A Rider's Promise.

The other day I was having a conversation with a colleague about investing in a motorcycle. According to him, it was utterly foolish of me to invest in a Royal Enfield at such a young point in my career, where I could have started saving early. I could only smile. And it got me thinking. I, and him, had a very non-intersecting set of ideas. About ourselves. About our surroundings. About our lives. And then I wrote.

A motorcycle to me is beyond transportation. It's something else because it connects me with Life.

A bike is a soul ship. Biking, bridging, it's freedom, it's energy, it's expression, it's fear, it's controlling that fear, it's adrenaline, and you're gonna experience all these things in just one day being on a motorcycle on an open road. 

We humans tend to build up our lives into boxes. And the older you get, the more boxes you have. But these boxes tend to get smaller. And some start to have regrets. Motorcycles actually get you out of that box. Cause you are exposed, you are connected. Connected to the whole world out there, every life you come across, every stray breeze you fly by. Someone has aptly said:

'Riding is the closest a human can get to flying'

And so what if you melt into the crowd? So what if you dont have that one Chai-wala that you go to everyday after office? So what if you dont have the same home to go back to, the same bed, the same arm-chair for a while? So what if you have to get a banging from office if you leave on a trip all of a sudden? So what if the world out there is waiting to deceive you? So what..? It's really a perspective here. I like a little spicy in my pudding now and then. As a matter of fact, I love it. I hate to know everything every damn time. I like surprises. Nothing can always go as you have planned. Where is the fun in that anyways. Hitting a turn you least expected, is how I like it. 

So here I am. On duty. Somewhere in the middle of the Arabian Sea. Hunting for Liquid Gold. On a job, some would say mundane. Many would even doubt on this way of life. What's in it for me? It gives me the push down the cliff, so I can fly. It gives me that moment's thought, all that is required for me to go wild with my imagination, and my actions. And they set me free.

It's still early, some would say. But to me, it's time. To get out. To be impatient. Life is not a highway. It is a road made of intersections. Twists and turns. Created by nobody else, but you. Don't settle. Go. Ride. Find your own pack. Is your engine running? Embrace the head wind. Feel how it can change direction. Just like you can. And here's a promise. Wherever you're going, it won't be boring.

Happy 2015 Ya'll

Till next then

Ciao.

P.S: Thank You Komal.

Why was I born?

I looked for my true calling
I looked for my true purpose
What I am supposed to do on the planet
Why was I born ?
And I asked the question deep inside me
Beyond logic, beyond thought, deep in the bowels
Of the space where I connect to the Universe
Where I can be thrown into the raging storm of ‘not knowing’
And the answer hit me in an immense tidal wave of understanding
“You are your own purpose
Nothing more, and nothing less
A bundle of purpose and karma
All existing within itself
And the only thing holding it back
Is the separation created by
Words like ‘I’ and ‘my’ and ‘me’.”

Till Next then
CIAO

Winter-mania

I love the winters. I love the way ice cream tastes in he cold. I love the winters for its glamour. People wear all kinds of colors. Everyone likes to look good. Everyone looks jolly. The mood feels light. The mind feels good. The winters bring out the quilts. And what is better than a chilly night outside and a warm quilt inside, some pop corn and a good movie? I love the winters.
The sleeping hours get stretched. And the people, they always, somehow, don’t smell as horrid as during the summers. The woolens have their distinctive odor, that retro-kinda odor. All kinds of fashion are acceptable during this season. You wear whatever you like without anyone eyeing at you as if you were a fashion disaster, not that it matters anyway.
And the food. Hot food is always welcome. Suddenly you start liking tea. The markets get flooded with all kinds of veggies, fresh, exotic. One can derive way more pleasure cooking now, than during the summers.
But then, every morning we wake up to news of more people dying of the cold in certain regions of the nation. On one hand, where winter mornings always manage to make you feel ecstatic, on the other, these kinda news sinks your heart. How can the exact same thing be so blissful to some, and live-threatening to another? Nature has his own deadly sense of humor, a practical joke. Its disheartening. Some would say, “What can I do if some are poor?”
True. You, probably can not do much. But then there are ways in which you can contribute your bit to the society. It is curious how only 10% actually do something for the society, without any material incentives. Also, only another 10% have absolutely no heart to do anything for the society. Now, what about the rest 80? They are like me. In the midst. Willing to do their bit. But directionless. If only happiness could be exchanged through Bluetooth.Or say telepathy. The earth would have been a much happier place. If only...
Till Next then..
CIAO.

Time for a Free Hug…!!

A couple of days ago, I was prepared to blog angrily about something that was sticking in my craw, namely the accusations of bias and expectations that pop into my life almost daily. They make any day terribly frustrating, especially at a time of high tension.
& then I got a free hug -- actually two of them -- and the world seemed a little better.

Feeling depressed and lonely after numerous personal difficulties, Australian Juan Mann was deeply touched by a random hug from a stranger at a party. What began as one person giving hugs in a Sydney mall eventually evolved into a worldwide social movement of individuals offering hugs to strangers in public places.
The "Free Hug" movement began with one man in Sydney, Australia, who decided to cure a case of the blues by going to a mall with a hand-lettered "Free Hugs" sign. His only motive was to spread a little cheer with a universal human gesture of kindness (In fact, he goes by a pseudonym -- Juan Mann -- to avoid personalizing the movement.) The idea took off in Australia, and eventually around the world, thanks in part to a music video by the band Sick Puppies that featured inspiring footage of Mann at work. (The video, which you can watch to the left, has been viewed 71 million times and counting.)

Sometimes, a hug is all that we need. The Free Hugs Campaign is a real life controversial story of Juan Mann, a man whose sole mission was simply to reach out and hug a stranger. He merely wanted to bring some joy into a fellow humans life.
In an age where human contact rarely seems to occur, this Sydney, Australian man started a virtual revolution. Visit YouTube to watch this amazing video and see how the public was inspired and rallied around Juan when the police decided to ban hugs.
“It’s a way to make people smile,” Mann said.
“For every person who gets a hug, you see five walk past with a smile on their face.”
I never realized how far a hug could go! The whole free hugs thing completely make anyone’s day. Hugging complete strangers really does break the barriers. And it really makes you a lot less paranoid when in a group of people you don't know.
And I love this. I was inspired. From today onwards…this entire year… Its FREE HUGS YEAR for me…
FREE HUGS to each & every one who needs it
FREE HUGS for all who believe in it…
New Fact from today: We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth.
Hugs will make you healthier, younger, thinner, more relaxed, live longer, fight depression and make you age slower.
You should try it… Because even if someone isn’t hugging you, they’re walking by… feeling good

Till Next..
CIAO..!!

My Freedom Lesson...from 'Chico'...

One of the first things I noticed about my newly purchased parrot was that he couldn't fly. Chico's wings had been clipped and he was stuck here on earth just like us humans. Once the weather turned nice I took Chico and sat him on a branch of a tree in my backyard, hoping to make him happier. At first he seemed confused. He walked back and forth on the branch looking like an agitated father pacing back and forth in the maternity waiting room. I was surprised to see that he didn't flap his wings in an attempt to fly. Somehow he knew he was incapable. I always wondered how he knew such a thing.

One day, while sitting on his branch, Chico got way more agitated than he had been when I first took him outside months ago. He was pacing back and forth and talking up a storm. Then all of a sudden, he stopped pacing, let out a spine tingling scream, and started madly flapping his wings for the first time ever. About three seconds later, he lifted off from the branch like the space shuttle at Cape Canaveral! I was amazed and shocked. Little did I know his feathers had been growing back in, and just like a sly convict, Chico had been biding his time until the moment was ripe for escape!

Chico made his break for freedom on a late Monday afternoon, and by late Monday night I knew he was not coming home. Surprisingly, on Tuesday evening Chico returned, but stayed way out of reach. I talked to him and showed him some food, but to no avail. Then I took his cage inside so he would not relate coming back to getting locked up again. Finally, I made him a firm promise that if he did come back I would let him out every day the weather was nice. Shortly after making my solemn oath, he flew onto my shoulder and I took him upstairs.

From that day on, whenever the weather was good I would let him out early and he would fly around and be back before dark. This routine lasted for about two months and then suddenly Chico became ill. The vet said that he had contracted a disease from the pigeons in the neighbourhood. Within a few days he died, and I mourned his loss.

Just once the thought crossed my mind that if I had not set him free to fly every day, he would still be alive. It was then that I realized that the quality of one's life is much more important than the number of years one lives. What sense is there in being a bird if you can't fly?

Chico made his initial break for freedom on a late Monday afternoon in April. When will you make yours? You too can take a chance when the conditions are right, knowing you too in your own way, were built to fly. If you don't set yourself free, what will be the purpose of your life? I would suggest that the quality of one's life is dependent on feeling one's essence, and living the design that is you. If you are a fish, your life needs to be all about swimming. If you are a bird, your life needs to be all about flying and spreading your message to all whom you meet along the way. What sense is there in being you, if you don't really let yourself free and express your heart?...

Intriguing piece...eh...I know...I was amazed at myself too after I spread my wings to leave behind what appears to be a fairly good 'post'...