Differences to love

The strange thing about humanity is not that we are the same, but that every one is different. We may be made of the same material, but that is where the commonality stops. The wonderful thing is that we come across all sorts of people, and there is no limit to the amazing new people you can meet, know and love. But it seems unreasonable to me that we expect to find people just like us. It is just not possible for we are born at different times, or in different places, or in different situations. We grow in our own unique ecosystems, and even those in one family learn to think and react differently. Siblings even have different memories – and certainly different takeaways – of shared times!

So how can we expect someone to have the same sensibility or disposition as ours? And how puerile to be annoyed because they do not.

It is absurd to dislike someone else for a contrary attitude or opinion. After all, it is not only theirs to own, but unavoidably, inevitably theirs alone. We do not have to like or even understand their perspective, but as mature, smart, sophisticated humans we must accept it as rightfully theirs. Now, if we cannot live with it, we move on. We must take leave of a person with thoughts or sentiments that are toxic to our life philosophy. But a contradictory sentiment, even if wrong, is as valid to them as ours is to us. The only time they lose the right to that opinion is when they use it to hurt. Because then that is a criminal act. I believe enforcing a viewpoint onto anyone else is an act of violence.

We can never call ourselves civilized or advanced until we learn to not only accept, but respect, our differences. When we can acknowledge that what we think may not actually be right. When we are strong enough to change our stance to make way for newer, more encompassing, more kind pathways to comprehensive growth.

We are one certainly together on this blue dot, making our own better, and our own worse. But  we must acknowledge that our oneness  is defined and beautified by the differences that mark each one as one of a kind.

Guilt or Gratitude?

My insta-drabble: 

Why do we not feel guilty when we order a fancy drink?

There are those struggling for clean water.

Why do we not feel sick when we go for a quiet walk?

There are those who are incarcerated unjustly.

Why do we not feel ashamed of that expensive hat?

There are those who wait in hope for clean socks.

The Amazon burns, refugees freeze, children are terrorized,

and greed rules as the Earth cries ineradicable tears.

And we are happy just because for a time, we, the few, feel blessed?

And so my own drabble got me thinking. At what stage does gratitude become self-serving?

Most of us are thankful for whatever good we get. ( Those who don’t acknowledge the good in their lives actually do not have it, because there isn’t any if they can’t see any). Some of us are grateful for the everyday plebeian blessings. Others, only when extraordinary good fortune comes their way.

I am always joyful swimming in my gorgeous pool, but it makes me think  of those who walk miles for water. It makes me think of cities that are running dry. Human suffering saddens me. Political inertia and general societal lethargy infuriates me.  But that does not stop me from relishing what I have. So is the gratefulness that I feel justified? Or is it my way of counteracting guilt?  

What we must be very careful with is understanding that we must not feel entitled to the blessings we have.That in acknowledging them and being thankful for them, we are not absolving ourselves of the responsibility that comes with being better-off. We must remember that it falls on us to ensure that others also have the opportunity to partake of what they want, and definitely of that which they need.

So, every time we have that fancy dinner, let’s take out a bit for a food bank; every time we buy a set of clothes, let us at least donate a few of our old ones. And if we can do nothing to free those enslaved literally and figuratively, let us at least be kind to those who we deem different.

The crux of what I am trying to put across is that there should be no guilt associated with any blessings we have been given or have earned.  However, we cannot be considered grateful unless we share, in how much ever a small way, our capabilities. That we give, if not of our money and time, of our heart and wishes.

A lot of things need to fall into place for anything of joy and beauty to come into our lives. We too need to try and be one of those who facilitate joy and peace in someone else’s life. Our blessings may be numerous, but none are as important as the ability to be of use to another. 

Drabbling

Two ducks

We learn something from everything we see.

Like the two ducks.

They flew in, and simply settled down. No ripples, no carry-ons, no takeaways. The world around them goes on, undisturbed. They swim in circles, seemingly pointlessly. But what do we know? They teach me about true delight. Letting things be, enjoying the now.
I am grateful. For this moment, this learning, this home. A home that ripped apart an ecosystem to be. To watch ducks make a home in an ecosystem that already is.
I see two ducks being themselves. And winning. Every day.

Many worlds

How do they say it is ‘one world’? My world is not the same as yours.

The sea, the land, the air; each is its own world.

The starving girl in the refugee camp has a different world from the rich heiress walking into the restaurant tonight.

My pain colors my bubble, your ambition might color yours.

She buries herself in a book to escape, he drinks to forget. Her heart defines her world, his mind delineates his. So many kinds of happy. Many more kinds of unhappy.

So many people, just as many worlds. My world is not the same as yours.

Good enough?

I accept that just because I am not bad, it is not that I am good. Good requires voice and deed.

If I have not hurt, it does not mean that I have helped. Being comfortable comes with the responsibility of not looking away when others are attacked.

If I am not inflicting harm, it is not that I am harmless. My silence on seeing injustice is a potent support for oppressors. My inaction and apathy are the very reason that the abuse continues.

Every time I say’ ‘that is wrong’ and do nothing, I am doing wrong.

The precious stranger

We owe a thank you to so many strangers. Have you stopped to think?

The guy who opened the door and made you feel valued. The barista who made a little extra effort and made you feel special. The man on the scooter who stopped to wait with you because you were alone in a broken down car, and made you feel safe. The nurse who got that extra warm blanket, and made you comfortable. The ice cream maker who gave you that extra cup of the last batch and made happy. Is there someone who would want to thank you? Have you stopped to think?

The Twitter world

I am so lost in the bird-obsessed character-limiting world. My world is of words, of telling and explaining, of reading long sentences that are framed in beauty and thought.

 I am lost in this quick-read, quick-write, quick-publish world. My world is of savoring time, of listening to another, of considering my answer, of keeping kindness in mind as I say my mind.

I am hashtag- lost in this new world, but I admire it too. It has a beat, a spontaneity, a wholesomeness that speaks of unmasked life. Beauty and kindness can only follow truth.

The sea and me 

I sit on the sand where waves rush in. The warm water lulls my heart and refreshes my mind.
I sit where I see no one else is.
There are those rushing in, slashing the surfless waters.
There are others sitting on dry sand, solar-powering themselves.
The sea is enough for all. For those who dunk, or swim, or stand. For all differing needs that one sea is enough. Like love. Or fear.
I sit where no one is. Waiting for the sea to renew me with each coming wave.

On the highway

The road beckons. The mind works with foot and eyes balancing the need for speed with the imperative of safety, steadily working towards the destination.

 In this microcosm that is all its own, the vehicles are the only actors in the play. The gravel, the grass, the trees and clouds – all spectators of this solitary run by many.

I make a few friends. A blue corolla and a black jeep that move like me. There grows an unspoken bond as we drive in tandem against the others. ‘Goodbye, friend’, I feel a light loss as the corolla veers off to an exit with an imagined farewell.

Ode to Friendship

I spoke today with a friend. And my whole day has already brightened. I have not known her for long, and we do not even meet or chat as often as we like. But I know she is there for me, and I hope she believes that about me too. That got me thinking of friendship.

What elevates us from animals, for there are very few things in which we are above brute animals, is not technology, intellect, or silly things like cooking our food - it is our ability to foster long-term relationships of a very wide spectrum; of which friendship is the noblest and rarest.

It is often pointed out that though we cannot choose family, we do choose our friends. I believe we do not chose friends. They happen. You meet the person you need at that special point in your life.

That friend you grew up with who, even today, is as easy to be with as air. School friends reconnecting after years, and bonding even more deeply. The friends who suddenly come into your life to step in and help you rise from the ashes. The friends you make while chatting at a warehouse. The real friends you make on Facebook. The friends who live in the neighborhood of your new home. The friends who begin as co-workers and become a part of not only your life, but of who you are.

They are an inalienable part of, and the joy of, living my life.

So how would one describe friendship? It is knowing that the person in the other part of the equation values you as much as you value her or him. It is complete acceptance and understanding the core person; it is a comfort level that does not change with seasons of status and age, or with the vicissitudes of life and the distances it puts between friends at times. That is the most beautiful thing about friendship- distance and time do not matter. You pick up where you left off. Or not at all, and just start afresh.

Deep friendships require very little work, and it is the fortunate who have those. But friendship is essential in any relationship. You cannot be a good parent, child, sibling, spouse or coworker unless you are also friends.

I have many people I care for, in my family and outside, and can give them no greater compliment than that they are my friends.

“The language of friendship is not words but meanings.”

-Henry David Thoreau

My Op-ed :D

So I have been thinking about why the Kavanaugh-Ford imbroglio has been such a tinderbox. Why it bothers everyone so much, irrespective of the side you are on.

After all, there are things that are much worse, on a larger scale, that need our attention. Like the limited intelligence of the people in power now.

Let me start off by assuming that Dr. Ford is speaking the truth. Because I am a woman, and this is not something you can make up. I would not make something like this up to save my life. A sexual assault is too demeaning, too damaging, too frightening to simply pretend it happened. And yes, the trauma stays for an entire lifetime.

Why does something that may have happened decades ago rile us up so much? And why, if it is true, should it be a damning factor in Kavanaugh’s life?

Because it is not the incident in itself that comes into question. It is the depravity it implies. The depravity that in all likelihood continues to be a part of the person. Just as the trauma will continue to haunt the victim. An assault speaks to the character of the perpetrator. Slapping a girl’s butt is not a joke, it is invading her privacy, it is total lack of respect for her of her person, it belittles her as an object, and demonstrates a lack of empathy and understanding that is predictive of future behavior. Maybe someone grows out of it, maybe they don’t. I would think someone who can forcibly push a girl down and try to pull her clothes off is not likely to change his attitude. His character is already far down the drain.

And if he has, by some miracle, outgrown his bestial tendencies, then by extension he should have developed remorse. If he had shown something on those lines, I would be happy to see him on the Court. It takes so much character to admit you were wrong.

What bothers me most? The threats she is receiving. What kind of a world do we live in if people cannot speak out about the wrongs inflicted on them? Even if she is lying, this barbaric reaction is indicative of how wrongly women are viewed. Not believing her is an opinion, but getting her to shut up this way is as bad as an assault. Making threats on her life is unconscionable.

I have no words to form a sentence that will portray the angst and disgust I feel at the execrable ‘every boy has done this’ concept. I cannot fathom how such evil twisted minds can think that this would be normal. It is insulting to boys and men everywhere.

The other terribly disturbing revelation is how many people believe this is equivalent to ‘drinking in high school’. Shoving a person down, irrespective of the gender, is not the same as trying pot or cheating on a test. You cannot equate physical attack on someone else with choices we make for ourselves. Hurting someone is not acceptable at any age. Period.

There is no justification for what he did. The time lapse is irrelevant, since he never apologized. There is nothing anyone can say that makes it right or excusable. The only thing we should be looking at is finding out if it is true. 

Random Ramblings

How do they say it is ‘one world’? My world is not the same as yours.

The sea, the land, the air; each is its own world.

The starving girl in the refugee camp has a different world from the rich heiress walking into the restaurant tonight.

My pain colors my bubble, your ambition might color yours.

She buries herself in a book to escape, he drinks to forget. Her heart defines her world, his mind delineates his. So many kinds of happy. Many more kinds of unhappy.

So many people, just as many worlds. My world is not the same as yours.

I accept that just because I am not bad, it is not that I am good. Good requires voice and deed.

If I have not hurt, it does not mean that I have helped. Being comfortable comes with the responsibility of not looking away when others are attacked.

If I am not inflicting harm, it is not that I am harmless. My silence on seeing injustice is a potent support for oppressors. My inaction and apathy are the very reason that the abuse continues.

Every time I say’ ‘that is wrong’ and do nothing, I am doing wrong.

We owe a thank you to so many strangers, to those we probably will never meet again.. Have you stopped to think?

The guy who opened the door and made you feel valued. The barista who made a little extra effort and made you feel special. The man on the scooter who stopped to wait with you because you were alone in a broken down car, and made you feel safe. The nurse who got that extra warm blanket, and made you comfortable. The ice cream maker who gave you that extra cup of the last batch and made happy. The lady on the train ride who read your children's story in the paper and remembered your name. 

Have you made a stranger want to thank you?Have you stopped to think?

Practice or don't. But don't preach

Here is a question: Who do you like more?

1. A person who spends his time praying in a religious house (any that appeals to you).

2. A person who spends his time trying to get food to the hungry, and has not time to pray.

That’s rhetorical. If you liked the first person more, please don’t read ahead (and unfriend me on Facebook). Now, if person Number 1 tells you what you should be doing for the next month to get ‘good deeds’ in your account, you start wondering what good means to them. Don’t get me wrong, I do not have anything against strict religiosity. But I have everything against using that like a beating stick to make everyone think and behave like you.

We are all individuals with unique likes, strengths, fears and fingerprint swirls. We also have our own one-of-a-kind predilections and laughter and tears.

What is it that makes a few very ignorant people think that any two of us will have the same idea about our relationship with God?

Religion, I have always believed, is the most personal, most private belief a person has. No one else has the right to dictate what you should feel, think, or do. Of course we are affected by other: impressed by genuine good, disgusted by pontification, inspired by selflessness. We imbibe, we change, and with any luck, we grow spiritually. But sending messages and stickers about how many prayers you need to do in a specific time just shows the absolute ignorance and vanity of the sender.

I have the privilege of knowing some amazing women who are very visibly Muslim. I have learnt so much from them, and most of it has been through how they live, how kind they are to others, and how they have helped me. I have also met amazing people from other faiths who have taught me much, and brought me immense solace. So I really cannot, just cannot, abide with people acting as if they are exclusively good solely because of what they profess to practice.

I know people who have published books on religion, and they are the nastiest people I know. They can be seen performing all the prayer, fasts, and other rituals expected from a committed Muslim. But you cannot be a good Muslim unless you are a good person. You cannot be a good Hindu, a good Christian, a good Wiccan, or a good atheist unless you are a good person. Without kindness, tolerance and acceptance, you can only be a good fraud. I have said this again and again. And there are so many more who have said it better. If superficial religious propriety is all you are good at, you are not good at your religion. Your beliefs are a lie.

 When Mohamed Salah prostrated at the soccer field, some people took it as a validation of their faith. How? Why? He could be prostrating to the football gods, or paying obeisance to the ground. And if he was doing the Islamic sijdah, it is his action. Not yours. His faith, not yours. Using another person’s act to define yours is equivalent to the misguided notion that blames one community for the action of a few evil crazies. Another person’s goodness or expertise does not define yours, however representative it may be of your faith. You have to do your own good, develop your own faith, effect goodness and admiration on your own actions. And giving sweeping unsolicited advice on what another person should do is not an act of faith. Do or do not. The choice is yours. As it is for everyone else.