Daring Greatly

Humans are beautiful beings. We are capable of so much. Of love, of compassion, of sympathy, of understanding. 

You are capable of feeling all warm inside when mum says she loves you so much and wants to be there to take care of you, always . You are capable of feeling warm inside when a tiny kitten stares up at you and shuts her tiny eyes in contentment as you tickle her little ears. You are capable of feeling warm inside when you see a truly selfless act. You are capable of loving someone so much that you cry your eyes out worrying over them, hoping they'll be okay. You are capable of withstanding the kind of emotional pain you never thought you could survive, and coming out the other side, still believing in the beauty of love, and of life.

It's how it is supposed to be. You are supposed to love fiercely, to fight fiercely, to express however you best express, and to know when to let go. Letting go is not losing something. It is freeing yourself. Freeing your mind of the tethers that hurt you, and of the false dependence you have on those tethers. You are capable of flying without them. They will only hold you back. So let go...perhaps, one day, they will come back and be the strength in your wings.

The power doesn't lie with the one who cares less in a relationship. They are just better protected from emotional pain. The one who loves wholly, freely, and selflessly is the one who dares to do so. The one who puts themselves out there, knowing the chance they're taking. The one who discovers the extent to which they are capable of love. So even when they are cast aside, when they are told over and over how much more in love they are than the other, they have a reason to smile through the tears - they are, at least, capable of so much love.

Lightening up doesn't imply caring any less. It means seeing the beauty in things and being happy with them. It means seeing things for what they really are, not what you want them to be, and smiling anyway. It means knowing that however bad things seem, they are shaping you into a stronger person. It means realizing that you learn something from every experience. It means taking chances, and not being devastated when the chance doesn't "work out". It means knowing that even if things don't work out, it is always worth the fight. 

Theodore Roosevelt will always be my favourite quoter: 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

No place for cold, timid souls.

Over-analyzing a Take-Off

It’s going by fast, it’s going by slow,

Racing on and on in a blurry glow,

Still dragging its feet, hovering over its seat,

Refusing to stay, refusing to start away.

Life seems confused, disjointed scenes,

My last year in the happenin’ teens,

It may seem odd (you may secretly nod),

But sometimes I feel old, already draped in mold.

Is that strange? I haven’t even begun,

I ain’t seen nothin’ solid yet, it’s all just fun,

I have a careful tread, but this unshakable dread,

That I’ll soon tire, lose all that fire.

A light that keeps me going, in the nursery of life,

I’m terrified it’ll be but a wisp amidst real strife,

All this waiting around, waiting for a dream to be found,

Am I wasting away, wasting every single day?

Wasting every day I wait to grow up,

Waiting for experience, in a magic cup?

Or shall I shake it off, stop awaiting a take-off,

Enjoy being naïvely gullible, before I have to be responsible?  

One way or other, happiness is what we seek,

Worry and frowns won’t help the weak,

If I think I’m not smart enough, I’ll try harder with stuff,

If you still think I’m a child, a mild rethink wouldn't be wild!

I Don't Want to Be Perfect

             There are those times in life when you feel so inadequate, like you want to be that little kid again, giggling over flowers, catching the pretty butterflies, having your cheeks pinched and pulled, running to mommy crying after a little fall, hiding in her dupatta when a big, grinning adult looms over you, and having not much else to care for. Nothing you do or say can be contested or challenged. Nothing makes you feel any smaller than your peers. No difficult feelings invade your mind and threaten to sink you under them.

When did all that change? When did life become such a competition? When did people start judging people based on their ideas of what should be? When did we start caring about how these people felt?

             Nobody is perfect, and neither is it humanly possible to fit every person’s definition of it. And yet, we are constantly after pleasing someone or other. Most prevalent on that list of ‘someone’s is oneself. Why do we expect so much from ourselves?

 Why can’t we love ourselves, just the way we are? Strive to achieve, put in our all, but know we could not have done anything differently and thus escape crushing disappointment, should we fail? Why do we try to excel at so many things and feel extreme discontent when we end up being a jack of all trades, master of none? Why do we start judging ourselves and condemning ourselves when we fail to meet expectations despite giving it our all?

             The above is the stupidest thing I have ever written.

 Obviously, the above rant is all true and the answer to each one is “because we are human!” We are a mentally backward species with the tendencies of a deranged lunatic throughout our lives. We are irrational, self-centered, and utterly petulant-child-like.

              We are easily bored, and in eternal pursuit of comfort. We handle the difficult stuff with a pair of extremely long tongs, held carefully away like the most viral disease in existence. We are under-confident and wildly hormonal. Always. Not just when a teen, or pregnant, or menopausal. Always. And we refuse to believe it! Our lives’ aims are to show everyone around us up. Stupidly, we think that miraculously makes us look better than the actual creatures we are. But, hey! That’s who we are!

              And I am fiercely, dangerous-escaped-convict-like, wildly, and passionately glad of the fact. An ideal world would be such a drag, no fun at all. What would life be like if we all reacted rationally all the time? The very basis of enjoyment in life is its sheer unpredictability. If everyone’s reactions could be predicted, our existence would be so …so… yawn…mind-numbingly boring!

              Strange as this may sound, I want to be capable of feeling crushing, heart-rending sadness. I want to able to enjoy the heady feeling of complete victory or achievement.  I want to be able to stand the alternate extreme, warm joy and tear-jerking pain of a blushing heart under the spell of another of God’s imperfect creatures. I want to feel the irrational, all-forgiving, blind and fiercely protective love every mother does. I want to be able to appreciate the restlessness of my mind when I’m in the dark about things, want to feel the suspense that accompanies every one of life’s tests, want to be scared and feel the joy of overcoming it.

  I want to feel imperfect, inadequate, so I can feel the drive that accompanies it to do better. I want to feel the crushing disappointment or discontent when things don’t go my way even though I tried my damnedest. I want to feel the happiness I do in beholding pretty flowers or graceful cats or adorable puppies or my own Austen-inspired fantasies. I want to feel my heart thud in anticipation, the heat rise to my face in response to an affront or much-appreciated compliment, and my legs tremble on a stage in front of hundreds. I want to feel the uncertainty and insecurity accompanying any unsure thing, want to feel the tiny triumphant feeling in going ahead with it anyway.

  I want to feel the extreme curiosity over anything that can inspire it, and the magnificent dissatisfaction with anything that attempts to quench it. I want to be able to blush at my own stupidity, and laugh at another’s. Above all, I want to change not everything, not something, not anything at all.

 Life as an irrational human is the best thing that ever happened to me. We can always learn, grow, improve or have the appearance of it, but essentially, we are the same interesting, unpredictable, child-like creatures we always were. And Thank God for it!

Avant-garde Avanti

IIT Madras was a strange, intimidating place when I first stepped into it. In fact, I was close to wishing I had never been so uncharacteristically mindless as to think I, the very opposite of a fiercely independent, never-tied-to-mummy’s-pallu possessor of a devil-may-care attitude, could actually survive in a place like this, full of the multi-talented brain-iacs of the country as it was.

           

Of course, as I often am about such things, I was dead wrong. JEE preparation was a difficult time, a whirl of confusion and the feeling that I was in a never-ending race for my life, which I managed to save by the skin of my teeth. I felt as if my existence would be even more difficult in this mean green jungle that was now my home. I am not proud to say I was not above the popular reference to a chicken.

           

As I got used to things, life became new and exciting. I was lucky enough to be able to explore everything that caught my fancy and develop every little talent I possessed. I was finally made privy to the existence of Avanti Fellows in this, my first year at IIT, and the work they proposed fascinated me. My worries seemed to shrink into nothing, and I was heartily ashamed of having such petty problems and fears. As I began to realize what this ambitious non-profit organization had set out to accomplish, I was awed by the sheer willpower behind such an aim.

           

Alumni from IIT Bombay courageously decided to form Avanti, a mentoring organization wherein underprivileged children of the 11^th and 12^th standards with big dreams are coached for JEE by students of IIT wishing to do so. I was initially apprehensive of being responsible for part of a student’s education so early when I was so unsure of my own, but the thought of all the better facilities I had during my own JEE training as compared to these innocent starry-eyed children steeled my resolve, and pushed me to help them in any way within my power.

           

I was made in charge of a lovely young girl in the 11^th standard, Vasuki, who had passed screening tests and was now a fellow at Avanti. She is always eager to learn and I do everything I can to clear her many doubts, all the while reminded of my own difficulties during preparation. That is the beauty of Avanti. Teachers are people who are willing to work out of goodwill, and have themselves experienced various entrance exams recently.

           

As enlightening as my experience with Vasuki was, an incident, which truly opened my eyes to the sad situation a dream without funding is in, occurred some time after my induction. I was assigned the task of paying home visits to possible new students for Avanti along with a second year senior, also a mentor. The purpose behind these visits was to talk to the students’ parents, put them at ease when it came to the start of their child’s experience with Avanti, and make sure that they were indeed of the underprivileged.

I was not prepared for what I next saw. The pride on parents’ faces in the houses we visited was evident enough, along with their happiness and sense of gratitude. Equally evident were the conditions they lived in, the tiny rooms and meager furnishing that were occupied with ease and no dissatisfaction at all. I was silenced, overpowered, humbled by their hospitality and happiness against all odds. Equally fascinating were the bright minds we found there. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that this country possesses talent everywhere, unbound by material boundaries, talent that deserves to be nurtured and honed.

I can neither understand nor speak Tamil. That did not keep me from understanding one mother’s emotions, fears and hopes as she conversed with my companion unaffectedly in the only language she knew. Her expressions said it all. She was determined to provide her daughters and son a better education than she had received. And she had succeeded already to a large extent, we realized as we conversed with her daughter.

We cannot deceive ourselves by expecting all the students (fellows) of Avanti to get into an IIT, but we can always strive to do all that is humanly possible to at least afford them a decent shot at it. Whether they make it past JEE or not, they will always be a better-informed set of individuals than they would have been without Avanti. It is this conviction that drives all Avanti workers and helps bring fellows closer to their goals.

I always look back at my unreasonable dissatisfaction at the beginning of my life just before, and at, IIT with a guilt which has taught me something priceless. I will always feel an immense sense of gratitude for being given what Avanti works hard to give its fellows: a shot at their dreams.

^ Avanti fellows during Shaastra, IITM's technical festival

Rain-maker Dhoble

                Combine sadistic inclinations, a lack of general knowledge, a studied search for old irrelevant laws, a sinister laugh and a bald pate and what do you get? A rain of misguided hockey-stick-brandishing lunatics, you say? Well yes, their leader, at least.

                Vasant “Rain-maker” Dhoble brings work to the Social Service Branch in the most effective way conceivable. The creative genius that hides behind his innocent salt-and-pepper moustached visage is a real delight to nobody in particular. But that deters him not! The sheer willpower that drives this man to incessantly hunt up those elusive, forgotten laws is condemnable...my mistake, commendable!

                The fighter is a man everyone is forced to look up to. His high-handedness besides, he’s lathi-charged against all odds to clear his name of alleged murder and continue as a shining beacon of morality today. This strikes no one as being gigantically ironic.

                The unique thought-process wherein invading the privacy of law-abiding citizens (or laws that make sense anyway) is considered acceptable, even downright necessary, is what sets him apart. In his impossible mission to show the power and activity of our preservers he stops at nothing. Accusing proper young women of prostitution because of his own ignorance of this world’s customs is just another day’s work for this young man. One can just imagine him blushing and muttering “Am I (MI)?” Cruise would probably choke at this reference.

                One can only imagine how over-stressed his limited mental faculties must be thinking up day-in and day-out which loopholes in our laws to exploit this time. They seem to be his friends, almost inviting him into every bar or nightclub there is and charging everyone present with drunken behavior. A startling image fills our mind wherein Rain-maker whirls around with a wildly happy look on his face and magically shuts off music and all activity besides chaining all his victims to the bar. One wishes he’d spontaneously combust with the sheer velocity of his rotation.

                But all our wishes to the heavens seem to bounce off him, and giddy as he may be with all that turning about, drunken he is vociferously not. Harassment charges have not yet reached his khaki-cloaked existence, and one dares not wish again.

                That he is a rave on Twitter seems to leave him publicly unfazed, and privately in moral dilemma, it is imagined. One does not often arrest oneself, and his unbelievable lack of common knowledge may leave him wondering at the best possible route by road to this Twitter place and how best to hush up all this nonsense about him. Nobody around him has either the guts or awareness to enlighten him. Or perhaps it’s his enormous stick that scares them.

                Anyway, party-goers are now in awful danger of developing a permanent crick in their necks from all that glancing over their shoulders. Doctors are increasingly worried about this threatening to become an epidemic. This impact on society has the incredibly sensitive Dhoble in splits and musings about his own greatness. Hold him in the tiniest bit of respect we owe every fellow human? As there are doubts as to the authenticity of that statement, I’m going to have to take a rain-check on that.

Mind's a Strange Place

How many times have you mentally scoffed at the maddeningly annoying amount of noise your we-take-this-route-together-everyday-whoopee neighbours on the morning bus manage to make, all seemingly fused to form one continuous  crap-spouting, mental-asylum-deserving flexible body, and how many times immediately after that have you suddenly and miraculously recalled similar embarrassing instances involving none other than you and your equally insane friends (though you dare admit that to no one but yourself. Learn to accept the hard truth.)? How many times have you condemned one of your love-struck friends forever to the island of There-Is-Less-Hope-For-Her-Than-For-Manmohan-To-Wear-Yellow, when she quite blindly chooses the wrong guy again, the stupid girl, and two seconds later recalled every one of your own failed and, sadly, stupider choices?

                ‘The point?’ you may well ask (probably damning this same piece as a piece of shit in your admirably well-read minds while secretly agreeing with every word, even recalling similar ‘It’s informal!’ instances of your own ill-received, it-hardly-qualifies-as-sense write-up). My entire point is to put on display (Aah.!) the immovable I-was-born-this-way hypocrisy of the human mind which is nevertheless acknowledged by itself, but never ever accepted. Or perhaps we were simply born senseless to our own senselessness while aware with all our (six?) senses of the same in others. Maybe we are selectively kindly and forgiving creatures, entirely self-centered. Or all born misanthropists.

                Whichever the case, it matters not. The conclusion is always the same. Everyone else is excessively stupid and oneself unimaginably superior in all one does. You RG everyone in the vicinity and the first instance of it you face in a situation unfavourable to you, you damn the person to the hottest confines of hell, the disgustingly selfish, unendingly contemptible weirdo. Tell me I’m not right…

                I certainly don’t pretend to be an expert in any way or sense on the bizarre workings of the human mind. I am merely an observer, who is herself not in any way immune to the very human nature I’ve tried to describe above. I’m probably more prone to that nonsense than anyone you know.

                Besides hypocritical, the mind seems to be a strange convoluted thing in more ways than one. It’s downright perverted. Let me try and explain. Can you deny that at least once in your life, probably too many times to remember, you have wanted something, or alternatively, someone with all you possess and on finally attaining the this-is-the-best-moment-of-my-life object of your desire, you’ve promptly lost all interest in it? As long as it was dangling there, elusive, you wanted it more than air (or so your utterly silly romantic heart whispered), and as soon as you touched it, the be-gone-you-repulsive-error-of-creation mode of your mind kicked in, effectively shattering the illusion.

                Perhaps we love the chase, not the finish. Perhaps we are strangely masochistic, and the pain of denial excites us more than attainment. I’m inclined to chuck the former goody-goody explanation off the nearest rooftop.

                With no effective conclusion in sight, I must abruptly sign off. There really is no end to speculation on the varied stages of degradation every mind is in. One can only hope the hypocrisy and perversion in oneself is muted at the surface. Though we may as well be trying to actually die of boredom. Alternatively, acceptance of oneself is, after all, supposedly the key to a happy life. Do I really believe that? Of course not, it’s a large vat of bullshit.