For Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull is was flying. For Sania Mirza it is probably to be the best tennis player in the world. For me, I still don’t know.
Yes! I’m talking about the purpose of life. Why do you live? What is it that you wake up every morning for?
The Bible says to know it you’ll have to find and search for Jesus. For God. Because he created you. You cannot ask a tool what is was invented for. You can only ask its inventor what and how it to be used if you want to use it. Similarly, you cannot ask yourself what were you created for. You can ask it only to your creator.
The Geetha says it is to strive. To strive to compound yourself with Him. This striving can be anything you do. It may be by following religion, by worshipping what you do or else by pursuance of knowledge.
All these arguments are based on one common assumption. They’re based on the assumption that God exists. What if I challenge this assumption? What if I ask “where” is god? Or “is” there a god? Is there an answer?
There is an answer. But to find it one would have to widen his vision. His perspectives need to broaden. What he must ask is not “where” is god. What he must ask is “what” is god?
Magnificence, elegance, beauty, excellence are all but unfulfilling to answer this question. To put into a broader light just think which people do we compare to god? I’m sure no Indian has ever not heard the phrase “if cricket is a religion Sachin is god.”
Wonder why no other player was ever compared to God?
A woman with emphasized reproductive organs and an inviting charming face is often compared to a goddess. On porn sites she becomes “Sex goddess.”
Just go back to your nostalgic anecdotes. You will find one place where you felt your insignificance. It might be on a sea cliff watching a sun set. It might as well be in the sky when you peeped out of the window of your plane while flying or may even be something as small as someone’s eyes. What was it that you felt in those moments?
Imagine a place of all marble. White, smooth, natural marble. Mountains of marble all over you, where there is lonely you and silence. Silence but for the stream of white water that is flowing right in front of your eyes striking its own musical notes on your minds instrument. And you are there all alone on a moonlit winter night. How beautiful do you think the place will be? You must have begun wondering whether the place actually exists. The answer is it exists. Where, is a matter incontexual here.
If you have never been to a jungle, then open the closest encyclopedia on nature that you find. Watch images in it. The birds, animals and other creatures. The stalagmites and stalactites and other naturally occurring structures.
From Sachin’s and woman’s comparison to god and goddesses let us move on to idols of gods and goddesses. What do you find? An elephant headed human with four hands? A ten handed and serene faced lady riding a tiger? Royal looking blue bodied male sleeping leisurely on a huge snake?
What are all these? What do they signify? From Sachin to goddess called women, from women to nature, from nature to idols. They are all but various perceptions of perfect “somethings”.
No other batsman was ever compared to god. It’s the ease, the excellence, the elegance of Sachins strokes that gives him such a stature. Not every woman is compared to a goddess because not every one’s reproductive organs are almost perfect. They represent her stature because she has always been respected, worshipped and celebrated for her ability to give birth. To give birth to a new one is godly for this nature to go on.
Every creature, every sight, every feeling of vastness, of perfection, of ease and excellence in itself is god. God is not a different entity. He is not a mere person like you and me. And to excel, become vast, to expand and to exhibit excellence in something is what we must live for. To strive to be one with Him. With his excellence, His vastness, His ease and his perfection. This in itself is the purpose of every life. How to do it is what is left to us. Sports, Music, Literature, Art, Work, Be a good father, Mother, Sister, Lover is all it takes.
Prince…
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Experience of life!
I once wrote “Life is nothing but addiction to experiences.”
Do I still agree with it now?
Yes!
Only the vision has widened. Perspectives broadened.
Addiction to experiences makes you desire some of them. You “want” them to happen to you. This wanting is labeled as dream or fantasy.
To make these dreams and fantasies come true in real life, one forms strategies. Adopts schedules. Works day and night. In short, chases his dreams.
But all dreams cannot be chased. You can’t make everything happen to you. Some dreams require fortunes, some luck and some remain desires and fantasies only. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Not every one sleeps with a beautiful woman. But all have these desires. What we forget is that a desire may be a driving force, motivating factor of an individual but it does not always imply his or her ability to make it come true.
But have you ever wondered what’d happen if there’d been no dreams and desires to chase? No experiences?
The world is life. It exists for you only until you do. Once you perish the existence of world to you is insignificant. Life is addiction to experiences. You live only until you experience or desire to experience. What then are experiences?
Experience is nothing but motion. Something that makes you mentally or physically feel better/worse or same/different than what you normally are. To keep your mind and body in motion of better and worse, good and bad, same and different and at the same time achieving your goals is the purpose of one’s life. The moment your life becomes monotonous, same you lose the “experience of life” and that experience is what each one of us is here for.
Prince...
Do I still agree with it now?
Yes!
Only the vision has widened. Perspectives broadened.
Addiction to experiences makes you desire some of them. You “want” them to happen to you. This wanting is labeled as dream or fantasy.
To make these dreams and fantasies come true in real life, one forms strategies. Adopts schedules. Works day and night. In short, chases his dreams.
But all dreams cannot be chased. You can’t make everything happen to you. Some dreams require fortunes, some luck and some remain desires and fantasies only. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Not every one sleeps with a beautiful woman. But all have these desires. What we forget is that a desire may be a driving force, motivating factor of an individual but it does not always imply his or her ability to make it come true.
But have you ever wondered what’d happen if there’d been no dreams and desires to chase? No experiences?
The world is life. It exists for you only until you do. Once you perish the existence of world to you is insignificant. Life is addiction to experiences. You live only until you experience or desire to experience. What then are experiences?
Experience is nothing but motion. Something that makes you mentally or physically feel better/worse or same/different than what you normally are. To keep your mind and body in motion of better and worse, good and bad, same and different and at the same time achieving your goals is the purpose of one’s life. The moment your life becomes monotonous, same you lose the “experience of life” and that experience is what each one of us is here for.
Prince...
Friday, November 04, 2005
Price of Innocence...
“How are you vakil-saheb?” asked me the younger brother of my village’s sarpanch as we settled on the cowdung smoothened floor of his vast-spread Patil wada. Sambhu Patil as he was called. Sambhu, a short nick for his long name “Sambhaji” and “Patil” that meant “sarpanch” in marathi. I had long gotten my job and left the village 18yrs ago. I was an engineer and not a lawyer. But people of this village refuse changes. I was always supposed to be a lawyer because a farmer’s son is supposed to be a farmer here, no matter what he actually does and I was vakil saheb because my father was a lawyer.
“The harvest has been fine this year” he said just after calling the mother of his children to serve us with the raw milk that had touched only the glass we were to drink it from before being poured into our mouths. With those droplets of milk slid through the age-old memories of our childhood and youth. We as children had splashed the water in the village wells together, chased all creatures from chameleons to wolfs that came to eat sugarcanes in his farm and had also stolen onions, carrots and what-not from farms not our. As youths, I was the one who introduced him to whisky and he “tamasha” to me. We were so close that he would have made me suck that milk right from the buffalo’s nipples if he could, for fresh raw milk at sarpanch’s place is supposed to be an honor.
As the course of discussions moved towards more recent happenings, we came back to our own families after having completed a circle of politics, harvests and people. I was about to leave when suddenly I saw Radha standing at the door to touch my feet. She was wearing a mangalsutra and sindoor on her head. I was shocked for she was merely fifteen! She had not even completed her first 10 years of education and she was already married! How could my friend have done such a thing when he was known to be the most prudent man in the village? I had to get to the bottom of this, I thought. And so, I asked Sambhu. He didn’t seem very pleased but he couldn’t refuse for I was too close to him for it.
“My elder son has turned nineteen” he said, “but is very well built and seems to be handsome. Brides from very wealthy homes had already started asking for him. A party from neighboring village was ready to offer 1 lakh as dowry and was also from a political background like ours. You know how bhaiyya is. He thought it would be politically very advantageous to marry him in that household. It would wipe one of his very close competitors off and that party also had some far relation with us. He had to be married and it had to be them.
It was about the same time when Radha had her first menstrual cycle. What would people say if I married off her brother keeping an of age girl at home? After a little search we found this party from Shirdhon. They had everything; a well to do house hold, some land in the town and a handsome young lad who’d read till the 14th grade. We married both, my son and daughter, on the same muhurta.”
“Oh! Then howcome she’s here today? Has she come for Diwali?” I asked.
“No” said he, “she will be here only now, always.”
I did not understand but he knew he had to explain from the enquiring look in my eyes.
“She ran away on the suhaag raat”
“Did they beat her? Or demanded more dowry?…what?”
“No”
“Then…”
“He was continuously trying to touch her breast. All night she kept getting away and he kept coming closer. He asked her to remove her clothes. She thought it was all ugly and inhuman of him to treat her that way. We all tried to explain it to her but she did not understand. She is so scared, she refuses to go back.”
“Don’t worry” I said, “she will go when she knows what that was.”
“She will never know it saheb, that boy has already remarried and she is to stay with us here always hereafter.”
“You can remarry her!”
“No saheb, who will marry a girl who has spent night with a man? she is to be here with us, always!”
For the first time in 30yrs that I knew Sambhu, I left his place with a lump in the throat, tears in the eyes and nothing but sympathy in my heart for Radha, for I alone could do nothing, change nothing.
Prince...
“The harvest has been fine this year” he said just after calling the mother of his children to serve us with the raw milk that had touched only the glass we were to drink it from before being poured into our mouths. With those droplets of milk slid through the age-old memories of our childhood and youth. We as children had splashed the water in the village wells together, chased all creatures from chameleons to wolfs that came to eat sugarcanes in his farm and had also stolen onions, carrots and what-not from farms not our. As youths, I was the one who introduced him to whisky and he “tamasha” to me. We were so close that he would have made me suck that milk right from the buffalo’s nipples if he could, for fresh raw milk at sarpanch’s place is supposed to be an honor.
As the course of discussions moved towards more recent happenings, we came back to our own families after having completed a circle of politics, harvests and people. I was about to leave when suddenly I saw Radha standing at the door to touch my feet. She was wearing a mangalsutra and sindoor on her head. I was shocked for she was merely fifteen! She had not even completed her first 10 years of education and she was already married! How could my friend have done such a thing when he was known to be the most prudent man in the village? I had to get to the bottom of this, I thought. And so, I asked Sambhu. He didn’t seem very pleased but he couldn’t refuse for I was too close to him for it.
“My elder son has turned nineteen” he said, “but is very well built and seems to be handsome. Brides from very wealthy homes had already started asking for him. A party from neighboring village was ready to offer 1 lakh as dowry and was also from a political background like ours. You know how bhaiyya is. He thought it would be politically very advantageous to marry him in that household. It would wipe one of his very close competitors off and that party also had some far relation with us. He had to be married and it had to be them.
It was about the same time when Radha had her first menstrual cycle. What would people say if I married off her brother keeping an of age girl at home? After a little search we found this party from Shirdhon. They had everything; a well to do house hold, some land in the town and a handsome young lad who’d read till the 14th grade. We married both, my son and daughter, on the same muhurta.”
“Oh! Then howcome she’s here today? Has she come for Diwali?” I asked.
“No” said he, “she will be here only now, always.”
I did not understand but he knew he had to explain from the enquiring look in my eyes.
“She ran away on the suhaag raat”
“Did they beat her? Or demanded more dowry?…what?”
“No”
“Then…”
“He was continuously trying to touch her breast. All night she kept getting away and he kept coming closer. He asked her to remove her clothes. She thought it was all ugly and inhuman of him to treat her that way. We all tried to explain it to her but she did not understand. She is so scared, she refuses to go back.”
“Don’t worry” I said, “she will go when she knows what that was.”
“She will never know it saheb, that boy has already remarried and she is to stay with us here always hereafter.”
“You can remarry her!”
“No saheb, who will marry a girl who has spent night with a man? she is to be here with us, always!”
For the first time in 30yrs that I knew Sambhu, I left his place with a lump in the throat, tears in the eyes and nothing but sympathy in my heart for Radha, for I alone could do nothing, change nothing.
Prince...
Saturday, October 29, 2005
That's Life!
It’s almost midnight. Jim is lying in his bed. He’s not trying to sleep. Who wants to miss that precious moment in his life when he’s turning 18? He too is all willing to get that license and hear the roaring engines firing at 90 miles an hour as he rides his first car on the freeway. He’s sure Sarah will sit beside him clinging to him tightly before they have their first kiss and as of now he’s clutching his cell phone tightly hoping it to ring and beep as his peers call him in a few seconds.
Jim isn’t any different from you and me. He’s just like all of us and questions like “why do we live?” or “why are we born?” don’t haunt him. He considers them weird and unanswerable just like you and me. They are for him unimportant. Though he doesn’t think about them do you know what he’s doing as he’s lying there? He’s thinking about how much freedom is that stroke of midnight going to give him. He’s thinking about his future and the new experiences it will get him.
We all come in this world without much of a choice. We can’t choose our parents, we can’t choose our appearances and neither do we have a choice of our innate qualities or tendencies whether good or bad. But there’s one more fact. We don’t have a choice to die either. Most of us are too afraid of committing suicide. In other words we just don’t have the guts. So here we are. Left with decades and sometimes a century of time with not much of choice and so we are forced. Forced to live.
In these decades of forced vacation called life, we start finding ways to spend it. Some people use their qualities and tendencies. Some develop them from others. We label these ways in several forms. Some call it love, some profession, some passion and some…don’t know what!. In short we all have to find something to do because ultimately we have no choice.
Long journeys have to have halts and breaks. So we go away from our passions and have experiences. People don’t get addicted to alcohol or drugs. They are not addicted to sex. They get addicted to experiences of them. There are so many experiences here. Everyone is addicted to a different experience. This addiction to experiences is what we call life. And its so strong to get rid off that by the time we can only form a list of these experiences, our time here is over! And that’s life!
Whether having these experiences is good or bad, or what leads to heaven or hell isn’t for us to decide. If god exists, he will take care of it. Make justice. Find the best way to spend your vacation here. That’s all. Don’t ever cry about yesterday. Be happy because you have today. You may not have a tomorrow to think about it. Some people die in a day, some in weeks. Some old, some young and no one knows when the time is over.
THPrince
Jim isn’t any different from you and me. He’s just like all of us and questions like “why do we live?” or “why are we born?” don’t haunt him. He considers them weird and unanswerable just like you and me. They are for him unimportant. Though he doesn’t think about them do you know what he’s doing as he’s lying there? He’s thinking about how much freedom is that stroke of midnight going to give him. He’s thinking about his future and the new experiences it will get him.
We all come in this world without much of a choice. We can’t choose our parents, we can’t choose our appearances and neither do we have a choice of our innate qualities or tendencies whether good or bad. But there’s one more fact. We don’t have a choice to die either. Most of us are too afraid of committing suicide. In other words we just don’t have the guts. So here we are. Left with decades and sometimes a century of time with not much of choice and so we are forced. Forced to live.
In these decades of forced vacation called life, we start finding ways to spend it. Some people use their qualities and tendencies. Some develop them from others. We label these ways in several forms. Some call it love, some profession, some passion and some…don’t know what!. In short we all have to find something to do because ultimately we have no choice.
Long journeys have to have halts and breaks. So we go away from our passions and have experiences. People don’t get addicted to alcohol or drugs. They are not addicted to sex. They get addicted to experiences of them. There are so many experiences here. Everyone is addicted to a different experience. This addiction to experiences is what we call life. And its so strong to get rid off that by the time we can only form a list of these experiences, our time here is over! And that’s life!
Whether having these experiences is good or bad, or what leads to heaven or hell isn’t for us to decide. If god exists, he will take care of it. Make justice. Find the best way to spend your vacation here. That’s all. Don’t ever cry about yesterday. Be happy because you have today. You may not have a tomorrow to think about it. Some people die in a day, some in weeks. Some old, some young and no one knows when the time is over.
THPrince
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Why...?
Why is she always a princess?
And he a knight?
Why does she always sleep on rose petals
While he has to fight?
Why has she to be rich?
And he always poor?
Why she b'ful and he always sore?
Why are her parents always obstinate?
Why is he always so passionate?
Why does his heart always break?
Or if it doesnt...
Why do they die at their love's stake?
Why isnt romance ever any different?
Are common hearts any less fervent?
Why do they exchange always their hearts
When it all happens in the mind?
Oh! I'm tired! Why dont the author something better find!
The Happy Prince
And he a knight?
Why does she always sleep on rose petals
While he has to fight?
Why has she to be rich?
And he always poor?
Why she b'ful and he always sore?
Why are her parents always obstinate?
Why is he always so passionate?
Why does his heart always break?
Or if it doesnt...
Why do they die at their love's stake?
Why isnt romance ever any different?
Are common hearts any less fervent?
Why do they exchange always their hearts
When it all happens in the mind?
Oh! I'm tired! Why dont the author something better find!
The Happy Prince
Have You Ever....?
Have you ever smelt roses with you first breath on a winter morning?
Have you ever slept gazing at the wonder of stars on a clear night with a vacant
mind…oblivious of time?
Have you ever slept in your mother’s arms at 17 feeling the warmth of her body and that
that moment should never end?
Have you ever stood at a cliff in twilight in windy dusk feeling the poverty and wealth of
your being at the same time?
Have somebody’s eyes made you feel tremendously joyful and sorrowed at the same
time?
Have you ever loved something without knowing and wanting to know its reason?
Have you ever felt like possessing, owning and setting something free at the same time?
Have you ever felt pleasure spending nights mesmerized in your past?
Have you ever felt the desire to desire nothing?
Have you ever…Felt God?
The Happy Prince
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Why Law...?
“Don’t leave the school until I come to take you!” warned my mom for the zillionth time that day before she scooted back home after leaving me at my school. Monday had seen me leaving school to head home without the knowledge of any teacher or peer. When I reached home my mother had actually rung my dad up to “look into the matter!”. She was more worried about a five year old strolling on the streets to find a way home than about my 1st standard classes that I was, almost regularly, bunking. That day, even after evading periods that used to be only 35 minutes long I had the misfortune of compulsorily attending a lecture that was, I think, at least a century long. Those periods at school, I thought, were at least of 7 different subjects but this single lecture was only about “the incidences that could happen to lonely strolling five year olds on the city streets.”
I was warned that day that I just could not walk alone on any street! Huh!
Tuesday was even more boring for me…not only was I dropped at school again but I also had to find some other way home at recess; and this time evading the teachers and lobbying someone else in class to come with me so that I wont be “alone on the streets!”
I have a considerable influence on ordinary looking girls even today. It was the same in those days. I chose a girl on the second desk of my row to try the trick. I knew she would come with me with a little pleading and that she stayed close to my house. I gave my best and ALAS! She agreed and we flew again in recess without being spotted even by the gate peon !
When I reached home that day I was actually pasted, grounded and experimented with all sorts of things that ostensibly good moms and dads do. I did not understand what had I committed that was so serious. “I did not come alone!” I had kept protesting at my dinner time trial. It didn’t bother me that my mom was cross or that dad was worried. I actually thought the day had been far more thrilling and filled with challenges than the boring school where we were taught about road safety rules only to not be strolling on them!
What had bothered my parents this time was that “my presence” was actually so contagious that it could prompt even others to join me. My mom actually had to go to the girl’s place and apologize.
And now my mom’s line from “don’t come alone” had metamorphosed to “don’t leave the school until I come to take you.” “My god!” I had thought. “Now I actually had to design a way for mom to come and fetch me!”
At about the same time the next day my mom somehow got a message that I was sick and my teachers waited for my guardian’s arrival to fetch me. It was delivered by my senior [seniors were allowed out during recess.]
My mom arrived at school only to witness me running around with my peers in the middle of a chor- police game! When she thought of the message being delivered by my senior and not by any person authorized by school and also that my latest “Sachin Tendulkar” note book was missing she understood everything! Now that she had come I insisted her to take me home and she did!
The moral of the story is not that I am shameless and keep doing things even after being pasted or in spite of being kept grounded. It is that I can be good lawyer because I could find loopholes and arrange get aways in my mom’s rule even at the age of five! That is why I chose to be a lawyer!…
The Happy Prince
I was warned that day that I just could not walk alone on any street! Huh!
Tuesday was even more boring for me…not only was I dropped at school again but I also had to find some other way home at recess; and this time evading the teachers and lobbying someone else in class to come with me so that I wont be “alone on the streets!”
I have a considerable influence on ordinary looking girls even today. It was the same in those days. I chose a girl on the second desk of my row to try the trick. I knew she would come with me with a little pleading and that she stayed close to my house. I gave my best and ALAS! She agreed and we flew again in recess without being spotted even by the gate peon !
When I reached home that day I was actually pasted, grounded and experimented with all sorts of things that ostensibly good moms and dads do. I did not understand what had I committed that was so serious. “I did not come alone!” I had kept protesting at my dinner time trial. It didn’t bother me that my mom was cross or that dad was worried. I actually thought the day had been far more thrilling and filled with challenges than the boring school where we were taught about road safety rules only to not be strolling on them!
What had bothered my parents this time was that “my presence” was actually so contagious that it could prompt even others to join me. My mom actually had to go to the girl’s place and apologize.
And now my mom’s line from “don’t come alone” had metamorphosed to “don’t leave the school until I come to take you.” “My god!” I had thought. “Now I actually had to design a way for mom to come and fetch me!”
At about the same time the next day my mom somehow got a message that I was sick and my teachers waited for my guardian’s arrival to fetch me. It was delivered by my senior [seniors were allowed out during recess.]
My mom arrived at school only to witness me running around with my peers in the middle of a chor- police game! When she thought of the message being delivered by my senior and not by any person authorized by school and also that my latest “Sachin Tendulkar” note book was missing she understood everything! Now that she had come I insisted her to take me home and she did!
The moral of the story is not that I am shameless and keep doing things even after being pasted or in spite of being kept grounded. It is that I can be good lawyer because I could find loopholes and arrange get aways in my mom’s rule even at the age of five! That is why I chose to be a lawyer!…
The Happy Prince
Being Great!
On one of the dreary of many afternoons that I spent in the beautiful land of Goa, I settle or rather roll on my divan to stretch for my remote. As I switch the television set on and travel through the mazes of different television channels, a face suddenly catches my attention. Its deep blue-green eyes and the organ which to us is known as lips but on it was like the petals of rose and the opulence in the over all look, the elegance of manner and style of its talk and gestures incept in me, an emotion, which as I had then experienced and as I still recollect, was as novel to me then as the newly grown small silky hair of fur between my nose and lips. I did not then know that I was to be obsessed with that face for about 5 more yrs of life and I was also confused as all adolescents are…whether that emotion was love or attraction? Though love, as I today feel, was close to the meaning I would love to convey but attraction sounds to dry…too creepy!
This woman, who ever she was had without her or my knowledge created a bond in my heart which I am to hold to for the rest of my life as have previous generations held on to Madhubala and Marlyn Munroe. As by description, it by now must have been clear that this woman was none other than Aishwarya Rai but the motive of this article is not repeating the cliché which has already carved its niche in the 33% male hearts all over the world. This article is not about the beauty’s beauty but about greatness as it will divulge in the later half!
Recently a question was raised on the forum when Aish’s wax statue was incepted in madam Tussaud’s hall of fame that whether she was “great enough” to be in that hall….And me, to whom that woman means much more than just another painted face of Bollywood and who gave me that first instinct in that age which so required for a boy to turn into a man, stood against her without any hesitation. The gist of my argument being “she was not great because her beauty was nature’s gift to her as are my pimples to me! There cannot be anything great in it…she certainly deserves the credit but only for maintaining what she has got!” said I. But later I really wanted to ask myself what exactly greatness was? And what it meant to be “great enough”? These are the questions that I will try to answer in the later half of this article!
Nigara Falls or Mount Everest for instance too are natural, and as a matter of fact they don’t even have to maintain themselves! But still I feel they are great…”great enough” to be even in the seven wonders of the world. But why then is this beauty who appears to have been born out of ivory and rose leaves not great? ...even after maintaining herself so long?
Akshay Kumar’s Kicks, flying kicks especially are popular and so are Jackie Chan’s stunts but why then is Bruce Lee greater than these too?
Gandhiji was great and “great enough” to be anywhere on this earth, it was not his appearance or actions that made him great…it was the compound of elements, of those principles which he thought of and did preach. Which he, himself, with all religious fervour, practiced. It is not just the philosophy. It is the eccentricity in it that worked for him. If it had only been for the philosophy in it, I do not think that he’d achieve what he did. The fact that it worked for a nation’s independence is what made him greater.
Bruce Lee was fast, furious and it required special cameras for his stunts to be shot, as they were, in those days too fast for the then existing technology of cameras. It was him through which the common man saw and experienced what karate or martial art was though with some exaggeration. Jackie Chan or Akshay Kumar are only the copies, replicas or remixes to suit the modern times the act for which Bruce Lee was renowned and hence they do not command the same respect.
Greatness, I believe is a combination of eccentricity and respect. Eccentricity that commands respect rather! It is in the context in which one has been eccentric and has been respected for it that matters. It is a matter of being “great enough” that how one uses his virtues of eccentricity to command respect. Aishwarya Rai though is eccentric in her beauty, has failed in commanding that respect through her actions, through her profession…she is not great and neither “great enough” but certainly and only beautiful!
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