When time comes to write my obituary…

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Have you ever felt dead even while you are comfortably walking, breathing and going about your usual business? Just hold on to your thoughts for a bit.  I am no psychiatrist and do not have any intentions to indulge in any mental health assessments. I am sure the concept of life is more appealing than death. According to merriam-webster dictionary death is “a permanent cessation of all vital functions: the end of life”. But be assured, you do not have to go down that path to feel dead.

Last week I was part of a farewell event. On the occasion, one of the colleagues made an interesting comparison between death and farewell.  According to him they are both similar in many ways. The attendees of the both those event have so many good things to tell about the departing and the departed person in addition to out pour of emotions. In his words “…everyone is speaking such nice things about me, I suddenly feel dead”.  Well, that is indeed a very happy definition of being dead. So how many times have you felt dead then? To answer that question you might have to remind yourself the number of times people have been nice to you. I am sure this memory exercise will do wonders to your mental health. In my case I have two cards in front of my working desk in which people have taken time to write things which according to them are nice things about my character and conduct. Now I wonder if they were all contributing to my obituary in some ways. What do you think about that?

Life is uncertain and when time comes to write my obituary people feeling sad about my departure might run out of words. So on a lighter note, just contact my office and get the cards in front my desk. So I leave you with few thoughts. If you were to consider yourself dead every time people spoke good things about you, maybe you could appreciate life much more. After all your soul does not have to leave the mortal coil to know how much people love you. So if you want to feel dead just turn to the person next to you and request him/her to say good things about you presuming that it is the last day of your life. Because if you celebrate everyday like as if it were your final twenty-four hours then hopefully you will end up doing lot more good than bad.

 

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Happy birthday!

Dear Rekha,
I was reading an article this afternoon in the Huffington post titled, “This is Why You Get to Celebrate Your Birthday Every Year”. As per the article it is very difficult to track who, how and when did the practice of celebrating birthdays start. But it is said that the Egyptians were the once who started the party. When a Pharaoh was crowned the pharaoh was considered to be transformed into a god. Hence the best guess is that celebration of pharaoh’s birth as a god began the culture of celebrating birthdays.

By this time you might be thinking that I have gone completely nuts and saying “who in the world would talk about the pharaohs while they are writing to their girlfriend”. If you think that I have made complete mockery of a very romantic birthday blog just hold on your thoughts.

Some of the common views about god in every religion are “the one who is omnipresent” and “the one who is omniscient”, simply somebody who is everywhere and knows all. Technically for me you have been omnipresent and omniscient ever since the time you and I started believing that two of us can think as we. In fact critiquing my former statement I can say that these emotions are mere manifestation of my love and emotions and hence have no implications what so ever in the real world.

Over the last two and half years you have been my omniscient god with whom I share all my things from professional frustrations to personal sorrow, from what would be my day like to what my day was like. I tell you about my problems and you quite surprisingly address them with ease. You surely know why I smile, when I smile and how I smile. You carefully listen to what I say and quite amazingly you can understand what is not being said. Simply you can read my thought hence there is no hiding anything from you and off course I do not feel the need to hide anything, because my omniscient god knows everything. I guess with the ability to read my thoughts I hope you pretty well know that you are always there in my thoughts. Hence, that makes you my omnipresent god. I am the luckiest guy in the world who can chat, meet, feed, pamper, and share deepest feelings and emotions and off course crack jokes with the god. In those terms, I am no saint but just the lucky one with a heavenly connection.

So allow me to celebrate this day as birth of my god. My cutie buntiiiii many many happy returns of the days.

Love
Buntee

#BeBoldForChange: A letter to my Girlfriend

8 March,2017
Dear Rekha,
I wished you this morning marking the International Women’s Day. During the day, I was part of an event celebrating it. It was then it occurred to me that I write to you and make it public through a blogpost. You know I surely do not need to write a letter to you because it probably undermines the abilities of the Facebook messenger or the skype to connect with you 24×7. My sincere apologies to both the applications. But jokes apart, I thought that for once I let my feeling go public.

I learnt that the campaign theme for the International women’s day is #BeBoldForChange. As an audience, I thought it made more sense to the mankind then it did for the womankind. Yes, I understand that it pretty much wants to inspire women to act in a way that challenges the status quo, unleash their full potential and thereby expedite gender parity. But you know what, women all over world are already doing that, don’t you think so? Meanwhile, when I make that statement I know I am no gender expert and I do not bear the rights to extrapolate my assumptions on the entire womankind. But I can I safely say that I have seen a woman and talked to her for hours and hours who continues to epitomize the meaning of #BeBoldForChange and that’s got to be you. A girl from a rural Nepal who did not study in an English medium school currently interacts with people from all over the world in one of the busiest airports in fluent English representing one of the finest duty free in the world. So, you have literally lived the campaign theme. I might be biased in my opinion and observations but I assume that your journey so far cannot be subject to any influences of opinion and observations.

Coming to the point #BeBoldForChange is also a call to all men. Men have always been potrayed as strong and macho. Unfortunately, this brand identity of men takes away all the courage that is required to bring out the vulnerable side of my male counterparts. I cannot speak for others but I can be weak, vulnerable, be worried about being judged, be confused and inpatient. I may not have answers to lot of questions. I can be stupid and depressed at the same time. I do have that urge to lean in. I need you to mentor me on my dressing sense and release me of my guilt. I know I am not that SMART and I can accept that without any ego. It’s foolish to think that men don’t need a hand. Yes, of course I do. Hence in allowing myself to talk about my weakness, my vulnerabilities I hope I permit at least one other person to do the same. So, for me the theme of the International Woman’s day means #BeBoldtobevulnerable #BeBoldtobeweak because the women like you are already strong enough.

Thank you for allowing me to become part of the change that you are. As you go ahead fighting the gender barriers and narrow mindsets I will certainly be bold enough to stick by your side. My mother’s generation went down fighting people’s mindsets, but in my generation, I cannot allow that to happen.

Yours Truly
Niraj

Let there be rain…

20160821_174731The day was warm as hell. But the twilight hour rain turned the nasty experience with the day’s sun into a chilling experience with the rising moon. The pacifying aura of mother nature was at full display. It was raining cats and dogs to the utter dismay of the ones without an umbrella. Even I carried over the day’s disappointments of not having been able to have a good lunch in the afternoon. But the burst of the rain drops kissing my face as I walked out of a cafe demystified nature’s magical heal. I fortunately lost all heat, stress and annoyance in that one moment. It would be utter exaggeration if I call it my moment of enlightenment. But if I truly believed my exaggerations it was that close to making me a BUDDHA. Following that moment I was stuck in rain for about 30 minutes at the heart of Hetauda, a city in the central hills of Nepal. But the patience drawn from magical touch worked well for me as I was able to witness an equalizing effect of rain.

Rain is a great equalizer. It soaked the beauties and the hunk, the bald and the bold, the proletariat and the gentry, the dark and the brown. To sum it up it left all blessed with its magical touch. I hope we all have our own moment in the rain where we are able to clear off all our greed, frustrations, egos and disappointments. Let there be rain…

The hidden colors….

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It’s been quite a while since I last posted a blog. I have always been a passionate writer inscribing emotions into paintings and then making a failed attempt to describe them. Paintings are for me like love letters where I pour my heart into the vibrancy of the colors and allow the mind to step aside. May be the emotions were not that strong enough but whatever be the reason, today with a coffee mug by the side, some sports in the TV, lazy grey clouds in the vicinity, water drops hitting the glass and if trying to stick to it like age old lovers trying to hold hands until there is no option of departure, I suddenly feel the need to write.
Outside the sliding door of my backyard I can see the grey clouds, a slight drizzle to complement the grey, birds chirping or may be having a conversation about the uncharacteristic rainy day falling in middle of a hot aussie summer. But that’s what life is all about neither the scorching forty degrees heat nor the chilling cold lasts forever and so does the spring. Just when things seem all predictable, we often have a taste of unpredictability. Hence I would like to be comfortable in my stupidity than my self-proclaimed ability for intelligent predictions.
The grayish almighty heaven, the stillness of the ever dancing trees, slight breeze and moon like luminance does not add up to a what can be called a colorful day. It is interesting that although we know every day cannot be colorful we expect it be one. Expectations by the way are meant to be cause of sorrow in our life. But as the steam leaves the coffee mug by my side every passing second, I begin wonder if that is our greatest strength. The expectation to see light at the end of the tunnel, the expectation to stand all odds when all possible alternatives have given way, the expectation to perform better than the previous best, thus expectation can be relieving, relieving us from all our self inflicted limitations. Hence it’s important we find colors in day to day life and be mesmerized by the hidden colors filling up our monotonous schedule. The painting tries to unearth the possibility of finding the hidden colors in our day to day life.