Does life equal existence?

When you look back at your life and can say it is without regrets, have one person who you can count on whether times good or bad, can reflect back on the few friendships you have made that will last a lifetime, have earned the respect of another being and can sleep at night with a heart without malice, you know you are living a life that will be the envy of many, a life worth living.

Life is a strange anomaly, sometimes we take it to be many days of mere existence clubbed together and sometimes we use those few in between moments to make what we call life. Life is both of these and still so much more. You might wonder why I always reflect back on topics dealing with life in most of my blogs, but the truth is I find nothing more intriguing. It is filled with complexities but is still so simple. It can never be explained but it is self-explanatory.

When I think of life I don’t think of the decades, years, months, days, minutes or seconds I have lived, that is not life that is existence. Life is living, not merely existing. If I have to define it I would say it is that period of your existence when you have put the amalgamation of your mind, heart and soul into trying to make the day or the task at hand have an impact on you or on others. It is the time where you have been afraid but taken chances, when you have made relationships without malice and when you have acted without negativity.

Do not get me wrong, people who act with malice or negativity may be living a life too, but for me that counts for very little for that is a life with regret and I don’t believe in such a life. I am not saying don’t make mistakes, don’t falter, I have and I continue to do so but I don’t regret because every step, good or bad, beneficial or harmful, has taught me a lesson, made me the person I am becoming.

You might say I have an idealistic view but I believe it is a realistic one; it just takes a little more patience, perseverance and faith. It is about believing the glass is half full because someday it all does come back. Since millions of years there has remained the distinction of good and bad and it is this distinction that we call karma. So yes, idealistic as it may be, but I believe my goodness will come back to me in its most unexpected ways and the negativity I put out there will reflect somewhere in my life to come.

A life is never complete without people in it. This could be your family, your friends, your partner, your teacher, an acquaintance or even a complete stranger. We all need someone to laugh with us, to console us and to be proud of us. We all need someone to talk to, some more than the others. We all need that one person who has impacted us, who has somehow taught us the difference between good and bad, between black, grey and white.

I know of many people who are proud of their social lives and the many friends they have on social networking sites. But what surprises me most is the number of young people I see complaining about the lack of people to share with despite of so many friends on their lists. A friend is not the number of people you can call to a party, the number of people you have following you on twitter or wishing you a happy birthday on Facebook. It is those people who you can call when you are crying and those you know have only good intentions in their heart for you. It is those people you will tell about your first job and who will be there at your first heartbreak abusing the person alongside you. Any person fitting into this description is a friend for life. And life without such friends is no life at all.

I don’t know how many people respect the person I am, how many people ridicule me. I don’t know how many people out there think of my downfall and how many have at some point played a part in the low points of my life. But each of these persons does not sleep soundly, and each of them are filled with envy because each of these persons are thinking about another and not at bettering who they are, their life. Such is a life with regrets, a life which keeps you awake at night.

I sleep at night with a clean heart because I know that if I fall to the levels of people who harbor ill will, I will forget about me and the people who matter and move on to caring about the downfall of them. I cannot bring myself to do so because I know better than that, I have learnt better than that.

Thus I say all of us exist but only a handful of us live. It is never too late to start living but for that we need to stop being complacent and being content with existing.

As life passes us by…

As I sit at a café, taking in the chatter of the college students, the strong smell of the freshly brewed coffee, the soft music playing in background I wonder about life and how it passes us by. How we don’t value the moment we are in but instead wonder what the future has in store for us or what the past tried to tell us.

Our lives are made up of moments; moments that make us realize the importance of things, make us regret certain actions, think of those that make us feel proud of our actions. Moments that make us realize how lucky we are to have certain people in our life, how grateful we are for the good deeds there exist.

We waste our time on the largely inconsequential things in life, the ones that make up for most of those moments. We wonder whether we are good enough, what color goes with which other, what certain people think of us, whether we deserve enough and how life will be tomorrow. We waste time blaming the actions of yesterday, questioning the reasons for what tomorrow will be. We more than often do not relish the moment we are in, thank the higher powers for giving us that moment.

Life may be an amalgamation of moments, but it is those singular moments that make our life.

It is that one moment, that one second of our life that can change it forever. It is that moment which we often ignore, that passes us by. We miss out on the laughter of the toddler in the playground, ignore the wind blowing on our face, forget to gaze at the sunset, take walking with a loved one for granted, and overlook the smile on our parents face. We take for granted the chats with a sibling or the fights with a best friend. We forget until that last moment hits us, of these moments which made life worth living. We wish then that we had stopped and savored it all while it existed.

Moments are not merely seconds that make up the day; they are the individual parts that sum up what your life has been. So why wait for the last moment of it to finally treasure the moments that made it all up? Why not sit back once in a while and enjoy the joy of nothings, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee, listen to the music being played in the background and smile when you think of the chats you had with your college friends? It is in this moment that your life will find meaning, for in this moment you can change your life, in this moment you can feel happy. It is in this moment you can grieve, feel the pain of losing someone, and make the mistake that teaches you more than life ever can. It is this moment that you should live in, a moment at a time.

A Child’s View

This is my little attempt at some fiction. Do let me know how you'll like it :)
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“Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist.”
-Michael Levine

You could hear the weeps behind the wooden door, the pain in her voice when she called out their names in between sobs. She had heard a lot of talk about what was going to happen, what her future would be, but until today she ran away from it all. Submissive and alone, she had created a little world of her own. For her the bedroom had become the haven, the bathroom the safe. Her life seemed to have come to a standstill and her childhood vanished.

Children are a mirror of who their parents are. They become the people they are by imbibing the qualities they see around them. They are not demanding, and they are not demeaning. They do not question nor do they have any expectations. They are the purest form of beings we have today, and it is the parent who moulds them into an independent individual.

Diya and Deep thought they were doing well as parents, providing their daughter with a secure environment, sending her to the best school in the city and making sure she never had to worry about her future while they lived. They had given her everything she had ever asked for, but in the midst of meeting her demands they forgot to give her the one thing she wanted, needed but could never muster up the courage to ask.

Anya sat there, all alone in her room hearing her mother say things to her father and then her father say some more. This had become a daily routine and she did not like it. All of 8 she didn’t need to or want to know that her parents weren’t happy together. She had been seeing these fights since as long as she could remember now but she didn’t remember them being so violent ever before. It got worse with every passing day and all she could do was sit in her room and cry.

She was more mature than she was required to be, she had grown up without being asked if she even wanted to. She did have friends but their thoughts didn’t match hers. They were so different it made it difficult for her to talk to anyone. She had always kept up her grades, she believed it would make her parents proud of her, maybe even give a little attention to her. Being a bright student, her teachers didn’t see anything amiss with her.

She was the only child, and had been brought up by her Nanny who was more a mother for her than the woman who gave her birth. Jaya was the friend she never made, the mother she never knew, the confidante she survived because of. A widow at a young age, Jaya had wallowed in her pain for long enough. Just as she brightened Anya’s life, Anya had given her a reason to smile, to care, to worry and to love again. They were inseparable and this relationship was the only thing that kept the two of them going.

Anya had heard from her aunts and uncles, from grown up cousins, of the love her parents shared, of Diya and Deep. People always took their names in one breath, like they were one person then where had all of this love, this bond gone she wondered? She could not remember the last time they had spoken a kind loving word in front of her, to each other. Her little mind was filled up with questions – with no one to answer them. She wanted her mommy and daddy together, like everyone else had. She harbored the dream of a family.

There were no more anecdotes one heard in her broken speech. There was no more running outside at odd hours when her mother ran after her holding a glass of milk. There was no more laughter in the corridors of the house. All there was silence, which many people mistook for complete obedience. She was losing out on her childhood and no one seemed to mind that, maybe because no one cared to notice. Anya had begun to feel as if she was not loved anymore; the lack of affection was making her distant.

One night, crying in her room with the doors closed and after her Nanny had left the room, she heard her parents quarrel again. This time made a conscious effort to hear the argument and it changed her perspective on life, maybe for life.

“Children are like wet cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression”

‘What do you want me to do Diya, every night it is the same thing’ she heard Deep say.

‘No it is not the same thing; you make it boil down to the same thing. I am tired of this Deep; you have no time for me’ her mother reply.

When Anya heard her mother say ‘you have no time for me’ the first thought that crossed her mind was that both her parents had no time for her and she couldn’t even complain, she never got the chance to. She had decided in her mind that if she said something about herself it will just worsen the matter.

‘Time? You ask me about time? if I sit at home with you all day who will go out and earn? You have refused to become a part of the process’ he shouted

‘Don’t you blame it on me. I gave up everything because you did not want me to work after Anya was born. I have been taking care of her Deep, everyday’ Diya retorted.

Anya sat there thinking about when was the last time her mother had hugged her, had kissed her goodnight, had put her to sleep with a story, had dropped her off to school and have a meal prepared for her when she got back. When was the last time her parents had taken her out and not had an argument that just spoiled the entire atmosphere, the last time they sat down and helped her with her homework?

‘I don’t want to lose another kid because of us not being there Diya. Why can’t you understand that? You were adamant to have Anya and I supported you. I love my child but to you taking care of her is a job’ Deep stated.

‘She is not a job Deep but I need my individuality too. And I cannot deal with her and her needs and you not being there and our constant fights. How much longer will this go on?’ she asked.

‘What do you want us to do Diya? Give me a solution. I am tired of you and your constant nagging and cribbing’ Deep said

‘I don’t know’ Diya gave in.

“Children will not remember you for the material things you provided but the feelings with which you cherished them”

Anya had everything a child could ask for, just not what a child needed. She did not know what the future was. She had heard of the concept of divorce in a few television shows but that was all she knew. She wanted to go to her parents and tell them to love each other, to show their love to her, to tell her the truth about what was going on, to tell her that they will always be there for her, to want to be a family. That day she cried herself to sleep, again. The exhaustion had finally gotten to her and she woke up with a fever. Sitting at home and talking to her nanny, she figured this was the best opportunity to get a few answers.

‘Nanny are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?’ she innocently asked.

‘What makes you ask such a thing? Did they tell you something?’ Jaya inquired, a bit taken aback at the question.

‘No they did not, but they are always fighting’ Anya said remorsefully.

‘Will I have to choose between them Nanny? Will I be able to love only one? Will I not see Daddy and Mommy together again?’ Anya asked

‘I don’t know sweetheart, but the road ahead won’t be easy and you will have to be a brave girl. Always remember your mommy and daddy both love you very much’ Nanny told her, giving her some hope but at the same time telling her what she was thinking was not entirely wrong.

‘But now, you needn’t think of all of this. They love you and they will sort it all out. You be well and be happy.’ Jaya said, not giving her a chance to ask anymore.

Days passed and Anya’s fears started coming true. Diya had left, leaving Deep with Anya. Deep immersed himself in work and waited for the divorce to come through. Anya was left without parents, she was the orphan who’s parents hadn’t died but weren’t alive either. Diya left without saying a word, giving Anya hope that she would be back.

She thought for days as to how she could get them together, how she could just hug them and tell them to love each other again, to give her back her family. Anya had a poetry recital in school and decided to ask her parents to be there. She did not know how to ask and what to say, they had always hidden the reality from her. With some courage mustered up she called up her mother.

‘Mommy, can you come to school the day after tomorrow? I have a poetry recital and it would be nice to have you there’ Anya said into the phone.

Diya’s eyes were moist. She had not wanted Anya to be subjected to all this but she thought Deep and her being separate was what was good for their child.

‘Of course I will be there. And Anya remember your mommy loves you’ saying this Diya kept the phone down.

She asked her father and he readily agreed too. Anya hoped that they together would make everything ok. It was an 8 year olds attempt at reconciliation. The day came and Anya stood on the podium, dedicating it to her poem to her parents.

A few months ago I was as happy as one can be,
I looked out of my window and smiled as I saw the sea.
Things changed and I don’t know why,
All I heard was screaming and shouting and sometimes a cry.
My heart went numb, no one to answer me
What was my fault or was the blame all on me?
It hurt me to see my parents fight
Two people I love the most just gave each other spite.
No one cared for my well being,
When I laughed or I cried it was for them, without meaning.
Today things have changed, they are together no more
Will they love me now and is there a new tomorrow?
I love them no end and I want to tell them that,
Tell them before all the time flies by.

The whole auditorium was moist eyed; they stood up and applauded. Her eyes were fixed on her parents, who just looked at each other and cried silent tears. Anya stood and prayed there for minute, hoping things would now be slightly different.