Time, you ask me,
And I wonder what to answer you.
Time is relative, isn’t it?
And I don’t mean by physics,
Although I guess I’d know some of that too;
What with space-time relativity
And all those sci-fi shows I watch.
But Time is relative, isn’t it?
It could mean distance
If you ask me how much further you have to go.
Then again, it could be a moment,
Or a lifetime.
Totally depends on how far you want to go.
But I answer-
Bas panch minute, vo aage waale junction pe rokk dena
Time is relative, isn’t it?
It could be the 8 PM curfew by a phone ring
Or an 8 am lecture by a bell ring.
What time are you asking?
And what answer do you expect?
Must I say- it’s time to wake up
Or that it’s time to sleep?
Should I say-
It’s the era of British rule?
Or the dawn of Marathas?
Or some other Time
That this time in history will be named,
Which I don’t know the name of
Because enough time hasn’t passed yet
To name it anything remarkable.
Perhaps I should say-
It’s time you got married,
It’s time you grew up,
Or maybe, it’s time you gave up.
I read once in a Harry Potter book
That a wizard’s house had a clock
With no numbers.
It didn’t tell you what time it was,
But told you instead if it was time to sleep or eat or play
Or if you were late.
Life would be easier
If time were defined that way,
Just as it was back when time really was defined that way.
It’s all relative, isn’t it?
What must I tell you now when you ask me what Time it is?
I guess I must ask you to tell me
In which you ask
It’s relative, isn’t it?
We Indians are supposed to be known for our tolerance. We tolerate religions, politics, price hikes, local train rush and traffic. But something we can’t tolerate is someone even slightly implying that we are wrong; even if we are. We take right and wrong, and the accusation of the same very personally. Sab kuch ijjat pe aata hai! We would sooner say Sachin Tendulkar is NOT the god of cricket than admit that we are wrong or we made a mistake.
The area surrounding a bank in Naupada (that should not be named) is very congested. Bikes and carts and people occupy the entire area, leaving no possible parking space for cars. Yet, on a Monday afternoon, a man parked his car there keeping in mind that it might be a possible hindrance to many people. So he kept one eye on the car while going about his bank work, in case he needed to move the car for someone. After a few minutes, a young guy in his twenties walked in and asked very loudly who had parked the car on the road, followed by a request to move it. The owner walked toward him, but before he could say anything, a bank employee asked out loud- ‘Who do you think you are, walking in like that and demanding something from our customers?’ Before matters got worse, the owner interrupted, accompanied the young man outside, moved his car and thanked him for bringing this to his notice.
The owner of the car went back into the bank where the bank manager had now come out and was apologizing for the scene created. He confided that the young man often did this. ‘Who does he think he is to tell us anything?’ he asked. The owner of the car looked stumped and replied- ‘I’m sorry, but he was a responsible citizen of the country who thought it his duty to inform the owner that his car was a hindrance to many more people who accessed the road. As a responsible citizen, it is my duty to move my car if more people are benefitted by that. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was doing his duty, and he helped me do mine.’
The young man was just doing his duty to the society through a simple act. Why do we take that personally, instead of accepting that we may be wrong and taking a step to make it right? Since when does a small selfless act clash with egos of those who do nothing for the society?
Here’s something I wrote…
You all know that feeling of being in a classroom, being on your period and needing a pad, right? And you all know what you do in that situation too. You start whispering to the girl closest to you and she gives you a sympathetic look and starts whispering to the next girl and this goes on until the whispering chain reaches a girl who has a spare pad.
Then you stroll casually, nothing to see here, until you get to her and she tells you what kind of pad she has and asks if that’s okay. You tell her that of course it’s okay, you just need a pad, any pad. So then you shift a bit to the left and she shifts a bit to the right so her bag is covered. She reaches in and pulls out the pad, and gives it to you concealed under a…
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Rotaract is one of the best things to have happened to me. I met many people, did projects that I could’ve never done. At the end of a Rotaract year, there is an award ceremony called AARAs for many different categories.
We got nominated for many and won two.
We were all happy and jumping with joy.
Many other clubs weren’t AS happy.
But I think the AARAs don’t matter. I think our entire year together matters. The friends we made, the fights we had. The things we learnt and the projects that were successful. The losses we faced and the projects that got cancelled.
We came for gbms because we liked meeting each other, we liked the discussions we had, we liked sharing our thoughts, projects and initiatives.
We did projects because we believed in them, we had fun doing them and we learnt so many things. Above all, we got to spend time with each other.
Throughout the year we either didn’t know about AARAs or didn’t really care about them. But we did the projects and gbms despite all that. We had fun doing what we did, and AARAs are an added bonus. I think the point is the year. I think the point is all of us and what we do. And I think that’s what matters. AARAs can be the added bonus, instead of our goal. Our goal should be us, our ideas and beliefs, and doing projects because we believe in the concepts or merely want to have fun.
Just an opinion.
Fandoms and Resurrection: http://youtu.be/7koXo4yLc1A
You say my eyes were running. You say I kept talking and joking.
But you don’t get it. They were running so they didn’t have to stop on you. Because if they did, they’d stop for ever. I kept talking because if I stopped talking, my mind would turn to thoughts of you. So I kept them busy.
I knew where you stood, just beside the blinding light, leaning against the railing. How could I not know? And so my eyes just skipped the place you occupied; they skimmed right past.
But they didn’t listen, the idiots. I thought I was safe as they just about went past you. But no. They came right back, focusing on you, standing there silent. And everything went silent. My eyes ran no more. My mouth spoke no more. Neither did the people surrounding us. It was like a drape of silence had descended upon us. Encased us.
And as that second stretched into eternity, so did my tiny smile and heart.
And you thought you needn’t read anything to understand pride and prejudice..
It is a truth universally acknowledged that any piece of writing containing the words ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged’ must be connected to Pride and Prejudice. However little known the feelings or views of my reader this truth is so well fixed in my mind that I am foregoing any other explanation or introduction to the topic of this post.
When my mother first tried to induce me to read the tale of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, I was far too young for it. I do not remember exactly what age I was but I do remember that I could not connect Lizzy and Elizabeth and so assumed that Mr and Mrs Bennet had a grand total of six daughters, not five. I was also young enough to have only vague notions of romance and have no idea of how those six daughters came into being. Most importantly…
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