faith

Sometimes I wonder if faith is a poison. In another instance, I feel the survival of ours depends on faith. We divided ourselves on these faiths.

The byproduct of faith ended up being a religion or worshipping some sect or joining some cult. Our upbringing or environment has a role in picking the faith.

Some of us end up living with it. Our food practices, worshipping, attachments and aversions, faith has a role.

As an outsider, seeing other practice their faith, which we are not part of, might sound absurd. But who are we to have or keep a judgment? Are we not in a free world? Are we all not unique?

Our faith and the path we pick to continue the journey of our lives are ours.

Time

There is time for everything, something elders told me in the past. I see the point in it. The fast pace of our generation has made us more machine.

There is an app for everything: eat, walking, exercising, etc. We built machines for leisure. We are now a slave to it.

Our betterment is nothing but a never-ending automated, machine governed checklist. What happened to automation adding idleness to our life?

We have time for everything but not ourselves.

passion

Passion has become poison and, marketers, brands or, gurus are minting money out of it and propagates over various social media platforms or page3 or via YouTube.

The side effect: everyone is passionate about everything because they are chasing their peers. Passion has ended up becoming an invisible unicorn.

True passion comes from within, not lying to self and acting upon seeing others.

But our marketers have found a way for that too. Once you fail with passion, get into burnout mode, then pay a therapist or buy more from E-commerce without needing.

Cricket

Those were the pre-liberalization days when Television or Telephone or, Scooters were for riches. In our village, we had a family with a television. They also had a battery backup. After all, electricity was scarce too.

Those days, Sharjah Cricket tournaments were hot. By some magic or betting, India and Pakistan would always end up in the finals. I was living in my village with my grandma those days. And like everyone else, cricket was a religion for me. We had early dinner and, we were at Ramesh Kaku’s (uncle) house. We had our spot on the chattai(mat) in the verandah. Most village elders men were there. The place smelled like a bus stand with paan, bidi, hookah, and tobacco smells all around.

Ramesh Kaku(uncle) owned the television. He returned after retiring from the Army. His mustache reminds me of a pigtail, an angry man, high on spirits from the army canteen.

India won the toss and elected to bat. After the first 15 overs, it felt we were in a commanding position. We had lost no wickets. We had runs too. Every single run scored was cheered up. Some of us would scream, stand up and do a parallel commentary, advising players. Our elders would tell them to sit and enjoy the game.

After four hours of a nail-biter, India lost. My impulsive cousin Mahesh went and broke the television screen. A cloud of smoke with a smell was all around us. We were all speechless.

We had the sadness of India losing. Now with the television screen gone, another pain. Ramesh Kaku shouted, maro maro (beat him) and, Mahesh got a thrashing. He was laughing, not sure it was bhang or sadness of money he lost in betting.

route

A founder’s life is a roller coaster ride, someday painful while another with happy surprises. There is no end to it. One has to be or act like a router between customers, team, and other stakeholders. In the end, a founder is responsible for the journey of the rocketship. They decide and take the route they would like to: build another copycat product or venture into new territory with fearlessness.

Our life throws us all the choices. It rests on us which to pick: falling to FOMO is easy, giving up is easy but riding in equanimity and taking care of the crew is what matters most.

It is like traveling on a route with a limited map as an explorer and, everything that matters, in reality, is the journey.

If some founders say they know the end, either they are lying or are clueless.

Sahara

Sahare ki talaash me zindgi gujar zati hai kuch ki,
kuch dafan ho zate hai adheer umer me.

Apni iss zindgi ka humne aisa kya kiya zo zindgi zahanuum se mehsoon hoti hai hame akele?

Kya ye hum hai jo dar-bedar bhatak rahe hai apne chaahat liye, ya ye zamaana hai jo kar raha hai hame gumraah?

Ye bhag dauud bheer chal ke maffik mehsoos karta hun auroo ko bhagta dekh ke.

Hum apne taqdeer khuda se mang sakte hai , phir ek sahare ke liye kyun bhatak rahe hai dar-dar begahar?

Kyu khud ko khud se itne taqleef hai jo zindgi jine ke liye sahare ki khooj me nikal padte hai hum?

Mine

I have been seeing a trend where we define an invisible wall defining mine and yours. It results in creating a divide and resulting in chaos.

We add my name to everything: friends, work, loved ones, or our wealth.

The constant urge of multiplying mine or keeping control of it is making us worried or vulnerable.

Life is more about freedom, not control or ownership. The sooner we realize it, the lesser we will be vulnerable.

Converse

I remember how attracted I was to converse shoes. From my first salary, I visited Sarojini Nagar market and bought half a dozen colors of it. Among all, I liked the red one most. I was watching too many vampires movies those days and attribute my likings to it.

What I am going to tell you will sound funnier. I went on my maiden US trip in my red converse. I decided to put my foot in the land of opportunity wearing it.

My excitement was short-lived. At the airport, my sister and brother-in-law met me. They asked my reason for wearing red shoes. I told them because I like the color. They inquired if I am attracted to males, to which I politely said No. I was surprised but inquired how the color of the shoe defines my sexual preference. He said it sends a signal. Next, I was in Walmart for a shoe purchase.

All ten days of my stay in America, my red converse shoe lived in my suitcase. I did not mention it to anyone. And when I returned, airlines had swapped my luggage, and it had gone to Eastern Siberia. The airlines asked about my loss, and I was speechless.

I was happy that if not me, my converse went to meet the Eskimoes and penguins. I was in the US to attend a Linux conference and, my red shoe went to meet penguins.

I told my then GF about the encounter and, we laughed for a few hours over beer and bidi. Next week, she had another pair of shoes for me. I think she had her internship paying her well.

Coco, the cat

Coco was not an ordinary cat; Rudra’s life circled around it. He had surrendered himself to Coco. He would care for Coco like his own child.

I was surprised to see Rudra maintaining a checklist of food, exercise, vet visit. I had never seen him taking care of his life with such clarity. Every decision of get-together, partying, or outdoor had to match Coco’s schedule. It reminded me of a king whose life lived inside the parrot.

Coco has been fed well, a cat being lazy; she cared about food and comfort. But the night of August had something else in store for Rudra. All of a sudden: Coco went missing. All hell broke loose, Rudra had a panic attack. He went in grief and hunger strike. The positives, he lost some weight.

All search operations got nothing. The apartment CCTV camera traced her leaving at wee hours all by herself. It was not that someone came to abduct Coco. It appears she left Rudhra at her own wish.

I met Rudra last week, and he seemed like a different person. Sometimes heartbreak makes you a better person and fuels you with seeking the purpose of self. Rudra has finally decided to switch his job, which he hated to the core. He jokes that Coco left me to make me a better person.

It’s ironic how we attach ourselves to others be it, humans or creatures, that at our own meaning and purpose end up living for others?