Imagine a puny little man, in clothes that are barely able to cover him, walking. Walking intent, not caring about the world, with a single minded devotion to walk the path on which he has set out.
Imagine that walk changes the destiny of millions of people deprived and starved of both bread and freedom. With courage in his heart and truth in his eyes he set out to do what to me is the greatest act of empowerment anybody has ever attempted. To make salt on the shores of the Arabian Sea, salt from the ocean, which was banned by the empire where the sun never set.
Salt, that white powder sometimes is the only thing my countrymen can afford as a garnish with a morsel of rice or bread, helped Mahatama to launch the struggle political and moral freedom of India.
I wish i had a thousandth of the courage and conviction that he had. I wish i was even worth the salt that Mahatama made that day. I wish i could walk the talk too.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Bitter Harvest
This blog almost died last week……
It felt it picked more than its share of life’s bitter harvest. Until inside the seeds of the bitterness, it found hope. It wished it had not found hope. The small seedling of hope now asks for food and shelter and dreams and a little bit of sun. It asks for more than that. It asks for love.
Random Harvest again picks on the dreary randomness of life and moves on with the remains of the day.
And I am scared again to meet myself on the cross-roads of love, hate, life and death.
It felt it picked more than its share of life’s bitter harvest. Until inside the seeds of the bitterness, it found hope. It wished it had not found hope. The small seedling of hope now asks for food and shelter and dreams and a little bit of sun. It asks for more than that. It asks for love.
Random Harvest again picks on the dreary randomness of life and moves on with the remains of the day.
And I am scared again to meet myself on the cross-roads of love, hate, life and death.
Love, Or Something Like That
"If somebody says, “I love you,” to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? “I love you, too.”------- Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (b. 1922), U.S. novelist. Wampeters, Foma and Granfallons, “Address at Dedication of Wheaton College Library, 1973”.
Love is a miserable emotion. Its makes you a lice-worried,mud-covered puppy tired, wet, hungry and lonely, looking for shelter and getting kicked instead.
Until this thought that you do not need to be miserable in love. This thought might seem very obvious and cliched but if understood in its entirety is a very beautiful thought. It has energized me a lot
That's how the blog almost died............
Love is a miserable emotion. Its makes you a lice-worried,mud-covered puppy tired, wet, hungry and lonely, looking for shelter and getting kicked instead.
Until this thought that you do not need to be miserable in love. This thought might seem very obvious and cliched but if understood in its entirety is a very beautiful thought. It has energized me a lot
That's how the blog almost died............
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)