Crocuses

There was this story of Enid Blyon's I reada long time back..... it was about how crocuses came to be. Blyton, in her singularly creative way, spun a gossamer story of how a gnome would take a pot of gold from a certain tree trunk and then spend every night counting all the gold he had.

One night he refused to let in a poor, hungry and sick fellow gnome for he did not want the other to know of his hoard. And though the sick gnome was saved, our friend the rich gnome felt very guilty of choosing wealth over his fello'ws life and asked the fairy queen to suggest a fitting retribution. And the fairy queen asked him to take all his gold and fling it into the country side. The now gold-less gnome dutifully did just that. And when spring came, he saw that the land was full of new blooms, golden in colour and breathtakingly beaytiful to behold. The blooms that sprung from the gold he threw away.

What a confection of imagination!!!! To this day, the remotest reference to crocuses reminds me of this. It was specially glorious to see the country cousins of the crocus ( or at least, thats what they appeared to me like) growing in vast bushes all the way between pune and kolhapur!!!

Did you know, that saffron is the yield of the crocus???? Gold or not, crocuses, even if not created that magically, have given us the gift of something divine!!!

Agony that assuages

Ying and yang. It's balance that serves to make life complete and harmonious. And so, we have love and hate, misery and happiness, penury and wealth, sickness and health..... pain and relief.

And yet, there are times when pain can assuage pain.

Consider this: when you're passionate about something, to the point of craziness, you put yourself mind bosy and soul into it... the agony that you suffer when something goes wrong with that thing is.... mildly described, unbearable. What shall then soothe it??? What will make that pain go away, or at least, help you bear it???? Possibly, it is only appeased by being distracted from it.

Chetan Bhagat talked about 'deep dark inner agony, real pain' in his book One Night @ the Call Centre. The kind of pain that arised from the dark side within each of us. And the protagonist in question chose to cut herself time and again in order to feel pain that wasnt as tortuous as the inner agony she nursed. Pain assuagin pain.

What is it like??? You think, not me!!!! i'm not driven by craziness like that!!! i could nevr never cut myself!!!! And yet, its not a psychotic human who does it. Psychotic. It would be psychotic to try and cut your blood vessels so that you would die... and do that again, and again, and again. No. It isn't even about blood letting. All you're trying to do is feel something other than the heavy emptiness inside. The kind of emptiness that reduces physical pain to something that just pricks.

Yeah, the authorities would haul you to the loony bin in no time, for, of course, in a rational society, people deal with problems, they face them... they dont cut themselves repeatedly. really???? and how exactly do you explain away the millions who drink, smoke, use narcotics, all to do away with that mental agony? And what about all those suicides?? And the domestic abuse?

Rational society. Its rational enough if you can take time to get to the point of dealing with th problem, even if it involves harm, hurting yourself temporarily so that the big hurt does not strike you so hard.

Not to condone making ribbons from one's body.. but really, when you're alone... how long will you wait for help???? you're not killing yourself, ou're helping yourself move on. God helps those who help themselves... any takers???

Vultures of soulcurry

'Play something for us'

Simple enough words. Yet, ominous and deep as the ocean. They don't mean much to the talker as such. But for the one to whom they're directed, they take on a world of meaning.

I'm a beginning violinist, learning western classical to be exact. As such, its a hard-to-play instrument. Your posture, hands, fingers.. everything has to be aligned just so otherwise it all goes kaput. Something so minor as moving your little finger can turn the melodious into the cacophonous. An yet, for all the hard work, its a soulful instrument, something as personal and cheerful as the best friend of your childhood. But to continue....

Its odd, I've been learning the basics for hardly a month and people assume that t means i can play something on it already. By 'play' they mean, playing something thats recognizable and melodious. Dream on!!!! On a violin???? The first two weeks are spent just learning to hold it properly, strum it and if you're staisfactory enough, pick up the bow and hold it in position. Play???? sure, i can play... by some twist, i had to rush through the basics and can actually fiddle a little... but thats it. But ho!!! there are these impossible ignoramuses who think i should easily be playing bach, mozart and the other masters by now... yeah rritee!!!!! The rare music enthusiast recognises the effot it takes and so, even twinkle twinkle little star is an achievement... but alas!!!! how many of those do you find???

'Play something for us'. Its not just that you're an amteur. How come no one asks you if you WANT to play??? Why the instant deification to "Oh!!! You'll join the orchestra yet!!!" In the matter of something being so personal, so close to your soul, something you're passionate about, how dare anyone think it an object of exhibiton??? How could anyone be so airheaded to think it a perform by request thing???

A friend of mine was telling of the casual way in which people tell her to 'Go try for the Indian Idol' beccause she sings well. Yeah... what about the fact that she doesnt want to display it?

There are those who will argue that those who request a performance are enthusiastic enouragers.... and just how many fall into that category pray???

'Play something for us.' No thank you, i'll send you a recording of it.