SCANNING

A long time since I wrote last time. I am increasingly becoming skeptical that anybody will read it. I do not have any misconception as to my ability in impressing people with my writing. I am aware I have my limitations and I do not want to take away anything from it. Is it ever possible to make ornaments with pure gold ? What is the use of pure gold except for giving a sense of illusive commercial value which keep on changing everyday at the whim of an invisible entity called market which conceals many faceless beings. The true value of it comes off when it glitters on a beauty enhancing her beauty and cumulating its value by its usefulness and contribution to the process. This only becomes a reality because of the slight impurity that binds it to make it malleable to  reflect the expression of the craftsman and makes it fit to adorn and beautify the body beautiful. In the world that we populate perhaps purity is too strong to fetch the approval of the discerning - too harsh like the glaring tropical midday sunlight in contrast to the beautiful midnight moonlight, soothing and cool, providing a landscape to the play of light and shade -dim yet expressive. It lends life to the lifeless - madness to the inert. It will be too careless to underestimate the strength of the mild. The strong can only make or break-creating awe and sorrow in its success and failure. It is the mild which tickles one with hope and aspiration. Its malleability allows it to mend without breaking and giving it the strength to survive as the underdog. Its success fills the heart of many  with  exhilaration and spirit to be hopeful - to keep trying irrespective of the weaknesses of human body, mind & spirit for the weak survive where the strong perish. The leaves of grass keeps on dancing when the big trees lay shattered - kissing the dust - in facing the tornado. May be because the weak are more knowledgeable of there weakness and try to optimize there possibilities without stretching too far from there core in the effort to maximize the results. The more you move out of the core, the more vulnerable you grow and as you move too far away enchanted by the siren's song you break the link with the core and get ambushed by the forces lurking unseen for the opportunity. Then you remember the cool and serene safety of the core - assuring and unassuming. It does not demand anything on you. It just wants you to be yourself - with all your impurity and purity, weakness and strength- a discovery of your true identity and organizing your world around it. No covering up, no concealing just plain acceptance of one's true self and building on it to improve and optimize. No pressure to move in any direction save the internal urge to excel. Peaceful and silent, static yet energetic like the electric lamp which shows the light by its own nature without having to do anything. Mundane yet special.         

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Torture at Ten

The telephone was ringing like the bell of the church. Santosh reached for it reluctantly. He does not want to pick it up. But he does not want to face the aftermath. It is sharp 10 on the wall-clock and he is sure it must be his boss. He wanted him to do a job, he had told him, not to whine. for that he has his dog he said. Santosh felt like throwing in his papers. But, he also do not want to look at the prospect of facing unemployment in middle age in a market where jobs are few and people running for them are many. He did not respond and feigned as if he has not heard him. The Boss will have none of it. "Did you hear what i said ? You better listen to it. I can't dismiss you because of these god-damn rules, but i will make it hot enough for stay." he said without any remorse.

Santosh was told to increase the business and double it in no time. He does not mind a challenge. In fact he is one of the best in his line for the company. But his Boss feels he can do better and he is not doing enough because he is lazy. He is running a twelve hour day for last three months. He remembered he has not talked to his wife privately during this period and he has talked more with his Boss than with his son. They no longer consider him part of the family. His son received best prize in debate in a prestigious competition and he came to know it from the calls of his friends. His son went with his mother to receive the award and did not want to disturb him. He did not know if he should be happy or sad. He thought he will take his son in embrace when he will come to home. He never had it that way. His son was in deep slumber when he found time to return home. But all this has not helped. The times are not good. The economy is taking a down turn and opportunities are far and few. He doggedly worked hoping for a break. The company has laid down people to see through the period and he has seen his team shrink to half its size.

He has tried to talk to his Boss about some replenishment of staff. "It is not in my hand. what can i do? I am not in board of directors who decide on recruitment. I am not taking it for non-performance. You better give result." He does not know how to respond and timidly shook his head in conformity.

The telephone gave another sharp ring. He picked up the receiver. It is his wife's tone. He felt let down after the hype of his thoughts. He almost felt disappointed. The shriek of his wife brought him back from reverie. " Son has met with an accident on his way to school. I don't know anything. His teacher rang up to say that he has been taken to hospital. I would not have disturbed you otherwise." There is shock, fear and apprehension in her sobbing voice. He had told her a week back that he can not get a day's leave to visit her ailing father as his Boss did not allow him.

She was waiting on the other side of the receiver apprehending a sharp rebuke but still waiting with half a hope that he will come to accompany her to the hospital. His Boss is coming to attend a meeting on performance review in an hour. He is supposed to receive him.

" Get something on. I am coming." He said and is surprised to hear his own voice. He took a glass of water. He rang up his Boss and told him he is going on leave to take care of his son. " Why don't you ask your wife to manage it. " He hung up, he no longer want any permission. He went off taking his vehicle. A new boldness has pervaded his being.

He was smiling at his son in the hospital. His wife was running her hand on the body of his son in fondness as tears were rolling down her cheek. The boy was smiling in spite of pain in his broken and plastered hand. He has got a prize. He was hoping against hope that his father will come. He looked around in pride to show this prized possession to his friends - his papa.

He was returning home with his son and wife. The timidity is again rising in him. He does not know what awaits him the next day. He thought of calling office. But some thing in him prevented. Tomorrow is another Day. He will face it tomorrow. For the time being he is happy, once in a long time. He wants to savor every moment of it. He does not know when will he get it again. He does not want any interruption any dilution. He looked into his rear view mirror to find his wife watching him.

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