Wise and Otherwise - An Universal thought in progress
Part 2
She was forever unhappy. It was as though her gloom and cynicism had a way of spreading to others. she never had anything positive to say about anything or about anyone. Maam writes about a friend of hers. But I felt for a while that here she writes about most of us. I fear that all of us are spreading doom and fear among the rest. There are days when the first ten people I meet in a day feel the same and the rest start feeling too. So, by 3 pm, it seems that the whole world is nothing but doom and gloom. But then, life makes a circle and slowly, things start cheering up yet again. And it seems to be in tandem with the rhythm of life itself. It waxes and wanes. People smile and then become sad. Sometimes, people are sad and suddenly remember that moment from childhood and then eureka, they become happy. And yet again sad. This cycle of life is a part of life and it surely mean nothing if you are happy or sad. Few things really matter. But if I have to put a number to it, why is it considered so wrong, so shameful to be sad. It is one thing that all of us are, often sad, sometimes happy and yet we hide that feeling so completely and then end up making a mess of it. What did it take my Siddu to be happy. Here was a dog who took a second to become happy the moment he saw me and he would slide back to his melancholy self gradually and then perk up again. He was never too happy nor too sad. He was a dog professing the art of nothingness whose sole concern was an intimate eye contact with me and me with his. I forgot happiness and sadness in a a jiffy.
As Maam wrote, conversation during travel is inversely proportional to one's economic standing and the best journeys are always ones which are populated with conversation. A bus journey precedes a train which precedes an AC III journey and air succeeds everything. It is a fairly simple algorithm. But one that is neither understood nor examined. For the greatest fun is when the optimum population has been settled into a slow moving train and a bunch of complete strangers gather over the dirty berths and chat for the next 48 hours, broken only by much needed toilet breaks.
People who are found of talking can raise a conversation out of nothing. Introverts, on the other hand, can answer in monosyllables and end a conversation quickly. An observation in the book that reminds me of how much of me is often true and so are probably many other people who do the same. A genuine conversationalist knows the art of picking off his list with the ease of consummate statesman, one who knows how to start and very often, even knows about when to end.
With a smile on one's lips, you can win over the strictest of your uncomfortable acquaintances and make him go weak in the knee.
She was forever unhappy. It was as though her gloom and cynicism had a way of spreading to others. she never had anything positive to say about anything or about anyone. Maam writes about a friend of hers. But I felt for a while that here she writes about most of us. I fear that all of us are spreading doom and fear among the rest. There are days when the first ten people I meet in a day feel the same and the rest start feeling too. So, by 3 pm, it seems that the whole world is nothing but doom and gloom. But then, life makes a circle and slowly, things start cheering up yet again. And it seems to be in tandem with the rhythm of life itself. It waxes and wanes. People smile and then become sad. Sometimes, people are sad and suddenly remember that moment from childhood and then eureka, they become happy. And yet again sad. This cycle of life is a part of life and it surely mean nothing if you are happy or sad. Few things really matter. But if I have to put a number to it, why is it considered so wrong, so shameful to be sad. It is one thing that all of us are, often sad, sometimes happy and yet we hide that feeling so completely and then end up making a mess of it. What did it take my Siddu to be happy. Here was a dog who took a second to become happy the moment he saw me and he would slide back to his melancholy self gradually and then perk up again. He was never too happy nor too sad. He was a dog professing the art of nothingness whose sole concern was an intimate eye contact with me and me with his. I forgot happiness and sadness in a a jiffy.
As Maam wrote, conversation during travel is inversely proportional to one's economic standing and the best journeys are always ones which are populated with conversation. A bus journey precedes a train which precedes an AC III journey and air succeeds everything. It is a fairly simple algorithm. But one that is neither understood nor examined. For the greatest fun is when the optimum population has been settled into a slow moving train and a bunch of complete strangers gather over the dirty berths and chat for the next 48 hours, broken only by much needed toilet breaks.
People who are found of talking can raise a conversation out of nothing. Introverts, on the other hand, can answer in monosyllables and end a conversation quickly. An observation in the book that reminds me of how much of me is often true and so are probably many other people who do the same. A genuine conversationalist knows the art of picking off his list with the ease of consummate statesman, one who knows how to start and very often, even knows about when to end.
With a smile on one's lips, you can win over the strictest of your uncomfortable acquaintances and make him go weak in the knee.
