blank

I believe that all moments in a desert are the same. The light tricks you into thinking that time has passed. A breath, a blink,all tricks of your mind. Everything stops. The dunes shift,your soul withers. The sand flows over your body endlessly. You almost don't notice that it scorches. It burns. The desert is a dangerous place. It is because all moments are the same in a desert.

A Message

As I looked out the car window from the back seat of the Audi on my drive back home at the dreary gray winter landscape, I noticed all the trees and wooded areas that dominated the view. There were no leaves, not a sign of green anywhere. They were bare with no sign of life; they were brown the colour of the earth. The only signs of life were on the road - in the cars all around. Red, blue, green- every colour and shape available.Winter does strange things to colour, it's almost as if someone turned down the contrast in the view or dipped it in gray.

I closed my eyes and thought of the time before all the iPads and the iPhones. Of the time before super computers and men on the moon.The time before the talkies and Alice in Wonderland. Before the Lord of the Rings and Columbus, before Industrialization and Renaissance, wooden tools and even the first wheel. The time before the first man. The time of the Trees. Great trees that ruled the world. They were the source and the center of life. Entire ecosystems sprang to life and lived in their nourishing shadow.

Of all the Great Trees there was one who was the Greatest - The Eldar. All the Great trees whispered about his wisdom and kindness. It was said that The Eldar was the first Breather, some even said that The Eldar was of the Earth herself, her expression of life. They all believed that every Breather that followed the Eldar, was his expression and carried a part of his being. The Eldar, of course, never spoke of his beginnings, but just of the future. He spoke of a great many things, but most of all he spoke of two things. The Earth, he said needed to be protected from the Breathers and also that the Breathers needed to be protected from the Earth.The other Great Trees listened and believed but could never really comprehend this logic.They did their best to protect the Breathers from the Earth and the Earth from the breathers. Thus arose all seasons- they nourished the breathers when the sun was warm and protected the Earth by turning brown when the sun grew cold. They did this every year and a pattern formed. All life followed the lead of the Great Trees and slept when it was cold and flourished under the warm sun.

The other thing that The Eldar spoke of was balance. The Great Trees listened , but again, could not comprehend.

Time moved along, faster during the warm season and slower when cold. Fact turned to hearsay and stories to legend. The Great Trees realized their strength and discovered their voice. The loudest among them was heard the most. He was a young oak, tough and strong. He spoke of the Greatness of the Trees, he said they were mighty and that they deserved to dominate the breathers because of their greatness and might. He said, leading the Breathers was necessary- a job for the wise. They were of the old world and controllers of the seasons. Leading the Breathers was a responsibility, he said, as the Great Trees were the only ones who knew about the power of the Earth. It was time to take up their responsibility and not shirk away. The Great Trees listened and this time, they comprehended. They knew what they had to do.

They turned towards The Eldar with belligerence in their hearts and defiance in their eyes, challenging him to disagree. The Eldar grew silent and withdrew within himself. He never spoke a word again, but seemed to shrink in size. The other Great Trees took this to mean that he was passing on, failing to notice that they too shrunk a little each day.

The best way, said the Oak , to care for the Breathers was to have maximum presence on the Earth. The others agreed and spread their roots far and wide. Many new Trees took root and grew. They took their lead from the Great ones, who didn't seem so Great anymore. In fact many times, a Great Tree was considered just a Tree because he did not remember the Oak's message.The wisdom and sayings of The Eldar slowly faded into history, forgotten and discarded. The Trees now believed that the world was theirs to own and the Breathers were to be pitied. They believed in their greatness and their march forward into the future was looked upon with eagerness and excitement.

Many new things happened one season-cycle. Strong winds blew away many Trees and Great Trees in many places. The golden warmth of the sun turned, blazing hot and burned down huge forests. The Trees looked to the Great ones for advice and direction, but it seemed that the Great Trees were passing on faster and faster. The warm season grew warmer and the cold season grew colder. It seemed as if the Earth grew in fury and unleashed her wrath in great force. During a very hot day in a harsh warm season the Oak grew silent and thus the last of the Great Trees passed on. With no one to guide them, the Trees grew into themselves and slowly lost their voices too. Thus, imbalance entered the world and all life forms began their various cycles of ultimate destruction.

.......I opened my eyes, with a feeling that you have when you dream something strange. I tried hard to grasp at tendrils of the dream but they were too fast and slipped away from me. I shrugged it off and switched on my iPad.

Dicing With The Gods

We dice.

Without a care, and just for fun, we dice.

"What about Human lives you say? What are humans, but pieces on a board, sources of entertainment on a lazy afternoon. What are their lives, but flickers in infinite time; their presence, insubstantial in the vastness of space. Mere trifles, not worth sparing a thought for! We are the Gods, we own their every breath, thought and action. "

"Our bailiwicks are five, one for each - Reason, Irony, Calamity, Chaos and oh yes, Love." , detailed the Lord of Reason.

"My turn", roared the Lord of Chaos and rolled the dice with glee. Randomness ensued, one strange move followed by another. Each move illogical and unreasonable but very portentous. Soon after, a black storm raged the seas and fire rained down on the lands - Calamity's influence shook the board and some pieces disappeared into the gloom.

"Lets turn this into a masterpiece" ,pronounced the Master of Irony.With a graceful touch here and a sudden move there, his deft hand transformed the board to one.

Everyone turned to the God of Love with challenge in their eyes.

He returned their stares, smiled and said, "Yes, lets dice!"

The Land of No Time

Goodbye.

Run.

"Faster", I tell myself. C'mon run. Move, move.

Shaken and stirred- very random. They begin to settle, forming a familiar pattern. Need to run. Increase my speed, faster, don't let them settle. "Don't forget to breathe", it is of course, important. The pattern is disturbed again. Good.

I slacken momentarily. The pattern is back again, brighter and more conspicuous. I run with an added burst of speed. Push my limits- Keep running. My muscles begin to scream in protest.I have to ignore it. Keep moving, it is important.

A new thought germinates and takes shape. I stop abruptly, gasping for breath. Away or towards?

Of Human Nature

Of late I have been given reason to contemplate human nature.This post is a result of a melancholic Sunday spent sipping a lot of tea and pondering over a lot of questions. Why do we do what ever it is that we do?

Modern human history is a story of the rise and fall of many ideologies and systems that boasted of fervent followers and contemptuous disbelievers, usually simultaneously. Powerful ideologies have the distinction of being able to spur people into action- to rise up in arms, to stand up and fight, to protest. A powerful image comes to mind.Ironically, it is the image of a feeble looking old man in white loin cloth spinning cotton. His ideology, non-cooperation, humbled the greatest imperial power of the time and gave the world a shining example of democracy.How did this little man accomplish a seemingly impossible task? Was his idea that powerful? But then there is nothing tangible about an idea, it is after all, a ghost conceived in the mind of an individual. What then, pushes people to be able to die for, or worse, to kill for an idea?

Passion. A very important word among us humans. Inspiration is not inherent to the idea. It is the passion of the preacher that inspires action. I believe that some people are burdened with more than their share of this intoxicating feeling. Their lives are driven by a quest, no, a thirst for passion. It is quite impossible to be passionate about a lot of things at the same time and there in lies a great risk of tragedy. What happens to that passion-driven individual who picks the wrong thing to be passionate about? Despair lurks nearby, ever ready to claim more for its own. But then, great happiness can come out of great passion too. It seems to me that it is the choice of the object of passion that defines the destination. Pick your subject wisely and you might be rewarded with great joy.

Detail. Detail is of paramount importance for self aware and intelligent life. Abstraction tends to blur out details, and too much abstraction can be demoralizing. If all of humanity was divided into types of people based on their life choices, I think the largest group would consist of those who chose to be significant and relevant. Detail is important to these people, and abstraction a great threat to their happiness. Because, if you blur out the details, what are we, but irrelevant specks of insignificant matter in the vast emptiness of the universe. Too small, and consequently too insignificant. Generation after generation of human beings, with all their stories of glory and treasures of knowledge are nothing but a speck on a blue dot on a huge black canvas.But when detail is added to this speck, there is great significance. And a large number of people can be made happy.

Then there are the artists. Humans moved by beauty and aesthetics. The dancers, writers, painters and musicians. One question plagues my mind. Why is misery associated with the creative type? Of all justifications that have floated into my mind, the most concrete is that misery is an empty feeling. Happiness is filling. Emptiness creates a vacuum that begs to be filled. And most times, expression comes to the rescue. And thus art is born.

Human actions are endless and therefore this piece can be endless. I choose to stop here. Take a breather. Some more for some other day. But before I stop, to all those critical thinkers, I would like to say something.

I do not believe that I have an insight into human nature. Nor do I think that I have found any reasons for our actions. I do not know if there are any answers to be found or any reasons to justify our actions. the more I try to find answers, a greater number of questions arise. I am but a humble novice attempting to answer one of the biggest question humans have ever asked : Why do we do what ever it is that we do?

In Flight.

He perched high, among the cliffs and surveyed creation with an eye of disdain. It greatly amused him to see land dwellers scurrying about on the ground. To him, they were his prey , nothing else. He enjoyed the hunt- it was ,of course, a game he had mastered over the years. His senses heightened, especially his sight, he spotted his prey from high up, locked it in his vision and swooped down quietly. He was an Angel of Death- swift and dangerous. His powerful talons formed an iron grip on the hapless animal. He always felt a surge of power as his prey struggled in his grip and then profound pity as its weak heart finally gave up. He knew nature intended him to be superior, Her masterpiece and the Great Hunter.

He felt the familiar stirrings of hunger and the thrill of the hunt began to consume him. He took flight and stretched his powerful wings. Flying exhilarated him, as it should, he was after all, the King of the Skies. He scanned the Earth for his next victim. He did not have to look for long; an unsuspecting hare was out foraging for a bite. He started his descent, slowly but surely. As he gathered speed , he could not help but smile to himself. It was almost too easy. He was just a few feet away from his prey. He could almost feel the soft flesh in his talons...

... The bullet came out of nowhere. The great eagle faltered in his flight. Unbearable pain filled his being. He felt his heart rate slow down and the energy seeping out of his body. He tried flapping his wings but could not hold himself up. He began to fall, confused. In a moment of clarity, he saw a creature on 2 feet holding a long metal thing. He saw the creature's face, took in the expression of triumph. He knew that expression and that feeling all too well. Understanding flooded his mind- He was hunted down.