Knotted thoughts

Dr A D Sharma *

Sometimes, I wondered what would I become one day in the near future.

Sometimes, so much in love with the pleasures of freedom and discovery, I would soak up whatever useful bits of knowledge I could gather along the struggled journey of self-discovery , mindful of the possibility of the power it could give to uplift the unfortunate fate of my lovely land.

I had full trust in the infallibility of the logic. Not that it could give all the answers but it does fine for me. I cannot comment others' thoughts on it nor do I know if theirs' is similar.

I also soon realized the power of the will-power, the freedom of imagination, freshness of creativity and last but not the least the joy of knowing, discovery of the 'self' in my life's early bumpy-ride journey. Later it dawned on me that I was one of them, the liberators.

I loved change into something created imaginatively with the logic of love and peace. I chose to differ and was ready to take on the hard road ahead into the unknown. The areas , where , often the rays of reason seems like the twinkling stars above at night.

I was always after ways of the reasoning in the real world situation, at each individual level. I knew about change too. You can fight but you cannot win.

But I used to hate the shadowiness of the past. It never failed in tormenting me, despite my silent surrender to the fact that it enriches the present and leads to the future.
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I kept wondering if all these were really development or massacre of development. I believed in the development of the whole. With planning, of course. But I hated this sense of suffocation as , each day, I passed my dear B. T. road , never failing to remind me of my bete noir- the logic of it all. The sense of futility of the reason, as I used to reach the hump of the over-bridge, always woke me up on my personal situation; my impossible journey.
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I seem to be turning into a stranger in my own homeland, the place where I was given birth. I find it rather astounding to come to sink in the idea of it.

Am I really a stranger? My tortured mind mustered. Could it be me- that was drifting?

I am reminded of the oft-misused phrase 'freedom of expression and speech'. This brings us face-to-face with the pertinent question-are we democratic, for that matter, convinced of the values of democracy, the American-way?

I am stuck pretty fast here. I wouldn't mind sharing the secrets as it unfolds. I am used to the experience of being stranded in the wilderness but never have I felt so helpless and stymied. I know there have been kicked up quite a bit of dust along the way but I never suspected it would turn out this way.

Though my heart wants to break down and crumble, my hope wouldn't let me. What should I do to put my mind at ease? Maybe this chemin is less well populated with travel-mates. I must walk this lonesome journey to its finish, wherever that may be. I just have to pull on and trace another soul who shares my concerns and who wouldn't leave me at large , when in need.

Not one who wouldn't think twice before he does the double-cross while at the same time tarnishing our name. Them guys, I have seen plenty of the types. Funny thing is all of them are so boringly predictable in what they want.

Cheap money; and that too fast. In the process of grabbing in madness, the social fabric seems to have been uprooted rather badly. Suddenly everyone seems to be blind, deaf and dumb.

I would say- so surrealistic in broad-daylight. We have lost the power to trust while impatient on everything we put our hands on. Are we communicating or just gesturing grimaces wildly? Aren't we running blind-folded instead of flowing collectively as a whole?

If all of us come there on our own accord, perhaps reaching there wouldn't be thorny. I hate to be reminded of the time-warp enveloping over our innocent brethren and would hope for something that would land us in the sp! ring of modernity.

And I would guard the integrity of 'bridge-souls' that would take us there, heart and soul. I am not afraid to cry for help. Help for justice. Justice which flows in the purest of hearts and justice which stands tall like the majestic Himalayan Ranges.

Justice which flows like the morning rays of the Sun on a clear sky, chasing away shadows and darkness which had been casting its deep spell on every beings atop the once-heavenly valley. I, too, keep yearning for goodness around us and our children. I would love to see my kids grow up sane and balanced.

Never let them suspect the fact that all are children of the same God. Why, we are now in the era when cloning is being banned, and ancestry are being traced through mitochondrial gene finger-printing. When the human mind is exploring the universe in both directions; macro- and micro-cosmos.

When only the fear of the unknown vis-à-vis iatrogenic mishap makes us wake up from the psychedelic influence of power. Power derives from the forces of the universe, in context. Power results from the particular re-arrangement of poles of the civilizational constructs and its momentum of progress.

Power derives from every one of the constituent building blocks of the society. Only individualism can regulate this power from turning into something nightmarish and ugly. I used the night for my self-discovery keeping daylight for growth promoting work. I need to discover myself deep in the fiery jaws of shock; situation of being burnt alive and unable to send an S.O.S. due to failure in the intelligence.

That in all probability would enlighten me to the fact that what we need is intelligence that uses only the digested and balanced views, supported by a handful of well-designed experiences within the context of universal justice. Fundamentals and principles have to be followed first.

It should not be ignored. Intelligence, yes indigenous intelligence. Intelligence is better if we entrust the tasks to people with intelligence. Whatever political domain he leans toward to, it should be made to be handled only by the intelligent people with talents for the job.

Here I am not even thinking about misusing and abusing it pretty bad shape. That includes the seats of future intelligent people with rational thinking-capability that is bound to arise among us sooner or later. We have mastered maybe almost the whole of crafts but still chance defeats us when it comes to gaining control of the throne.

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Cynicism is sticky like the sweat-soaked dirt in a particularly hot summer day. You try to swipe it off nevertheless it seems to linger on; the sensation of it all. You may want to outcaste anyone who is cynical and withdrawn but hey you may be edging away precious 'writings on the wall' carriers over the precipice which is fragile.

You may love to call it a sort of disease but I dare you to tell me who and what created them in the first place.