I have not blogged in a long time - I don’t know why I should do so again, when my paper diary sings its siren song with all those white pages. Maybe it’s the feeling of malleability that comes when you type. Writing in paper is final, which is its appeal. There are just times when you don’t know what is final and what is fleeting, though :/

The world’s been in a strange tailspin recently. So many good things have happened - my new posting, my new independence. New friends and newfound appreciation for my family. I’m getting the sense that I’m finally growing into responsibility. There’s been so much revisiting of the past. I am gripped with a new understanding of the changes that have taken place as I revisit old events - old photos that appear on my timeline, the same piece played at my first concert as a cellist appearing as an encore on what will be my last one. There’s some disappointment mixed in, but above all there is pride.

What else?

There’s a lot more to say, but words desert me now. 

If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that’s enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars.  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince, 1943

Does it?

Warning: unedited thoughts follow!

When we were handed the form for Expressing Interest in command school, the mood in the lecture theater was tense. For most of us, the recruits from the Enhanced Leadership batch aiming for Command school, it was something we took extremely seriously. Having seen different styles of leadership, both from our own company commanders, and from the commanders of other companies, we all had in our own heads an idea of our ideal commanders and we looked among our peers to see who fit those molds.

Yet, for me, it was emotional in a different sense. While we were supposed to be ranking only our peers, I could not help but apply the criteria listed for good commanders to myself, and the results came out rather lacking. I looked quietly at the traits listed under Perseverance, Influence amongst peers and the like, and mentally filed myself under “average” in each category. My first reaction was one of disappointment. Objectively, if others shared my views, that would mean a poor peer appraisal and hence a reduction in my chances of getting into Command school. The odds of me being put into the toughest training which would stretch my limits would be that much lower. But a second thought floated into my head soon after: why would I need to enter Command school to stretch myself?

Perhaps in part due to my lack of sporting talent from young and the worries of relatives, I’d always been endowed with a healthy fear of National Service and what came with it. For that reason, I’d gone into BMT with the expectation that I’d have to fight tooth and nail to survive, and with that expectation had come the coping mechanisms to deal with its implications. I would work at maximum efficiency to do things with the least effort. I would jettison activities I considered unimportant. During trainings, I would be quiet and focus my mind on improving my own ability. I would train hard until physical training became easy. And only then, I reasoned, would I have the energy and ability to turn my thought towards others. That was the reasoning behind wanting to enter Command school – I would toughen myself up and then impart that toughness to others. To each his own, according to his own ability.

Having my ability to lead and command coldly ranked on a piece of paper made me think further. Far from being disappointed at my weakness, I realized I was actually surprised at my own strength. A non-sporting weakling I may have been, but after examining my own feelings and commander traits, I could objectively say that I was coping well with BMT. Why then was I so paralyzed with my fear of not being able to survive?

This realization may seem small, but it has shaped my actions ever since. Since that day, I have become more conscious of the needs of others. I contributed more actively in group activities like area cleaning. I shouted, talked more cock and sang more enthusiastically during route marches to push the people at the back and take their minds off their tiredness. I thought I would be more tired but I found, to my surprise, that the best way of feeling less tired was to try and help the person next to you.

And in a way, that is what BMT signifies to me – a movement beyond one’s comfort zone to find one’s hidden potential. Yet BMT is but the start of my NS journey. In the same way, having seen what I can do, I am only inspired to push myself even further, not for my own benefit, but in helping others achieve their potential.

I used to think I was a cat person because I wasn’t comfortable showing my feelings in public. Then I realized I was a dog person because I appreciated unconditional love and unfettered affection. 

The latest in this chain of realizations is that being an animal simply isn’t enough and that one has to learn how to navigate the complex nuances of human relationships as well :)

There sits a bronze statue on the horizon,
holding his head in dappled hands. For now
the clouds stand still, no wheeling shadows
or flying sun comes to take the perfect day.
A little bird comes and makes a nest
in the cradle of arms so like a tree.
The rebar loops overhead
like a dome of filigreed silver.
The chicks grow up black-and-white.
The statue sits in silence.
The yellow yolk that is now his sun
will be the flame that leaves. If prisoners are caged
out of the heat of day,
then he is free.