Skip to main content

Life and choices



Indian Bloggers



It is when I actually constructed a house for myself that I learnt how I could have made a better house at less cost.  It is when I reach the autumn of life that I learn how richer life would have been had I made different choices.  But neither can be undone.  The construction of a house is a one-time accomplishment.  At least, one’s life is a one-time affair.  There’s no going back.

Life is a cruel game of the gods if they exist.  Christopher McDougall’s gazelle and lion that wake up every morning in an African forest and start running for survival are poignant symbols of that cruel game.  The graceful gazelle has to run in order to save its life from the feral lion.  And the lion has to run and capture the gazelle for its own survival. 

The conqueror and the vanquished keep running in the wicked game of life.  Could I have chosen to stand out of that game and watch?  Even that wouldn’t save me because I wouldn’t be able to bear the heartlessness of that game beyond the initial moments.  Could I have chosen to be a conqueror and gone on rampages defending my holy cows?  My DNA would have revolted.

So I end up as one of the many vanquished ones.  Like a piece of the flotsam and jetsam cast ashore by the endless restlessness of the ocean whose craving is at once boundless and circumscribed.

Flotsam and jetsam.  Nice imagery.  And it brings to my mind the music band, especially their song, Life is a Mess.  “No way back from here,” begins the song.  Just go on.  Take the ride.  “And your troubles will still be here / Troubles will still be here, troubles are here....”

Let me give the link to that song before I sign off for now and carry on my ride.

PS. This is written specifically for Indispire Edition 129: 



Comments

  1. There's no going back.. how true! Lovely post :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Life is a one time affair.....and we have to use it well ...cautiously.....Thats a good thought sir

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Life is a series of lessons... Happy to see you here, Tony.

      Delete
  3. The gazelle can ogle at juice of the grass, like the lion can have a timid moment with the lioness.
    Moments make life and moments have a life of their own.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Very thoughtful - Life is a one time affair!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I guess we need to keep going & making the choices on the way.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, that's all what we can do. But the irony is that all the lessons we learn will be in vain... If only some of those lessons could be learnt as a child.

      Delete
  6. Yes we all tend to reminisce as we grow old.
    My conclusion can be viewed here http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2016/07/the-crossroad.html

    ReplyDelete
  7. It will go on....and on....and on.....it's like the more we know the more we don't know....I remembered Waiting for Godot after reading your post.....you made me want to read that play again....it is one of my fav.....:)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nobody dramatised the naked absurdity of human life as well as Beckett did.

      Delete
  8. Life is to be lived well. No quitting no looking back. Just do your task and move on.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm sure everybody wants to live well. But often the system stymies us.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Florentino’s Many Loves

Florentino Ariza has had 622 serious relationships (combo pack with sex) apart from numerous fleeting liaisons before he is able to embrace the only woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul. And that embrace happens “after a long and troubled love affair” that lasted 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. Florentino is in his late 70s when he is able to behold, and hold as well, the very body of his beloved Fermina, who is just a few years younger than him. She now stands before him with her wrinkled shoulders, sagged breasts, and flabby skin that is as pale and cold as a frog’s. It is the culmination of a long, very long, wait as far as Florentino is concerned, the end of his passionate quest for his holy grail. “I’ve remained a virgin for you,” he says. All those 622 and more women whose details filled the 25 diaries that he kept writing with meticulous devotion have now vanished into thin air. They mean nothing now that he has reached where he longed to reach all his life. The

Country without a national language

India has no national language because the country has too many languages. Apart from the officially recognised 22 languages are the hundreds of regional languages and dialects. It would be preposterous to imagine one particular language as the national language in such a situation. That is why the visionary leaders of Independent India decided upon a three-language policy for most purposes: Hindi, English, and the local language. The other day two pranksters from the Hindi belt landed in Bengaluru airport wearing T-shirts declaring Hindi as the national language. They posted a picture on X and it evoked angry responses from a lot of Indians who don’t speak Hindi.  The worthiness of Hindi to be India’s national language was debated umpteen times and there is nothing new to add to all that verbiage. Yet it seems a reminder is in good place now for the likes of the above puerile young men. Language is a power-tool . One of the first things done by colonisers and conquerors is to

Diwali, Gifts, and Promises

Diwali gifts for me! This is the first time in my 52 years of existence that I received so many gifts in the name of Diwali.  In Kerala, where I was born and brought up, Diwali was not celebrated at all in those days, the days of my childhood.  Even now the festival is not celebrated in the villages of Kerala as I found out from my friends there.  It is celebrated in the cities (and some villages) where people from North Indian states live.  When I settled down in Delhi in 2001 Diwali was a shock to me.  I was sitting in the balcony of a relative of mine who resided in Sadiq Nagar.  I was amazed to see the fireworks that lit up the city sky and polluted the entire atmosphere in the city.  There was a medical store nearby from which I could buy Otrivin nasal drops to open up those little holes in my nose (which have been examined by many physicians and given up as, perhaps, a hopeless case) which were blocked because of the Diwali smoke.  The festivals of North India

Unromantic Men

Romance is a tenderness of the heart. That is disappearing even from the movies. Tenderness of heart is not a virtue anymore; it is a weakness. Who is an ideal man in today’s world? Shakespeare’s Romeo and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas would be considered as fools in today’s world in which the wealthiest individuals appear on elite lists, ‘strong’ leaders are hailed as nationalist heroes, and success is equated with anything other than traditional virtues. The protagonist of Colleen McCullough’s 1977 novel, The Thorn Birds [which sold more than 33 million copies], is torn between his idealism and his natural weaknesses as a human being. Ralph de Bricassart is a young Catholic priest who is sent on a kind of punishment-appointment to a remote rural area of Australia where the Cleary family arrives from New Zealand in 1921 to take care of the enormous estate of Mary Carson who is Paddy Cleary’s own sister. Meggy Cleary is the only daughter of Paddy and Fiona who have eight so