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No More Waiting For Godot

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi No More Waiting For Godot The Hindu

Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.

Vladimir: Pah!

Estragon: Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let’s go.

Vladimir: We can’t.

Estragon: Why not?

Vladimir: We are waiting for Godot.

Recently, I was reminded of Samuel Beckett’s classic play, “Waiting for Godot”. I was out for my evening walk and hadn’t yet plugged in to my smartphone, when I noticed Vladimir and Estragon standing next to a tree, lost in nothingness. I mean, I thought so.

The illusion broke as I reached near them and saw two boys busy with their smartphones. I almost broke into a fit of laughter but immediately got a lump in my throat. What if Vladimir and Estragon where present in these times and were waiting for Godot with a smartphone gleaming in their hands? What if Estragon instead of dealing with his boots was busy with checking his Facebook status? What if Vladimir shared his views about the story of the two thieves on his twitter page? And I don’t even want to mention a “what if” for Godot.

I don’t intend to hurt the Beckett fans, as I am one of them. But the image of those two boys standing next to each other silently, deeply involved in their smartphones, as if they were in a non-existent world, as if they were not together, as if there was “nothing to be done”, expect of course digging the smartphone, forced me to ponder.

Smartphones, considered to be the only tool/ instrument/ non-living thing in the history of mankind to have impacted our lives so strongly that we cannot function without it anymore, control our lives. Terms like smartphone gait, digital life, digital diet, etc., are quite common in the tech world. In fact in South Korea, one of the most digitally connected countries in the world, a new term – digital dementia – is being used to deal with the patients suffering from internet addiction and the over-use of smartphones.

Different researches and polls have proved that in countries like the US, the UK, China, India, South Africa, Indonesia and Brazil, one in every five people check their smartphones every ten minute. Maybe in not-so-far-future there will be billboards on the road sides, asking us if we are nomophobic – the fear of being out of mobile phone contact – and giving us suggestions to how to check and curb our addiction. What a joke! Who will read the billboards?

But of course, one can read such and many more suggestions/articles on their smartphones. The smartphone will, without any hesitation, reveal the information that over dose of its usage can lead to a slow or immediate death (car accidents etc.). After all, it’s not called a smart phone for no reason.

Weirdly, sometimes Gollum from The Lord of the Rings crosses my mind when I see people glued to their smartphones, as if speaking to it and saying – “Yes, wretched we are, says everyone, but you’ll not hurt us, will you my precious?”

I have not been using my smartphone for quite some time now, not because I have overcome the digital life’s addiction but simply because it broke. My life didn’t change drastically and I am still enjoying the smartphone free days. I guess it did change for others as I started getting complaints for not keeping in (24×7) touch from my friends and family members.

But this too passed quickly as they had no time to listen to my boring revelation. In fact, they avoid using their smartphones in front of me now, as free from this tech burden, I constantly blame them of being addicted to it, being a slave to it, of not paying attention, warning them about neck and eye sight problems, literally scolding them for being senseless to share silly Whatsapp jokes, etc.

If I tell my friends, while on a walk, that what a wonderful view it is, I am suddenly made to huddle together for a “group selfie” and before I can express displeasure in doing so, the photo is tagged, shared, liked and commented on. The next thing is that I get a call from another friend of mine saying, ‘Hey! You’re in the town? Let’s meet.”

When and why did the smartphones become of so much importance that we are having smartphone addiction problems? What is the need to be digitally active 24×7? What will we miss if we didn’t check our Facebook page/ Twitter page/ Instragram/ Gmail for (if it is allowed to say or even to imagine) a week? What is the rush? Why are there people in countries like South Africa and India who don’t get enough to eat, but proudly own two mobile handsets? What are the industrial lords planning to do?

Ignoring these lords for now, it will be better if we all start keeping a check on our digital life, our digital diet. Some tech health gurus suggest keeping Digital Fasts for a healthy and long digital life… It sounds stupid? Stupid it may be, but is not incorrect.

If you wake up with the smartphone ringing melodiously its alarm and you go off to sleep, after typing a good night message for the nth time on your Whatsapp, then it’ll be good to try, for just one day, leaving your phone behind and going outside to join Vladimir and Estragon, who probably are still waiting for Godot.

The article was first published in The Hindu.

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I feel I am all alone in the two worlds.

Taking a step forward I see lightning as ‘the fast’ meets ‘the slow’. I am not injured; I can endure the lightning but not the confusion.

A beautiful path lights up as far as the mind can reach. Back and forth between a one-way; crashing becomes a certainty.

Quietly, I sit alive in the present.

I am understandably forgetful. Myriad revelations slip away like a childhood memory, leaving behind a warm aftertaste. The warmth turns into a glow and the rest I forget.

Infinity captured in a cage seeps away slowly. It is destined to do so. The two worlds are pulsating with this thought and I, in both.

But there is only one reality in me. The cube burns into a cylinder and the cylinder burns into a sphere.

The shapes finally unite and the two worlds are annihilated.

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A Stream

Posted on August 29, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Green Leaf A Paper Boat A Stream A Yellow Flower Time

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First there came a yellow flower, flowing like silk on a surface. The stream turned into silk. It told me a short story about the silk thread that draped the yellow flower. They swayed together with the wind. Then someone came and took the silk thread and threw the yellow flower in the stream. ‘A happy ending’, were the last words of the yellow flower.

Then a green leaf floated by and said, ‘I always thought where the stream goes… I’ll get to know it now.’ It danced away with the flowing water.

The stones quietly listened to the stream and stayed there for a long time. Now each stone, of every shape and size, carries a story with it. If heard sincerely, the stones narrate the stories beautifully.

A paper boat rushed quickly and embraced the whirlpool. It then lowered the anchor forever.

The stream is musical; I have been sitting here for a long time now and enjoying the melodies. I dipped my feet in the cool, clear water. Then, suddenly, the stream started talking about the flow of time. I got up immediately.

I am walking along the stream. Twists and turns welcome me here and there, but we are walking.

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Etching It

Posted on August 25, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Dreams Etching It Illusion Memories Rise

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Landscape under Trees, etching by Paula Modersohn-Becker, c. 1902

Faded and alive

Like an honest illusion

Memories carrying weight

Equal to a feather’s

Delight. Happiness aloud

Heard in the background

Match the dreams

Flying hard, a scheme

Or a plan

To reach the end

Drifting and walking

Singing, not just talking

Open your eyes

See, smile and rise.

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I Dare To Stop And Watch

Posted on August 11, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Painting A Soulful Visit Heart Hustle Bustle I Dare To Stop And Watch Rhythm Rush Strangely Happy Walking

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**When time stopped for a moment…**
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

In the rush and hustle bustle,

I dare to stop and watch.

“Just like a painting”, I declare,

“Just the normal, routine, everyday affair”,

They say, and break my heart.

I click a picture and start

Walking towards where others are going;

Feeling strangely happy, but not showing.

I’ll read the painting when alone,

Savouring its rhythm and its tone,

A soulful visit, now and then.

Who cares for where and when?

In the rush and hustle bustle,

I dare to stop and watch.

**… there was joy.**
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

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In Bloom

Posted on August 8, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Short Story Clouds Conversation Dream World Foggy Day Friendly Glow Gone Are The Days Grandma The Plant The Printed Words Time Weather Window Wish Wonder

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**A foggy day paints the forest in white bloom.**
[Image by Ieva from Pixabay]

Gone are the days when a foggy day reminded of a short story that my Grandma read to me. It becomes just too awkward to step out for a walk and too dull to stay in. The wooden floor creaks when I don’t want it to. The stairs quietly sit there, only talking to me if I stop in between and wonder about something.

Gone are the days when I wasn’t acquainted with the ceaseless and fleeting nature of time; when I didn’t understand what the wall clock was saying to me; when I thought of going through the mirror and meet Alice and her friends.

Gone are the days when the bed side table light’s friendly glow helped me to make last minute changes in the Mothers’ Day card. I always picked colours in pairs and tried my best to keep the card neat. This tradition is now forgotten though whenever I buy a card, I look for myself in the printed words.

Gone are the days when that old song transported me to my dream world. Now, my mind always takes me to a vacuum and when I suddenly come out of it I realise that that old song is over.

Gone are the days when I wrote with an ink pen, confident about what I am expressing. My letters looked as if I had scribbled throughout, but the response showed that the love always got conveyed successfully.

Gone are the days when the grass, the weeds, the flowers and I counted the clouds together. Some clouds changed the shape quickly and some remained the same – thick, heavy, floating nonetheless. The floor and the walls in the house are cold though accurately warm for me but not for the grass, the weeds and the flowers.

I try to take care of a plant. It lives in a small teacup, sitting shyly near the window. The curtains know the plant better than I do.

Gone are the days when I wished and believed that it will come true. To see the plant in bloom just the next day after planting it is a silly wish wasted as a child but I am not silly anymore and so I don’t wish.

I am going to see how the plant is enjoying the weather. It’s foggy – I’ll say to start the conversation. Come along, if you want to.

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Today with the Clouds

Posted on June 20, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Beautiful Burst Into Laughter Funky Good Listeners Journey Painters Secret The Clouds Today

Fictive Short Feature

I say the clouds by nature are very funky and awe-inspiring. I enjoy watching them pass; just a simple hello or a nod is appreciated. They swirl and sway, move in waves and dance every single time, yet they maintain their uniqueness. I mean something which can be counted as a routine, an unchanging event, is actually a very grand and beautiful journey.

Only time might be able to answer how many eyes have dreamt and seen their secret mysteries getting a platform on the clouds – a bunch of flowers, a giraffe eating tree leaves, a cute rabbit, a candy bar, a bicycle, a boat, a pretty face, a simple smile – everything floating silently, invisible to others but clear to those happy eyes.

I say the clouds are a blessing in disguise. They are what freedom might look if given a form. I often try to paint them, to capture them, to be like them… a far-fetched dream. I am trying and I’ll continue.

I tell you there is some sort of sublime never-ending party that is going on up there. I have a proof… I didn’t believe it until I shared it and got to know that many, many, many people know about it too. Some of them have, like me, heard the clouds laugh… not just giggle but burst into laughter.

Others talk about the clouds as singers, dancers, good listeners, painters; a well-known scientist had said once that the clouds have the coolest particles, meaning that by nature they are funny and calm. Clouds also like to play. But more than anything, they are profound… I mean they have depth.

Wise people say that all the answers become clear in the end… it is now believed that ‘all the answers become clear’ because they are hidden in the clear looking clouds. So I guess one should not wait till the end and just keep looking. I am going on the hill top today… let’s see if I get any answers… nevertheless, I’ll have a good reason to burst into laughter.

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It Came Quietly To Me

Posted on June 9, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Always Eyes I Am Free It Came Quietly To Me Life Mind Soul Stories Times

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Mountains… grand and free. [Image by Jagriti Rumi]

Cry at times and don’t hold it back,

Take a pause and then look back,

You’ll find a way,

You’ll see the light,

With a calm mind and free eyes

You’ll connect with your soul and realise

That you were, you are and you will

Always be free.

I am happy I am free.

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I Forgot

Posted on May 8, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Cards Fear Friends Funny I Forgot Slow-Motion Thoughts Water Colours Window

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Where are my colours? [Source – Pixabay]

I was coming back. In the bus, people sitting attuned in silence, hypnotised to the bone, were no different from me until I looked outside the window with sleepy eyes, swaying without a reason. I wasn’t asleep. Whatever was passing was in a rush and I was in a deep slow-motion, so nothing matched.

A thought came to me and I started pondering over it. Gauged a bit about the thought and would have done more, written a few lines, but I forgot; whether I just forgot the thought or to pen down the thought or both, I don’t know.

It is really funny, the party lights seem to be dancing just because they are in a party. But in that sullen room where a solitary sullen bulb glows, no one dances. Rich place for getting scolded and for discussing the future. Who listens when the elders talk? Who listens when anyone talks?

My mind keeps running a never ending tape that I have to adhere to. Yet another thought that I wanted to work on, but I didn’t because of two reasons – I couldn’t find a pen and then I simply forgot to. Hah!

Could it be that while you are walking all alone, nothing changes in you, you are naively, accidentally, mistakenly moving with tranquility and when you are a part of a loud ‘what’s up-oh that-like really?’ crowd everything changes in you, you are then surrounded by absolute confusion and fear?

Changes that crawl and form a labyrinth inside, of which you stay completely unaware.

It can happen. I completely forgot that it can.

What I remember though is that I should make a card for my uncle and auntie. There is no occasion, but then cards aren’t meant only for some special, grand celebrations alone.

“Where are my colours?” Yes, I remember that and so one day I began. I half did it; learnt a good lesson though. Here it is in parts – 1) even if you are not a 10 year old, you can still spill water and make a fabulous mess and 2) (the best one) the comfort of your bed and using water colours is not at all a good combination.

Soon million tiny things around wage a war against you without even moving and you are certainly helpless. You’ll then not find the scissors, the only clean brush, pencil or eraser and as soon as you get up to take a stand, things fall and laugh at you.

My hands… they are muddy green and bluish… am I an alien?

Using water colours mean getting your hands dirty. Oh! This didn’t bother me when I was a kid. I very often made cards for all my friends, getting my hands dirty was never a problem. I guess, I just forgot this.

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The Month of April

Posted on April 15, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Birds Butterflies Dandelion Magic of April Messages Moody Moon The April Drama The Month of April

I haven’t given much thought about the month of April, I realised it only recently. April… very quiet and yet so lively a month.

Emerald hues all around, telling me a secret and listening to me at the same time, swaying with the wind and merging with the blue sky.

A little yellow dandelion standing all alone at the end of a cliff witnessed all the April drama.

**Butterfly flying in a rhythm…**
**Image from Pixabay.**

Butterflies can fly so very high, up the giant trees with two-three light hiccups on the way, sitting on the top of the tree or sweetly enjoying the descent. And they always fly in a rhythm, they are always playing a tune.

Some also say that butterflies carry messages; imagine a fluorescent yellow, bluish-black with a tinge of orange message flying towards you… definitely worth feeling amazed.

And what can I say about the birds? The group that chirps all the time, the pairs that keep singing lengthy songs, the sets flying one after the other and the sole bird sitting somewhere preoccupied with a thought.

**Thinking… meditating.**
**Image from Pixabay.**

While the sun in April looks exactly like we painted it in our drawing notebooks with an orange crayon, bright and glaring, the moon, on the other hand, looks different every night.

One night the moon is attended by starry twinkles, the next it is all alone talking directly to you, expecting a face to face chit chat.

Then one night, I stared at the circle the moon had drawn around itself… as if that night it didn’t want to be disturbed. Funny!

A few days later it was crescent-shaped, clearly asking me to come up with the help of a rope.