Thursday, April 14, 2011

In the study of Science, I've learnt to find Philosophy. Heisenberg was right. One can never be certain about the turn of events in Life. So much so, that even atoms at the microscopic level scream of this reality. "Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle," for anyone else would just mean a series of painful equations. But ah, oblivious they are to the fact, that Science-is Life.




 As a student of both Science and Art, I have come to appreciate the nuances, the finer details of life. Right from studying the venation of a Ficus leaf for an art exam to physiology of the same in Botany tells us so much about life. It's all one big network. Science, Art, Math, Literature...all proclaiming the same Universal Truths, only viewed from different angles of  the same kaleidoscope.




It's fascinating really. How this huge supine yet dynamic monster of a Universe functions. How the littlest of object serves its own function, in its own way...yet controlled by that One Supreme Being. Iam often intimidated at my nothingness in this world. We know that the Human species is the most advanced in all the world. And YET, we are just tiny dots from the window of an aeroplane. What might we be, from the Highest Ascent, The Seventh Heaven, I wonder?
Who would've ever known that qualities of one minute bacterium would go on to produce food for several thousands of people? Or that a butterfly would mime another, mightier butterfly just to save it's skin- or rather- wings? And how about a lone pine tree somewhere out there bracing the blizzard in the Arctic that sheds it's toxic leaves, to eliminate other vegetation around it? Allelopathy, Science calls it. Philosophy calls it The Survival of the Fittest. A military officer would call it Defence Stratagem. I would call it Allah's Genius.




Pure GENIUS. With the ever increasing exposure that I get towards Science, Art and Literature I have come to appreciate Allah's swt handicraft. Divine. Ingenious. Miraculous.
Why look so far away? Stand in front of the mirror and behold the living, breathing miracle that you are. Every part of this perfectly crafted body has it's own story to narrate. Even the littlest strand of hair grows and falls for a reason. Every cell exists to fulfill its role. There are no "extras." No wastage.



So very often I feel stumped, holding a paintbrush in my hand trying to figure out the numerous shades and hues of a slice of watermelon, or a bunch of grapes. Mystified Iam. Such diversity, and yet so united. And then to think of all these extraordinary feats all accomplished by the flick of a hand. The Seven Days that laid foundation for Seven Generations of perfection.






Sit back, observe and take in everything around you. That gentle breeze that runs it's fingers through your hair, the bright sun that sends a drop of sweat down your neck. A glacier that melts some 8,848 metres above the ground...it's pristine water that meets the river, to finally end, in an endless expanse of beauty. Serenity as far as the eye can see, and beyond.




Absorb and be gratified. Close your eyes and breathe. Breathe out all the anger, all the hatred. Flush out the envy, rage and grief that nags your heart. NO, this world has no space for petty issues. Our life is like the stroke of a brush on a canvass yet to be finished to perfection. Let not our (in)human attributes slash this unfinished canvass like a blade.




This world is perfect. As perfect as it can be. The lens that WE view it through is distorted. Sit up, take notice. There's is a lot to be unraveled. Lots to be uncovered and a whole lot more to be thought about. And I wouldn't be wrong if I say that its all staring at us in right the face. Awaken from this ignorant slumber and rub the fuzziness from your eyes. Initiate. Innovate. Create- TODAY.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The Game



She's mute. He's blind. Worse, they are friends.
She loves him but can never tell him. Already nursing a broken heart, He is blinded in pain. Together, they attempt to alleviate each other's grief. The tension just exists, and none knows why. Tackling it with humour and jest, they've come to live with it.


SHE  loves him unconditionally. Deep within, she knows it's a lost cause. Her future shows her a cul-de-sac, love that she can never hope to receive in return. Hopelessly in love, She accepts Her defeat with silent resignation and tired smiles.
HE lived through his personal nightmare. Losing out on more than He could ever gain, He was certain He would never love again. His only respite comes from Her, so beautifully brave, focused and hopelessly optimistic. He calls Her His best friend. In fair-humoured taunting and innocent abuse they share the most intense of emotions. Together they give the other a smile, a hope and maybe even a reason to live.


She likes it. The knowledge that someone She knows values Her so much. There is not a shred of doubt in Her mind regarding His loyalty. He proved to Her- beyond any shadow of distrust- the honesty in His friendship. Friendship. Never Love.
He likes it. That even when everything was gone, He could look up to her and never be let down. She would smile at him, tell him that it's not the end. She would wipe away that persistent fog in his head and point zealously towards His bright future. She could read Him, know what was ailing him. Then, she would do everything in her power to cut that frown, copy Her smile and paste it on His face.
Two people, facing a storm, each inspiring the other with stories of survival.
Sometimes, many times, She hugs Her pillow and sheds a silent tear. Only She knows the red hot agony that tempers Her heart. How many times will She try to embroider His punctured heart? How many times will He come to Her asking relief from his tormenting past? Because each time He does, He opens up the wounds that She has been trying to nurse all alone. Wounds that haven't had the time to heal completely. Wounds that She dare not tell Him about.
His past destroys Her present. Is She just a medium of distraction? A source of brave words which will only spread light, never warmth? IS HE REALLY THAT BLIND?


The answer, no one knows. Maybe not even Him. 
So this was to be it. She would/could never tell Him. He would/could never see it. Sounds like fun, eh? Try it.
Now all that is left for them to do is carry that pain around. Maybe share it. But never let it go. Because one's Pain was the other's Elixir. Without that, there was nothing.


In shadows they were to spend their lives, because light they couldn't find.
In lies they were to hide, because the truth was harsh, unkind.
And thus continues their story- The Game of the Mute and the Blind.