Timeless and precious moments in life are normally those that would bring you some joy or happiness each time you recollect them. What do you call those moments in your life when you just suddenly stop, feel lost, forget who you really are, where you came from and where you are headed in life? Those moments initially seemed to be insignificant, but now I find myself pondering over it every single day? Seems to me like a badly directed movie, that I am unable to pause or stop because I am strapped onto the seat, stuck in a straitjacket and forced to watch it in 3D, only without the 3D glasses. I am waiting for an intermission and I am tired of waiting. I dont know what I feel and yet oddly enough sometimes I feel I can see the future because I repeat the same routine every single day. I think I used to have a purpose in life, but now that I think about it, that might very well have been a dream. I think I used to have a voice within me, but now I never make a sound or have I gone so deaf that I cant hear myself screaming for help ? Have I lost myself, trying to find my place in life ?
Buddha asked "What is the point of this sense of 'I' that we inevitably create through the journey of life ?" He explains the sense of identity as something that is created from the moment of conception in much the same way a pearl is created in the mouth of an oyster. There is the initial grain of sand that irritates and slowly, but surely, it is grown until we have something we feel is precious and “special”.
What then is so "special" about my existence ? Is there more to our weakest moments in this journey ? Or does weakness find us when we think we’re islands ?
Am "I" holding on to that thought for dear life ? Maybe somewhere along the journey, "I" am yet to learn the hard way that the longer "I" lean on it like a crutch, the longer it will take before "I" can walk freely.
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Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Monday, October 12, 2009
Foreword - A Reflection of Love.
Foreword, as the word suggests, must come first. I am putting it up after 2 Chapters into my journal. Pardon my eccentricity, but it had to be done.
Its been almost 8 months now since I have posted anything on my blog. I realised that I have always been wanting to post something about my dear Mother. But then, sometimes the feeling kept getting clouded because I did not know what it was supposed to end up as. Definitely not humourous, but something definitive in itself. No matter what words I choose, and however carefully it is done, it will never completely reflect my love for her.
Ma, you are the reason why I am today. No doubt. Period.
Pappy, you are wonderful too. Thankyou for marrying Ma !! :D
My Mother has spent the last so many years of her life struggling with the herculean task of bringing up my brother and myself :) . I know for a fact that she has sacrificed a great deal to make such a wonderful life for us. She gave up her wonderful job, when she was just reaching places in the career ladder, to help us with our studies and to focus on us completely. Despite her failing health, she has spent all her waking hours cooking for us and helping us with everything and anything. Yet, I never felt the need to sit down for a minute and think about how my life would have been, had she never quit her job or done the things she has for us. Most people would say that as a Mother it is part of her duty. But I beg to disagree. She has done more than her share of her duty, as a loving daughter, a devoted wife and as a wonderful Mother.
Some people are not lucky enough to even feel the warmth and love from a Mother. Some, like me, have it all and yet keep forgetting to thank God, taking her for granted.
I came across this saying " Mother Is The Name For God On The Lips And Hearts Of All Children " somewhere, I cannot remember where, but I do remember the saying itself, the reason why it stuck onto me being the simple truth in it.
Now that I have done it, I dont feel ashamed or silly. Nor do I feel apprehensive that I have written something about my dear Mother like an 8 year old child. Who says "Moms" are meant for only children below 10 years of age?? :)
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Its been almost 8 months now since I have posted anything on my blog. I realised that I have always been wanting to post something about my dear Mother. But then, sometimes the feeling kept getting clouded because I did not know what it was supposed to end up as. Definitely not humourous, but something definitive in itself. No matter what words I choose, and however carefully it is done, it will never completely reflect my love for her.
Ma, you are the reason why I am today. No doubt. Period.
Pappy, you are wonderful too. Thankyou for marrying Ma !! :D
My Mother has spent the last so many years of her life struggling with the herculean task of bringing up my brother and myself :) . I know for a fact that she has sacrificed a great deal to make such a wonderful life for us. She gave up her wonderful job, when she was just reaching places in the career ladder, to help us with our studies and to focus on us completely. Despite her failing health, she has spent all her waking hours cooking for us and helping us with everything and anything. Yet, I never felt the need to sit down for a minute and think about how my life would have been, had she never quit her job or done the things she has for us. Most people would say that as a Mother it is part of her duty. But I beg to disagree. She has done more than her share of her duty, as a loving daughter, a devoted wife and as a wonderful Mother.
Some people are not lucky enough to even feel the warmth and love from a Mother. Some, like me, have it all and yet keep forgetting to thank God, taking her for granted.
I came across this saying " Mother Is The Name For God On The Lips And Hearts Of All Children " somewhere, I cannot remember where, but I do remember the saying itself, the reason why it stuck onto me being the simple truth in it.
Now that I have done it, I dont feel ashamed or silly. Nor do I feel apprehensive that I have written something about my dear Mother like an 8 year old child. Who says "Moms" are meant for only children below 10 years of age?? :)
Read more...
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Chapter 02 - Will it ?
I, Rohit U Nair, being of sound mind and body, and concerned about the possibility of being kept alive in a vegetative state, even well after my time is up, either through a ventilator or other means, hereby declare that no judge or politician shall have a say in any decision regarding my life. Any such decision shall be made solely by consulting this living Will. This document shall serve as the final authority in determining whether to keep me alive, unless of course my wife, who i am yet to meet,fall in love with and marry, still wants me around for tax purposes.
She has the right to keep me alive, but not to disconnect my ventilator or remove my feeding tube, unless she and my children, that i am yet to have, decide that it would minimize the suffering, lessen the pain, for them to collect my life insurance.
It is important, however, that I express my wishes, even if my wife has the right to overrule them, as im sure she will take great pleasure in doing so.
I do not want to be kept alive in a vegetative state, even if that state happens to be the lush green "Gods-Own-Country" state of Kerala. The vegetation in a state is immaterial to me, especially if I'm stuck in a hospital bed. The only vegetation that interests me these days is that Bush that has been thrown out of Washington D.C. Who the hell is going to water him now?
I do not want to be kept alive if I'm judged to be brain-dead, never mind that most people have already made that judgment. Medical doctors are well-qualified to make this determination, but I'd like to give them some pointers, in case they're reluctant to jeopardize my hospital lease. I am probably brain-dead if any of the following occurs:
---A remote control is in my room and I'm not holding it.
---An Arsenal football game is on TV and I'm not watching it.
---Katrina Kaif walks into my room and I don't smile or my heart rate doesnt go up or both.
---My Faculty Advisor [FA] from my alma mater comes to my room and I don't scream out shattering the glass windows in the room and those in the corridor, followed by a sudden drop in my heart rate leading to a cardiac arrest.
---If I dont jump up on my bed and laugh like a moron while someone reads me Bush's memoir, which could easily take him another 50 years to pen considering his "worldly wisdom" and his "strong" vocabulary.
Whether or not I am brain-dead, I do not want a feeding tube inserted into me, unless the tube is big enough to carry a slice of pizza and chicken potli kabab. If I must have a feeding tube, I also want a drinking tube, preferably one that's connected to a bottle of Chardonnay or a keg from Heineken or both which can be alternated on a daily/hourly basis.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention organ donation. I want all my organs donated: my eyes to a blind person, my lungs to a cancer patient, my brain to one of those motorcyclists who don't wear helmets and my faithful bladder that has kept me "going" always without fail, to my FA who i feel should take a "piss" more often so as to regulate the amount of "poisonous" toxins running through her head!
In conclusion, I would like to thank all the people iv seen in the same vegetative state, who inspired me to write this document, so that there will be no confusion whatsoever when my time comes. And to my FA, I leave her my used Foley catheter so as to compensate for my donated bladder.
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She has the right to keep me alive, but not to disconnect my ventilator or remove my feeding tube, unless she and my children, that i am yet to have, decide that it would minimize the suffering, lessen the pain, for them to collect my life insurance.
It is important, however, that I express my wishes, even if my wife has the right to overrule them, as im sure she will take great pleasure in doing so.
I do not want to be kept alive in a vegetative state, even if that state happens to be the lush green "Gods-Own-Country" state of Kerala. The vegetation in a state is immaterial to me, especially if I'm stuck in a hospital bed. The only vegetation that interests me these days is that Bush that has been thrown out of Washington D.C. Who the hell is going to water him now?
I do not want to be kept alive if I'm judged to be brain-dead, never mind that most people have already made that judgment. Medical doctors are well-qualified to make this determination, but I'd like to give them some pointers, in case they're reluctant to jeopardize my hospital lease. I am probably brain-dead if any of the following occurs:
---A remote control is in my room and I'm not holding it.
---An Arsenal football game is on TV and I'm not watching it.
---Katrina Kaif walks into my room and I don't smile or my heart rate doesnt go up or both.
---My Faculty Advisor [FA] from my alma mater comes to my room and I don't scream out shattering the glass windows in the room and those in the corridor, followed by a sudden drop in my heart rate leading to a cardiac arrest.
---If I dont jump up on my bed and laugh like a moron while someone reads me Bush's memoir, which could easily take him another 50 years to pen considering his "worldly wisdom" and his "strong" vocabulary.
Whether or not I am brain-dead, I do not want a feeding tube inserted into me, unless the tube is big enough to carry a slice of pizza and chicken potli kabab. If I must have a feeding tube, I also want a drinking tube, preferably one that's connected to a bottle of Chardonnay or a keg from Heineken or both which can be alternated on a daily/hourly basis.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention organ donation. I want all my organs donated: my eyes to a blind person, my lungs to a cancer patient, my brain to one of those motorcyclists who don't wear helmets and my faithful bladder that has kept me "going" always without fail, to my FA who i feel should take a "piss" more often so as to regulate the amount of "poisonous" toxins running through her head!
In conclusion, I would like to thank all the people iv seen in the same vegetative state, who inspired me to write this document, so that there will be no confusion whatsoever when my time comes. And to my FA, I leave her my used Foley catheter so as to compensate for my donated bladder.
Read more...
Friday, December 19, 2008
Chapter 01 - Pilot - Writer's Block
For many writers the worst part of the writing experience is the very beginning, when they're sitting in the kitchen and staring at a blank paper or in their office cubicle staring at a blank, unblinking and perfectly empty computer monitor. I do have work that I am supposed to be tending to, but I figured maybe amid all this frustration, I may strike upon some brainstorming idea to write up on and post in my blog. After two hours of Facebook, Gtalk and Yahoo IM, what do i have? "I have nothing to say," is the only thing that comes to mind. "I am 22 years old and I have done nothing, discovered nothing, been nothing, and there are absolutely no thoughts in my head that anyone would ever want to read about." So I am sitting here, and thinking about what to write. Then it hit me!
I have absolutely nothing to talk about. Literally nothing. Well, then that proves it. I maybe suffering from Writer's Block. Aaah!! How quick and easily did the mind come up with the next best reason to blame, other than my lazy self. Can a diagnosis certify me as someone with Writer's Block? For god's sake, Im not even a Writer in the first place.
Now what exactly is this Writer's Block? Its the Censor in your brain, your Self-Critic. Who knows what causes the ugly Censor to be there — a bad experience in third grade? Something your mother said once during potty-training? — it doesn't matter. It might be some comfort to know that even great professional writers suffer from Writer's Block from time to time. Some of the greatest writers in literature — Leo Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, Katherine Mansfield, Joseph Conrad, Ernest Hemingway — were tormented by momentary lapses in their ability to produce the very text that made them great — although you wouldn't think it possible if you've ever tried to pick up War and Peace with one hand.
American poet William Stafford offers this advice to writers/poets who suffer from Writer's Block: "There is no such thing as writer's block for writers whose standards are low enough." This may sound terrible at first, but to me, it means my standard is quite high owing to the fact that I definitely have Writer's Block. And no, Stafford is not encouraging writers to produce garbage. He is suggesting, however, that it's easy to take yourself too seriously, to think you're going to write a poem or an essay that is going to be the greatest poem or essay ever written, that you're going to formulate the greatest, loveliest, most intelligent statement ever made. So you sit there, thinking how unworthy you are, cursing the day you were born, wondering why you ever went to college, hating the very act of writing that has you so stymied. A writer has to let that go, forget about judgment. Go ahead and write drivel at first, as long as you write. Out of your nonsense and ramblings, however, believe that something good will come, some idea will catch fire right there on the page or in my case on-screen, there will be sparks, patterns will emerge. Be willing to throw stuff out. It's all right. Do you think Shakespeare didn't litter his kitchen floor with balled-up pieces of paper? He must have written enough pages that he deemed garbage and finally pondered over "To Be" or "Not To Be" a Writer?
People who tell you that physical exercise is important for mental activity are correct. If nothing's happening on the computer screen or paper, take a walk around the block, or around your office cubicle. Fresh blood will be flowing through your brain and who knows, maybe a little jogging might just jog something loose in your head. Well, I have not yet tried jogging around my cubicle, but I do hope something comes up before I resort to it.
So here it is finally...the beginning....
Chapter One -
Umm.....Errr.....Well..now, I'm off... Going home.....its 6pm on a Friday. Writer's Block it is !
Hooray for my work ethic!
Here is the Epilogue - Remember, I'm after suggestions. Leave them in the comments section.
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