remember

Memories of the Clouds

I have very few memories from when I was very young. Still some moments are strongly etched in my mind.

When I was couple of years old, my grandfather, whom I remember wearing only white garb, used to carry me on his shoulders, walk couple of miles and to take me to a local potter who made toys out of clay. These toys were molded by hand and painted in the shapes of animals – parrots, dogs, lions, cats, or rabbits. All the toys were painted in bright colors, like reds, blues, yellow, orange, green or black. They would capture my imagination at that age.

Bapu ji, as I fondly called my grandfather, would get me a new toy, and then we would walk back home. The toy, being made from clay, would invariably break within couple of days and he would take me back to get a new one. So this small journey would happen every week.

Time would fly while riding his shoulders, listening to him humming a hymn, the periodic rhythm of his gait, and desire of getting a new toy. We would reach the potter, and I used to choose one of the toy animals. As much as the journey to the potter would be filled with excitement of getting a new toy, the journey walking back home used to be filled with happiness of holding it in my hand.

My eyes would look up in the skies, and I would try to find a cloud, shaped like the toy I just got. As soon as I would find some decipherable shape, I would point to the cloud and shout “Bapu ji, look there is a cat”. He would stop, shade his eyes using his wrinkled hand, and look up. He always agreed with me on the shape of the cloud. He would then tickle my feet, break my gaze from the sky and start to walk again, as I would giggle with tickles.

As I got older and heavier, he would hold my hand, so I could walk along. The moment I would step out of the house, I used to tell him that I would get tired. He would implore me to walk a little further, till the end of the street, where he would promise to pick me up. As we would reach there, he would ask me to go a little further. Humming hymns, pointing to new shapes of the clouds, he would keep me distracted from not feeling tired. Before I knew it, I would have a new toy in my hand, and I would pull on his hand making him go faster. Hopping, skipping, pulling on his hand, he never let go of my hand. We would keep looking for new shapes in the skies.

Summers were hot, so we would sleep on the terraces. The sun would wind down, bringing in a cooler dusk. The sky would get shades of orange, red and purple. I would lie down on the terrace with my parents, or grandparents, or uncles, or aunts, or cousins, and watch those clouds as they float by. Constant changing clouds would result in innocent arguments about their shapes. I would call some shape a horse; my cousin would say that it is a dog. The wind would melt away the white elephant before my aunt would make out its trunk or tail. And sometimes the rain clouds would appear and start pouring as everyone would rush downstairs.

While lying under the skies, I would slip into the dreams of floating with the clouds. I would never know when my father carried me to my bed on the terrace, or when my mother would tuck me in. The bird calls at the break of dawn and my mom’s calling would wake me up. The slanting rays of the sun would hit the eyes. Through peeking eyelids, the white and grey clouds would be floating against yellow or red sky.

Maybe these memories are the reason that every camera that I have ever owned, seem to turn itself up to the heavens. I am still looking for those shapes in the clouds that I used to as a kid. The blue skies seem so far away, yet it seems like so close. It carries all the memories from my childhood in its vastness – of people who were, people who are; for the people who will be.

All I have to do is just reach out.

Jatinder PS Nagi
May 25, 2012

Does the Universe talk back to you?

A good man once told me stories of two people and how they handle life’s problems, and decisions.

One of them prays and there is a method to his praying. While standing on a crossroads of a difficult decision in life, this person would turn his attention to God. He lights a candle, writes his problem on a small piece of paper, prays to get an answer, and then burns the piece of paper in the flame of that candle. In doing so, this person feels he is connecting to God and the rising smoke from burning this candle is taking his problem up to someone who will show him the way. As the smoke rises, he clears his mind of the problem, and waits for an answer or sign from Him. And every time, he has been given the answer or gets a sign from God, and feels that He has never been let down.

The second person the good man met, uses similar technique in resolving and facing his life’s problems. This person, sits down and quiets his mind – a sort of meditative state, if you may. While in this state, he thinks about the decision or the problem he is facing in life, and imagines himself standing on a beach. Then he makes a snowball of the problem, (or wraps his problem inside a snowball). With the full force, he then throws the snowball of his problem in the ocean, and watches it melt away as it is floating away from him. After a while, he starts to see the solution to his problem present itself. Our second person too feels that he has never been let down.

The good man met these people at different places and in different times of their lives. What makes this most interesting is the fact that the first person is a devout Christian, and the second is an Atheist. However, in both cases, you can see that there is a similarity in the way they approach a problem or decision in their lives. They both take their problems, and separate themselves from the problem. In the first case, writing the problem on a piece of paper is a way to take the problem out of your system. In the second case, the person imagines, in a quieted state, that he is taking his problem out of his mind and wrapping it in a snowball. Then they both send their problem to someone that they feel will provide help with an answer – towards God, or towards the world or universe, and wait for the solution to present itself.

Our good man heard these stories years apart of each other. He felt overwhelmed (and a bit freaked out) when he heard a totally different second person talk couple of weeks after the first one.

When I heard these stories, they seemed interesting to me. After listening to the two stories, I felt that our second person is not a religious person, but he sure is spiritual. He feels or believes in the existence of a higher being or the universe. I feel that in both cases the answers are inside a person. However, a lot of times we are emotionally compromised, or we are emotionally invested in a problem that we do not see the answer. In these stories, I heard that both people would separate themselves from the problem or a decision, and they can objectively make a better, informed decisions, and thus never been let down.

The key to making a better decision then seems to be looking at the problem objectively. And the universe will talk back to you.

Jatinder PS Nagi
May 6, 2012

The Parable of a Wise Man

Long time back, two brothers came to a wise man to get their dispute resolved. The wise man, being wise, asked each of them to relate their story individually and asked the other to keep quiet when one was speaking. The elder brother started, “Our father was a crook and a thief”. The other nodded at his brothers statement, but kept quiet. The wise man asked the elder brother to explain his statement.

He continued, “We were a poor family when we were growing up. Our father worked in a train and locomotive workshop. After his shift was over, our father would take pieces of scrap metal like copper, brass, steel etc and bring them home by hiding them in his lunch box”.
The younger brother, kept quiet but he nodded at the right statements, showing his agreement to what his elder brother was saying.
“The metal that our father brought home, was sometimes sold to buy food, clothes or other things for the family”, elder brother said.
“Over time, some extra pieces of metal started accumulating in one of the old rooms downstairs. And by the time our father retired, the room was half full of scrap metal which was worth a fortune – close to hundred thousand rupees. Our father died few months back and we now have a dispute on division of the scrap metal. We would like you to help us”.

The wise man looked at the younger brother and asked if he had anything to add to his brothers statement.
The younger brother said, “Nothing much, except that we would really like this to get resolved soon”.

After much thinking, the wise man told them that it is up to them to do what they want.
“The best option in my opinion”, he said, “is to peacefully divide it equally between themselves. Or better yet, sell it all, and donate the money to a charity. Get blessings of people”.
The wise man further suggested to the brothers that that can involve a person who can evaluate the worth of the metal, and then also help them by selling it for them.
“Or just divide on, faith. Even if one brother gets a bigger chunk, remember that it is still in the family, his own blood. Do not worry about the money”.

The two brothers left and the wise man went deep into thought. After recollecting his thoughts for few minutes, he stood up as if made his mind about something and walked away. And he never met those two brothers again.

Now, if you are with me so far, then this parable may sound incomplete.
I will complete it for you. This incident actually occurred circa 1977, and it deeply moved the wise man. Years later, when the wise man’s son grew up, he told him what decision he made that day.

He told his son, “The two brothers started their case by stating that their father was a crook and a thief. This is the most disrespecting way in which they remembered their father. Their father’s act may be wrong, but his intentions were selfless. He killed his conscious to make sure his kids do not see the hardships he has seen. The hardship of unclothed during the dry winters, the hardship of sleeping on empty stomach, the hardship of walking barefoot on streets.”

“That day, my son, I made up my mind that I want you to remember me in good light and never feel ashamed of my actions. I decided that through my actions, I will make sure that when my son remembers me, his head is held high in pride and respect for me. I also made another decision that I will earn my living with utter honesty. And will make sure that not even a single penny be spent on my son which I have not earned by working honestly for it. My actions and my life should never be cause of shame to my descendants. Through my actions, I want you to remember me with pride that I am your father and you are my son”.

Allow me to add another twist to the story. The wise man I am referring to is my father (yes … I think he is very wise). Of course, you may have figured out, it was me to whom he said these things.
Who were the two brothers, you ask; well, I will keep that to myself.

Every time I think about this incident and look back, I am filled with pride and respect for the person (my dad) about the decision he made and changed his entire life around me. He has always been my conscience – told me to do the right thing, whether I wanted to do it or not.

Now, I have my own kids. Every time I look at them, my heart fills with the fire that burnt in my dad’s heart back in that day in 1977. I am motivated to be like my him. Barring the teenage years of my kids (where I am expecting they would hate me anyways), I hope they feel a sense of pride in me as I do for my dad, when they grow up.

A friend once asked me, “What makes you a good parent?”
After thinking about it for few minutes, I answered, “The fear. The fear that you may fail as a good parent, makes you a good parent. Because it is the fear that makes you make an attempt to be a better parent”.

Find that special little ones in your life, give them a hug. Don’t forget to ask yourself, how will he or she remember you.

October 15, 2009

Jatinder PS Nagi