Star that was

The part of life that was lost, was infact never lost. We carry those memories alongwith in our lives. The fast track life that we lead may sometimes cover a thin blanket over them, yet once in a while, a fleeting moment brings them back as fresh as alive. Not sure if we are living those memories or memories are keeping us alive

Trust and mistrust

How and why one would trust each other ? What makes one to trust another being ? And what happens when one feels the other has betrayed that trust ? The ensuing  behavioural changes between two individuals with their own notions and ideas about each other be it between known individuals or unknown to each other coming together for situational needs forms a basis for the future bonding or breakups. Dramas of everyday life played around the universe across all domains ....

Another New Year ...

As one more tour comes to an end and the new year begins, Allo sends this beautiful poem , that's close to my heart .

" I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—
He must seek me would he undo the wrong
Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof

Hope 2017 ushers in more beautiful thoughts and events in life ....

Loosing

As the day winds up, a reflection of past few days and glance on a page which gets clicked on the laptop ..a beautiful poem on loosing ...

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/one-art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master. 
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
 I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
 —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Empathy for others

The true color of a person is always revealed the way they treat people who they pay for getting services, be it  maids, cooks, driver , barbar or for that matter anyone who are paid to avail a service.

Homestays are becoming a popular option for people to opt while on vacation which come in different price ranges. Being part of a homestay creation in a remote village which is more of a social initiative it's interesting to analyze the guests who have been visiting the homestay for their vacation . The poor farmer who has opened up his basic home to the idea of hosting guests to earn a livelihood ,goes out of his way to make his guests feel at home and does everything within his means to ensure they go back happy. At Rs.800/- per person per day, it's a steal deal of a birding destination. Many of guests do understand and pay little more the fixed amount, aware of the need of the farmer. And few others specially those who can really afford to pay that little extra ,will squeeze out the maximum during the stay and pay ONLY that much as the listed tariff.

Empathy is non existent in some people's emotion.

Confusion of moment

Past two days mulling over whether to take off for a driving holiday or not is what's playing on my mind. With whole lot of work in pending mode including a flying visit to Mongolia to attend a conference, which falls exactly during the festival holidays, one is confused to choose between that and a short family holiday. Yet nothing is more exciting as just dumping few clothes into a small suitcase and going on a unplanned family holiday which we three do so often 😀

When you meet someone from Vijaynagar

I can never control myself speaking to anyone who looks like someone from North east. Today at my regular neigbourhood restaurant I started chatting up with Asman who is a Gorkha from Vijaynagar , the last point of India on the easternmost border of India in Arunachal Pradesh. He decided to come all the way here with a friend when his children did not want him to work in forests ( probably illegal logging) . He was so happy to talk as this was the first time he could relate to someone who knew his village. His work as a helper in the restaurant earns him Rs.7,000/- + meals + shared accommodation and he hopes to send money home so that they celebrate the Dusshera in a grand way.

Little big dreams of people who migrate  from corner of the country to the other .....