Off-Center is veri Gooth!

Life would be so boring if everyone was centered, plugging along a steady rate, doing everything right, defined right by people who thought they were right thousands of years ago, and who learned before others, how to write. When people are off-center, it creates Art! Perspectives! Leadership! Challenges! Inventions! Yoohoo;)

So what does this mean to educated people? Can we teach this to our kids? These in my view, are the non-teachable concepts. That’s what the less able have to do: learn through encouragement, rewards, and mimicry. As long as I was dealing with my weak phase in life, (usually everyone has one, and if you didn’t, you are probably way too perfect) and I was leaning on friends, whining, frustrated, asking for help, nothing happened. Don’t get me wrong, support matters; sympathy doesn’t, mockery doesn’t either. The only good that came out it was … after they stopped and I hit rock bottom. In a new family. In a new culture. THANK YOU! You can stimulate the mind by doing the following: put posters, put it in books, force it, pay kids, put them in gifted classes, and allow being off-center- but all such permissive trends plateau at some point.

All because it didn’t come from within you. You being you, yourself. Through diverse/adverse experiences. In time.

 Center

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Posted in Discover, Life, Personality, Uncategorized, Words

Brain Less Babble

I put my hand inside the velvety bag for the next letter. Jiggling the letters, I tried to find a Q, since I needed 60 points or more to win the game. All I had left was an ‘i and u’. There was ‘z’ dying to be used towards the triple word score.

I said my favourite mantra, tried to finger-read by tracing the letter on the tiles, and jiggle-jaggled some more. “Q, Q, Q, come to me-
Join u, i, z to quiz with Di,” I sang to those elusive tiles.
My opponent started the count down for me to pull out my hand: “5. 4. 3. 2. 1!”
I pulled out my hand fast as if a cobra had bit me in there. And peeking inside my fistful of hopes, with my heart beating 200 mph, I jumped and yelled out loud, ” YES! I Won!!!” For the satisfaction of the other Scrabbler, I jiggled back down and placed the letters happily, teasingly, one by one and celebrated, “Triple Word SCORE!”

Jiggle

Motorbiking Dream

My heart beat with the deep du-du-du-dududud sounds of a motorbike, everytime one passed me by and I wished … , I hoped … , and I was dying … to Get On It to explore the arid land of Jaisalmer.

The two little voices that reside on my shoulders, right under my ears, argued, like they always did since I got married, or maybe it was motherhood; the second iffy voice unheard of till then.

Vatif said, “What if you have an accident, who will help you in the midst of nowhere?”

Masti, the little adventurous me, said “Do it! It’ll be fun!” in the characteristic carefree voice.

Vatif groaned, “What if … You are Old! All that white hair, and no wisdom!”

Masti countered, “This is THE chance! Rent one and fly. Let’s GO!”

Vatif screamed, “Pagal hai kya! Crazy woman! What if … think about your daughter?”

Masti winked with joy, “Jee ley! Live it up! Mauka hai, one and only chance!”

I told both of them to shutUP and let me check out the options in the market. My daughter, who was quite surprised by the turn of events, and I walked along the street, checked out rates. My decision weighing scale was leaning in favour since my brother had taught me ‘how to’ on his enfield, thirty years ago and now-a-days these newbies were much lighter. I had occasionally driven someones bike to keep it in running condition, but that was twenty three years ago.

Please stop doing the math. I can hear your brain crunching! Secret out: I am almost 50. When is a better time to ride; now or when I’ll be riding chairs with wheels? Actually this is exactly what I said to convince myself at one of the bike-rental shops, which also sold colourful slogans bedcovers for a side business. I said to myself, “What does a bedcover have to do with magical results on a bed?!” Yikes! Weird touristy gimmicks! Whatever sells … Runnn.

Both reasons decided it for me in the heat of the moment, that July summer day. Signed the paper, gave the drivers license, etc. and got a bike; it’s name more exciting than it’s form, Explorer. Yay!

For fifteen minutes the owner kept having me go uphill to practice and pretty soon I’d need to turn it around, when the bike would switch off. For an experienced person this would have been a huge clue for what was to come. But anyway, I spoke to the guy about letting me go downslope and on the main street for practice, because uphill is no way to go for a novice. “Besides, wasn’t the road to the desert going to be level?” Finally, it worked. He complimented convinced, showed me a map, and waving, let me go!

I asked my daughter to hop on and away we went. Clearing the town, it was a forty minute drive to the desert. 50, 60, 70, … 80 kmph, we were moving along fine! The breeze, though hot, was awesome for a dream just come true.

Watch out! Shifting sands, whispering mellow cautions in sync with Vatif’s “I told you so’s” came up suddenly for two girls taking in the sights and sounds. Major scares on the elegant ribbon of a road were an unseen speed breaker we flew over, and a jagged bitten off edge of the tarmac road, hollowed under by sands long gone.

If you have been to the Sam (read Sum) desert, you’ll know that there are no sights and sounds on the way. But for us, every moment, every hut, every person, every prickly bush, a line of camel riders, and silent rocks- all were unforgettable.

Reflections of our sandpapered faces, spiked up hair, were mirrored only in the shocked faces at the reception desk, back at the hotel; telling signs, to them and us, of what we had been through. We had a train to catch in forty five minutes, so reflections of the experience itself only began after setting down our luggage minutes before the screeching start, click-clack of the train, leaving the most exquisite railway station I’ve ever seen.

The golden city, with its amazing palaces, havelis, and homes, the dunes fading into the distance had found a permanent place in our hearts. Golden memories kept coming to life in our shoes, hair, and pockets, days later; quantities of which bespoke of the magnitude of a simple experience, running with your dream, and loving it!

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P.S. The ride back from Sam was quite the opposite, with a realization that women on a motorbike was still a novelty in those parts. When traffic increases along with the curiosity index, you ended up with a motorbike which has a bad timing, and engine shuts off. Much like the people and vehicles slowing speeds, right in front of you or alongside, or who stop ‘n’ stare to sharpen their observation skills. Insight: we are a LIVE spectacle! Need I say more? I leave it to your imaginations to find unlimited amusement there 😄

I’ve forgotten the Arid details😉

A Newborn Baby (NOT for the faint hearted).

Imagine a sudden air-strike and a sweet gift of a news of Baby,
Igniting together, images of terror and a pink-cheeked gurgly;
What sounds it heard in a town struck by violent terror-
Now growing within a fearful, loving, unsure young mother.

Mother promises the unborn child, to find peace in war;
She only wants her baby, her home, roof above heads four.
She fiercely, swiftly protects, hides from men and gunshot ring
And re-counts the days, months, dreary winter through Spring!

Her doctor was shot, he was caring about patients in secret,
The dictat was scant, but obedience when rust, must regret-
The brother, fifteen, was kidnapped-village surrounded by arms-
No man to protect, earn bread. Mother struck deal, and feeding charms.

The baby is growing, emotional tugs, and tensions brewing-
When mother refuses water in the freeze, the gun-toting guests holding-neck-choking.
Baby kicks, dying to protect, screaming from within all warm,
“Stop! Quiet!” says mother, “Outside there is no end to terror, nor killing farm.”

Baby learns to differentiate sounds, his mother’s behest,
By the time he’s born, his vocabulary includes war, fear, behead;
Completely innocent, bringing hope from stars, loving and cheering-
Makes for a day of grateful joy! Till guns return, hungry-cold-aggression-jeering.

Heavy bombing drowns the planning talk, the fear and tears,
baby cries on, no one hears, none allowed to go near.
They surround the house, found out she’d sheltered the fighters,
Her live-in guests light up her home, the ungrateful heaven bound blighters.
In the sounds of silence, let the only reasoning be, “No more war games!”
For gas, wood, food, fuel, gold, jobs, daughter, or even that of predicted: water!


Terrorism is a double-edged sword. Remove this tool from the armoury of social solutions.🙏

Ethnic Sparring: None Spared!

References to origins, Ethnic slur-ries,
Boxed-in names, make fussy flurries-
Playing rude with sentiments-
“Go back to your country” men.

Defining crossings, Bordering mountains,
Rivers curving around plains-
Keeping out fences, Walls, and Patrols,
Names that sting, make blood curl.

ABCD, Abie, Abbo, Ali baba, Abeed;
Beaney, Bosch, Bog, Brownie, Buddhahead;
Cabbage eater, Camel jockey, Canuck, Charlie, Chi-Chi, Cheesehead;
Naming Every Letter, Every Culture, Every Continent.

What an amazing education?
Celebrations! Jubilations!
Multiple words for the childish ABC’s;
Now grown-ups have it in the best of Democracies!

🙏Rise Above Name Calling🙏

Slur

Sing-along💃🏻, hum-a-song☔️

🎶Feel rhythmic pattern of-the-rain falling down.☔️

Makes my-heart-go tick-tock tickkity-tock to-see you.

Here again ‘n’ again, so-tap-on, tappity tap.

Dance happily, snap-the fingers-in sync, sing on.

Hum along-with me-now, come-a-long, sing-a long

song. Sing-along, rhythm on-in-the tapping rain.

and so-on-hm, hm-hm, hm-hm-hm, hm-a, hm🎵

 

Read again till you hear you singing your own foot-tapping tune. Share your tune below.

🎶Have a Rhythmic musical🎵

 

💓In a secret hideout🙏

Sitting inside us, in a secret Hideout, lives a part of us, an amazing part that connects us to our Universe. And then, there’s our brain with special faculties and our spirit. Known faculties being memory, imagination, intuition, reason, will, and my favourite, perception.

Universe, nature, and earth are words we all relate with at some knowledge level or the other; irrespective of our highs and lows, our moods and trials, or even our successes and failures. It brings us peace soon as we tune-IN, inwards. I believe this special part is in everyone, irrespective of culture or religion.

Every culture has a greeting to say when two people meet or cross paths. Usually they are friendly gestures or words, and some cultures focus on respect. As a greeting in India, you’ll hear the word ‘Namastey’ used very casually several times a day, seemingly nothing beyond a Hi or a Hello.

At the same time, not a heavily spiritual, yogic, whispery exchange; full of profound meaning in every utterance. It is more an attitude that goes with the word and accompanies the way of living and which, to a conscious person, allows them to see something special in each person, beyond face value.

Putting the word, ‘Namastey’ in focus, today, I want to clarify three things about the salutary gesture/ greeting:
1. Comes from respect, not submission.
2. Respects the special part of the universe inside all of us, not necessarily divinity.
3. From one human to another, a sincere salutation to honor the others’ mental faculties beyond the self, which separate humans from animals, to that extent, loaded with humility.

I love the fact that the greeting has earned a lot of regard as cultural exchanges grow. For many, there are some grey areas and it is important for me to clarify that it has a much bigger meaning than the commonly misunderstood one of ” … respecting human soul, part of God.” Since both these terms, soul and divinity, are diversely understood, defined; it can only cause confusion, and unfortunately, conflict.

I personally look for one good thing in every person or interaction (or blog😉) and see what I can learn from an exchange. Approaching another human from a clean slate, one might say.

Namastey!🙏

💓Love and good vibes for all

Shine on Women: Inside ‘n’ Out!

Have a Glitter riffic Day! 

OR, Not?

image

Has this picture changed your mind?

Scary but true. I always stayed away from glitter, didn’t feel good around it. And now we know why?!! Imagine what it does to children, who wouldn’t even know about breathing in this like passive smoking!

Reference and Picture credit:

https://www.google.com/amp/www.theonion.com/amp/1843?client=safari

A Blurry Trend: Warming Up!

Tolerance, a fading ability, a seeming Blur, seems to be finally warming up in the heat of increasing intolerance, in the twenty first century. That’s encouraging for sure!

It may just be the tip of the iceberg, but hey, that’s what we need to see, to identify the land of hope close to it. Tip the hat, or showing respect in any form, in many cultures, is associated with the head or head gear. Most of the headgear was designed as a symbol of nobility, virginity, weather protection, hair protection, or even skull protection in war.

Maybe I’m generalizing too much, but I’m trying to simplify to a short, easy to remember rule of thumb about headgear between east and west expectations on headgear. (Scroll down to end if you don’t want details).

In the west, most cultures now wear simplified hats for fashion to match the event, outfit, or weather and remove it indoors to show respect. The indoors being air-conditioned, in most parts.

In the east, most cultures continue to wear head gear for functional or symbolic purposes. And since the purpose continues indoors, removal by will or force, is considered disrespectful.

There is a meeting ground in fashion, and if people have migrated, they continue to make changes and assimilate on their own. Dictated expectations cause conflict. The functional purposes are blurry, with air conditioning, but symbolic ones continue on strong in the east, the headgear removed only back in privacy of their own home.

Can the East-West accept each other’s cultural symbolism and use it as a learning opportunity, instead of seeing the head-gear with a presumptuous fear that it may be a mask to hide true identity of the wearer?

Enforcing wearer to remove it indoors to follow a western custom, cannot be done, because it isn’t fashion, it is seen as essential part of clothing, even personality. On the other hand, asking a westerner to start wearing head wraps in the east, would be dishonoring a guest, and I hope it’s never been done.

Summarizing in a couplet form:

“Western head gear, enjoy but tip, remove inside;

Eastern head-wraps, provide protection, wear on with pride.” Thinkinkadia

Video Link: Apr, 2016: Turban Day – A day when anybody wearing a Turban travels for free on the Airport Express in Norway! Beautiful video.

 

📜Translate Unbiased✍

One realization that surprised me off and on is about religious texts of our World. All the different religious texts were written after the great influential religious leader had passed.

The question is how much was lost through the word-of-mouth-generations? How many narrator biases crept in?

From first original writing, how much was lost in translation?

Were personal biases and preferences influencing the writings of such Writers?

When you are writing can you keep your biases out of your writing; fiction, non-fiction, or translations?

Translate