COLD BLOOD AND EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE!

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, yes I need to heave a deep sigh!
I don’t really know if I’m in a position to do justice to the topic I’ve chosen to write on. Nonetheless I’ll give it a try. To start with I see no connection between ‘cold blood’/‘cold blooded’ and ‘emotional intelligence’. Emotional intelligence or EI according to Wikipedia is the ability to identify, assess and manage the emotions of one and others. An emotionally intelligent person can detect emotions in faces and harness them, even negative ones to achieve intended goals. In other words EI is all about kindness, generosity and support. These days it’s a therapy that provides disempowered people with compassion and empathy to accept and combat harsh reality.

‘Cold blood’/ ‘cold blooded’ on the other hand is all about negativity. It means lacking feeling or emotion. The suitable adjectives for ‘cold blooded’ are inhuman, insensate, callous, cold, brutal, ruthless, heartless, merciless, dispassionate, pitiless, unfeeling and cruel. It also means having a body temperature that can change according to the temperature of the surrounding, just like fish and amphibians. That would be a metamorphosis to remember but I’m glad not to have such a cold, cold heart or is it blood?

The topic under scrutiny is about experimenting with Emotional Intelligence in ‘cold blood’ and that’s what I fail to understand because going by the definition the two are ‘stark opposites’. To be ‘cold blooded’ one needs no emotion and no intelligence, it’s all about insensitivity, brutality and callousness. Since there’s no feeling or consideration, no precision of time or place or occasion is needed. There’s no reflection either.

Well, to be able to find any link between the two is like searching for a needle in a haystack, therefore I give up. Further reasoning will lead to insanity and that's a heavy price to pay.

PERPLEXED

These days I’m into analyzing and understanding the ‘Cornerstones of Language Testing’ and that’s brought a very interesting fact to mind;that there is a very close connection between tests in the real world and in the world of classrooms. I’ve also begun to understand the necessity for human beings to be exposed to the traumatizing effects of test taking at a very tender stage. What I mean is that they have to learn to face, accept and deal with success and failure at the very start, that’s the most essential tool for survival!It’s also essential to understand why the word ‘test’ is a terror word. The emotions that any test arouses are one of fear, sleepless nights and worry. It constantly plays at the back of the mind and whether you make an effort or not to prepare, it’ll continue to gnaw you with some degree of intensity.That depends on one's level of sensitivity. The aftermath may be positive but the initial stage is without doubt stressful. This is with regard to the effects of ‘tests’ prepared by an expert to ‘test’ your proficiency, efficiency, suitability and so on in a specific field or area. But, how about the real tests of life? Do we have such an opportunity? Can we prove our worth or suitability? Why is such a thing as ‘mental prep” denied? Why are those difficult situations just thrown at us at random when superficial tests are so pain staking prepared and every element in it questioned? Those subject specific tests once prepared goes through stages and levels of scrutiny to prove its appropriacy, validity, reliability, accuracy and authenticity. There are many more terms to it , they can fill all the pages of a book and yet require more space. Therefore, the least mentioned is better.
How about the validity of real life tests? Why does it catch us unaware? Why are we impelled to accept it without any questions asked? Why is there is no question for its unpredictability? And, why do we always need a test to prove our credibility? Don't we already know that life will go on, tests or no tests? In what way do these nerve wrecking tests add to our experience?

They say truth is far from reality but why does it have to so?
Man has been ever so willing to decipher and answer every query, conquer every land be it above or under sea level, high up in the sky or out of it but why are some areas still mysterious? Why are there questions with no satisfying answers?
Why does the word ‘why’ play such an important role in our lives and for how long do we endure with the semi satisfying answer? Many and most of the time we succumb to these tests, how valid is that reaction? Is life really precious then?Or is living worth all the tests?
A friend of mine is willing to share her knowledge of 'Emotional Intelligence' and hopefully that might provide a few acceptable answers if not all. Well, 'Artificial Intelligence' failed so one should not have too much hope.
“Is it ‘hope’ or ‘dope’ or ‘rope’?”
The above quoted line is from A. K Ramanujan’s short story, “Out of Business” I read at school in the days of yore.
At least my memory hasn’t failed me, I should be grateful for that.

Nirlok's story....' My Talent'

My best talent is in singing because everyone says I sing the best! I learn singing at school, my teacher teaches me how to sing. I sing in my best voice. I can sing many songs. My favourite song is , 'Mama Mia'. I sing it everytime. I watch the movie so I don't forget the song. I sing on stage very proudly.
Everybody likes me when I sing.

In a distant Land.

Destiny and fate are all about acceptance.
I was born in a ‘hilltop’ house (as my son calls it), wrapped in nature, snuggled between mountains and pines. My childhood memories are of tea bushes, the immaculate stone bungalow, rugged stone paths, the brooks and springs, wild berries, aromatic neighbourhood kitchens that was open to all, flickering lights of distant houses , the Tibetan incense and my grandmother’s incessant, ‘Om Mani Padme Hung’. Three things that are distinct in my mind’s eye are my grandmother’s large hands, her prayer beads (thenga) and the prayer wheel or the ‘Mani Khorlo’. The prayer beads and prayer wheel have stood the test of time but not my grandmother. All that remains are memories, just plain memories.

Today, that house stands renovated and strong to beat all odds but my relationship with my homeland has changed. I’m a stranger, more of a guest in my own land that needs formal invitation even to spend few hours. The hills and the brooks beckon no doubt but I have obligations far more serious. As Robert Frost said, ‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep’, it’s a similar situation for me. How I wish I could go back to my ‘hill top' house and live life in ruggedness being one with nature but that is far from reality. That which was once familiar and so much a part of me breeds distance. That house in his warm room I was born is more of a tourist lodge where I go once a year to rejuvenate my tired senses. However in that brevity of time, I make every effort to relive my past and once more become 'innocent' and 'pure'. It’s momentary I know yet do do it for personal satisfaction and solace. It’s my desperate effort to take in as much as I can of my root.
People of my homeland consider me one among the fortunate to be venturing in a distant land, achieving success and fame but that’s their innocence speaking. Little do they the turmoil of my heart and the longing of my soul for the pines, the gentle morning breeze, the milkmaid at the doorstep at the break of dawn, friendly neighbors ever willing to offer freshly brewed tea , the buzz and giggle of neighbourhood children walking to school,rain or sun and my grandmother’s ever soothing ‘OM MANI PADME HUNG’.

A Song...

The voice is a melody of a song composed in the serene silence of a hazy morn enveloped in grey mist.

The crimson rhododendron carpets the Earth with purple-red petals
that nauseates the senses with its tanginess.

The long slender bamboo rustles and sways in absolute harmony like in a dance.

The ever flowing water of the gurling brook knows no beginning and no end.

These and only these can bring forth such a song.

FALSITY

The name is a chant
The face a solace
The smile a sustenance
and the memory, a resolve
For a forward strife; thorny and barbed.
Yet, there’s hope and light.
For a promise is a promise.
It’s a word of a man and a man doesn’t fall by his word

'HIDE AND SEEK'

In the distant hill which is my haven, the Sun perennially plays, ‘hide and seek’ and fools people who are at Nature’s mercy. And, it seems to enjoy every bit of its prank! In the wee hours of morn the Sun’s rays forcefully makes way through little spaces between wooden beams and glass panes to the cozy dim lit rooms to proclaim its arrival and disturb their slumber.
Since bright sunny days are rare sight, people grab every moment of it. Every house is a buzz with activities that can only be done on such a day. Cloth lines are overflowing with mildewed , damp and washed clothes put out to dry and crisp in the natural heat .The close knit neighborhood is more like a ‘dhobi’s yard with clothes, clothes and more clothes. Everyday wear and fineries are ‘aired’ for the dampness to vanish. Everything possible is ‘sunned’, from suitcases to books to furniture to crockery to shoes to food items. Every door and window is open for the ‘warm blessed rays ‘to penetrate and take away the winter cold. Every face is a smile of accomplishment!
Sadly the accomplishment is short lived. The Sun is enveloped by thick black clouds making a sudden but bold appearance. It’s like the two are battling. Soon the faces vanish and everything is brought in lest the big natural water droplets wet them. The jovial mood is no longer jovial; it’s irritable and unpredictable, just like the weather,
Looks like the people of my home town are conditioned by the weather that blesses them with all four seasons in a day.