Lost

The beauty of the world around,
Freedom and the nature unbound.
Serenity and the peace within,
Are Lost, in the race to Win.

Losing is a sin, a deadly crime,
So much to do in such less time
The glittering world turning me blind,
I am lost, in the illusions of mind.

All faces look the same,
No side to take in the game.
Chaos and the voices so loud,
I am lost, in a small crowd.

The craving for love and care,
Deep impressions lying everywhere;
Solving the puzzles,connecting the dots,
I am lost, in the ocean of thoughts.

From one generation to another

My grand-father had passed away when my father was only ten years old. I have grown up hearing stories of how my grand-mother raised four of her kids (two daughters younger to my father) with all the grace and dignity. She sold her jewels to purchase farms which we still possess. My father and uncle (four years elder to my father) had to travel around twenty kilometers on feet every day to their school and back. They would give tuitions, work in the farms and even make and sell paper bags to support the family. We being Brahmins, my father would conduct pooja during wedding season. They had seen depravity, poverty and hardship to the extent that sometimes they had to bother about their daily meals. It would always fill me with a sense of pride when I would hear these stories. I would ask my grand-mother and my father about all these stories. There were villains in these stories and I would hate them. There were scenes and conversations in these stories that I would like to hear again and again. All of this was no less than a Bollywood melodrama to me.


There were few interesting incidents that are my favorites. My father had to go for an interview for a job in banking services. Nationalized banks at that time were the most coveted government jobs and a doorway to good life and social status. My father (19 and still an undergraduate student) and uncle (23) had both made it in the written exam and had to go to Patna for interviews. They did not have decent attire so that they could look presentable in an interview. This was an India of late 70s or early 80s, still British enough to care for these things. So, they tried to borrow clothes from friends and relatives. Till the last moment, my father did not get a shoe. And guess what, he went for the interview in a “hawai chappal”. At 19, he looked younger than his age and the interview panel was surprised. As soon as he entered the room, the head of the panel greeted him as “Welcome my little child, why do you want to enter a job at such an early age”? He was asked about Newton’s laws of motion, sanskrit shlokas, poetry and General knowledge. There is more to the story. The results would not be out for a year or so and all hopes were tied to it. My great grandfather had sponsored the application form for this particular exam and it was a big deal. My father could not afford giving too many exams too. He went to Calcutta just to enquire about the results from Banking Service Recruitment Board office. In those days, you would read the newspaper every day for news like job result and the wait could go as long as few years. He was disappointed by some clerk in that office who falsely told him that he has not made it. With heavy heart, he came back. And after few months, when he was sitting at somebody else’s place in the village, the local postman surprised him by handing over him his appointment letter which had asked him to join only few days later. At the time of joining, the bank needed some deposit as caution money. He did not have the money and could not arrange for it till the joining date. The bank manager would not let him join quoting rules. He was saddened and sat on a bench in the bank. There was another gentleman who was sitting on the same bench and he saw him disheartened and sad. He was an officer who had got transferred to this branch and was going to take over the charge as manager replacing the previous one. He asked him to sit for another hour till he took over the role, and then called him up and completed his joining process without any caution deposit.

And this is how life changed for him - from 20 kilometer walks to motor-cycle, from old clothes to nice attire and from nights with empty stomach to gulab Jamun and rasgulla. Many witness such dramatic shifts in our lives, but sometimes it’s so overwhelming that you feel the divine grace falling upon you in a limitless way.

I have seen and observed shifts in my life as well – from trains to airplanes, from stitched clothes to branded wears and from cycle to car. I would say that one whole generation like me has seen a shift in standards of living. The protagonist in a Bollywood movie has changed from a middle class, small-town unemployed graduate who has a sick mother and a younger sister (eligible to be married) to a careless, individualistic big city boy who is confused and entangled in on and off relationships and is inventing new definitions of freedom in his ways of living.

There is no doubt that we are a wealthier generation. But are we a happier generation? I am not trying to pass a judgment here. It’s debatable. All, I am trying to say is that the relative highs and lows in our lives could pretty much be the same. Let’s look at some other examples from my story -
My village is on the bank of a river and my father learnt swimming (he would swim in wells and ponds as well) in his early childhood while I learnt it only when I grew up. He would spend hours in the river and in the farms and playing outdoor games. I spent hours watching TV and playing video games. His parties would have roasted potatoes, rice and sabji and seasonal fruits like melons straight from the farm. Mine would have Pizzas. He would tune in at a particular time to a radio, and I would play the music in my phone anytime and anywhere. He would go to the temple every day to pour milk on Shivlingam, I would meditate now and then (art of living kind of courses) to achieve some peace of mind and release my toxins.


Once I walked the ten kilometer stretch my father used to walk to his school. Till then, I used to pity him. But my view changed. It was not that bad either. It was healthy and fun walking through those green paddy fields with moist and cool soil that would massage your legs if you walk bare foot. In fact, I carve for a lot of these experiences now. Many of us do. We go on treks where we pass through the farms and the rivers and experience the relaxation that nature fills in us. To bring those experiences home, we go to the so called natural spas.


I have a lot of good things about my life as well and my father has also moved on to a Facebook age (and he loves it). But, when it comes to life and about making it happier and better, it’s not about what time or era we live in. It’s about how our inner space and the experiences within are manifesting.