Just being bored!

“Things just happen without any reason,” one of my dearest friends told me. Being bored is one of the most natural ‘thing’ that has devastated lives of many! Well, probably I’m being overdramatic, but trust me, this is obviously how you feel when you are simply bored.

I will definitely disagree with the statement my friend made in obvious boredom I guess. But there are times when you really don’t understand why things happen! One day I got up and thought that I had done everything to keep myself occupied and busy. But still I was feeling bored. I laughed at myself that how can a human get bored when technically our brain is working like a machine all the time. Even while sleeping we dream…then why get bored at all?

I had two month off, and I joined driving classes, went on frequent evening walks, helped mum at home, read novels, travelled for a while…and yet today I feel bored. I rewound my memory to a few months back when I had a corporate job in hand. I had no time to eat, sleep, meet friends, go on holidays, or even party! Each time I canceled a plan I had to bear my cribbing friends and their continues shrieks. Though I loved them, my job loved me more!

I took time off once in a while, but work never ended. There was never a day I sat free. In fact, I was hammered with work all the time, be it personal or official. In my previous write ups, I’ve often mentioned ‘a moment of truth,’ which basically means ‘one fine day of enlightenment’!  Well, it happens with EVERYONE, and no one can deny that. I’ve had them so many times, I don’t even know if they happen for my good. But I still keep listening to it and wait for that moment to happen!

And when it actually happened, the feeling was boring. Yes it was boring! I was clueless, and I felt like a fat pumpkin sitting at the vegetable market! I felt lazy and saw no purpose in what I was doing. To be honest, this is the moment of truth that I was waiting for. Instead of hearing this from someone else, I would prefer in realizing it myself. I was interrogating myself and questioning my very own existence.

All this may seem out of track in my writing, and that I dint really stress upon the main issue. But there isn’t any issue. All I’m trying to communicate is that being bored is not when you have nothing to do. You can be hell bored in a conversation, in a board room meeting, in a movie, and even when you have no time to breathe. It’s about doing something substantial, productive, meaningful and satisfying. My work gave me happiness, but I wasn’t satisfied. My hobbies gave me pleasure, but nothing productive. Being on a holiday helped me search and answered doubts that lay within me. I was bored, or rather clueless, because I wasn’t satisfied or interested in what I was doing.

And by writing this down it helped me analyze how easy it is to deal with boredom!

Pages from the Diary

Last time when I wondered into a new place it wasn't a bad experience at all. Depends how we receive the people and their culture.  A new place is always thrilling and excites me to explore something which I probably could have never surpassed.

But what happens when with that same determination you try to relive the same moment in a place which you have lived ever since. Ever tried that? Act like a tourist in a place when you know every street name!

Chances are, you either get lost or end up having a blast.

I moved into a city 5 years ago as a student and now this city has made me a working professional. It gave me the confidence to live the way I chose to. Time flew by and I never looked back. But today, sitting in the auto rickshaw, there was this sudden moment, something like a lightening bolt, which forced me to question my own existence.

I felt, I no longer belong to the city, its people, the spaces around me, everything. Why would one feel that way? I have no answer...or probably its your inner self calling out and trying to reach out to the outer world. But this doesn't make sense either.

My heart lies within the city, for the city, its people, culture, the essence of being amongst them made me happy and part of them. I felt like home. But not any more. I can make two guesses. One, I just got bored from the monotony and grew out of it. Second, my true calling is some where else. Now this is tough, as I really don't know what would trigger such a feeling. And where my true calling is!

What's missing?

Take a moment and think about what life is all about. Is this the way we wanted it to be? How happy or satisfied are we? Is this what we always wanted to do?

Life is filled with complications and unanswered questions which only we can seek. The present society which compels us do be like them have supresses the real sense and robotized it. Do they know what they are doing? No. The materialistic approach has faded what was once a desire within us towards self satisfaction and happiness.

The entire structure of society has become highly complex, which leaves us as mere followers. What if society did not exist...how fair it is to drag every single individual into the constraints of set norms and rules? I frankly do not understand the sociological draft which the Greeks or the Romans had framed. But what I do understand is that no individual should have the right to dictate terms to anyone. The hierarchy is very deceptive. I might be born just-enough normal to fit in, but according to the 'society' I am either a misfit, abnormal or a curse!

This is where the question arises about religion and caste. I see caste as an agent to supress all individuals by one supreme power (which we all are aware of), where as religion is just a discipline. After evaluating these, all religions speak the same rule. Who are we fooling after all? We claim to be highly educated and aware, but fail to voice out, as all are bound to this so called system of society.

It's frightening for me to sell my soul to the devil as I consider my freedom and opinion as my soul and devil as the society. Why should I let my individuality be tamed by the superiors. It can be anyone, your boss, professor, friend, parents, neighbour hood, or even a famous personality. When I see cut throat competition, insecurity, fear, danger, violence, and corruption, I can only refer to society as the devil in a particular context.

I'm not writing so I can bring a change. But I do have a pure intention to bring more awareness and honesty among people to fill the empty and missing gaps in what we call a 'civilized society'.

Culture treat from the Tribes of Araku

Araku Valley – the moment one thinks of it, a series of pleasing images of lush green hills and tribal people with their countless festivals and dances rush through one’s mind.

Nestled at 1000 metres above sea level in the lap of the gorgeously wooded Eastern Ghats, the enchanting Araku Valley is the home to at least a dozen tribes who, in spite of the winds of change sweeping across, still retain their centuries old traditions and folklore. They seem to lead a happy life like their ancestors did, miles away from modern day life. I revisited the valley recently and my brief trip left me spell bounded.  The Araku Valley is home to around 19 tribes. Tribal communities, including the, Bagat, Gadaba, Jatapa, Mali, Savara, and Valmiki are spread across the districts of Vishakhapatnam, Shrikakulam and East Godavari. The tribal women are found in colorful attire as they perform the Dimsa and Mayuri dances, especially during ‘Itika Pongal’ – the popular hunting festival in April. Few tribal art forms are Mayuri from the Khond tribe; Be Ba Natya from Bagata tribe; Andelaravvali dance from Savara tribe. The Dimsa dance is performed by almost all irrespective of their tribal community.

As part of my visit to the A.P. Tourism resort in Araku, a group of tribals performed a tribal dance. Lakshmi, who belongs from the Bagata tribe has been performing Dimsa dance since 1999. She along with ten members and two drummers performed for the audience.They are paid a total amount of Rs. 1,500 for daily 15 minutes.

Talking to her was rather easy as she spoke Hindi and Oriya mixed. She explained about the simplicity of their dances and their significance. They celebrate during harvest, hunting, marriages, and other seasons as well. The dance revolves around ten members, mainly women. Hands held at the back, the women dressed in coulouful saris tied in a different fashion, dance in a circular manner. They sing of prosperity and seek blessings from the almighty to bestow all with happiness.

As I noticed on the way into the interiors of the valley, gaily attired tribal women carrying loads of vegetables, grains and other farm produce were being sold in a market. Life echoed as the inhabitants gathered to sell or barter their ware. In exchange they buy kerosene, cloth and imitation jewellery. Apart from the usual buying and selling, the markets also serve as an occasion for prospective brides and grooms to meet. Hence they come in all their traditional finery and colourful apparel.

Araku women have a great passion for traditional jewellery which usually consists of a pair of earnings, pendants, three nose rings, silver anklets, chains and bracelets. These are basically in silver and brass material. The most commonly worn daily are the nose rings called ‘murpka’; bead necklace called ‘pusuanga’; ear rings called ‘gunlinga’; and silver anklets. They are also fond of modern beauty aids as evident from a number of wayside stalls selling a variety of synthetic plastic beads, colourful bangles and hair clips! But the most traditional ornament is the ‘adlia’. This is a necklace made of small coins which keeps adding up every year with the birth of a girl in the family. Though now it is hard to find.

A stroll through the valley with acres and acres of coffee plantations, swaying eucalyptus and gurgling mountain streams sketches an image across your mind about the life of the tribals. Most of the tribal homes are one-roomed structures with a small verandah attached to the front. Walls are brightly painted and beautifully decorated with images of animals, gods and goddesses drawn in colours. Some also live in bamboo huts with cow shelters attached to the house. The sight of technology actually left me surprised. A satellite dish was attached to one of the huts!

Walking through the narrow allies, I also came across the age old traditional equipment such as fishing baskets, grain bin, water pots, wooden spoons, rain hat and much more. Children playing in the lanes seemed shy and knew the rules of not talking to strangers. 

Life is a succession of festivals and fairs, song and dance for the people of this valley. They celebrate everything from the onset of the monsoon to the simple toils of daily life. During March-April, the people stop all their agricultural activities and undertake hunting expeditions to nearby forests using spears, bows and arrows. On their return the entire village celebrates through drinking and dancing.  The best time to visit the valley is during March-April when the silent night echoes to the sound of music and dance. But naturalists and anthropologists flock here throughout the year to explore the unending beauties of the valley that open up one after the other…endlessly.

'Lovers of Light'

Mahjabeen Sadatulla is a phillumenist who has been collecting matchbook covers for over 40 years.

My first visit to this house was on the New Year eve of December 31, 2009. A few friends, who I was introduced for the first time by another friend, were feasting on barbeque chicken outside in the lawn. As my attention didn’t quiet stay on the conversations, I was more interested in what was inside the house.

There was something very unique about the house that intrigued me and I was impressed by the perfect landscaping around the house. It was a starry night and the dim lamps light the green patches of plants around the rocks which were so naturally placed. It seemed that they were resting for centuries and were determined not to be moved by any artificial force.

My visit didn’t last for long as I had other plans waiting ahead. But before leaving I managed to have a quick glance inside. I saw people sitting on somewhat antique looking sofas and laughing which was mixed with the sounds from the television. It looked like a living room with dim yellow lights brightening the corners of the room, highlighting various paintings and wall hangings on the white wall. What went unnoticed, only to be realized later, was an old chandelier hanging at the back of the room.

After leaving the place I realized, to my friends notice, that the hangings I saw weren’t any usual ones. They were a collection of matchbooks by my friends’ grandmother. This definitely left me surprised and I wished I could come back again. On January 19, 2011, I paid another visit. This time I had an appointment and knew exactly what my objective was. I wanted to meet the lady in person who had such an interesting hobby that I had never seen.

I was welcomed with a smile and a warm hug by an elderly lady, clad in simple orange sari and hair neatly tied back. She spoke to me in the most elegant manner that I came across in Hyderabad. She wasn’t bothered about the purpose of my visit, but was more concerned to offer tea and some snacks. Due to the presence of my friend, whom she knew well, she spoke about all her grandchildren and other daily activities. This made me more comfortable and her vibrant nature made me feel like home.

Mahjabeen Sadatulla, is a woman with grace and substance. She lives in creativity and nurtures every part of her belonging, especially her hobby of collecting matchbooks. Her collection started in the year 1965 when her husband, who was in the Air Force, used to get matchbooks for personal use at home. Finding the colourful pictures and various interesting advertisements printed on it, she did not throw them, instead, kept them in a glass bowl. But as friends noticed her interest, they started sending her matchbooks from wherever possible. Like she said, she did not put an effort into this hobby; people saw it and got her the things.

At that time the UK Couriers used to supply all these things. During 1970s India produced very little variety of match sticks and most of them were plain and simple. Only fancy hotels like the Taj groups had custom made matchbooks. Because of the exposure she had due to her husband Air Force job, she had more opportunities for expanding her collection.  With this, she took me around the house to show her collection.

I was amazed at one of the walls underneath the stairway. It was filled with picture frames of black and white era, framed medals and an entire family history was lined underneath on the shelf. Amongst all these, were the matchbooks. Framed on top of the wall, they hung unmoved. It was like a time lapse and the moment froze. I was appalled by the beauty of matchbook covers and wondered how a simple paper box could be so interesting to the eye!

I looked closely and realized that I was not just looking at matchbook covers, but an entire episode of history of advertising spread across the globe. There were covers from Australia, Great Britain, China, USA, Mexico, Sweden, Japan, Middle East, Kuwait, Iran, Houston, Germany, Palestine, Bali, and many more. The largest and longest one in the collection is from Canada. In most cases she removed all the match sticks in order to preserve the covers and for safety reasons. Till date, she keeps receiving different types and shapes of matchbooks from friends and relatives. Latest ones are from Hard Rock Café and Hotel Marriott from one of her grandson!

Apart from the frames, there was another thing that went unnoticed. The living room had side tables and each top was framed with matchbooks covers. This was a good utilization of source! Inside the bedroom were two more tables which were three times bigger in size. They were being used as side tables put against the two corner walls with lamp and books with her old stereo kept on it. I was again amazed by the extensive collection and effort one had to make to preserve them. She tells me, due to her old age now, it is becoming strenuous to keep them clean. She has to depend on the house maid to daily dust them.

One would be amazed to look at each cover and find that every piece has an interesting story. Some have funny cheesy liners, phone numbers of hotels, symbol of their city or country, random paintings, images of famous people and places. It took me more than four hours to look at just half of the collection.

While speaking to her, she revealed that apart from her other hobbies of collecting stamps, she also collected coins. This hobby was fancied by her father and later she continued. When in school she collected wild flowers and ferns only to dry them and make lovely frames. Gardening being her first love, I then realized the secret behind all the marvelous landscaping and beautiful flowers. Till date she has kept her interests safe. Everywhere I looked, I was a piece of her creativity in the house. For now she is satisfied and happy with what she has. In the end she smiled and said, "I still surprise people when they come across my collection."