Birds are aesthetically alluring, soulfully endearing and infinitely musical. Man's acquaintance with birds has started since time immemorial. Gradually, this association evolved into one of deep interdependence and faith, leading to a thick spiritual bonding.
Ever since birds flew into their curious vision and stole their hearts, eliciting softness and casual sympathy, they have become a part of the human destiny, life and culture. Birds have added a new leaf and many colorful images to their lives. Perhaps, a birds' nest, an excellent work of art and architectural sample, has been man's earliest inspiration to build a protected space for shelter. Nevertheless, birds have tickled them into feeling the early sensations of language and music, and they have been the aides of their initial learning as well. Birds have also symbolized to them all the lofty thinking and a broader general view of the world. Birds have been their flights of freedom - say, their waking, walking and moving ahead.
Their mutual co-operation and harmonious social exchange have been notably strong, warm and superb. Nuts, leaves and fruits, they have shared commonly, prompting plants to produce more and more for feeding them on demand. From enemies they have saved each other by signaling instant warnings. Wild animals they have tamed with a spell of their kindness and cheer. United, they have worked out a policy for welfare.
The lightness of their feathers and shapeliness of their tiny structure, have all been woven into Nature's gift of richness of spirit. Watching birds either hovering in the sky or calmly chirruping on tree-top is really a sweet and memorable experience.
They are the best neighbors, human beings have ever managed to select. Their songs are amazingly sweet and beautiful; and are deeply soothing as they touch the very heart strings of man. But, seldom have their lamenting cries feigned to add a rueful wave to the woes of man. They are the happy creatures who have no worries about tomorrow. They are the borderless ambassadors of love and peace.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Lost Leader
Eugene Terreblanche was murdered in his farm alleged by workers over a nasty wage dispute. He was laid to rest amidst fears of unrest. His supporters paid him glowing tributes while his sympathizers were still under a shock. The mourners felt he was a definite victim of "genocide", and went on to describe him as a Christ-like figure, who sacrificed himself for truth.
He was the controversial leader of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB) party that supported the continuation of apartheid in South Africa and struggled for a separate white homeland. A man with the gift of the gab and a resounding bass voice, the white supremacist could easily insinuate people and galvanize them into aggressive actions. A boiling racio-political activist, he had threatened to unleash a reign of terror ( bloody civil war ) if South Africa abolished apartheid.
By firing the dark imagination of the white people who significantly wanted to curtail the unusual and newly evolved privileges of the black majority, he sought to take revenge on those who questioned his authority. But, how could the black victims of segregation remain slaves ever in their own land and allow themselves to be ruled over again by abusive white minorities? Those who revolted against apartheid thought in this vein.
Terreblanche had his own guards in uniforms to carry out his commands while he himself appeared in public pompously riding on a charger. He mystified his followers by fittingly playing the comic role of a romantic hero. He was a myth-maker or a cult figure, but definitely not a military man. However, riding on the wave of success of his influence, he tried to disrupt political meetings and discussions, resorting to violence and, thereby, stop the country's transition to democracy.
His flashy agenda and weird techniques of opposition were full of sound and fury, but they signified nothing. His failure was not surprising as nobody seemed to take him very seriously. He could not guide his followers well in any strategic combat as he himself lacked a clear sense of purpose. However, he had a fiery racist theme to promulgate, and thus became the central figure of a tactless conspiracy. He often foulmouthed opinions that went squarely against the idea of equality and justice, the majority dreamt of achieving.
His assassination already has raised doubts of racial conflicts in a country which is getting ready to host the World Cup in a few weeks' time.
He was the controversial leader of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB) party that supported the continuation of apartheid in South Africa and struggled for a separate white homeland. A man with the gift of the gab and a resounding bass voice, the white supremacist could easily insinuate people and galvanize them into aggressive actions. A boiling racio-political activist, he had threatened to unleash a reign of terror ( bloody civil war ) if South Africa abolished apartheid.
By firing the dark imagination of the white people who significantly wanted to curtail the unusual and newly evolved privileges of the black majority, he sought to take revenge on those who questioned his authority. But, how could the black victims of segregation remain slaves ever in their own land and allow themselves to be ruled over again by abusive white minorities? Those who revolted against apartheid thought in this vein.
Terreblanche had his own guards in uniforms to carry out his commands while he himself appeared in public pompously riding on a charger. He mystified his followers by fittingly playing the comic role of a romantic hero. He was a myth-maker or a cult figure, but definitely not a military man. However, riding on the wave of success of his influence, he tried to disrupt political meetings and discussions, resorting to violence and, thereby, stop the country's transition to democracy.
His flashy agenda and weird techniques of opposition were full of sound and fury, but they signified nothing. His failure was not surprising as nobody seemed to take him very seriously. He could not guide his followers well in any strategic combat as he himself lacked a clear sense of purpose. However, he had a fiery racist theme to promulgate, and thus became the central figure of a tactless conspiracy. He often foulmouthed opinions that went squarely against the idea of equality and justice, the majority dreamt of achieving.
His assassination already has raised doubts of racial conflicts in a country which is getting ready to host the World Cup in a few weeks' time.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Confessions: At the Crossroads of Writing
I was curiously impatient to find a "voice" as I felt a burning desire to express myself in the world. I tirelessly sought for it within and without. My intuitions kept telling me something that I could not possibly stop pondering over. The message was overpowering and irresistible.
I knew I had the heart and head to go into writing though, for the most part, I felt rather shy and tongue-tied. A crowd of passions choked my throat, making me feel hugely terrible, yet they had not got readily shaped into articulate forms that could force themselves into the wide air. Inability to communicate eloquently was quite a suffocating experience, which drove me mad and melancholic.
Having hailed from a traditional farming community, I often listened to the unuttered voices of the green that said:
"O Farmer, scatter your seeds far and wide;
Let them breathe, sprout apace in ample space".
Those were highly touching lines that could invoke the spirit of the letter. That happened to create in me a state of prolonged cultural vision, and suddenly I came under the inescapable spell of an inevitable "second source", the psychic forces of a legendary, hard-working community that wanted itself known and heard in every corner of the world, and who believed what it did would never go unrecorded. I became the undeclared incumbent for promoting its publicity agenda, which was largely composed of unclear and irrational elements. Nonetheless, I was drawn into this mission involuntarily, and became its anointed spokesman. It was a phase of transition in me but it was a sort recognition as well.
I started writing more intentionally as I carried the seeds of rebellion in my bones. I tried to relate and relay the text and context of a profound human situation, previously unexplored. But it all turned out to be the work of trivial immaturity and inane imperfection. I felt I had really attempted nothing to merit a passable standard. That was rather too embarrassing. All my effusions seemed hopelessly silly and nothing worthwhile emanated from my constant musings. Clearly, that was not the fulfillment of my goal as I envisaged, or my ambition with sky as the limit. Sorry to say that it was the point of my horrid defeat. I was literally falling apart in sunken despair!
Time acted as my healer after my first set-back. I started to rebuild. It was a challenge for me but I did not hesitate to face it. "To strive to seek to find and not to yield", I remembered the lines of Lord Tennyson. I took it as my writing motto and described all my failings as a blessing in disguise. I felt inspired to continue. I was lucky as I thought. Then, out of the dark impossible, sprang the pang of new creation!
I knew I had the heart and head to go into writing though, for the most part, I felt rather shy and tongue-tied. A crowd of passions choked my throat, making me feel hugely terrible, yet they had not got readily shaped into articulate forms that could force themselves into the wide air. Inability to communicate eloquently was quite a suffocating experience, which drove me mad and melancholic.
Having hailed from a traditional farming community, I often listened to the unuttered voices of the green that said:
"O Farmer, scatter your seeds far and wide;
Let them breathe, sprout apace in ample space".
Those were highly touching lines that could invoke the spirit of the letter. That happened to create in me a state of prolonged cultural vision, and suddenly I came under the inescapable spell of an inevitable "second source", the psychic forces of a legendary, hard-working community that wanted itself known and heard in every corner of the world, and who believed what it did would never go unrecorded. I became the undeclared incumbent for promoting its publicity agenda, which was largely composed of unclear and irrational elements. Nonetheless, I was drawn into this mission involuntarily, and became its anointed spokesman. It was a phase of transition in me but it was a sort recognition as well.
I started writing more intentionally as I carried the seeds of rebellion in my bones. I tried to relate and relay the text and context of a profound human situation, previously unexplored. But it all turned out to be the work of trivial immaturity and inane imperfection. I felt I had really attempted nothing to merit a passable standard. That was rather too embarrassing. All my effusions seemed hopelessly silly and nothing worthwhile emanated from my constant musings. Clearly, that was not the fulfillment of my goal as I envisaged, or my ambition with sky as the limit. Sorry to say that it was the point of my horrid defeat. I was literally falling apart in sunken despair!
Time acted as my healer after my first set-back. I started to rebuild. It was a challenge for me but I did not hesitate to face it. "To strive to seek to find and not to yield", I remembered the lines of Lord Tennyson. I took it as my writing motto and described all my failings as a blessing in disguise. I felt inspired to continue. I was lucky as I thought. Then, out of the dark impossible, sprang the pang of new creation!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Higher Solitude
Some people aren't simply able to make friends with others. They seem to be preoccupied or contented with themselves as they do not look up to groups for support. Either they do not have any faith in friendship or they regularly miss the opportunity to make any attempt to forge a relationship based on mutual benefit. It might be that they are overconfident of themselves, or that they prefer to stick to the style that suit them most, and make their own decisions.
If friendship doesn't happen naturally, it will never happen at all, and it is better that way. Basically, friendship is a matter of trust and understanding.
But, why are they unfriendly? Perhaps, society doesn't interest them at all. They do not champion its causes because they don't feel it right. They look as if they are least bothered about what's going on around them.
Since they do not want to open their hearts to anyone, nobody actually knows what is inside their mind. However, their character is analyzed as being too slow and suspicious to keep any vital interaction with others. Consequently, the society itself turns its back on them. From the other side, they maintain that the society is at variance with their longings and so they have no expectations of its influence in their life.
So the friendless people get isolated more and more, and they begin to hate the society for failing to reckon them or at least take note of their presence there. Ultimately, such people turn to solitude for shelter or solace.
Solitude has its healing resources, and delivers effective solutions. In the cave of loneliness, men and women are driven to listen to their own inner selves, able to read their own deeper urges and inspired to channelize their energies in the proper direction. Solitude empowers them to redefine themselves and perform immensely better. They build an integral and lasting union with God and realize their own infinite potential and chalk out ways to nourish it well beyond the framework and imagination of society. This is how they literally tap the great bonanza of opportunity that presents itself to them in the hour of their crucial need.
No doubt, society has evolved talents and made them highly competitive in order to carry on the "struggle" that's life, to the utmost limits of their capacity. That's really fantastic. Millions have done it faithfully, wearing themselves out, and kept their loyalty to their master; and several millions are still doing it with ferocious dogmatic faith in its strictures and policies or without ever having the courage to question them. The dictatorial society commands servile obedience from the masses and taxes them beyond their ability. And the show goes on relentlessly.
With Solitude, the entire scene changes: the atmosphere itself is relaxed, and is completely different. It gives freedom to think and open up further, symbolizing unrivaled development. There is a broad world of ideas to choose from, or create your own instinctively. Solitude is never a master dictating terms to you but it is just your interactive self or mirror. No wonder, with this trail of enlightenment, it has made possible the birth of our greatest men and women who have either created history, or changed its normal course.
If friendship doesn't happen naturally, it will never happen at all, and it is better that way. Basically, friendship is a matter of trust and understanding.
But, why are they unfriendly? Perhaps, society doesn't interest them at all. They do not champion its causes because they don't feel it right. They look as if they are least bothered about what's going on around them.
Since they do not want to open their hearts to anyone, nobody actually knows what is inside their mind. However, their character is analyzed as being too slow and suspicious to keep any vital interaction with others. Consequently, the society itself turns its back on them. From the other side, they maintain that the society is at variance with their longings and so they have no expectations of its influence in their life.
So the friendless people get isolated more and more, and they begin to hate the society for failing to reckon them or at least take note of their presence there. Ultimately, such people turn to solitude for shelter or solace.
Solitude has its healing resources, and delivers effective solutions. In the cave of loneliness, men and women are driven to listen to their own inner selves, able to read their own deeper urges and inspired to channelize their energies in the proper direction. Solitude empowers them to redefine themselves and perform immensely better. They build an integral and lasting union with God and realize their own infinite potential and chalk out ways to nourish it well beyond the framework and imagination of society. This is how they literally tap the great bonanza of opportunity that presents itself to them in the hour of their crucial need.
No doubt, society has evolved talents and made them highly competitive in order to carry on the "struggle" that's life, to the utmost limits of their capacity. That's really fantastic. Millions have done it faithfully, wearing themselves out, and kept their loyalty to their master; and several millions are still doing it with ferocious dogmatic faith in its strictures and policies or without ever having the courage to question them. The dictatorial society commands servile obedience from the masses and taxes them beyond their ability. And the show goes on relentlessly.
With Solitude, the entire scene changes: the atmosphere itself is relaxed, and is completely different. It gives freedom to think and open up further, symbolizing unrivaled development. There is a broad world of ideas to choose from, or create your own instinctively. Solitude is never a master dictating terms to you but it is just your interactive self or mirror. No wonder, with this trail of enlightenment, it has made possible the birth of our greatest men and women who have either created history, or changed its normal course.
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