A truck load of dreams

My Dear Chitin,

     Do you know that I used to forget your name so easily that every time I wanted to call you I would sit and think"whats his name- Salim..no no, Hussain no no......." and then I would go and ask some one whats the name of the person working in the smelly place. On one such occasion I asked "what's the name of CHITIN?" to our pathologist and from that day on, my phone always displays CHITIN whenever you decide to give me a call. 

     I read your post again today and the angel read me out your latest one and to tell you the truth I am inspired by what I read. Only a person comfortable with his past can enjoy the present. We find a lot of people around us who like to advise us and who laugh at our expense. Very rare to meet someone who is so comfortable at laughing at oneself, so comfortable with his past that he is at peace with whatever is happening around him. Reading your latest post gave me that impression, someone who is proud of most of his past and trying to accept what he is not so proud of. 

     You are spot on when you said that we enjoyed the nonsense debates even when we were shouting to make sure that our views always won. Sometimes I debated just to enjoy. But strange as it may seem I found you more like me than me. I could sense that you relate to my thoughts and it was just a matter of time before both of us agree that both of us were wrong. Others reading this might not even understand what I am talking about, but you would understand it when I say that we have to start expecting more from them. We should simply stop accepting mediocre people simply because they are hugely popular. If we dont raise the bar ourselves, no one else will do it for us. 

     I am in a dreamland where all you need to dream is a truck load of money. A land where my boss always reminds me of the pending work to be done even on weekends. A land where I spend more time travelling than talking to my friends. A land where I feel that some one is always behind me waiting for the first chance to overtake me. A land where I find that the guy who just overtook  me used to be my friend once. 

     A land where all you need to dream is a truck load of money. A land where my boss keeps me on toes to make sure that he can start dreaming one day. A land where my friend overtakes me just to make sure that he too can start dreaming one day. A land where I am willing to spend more time travelling in the company vehicle than talking to my angel just to make sure that I can start dreaming one day. Then I read posts like yours and I am reminded that there is no place for regrets in life. Only people who have the ability to laugh at themselves will ever succeed in living their dream. For when we are able to laugh our mistakes, our situations, we slowly become comfortable with our existence and it is then that we start dreaming.

     Its very easy for us all to forget the simplicity of life in this land of dreams. Do you remember I said I felt inspired when I read your post. At least till the time the post was read out to me I was dreaming and I have to thank you for that. I am inspired and I did something that I have longed to do for some time. I decided to do what I enjoy doing the most and that is to write something that doesn't make any sense. 

Let me get back to reality now. Have to wake up early tomorrow in search of my truck load of money.

Sam

Note: For those who are wondering whats this all about just follow the links below.
http://rainymonsoonday.blogspot.com/2011/07/freedom-of-birds.html#comments  and the reply I received.
http://ottamyna.blogspot.com/2011/07/letter-to-sam-from-my-heart.html?showComment=1313176551653#c7693729665276951298


If you are still wondering then do not worry. You are not alone.

The US National Debt- Staggering

An article on US national debt  (http://usdebt.kleptocracy.us/). An excellent article. The link works better. Check it out.

In flight entertainment

     With dreams about the future I boarded the A380 on wings of hope, to a new beginning. Within its huge body was an even impressive interior. It was not my first meeting with the giant. The last time I met him, I was seated in the first row. This time I was allotted a seat somewhere in the middle. If there was a -(minus) sign in google for airline seats I would have -ed (minused) the middle rows. The only plus this time was that I got a chance to check out the length of the plane and this time he seemed as immense as he seemed the first time I saw him.

     The last time I traveled in it I felt like I was in a baloon. I could feel the flight, but there were no vibrations, no noise. This time around I could feel the flight, there was noise, vibrations and the usual headache. I was seated right on top of the wings. I exchanged my window seat with a gentleman in the aisle seat. He must have wondered what made him agree to my request after he changed seats. All that he could see was the huge wing and absolutely nothing else.

     The in flight entertainment was great but I decided to skip it for something worthwhile. I decided to read a book- "ZAHIR". The plane took off without me even realising it. The book carried me through the take off and it was not until the flight had reached its cruising altitude that my attention was drawn to a person sitting on the other side of the aisle. (I should call him something as he is the main character in this incident and after a lot of thought I have decided, I am going to name him Sameer for this post, my name.) He was one of those who was more interested in what was playing on my screen than his own. He must have been disappointed as my screen was switched off and I was busy reading my book. He then tried to read my book from his seat and that drew my attention to hime. I gave him a wierd smile, the 'I caught you - you idiot' smile, the same smile that my friends used to give me whenever they caught me flirting with a girl. I decided to end his misery and show him the name of the book. I was irritated. I closed the book and thrust the cover page of the book right in front of his face as if inviting him to have a look. A girl wandering in a desert. In the center was written the author's name in white bold letters and the the name of the book was printed in the lower part in black italicised  fonts. Sameer returned me a smile, the 'I am sorry - but this is what I usually do' smile.

The freedom of the birds

(A letter from Sameer and my reply to it)

My dearest,

     Its been five days now and I am stuck at the first line. Do you remember the story that we used hear when we were young? The story of a small boy who wanted to fly, who wanted to feel the freedom of the birds. Yet he never jumped off the cliff fearing that he might never be able to see his loved ones again. He wished that one of his friends would push him and set him free, but they never did. He stood there, holding the parachute in his hands, wishing that it was an angel who would always land him safely. He stood there, for eternity, waiting for this angel. I have been feeling the same for quite some time. I want to feel free again but I fear the angel will never come.

     You always knew that I had something to tell you, something that I was hiding from all. Five days back I finally found the courage to sit and scribble something to you. I have managed to write "My dearest". I am holding the parachute, I have been holding it for a long time. You have been with me all through my life and its only you that I always turn for help when I am lost. And I am lost again. I am holding that parachute again.

     Eda, after seven long years, I am leaving this place, a place that has given a lot to me. This is where I chose to hide when the whole world seemed to be working on a plan to wreck me. This is the place where I found that I had the strength to fight, the strength to carry on in the midst of all those struggles. And yet when I think of leaving, I am not sad. I am not sad, because I am moving out with renewed hope, dreams and intent. Those hopes and dreams were kept alive, not by me alone, but by family, friends and friends of friends. Some of them live here, right here with me in this remote inhospitable desert.

     Someone has rightly said, any place on earth is only as good as the people you know there. You can be in the most sought -after place in the world and still feel empty without friends. There are some who don't like this place, always whining and cursing their fates. But what I found here was a treasure of some fabulous friends. I once thought that life in this place was not for us, but now I know, friends like these make life a paradise, anywhere in the world.

     You know each of my friends here. All sorts of nationalities and languages, but something common binds us all. We have shared almost everything from bed sheets, towels, to personal life and secrets. Its a bond that is made strong because of the sharing. We shared because we knew that the secrets shared with friends will never come back to haunt us. But something is haunting me now. I want to free myself, I want to feel the freedom again. I want to jump. I want to tell them all that I have hidden.

     I tried jumping, many times in fact. The last time I tried, we were in one of those parties that we have for no reason. Everyone was there. It was my vacation party. We were celebrating and everyone of them was there. The US returned scientist who really thinks he is working very hard, the smelly chemist who loves types of music that our mediocre sense cant comprehend, the cricket team captain who bowled 15(FIFTEEN) wides in an over, the manager who is the only senior citizen in the group, the statistician who always got his personal calculation wrong, the body builder who appears from nowhere whenever we open a can of juice, our only chain smoker and of course the anti-mallu whom I always love to pick a fight with. We all are fortunate that we have such a great pool of guys, fundamentally different yet who found something in common that made us all friends. . Trust, truth and openness. Even when we fought we knew that all of us were genuine and truthful. Laughing out our worries was fun with them around

What do you do when your blog doesn't look classy?

     Its been quite some time since I have used the designer settings of the blog. My original blog had a bland feel to it. But that didn't stop people reading it. With the tools available at that time I was able to present a simple template, which was not very bad when compared to the other pages at that time. I had some followers as soon as I started, mostly my friends and it kept the fire going during the early phase of my blogging life. Once I made it look a little pleasing to my eyes I stopped tweaking it. It has been the same ever since.

     Now that I decided its time to go anonymous, I had to start all over again. How do you do it? 

1. Do it yourself; the hard way: These kinds of jobs takes time and practice. I was short on both counts. I made a template which seemed very good to me. Then I visited some of the popular new generation blogs. Some of them were so good that I mistook them for websites. So I started my search. I wanted to widen the area available for the post. Someone in the web suggested that I should change the HTML settings!!! What was HTML? The search began. I found it, but couldn't find what settings to change. I read the lines one by one and finally zeroed in on some numbers next to the word "width". I changed the numbers. And there it was, the width increased.  
2. Cant do it yourself, then copy it from others; the easier way: I had to put tabs for my links. But I had no pages to link. So I had to learn how to make pages before linking them to the tabs. Then I learned that the information on the tabs was from an old web site. Google had made the process simpler. They had made a gadget for it. I started using the gadget. It was so user friendly. I finished the same job in 10 minutes, which took me 3 days to learn and make manually. And the new tabs looked cool. But my heart was with the first one. It was the first link that I made. So I decided to keep both. One on top of the page just below the header and the other just above the footer.                                                             
3. Ask someone else to copy it for you; the easiest way: Still not satisfied with the way my blog looked, I decided to seek advise. Who will do this for me? I searched for active bloggers in my friend list and I found someone. He works in the building next to me. I met him on chat. Fixed up an appointment and as always was late for the appointment. He was waiting for me. Water was boiling in the coffee maker and two beautiful blue but narrow mugs were ready, with sugar and nescafe in it. Coffee was ready in an instant. I opened my page, logged in my blog and handed over the control to him. One by one he changed the settings. Showed me the controls. By the time we had sipped the mugs dry my blog was ready. It had a classy look to it. At least compared to what I had achieved, it was classy. Then we discussed a lot about the templates, colour schemes, styles of presentation and more. Two hours of discussion was worth more than three days of online self help tools.

     After all this I finally realised, when you have someone willing to copy it for you then it is better to skip points one and two. The most important benefit..... you don't have to make the coffee. After all the work gets done, we should not forget to thank him for the help. We never know when we might need him again.

    So Mr O......., Thank you very much for the coffee. You make some really good coffee and I will be back for more. (This guy is still not following me)

Raffle Funding

Another school day. Another chance for the school to spend. Sorry. Another chance to spend for the school !. At first instance it is difficult to spot the difference between the two. It was difficult for us to spot the intention of the school. Was the school spending for us or were we spending for the school.

Whatever the explanation be, we all enjoyed the school day. Raffle tickets were of course a major attraction for me. It gave me an equal chance, a chance to to win something. It didn't seem right. I was one of the most sought after boys for dances and plays. But it was very rare that I won anything.

Teachers those days would beg me to join their team. That would solve one of the main problems you face in an all boys school. Very few boys matched up to me in a girl's costume. I had something extra in me. No No. Not in the anatomy. But teachers always preferred me in a girl's costume. They didn't have to bother to look for another girl and the hidden benefit- they didn't have to to offer me any substantial role. No wonder I never won anything. I would always end up doing silly roles. I remember, once I was a goddess, next time Virgin Mary, then a mermaid...

Letters close to my heart

I have vivid memories of my father. I always relate him more to general aspects of his persona than to any specific incidents in life. I lost him quite early in life, probably even before the time when I understood the meaning of death. I do not remember many specific incidents as such. Of the few that I remember only a few stand out. Not because they were special to me but because I feel that things could have been different if we had put in a little effort.

I still remember the day when I saw my father spending an entire evening reading a letter, a letter which was probably not more than 25 lines. In those days we had the inland letter and it was the only way to get connected with people we miss.My father worked a good 700km away from his home town and we saw our family only once a year during the summer vacations. Its more than 17 years since that day and I still remember that evening. Why was he reading the letter again and again. I was 10 or 11 years old, not old enough to understand what was happening and not mature enough to be explained.

A few years later I learned that the letter was from my paternal uncles. Three of them in fact. There was a property dispute going on and that letter was a sort of final agreement/settlement agreed upon by the three. I was a bit older and it was starting to make sense. But I was still not mature enough to be informed about the contents. Being young it gave me a great sense of pride when I was involved in serious family discussions. It made me feel mature, big. Which of course I was not. I was small and was as immature as anyone of that age could have been.

It was even later, long after he had left us that I became mature enough to be told. I always took the effort to make sure that I do not ask uncomfortable questions, thinking it might hurt people. Later I realised, my thinking was all wrong after I understood that by not asking uncomfortable questions I always ended up creating confusion, which more often than not, hurt everyone involved .

Coming back to the letter. One fine day someone realised that I should be informed and out came the secret.

I was surprised, to say the least. The letter informed that my father's share of the property had almost been overlooked when they decided to settle the dispute. Having equal claims to the property, he should have been more demanding. But he was not. My mother and brother recalled days when he used to read the letter again and again, alone in his room and cry. As I said I was surprised. Not by the contents of the letter. But by my father's reaction to it.

He was never a person who cared a damn about money. I always remember him as someone who never hesitated to share his income, even if it came at the cost of his family. He would have felt bad about missing out on his family's share, but I couldn't accept that it was something that would hurt him that much. And it is something that he has passed on to his sons. I don't recollect my brother ever thinking twice in money matters. And it is an attitude that has passed to his sons. And it is that inherited trait that I saw in my brother, my best friend when he supported for my studies, sacrificing his life and career.

But why would he read the letter again and again. That too alone. And not willing to share it even with his family.

Some strange incidents in life make us realise how stupid we were. It was not until I went through a life changing experience myself that I understood the depth of what he must have gone through. For some stupid reason I had to part ways with my cousin who was very close to me. He was like a godfather to me. Never in my life had I ever dreamt that this would happen. Not even a remote chance. I always took him for granted and I never thought of the possibility that things would go sour. He had a very difficult choice to make. I intend to write about it later. He had to choose  And rightly so, he didn't choose me. I know it was the best decision he could have taken. But I am still bitter. Not because he chose his life. But in doing so I lost my brother. Someone whom I used to look up to and always trusted. A loss that cant be explained. One day changed everything. Its days like these that make you loose trust in relationships. He was always there with me and for a stupid reason he chose not to be there for me anymore.

I tried to be bold, angry, confident and unaffected, but deep  inside I knew that I had lost something valuable. I have changed a lot after that. It has made me strong. Very few people mattered more to me in life, and I have learnt to put things in perspective.

Sitting alone I couldn't help but cry at my loss. I lost my cousin, my brother, my role model. But I couldn't let others know that I was weak.

And I slowly realised something about my father. He too must have felt the loss. His brothers. When they choose the little property over their brother. They lost him. And he lost them. Now I know why he cried. I always knew he would never cry for the money. He decided not to reply to the letter. That letter was with him till his death. I found the letter in one of his dairies. And he might have died, probably still regretting the loss.

Now I understand why he chose not to involve us, his sons and wife in it. I was immature. I would never have understood. And it was his loss. His alone and no one would understand. I don't know if anyone understands or even appreciate it now. He couldn't show us his heart. We would never have understood. The fact that we lost money would have blinded us. I understand now. And it is pointless. He is dead.

I could have done more to patch things between them. Could have pushed him more to follow his heart. I know he would have melted, he loved them so much. Now I know its not until u experience something similar that you understand the pain. Death is not the only way to loose loved ones. Its easier to loose loved ones to your own ego.

I am more mature. Mature enough to let my ego take hold of me and not even try to forget and reconcile with my cousin. Maturity obviously comes with other perks.

I long to be immature again one day. I know I will. But I am afraid, afraid that I will be late. Late like my father.

His sons must not inherit that.

Anonymous

Wanting to react online has its own perils. I was amazed to see the info google gives when my name is searched. Some a bit controversial, some a bit personal. For someone who always believed in the opposite, the joy of being anonymous comes as a pleasant surprise.