What if life was a drawing?

I have always loved drawing over painting. For one, I am less terrible at drawing than I am at painting. Furthermore, the luxury of  being able to go back and rectify things is rather quaint and tempting. Paintings can be revamped; you sure can paint the entire canvas black and then start over with no choice in background and restrictions in the colours. You cannot afford to go wrong again as revamping again is not even an option and you can't really fix paint seamlessly. Drawings on the other hand can be easily changed through an eraser and a few strokes of pencil. I think life is a painting rather than a drawing. My intuition tells me I would be better off if it was a drawing instead. Then, I realized there is a huge difference in "a" drawing and "the" life - fear of the unknown. If my life was an average drawing rather than an average painting, would I take the risk of erasing and starting over with the uncertainty of ending up with a worse or better painting? Would I be ready to take the downside for an upside? Would I not succumb to the temptation of trying to fix the painting I have grown to love? If I was ready to take the downside, I would just get a new canvas and start a new painting.

Never ending rain

Arya: Dad, will you take me shopping today?
Dad: Sure. What do you want to buy?
Arya: I want to buy a blue jacket; and a nice belt; and new shoes. I am bored of my old shoes.
Dad: Okay, get ready. I'll wait for you in the car.
Arya (looking at a poor kid): Dad, why doesn't that kid have clothes?
Dad (lovingly): Would you like to have an ice cream?
Arya: Yes, dad! But not from here. Can we go to the corner house? I would like to have caramel crunch. Let's buy mango cookies too while returning.

My attempt to rationalize good behaviour

Even though I believe that being judgemental is not the best thing to do; I do it all the time under the cover of 'discernment', by subconsciously (or even consciously!) classifying people as good and bad. During my childhood, I had always believed that people behave in a certain manner depending upon some intrinsic value which is highly influenced by how and under what circumstances they were brought up. I had decided that every jerk I meet; I will try to cut him (or her) at least some slack just because they might have had an unfortunate childhood, unlike mine. As I grew up and read more economics, I started thinking that the most rational thing to do was to be good. I believed that if I was good to people, they were bound to be good - not because of my (or their) belief in Karma or their conscience or any other so called spiritual concept but because it's in their best interest too (at the very least). What then incentivises people to be not good? There can't be contradictions. I needed to check my premises.

I did not cheat in exam; I knew more than enough by myself. But I have no idea of how I would have responded if I had to cheat to be able to barely pass the exam. I return someone's wallet lying on the road. Is that because I am a good person or is that because I have enough money? Would I have returned if it were, let's say something that might matter to me more than money or might be unaffordable, an antique painting? When I talk nicely to people; is it because I am a good person or is it because I enjoy their reciprocation of love and respect for me (friends) or is it because I can't afford to mess up with them (foes)? Would I talk to nicely to someone I do not deem worthy enough of either being a friend or a foe? When I let go things that make me feel bad, is it because I am not egoistic or is it because it's in my best interest to let go? Is it in the future anticipation of my behaviour due to which others might have to let go?

The very premise that good behaviour doesn't have a cost associated with it is what fails the theoretical concept of it being the best thing to do. More so, it has different cost for different people and hence, the varied responses. It's expensive, rather unaffordable to indulge in the luxury of being good.

On the brink of eternity

If only I were listening, I would know ocean speaks,
On the brink of eternity, where transience of happiness gets entrapped,
Where tide recedes but leaves behind the shells of hope,
Where the silent music of heart meets the stillness of dawn,
Where the persistence of water echoes hard on the pebbled soul,
Where what recedes leaves something more beautiful.

Bad at being good or good at being bad?

The relative nature of being good or bad is always debatable. While Duryodhana is an "evil" character in Mahabharata, for somebody who believes that the throne is rightfully his, he might be the most persistent person ever. On the other hand, Krishna who is the driving force of the story and supports the virtuous couldn't make them win without being somewhat unfair. Would those actions be acceptable if He wasn't God? I wonder what is more taxing - when you are perceived worse than you are or better than you are. Karna, who has all the characteristics of a real hero is denied the respect and status in the society right from his birth by his mother, by his teachers, friend and last but not the least, God himself. Yudhishthira, who is considered the epitome of justice lost his wife and four brothers in the game of dice out of his stance of being fair. But was he fair to Draupadi and the people of Indraprastha or did he mean to be fair to only Duryodhana and Shakuni? Why did 'good' people suffer and couldn't win without unfair means? Is it right to be good and fair and loose or is it right to be good and unfair and win? Should they still be called good?

The garden of happiness

I went to my garden of happiness
And I saw what I had never seen
The birds of love were all sad,
Where they used to be chirping songs of love,
The green trees of faith had all gone pale,
Where they used to be standing upright
The breeze of peace was all still
Where it used to blow with serenity

And I saw what I had never seen
The strong wind of greed,
Blew my selfless love for life
The unfathomable lake of selfishness,
Drowned away the purity of my heart’s smile,
The deep, dark clouds of dishonesty
Overshadowed the beauty of my soul.

The pyramid of friendship

With some I share my feelings of love and deepest fears,

I cherish those moments of joy and despair,

I hold dear those hours of slogging for work.

With some others, I share that lovely tear,

I cherish those moments of encouragement and appreciation,

I hold dear those hours of mindless blabber.

And then there are yet some more, I treasure just a lovely smile,

I cherish those moments of respect and sympathy,

I hold dear that instant of help and support.

Looks like it's a huge pyramid of friends and well-wishers,
But there's something common about all of them,
Close friends, good friends, work friends, play friends, all of them,
Together they taught me the toughest lessons of life,
Together they inspired me to look beyond ambition,
Together they rejuvenated my faith in love, care and respect,
Together they touched my soul giving it a life of its own.

Do I count?

With a tearful smile, I looked upon my mirror,

My mirror frowned at me, I smiled back,

I asked what was wrong with a wider smile,

Frowning, he claimed, "You failed to keep your promises."

Contemplating, I said
Calm I was, tried to be, all the time, mostly
Moments of composure flashed through my mind
and I winked at my mirror
My mirror yelled "Does getting angry at yourself not count?"

Thinking further, filled with confusion, I said
Benevolent I was, as much as I could be, all the time, mostly
Moments of love and kindness filled my heart
And I smiled at my mirror
My mirror smirked "What about being compassionate to yourself?"

Thinking yet some more, filled with remorse, I said
Honest I was, tried to be, all the time, mostly,
Moments of truth and verity wiped my soul
And I gazed at my mirror
My mirror mocked "Were you honest to yourself?"

Awestruck by the image of my mirror,
I flipped through the pages of life,
only to ask "Do I count?"
In my anger, in my compassion, in my honesty.