Pan Grzegorz

 „My hands are still soft, they haven’t hardened yet”, he laughs as he turns his palms upside, displaying unsmeared clean white hands. He works at a stable, with horses and other animals, on the outskirts of Warsaw, upto 15 hours a day. 

A sexagenarian with a lanky figure and long and curly white hair, let open; a very erudite wrinkled face with a broad jawline, always bearing an amiable smile, barely concealing his front teeth, which have started to decay - he presents a very approachable figure. With hair strewn across his face and his ill-fitting clothes, he could easily be mistaken for an academic professor, if not for all the bags he is always carrying with himself. The manner of his speech is very polite and he tells me further in his soft emotionless voice,” the hands that were used to working on keyboards are getting used to hard manual labour”, as he is finishing the meal he has just been served by the volunteers. 

He speaks to me in dusty English (trying to search for words from the vocabulary of the language he once knew) that he was a computer programmer knowing upto 30 programming languages at the height of his career. “I ran a few software companies of my own when I was young”, he tells me further. I compliment him on his English abilities, at the behest of which, he starts reminding himself of how many verbal languages he could speak once. We start counting together, the count finally ending at nine.    

He puts down the bags he is carrying, as our conversation lingers on. A quick glance at the contents of his bags, reveals a paraphernalia of regular household items, amidst them a few books. What do you like to read, I ask him? “About programming”, his answer catches me with surprise. “In English”, he adds further. “The fear of theft is what makes me carry the whatever little possessions that I have, while living in the little camper on the stable (the place on the camper being the only compensation he receives, for his back-bending work). I always carry my books and mobile with me so that I can catch up on my readings, whilst I am away. You see there is no electricity in the camper and it gets pitch dark at night. I have no choice but go to sleep you see, as if it would be possible for me to stay awake after the full day’s work”, he fractures a laugh as he finishes the last sentence, trying to humour himself.    

I try hard to find in his eyes a sense of despair, a bitterness about life events, a sense of self-pity at his current life situation but all I can find instead is a deep, almost pulling, sense of acceptance; the glow of a tender fire of self-hope, a hope for a change to better days. “Not all homeless are dirty, smelly alcoholics,” he grins, sensing my confused appreciation of him. The need of material things is not what he is after, the story of his life is but wanting an accepting and receiving mind; almost metaphorically, as the soul of life itself searches amongst us, an appropriate audience to appreciate the play, called life.  

As he is about to leave for his evening bus, I quickly shoot out one last question, “What is the one thing that you want to change in your life, the most”? “I want to get back to computer programming. If only I could get a job, allowing me to move back to the city, affording me a house and a laptop”, he replies, with a little pause. He picks up his bags, bows a goodbye to me, and leaves towards the bus. 

The untruth in the truth of love

Logic often fails to describe matters of heart and passion. When faced with rational life decisions, man sometimes has the propensity to choose the seemingly irrational – something that is close to his heart, congruent with his passions, confirming with his beliefs - some dormant inklings which were completely hidden, consciously unknown to himself and oblivious thus far.

The choices made have no rational basis. They are in fact, quite contrary to the needs and wants of security, calmness, affection and companionship that a simple normal life wants. Yet sometimes man chooses something which is more difficult, something fraught with danger, attached to despair; trespassing the security of society, of family, of companionship to take a path which is lonely, dangerous and gloomy - one which he has to travel alone but atleast it is his own path.

Take love for example. Everyone falls in love…some unfortunately fall out of it. Normal simple way suggests to get on with it, move on, find another recourse – make life simpler again. But yet sometimes, something keeps him hinged, keeps him there, does not let him get out. His thoughts are occupied with the past love, of times spent together, of joy, of happiness, of togetherness. Bad situations of course transpired, for things came to an end. But yet mysteriously the supposed love remains.

Is that what people call Real Love? Is there such a thing actually as a True love? It is really hard to say, precisely because it is hard to quantify…modern brain works on logic and logic is what alludes in matters of love!

How would you explain falling in love, in the first instance, with logic? I believe you cannot. For if somebody can give me a reason why she loves me – logic it could be, love it cannot be!

When a person falls in love, he is unable to explain what exactly for. There were so many variables, thousands of possibilities, uncountable factors that come together and yet somehow arranged together in that perfect sense which embodied itself in that feeling of love.

For this precise reason, I find it rather naïve and childish when people question – describe your dream partner? No such a thing exists. The equation of love is not a determinate solution set, which if you fill in with a limited set of variables that the equation completes itself…..and hence a set of specific characteristics could fit the equation of your love.

The equation, if I may continue the mathematical analogy further, is far more complex, indefinite and beyond comprehension…. you cannot know for certain the nature, extent and scope of your own love….for yourself, for someone, for the larger society. The equation is an indeterminate one, too complex for any simpler set of analytics. That is why I believe the only way to find the true nature of love is to put it to test!!

Not very much unlike the tests performed in empirical settings and later results observed to identify the nature of a substance – love needs to be tested to prove its substance.  This will still be but random observations, but this is the only way to understand a tiny sub section of its nature. It is only through trial and tribulation that the seemingly irrational, yet strongly passionate feelings would sift through the theoretical mechanical love. There are no simple or complex tests to judge and interpret the nature of love. How love behaves in one test might be quite different from how it will face the trial of fire next time – but each time a different part of its nature can be discovered.

At least as it passes through sequential trials, it starts presenting the certainty of its substance, showcasing some strength of its own – which did not to fail and falter at the easiest hurdles. That is why since time immemorial love has been put to swords, cut in halves by saw, made to walk on fire, been bricked alive in walls…for the only way a reasoning human mind can understand its abstract nature is to put it to test and see the results for itself. And what fatal results it has been put to!

Before the impression that testing it is such a way will help understand the abstract nature of love, gives way to a pre-matured conclusion, I would like to present an even bigger problem at hand. Supposedly, the presence of love can be proved and some part of its nature learned through such testing– even yet still, it remains completely indeterminate from an emotional and psychological point of view.

What are the feelings of love? Where is love born from – is it a an elevated desirous form of the latent basic needs of human psyche or is there some divine virtue at play behind it? What is that you love when you say that you love someone? Do we love that person or do we love the effect that person has on us or brings to our life…is that we love the feeling of being loved, of being accepted, of being worthy of someone’s love? Is it about how loves make us feel or is it about how it makes our loved one feel….what is that we are being driven by? Do we love for our own sake or for the benefit of others?

Also, how is love different? Can it be different? Is the love of a child towards his mother different from the love between two lovers? Is the love and compassion one has for poor and desolate different from the love for a cute puppy/kitten? Is it really all that complex…does it really have all these forms and variations. Maybe it is, if we accept the love to be a projection of desires and wants; and different desires being fulfilled by different people in different phases of one’s life explains the feeling love for them. Given such a view, love is nothing but a form of selfish attachment for the fulfilment of needs and wants.    

Or maybe it is again the curse of human reasoning that we have turned something so sublime and divine and segregated it into blocks of motives and reasoning’s and reduced it to a mortal earthly character.  Love originated from the Creator himself and that is why resides in the same place where the Creator himself resides….the human heart. Is it really that love is One and probably that love is the only Divine that we all worship without realising that again we have given it different forms and names. Is there really something universal, selfless and unconditional about the spirit of love?

A friend once asked Lord Krishna – “What is the meaning of love?” to which the Lord replied – “Where there is meaning, there is no love!”

Can we really be unconditional and selfless in our pursuit of love or is there always a selfish interest, a weak sinister motive, a desire for self-affection, a need for appreciation at play behind the outer display of our love? It is certain for me atleast, that this is what the ideal is – to love selflessly and unconditionally.

Even if some ideal picture of love is somewhat clear – the problem is that the picture is too divine. The curse of man is that he is born free; and in this freedom he is completely driven by his whims and fancies, his material and corporal desires, he is bound by attachments, driven by greed, overtaken by ego. To the extent that, nothing and absolutely nothing exists that he does, which cannot be explained by his selfish motives. Even the most exalted acts of selflessness are but a mere outer dressing to conceal the inner desires. Let me explain.

Can somebody really take the pain of a broken relationship, of his claimed True love, and devote the rest of his life to the memory of that True love? Can somebody really manage to keep their love intact…live in the memory of past, rejoice in the happiness it already provided him, and not search in vain for a lesser love. Can such a selfless love really exist?

Or is it again the propensity of man for self-acclaim that maybe drives him to the above suffering? For there is a glamour in suffering, there is a sweet pain in suffering for your beliefs, to pose yourself as a victim of fate and to suffer for it, to build the fancy notion of strength and heroism, to feel and believe in your make believe divine strength, to pride yourself in the courage of your character, proving your resoluteness to your beliefs and passions, in the attestation of sincerity of your emotions, of showcasing the sanctity of your love -  and there is certain glory in suffering for all this!

Can you really endure the pain of true love or is it the ego of man again that drives him to his self-proclaimed saintliness of his heart and to set the stage for the grand act of his Crucifixion for his convictions and selfless love?

“O thou, mortal human, it is the curse of thy life,

for even in the thine pursuit of virtue, thou are lead by vice”. 

Date a girl who dances

Date a girl who dances. You would not normally find her in the noisy squalor of an underground night club, but even if you do, she will so easily stand out from the crowd of impassively gyrating bodies - for she will be resplendent in the beauty of her genuineness, the liveliness of her emotions, the gracefulness of her moves, in the truthfulness of her smile. She is not there for the hollow reckless pleasure of an intoxicated youth; she has come out to celebrate with her friends, to enjoy, to share, to laugh, to express herself - so striking in the beauty of the various expressions of joy that she carves out, with every movement of her body - that you are struck wondering if you ever knew what it meant to really have fun!!

She does not take much notice of the surroundings, of all the drunken people around; she is involved only with her friends and on sharing a good time with them. Although all eyes are on her, it is really hard to attract her attention. But if she does manage to notice you, and better still invites you to join them - consider yourself the luckiest man of the moment - for that night you will come out knowing what it really meant to have a good time, uninhibhited by the fears of social awkwardness, letting your inner joy speak through your chaotic and clumsy movements; displaying truthful expressions of your emotions - and you realise in the very first meeting with her: the futility of pretending socially and the joy in being who you truly are!

Consider yourself even more fateful if you manage to find your way to her studio. There she will be - celestial in her presence, sure yet so nimble footed, with the enchantress of a temptress yet with the grace of a goddess, with the flair of a dancing peacock yet with the sensitivity of a crawler, so intuned to her senses yet so open to her surroundings. She might call her to have a dance with you. Don't be afraid, despite all her talent she will still welcome and accept your naiveness. She will hold your hand, pull you just a tad closer, calm down your racing senses, guide your step, and swirl along with you; teaching you and showing you the beauty in patterns, in design of movements, and in expression of forms.

She does not need your words to understand you; she is apt at picking up on your body language. She is sensitive to the slightest quivers of your hand, the increased palpitations of your heart, the parchness of your throat, the hesitation in your voice, the battling of your eyelids, and the other nuances of your non-verbal cues - in less than 10 minutes she will have you profiled without you saying anything. Within a few more meetings, she will know more about you than you do yourself.

She will always accept you as you are! But still would always want you to improve, get better. She will work on you, teach you, help you learn. She will hold you close, watch your steps, guide and direct them, make you hold your head high in confidence. The sincerity in her efforts only overshadowed by her selfless dedication to your learning. She draws her joy in the happiness of your progress, satisfaction in your continuous improvement - she achieves in your achievement, succeeds in your success.

Years of dance have imbued in her the appreciation for the cadence of life - well understanding that moments of life go up and down, highs are followed by lows, that there is a rhythm to the phases of life, she empathises in the ballads of sadness and rejoices in the carols of happiness. She is able to hold your hand and lead the step during the flow of tide and would so gracefully follow at other times. She will stick with you through thick and thin, for she understands that the rhythm will soon change.

She is emotional for sure. Despite being so emotive through her dance, she sometimes find it hard to express herself. She writes a daily dairy probably, or small sweet poems of pain and pleasure, and reads books to keep her company. She sobs and is really sad at the death of a near one, is so happy at the success of a friend on other occasions. She feels like being alone sometimes, at other times she will spend hours upon hours in your company chatting about things.

Her emotional connection goes beyond her own self. She revels in being the cause of somebody's smile, a reason for somebody's happiness, a cause for their celebration. She has a wider appreciation for people, of their culture, is happy to share in their joys and sorrows. She is most likely interested in travel - not the touristy photo clicking kind of travel - but rather being inspired by the aesthetics of the architecture, the calmness of a solitary street, the vibrancy of a busy bazaar, intrigued by that old gypsy woman playing the string, charmed by the little girl flapping in the puddle outside her poor hut. She knows that life is not about dreaming for big but cherishing these small fleeting moments of simple pleasure and observation.

She is not demanding. She has sophisticated yet simple tastes in life. She likes being amongst people, yet longs at time for being far away from the maddening crowd. She is urbane yet so enticed by the rustic charm of a cobbled street, she is a connoisseur in coffee yet prefers having them in small home styled coffee bars. She will fill your life with these simple yet invaluable pleasures - she will cook for you the most sumptuous meal, labour hard to bake you that perfect cake, choose your dress appropriate to the occasion, do your hair in the latest fashion style she has learned, nurture you when you are sick and love you with all her mind, body and soul. For her, pleasure is spending those precious moments with you - holding you in the passionate embrace of Waltz under the moon by an Alpine lake, of crazily breaking into Samba on the streets of Rio, joining in the Sardana in the old market square of Barcelona, and in having your perfect first dance on the day of your wedding. She will live in the moment with you and leave you with moments that you would have truly lived.

Her dedication in her dance practice has taught her to be patient and persevering. She knows the importance of practising, of rehearsing, of perfecting that small elusive move. She will put in hours of effort, sweat, and dedication in planning, preparing, rehearsing, re-planning and practising again for that flawless execution of her final performance. She will do the same with your life - she will work hard in the background, ensuring everything is in its proper place - that the food has the perfect blend of spices, carefully choose the music, ensure That the lighting is appropriate - and all this just for a normal day dinner. She lives for these little moments of joy and well knows the secret recipe of hard work in making these moments possible. She is stubborn at times, slightly obsessive yet never compulsive, ruled at times more by her heart than her mind - but you will love her for all that. She is not perfect in every sense of the word, but she will ensure that the moments that you spend together would not be very far away from perfection!

It is not only the dedicated effort that matters - for she very well knows that the grace, the poise, the awe in a dance hinges on the balance and coordination between couples. She is accepful and tolerant on differences, knows that shades of life are not always black and white, she even lets the differences exist - it would be so boring otherwise. You do not have to be completely like her to win her over; she does not even want that. All she needs from you is to complement her well; she can find that balance between you and her, cover your flaws and work on your strengths, coordinate each other efforts to sync together with the rhythm of life and in choreographing a performance out of the mundane steps of life.

Consider yourself the luckiest man if she decides to choose you as her life partner. Your loyalty would the sync, your faith the balance, your acceptance the grace, your commitment the chemistry, your understanding the confidence, your trust the passion, with which you two will choreograph on the music of your love - the most amazing and wonderful dance performance - called LIFE. And when you do finish, it would be nothing short of deserving a standing ovation from the audience, who have had the pleasure of witnessing a flawless performance!!

B for Baldip

Stranger: Who are you?

B: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am, is a man in a turban.

Stranger: Well I can see that from your profile picture.

B: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation I'm merely remarking upon the naivety of asking a turbaned Indian man - who he is.

Stranger: Oh. Right.

B: But on this most auspicious of times, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

B: Behold the bruised, baffled badgered but not beaten brat bent upon a bitter fight with the bellicose being of his brain’s material desires. The backbone of his strength against this breaking ordeal is borrowed from the desire of bearing bare the benign, but the most powerful, insight from the bosom of his heart – the meaning of it all, the reason of his Being!

The path is not the brow beaten track but a bleak strip of back bending climb with boulders, bogs bordered with blooming bacciferous shrubs, petals of deceptive benign beauty: for the nectar they bear is but brown brackish boiling broth. But still braving on, hell bent to beat the odds, to reach within the beaming lights of Babylon.

(small chuckle)

Blatantly, this barrage of words is but like bloviating blabber, so just let me get back to brevity and simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me B.

Stranger: Are you like a crazy person?

B: I am quite sure they will say so.

(B for Baldip)

Union And Reunion

(I had been waiting to do this for a long time now, but still better late than never. This is my personal take on the reunion party that we had . And since I am writing this blog after a time since the party there were a few more things and experiences I would have shared but I have simply forgotten. My apologies !!!!)

It all started when one of my friends told me that he got a SMS from one of our other friends that someone was planning a reunion for us. My first reaction was of disbelief and I shrugged the thing of.(But hey wait, what if what he is telling is right and maybe there is really someone out there working towards it). I kept my fingers crossed!! The rumor really started getting a bit of air as I started hearing the thing from lot of my friends. And then finally had the email in front of me, formally announcing the evening.
Time sure flies. It just seems to be a thing of the recent past when we all would be dressed up in whites and blues carrying the big burden of education on our shoulders leaving for the school half sleepily in the morning. We started the day with the anguish that another night sleep had been ruined at the most crucial of times, and only if we had maybe ten minutes more we could get a world of sleep .Oh that was so perfunctory that I think I don’t need to delve on that more and without boring you further let’s get to the point.
It’s hard to believe that six years have passed since we matriculated. Starry eyed with dreams for the future we set on the paths of our chosen destinies. A few of us had similar paths and we moved along while with others we kept contact as far as was possible but somewhere down the lane the direct contact just snapped and all we were left with was the vicarious know-how of each other .It would have remained this way had it not been for the initiative taken by two of our worthy friends to plan a reunion to bring us all together again. It was a reunion, of sure, to be reunited with your fellow classmates after such a long time .It was union in the sense that it was for the first time that the Boys’ and Girls’ school had done something together .It was a great feeling to be among all others of both the schools to celebrate the bond that united us all – that of being a Josephite .


26th December, 2005 Hotel Raddison, Jalandhar

The day broke into one of the brightest mornings of the winter filled with the resplendence of sunlight but the warmth felt was more from the expectations to meet old friends than those photons of light could possibly provide. It broke the slumber and longuer of the gelid season to herald day so eagerly awaited .The ambience of the party hall provided the perfect mood for the nostalgic hearts. It really felt great to see each other again all over again, to recognize each other despite the changes evolution had imposed on us.
Some had grown tall, some that seemed so big in school days suddenly felt as if they had just stopped growing after school, some had eventually put on fat under the thin layers of epidermis covering those skinny calcium supports( I mean the bones…Surely something is wrong with me to use these stupid descriptions, but excuse me for these because I don’t want to tame the horses of my feelings right now) , some who used to be fat seemed to be cut into half and there were some who it seemed had fought a long battle with eternal laws of change and had emerged victorious as they looked the same as they did half a decade back and perhaps would look the same till apocalypse. All of us had changed in our own ways but it just took a few minutes to recognize the same old familiar people under those double breasted blazers and suits.
It sometimes felt embarrassing of sorts when you looked towards each other with expecting eyes trying hard to remember. You recognized each other but still were having a hard time placing each other. ““Come on, we know that we know each other!”” . We hug and then reintroduce ourselves all over again. And with the re-found names we overcame the temporary snags of human remembrance .There were some whom you failed to recognize but they seemed to remember you so vividly that made you feel a bit apologetic. It really is a nice feeling to be remembered, I tell you. And yes, there they were, your very own F.R.I.E.N.D.S, your chummiest buddies, your alter-egos, which it would even fail the fading memory of an Alzheimer’s because it is so hard not to remember them.
Each hug transported you back in time and brought back all the memories associated with the person out of the subliminal depths of thoughts which had remained dormant for so long. It felt as if a biography of that person was stored somewhere in your head that was replayed all over again in that evanescent moment. In a whisker all your experiences started kicking alive and you remembered the special bond that you shared with that person. There were some with whom you were not on very good terms or didn’t have that much of an interaction back then but it was now nugatory. All the differences were a thing of the past .Having exchanged pleasantries with each other the party was now really started jelling along. Talks started of the good old days, of moments so vividly remembered despite the weathering of the time flowed in between. Jokes were cracked remembering incidents of school and everybody seemed upbeat to narrate his side of the story. Anecdotes were told remembering how each one of us was weird in our own way and how these eccentricities more than often ended in situations with hilarious or embarrassing overtones. Those who could not make it to the party were remembered. Having refreshed the past, the enquiries about the present and the future started.
The ladies had also arrived and it seemed all who were expected were there now. I didn’t know much of the girls at the party except for a few who I knew because of the same coaching classes and some with whom I studied along in my senior secondary. To some I had just recently been introduced but still couldn’t manage much of a talk. But I did have some good friends among them. (And yes Miss Kate Winslet you have changed a lot and I think I am not alone on this for that’s what you got the prize for. I am not sure about your purported resemblance with the actress but surely you looked great).
All were now well settled and now it was the time to express your pleasure. The music started playing and foots started tapping. Everybody got on the dance floor to give an artistic expression to their happiness. Some pleaded diffidence but were coaxed along. Almost everybody was up there swaying his body to the beats of the music. I must admit that even after all these years, we still acted a bit coy (as it happens most of the times) when it came to dancing together. Boys danced in their own groups and the girls in their own. “Come on people I believe that we all are now sophisticated and suave enough to enjoy the occasion together and I find no reason to be afraid and shy of each other.” Maybe the only disadvantage of studying in a unisex school was that most of us still did not have a way with the girls.
After having spent those ATP’s and burning the calories on the dance floor the party seemed to have let off a bit of the steam. But soon repast followed. All had a dig in the succulent and luscious food and revitalized themselves. Postprandially, everybody settled down on the round tables and had a rendezvous with each other. People talked and talked and talked.
But somewhere in all these memories and discussions, I realized how life had moved along to the point where we all were now. I mean, just look at us, we all had changed so much. The shabby unkempt hair dirty loose fabrics dangling trousers popping shits had given way to trendy and swanky haircuts and the adorned formals gave a freaky feeling that we had grown up.(Yes Chetu,the Salman Rushdie style leaked in me too).Every second person was heading overseas with quite a few already NRI’s with half real half affectated accents. There was a feeling in me that wished that maybe we had not grown up after all. I do not have phobia about growing old, just that I feel that it was so nice And this is where I feel lies the importance of the evening for it made us relive our happiest past to be able to look back in time and be children again. . They say there is nothing like childhood in man’s life. I cannot agree more. And think we need to keep refilling the fuel to let this flame of affinity to keep glowing and to not let the child in us to die, for it is just the unconditional love for each other that makes the life so worth living. And without having anything to say more I wish you all good luck and looking forward to meet you all again…………………………………….................................


PS: The views expressed by the author are solely of his own and in no way generalize how those present at the party would have felt. Your comments and your personal take on the evening are most welcome.

I am not suffering from loggorhea

Well , it seems the concept of maintaining an online diary has finally found my acceptance . I always had in a way of sort derided those who kept a diary .To me , it seemed a trifle waste of time , the act of a person so uncool. But u can say , that enlightement dawned on me and now i am realising the joy of having a medium to put my ideas across .