Friday, January 24, 2014

#12 on facing criticism

When I think of the things that my mother didn't teach me while I was growing up, the first to make it to the list is how to handle sour criticism. And for the records, criticism is no stranger to none.

More often than not, the thin red line between appreciation and criticism is obfuscated. And like any other form of art, criticism too demands its share of appreciation.

But is it so easy?

Why is criticism so sour? It is because of the way it arrests our flow. Those who bare their teeth often do so on the weak, who rarely are equipped to bare the sight let alone respond to it. What starts as criticism fast descends to ridicule and derision generating some perverse pleasure for the so called critic.

Sleigh riding on someone else at his/her loss has been an ancient game of the world. This in no way says that everyone puts on the critics’ hat. It is just few who are at large with their lose tongue wanting to celebrate the rainbow while the sun sets upon us (not often).

A constructive editing receives a thumb up but the one with the absence of get up &get going approach certainly zips up the spirit with which a bird begins its day.

The real editor up there chuckles and leaves a deafening silence.

**************************************************************

Sunday, January 12, 2014

#11 smiles

                     The clock ticks and it ticks on its pace. Modern world is no longer walking with time, it is 24x7± racing. And as it races, human life in its transitional phase is going through the constant “sear and yellow leaf” (ref. Macbeth).There are challenges, there are demands. Each wanting from a modern man the result based deadline job done. Period. Spending quality time with family members, investing good loading time in the library or a soft pedaled walk in a less crowded no PDA ( public display of affection) garden, springing for some ‘me time’ becomes a luxury.

Look at this, the entire definition of luxury goes through a paradigm shift.

These days a walk into familiar, unfamiliar places is throwing upon light on strange long standing faces. Each time I offer myself feeling my oats, I come back lost like a ghoul in a seemingly never ending hurricane …Who took away their smiles!!??? What is it that buys them that peace of believing, life loses nothing as one wears those moisturizer? Smile moisturizes struggles,the life in Toto. It warms up others life, in return theirs. The luxury of giving doesn't end in buying materialistic twenty-first century accessories for the receiver. It multiplies, adds on when it dabbles back immeasurable happiness from unaccountable corners.  “What sunshine is to flowers smiles are to humanity.”

Humanity hasn't come to an age where it stands alone,orphaned. It still has a home and the door has to be left ajar.

*****************************************************************************

Friday, January 3, 2014

# 10 beginning

It is time to nail the end, end of a beginning. A new 365 will be up again the next time weekend weaves its way out in words.

Every beginning has a mosey walk: jellylike, unsteady…yet the joy in taking the walk resounds with cackle. That sums up joy. A beginning baskets trepidation, anticipation and stands on watchful grounds but nevertheless it leaps out cracking its shell.

To remain the coxswain from the alpha to omega becomes the mantra.

There might not be over our face new lights flickering right at a time when the world declares it to be a new day, a new beginning. Numerators change people do not, nor do the linking moments. A journey that begins in warm lap toddles out meandering on two feet. Time plays the mediator between change and events. And we wait. There are times when sorry feeling overwhelms us at the slightest pop of saying goodbye and then again there are times when we wait indefatigably for an end to happen. A monochrome voyage of impermanence in the undulant layers of life stretches out.

 The old escorts the new to its throne. With dead foliages the coming becomes sacred: pristine, puerile, worry jammed, worry free. A yesterday molts ushering today and tomorrow thereafter.

Twenty thirteen thus winds up waiting for a fresh bloom in the pot less than half filled and the rest well, not full; or with space.

**************************************************************************