Changing Perspectives

It was a summer afternoon in the city of Delhi. My patience was tested to an extent where I could not any further believe that there is a force who listens when needed. Sitting in the bus I was just waiting to reach my home and cry , cursing the unfortunate time when I was brought into this world. My existence and Life appeared a big burden over me. This was a consequence of long term frustration. I told myself there was no positive force in this world and it’s a give and take hell we live in. As I was convincing myself that this was the only truth of being on this planet of life, a young girl entered the bus. She was wearing black spects , the ones which blind wear. It was absolutely not to disguise anyone as she also held firmly her white stick, her only support to life. She sat beside me and click opened a watch, touched the arms of the watch and enthusiastically told me that she'll reach just in time to take her exam.

There and at that moment life asked many questions to me and answered all the questions I had been putting in all these times of test. Life taught me a lesson and I cried a lot. The reason of course being very different. It was an expression of guilt and remorse towards how I had been looking at life.

I realised it is my duty and responsibility to spread the lesson and this is the way I opt to tell the lesson.

How many times did you pass through a beggar and dared to hug him than to close the windows of your car?

How many times have you visited an asylum or an orphanage and tried to realise what actually life has bestowed upon you?

How many times have you ,rather than cursing the life, happily accepted the challenge?

How many times have you realised what life has given to you than what it has snatched away from you?

Be honest to yourself while answering these questions and you set on the road of optimism and life all together will appear to you a best gift .Live life by not seeing that you have remained less successful than your friends but you have achieved much more than many ,that your destiny had been better than many. Life's rule is simple, the way you look at it , it reciprocates in the same manner. Choice is all yours what you want to make out of your life.

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Who Is Really Alive?

Almost every morning, an year before, I used to see the cremation ground on my way to college. And everyday I spent a good sight over it. Sometimes I would even see a man performing the last rites of a corpse. Just opposite to the ground was one of the God's houses, a Gurudwara. A strange feeling used to equip me, inexplicable something would rush through my veins but I had no words at my disposal to explain that to my mind. May be it was a question or a realisation of the mortality of life and yet the piety with which it has to be led. The shining morning sun and its rays seemed to say something to me, the rays would shine in my eyes as if saying a fresh warm note. Those few moments everyday were more puzzling than any other time .There was life and death, the creator and the rising sun all captured in one moment. But everyone else seemed oblivious to all this. Everyone was rushing for the day, for one thing or other, not a breath to spare .Were they too blind to realise the message encaptured in those moments?

As I would walk a distance I would see an old woman , with dreadlocks, painful eyes and a disturbing air to her , playing with a doll. On my way back I would often come across a blind man carefully searching his path ahead.

Did any of these have any meaning to them? Was there a message? Or as everyone I was suppose to be as oblivious as them? Was my purpose too was to disregard their pain and queue myself for just my dreams and just my goals? Or all of us have become too selfish to realise our real purpose to life? What was that troubled me? .

Till date I have no clear answer to these questions but I have a realization and I’ll make sure that I do not turn a blind eye to that realization -The realisation of the futility of life, the realisation of the need to help, the realisation of being unselfish. Everyday I was reminded of how short a life is, how much it has to give and how much we have in us to impart to this world before we leave. To make world a better place is the goal of every soul. I have this realisation.
Through AID I want to contribute to the society in every possible manner I can, with whatever I have at my disposal. I hope the first step proves beneficial.

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A Father’s Devotion

We at Prayas to date have successfully admitted and processed more than 80 children to a better state of academic schooling than what they had previously. Recently, during one of those admitting sessions, we had compulsorily asked the parents to join their children to the school for the process. Five children along with their mother and father came along even though it was already time for the parents to go off to work.

The admission process began with a few questions about their family and other details. One excited child - Reena, stood there as she was asked questions by the principal, clutching onto and playing with her skirt. She abruptly glanced at the principal, smiling and part confused. Then, I noticed him!

There stood a father, next to his child. From his expressions I noticed that he was in deep contemplation. For somebody that earns 2000-3000Rs a month, a 200Rs outflow of his monthly wage towards his child's education also hits a dent on planning for other key expenses like food bills, travel expenses, etc. In that moment which froze in front of me, Reena's father's eyes wandered unsure & perplexed as he picked up the two notes of 100Rs from a wallet which now started looking empty.

I stood there frozen, looking at him flip through the few hundred rupees in his wallet and I could not help but reminisce some difficult moments in the life of my own family. He reminded me of a time, when my father had to loan and plan hard to pay off the monthly school fees at my school. This was even after having a friendly discount of fees at the school which was run by a good friend of Dad. And now, here is a person who in a shack in a slum, not by his personal choice, but because he could not afford any better. He still had the same flame as my Dad, to be able to have a good education for his child. His biggest investment has been in the education of the three of us - myself and my two younger sisters.

My Dad has worked hard in his simple job as a Bus Driver for 25 years, as it has been now. There was a time when he had to work two jobs in shifts - one from 7AM-5PM and another from 10PM-4PM, 5 days a week to sustain the money flow to keep us afloat. When, he returned home after his first shift I used to see him rushing upon dinner to catch up a nap before he left. An unconditional devotion that I have revered since the moment I realized it and to date more than any God or person.

Reena on the other end picked up her glossy new books and copies. The twinkle in her eyes was similar to what I had felt when I got my new books for the year. An innocent admiration splashed her face with a smile, growing as she flipped through each colorful book. In that moment of nostalgia, I lost track of time and felt a deep growing gratitude to God for all he had given me.

The father-child relationship in our society is one that is seldom talked about, compared to a mother-child or other family relationships. I feel it is somehow presumed that fathers are strong and emotionally in control and their expression of angst at a child's low grades, annoyance at small home issues and other daily concerns, is an expression of establishing control? And thus, somehow not worthy of an emotional expression, but is only more logical, need based expression!

A father’s devotion to his responsibilities is a silent expression of what is most important to him. He is not emotionally expressive other than in anger. But then I feel, we should respect his silent devotion and ‘cut him some slack’. His everyday is a fight with the world and its numerous frustrations to sustain his family with his best efforts.

And so, with this I conclude my little ode to all fathers – relatively good or bad, but still devoted to their responsibilities. I love you Dad!

In Accetance,
Arun Raj

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