The world has seen Gandhis and Mandelas. With ll due respect, hats go off to their ulterior motives that changes the courses of mankind on a grotesque level. However, when it comes to the worldliness, the whole concept of 'work' & a man's definition that's conceded on the work he does & the way his life revolves around the work he does always eludes me.
1/3 - all it boils down to that fraction. 8 hours a day. All our lives. 1/3rd life a man lives, he works. To win his bread. His existence. Survival. Things might have been good if those were the only ones that could have been bought by work. It just has gone beyond. Overboard. Suffocatingly overwhelming.
Peer-peer relations are rather plasticized I would say. This thought struck me as I was coming back home from work & Mike Rosenberg sang in all his glory - "I walk past the businessmen, sleeping like babies in their cars." While the song always made me nostalgic for where I chose to emigrate from in search of love; London will always be special to me. That lyric depicted a London night succinctly.
First things first - coming back to 'work' & its correlation with a man's presence and his toke of being acknowledged by his peers, I find it absurd to determine the amount of respect he is entitled to receive stays directly proportional to the multi-national presence of his employer and the number of zeroes that are expected to be added endlessly on his pay cheque. I honestly didn't understand the gist but sadly, I live in a world where making peace with incomprehensible things makes life livable.
The thing that my chest was swollen with pride when a nameless commercial Telugu movie had its protagonist shouting out witty one liners about Dignity of Labor. Rebellion without a cause always gets bolstered by wit, I say. It does & so it did back then. But when Dignity of Labor is looked back at with rationale now, it enlivens a hope for Utopia.
I consider its the approach of a man to the incidents he gets subjected to, directly or indirectly - shapes him into what he actually is. His reaction to all such incidents. Each incident like a snow of flake being deposited on the mount of snow on a snowy London afternoon. Tonnes of it together forms a berg - A Man.
Let me save nobility for Gandhis & Mandelas. For us, the mere beings, the common men, lets welcome our hearts, gut & substance define us. Not the one-third of our lives. We acquire education, skill to prepare ourselves to work to make a living. Not to earn one. To make a life, work's plenty I suppose. To earn one, hearts should enter the ring.
Work is work & we are not always what we do. We are what we think we are too.
1/3 - all it boils down to that fraction. 8 hours a day. All our lives. 1/3rd life a man lives, he works. To win his bread. His existence. Survival. Things might have been good if those were the only ones that could have been bought by work. It just has gone beyond. Overboard. Suffocatingly overwhelming.
Peer-peer relations are rather plasticized I would say. This thought struck me as I was coming back home from work & Mike Rosenberg sang in all his glory - "I walk past the businessmen, sleeping like babies in their cars." While the song always made me nostalgic for where I chose to emigrate from in search of love; London will always be special to me. That lyric depicted a London night succinctly.
First things first - coming back to 'work' & its correlation with a man's presence and his toke of being acknowledged by his peers, I find it absurd to determine the amount of respect he is entitled to receive stays directly proportional to the multi-national presence of his employer and the number of zeroes that are expected to be added endlessly on his pay cheque. I honestly didn't understand the gist but sadly, I live in a world where making peace with incomprehensible things makes life livable.
The thing that my chest was swollen with pride when a nameless commercial Telugu movie had its protagonist shouting out witty one liners about Dignity of Labor. Rebellion without a cause always gets bolstered by wit, I say. It does & so it did back then. But when Dignity of Labor is looked back at with rationale now, it enlivens a hope for Utopia.
I consider its the approach of a man to the incidents he gets subjected to, directly or indirectly - shapes him into what he actually is. His reaction to all such incidents. Each incident like a snow of flake being deposited on the mount of snow on a snowy London afternoon. Tonnes of it together forms a berg - A Man.
Let me save nobility for Gandhis & Mandelas. For us, the mere beings, the common men, lets welcome our hearts, gut & substance define us. Not the one-third of our lives. We acquire education, skill to prepare ourselves to work to make a living. Not to earn one. To make a life, work's plenty I suppose. To earn one, hearts should enter the ring.
Work is work & we are not always what we do. We are what we think we are too.
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