Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Timekeeper

The most underrated in any game or challenge is the role of the Timekeeper - the most conveniently and easily forgotten person in an event. Once the race is over, who bothers about the keeper-of-time. These days we have digital monitors, so the callous negligence of the timekeeper is all the more justified. Gone are the days when people used to stand with the stopwatch and clock to record the time. We live in the age of Biometrics now. So we are now accountable to the computer. I cannot even vaguely remember the mention of any timekeepers. They are not the referees of the highly-overrated-gentlemanly games to be remembered, are they? Guiness Records, World Records and other records would not have possible without the sentinels of time.

I value my Daddy for being my Timekeeper. My life would have not been the same if it was not for my timekeeper. I also believe, had I followed his timely dictum in some areas, where I thought I knew better, my life would have had some more added charms.

If it was not for my sentinel of time, I would be late everywhere. Every night, I go to bed peacefully, because daddy dear has asked me, what time should I wake you up? At 32, my body clock should enable me to rise up on time. I do wake up too. However, my timekeeper in his unsteady gait, thanks to the near-paralytic-stroke, comes to my room to check if I have risen to do my duties. I value that presence, that concern to see me rise and shine.

If it was not for my timekeeper: I wouldn’t have read the books I did at the time I did. I wouldn’t have thought about the downtrodden. I wouldn’t have discussed unconventional ideas. I wouldn’t have spoken out in public. I wouldn’t have excelled. It was my timekeeper who told me at the outset of college, don’t get cowed down by your peers who can indulge in glib-talk. Bide your time, and time will prove your merit. Sure enough, the exams proved my worth. The newfound respect that my peers had for me is thanks to the time I kept, upon the suggestion of my Timekeeper.

The keepers of time are strict. After all, the passage of time cannot be compromised. Time lost is lost forever. Can we recall it ever except in memories? Therefore there was always a fixed time to watch TV, fixed time to play. It did us a lot of good. We read therefore; we had fun-games with sweet friends. We exercised our mind and body, thanks to Father Time, who did not spare us if we stayed out beyond 7 pm. Two soap-operas on television were the luxury we were granted. Time cannot be wasted on the Idiot-box when subjects in school demanded more timely attention. Father time stood firm on these thumb-rules which could not be bent at any cost. The timely advices, timely encouragements, timely chidings and reprimands – I value it all my charming Timekeeper. At that point in time, I did not understand, I felt hurt, I felt angry to do your bidding.

Your timely determination to shield me and my sisters from unwanted conversations, gossip, stereotypes, and prejudices brought balance in our lives. It helped us value others and see them for the people they were.We learnt to accept people without scrutinising their antecedents. Your sense of time did not mean mere punctuality. It was beyond the perfection of punctuality. We did not grow in straitjacketed situations obsessed with the idea of impossible perfections. Thank you Timekeeper for the freedom that you allowed within the time-span.

Your sense of time enabled us to follow our course of time to the hilt. We reached the goals we set out on. Finishing the course on time was important. The beautiful aspect was:you did not force a course on us. We chose our own streams. And did we flow smoothly like rivers over boulders, rocks, pebbles, nooks and crannies! No one could hinder us because time cannot be blocked. Time moves and so did we charting our course through the various rigours of times. We swirled and swayed; we steadied and found our ground. Father time did not give up on any one of us. Father Time still continues to inspire us. We feel motivated always because our beloved Timekeeper always asks, "what time do you have to go, what time should I wake you up?" What would our lives be without you?

Although, timekeepers are forgotten always, let there be a change at least in this story. My story. The stories of my sisters. In this real time, at the end of time 32, let me write this into existence: Thank you Father, for keeping the time for me, for holding the stopwatch over us to make us conscious of the landmarks and milestones that we achieved. All the sophisticated timepieces and stopwatches would be worthless without an effective Timekeeper. Therefore Hail! My TIMEKEEPER!

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Class!

I thought we were through with Romantic Poetry. It was a thing of the nineteenth century where poets talked about a ‘spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings and emotions recollected in tranquility’. Infact that was Wordsworth the High Priest of Romantic poetry’s definition of poetry. Bryon was so different from the reflective and philosophical Lucy’s creator. Today, however was a day of reckoning when Byron decided to walk in and really prove that ‘poetry indeed is ‘a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings and emotions recollected in tranquility’. He came to St.Xavier’s this morning for the 8:50 am lecture ; negotiated four floors of that Gothic heritage structure, climbed its winding steep stairs and came to classroom 43. He came, he impressed and shook the very nucleus of a batch of First year BA students of 2011 with the following:

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
- Lord Byron

Teaching this bunch of vibrant teenagers was an eccentric English teacher. She introduced Byron and declared, “ write a letter of Separation to your loved one. Caution: you are not informing your loved one that you are breaking up with him or her.” The deed is done! The relationship is already severed. The task at hand is to write about that in a non-malicious, non-bitter fashion with the intention of a release, a letting-go off pain, attachment; a fond wish that the Other should do well and the realisation that this separation is a must.

Nothing can explain ‘emotions recollected in tranquility’ better than the events which unfolded. This was not happening near ‘Tintern Abbey’. There were no lakes, no nightingales, no skylark, no westwind, no cloud, no autumn. There were no Urns where I could have preserved this incident.

While writing this epistle, the class was tempestuous, it was stormy, it was silent. The palpable silence was fraught with unshed tears, unspoken sorrows, unexpressed pain. Yes, Byron’s “When we two parted” helped in unleashing that reign of tears. Truly it was Romantic in the sense that it liberated the feelings and emotions of those youngsters who discovered a man called Byron. He enabled them to address their pain and look at it in the eye. He was the romantic chemical catalyst which generated the reactions that the students unabashedly displayed today. Byron, it was a stupendous class!

After the Byronic encounter, there was a tangible sense of calm in the air. Some left the place with a sense of relief, some with the realisation that there is so much more to their grief than they could have ever expressed.
I was a mute witness to these events. It is a rare event in a teacher’s life where s/he gets to observe the live, tender and raw emotions of his/her students. Bliss was it (for me) in that dawn to be alive! Byron, Thank you for those soft,vulnerable moments!

Friday, August 27, 2010

wall

Wonder why we write on 'walls' in facebook? Walls are built to obstruct people from our territories. Wonder why facebook chooses to call it's writing space a 'wall' and coaxes us to write on each other's walls.Writing on the wall also means something ominous.

It is amusing that we hardly converse with each other face to face but we are more than eager to write on 'walls'. If we do that in real life we could be sued. But facebook encourages us to merrily 'trespass'each others' walls.It is a world of 'walls' and 'boxes'. Reminds me of coffins and cages.

It is great though to add 'long-lost'schoolmates after ten years of schooling.However in this 'lost and found'game, there is a pattern and here most social networking sites follow the same ritual. After the initial euphoria of fiery display of friendship remarks on each others' walls, the passion just freezes out.Then Mother-like Facebook goads us to 'write on each others' walls',cajoles us to're-connect'.It suggests friends for us as if we are dying a miserable lonely death.Facebook is the only book with a virtual heart. It comprehends our need to connect. We do not understand our own species anymore. It is a virtual site which has to nudge us about reconnecting with people.Doesn't that say volumes about our 'lack of communication'?

It is the world of 'virtual farms and mafia wars'.We are talking about farmers' suicides and agricultural crisis.But on facebook we are in search of 'the cows and goats'.We have quizzes,messages from God himself,astrology for the day and what not.Ask for it, it is there.High brow consumerism,should we say?Wouldn't our consumerist values percolate 'social' networking sites too?

Facebook is the book without a 'face'.It is a world full of walls but still the world without boundaries.If you are not blocked or rejected by your acquaintance, you can safely trespass without getting prosecuted.Facebook is going great guns with liking,commenting,suggesting,connecting,finding friends through friend-finders.It has become a public theatre where we unwind our lives to each other in mysterious fashions.Our emotions and feelings are in the public eye. There is a mystery and openness about our feelings.Isn't it a bit uncanny?The walls do not wall out, neither do they wall-in, they are not ominous suggesting impending doom,as in the book of Daniel, nor do they become a cause for dispute. It is open yet shut,it is half-open, half-sincere,half-real!!

Reminds me of hybrid seeds which bring excellent output for a particular timeperiod then dies its death.They are half-viable!


The walled out/in Rashmi :)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

mind

My mind wants to know what's on your minds.I seek your mindful intervention on my mindless banter knowing that this delightful mindlessness is mindfully creative in its mindlessness.Many a times our minds deserve such mindless momentary reliefs.Love,MINDFULLY yours,the one and only mind of the mindful rashmi lee george :)

Monday, June 14, 2010

Well!

Thanks to the movie Three Idiots the phrase All is well has become extremely popular. Do people know there is a beautiful Christian hymn called “It is well”? I have been singing the Hymn “It is well” since my childhood.But the "It is well" that I hear from my friend Clementina is heavenly.

For every adversity, problem, even in the face of death, Clementina ’s response is always, without fail “ It is well”. No matter how gruesome her situation is, my friend would invariably smile and say “It is well”,Rashmi. I have never seen her panic under any pressure. I have seen the power of God reflect through this wonderful lady who with her faith can even help you conquer mountains of doubts and despair. Her powerful prayer life, her unflinching faith in the word of God have been the reasons for her strength and force.

I have often wondered why does peace descend when she says “It is well”?Some people are at peace with God. They have no questions about the veracity and the soveriegnity of God. Clementina is one such person. Her reliance on God inspires me.She is the contemporary Esther, Hannah,Nehemiah all rolled into one personality. I am always in awe of her ability to surmount any odds thanks to her belief.It because of her steady faith in Jesus that enables her to be the person she is.She is a true Jesus Freak!! I am never tired of speaking about her. I think all my friends know Clementina because I have spoken to all of them about her.She is an inspiration.It is the spirit of God which binds our friendship- a truly loving bond between people of two different continents-Africa and Asia!!God be praised!

When unpredictable things occur, when life is tempestuous, Clementina’s words ring in my ears,in my mind.When my loved ones go through tough times,Clementina's phrase is what I use " It is well!" Oh what a joy it is to believe that however ugly and sqaulid one's circumstances may seem,God is above it all.God CAN!! Amen!! I am totally inspired by my God-given friend, to say, It is well.Believe it "It is well"Amen!!!Be blessed!!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Mindfull

If you ask me what remains forever in human mind then it’s only memories. They are inorganic yet verdant always. That is the paradox of a memory. It is a remnant of something, of someone. You want to erase them, you can’t imagine letting go off them. You just have to dive into the recesses of your thoughts...they hide there, ready to spring at you at any given time of your existence. They live there, or should I say, we enclose them in the deep trenches of our secret corners. When allowed they can change your mood. They can make you happy, sad, happy-sad, excited, regret and so on. They wield immense power. Many of our actions are motivated, stalled, propelled by our memories of something or the other. It is the secret power behind many of our actions. Memories enable us, or they disenable us; they empower us, they debilitate. They stay with us always. They surface at the most uncanny moments. They can surprise you. It is a bitter-sweet existence. It reminds us that we don’t have Alzheimer’s disease. It doesn’t herald its arrival. No one knows what can trigger the stream of consciousness. It can be just about anything...a word, a shout, a musical note, the movement of the fan, the smell of perfume, it could be a song.,,it could be Nothing that can spearhead a memory into action...it could be the emptiness of one’s heart, mind, soul..it could be boredom that could remind us of the times that were contrary to the present. Memories are creatures you hate; they are the adorable treasures you keep as the keepsakes of your heart...those that you will never trade for any wealth in the world...those that can never be displaced or replaced. They remain seated forever till we become someone else’s memory!!!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Songs in the Night

(Wrote this article for the Souvenir published by the Sharjah CSI church in 2005)

On a cold December night, Graham Staines, an Australian missionary was returning home with his two junior school sons Philip and Timothy. He worked for the lepers and the downtrodden in the rural provinces of Orissa in India. Suddenly, a mob appeared. They stopped the van and set fire to it. Graham Staines and his little sons were burnt alive.

This shocking incident became the main news story in both the print and visual media. "Missionary and his sons burnt alive" shrieked the newspapers. On the front page of the newspapers was another small news item."I forgive them" it said. Those were the words of Mrs.Gladys Staines,the wife of Graham Staines.

The visual media showed the charred remains of the van and also the lamentation of the people whom Staines served.The TV news channels transmitted excerpts of the funeral service of the three Christian martyrs. During the funeral service, Gladys Staines and her 13-year old daughter Esther sang:

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives all fear is gone,
Because I know, He holds the future
Life is worth the living just because He Lives!

In the darkest hour of their lives, it was a song of praise and faith which emanated out of lips of the mother-daughter duo. It was a song in the night! Though it might have seemed that God had forsaken them, they still reposed their trust in Him. Gladys and Esther were not cowed down by this great personal catastrophe. They travelled the length and breadth of India declaring their faith in God. They also continued the legacy of Graham Staines by reaching out to the poor and needy just as Staines did. Their response to the tragedy and their unwavering faith in God were eye-openers to all the slumbering-armchair Christians. Gladys and Esther, like the Psalmist," remembered their songs in the night"

“Songs in the night” means praising God even in the most sorrowful moments of our life. Paul, David and even Christ himself endured many hardships but they did not give up on God. Surely if it were one of us facing such sufferings, we would have stopped believing in the veracity of God. However, stalwarts like Shadrach, Mesach and Abednego said the following words when they were about to be thrown in the fiery furnace, "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it and he will rescue us. But even if he does not, we want you to know, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have." The rest is history.

Shadrach, Mesach and Abednego’s response to sufferings led to a lot of people respecting their religion. Our responses to situations are a reflection of our relationship with God. Are we conscious that people are watching us to know about our God? Do our responses mirror our relationship with God? Do we thank and praise God even before our work is done? Do we face adversities with a song of praise on our lips?

We all sing. We can at least vouch to be "Bathroom singers". We sing praises when we are joyful. But the bible reiterates about praising God during tempestuous times. Upon scrutinizing the lives of the biblical heroes, we realize that they became "heroes of faith" or "a cloud of witnesses" because of their faith in God. They did not stop praising God when the going was tough. Therefore" God was not ashamed to be called as their God"-Hebrews11:16.

Christ exhorts us to worship and praise God in truth and spirit. We cannot let our "mood swings", "job", "studies"," tuitions", ”coaching classes” affect our relationship with God. When we praise God in the gloomiest times of our life, we are re-affirming our faith in the omniscience and omnipotence of God. The interesting paradox, however, is that we can produce melody in trying circumstances only if we have faith. Therefore the bottomline is we can sing "songs in the night" only if we trust god.

Stress, tensions, work pressure ,traffic jams, lack of security etc are a part of our daily existence. But God is capable of transforming our sufferings and "mourning into gladness"(jeremiah31:13).Habakkuk3:17-18 says: "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my saviour." We ought to be able to replicate the same sentiment, ie. rejoice and praise god even when things are not fine with us.