Muted Ramblings

What's social about social media? If it was intended for making global citizens more "social", then perhaps it didn't quite fit the bill. Or maybe the definition of being social is a bit different in these platforms.

I kept introspecting, retrospecting, and all the other forms of reflective thinking involved (well, most of them atleast), and I couldn't think of a single "social connection" through the social network.

Of course, I joined the game quite late, my social media presence is laughable at best, and I find myself unable to "devote" the requisite number of minutes (or hours? is it possible though?) towards the platform. On the other hand, when I think of the new people I have met, it has always been through mostly conventional means. Of course, technology has helped and has done its part.

It certainly is helpful when we consume it, but when it consumes us, that's when the framework falls apart, perhaps.

I wouldn't say social media hasn't helped me at all. Because it has. I converse with friends and acquaintances, with whom I would have conversed anyway, even if social media wasn't there. It's just a bit more convenient sometimes. I have seen my friends meet new people too, though I am unaware about the degree of connectivity. It certainly is helpful when we consume it, but when it consumes us, that's when the framework falls apart, perhaps.

I witness multitudes of isolated islands, or mostly unreachable islands of individuals, in the conventional social gatherings. These islands are individuals engrossed in the grasping networked hands of these platforms (apparently socializing virtually) while the real gatherings see minimum to no socialization at all.

I witness individuals alienating themselves even in their home planets. Wasn't the intention to bring people closer? But as I see it, if anything, it is making us farther and further from every being and everything.

...it is making us farther and further from every being and everything.

Virtual Reality (a hilarious oxymoron) might be another add on. Even though I was late to the social media game, I boarded the VR bandwagon quite early. I bought my first VR headset in early 2016. I explored different games and experiences, though there weren't as many back then. (Being named after eyes, it didn't help them at all.)

However, within 2 weeks it scared me. I still held on, trying to convince myself that I just need to get used to it; new things are tricky anyway. However, within the next two months, my fear converted into concern, and I stopped using it. I just couldn't understand the need of that kind of attachment-detachment combination.

Now, as the twilight days of another year on this planet is upon us, I wondered what aspects were tricky (personal understanding wise) for me and to reflect upon them. There were a multiple number of aspects, and this was one of them. That's why, I thought of putting words into those thoughts.

...the twilight days of another year on this planet is upon us...

It's all just based on personal experience, which is limited to say the least, and hence shouldn't be read too much into. If you have been patient and kind enough to read these muted ramblings (muted? really? *my brain scoffs on that word usage*), please let me know of your thoughts and experiences. It might be helpful for social-media-challenged people like me.

P. S. Please don't try to guess which generation I belong to based on my thoughts and words. That seems to be a trend these days, especially upheld by millenials. Thoughts and experiences are not generation dependent.

Copyright © 2024 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Innate Expressions

"What are you going to gain out of it? Are you going there? Then, is it not a waste of time and money?" These questions are not new for anyone who starts learning a new language without the commonly accepted agenda.

When I started learning other languages, among other questions, I was also often asked if I don't like my mother tongue anymore or if English feels too generic? The questions were so baffling that I would be too stunned to even grasp that such questions too can exist.

I have also often come across questions when I write in my mother tongue. Some questions have been put forth with just a good willed inquisitive intent (thankfully), while some others felt as a sizing up tool. That primarily came associated with a statement regarding my school's medium of instruction and conveniently assumed biased perceptions.

Even if my mother tongue was not the medium of instruction for me, it still is my mother tongue. It doesn't exactly feel nice/comforting to hear things like, "even though your medium of instruction was different, you still write (stories and poems) and read (novels and other literature) in your mother tongue!" What has medium of instruction got to do with that?

I never gave up on my right and duty towards my mother tongue. It still is very much mine. I started with it, probably will end with it too, and will very much keep doing so. Why should my writing in it come along with an addendum?

It still is very much mine. I started with it, probably will end with it too, and will very much keep doing so.

Writing and reading in my mother tongue, irrespective of any other languages I learn or use, is only natural. A T&C star mark alongside it sometimes feel like a stigma, it is not the high praise as few try to (subtly) imply it to be.  

That, however, is not the entire story. There have been kind souls too who have acceptance as their nature. They understand equity and equality, where to apply it, and most importantly where not to. They do not see anything else but just the love a person bears in their heart. 

Love knows no bounds. Though this statement may seem platitudinous, its value cannot be discounted. Learning a different language or writing and reading in it doesn't mean your love for your root language can be treated differently or perceived differently. You are just loving a bit more... if that makes sense.

So, irrespective of what your background was, irrespective of what other languages you have liked and learnt, irrespective of anything, nothing can (and should) inhibit you from expressing yourself in your mother tongue. It's yours. It's your right and your duty too. Literary freedom is just like Love. Express the Love in your heart. 

Copyright © 2024 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

How Are They Related?

"How much did you get in ABC (name of a subject, name changed for obvious reasons)?" That was the question I was asked the most that day.

The first couple of times the question was asked, it didn't quite register with me. However, anybody would notice a pattern if it is being hovered right in front of their eyes, let alone me. Especially when it came assisted along with a follow up statement, and a quizzical reaction/response.

The jist is I loved the subject ABC. I would keep waiting eagerly for its lab classes and I would feel happy solving the assessment questions. I was also fond of other subjects that we had that semester, however, my interest towards ABC might have been a bit more evident to others. 

So, that day when the aggregate internal marks for all our subjects were published, their curiosity might have led them to ask the question. Some just asked about the mark, while with a couple of friends the conversation went on a bit more.

It went somewhat like this: (Fr: Friend)

Fr:    How much did you get in ABC? 

Me:  I got "y" marks. 

Fr:    It must have been the highest among all you other subjects' marks.  

Me:  It isn't. It is the lowest as compared to my marks in the rest of the subjects this semester. 

Fr:     So, now you must not like ABC anymore. 

Me:   I still do. Why wouldn't I? 

Fr:   Still? Why? But your marks in other subjects are higher than your marks in ABC. Why do you still like it? 

Me:    How are those two aspects related? 

The conversation would mostly stop after that or take a different turn. I wondered, if I had scored average (or less) marks in that, would I have been expected to stop loving it? Or even worse, would I have been expected to hold a grudge, dislike it, or say mean things about it? Even the thought of such a transactional aspect is concerning.

Often times, your affinity towards something is associated with the level of your success in that aspect. If you are fond of something, if you feel happy (or have ever felt happy), shouldn't that be enough? Why do we have to ask for something else in return? Why should liking/feeling towards something change based on its accessibility (like marks or ease of understanding and the likes)? Should we show our affinity only when we excel in it the most or certain conditions and expectations are fulfilled?

If you ask me the reason, I wouldn't know. I have not come across every individual on this planet, hence my understanding is based primarily on my personal experience. Since that number is meagre when compared with the world population, nothing can be generalized, and hence I do not have an answer. I didn't understand it then, and I still do not. 

When you love something, you just love something. There can be no calculation involved. There could be no objective. If we love doing something, if we love learning something, wouldn't it be great if we could focus only on that? I wish and I hope that it would be wonderful if we start considering Happiness and Love as the greatest factors. Wouldn't it be? 

Copyright © 2024 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

A Pinch of Salt

It must have been a midsummer night's dream. That was how inexplicable it was. Everything about that moment felt unreal — the cab to the airport, the boarding pass, even the bag that was packed haphazardly at the last minute. But the only thing that made it seem real was what transpired on that penultimate bridge as I felt the misty air against my skin, just before reaching the airport.

*********

T-12: It was Saturday, the last working day of the week. Unlike most days, I decided to walk back home. I put on my "On my way to Pluto" playlist (it had been quite a while listening to that playlist), took the last sip of water, and headed out.

I might not have realized it then, but that fact registered itself, sneakily enough if I may add.

Like most days, ideas and thoughts started flooding in... as they do whenever I am on the move. But this time, most of the thoughts were were linear, extremely linear to even be defined. I noticed that, but I let it go for the moment and just enjoyed the mildly dusty foliage. Though it usually takes a little over 20 minutes, that day it took me 27 minutes to reach home. I might not have realized it then, but that fact registered itself, sneakily enough if I may add.

T-10: I kept pondering what to have for dinner. I had already been doing that food selection thing for over 30 minutes. The problem was not the vast majority of available choices, rather the absence of it. Whatever I wanted to prepare, I was at least a few ingredients short. A tinge of frustration was already seeping in. That's when I decided I need to go somewhere. Anywhere. 

The next day being Sunday worked in the favor of the plan. I looked up the places I wanted to (and could) go. Thankfully, with only a 15-minute search, the place (we will call the place as P) and the travel times got finalized. The flight was at 6 AM, and the return flight from P was at 7 PM, which meant I would be home by 10:30 pm or so. 

T-8: Everything was in place. All necessary phone calls were made. I had also informed the cab to pick me up at 3 AM. Since it was a day-trip, there was nothing much to pack. A change of clothes, chargers, and a couple basic necessities (as a backup) were stuffed into a backpack. With all preparations done, I slept off, or at least tried to do so. 

...only a few people know how randomly things are decided and they get done sometimes. 

T-3: The cab arrived on time, thankfully. And in no time, I was on my way. Though people around me might know me to be a person who always has a set schedule and itinerary, only a few people know how randomly things are decided and they get done sometimes. 

Even if this wasn't the first ever random and abrupt travel plan, it surely had added uncertainties. If I happen to miss my flight from the P airport, or for some reason it gets delayed or cancelled, I wouldn't get another flight until the next morning. Considering I had to be at work by 8 AM the next day, that could be considered a risk factor. Even though I was aware of that, I wasn't thinking about it (actively) then. 

The airport was a little over an hour away (considering the time). It was still dark. And a bit misty. The roads stood still with an air of mystery. And that eerie setup led me to wonder a lot of What ifs.

...and all that happened afterwards was just a dream of a hunger-fed mind!?

What if I was dreaming? What if I had fallen asleep while thinking about what to eat, and all that happened afterwards was just a dream of a hunger-fed mind!? What if I am not actually taking this journey, but my dream-being making me feel so?

I tried to remember what I had for dinner, or if I had dinner at all, but I couldn't recall anything. The absence of human activities outside wasn't helping. The cab crossed a few rivers on the way, which were always there, but their appearance in the dark seemed different. That was slowly cementing the confusion of everything being a dream. 

I knew I needed a way to confirm, a way which will jerk me off of this dream, if that's what this was. I requested the driver of the cab to halt at the next bridge for a few minutes. He agreed but asked me the reason. I told him that I had a task and it will only take a few minutes. He didn't ask anything further, and halted the car a few steps before the bridge. That was the penultimate bridge before the airport and if I had to wake up, it must be now. 

That leaf was from one of the trees I met everyday on my way to work. 

I walked the few steps to reach the middle of the bridge. I looked at the water, calm and flowy. I could feel the misty breeze on my face. I opened my bag and found the leaf that I had been carrying with me for over a month. That leaf was from one of the trees I met everyday on my way to work. This leaf had landed on my shoulders and I had decided to keep it with me. Until that moment. 

I took a close look at the leaf. It had dried up but still carried its signature and identity. I bade the leaf goodbye and offered it to the river. I kept looking as the leaf wavered and danced while it went on to meet the river. I felt another gush of cold air on my face. Somehow, I was now sure of all this not being a dream, though it still felt dream-like. I am not too sure what it was.

I came back to the cab. And we moved on. The flights were not on time but there wasn't anything drastic that would/could have worried me. Nothing happened as I had planned, for there were none. Things just happened... from an amazing breakfast to a scrumptious lunch, from wandering the paths less traveled to shop for the food ingredients that I missed the night before; everything that could have happened... happened, without an elaborate schedule or plan. 

And what is better, plans working out or plans not working out?

There are things that were never supposed to be the way they are now. And there too are things that happened as was always intended. That is how life progresses, possibly. How do we know which plans will work out and which ones won't? And what is better, plans working out or plans not working out? Everything will make sense eventually if we take it with a pinch of salt. And if it still doesn't, a mystery here and there can be a sweet deal too. What say? 

Copyright © 2024 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

An Anecdote Away 3: The Tale of the Sunflowers

The bus would pass by those fields everyday. Except for Sundays and important holidays. The streets and stories that led and passed by those fields were all so similar, with just bits and pieces of everyday differences sprinkled in to make the world believable.

The bus was a world by itself; it had stories, music, lives that were lived (and some that existed), redundant routines, and a collection of exotic exceptions every now and then. It was my first day in that bus, or what was going to be a part of my world for the next 4 years. It was the first day of my school, new school at that time.

*********

Our school was outside the main town, or should I say amidst a small clearing of sorts surrounded by rows and rows of eucalyptus trees. There were no machined-looking buildings (often termed as modern and simple), like the ones one would imagine as a school building, straight-lined with no character-defining details.

We had octagonal cottage-like structures, there were clusters of three to four cottages, and such clusters were spread all across the campus. The cottages in these clusters housed classrooms, offices, and other necessary facilities. To go from your classroom to science lab, or art class, or the library, one would take a stroll among those beautiful trees that filtered the sunrays that wafted a mild scent of eucalyptus bark and leaves. The nearest small town was 20 minutes away. So, I used to call that place middle of nowhere and everywhere (MONE – suggested pronunciation: like how Monet is pronounced).

I loved the new place for it was straight out of a story book.

It was my first year in that school; I had transferred from my previous/childhood school which was right in the busy heart of town. I loved the new place for it was straight out of a story book. However, I did have my apprehensions because I would be so far and so almost-immediately-unreachable distance away from my parents, my home. I had only been once before to the school on the day when I had my entrance test scheduled. This was my second time, but first one alone. Thoughts, rather concerns of kinds, laced with hints of excitement were all over my mind. I missed my old school, my parents, and even the town.

While the nestled thoughts played like a movie with too many plots played on my mind, I looked at the roads, fields, and houses through the bus window. The bus was packed, rather over-packed, with students (who had already found their friends) and their animated and whispered talks. I heard the voices but not the conversations.

After about 15 milestones, I witnessed something that would make me await for them every spring and summer, probably for life.

The bus kept moving on routinely, and with each passing milestone, I knew school wasn’t very far away. I didn’t want the milestones to stop; I wanted to go on and on with the bus, even though the journey wasn’t exactly comfortable. After about 15 milestones, I witnessed something that would make me await for them every spring and summer, probably for life.

In an unassuming and calm neighbourhood, there was a vast sprawling field of majestic sunflowers, golden and dreamlike. The view was absolutely sublime. I have always loved sunflowers but had never seen a vast field with so many sunflowers shining in all their glory. Thankfully, I was seated towards the western side which allowed me to view the face of the flowers as they looked at the sun. That also meant, while returning I would be on the eastern side and could see the sunflowers facing the sun again. Destiny sure was having its way--- or atleast so it felt at that moment. 

They say one needs to meditate to achieve thoughtlessness or a single line of thought. If that is true, I was possibly in a state of mediation then. 

They say one needs to meditate to achieve thoughtlessness or a single line of thought. If that is true, I was possibly in a state of mediation then. I was completely enamored by the sunflowers and had let go of all the thoughts that were there until few seconds ago. I had completely submitted my thoughts to that magnificence.

The thoughts of the field stayed with me even when we crossed that and reached the school. While returning, I eagerly waited for the flowers again. Days passed by and vacation arrived sooner than expected. During vacations, I found myself missing them. Though I knew that they won’t be there when we return to school after vacations, I still awaited that field. During winters the field was filled with mustard flowers and they too looked splendid basking in the warmth of the winter rays. And they would tell me that spring is just around the corner and soon I would meet the sunflowers again. I would smile along with the mustard flowers while waiting for the sunflowers to arrive.

And they would tell me that spring is just around the corner and soon I would meet the sunflowers again.

Four years in that school passed by and I would wait the entire year’s bus journey for those couple of minutes (to and fro) of sunflowers during the few days of summer. I remember the roads that we took everyday, the mini farms, the hillocks, temples, and the conversations that I had with friends. But the way I remember the sunflowers is different than everything else.

With the changing times and vanishing landscapes in the name of development, I don’t know whether that field where the sunflowers smiled and loved would still be there. But I can’t imagine of anything else there. Every summer of my life and sometimes during days of other seasons too, I keep remembering my sunflowers. And will always do.

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A Little Something:

Composed on September 22, 2024, Sunday, during a lunch that brought back memories of the sunflowers. 

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