The Gulmohar

There are times when we just see something or someone around us and our imaginations go wild. It maybe ordinary and natural or it may be something artificial. It may have been a mundane article or something which arouses our sixth deadly sin.

Something of the former was what I experience when I stayed overnight at a friend’s place to watch the late night soccer match. Yea Germany had won and I got up pretty late. My friend knowing my passion for bed-tea had got me a mug.  Sipping the delicious beverage my sight wondered out of the window.  And before me was dense foliage of a Gulmohar tree.

 The night earlier was quite wet and Bangalore had witnessed one of its heavier showers of the season. The earlier evening the tree was in full glow of the crimson blooms and today morning nothing but the bowed dark greens.

The beauty of nature

Does not lie only in the beautiful and bountiful

But matters so the thorns and dark clouds

As with flowers and sky so blue.

The ground below was blood red. Those handfuls who have never observed a Gulmohar flower should know that this particular flower usually grows in India during the summers. But the flowers don’t have a fragrance at all. Though the color riot they display in a sight in itself.

As I stood observing each branch and each leaf I tried to view it in one sight. And I was stunned at the effect.  

               

On his knees with his heard lowered

Not broken but certainly bowed

Bloodied ground lay below as a Persian spread  

Beaten but not lost nor afraid.

 Yes, I could relate the tree to an army general. Fighting against the torrents of enemies. Spears piercing through his shield and swords cutting through his amour. But fighting back even though he knows all is lost. And the ground below him all bloodied with flowers of his sacrifice.

This topic may be so out of the blue for a blog. But I am sure every one of you must have such imaginations. As children we have often tried to imagine ourselves as hero and ridden a fallen branch like a horse with a twig in our hand as sword. Or we might have lay on our backs and gazed into the blue sky trying to relate the fluffy clouds to some known shapes.

                Laying on my back and gazing into the blues

                I wondered the shapes and hues

                How the tides change or winds blow

                How fast oh… does time flow

And in the age where we see more of concrete jungles, the kids are glued to the artificial world of video games, the trees and the greens are like a fallen general, bowed but not broken.... yet.

The Bestest Friend…

The Bestest Friend…

Nope, that’s not a grammar blunder.

And I am sure that there is Hel’0ve written material on this. So what is special that I am writing this again?

It is this word, the relation and the meaning, being so special…

I asked a centenarian

Is it fewer or long and tough?

He said he is tired of being awake

But of Love and Trust he can never have enough.

And from there is the epicenter of the whole universe.

And why I am writing this? Of all days now? Yesterday I was speaking to my friend. She is having a fight with her best friend for no fault of hers. I can’t bear to see her all tensed for that. So I was advising her not to worry and care so much, when apparently he gives a horses shit about her.

She listened to all I have to say and then tells me… “He may consider me whatever but I will always consider him my bestest friend and will always care about him”.

And touched was I so

In times when only reciprocation lives

I felt the crisp winter breeze

Blowing away the stagnant leaves.

And I asked myself; what does it take for one to be a bestest friend;

And I dint find anything I could talk on. It is something only to be felt. The Love and Trust.

We may have best friends of childhood. Or ones we have met just last week. Its only takes a frequency match to enjoy each others companionship.

I could term a best friend as one who would come running to my home in the middle of the night just because I gave him a missed call.

Or I could call a best friend as he with whom I am not in contact for ages but when I meet him its like we were always together.

We may fight

We may hold hands

We make our world a whole

We are best friends…

And it may not come from both sides. I may consider one as my best friend and he may not consider me same. Its same funda as Love. I may love one and she may not love me back. But should my feeling be based on her feelings? I wouldn’t say so. I love her because I feel it, irrespective of her feelings for me.

It is the same here…

I know of his goods and all his bads.

And still I accept him.

I know of his mood swings and his angers.

And still I forgive him.

I know of his sadness and his concerns.

And still I am happy with him.

I know his frustrations and I know his hate…

And still I love him.

That’s bestest friendship. That would be my bestest friend. And I would always side him and protect him. Cause after all he is my soul mate.

A STORY OF THE STORY

“I will eat only if you tell me a story”, I would say when I was a little kid. And my mother would tell me a story while feeding me. It could be any story. Of Kings and Queens, of animals and forests, of heroes and villains. I needed a story at lunch time, dinner time, bed time, even bathing time. Now I am older but I still need a story. But now I read what I want, whenever I want. Especially at night I can’t sleep without reading, even if I have already read it. People like to carry photos, cards when they move locations. I like to carry my favorite books.

A story as defined in oxford dictionary is a noun with meanings ranging from;

An account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment.
An account of past events, experiences, etc.
An item of news.
Informally a lie.

So in effect we all tell stories sometime or other.

No one will ever be able to tell you when story telling started or where the first stories were told. If anyone claims to be sure then they will be telling a ‘story’. Story telling can be traced back even to cave man where they could have told their young ones stories of what happened to them when they went to hunt. Even the most ancient caves and results of excavations tell stories of stories being told. The drawings on cave walls, the sculptures, the buried cities, even natural disasters like volcanoes, floods and earthquakes tell stories of civilization, or stories of the individuals of the yore. And that ladies and gentlemen is His-Story.
There are various types of fictional stories we can come across. Some like short stories. Others like stories which drag on and on. Some like thrillers and some like romantic. Fiction and factual, Horror and subtle, and the most famous being fairy tales. One of the stories I remember is a story which never ended. The King of a country was very fond of stories but always complained of the stories ending too soon. He proclaimed that whoever tells him a story that never ends will be awarded. But even the best story tellers couldn’t fulfill his wish. Finally a woodcutter comes and starts his story, “Far away in a land there was a farmer who had a big paddy field. He harvested his farm and stored the grains in a huge storehouse. But in one of the wall there was a small hole. One day a bird comes in the hole and takes a grain in his beak and flies away. Then another one comes and flies away. Then yet another, and another.” The story teller continued with birds coming in and picking a grain and flying off. Over a period of time the king got frustrated and asked him what happens next. The clever woodcutter say’s: “another bird flies in and picks a grain and goes”. Finally the king realizing his folly awards the woodcutter.
So that is a never ending story for you.

Very few stories have sad endings, but most end well. Stories being mostly fiction and usually for entertainment are always made so that the listener is satisfied at the end. A good story teller is one who tells stories in a way that the listener craves for more. Bestsellers are usually page turners.
Story telling is an art. Just like a painter or a composer get inspiration from nowhere and the colors or tones flow in their thoughts, similarly a story teller gets a character from nowhere. J.K. Rowling, author of famous Harry Potter series when asked how she thought of the story, replied that the idea was conceived whilst a train trip from Manchester to London. Sometimes a story teller might base his story on real life person who influences with a particular trait of his. Like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was influenced by his one time boss Dr. Joseph Bell for creating non other than Sherlock Holmes. Most story tellers create story in a way which interests them. J.K. Rowling is quoted saying that she wrote Harry Potter for herself and her daughter. Sidney Sheldon often said: “when you write you are on your own”.
There was one time when few could read. In fact education was considered to be only for the very lowly and therefore the kings and rulers did not interest themselves in this ‘vice’. But then who can stay away from a good story. So they had royal readers or even story tellers who could read them stories written on self created. We have examples of from the BC’s like Aesop who was a story teller to the ancient Greece. Two of the most favorites are "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" and "The Tortoise and the Hare". Remember them?
Closer home we have stories of Vikram and Betal where the story teller was nothing other than a ghost.
According to legend, a woman named Scheherazade told stories to Sultan Schahriah to save her life. Each night she told him tales, stopping at the most exciting part so that he would have to wait until the next night to learn what happened. After 1,001 nights, the sultan granted Scheherazade her life. She became his wife, and her stories were recorded for the entire world to read. They include “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” “Sindbad the Sailor,” and “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp.” Sound familiar???
The best story tellers are our own grandparents. Who doesn’t like to rest on the lap of his/her grandmother and listen to the same stories over and over again? Whenever we used to go to our native place we all gather around our grandmother and ask for a story. More often than not it used to be one told before. These days we urge our uncle to tell. He is a wonderful story teller and tells punch lines with the right effect. Usually we like ghost stories at night sitting outside in the verandah and with trees and creatures of the night provide a natural backdrop and background noises.
But stories are not meant only for kids. Its one entertainment which has only improved with time. Every generation has their own series and favorite stories. Earlier they were passed as word of mouth. When the art of writing was invented you can be sure that stories were first to be put in black and white. Remember the legendary story of lord Ganesh writing the story of Mahabharata as recited by the great sage Vyasa? And that story was recited to the world as a song.
Stories were told over all media. The serials which we all watch glued to the idiot box are nothing but stories. And with the satellite television there is a wider range of them. The computer games which we all play are stories in themselves. Movies, cartoons, forwards, news columns, one liners, punch lines; etc, etc… we can find stories everywhere.
With the on coming of other forms and the rediscovering of reading we have a great future for stories.
After all strange as it may seem everyone’s life is based on a true story…
Wouldn’t you say…?
And now that you have read till here… reflect for a sec… haven’t you finally read the story of the story???