And Now For Some Zen

One day Mulla Nasrudin got lost in the jungle. The whole day he spent trying to find a way out, but he could not... He was tired, hungry, exhausted, bleeding, and his clothes were torn apart because the jungle was so thick and thorny.
It was getting darker, the sun was setting and the night was near.
The Mulla had not been attending the mosque and prayer lately, and feared his predicament might be a result of his neglect.
So he knelt down on the ground and he said, "Dear Lord, please help me find my way out of this jungle, and I will always worship you. I will start attending the mosque regularly. I will faithfully follow all the rituals of Islam. I promise you! Just save me. Forgive me. I apologize for my negligence. I was a fool, an utter fool!
Just at that moment a bird passed overhead and dropped something in his outspread hands.
He said "Please Lord, don't give me any of that shit. I'm really lost!"

Time and again Nasrudin passed from Persia to Greece on the back of a donkey. Each time he had two panniers of straw and passed back without them. Every time the guards searched him for contraband. But try as they might, they never found any. "What are you carrying, Nasrudin?" The guards would ask."I am a smuggler" Nasrudin would answer.Years later, more and more prosperous in his appearance. Nasrudin moved to Egypt. One of the customs men met him there. "Tell me, Mulla, now that you are out of the jurisdiction of Greece and Persia, living here in such luxury--what was it that you were smuggling when we could never catch you?" "Donkeys."

What is Philosophy?

Art Critic 1: "I think the neo-plasticism of the abstract design proves the mystical, metaphysical and non-humanistic approach to the objective concept of abstraction."
Art Critic 2: "Yes, you have a point there! In fact, it's obvious even from a casual glance that this painting was created by paranoiac-critical activity, brought about by spontaneous dynamic sensations, sometimes made by somnambulistically inclined campanologists, who create a picture of transcendental non-curvilinear objects expressing subjective feelings in a cubistic manner."
Art Critic 3: "I fully agree with you both - It is a rubbish painting!"

One man came to a philosopher. He was worried; he is the father of a beautiful daughter. He was very much worried. He said, "Every morning she feels a little sick, and I have been to all the doctors and they say nothng is wrong. So what to do?"
The philosopher closed his eyes, contemplated on the problem, then he opened his eys and said, "Do you give her milk before she goes to bed at night?"
The man said, "Yes".
The philosopher said, " Now, I have found the problem: if you give milk to a child, then the child changes sides the whole night from right to left, from left to right, and through the churning the milk becomes curd. Then the curd becomes cheese, and then the cheese becomes butter, then the butter becomes fat, then the fat becomes sugar, then the sugar becomes alcohol — and, of course, in the morning she has a hangover."

That is what all philosophies are: some explanation of things; some explanation of things which cannot be explained; pretending to know about something which is not known. But they make life convenient. You can sleep well; they are like tranquilizers. They give you dreams, utopias. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Now something personal.

A phalanx of incidents have changed the status quo of muh life in the past two months. It’s hard to put down in words but the effort can be cathartic for a person like me, methinx. For someone who speaks one word instead of the required five. Communication problemo actually. One incident stirred me deeply, one shook the unshakeable me up and this one..Well.. This goes back a long long way.

The Package

The package arrived last week. A Creative Nano Zen mp3 player. And an Issey Miyake miniature bottle. A belated birthday present. The package came neatly wrapped in a small cushion with a small card saying "Forgive me. Happy Birthday" Signed in Italic with her name, address and telephone number. And accompanied by a slightly emotionally penned letter. The gift created a silence within me for a while. Bcuz of the magnitude of the effort to trace me. Bcuz it was sent by:

- Someone whom I havent spoken to for the last 14 years and is living right now in USA.
- Someone who was my bum chum for the best part of my growing up
- Someone whom I drifted apart from becuz of parental intervention (not mine)

The 1 GB disk was full with recorded songs segregated folder wise. Started with Joe Cocker’s "Different Roads". Many of the songs are personal favorites of mine. And a few are hers I guess. Each song is handpicked and is conveying some message. Some of the songs spooked me and made me wonder if there is anyone who is a conduit. Relaying such personal information about me.

The picture is still vivid in my mind of me and her wading in knee deep water. Of me in shorts reaching only till her ear. Both of us sharing the same umbrella in the torrid rain trying to navigate the potholes on our way home from tuition. The moment when she put her hand on moi shoulder to steady me. I was petrified to move in case she removed it. Delirium infinitum He he!!

But before that - a little history.

I was introduced to this “new” girl who had joined us in the same batch for tuition. A shy hello, a sneaky peek at her long legs stretching out of the PT uniform and ah decided she was okay. It turned out she was residing in the big building towering over my row-house from where everything happening in my house was pretty visible. We hit it off pretty squarely for no real reason to fathom. The enormous societal status didn’t make a difference. Best of buddies. Waiting to meet each other after school at tuition. Share daily experiences. Have fun. Enjoy picnics. Celebrate birthdays. The odd movies. Endless chatter and day dreams. The occasional fight which would cast a gloom over the entire tuition batch. Numerous small incidents that laid the foundation for a beautiful friendship.

The Mess: Predictably, half the “eligible” guys in the colony started forming a line outside the tuitions trying their best to woo the new girl on the block. And I turned out to be the most wanted guy for the most obvious reason. Things turned messy when she started going around with one of the “dudes” in the colony and the matters reached her folks’ ears. My head was on the block for no fault of mine.

Enter the Nemesis: Her snooty ma threatened to send goons after me if I spoke to her again. Imagine threatening me at that age (all of 14 and 4 feet and half). That did it. That she didn’t defend me in front of her parents broke my heart and the trust. I completed the year at tuitions and opted out. The half hearted attempt at sending an olive out to me didn’t work. Two years of friendship down the drain. Just like that.

Why now? After all these years of being incognito and not in touch. Many questions popped in my mind all of last week as I listened to the songs. The answer lies back in USA and the ball is in my court. I’m not wet behind the ears. It’s a little late in life to mend this bridge methinx. Still, the enormity of the gesture merits a response and I wonder about the right way to do it.

Time to put this up before I change my mind.

" A good day or a bad day, the sun always sets"