This thought popped up in my mind few months back when I was in France. Indian heritage is richest in the world. Swarm of articles, word of mouth and long articles on shelf prove it. I do agree with this and I am proud too. But lately, I have started feeling as if I am faking. Charity begins at home and is tethered here for ever.
As a child, we are told to respect elders, love younger ones and be friendly with the people of our age. We are taught to be kind, gentle and filled our hearts and minds with the best of words found in dictionary that describe humanity. Everyone applauds when you give a glass of water to the guests, parents give you a coin alongwith the prasad to the poor people sitting out side the temple. I remember how much our neighbors used to praise me and my brother whenever she found us helping mamma in setting up the dinner table. I do not know how much her words affected my brother but my heart used to be like over-filled balloon and I tried not to leave any empty space in offering her water, tea etc. :-P
With all these values, we are brought up and a constant feeling of being in this beautiful world prevails us until we start facing the real world outside home. I remember how difficult it was for me to cross the road to reach my uncle's home in the middle of the busiest market in Kurukshetra. It was eleventh standard I guess when mamma asked me to cross the road and bring some stuff from my Uncle's home while she was waiting in the car. I had almost frustrated her as it took me 10 complete minutes to cross the 5 meters wide road. That road like any other road in Indian town market is full of scooters, hawkers, bikes, cycles etc. There I lost the theory of look towards right and left and then cross the road. After that I started showing my hands and crossed the roads like an angry ox.
Few more events happened during my graduation days that taught me even more practical approaches and gathered the theoretical and ideal stuff, directed to deep slumbers. The time came, when I started boarding roadways buses all alone or with the friends. It was the second time when I got a frustrated stare from my parents. We stood at the bus stop when two buses came and I could not board them because of the crowd around. Both the buses stopped and the view from outside proved that the bus had more capacity than specified by the manufacturers. Like usual Haryana Roadways buses those were over-crowded and equal number of passengers were struggling to get into the bus. But idea of jostling and climbing over people to get inside did not appeal me. The third bus came and I heard from behind, Nimisha board this one now else miss your class. The words gave me the kinetic energy and failed the potential I had built in my mind regarding the respectful queue system, like a crazy monkey I got into the bus.
I finished my college and went out for my first job. Now, my mind started understanding the difference between a fair-weather friend and a friend, blood-relations and the namesake relations and above all whom to love and whom to like. I truly believe that hostel life teaches you who you are more than how others are. But outside world is far different from the protected walls of the educational institutions. I do not say it is bad. But it is tough and good. Good for you and best for the scope of growth you need. This is the time when slowly, you are taught to finish your tasks and then take out the helping hand for others. Society starts teaching you this and it is up to you how much do you afford.
At the age of 25, we start keeping a identity chip that we swipe in when get back home and swipe out while leaving home. All the charities we learn and earn are regulated by this. We become emotional, humble, helpful, loving and lovable at home and so afraid to be so outside our home.
I wonder sometimes where we are heading to. The Indian culture and rich values we learnt over the years, swings and dances inside home and a hot air gulps it outside. In the race of life, as an individual when we start conquering all the necessities of life, it seems we start loosing the fact that we belong to the soil of charities, courtesies, love and respect.
If I rotate the globe and focus on the west, I may find people five time divorced and children living in a strange identity crisis, who their parents are. But in a queue, older people are given priority. On the zebra-crossing, 10 minutes long project need not to be executed and a common belief in humanity is still a part of the culture.
I used to feel bad when Indians stay few years in west start cursing their own land. But a fact lies beneath all the depressions. I will not ever curse my land for these circumstances but because this is the high time when our own over-loaded mother seeks a helping hand. So, destroy the swipe-in-out machine and break the tethered charities. Let it come out, respect humanity and get the same....
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The “Livewire”
This weekend clubbed with Christmas was a long weekend and I was supposed to be alone this time. I had planned to wake up the dead poet inside me since I’ll be all alone at home. It really hurts when I see my self so emotional at one point and loosing it after the date changes :(. But fortunately or unfortunately my friend rang me and murdered my dream :-P.
So, I packed up all my stuff for a night stay and half-heartedly reached her home, the other end of Pune. Next bad news after reaching there was I had to play cricket and that too with people I did not know. “Who made this plan”, I asked with my sarcastic tone gathering roughness from the bottom of my heart. “Its me beautiful”, I heard a typical Techno-babes voice that is still hard for me to adapt after 2.5 years in IT industry. I turned around and I saw a girl in track pants with a full cup smile on her face. Her beautiful dark black hair tucked high with ruffle and grey T-shirt decently fitted her. My friend introduced me and she was my friend’s new room-mate. Then she took one step forward and here I noticed she limped. I could not believe this and I kept my focus on her next move and yes she had polio. Thousands of words struggled inside my nerves to describe her. I thought wait Nimisha, lets see her. I asked her that why did she think of a cricket match, who else is coming, I don’t know how to play and blah blah. She smiled at me and said I have never held bat in my hands. She took a pause and said that this is all organized just for change from the routine outings like movie and dinner on weekends. My friend Shivani took a deep sigh and told me this girl is restless. On that she swung both her eyebrows proudly.
Shivani told me that this whole week this girl convinced people to play, searched for a ground after a day long at office and arranged for all the cricket paraphernalia. Honestly speaking, I was ashamed of myself. I wondered how much do I lack the spirit and to be even more honest most of us. I recalled how most of us stick to bed when we are hurt or when it is hard to walk due to injury on leg or when there is a severe back-ache after long working hours. When I am hurt, I do not ever call anyone at home knowing the fact that mamma and papa would sense something is wrong. This is not my greatness. I would have called it great when I could keep my spirits high up even when hurt. These are the times when we loose our spirit and then something inside us brings all the reasons to be sad together making us realize that we are alone, miles away from home.
These thoughts completely prevailed me when Shivani brought me back with usual questions to the real world from the insane universe that lives inside me. Here she came with white cap on her head, a sporty three-fourth and a bat in her hands. She commanded her to come downstairs quickly as her friends have reached.
Finally, we were eight on the ground playing with 7th standard boys. It was a good match and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I never knew I could do balling or even strike a four :). But she was the one who volunteered first for all acts on the ground. Then we went out for balling and air hockey, I love the most. She was amazingly good in all!
We called it a day and came back home. I was lying on Shivani’s bed still searching for a word to describe her and this thought was running inside me with ever increasing speed. Suddenly, techno-babes voice broke the silence and asked me did you enjoy today? "Yes, I did", I said.
I got the word and the word is – “livewire”.
Now, we started talking about the other people in the group. Most of them passed out this year only and had lots of questions to ask me since we had met for the first time. Second reason for loving the day was somewhere down the line I have started enjoying being elder at office and at home. To me it feels so good to listen to juniors, knowing their fears, flirting going on with a new girl in team and the silly jokes. Agree..I am not so old but it is so good and a strange calmness blankets me because I am ahead of something. Though she is much senior to me, this thought of mine got the stamp of her consent too. “Livewire” now looked at me with a strange smile because my face to the strangers is not in congruence with the thoughts that reside inside me. I thanked God that we met. My mobile buzzed and we realized date is changed. She wished me with a beautiful smile, Good Night and left. Finally, the “livewire” entered the dream world to spark the life of the creatures there and to gather energy to enlighten the next morning.
So, I packed up all my stuff for a night stay and half-heartedly reached her home, the other end of Pune. Next bad news after reaching there was I had to play cricket and that too with people I did not know. “Who made this plan”, I asked with my sarcastic tone gathering roughness from the bottom of my heart. “Its me beautiful”, I heard a typical Techno-babes voice that is still hard for me to adapt after 2.5 years in IT industry. I turned around and I saw a girl in track pants with a full cup smile on her face. Her beautiful dark black hair tucked high with ruffle and grey T-shirt decently fitted her. My friend introduced me and she was my friend’s new room-mate. Then she took one step forward and here I noticed she limped. I could not believe this and I kept my focus on her next move and yes she had polio. Thousands of words struggled inside my nerves to describe her. I thought wait Nimisha, lets see her. I asked her that why did she think of a cricket match, who else is coming, I don’t know how to play and blah blah. She smiled at me and said I have never held bat in my hands. She took a pause and said that this is all organized just for change from the routine outings like movie and dinner on weekends. My friend Shivani took a deep sigh and told me this girl is restless. On that she swung both her eyebrows proudly.
Shivani told me that this whole week this girl convinced people to play, searched for a ground after a day long at office and arranged for all the cricket paraphernalia. Honestly speaking, I was ashamed of myself. I wondered how much do I lack the spirit and to be even more honest most of us. I recalled how most of us stick to bed when we are hurt or when it is hard to walk due to injury on leg or when there is a severe back-ache after long working hours. When I am hurt, I do not ever call anyone at home knowing the fact that mamma and papa would sense something is wrong. This is not my greatness. I would have called it great when I could keep my spirits high up even when hurt. These are the times when we loose our spirit and then something inside us brings all the reasons to be sad together making us realize that we are alone, miles away from home.
These thoughts completely prevailed me when Shivani brought me back with usual questions to the real world from the insane universe that lives inside me. Here she came with white cap on her head, a sporty three-fourth and a bat in her hands. She commanded her to come downstairs quickly as her friends have reached.
Finally, we were eight on the ground playing with 7th standard boys. It was a good match and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I never knew I could do balling or even strike a four :). But she was the one who volunteered first for all acts on the ground. Then we went out for balling and air hockey, I love the most. She was amazingly good in all!
We called it a day and came back home. I was lying on Shivani’s bed still searching for a word to describe her and this thought was running inside me with ever increasing speed. Suddenly, techno-babes voice broke the silence and asked me did you enjoy today? "Yes, I did", I said.
I got the word and the word is – “livewire”.
Now, we started talking about the other people in the group. Most of them passed out this year only and had lots of questions to ask me since we had met for the first time. Second reason for loving the day was somewhere down the line I have started enjoying being elder at office and at home. To me it feels so good to listen to juniors, knowing their fears, flirting going on with a new girl in team and the silly jokes. Agree..I am not so old but it is so good and a strange calmness blankets me because I am ahead of something. Though she is much senior to me, this thought of mine got the stamp of her consent too. “Livewire” now looked at me with a strange smile because my face to the strangers is not in congruence with the thoughts that reside inside me. I thanked God that we met. My mobile buzzed and we realized date is changed. She wished me with a beautiful smile, Good Night and left. Finally, the “livewire” entered the dream world to spark the life of the creatures there and to gather energy to enlighten the next morning.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A thing called “love”
When I look around and see people who have found love in their lives, instead of my heart pumping out, my brain faces a swarm of questions. By the time I try to understand where do my line of thinking lie, a strange feeling traps me. I keep on questioning my self and some of the few friends on whose brain, there is a living hold of my questions about this amazingly strange thing called “love”.
A person who is never getting his friend’s attention and taken for granted every time still loves this girl. This form of love exists between a person who loves loving madly and a person who does not care about giving love and maniac when sees a second went amiss without getting attention. I scratch my head and loose concepts puzzled with the words “love is give and take”.
Another case is Mr or Ms Perfect after totally a nasty fellow. One is ten out of ten in all respects and the partner is looser in each one corner they define of their lives. But still this strange thing called “love” exists between the two. Isn’t it amazing?
Like every relationship it demands
May this truth be denied by millions that they don’t fall in love. But the magic moment thrills everybody. But the big question is “When”. When do one actually feels it.
On a beautiful evening…
With the clouds embracing orange sun…
When the sun is thinking to sleep..
And let the beautiful night treat…
Treat all the beautiful hearts….
Hearts in search….
Hearts left in lurch…
Hearts at peace…
Hearts possessing hearts…
Sun in a strange dilemma questions moon….
When I am gone you will take my place….
I am the one who fills dark space…
On this moon smiles and says…
If there is a dark space waiting for light….
I bet there are spaces waiting for darkness for life…
This is called love…
It may be for darkness …
May be for light …
But surely for all a strong delight!!
A person who is never getting his friend’s attention and taken for granted every time still loves this girl. This form of love exists between a person who loves loving madly and a person who does not care about giving love and maniac when sees a second went amiss without getting attention. I scratch my head and loose concepts puzzled with the words “love is give and take”.
Another case is Mr or Ms Perfect after totally a nasty fellow. One is ten out of ten in all respects and the partner is looser in each one corner they define of their lives. But still this strange thing called “love” exists between the two. Isn’t it amazing?
Like every relationship it demands
May this truth be denied by millions that they don’t fall in love. But the magic moment thrills everybody. But the big question is “When”. When do one actually feels it.
On a beautiful evening…
With the clouds embracing orange sun…
When the sun is thinking to sleep..
And let the beautiful night treat…
Treat all the beautiful hearts….
Hearts in search….
Hearts left in lurch…
Hearts at peace…
Hearts possessing hearts…
Sun in a strange dilemma questions moon….
When I am gone you will take my place….
I am the one who fills dark space…
On this moon smiles and says…
If there is a dark space waiting for light….
I bet there are spaces waiting for darkness for life…
This is called love…
It may be for darkness …
May be for light …
But surely for all a strong delight!!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Happy Father's Day
Ever since I left home, “a need to talk home” automatically drives me to dial mamma’s mobile. There is absolutely no potential reason behind this . I love my father as much as I love my mother. But then why I call my mother and ONLY then phone is handed over to father after mamma and I are done with the long conversation?
Perhaps, my mind has already computed all these equations and result says that talking to mother means more Information and talking to father means News.
Had I been calling my father daily, my half an hour call would have been 5 minutes call. The reason is that when me and my mother talks she tells me about my Uncle and Aunt’s health, there new daughter-in-law, our family friend’s son getting admission to MBA, new saree she bought, stuff in the sale she recently had been to etc etc..
But my father talks only about me, my health, his and mamma’s health, my brother and sometimes about our dog Macho.
The same story continues in all the families. This is as natural as red roses can not be grown in desert or cactus don’t find there home in fertile lands.
But somewhere down the line, I strongly feel that we are knowingly or unknowingly not giving justice to the piece of time divided to talk to mother and father. He wants to listen to simple hello and that too becomes once in a week affair.
To make up all the things we mess up in our busy lives, English people have found there ways. Celebrating Father’s day is one of the lovely things they started.
On 15th June (2nd Sunday of June), this year Father’s day was celebrated. I got this lovely opportunity to talk directly to papa. I called my father. He picked the phone with unusual voice. His voice only proved that I have done something not usual. Then I said, “”Namastey Papa, Happy Father’s Day, I am lucky to have you”. Then he only talked and I could not utter a word for next one minute.
Bathroom is the safest place to cry but that day I figured out that phone is also good one.
His reaction was so pleasant, his voice only revealed.
He said. “Thanks beta”. A five seconds pause. Perhaps he was also enjoying the heaviness in the throat and little moist eyes. It was not raining outside but I could smell the wet soil, the feeling that makes my heart go beyond happiness with little ununderstandable pain.
Perhaps, my mind has already computed all these equations and result says that talking to mother means more Information and talking to father means News.
Had I been calling my father daily, my half an hour call would have been 5 minutes call. The reason is that when me and my mother talks she tells me about my Uncle and Aunt’s health, there new daughter-in-law, our family friend’s son getting admission to MBA, new saree she bought, stuff in the sale she recently had been to etc etc..
But my father talks only about me, my health, his and mamma’s health, my brother and sometimes about our dog Macho.
The same story continues in all the families. This is as natural as red roses can not be grown in desert or cactus don’t find there home in fertile lands.
But somewhere down the line, I strongly feel that we are knowingly or unknowingly not giving justice to the piece of time divided to talk to mother and father. He wants to listen to simple hello and that too becomes once in a week affair.
To make up all the things we mess up in our busy lives, English people have found there ways. Celebrating Father’s day is one of the lovely things they started.
On 15th June (2nd Sunday of June), this year Father’s day was celebrated. I got this lovely opportunity to talk directly to papa. I called my father. He picked the phone with unusual voice. His voice only proved that I have done something not usual. Then I said, “”Namastey Papa, Happy Father’s Day, I am lucky to have you”. Then he only talked and I could not utter a word for next one minute.
Bathroom is the safest place to cry but that day I figured out that phone is also good one.
His reaction was so pleasant, his voice only revealed.
He said. “Thanks beta”. A five seconds pause. Perhaps he was also enjoying the heaviness in the throat and little moist eyes. It was not raining outside but I could smell the wet soil, the feeling that makes my heart go beyond happiness with little ununderstandable pain.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Paying and Displaying Regards
Daily while returning from the office, I keep looking outside from the window of my bus lost in the thoughts, hardly aware of what actually is happening outside the window. Most of the time I am thinking about the day spent in office and that most of the time trying to understand the theory of “paying and displaying regards”.
All the time this theory chases you like your shadow. But the darkness of the shadow keeps changing, I am glad. When I was small my parents taught me how to pay regards to the elder, to the people younger than you, to the people who are talented and to them who support you. But when I broke the shell constructed by the noble hands of my family and exposed to the world outside, I observed how to display regards; “paying regards” is now oblivious. In the beginning, I kept umbrage but gradually and very slowly gulped by this shadow.
In this world, if you really support your superiors, you are displaying regards and if you don’t then you don’t know how to climb up the ladder. Paying regards and the acceptance of the same is lost in the darkness. Harper Lee writes in her book “To kill a Mocking Bird” – “Before you learn to live with other folks you should learn to live with yourself.” Perhaps just displaying regards which is equivalent to disregard can be done only if you start living with a strange notion that cheats your self.
Somehow, it is the question of “Survival of the fittest” and the fittest are those in my outer world who have learnt to live with a strange notion.
Stars are beautiful and the shine is mighty
How they shine, answer knows Almighty…
If I head to conquer the shine they owe…
And I attempt to conquer the fame they owe…
I know it will be a short-lived charm…
The victory that has nothing but harm…
Somehow mankind has learnt to seek…
To seek and love a victory so meek…
A victory over the shine of the stars…
Concluded by covering sky by dark clouds to bar….
How can they be happy and joyous for long…
What if dark clouds take a path which is wrong…
Then the man would say sorry…
Oh sorry, Stars I know your glory…
Who am I to conquer you, so respectful…
Am I not the person as graceful….
Saying this, man shows the act of “displaying regards”…
This way man exonerates himself from not “paying regards”
All the time this theory chases you like your shadow. But the darkness of the shadow keeps changing, I am glad. When I was small my parents taught me how to pay regards to the elder, to the people younger than you, to the people who are talented and to them who support you. But when I broke the shell constructed by the noble hands of my family and exposed to the world outside, I observed how to display regards; “paying regards” is now oblivious. In the beginning, I kept umbrage but gradually and very slowly gulped by this shadow.
In this world, if you really support your superiors, you are displaying regards and if you don’t then you don’t know how to climb up the ladder. Paying regards and the acceptance of the same is lost in the darkness. Harper Lee writes in her book “To kill a Mocking Bird” – “Before you learn to live with other folks you should learn to live with yourself.” Perhaps just displaying regards which is equivalent to disregard can be done only if you start living with a strange notion that cheats your self.
Somehow, it is the question of “Survival of the fittest” and the fittest are those in my outer world who have learnt to live with a strange notion.
Stars are beautiful and the shine is mighty
How they shine, answer knows Almighty…
If I head to conquer the shine they owe…
And I attempt to conquer the fame they owe…
I know it will be a short-lived charm…
The victory that has nothing but harm…
Somehow mankind has learnt to seek…
To seek and love a victory so meek…
A victory over the shine of the stars…
Concluded by covering sky by dark clouds to bar….
How can they be happy and joyous for long…
What if dark clouds take a path which is wrong…
Then the man would say sorry…
Oh sorry, Stars I know your glory…
Who am I to conquer you, so respectful…
Am I not the person as graceful….
Saying this, man shows the act of “displaying regards”…
This way man exonerates himself from not “paying regards”
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Life salutes Mumbaiites
Mumbai – the city of dreams, the city of countless emotions, the city of ups and downs, the city to be loved, the city to be hated, the city to live all realities and the city where fiction has perhaps no space. If Mumbai is to be juxtaposed with a person, I would call Mumbai a “Woman”. Like a woman it lives all emotions God has made a human being to observe. It is not like that I am born and brought up in Mumbai or I have spent a great deal of time in Mumbai but it is only Suketu Mehta’s (author of Maximum city) words that have taught the true air of Mumbai to me.
Yesterday I paid my third visit to Ms. Mumbai. I am always excited to go to Mumbai as it gives me chance to travel in local trains, place where you can actually see all class of people – middle class, lower middle class, upper middle class, people below poverty line but not who are over wealthy. It is a smarter way to travel in Mumbai as it is the only way to surpass the traffic jams, encounter with very poor faces at traffic lights and of course to reach in time. No doubt Mumbai's Local Trains are called “Life line of Mumbai”.
This time goal of my visit was to attend my colleague’s, a very dear friend’s ring ceremony. She is Maharashtrian and I am happy that I have very few but very nice non-North Indian friends. I used to tease her many times that I would like to come to your home this weekend. But every time she used to end up saying that my house is very small, you won’t like it. Listening to these words I used to tease her even more. Yesterday only I realized the severity of her words. To me small house for a person who is educated, very good to talk to, honest in paying and sharing money, working in a reputed company is as small as 100 yards house. How can a 5 member family live in a house smaller than this? This question of mine may haunt my North-Indian friends who belong to an average economical background but is a very very normal fact. All in all a multipurpose house, one room is drawing cum dinning room cum bed-room cum guest-room cum and other one is kitchen cum bathroom cum washing room cum room where woman of the house keep finding all sort of work to work out the tensions embedded in her mind.
I and my friends entered the house, the bride’s house, my friend’s house. Like any bride’s house all the women were standing with all the make-up paraphernalia making my small, thin but yet sweet looking friend sweat because of confusion caused. I was happy to finally reach to attend her ring-ceremony function, a very important day in a normal Indian citizen’s life as it is supposed to be once. You may fall in love several times but you are supposed to marry once in your life-time under normal circumstances in “India”. I was happy to be with her, more happy because she was getting married to a person whom she loved and chose herself and above all a person whom I actually appreciate, a true gentleman to the best of my knowledge. One corner of my heart was sad and the processor of that corner was running so fast calculating every second - Oh My God she was always true telling me that her house is small, that I would not be very pleased to be there, that how she is so normal, infact all her relatives, they joke, laugh, smile, express regards, like there is no problem, absolutely no problem. She has always shared her problems and listened to my grudges, now I realized how silly all my reasons to feel down were. Suddenly, my mind became a mobile diary where I started writing all the moves around me. Now, I wanted something to write.
Maharashtrians are very simple people. Unlike North-Indians they believe in non-exuberant celebrations. In North-India marriage functions means, latest fashion clothing, dazzling attires, lot of commotion, loud music after pandit ji’s tasks, long meal menu and a share point for the bride-groom seekers as friends and relatives talk at length about their experiences of finding or not finding matches. For Maharashtrian wedding, only last choice is valid not others for sure. My friend’s ring ceremony was also very simple but lively. I kept staring at ladies wearing navarri (Maharashtrian saaree), men very simply dressed with Gandhi topi covering their heads. After the ceremony was over we sought the permissions to make a leave.
After the whole day of the continuous struggle my mind was experiencing I felt relieved. Somewhere inside I was happy now. It was really nice to see different people and experience what they do. Since childhood, in my vicinity, friends and relatives, people struggle to seek privacy. Siblings don’t want to share same room and they get the opportunity before they get married. A couple wants to move in to new house different from their parents’ with the thought of getting privacy for them once they expand family. Even two pets don’t want to share a single room and they get their wishes fulfilled. But 40% of Mumbaiites cannot even dream of a word called “privacy”. No doubt why parks in Mumbai are no more a place for children to play or elderly people to have a stroll rather these parks are the result of search for “privacy”.
Life is like a multiple choice question with options – (a) you choose to live happily anyways, (b) you choose to be sad for a valid reason, (c) you choose to be sad for no reason, (d) you choose to live anyways, (e) you choose to live for no reason.
If you have chosen option (e), I’ll recommend you to meet a Mumbaiites to change your choice to option (d). Truly life salutes Mumbaiites!!!
Yesterday I paid my third visit to Ms. Mumbai. I am always excited to go to Mumbai as it gives me chance to travel in local trains, place where you can actually see all class of people – middle class, lower middle class, upper middle class, people below poverty line but not who are over wealthy. It is a smarter way to travel in Mumbai as it is the only way to surpass the traffic jams, encounter with very poor faces at traffic lights and of course to reach in time. No doubt Mumbai's Local Trains are called “Life line of Mumbai”.
This time goal of my visit was to attend my colleague’s, a very dear friend’s ring ceremony. She is Maharashtrian and I am happy that I have very few but very nice non-North Indian friends. I used to tease her many times that I would like to come to your home this weekend. But every time she used to end up saying that my house is very small, you won’t like it. Listening to these words I used to tease her even more. Yesterday only I realized the severity of her words. To me small house for a person who is educated, very good to talk to, honest in paying and sharing money, working in a reputed company is as small as 100 yards house. How can a 5 member family live in a house smaller than this? This question of mine may haunt my North-Indian friends who belong to an average economical background but is a very very normal fact. All in all a multipurpose house, one room is drawing cum dinning room cum bed-room cum guest-room cum and other one is kitchen cum bathroom cum washing room cum room where woman of the house keep finding all sort of work to work out the tensions embedded in her mind.
I and my friends entered the house, the bride’s house, my friend’s house. Like any bride’s house all the women were standing with all the make-up paraphernalia making my small, thin but yet sweet looking friend sweat because of confusion caused. I was happy to finally reach to attend her ring-ceremony function, a very important day in a normal Indian citizen’s life as it is supposed to be once. You may fall in love several times but you are supposed to marry once in your life-time under normal circumstances in “India”. I was happy to be with her, more happy because she was getting married to a person whom she loved and chose herself and above all a person whom I actually appreciate, a true gentleman to the best of my knowledge. One corner of my heart was sad and the processor of that corner was running so fast calculating every second - Oh My God she was always true telling me that her house is small, that I would not be very pleased to be there, that how she is so normal, infact all her relatives, they joke, laugh, smile, express regards, like there is no problem, absolutely no problem. She has always shared her problems and listened to my grudges, now I realized how silly all my reasons to feel down were. Suddenly, my mind became a mobile diary where I started writing all the moves around me. Now, I wanted something to write.
Maharashtrians are very simple people. Unlike North-Indians they believe in non-exuberant celebrations. In North-India marriage functions means, latest fashion clothing, dazzling attires, lot of commotion, loud music after pandit ji’s tasks, long meal menu and a share point for the bride-groom seekers as friends and relatives talk at length about their experiences of finding or not finding matches. For Maharashtrian wedding, only last choice is valid not others for sure. My friend’s ring ceremony was also very simple but lively. I kept staring at ladies wearing navarri (Maharashtrian saaree), men very simply dressed with Gandhi topi covering their heads. After the ceremony was over we sought the permissions to make a leave.
After the whole day of the continuous struggle my mind was experiencing I felt relieved. Somewhere inside I was happy now. It was really nice to see different people and experience what they do. Since childhood, in my vicinity, friends and relatives, people struggle to seek privacy. Siblings don’t want to share same room and they get the opportunity before they get married. A couple wants to move in to new house different from their parents’ with the thought of getting privacy for them once they expand family. Even two pets don’t want to share a single room and they get their wishes fulfilled. But 40% of Mumbaiites cannot even dream of a word called “privacy”. No doubt why parks in Mumbai are no more a place for children to play or elderly people to have a stroll rather these parks are the result of search for “privacy”.
Life is like a multiple choice question with options – (a) you choose to live happily anyways, (b) you choose to be sad for a valid reason, (c) you choose to be sad for no reason, (d) you choose to live anyways, (e) you choose to live for no reason.
If you have chosen option (e), I’ll recommend you to meet a Mumbaiites to change your choice to option (d). Truly life salutes Mumbaiites!!!
I am the “Unknown”
I am visiting my home town- Kurukshetra yet again. But this time only I realized the strange feeling of being an “Unknown” in my town. This feeling used to blanket me earlier also when I used to come back home after 3-4 months. The fact is that I have diagnosed the problem now only.
Whenever my mother asks me to bring some grocery or some other stuff from the Sector-7 market, where we have our house, I am hesitant. I am proud that such big house like ours in Sector-7 may not be matter of surprise people living here but such houses are called as bungalows in Pune and Mumbai. Space problem is gulping these cities down and under. Coming back to the problem and the probable root cause of the same. The feeling of being an unknown is partially developed by the people of my town, my native place. When I walk down the road, they look at me with such a sight like trying to find the resemblance of my face with someone known to them. Why? I do not understand. I am forced to think that are they able to smell my deodorant that is a costly one and probably can not be found in any of Kurukshetra stores or is it my hair length or may be the tattered condition of my hair is strikes there eyes. I am not obviously not as beautiful as the people belonging to my belt that their brain demands a second sight at me. May be there eyes have the same sensors like dog’s nose that can distinguish the stuff belongs to which place and because some different waves coming out of me that there eyes capture and they start calculating how distant my current location is. This way I can guess thousands of reasons of the strange angles of eyes and heads people manoeuvre to crop the feeling of being an Unknown in my hometown.
But this feeling never makes me feel proud rather nostalgic. The feeling is more like the strange nervousness that captures you when you are introduced first time to a group of intellectuals who look bright and can tell you zillion reasons that your mental level does not match with the pile of degrees you owe. I end up in a dilemma that something in me has definitely changed. It is acceptable or not…..
Loosing an identity in a known place…
Finding your self in a strange race…
Asking myself all this just in case…
Just in case, I forget one day who am I
And plead myself a little liberty to pry…
To dig out my self from the self made wrappers…
Do it before I see failing my tool to unwrap, my drillers…
Whenever my mother asks me to bring some grocery or some other stuff from the Sector-7 market, where we have our house, I am hesitant. I am proud that such big house like ours in Sector-7 may not be matter of surprise people living here but such houses are called as bungalows in Pune and Mumbai. Space problem is gulping these cities down and under. Coming back to the problem and the probable root cause of the same. The feeling of being an unknown is partially developed by the people of my town, my native place. When I walk down the road, they look at me with such a sight like trying to find the resemblance of my face with someone known to them. Why? I do not understand. I am forced to think that are they able to smell my deodorant that is a costly one and probably can not be found in any of Kurukshetra stores or is it my hair length or may be the tattered condition of my hair is strikes there eyes. I am not obviously not as beautiful as the people belonging to my belt that their brain demands a second sight at me. May be there eyes have the same sensors like dog’s nose that can distinguish the stuff belongs to which place and because some different waves coming out of me that there eyes capture and they start calculating how distant my current location is. This way I can guess thousands of reasons of the strange angles of eyes and heads people manoeuvre to crop the feeling of being an Unknown in my hometown.
But this feeling never makes me feel proud rather nostalgic. The feeling is more like the strange nervousness that captures you when you are introduced first time to a group of intellectuals who look bright and can tell you zillion reasons that your mental level does not match with the pile of degrees you owe. I end up in a dilemma that something in me has definitely changed. It is acceptable or not…..
Loosing an identity in a known place…
Finding your self in a strange race…
Asking myself all this just in case…
Just in case, I forget one day who am I
And plead myself a little liberty to pry…
To dig out my self from the self made wrappers…
Do it before I see failing my tool to unwrap, my drillers…
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Seasons
It is almost an year and half in pune. The change in seasons in this city can not be judged. But living in a 2BHK home for 1 year 6 months, I have stayed with 6 different people, one after the another.
If i close my eyes and try to smell the air and try to judge the seasoin outside and inside me, who was stayinmg in the house answers what season it was then
People changed, but one thing never changed - a constant feeling of being occupied.
Emptiness could never find a corner inside me and I am actually glad. It is only when my friends tell me that whole weekend you were alone or you were in the office but nowhere else. Sometimes, 2 whole days spewnt in "bevadagiri" - watching movie, having food out and walking foolishly on M.G. Road.
At times I had a feeling of looser but soon after thgis feeling tried to blanket me a winner's crown was there to make me happy. The winner's crown holder used to be one ot another person staying in D-105. This concludes the story that I was never unhappy here. Unhappiness was a spike in a constant DC line. OOOppps I can not untether the world of voltages and currents. Pardon me... :)
Seasons I can smell,
The memoirs donned on my mind so well,
The rains of love and hatred siometimes,
The warmth in air and breeze jingling like windchimes,
The spring of Hopesm joys and confessions,
Softness in the surroundings and calmed regressions,
Summers of fading sadness andgathering courage again,
Scorching sun, humid air, refreshing and calling hibernating brain,
Autumn came with heart soothing silence,
Thrashing and thwarting speed of wind and yet so harmless,
Winters peaking up n' above dryness and fears,
Moving away for no reasons and wishing to be close in prayers,
The seasons I had here are all mine,
The seasons I remember and cherish,
The seasons I have lived, died, loved and hated,
These seasons are inside my heart so much alive,
Nature is nobody to conntrol and thrive,
It is the people I lived with...
All my seasons they only drive.
If i close my eyes and try to smell the air and try to judge the seasoin outside and inside me, who was stayinmg in the house answers what season it was then
People changed, but one thing never changed - a constant feeling of being occupied.
Emptiness could never find a corner inside me and I am actually glad. It is only when my friends tell me that whole weekend you were alone or you were in the office but nowhere else. Sometimes, 2 whole days spewnt in "bevadagiri" - watching movie, having food out and walking foolishly on M.G. Road.
At times I had a feeling of looser but soon after thgis feeling tried to blanket me a winner's crown was there to make me happy. The winner's crown holder used to be one ot another person staying in D-105. This concludes the story that I was never unhappy here. Unhappiness was a spike in a constant DC line. OOOppps I can not untether the world of voltages and currents. Pardon me... :)
Seasons I can smell,
The memoirs donned on my mind so well,
The rains of love and hatred siometimes,
The warmth in air and breeze jingling like windchimes,
The spring of Hopesm joys and confessions,
Softness in the surroundings and calmed regressions,
Summers of fading sadness andgathering courage again,
Scorching sun, humid air, refreshing and calling hibernating brain,
Autumn came with heart soothing silence,
Thrashing and thwarting speed of wind and yet so harmless,
Winters peaking up n' above dryness and fears,
Moving away for no reasons and wishing to be close in prayers,
The seasons I had here are all mine,
The seasons I remember and cherish,
The seasons I have lived, died, loved and hated,
These seasons are inside my heart so much alive,
Nature is nobody to conntrol and thrive,
It is the people I lived with...
All my seasons they only drive.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Say thanks!!!
Now a days I am reading Suketu Mehta's "Bombay Lost and Found". There is no second opinion about how well the book is written. It is simply superb. If one wants to know about Mumbai start with Suketu Mehta's book. After I read first 50 pages, I got a chance to go to Mumbai. Actually, those fifty pages had evoked my wish to visit Mumbai so much that God's "pouring water process" could not perish my will. I saw the city with my eyes and sight matched what I was seeing from author's eyes.
The small hole like openings in the Jogeshwari slum area made me think of slightly enlarged version of an opening in the ground from where ants come and disappear after entering into it. I wondered If the people getting inside that dark opening will enter the same atmosphere that surrounds the Earth, that we know.
I travelled in local trains, observed the intermingled crowd, felt secured being a girl unlike Delhi, appreciated the endlessness of the sea at Juhu beach and above all saw the slum area - Mumbai is known for.
Everytime I read the book a new journey starts and after reading 10-15 pages, I close the book, close my eyes and after moaning for some time feel better and thank God. The story of a 16 year old boy who murdered a person ruthlessly for Rs 50 that he required to buy a shade for his so called "home" invoked the sleeping self to take a resolution not to disrespect a miniscule piece of food lying in my plate by throwing it in dustbin.Everytime I see a little boy or girl pleading to buy five rupees balloon, I recall that boy only and feel heavy in my heart.
We complain so much daily ...we complain that food in the cafeteria is bad, colleagues do not cooperate, room mates don't take responsibilities and so on. But once you compare yourself with the condition of those who daily suffer a mental death crore times before they actually die, perhaps you stop complaining.
Intimacy and silence when comes along..
Breeze trespasing my ears sing a song...
Through the good and sad times I had been..
Care and compasion I have seen..
In my prayers and wishes some precise some long...
Commitments I made to my self not so strong..
One thing was missed one time and again..
Thought that came relentlessly though I never refrain..
"The big Thanks" that we forget daily...
In lieu of a good life blessed by Almighty...
We see those bleak eyes trying to knock your heart..
Pay sympathy that soon goes off with a kick start...
The foodless, homeless and may be less by all means...
But no doubt perfect and proper with human genes..
When small defeats lead to an empth heart..
You find yourself middle of the torment..
Just go tto the traffic signal before kick start..
Remeber those bleak eyes that knocked your heart..
Let enter all the tears of those misty eyes in yours..
Then try to search the emptiness once more..
You won't find it, I bet for sure...
The small hole like openings in the Jogeshwari slum area made me think of slightly enlarged version of an opening in the ground from where ants come and disappear after entering into it. I wondered If the people getting inside that dark opening will enter the same atmosphere that surrounds the Earth, that we know.
I travelled in local trains, observed the intermingled crowd, felt secured being a girl unlike Delhi, appreciated the endlessness of the sea at Juhu beach and above all saw the slum area - Mumbai is known for.
Everytime I read the book a new journey starts and after reading 10-15 pages, I close the book, close my eyes and after moaning for some time feel better and thank God. The story of a 16 year old boy who murdered a person ruthlessly for Rs 50 that he required to buy a shade for his so called "home" invoked the sleeping self to take a resolution not to disrespect a miniscule piece of food lying in my plate by throwing it in dustbin.Everytime I see a little boy or girl pleading to buy five rupees balloon, I recall that boy only and feel heavy in my heart.
We complain so much daily ...we complain that food in the cafeteria is bad, colleagues do not cooperate, room mates don't take responsibilities and so on. But once you compare yourself with the condition of those who daily suffer a mental death crore times before they actually die, perhaps you stop complaining.
Intimacy and silence when comes along..
Breeze trespasing my ears sing a song...
Through the good and sad times I had been..
Care and compasion I have seen..
In my prayers and wishes some precise some long...
Commitments I made to my self not so strong..
One thing was missed one time and again..
Thought that came relentlessly though I never refrain..
"The big Thanks" that we forget daily...
In lieu of a good life blessed by Almighty...
We see those bleak eyes trying to knock your heart..
Pay sympathy that soon goes off with a kick start...
The foodless, homeless and may be less by all means...
But no doubt perfect and proper with human genes..
When small defeats lead to an empth heart..
You find yourself middle of the torment..
Just go tto the traffic signal before kick start..
Remeber those bleak eyes that knocked your heart..
Let enter all the tears of those misty eyes in yours..
Then try to search the emptiness once more..
You won't find it, I bet for sure...
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Life is beautiful...
My second visit to my home after coming to Pune is over. The end of this soulful journey is always so sad and will always be. Nothing like home, my home, my parents, my uncles, aunts and cousins and friends of course.
In this city of meaningless meanings everything changes so fast transgressing speed of light brings numbness in my nerves' cells.
But the changes in my city are so small but beautiful and seems like putting more meanings to revealing thoughts. How good it feels when you are valued and cared. The feeling that puts life into life, increases love, faith, originality and stengthens ones belief in "Life is beautiful".
This feeling was introduced by no one in Pune but my maid. All the bachelors were asked to vacate flats after, girls living in one of the flats created some nuisance and that was hyped actually. My maid took the stand for us saying you are very good girls. Humanity is still alive may be taking last few breaths. Yes its there. I don't know whether she paid for the tea and breakfast that we offer her everytime we are at home in her presence or she is paying for our good behavior. This gesture of hers, for the first time made me feel like in town, a known town. A town that is not only occupied with logs of woods but real human beings too.
Emerging wrinkles on a smiling face...
Tiny snow balls melting in the eyes...
Hands so warm embracing mine...
Countenance reveling congeniality so nice..
How good it feels to be in town...
A gush of fresh air cooling the frown...
Happy hearts and the one who is happy to see me
Makes me feel so cheerful and glee
Words full of blessings touch softly my ears...
Eyes that don't blink, make me feel "I am so dear"
Series of expressions telling I am valued and cared
This little joy, for so long was lost and dared...
A break from log of woods to real people...
Woke up the spirits once made to cripple...
Happiness infinite and horizons of love...
A constant gift bestowed from the relationships...
A futile journey from soulless to soulful...
Strengthens my belief in-"Life is beautiful"
In this city of meaningless meanings everything changes so fast transgressing speed of light brings numbness in my nerves' cells.
But the changes in my city are so small but beautiful and seems like putting more meanings to revealing thoughts. How good it feels when you are valued and cared. The feeling that puts life into life, increases love, faith, originality and stengthens ones belief in "Life is beautiful".
This feeling was introduced by no one in Pune but my maid. All the bachelors were asked to vacate flats after, girls living in one of the flats created some nuisance and that was hyped actually. My maid took the stand for us saying you are very good girls. Humanity is still alive may be taking last few breaths. Yes its there. I don't know whether she paid for the tea and breakfast that we offer her everytime we are at home in her presence or she is paying for our good behavior. This gesture of hers, for the first time made me feel like in town, a known town. A town that is not only occupied with logs of woods but real human beings too.
Emerging wrinkles on a smiling face...
Tiny snow balls melting in the eyes...
Hands so warm embracing mine...
Countenance reveling congeniality so nice..
How good it feels to be in town...
A gush of fresh air cooling the frown...
Happy hearts and the one who is happy to see me
Makes me feel so cheerful and glee
Words full of blessings touch softly my ears...
Eyes that don't blink, make me feel "I am so dear"
Series of expressions telling I am valued and cared
This little joy, for so long was lost and dared...
A break from log of woods to real people...
Woke up the spirits once made to cripple...
Happiness infinite and horizons of love...
A constant gift bestowed from the relationships...
A futile journey from soulless to soulful...
Strengthens my belief in-"Life is beautiful"
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Shades...
Outside those glass windows, dark shining sun prevails the earth so big so huge. It seems my mind remains untouched of this light inside those tinted glasses and AC compartments. Shades are just filtered and a sense of grey is allowed to enter inside but self is still oblivious inside a cave. This time so little I find to see the shades and colors that a sense of appreciation for colorful is gone.
Shades I have seen many so far...
No colour yest as dark as tar...
Black, white, grey and coloured..
Don't want to trust pictures so blurred...
People of zillion shades and zillion shades in a person...
Makes me think why God made this creature so cumbersome..
Just want to drench my Self in this rain...
Each colored drop drags me in a game...
Trying to evaluate and understand the intermingled maze...
One day a lost hope would end this hopeless race...
Shades I have seen many so far...
No colour yest as dark as tar...
Black, white, grey and coloured..
Don't want to trust pictures so blurred...
People of zillion shades and zillion shades in a person...
Makes me think why God made this creature so cumbersome..
Just want to drench my Self in this rain...
Each colored drop drags me in a game...
Trying to evaluate and understand the intermingled maze...
One day a lost hope would end this hopeless race...
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Inside story....
It has been more than a month when I left the calm territory of mine..my home,my city. Life suddenly started breathing at a normal breath rate for those 8 days. But the relentless race rocked back, after my plane landed and kicked me in the icy atmosphere once again.
At the Delhi airport, I felt like cry like a kid and throw all the tantrums. I could not because I am a grown up now - a cost I have to pay to society. haha...
Sitting in those cubicles almost half a day, somehow the dividing wood between the cubicles have trounced human hearts. They seem to be more humane than us.
At home, a sweet sunny day spent with Bhanu and Jayna, my childhood friends made me remember my true measure of laughter in decibels. My cheeks sometimes get perturbed of deliberate stretching of my jaw line - new definition of smile :). The whole day each one of us curse ourselves or the moving machines like multitude.
On weekends, the story does not pause, the restless fellow resumes the infinite loop and Why there is no control + Break????
I realy miss these buttons in the gadget called Mind.
Wandering in the fashion streets, staring foolishly at the high market crowd is the mode of learning happenings outside the one real life. E-Square and JM Road are the only destination on weekends - a better option than being at home and calling people one by one in the order names appear in my phonebook.
Sometimes, I share a loud guffaw with myself. Who says I don't have a boyfriend? I do have and name is Wipro. When I go to bed, the last thought is Office (work related) and when I open my eyes first thought is office and when I talk to my roomates, all discussions start from office and end at a pointless conclusion, all related to office. This is what a lady in love does. Isn't it? :))))
A thought running with the speed of light...
Reaches one corner and in split second jumps to another..
The relentless cop is tired of this hide and seek
An end without a beginning it seems
Or a beginnig having no end it is...
Vivid lights of this condominium peeping into my territory...
Without asking for permission it is inside..
I wonder how free??
A bunglow of this intruder is built now
No option but my will and mind had to bow.
This is the nut shell of the story of every newcomer in this IT industry who enter this niche to be a Technology aficiando. Hope that this emptiness gets filled up with time.
At the Delhi airport, I felt like cry like a kid and throw all the tantrums. I could not because I am a grown up now - a cost I have to pay to society. haha...
Sitting in those cubicles almost half a day, somehow the dividing wood between the cubicles have trounced human hearts. They seem to be more humane than us.
At home, a sweet sunny day spent with Bhanu and Jayna, my childhood friends made me remember my true measure of laughter in decibels. My cheeks sometimes get perturbed of deliberate stretching of my jaw line - new definition of smile :). The whole day each one of us curse ourselves or the moving machines like multitude.
On weekends, the story does not pause, the restless fellow resumes the infinite loop and Why there is no control + Break????
I realy miss these buttons in the gadget called Mind.
Wandering in the fashion streets, staring foolishly at the high market crowd is the mode of learning happenings outside the one real life. E-Square and JM Road are the only destination on weekends - a better option than being at home and calling people one by one in the order names appear in my phonebook.
Sometimes, I share a loud guffaw with myself. Who says I don't have a boyfriend? I do have and name is Wipro. When I go to bed, the last thought is Office (work related) and when I open my eyes first thought is office and when I talk to my roomates, all discussions start from office and end at a pointless conclusion, all related to office. This is what a lady in love does. Isn't it? :))))
A thought running with the speed of light...
Reaches one corner and in split second jumps to another..
The relentless cop is tired of this hide and seek
An end without a beginning it seems
Or a beginnig having no end it is...
Vivid lights of this condominium peeping into my territory...
Without asking for permission it is inside..
I wonder how free??
A bunglow of this intruder is built now
No option but my will and mind had to bow.
This is the nut shell of the story of every newcomer in this IT industry who enter this niche to be a Technology aficiando. Hope that this emptiness gets filled up with time.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Guest Entry!!
This is not written by me. This is written by my friend for someone.
I have promised not to reveal my friend's identity.
Please go through it.
DEDICATION
===============
An effort to incarnate my feelings into a poem
=====================================
Just trying to give my feelings a better shape
=====================================
Feelings are great, immense and indispensable. Don’t know from where i should start.
How did i get these memories?
You were so stranger to me,
eventually you came nearer to me.
You were in each thought i had,
My feelings were growing stronger,
with every move u made.
You were the miracle in my life,
you had such a beautiful smile,
you made my life worth-while.
you touched my heart and soul,
with your such a beautiful accepting nature,
which earlier i never thought,
But you made it true, just at the right spot.
You were everything i wanted,
your nature, liveliness, sense of humour, understanding were few to mention,
every step we grew towards each other with right perception..
life was incomplete without someone,
but as u stepped in eventually it seemed to be the concluded one.
Seconds, minutes, hours and days were so short whenever we used to talk,
Always felt like sharing every joy and sorrow whenever, wherever in life we would walk,
But never imagined wat is waiting ahead for me is a biggest shock.
Just when we think things getting better, it gets worse. That even before we actually know it.
Good things never comes cheap,
This bitter truth made me creep.
Though the period we spent together was small,
But every moment was cherishable and makes me to re-call.
The day we talked for the last time, never can i forget,
But who knew it would be the last day, which made me not even a single thing to neglect.
Time never waits for anybody, and the day came when i was informed u left me.
My heart was shattered and fell into pieces,
As if somebody had stabbed a knife into my heart,
you jst left my heart in stitches, [s-t-i-t-c-h-e-s]
i couldn’t believe u left me.
my heart was crying like anything,
as if i have been left with nothing.
i got so crazy and panicky,
my mind was not with me,
first time ever i felt so restless,
that too doubtless.
Tears bursted like anything,
Pain was still great within,
But than i made a promise not to cry,
as i cared for you, cant c u sad and make your heart dry.
It’s been 3 months to you,
but still your thoughts are younger within me,
Though it’s a bitter reality, hard to believe,
But no words, no feelings can make me relieve.
Words are less but feelings are irrepressible,
Still i don’t know what/who can make my life feasible.
How can i just sit and wait for you in our next life.
But the saddest thing is i am helpless.
Never thought ill be in such a condition,
which will make my life stuck without any stable position.
So bad was my fate which dint let me see you in last moments,
i could only know how those days, that whole month was for me,
as if somebody is left in a desert without water and only heat.
Though i am a firm God believer,
Still don’t know whom to blame, myself or God?
who atleast gave me the chance to feel you,
But than himself pushed me under this deep haunting lieu.
Or may be i have been paid for some of my bad deeds,
which i couldn’t even think in my dreams.
Still very hard to believe that u have left me,
and this bitter reality always twich me.
Always thought whatever God does is right,
But this time hardly i am able to find something and having a big fight.
First time ever i felt this fatal pain of loosing someone u love,
because it’s not just loosing but far above!!!
again i am left with same position,
though the things are altogether different and not alike,
earlier i was looking/waiting but presently i dnt feel like.
Sometimes in anger and much of love felt like blaming you,
how u thought of leaving me without giving our relationship even a single view,
but than i knw very well my dear, even you also dint had any clue,
for whatever happened with us.
as rite now it seems to be a curse.
you might also b feeling the same as i do, for sure,
as v both had carried a loving relationship which was pure,
you are not reachable that’s true,
but my feelings will never gonna be less for you.
All the promises u made,
everything very easily in fractions of minutes got fade,
as if we never met, we never talked,
and the only thing m left with is your thoughts.
never wanted to ruin myself by loosing you,
you were also serious and promised me about this fact,
but than it happened by God's clever act.
Hope time will heal this wound,
but a person incarnation of yours could be perfect and sound,
Let me also see God's game and the limit to which a person can be bound.
first time ever in my life m writing a poem for someone,
jst transforming a lovely relationship into a dedication,
with all my feelings, love and affection.
How should i end this dedication, thts a big question,
i don’t have right words as feelings continue to emerge,
But always pray God to bless you and give your soul a right verge,
Will never forget you for sure and that’s why wrote this inscription.
I have promised not to reveal my friend's identity.
Please go through it.
DEDICATION
===============
An effort to incarnate my feelings into a poem
=====================================
Just trying to give my feelings a better shape
=====================================
Feelings are great, immense and indispensable. Don’t know from where i should start.
How did i get these memories?
You were so stranger to me,
eventually you came nearer to me.
You were in each thought i had,
My feelings were growing stronger,
with every move u made.
You were the miracle in my life,
you had such a beautiful smile,
you made my life worth-while.
you touched my heart and soul,
with your such a beautiful accepting nature,
which earlier i never thought,
But you made it true, just at the right spot.
You were everything i wanted,
your nature, liveliness, sense of humour, understanding were few to mention,
every step we grew towards each other with right perception..
life was incomplete without someone,
but as u stepped in eventually it seemed to be the concluded one.
Seconds, minutes, hours and days were so short whenever we used to talk,
Always felt like sharing every joy and sorrow whenever, wherever in life we would walk,
But never imagined wat is waiting ahead for me is a biggest shock.
Just when we think things getting better, it gets worse. That even before we actually know it.
Good things never comes cheap,
This bitter truth made me creep.
Though the period we spent together was small,
But every moment was cherishable and makes me to re-call.
The day we talked for the last time, never can i forget,
But who knew it would be the last day, which made me not even a single thing to neglect.
Time never waits for anybody, and the day came when i was informed u left me.
My heart was shattered and fell into pieces,
As if somebody had stabbed a knife into my heart,
you jst left my heart in stitches, [s-t-i-t-c-h-e-s]
i couldn’t believe u left me.
my heart was crying like anything,
as if i have been left with nothing.
i got so crazy and panicky,
my mind was not with me,
first time ever i felt so restless,
that too doubtless.
Tears bursted like anything,
Pain was still great within,
But than i made a promise not to cry,
as i cared for you, cant c u sad and make your heart dry.
It’s been 3 months to you,
but still your thoughts are younger within me,
Though it’s a bitter reality, hard to believe,
But no words, no feelings can make me relieve.
Words are less but feelings are irrepressible,
Still i don’t know what/who can make my life feasible.
How can i just sit and wait for you in our next life.
But the saddest thing is i am helpless.
Never thought ill be in such a condition,
which will make my life stuck without any stable position.
So bad was my fate which dint let me see you in last moments,
i could only know how those days, that whole month was for me,
as if somebody is left in a desert without water and only heat.
Though i am a firm God believer,
Still don’t know whom to blame, myself or God?
who atleast gave me the chance to feel you,
But than himself pushed me under this deep haunting lieu.
Or may be i have been paid for some of my bad deeds,
which i couldn’t even think in my dreams.
Still very hard to believe that u have left me,
and this bitter reality always twich me.
Always thought whatever God does is right,
But this time hardly i am able to find something and having a big fight.
First time ever i felt this fatal pain of loosing someone u love,
because it’s not just loosing but far above!!!
again i am left with same position,
though the things are altogether different and not alike,
earlier i was looking/waiting but presently i dnt feel like.
Sometimes in anger and much of love felt like blaming you,
how u thought of leaving me without giving our relationship even a single view,
but than i knw very well my dear, even you also dint had any clue,
for whatever happened with us.
as rite now it seems to be a curse.
you might also b feeling the same as i do, for sure,
as v both had carried a loving relationship which was pure,
you are not reachable that’s true,
but my feelings will never gonna be less for you.
All the promises u made,
everything very easily in fractions of minutes got fade,
as if we never met, we never talked,
and the only thing m left with is your thoughts.
never wanted to ruin myself by loosing you,
you were also serious and promised me about this fact,
but than it happened by God's clever act.
Hope time will heal this wound,
but a person incarnation of yours could be perfect and sound,
Let me also see God's game and the limit to which a person can be bound.
first time ever in my life m writing a poem for someone,
jst transforming a lovely relationship into a dedication,
with all my feelings, love and affection.
How should i end this dedication, thts a big question,
i don’t have right words as feelings continue to emerge,
But always pray God to bless you and give your soul a right verge,
Will never forget you for sure and that’s why wrote this inscription.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Relationships...
Suddenly, I realized that last few strands of maggie, soaked in ketchup are lying half wet alongwith peas that I hardly relish. It made me awakened...Where was I??
The song that I started listening on Radio Mirchi was over and RJ Shubhra was blabbering on 9 to 11 pm show - "Purani Jeans". In last five minutes, my mind rushed through all the stages I had in past 10 years.uuuufff...
Truth need not be bet on. After my three months stay miles away from home, I explored myself more and deeper.
What lies beneath and what not is as obvious to me as the two vertical ends - ground and sky.
This I suppose happens with every single person going through same phase as mine. How people looking so mechanical and materialistic become so close and warm within tight slumbers deep inside themselves. A full cup smile with eyes as blank as frog's eyes, the one gesture I hated the most has become a part and parccel of my existence in my surroundings.
Few moths back, I tried not to give loneliness a chance in routine. But now I like to close my eyes and remember sweet evenings at home with my parents, my cutie pie pet Macho and the sun rays finding access from the windows for themselves to brighten our faces with their gentle yellow colour. Closing my eyes make me feel all in all fit into all the bondings cemented at home and office.
A long road flanked by trees...
River besides promising the peace...
Live and chirpy birds around...
Forces me to hear a distant sound...
Mind speaks on behalf of heart..
One true source that generated the thought..
Relationships bowing the leaves of affection...
Both sides of the roads amid congestion..
River flowing on the side..
Jabbers the secrets so low as to confide..
Secret that revels the art so smart..
To heal the infantile heart, one dapple part..
In the attempt to hem the two ends meet...
Stitch the wide vast length to greet..
Hert so bonny to solve the questions..
Why, How, What and when ..no notion..
What to give and what to preserve...
So as to make one bonding reserved..
The song that I started listening on Radio Mirchi was over and RJ Shubhra was blabbering on 9 to 11 pm show - "Purani Jeans". In last five minutes, my mind rushed through all the stages I had in past 10 years.uuuufff...
Truth need not be bet on. After my three months stay miles away from home, I explored myself more and deeper.
What lies beneath and what not is as obvious to me as the two vertical ends - ground and sky.
This I suppose happens with every single person going through same phase as mine. How people looking so mechanical and materialistic become so close and warm within tight slumbers deep inside themselves. A full cup smile with eyes as blank as frog's eyes, the one gesture I hated the most has become a part and parccel of my existence in my surroundings.
Few moths back, I tried not to give loneliness a chance in routine. But now I like to close my eyes and remember sweet evenings at home with my parents, my cutie pie pet Macho and the sun rays finding access from the windows for themselves to brighten our faces with their gentle yellow colour. Closing my eyes make me feel all in all fit into all the bondings cemented at home and office.
A long road flanked by trees...
River besides promising the peace...
Live and chirpy birds around...
Forces me to hear a distant sound...
Mind speaks on behalf of heart..
One true source that generated the thought..
Relationships bowing the leaves of affection...
Both sides of the roads amid congestion..
River flowing on the side..
Jabbers the secrets so low as to confide..
Secret that revels the art so smart..
To heal the infantile heart, one dapple part..
In the attempt to hem the two ends meet...
Stitch the wide vast length to greet..
Hert so bonny to solve the questions..
Why, How, What and when ..no notion..
What to give and what to preserve...
So as to make one bonding reserved..
An Iota of Romance...
As we were driving through the calm, wide, dense but silent roads of Hyderabad, my friend's brother kept on pointing one building then to another. But I was totally lost as it was after nearly two months that I happened to feel and appreciate the nature's beauty. I was missing those mornings when my eyes used to see the beautiful trees and a silent road drenched in orange light across the 5 x 5 feet window opening of my one seater hostel room. The view used to bring immense agility, undefined.
After coming to Pune that same missing factor "an Iota of romance with our Earth so beautiful" brings emptiness.
Counting the inroads of hours..
Cogitating deeply the events parsed...
Realization of carrying rancour...
Sometimes for a second or an hour...
Searching for a missing an Iota of romance..
Silouette of a salubrious gathering..
On one side of the window opening..
The other side fragrance of wet soil..
Breathing and Sustaining the aleviated toil..
Penance of dereliction on that account...
A feeling pirouette...
Why din't mind capture the congenial air..
A deal so lucrative and fair..
To live those moments now we care...
To search an Iota of romance with Nature in the air...
After coming to Pune that same missing factor "an Iota of romance with our Earth so beautiful" brings emptiness.
Counting the inroads of hours..
Cogitating deeply the events parsed...
Realization of carrying rancour...
Sometimes for a second or an hour...
Searching for a missing an Iota of romance..
Silouette of a salubrious gathering..
On one side of the window opening..
The other side fragrance of wet soil..
Breathing and Sustaining the aleviated toil..
Penance of dereliction on that account...
A feeling pirouette...
Why din't mind capture the congenial air..
A deal so lucrative and fair..
To live those moments now we care...
To search an Iota of romance with Nature in the air...
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
BangaloRED.....!!!!
Life is a strange story and stranger are the people around and we ourselves are the strangest. After completing 20 days in Bangalore I feel Bangalored. Population fits like a glove in the city and I am a part of this population. Bangalore city is full of engineers and technocrats.
My mind is in bistable states these days. I am lost when sitting alone and I find myself back on Earth while walking on the pavements flanked by crowd.
After spending 1 week in Electronic city when we were asked to move to another place where we had to go by local bus, I was the one who was happy. I thought it to be a chance to know Bangalore better. But the agility inside has started muffling. More than 12 hours of day out is enough to challenge my will.
My morning begins with lots of experiments in kitchen and on weekends it goes on whole day. Life has changed its way so fast. In the jampacked buses, I have got one more experience of counting breathing rate of people and not of one but 4-6 at one time. Warm gush of air strikes my cheeks and my shoulders keep on jostling in Bangalore multitude.
God knows what my language will be after few more days. I talk in English whole day and listen Malyalam, Kannad, Telugu, Bengali etc etc. But I'm loving it. All day and at home I listen different languages and try to pick and learn few words.
So, I feel like BANGALORED....
Am I a stranger to myself
A found fairy or a lost elf..
Mind confined in a vacuum...
Questioning and answering so random...
Crowd joins the labyrinths in tandem..
Deafening sounds awake sleeping mind...
One hell of its kind...
Sequence of events to grind...
Whatever comes, heart hails all...
Lost or found in this world so small
Forgetting self and finding it back...
Feel like moments slack....
Oh my God!!! What am I WRITING.....jUST A TRY....
My mind is in bistable states these days. I am lost when sitting alone and I find myself back on Earth while walking on the pavements flanked by crowd.
After spending 1 week in Electronic city when we were asked to move to another place where we had to go by local bus, I was the one who was happy. I thought it to be a chance to know Bangalore better. But the agility inside has started muffling. More than 12 hours of day out is enough to challenge my will.
My morning begins with lots of experiments in kitchen and on weekends it goes on whole day. Life has changed its way so fast. In the jampacked buses, I have got one more experience of counting breathing rate of people and not of one but 4-6 at one time. Warm gush of air strikes my cheeks and my shoulders keep on jostling in Bangalore multitude.
God knows what my language will be after few more days. I talk in English whole day and listen Malyalam, Kannad, Telugu, Bengali etc etc. But I'm loving it. All day and at home I listen different languages and try to pick and learn few words.
So, I feel like BANGALORED....
Am I a stranger to myself
A found fairy or a lost elf..
Mind confined in a vacuum...
Questioning and answering so random...
Crowd joins the labyrinths in tandem..
Deafening sounds awake sleeping mind...
One hell of its kind...
Sequence of events to grind...
Whatever comes, heart hails all...
Lost or found in this world so small
Forgetting self and finding it back...
Feel like moments slack....
Oh my God!!! What am I WRITING.....jUST A TRY....
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The Prince of Kurukshetra
It was Friday evening when all the News channels in an emulous act kept on focusing their cameras on a 60 feet deep pit in a village in district Kurukshetra. For the first time the name of my city “Kurukshetra” was seen on the news channels for the news other than “Suraj Grahan Mela” and “Geeta Jayanti Utsav”. A boy named Prince had fallen into that deep dark, merely 1 foot wide pit. Listening to the news, one first measures 60 feet by multiplying the wall of the house by 6 then snivels and cogitates about the narrowness of the pit and then about darkness. Mere thought of such situation haunts one’s mind and flashes of the Hollywood movies run through the eyes.
It took 48 hours for the army and medical team to take him out safely. In every news channel one could see the current situation. Our whole nation spent the weekend by sitting in front of TV, discussing the valor of Prince, a 5 years old child. The little boy deserves praise as it was not easy to survive inside that deep hole bored for the purpose of tube well. If a city bred boy was there he could have never been able to survive there because of high temperature, low oxygen, absence of light and fear of animals and insects. Those two days were spent watching interviews of those familiar faces and the video coverage of the hospital campus where we have spent 12 years after papa was posted to Kurukshetra. The first day, I enjoyed watching interviews of doctors who visit our place frequently being family friends.
Next morning, yes we were excited to know that whether the boy was rescued or not. But he was not. Okie.
Gradually, the whole episode that had to be a portion of news became just one news…breaking news, telecasted by all the news channels. The incident which I was comparing with a Hollywood movie scene turned out to be a Bollywood masala “maa kasam” kind of bathos. I agree that it was a news and the little boy was worthy of appreciation that he bagged. But it was not a news to be telecasted whole day whole night forgetting the Lebanon war and political make n’ break ups.
Few days back there was another news that blanketed the news channels; the news of a professor having affairs with his students. The media shew nothing but colossal dunce. Media is said to be a mirror reflecting our society and surroundings. I can now better describe it as an imbecilic spicy show that can attract and hold no other than loggerhead, illiterate and thoughtless portion of the society.
It took 48 hours for the army and medical team to take him out safely. In every news channel one could see the current situation. Our whole nation spent the weekend by sitting in front of TV, discussing the valor of Prince, a 5 years old child. The little boy deserves praise as it was not easy to survive inside that deep hole bored for the purpose of tube well. If a city bred boy was there he could have never been able to survive there because of high temperature, low oxygen, absence of light and fear of animals and insects. Those two days were spent watching interviews of those familiar faces and the video coverage of the hospital campus where we have spent 12 years after papa was posted to Kurukshetra. The first day, I enjoyed watching interviews of doctors who visit our place frequently being family friends.
Next morning, yes we were excited to know that whether the boy was rescued or not. But he was not. Okie.
Gradually, the whole episode that had to be a portion of news became just one news…breaking news, telecasted by all the news channels. The incident which I was comparing with a Hollywood movie scene turned out to be a Bollywood masala “maa kasam” kind of bathos. I agree that it was a news and the little boy was worthy of appreciation that he bagged. But it was not a news to be telecasted whole day whole night forgetting the Lebanon war and political make n’ break ups.
Few days back there was another news that blanketed the news channels; the news of a professor having affairs with his students. The media shew nothing but colossal dunce. Media is said to be a mirror reflecting our society and surroundings. I can now better describe it as an imbecilic spicy show that can attract and hold no other than loggerhead, illiterate and thoughtless portion of the society.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Mera Bachpan Aisa Kyon??
It was scorching summer of 2003 when 12-13 youth wearing white kurtas and blue jeans, were singing with passion on a temporarily made stage outside the reception area of MMEC. They were surrounded by crowd of not more than 100 people because it was not any western dance performance.
Suno suno ek baat suno…
Bade pate ki baat suno…
Bachpan ki un galiyon ki..
Un nanhi nanhi kaliyon ki....
They were performing a street play – “Mera Bachpan Aisa Kyon?” to make people learn that child labor is crime. Acting was good, script was marvelous and not even a single dialogue was spoken amiss. They had worked hard for about 1 week to frame a story, practice dialogues and of course knuckled down a lot for publicity. I too was a part of that play. My role was of a journalist who expostulates politicians for the multi-standard shown by them just to satisfy their bellies with votes and more votes. Before elections, most of the politicians target child laborers to make their vote banks heavy. After elections, blood banks loose level but who cares then.
Everyone congratulated us and appreciated the effort made. So, we guys decided to party in college canteen. What an irony? Just after 15 minutes of presenting a heart warming story of the children working in factories in deplorable conditions, all of us were being served snacks and cold drinks by a 10 year old boy who worked in canteen. I was ashamed and was appalled as nobody was bothered. Everyone was busy in gossiping. While getting back home I talked to my friend Priya who was also in the crew. A distressing feeling that we today truly did what politicians do led to discomfort.
I had made promises with myself that I would teach one poor child or after getting into job I would bring up one orphan. I remember I was so much determined. In fact, I started helping our maid’s daughter by providing her books, dictionary etc. But neither could I make it on nor did she show any interest.
Whenever I see little children, standing on pavements without clothes and food, begging for money I feel like just close my eyes or look at the sky. Giving money to beggars who can earn is itself a sin and I don’t ever do it.
Three years back, my summer training at MTNL, Janpath, was going on and at Shivaji stadium I was waiting for my bus with a co-trainee. To beat the heat, we decided to buy ice cream from the Mc Donald’s take away. But as soon as I opened my mouth to take a bite, I saw a little boy wearing a torn shirt, no foot wears under feet, face so dull with shabby brown-coloured hair, spread his little hands and said, “paisa”. I stopped and my hands started searching my wallet in my bag while my eyes fixed on to his ignoble looks, bleak eyes and sad countenance. But I decided to give him my ice cream. I did not want to be a sinner. Other boy standing with me said that this way you can never eat a toffee in Delhi. No response came out of my long tongue. The happiness of the cherub could be seen from the sanguine hopes that his eyes had regained and from his toothless laughter after getting the ice cream.
That day I held a long communion with my grandmother, discussing why some people are so rich and why some are so poor. In our nation there is such a huge gap between rich and poor. One dies of no food while other dies of hogging.
Animals and little children are my second love, first being my family. Their sufferings just redound to pain to everyone who feel concerned. If not millions, there are atleast thousands on this Earth who truly want to help disabled and orphan children. Hundreds have succeeded in their mission and rest lack resources. Multi-millionaires who spend oodles of money in paying tax can donate a considerable amount to NGOs working assiduously for children. But how many of them are sensible and honest? How many of them think about nation and not just about “me, my and myself”? There is enough in this world for everyone’s need but not enough for everyone’s greed – problem lies here.
Today I eyed a cherub..
A bonny face…
slouching gait with ignoble looks..
two little bleak eyes that really knocks…
those two dimming stars knocked my heart.
standing glum and silent
her eyes so weary,
cheeks so pale,
whole countenance..
telling her childhood’s tale.
Listen if you can..
Its me a poor bairn.
Listen….
I opened my eyes yesterday…..
I saw the birds chirping…
I saw the wind singing….
Clouds drumming….
Trees dancing……
And bees buzzing….
My heart hailed the beauty…..
I joined my fatigued hands……
Prayed for the food and water….
Energy and happiness….
Prosperity and kindness….
I prayed for…
Food to chirp like jovial birds.
Water to quench my dry mouth’s thirst….
Energy to sing like wind…
Prosperity to enable my wrenched mind….
Kindness to make feel other what I do…..
Birds, animals, insects and plants….
All have reasons to sing and dance….
My reasons are confined and diluted…..
Stowed and hidden in pockets of many…
All my entreaties are vain……
Everytime washed in sorrowful rain….
Why God gave me this perdition to suffocate??
Why did he never try my sufferings to alleviate??
What is my sin??
My poverty or their richness??
Suno suno ek baat suno…
Bade pate ki baat suno…
Bachpan ki un galiyon ki..
Un nanhi nanhi kaliyon ki....
They were performing a street play – “Mera Bachpan Aisa Kyon?” to make people learn that child labor is crime. Acting was good, script was marvelous and not even a single dialogue was spoken amiss. They had worked hard for about 1 week to frame a story, practice dialogues and of course knuckled down a lot for publicity. I too was a part of that play. My role was of a journalist who expostulates politicians for the multi-standard shown by them just to satisfy their bellies with votes and more votes. Before elections, most of the politicians target child laborers to make their vote banks heavy. After elections, blood banks loose level but who cares then.
Everyone congratulated us and appreciated the effort made. So, we guys decided to party in college canteen. What an irony? Just after 15 minutes of presenting a heart warming story of the children working in factories in deplorable conditions, all of us were being served snacks and cold drinks by a 10 year old boy who worked in canteen. I was ashamed and was appalled as nobody was bothered. Everyone was busy in gossiping. While getting back home I talked to my friend Priya who was also in the crew. A distressing feeling that we today truly did what politicians do led to discomfort.
I had made promises with myself that I would teach one poor child or after getting into job I would bring up one orphan. I remember I was so much determined. In fact, I started helping our maid’s daughter by providing her books, dictionary etc. But neither could I make it on nor did she show any interest.
Whenever I see little children, standing on pavements without clothes and food, begging for money I feel like just close my eyes or look at the sky. Giving money to beggars who can earn is itself a sin and I don’t ever do it.
Three years back, my summer training at MTNL, Janpath, was going on and at Shivaji stadium I was waiting for my bus with a co-trainee. To beat the heat, we decided to buy ice cream from the Mc Donald’s take away. But as soon as I opened my mouth to take a bite, I saw a little boy wearing a torn shirt, no foot wears under feet, face so dull with shabby brown-coloured hair, spread his little hands and said, “paisa”. I stopped and my hands started searching my wallet in my bag while my eyes fixed on to his ignoble looks, bleak eyes and sad countenance. But I decided to give him my ice cream. I did not want to be a sinner. Other boy standing with me said that this way you can never eat a toffee in Delhi. No response came out of my long tongue. The happiness of the cherub could be seen from the sanguine hopes that his eyes had regained and from his toothless laughter after getting the ice cream.
That day I held a long communion with my grandmother, discussing why some people are so rich and why some are so poor. In our nation there is such a huge gap between rich and poor. One dies of no food while other dies of hogging.
Animals and little children are my second love, first being my family. Their sufferings just redound to pain to everyone who feel concerned. If not millions, there are atleast thousands on this Earth who truly want to help disabled and orphan children. Hundreds have succeeded in their mission and rest lack resources. Multi-millionaires who spend oodles of money in paying tax can donate a considerable amount to NGOs working assiduously for children. But how many of them are sensible and honest? How many of them think about nation and not just about “me, my and myself”? There is enough in this world for everyone’s need but not enough for everyone’s greed – problem lies here.
Today I eyed a cherub..
A bonny face…
slouching gait with ignoble looks..
two little bleak eyes that really knocks…
those two dimming stars knocked my heart.
standing glum and silent
her eyes so weary,
cheeks so pale,
whole countenance..
telling her childhood’s tale.
Listen if you can..
Its me a poor bairn.
Listen….
I opened my eyes yesterday…..
I saw the birds chirping…
I saw the wind singing….
Clouds drumming….
Trees dancing……
And bees buzzing….
My heart hailed the beauty…..
I joined my fatigued hands……
Prayed for the food and water….
Energy and happiness….
Prosperity and kindness….
I prayed for…
Food to chirp like jovial birds.
Water to quench my dry mouth’s thirst….
Energy to sing like wind…
Prosperity to enable my wrenched mind….
Kindness to make feel other what I do…..
Birds, animals, insects and plants….
All have reasons to sing and dance….
My reasons are confined and diluted…..
Stowed and hidden in pockets of many…
All my entreaties are vain……
Everytime washed in sorrowful rain….
Why God gave me this perdition to suffocate??
Why did he never try my sufferings to alleviate??
What is my sin??
My poverty or their richness??
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Black and White
Everytime we get together and our meetings end up by concluding nature and behaviour of a person. We harangue in one group or another and as there is a call of this young age group, one target is set and the person's (target) whole personality is crushed.
All of us expect so much from others that we ourselves fail to measure the expectations. The length of this is known by few and deluge of expectations are set by many. When not fulfilled, you are declared a black shadow.
Why people can't accept the real you? We tramp on this Earth wearing fake smile on our face and feigning fake courteous words for our friends and colleagues. We keep on running in this mad crowd in search of those dark caves. Many of us far transgress to prove our potential to be tolerant, sometimes to save a job and sometimes to keep the bonds of relationships strong and smooth.
A life that asunders our two selves and I feel like living in a multitude of split personalities.
In our hostel magazine my poem "Black and White" has been published. Have a look...
Everything in this world changes
Once people come to know the real you
You become a black shadow...
No white, No grey
Black guzzles all to dismay
Why people run after white?
Just to pull out white and wise from you
Why they never want to face the real you?
You try to blanket yourself
Inside the darker caves....
But how can you mend the ways
With those you have spent so many days...
All of us expect so much from others that we ourselves fail to measure the expectations. The length of this is known by few and deluge of expectations are set by many. When not fulfilled, you are declared a black shadow.
Why people can't accept the real you? We tramp on this Earth wearing fake smile on our face and feigning fake courteous words for our friends and colleagues. We keep on running in this mad crowd in search of those dark caves. Many of us far transgress to prove our potential to be tolerant, sometimes to save a job and sometimes to keep the bonds of relationships strong and smooth.
A life that asunders our two selves and I feel like living in a multitude of split personalities.
In our hostel magazine my poem "Black and White" has been published. Have a look...
Everything in this world changes
Once people come to know the real you
You become a black shadow...
No white, No grey
Black guzzles all to dismay
Why people run after white?
Just to pull out white and wise from you
Why they never want to face the real you?
You try to blanket yourself
Inside the darker caves....
But how can you mend the ways
With those you have spent so many days...
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Scaling heights freely......
29th April was the day of exploring world outside the little window. It was the first time when I went for an offcampus interview for Freescale Motorola. After applying offcampus for the same the idea was not to swim across the English channel like a winner but the never dying temptation to go to Delhi and meet my cousins haha... bad gal. Delhi, the only place where I have spent all my summer vacation.
My elder brother was even more excited and kept on boosting me up to appear sincerely."So what if you couldn't make it on campus..c'mon you can do it",were his words.The same boy who bore my sententious words whenever found playing computer games instead of studying.
One day before the test mamma and I reached Delhi.Next day my uncle,mamma and over burdened Ms reached Express Tower,Noida.The height of the building was not more than the heap of presentiments of questionaire that was to be faced close in time.While at the reception I signed in and saw the list of 108 people, most of them from IITs,NSIT,TIET and BITS, "just run away" were the words that came out effusively and even louder than the whispers of the people around.
Inside that building I was feeling like a cyborg as all the doors were electronically operated and we like robots were crossing those in series.Okie....So, finally we were in the hall. I chose to sit in front of a girl sitting alone and started talking.She was from NSIT. Test was nerve-wrecking as it was on campus."Lady time is up.Stop writing now", alarmed me.Perhaps In all the university exams my paper had never been fully attempted.So, 29th April though a different day was proved not so different in one way. As far as managing time in exams is concerned, I have always been a scape grace :(
There stood mamma smiling" how was the test?"said she."You know my answer" ,I panted.She smiled and said,"pata nahi...yahi naa aur kya".Naren uncle like always said boisterously to mamma,"Didi,lets go for a treat she'll surely get through".Clearing the written test of Motorola was not a thought even beyond the end of my mind. .
Clock struck 2:00 o'clock and the result was displayed.My heart beat was so fast ,I don't know why there was a hope for the hopeless case.Nimisha Saini interview at 5:30 pm....my name was among those 36 people. "Mausa ji, this is next to impossible..clearing this test is a king's play not a jack's hit". He kept on realizing me my strengths and target.The value of relationships and family love is the oxygen of my life as I'm nothing without them. My journey has been so far so good only because of my family and people around me.An sms from my cousin was one of the deciding factors to appear for Motorola after being beaten 2 times on campus.
Though I have two placements in hand but Freescale Motorola is a big name when compared to Wipro and Flextronics.
My brother's phone calls started striking mamma's cell after every 1 hour. So many people around and nobody's cell's ringing frequency was as high as mamma's.Those were the calls from a worried brother who became elder to me in just 2 months after being posted away from Delhi.How distances heal concern and cement the bond was the one more lesson in my account that day.
Other TIET guys,all from B.Tech talking to me like I am the one armed perfectly in the battle field.M.Tech in VLSI was the Brhamastra according to them.
The air around became so stressful as one by one candidates were being called by a girl flinging here and there like a kite.Suddenly,Nimisha Saini..I became so cool just before entering the room. There I saw two men in the mid 30s sitting on the other side of the table.We shook hands,I managed to smile somehow and introduced myself.Now the funny journey began and i tightened the seat belt..my eyes beseeched "leave me I cleared the test by mistake".There was no way out and electronic door was closed.All the stupid and meaningless theories started demanding a valid reason for there existence in those old mildewed books.We were heading towards a journey inside the thick of thin things and this went on for 2 hours. Okie I am ashamed...I don't know this and that...leave me.This was a call from the wretched brain of mine,more looking like a standing jest. Thank God!! it wasn't too bad but not very good.
Getting back to the normal world was so peaceful.By that time a rare feeling of troubling mamma and uncle arrested my heart.It was 8:30 pm.The whole day they just sat on the sofas reading magazine and observing the MNC trends.A bunch of friends from NSIT amused everyone out there.
The hope of getting in never stirred my mind and the same feeling still existed inside.The result was declared dramatically as always and 7 guys were selected. Just 7 of 108!!!
"The day was not wasted,see the exposure you got",were papa's words. "So what if you rejected their offer",said jokingly.This is my papa,always cool.Sympathies and congratulations for clearing the written (atleast) were in my way after getting back to masi's place.
This was true.The day was not wasted.Atleast I stepped out of that long corridor from VLSI lab to HOD's office.Sick of swinging like a pendulum between these two ends the day gave a chance to see outside the window,one side of which is my group of 4,Alpana mam and a journey to Kurukshetra almost every weekend.The other side was scaling height freely and competing with the top rankers.
Last four months have been passed sitting in front of computer, analysing those waveforms and finding a meaningless meaning out of those.That black screen of Tanner EDA tool leaves no chance to get a glance from me even in my dreams.My thoughts have been confined to the VLSI lab and getting out of it one Saturday when Sundays and Saturdays have really lost there meaning, felt like scaling freely at FREESCALE Motorola.
This is for mamma,papa,my brother and relatives
A sleeping thought gets meaning
when you awake me...
Thin things become so thick
when you talk to me..
Heights loose the awe
when you embrace me...
The power bestowed by you
is the one that drifts me..
Its just love and nothing else
that drives the world...
Surprised at those
who are alive and kicking..
Living without a drop of affection
In a dearth of warmness..
Striving for a relationship
in a hunger of liveliness.
My elder brother was even more excited and kept on boosting me up to appear sincerely."So what if you couldn't make it on campus..c'mon you can do it",were his words.The same boy who bore my sententious words whenever found playing computer games instead of studying.
One day before the test mamma and I reached Delhi.Next day my uncle,mamma and over burdened Ms reached Express Tower,Noida.The height of the building was not more than the heap of presentiments of questionaire that was to be faced close in time.While at the reception I signed in and saw the list of 108 people, most of them from IITs,NSIT,TIET and BITS, "just run away" were the words that came out effusively and even louder than the whispers of the people around.
Inside that building I was feeling like a cyborg as all the doors were electronically operated and we like robots were crossing those in series.Okie....So, finally we were in the hall. I chose to sit in front of a girl sitting alone and started talking.She was from NSIT. Test was nerve-wrecking as it was on campus."Lady time is up.Stop writing now", alarmed me.Perhaps In all the university exams my paper had never been fully attempted.So, 29th April though a different day was proved not so different in one way. As far as managing time in exams is concerned, I have always been a scape grace :(
There stood mamma smiling" how was the test?"said she."You know my answer" ,I panted.She smiled and said,"pata nahi...yahi naa aur kya".Naren uncle like always said boisterously to mamma,"Didi,lets go for a treat she'll surely get through".Clearing the written test of Motorola was not a thought even beyond the end of my mind. .
Clock struck 2:00 o'clock and the result was displayed.My heart beat was so fast ,I don't know why there was a hope for the hopeless case.Nimisha Saini interview at 5:30 pm....my name was among those 36 people. "Mausa ji, this is next to impossible..clearing this test is a king's play not a jack's hit". He kept on realizing me my strengths and target.The value of relationships and family love is the oxygen of my life as I'm nothing without them. My journey has been so far so good only because of my family and people around me.An sms from my cousin was one of the deciding factors to appear for Motorola after being beaten 2 times on campus.
Though I have two placements in hand but Freescale Motorola is a big name when compared to Wipro and Flextronics.
My brother's phone calls started striking mamma's cell after every 1 hour. So many people around and nobody's cell's ringing frequency was as high as mamma's.Those were the calls from a worried brother who became elder to me in just 2 months after being posted away from Delhi.How distances heal concern and cement the bond was the one more lesson in my account that day.
Other TIET guys,all from B.Tech talking to me like I am the one armed perfectly in the battle field.M.Tech in VLSI was the Brhamastra according to them.
The air around became so stressful as one by one candidates were being called by a girl flinging here and there like a kite.Suddenly,Nimisha Saini..I became so cool just before entering the room. There I saw two men in the mid 30s sitting on the other side of the table.We shook hands,I managed to smile somehow and introduced myself.Now the funny journey began and i tightened the seat belt..my eyes beseeched "leave me I cleared the test by mistake".There was no way out and electronic door was closed.All the stupid and meaningless theories started demanding a valid reason for there existence in those old mildewed books.We were heading towards a journey inside the thick of thin things and this went on for 2 hours. Okie I am ashamed...I don't know this and that...leave me.This was a call from the wretched brain of mine,more looking like a standing jest. Thank God!! it wasn't too bad but not very good.
Getting back to the normal world was so peaceful.By that time a rare feeling of troubling mamma and uncle arrested my heart.It was 8:30 pm.The whole day they just sat on the sofas reading magazine and observing the MNC trends.A bunch of friends from NSIT amused everyone out there.
The hope of getting in never stirred my mind and the same feeling still existed inside.The result was declared dramatically as always and 7 guys were selected. Just 7 of 108!!!
"The day was not wasted,see the exposure you got",were papa's words. "So what if you rejected their offer",said jokingly.This is my papa,always cool.Sympathies and congratulations for clearing the written (atleast) were in my way after getting back to masi's place.
This was true.The day was not wasted.Atleast I stepped out of that long corridor from VLSI lab to HOD's office.Sick of swinging like a pendulum between these two ends the day gave a chance to see outside the window,one side of which is my group of 4,Alpana mam and a journey to Kurukshetra almost every weekend.The other side was scaling height freely and competing with the top rankers.
Last four months have been passed sitting in front of computer, analysing those waveforms and finding a meaningless meaning out of those.That black screen of Tanner EDA tool leaves no chance to get a glance from me even in my dreams.My thoughts have been confined to the VLSI lab and getting out of it one Saturday when Sundays and Saturdays have really lost there meaning, felt like scaling freely at FREESCALE Motorola.
This is for mamma,papa,my brother and relatives
A sleeping thought gets meaning
when you awake me...
Thin things become so thick
when you talk to me..
Heights loose the awe
when you embrace me...
The power bestowed by you
is the one that drifts me..
Its just love and nothing else
that drives the world...
Surprised at those
who are alive and kicking..
Living without a drop of affection
In a dearth of warmness..
Striving for a relationship
in a hunger of liveliness.
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