No Denouement
"Count three and a child is born", I read somewhere.
The birth of a baby brings along infinite happiness, the child is welcome with tulips and parijats being showered on Him.
Then comes the traditional zeemantham, chased by a ceremonial bridal wash, pujas and archanas follow.
The child slowly grows into an adult, after having spend nearly 18 years under the shelter of his/her parents, gathering experiences and knowledge to face the world, specially the darker side.
Every singleton has ambitions set, some put labour to achieve, and some don't.
The tragedy lies in the very comment of the fools that the latter shall never be able to reach a settled conclusion! That is what annoys me the most, if the prime question is about achieving a well explained, matured end, about which Shahrukh talks in Om Shanti Om, then, perhaps no one in this whole damn world has his goal done! Reaching to the status of a Dhirubhai Ambani or a Bill Gates is merely a part of success, now, of course being like them implies tremendous capability, but have you ever pondered upon the situation that blooms when some personality, like the above mentioned ones, nears its end? Even if the dead-end is met at the exceptional age of 80 or 90, the cause is hardly understood by the inmates, the atmosphere gets gloomy all round, and eyes go wet now and then, in very simple terms, everything haphazard, unsystematic, nothing settled, relatives receive equal pain at every death, whether it be a mighty Ratan Tata or a puny rickshaw driver, say Bapi, the most common name in Bengal, at least! The logic is not completely analyzed but a part of it definitely makes sense, I feel.
Well, in country, like India, where the downtrodden are treated like dirt, a sweeper's death does not set anyone thinking deep into its causes, but even if the Mahatma had been shot three or four bullets straight into his body, the entire nation, awestruck, questioned, how and why.
There is no complete story about a lifetime, where the end was absolutely fine, no regret, no afterthoughts, everything accepted immediately, provided it has the tag of authenticity attached.
I am neither trying to discourage hard work, nor am i interested in finding faults with being serious about life.
Of course you won't expect to make a shining biodata until and unless you be at your best, whenever and wherever required.
You need to mix your blood and sweat to make it to a success story, sheer effort and commendable confidence are the essentials.
Once again,I would conclude my writing with this poetry, that i have chosen from thousand others which bring forth same meaning, the poor part of the life that is inevitable, the distressing END: In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud,the waters run, The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night, And swaying branches bear The Elven-stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all towers strong and high , Beyond all mountains steep, Above all shadows rides the Sun And Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, Nor bid the Stars farewell This short but matter-containing one was just to attract you all to the realization or thought, as you like, that has dawned upon recently, very recently in fact.
Do take the pain to make your two ends meet to rescue me out! I am already tangled and very truthfully, I wouldn't like to end up with a festoon hanging on the wall of my cerebrum, displaying 'no denouement'.
The birth of a baby brings along infinite happiness, the child is welcome with tulips and parijats being showered on Him.
Then comes the traditional zeemantham, chased by a ceremonial bridal wash, pujas and archanas follow.
The child slowly grows into an adult, after having spend nearly 18 years under the shelter of his/her parents, gathering experiences and knowledge to face the world, specially the darker side.
Every singleton has ambitions set, some put labour to achieve, and some don't.
The tragedy lies in the very comment of the fools that the latter shall never be able to reach a settled conclusion! That is what annoys me the most, if the prime question is about achieving a well explained, matured end, about which Shahrukh talks in Om Shanti Om, then, perhaps no one in this whole damn world has his goal done! Reaching to the status of a Dhirubhai Ambani or a Bill Gates is merely a part of success, now, of course being like them implies tremendous capability, but have you ever pondered upon the situation that blooms when some personality, like the above mentioned ones, nears its end? Even if the dead-end is met at the exceptional age of 80 or 90, the cause is hardly understood by the inmates, the atmosphere gets gloomy all round, and eyes go wet now and then, in very simple terms, everything haphazard, unsystematic, nothing settled, relatives receive equal pain at every death, whether it be a mighty Ratan Tata or a puny rickshaw driver, say Bapi, the most common name in Bengal, at least! The logic is not completely analyzed but a part of it definitely makes sense, I feel.
Well, in country, like India, where the downtrodden are treated like dirt, a sweeper's death does not set anyone thinking deep into its causes, but even if the Mahatma had been shot three or four bullets straight into his body, the entire nation, awestruck, questioned, how and why.
There is no complete story about a lifetime, where the end was absolutely fine, no regret, no afterthoughts, everything accepted immediately, provided it has the tag of authenticity attached.
I am neither trying to discourage hard work, nor am i interested in finding faults with being serious about life.
Of course you won't expect to make a shining biodata until and unless you be at your best, whenever and wherever required.
You need to mix your blood and sweat to make it to a success story, sheer effort and commendable confidence are the essentials.
Once again,I would conclude my writing with this poetry, that i have chosen from thousand others which bring forth same meaning, the poor part of the life that is inevitable, the distressing END: In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud,the waters run, The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night, And swaying branches bear The Elven-stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all towers strong and high , Beyond all mountains steep, Above all shadows rides the Sun And Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, Nor bid the Stars farewell This short but matter-containing one was just to attract you all to the realization or thought, as you like, that has dawned upon recently, very recently in fact.
Do take the pain to make your two ends meet to rescue me out! I am already tangled and very truthfully, I wouldn't like to end up with a festoon hanging on the wall of my cerebrum, displaying 'no denouement'.