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my editorial article for the school magazine, reflecting on media and the present... |
A DISJOINTED CONSCIOUSNESS! by Uday Mitra I compile and edit student essays, stories and poems meant for publication. Youngsters and their creations never cease to enchant! The Royal Wedding generates national euphoria, feelings I expressed in my blog www. coolcat2011.blogspot.com. I decide to pen my thoughts rather than type; may be the computer is getting stale nowadays! Tiled roofs are back in fashion in my hometown. I attended Thimphu Domche this morning, explicitly the holy relics of Lord Buddha. I remember the distinctive Bhutanese thangka exhibition last year. Cosmetic thoughts impinge on my prayers, apprehensions apart. Thirty years in Bhutan turns me into a Buddhist; I adore non-killing, laughed at by meat-eating friends. I will make it to my Bangalore village in winter and dream software; and stately Hyderabad too, my wife’s village. Chaotic Kolkata beckons, strong as ever, and my native roots sprawl across the ocean-like suffocating metropolis. My Facebook friends twitter sumptuous images and quaint little messages; I revive contacts with classmates in the seventies! The broadband connection delivers daily doses of Bengali songs and news channels in addition to the Norling cable cacophony! In the cloudy land of dreams, my thoughts turn sublime… while the Bhutanese dream lasts. Students beckon in classrooms but the kids have said goodbye to values; a few reasonable guys and gals hold the delicate balance. Fresh from visions of Bodyguard and Salman Khan, I ponder Bhutanese, Japanese and Korean movies. Lady Gaga and Britney Spears scream over the TV, an ever rising crescendo wakes my siesta. I bid goodbye to Bollywood and settle down to Hollywood blockbusters like The Departed and Hurt Locker. I almost forgot The King’s Speech. One way or another! Memories return of my own college days as I roam the sprawling Yangchenphug campus. Amorous boys and petite girls twitter away to a gently flowing Wangchuk river beneath and the deadly sanctimonious pine forest above. The astro-track at the riverside ground nears completion. Changlimithang and the clock tower hover in the near distance. Beyond lies Thimphu town that comes alive as darkness falls! The mobile ringtone intrudes with an unknown caller on the other nebulous end… I ponder my college years and the dramatic events that made me what I am today. Those venerable England and America returned Professors too. Yet guilt haunts. Of the violence and the wayward things. But everyone does that. The booze and the drugs. Discotheques, parties, girls, music. Everyone breaks a few rules anyway. Guilt concerning family life. Of failed duties, haunted by prodigious father, suffering mother and unhappy sibling. Alice Cooper and Pink Floyd. Heavenly days eons ago! I consider the posting at the Assam border, full of jungles and militants. Of narrow escapes. Nowadays a victim of daily pills relating to pressure, diabetes, gout and asthma. Thoughts of mortality impinge on my perception. Yet Buddhist reverence for life is all conquering. I learn the tranquility lessons well. Lessons I should carry till the end. Lopen Chador’s meditation lessons and the assembly mindfulness are working wonders. I get fleeting glimpses of the Clear Light. Glimpses of the eternal life beyond mundane phenomena. At least I think I do. I continue to live the remaining years with heightened consciousness, awareness multiplied, yet yearning for the meaning of life and existence. In an ever-changing world, I have found a cozy niche. The price was great. The impact is enormous in my split consciousness of being. And becoming. May be you should read my book experiences (Whispering winds & Kissing Dragon) available at Thimphu book shops. Write to me for editorial services (udaymitra@ rocketmail.com) |