The Ride of Life

The children - they were his joy, his sunshine on a rainy day and his reason for believing in the goodness of life. Their excited voices made him forget the harsh words that he received frequently, and their laughter brought a smile in his face always. He was extremely protective about them, and ensured that each and every child reached home safely. 

The people he met during the day - they fascinated him.  He met all kinds of people and by now, he knew to handle every type. There were some who were rude by nature. Their very first words would sound like a command and he would remind himself to not to react to them. They would bargain with him for the fare and he would try to get the best deal. But most of the times he would let go, seeing the frustration and despair behind the angry facade that the people put forth while bargaining. It sometimes seemed like a desperate plea by them, to have atleast one thing right in their day. He only felt compassion for these people. 

Then there were the other type - jovial by nature. They would bargain with a smile and give up in an attempt or two, laughing and shaking their heads. These were his favourite kind of people. They always had something to talk to him and he absolutely enjoyed their company and conversations. These people brightened his day and gave a purpose to his job.

The teenagers - they were a different breed, and he worried about them the most. There was this girl, apparently suffering from a heart-break. He had seen her crying and wiping her eyes. He had seen her cleaning her face with a wet tissue before she reached home. He had heard her talking to her friend over the phone and sobbing her heart out. Then there was the boy, the silent one, with a face totally devoid of any expression. He agreed to whatever the fare was, and hardly exchanged a word with him. His heart broke when he thought about today's teenagers and the various issues they dealt with. He longed to help them in someway, but knew that they had to carve their own life ahead. He also encountered the rowdy types, all loud voices and dirty language. He specially worried for these kids, because he had a fair idea of where they were headed to. 

The ladies - he felt a special kind of compassion for them. Some would be standing with two to three bags in their hand in the harsh noon. Some would be with kids. They all always seemed to be pre-occupied, worrying about something or the other. 

The day always passed away quickly for him, and at night, before he fell asleep, he would think about the people he met and say a silent prayer for each and every one with whom he felt some connection. He prayed for relief and peace for these people. And he thanked the powers above for another fulfilling day. At dawn, the auto-rickshaw driver would wake up, all set to start another day and to meet another set of fascinating people. 

Not The Hustle-Bustle Of Daily Life For Me

Not the hustle-bustle of daily life for me.

I wish for the Eternal Silence of the sea, beneath which lies a beautiful and infinite world filled with colors and shapes and beings operating on a different level of existence. Here, life exists purely on instinct and every moment alive will be a reason to celebrate and to be grateful for. Alongside the beautiful and enormous beings inhibiting this world, I will swim, existing for the moment with not a thought for the next!

Not the hustle-bustle of daily life for me.

I wish for the Eternal Silence of the Sky, the glorious infinite dome that stretches into oblivion. When darkness prevails, I will have the radiant stars and moon for company. In the light of the day, I will travel to various worlds illuminated by the radiant Sun and gaze upon the tiny world below. There, Up above, nothing will matter. Only Time and Space will exist around me, and I will ultimately be one with the grand Universe.

Not the hustle-bustle of daily life for me.

I wish for the soothing shelter of the forest. Beneath a tree, I will sit and bask in its cool shade. Surrounded by trees and lying on a meadow, I will feel the benevolent love of Mother Nature protecting me from the harshness of mankind. Here, with my immobile friends, I know that Mother Nature will care for me, feed my soul and let Her love wash over all my wounds. In Her lap, I will sleep dreaming about a beautiful world filled with love. 

Not the hustle-bustle of daily life for me.

I wish for the shelter of the majestic mountains. Beneath the enormous mountain, I will lay down, feeling the insignificance and negligence of my tiny existence. The mountains will hide me from the evils of the world and will nurture my soul through their sheer beauty and magnanimity. The winds may howl, and the rain pour down in torrents, and yet beneath a mountain, I will lie, for I know that either it will protect me from everything or allow me to merge into it, thereby making me one with the most magnificent work of Nature.

Not the hustle-bustle of the daily life for me. I only ask for Eternal Stay in the soft lap of Mother Nature, surrounded by her overflowing love and nurturing care! 

The Legacy

"You know, this was a good idea. I had my doubts at first. But now I see that I took the correct decision. You are really easy to talk to. I already feel better." She said as she stood near the door.

"I am glad that I could help you." Abhinav smiled and waved at her as she left the room. He checked his appointment book. There was a break for an hour. He leaned back on his chair and sighed in contentment. 

His gaze fell on the calendar kept on his table and he realized with a start that exactly two months had passed since he had opened his psychiatric clinic. The first month was understandably slow, with the occasional person dropping in to confide to him about his/her troubles and seeking some medicine to relax and slow down. It was only in the current month that his profession had picked up pace and he had found a good surge in the number of people visiting him. 

He turned his chair around and saw the two photographs mounted on the wall behind him. He looked at his father's photo with deep longing. It was six months since his dad passed away, and yet he still found it impossible to believe that this person, this awesome person was no longer there beside him. 

As long as he could remember, his dad had always been gentle, calm and kind. There was something very calming and soothing about his presence. A well known psychiatrist of his time, he spent equal hours at home too as in his clinic. Abhinav's childhood was a blur of happy moments with his family, with his dad taking the lion's share of memories. There was always laughter whenever he was around, and his solid presence was a constant source of strength for the family.

Abhinav remembered the day when his dad had sat down beside him with a serious air. This was the most important conversation of his life, he believed.

"Son, you are in the ninth standard now. And while some may argue that it is too soon for me to have this talk, I believe that now is always the time to prepare for the future. I want to know whether you have decided what you wish to do in your life. What kind of a career have you envisaged for yourself?" His dad had asked kindly yet firmly.

"I want to be psychiatrist like you." Abhinav didn't have to think twice before saying this. It was something that came naturally to him. He thought he detected a glare of fierce pride in his dad's eyes but just as quickly the feeling passed away.

"That's great to know. Any particular reason why you wish to become a psychiatrist?" 

Abhinav thought for a while. Then he said. "I can see what a calming influence you have on all of us. If this is how your family members feel, then how good the people whom you treat in your clinic must feel after talking to you! I can't solve the problems of the world. I can at least provide respite to people by listening to them and helping them unload their minds of the things that worry them." 

There was no imagining this time. His father hugged him with a beaming smile and held his shoulders affectionately. "I would be lying if I said that I didn't have aspirations for my son to become a psychiatrist. But I didn't want to pressurise you to take up some profession without your interest in it. Now that you have decided what you wish to be, there is something I need to show to you."

His father eagerly opened the diary that he had been holding and took out a paper. It was a pencil shading of an owl beside a tree. On one side of the paper, there was a lyric written in a clear handwriting. A wise old owl sat on an oak, The more he saw the less he spoke. The less he spoke the more he heard, Why aren't we like that wise old bird? 

"What is this dad?" Abhinav had asked.

"This, my son, is a part of our heritage. You see, your grandfather, i.e. my father, had the same kind of talk with me too. And once I had told him my decision to become a psychiatrist like him, he gave this paper to me. Read the lines." His dad had almost reverentially handed over the paper to him and Abhinav had read the lines. 

When his father had seen him pondering over the lines, he had explained to him. "I want to teach you the most important part about being a psychiatrist." This had captured Abhinav's attention and he totally focused on his dad. "Remember, the first and foremost lesson is to be a listener and not a talker in your profession. And do you know what I mean by 'listening'?"

"Hmm.. same as hearing, dad?" Abhinav had replied. His dad smiled and shook his head.

"No son. It is not the same as hearing. To listen, means to hear what is not being said. Some person comes and starts talking to you. You hear what he or she is saying, but you listen to what is not being said! Outwardly the person might be complaining about others, but many a times, it is just a reflection of what that person finds wrong with himself or herself. Are you getting my point?"

"I think so." Abhinav said with hesitation.

"Let me clarify this. The basic rule that you should follow is - Do not judge anyone! Every culprit is a victim. Every rude person you encounter is someone with a bruised heart. Silence does not necessarily mean the presence of calm, it may also mean the presence of deep-rooted grief."

At this Abhinav's eyes had widened. "How will I learn to listen to what is not being said?"

His father had affectionately ruffled his hair. "By being like the wise owl. Be an observer, Abhi. Lend your voice, but more frequently, lend your ears. Be a listener. You learn a lot when you see people with an air of dispassion. Do not just focus on what a person did, but learn to focus on why he or she did it. This is the stuff that good psychiatrists are made of."

Abhinav had taken this conversation to his heart. The day he had successfully cleared his degree of psychiatry, his father had hugged him hard and handed over the drawing of the owl to him. "Keep this with you always. May it remind you of the power of observing and listening." It was the best gift that Abhinav could have got, a part of his dad's and thereby, his legacy.

He shook his head sadly as he returned back to the present moment. He remembered the grief he had felt when the paper was lost while his family was shifting to a new home. His dad had made light of the matter but he had been affected by it, Abhinav could say for sure. 

His phone rang. He answered it and found that it was a call from the receptionist informing him that his next patient had arrived. He told her to send him in. He took a deep breath to bring himself in the present moment. By the time, his door opened and the young man walked in, Abhinav was a picture of calm and peace. 

The young man waved to him and sat on a chair opposite to him. He was a new patient and Abhinav waited for him to settle down. The young man looked around the room and his gaze fell on the photographs mounted behind him. 

"That's your dad. You look like him." The young man mentioned and Abhinav smiled and nodded his head.

"And the photograph next to your dad's? The writing's too light, I can't make out the words. All I can see is an owl sitting beside a tree. Looks like a drawing." 

Abhinav smiled as he looked back at the photograph, the framed photograph of the paper passed on to him by his grandfather and father, a part of his family legacy that he had thought to be lost forever, only to find it miraculously stowed in a book that he fortunately hadn't given away. 

"That, my friend, is a family legacy. Now, why don't we talk about you?" Gently he led the conversation away from him and began the process of Listening and Observing. Like the Wise Owl. 

Life-lessons from LOTR

He is just a hobbit, Frodo, a young one by hobbit age. He likes his hobbit-hole, safe and warm. All he wants to do is just stay with his uncle Bilbo and enjoy the festivities in his village named Shire along with his friends Pippin and Merry. All is well in his little warm world, until one day, one fatalistic birthday..

His uncle disappears and Frodo finds himself the unwilling recipient of a ring. A ring that symbolises evil. A ring that controls the wearer. A ring, forged into fire, that provides unlimited power to the wearer. A ring that is required to awaken an evil king. Young Frodo is scared. He doesn't know about the evil king, or his evil minions, The Nine Wreaths who are already out to search for the ring. And just when Frodo thinks that things could not go wrong, he learns, much to his horror and despair, that the ring wants to be found by the king and can actually strive to make its presence felt!

Therein begins the adventure of a young hobbit. While he leaves the comfort and safety of his house, he feels scared. There is warmth in the house, and danger outside, in the big bad world. But for the greater good, to dispose off the ring once and for all, Frodo walks out into the night, away from the safety of his precious Shire. He doesn't know any magic, he can't swing any weapon. He doesn't know where to go or what to do. He has only one purpose - to take the ring to Mount Doom and throw it into the Fire which and only which can destroy the ring once and for all. 

There are two Frodos living inside us. One Frodo wants comfort, safety, familiarity. When confronted with a responsibility, the other Frodo makes his presence felt. The one who takes up a duty for the greater good, who faces his fears and marches out into the unknown. The one who doesn't hesitate to acknowledge the enormity of the situation, gets scared by it and yet proceeds ahead in his mission, simply out of duty's sake. The secret is in knowing that we can be both of these when the situation calls for! 

Frodo cherishes his friends. During the dark days of his travel out of Shire, his friends bring light and laughter in his world through their adorable and endearingly familiar antics. When he stealthily tries to leave his friends behind and walk ahead in the Road of Danger, his faithful friend Sam too tags behind him, never leaving Frodo alone for a single minute, until the end of their endlessly long and remarkable journey. 

What endears this little hobbit the most to the reader? He is like a mouse, let loose amongst the elephants. There are kings in the tale, horrible monsters, menacing wizards, captivating elves and sturdy and dangerous dwarfs. They all know how to fight, except for our Frodo. Amongst the powers of the World, the little hobbit drifts uneasily, not sure of what is happening around. And yet, his journey is the toughest. His struggle is the longest. His danger is the meanest. Controlled by a power stronger than him, he wades through all the obstacles, fighting against the power of the ring and almost succumbing to it at one point of time.  

And while there are many other people to help him, this hobbit Frodo wins the heart. For sheer bravery and courage, for accepting a responsibility that would prove almost fatal for him, for being a David amongst the Goliaths of his time. For saying ' I will!' when all he wanted to say was 'I can't!'. For forgiving those who took advantage of him again and again and landed him in danger. For being ridiculously courageous to leave out into the world at night on an unknown path, all on the instructions of a wizard whom he trusts more than life itself. For embarking on a journey that he knows may end unfavourably for him. For showing the slightly weak trait of almost succumbing to the temptation of unlimited power. 

There are good wizards too in the tale, you know. There are kings, raised from their ancient heritage to overthrow an empire of monsters and evil wizards. But on any given day, I would choose Frodo, the young and hapless hobbit over them!