Skip to main content

WE WANT NO DHOOM DURING DIWALI!!

A warm Namaste!

The festive season of Diwali is round the corner now! The mood of gaiety and mirth sets in... but so does that of noise well over the 100 dB limit, of pollution that leaves the healthiest breathless... Amidst all our joy who should come but 'much-desired' crackers!!

Year after year there are pamphlets published and presentations made on the side-effects of bursting crackers, of its treacherous root-cause, of the starving, trembling hands that sit down to making these weapons.. What does all of this seem to a practical citizen other than jargon and exaggeration? Nothing. There is no afterthought when messages on 'noise-free' Diwali are sent across.

If on your birthday, instead of celebrating with a party, you pooled in donations from your friends and personally visited an Anathashram, it would undoubtedly give you limitless joy. Perhaps it takes a lot to make that compromise of that 'once-in-a-blue-moon' day to work towards a cause. You go back to thinking of repenting not having had a blast with a choco pudding truffle or a cream pastry or a Cloud 9 pizza and a buzzing group of friends!

But at the end of the day you are doubtless content and happy, and the day is gone, and the good has been done, and people have been served.

The cracker-bursting-scenario is pretty much the same. Mellow the tempo down to adagio and you have all the trouble crumbling away like boondi ladoos! You can't deprive yourself of a treat on your birthday completely however 'big-hearted' a 'martyr' you may be, but you can surely cut it down threefold! You can surely think of the world on Diwali as well as your birthday and work towards making it a better place.
I promise you-  reduce bursting crackers today and today itself - and there will be no resentment and not a single sweat-pore-burst on your part.

All that will happen is that India- and the world- will become a better place.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

(How I Wish) People Were Like Poems

Today, I wish people were more like poems.  A sad truth is dawning on me.  I can't just be. Most things just are. No proof required. No justification. Here I feel like an instance Of a class. Some kind of template  With some methods Instantiated. Many of my methods are public. Others comment on them. If I encapsulate, They pry. If I am abstract, They talk. What's going on? I'm not going to plead any more. I'll just shut all the doors. Make all the methods and variables private. Too many people tampering with the balance of it all. Our lives are not portraits or leaflets to hand out. Media often makes us feel so, but existence is way older, Authentic and organic- than the glitzy hood of social media. Human beings, like plants, need space, nourishment and nurturing To thrive. Are plants dependent on these things? Can they not stand on their own roots? They can, and they do. But you cannot neglect  The environmental variables that make them happen. So don't comment on ...

Predictability Plays Spoilsport

"Comfort's journey from the familiar to the unpredictable..." In the age of AI, if you are an AI Engineer like I am, you would swear by predictability. It's indispensable. We will find patterns in your genetic tree. We'll find them even in your whim of a Gulab Jamun or Barfi. We'll try to connect dots that are distant by miles. Yet, I'm here to tell you that we cannot afford predictability today. Sounds crazy and totally contradictory right? But I can be weird.   I'm here to tell you about randomness. I want you to experience it too. Well, you're smart people, readers. I may not be as smart. You know why we can't enforce patterns.   Someone will read them. Someone will exploit them.  Someone will feed them to an AI (Tool) and figure out what to do with them. You see what I mean? I'm being random. Randomness is not entirely useless.  I want to be equally random. I am stupid, gullible, naive and I'm wandering... You can say that I can be ...

Clandestine

Sometimes we wait too long, To speak our minds. We let lingering truths linger, We let sporadic clocks, chime.. We allow patient seams to fritter away Like a sparrow does with the timber of the tune That she was shrouded by; shrill words tearing  Ears, each word she utters, careful, today. While the first day it was a free reign, until Some unctuous winds carried to her, criticism. Just the same way as copper utensils in a house Of steel, are anyone's delight, until bronzed,  With wear and use, both are the victims Of sundry needs and glances. Just the same way, some things, Are stowed away in careful pockets Because they have borne a lot of perusing When kept in the open.  Like love. Like hurt. Like envy. Like silence. Trust and truth are two things I can list, That are given, that are l'habitude. I tell the truth because it is, it exists, It is what I perceive, it is what I've lived.. And I keep your trust, because I've learnt That it'll help you keep mine, it wil...