THE QUIET LABOUR OF LEARNING

A reflective meditation on books, creativity, and the quiet human efforts that shape our lives. Through observations of reading habits, craftsmanship, and daily wonders, this piece explores how knowledge grows slowly—through patient toil, gentle curiosity, and attentive seeing.

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Last night I felt fatigued, and I slept early around ten o’clock.
Usually, I sleep near midnight, after reading quietly on the computer.

These nights follow a rhythm—office, dinner, then drifting into soft reading.
My time moves through vivid topics, new yet quietly widening my mind.
I try to know new realities, watching how people move through shifting worlds.
Each new thing opens horizons, lifting a thin curtain from understanding.

I visit sites of great books—fiction and non-fiction by renowned authors.
How many have I read? Yet their excerpts always appeal deeply within.
Whatever touches my mind, I download and keep in my collection.
The Net holds countless books, and my Books folder grows richer steadily.

Not all downloaded books get read; reading demands its own patient rhythm.
Sometimes I open one briefly, letting a few pages settle my thoughts.
Some I print, since hard copies bring steadier, deeper understanding.
But my shelves are full, struggling to hold new printed books.

My cupboards have shelves—upper parts for display, lower for storing files.
Books rest behind books, forgotten after long intervals of quiet neglect.
Whatever lies in sight becomes the next companion for reading.
I choose randomly, reading a little depending on the passing hour.

I read many books fully; others remain half-read yet partly understood.
Their main contents stay with me, even if reading pauses midway.
When time allows, I revisit them for a clearer & deeper understanding.
Non-fiction rarely needs continuity; it can be resumed without difficulty.

Fiction needs a steady flow; beginning midway weakens its world & rhythm.
It must start at the beginning to regain its pulse and plot.
Many fiction books lie half-read, uncertain whether I will finish them.
Great books require time, and both mind and body must agree.

Books are wonderful tools, opening silent worlds inside us gently.
We meet authors directly, as if their thoughts whisper into ours.
Sometimes we agree; sometimes their ideas challenge our inner beliefs.
But we keep what resonates, shaping our personality quietly within.

Knowledge spreads everywhere, maybe our time & capacity are limited.
Creators are like us, but few dare pursue ideas with toil.
Creation & ingenuity need courage, refined through years of practice.
Records remain as an inheritance, carried across generations silently.

Idols, carvings, buildings, artworks, potteries—all shaped with devotion.
Hands & minds move with dexterity when forming something meaningful.
Their motions may look common, yet practice makes them miraculous.
Behind each object lies honest effort, rarely noticed by passing eyes.

Every person is unique, carrying original traits shaped naturally within.
He generates new thoughts and performs wonders during daily living.
We overlook such ingenuity, thinking life is only livelihood & routine.
Yet daily life hides amazements, if we pause and observe gently.

I wished to see colours, tools, cushions, furniture, crafted by human hands.
Individual or collective, every creation becomes a quiet part of the world.
Each year, countless idols of Ganesha & Durga are shaped and immersed.
Many vanish in waters; only a few stay preserved in homes and temples.

See the weaver bird’s nest, the sparrow’s song, the spider’s fragile web.
Amazements surround us; we only need regard and a softened gaze.
Creativity breathes through daily living, whether we notice it or not.
We should honour others’ creations and let them enrich our thoughts.

Writing, too, is creation—quietly shaping reflections into lasting form.
There are thousands of books; readers choose according to time and taste.
Many turn ordinary, overshadowed by better and deeper material.
Yet every creator is serious, giving their best to their work.

Everyone has different levels of skill, yet diversity deserves respect.
Every person tries to create something new and marvellous in his way.
Many works look ordinary, but behind them lie sincere human toil.
With time, all things fade, slipping quietly into forgotten corners.

Our ideas, books, and creations also drift into the past someday.
Yet even small recognition brings solace, honouring the effort once offered.
New people arrive with new things; older ones make space for fresh work.
But they, too, were like us, doing the same sincere human endeavour.
Some ideas endure long, carrying the strength of rare, lasting brilliance.

 

 

Pawan Kumar,

24th November, 2025, Monday, 3:30 PM 

(From my Jaipur Diary 9 September 2016, Friday, 6:49 A.M.)