sometimes when you see too much of pain...pain and suffering that makes no sense... you begin to wonder at what sort of God is God... and then perhaps whether there is God at all...

But that may be when you see others sufferring... when there is too much suffering, too much unreasonalbleness in this world..then the only thing that appears sensible is the belief in God.

and then you see so many people who have all that a God could have given them, and they are throwing their lives away...

The view from the window

Its winter time but i have the luxury of travelling in a hostel bus every morning. The tiny yellow bus with its windows shut cosily and packed lunch from the mess. 'Jhantak' bollywood music playing, each girl lying spread out on one whole seat.
Its a insulated beautiful world for us...
As i look out of the window, the sights and images i pass appear so far off. See those people already standing in ques for sundry paper work;ther ragpicker who already has finished his first lap of collection. The begger is sitting on the pavement wrapped in a shawl, and a dog is snugly sleeping next to him. Even we are friends with dogs, but this comraderie had a different ring to it. It was as if they were both sharing their street life, on this cold morning.
The sun rays are getting filtered out throught the trees, i can almost smell the morning through the window... its like a world on mute, a film on mute... and when only one of your senses is operating youoften see what you may not otherwise have. So may cars...
So many students..all dressed differently... i have grown to like the campus. As i walk through it, discover short cuts to the nearest printout shop.
The girl sitting near my seat is knitting. She is from one of the North east states. We have so many north east students on this campus. They have given it a distinct life. The market is full of chinese, tibetan and thai food. The hostel has Korean movie screenings... They set the fashion trends, they cook their dishes on the hostel hot plate...
The conducter just easily jumped into our runnning bus...efficiency isIndia's middle name; yet it isn't.
I think i'll learn to knit from dadiji too. What we 'third world' people have as unique is this ability to make our own stuff and repair it... that's what facinates me about India, so much more than Mr. Mittal buying Arcelor...
Hmmm... so many thoughts..so many worlds. Why am i where i am...