book. I just happened to notice the name when I was about to jot down the difficult words in Andre's book on my notebook, and happened to peruse through the other entries that I had made.

Coincidence, right? I picked Moehringer's name so randomly, which was part of an praise list of some other book, and it comes back after a year in some other context; he is now the pseudo-author of a book that I manage to complete.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017


What do you wonder at, my son?

That the fragile flower
permeates cheer

while the fearless man
wilts and withers

under the light and glow
of our beloved sun?