Genuine and happy

When you buy something because you like or love it, then value comes not from the price you pay but from the joy or satisfaction it brings to the heart. However if you obtain something for a commercial reason that essential quality, that joy is missing. You always fret because you always know the cost etc. and rarely realise it's value. 

One day a man looking to make a financial investment bought a painting supposedly made by the famous painter Pablo Picasso.  Since this man had bought it merely as a commercial investment with no attraction towards it, he was a worried man.  "Did I pay too much for it?  What if the value does not increase?  The greatest fear, was it a fake?"

He had spent a lot of money and now felt ill with worry. A few days later a friend met the buyer and remarked, how bad the man looked. The man confided in his friend on what was eating him up.

Unlike many great painters who were recognised only after their death, Picasso was very famous and wealthy even while he was alive. The friend reassured him, "If it worries you so much let me help you. Pablo Picasso happens to be well known to me. We will take your painting to him directly and ask him to verify if it is a fake or not."

The man thanked his friend profusely for his assistance. They set a date and time when they would go to meet Picasso himself after the friend had secured an appointment with Picasso. 

After receiving the visitors Picasso examined the painting. After a brief while in a rather dismissive manner, Picasso declared, "This painting is not genuine."

The buyer clutching his forehead the buyer collapsed onto the floor as his knees buckled under him from the shock. moaning, "I should never have trusted that seller, that cheat. Why did I have to buy it? What have I done? I have bought a fake." 

Picasso helped revive the sobbing buyer and said" I never said it was a fake, I said it was not genuine."

The buyer and the friend were  now thoroughly confused. The man asked, "What is the difference? Fake or not genuine, why play with words, is it not the same thing?"

Picasso said, "No, there is a big difference. A fake is something made by someone else. I actually painted this myself, therefore this painting is not a fake. However when I made this painting, I was not really in a creative mood.  A man had come to buy a painting and I had none to show him. I told him to come back next week.  This man would not take a no, he wanted to buy something and he wanted it right away. So I painted something for him in a few hours. This painting is a copy of another painting I had made much earlier. **I say it is not genuine because, I never put my heart and soul into it, just some physical and memory work. "**

This painting it is not a work of art, it is not genuine. It is just some colours on a piece of canvas which lacks passion and a soul. "
                                              

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This incident probably explains, why people fall out of love with artists and their creations so quickly.  Why does the song or poem fail to create the magic after some time?

When first produced, it is born out of passion, the story, painting, dance or song has a soul, a life. When we repeat or duplicate it which we often do, it becomes just a mere copy. 

Copies lack a soul, and without that a soul art is just noise, a piece of canvas or paper. Every work of art, or creativity is invaluable. The moment we assign a monetary value to art we give birth to a business and in the bargain we destroy both the art and the artist.

Whenever something is created or prayers offered or friendship made, to earn money, it ceases to be genuine, for it lacks that special quality which it possesses when it is born out of passion and love.

This is also why many relationships personal, social or professional last only for a short period of time before disintegrating. Fakes die soon and genuine endures for long.

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Living genuinely is not difficult, all it requires is integrity, to be honest with oneself. Yes it requires courage to be true to oneself, but it is very worth it.

I have discovered that living genuinely and not as a copy, has enriched my life and made it vibrant. My soul and I are now closer to being one, and nothing can beat that.

                               

He took my son

The news arrived while we were at a dinner gathering of students and  teachers to honour a school teacher visiting our city after more than 40 years.  Our happy reminiscing was rudely interrupted by a tragic announcement.  Our dear friend from school, Pastor Smokey James had just lost his 17 year young son Judah in a drowning accident.

I was angry with myself for being so slow to feel Smokey and Patricia's anguish. I suppose when confronted by an unimaginable situation our minds often go numb and fails us.  For a while I continued with the evening as if I never even heard the disastrous news.

As realization of the gravity of the situation dawned on me I suddenly felt suffocated by the celebrations of my schoolmates. I had to flee from there.

It was too late to call anyone to confirm the sad news. Several messages from common friends in the morning reconfirmed what my heart already knew.

Maybe God  had other duties and plans  for Judah. This Judah sensed, because he wrote this poem a month before he was recalled.

If you don’t wanna live your life alone

Try Jesus who will hit you like a cyclone…..

When His light in you has shone

You won’t even have time to mourn!...….

Judah  in spite of being a good swimmer and had been dragged downstream by the angry river from Islampur. After a massive hunt they discovered his lifeless body late in the morning.  The phone lines were abuzz seeking information on the funeral preparations and timings.

What could I and for that matter any of us do, His will is final and all we can do is accept it?   It was past 8:00 pm when the devastated family arrived in Pune  and the funeral held. 

I arrived at the cemetery just after the burial. As I hurried towards the gathering some people told me " You are late, you might as well go back".

Late for what? None of us could do anything for Judah, but we could share Smokey and Patricia's sorrow. I wondered how is it that we have become so preoccupied with ceremony that we are blind to truth and devoid of compassion?

Do we care not for the living, who will have to survive this great loss?  It is they that need our comfort and not the corpse which lay lifeless before us.

My heart and mind were in turmoil. I felt a mixture of confusion, sadness, and anger. 

This only increased as I stood in a rather long line of mourners and watching various people who had come.

My gaze turned to the attendees  many who had come from afar who were milling around indulging in social intercourse, while a few prayed. 

The majority just waited their turn and tried to  comfort Smokey the only way they knew. A long face, a handshake or a hug, mutter a few  words of consolation and then leave. I could not but believe that each mourner only further tormented the grievously wounded soul.

When my turn came I simply hugged Smokey. When you love someone, words become somewhat unnecessary. He began to sob and softly said in a voice filled with shock and overflowing with sadness said, "He took my son,   …  He took my son".

A minute which seemed an hour we spent in embrace, I felt I was able to take away some of his pain. However so terrible was the tragedy for Smokey that grief filled his heart almost instantaneously when the next person met him.

Filled with sadness for my friend and what he and the family would have to endure their whole lives I sat with Deepak another classmate. I observed that barely had many mourners turned to leave they returned to their normal lives, seemingly almost untouched by this tragedy.

Many a funeral I have attended and am always puzzled by the effortless and immediate transition from mourning to normal life. Maybe we have become mere mask wearers.

How could people be untouched by a  tragedy of this magnitude, and to a person so close to us? It made me realise once again how fragile  life is and the insignificance of man in the scheme of this universe and how trivial our pursuit of things.

I left after a while noting that many people appeared undisturbed. This is a quality possessed by great souls that  gracefully accept God's will, and who were beyond feelings of life and death. Or is it a reflection of a society which increasingly fakes everything, even sincerity.