Pare-snips

Hello again readers! I know it's been forever and a half since I posted something and I apologize. I've been pretty occupied, what with my IGCSE examinations going on.

I digress.

Anyway, I've now started a new label called "Pare-snips", which will primarily consist of extremely short - snips - passages describing a fictional person, setting or conversation. Enjoy!

The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be rekindled.

Greetings. (Oh, how I love being formal!) If I haven't implied this before, I'd like to directly state it now: I enjoy blogging, immensely so. Blogging is a great platform for me to oust my writing and share it with people who're willing to read a child's (yes, I'm a holy child) whims, fantasies and sudden deep messages. Basically, I blog only the pieces I personally love. No, not everything I write goes into my blog, but only those which have passed harsh scrutiny by my brain will deserve publishing. This particular piece was written in a style entirely foreign to myself as it was written not because I wanted, but because I was socially obliged to write it. Perhaps that is why I have been rather hesitant to publish it. However, I have decided to publish it anyway, so enjoy!

The prompt: 'The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled' (yes, that's the prompt. No explanation.)

The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be rekindled.

Throughout history, time has always presented us with hoards of geniuses; each considered so in their own epochs in their own fields of specialization. Their minds have always been under the keen eye of jealous scientists while their brains are being stored in jars and slides for meticulous inspection by, perhaps, the less eclectic.

The mind is an incredibly powerful form of intellect. It is the most autonomous part of the human anatomy, able to function almost independently without the need for a body. The quintessential example of this is course, Stephen Hawking. Despite having being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis  at 21 and promised a great life expectancy of 2 years, the sheer willpower and obstinacy of his mind has extended his life by more than 5 decades AND theorized the previously thought impossible! Can it not be concluded from this that the mind is an independent part of the body capable of achieving infinite impossible feats, even miraculous ones? The mind, in fact, is the only living substance in the entire universe, in the incredible theory of existence, that can  travel to the edges of the ever-expanding universe and contemplate and build things never realized before…all while standing in a single place. The mind can be compared to God, or the ever existent force that created humanity: invisible and incomprehensible and yet ubiquitous and staggeringly influential. Conclusively, the mind is something of immense power and capability. So what is the difference between the brain and the mind? “Biology gives you a brain. Life turns it into a mind.” (Jeffrey Eugenides)

Young minds are the most inquisitive, eternal flames fueled by their perpetual ‘whys’. They have no rules, no defined boundaries for their capabilities – if you told a child he can lift a mountain, he would actually attempt to! Their endearing questions may be actually unanswerable at times, especially ones such as ‘Why isn’t water coloured? ’Children’s minds’ are unscathed by the pollution of mankind, for man has a natural instinct to kill fires with the gallows of his mind. A criminal execution! Regrettably, this is happening at a frighteningly vast scale before our own eyes. Who is the culprit?

The contemporary education system.

Children of the twenty-first century squander countless hours of their lives on volunteering; working sleepless nights to get straight A’s and studying a myriad of insignificant subjects to get into a ‘good college’. However, does the essence of life really lie on a bunch of meaningless equations, an interminable stream of nonsensical words and that Physics paper that you failed? At one’s deathbed, will one feel repentant, dejected or possibly contemplate suicide because they’re racked with guilt for getting only a 99/100 in that Math paper? Or feel ashamed that they couldn’t get into IIT, an Ivy League or the Mensa? Probably, with the current stance of events.

Today, children are being stuffed with information they wouldn’t even think about in 10 years from now. Their minds are literally being cut open, filled with trash and stitched back together, with all the information safely tucked somewhere between the nerves and the hypothalamus, only for the stitching to come off loose the following night. Don’t worry though; the persistent punishments, public humiliations and endless debasement will mend the stitches back – except for the fact that the child will be left shattered and inhumane and engender thoughts of vice in the years to come. The mind is literally tended to as a vessel - filled with years’ worth of useless information galore to its brim and yet being crammed with material beyond its capacity. Soon, the substance at the bottom of the vessel begins to rot, wherein begins the eternal rotting of the soul – the child turns to vice and the Seven Deadly Sins.

Basically, the endearing, perpetual flames of the young mind are mercilessly put off by the grey waters of an adult’s mind.  John le Carré  once said, “All men are born free: just not for long.” With this, I completely agree, for a child is born with a spark of passion towards life and learning. This spark, if properly kindled and let to rage, can perform magnificent feats and can conquer the earth, heavens and mankind. However, if it were let to rage without proper kindling, it may lead to the downfall of mankind.  If dampened, then the sorry child’s life will be of no worth. A forest fire is absolutely necessary to clear a dense overgrowth of trees. Nevertheless, if left to grow on its own, it will greedily consume the entire forest. Noam Chomsky, an American philosopher also concurs: ““The whole educational and professional training system is a very elaborate filter, which just weeds out people who are too independent, and who think for themselves, and who don't know how to be submissive, and so on -- because they're dysfunctional to the institutions.”  Basically, the current education systems’ cardinal aim is to locate students who are vapid and devoid of thinking for the self. The young mind can be likened to the caged bird in Maya Angelou’s ‘Caged Bird’ – unhappy and conformed to the social paradigms which are merely the bars of prison. Gandhiji once said, “I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.” This is the sorry state of affairs children unknowingly undergo – the dirtying of their minds by the ‘more intelligent’.

The only way to eliminate the mass culling is to first understand the mind.

 Noetics is an interesting branch of metaphysical philosophy concerned with the study of mind as well as intellect. Currently, it is disregarded due to its possible connection with religion and lack of rational explanations for its concepts. Hence, it is studied by only one esoteric institute, Institute of Noetic Sciences. One of their researches is on the human potential – an attempt develop or rekindle human potential when humans can experience an exceptional quality of life filled with happiness, creativity, and fulfillment.

However, for the remission of all that is happening, we need understand and then accept the idea that the mind, is not a limited vessel to be filled with useless monotony, but a raging fire of passion to be cultivated to prosperity.

*Ironically enough, we were still treated like vessels after a 30-minute lecture on the topic.

An Epistle of Secrets.

Hey there! Here's a short narrative I did during class. The prompt:  'While I was looking idly through my family's old box of documents, I suddenly cam across an official letter.' Imagine yourself as the narrator and continue this story.

While I was looking idly through my family’s old box of documents, I suddenly came across an official letter. The envelope was a faded brown, with spots of darker brown at the edges and the front of it held three words inscribed in small, neat, calligraphic penmanship: To dear Emily. Funnily enough, my grand-aunt, who had vanished off the face about a century ago, was named Emily Mathers too. For some inexplicable reason, these three words, the longest being only 6-letters long, triggered a strange, visceral feeling deep inside my 15-year-old mind and unmistakably, I felt an old memory resurface. For a split second, I glimpsed a gold sheen accompanied by the whistling of something being drawn and a powerful burst of energy. Strange, I thought.

Cautiously, as if this letter bore the power to shatter the world, I turned it around where a red, official-looking wax seal was stamped upon the bottom-right corner. The opening of the envelope was creased at the edges as if someone had opened and closed it one too many times. Apprehension and curiosity beat in equal measures through my bloodstream as I tenderly lifted the flap of the envelope, which looked ready to crumble in my hands as if it were tired to hold onto the contents any longer. Finally, with my heart slamming against my rib cage, I gently pulled out an ageing epistle. Suddenly, there was no mistaking now: there was definitely something powerful with this epistle. I opened the letter and began to read its contents, which were inscribed in the same neat, cursive penmanship, but as if they were written in a hurry.

 “Dear Emily,

          I’m afraid I’m running out of time, dear sister, for God had seemingly decided I deserve no more time for all I have done. As I write you this loving epistle, I hear the thumping footsteps of the High King’s henchmen up the cold steps of the tower where I have spent the last few years in pathos. These footsteps will perhaps be the last sounds I’ll ever hear, and the sunrise before me the last alpenglow I’ll ever see. Emily dear, listen to me well: I have something very important to entrust you with. Time has a cruel habit of erasing the truth off our scrawny brains and therefore, I’ll put it in this letter in the ‘words of my fathers’, hoping you will understand it. This is to be read by you grandchildren only.  

‘In this lineage will come a child,

Ebony hair, brilliant blue eyes.

When she begins to rule despite class and need

She will realize she belongs to the royal breed.’

Love,

Dawn.

I sucked in sharply. Suddenly, the world began spinning around me and I began to see glimpses; scenes I’ve never saw before flashed before my eyes as if the writer had impressed upon the paper all her memories with each blot of ink and reading the letter set all their secrets free. It was as if someone somewhere else in time had done all the seeing for me and now there were playing back all the sights they have witnessed for me through this letter of centuries. A fair maiden, with hair fashioned from the inkiest of night skies, with a pallor that matched that of the moon, with two twinkling orbs hanging off the gentle arch of her eyebrows was smiling at me. Her eyes were such a rich blue that they seemed to spill out into the eyes of anyone who stared into them – the bright azure would be the object of envy of even the Greek Naiads. In a split second my mind’s eye registered the details of the flawless beauty, analyzed her through the previous documents stored in my memory and came up with an entirely implausible conclusion. The lady was none other than Queen Christine, the most powerful Queen of European history. My mind did another quick analysis on the four sacred words again:

In this lineage will come a child: me?

Ebony hair, brilliant eyes: how many times have I caught people staring at my black hair and startlingly azure eyes? (A million).

When she begins to rule despite class and need: surprisingly, I was just awarded the most ‘just’ leader in class yesterday.

My eyes fell upon the last nine words and I knew it. The epiphany was irrefutable:

I am of royal blood. I am Queen Christine II.

A tribute to a teacher.

Hi there! (I'm going to pretend I forgot about the Oath of Friday Posts) Here's an article I wrote for a newspaper for Teacher's Day. Unfortunately, it never got posted but hey, never a bad idea to share it with a couple of friends is it? Behold, for I present to you this annoyingly-under-worded ('strictly stick to the word limit of 200,' said the ad. *sigh*) article about a teacher I felt truly blessed learning from: Ms Pranaya!

William Arthur Ward once said “The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” Such great teachers are hard to come by, and call it serendipity perhaps, when I had the honour to learn from one great teacher, Ms. Pranaya. All of a sudden, English went from a 'good' subject of mine to an fascinating one. Magic, you say? No, it is the power of inspiration. 

To say I have learnt from her would be an understatement; rather, she gave me the capacity to learn. She taught me to be open-minded to all subjects, and take a trifle more effort to learn the world and its ways. She told me that to excel in English, you need to be passionate about it and yet think of it clinically. I also learnt that the ever-expanding universe is never the limit, that no matter how much you succeed in life, there is always something yonder to follow. However, one of the most cardinal maxims she taught me, one that is still deeply embedded in my mind, is how 'Brevity is the soul of wit.' A simple message, scrawled in red at the end of an unnecessary ten-page long analysis. However, to this very day, I've kept to that as if it were the Holy Book.

The Pursuit of Happyness

Well, it's 'Happiness Happens' month and what more to write about than happiness? Behold everyone, for Gabriele Muccino brings to the big screen an Oscar-worthy Hollywood heartwarmer that guarantees buckets of tears and painful arrows at your heart during the pursuit of something so treasured, so foraged for and few ever manage to get – happiness. Starring Will Smith, Thandie Newton and Jaden Smith, The Pursuit of Happyness (2006) is sure to get everyone looking down in the dumps.

San Francisco, 1981: Chris Gardner is a salesman selling bone density scanners, which are marginally better than the current technology for double the price. Gifted with an amazing intelligence, persistence and diligence and an innate talent for selling, Gardner strives for a better career path and finally gets selected for an internship program at a prestigious brokerage firm that, however, provides no salary and will select only one of the twenty interns. Meanwhile, his financial situation grows weaker:  his wife leaves him, he is evicted from his apartment for not paying rent, loses the money in his bank account to the tax collector and is finally forced into the streets with his 5-year-old son, Christopher, and a broken bone density scanner (which could get them food for a month) and winds up sleeping in a subway restroom. How Gardner survives the ranks of the homeless (if not the hopeless) with his 5-year-old while competing with Ivy Leaguers for a position in an esteemed brokerage firm with nothing but dignity, resolve, faith, love, independence and a lighthouse of an optimism carves the rest of the story.

The Pursuit of Happyness deals with the constitutional right to ‘pursue’ happiness rather than the right to be happy. This time, Will Smith took on a new look in this movie: energetic, sincere, optimistic and loving as opposed to his action-flicks or slapstick comedy. He was exceptionally expressive – throughout the movie, he fervently maintained an optimistic, resolving, undefeated attitude that in one scene, when he can’t stand it anymore and breaks down, you truly feel anguished. And Jaden Smith (Will’s own son) was so endearing, he charmed Will Smith off the screen. His acting was perfect, especially after considering how contrary it is to Jaden Smith’s own life. The bond between Chris Gardner and Christopher comes very naturally, probably because it is real too. The climactic scene was very powerful, I felt, with absolutely truthful lines and flawless acting by Will Smith as he quivers with delight and content, a storm of happiness raging his face towards the end. Thandie Newton also put on a convincing act and effectively made me loathe her. Will Smith pestering a cleaner to correct the spelling of ‘happyness’ (hence the movie’s name) outside his child’s day-care centre, a homeless man assuming one of the bone density scanners to be a time machine, Will Smith running during most parts of the movie to retrieve a stolen scanner and Christopher’s adorable knock-knock jokes certainly adds some chuckles to an otherwise gut-wrenching movie. Unexpectedly, the movie wasn’t too cheesy and the technical aspects of the movie were just seamless: from the clothes to the lighting to the guitar-playing hippies.

On the contrary, there were a few downsides to the film – I found the story a bit clichéd and the ending quite predictable – all movies end favouring the protagonist of course. An ostensible amount of time was spent seeing Will Smith chasing thieves who stole the scanners. The movie wasn’t captivating plot-wise too, which is why the actors were needed to add some colour to an otherwise unadorned, transparent movie of raw emotion and truth. Chris Gardner’s pursuit for happiness seems to be tightly interwoven with the pursuit for money – he did not only want a simple home to start with; he wanted luxurious mansions and sports cars too. I could see that Chris Gardner was too short-sighted: he assumes that only riches bring you happiness, forgetting that his own son does more than that. At one point, he thinks, “They [the stock brokerage employees] all looked so happy. Why couldn’t I look like that?”

This movie is a very moving, poignant portrayal of hard times, when all there is left is to smile, hope and have a when-life-gives-you-lemons-make-lemonade attitude. I would say this rags-to-riches tale is truly worth a watch. “When people can’t do something themselves, they’re going to tell you that you can’t do it,” says Will Smith, which is, beyond any doubt, the blatant truth.

The Mourning Bird.

It's when the birds take flight of the day,
back to their nests for an early respite
when I take flight from my daily cage,
to the terrace, to see the dying light.

Carrying a troubled mind of sums and equations,
every step of mine resonating with quotations.
Desperate to channel spasms of anger,
desperate to rekindle the old sense of academic ardor.

The vast blue expanse above is festooned with purple and gold,
the fraying clouds blotched with the hues of red, pink and orange,
little bits of cotton candy glide towards the sun,
who is showering the world with his last rays of glory.

Demure at heart,
fascination in my eyes,
at the sheer magnificence,
of the dying sunlight.

The silent mourning,
for the end that is about to arrive,
when the wind can no longer play me and I, with the wind,
Another long, sighing, night of captivity, of plight.

The herald bears news!

Hello everyone! It's been a long, long time since I've blogged and I'm extremely sorry(with extra cheese fudge and cream cheese and a cherry on top)! In the aims of posting consistently, I hereby take this oath: 'I solemnly swear I'll post every Friday, despite my workload and extremely messed up sleep schedule.' I'll be putting up random content: poems, rants, quotes, books, reviews or simply descriptions of the sick lemons my life is giving me. I'd love it if you guys would suggest what to post about too!

I can't wait to tell you one more piece of great news!!! *DRUM ROLLS* I'm going to start a new page, titled 'Solemn Soliloquies'! In this page, I'll  be putting up poems about the little things I treasure, like the rich coat of an apple, the way dewdrops glisten when the early rays of the sun shine down on Earth and even the warm petrichor after rain. These are poems I have a deep, visceral, inexplicable connection to, and may be about issues I feel strongly about. I simply can't wait to start posting!

Bye!