The Creative Gears in the Business

Creativity is a boon!

To whomsoever it accompanies, that thing skyrockets. It acts as a tertiary boost to every core business, to every core action carried out by an individual. Creativity is like a colorful lantern which brings attention to its beholder. It amuses people and brings eyeballs rolling. And chances are that the business start to bask in glory because of all the attention. And the person blessed with creative traits becomes the talk of the social circles.

All these thoughts started riveting before me as I entered this not so crowded restaurant in a locality at South Delhi. The spoilt mood and uneasiness dwelt from the satanic polluted air suddenly felt at ease. Because here we had colors, unlike the grey in the smoggy air outside. It had minimalism with beautiful caricatures of Indian celebrities hanging around the walls.

And who doesn’t love Bollywood? Well, I am sure that I love Bollywood a lot.
The core business of this place is to attract hungry souls and provide them good food. Which I think it lacks and is sub-par with other Delhi food joints and eateries. Food is the core business here, and as per me not so going strong. But I feel very difficult to complain about food, because the overall dining experience around the beautiful caricatures became so dear to me. I was smiling all the while I was gobbling the food. This is the magic of having creative gears in the business armory.

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The Red Crab Clan

The clan of red crabs dwell peacefully and proudly across the sandy beach. The brown sandy spread appears to be dotted by their presence. The farthest extent to which your eyes can help on the sands, the red crabs keep running here and there and everywhere. They mark their presence so profoundly that it is implicit to say that the clan governs this beach.

Reverie and Revera, the queen and the king, rule their clan of red crabs here. They ensure that everyone of them is safe and guarded against any threats from enemies. They are dwelling in the state-of-the-art tunnels under the sand. Humans are still far away from expertise in building such architectures. How complex is the network of tunnels beneath, this only Shambhu knows. Shambhu, he is a human. He is the chief fisherman in the area. He never stops praising to his fellow men about the beauty of the red crab clan and the mesmerism that dwells below the sand in the complex network of tunnels. 

Reverie and Revera, they are always alert against any unusual human intervention. The moment a vibration is detected, the clan blows a trumpet of escape. The crabs would run away like anything. A commotion so contiguous that it appears a whole red patch on the ground is moving. One cannot spot exactly where Reverie and Revera are, but they are always monitoring the commotion. In sense of urgency, they run towards the red patch in danger and lead them to safety. Shambhu is very sharp. He seems to know a lot about these red crabs. When he is not fishing, he voluntarily enlightens tourists of these red crabs. I met Shambhu too, and he ensured that I remember my encounter with red crabs forever.

Soon after the sun ascended from the belly of the sea, Shambhu called me to the beach for a stroll. The sea waves were doing justice that day, and kept embracing our footsteps constantly as we walked. The red crab clan seemed busy in their daily routine to bathe in the chilly waves. Our footsteps alerted them soon and they chose to skip the bathing. Shambhu spoke of Reverie and Revera, that they must be watching both of us and the red patches running away in commotion.

“I am afraid of crabs, don’t they bite?”, I asked.

“You are afraid of crabs? These red crabs?” asked Shambhu surprisingly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me help you with your fear”, assured Shambhu.

I defer to share the drama that followed. But it happened. And at the end, I surrendered to Shambhu. I held a red one softly in my hand, careful enough that it doesn’t bite or pinch my fingers. The moment I released him on the sand, he ran fervently towards the sea.

I am sure Reverie and Revera would have watched this too from one of the many red patches around. I hope they were gratified that I handled one of their fellow with love and care. I hope the red crab clan would remember me like I am going to remember them forever.

PS: This post is part of a fiction that I weaved while taking a stroll on a chilly Februrary morning near Mohona Beach, West Bengal.

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Available For Rent in the Clouds

In the dense fog around, hardly anything to be seen. As if the whole surrounding is floating in the clouds. But I can see my small apartment soaked in the fog.

Yes, this is the one where I spent my last night.

My view is very much restricted. To be able to see some more, I need to muster courage and walk towards it, and then I can see the next restricted view unfold.

Birds have given up on laziness and are chirping while they work. They are chirping somewhere but nowhere to be seen. Insects are not behind, and they are competing the birds with the continuous buzzing in the bushes engulfed in the mist.

Trees sway intermittently, as the wind gushes through. And an ambience of drizzle is created by the trees.

Yarn ends in my cloth have been embraced by the fog too, and their lingering love is so enticing that my brisk walking has no effect on them.

As I walk some more, I hear the waves from the sea. There is a sea nearby, but everything is dissolved in the fog.

Only voices from waves I can hear, and my feet are moving obediently towards those voices.

My moving feet stands still as they touch the salty water, intensely cold, moving forward to brush my feet and retracing back.

My eyes which have moistened quickly from the cold, witness a new friend. Very shy and in a hurry to go away after greeting me. But how could I let him leave without his photograph?

This whole ambience is at rent. You come, you stay, and then you pack your bags and leave. It's time for me to leave.

Because neither my monetary affordability allows it, nor allows my workplace, to stay here any longer.

I need to get back to work and face the reality once again.

PS: This is a short tale of my experience at Sana Beach and Resort, Mandarmani, during early cold weeks of February.

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The Confines of Four Walls and a Roof

Within the confines of four walls and a roof, we create a sweet spot there for ourselves. That sweet spot makes us the most comfortable in this world. This comfort is not just about having the riches of world class furniture, soft cushions, air conditioners, or aesthetic lights in the room. Rather it is about the feeling of staying true to yourself and contented with whatever you have. This is the spot where you are free, and with your freedom you think, you plan, you work or relax and get ready for the next day.

The confines of four walls and a roof comes in different forms and make. A person’s monetary capacity and societal laws determine the form and make of this confinement. Monetary capacity because a person can afford and build his confinement according to how merrier their bank accounts are. Societal laws determine this too because there are few people put behind the bars. Everyone needs confinement of a room. In that room the person finds a sweet spot and slowly falls in love with it unknowingly. Even the homeless on streets are not deprived of this love. They have found their love below a bridge, under large precast drainage pipes, or inside a desolated confiscated car.

But is this love going to last forever? Yes, the love is going to last forever because if it’s “love” then by default it is going to last till the last breath is away. The places change, people at those places change, but the love one carries in their heart stays. May be for the sake of memoirs of the gone by days, or for the discovery of life experienced while staying at those places, this love finds a permanent place in our hearts. Every once in a while, like a cold gushing wind, this old love sinks taciturnly into your present confinement and tries to mingle with your newly found love.  

I see this charming young guy, dressed in an ironed and shiny uniform of a seven-star hotel, that he is wearing off from the work today. It seems he has been on his toes throughout the day, and barely got a chance to sit and unstrain his breath. He is waiting for his work shift to get over, and rush back to his chawl. Because his love for the sweet spot in his chawl room is calling him with open arms to have a cup of masala tea in the evening. Once he is back, he will be true to himself and free. He will be able to enjoy his tea to the fullest in his confinement.

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Amphan of Emotions at Shankarpur Beach

 

I was on the road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in West Bengal. This was nearly two years after the super cyclone Amphan hit coasts of India and Bangladesh. While I was on the way, I witnessed a group of people working on this Bay of Bengal sea coast.

I stopped for a while. They said that they were working to establish a structure at the coast which can withstand high tides and lessen the impact on the land and houses inhabited with people. It was painful to see houses around dilapidated with the wrath of the cyclone that came two years ago, and they were still not livable yet. Many have left the place and moved away as their houses were completely destroyed in the cyclone. But people working at the site were jubilant of the fact that now it will be safe as the tetra pods that they were installing will absorb the mighty waves of the sea. And they were also happy sharing the fact that very soon this coast line will be like Marine Drive, Mumbai. 

Listening to them, coupled with sounds of roaring sea in the air, my eyes travelled across and made me palpate to the power this massive water body holds within. We are too weak to control it, and yet we are trying hard. This is the nature of human after all; we try to control and conquer. Human can somehow tame the wild, but the wilderness cannot be completely polished off. The wilderness is going to stay there. And time to time it has showed that in the past.

With all these thoughts whirling in my mind, I wrote few lines to versify this Amphan of emotions - The Constant Incessant. Link to that blogpost is here.

I am sharing few photos that I clicked on my road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in this post. 

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The Constant Incessant

Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions,

Untamed incessantly.

With unveiling beauty of the moon,

It churns within and ascends,

As if tripping to a bereft tune.

When the sky shines at night

And stars mischievously party;

Here it roars on its plight.

Men want safety from the wrath,

And hence station the boulders,

Afraid of the devastation at aftermath.

Little does the little men know,

Voluminous insult it has drunken,

Beyond the thresholds of an ideal show.

The angry body had narrated its story

To the skilled oarsmen beating its chest,

And shared how it feels of the spoiling spree.

It warns every now and then,

That it is Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions

Untamed incessantly. 

Read about the Amphan of Emotions which led to creation of this post.

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Years In A Wrap - 2022

The horse ride was a bumpy one. At times, I thought it was not even a horse, rather it was the earth quaking as I walked past the lanes. But no, that was a horse indeed, I realized this much later. And I didn’t know how to ride one. If you don’t choose something, it doesn’t mean that thing won’t come to you. Sometimes they just come to you even without you having called for them specifically. The horse ride came to me unknowingly, and I failed at it.

More than three years now, I look back at the miles travelled. I judge them now. I judge them because now I feel I have grown with the experience and learning. In my judgements I find I was the biggest defaulter. I defaulted miserably. I kept on failing and never gathered enough courage to look upon myself. I have regret of not been able to perform, to be the best that I could, and handle situations with maturity. I thought, and I spoke blubberish and always felt victimized. Today, I own the responsibility that I was wrong and all the defaulting traits were inside of me. I feel sorry on myself for being so. I seek apology for my actions to everybody, and to myself. I cannot agree more with what Sant Kabir said.

बुरा जो देखन मैं चला, बुरा न मिलिया कोय । जो दिल खोजा आपना, मुझसे बुरा न कोय ॥

I failed like such an idiot who can write a book on how to fail. But I am glad, there still prevails opportunities for me. For example, a loser like me can write a book on how to fail. The opportunities will always be there, even after having committed tonnes of mistakes. I am glad that today I take cognizance of all my mistakes and acknowledge them upon me. I learned to look on the brighter side of my journey. These emotions empower me to continue my journey. Casually, I want to quote few lines from an enthralling poetry by Faiz Ahmad Faiz.

और भी दुख हैं ज़माने में मोहब्बत के सिवा, राहतें और भी हैं वस्ल की राहत के सिवा ।

The health took a toll as well. Being in a good state of personal health is matter of utmost importance for everyone. A good health comprises of your mental fitness and your physical fitness. Each of these two are invaluable. I neglected both and failed at it. When I will write the book on how to fail, if in case I am left with no other choice, I will include failure lessons from the health aspect too. I will try my best in years to come to maintain a good health, my mental and my physical health. And I wish everyone does this.

Just like a good health of our body and the soul, a good financial health of yours cannot be neglected as well. Over the years I realized I failed at managing my own finances. But thankfully towards the end of this year I realized and took steps to correct them. There is no set rule which will always work in favor of your finances. But definitely a disciplined regime will help somewhat. I have started practicing it.

Too much of writing, now I need to get back to my horse and begin riding. The journey is on.

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Kaleidoscope

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar.

In dearth of space all around,

He runs diagonal and back on the roof.

There is jovial ting-a-ling of toys too, 

As he searches for friends in dilapidated walls.

There are rivers coursing below,

And many puddles made of rain.

Torn out from stacks of old newspapers,

He crafts his boats and sets them afloat.

Holi is still far, but colors stay.

With Red, Blue, Yellow and Green, 

He imprints arches of hands on his faded shirt.

Who has the bat? And who brings the ball?

This daily mess the playground speaks.

Ditched away at the far boundary,

Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.

Just the same innocent pair of eyes,

But now old and aided with glasses.

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar. 

There was no electricity all night,

And with clock the light of the dawn waits.

Only the Sun will illuminate the darkness,

Rising lazily from the skyline.

Breakfast and the schoolbag get ready,

One day more with a safety-pinned shirt at school.

Legs hurt, but walk past hastily to the stop,

Not much time before the bus gets off.

Occupying the last seat on the left of the aisle,

The heavy bag safely lays concealed.

With the loud whir of the wings in the sky,

Carelessly peeking his head out of the window,

Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.

Just the same innocent pair of eyes,

But now old and aided with glasses.

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar.

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