A great number of people living on earth have come across that quote which says readers live more than one lives during lifetime, in contrast to those who don’t read living only one. We can, in fact, expand the meanings of this quote beyond the domains of the literal “reading” – to the “words” of music, the “strokes” of a painting, and the “digits” of a science. So wherever I say read, I mean much more than just reading from paper or screen.

          When you have read the biographies of a dozen great lives, and have “lived” with the characters of a great novel, and have “watched” an influential role in a great movie, your mind starts performing an imperceptible magic: it starts impregnating a new ideology of life: of how life should be lived and what should be done and what should not. Picking all the morals and values and ideas from those infinite sources, it gives birth to a new character, and really growing into that character becomes your calling, your purpose in life.

          I remember watching a movie character who had a thick attachment with his land, which by the bye was disputed, and that character’s whole life revolved just around that piece of land which, seen from a larger perspective, happened to be very small. He had fights with his cousins, there were murders, deceptions, revenges, and at the end that character was killed by his own son for that same piece of property.

          In short, that man wasted his so precious life for a commonplace piece of land.

          Having watched that movie, my mind made a stiff belief that attachments when go beyond a frontier, turn toxic and start consuming life out of us. And it became a value of my life, a part of the character of my brain: not getting too attached to something, especially a piece of land.

          So a small watch taught me what my aimed character should not have.

          Talking of another example, when I read about Dumbledore from Harry Potter, his calm nature, his wisdom, modesty, devotion and truth, were received by my mind on chariots, as values that my final character should have for sure.

          Many religious leaders and prophets have travelled a lot – a lot; spreading their message and simultaneously knowing the beliefs of others. Guru Nanak Dev ji travelled thousands of kilometers on foot, for knowing the values of others and spreading his own en route. This teaches us a lesson: the sources of our knowledge and experience should be more than one. True readers know they have many.

          And when those true readers have lived so many lives virtually, they have derived a character they want to bake into. If the sources they have consulted have been more positive, they die good humans, and if more negative, they pass away what we call the bad ones.

          Therefore, even if it is one source, one book, one movie, one song: remember it is going to have an impact on your existence, however fractional. As the wiser ones will say, it’s a game of not chances but choices.

           I had this insight a few years ago while ruminating for some piece of writing. There’s a difference between the two: knowing someone or something, or knowing about someone or something, and knowing that someone or something.

           When I first had this thought, I immediately began looking for some example to understand this more fully. And that example rolled in immediately.

           I was thinking about the prime minister then, and I asked myself. Do I know the prime minister? Well, first I thought certainly, I do know who he is, how does he look, and what his voice sounds like. But then I was struck by the idea that I do not know him – I just know about him. His biographic details, his sound, his looks – these are only his “abouts”. But do I know him? Well, not really.

           Today many religious leaders and keystones claim knowing God and His universe, while what they actually know is something about Him. Similarly, if some scientist makes a claim that he has known the universe or some force in it, he might not be fully correct – he might be just knowing about it. I liked this insight and this idea of “knowing” and “knowing about” and made a note of it right away. I daresay, those days, I was having showering a good many “shower” thoughts.

           Anyhow, despite having grown in age by some years, I have not begged to differ on this idea and still go by it. This idea has helped me analyze many situations and sometimes even my own actions and thoughts. And I believe if we all understand this difference, it could work as a great check for ourselves more than once.

          It was the height of the building we live in – three floors high. As father and I, and our neighbor, gazed at the long creeper which slithered along the rainwater-drainage pipe running from the rooftop to the ground, I heard a crack sound. It must be from my neck – so high ran the green “useless” plant, now having started to grow thick sort of branches, clutching the wall and destroying paint.

          ‘It will be a lot of labor chiseling that all down,’ observed father, as I started due to an ant bite between my toe and the finger beside it. The plant had been a partying place for all the ants, which, very normally these days, thanks to the plant, entered our rooms, and our bathrooms.

          ‘We must cut it from down there, and the upward part will dry away itself,’ continued father, once looking above and once down.

          ‘Sir,’ reported the neighborhood uncle, ‘Before you came here, I have given that a try multiple times. For some time, it seems to be working – you separate the plant from the roots by cutting, and over the next few days, the stem and leaves hanging along the wall die. But before soon, the undead roots give rise to a new episode of it.’

          Father nodded, as a gullible me wondered if we could just put the whole thing to fire.

          We looked at the ground, guessing where its roots would be. The ground was solid and plastered, and if we wanted to kill the roots, we would need to first compromise with it. Which was impossible. No way could any of us do something to the ground just to get rid of a plant … and some bathroom ants.

          When the neighborhood uncle had gone, father brought his tools – a thin household saw, a long stick, among others – and I brought a screwdriver. He said he would give it a try. First he would, just like that uncle, cut the whole creeper from down and then see if he could do something about the roots. That day, we didn’t have much of other works.

          It took around an hour for the performance, but finally succeeded. The so thick and so entwined stems at the base had been sawed and almost half of the plant above that had been pulled down. Now that some of the wall was visible, we could actually see the amount of damage that had been caused.

          Nevertheless, the roots were inaccessible. Owing to that disability to uproot the floor, and the setting sun, we called it a day and went to wash our hands.

          During the next few days, I noticed the effect. The remaining plant suspended from the rooftop by its own connections, had started paling down and drying. Its leaves fell, ants dwindled and the brown stem assumed the look of the parched skin of the old. The tall plant that had stood here like a ruler’s palace from so many days, from its waist to its head, was dying, with its legs already separated and done away with.

          Hence it seemed we had succeeded, for once.

          For once.

          Because yesterday when I parked my bicycle near the neighbor uncle’s bike, and was about to climb the stairs to our floor, my gaze met with the grass-like something that had started growing from the place where we had cut the plant. At that time, father came, held my shoulder, and whispered, ‘No ruin without the ruin of the roots.’

          Having just got free from school’s online classes, I sat down on my desk for the next things on my to-do-list. As I chewed on an apple and scanned the bullet points I had made after my morning rituals, I nodded at the length of them. Self-study, online searches, a couple of write-ups, a tuition … and while I was thinking, my mind also wandered to the workshop I was going to attend soon. I had got a call for the workshop yesterday regarding my confirmation, and I remembered I would also need to check on the dates of this two-day workshop.

          For a break, I clicked on the game icon on my phone’s screen, and sat back in a relaxed disposition for ten-minutes’ fun. As it started, the first thing I saw was the daily reward the game gave me. My gaze lingered two blocks ahead to the bonus reward I would get, but I would have to wait for that for two days.

          I was suddenly reminded of a trick suggested by a school friend once. I went to phone settings and set the date to the next day’s. It did not work. I did not get tomorrow’s daily reward today. I tried once more but it was useless. It strengthened the cliché lesson I had been getting since childhood: you cannot get what you will whatsoever before its destined time.

          Anyway, having played to satisfaction, I began with the works more important than mobile games, and when I next picked my head up, the sun had already gone behind the buildings visible from the window of my room.

          I gave a glimpse to my to-do list and found that my productivity had not been laudable during my day, remaining distracted from time to time. I tried reasoning out the areas I was weak in and took notes of them, and then let out a cold sigh, of gratitude, of satisfaction.

          Night fell and stars came out. I retired to the living room, typing an email I had to send by all means by tonight. As I finished it, I found some emails waiting to be checked in the inbox – it had been some time before I had visited my inbox. And there was surely an email about the workshop, with my very special ticket as an attachment. I looked at the dates and time, incidentally – September 19 and 20, 5 pm to 7 pm – and then swiped down to see today's date of which I was oblivious. September 20 flashed before my eyes.

          My heart skipped a beat. And then another beat.

          Along with those rapid beats which follow a severe mistake, dawned the realization. A regret. Of how much of a great opportunity I had missed. How much doors would the workshop have have opened up for me and my passion. How had I not realized that the day I had received the call – yesterday – had in fact been the first of the two days, and today the second!

          I knew, alas, that my wish of the clock going two days back was futile in an era of no time travel, no time machine.

          I composed myself and pacified my mind. And also made a tiny but true prayer of thanks and of strength and memory for future.

          Just when my younger sister came with father’s phone, asking me something. Taking hold of the phone from her, I inadvertently looked at the date. September 18flashed before my eyes.

          “I know something abut you, brother,” she whispered quietly in her childishly cunning way, “I know you had been playing games after your classes for more than half an hour. But I'm not sure if papa does too.”

Source: https://www.moshimoshi-nippon.jp/

          Certain roads in certain markets are bound to be full of rush throughout the day and more so after the sunset. In unplanned cities, such roads tend to grow narrower with time.

          Talking about the road concerned, not the whole of it is lighted by streetlights and out of the few which perform this task, nearly half blink non-stop like the eyes of a little child subjected unknowingly to spicy hands.

          But there is general indifference about this since people are busy in more important things; sellers in their sales and buyers in their purchases. In the narrow road, when two people on scooters come from the opposite sides, one has to stop at a nook for some moments until there is room enough for the other to pass, and in the meantime, footers have to wait. Cars do not come here; this bazaar is already quite infamous for its narrowness, which, nevertheless, has not eclipsed its utility in considerable economic activities.

          Many wholesalers order supplies at this time, since the the retailers tend to come in the morning and afternoons. But still there are sporadic visits at this time, when hardly an hour is left before the lockdown is imposed.

          The motorcycle man who all of a sudden enters out of nowhere is one such man. Upon looking at his vehicle, you can easily guesstimate he is a retail shopkeeper, come for some purchase. Tied to a support behind the rough but shiny black seat is a rope, supposedly to fasten the cartons the man is going to buy. He also carries a big cloth bag, presently hung on the left handle.

          The man stops the vehicle in front of a wholesale cosmetics store and quickly disembarks, and in no time, with the keyring in his index finger, and the cloth bag in underarm, he is inside the store.

          We see him return ten minutes later, with one of the store’s boys lugging with him a big, heavy, loaded carton. The man and the boy tie it to the seat as tightly as possible, and surprisingly, both go inside the store again.

          The man appears two minutes later with his cloth bag filled now. He lifts the stand, grips the right handle, and following a swing of leg, perches on the seat of his motorcycle. Also, he hangs the bag on the left handle. This makes the handle a bit difficult to handle but the man manages to balance it.

          As if this is not enough, the boy from the store pops out with another carton and asks the man. The man points with his eyes in front and the boy places the carton on the fuel tank, half of it resting automatically on the handle.

          The man pushes the key into the hole, rotates it and kick-starts the vehicle. He accelerates a bit and retards when he is in the middle of the road. You can guess he is unable now to rotate the handle. There is the sound of a horn from behind, and the man takes no time to realise that eventually he is in a funny situation.

          That when there is load on the handle and it is out of your handle, you will not be in a position to take your own direction.