TOO BUSY FOR THE BRIEFEST OF JOYS




"Our obsession with speed, with 'getting things done,'

is a form of violence we do to ourselves."

- Thomas Merton


Two days ago, I had couriered a copy of my new blog-book -- ‘FINDING EXTRAORDINARY IN THE ORDINARY’ -- to Malabika. Last night, around 9.30, I checked through a WhatsApp message: “Hello Mala, did you receive the book?”

Mala replied, instantly: “Sir, when I reach home, I’ll check and let you know.”

“Ok Mala,” I replied, “Are you still in office?”

“Sir, I am at a concert in Sion,” she replied… And, I fell asleep.

Early, this morning, I saw this response AI had kept it ready for me, as I fell asleep:

“Mala, that sounds wonderful! Hope you have great time at the concert in Sion. Feel free to message once you’ve had a chance to check for the book.”

Ever since, this Meta AI thing creeped into my phone, I kept ignoring its ready responses… I simply wanted it the good-olé way: “Type it with your heart… to each person.”

But, Mala, being my good friend, I shared (for the first time) this ready machine-response with a note:

“Good morning Mala. Look, how AI gives us ready responses. Thought, I would experiment with you, even though I don’t like these ready responses, no matter how busy I am.”

“Hahaha, Sir… Chill. Always accept the changes. It helps avoiding many conflicts. BTW, I received your book with your personalized note.”





Personalized note?

Some months ago, when I resolved to bring out these ten books (one in every three months), I, also, resolved to write a personalized, handwritten note to each of my subscribers. I was, promptly, advised by people around me: “Why can’t you simply get your note printed?”

I refused to do so, saying, “If what these books contain are a piece of my soul, let the note, too, be one.”

I don’t know, how long I will be able to write each one of them, personally. But, I want to…

Thirty-four years, ago, when our son was born, an elderly aunt of my wife (her granny’s sister in her late eighties) turned up with her husband to see the newborn. She handed, with lots of warmth, a handknit sweater… This light-blue sweater was so pretty, that, both, my wife and I, fell in love with it, instantly. Aunty Lilly had done it to all her grandchildren before she did it for our son. She would start the knitting work, slowly and steadily, every day a little, with loads of love and patience… when the baby’s still inside. This sweater turned out to be our son’s favourite, too, till he was outgrown…

But, aunty Lilly’s love and affection –- we three haven’t outgrown, even after thirty-four years, and even after she is long gone…

This morning, as I was chatting with my friend, Malabika, I remembered this cute sweater, handknit by aunty Lilly for our newborn –- and I found myself wondering: “Why couldn’t aunty simply walk into a store and pick one?”

I could hear a dozen well-meaning friends asking me the same thing: “Why can’t you simply get your note printed?”

In life, some things are so beautiful, when left to our natural intelligence, however slow they may move… They are our heartbeats… our soul songs…

Yes Sir, they are so beautiful, that way…






"We are too busy for the briefest of joys," says Margaret Oliphant.

 

GERALD D’CUNHA


Pic’s: 1. gettyimages.com

Video: Harfanmaula Films

 

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