Here is an intention
I hold for you
To be happy and
To be at peace with self.
Here is an intention
For you to be passionate
For life and to get
What you want from the same.
I intend for you
To inspire others and
To love wholeheartedly
And to show that love as well.
I want you to love
Not just others
But self too and
Respect what you got.
I intend for you to
Find what you are looking for
And then be at peace
With what you find.
I want you to
Be bold in wanting
To be positively sure and
Surely positive in life.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
A grieving Mumbai
Mumbai is grieving, along with the rest of India. Who knew a group of merely 15 men could not only bring the whole city to a standstill, but could kill people, more than 350 and injure much more, so effortlessly and with such lack of emotion. Who could think they could bring resources and ammunition in such manner and with such ease? Where are those politicians now? And what sense of duty have they shown? If they did have one, they would have simply resigned. Where are Bal Thackeray and the MNS activists? "It is a big city, and these things happen." Says the Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister, R.R. Patil. “They had plans to kill more than 5000 people…” He goes on. As if, it’s an achievement they killed a mere 300(!).
My heart bleeds to think of the trauma thousands of people must have gone through. I feel the same dread I'd have felt if a group of strangers would have walked in into my home and violated my space. I too am grieving like the rest of Mumbai. I don’t know how to express this helpless anger, except may be through this post. All I have done for the past 48 hours is being glued to the television and the newspapers. At one point it seemed like a Bollywood flick, but a never-ending one. But all the more bone-chilling because it was all very much real. The eerie silence and tension on the Mumbai roads (even in Dadar) the day after was very real.
The trauma of the family and friends who have lost their loved ones and of those who were stuck in their rooms for hours is something beyond me. I cannot even begin to think of the terror the staff must have felt, and yet, they were driven by their sense of duty to protect their guests. The terror of those who were stuck in their hotel rooms for hours and hours, with only tap water to drink, and may be, some tidbits to eat (and may be not even that). The uncertainty of death looming in corridors and of not knowing which room it shall knock. Of being marooned in their rooms for hours, with hopes of being rescued, but ending being charred to death. Of being reunited with families after some gruelling hours, of not knowing whether he or she will live.
The death toll is now slowly coming in. The official figure says a 183 currently. But they were more than just a number. They were individuals who were not supposed to die. Not like this. Least like this. And they left in their wake their families who would continue to be haunted by frantic text messages and whispered pleas of help. My heart goes out to them.
And then there were individuals who gave up their lives on the line of fire, that is, the security forces. Literally so. Police officers, firemen, National Security Guards and army men who did not return. I salute them. I salute their courage. And I salute the hotel staff who thought first of their guests and then of themselves, if at all. I salute the ordinary man who came out of his or her home to help those on duty.
I have seen many acts of terror in the past and every time it happens, I cannot get used to it, cannot accept it, lying low, irrespective of its degree or form. But this form of terror seems to leave me strangely helpless and yet frustrated and angry. The only way we can do justice to the sacrifices is by not forgetting it, by not wiping it off public memory.
I know it has been permanently etched on mine.
My heart bleeds to think of the trauma thousands of people must have gone through. I feel the same dread I'd have felt if a group of strangers would have walked in into my home and violated my space. I too am grieving like the rest of Mumbai. I don’t know how to express this helpless anger, except may be through this post. All I have done for the past 48 hours is being glued to the television and the newspapers. At one point it seemed like a Bollywood flick, but a never-ending one. But all the more bone-chilling because it was all very much real. The eerie silence and tension on the Mumbai roads (even in Dadar) the day after was very real.
The trauma of the family and friends who have lost their loved ones and of those who were stuck in their rooms for hours is something beyond me. I cannot even begin to think of the terror the staff must have felt, and yet, they were driven by their sense of duty to protect their guests. The terror of those who were stuck in their hotel rooms for hours and hours, with only tap water to drink, and may be, some tidbits to eat (and may be not even that). The uncertainty of death looming in corridors and of not knowing which room it shall knock. Of being marooned in their rooms for hours, with hopes of being rescued, but ending being charred to death. Of being reunited with families after some gruelling hours, of not knowing whether he or she will live.
The death toll is now slowly coming in. The official figure says a 183 currently. But they were more than just a number. They were individuals who were not supposed to die. Not like this. Least like this. And they left in their wake their families who would continue to be haunted by frantic text messages and whispered pleas of help. My heart goes out to them.
And then there were individuals who gave up their lives on the line of fire, that is, the security forces. Literally so. Police officers, firemen, National Security Guards and army men who did not return. I salute them. I salute their courage. And I salute the hotel staff who thought first of their guests and then of themselves, if at all. I salute the ordinary man who came out of his or her home to help those on duty.
I have seen many acts of terror in the past and every time it happens, I cannot get used to it, cannot accept it, lying low, irrespective of its degree or form. But this form of terror seems to leave me strangely helpless and yet frustrated and angry. The only way we can do justice to the sacrifices is by not forgetting it, by not wiping it off public memory.
I know it has been permanently etched on mine.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A meaningful life
Sometimes I feel I am living a rather small life… significant no doubt, but small. I would like to live more, be more, reach out to more people and nurture more the existing relationships. My personal and professional relationships are, no doubt, meaningful to me, but at the same time, I would like to do more.
When I try to think what could add more meaning to my life, I can think of the following:
Begin a new hobby
Learn a new language
Travel more
Spend more time with people, who matter
Dance
Write more
Do something creative
Meet more people
Make more friends
Nurture existing relationships
Watch plays
Exercise more
Eat healthy
Engage in conversations that would make me think
Earn enough so that I can do all these
It seems we all run after some goal of the other, thinking, “XYZ will surely make me happy….” But what about being happy in the present… in the here and now? So what is really stopping me to do all these things anyways? What am I waiting for?
At the same time, I AM grateful for all that I have been given in life. I have been most times of my life… for the friends I have had and for all the experiences of love (be it any and every relationship).
Gratitude is what I feel as currently as I write. I accept all I have been given, the good, the bad and the ugly. I accept and I move on. At the same time, I know I shall consciously and unconsciously work towards making life more meaningful, not only for me but for the people who surround me as well. A romantic thought? I do not know. And I am not bothered.
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