148. Label

I needed new goggles. So, I went to a shop and placed an order.

I know the shopkeeper. The family used to stay in one of my friend’s residential complex and my friend had introduced me to this particular shop. So, we had some pleasantries to exchange.

While leaving, I asked for how many days the shop will remain closed during Deepavalee festival.

To my surprise, the man said, “We are working on all days.”

This was rather unusual. So I asked for more explanation. His wife added, “We work on all 365 days, we are never closed. Even when there is ‘Bharat Band’ call, we work.”

That was astounding. Before I could ask any question, the man elaborated proudly, “To tell you the truth, I have opened this shop nine years ago. And in the last nine years, our shop has never remained closed. We always open at the regular time and work regularly.”

I wanted to speak more on the topic but more customers arrived on the scene and I walked back silently.

How do I label or classify this information?

To run eyeglasses shop does not sound a very exciting profession - but it is useful service and good livelihood. But how can one enjoy it for nine years without break?

Is this family Workaholic?

 Do they not have any other things to do in life?

Don’t the husband and wife need some rest, some kind of change? Don’t they get tired of the routine?

Have they not faced any single difficulty in nine years? Say, ill health, traffic problems? (Well, I remembered the women telling me that they stay in the same building where their shop is!)

Do they see work as joy and not as livelihood alone?

What do they gain in the process?  Apart from money, I mean.

I realize that I am addicted to classifying  information.

I realize that I am used to label information.

Is it not amazing that I do labeling without any break, without rest, without change – constantly? And it is not even my livelihood.

Then why am I surprised when I see someone else doing some kind of work or activity without break?

How should I label myself?

147. Parasite

Visit to Devaka village in Daman is depressing.

It is a village with beautiful seashore, many hotels and lot of recreation activities. However I did not go there as a tourist, but for work. The purpose of visit always opens another world to me; it exposes me to different reality. After every such visit, I see changes in my perspective - about life, about social situation, about my goal and about so many other things.  

We pass a deserted patch and come across many small houses – in a row. Most of the houses are locked but few men come outside to greet us. We start asking questions, they answer. I am watching the area. The houses are not well maintained. The rooms look dingy. I am not sure whether there is electricity and whether tap water is available – I don’t think they have these basic amenities. The men don’t at all notice the stinking smell – they are used to it.  

I remember my co-passengers talking about Daman as mini Goa. Lot of fun (and by fun they clearly meant drink), food (especially non-veg) and luxury.

In this small village, there are people from West Bengal, from Odisha, from Bihar, from Jharkhand, from Uttar Pradesh – from every corner of the country. In a small 10X8 feet kind of room at least 8 people stay together. They all work in nearby hotels – they work in different shifts – so the small room could be shared by people in two batches. When one batch is resting, another works and the first batch vacates the room for the second batch when they come “home” from duty. This is sort of “all men” habitat – no women except maybe the local ones – I spend more than half an hour there but I do not see a single woman.

I remember gardens in various towns and cities. I remember constantly watered lawns. I remember my morning walks in lush green Bangalore Golf Course. I remember the two clear blue swimming pools in the Thiruvananthpuram hotel. Life seems to be all green at no cost when I am at such beautiful places. But I forget to ask: how many of us can access these peaceful and beautiful places?

About 350 men do stay here together, they work together, they move together. It is like a family – a family with bonds that are created through work opportunities. Once in a year they visit their native village. They have lost the connection with their land, with their culture, with their people. Their parents, siblings, wife, and children – everybody is there in the native village. They see them only once in a year. They cannot bring them here with them as the space crunch makes the room rents very high. They cannot afford to pay such high rent. Do they feel lonely? I don’t know!

Well, you and me too leave our place and work somewhere else. We too are disconnected.  We also seem to have been caught in the same trap. But we are placed in a much better position – we can bargain, we can negotiate – if opportunity comes, we will migrate for better life. We are not here because we do not have options – we actually keep on exploring options.

Their eyes show no dream – there is only desperation to pull on life. They carve out some space to smile to laugh ………but they know it is rare.

My colleagues talk about new job, better salary package, about their ambition, about the competition, about keeping the management happy.

All the theories of urbanization, all the statistics that I have used so far rushes in my mind. To deal with theory, to analyze data is one thing. To face the hopelessness on the faces of so many human beings is very depressing.

Daman is ‘Developed’ – somebody was telling me just yesterday.

I see the other side of development. In-migrants in large numbers are contributing to the local economy – but what do they gain in the process?

I turn, I move. I live. I enjoy. My livelihood seems to enhance quality of my life.

But that does not seem to happen for these people. It seems that they get livelihood. But do they have good life to enjoy that livelihood?

The parasite is going to die one day – because it won’t be able to exploit the tree anymore.

Question is:  who is parasite?
Answer is: very clear if I choose to see. 

146. Appeal of Despair

Presently I am reading ‘Boundless Sky’.

It is a collection of representative writings of Gurudeva Rabindranath Tagore. The book is published by Visva Bharati and I have 1964 edition with me. The book contains eight stories, a novel, 14 essays, a drama and as many as 49 poems (why not 50? I don’t know). ‘Boundless Sky’ is title of one of the poems – which is adopted for the collection.

The book is in my collection for more than 20 years and I have read it at least five times during these years. The cost of the book is Rs. 14.50 – but I actually purchased it for one rupee from footpath. The book is obviously worn out and I need a fresh copy. But I don’t throw away this copy; simply because it reminds me of many old things – with which I have lost touch now.

As is my habit, the book has so many lines marked by me during the course of various readings. I also have the habit of writing comments – I do it only when I own the book and never with the books borrowed from library or friends. These underlines and comments show me what I had been thinking in the past – and it always makes me smile.

Today I was reading the essay ‘Religious Education’. Rabindranath elucidates many points in his typically simple and revolutionary way. His writing is logical and it also takes readers beyond the realm of logic. I was enjoying his arguments. The ending of the essay especially awakened me. I was as if taken into another world.

Rabindranath says:

Let me conclude my paper with the translation of a characteristic poem by a Baul poet by the name of Madan whose courage to decry the conventional paths of the pious as leading to spiritual futility is made evident in this song:

Thy path, o Lord, is hidden by mosque and temple:

I hear thine own call, but the guru stops the way.

What gives peace to my mind, sets the world ablaze –

The cult of the One dies in the conflict of the many.

The door to it is closed by many a lock, of Koran,

                                         Puran and the rosary.

Even the way of renunciation is full of tribulation:

Wherefore weeps Madan in despair.

It was like being struck by lightening. How did I not notice these beautiful lines earlier? Why did this despair not touch my heart earlier?

I also registered that not a single line in this essay was marked by me in the earlier readings.

Why did this despair not appeal to me for last 20 years? Was I not open to these feelings earlier? Was there a barrier within me?  My ideas regarding religion have never been conventional –so, in a way I am in ‘league’ with the poet. But why did I not belong to it earlier? Why did I fail to recognize these fascinating words?

And what exactly happened today? What caught my attention today? What made me to understand these words today? That is a mystery.

Same is the case with joy, happiness, oneness, expansion.

Maybe, the Truth always exists; it is only when we open ourselves to it, we experience it!

And when we experience, we cannot explain - neither despair nor joy. 

145. Lost Privilege

I could not help in comparing ‘Now and Then’ – a kind of time-frame analysis. That is because I had reached this particular place almost at the same time I had reached years ago.

On material plane, I was as hungry and as tired as I was then.

However it was not exact ‘replay’ of what happened earlier. Certainly, things have changed a lot.

First and foremost, then I was young, now I am old.

Then I did not know where I was reaching, I did not know anyone here, I did not know what to expect and I had nothing to fall back. I was full of uncertainty.

Now I know where I am going, I know people and places here, I know what to expect – rather I have choices about what to do and what to avoid and I have a return ticket back  home. I don’t take anything for granted even now (like returning, having a home), but I am certain that I will always find out a way.

Then I was full of doubts, now I am peaceful.

Then I would try to convince people, now I let it go – until they are happy without exploiting others. I don’t try to convert anybody and I am patient enough to listen when somebody tries to ‘convert’ me.

Then I was as if person A; now I am as if person B – there is continuity but also a lot of change.

After reaching years ago, I was offered tea and Parle G biscuits. Today I consume a cup of coffee and as Parle G is not available, I have Britannia 50:50 – that is amazing link with the past within the range of changes.

I move around to my favorite spots and find out the serenity of the place is lost due to typical ‘loud’ behavior of the tourists. I suddenly realize that even then it would have been there – I do notice it now because I have lost some privileges in the process. With that acknowledgement of loss, peace is regained.

One of the old men invites me for lunch. I say yes but I do not go, not even on the second day. I do not feel like going.

“Do you feel shy? Do you feel guilty?” he asks later in the evening.

I am surprised by the question. Why should I feel guilty? Why should I feel shy? I am only trying to keep away myself from irritation- irritation at the way people talk, people assume, people think and people advice.

Then I would have told him the plain truth. Now, I smile. I say, “No, I forgot. Next time I will certainly join you for lunch. ”

“Come back here” someone says.

“Sure, whenever opportunity is there I would certainly make the best of it.” I answer. My goodness, what bookish language I am speaking.

“Come here forever,” he adds hurriedly, “when you have done your work and when you feel lonely.”

I am aghast at the suggestion. These people sitting on self made thrones treat other people with so much of hypocritical compassion. They think there is only one way – theirs!

Like old days, a strong reply comes to me. But I keep quiet. That does not mean I accept what he says, but there is no need to tell him that I disagree. He is happy to have me here listening, so let me listen.

“You know, you are a privileged child; that is why you came here in the first place” another one says.

I completely agree with this sentiment. I have always felt that coming to this place was a turning point, years of privilege shaped me in different way – I am thankful to all those moments, all those people and all those memories.

However, giving up that privilege was my conscious choice. I am glad that I came here and I am glad that I left this place. There was pain while leaving, but now I have overcome the pain. If I had stayed here this long, I might have become a person whom I would have not liked much. That would have been the price greater than the pain and sorrow I went through.

Now I feel free of burden of expectations, of traditions, of norms, of what not – laid down by others. It created horrible bondage for me – worst than the bondage life had caught me in initially.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I gave up was worth giving up!  I acknowledge that it is one of the greatest places to be at least once in life ……still, after certain time it became worth leaving.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I have left back has nothing to contribute in my life!

 

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What is past should remain as past; never try to turn it into present or future.

Some privileges are better lost. 

144. Devotion-less

I never have been a good devotee. Different people have tried to induce at least a grain of belief in me, and have miserably failed. But without any kind of belief in any kind of sect, religion or God, I have had a cheerful life so far.

However, I like to visit temples, especially when they are not crowded. I like to explore the temples. My creative mind can travel in the past and can see certain things – all assumed of course! I can paint the past and compare it to the present and sometimes there is a difference and some other times there is no difference at all. What amuses me more than the God is people’s perception about that particular God, the astounding stories associated with the spot and the thriving market around it. It is always wonderful to note how common people carry on materialism in one hand and spiritualism in the other. Only they know what happens in the process.

So, the other day when we are entering Karaikal a district town in Puducherry, my colleague tells me about the famous Shiva temple nearby. “Would you like to go there?” he asks enthusiastically. We have lot of work ahead that day and so have started from Puducherry as early as 6.00 in the morning. I do not want to throw cold water on his passion. So as I usually respond to such suggestions, I say, “Let us see how our work progresses. If time permits, we will go.” By experience I know that if I do not strongly say “NO” time always permits!

After different meetings, discussions, visit to four villages, interaction with villagers, discussion on issues and strategies to address that etc, it is 5.30 in the evening. “Madam, shall we go to the temple now?” a village volunteer asks me anxiously. One group of our team does not want to visit the temple so they start off straight towards Puducherry.

The day had been hectic enough and it would take another four hours to reach Puducherry. But I know my colleague wants  to take me to the temple. Additional half an hour is not an issue for me. So we go to Thirunallar.

Here I come across a temple which has both Shiva and Shani. I have seen very few Shani temples so far. In Pune there is a Shani temple and I remember to have visited Shani ShingaNaapur. In Delhi to my surprise I have seen many Shani temples. But almost all these temples are surrounded by beggars and ‘differently able’ crowds. For me, Shani temple is associated with sorrow, pain, shattered hopes, dreams and an urge for survival. My memory of Shanimahaatmya is depressing. For this reasons I have instinctively avoided Shani temples so far. On the other hand I have visited many Shiva temples which are generally cool, elegant, and calm. They have always filled my heart with peace.

The temple reveals history of conflict between Jainisim and Shaivism. There was a king and a saint and a miracle involved. The place was also association with King Nala (and Damayantee) who invoked Lord Shani for his mercy and was successful. The devotees say that this is the only place where Shani is in a ‘blessing’ mode and the devotees believe that it is because of Shiva’s existence, Shani is controlled.

If you have visited religious places and studied scriptures and mythology, you know that the Gods are always very human like in their thoughts, ideas, nature and behavior.  I think that is the only way human mind can connect itself with God – the known tries to relate with unknown in a typical way.

Well, I like the temple. The architecture is attractive. Before I understand what is happening, I am taken ahead of the queue, a Pooja is fully planned. Here when we break the queue and go ahead, nobody complains. Later I realize that “pay more and have quick darshan’ is the usual practice in most of the temples.  I do not like breaking the queue this way – how can someone be more important (and that too because of money or designation) in front of God? That only shows that people do not really believe in God. I never perform Pooja in the temple – but here I am helpless. Well, I could storm out of the temple without doing any of this – but it took me time to understand what was happening. And by the time I understand it, I have as if given my indirect consent by actually participating in it. I am feeling like an illiterate person lost in the library.

The Pooja  begins with  a little hurdle. The temple priest wants to know my zodiac sign (or whatever it is called) – I say, “I have none”. This makes everybody around speechless. All of them say something in Tamil – which fortunately I do not at all understand. But as I am their guest, they cannot get angry with me. Then the priest asks  -which month I was born. For a moment I am tempted to tell a lie – but well, I give the right information. Then my colleague asks me to donate some money – I have kept my purse in the car, so he hands me a note and I put it in the plate. Later I pay that amount to my colleague and he says that because it is for religious purpose, he has to take it from me. Otherwise, I won’t earn the merit of the Pooja. In short I am forced into paying the amount – but I know my young colleague is doing it with good intention.

Then there is some kind of Emerald. I neither understand its significance not any story related to it. It is locked and the priest comes with so many keys and opens lock after lock. A group of devotees is patiently waiting – underlining the importance of this ceremony.  Then suddenly few women start singing a devotional song praising Shiva. Though it is a Tamil Song, I know it by heart. I had forgotten it so far but it comes back to me without breaks. Long back I used to listen to this song. Like rest of the devotees I repeat the lines and I feel happy like a child that I can still remember and pronounce those difficult sounding Tamil words.

Well, finally everything gets over. The head priest hands over Prasada to me. In his broken English he assures me that :This place is next to Tirupati Balaajee. Well, I don’t understand how there could be such hierarchy in the community of Gods. Are not they all supposed to be powerful and accommodating enough? Just imagine one God – say for example Shiva here – not happy with me because I did not pray him. Sounds like a human being who is hurt if someone does not salute him/her. Gods are not affected by what I do or what I don’t do. Are they not supposed to be beyond all these mundane feelings?

The priest adds: Whatever you wished here, will come true.

Everybody around me smiles. I too smile. Why ask questions if they are happy with their belief?

“What did you wish for?” my colleague asks me on the way back.

“Oh, if I knew the power of the God in advance, I should have definitely asked for certain things,” I say lightly – that is my usual answer to all strong devotees. That generally satisfies them.

I wonder what I was thinking in the temple. I was certainly not praying, I was not asking for anything. I was just watching the devotion of the devotees – there might be honesty and truth in those devotees, there might be quality longing and urge in that devotion. I was as usual observing; I was as usual trying to understand; I was as usual amazed that so much is unknown to me; I was wondering how the place might have been hundreds of years ago; I was imagining how those people might have been; I was thinking what will happen to this place 500 years down the line; I was thinking how everything emerges- lives and gets destroyed; I was feeling happy with whatever I have knowing that nothing is going to last forever.

The best gift of that devotion-less moment is:  Re-establishing of that eternal truth: That my lack of devotion does not affect Lord Shiva and Lord Shani (and other Gods) and it does not affect me as well. We choose to co-exist without demanding, without commanding and we maintain the connection without any apparent give and take.

Well, why do I need devotion?
*

143. Survival ++

On alternate days, I used to walk to office. It was just a fifteen minutes walking distance. On other days I used two- wheeler to reach the office.

On these walking days, I used to meet Vishal, one of my young colleagues, at the entrance gate. From the gate, it took about five minutes to reach the office. Whenever we met we talked. Slowly, when the comfort level increased, if one of us saw the other behind, we would wait for the other and then walk together. That became an ‘alternate day ritual’ as we named it. Generally we discussed office work, his hobbies, Pune city, visits to field areas, books read etc.

One day he said, “If you don’t mind, I have a question.”

“I hope I know the answer,” I said smilingly. Sometimes talking to young generation makes me feel ‘out of date’! But I don’t mind saying “Sorry I do not know” and hence was ready to answer whatever he wanted. He was sort of technocrat with management degree and not very proficient with softer issues in development. I anticipated some work related question.

“What do you carry in your shoulder bag?” he asked innocently. My office bag is inseparable part of me; I always carry it with me. Occasionally there have been jokes about it. So, at first I felt there was some trick, but he seemed vary serious. Then I laughed with the unexpected turn. I mean here I was waiting to face a very important question and this guy was asking me such a simple one!

Well, every day I carried too many things in my bag – home to office and back home. I sincerely tried to think. Why did I carry this bag? What was there in my bag?

Office Identity card to swipe in and out was essential.

Vehicle license was essential in case I decided to go somewhere out after office hours. Now, when I was walking, it was not necessary. But taking things out of bag and putting those again next day meant unnecessary work. So, it was always there.

Then there were two or three pens. Why two or three? Because someone around would always be without a pen and would ask me if I had extra pen and would borrow it from me. I am used to keep stock of pens as those who borrow pen would certainly forget to return it.

In addition to it, there was a pencil. What for? For marking some important points while reading various documents.

Then there would be money purse. Of course with some money in it! You never know what amount you will have to spend – so the ATM card was part of the kitty. And so was cheque book. You never know when it will be needed.

Then there were some blank papers – of different sizes – to write notes, messages, task lists, phone numbers etc. There were always needed in meetings. The pocket telephone diary; as I have not stored all the numbers in the mobile handset.

I also had some office documents – which I used to take home for reading and working. Similarly some printout taken at home was brought to office for filing, sharing, review etc.

Then there would also be a book – in case I needed to wait for someone (delay in appointments) at his/her office. Many people have this habit of spending lot of time on their mobile even when someone is sitting in front of them. Instead of getting irritated, I read something on such occasions.

In addition to it, there were home keys, office keys and vehicle keys. Some bills to be submitted would also be there. So would be the digital camera to download work related photographs on the office PC. There also was a pen drive, a CD.

And so on. I realized that I carried too many things in the bag assuming the daily need but most of them I hardly used everyday. I assumed a range of activities every day, but I certainly carried on very limited activities on a given day. Somehow, I had trained myself to be ready for any situation that demanded various resources. I feel responsible for the surroundings, for the people around me. This habit had certainly saved me from some awkward situations and always made me ‘resourceful’ person. 


While explaining this list to Vishal, I too saw the lighter side of it and started laughing with him.

For the first time I realized that I never have seen Vishal with any office bag. He came to office empty handed and he left office empty handed.

“Well, now I want to ask you a question,” I said to Vishal.

“Yep, I know, now you are going to ask me why I do not to carry such a hold-all to the office, am I right?”

Vishal was smart, I smilingly nodded.

Vishal reflected a bit and then pronounced – “I keep office life and home life separate. I do not carry anything from office to home and the other way, unless that is absolutely necessary. Is it not the responsibility of all others to bring in whatever they need e.g. pen or paper?  I carry only the swipe card – without which I won’t be able to enter in and out of the office. Rest of the stuff I need in the office, I keep it in the office. I do not take office work at home.”

Personal and Professional  - well I know about it.  I admire people who can live in such a segregated way. It must have its advantages. However, I have never been able to keep these two identities apart. For me, my work is expression of my interests and my values; my work reflects my personality – good or bad there could be debate about it. Like Yin and Yang, personal life flows into professional and professional life influences the personal. The co-existence of personal and professional life is absolutely essential to peace, harmony and happiness. If in one area I have trouble – I have trouble in both. If I am glad in one sphere, I carry the joy in the other sphere too. How can I be unhappy at one place and happy in the other sphere?

I am not sure whether it is right or wrong, but people like me need more of integration, synthesis rather than segregation, division. We are at our best when we are one across the sphere of activities. People like me feel good when we belong to, when we can contribute, when there are bridges of relationships. There are always people who are sensible as well as sensitive, they would volunteer for any kind of work and any amount of work - it is fun to team with such people. Though detachment, delegation of responsibilities, and withdrawal also happen – it is done as a process and not as  'the' outcome. They happen in its own way and independent style. Every time it happens, one changes, one wonders, one reflects, one grows. The process of withdrawal is initiated separately for each of the steps that professional (as well as personal) life brings across. Doing it in bulk, doing it hypothetically does not work. This part by part process builds the magnificent Whole.

I shared these thoughts with Vishal. He laughed and said, “You are indeed so old fashioned. The world is changing, with this kind of attitude you will not survive in this world. You need to have a paradigm shift to have better prospects in your career.”

Well, to be frank, this is one of the areas where I have not yet changed. I don’t think I need that kind of change. Why should I worry about few more ‘Professional years’ ahead? Till now, I have survived on my terms; there is of course, much more than just survival.

Even if you are ‘segregating’ type, you will agree that in both Personal and Professional life, we aim beyond survival. The feeling of attainment is much broader, wider and deeper than survival and we all seek that kind of joy. Life actually offers us many opportunities. I fear Vishal was still too young to have experienced it: If you don’t survive at one place, don’t be worried. There are other times and other places, where you not only survive but blossom. You will have the satisfaction of having crossed the limits, the boundaries of survival.

It is Survival ++.

142. 'BAT'ing For......

Regular readers of Times Change are aware of Blog -a -Ton (BAT) - in which I have been participating for almost 2 years now. My first BAT post happened to be on 5 September 2009.

By nature I am not a competitive person, so many of my friends raised eyebrows when they read my Blog-a-Ton (BAT) entries. What surprised me was: many readers who do not know me personally (and know only through blog ) asked me why did I participate in such blogging competition. Well, I have answered all of them and probably they were satisfied with the answer - or they just gave up - who knows?

BAT invites 'Veteran' (those who have participated in more than 10 BATs) bloggers to share their experience. The Marshal (yes, BAT has all its aura ...) invited me to share my experience. When I am requested, I generally don't say no. So, I wrote a post for Blog - a - Ton.

I thought readers of this blog might like to read the post; here it is.

************
It was in September 2009, that I came across Blog a Ton (BAT). I am a member of IndiBlogger and I came across the information of BAT through IndiVine. The first BAT was conducted in August and the second one was announced. I decided to participate in BAT.

For me participating in BAT was indeed a challenge in many ways.

First, I was very new to blog-world. I was blogging about a year. None of my friends or people around me read any other blog; leave writing one. But my friends and colleagues at workplace read whatever I wrote and encouraged me to write more about my experiences. So, my blog was a sort of ‘family affair’.  I was not sure whether my blog would appeal to ‘outsiders’ – meaning those who do not know me personally.

Secondly, those of who read my blog beyond BAT entries (I hope some at least read it) know that my blog is mostly narrations of my experiences. I don’t write scholarly articles; neither do I write movie or book reviews; nor poetry. My writing range is indeed limited. So, whether I would be able to write on different topics and satisfy the unknown readers was a question to me.

Third, I have always believed in freedom of writers. My blog should be a place where I have complete freedom about what to write, when to write, how to write, and whether to write it or not. Accepting BAT terms was little contradictory to these values. I mean I was still free to ‘not to write’ and I could still choose the form of expression. But the topic of BAT though decided in democratic manner – was not always of my choice. It was like writing according to someone else’s command.

Fourth – my travel schedule did not allow me the luxury of 24X7 connectivity. It was not necessary that on every first Saturday (that was the initial regular schedule of BAT) I could post for BAT. But here the Marshal came with support. On many occasions I have scheduled my post and requested Vipul, the Marshal to publish the link on the BAT date – and he always did it.

Fifth: I am actually not a competitive person. If you are reading my blog regularly, you know that I do not participate in any kind of competitions – that does not mean I doubt intention of those who participate in various blogging competitions. I am not cut for it – that is all.

In spite of all these obstacles, I have till date participated in as many as 18 BATs. My blog has ‘Blog a Ton’ as one of the labels and it shows 19 posts – but the post RETURN, though written for BAT, could not be published due to technical reasons.

Honestly speaking, I have never felt competition in BAT – though it has clear voting (now cheers) guidelines and deadlines and clear winners. I have almost always read all the BAT entries and I am sure most of the ‘BAT’ers do it. For me the most creative aspect of human thinking is brought to the forefront through BAT. It amazes me every time I BAT to see how a single word creates so many different ideas, so many different perspectives, so many different forms, so many different expressions, and so many different feelings. The whole canvas of writing opens to you, you get to know a range of experiences. That is the reason I love BAT.

BAT balances discipline and freedom – you need to post during a timeline on a particular topic but you are free to choose the form, the tone, the presentation etc. As my blog is mostly about sharing experiences, after couple of BATs I started to feel the bondage. Then I came up with an idea. I had always wanted to write short story but had never explored it. BAT gave me an opportunity to work in this direction. Though my short stories are always long enough, I have enjoyed writing those stories. The whole gamut of experiences could be woven together through story. And then for me BAT became a Story Writing Challenge. Except for four posts - Teachers Aaja Kal, The Indian Dream, If I were a Baby Again and Pencil Pull, - I have always written stories. It is because of BAT, that I started writing a story. Good or Bad – does not matter!

Through BAT I came across many new blogs and of course good ones and many virtual friends. I follow some of these blogs regularly. I interact with some of the bloggers whom I have never met. It is another matter that the old batch of ‘BAT’ers is disappearing – they must have valid reasons to make such a conscious choice. But nevertheless, the whole new batch of fellow bloggers comes in. I enjoy the flow, I like the movement, I love reading new styles and new expressions. This flow of ‘BAT’ers does not allow me to take anyone for granted. That is great. It mirrors real life.

Like most of the writers I do enjoy appreciation and feel happy when readers take notice of my post. But somehow, I have never bothered about votes and cheers. Initially I thought of writing “Please do not vote” as a footnote to my BAT posts – but that would have sounded like a very egoist declaration.  And anyways, I realized that very few people were actually voting for my post- so dropped that ridiculous idea.

I do not bother about votes for three reasons. One: I am grown up enough to have crossed these boundaries of success and failure. Two: somewhere within I know that I am not a great writer as yet. I have a long way to go. Three: I trust ‘BAT’ers for their fairness. I am sure if they like my post the best, they will cheer for me, if they don’t they won’t. If I don’t get cheers means I still need to excel my performance. The credit goes to all ‘BAT’ers who have maintained this ‘fair play’ rule intact – voluntarily.

For me, BAT is more of ‘support group’ rather than a competition. We all strive together to excel. We all work hard to express. We all long to reach out, but more than that we all long to search within. The beauty of BAT is: it is more like a long distance running and not sprint. Here we run together, draw energy and inspiration from each other, encourage each other. In the end, only one or two are going to be winners, but there is always a joy that “I tried my best once again.”  

So, even after 18 innings, I am not tired. I would love to keep ‘BAT’ing – for the joy it gives, for the horizons it widens, for the challenge it brings, for the variety it presents and for the fun it assures. 

Link to all the BAT posts:

http://thistimethattime.blogspot.com/search/label/Blog%20-a%20-Ton