Somewhere under the blue sky !
01/12/1999, 06:15 PM
It was one of those dark days in the winter as the sun was fast vamoosing and the night sky was ready to lay its wings on the mighty world. I sat on the brink of the aisle and was gazing at the nature's comeliness. Every little thing flabbergasts if you are in love with Nature; the sun slipping by in haste, the moon taking control of the entire night sky and assures everyone that she will look after the world during night, those busy birds humming their best song while returning to their nests after a busy day in searching food for them and their offspring, those little kids playing in the street and their parent's calling out their names to get back home as its getting dark, those beautiful women who light up the entire street with oil lamps, those little dogs that amble round their mother for evening food, those messy roads with beautiful night lamps hanging in their heads, those tiny leaves on tress which dances in sync with the winds tune. Maybe, sometimes the best times in our lives are doing nothing but going in flow in the nature's path.
I was given an holiday assignment to write a story about a person who has inspired my life and I was skirmishing with words to scrawl a story about the person who influenced my life. I knew everyone at school would write something about Sachin Tendulkar or Abdul kalam or any other great person whom everyone knew about, I wanted to write on someone whom no one knew and not even heard of but was extremely successful. I was devoid of ideas and was impetuous, looking at me being like a fish out of water my Grandmother came up to me and asked what I was up to. I elucidated her about my plea, she laughed and said why can't I write something about a person whom I know from close quarters- my Grand father.
I brought down the curtains of getting help from my Grand mother that she would help me out in this, I knew that my Grand Father was priest in a local temple and there was nothing great or inspirational about him to write about or get inspired of. I knew that she was hat in hand asking me to write about him since she was missing him very bad after his demise. I threw light upon my idea but she was headstrong that I wrote about him. So, I was in a tangle between my imagination and Grand mother's persistence. After a brief wrangle with my Granny, I made up my mind to listen to what she has in store for me regarding a person that I grew up watching, I even thought for a second that my Grand father might have had a double life of a super hero and has fought battles with the Britishers in his teens but my wild imagination was put to rest when my Granny started to narrate the story.
After hearing to her completely, I was furious. She hadn't told anything out of the box, My grand father was just an ordinary priest in the local temple. He gets up early in the morning every single day, goes to the near-by lake and does the early morning duties and prays to the sun God, offers his prayers in the temple, eats his lunch and has a brief nap in the afternoon, spends some time with his friends in the evening and again goes to the temple in evening and offer his prayers and comes back home at night and has his dinner and goes to sleep. He did this for his entire life and nothing else. I wondered how could he inspire anyone, he did not do anything to inspire someone, he was not successful in his life, he was the same priest till the end of his life. I thought that if I wrote about my grandfather then the whole class would burst into laughter and I would be quipster. I realized that I had wasted the entire evening and shooed my granny but she still insisted me to write on what she briefed.
01/17/1999 (03:15 PM) Reopening day of the school after winter holidays.
I was next in the line to present a topic on 'Most inspiration person'. I began to read out what I had written, the most inspiration person - My Grand father. I began to say exactly what my Granny had told me. The entire class was in silence, they thought that there was going to be a twist in the story at the end but I completed my story stating that my Grandfather was just an ordinary priest at the local temple till his death. Everyone in the class began to laugh, they did not understand as I was. But, my teacher stood up, she did not utter a word, she came close to me (I thought that she was going to hit me hard for the useless presentation) and patted my back. She said that it was one of the most inspiration stories that she was ever heard. I still did not understand neither did all the students in the class. The school bell rang and everyone the class went home happily.
*****
If someone has to be a part of history then it has to be written somewhere by someone. Any piece of history not written becomes fallacy. The problem with history is, it tells stories of people who fought battles and won, who crossed oceans for their love, people who have lived larger than their lives and who have turned the tables around with their discoveries and achievements, but is that what history is all abou? Is that all we need to know about? Should only successful people's story has to be heard? Can only someone's achievement inspire? Why doesn't the world has any room for the people who live an ordinary life? Has living an ordinary life became so effectiveness? Society has taught us to look up to people who have achieved big and discard a greater part of community.
I always thought, could I commove someone without doing something stupendous? Would someone else be able to come in terms with my ideologies with life ? What would be the purpose for others to read or even lend their ears to my absurdity. Maybe, I listen, so does everyone else. it's not about how big you are at the end of your story but how far you have risen from the start of your story does matters. I read a famous quote once, "A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple as putting a coat over little boy's shoulder to let him know that the world hasn't ended."
We all are so obsessed with success, not just with carrier but with all aspects of life. We go to a music class for a day and try play like Jimmy Hendricks the following day. We go for a morning jog for a day and then we think of winning the 40 KM marathon a week later. We burn the midnight's oil for a night and think of solving the equation of gravity in class the next day. Life doesn't run that way, we all see success but we never want to hear the torrid times people had to go through to be successful. We all compare our moil with someone else story. the reality is we may or may not be successful but at the end of the day all that matters is how hard we gave a wack to our dreams. We always follow who are successful but success follows only people who do ordinary stuff.
*****
01/17/1999 (03:15 PM) Reopening day of the school after winter holidays.
I stood at the center of my class with my eyes closed and said,
"The most inspiration personal is my Grandfather, he was local priest in the temple. He got up early in the morning took bath in the near-by river and did his morning prayers in the temple and came back home. He spends time with the local villagers and then he feeds his pets. He will take a brief nap in the afternoon after completing his lunch. He spends time with his loved and close ones in the evening and goes back to the temple and offers evening prayers and comes back home at night. He tells his wife what to cook and then he has his dinner along with his entire family every day and sleeps. He did that for his entire life, every single day of life. He was just an ordinary priest in the local temple. " I paused for a second and the entire class was silent, they were expecting a twist maybe at the end of the story, I cleared my throat and continued, "Is it that easy to be living an ordinary life?" I concluded my speech and after few seconds the entire class began to laugh, I bent my head down in embarrassment. I could hear my teacher's steps fast approaching me and I though that she is going to bash me but she patted my back and did not utter a single word. The school bell rang and ever one went home happily.
Somewhere down the line, we all were taught that being ordinary is lame but being ordinary is remarkable.
Is it that easy to be an ordinary good Human being? I don't think so !
It was one of those dark days in the winter as the sun was fast vamoosing and the night sky was ready to lay its wings on the mighty world. I sat on the brink of the aisle and was gazing at the nature's comeliness. Every little thing flabbergasts if you are in love with Nature; the sun slipping by in haste, the moon taking control of the entire night sky and assures everyone that she will look after the world during night, those busy birds humming their best song while returning to their nests after a busy day in searching food for them and their offspring, those little kids playing in the street and their parent's calling out their names to get back home as its getting dark, those beautiful women who light up the entire street with oil lamps, those little dogs that amble round their mother for evening food, those messy roads with beautiful night lamps hanging in their heads, those tiny leaves on tress which dances in sync with the winds tune. Maybe, sometimes the best times in our lives are doing nothing but going in flow in the nature's path.
I was given an holiday assignment to write a story about a person who has inspired my life and I was skirmishing with words to scrawl a story about the person who influenced my life. I knew everyone at school would write something about Sachin Tendulkar or Abdul kalam or any other great person whom everyone knew about, I wanted to write on someone whom no one knew and not even heard of but was extremely successful. I was devoid of ideas and was impetuous, looking at me being like a fish out of water my Grandmother came up to me and asked what I was up to. I elucidated her about my plea, she laughed and said why can't I write something about a person whom I know from close quarters- my Grand father.
I brought down the curtains of getting help from my Grand mother that she would help me out in this, I knew that my Grand Father was priest in a local temple and there was nothing great or inspirational about him to write about or get inspired of. I knew that she was hat in hand asking me to write about him since she was missing him very bad after his demise. I threw light upon my idea but she was headstrong that I wrote about him. So, I was in a tangle between my imagination and Grand mother's persistence. After a brief wrangle with my Granny, I made up my mind to listen to what she has in store for me regarding a person that I grew up watching, I even thought for a second that my Grand father might have had a double life of a super hero and has fought battles with the Britishers in his teens but my wild imagination was put to rest when my Granny started to narrate the story.
After hearing to her completely, I was furious. She hadn't told anything out of the box, My grand father was just an ordinary priest in the local temple. He gets up early in the morning every single day, goes to the near-by lake and does the early morning duties and prays to the sun God, offers his prayers in the temple, eats his lunch and has a brief nap in the afternoon, spends some time with his friends in the evening and again goes to the temple in evening and offer his prayers and comes back home at night and has his dinner and goes to sleep. He did this for his entire life and nothing else. I wondered how could he inspire anyone, he did not do anything to inspire someone, he was not successful in his life, he was the same priest till the end of his life. I thought that if I wrote about my grandfather then the whole class would burst into laughter and I would be quipster. I realized that I had wasted the entire evening and shooed my granny but she still insisted me to write on what she briefed.
01/17/1999 (03:15 PM) Reopening day of the school after winter holidays.
I was next in the line to present a topic on 'Most inspiration person'. I began to read out what I had written, the most inspiration person - My Grand father. I began to say exactly what my Granny had told me. The entire class was in silence, they thought that there was going to be a twist in the story at the end but I completed my story stating that my Grandfather was just an ordinary priest at the local temple till his death. Everyone in the class began to laugh, they did not understand as I was. But, my teacher stood up, she did not utter a word, she came close to me (I thought that she was going to hit me hard for the useless presentation) and patted my back. She said that it was one of the most inspiration stories that she was ever heard. I still did not understand neither did all the students in the class. The school bell rang and everyone the class went home happily.
*****
If someone has to be a part of history then it has to be written somewhere by someone. Any piece of history not written becomes fallacy. The problem with history is, it tells stories of people who fought battles and won, who crossed oceans for their love, people who have lived larger than their lives and who have turned the tables around with their discoveries and achievements, but is that what history is all abou? Is that all we need to know about? Should only successful people's story has to be heard? Can only someone's achievement inspire? Why doesn't the world has any room for the people who live an ordinary life? Has living an ordinary life became so effectiveness? Society has taught us to look up to people who have achieved big and discard a greater part of community.
I always thought, could I commove someone without doing something stupendous? Would someone else be able to come in terms with my ideologies with life ? What would be the purpose for others to read or even lend their ears to my absurdity. Maybe, I listen, so does everyone else. it's not about how big you are at the end of your story but how far you have risen from the start of your story does matters. I read a famous quote once, "A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple as putting a coat over little boy's shoulder to let him know that the world hasn't ended."
We all are so obsessed with success, not just with carrier but with all aspects of life. We go to a music class for a day and try play like Jimmy Hendricks the following day. We go for a morning jog for a day and then we think of winning the 40 KM marathon a week later. We burn the midnight's oil for a night and think of solving the equation of gravity in class the next day. Life doesn't run that way, we all see success but we never want to hear the torrid times people had to go through to be successful. We all compare our moil with someone else story. the reality is we may or may not be successful but at the end of the day all that matters is how hard we gave a wack to our dreams. We always follow who are successful but success follows only people who do ordinary stuff.
*****
01/17/1999 (03:15 PM) Reopening day of the school after winter holidays.
I stood at the center of my class with my eyes closed and said,
"The most inspiration personal is my Grandfather, he was local priest in the temple. He got up early in the morning took bath in the near-by river and did his morning prayers in the temple and came back home. He spends time with the local villagers and then he feeds his pets. He will take a brief nap in the afternoon after completing his lunch. He spends time with his loved and close ones in the evening and goes back to the temple and offers evening prayers and comes back home at night. He tells his wife what to cook and then he has his dinner along with his entire family every day and sleeps. He did that for his entire life, every single day of life. He was just an ordinary priest in the local temple. " I paused for a second and the entire class was silent, they were expecting a twist maybe at the end of the story, I cleared my throat and continued, "Is it that easy to be living an ordinary life?" I concluded my speech and after few seconds the entire class began to laugh, I bent my head down in embarrassment. I could hear my teacher's steps fast approaching me and I though that she is going to bash me but she patted my back and did not utter a single word. The school bell rang and ever one went home happily.
Somewhere down the line, we all were taught that being ordinary is lame but being ordinary is remarkable.
Is it that easy to be an ordinary good Human being? I don't think so !
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