crossing the first mountain

Last evening I went to the gym. I was not feeling that energetic, so was just thinking that I would hang around for some time and then I would leave. With heavier legs I approached the gym. I had literally dragged myself out from the bed on a hot and sultry day. It was easier on the first day, when I had decided to begin my workouts and enhance my physical appearance. Then the steps were full of enthusiasm,  fresh pair of legs, highly motivated as there wasn't anything paining. After three days, thats last evening, the enthusiasm, the initial adrenaline, the go were all at the abyss.
I had been through this feeling earlier and was pushing myself hard at it. I wanted to win the battle in my mind, where as of then, thoughts like “one shouldn't over do it, its not good”, “ actually one should listen to the body, its asking for rest”, “ tomorrow I can make up for the lost day” and numerous such demons where putting on the brakes.
As I entered the gym, I met a colleague and told him that I am not feeling that energetic today. He just pepped me up and I climbed the cross trainer. I set a programme for 20 minutes and began slowly. After seven minutes, I was finding it difficult to push myself. Then I remembered, what one of my senior used to say when we used to climb peaks, “ just keep looking down, go back to the beautiful moments of the past, rewind them and keep unwinding them”. Soon I was back in the college where fun, frolic and laughter was the order of the day. Subtle glancing smiles, giggles, romantic songs sung on the annual days, eating from the neighbours tiffins, the rose days, ramp walk on the sari days ……………….. The cross trainer had suddenly lost all its resistance and I was speeding up like Usan Bolt approaching the finishing line. My legs were moving swiftly like a gazelle, feeling so light. I looked at the timer, it was 18 minutes, just two more minutes. With a smile I looked up in the mirror. My T Shirt was getting soaked in the sweat. The small patch on the chest was growing in size and sweat from my face was dripping on the floor mat below. Now my focus was to work out till the entire T Shirt is soaked in the sweat. I started increasing my speed to reach the new goal and as I was focused on the growing sweat patch. I had overlooked the reading meters. When I looked down at the meters, I had crossed the 20 minutes and was feeling energetic to do more, so I put in the next target as 25 minutes and continued. I was enjoying it. My limbs were moving effortlessly as if the sweat had lubricated the joints and the muscles.  One of the important things which I had learned early in my life was to set a goal and set visible way points en route and keep the focus on these way points. That was the easiest way to ward of anxieties and without too much of a fuss reach your goal. Yesterday, I had the best possible workout and when I walked out of the gym, felt satisfied and good.
In life too, we begin new ventures with a lot of enthusiasm, but most of them fail to cross the first mountain. Only once I had stopped, I still remember it. It hurts bad, really bad and gets in the memory, very difficult to erase. Since then, I know, it may take all the courage to fight the demons and conquer the first mountain, but once done, its all down slope. For the subsequent mountains you have your experience and confidence, which you have just earned it.
Lastly our mind has an habit of making a mountain of a mole. Once you cross the first mountain you are half way through. Happy mountaineering.

monsoon

The morning was hot and humid. The trees stood tall in attention without even a leaf moving. The clouds were crowding in and finding space for themselves. It was still, as if the morning wind had forgotten to wake up and still in the bed. The morning walk was loosing its pleasure as slowly the sweat was turning into streams and dampening the crispness of the fresh clothes. It felt heavy for the legs and worse was the mind, too difficult to drag.
 The summers were at its peak and monsoons were round the corner. The news were broadcasting the monsoons arrival in the southern India and one could draw freshness seeing the video footages of people walking through the water logged streets, ladies lift up the saris and the long skirts a bit above the ground to keep them dry. The weather department was doing all the calculations and announcing the progress of the arrival of monsoon, as if he was in the railways prior to this job. These news kept every one calm and kept their hopes alive. Monsoons is the life line of India. By this time of the year when the temperatures run about 45 degrees, the earth is baked like an owen, the streams vanished, lakes shrunk to ponds, the grass dried and only the brown carcasses on the hardened ground reminded of their existence. Every one was thirsty and with cracked skin and chaffed lips looked up to the lord as if praying for mercy, praying for rain.
Their prayers were answered. Something moved in the still atmosphere. A puff of wind, slowly and gradually it picked up speed, as if the sleeping giant suddenly remembered his duty and was hurrying up with blaring music, shaking up everything in his way. The trees, initially were slow to the beat, but soon they were also part of the hard rock, rocking and swaying effortlessly, high on the NASHA. Light thunders sounded like the drumbeats in the backdrop.
The first showers were just downed in no time by the thirsty earth and giving out that pleasant aroma, the sweet smell of the earth. The showers continued as the soil gulped it effortlessly. The trees wasted no time to get drenched and wash off the dust of the leaves. The grass stood up from the death bed and started breathing.The birds on getting wet were trying to dry off the extra water from their feathers. The temperatures dropped and it brought smiles to one and all. May be thats why we all await the monsoon.

courage

The morning walks in the woods is so energising and pleasing that it makes for kicking out of the bed so early. The birds would sing for you. I found the endless chatter of the birds more harmonious and soothing than any of the ipod tunes. A particular bird always caught my attention. While moving in a particular zone of the golf course, this bird would chirp tirelessly, would hop and fly over the head and at a particular place just behind the Tee would increase the volume and aggression. A small little beautiful bird would take on a person may be 200 times heavier and much bigger in size. It took me some time to find out where her eggs were. I had seen birds eggs in the nest, but this particular species lays eggs in the grass, without any nest.
We all build houses of different shapes and sizes to feel safe and comfortable. The walls, may be of wood, plywood, cement, bricks or straw gives the feel of security. Then we will have a boundary wall around our house, a fence to protect our society and an army to guard our nations border. Its an industry in itself to provide a sense of security, to make feel safe in an environment, created by us. May be threats are different, threat of theft, robbery, dominance, invasions and of death. The moment you step out of the house, you can a see a security guard at a the gate, a policeman on the road, some friskers at the metro stations and would read and hear in the news about the million dollar defence deals to procure new weapons, new aircrafts, ships, submarines. ……………..All this to guard our identity, guard our culture, guard our natural resources and lastly to guard ourselves.
The small little bird was doing it herself. 24 x 7, she was on duty protecting her eggs, her species. She had no weapons to take on any beast, but she was full of undaunted courage to take on the world. I can even think of anyone as courageous as this little bird.

Evening breeze

Last few days the mercury was beating the Sensex and was recording new highs. The sun was scorchingly hot, forcing every one inside. The ACs were tirelessly pumping in chilled air to cool off the ever hot indians. Even the birds seldom ventured out and preferred the shade of the mango trees. The streets looked deserted, playgrounds turned dry with the dying grass and with no children playing the ball. With the schools closed for the summer break, everyone seemed to have gone away leaving behind some unlucky ones to bear the Indian summer heat.
I think the God felt it and send in the fresh evening breeze. It carried the chill of the snow clad mountains, the smell of the just drenched earth from a distant place. The trees greeted it with a whistling rustles and a mild jig, swaying effortlessly to the music of nature. It rattled the windows, waking up each and everyone to life and soon everyone was out in the open as it the they were tied inside the confines of their houses or offices. The fresh air carried a flavour of inspiration,romance and carried the messages from the dear ones better than what the ACs were pouring in. The children thronged the parks, running around in circles and feeling the breeze on their soft cheeks.
 Winds are connected with change, no borders can stop them nor even the mountains could hold them. It brought in life along with the romance in the evening. The breeze carried the the dampness of the tears, it brought in the sweet pain to the lone lover, it carried a hope for a cool night and a better tomorrow. We wait for it knowingly or unknowingly for it to bring that change in our life, we wait for it to sweep of our worries, our tiredness, the sorrows and hope to bring in joy, happiness and a better tomorrow.

purpose of this life

A good friend of mine posted the same question to our group “ what is the purpose of this life?” . We are a group of friends who have studied together so generally open books to each others. "Jindagi na milegi dobara" was the first response, live it to the full, least you regret it later. Few of us just checked on the health of the questioner, to pose such questions too early in life. It pushed me deeper in my thoughts  but other posts and the routine drowned the essence of the question.
Is there any purpose of this life? I, some times back, read Paulo Cohelo’s The Alchemist, where the boy knew his destiny and his purpose was to reach it. Must be a lucky guy at least someone told him and he followed it in letter and spirit. But  is the purpose of our life is to reach ones destiny? I had read somewhere we are here on this earth for a specific cause, purpose, like Ram was here to defeat Ravana, Krisna was here to give Bhagwad Gita, Jesus, Guru Nanak, Mohammed they all had a purpose. Were they told at birth or sometimes later the purpose of their lives or its their action at certain critical situations made them the GODs. 
My mind drifted towards the discovery channel and saw how the tigers are responsible for maintaining the ecological balance of the environment. Each and every living being was part of the ecosystem and every living being had some purpose. But we human beings aren't part of the system, in fact we are the ones who destabilise or unbalance the ecosystem. May be, that could be our purpose.
So the question itself is incorrect. Some one may whisper it in your ears, but then its up to you firstly to believe in it and how far you can reach with it. I doubt anyone did it for the great people we read of and any one who tells you about it may have his own motive behind it.
The mind is always searching, searching for food when hungry, searching for water when thirsty, searching for friends when lonely, searching for a shelter when in trouble, searching for a place to retire when tired. Its that search be it knowledge, pleasure, power, satisfaction which will decide your path.

strong ladies of Hindustan

I love my village. A small hamlet at the foot hills of Sahyadri mountains. It has its scenic beauty amidst the small hills, mangoes, cashews, jackfruits, "karwandas" and its awesome "Wada Kombda”. Its a delicacy served to the selected Chakarmanies- the guests or a staple menu for any celebration. Miles away from it, the aroma and the taste still lingers on my taste buds. No matter how many times we tried it out in the city, we could not achieve the same taste.
I would always take out some time off to fly down to my roots to rejuvenate and alive n my taste buds with the spicy chicken curry with the the wadas, a multigrain puri- for those not aware of it. Thats WADA KOMBDA. This time I was curious to find out the secret behind the awesome taste. En route, just near the village I spotted my loving aunt, the best cook of the recipe along with few more ladies of the village. They were descending down the hill out of the forest, each carrying quarter ton weight equivalent of firewood on their heads. The firewood was neatly tied up in a huge roll and was balanced to the perfection by each of the ladies, who walked in a rhythm, swaying their hips and singing an old song. The treacherous footpath was narrow and steep, it turned and twisted, it had the pebbles and the stones, ups and downs throwing up challenges for the ladies, but not enough to stop the sweat drenched ladies.
I got my answer, why the food in the village was a delicacy.
Our country is full of these iron women, who trample on the numerous challenges each day. They are no less brave than the soldiers or less industries than the ants. They are the caring mothers, the loving wives and pillars of each house and our nation. They are like the trees who stand tall and firm, be it the blistering summer heat or the stormy rains.
Recently I happened to come across another strong willed lady. She is suffering from cancer of the bone marrow. Being a wife of a soldier, who was serving the nation in a far flung place, she with a smile on her face, was fighting against the dreaded disease singlehandedly. Alone in the midst of the city she was bringing up their little daughter with the utmost care and never would she complain to her husband so that he is not distracted from his line of duty. May be thats why the cancer has relapsed and pushed her back to the confines of the hospital. May God give her strength to fight the monster and rebound back to life. I pray for her.

sunrise