Cinders.

Burning of Holika… happened when Hiranyankashapu wanted to destroy his son Prahalada the old wives give it a simple good wins over evil hue. There are people who give it profound philosophical depth about burning the negatives within us, and going to the “morally superior” plane. To the sceptic in me it occurs, that okay we collect all the winter dry debris and burn it, garbage gone, dull and dried out… and welcome spring which is all about procreation and energy.

After recovering from 40% burns, through sheer willpower and grit, reference to three things I would like to burn seems like flagging a red cape before the bull. But maybe so, because the colour red exciting the bull is all bullshit..

Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, palak paneer in the pot nine days old… the young shop assistant looks at me aghast …I possibly could not confess that i left this cooker on a burning stove and went out to the market!!

Hey interesting isn’t it when stove burns it contains the fire; it uses fuel, gives out heat, that is another usage of the word burns. I definitely think twice something that consumes fuel and gives off heat… after all resources are not squandered. .

Burn is also combustion… like the engines of various vehicles, well would I want to do that I do not have the technical knowhow, and having dealt with my own personal spontaneous combustion I think I rather give it a skip,  think about this lingering bottled up anger… it never reveals the true colours of an individual then it slowly gets all mixed up, rotten, confused, and becomes, very volatile unstable and combustible then one small ignition and boom the explosion occurs totally foreign and different to the natural self… yes we definitely skip it.

When the stove burns it contains the fire, this helps to cook, to keep warm whatever, we are all born with the fire within us, do,  should we contain it like the stove or do we let it out free for all… containing it would mean experiencing discomfort like burning with jealousy, shame or whatever we choose to call the cinders, or we could burn with ambition, give it fuel, let the light and heat out and accelerate to action, so that the human doing will manifest as the powerful human being.

It’s okay  if the burn down as occurred like a burnt down houses, it’s not a burn sentence on an electric chair, one can rise from the ashes like the phoenix and fly to different vista’s at different altitudes.

The Kabala has a beautiful philosophy, which is each week comes with its own unique opportunities for transformation. When we do connect with the energy of the week then we transformed, we are empowered and the major shift occurs. Maybe the belief that transformation happens when we are ready for it has been burnt too deep into me, so I think this musing over three things which would burn… flags the connect. However the bottom line, things I would burn

  • The stove to cook the food that nourishes.
  • Incense that cleanses and takes the staleness away.
  • Body fat to make myself more aesthetic.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

 

 

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Holdin’Hans

Holding hands

#Holding hands, love, romance, sunset, and whatnot…. what does one write about it? Maybe I should write about love, how about, how a hand can silence thousands of voices and how someone’s smell can make you feel at home despite of being million miles home.

I wonder how many of have really held the hand someone we love… not in the passing like a loose link, but truly clasp, with pulses of the wrists beating together, fingers mapping the knuckles and nails like a cartographer learning a country by heart. The pressure, the warmth whispering a communication, and you responding to it.

Yet holding hands can come with so many  intonations, like the my mother holding my hand well she didn’t have time for it, maybe Bhagi holding my hand to precise my little finger as took my first step, the grip that said, “bade chalo” I am there if you stumble. When I held my daughters fingers as they took their first step, the immense pride I felt.

The first day at school, as my grandmother held my hands through the maze or what looked like an ocean of people at Padma Sheshadri the grip that said, this is the world at large and you can swim, that imbibed strength in me, as I held my daughters hands when they went school, i could feel the apprehension, the need for assurance that they will be safe, an instinct in me telling me bundle her up and take her home. I did exactly what my grandmother did, I knelt beside her, and told her, “baby, this is a wonderful place, where you will find children just like, you will have teachers who will tell you stories, and a playground where you can play, I am just outside the gate waiting for me when the long bell goes I shall take you home.

Or should I share those times, when my friend held my hand to restrain me from bashing someone who was bothering us, after all one cannot hold a gun when one is holding hands.

Maybe I should talk of holding hands, connecting to one another and this chain of humans holding each other’s hands creating a powerful community bonding.

Of course we don’t talk of the bully hands that hold you down, maybe violate, or suffocate another; we pretend they do not exist.

Coming back to holding hands, sometimes reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey, at other times it is allowing another to take yours.plinky helping hands

When I was in the hospital being treated for burns it was the terminal ward, it was evening and the Parish priest from our church  came for his evening courtesy call, he sat by,   made some small talk and enquired if they would  like him to say a prayer, they replied yes, he then invited them to join him, which they did hands clasped eyes closed and the priest rendered the prayer, this was so moving, in retrospect I wonder if this is the nearest we humans get to whatever God is, when we hold hands and listen.

 

 

 

Joy and Sorrow of Epiphany

“I just had to tell her that I loved her and she was important in my life that is it” everything falls into place.

It had begun with a BSc. In computer science, picking up a job, in a BPO Rajat had been one of those born leaders and the growth of rapid, the BPO community knew him as Gibby short for Gibraltar…

“Listen, Regalis? Couldn’t you find anything else? Not even the Lalit” Gibby had barked at his assistant who had set up the meeting.

“Sir, considering the customer’s logistics this seems to the only workable one.”

“okay”

Gibby sat drumming on the table waiting for the client, when a spritely young person walked up to him, “Mr. Gibraltar?”

“Yes” Gibby was rather curt, it always annoyed him people did not keep their appointment. Here was a woman at that, he was really annoyed.”Could you not buzz saying you were late, Madam you are disrespecting my time”

The Girl stared at him good and steady, she did not seemed perturbed, but with clear slow delivery she told him, ”Mr.Whoever, I am not your client thankfully, but I am here on the request of your client who has met with an accident at the turn of the road, and is being carted to the hospital. Good day”

Gibby felt a fool, and out manoeuvred by a chit of a girl.

Back in the office he could not get her off his mind. Diligent tracking to almost stalking he found out more about her and how and where he could contact her. The relationship grew and they were married.

“I am sorry Samhita, but I do ….”  Samhita realized somewhere along the way the conversations always seem to begin with I am sorry, and it was not a I apologize sorry it was I am delivering news that dis-empowers you, so I am more powerful.  Today was the last straw, “…if you do not understand that in my line of work, if I do not attend to the client then and there I lose out. After being married for 5yrs this is something you should understand.”

Samhita just took another look at the man she married, before she could respond he crumbled and gasped for breathe, the 108 rushed in and the Gibraltar was hit, with a wave of confusion, what Gibby had brushed aside as gas was a cardiac arrest.

Change of job and life style there was an uneasy truce between the two of them, ”I married Rajat, the day Gibby can let Rajat return the marriage will be on, until then we just cohabitate.”

That was the time Rajat met Sadhana, slim tall very articulate, there was an instant bond stuck between them,

“This something missing is getting on my nerves,”

“So, Rajat why don’t you address it”

“How”

“Shall I?”

“Hmm”

“How about this, we’ll take a trance session see if something pops up you never know.”

Okay… and they had a session, ”yes, Rajat where are you?”

In a green field,

What are you wearing? Just keep sharing things as they come,

Some kind of loin cloth and a blanket is wrapped round me,  I can see an woman sitting on a charpai, I have seen these only in Rajasthan, someone is approaching he is tall and he has strangled the woman.

What are you doing

I have run away the man scares me too.

Hmm anything else significant.

I’m scared it makes more sense to stay away from these people.

Can you go to the last day of that life?

I am seventy, and am in the open field, my chest hurt just like it did when i got the heart attack, the sun is right on my face,

What are your thoughts?

I am alone, unmarried who will do the funeral rites for me, but more important, I am feeling remorse, the dead woman was my aunt, i should have told my father what I saw at least she would have got justice.

Okay if there is any other life that is relevant it will come up, anything coming up?

Yes, I am thirty two and am in front of a temple with my parents and wife, we are all happy.

What are you wearing?

A silk dhoti, it is red everyone is in silk, we have come down in a Palki we seem fairly well to do family. We are the temple door we are here to for a pooja so that my wife and I will have a child.”

And

I have a chest pain, it is like the one I had few days back,

And

My soul is leaving the body,

Why was this life relevant? What was your learning?

This is the second time I am here yet have not learnt, that one has to speak, actually if I had told my wife that I love and I will protect her she would have conceived right now she has not because she does not feel secure enough to bring a baby to this world. I just had to say I love and care.

Can you ask your subconscious why is it showing you this life?

Because I am in the same situation now, I have to tell my wife that I love her and she is important in my life, I have to assure her that I am there for her I had let her down when she was my aunt, I let down when she was wife before, there is no point in just feeling, I have to express and share” as he vocalized this tears streamed down Rajat’s eyes.

Okay then are good, if you are we’ll count you out…

To Rajat there there was love and understanding with the knowledge, but there was also profound sorrow for what went unacknowledged. It was not the time for regrets it was time for amends and moving on.

 

 

 

 

;

 

 

Lets resolve

New Year is round the corner,

The blogher’s group sends its blog for the year calendar, the Goa reader’s club sends it, and guess what I used vistaprint and create my own calendar since my resolution was to be organized get some projects done and end of the year I presume I would be emotionally, intellectually and financially satiated, These resolutions are quite carefully made, some where I never realized that the year that went by held the language of the year that went by, with demonetization… Vamana Jayanthi…Kattappa and Bahubali resounding in them while the words of the next year are yet to be voiced.

Considering that the last year I had projects spanning the entire year and my year sounded like it would really resonate as for  what went wrong let’s go to it in a while, for now my resolution was  planning my work and work my plan. I did the planning quite well, discovering what I wanted to achieve during the year the goals gave me a direction I felt I was inviting a powerful force into play, both on the universe and subconscious level.  What I wanted to achieve the time lines for it, the big things I did not really did not account much for the little things despite knowing that the little things matter too.  Self improvement was on the agenda interestingly not self acceptance,
“hi, there here is new improved me.” the problems I wanted to solve, they were all there on paper I had a spent a week creating it.

So why did I fail?

Maybe because I was secretive, the fear that I will be ridiculed so was overwhelming that I didn’t tell anyone so I had no running buddy, when I say anyone I mean not even the universe you see the calendar I got printed at Vistaprints. Well I have not sighted it since Febraury 2016

Maybe the to do list was too much so when Justforkics I went out on a date with rest of the to do list lost in the disaster zone I have a legitimate argument I shall go back to my plan when I find the map.

There is a newer excitement popping up. My time line is  not honoured, I have commitments to my mother, daughters, society which come before my personal pandering my resolutions are after all personal pandering.  With mother she said the time frame would not work simple things like not accounting for travel time, or the time when someone knocks your door.etc.

Another friend whose resolution was to go to the gym or swim gave it up because of the financial factor. Though why she could not swim in the sea or take a brisk walk I do not know.

Most of the times our resolutions are unrealistic, and not properly planned. The resolution I did last year I  had put things into a time frame, including account for my second Saturday’s out of town with my daughter at her school town. So why did I not execute… that is interesting, executing it meant I had to give up something the sometime was oh! I have to visit my daughter… but this demand is made of me… it gave me a sense of relevance. that brings me to the reason why most of the resolutions fail, we are not authentic with the change we want to make or the benchmark we would like to achieve.

This year my resolution is very simple…tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365 page book I intend writing a good one…opening line goes…Que Sera Sera…what will be will be one very convenient goal planning book that worked for me whatever little I achieved was from Personal success today

I am writing this for #flashbackRefreshedy  activity on forfoodiefamily in association with Sandy’s Bake Studio.

Call for my Wishes three

Old king cole

Was a merry old soul

And a merry old soul was he

He called for his pipe and he for his flute

And he called for his wishes three

“Wish on everything. Pink cars are good, especially old ones. And stars of course, first stars and shooting stars. Planes will do if they are the first light in the sky and look like stars. Wish in tunnels, holding your breath and lifting your feet off the ground. Birthday candles. Baby teeth.”
― Francesca Lia Block

The magic of three, the wishes from a genie to Aladdin or any fairy tale. The magic number emerges here.  The intention that I set out with is to state my three wishes ,that is so simple… chocolate…chocolate and more chocolate yet I realize this transitive verb has greater scope, and I needed to ponder

Am I expressing my deep desires to the universe am giving something way to someone.. By wishing them well on some occasion or the other,

or am I wishing someone or something away?

Or am I creating an order form called a wish list… What is that I am looking at? – just take a deep breath, as you exhale ensure your shoulders relax, take a deep breath as you exhale ensure your limbs relax, now take a deep breath and breathe out through your eyelids, letting the muscles between your brows relax, now that you are centered just travelled back and relieve the excitement of crossing your finger and wishing desperately for something and when your wish is granted the exhilaration that follows.

  • Can you remember your sitting out in the open during the night and falling star and how we wished on it.
  • The eyelash that dropped on the cheek, is believed to have the power of translating a wish to reality.

Today when I think back it more about getting connected to the universe and placing a request, actually making a wish is like a prayer to the universe without fixing the energy exchange and the universe indulges.

Let’s look at the wishes…knowing fully  Que sara sara… what will be will be…

My three wishes, on top of the head a quiet evening, a bottle of wine and a good friend to dine with.

Three wishes to give away — peace, harmony and wisdom.

I wish away – this is a tough one I have head-ache, running nose, and period cramps on one hand and  Arnab Goswami, “ubiquitous nighty” and draconian teachers on the other, I guess I shall stick to the first three they are personal pangas. Actually the shoppers in the ubiquitous “housecoat/nightgown” are quite dangerous, they trigger nightmares and nightmares disturb sleep which in turn causes a sleep debt which in turn causes anger issues. On the other hand Arnab Goswami triggers a depression as for the draconian teachers they adorn the monster hall of fame.

My wish-list – chocolates, books and a hunky guy who is not gay.

Let’s be honest,  to be truly happy what one could wish for in this world, is something to do, someone to love and something to hope.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

 

 

 

 

Fill In the Blank

She opened a blank page, in her note book, if she had to be honest Narmada would confess, the entire book was blank. Each day for the past two months she has been sitting to think of what to write, there were things that set her arse on fire, but putting them on paper gave her headache, she reckoned somewhere she twisted her face, with an attempt to think, but only landed up feeling stupid, instead she walked around with a blank mind hoping something from somewhere would fill it up.

She called her therapist up, the therapist told her you need to get up each morning as write 3 pages, long hand, no spell checks or grammar checks, and most important do not read it.

Narmada was furious, here I am telling her that i cannot write and she tells me write. Entire week of resisting, demanding the therapists attention with indirect tactics, but her therapist stayed firm.

“You are supposed to help me,”

“Narmada I am here to help, not to spoon feed you or step in for you.”

“Can’t just give me a pill to deal with depression”

“I can, but I won’t” the therapist for was firm,”I do not want to be the next peg for you to hang on.”

Narmada, eventually agreed to do what the therapist said, write the three damn pages as she woke up in the morning, it was crazy the therapist was clear no thinking just write what ever words float, strangely words did not float, what floated were images of a blue snake, of a woman walking on the road in blue.

A week of writing was really bad, then came the realization the story that set her butt on fire was a lingering bottled up anger, it was the authentic story that wanted to emerge, on the contrary it had become mixed up, rotten, confused, and was highly combustible, it could burst out and bring out a very different narrative than what was supposed to come out!

As she came into the 4th week of writing the morning pages, Narmada realized creation was one the strangest acts.

As a writer for it was a blank page or note book for her, it could have been a block of stone, or wood or a silent musical instrument that beckoned.

With the morning pages the prison guard “Mary Kutty” had weakened and angry dragon within was exorcised she could now look inside herself.  She could now through the bait and fish around for that elusive  cloud vapour fish, that made her live in clamour and reshape it or even fit it in where she wanted it to be, she could latch on things, and bring forth things out of head like Zeus brought forth Athena.

This abstract will-o-wisp could take tangible shapes and forms.

People in the support group said, it was as if images emerged on the canvas, or the musical resonated on its own.

nanowrmo

this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

The morning pages had given her cohesion, and brought forth something, her mind had ordered and succeeded in manifesting something beautiful out of nothing, it was like a glimpse of the divine.

A blank page now told her, that there was infinite potential, every page, like every moment contained possibilities that she could possibly not imagine, every day, came with a blank page, it was for her to fill with the most beautiful feelings, it was for her to create the space for the story, for the drawing.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Thank You My Friend

disguisehello oldest friend…

Thanks for being there,

I know my letter to you would come as a surprise since I rarely mention or acknowledge your presence in my life. But yes, you have always been with me.

But when sister Greta is spanking poor Roger for insisting that Spiderman visited him at night, and wanted to keep a slice of birthday cake for Spiderman, I knew it was time to reconnect with you.

the constant ongoing conversations we have allows me to disengage with the rest of the world.

i know our friendship was often threatened, sometimes when another friend came by, like Sue did, I remember how upset you were when Sue in her Royal blue “Stretch Pants” and white and blue primrose top extended her hand, with all solemnity of 7yr.old and asked me, ”Sam will you be my friend.” Sue w as my first ever real friend and we stayed friends till Sue got married 15yrs later.

You refused to talk to me, until you realized that you were still my best friend, and each night before I went to bed, I spoke to you, mom really thought I lost it, so I did the next thing wrote in a book, so that you could read and reply and we could converse at our own time and space.

The time we climbed up Auntie Kenny’s roof and were gorging those fruits that we had picked reading Enid Blyton the afternoon was wonderful, but mom wanted to meet you after that, and that was definitely breaking the code. You are my friend and I do not like anyone else in that space.

You have always been someone to whom I could pour the contents of my heart, be it chaff or grain, and sometimes both together. Knowing that gentle hands will take and shift, helping me keep what is worth keeping and with gently blow the rest. Interestingly you never walked either ahead or behind me, you were always with me. You didn’t keep my secrets for me, you help me keep my own secrets.

Yes, my own marriage ate into our friendship, I have kind of forgotten you, new environment, and new experiences brought a new companion who I thought was helping me deal with the rejection, the humiliation that came with marriage. Twenty five years now, as I my energy, and hope ebbed, thoughts of suicide was the only thing that carried me through at times, this new companion supported me, keeping me angry, and vigilant so that no barb stings, and if they do, I would fling it like a dart right back.

There were nights of exhaustion,  when not waking up seemed a better option, there were moments of oscillation between homicide and suicide, each time, despite the nudge from my new companion, somewhere I heard your soft whisper that said, hold on, my friend you are beautiful,  you are worth it, you are here because you make a difference.

you held my hand through my loneliness, you brought Louise Hay into my life, you are everything I needed, because your character has been moulded by my deepest wants and desires, you have been the Gibraltar that I leaned cried on, my companion when I laugh, you are still my hero, I need to believe that a hero exists for me.

nanowrmo

this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

I am so thankful, I learnt to hide, my connect with you the first moment my mother decided that I was bordering schizophrenia, and had to go to a therapist. For most imaginary friends die at the psychologists clinic, where dreams go to burn and creativity goes to drown.

Good night friend, I am glad you are back in my life.

Lets meet over coffee tomorrow at the crack of dawn.

With love

Sam.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Rising In Love

bettyWith all your senses fall in love once more…well to fall in love once more, one needs to fall in love and then fall out.

How does one know when it is over?

Maybe when we feel more in love with our memories than with the person standing in front of us? apparently something can happen inside you …it can just happen somehow…maybe like magic, you think that you’ve had enough, and that the way the two of you haven for a really long time is no longer worth the effort. Does that sound familiar?

Some how what Ben Davis Sr. Said seems to make sense, falling in love is sudden, easy and fun. Its like a child going down a playground slide, while falling out of love is slow, difficult and painful, it is like watching a child die of cancer.

The human race tends to remember the abuses to which it has been subjected rather than the endearments. What’s left of the kisses? But wounds however leave scars, and the scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real. All them same, scars are not injuries, a scar is a healing, it makes whole.

Falling in love is easy; falling in love with same person repeatedly is extraordinary. Actually somewhere maybe falling in love is about acknowledging the person who makes us feel worthy about ourselves..? So our self worth falls, we fall out of love…? Could that be it?

Maybe we our task is not seek love, but seek and dissolve the barriers within us that we have erected against love…? we are so taken up with finding, being, staying and sustaining love we seem to have forgotten the one person who we need to love first… ourselves… still worse when we do, we label it selfish, narcissism and whip ourselves no end.

Most relationships seem to hit that stalemate not at the seven year itch.. as glorified but a little later. So what happens to that great love, it should have evolved from romantic lust to an sustaining enduring companionship… the flowers should have been replaced by cauliflower pickle.

Somewhere my generation was brought up on harshness, be it verbal or physical, spare the rod and spoil the child was at its peak just beginning wan. To be kind to myself is something I had to learn, and have still to learn. Letting go of harsh judgements and self hatred has been such a tough journey.

I figured that I had decreed that fat, scared, and no awards or plaque to flaunt I was definitely not lovable. So even if someone did say anything affectionate I was sceptic.

An affirmation that helped me was, “I love and accept myself just the way I am.” Find my peace.

As I began to accept myself, and even love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering were only warnings that I was living against my own truth, this I know today as Authenticity.  I realize each person has their own pace and space, and so do I, this is called Respect. I learnt to accept myself and where I am, without wanting to change people or my surrounding, everything was an invitation to grow, maybe this is Maturity. As I began to love myself, I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time and everything happens at the right moment. This I realize is self Confidence. Somewhere since I did not seek approval, or did not need targets to be loved, work at my pace, doing things that give me joy, this keeps my life exceedingly Simple. As my love and respect for myself grew, I find myself free of anything that is not good for my health, be it food, people, things, situations or anything that drew me away from authentic-self. Once upon a time I thought this was ego and narcissism, but today I know it Love Of Oneself. As I began to love myself, the need to be always right is gone, interestingly I find, I am wrong less of the time. This I discover is Modesty. As I learn to love myself, I learnt to forgive myself, I’m

nanowrmo

this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

learning to stop living in the past, or worrying about the future, the moment seems to so happening I can live each day, and I find my life getting better every way, I call it Fulfilment. As I  learn to love myself I realize my mind can disturb me and it me sick, it give be critical, unforgiving, by as I learn to connect it my heart, my mind became an valuable ally. This connect is the Wisdom of the Heart.  Confrontations, arguments, or problems don’t seem to loom like boogie men.  There is tremendous strength and creativity happening in a still mind; I said still mind and not stagnant mind. Today I know  This Is Life…. this is love… this lightens the soul.

Indispire 123 prompt With All Your Senses  Fall In Love…..One More Time, Prompt by Arunkumar  who blogs at http://www.urgid.com
 

In Commune

DSCN8308#instatales summer siesta @BlogAdda

The stillness of it all, we are told that still waters run deep, but somehow the image brought about a moment, and the moment was that moment when we enter a place of stillness, it awakens the divinity within us.

We actually do not know much about isolation and are clueless about silence. In our quietest and loneliest hour the automatic ice-maker in the refrigerator will cluck and drop an ice-cube, the automatic dishwasher will sigh through its changes, a plane will drone over the free way will vibrate in the air, red and white lights will pass in the sky, lights will shine along the highways and glance off windows. There is always a radio that can be tuned to some all-night station, or a television set to turn artificial moonlight into the flickering images of the late show. We can turn on the music system to whatever consolation we most respond to be it Mozart of chittibabu in my case or any other grateful dead.

Spiritual searchers Patanjali Yoga sutra tells us, need to become freer and freer of the attachment to our own smallness in which we get occupied with I-me and myself. pondering on large ideas or standing in front of things which remind us of a vast scale can free us from acquisitiveness and competitiveness and from our likes and dislikes. If we sit with an increasing stillness of the body and attune our mind to the sky or to the ocean or to the myriad stars at night, or any other indicators of vastness the mind gradually stills and the heart is filled with quiet joy. Also recalling our own experience in which we acted generously or with compassion for the simple delight of it without expectations of any gain can give us more confidence in the existence of a deeper goodness from which we may deviate.

All this profoundness eludes to me, to me  these trees in their stillness seem to experience eternity, and as I look at them I connect to my emotions, live through my passions and am able to keep my mind still, there is something about space and silence they seem like two aspects of the same thing, that essentially no-thing. they are externalization of inner space and inner silence which is stillness, the infinitely creative womb of all existence.

Call to Action.

Post emergency era,

In a small sleepy village called Manipal is a sleepier high school. The library hall consisted of pre-teens and young adults none over seventeen.

A tall man who was reduced to wheel chair entered the room. He was wheeled in. and he started talking in his baritone timber. Over the next two hours he took the students on a journey, remember this is an era of no power point, or sound track.

The journey began with the gungi-gudiya and crown prince wanting more power. He talked of how the president was asked to sign the emergency and every voice that opposed it was suppressed.

The journey of people who were nabbed from their homes, imprisoned in unknown prisons, the torture by the officials, many  who died in prison and many like the speaker maimed for life. he had us shaken he had us motivated he had ready to pick the cudgels against the empire.

This man went to no public speaking school, nor was a toastmaster he was just a man who lived in integrity with his belief…The country knows him as Micheal Fernandez.

I am reading an Agatha Christie novel Destination Unknown, Dame Christie makes an interesting observation here, “the director of the establishment is just a facade, he is the person who is there because of his orator skills, he has been an evangelist leader before and an actor before that.”

Then there is the famous observation of the German woman who attended a speech by Hitler, she came saying she was all fired with nationalism when she heard Hitler but when she sat down to think about it, she could recollect his words, it was the air and the resonance.

From this space when I look at the current day, “professional motivational speakers” carefully marketed I often think I rather have a pastor who committed every horrible sin and repented, than a pastor that has no place of reference  or provides a burrowed  place of to preach redemption to a packed chapel full of sinners.

When I am done with considering all these evidences, and pronounce a judgement, and a lean back take a deep breath to actually see how effective these people are… the truth dawns, it is not about the speaker it is about the listener.. it is the listener who is ready for the change.

When life becomes an aware experience of truth, then everything becomes self-explanatory.  We are never as good as everyone tells us when we win, and we are never as bad as they tell us when we lose.

Here’s a scary thought, what if God called you to give beyond your comfort level? would you be afraid?  Would you try to explain it away or dismiss it as impractical and in the process  would you miss out on a harvest opportunity for which God had explicitly prospered you in the first place?

Confused are you? Sometimes when we are dealing with breaking from a comfort zone an external push does help.  Maybe that is the single push that will change things for you… maybe you should head towards… http://www.talkwiz.co.in

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