Time

The biggest gift anyone can give to anyone is time. And also the biggest gift anyone gets is time. Time is never his or hers. Its time. Its selfish,  doesn't belong to anyone. It can never be utilized or wasted. But surely it can be lived. Every moments of it. Humans have succeeded in calculating time, denoting it was never difficult and they even bifurcated it, hours, minutes, seconds. This has made us conscious of time as something that shall end, something that has boundaries or limitations. The day is over, finnaly its the year end or we shall die one day. We have started to fear about it. Its no more about moments, its about seconds and minutes and days and years and lifetime. We count the every move the clock makes and feel miserable losing a second followed by minutes and hours. I heard people say that the watch is one of the finest invention, maybe it is. It is so powerful to ensalve us to a mystical master, Time.
Everyday we come across a lot of events. A beautiful flower has just blossomed in the garden, a child is just born somewhere in the medical section or the moon is shinning so beautifully in the night sky. We see the flowers, we listen the child's cry and enlighten with the moons lights. We cherish those moments, we love those. We want to stay with those, satisfy ourself. But we are already late. The minutes and hours hand are revolving all over our mind. Every second someone somewhere is achieving more, knowing more, earning more while we are wasting our time with the flowers and moon. Every second we waste, we are losing our portion to someone else and someone else is moving ahead of us. He is winning. We wont achieve anything staring the flowers or moon, its just the waste of our precious time. The time we could use in something productive.
I see small kids play, the kids that have no knowledge that something called time exist. They can do anything they like. They play hours long with a worthless wheel and they are not guilty of losing time. They don't care if they have done something productive. They are not yet enslaved. They live in moments. Everything they see, everything they do is new for them. Everything is innovative. In every try they discover a new fact of the world. They don't do the same thing everyday. They are not scared of deadlines or overtime. Maybe thats the reason why they are happy for foolish reason. At the end of everyday I realise I lost a day of my life. What did I do? The same thing. Did I live the day for myself or being myself? What did I gain for losing a day of my life? Did it worth it? I really don't have answers for these questions. I console myself, whats gone is gone, tomorrow shall be a better day. And I am stuck with these everlasting yesterdays and tomorrows. All yesterdays converts into our experiences and all tomorrows our plannings. And we puppet around these, everyday. We are, who we are for a lot of reasons. We have experiences and plannings but they shall never define the real us. We don't have power to change where we come from. But still we can choose where we go from here. Live a life like as a puppet or live a life. The nature gives us chances. The events repeat. A new flower blossoms everyday and we shall distinguish it from the yesterday's. We shall count the moments we live not in minutes or seconds. Then we shall never regret what we couldn't achieve in the past or worry about the uncertain future because we shall be so busy with what we behold in present. We shall discover uniqueness in same thing we do everday. All these uniqueness shall make us happy and satisfied. And at the end of the day when we look back we realise each day worth a lot, each experience are life changing and we are never guilty of losing a day from our life.
But what about the world we live in? What about the competitions where every second counts? Enjoying the moments cannot provide us with good grades or good money without which we are a failure in the society. On the one side we have a failure we face to be ourselves. On the other side we have a failure to suit in this civilised world. There is a failure at anything we do for sure. So its all about choices. What we choose? What kind of failure we want. Either we want a luxurious life which we can't live to ourselves or we want to live a life, of course of which we deserved better and wealthy if only we had made different choices. Once I read about a golden cage. There were men inside and outside the cage. Those man outside the cage found it to be fascinating to be inside it. What would be the interiors of golden walls? They imagined of luxury and were ready to go in. They competed and fought with each other to get in. But they found gloomy and dark shadows inside. They were now captured by evil and fear and competed to get to the top of the prison. They convinced themselves that being in the top is only the way out. But the more they try to go above in the prison the more inner they went. And finally it was impossible to get out.
This story is analogous to our life. The golden prison is the life we are living presently. We try to run faster, complete our task faster, be at the top after which we imagine that we shall not have to run anymore. But when we reach the top we found out the person at the top requires more speed than ever. Slowly we regret being at the top. And at the end of the day we feel guilty for losing our precious time for nothing. And all this started out of a simple choice,  how we want our life to be?

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Her-Motherland Dairy II

When I first heard she was coming to my city, I didn’t care much. Why would I care? She was no one for me. I was busy playing hand brick game as Nimesh and Saroj were talking about her. I had to win Subash. He was showing off, I had to win. I was fully focused on winning and nothing else. “she has a brother too, dad, mom, whole family are shifting here. Really sweet and lovely girl. She lights the room with her smile. Where ever she goes she spreads happiness for sure”, Nimesh was saying. And I got shot. Ten points less to break subash’s record. He snatched the game and started playing. My rage was rising and my ego was boiling as hot lava. “I don’t have any idea why they are moving here”, Saroj was saying, “maybe her dad is being transferred by his office. But its good to have them here”. They were talking about her new house. It was Ashim’s house, maybe Ashim’s dad sold it out. I had gone there before, I acknowledged that by heart. “she will be in your class”, Nimesh said to me. I was in 4^th grade at that time. Nimesh was senior than us, about 4 years senior. He was a genius. Everyone said so. He scored good marks in studies. He with Subash was so much innovative. They used to make nuts gun, bamboo bicycle and many other items. This used to fascinate me. That’s why I used to be with them. I was a small, lean and thin boy. Very quite, people didn’t used to realize I was there. There are lots of instances of that. When I heard Nimesh saying that to me infront of everyone, I blushed. I was really a shy boy, I must say, I used to blush anywhere if in any topic I was the one being talked about. Subash was shot. He was devil smiling. He had set a new record, he was sure unbeatable. But I was not among the quitter. It was late already so we left that day. I practiced whole night.

Next day, after school when I went to Nimesh’s house with Subash, there was a different environment. There were quite a many people than usual, bags and suitcases, and new faces. There was a little girl, quite taller but skinny, yes of course very beautiful. She was sitting next to a little boy, probably her brother, and chattering. She was talking and talking. She was conversing with around 10 people present there at the same time, answering everyone’s question. She and her brother made fun of their previous school’s name around 20 times in that 10 minutes. I realized this was the girl they were talking about yesterday. The smile of light girl. She really had that beautiful smile but the room was lighted by electric bulb! Suddenly I was thrilled and I blushed when Nimesh introduced me to her. She looked towards me and smiled, I didn’t move or speak. After a pause she continued her babbling again. She was supposed to come to my class. I thought of the class  and I knew she is going to have a really good friendship with Vawana. They had a common trait, chattering trait. Vawana was renowned for chattering. She even had got a nickname, I am not going to disclose and get killed. And as I thought among 22 girls in the class she became friend, bench partner, besty with Vawana.

They were right. She really was a smiley, always happy, spreading happiness type girl. I remember those days, being kids, happy good days, we had our own fun things to do, absolutely unexplainable. We used to sing in the class, whole class, at one rhythm, poems of Nepali and English literature books, we all were so innocent and so much united. I with Sanad and don’t remember who, used to sit in the first bench. Behind that she used to sit with Vawana and Sushmita. I was always a first bencher. Initially because I was a small kid and later I liked it sitting in the first bench. Sanad was my best friend. We used to fight 24*7. Let me quote an interesting instance of our fight. One we had a fight with Sanad during Health lecture. The teacher was already uncomfortable as he was teaching female reproductive organs and above that we irritated him. He became fierce and threw us out of the classroom. He asked us to go straight to the Principal’s office. That was the most scary thing in the world to do. So we hid in the toilet that whole lecture. Vawana used to get very irritated by our fight. She used to hit us both. We couldn’t fight back, we didn’t want to die that young. But she was our rescuer. At the beginning though. Later she too joined Vawana in exploiting us. Sushmita was a quite child. Shy, just blushed and smiled on everything. Our houses were near. Vawana, Sushmita, Niraj, Subash and her house was with in neighborhood. There was a large open area where we all kids used to gather and play. We had various fun games. She was always on my side. Maybe because I always won! I used to run real fast, outnumbering everyone. She didn’t allow anyone other than her in my team. Though I talked very less with her in school or home or anywhere, we had grew being the best of friends metaphorically. I felt that. No! I didn’t have any crush on her. I had crush on every other girl than her. But I loved her as my kin. She was really gorgeous and her smile was the most beautiful in the world. Whenever she used to smile I remembered the day when I first heard about her and remember my imagination trying to picture her smiling. I used to write songs for her to sing in the class. She used to correct the lyrics and I used to embarrassed in my every mistakes, but I loved it when she corrected them.

Every new year we had a tradition of gifting new year cards with special message to our friends. Niraj and I used to go to the card shop early in the morning and buy cards. We used to first gift each other. Then we used to send it to other friends. These cards had poems, almost same poem in every card. But that year I had one special card with a special message:

“Tarjeta Hermosa a la chica mas bella del mundo

Quiero tu sonrisa nunca se desvanece

Podra este Nuevo ano trae toda la felicidad purati

Gracias por ser mi amigo”

I never gave her that card, please don’t ask why because I also don’t have any answer for that. Slowly time was slipping off our ground, we were growing along with the ages. The age of expressed love and relationships started. She was connected to different guys. I never really felt sinner. Things changed with time, we weren’t the same but my card was. It was just lying in the drawer, enveloped and addressed waiting for its dispatch. Then one day I heard she and her family were shifting elsewhere. She was going away. I felt heavy in my chest for no reason. I convinced myself, there’s no justification for feeling this way. It was a sin. I had to be rational and indifference to that situation. But it went opposite. Emotions got over me. I left everything aside and rushed to her with my little envelope. But it was late. She was gone forever. 

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The Ugly Side

Conjoiner, rejoinder, poisoner, concealer, revelator. Look at it, rising up and rising down, taking everything with it. Even though the writer said he was just describing the water waves but for these words resemble life ways. Life plays games with us and with our emotions, it plays with our imagination. Whenever anyone writes out of his imagination, we generally call it fiction. Which means not real. If imagination is fiction it should cease to exist when pen stops. But does it cease to exist? Or it grows out of little words in the paper and form a garden of dreams in readers mind.

I came across this this book, “The Faults in our Stars” by John Green. It was few months back and even though I had a busy schedule I started flipping the pages. It was the novel about a exaggerated melodramatic love of some teenagers suffering from cancer. The same regular story, they talk about death, cry fearing of separation, both fight to live and fulfill each other’s wishes and one shall die at the end and another shall live a miserable life thereafter. But the writer presents the end artistically showing that the living one live in the sweet past memories. I didn’t read the book. I read few pages and honestly speaking I couldn’t stand it. Not because I became emotional or sentimental due to the heart-touching story NO. I threw it away because it’s a crap. For your information I am not talking about the book or its content being crap, it’s the bestseller. One doesn’t just become a bestseller. I am calling it a crap because I felt like it’s a crap when I was reading it. After reading Nicholas Sparks, Cecelia Ahern, Stephen Chopsky all these years, living a life in their stories, crying with the tragedies, enjoying the moments of love, kayak with Noah and Ellie, staging with Landon and Jamie, slowly they became the part of my life. May be I was turning out to be the kids that adults pity on as Green says. I believed there is life after novel ends. My life. Maybe I was the side effect to an evolutionary process, a failed experiment on mutation. I was believed the writer was writing about me. Every time It was my own story. Its insane isn’t it? A man in America who doesn’t even know that I exist and I believe that he writes about me. What can be more crazier than that.

When I look back now I realize its all about how you feel about anything. And I felt that its’ all crap. The novel is made into a movie which is the blockbuster as well. After seeing all the appreciation for John Green I decided to try reading again. I downloaded the PDF and started reading. I read almost halfway this time and left. This time I found something in that book and that’s the reason why I am writing all these. The reason is Peter Von Houten and his “an imperial Affliction”. I was impressed by the idea of incomplete book. I goggled it to find that peter von houten is not a real person and neither any book by the name of “An imperial Affliction exists”.  The idea is awesome. He beautifully portrayed the two major consequent of nature, the beauty and the Ugly. It’s the geniuses of John Green. He portrayed the book “An Imperial Affliction” as the symbol of beauty and the character Peter Von Houten as Ugly. The natural combination of beauty and ugly is presented in the novel, as the sun and shade, light and heat, love and pain. After talking about all these anyone wonders what real is beauty or ugly that I am talking about. And I have the same answer that I have already stated, depends on perspective. But I can define ugly. After I came across the novel “the 3 comrades” by Enrich Maria Ramareq, I got the hint what really is ugly. Ugly is simple. It’s just the lack of beauty. But beauty is not that simple. And being a male sex it’s even more difficult for me. Yes, that’s right when I analyzed the phenomenon of beauty I came to understand that women know what beauty is. They have that in them. They just don’t realize that. An infant girl, then a girl child, then a teenager and a young women in all stages of life they define beauty. That’s not with men. Women define beauty in any social role, a daughter, sister, a girlfriend, wife, a mother in every role of this life they deliver beauty. I analyzed this fact from various perspective. I analyzed Patricia’s act of not letting Lokhamp see her in the deathbed, she knew the beauty of it. Jamie knew what beauty is, she wanted to get married before she died. There are lots of character that can be quoted here but its irrelevant. Even though I boasted I got the hint of beauty but I must say I don’t have any concrete words to express that what I know. But I have an experience though. I can share that. Its just one experience of subconscious acting over me, eyes stared, didn’t blink and imagination rolled on. That’s all. Let me make it less subtle. Once read this story about a squirrel that saw a gold coin at the end of the rainbow. He was happy to see it, it worked as a good work for him. One day he climbed the rainbow to get the coin  and when he reached there, the coin turned out to be a cornflake. In this story, the squirrel feeling happy seeing the coin is beauty. But squirrel climbing the rainbow to get it is ugly.

I am not saying  what I read all these years is crap. I want to read these again and again. I want to cry again when Jamie says she’s dying of leukemia, thrill with experiences of Dorian Grey, feel love with Noah and Ellie and flirt with Patricia. I am so fortunate that I lived through those moments and I am ready to sacrifice anything to live that beauty again.  But I am displeased with the ugly side of it. It haunts me every night. I regret why I went through all these crap and tried to educe them in my life. It ruined everything. I regret that.

References:
the faults in our stars
the 3 comrades
the picture of Dorian Grey
the walk to Remember
the Notebook

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