Go find that someone who's not human

Pause long enough if you indeed can, and you will see what's really going on. It's not exactly behind the scenes - it is in front of your eyes, but you can't see it. Your eyes are defective. They need the scales to fall, the penny to drop.

Around 80 percent of readers are going to abandon this post right here. I'm not surprised and I don't care! I'm not trying to act like I know better than you. I am worse than you in many ways. Far worse. Those who really know me would have pressed the buzzer long ago.

All of that aside, don't you ever wonder what has happened to any patience our human race ever had? I can almost hear the screaming, "get to the point already! I don't have time!" We're hardly a couple of paragraphs into this post. 

So why do we need to know RIGHT NOW? This instant? Can't we wait for it?

Why do we have to know EVERYTHING? Can't we leave any room for mystery?

Why do we have to turn the spotlights on every detail? Can't we leave some things alone?

Why do we have to name things all the time? Isn't that merely a form of denial - a way of "homogenising" everything? Why can't some things be left unsaid, undone, unnamed. unknown, awaited?

Why are all the wheels in the world squeaky suddenly?

Why does every loop, every thread, need to be closed and circuited? What's wrong with leaving some things open ended? Why do there need to be results all the time? So what if some things actually do not produce results? Do all such things become invalid because of that?

Do we have to solve for every variable in this world? Every time?

Why does every single thing have to be binary - either succeeding or failing, with nothing in between? Can't some things succeed at times and fail at others without making the news and everyone's red-eye target?

Thank heavens that even though we insist on knowing everything all the time and controlling everything all the time, there are a zillion things that we cannot know and cannot control no matter how successful we get at doing so. Such things remind us that we are limited and ensure that we don't become bored. They also keep some mysteries intact and away from our prying eyes and nosy-parker minds.

It's ironical that even though we insist on knowing everything and looking under every carpet, we accept the answers that present themselves without questioning. We want answers but we won't wait long enough to work out whether an answer actually works or not, whether it is really credible or not. We are so impatient that we assume answers, many times. We act on these assumptions too. We are both feverishly nosy as well as childishly gullible, all at the same time, with everything.

Therefore, everything that's really important remains under wraps and shrouded in both mystery and controversy, because we accept pat answers and leave no room for subtlety, nuance, shades or depth. We don't have the ken for complexity, really, no matter how vehemently we multi-task. As you can imagine, this is both a good thing as well as a bad thing, because life is more complex than it is simple. So, with our present (as in, this age) approach to our quests for knowledge, we're not going to be able to learn very much about it that we can really work with. Not that this ever deterred us.....

What are the important things in life anyways?

We somehow cannot agree on this. Some of us say it is the here and now. Many of us say it's happiness. Some of us say it's the future. Very, very few actually will admit that it is where we came from and how we got here, that really has the power to endow our lives with purpose and meaning and shed a beam of light down our present paths and where they are leading us. 

We very rarely pause long enough to appreciate that though we do know that only the big picture, with origins, the present and the future, will make complete sense of our lives, we usually opt to live locally in the now and ignore questions of origin ("no one will ever be able to find out, so why try") and destiny ("we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it") Along with the pivotal questions of origin and destiny, purpose, which is the jewel of life if we cared enough to admit it, also becomes somewhat of a diamond in the rough and in the dust.

The question we're usually most concerned with, even though many of us are ignorant of this and many of us are in denial, is this thing called identity. "Who am I?" still remains the most pivotal unanswered question. Many of us go through life without ever having asked it; and almost all of us substitute anything for it but the truth about it. 

There's a big technology revolution going on these days. Almost every human being is becoming increasingly traceable, monitor-able and track-able, but the real distances between us are opening up in yawning chasms without even broken rope bridges between. We are getting up to within jostling space of each other, but the possibility of us remaining strangers forever has never ever been more than a heartbeat away. Nearness and communication have become increasingly inversely related. The nearer technology brings us, the worse we seem to be able to communicate.

Whistle blowers come and go. Actually, trumpets are blaring in our ears. Real insights are waiting for the eyes that care enough for a second opinion about the diamonds in the dust. But most of us just pass on by. Our faces are grim; our outlook like a pronounced judgment, and there seems to be some force within us that will keep us going, even if it is in the wrong direction.

The image I get of life on this planet is that of a nuclear treatment plant in which alarms are blaring because the radiation walls have fallen and the toxin is everywhere. The sound of the alarms is deafening, and the sights of radiation damage, unimaginable. Yet, most of us go through this nuclear treatment plant impeccably dressed, blissfully unaware and/or immune, ostensibly not harming ourselves or others (never mind the radiation damage), perfectly mannered, smiling as we drift towards eternity, even as we mutate imperceptibly, inexorably and irreversibly into eternally feral beings without knowing it, as if life was nothing more than a comedy of manners. Can we not hear? Can we not see? Apparently not.

We are on a systematic hunt for all mirrors - to destroy them so that we will never have to look at ourselves again. The picture of Dorian Gray has already been altered willingly and there is no remorse at it, or even anger. Every single dial at the nuclear plant is spinning out of control, but we think it's just a manufacturing defect. Even though our attempts at fixing this defect have failed miserably again and again.

Now that I've painted us all into some dark, sinister corner, you may ask, what are we supposed to do? Don't you have answers instead of these infernal questions? Can you not offer hope rather than doomsday prophecy?

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Answers cannot save us. Every single answer we figured out has only led to more questions.

Solutions are always temporary. The wrong people always take them and run, leaving the rest of us holding the bag. It's always been that way.

The thing we've always failed to understand about life is that there has always been a need to RESTART it. Technology should help us with the analogy that goes with this word "restart". However, when a virus hits a microchip, restarting is of no use. You need to replace the motherboard. Change the chips. Virtually, re-make or re-model the computer.

Now since we've lost the instruction thingy and/or have failed to do it perfectly, the magnitude of this "re-make" is unthinkable, and those among us who know this have already given up trying to do it on our own. We need help. Presumably, we will get help if we first give up trying on our own and then actually ask for it. Ask where? Ask who? Ask what?

Ask the maker of life, obviously. There's got to be SOMEONE like that who knows what's going on, surely? 

So, go figure. Never was there a time when more depended on us having to "go figure".

If you believe in meta data, so much the better. There's ALWAYS meta data. Yet, meta data also stops with someone who knows themselves completely; and obviously this someone isn't human, or we'd have been able to fix ourselves perfectly by now. 

Don't look at me now - I've only done what I was supposed to do - sit by the wayside and blow whistles. Go find that one who's not human.

……and, another bright spark - on teaching kids

When you came to me, you were exquisitely beautiful. So much so that I could not look past your beauty for a long, long, time - it held me in thrall, captive. In one sense, I could look past everything else about you - your smallness, your untidiness, your nano-second attention span, your inability to sit still at all, your loudness, your default disobedience, EVERYTHING. Initially, for a long, long time, I completely forgot I had to teach you something, because your beauty just captured my heart.

You touched my heart very deeply by just being around, many, many times. When we spoke, I didn’t remember much of WHAT we spoke as much as the fact THAT we spoke. I loved the way your eyes lit up like bright twinkling points in the night whenever something caught your sense of wonder. I loved how you went berserk when your mind actually grasped something, even something minor and trivial (like how the wheels of a bus go round, for example).

You fulfilled me without having to do anything; there was nothing imperfect about you. Nothing. You were always the highlight of the day, the thing that made me smile even when other things and adults constantly wore me down. You became, in a manner of speaking, an idol.

For a long time, it became enough for me just to see you everyday, to spend time with you, to watch you grow. I wanted to be there for all the changes that came with growth.

It was only when I reflected on the fact that you were meant to grow, that I came to my senses. I realised I had been given you so that I could help you grow. I began to realise hard, cold facts like you needed me, in one sense, far, far more than I needed you. You weren’t there for my enjoyment or pleasure (though you certainly succeeded at that without even trying) - you were there because I, the adult, had something really pivotal and essential that you needed to grow, which I had to give you so that I give an account to the One Who gave me that thing.

It was then that I realised that it had become selfish of me to want you to be with me, and yet not give you the very thing I had that you needed. In idolising you, I had thought only of myself, not of you. Then I also remembered how innocent you were, and then I fell into deep anguish that I had, in fact, used you instead of helping you grow. I had failed! It was crushing to realise that only I could give you what I had, and I had been consistently failing to give it to you.

**************************************

At that time, I thought I must give up because I was so angry at myself; and I saw you, in all your beauty, now with the imperfection of lack - you lacked what only I in this whole world could give you, and your growth was stunted because I hadn’t done for you what I was supposed to do.

I thank God above that I did not wallow selfishly, thinking only of myself; had I done that, you might have remained imperfect and stunted the rest of your life, because only I could give you what I was supposed to give you. No one else could have done that for you. 

I thank God that the deep, deep love I had developed for you came to my rescue. It goaded me into action; I realised that I wasn’t supposed to leave you the way you were when you first came to me; that would be a far worse sin than my selfishness with you had been.

I saw that my love for you must find fulfillment in my heart, for me too, because it wasn’t entirely a selfish love. 

I then resolved to never leave you until I had given you what I was supposed to give; to stop using you and start giving to you.

***************************************

THEN began the process of trying to give you what I had been ordained to give you. In those days it became very hard indeed; and I must say you made it no easier for me. I now began to see your bewitching beauty as something indeed bewitching beyond bearing - the temptation to be selfish was always there, waiting to move in. I also found that in your innocence, you had no idea what I was supposed to give you; and you were constantly in the way of receiving what I had to give you without even meaning to do so. You began to frustrate me - sometimes you pushed me away and cried.

I realised you wouldn’t be able to help me fulfil my love for you in any way. Then many things that had at first endeared you to me now upset me beyond bearing because they were, stubbornly yet innocently, hindrances to your ability to receive. I realised how hard my task really was; my eyes had indeed opened.

I just stuck to it because of my love for you. I had a mission, and I would not quit no matter how hard it got because that’s what friends do for each other. I put my nose to the grindstone and started the long and lonely trudge to the real you, hidden deep inside you, that was able to receive what I had to give.

Sometimes you helped, but most times you were just unable because you were just growing. But I still remember your affection and your love that you showed many a time, all innocently and always without warning; these in no small way made everything easier, and more than easier, WORTH IT.

Sometimes it was like the early days, when you would go absolutely and uncontrollably berserk when you received a bit of what I was giving you and knew it; you understood. At other times, I softly cried that you thought I was such a nuisance and so hurtful to you. Growth hurts, we both realised.

I just want to tell you this - I would do it again for you if I had to, without batting an eyelid.

**********************************************

The whole thing was almost chemical, electronic even, maybe there was a robotic element to it. I realised that you had switches, just like I did. What I had to do was find them for you and turn them on, because you couldn’t do that by yourself. 

But you were this impossible, bumbling, energy-dripping bouncing ball which I could not hold down, and even when I could physically get you, I could not engage that mind of yours!

I had to engage that mind - or, no matter how close I came, all my efforts, all the years, would have been useless. USELESS! The thought chilled me.

So I did a number on you. I FOUND ways to get into your mind and there I searched frantically for those switches. WHERE WERE THEY?

You kids bury those switches. I have to tell you that now, after all these years. The maddening thing is that you hardly know how you do it, yet you do it expertly even so.

Then I realised that you buried the switches because other adults failed you. It was the only escape hatch you had been given to protect yourself from harmful people. The harmful people, far from loving you or doing their duty to you, just filled you with layers of dirt. Just plain ‘unadulterated’ dirt. This dirt made you behave really strangely - first, you buried the switches, then you began to hide clues too. Sometimes even the scars would disappear, leaving me with nowhere to start.

So I began digging. I held you close and felt fiercely protective, so fiercely that it began to cost me. I didn’t care what it cost. I just went on doing my work. Layer after layer, red herring after another, false positive after another.

***************************************************

So you want to know where this story ends?

Today you walked in to my class. After half a century, maybe. You were not beautiful, at least not in the way you had been when I first saw you. That made sense - you were now an adult.

But you were complete, in a way that you had never been in those years. And being complete made you beautiful in a whole new way.

I know this because you told me things about those years that I had been unable to see even then - the fact that I had finally been able to find the switches; and indeed helped you turn them on. And the light that flooded into you carried you through life, and here you were, telling me so - after half a century.

You asked me what I saw in you during those years, that I never stopped working on you. I really don’t know, I said. I just did what I had to do because I loved you and understood what I had been placed in your life to do. In fact I neither remember at what point I found the switches, nor turned them on. I guess once I found them, you turned them on yourself. It was easy THEN - child’s play, so to speak.

And here you stand, speaking highly of me. Now. Half a century later.

I didn’t tell you, but I will sleep easier tonight, because I can rest knowing I finally gave you what only I could give you; and you received it, and accepted it. But it’s more than that. Much more. 

*************************************************

In the dark, in bed, I thought about you. The years rolled back. At one point, in those years, I had only been painfully aware that you needed me and I should not fail you; but tonight I realised that I had needed you too. Not in the selfish way I remember back then, but maturely - to help me grow, just as I was supposed to help you grow. I realised that, had I failed you, we’d both be incomplete today, and that would have been a cosmic tragedy - true failure without remedy.

And I lie here and think of all those who came before you and after you; some, I succeeded, some I failed. I’m only human. The awesome thing is that there were others like you, each one as special as you; though none as special in the same way as you. Pleasantly, yet strangely, even among a constellation of ones like you, each of you remains individually special, and uniquely so.

Thank you for helping me. I want you to know that I would do all of it all over again should you need it, no matter what it would cost me.

Ode: A child

Life is fun.
Life…..is me.
Life is sometimes a big deal, a very big deal.
Sometimes it ain’t no big deal
And I can’t see what all the fuss is about.

I can see things you can’t see
Or don’t want to see
I don’t know if you know this
And sometimes I don’t even care whether you know
Sometimes I wish with all my heart that you could see,
Especially at those times when I can’t tell you.
But it’s okay if you don’t.

Do you see something about me?
I do. There are a few people who do.
I don’t know who they all are but I know some of them.
Some tell me. Most don’t.
I don’t care as long as they see.

This is a beautiful world
And this life is a thing full of deep feelings
But to see this you need eyes. My eyes, maybe.
I’m afraid many don’t have my eyes. It’s okay.
If you did have my eyes, you would see
That life always passes by when you’re not looking.
Some call me a dreamer. Maybe that’s what I am.
But I see life passing by and I can see all its colours.
Some colours, in fact most, are wildly and exhilaratingly vivid and iridescent.
Others are full of the hues of sunset. Warm, maybe, but ultimately sad.
I’m just thankful for the colours, whatever they are.

Sometimes I feel alone, but not in a lonely or sad way.
Sometimes I feel utterly alone in a devastatingly lonely way.
When I’m happy alone, I just wonder why everyone can’t see what I see
When I’m lonely alone, I wish more than ever that someone would actually see what I see.
Some do see and I am thankful for them.
Those who don’t see, well, it’s not their fault.

Life has a few words.
There is such a word as ‘noble’.
Some things that are always going to be right
No matter who we are or where we find ourselves.
Some words about life mean many different things.
‘Beautiful’ doesn’t always mean that we can see it.
But if we did really wish in our hearts to see,
We would.
Beautiful also means pretty.
Pretty is when I feel good about myself in a noble way
And when I am not thinking only of myself.
Maybe sometimes people are looking at me just like they see life passing by,
Those times when they do see.

Maybe I try to be those things I like.
The colours of life.
Sunrises. Flowers. Rain. Sunsets. Summer sun. Beaches.
The mountains. Snowflakes. The unending sea.
The happy skipping doggies.
It’s simple, really, when I think of it
Sometimes I can capture all of the things I love
In a smile. In the wind in my hair.
I’m very thankful that it’s simple
Because sometimes I know that for many, it is anything but simple.

I remember when I see life passing by.
I can’t forget. Guess that’s just me.
I need to remember the good things
So that I can be them.
Because sometimes I just get the feeling this isn’t a good world,
And we made it that way.
So I try to be part of the good things.
So people can see the good things all the time.
They need to.

So if you’re reading this,
I’ll ask you to remember
If you’ve seen me you’ll never say the world is a bad place
Or that life is only a thing of sorrow
Maybe you will ask where I came from
And maybe you’ll go ask The One from Whom I really came
And when you do, my work here’s done.