IN THAT PERSONAL SPACE OF ‘I BEING ME’

In times of uncertainty, we delve deeper. We develop a habit of interrogating every cause and their immediate effect. Being human, we are more inclined towards evidence, which can be documented, disbursed.

These are also the times, when we are caught in the radar of adversaries. They never reveal their real identity. They hide behind masks. They are ten steps ahead of us. They wait to strike with their flappy plans. They see their favorite prey in us.

Things grow murkier, when we, the uncertain us, join hands with our adversaries to follow what they claim to be the best; also certain about. This agreement is based on the pure insight of we supposedly seeking support to sustain our sinking belief, faith and trust in us. We are too late to realize; this is how we make ourselves available to be taken for granted. In short, we cross over to an unknown territory, a space where we don’t belong to, a space which only belongs to our adversaries. Forget it, shit happens, things stink; we need to move on.

Thus, I decided to differ and use this opportunity to create a personal space of mine. This is that personal space of ‘I being me’. I am at no one’s mercy. I am in no one’s favor. I am the one to decide, when I am faced with a single challenge or an army of unthinkable contingencies; as to whom I am answerable to; whom I am not answerable to.

When I am in that personal space of ‘I being me’, I am not sure of my actions going down well with everybody. I might sound very less demanding of others; I might seem very excessively demanding of me, myself. This space could make me grow nasty or turn me into a beast of worst things. Time suggests, I take complete advantage of this space. Trust me, I have started doing that.

Now the question arises of whether I stand to hurt the feelings of those, who are trying to help me through uncertainties. It is up to them to decide. I haven’t spoken a single word, which is bitter in taste; neither would I act against their instincts. Only my response would be ill-timed or probably out of context. If they trust me, they will continue to respect this space. If they don’t, they can each their own. On an honest note, favors are not forgotten; they are to be done justice with. Why would I be different then?

Right now, I am in a happy space. It did involve the much anticipated bit of struggle to find my way into this space. But I am left with no regrets. Neither do I repent over the wrong decisions, which only ended up making me more vocal to demand what is right with regards to my fundamental right.

‘I being me’ is a selfish little space of being content. I am not seeking solidarity in here, but I am aware about its existence. This space may make one grow intolerant. The levels of discomfort may hit an all-time high. But this move is a constructive activity; the steps already taken or to be taken are of statistical nature; the overall objective is to surrender to this space and rediscover the nature and the character, I am made of.

To conclude, if I am a being, I have the right to claim, to create, to construct and to constitutionalize what I truly believe in. Since I am not just a being, but a human being, who is endeavoring to be different, I don’t need your permission. I just wish to continue being in that personal space of I BEING ME.

PS: Dedicated to the seventh month of all months – July… and to the one born in this month of July.

- Virtuous Vociferous | July 29 | July Blog-5 | Making of the beast | 2018

TREK #1 09072017 Stage 2

I think recollecting memories of an experience should be turned into a ‘must have’ hobby. Yes, it should be! At the same time, this hobby should not be confused with memory game. According to me, game is a moment and recollection is an experience. My intent behind this opinion is rooted in what I am going to write now. I am writing about the first trek of my life, which I embarked upon on July 9, 2017. I am recollecting memories of that trek, a week later and thoroughly enjoying writing about it. Now you know why recollecting memories of an experience should be turned into a ‘must have’ hobby!

The decision to trek was impulsive and not so impulsive as well. I was enjoying my sabbatical from Facebook. Over a period of time, I got bored of what I was posting, sharing and debating in that space. But someday, somehow a return was on the cards. When I returned, a post by Dark Green Adventures about a trek to Sunset Point in Matheran grabbed my attention. Matheran, it was; my womb of inspiration.

There I was and we were, as decided, at Panvel railway station by 7 am. Krishna, our trek instructor had created a group on WhatsApp. We coordinated through the same and without wasting a single minute, proceeded to Dhodani village (located at 20.4 kms from Panvel railway station). After a quick round of breakfast of Idlis, Tea and Krishna’s Knowledge Nuggets, Krishna sought our introductions in the courtyard of the local temple. The first few names I can recollect at this moment are Aranya or Ananya and Sharanya, Hitesh, Ravi, Deepak, Pranav, Rohan, etc etc.

As planned, we started trekking at around 10:30 am. We were supposed to scale 1200 ft. Krishna led us, so did our hearts and our determination. We kept taking stops. Our first encounter was with paddy crops. Moving ahead we lost our hearts to a tiny waterfall. Post this point, Rohan had to retract; dehydration (maybe) had claimed its first victim. The trek continued.  No one was in a mood to stop or take breaks. But when the opportunities came by, no one shied away from taking that stop and the much needed break to guzzle water, chew some handy snacks, catch up with some breath. Rains were nowhere to be seen. The sun kept getting mightier. Through thick vegetation, we could see two youthful females take the lead; Ananya and Sharanya. I was in the fourth position. Krishna was somewhere in between. Hitesh continued nonstop as well. Pranav was busy discovering the unknown corners. Ravi was to climb last.

From a distance, we could spot the edge of Sunset Point. Fellow trekkers motivated us by remarking, “You are almost there”. But the so called ‘almost there’ kept postponing itself by additional 15 minutes. Did we lose our mojo? No. Did we get it back? But we had never lost it. Once we climbed over, a thick layer of fog enveloped Sunset Point. The much needed rains were here and they came heavily upon us. We were hungry, thirsty but not angry. We knew we had stories to go back home with. The team stuck together. Trekkers as we were. First timers, pro, seasonal, regular; trekkers were rocking. We had done it!

Lunch was served in Osbourne House, a tiny home owned by a villager. Rains had turned thick by now. The little home seemed like a universe of hope for us hungry trekkers. When the food arrived, the first six of us simply jumped in. We finished like Formula One racers and set out to spend some time at Louisa Point. Some of us went missing but, we were tracked down by Krishna’s special searching prowess. Ten of us decided to descend. If the ascent filled us with thrills, the descent was going to be another spinning moment of our lives. Someone was to lead and someone was to finish last. But joy was on its way.

Don’t miss the conclusion - TREK #1 09072017 Stage 3

-Virtuous Vociferous

TREK #1 09072017 Stage 1

It goes somewhat like this and a lot less like that.

Much before July 9, 2017 came into my life; I had religiously followed the unreasonable urge in me to avoid embarking on a trek.

Trek in the language of a dictionary means ‘a journey or trip, especially one involving difficulty or hardship’.

Many eons ago, when I would get invited by a friend, colleague, well-wisher or a professional partner to be a part of a trek; I would shudder!

But from mid-2016 (once again, the month of July to be precise), things had started changing for me! Some of my colleagues had trekked their way to Matheran. They uploaded these pictures on the social media. Mist was their backdrop. The wet piece of marshy land beneath their feet was their landing pad. The smile on their faces was the reward of a trek well completed. Temptation had set in. I clearly remember telling this to them, “If you plan a trek next time, I shall join in”.

I realized, I needed some more time to make up my mind, muster courage, fortify my determination, configure my apprehensive organs and convince the ‘little negative me’ in me to embark on my first ever trek. Sadly and happily it took me a year to finally say YES against the many Nos which continued to defeat my decision. In short, I trekked! 

As I lifted my feet and began climbing over the immense offering of nature (also called a mountain), the unreasonable urge to avoid trekking diminished.

This is the story of that trek. It’s not based on a true story. But it’s the true story of my first ever trek. All the characters in this story are real. This is not a work of fiction or an effort at creating new metaphors. This is sheer originality at play. Let me tag this post and the following blog posts as distinct in mood, dramatic by nature, dashing in telling and dynamic at its core.

Starring first time trekkers, seasonal trekkers, pro trekkers, a trek instructor and his partner; this is truth about a trek well told.

This blog post/this story of my first trek contains no added flavor or colors. All of it is natural and any coincidence to the living, reincarnated, forgotten or remembered is purely coincidental or deliberate by nature.

To conclude, I would like to quote - Every action has a first. Every first is an action.

Coming Soon - TREK #1 09072017 Stage 2

-Virtuous Vociferous 

I RUN

It has taken greater amount of persuasion to stake my claim to the title of this post – I Run.

I find the title collective and cohesive. Some might find it coy and coercive. Yet I would stick to it; irrespective of the opinions someone might develop about me.

Coming back to the title and the activity that I associate with, I run. But I don’t run to fulfill a need or a condition, I run to address the stubbornness of immobility, I’ve had developed a habit of occasionally succumbing to. I had a fair idea that I will have to let go that habit someday. Having said that, I knew it was not going to be that easy like it seemed to be as the first and last impression. If I am asked about the last best memory of running, it would be the span of three months between October and December of 2014.

Between October and December 2014, I woke up every day to the enthusiastic idea of I RUN EVERY DAY. The idea was infectious. The idea kept my mind and muscles constantly sterilized. The idea was so strong in its form and practice, I heeded to the alarm clock at 5:30 AM every morning, irrespective of the time I might have made it to the bed. But 2015 left the idea weakened. The fitness schedule I had been boasting about and the physique I had developed fueled the erratic imagination of brashness in me. Few months down the line, I migrated to a city and the first ever habit I happened to meet with was BEING LAZY. Habits changed, hobbies changed; thoughts overlapped and somewhere in between I lost the interest in running.

Battle lines were drawn, swords were pulled out but I refused to run. There was no horsepower left in my feet to run. Days passed, months diminished and I rolled back to the city I have called home. Perceptions around me had changed. I had become arrogant but, the paunch had exceeded every limit of being a spoilt brat, which kept feeding on the fact that someday I might run. This someday overpowered every imagination, bullied my enthusiasm and I became a slave of lethargy.

But procrastination is a short lived hobby. The absence of passion in this hobby finally made it wear out. My progress continued being slow. Another year passed and I allowed myself to continue being snobbish. The first sunrise of 2017 had me looking at myself in the mirror. Day in, day out, I was sure of not being me. A pair of sports shoes, a pair of jogging t-shirts, color matched socks and shorts; everything seemed insignificant and at the same time seemed to be in waiting for me to begin. By the mid of January 2017, I knew I had to make it sure that I RUN.

February 2017 made its debut. I sought advice from a friend, who was already passionate about running. I knew there was no more time to waste and I had to wake up the next morning to ensure that I RUN. Besides running, I adapted myself to a diet plan (much unheard of me, but still). This diet plan was my introduction to a new kind of stubbornness. I had to wake up to the idea of growing fit again. And thus came the cold morning of a fading urban winter. I was on the ground, standing right in the middle; stretching my muscles and flexing my feet to put myself to test again and to write a post with a title as apt as I RUN.

To be continued…

-Virtuous Vociferous  

DEAR MAA – 60 MILES AHEAD OF US

The train reached Nagpur. Summers were riding high. This was yet another school vacation. This was just another summer trip to Kolkata; our annual holiday. Our Milton water-container, which could easily carry 5 litres in it had started running dry. We kept praying for the train’s timely arrival in Nagpur. I am speaking from memories of a time when mineral water was a rarity, branded bottled water was out-of-sight/out-of-reach. The moment the train came to a halt, I saw her jump out of S5 (the coach we were reserved with), sprint towards an ice counter, fill the container to its brink and return with a victorious expression. She had done it again by acting on her immediate instinct.

Maa’s life has been a collage of many such fearless experiences. Being the eldest daughter of the eldest son of a joint family, Maa’s days of ‘Being Responsible’ had commenced from her days in cradle. Over the years through her decisive actions, she just didn’t silence her critics but went ahead to generate a fan following, very much similar to that of a filmy personality. She started her career with New English School in Kalwa as an Assistant Teacher on a meagre pay scale. Being a teacher, she treated every student equally. According to her every student is special and it is the teacher’s responsibility to make her or him a better citizen for the future.

I continue being a student of hers. Maa also happens to be the first superwoman I met from the time, she brought me into this world. After my birth, she chose to dream on an all new level. The challenges had grown tougher than ever. Following a non-cooperation movement, sparked by a political union leader of old times, textile mills started closing down; one after the other. My father’s mill was one of them. When his mill closed down, he was serving as a Production Supervisor but, over a week’s time everything changed. At this juncture, Maa had to shoulder the responsibilities. It was during this difficult phase that she had to also pursue further studies to secure a B.Ed degree. Determined and passionate about teaching, Maa continued achieving success in everything she chose to associate with.

Last month, she touched 60. She is now retired but continues to be an active teacher and is still referred to or addressed as Krishna teacher. She has mentored everybody, irrespective or their age, caste, creed or religion. Every time she is greeted, she returns the gesture with her same old simplistic warmth. On many occasions, I couldn’t hold my tears back because I found her to be too simple. But she is unstoppable. Chasing a dream, defying attitudes and countering opinions; even I tend to grow tired. But for Maa, every simple movement is a challenge in making.

To Maa that I shall always remain indebted to, I have learnt the following lessons from her:

• Be determined, be always responsible
• Counter every challenge with fire in your belly
• Let the world oppose, never fall prey to opinions
• Patience is the key to unlock unknown opportunities
• Giving up is the characteristic of cowards
• Hard work will definitely pay off in the long run
• Don’t demand respect; let your deeds bring that to you
• Teaching is not a profession to earn money but a passion to create better citizens

-Virtuous Vociferous