A Lilliputian situation! - The first few days-III

I remember the first morning assembly of my teaching life so vividly because:

One, it was after such along time that I was (again) going to be a part of one. The early morning sun slowly warming up the walls of the building in the shelter of which 1200 students were lined up at an arm's length from every side. Waiting for what was a routine for them but today, an event for me. Probably because after I stepped out of the the school for the last time as as student, I had subconsciously let go all the possibilities of entering an morning assembly again in life and hence the memories thereof. But here I was. The Goddess of Black Pearls had decided that I have so many Black Pearls to collect as a Teacher who will be looking away from the broad rosy daylight into the beautiful, scintillating eyes of hundreds of humans in making.

Two, I was still in the process of realization of the fact that I am 'actually' a Teacher now. Being a Teacher was never a career goal for me. Or even an option. I was here after a sequence of events. But it was happening. I was going to be able to influence the curious budding minds like no one ever can. A teacher's words are the statements that no one can refute. As kids we never accepted anything but what a Teacher had said, as the universal truth. Never did it occurred to our imagination that a Teacher is also as human and can also be as prone to err. This perspective of a Teacher during my school days had made me listen to them rather carefully leading me to be a person I am now. They still keep on guiding us as mentors hidden inside us. And my managers as mentors from the outside! :-) This moment of my induction into the Teaching discipline had acted as a memory agent and inscribed the day well in my head. Allocating a few neurons to preserve it. :-)

Three, it was first time in my life that I was attending a school assembly from the other side of the fence. As a Student, the life of a Teacher was sort of comparable to of a celebrity who has all the luxuries. Luxury of not having to do Homework. Luxury of taking tests, luxury of awarding 'Good', 'V Good' and 'A+' on notebooks. Luxury of letting the tired Students relax for a while. Luxury of announcing roll call. Luxury of having Lunch warmed in the Oven. However this luxury used to be delegated to the Class Monitors in case the Teacher was not coming for some reason. The luxury of skipping the rounds of the Playground when arriving late to the School.

The staffroom discussions used to be a mystery and the odd number of registers and notebooks that they used to inscribe something on very carefully seemed to be the scriptures where they are writing some secret notes that only a Teacher knows how to. And now this first day I was about to enter this world of the Teachers and will be viewing it from their side, the other side of the fence. As a teacher. The thought itself was enough. Just like the anticipation that you have before you let go the Clutch on your first ever car ride!

As it was a routine for the students, the hundreds of little humans knew when to recite what. The assembly began with the holy Gayatri Mantra. 1200 mouths reciting in unison...

"Aum Bhur Bhuvah Swah, Tat Savitur Varenyam
Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi, Dhiyo Yo Nah Prachodayat"

I did not knew the meaning of above lines that were pronounced over and over a few times. But the chorus of so many voices gave the chant a heavenly echo that reverberated across the still building imbibing the whole moment into a spiritual aura. I never experienced such a moment during my student life while attending thousands of those morning assemblies!

That first day will always last in my memory as a cherished Black Pearl.

Thank you Pearls!

A Lilliputian situation! - The first few days-II

The day I joined as a teacher was many years since I last attended a school assembly. I remembered all the activities that we did as the morning assembly. Surprisingly distinctly.

How it felt to walk with feet tightly clad in BATA shoes size 11. Making small pentagonal patterns in the sandy assembly ground. Many thousand small pentagons, circles, squares, straight lines on the sandy assembly ground.

How the shock-waves from the drum, propped on the 'X' shaped stand near the entry gate, hitting your chest felt when you passed it. Marching. The proud looking school band students. Exuding an aura as if they were leading the royal band of her excellency.

The shirts and trousers ironed to perfection (by moms and dhobis) and then the shoes shined with damp air from the mouth hoping that some teacher will notice us having put in so much effort and select us as the best dressed of the day.

The students lined up perfectly like some tree farm has forgotten to grow above the trunks. The lazy ones rubbing their shoes on the trousers to hide their lethargy. More tree trunks joining in synchronized steps. Many long morning shadows escorting the trunks to their places so well known to synchronized steps.

Some used to wear non school white socks. Not allowed in school maybe because the school did not get the commission on the non standard ones that are not bought from the authorized (read commissioned) store. Boys used to be at better luck than girls who had no way to hide these socks in those just-below-the-knee skirts. A Byomkesh Bakshi fan teacher on duty will have them raise the trousers to catch the fish that tries to hide behind the stones. Exemplifying their detective skills by conquering an 11 year old's IQ.

Prefects! used to move around the uniform jungle and dragging, moving and putting students here and there to make their rows as perfect as possible. One arm distance to the front and the sides. Who manufactures the standard arms? To me they seemed like expert nurses in hospitals that knew what they are doing, overseeing anyone in the room and the patient the most.

A PT teacher, commander of the assembly would have all the feet thump within the same Milli-second.

Attention! - THUMP!

Stand-at-ease! - THUMP!

TOGETHER!

ATTENTION! - THUMP!

Possibly more concerned to show the principal his command of his army, than inculcating any spirit of discipline in the recruits.

I wonder how the new experience would look from the side that I was on today?

I knew that they know all the childhood skills we practiced. To talk in the assembly, doodle on the sand with our shoes during prayer, how to whisper to the preceding class mate without making a movement.

I was about to witness the situation as one of my teachers would have been. Will I experience the same frustration that I saw in them while in school? Will I end up turning into one of those, always frustrated, always complaining about the students, teachers?

The experience was going to be new for me. I was mentally practicing the dialogues I will have to say all the time from now on.

Be quiet!

Sit Straight!

Stand in a line!

Would I be screaming all those dialogs that we remember our teachers shrieking unto us to this day?

Some coarse loudspeaker announced. SILENCE!

It was the PT teacher. The morning assembly proceedings were about to begin.

A Lilliputian situation! - The first few days

On the path to life, somewhere, I found myself in the role of teacher! Teaching computer sciences (and some other subjects) to pre, middle and high schoolers.

What took me there is not relevant now. What I am glad about is that I have been there. One of the most satisfying experience of life till now if I ignore the payslip :-)

Being a teacher, almost naturally, brought a sense of great responsibility with itself. Like Spiderman said, "With great power comes great responsibility!". When I discovered that I am being handed over hundreds of minds as blank as a paper and being asked to draw out on them, the first few strokes into the making of that final portrait that these wonderful minds will become in just a few years to come, the power was great indeed!

About the third day into this new world, a student had remarked,"Sir, You have worn a different wristwatch today!".

In a month, I got to know, thanks to my candid approach in the classrooms, what all the students noticed about their teachers, how they idealize them, how they follow (or ignore) their instructions religiously (or dreadfully!).

To my amazement, the color of shoes, how often are they polished, how frequently they are changed, way I open the pen. (I joined in winters and used one hand as the other one used to be tucked in warmth of my pocket and this had became a habit that stays to this day :-) ) How teachers laugh, a pet word they always say, a pet excuse for not having marked the tests, a pet warning, a funny face, color of nail paint, dialect, pronunciation, their clumsiness, body odor, eating habits, when they (teachers!) slept in the class! Everything was in their notes and observation.

And I just realized how closely I (and others too) am being observed by those curious observant eyes that are keen to explore the world and acquire every bit of information from the experiences that they are about to receive.

I thought that I will be noticed every moment because there are not one, two or three, but more than a thousand pair of eyes noticing every gesture and every movement of mine. Like thousands of Lilliputians around you and I felt so enormous that could not hide from them. They were everywhere. Scrutinizing and judging me more than the interviewers do.

Maybe they would find me funny, maybe they would find me too good at something, maybe I am able to amuse them and win them over, or maybe I end up looking like a fool yelling at a cauliflower farm in front of me.

As a simple human virtue, I never wanted to be talked about as an object of humor in their community, or given a funny name to be called by when I was not hearing, or laugh at home mimicking me in front of the family, and worse of all, get imprinted in their elephant memories as such a character. We all have these elephant memories from the school time don't we?

My first reaction was of a rabbit in the jungle who just came across a tiger. I stood still, observing the danger. For now that is what I thought it was.

This impression was about to change soon and for good of both of us...

The learning eye

Here, I mentioned an unconscious phase of life when we are unaware of ourselves being destined to be certain sorts of individuals.

But what happened when we were loud conscious about our being? What created us from then on? Were the decisions we took still ours? Or were they again orchestrated by a supernatural conspiracy that defined us in the first place? Do we still rely on the Strokes of the cosmic artist to keep on painting our selves with those finer strokes?

Let us put it this way that the cosmic artist was still at work, providing us with small glimpses of opportunities to learn. We were already receiving everything from the surrounding world. But during the unconscious state of our creation, we were gifted by yet another tool.

The learning eye. Eye being a metaphor for our all senses including gut feelings.

An individual is now not at the disposal of the surroundings to influence her. She is now able to filter out, from what she receives from the world, what she wishes to allow to influence her. She is no longer helpless in hands of the cosmic artist, the strokes of whom created her while she was in that unconscious state of creation.

The individual can now ask questions about, inquire about, ignore, get impressed by, be lured into, abstain from, get addicted to, and explore the experiences that she is receiving from the world around her.

When an individual observes the world around her, she is now, based on the foundation of her self created by the expert strokes of our cosmic artist, able to decipher these observations into different interpretations. Certain aspects of the world make a greater impact on her mind. Certain traits get fortified and certain are lost forever. An individual is able to observe certain stimuli with a greater extent of absorption and these stimuli result into a greater impact in herself than in someone else audience to the same situation.

That possibly is the reason why all the kids of a mother are never alike in all behavioral and aspects related to intellect and reasoning. Why all students in a class are not equally competent in all subjects. Why all are not equally sensitive to values and feelings of others.

Why Mother Teresa was hurt from the plight of the poor far more profoundly than anyone else? Weren't many people watching them earlier?
Why Mahatma was hurt by the discrimination of Indians abroad? Weren't many others facing the same for a century till then?
Why, while we were schooling, a difficult topic for others might, almost certainly, have been a piece of cake for us? I know it is true for many of us.

That is by the virtue of bent of mind that we acquired without even knowing of it. And as the time came by, we were able to utilize it to best of our wisdom gained till then.

I remember asking questions to my father about numerous things. Almost infinite. And being an experienced engineer, he knew the answers to all of them!
And I also remember listening to answers for hours.
I remember him asking me to hold the spanner in a certain way to avoid bruising the fingers if it slips.
I remember watching every smallest movement of his expert hands when he used to fix some nitty-gritty around the house.
And I remember imitating those small moves, slowly learning to use those small tips to perform exactly the way those trained hands would. Would hold a hand-held grinder so that the debris would fly away from my eyes. Would slow down a hack-saw so that the blade wont break at the end of the cut. Would hold a chisel so that it wont shatter when hit, and so on...

I remember observing drops of water falling through the leaves of a tree in the rain. And then, I remember asking myself how the tree keeps mostly dry around the base? The answer came from the eye only. Most of the leaves drop the water falling on them on a slightly outer leaf. Nature has arranged them so. Till the last drop falls from the lowest leaf on the tree, the drops have reached the periphery of a well grown tree. With some exceptions though!

Wondering the purpose of mentioning the above observations here?
It is to appreciate the learning eye that we are gifted with after we come out of the cocoonic phase of unconsciousness and start observing the world guided by our premature sense of observations crafted into us by the cosmic artist.

I wonder who provides us those small opportunities to learn and observe. May be its our cosmic artist still at work. But I do know that it is up to that learning eye that can now grasp and absorb what is being thrown at it from the outer world, but, now with an additional ability of discretion.

But the rules that govern this discretion have already been programmed into every individual when they didn't even knew it was happening, so that they are again, in a way, destined to be certain sorts of individuals.

Ironic?
Is it?

That's how Black Pearls are sometimes!

Strokes of the cosmic artist

We all remember those early years of our lives that are cherished as the most valuable assets of the time when we are learning the skills to take the first steps into real world.

As I have already mentioned, we are born with minds as blank as a canvas. Like an expert artist, something sketches our emotions, reactions, perceptions, thoughts and point of views on this blank sheet and create, in essence, us; our selves.

For most of us, this process of carving our selves begins pretty early. Even before we realize it. When we grow able enough to recognize and pick up things and toddle around the place, when we start exploring the stuff around us, when we start recognizing the sounds and voices, when we start learning the ways of the world around us, when we start experiencing the feelings arising within us as well as the feelings we receive from our surroundings.

The first time we roll off the bed :-),
first time we relish a chocolate,
first time we come to know that an iron is hot,
first time we realize it hurts when something pricks,
first time we understand that speaking is better than crying,
first time we experience what an injection is,

many first times...

Even a young infant, unable to speak yet, is able to understand the feeling of humiliation from a group of people laughing at her funny or stupid act. Understands the warmth of a mother's lap, and knows the difference from others'. Derives pleasure from a particular song playing on the TV. Knows her favorites and so on.

The little one may not remember these virtues of herself after the transition into the conscious life few years later, but each of these incidences that have forged these virtues into her self, happen to add a small stroke on that blank canvas of an evolving self.

Strokes of some cosmic artist on the blank canvas alias human mind, drawing the outlines that will become difficult to alter later. Like the first few strokes of an artist that determine the proportions of the final sketch. No matter how hard the artist tries later, those first ones will always influence the artwork in making. Quite an analogy apart from the fact that an artist can start over!

The world around us, composed of love, affection, care, happiness, elation, fondness, motherhood, luxury, satisfaction, warmth, comfort, and so many soothing feelings also harbors the opposites to these feelings! However, nature works, not by some equations, but by the principles of randomness and permutations and combination. Each one of us experiences the same emotions and feelings but in different proportions, at different times and to different extents.

Let us talk about our little infant that knows her mother's lap from others'. One day she, curious about a colorful toy on the shelf across the bedroom, rolled off the bed to land on the floor! She got immediate attention and caressing today and her belief system was strengthened that help will be on the way when trouble strikes. The situation could have been different, she might had to endure that helplessness a wee bit longer in order to be attended, given if someone was occupied in another room, tuning her belief system into a different accent. Yet another day, she could have been laughed at on the same act!

Again, who is carving this belief system?

Our (cosmic) artist I presume. His random and fine strokes that we receive while we are in that unconscious state of making.

Like our little infant, every one experiencing their first times is subject to receive each of these experiences in varied proportions. The lucky ones receiving more of the the softer touch of the world probably turning them into optimists. And the converse truly follows.

As a result of which, and by the time we grow wise enough to be able to make distinctions between the choices that the world has to offer, many of us already have, and of course unconsciously, developed our own perception about what the world outside is like and what is worth learning and what is not.

Our inclination towards a certain set of traits begin to reflect in our personality. The first strokes of the cosmic artist are at work. The path for the rest of the portrait have been decided and some expert eye can tell what the portrait will look like when completed.

"He will be humble and caring."

"She is always silently observing people."

"He is just like his grandfather. A perfectionist."

"Had we moved to the city earlier, he would have been smoking like his peers."

"She acts more like a boy."

"I cannot relate her to anyone of his family."

"What a kid, got the best of his parents and worst of none."

Some cosmic artist, without our knowledge, permission, or affirmation, has already sketched the outlines of the portrait that we are going to represent few years down the line.

We had no control on this. We were not able to control what is allowed to come into us. We were blank as a sheet... Absolutely vulnerable to the artistic strokes. Having absolutely no control of what we are going to be, what we are being turned into, what we are being subject to and how all this is shaping our final destiny.

AND if we are happy with the person we see in the mirror every morning, then we should be grateful that we had received just the right strokes of the cosmic artist. We have been shaped to head into just the right direction. Just the right doses of all the experiences to our vulnerable self have mutated our thought process to suit something that we enjoy doing today. That we are rewarded for. To react in a certain way to certain situations that we are regarded (or hated) for. To be someone that we ARE today.

Considering my own self, I feel lucky to have been in the right place when my own Self was subject to the strokes of the cosmic artist. I Feel lucky to have received the right amount of exposure to certain aspects of life followed by just the right amount of certain other experiences, continuously for years, until I grew wise enough to direct myself in my own ways; until I was able to gain enough vision of the world outside to find my own path in this Labyrinthian world.

So, whats important here? We all grow up like this and find our ways!

Important is our selves, that we live inside today, the self we do not know what went into its creation before we were not even aware of our very existence. Something conspired every second to form the substrate, building on which, we all find our destinations, realize our ambitions, fulfill our dreams, and provide a meaning to our existence. Important is the conspiracy that went into our creation! The process that we never happen to appreciate. That we never thank God for.

Even in the presence of a mess of randomness, the process of making of our selves was being directed by that something with such a precision that has no real analogy to present.

Like a silky smooth, fair colored feather of a bird being directed to you from a thousand miles away through the winds, storms and breezes only to give you a brief special appearance on a sunny day so that you may gain appreciation of beauty of yet another kind.

Yet another stroke of the cosmic artist. :-)

My first rainy-day-out of the season

Yeah!! Finally got myself drenched head to toe...But it wasn't a very glad morning. As if GOD was away looking after some other world since last night. So much so that he even forgot to drop me a decent sleeping pill.

After staying up till 3 am (yes) there wasn't much I could do but get ready to the office. Office is sort of school to me. Discipline, rules, guidelines, classwork and homework (contrary to schools, homework in the office is mostly self assigned. No one asks you to do it!)

So, Just as I was only three minutes from the office. The left engine of my craft caught fire!!

Kidding!

The left side started making a pulsating rattle sound and before I knew, a loud crack and silence! I was rolling down the road towards the traffic lights. Engine off. Me still in control of the vehicle.

Brake...

Stop...

Dismount...

Inspect...

Inspect...

Chain link smashed!!

Damn!

Thoughts...

Can I fix it?
How far is the mechanic?
Took out the toolkit..Too few tools!! could have fixed it if I were at home with my arsenal of tools :).
Risk of smudging the cuffs with grease?

Well, The best option seemed to look for a mechanic somewhere, so wisely, I started heading towards the nearest possible market where I may find a mechanic.

Walk...
Walk...
Drag...
Drag...
..the bike along

A raindrop!
Pray, please Inder ji wait for half an hour!! Not now, I have to get to the office after getting this fixed. But he never minds wetting a few for sake of hundreds others. Thought it will be better to stay underneath a safe looking tree by the road. Safe from the raindrops.

As more raindrops started to fall, more and more people gathered to seek refuge under the only tree on the road. But poor tree had many holes in its shroud and cannot accommodate all those were seeking shelter as rain began to fall.

Falling raindrops also woke up a beggar lying a few feet away from our temporary lodging from his sound sleep. How he managed to sleep in that rush? What kind of pill...?

The poor man rose up midst the still dry dust flying off from the raindrops falling all around him. Someone has been very generous to drop a pack of Verka while he was sleeping. He rightfully picked it up and started preparing for his breakfast sent by God through one of his devotees.

The rain was intense than ever. It conquered the tree and entered the sleeves of the refugees, seeping through all their clothes. Most of whom, like me, were on their way to the respective offices during that hour of the day.

I had still more stuff to accomplish (get the left engine of my craft fixed) before my day will begin.

In the ruffle of the leaves, song of the rain, there was another voice. Something like a deep request to all humanity. The voice continued unattended for a while. After a while, heads turned towards the voice, there was the beggar, his clothes no different from the mud he slept in, getting more gross with the rain seeping through them, holding his pack of milk up to the refugees with his hands sans a few fingers.

The messenger of God who brought the milk did not provided scissors!

"What good is the milk in the packet? Someone please open it up!" was what the voice meant.

Who has got blade?
Anybody got something pointed?
Has someone practiced opening the pack of milk with the keys?
Who cares? Let it be..there are many like him around here because of the mandir nearby.

Someone went over to him and took mud ridden pack of milk from owner of the voice. Washed it in a stream of rainwater flowing down one of the branches of the tree. When satisfied that the pack was sufficiently clean, wiped it with his handkerchief just to be sure. Then bit the tip of the pack with his teeth and handed over the pack to the owner of the pack. Of the voice, who drank it to utter satisfaction of his ailing stomach, since who knows how long?

That was the noblest thing I did this year.

Why did the chain link snapped? Why it rained when I was about to approach that tree? Why something directed me that a mechanic was to be found on this road only?

So that someone can have breakfast? Who knows?

That point onwards, it was just another hectic day for me.

Another Black Pearl in the broad rosy daylight...

What are Black Pearls? - III

Thought lets share one of the first of my Black Peals with you all. I never maintained an inventory of those experiences that may qualify as a Black Pearl, but for the purpose of this humble blog, I had to find one.

So I decided to stroll down the memory lane, as far as I can remember, looking for the first instance when I was blessed with a Black Pearl or should I say, to look for the first instance that, on later introspection, led me conclude that it was a moment full of hidden wisdom that I discovered today!

So I went all the way back into what is no more than a random collection of blurred, distorted, sometimes crystal clear, and sometimes noisy stills from the movie of my life. One year back, two, three, and then I lost the timescale. All that I saw was a quick time warp. Random images, from the album of my life, some pleasant, some bit sour, some hilarious, some encouraging, some full of pride, some with a scent of achievement, some scintillating with childlike happiness, some drenched in uncontrollable laughter, some clad in motherly warmth, some reminding me of people, some of places some of tastes, of emotions, of beauty of all kinds, flashed in front of my eyes as if some one has pulled at the reel of life through a projector with a faulty shutter.

(Do I see someone already relating to this experience?)

But are Black Pearls to be found in such happy and joyous moments? Do these moments also qualify as Black Pearls? Didn't I told you all that Black Pearls are lying down in the shades, beyond the observable world, visible to the one who is thrown out of the material world? Didn't I mentioned that the goddess of Black Pearls only blesses the person who, after retiring from the Rosy Sunlight is basking in the inner universe, silently listening to the inner voices? Didn't I mention that these pearls are Black? So how can they dwell in such an incandescently ignited frames of time on the time line of life? How can one be blessed with these Pearls of wisdom when someone is so much absorbed in relishing the nectar of joy, when someone is drenched in larger-than-life, life.

So does "Black" has to mean sorrow? Or does it means the absolute silence akin to the voices inside a stone that may kill you with its sheer numbness? Is it that when Black Pearls have to appear? Or does Black means shadow? Or darkness? Is it in this darkness, away from the Rosy Daylight only that Black Pearls will present themselves?

During that time travel, I was able to recollect hundreds of moments that gave me immense pleasure. But among those hundreds of moments were a few lucky ones when I was able to gain appreciation of the ways of nature and GOD in a different way than we perceive them when we are engrossed in resolving our so called troubles, or when we are enjoying a cup of life that comes across us out of somewhere.

While I warped through my memories, I appeared to have been blessed by the goddess of Black Pearls even while I was strolling in the broad Rosy Daylight, with my face high up to the Sun, utterly ignorant of the shadows underneath, seeking what my material desires directed me to seek.

Even while I was occupied by a bout of hilarity, even when I had forgotten the rest of the world dancing to a DJ, even when I was enjoying the moments where our Black Pearls are not supposed to appear; in the material universe.

Maybe I just got lucky. Maybe some of the neurons in my brain are aligned in a way bit too different than the rest of the world. Maybe...Who knows? But I have already born and I am already blessed.

So, it appears that Black Pearls are not an impression of those moments when someone is in a phase of deep introspection or trying to connect to the powers that direct his/her destiny and make them turn his around, but also of the times when we are..well..as I said, enjoying our cup of life.

What are Black Pearls? - II

How can you earn a Black Pearl?
One does not have to go through a series of mind bending situations and clever exercises to become a humble bearer of this treasure of Black Pearls.
One does not have to be a wizard at intellectual skills and paranormal observer of the laws of life and nature to be an owner of these Black Pearls.
One does not have to be the conquerer of the three worlds or the one who has traveled the globe.

Sometimes, these Black Pearls will, and they do, honor a simple and low lying being who is silently listening to the voices of the Inner Universe, the Universe that thrives within the perceived Universe. The Universe that is not lit by the Rosy Daylight. Where no Sun reaches. The Universe which is illuminated by serene Moonlight of humble thought and spiritual bliss. The Universe that suddenly appears when someone is thrown out of the material Universe. Or when someone simply retires from the scorching Sun and Rosy Daylight to relax in the Inner Universe to listen to the eternal voices, the voices played by the musicians of the Goddess of Black Pearls.

Then, these Black Pearls, they simply honor you by falling into your lap as a precious, uninvited, unanticipated, and invaluable gift. When your mind is in a calm and low state, not thinking over the next days' targets and not held up high into the Rosy Daylight; and suddenly, you feel blessed by the Goddess of Black Pearls. You feel illuminated by sudden sense of awakening. You realize that an old routine happening or fact or situation that was a part of the world ever since you knew you are you, just pops its head up, totally disguised as a new entity, in the form you have never perceived it, drowning you in an intoxicating moment. To let you know that you have just been gifted a Black Pearl.

The happening, or fact, or situation that was so familiar to you, turns into a scintillating Black Pearl and you acknowledge it with a smile that shows through your eyes.

You just collected one more of them.

Continued at What are Black Pearls? - III

What are Black Pearls?

What are Black Pearls? Why this blog? How it related to you? Why should you be reading this at all? Read on for the answers...

We are born with a mind as blank as a paper. The family, society, incidents, experiences write a character on that white paper and We, as human beings, come into this Shakespearian stage: The World.
We all perceive the world and people around us differently and gather our own opinions about everything. While we wander around this world, we are subject to millions of situations, no two being absolutely alike. We react to the situations and try our best to resolve them in our favor. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we don't.
But each of these situations leave behind a permanent mark in our character and permanently alter our thought process, each time leaving us more capable and wiser than we were till we faced a particular situation. We derive our opinions on the basis of situations faced and collect what we call as our wisdom, experience and knowledge. We feel proud of this wisdom, Experience and knowledge and feel intoxicated with its presence in our character.

I call them Black Pearls.

Why call them Pearls?
That is because they are as valuable. You have to wait for a long time till you find one worth cherishing and that too only if you are lucky enough. Otherwise you may just miss them.

And why are they Black?
Because they are not visible in the broad daylight we all tend to enjoy most of the time. We all keep our head up to the Sun to the broad rosy daylight. But these Pearls are lying down below in the dark, beneath the feet, where no sun reaches; you have to keep looking for them all the time. That calls for keeping your head away from the sun. You have to look towards the ground; forgetting the sunlight. And then if Black Pearls desire, they will present themselves to you.

The Black Pearls you gather will direct you in the times of your need. They bring you smile whenever you desire and turn the most sober incidents into memories of a lifetime.

Here, I wish to share some of My Black Pearls that I have gathered over time, the ones that I cherish the most. The ones that I wish I should have recognized as Black Pearls earlier. They come across everyone but no one recognizes them and just keep on moving on, looking for, God knows what.

Continued at  What are Black Pearls? - II