Friday, April 10, 2009

Teach Yourself-Reading Makes You Learned

I am a voracious reader! How passé this statement sounds, isn’t it? I love reading and this is how I learned English. I never knew how to speak in English since I cannot recollect my studying regularly in one school at one place. Sounds strange, I know, but for few years I didn’t study in any school instead hopped in between places my father shifted owing to his job changes.

When I was 11 years old, our family shifted to Nepal to stay there for few more years this time. I, being too reserved and introvert couldn’t make friends with anyone in the school in which my mother got us (me Pinku- my bro) admission. He being a little lad was smart and chatterbox in those days made many friends. I didn’t know how to speak in English, and Nepali and they didn’t know Hindi. Though they did understand the Hindi language because Hindi movies are the means of entertainment there and lots of businessmen (Marwaris) of India rules the market there. Yet, nobody helped me come off with reserve and left me alone. Sad!

Mum went back to India with younger sister (Divya- 3 years old) leaving me and Pinku with Dad. She left, with us some story books, comics, in English, ‘The Beauty and the Beast,’ ‘Gulliver’s Travels,’ ‘Little Red Riding Hood,’ ‘Chandamama (English),’ ‘Champak (English),’ so that we do not get bored and read in free time after school hours. We didn’t go school, instead loitered in gullies, parks, grounds, or else locked ourselves in house where we lived then. I begin reading these books; Papa bought a dictionary for us. I read, checked meanings and dictionary, understood, and tried using same words for different situations. This is how I taught myself English. I loved reading so much so that I begin losing whatsoever contact I had with outer world. Happiness became synonymous with sitting alone in room with a pillow in my lap and a book and a dictionary. I read the story of ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ and ‘Cinderella’ too. I knew that one day either I’ll get hold of some magic thing or will be turned into a fairy by chance or might even be visited by some dwarves. Silly me!

I got hold of a Dutch fairy tales book from one friend of Pinku and hid that in my cupboard for long time so that he forgets about it and I need not have to give him back. But, one day he came home and asked and I had to give it back so that God do not punish me. Sad! The same friend of my brother, Pradip Ghimire, came back another day with a book with Red cover and some image in white on it. He brought ‘The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz’ and gifted that to me. I still have this with me. I was so happy and glad that I have a wonderful thing with me. I was happy for so many days after that.

And, today I have read hundreds of them, books. I even cannot recollect the names of many which I have read in past few years apart from the ones in my course. If, there wouldn't have been those story books in my life, I could have never been what I am today. Even if I am not a big personality yet I did graduation, post graduation, and that too with English Literature as the main Subject. I have never dreamt of myself speaking or writing in English and I am doing this now.

I am my own teacher. I read re-read and utter difficult words and feel them. I find out meanings and observe with intense concentration how different words are spoken by different people and how come one word can be used for various contexts. It's amazing! Learning a language is brilliant. Above all teaching oneself is so exciting. I still love hearing and knowing new words. Though, I never use too sophisticated words while I write because I feel I still, am not good at the Language. I think in my mother tongue- Hindi!

Amazing! Amazing will be the chronology of my life which I may post in next blogpost.



Rapturous Moment

There is something in religion and everything related to it that overwhelms me. I cannot cal myself a religious being completely. Yet, something in me breaks, melts down whenever I hear name of god Ram being chanted… Hare Ram Hare Krishn, Krishn Krishn Ram…. Often, movies have this chanting of “Raghupati Ragahav Raja Ram Patit Paawan Sita Ram” Do we really adhere to the religious and pious essences attached to this chanting. It gives me a kind of relief when I chant thus. I feel like dancing. Not only feet but my heart sways to the chanting. It feels as if something deep within me is trying to have its way.

During Puja at my home on any occasion, either it be Deepawali or Durga Navmi, at the end of it I feel like crying, weeping aloud and let myself carried away with that rapturous moment.

I was watching a movie and there is one scene in which whole family sings Bhajan. Even when the scene has not ended yet, I could hear some sounds and I realized it’s me sobbing and broke into loud wale. What for? What happens? Why it happens? Why I feel drawn when I’m not too religious person. That’s the moment when I feel like leaving home and go forth in search of what my heart craves for. It’s something beyond the ordinary human sphere which I want or may be I don’t want it to own but I want to get annihilated in it. There is an urge to be one with infinite and get merged in sublime.

I want to wear red sari, I want to smear my forehead with sindur, and I want to put on bangles, anklets, and then dance, dance as if some celestial music is being blown into the air. I want to let my hair loose and sway with the rhythm.

When I was in 11 years old, I danced on a song “dulhan chali re pehan chali teen rang ki choli, baahon mein lehraye ganga jamuna, dekhke duniya doli dulhan chali re pehan chali teen rang ki choli….” I want to dance the same way I did then…

Whenever there is mention of God, I cry, I weep silently, tears don’t stop. It’s something beyond me, controlling these tears. Whenever there is some mention of annihilation, merging of one into another and becoming one, I broke, I melt, I slip into a territory beyond recognition.  

Since long time, I cannot even recollect how long it has been, I am writing letters to someone whom I have never seen or met with. I write diary entry regularly and every entry begins with “aap kaise ho?” do this person or not-a-person reads what I write? Who He is? It’s ‘He’ that’s for sure but who, this I know not. What I write in thses diary entries is something which I can never make myself able to speak up. Loads of grievances, mean stuff, curses, smiles, love, pain, tears, sympathy, empathy, animosity, hatred, and every other human emotions gets their way into it. He is a passive listener to me. I often talk to Him. Talk to Him, smile at Him, Cry to see Him, touch Him, feel Him, get mad at Him, but of no avail. He remains untouched-utterly passive to all my tantrums and requests. I want to dance for Him. 

But, I want to dance in frenzy, to some universal music, and let the earth beneath my feet shake and tremble, I want to let my hair float in air when I dance, I want my eyes to get wider and wider when i dnace, and I want every vein in my body run blue when I dance.

At times I doubt my reason, have I gone out of my sense, am I acting like  mad woman does, and what nots creepy thoughts troubles me whole day long. Yet, I never stop talking with Him. Is He a God? Know not!

I have always wanted Him to be by my side and some faint idea of His presence is felt whenever I’m going through tough times. As if some hand brushes my hair softly, as if someone pats on my shoulder, or may be somebody said I’m looking good, and once I  felt as if someone held my hand and pressed it as assuring me that good times will come. Am I getting hallucinations?  Or, it’s nothing just me who is weaving an imaginary web and world around me day and night and now tangled so much into it that way is lost and I have started feeling sensations of someone’s presence around me.

Often, during sleep I feel as if someone is calling my name, but the name is not the one I know myself with. It’s some other name, I cannot recall it too.

Whenever, I listen someone calling god, I don’t feel anything at all but when I hear or read even the very word ‘God’ I cry, I cry a lot and my crying turns into huge bout of weeping and sobbing. My face gets smeared with tears, eyes get reddened, and it feels as if something within me is breaking loose.

I read, write, listen, talk, eat, walk, sleep, but  when I am all alone and have time all for me then I am lost, lost in some communication, some thoughts that are really beyond my understanding, I feel like dancing, dancing from heart with no restrain, with rain pouring down, with naked feet,on soil, and tear myself down crying and weeping aloud. Oh something tortures me. 

I Think- What more than heart’s malady can ever ail you and send your soul into throes of utter desolation and desperation.

It’s heart’s malady that ails my soul not letting it rest in peace even for a second. And, what ail your heart Nicky? What is it that troubles you? What is it that makes you suffocate?

My heart aches of pain unknown. I’m wreathing in pain. It seems as if some wound has been ripped open. It bleeds some where within me when my impregnated thoughts go without getting their expression. How feminine is the creation itself. I feel strangulated whenever there is a kind of imposition on me.

Seems, I'm confused somewhere, where I want to know. How?


My Thoughts_3

Life is a strange phenomenon and everything physical or abstract you get in touch with is an unknown territory to be explored out. But, one remains untouched, the ‘us’ who are the strangest and untouched of all. All the strangeness of the life resides deep within us- untouched, unknown, unexpressed, and unexplored. It’s ‘us’ we try to know in something or someone outside us.