Gospel on Goodness

Written on September 2016

Goodness or the state of being good is not a "holy" status enshrined to a very few in the society who adheres strictly to the commonly accepted norms of the society or a moral code. Goodness is not being socially accepted as a figure of  "good character" or an epitome of ideals. It is only a minimal,masked face of good. That is not it.
It is necessarily the light that glows in your heart.
The test of goodness is when you are doubted, abandoned and branded "bad" by the society, by your dear ones, and you still sustain that glow in your heart and keep your smile on your face. When you continue to spread light in the lives of those who still hurt you.
It is especially something that is encoded in the hearts of all born in the human race.  It is the light of God encircling our souls-all of our souls. The difference lies in the way we perceive this light-and the  way we choose to spread it. Some of us never see the light already in us and go after flicker lights outside, not even realizing the elixir within ourselves. While some others do see this, but tend to compare.
But it is the same. One and the same. Our duty is to  keep the light burning, even when storms arise, and trust in our own light, even when the dark world outside cant see it.
:-)

MY PAST SCARES ME

#and how her thoughts flowed when she had to mould into someone else @ 16

My past scares me,

Not that I did anything wrong...

or take the breath out of a man,

nor did I leave a bloodtrail,

or my fingerprint on a corpse...

Not that I subdued my neighbour,

nor take advantage of him,

nor did I cheat on anyone,

or claim undeserved bread...

Neither did I fear anyone,

or cheated in an exam,

Nor was I a cause of fear,

or of a dull austerity

Neither was life a burden,

Or a heavy cross to bear,

Nor did I doubt myself,

Or distrust myself in a crisis.

No, I didn't doubt my sanctity,

Or swear on anyone,

But my past scares me...

For those things I was not back then...

But is now.

My past scares me.....

MY WOES

#overtures of a 12 year old during her over-sensitive insecure times

Tears running down my cheeks

Those no one seeks...

Crying out in pain,

My tears may cause a rain,

I want my feeling expressed,

I don't want them supressed

Hating me-all?

Or only the tall?

Has no one got worry

At blasting at me with furry?

Forgetting me in the hurry?

Better you burry

I hate you-the one in my right,

I hate even your sight,

Why though you made me cry,

With you, my eyes never dry

I'll make you fry

And you'll never come for a try

No one ought to be with me

Never good,they'll be

I yearn for you

You would come too

Not for long,I know

That leaves me a great vow.

Pursuit Of Peace

He stared point blank at his bloody hands. He was just twenty-two. So young. So stupid. But he had been younger once. More stupid. His mind had been in pursuit of so many answers until now and with great effort,he had tried to clear it. But soon he found himself chasing his past. Flashes of memory that had played hundreds of times already.

Little chunks of his past-of his loving family,his spoilt childhood...He had everything a boy his age would have ever wanted. But he was even better than just a rich boy. He was a champion-an all in all. He had made his mark in his studies and sports,he was an established orator and a natural leader. He grew up to be everyone's pet.

'Everything would have gone that way',he reflected,'if it wasn't for Sam'. Sam was a fresher at his school. With his charm and talents he became an instant hit at his new school. 'In some ways he excelled me'. He was not only a proficient student,but also a prodigal singer and a sportsman. He was quite an extrovert too. Being very social,he made friends in every nook and corner of the school in no time at all.

Then came the most coveted school elections-'the event that I had my eyes on for so long'.

'I was the natural choice at first'. But then someone put up Sam's name and everyone tagged on to it. And thus there were two contenders for the post- then followed the heated election campaigns and the polling day. On the day of verdict,beating everyone's expectations,'even mine own',Sam won.

He remembers the pain he felt as he saw his very friends raise Sam off his feet and cheer him on.

'It must be then that the cards started to fall'. For then on,he felt the ground slip under his feet. 'May be I was imagining it...'He felt as if the whole world had switched its side from him to Sam. His friends, teachers, everything,everyone.....It triggered the fire in him,the fire of want for revenge. 'It must be then that I felt like I could take the world away from him who took mine away from me'.

He distinctly remembers the day he worked out his evil plan. Caught in the frenzy of drugs and a subhuman attitude,he set fire to Sam's house. He could still retrace that vivid image of flames licking the night sky and he knew for once that he didn't feel the zeal of achievement at having completed his 'mission'. 'It was a mistake',he thought to himself,' A very bad mistake. A pointless,crazy adrenaline-drive.'

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the warden who was glaring at him with his big,yellow eyes.”You have a visitor”,he grunted between his teeth.

In a minute, he found himself standing in the visiting room across his visitor,the deep gorge of bars separating his hell from the heaven of freedom that lay beyond. His guest was on wheels and it wasn't a hard face to recognise , or what remained of it.'Sam...' ,his voice cracked, half frightened,half guilty. His midnight advent had scorched everything in Sam's life. The form on the crutches was all that remained of that night. The only remainder... Terrible burn marks showed on whatever part of the body his clothes exposed.

A garbage pile.

He himself was hoping that some miracle would happen. His mind embraced the stories and experiences he had heard about- where the offended forgave the offender. But he knew he had no right to even wish for that. Nevertheless his eyes searched for forgiveness in that of the figure that lay in front of him.

“You could have taken me,John....Why them? Why my family?” he broke up.

To that he had no answer. So he turned around,back to his cell.....

***

He must have fallen asleep. His light slumber was forced to a sudden halt by the rattle of metal against the cell bars.”It's time”,the warden said...

                              ***

His mind went blank again. It was an effortless thing now that it had crossed to mere oblivion. He knew he best deserved this. So he had no regrets as the black shroud clouded his face. A swish. A crack. He suddenly tasted peace-the peace he had been thirsty for so long...

***

Lost springs-forgotten childhoods

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Lost springs

Lost springs by Anees Jung is an account of the poverty stricken societies of India. It is a mirror to the lost childhoods denied the opportunities of education and are forced to work for a living.

Childhood is the spring of life. Spring is the season of hope and growth. Baby leaves sprout and trees flower during spring. Similarly childhood bears semblance to spring that it is the time when future adults are shaped. Spring is also the time of youth and joy,as it brings life to earth. The young children likewise enjoy the pleasures of life during this time.

'Lost spring',the term itself effects a paradox. It is therefore the account of several children in the backdrop of Indian society whose lives doesn't have the colour or happiness of spring,but is monotonous and dull. It is majorly an account of Child Labour in India. According to the statistics,India is the country which houses the most child labour in the world,about 20%. A huge section of our youth work in hotels,and in hazardous conditions to earn a living. This is contrary to the fact that child labour is prohibited by law in India. The constitution entitles every children below the age 14 the right to elementary education.

The major reason for child labour is poverty. Some children have to support their family on their own shoulders. Some are merely exploited and abused by greedy businessmen who seek more profits by employing children who have lesser demands and since they don't form a trade union to fight back. Some are employed in their family business by their loving parents,who are unaware that child labour is illegal. But the abject poverty they live in leave these children no choice but to work to sustain their lives. Where food is a luxury,education is not even a wildest dream. Being illiterate and uneducated,they cant be expected to have a bright future ahead of them. Engaging in jobs in a hazardous environment often subjects them to several life-hazards and chronic disorders,like the children engaged in bangle making end up blind before they reach adulthood. They are 'lost futures'.

'Lost spring' means 'lost dreams'. These children are not even allowed to dream. The adults give then the feeling that this is their 'karma',their destiny. The inertia of their adults towards their own pitiful condition is brought about by their practical experience of the trap woven around them by middlemen and authorities subjecting them to a perpetual state of poverty. They are beaten up if they try to resist. Their forefathers have been,and their future generations will be, in the same plight as them. Deprived for generations and denied the control of their own lives,they have taken refuge in the excuse that it is their fate,and get adjusted to it with no groans. They are even entrapped by the superstitious beliefs and cultural norms of society,like some castes being forced to do certain menial jobs. Though prohibited by law,these practices are very prevalent in India.

Thus,the stigma of caste and obligation to family prevents them from dreaming. Rag picking children like Saheb used to lead carefree lives until he got employed in a milk booth. Though it was a means of survival,it was a form of slavery to him.Even in such tender ages they have to do backbreaking work to make a living. They are convinced about their incapability to overcome their misfortunes. 'Lost Springs' are therefore 'Lost hopes'. Save the exception of a few optimistic kids like Mukesh who dreams to be a motor mechanic despite all the huddles that surround him.But his dream is a mere mirage-there is almost no chance that it might come true.

Child labour is a misfortune and a national shame. It gives rise to anti-social, unhealthy, bed-ridden individuals who are a curse to the society. These children become social menaces rather than assets. It is a waste of valuable human resources. A poor community is a dormant society whose infinite potential lay underutilized. Providing them proper education and other necessities like food,these valuable resources can be developed and harnessed. They shall get to live a civilized life.

Eradication of poverty is the best way to tackle this social evil. Only then can poor families send their children to school. Efforts should be made to spread awareness about the harms of child labour. We need an active society which acts as the watch dog of this law. Legislation and strict implementation of laws entitling the child labour offenders to a life of prison needs to be done. The fact that The Right to Education Act is treated with much respect here in our country,gives us hope.

We can pray and hope for the day,when all trees can flower and all baby sprouts can grow to be healthy plants.

JAPAN DIARIES

Part 1

I have been lucky enough to get an opportunity to visit Japan,the land of rising sun,as part of a student exchange program organised by the Japanese government.Instead of a report,i intend to share a few insights of the experience.
The world knows Japan as a leading industrial nation-a global power.Yet i have had an opportunity to visit its rather less known side-of its social and natural setting.The trip included 4 days at Tokyo,the capital city,and 6 days at Kobe,the largest port in Japan.

THE CAREFREE LIFE

The best part of the experience was getting to know real people on the other side of the world.The greatest gift of the trip for me was to be able to establish friendships with a number of Indian and Japanese people whom i have never met before.We felt so carefree throughout the trip-as if we were free to be ourselves and we talked to strangers on the road with absolutely no concern at all.To me,it was some way of escaping the clutches of social code of not talking to strangers etc. that very well prevails in our society.We even took photos with people we met along the way-kids,students,a lady with a dog,an old lady with whom we shared a seat on the train...I felt that i had got back that innocent and uncomplicated  lives as kids. 
That was probably the best experience for me.I did things i would probably not do here back in my world,since our society doesn't expect  us to be nice to people with whom we have no blood relation.
The one thing that troubled us(and excited us even more) was the fact that most Japanese knew little English.How would that excite us? It was so fun to communicate with a stranger using sign language,trust me! But it moved us to see some people actually so upset that they couldn't help us due to language barriers.
Now you are wondering whether we were on our own back then.Not exactly.Every night after we return from a day full of activities and sight seeing,we had a couple of hours to ourselves,we could go out to see the city until the curfew time,which was 10:00 pm. Besides,during our home stay I got lucky to get a day out with friends.It was so much fun!

A FLOWER SHOW

The meek waves of sun wash by,

Scattering 'cross a thousand beauties wild,

Cold and soft,not hurting,

The soft cheeks of a hundred blossoms.

The damp air, perfumed sweet

And colours spread wide abroad,

Like a kaleidoscope,the blooms

Stare at me,from all angles.

Red, yellow, white

Orange,blues and hues dark and light,

A show of virgin beauties

Of all origins and descents.

The throng of amused over-shade

The blend of shapes and craft,oh, strange!

Stretched across the horizon far,

what indeed, is a better treat?

Some proud heads,raised far up

Afraid to lose or yield?

Yet among those descendants noble,

Servile heads so drooping by.

He young and old,fresh and dying,

Some welcoming,some not,

While soothing is the touch of some,

Ladies some do hide by fangs.

And sages so,perfectly pure

Alone and aloof,from the empting world,

the lively youth,arrogantly plaid,

With flashing colours,summoning bugs.

Yes, a world alone is for flowers,

A kingdom ever-hailing,

Who, but He alone,

Could make this land a place to adore?