Conversation on committees

M: I want to lodge a formal complaint against the new name.
B: Please submit the complaint. It'll be taken up after the other ones are dealt with.
M: Other ones?
B: You don't have any complaints? Okay. Then we have nothing to resolve at all.
M: Oh the other ones, ok, the recent complaints.
B: The files have been misplaced. So, lets bring in a committee. That has me as the chairman.
M: So I'll have to complain on all of those all over again?
M: Chairman? By whose vote?
B: By my vote of course. I have the veto power as well.
M: Who else is there in this committee you speak of?
B: Obviously not you.. Because you are the culprit.
M: Whaaa? Culprit? All I did was to lodge a complaint!
B: Of course, the committee is there to verify the validity of your complaints.
M: I want to lodge a formal complaint against the committee and its complaint validation process.
B: Okay, lets form another committee to check this new complaint of yours.
B: By the way, questioning the committee can be a serious offence.
M: Offence? Who sets the laws now? This committee system seems convoluted.
B: The other committee sets the law. It's the law committee.
M: I would like to take down my formal complaint and make an informal one instead. :P
B: So you admit to making a false accusation? That's a serious offence.
M: No. Honestly, I don't even remember what this complaint was.
B: Well, you wasted the whole committee's time by first lodging a complaint and now saying you don't remember.
M: These committee guys sure are jobless...
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(After some jibber jabber)
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B: The title of this post can be "Committee conversations". Or Conversations of a committee.
M: Conversing on committees. Conversing on titling of a blog on committee conversations.
B: Okay. This is beyond us. Lets form a committee.
M: Sounds like I'll be a part of this committee.
B: ..... :P
M: No?! :/
B: Well, submit an application. We'll consider.
M: "We"?!
B: The committee which has the power to form committees.
M: Who's in that committee?
B: Well, the ruling part of course.
M: Party? O_O ... There's a ruling party?!
B: Of course the ruling party. Who else do you think appoints the committee forming committee?!
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blah blah...


Strangely enough the replace "B" with "Government" and "M" with "Common Man" and we have a similar situation as our nation.

Just saying... :P

The dream of a fall... A short story...

It was Blood Diamond that he remembered.

Hanging on, all he could remember was Danny Archer. The smuggler. Somewhere he was a smuggler too. A Danny Archer in his own ways. He couldn't really understand what had brought him to the place where he currently was. It must have been his will to keep pushing forward, or just plain ignorance of the dangers involved. Either way, there he was, on a small ledge, far far away from the ground below.

When the fall began, the first thing that came to his mind was the bike accident he had had many a years back. The feel of helplessness. The feel of a drain of the strength from his limbs. It was instantaneous. The loss of grip. The fear of not being able to hold on to anything. The fear of a free fall. He slid for around 5 feet before he turned around. And when he turned around, the view wasn't pleasant anymore. His head banged the granite rock a couple of times. He tucked his head between his arms. Bear Grylls he was reminded of. Should he remain hopeful? Should he let loose and allow the body to roll over? He knew all these thoughts were futile. He didn't have a choice.

His slide accelerated.

Now his body was jumping around due to the impact. He was sliding fast and dangerously down. He could see what awaited him. Around 300 feet of slide, roll, fall! He knew what it meant. He could smell it. That smell of wound. It has a peculiar smell. The flesh that is. He knew it would soon engulf him. He knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

And just like that, he stopped abruptly.

He knew how long he had fallen. He had measured his climb after his "Blood Diamond" pit stop. He was back to the same spot. The same "Danny Archer" spot. The fall was arrested due to the shoes. His shoes got stuck in the tiny crevice in the rock. A rare crevice for the monolithic granite rock. It took him a few seconds to realize that he indeed was alive. No, he was no Danny Archer after all. He had survived. He had not fallen to his death as he thought he would.

Three agonizing hours later, he came down. His 40 feet fall had not killed him. He was alive. His luck had held on. Thanks to the few who held on with him, standing at the bottom, awaiting his arrival. His dehydrated body was weak. He could hardly walk. He thanked the ones who were responsible for his survival. Somewhere, he knew it was not his luck, but the faith and efforts of the others that had saved him.

He hadn't cheated death,
Life had just given him a second chance.

...

And just like that, he woke up.

A small compilation of the pics I love...

A perfect breakfast.

Travel, on a beautiful day.

The lost meadows.

Some rest, while some soldier on.

Take me home, carry me in your arms.

Meditation.

What is more beautiful? Rain? Belief?

The colors of my wings.

An artist may die, but not his art.

Curiosity.

Some things never go out of fashion. Never.

Through the eyes of the other one.

Hop hop hop.

Twist and turn. Dance to the rhythm she plays.

She'll love you. She'll drown you even faster.

Discipline.

She'll toss you, she'll throw you around. She'll kiss you too.

Let go. Trust.

1920 mts. Another 1636 to go.

Strength.

You are never too alone.

Happiness lies in simplicity. Beauty, everywhere!

No victory is small.

He'll burn through the clouds and shine on you.

A minor adjustment.

Working behind the scenes.

A long way to go. A lot to do.

The notes played are sweeter when played from the heart.

Eventually, everything vanishes.

A pit stop.

Fly when you can. Reach the stars.

Art of a different kind.

A barren thought.

A page from my personal diary...

There are times when we feel we had more than what we deserve. Bad times, especially. When we feel that we deserve better. Much better than what we are currently going through. I have them too. These are the times which drive you crazy. Which make you hate those close ones who cant be with you at that exact time due to one reason or the other. This post is just an attempt to tell you guys how I manage myself under trying circumstances; especially when those close to me are occupied and unavailable. Remember, this is just a personal experience.

Reference to the trees.

Ever wondered how the trees grow so tall and strong? The ones in the rainforest. The ones close to the equator. Or for that matter, trees anywhere on earth. Those old, wise, time tested trees. During my childhood, I always believed that these trees were eternal. Those which came to this world, but never vanished. These gigantic, calming living beings left a permanent impression on me. One that of stability.

What makes a tree strong? What makes them stable? Calm?

When under trying circumstances, I look at a tree. The one which withstood a storm. A drought. A forest fire. An axeman's axe. A lover's carvings. An adjoining tree's intrusive branches. I see all of them and realize that we aren't that much different from a tree after all. A tough time. It might shake you up. It might break a branch or two. It might dry your resources. But then, if you decide to see through it, a monsoon rain might be waiting for you. Or a bright sunshine after a storm. Or a loving hug from someone who loves you. 

We might believe that we can stay put, but the tough part is to let go of the expectations of our own. That expectation where we expect that someone who is close to us should have been with us to help us out. But remember, there might be sunshine, water and a fertile soil, but it's the tree that grows. It's the tree which spreads its branches and provides shelter. Your friends, relatives, close ones are just the support structure. It's you who has to stand up. It's your job to weather the storm. To believe during a drought that the river will flow again. It's your job to use all the love and care you can get from others and not give up when the gale winds try to knock you down. 

When life seems to knock me down, that's where I look. Towards the trees. Their calm demeanor which hides their struggles. The way they spread their arms towards the universe, accepting all that is given. The way they sway to the winds, yet, hold their ground. The way they settle down to a soothing rustle. The way they stay put when there is no water, waiting for the rains. Holding on...

That's where I look.

A reference to the trees.

A Night By The Ganges; And The Dawn After.

It was some time in September 2012. Six of us were going for a trek on the foothills of the Himalayas. It was then that we had decided to do rafting. White water rafting on the Ganges. The rafting was supposed to begin the next morning upstream from Hrishikesh. Hence we went to an adventure camp to spend a night there. These were the guys who were organizing the rafting for us. It was there that I got the first "real" feel of the mighty Ganges.

That evening, staring at the Ganges from the "Laxman Jhoola" and "Ram Jhoola", I could see her expanse. I could feel her vastness. But also, what struck me was her calmness. A sense of tranquility. It seemed as if someone had slowed the time down for her.

It was already dark when we reached the camp. We climbed down from the winding road to the camp which was set on the banks of the Ganges. And down there, all you could hear was her roar. She was there, I couldn't see her, but it was unmistakable. The strength, the fury, the magnitude. I walked a few steps towards her. And as I drew close, I felt as if I were on the shores of an ocean. With waves crashing on to the shores. They come towards you, kiss your feet, draw back into the unknown. Those were the waves that night.

Throughout the night, we could hear the water gushing at a great force. It was a constant companion that night. Sometimes scary, sometimes a lullaby. It drowned out everything else which one could hear. But the next morning held more. Something much more than the lullaby.

When the dawn broke, we crawled out of our tents. Into the rocks which were grounded into fine sand by the flowing water over thousands of years. The sand here had a distinct color. A darker one than the ones I had seen before. It was finer than the ones you find on a sea shore. These flew at a whisk of the wind. Maybe it wasn't sand! A few steps further on, I saw her. It took me a few seconds to grasp what lay in front of me. There she was. The one whom we had heard the day before. Who had somehow, already made an impression on us. The Ganga, the Ganges.

To see what I had only heard the day before. To see her other face. To see those waves which I had come to believe were only a figment of my own imagination.

There she was. A total role reversal of sorts. From a vast, calm, slow Ganges to a narrow, angry, gushing river. Despite being narrower here, the boulders on the bank still looked tiny in front of her. The visual image of the previous day was squashed. She was the one who would change her demeanor at her own command. Maybe she was showing her anger before calming down for the humans who believed in her? Who worshiped her?

Sitting on a boulder next to her, all I could think of, was of her beauty. This life giving river had made an unforgettable impression on me. She played a dual role. But neither of the two was different from the other. The strength showed her calmness. Her calmness, her strength. It was her, on whom we rafted later that day. She threw her fury at us. And at the same time, she gave us her love.

She taught us to respect her.
She taught us, a bit of life.