Works Of Contemplation

Blots may not necessarily mean impediments. They are what offer succour to a near-perfect canvas. A dash of colour to a dull, uniform painting. A deviation from the mundane. A relief from the eye-sore that uniformity is. Take time off your busy rest-taking moments and look through the window. You will know what I intend to convey. You may or may not understand the feeling but you will know. The sky is an ocean, a vast expanse of blue hue that never ceases. If not for the clouds that blot, how are we to lead a healthy life? There would be no rain for the farmers. No seed will rear its head from underground. No harvest takes place throughout the year. And ultimately the vortex of hunger draws in the rural and the urban class, the literate and the illiterate, the rich and the poor, the men and the women. It does not distinguish and does not side with any particular ilk. Such is the power of a blot. We have always thought of them as our lethargy or carelessness that intru

It seems the world runs on currency notes. Or wait, does it? In every walk of life, we need to shell out that piece of paper to obtain something. In such a driven world, help rendered without any aside intentions comes as a whiff of pleasant breeze to the face. We all love such a breeze, don't we!  I experienced this a good two months back. I had to walk a long distance carrying four bags on my person and along came a stranger on his bike. I had not seen that particular stranger ever, and that being so because I am aware of many strangers that I observe daily. He offered me a ride of around two kilometres, a task that would have taken me a good one hour approximately! This is one of the many reasons why I believe the population of this world isn't so bad, after all. We blame others, those that emotionally hurt us, those that physically violated us, those that berated us.If anybody is to blame, it is ourselves. We base everything on past experiences and end up closing