Reflections - A Journey Through Life

It glided like a ship sailing on a calm sea… Though for work and non-work I use commonly available pens, I still am a confirmed fountain-pen person. At home I keep even now a fountain pen which is not very costly but writes well. It gives me a special pleasure when the inked letters flow out of the tip of the nib joining into words and coming together to portray what I think. Perhaps while writing with my fountain pen, the writing itself changes, becomes more alive with fresh ideas, may be because of the pleasurable state of mind; innovation comes forth and takes shape on the blank paper. After more than five decades on this still beautiful earth, in the company of people, trying to communicate and failing many times, I now understand to some extent the challenge of communication. I think, form the words in my mind approximating my thought and speak out the words adding intonations on the way. But the words never could express exactly my thoughts. My friend or foe or casual ...

Which beauty would you see? Men look at women. Being a man I know that. For the same reason, I do not know so conclusively whether women also look at men the same way. By logical deduction, I am sure that women do look at men, but I am not sure about the manner in which they do. Amongst faces in the crowd my eyes automatically search for a beautiful one. If there is one, it shines like a brightly lit lamp amongst so many unlit dark lamps around. Yes, to many of us beauty is embodied in women. To us men at least. I do not really know whether women also find other women beautiful. And there is no practical reason why they should. I have my own definition of beauty built bit by bit over so many decades. By what? Apart from the inherent subjective element, it certainly is the society around me that shaped the definition of beauty in me. Oh yes, perception of human beauty is subjective. Definition of beauty for an African man will certainly be different from that of an English ...

Would you know me? All over the world, across the cyberspace or across a few inches between two persons sitting on a park bench, in silence with intense loudness or in whispers this question is asked, yesterday, today and tomorrow—as long as relationship would matter. We assume things about a person that may be partially right or fully wrong, there is really no other alternative. She may not say anything significant about herself to let you know, she may not even know herself let alone let you know or she may intentionally let you know what she is not. On top of that lies the uncertainty embedded in human language—you want to say something, instead you say some other thing and she understands something else. You have to assume always. Depending on the quality of pairing between you and her, you understand her or she understands you. But finally, it is your assumption about her with all its uncertainties built-in. Is it a tragedy? Is it helplessness? I think not. Even if ...

I lived in a large bungalow alone. It stood in the middle of an unkempt overgrown garden. On one side mango trees formed a jungle. It was dark there. The small cozy room I occupied opened to a narrow stretch of covered veranda at the back of the bungalow. The veranda was covered by wire netting giving a clear view of the unkempt lawn overgrown with grass and occasional shrubs. I liked this chaotic unkempt look. It was nature left to itself. On Sundays I took rest. After finishing morning chores, my small luxury was to sit on a chair in the veranda. Common birds hopped, flitted, flew across my garden in search of their food. Undisturbed. Quietly sipping tea I enjoyed their quests. Weekdays I worked from 10 to 8 in the evening. Office was within walking distance, but still I had to use my car. Evenings when I returned home, my bungalow silently waited for me. I used the backdoor entry through the veranda. During summer as soon as I reached my door intense sweet smell greeted me...