Hyderabad 13

II
Here I am, at it again. Have you ever seen a mechanic fit a tyre into the wheel hub? When you look at the tyre and the hub and the bladder, the task of putting them together seems natural and simple enough. Then the mechanic begins, with a wrench with one end flattened and edged. He heaves, pushes, tugs, and slams, stamps and wrenches. The tyre's edge sometimes bounces back out of the hub with an angry 'fwup' sound, making the mechanic swear and begin again. And finally, with a lot of sweat and a few scratches to the hub, the tyre is in place, quite innocent, as if it has been there all along, completely blending with the other parts to make it a sleek, moulded, patterned wheel, ready to hold the road with its infinite ridges.

I suppose the transition of a rookie into someone who fits in, meshes with the work is somewhat similar. While it happens unconsciously with most people, I feel every freaking tug and wrench and kick. But I know where this is going, so I'm better off than many, who only see the struggle and miss the story.

I don't know why I keep drowning whatever I write in analogies. It gets a little boring after a while, you know, it gets kind of lame. Moreover, it also sets boundaries on my style of writing. Having a particular style is not bad, but having only one style of writing is, I think, a limiting situation. Would you believe that from the time I began this paragraph to the time I wrote this word, I had already thought up two analogies? Nah, I wont bore you with them. Overkill, I believe, is the word.

Ok, let me try and get back at the question – why analogies? For starters, they are very helpful in making a point. No, that's the second part actually. The important thing is that I enjoy writing analogies. Seeing a parallel of your situation in some other, totally unrelated part of life, is actually quite a thrill, like making a discovery. It's like… there I go again, almost started an analogy. That's three analogies I thought of in two paragraphs. Let them go, more will come. I had one laddu, a puff, a cup of tea and a cup of coffee and now a piece of cake. No wonder I've been feeling tense. The cake was really delectable, though. Ok brother, I'll see you a couple of days later.


I'm back, after an excellent trip. The journey to and fro was extremely frustrating. It took 15 hours to reach vizag, and over 12 to get back. The six hours I spent in Vizag were memorable. Seeing my parents after a gap, however small the gap, warms my heart, calms my mind. I sang eight bhajans and two solo songs yesterday, for Ramesh Sir. These songs, along with the ones Ramesh Sir and Lal and a few ladies will sing, will be put in an mp3 compilation. I met the producer also. He was quite happy with what I sang. It was sheer pleasure to see Ramesh Sir so happy and proud of it all. After one song, he held my face with both his hands and looked at me a few seconds. That said a lot. I sang Mohe Sharan Me Le lo Ram and Sarathy Tu baba. Other than one line in the latter song and another line in one of the bhajans, my singing was a single take, one song after another. I had prayed for a good voice, and the prayer was answered. Hmm, I suppose it's a high priority prayer to the one who grants them. If only he'd take my job a little more seriously. I'm probably the only one freaking so much over a non complicated job that requires a minimum confidence and zeal to work.

I'm not made for employment. 'Make your own road', he said. What could that be? How could I make my own road? Where would it lead? I have no idea yet. I'm not a great judge of anything, but I know that my current skills, singing or writing, are hardly enough to go pro. Either I improve them to quantum quantities or… stick to this path of slow work, looking over my shoulder all the while.


Indian psychology has a concept called the 'Hanuman Syndrome'. I'm not sure if they call it a syndrome, but the import is the same. The concept, apart from the name, borrows one particular trait that Hanuman had. The son of wind, an aspect of Siva, the boy who could leap to the sun, had no idea that he had greatness in him. He grew, he learned, but he had no idea what he was capable of. If Jambavan had not reminded him on the seashore, hanuman would never have looked face to face with his destiny. So, Indian psychologists have adopted this trait loosely, to describe a lack of self worth or self- confidence. Many might not agree with this. After all, if someone wants to do better in life and he can actually do it, what could stop him? How long can lack of confidence hold him? If a person hasn't risen in life, it must be because he simply can't. Right? Maybe, but maybe not. I will have to use a very cheesy cliché here, but I believe it is useful – "Whether you believe you can or can't, you're right." I used to smirk at this, but I have to admit, at least for the duration of my typing this paragraph, that I agree with this statement. If you are sure that you are incapable of a task, you just cannot find in you the tools to complete that task. Try it. No, you wont even try. There's hardly a whisker between thinking you can't and knowing you can't. But either way, a person is not too unhappy. He does everything he thinks he can and stays away form the tasks he knows are beyond him, in the name of practicality and sensibility. It is those who are can't make up their minds about it that suffer. Then again, is it that they can't make up their minds, or do they choose to be confused? I ask because when you remove the emotional frills, choices are actually quite simple. There are few doubts when you go back to the basic beliefs you live by and look at the new choices through them. Come on, it's not that abstract. By 'beliefs you live by', I mean the things that your dad, or anyone you implicitly trust, would have told you when you were a child. Things like, do your best, or make a god life first and then pursue your dreams, or keep your faith in God, or be patient, things will fall in place, or 'you are meant for greater things', or 'grow up' or 'just do it'. I know Nike said the last one, but it's not a bad line to live by. You see where I'm going? If what you believe still tastes good with the choice you're about to make, the choice is meant to be made. If the belief and choice don't mesh, simply discard it. Not easy, but you do it to your kid when she asks for her third candy or when he asks for that noisy toy truck. You can do it to yourself when needed. That was about not making a choice. That was the easier part. It takes more effort and a lot more courage to go through with a choice than to reject it. To say, "I am ready, I will do what I have to, I will do all I have to do" takes so much faith, so much courage. This is where faith proves almighty useful. Faith in the almighty, I mean. Our faith in ourselves is contaminated with enough doubt to make the bridge crumble mid way. Faith in God, on the other hand, can stand a good bit of doubt. Faith can help us make the choice and stick to it.


So, you dig up your fundamental beliefs, then, using those, you believe in yourself. Then you make the choice to go find your destiny and take it for a spin. It's an exciting process, even when you imagine it. Which is why most of us can imagine it and be happy without having to lift a finger. The actual process takes work, maintenance of faith and steadfast cheer. Of course imagination is easier. But you know what? A person who decides even at the outset that he can't isn't plagued as much as the person who knows he can do it and still doesn't, because of no valid reason. This second guy has to contend with pricks of his conscience from time to time and levels of frustration with his circumstances that he would never have imagined before. So I tell you, dear friend, if you know you are meant for great things, you had better start dusting the sea of your pants, after you get up of course, and then start running like the devil is chasing you. You have places to go to, a person to be. The first few yards are shaky and you will stumble, but breathe in that cool night air, that carries only the freshness of trees and the soft snores of sleeping birds. Keep running and you will find you are more ready than you'll ever be.

-Ananda