In an extraordinary scenario, the sun would be bright on the foggy white winter days. Every fruit bearing tree will have a perfect yield and no crop would be destroyed or damaged. There would be no disease in the society and ill feelings would be a muse. Everybody would be happy and content, and fighting, or even picking up the slightest of an argument would be unacceptable, to say the least.
On a normal day, the sun will be there up in the sky, but hidden by the white fog. Some fruit bearing trees will have been destroyed by a pest, and others will give a good yield. Some disease would sure be there in the society, but that would mean rewarding those that discover or invent a cure for the disease. Ill feelings would exist, only for those that do wrong. Happiness and contentedness would be a routine, but there will also be a roadblock or two of unhappy moments. Fighting and picking up arguments in the heat of the moment would be common place, given the human temperament of being impatient and expecting more than deserved.
An objective analysis of the above two situations boils the difference down to two words only- “extraordinary” and “normal”. Each day in our routines, we tend to categorise our everything into extraordinary and normal without knowing the exact definition or components of either. There being no SI unit of measuring the level of normalcy in something, the concepts are in fact, very subjective. And yet we tend to give so much importance to these opinions of our head! We let our judgment of the day as being normal or extraordinary spoil our moods, spirits and tempo altogether. We let these temperaments have an impression on our work and actions, and finally, we let these two topple the whole natural consequence of things and term them ‘unexpected’.
My two cents? Get the best of both the worlds and create magic! Define your own ‘normal’, but don’t be harsh, and push yourself to be the ‘extraordinary’ you define, but if not achieved, do not punish yourself for it was all your own creation after all ;) Take the opportunity to revise the ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ every now and then. Gracefully help others to meet their ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ levels. And finally, juggle your ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ and get the better of them to be your true, sparkling ‘most extraordinary’ self!
It is often a chosen few days of the year, such as one’s birthday, that make one feel different somehow. One of such days in the lives of many Indian women in North India, is the day of Karvachauth, celebrated each year with renewed faith in a lot of things and forces I may not be the right person to talk about. But the positivity and fervour that the day instils in these women (and as I see it, some men too!), adds a brilliant shade to the otherwise mostly- black & white, palate of life. I discussed this festival and also wrote about it last year, so for those of you needing a background, here’s where you go –https://expressedd.wordpress.com/2014/10/13/karvachauth/
Thoughts in my head this year around..
Ah you sweet dear beautiful moon!
She competes with you every Karvachauth to look prettier and nice.
And when she finally sees you in the dark sky, after waiting for what seems like decades each year,
She resigns with a smile, to your beauty, as her beau resigns to hers.
A festival celebrating love and rituals, hopes and promises,
The fervour leaving in the hearts that love, a feeling of ‘HAPPILY COMMITTED EVER AFTER’.
A thought for all to ponder on today. Your thoughts on this are most welcome :)
All’s well, that ends well, but does it? Does the sequence of events in the middle of ‘the beginning’ and ‘the end’, really not matter? I think it does. In fact, I don’t like endings! Am I a fan of beginnings then? No, not particularly. But I like to enjoy whats happening in that sweet and salty phase spanning right after beginning, and just before the end. For, that is when you have the liberty and power to model that clay to your fancy, then break it again and model it again to experiment (until you secretly approach ‘the end’). Does it then mean that ‘the beginning’ can happen only once? I submit my answer to this as a firm ‘no’! A beginning can happen wherever you wish for it to happen. Just get to the point, set your foot firm there, and put up a placard declaring ‘I begin’! It will not, and should not kill your ego to declare that you are just a beginner, in fact whatever be the age, you will feel young once again, and what will follow will be that lovely phase of getting things rolling. Some may argue that endings are important too. Again, I couldn’t deny that, because aren’t you entitled to your sweet opinion too? Here you will complain that I’m being diplomatic in my argument and writing, but here’s the deal, if I do not support the cause of a beginning and an ending, how will I love what’s in the middle of these two milestones? ;)
Not trying to confuse you,
Only she could hear the music,
Some drum roll, some violins.
Only she could dance to the tunes,
Some free style, some practiced moves.
Her happy heart brought smile to her face,
Her happy face brought smiles to his heart too.
For reasons she didn’t know, she skipped around in her head,
For reasons he knew, he too jumped a trampoline or two.
Their unsynchronized reasons of happiness,
But synchronized by love perhaps?
Their unknown reasons of smiles and shine,
Secretly known to their hearts too well.
They’re too busy to halt and feel,
Their increased heartbeats, the change in their rhythm.
So the hearts play along, having their own fun in this-
As these two- she and he, play along with the magic that this RUSH IS.
She looks outside,
And the rainy smell of soil makes her happy.
She walks outside,
And the little girls doing their waltz make her smile.
She seeks to write a prose on ‘happiness’,
Or the ingredients nonetheless?
Albeit the knowledge her heart already carries,
And the constituents her mind already knows.
Her thoughts wander to words and idioms all across,
And her ideas want to be the most innovative with words.
So she probes a little more into definitions, and the art of writing,
Though already knowing what to know.
She writes, and rubbishes drafts each passing day,
And yet captures what she finally concludes-
‘Happiness’ is a virtue sans a universal definition,
It is simply that something, that makes one smile despite the varying tones and OVERTONES OF THE RESPECTIVE :)
There they see her standing in one corner of the station,
Staring at the ceiling, as if looking for a star up there,
Or probably staring hard in the hope that one would appear from nowhere.
She does some quiet calculations and then as if rubbishes them in her head,
She waves her hand too, as if a wand in her hand would do some magic,
And then quietly closes her eyes for a minute, sighing, not in disappointment though.
Some see her doing this same time everyday there, and one asks her what she really had in mind,
‘ Oh!’, she exclaimed, ‘You see that tile up there in the ceiling? So I look up there,
And remember my late father who was one of the workers at the construction site of this now- indispensable station. He left his mark in this world!’
RESPECT TO THEM! YES, THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO BUILT THESE PLACES TOO.
Hiding her face from a million eyes in the crowd,
She looks for that one face she has in her mind.
The picture in her head, she wipes a tear from her eyes,
As she silently surrenders, on not being able to find the one.
Two twinkling eyes calling out to her,
With emotions running high and low.
She sees it all on that face in her head,
Not knowing what to do next, not knowing what to know.
When suddenly she finds that face, staring back at her,
Not at all running away, in fact moving only when she herself does,
And then she turns around as somebody, she thinks he, calls out for her,
The face gone again, she smiles at how she looks today. THE SEARCH IS OVER.
She lives in that moment and refuses to move,
Very firm, right there.
She breathes every moment, and lets it all settle on her,
Breathing in all of it, content that she does.
They came and she saw them coming,
Still determined to stand against the tide they were.
They called for her, out loud there,
She heard them, not really understanding the meaning of all that was said.
This- her story, her plight, her life,
Surprisingly, she accepts and expects no sympathies or smiles.
Having no regrets to the slight, she strides on, slinging on her purse high,
Walking away, to yet ANOTHER MILESTONE, ANOTHER STORY.