Conversations with a self made man

And he said with obvious pride, "I am a self-made man". There was a glow in his eyes as he proclaimed his arrival, and spoke about how he had become successful. The important lessons from his life that future generations could look at and learn from. 

And I asked with humility, "So, how self-made are you really?". There was a twinkle in my eye as I stated the facts. Your origin is but the fusion of two cells. The unseen and unknown million sacrifices and choices of your parents, your family and your friends are but obvious. The unseen and unknown sacrifices of people you don't even know is not that obvious in your becoming what you are. Your physical growth is fuelled by the grains from the fields of a farmer. Your emotional growth is thanks to your family and friends and enemies. Your intellectual growth is kindled by your teachers, both formal and informal. Your being has been shaped by all these folks and the many thousands of encounters on your way. So, how much of what you are is self-made, how much of your life is really shaped by you?

And he said with a bitter smile, "It was my handwork, to overcome the circumstances that life placed in my path, that made me what I am". There was a twitch in his eyes as he defended himself, and provided his reasons for his success. 

And I said with a knowing smile, "So, who placed those circumstances in your path and why?". There was mischief in my eyes as I dished out my logic. Your circumstances made you stronger but who created those circumstances? Were those circumstances placed on your path so that you fail? Or were they on your path so that you could learn and become stronger? So, how much of your life was shaped by the circumstances and how much of your life was made by you?

"But it was me, I am a self-made man" he pleaded with downcast eyes. I asked, "But where is the self in all of this? Your parent's cells, a farmer's toil, a teacher's diligence, a family's support, a world's indifference, an unfavourable circumstance, an inglorious defeat, a famous victory, a worthy opponent, an able ally, a crooked accomplice, an honest teammate, a fortunate investment, a real estate boom, an undeserved pink slip, a well deserved bonus, and many more such life events. All of these shaped you, but which of these is self? Which of these is you? "

"So, what is self? If I am made of non-self elements and non-self moments, then what is self?" he looked at me with bewildered eyes. I said, "Just like a mountain becomes a mountain by the seismic changes in the earth, by the pull and push of the forces of nature. Just like a river becomes a river, by the million tributaries that join it, by the rain and clouds. Just like the earth, the sun and the stars come to be, so do you. You are one with everything else. Remember you take different forms, but you are a part of the whole. You become, but you already are. Drop the self, you already are."

Oh, this conversation between ME and myself......

Pigeons and Circumstances

One fine morning, my daughters were bustling with excitement. Two pigeons were busy building a nest in our balcony. We were going to share a corner of our home with a new couple and welcome new lives, new baby pigeons in a short while. Very soon, we saw two eggs and the girls were all excited about the happenings. Our house help swiftly came in one morning and decided that this was not the place for a nest and eggs. She was about to move it, when the shrill scream of my girls stopped her. No, please do not touch the eggs, if a human touches them then the mother pigeon destroys the eggs. It was our mission now to protect the eggs and help bring the baby pigeons to the world safely. We are in it together with the parent pigeons now.

Days go by, I am travelling on business and I get a video message from home. The eggs have hatched, the baby pigeons are out. I talk to the girls and hear the excitement in their voices, of seeing new life, of seeing God's miracle. Well, the baby pigeons are a bit ugly, nothing like they expected it to be. But,  mission accomplished, we were part of the guardian angel network that helped bring these pigeons into the world. Now, it is time to ensure they grow up into big healthy pigeons and fly away. I get daily updates of how the parents feed the young ones. We are disgusted by the amount of pooh these tiny pigeons excrete. The pigeons were not the role models for hygienic behaviour. But, we decide to ignore these small irritants as we were part of the mission to transform these babies into strong birds that are ready to take on the world. We are in it together with the parent pigeons, of course!

And then I come back one evening from work to a somber silent home, I wondered what died that day. And my wife breaks the news to me that one of the baby pigeons have died, that the girls are equally sad as they are bitter about it. My elder daughter shows her indignation when she cries "Murder!". The parent pigeons had killed the young one. Google research showed that some pigeons do that  when the young one is not healthy or when it creates too much of noise that threatens the nesting place. So that was likely, but it could also have been some other pigeon or predatory bird. The jury is still out on that. The next day however, the mystery deepens as the remaining young pigeon is also killed. It is a depressing sad day for us. We had taken on the role of saviour and guardian, now having failed miserably at it. We are not even sure if we were in it together with the parent pigeons, them being the number one suspects in this gruesome murder. Beyond the sadness and depression, this taught us one valuable lesson. Don't try to play God or guardian to anybody or anything. Your own life is not in your hands, you are but a tiny cosmic speck. Do the best you can in a detached manner. You are just a circumstance in other's lives and all we can try to be is a good circumstance. 

The old forgotten village square

I have been here for a long time. I have been around this peaceful village square now long forgotten. This small village square was often the meeting place for old souls. This village square was witness to the easy silence amidst slow conversation. This was where the breeze, the sunshine and the raindrops danced to the seasons and its changes. This was the playground for young children and their rattles. This was the battleground for the village elders and their squabbles. This village square echoed with the chimes of the village temple. This village square bustled with the festive happiness of crackers and sparkles. This village square had space for the divine and had time for his prayers. This village square that I stand beside was all that and more....

I have been here for a long time. I have been around this village square while it was being consumed by man's urbanisation. This village square was witness to the advancing frenzy of the city and its army of progress. This small village square was often the meeting place for big landowners and their business deals. This village square saw rough men in gentle suits in fast and heated conversation. This was the playground for the rich in their game of real-life monopoly. This was the battleground for some in their legal tangles over land and labour. The breeze, the gentle sunshine and the rain no longer danced in abandon. The chimes of the village temple rang hollow. The divine had to pay rent and time was costlier than money. This village square that I stand beside was once so much more......

I have been here for a long time. If I am honest, this is a village square that I recognise no more. Amidst the tall buildings and tonnes of concrete, this is no longer a village square. This is a place where people have no time for conversation, no patience for pleasantries, no space for divine. This is a place where the sun burns down my every fibre. This is a place where I crave for the rains to quench my thirst. This is a place where I feel rootless amidst the heavy winds. This village square I do not recognise any more. I am the last remains of a time gone by. It is time for me to go as well, it is time for me to fade away.......I am the last tree standing by the old forgotten village square.

New eyes

And I said, look at me with new eyes
Not the ones that can not see beyond
Not eyes that only seek the mirror
Not the ones that see just the glitter

And I said, look at me with new eyes
Only the ones that can see within
Only eyes that see us together
Only the ones that see the real

And I said, love me with a new heart
Not the one that wallows in pain
Not the heart that beats for itself
Not one that lives the selfish pleasure

And I said, love me with a new heart
Only the one that beats for yonder
Only the heart that beats together
Only one that lives the selfless bliss

And I said, look at me with new eyes
I found us together deep within
And I said, love me with a new heart
I saw the joy of oneness in me

Your Old Clock

Quiet mornings, still nights
No conversation, no dialogue
The only sound that remains
The ticking of your clock

Busy mornings, sleepless nights
Ringing phone, restless mind
The only solace that remains
The ticking of your clock

Travel mornings, hotel nights
Strange conversation, stranger bed
The only silence that remains
The ticking of your clock

Weekend mornings, late late nights
Groggy conversation, aching heart
The only presence that remains
The ticking of your clock

Or is that you I hear
in the ticking of your old clock
Or is that you I see
in the motions of my old life

The only presence that matters
The ticking of your clock
The only presence that remains
The ticking of your clock