Standing @ Crossroads

I have tried my best to go up to her and ask her what has changed between us. Why have we become stranger to each other? Why things are not the way they used to be months back? I don’t remember since when I started avoiding her glare. Was it a conscious effort or something that came down so natural to me? I never realized until today that I was so feeble and meek of heart. I can’t look into her eyes anymore. Those beautiful and captivating eyes, that even today bore down deep into my psyche, had made me once realize that I had something in me. Something that I never knew ever existed in my mortal body. Something latent. I don’t know if it was something special, but at least people around me used to say that it was indeed. They used to say that it was because of her that I grew up to become a changed person. I doubt that. Maybe I was always like this. It was just that I never realized until we crossed roads. But today, after almost a year, I can’t face her. The way she looks at me today somehow makes me realize how selfish I have become, or maybe I always was.

I guess this is how we traverse life as a mortal being. We only consider what is good for us and what makes us happy. We never – at least not always- realize what impact our words or action would have on someone who loves us. Or to someone for whom we hold importance. We talk to someone we feel like talking. But what good it is for the other person when we are not there to listen to them when they feel the same? One moment we can’t live without hearing ones voice but the next moment we realize that every feeling that we had earlier with that one person is all of a sudden erased, as it never existed. No matter how hard we try to feel the same way we used to feel earlier turns out a futile exercise. The moments that we had lived once simply become memories that are now merely the relics of the past. Memories that will remain forever. Memories that will surface only by some weird incident or, only if we willingly want them to bubble up from the abyss of our conscience.

Having lived this life as a selfish and self-centered human, I have become a part of memories of many people. This has led me to become more apprehensive of the fact that I might also end up being just one character of someones else’s memories. I don’t say that it is a bad thing. I will be more than happy to be a reason behind someone’s smile, but what if I am the cause of misery. That would not be good. She is a part of many of my memories. When I was with her I was sure that she will be with me forever. As if I owned her. She never complained. She was with me for every moment I needed her support. My friends said that I was only lucky chap that I had her.

I don’t actually know what made me leave her. In fact, I never actually did. She was always near me but somehow we became distant. Or maybe, I distanced myself from her.  There was never a conscious effort behind doing so, but somehow there came another being between us. People believe that if you truly love someone then you would never fall for someone else. But I did. I fell for this beautiful and happiest being I ever met. She was full of energy. Energy that is bound to be left unbounded. She somehow brought so much happiness to all living/non livings things that her shadow fell upon. She has never really accepted me but has always made me feel special. I won’t say that she loves me because that is the truth. But I guess we all are stranded at one point in life that makes us realize that it is better to live and enjoy the moment than spoil everything by making things the way we want them to be. But, being with her who I’m sure- or at least there is a good chance- might not love me back really makes me feel miserable. I am agonized by mere notion of not having her by my side the next morning I wake up. I always wish that such thing never happen. Not all wishes are bound to be true, isn’t it? As of now I am content and glad that I came to know her, and she is still with me.

Today, however, there is something different. There is heavy air that engulfs me. Somehow I am not enjoying whatever I’m doing. The one whom I love today is with me but still there is a big void within me. I feel that I’ve been cruel and ignorant to my first love. Today I realized that I had actually ‘left’ her. She has always been with me. The fact remains: I miss my first love. I don’t know if we all have to make choices or is it just me who is foolish to have aggravated the situation. Since many days I’ve been discovering a lot about me as a human. I try to be someone who I’m not what I say to be. I might appear to be strong, confident and unbending to the choices that I make. I might seem to be someone who never vacillates. That’s not at all true. I have my share of fallibility. Many a times I also wish how different my life would have been if I had selected the thing that I rejected and not the one that I have accepted. I stand at such a cross-road that it might appear that I’ve to make a choice. It’s not difficult for me to select either of them because my first love, my blog and second love, my guitar, are happy to be with me and I will ensure to keep to give my undistracted attention to both.

The Messenger

Their eyes pierced deep into me as if they were seeking some real help from me. I don’t know why they consider me worthy enough to get a sneak-peek into their hearts and know their feelings for each other without shying away from the most uncomfortable one. Maybe it is because I can keep secrets. Or maybe because I can somehow help them come out- to some extent- of this feeling of unease. Or maybe because all that they want is someone who can just listen to them without judging their character on basis of what they feel. What ever may be the reason, the fact remains: I am the only one with whom they have shared what they feel for each other. But I have made it evident on numerous occasions that I am very bad at handling matters calling for understanding emotions. That is the reason why always my only reaction to their unbroken gaze is to look back at them and give appropriate expressions-which I seriously doubt they understand- so that they would know that I’m listening with rapt attention. In spite of us being childhood friends, I believe that it is not any real advice or help they are looking for. Instead all they want is someone to listen to, to talk to, and to find solace when their inner turbulence is unbearable.

As a friend I’m concerned for both of them. On one side there is he, who has kept his love for her still a secret only because he doesn’t want to lose out on the sweet moments with her if she doesn’t accept his love. It is not that he has never tried confronting her and making her aware of the tornado whirling within him. But whenever he has approached her he has become conscious of her beautiful smile, her cascade-of-flowing-water-like black hair, her impenetrable and majestic aura, and of her honey-dew voice. The moment she says ‘hi’ to him he forgets the purpose for which he had approached her and would start blabbering all worldly nonsense. The only reason that I am more inclined to listen to him and eager to know what he feels is because I know that she is the only one he has ever loved. I believe that the real reason he has yet not revealed his love to her is because he still has not understood if she is the one he is looking for. Is it just infatuation or true love? Or is it normal for people in love to feel this way? I believe that there is no mortal soul who can answer these questions.

On the other side there is she, who also loves him but has her reasons not to reveal it to him. She has heard stories of people who have never been able to achieve what they desired in life just because they digressed from their goal because of this ridiculous-yet-lovely feeling. Like him, she too doubts if it is love. Being the only child of her parents she has a responsibility of realizing the dreams that they have woven for her. Yet, the main problem is that she doubts whether he is the person with whom her destiny is written and with whom she would live her entire life? Will he continue to love her with same feeling with which he does today? Will she be able to gel with people from his social circle as they both belong to a different caste and a different state? How can she be sure that he does not turn out to be of the ‘other-lot’? What would become of her if she comes to know after 9-10 years down the line that their relation isn’t working? She has asked me these questions when she should have asked him.

I have always tried that I never give my opinion about what is right and what is wrong, nor have I suggested what should be done and what should be avoided, as I’m sure that it will definitely be flushed down the drain. In the end, people in love always end up doing what they feel like doing. But tell me! How can you seek answers if they are based on future actions? One should at least give it a shot so that one can know more about the other person. Love can only happen if one let’s go of his fear of the worst and anticipate the best.

Since time immortal I have always come to cognizance that being in love is a state very difficult to explain in words. It is wonderful and lovely one moment, ugly and stupid the other. It is not that I have something personal against it or that I have suffered it myself. It is because I have known billions of similar people looking up to me and sharing similar feelings. And all that I have been able do is to listen to them and provide them a reflection of their lovers face who is either not with them physically or who has crossed the river of life and is now awaiting for his/her arrival on the other side of the cycle of life. I have lived my entire life in isolation, trapped inside this deserted silvery-white body, suspended in ether. I don’t have a name for myself but the animate objects populating the once-exotic-now-banal blue-green planet in front of my eyes call me moon.

A thankless yet thankful Job

Looking at the dark gray clouds extending to the horizon it was difficult for her to say whether it was seven in the morning or seven in the evening. It had just been 15 mins since the students had started entering the school premises and forming groups in the main foyer for the morning payers. She, however, did not feel like joining them but rather wanted to stay by her cabin window at the 4th floor of the building. She wanted to take in the fresh morning air accompanied by the cold-sweet breeze coming from the direction of the school playground which was clear sign that it had rained somewhere in the vicinity. Though she was in her 50’s she still felt child at heart when she saw the signs of arrival of the first monsoon. She had always loved the sight of the world engulfed in blanket of water falling from the sky. She reminisced the way she used to make paper boats and place them in the rivulets formed in front of her porch. With her mother sitting by the entrance of the house and her father standing right behind her, she delighted on the sight of her craft moving like an invincible rover overcoming the obstacles, like twigs and leaves, in its way. But such wonderful moments always used to end with a sullen feeling. She piqued at the sight of her paper boat meeting a sad end. All the happy feelings of delight and joy ended in feelings of glum. Same were the feelings she was having right at this moment.

The day she had joined the teaching profession, she was ecstatic.  Ecstatic because she was living her dream. Dream of imparting the knowledge she had gained as a student herself and dream of sharing values she possessed as a human to her students. But, little did she know that many years later she would start doubting the correctness of her decision. Her father was her role model who had taught her the importance of ‘patience, perseverance, and compassion’. But she doubts if her students know what such things are. She wonders if they value the effort she is making day in and day out for them to learn the realities of life. For one thing, however, she is very positive: She loves all her students and has their best interest in mind. But, it’s just the way they talk to her, behave in class, take her instructions lightly and fail to meet deadlines that makes her feel so… small. Sometimes it feels as if she is just there for taking her assigned classes, drawing her salary, and minding her own business.

But who is to be blamed? On one side there is poor cooperation from the school’s management that simply looks at the numbers and not the quality of education delivered, and on the other hand there are parents who realize that they have a child only when he/she fails a test. And in the middle of both extremes lies the student who believes education is just a ‘ritual’. All that a student has heard people say to him/her is that ‘if you’ll go to school you’ll be a successful person’. But what does ‘being successful’ mean to a kid? Success, as a word, is in fact very difficult even for a grown up to define then how can one expect a child to understand this vague term?  And from here the child embarks on his journey of life making this nebulous term as its basis without knowing – at least until it’s too late – what is the real reason one has joined a school. Pondering over these issues, she even sometimes blames herself for not coping up with the changing time. Had she been able to adapt to the realities of the changing times she might have mitigated the feeling she is having this moment. She is well aware that she can’t generalize the problems but they exist and that is for sure.

Her pensive mood was broken when there was a knock on the cabin door. On inquiring who was there, came a reply of a male voice from the other side who identified himself as her student, 10 years ago. Perplexed who he was, she gave her consent for the uninvited guest to come in. Along with a man there entered a women, who seemed to be his wife and their 5-year-old kid. ‘Happy Teacher’s day, ma’am‘ were his first words the moment he stepped in the cabin and bent to touch her feet. “I could never have been what I’m in my life if it were not you who handled my tantrums, and helped me become what I’m today. You helped me watch the light of success across the tunnel of difficulties when I was delirious with what is that I actually seek from my life,” he continued. On the conversations that followed, he revealed that he had come to enroll his daughter as a student of the school. It was a brief meeting wherein he introduced her to his wife and told her about what he had achieved after he left the school. Taking her blessing, he took a leave and promised her to keep in touch.

Hardly had he left her cabin when there was a sudden downpour. (Click here for effects) All of a sudden she was enthused with ethereal feelings as if a hidden trove of unfathomable power had been unearthed. She moved towards the window and stretched out her hands to feel the cold water kiss her hand. She again found herself in the body of a 7-year-old girl sitting by the front porch and watching her paper boat drain in the rivulet. By now both her parents were sitting beside her. While her mother was making a new paper boat for her, her father told her, “One can never realize a dream in just one go, and if one does then he/she is lucky. You will doubt your decisions and doubt your efforts but remember, never stop pedaling to power your dreams.” Her chain of thoughts were broken with a loud ring of the school bell. She took her books and locked her cabin to take her scheduled lecture. Closing the door she found a card on her door knob that read ‘Happy Teacher’s day‘. She strode away smiling, taking it from there and placing it between the pages of her book.

An Accidental Voyage

One, out of a series of images that were captured by his then human mind within a span of few minutes, was of people rushing towards him. He could not recall how much time had lapsed before he found himself awkwardly lying on the gravel ridden tarmac. He was unsure if it was his brain conjuring up images of  men shouting out at him and asking him if he was all right, or was it for real. Through bleary eyes, all he could see were some broken pieces of glass and the contents of his bag scattered around him. Due to the impact his spectacle was thrown at a hands away distance. Fighting  the urge to become unconscious, he found a heavy two-wheeled machine all over his legs. The rear wheel of his bike was still spinning at a speed as if it was still being accelerated. Hardly a moment had passed when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, as if a snake was making its way to his buttocks along his spine. When he touched the back of  his neck the reality dawned upon him. A warm and thick red colored liquid was on his palm. The blood had now started trickling from his eyebrows onto his once-white-now-muddy shirt.

The most eerie feeling, however, he remember having the last time he breathed life as a human was that he didn’t feel any pain. In fact, he was happy and wanted to laugh. Laugh, like he had never laughed in his 30 years of human existence. He was feeling dizzy and wanted to rest. It would sound completely absurd but he was happy; happy because he was  completely ripped of all the responsibilities of a son, a father, a brother, a friend. He was now feeling as light as a feather. He wanted to sleep and rest, which he did, and that was about to last till eternity.

But the moment he remembered the roles he had played, while he lived on this blue-green planet, the faces of the beautiful people he had encountered in his life flashed against him. He was leaving behind those special people who had made his life worth to be called as a ‘human life’. He remembered the most beautiful lady who brought him into this world. The one with whom he had shared his heart beat, blood, food, and pain, well before breathing human life. It was strange but he could now distinctly remember the smile she had on her face the first time she heard him speak ‘mamma’, the tear in her eyes the first time he stood on his feet, the way she waived good bye the first time he went to school, the worry she had all over her face when he caught cold. Perhaps, she was the one who taught him why ‘mother’ was the most beautiful word of all words. He also now remembered the man who loved him the most but never made it explicit. He was the one who played with him, nursed his injured knees when he fell off a bicycle, stood as a wall against the worldly sufferings and pains, made him a man of good character and high self-esteem.

Photo Courtesy: Krunal Smart

He remembered the friends he had made and who would remain forever, maybe even on the day of his cremation. He could now hear himself laugh when he was with them, the late night outs, the group study just before exams, watching movies and skipping classes, especially the way they used to cover up on him when he was with his girlfriend. He remembered his wife with whom he shared his fears, his happiness, his success, and his life. She was his first and only love. He remembered the way she said ‘yes’ when he proposed her, and the way she looked at him, with tears in her eyes and smile on her lips, when he completed the final rite of their wedding. She was in her white hospital gown when she had their little princess in the cradle beside her bed. That was the moment when he felt his life was perfect. He owed his success to these people in one way or the other.

All the happy feelings he had had a few moments ago were now shrouded in a cloak of guilt and remorse. Guilt because he didn’t – not even for a second – considered what would happen to these people after he left; and remorse because he still had many years before he would grow old and die of oldness. He now wanted to live and live to the fullest. He wanted to watch his daughter take her first step. He wanted to be with his parents when they would need his support in their oldage. He wanted to let his wife know how much he loved her and what importance she holds in his life. He wanted to hang out with his friends again and watch a game of cricket. They all loved him and he loved them too.

His eyes were filled with tears – tears of separation and tears of fear – when he heard a voice which was as sweet as honey. A voice that sounded familiar. The voice spoke to him in his ears and asked him why he was crying. The voice inquired if he was OK and if he wanted to stay home today. That was the moment when he recognized the voice, the one that he loved. He opened his watery eyes and focused on an angelic face in front of him. “Honey! What happened?” exclaimed his wife. And in response to her anxious expressions and curious question, he kissed her on her forehead.

*Inspired from the accident I met a day before yesterday. 

P:S: I’m fine with just a swelling on my right foot and few scratches. 🙂

His unspoken words

Standing in his balcony and looking at the majestic white sphere in the night sky, he is at unease.  It is 3am now and he is hardly aware of it, in fact, he hardly cares about it. The only hint he gets about the probable hour of the day is from the beam of suppressed silvery white light emanating through a punctured blanket of orange-ish clouds leaving everything in the world around him in darkness. He has become insomniac. He has grown tired of being a stranger to himself. He has grown irate day by day, and his irritation is evident from the fact that he has distanced himself from his close friends. He has grown silent as the days have passed. The only person to whom he now speaks is himself. He makes arguments and their counter arguments as the days shift in various phases from morning till mid-night.

There are times when he feels sorry for people who are concerned about him as they are the one who bear the brunt of his peevishness. But the very moment after he feels this he again finds them getting on his nerves. Could he be blamed for his insane behavior? Not entirely. It is she who has left him emotionally crippled. He wonders what his life would have been if he had not met her. Would it have been beautiful? Or, would it have been a waste? Fighting these thoughts for a moment what he is really concerned right now is how miserably he had failed in his attempt of obliterating memories of her’s from his head. He wanted to escape this constant agony of her leaving him. And seeing how much he loved her, it should not be that easy as well.

But tonight, conceding to his love for her he has given way to the thoughts that usually fills his empty heart. Soaking himself in the moonlight he can’t help but think what she might be doing right now? Would she be sleepless too? Would she also be thinking about him? He wants the answers to be yes but that is what he ‘wants’ them to be, not that he is ‘sure’ if they are. Just by imagining her curled up in her bed, fiddling with her hair, and smiling with her eyes fixated towards the moon visible from her bedroom window, is making him happy. He is ready to trade anything to spend time with her right at this moment; to watch her sleep with her cherubic face lit up in the moonlight; to wake up in the morning and let her sweet voice sink into the core of his heart; and for her smile to last till eternity.

The only element in the universe which is consoling his lonely heart at this moment is the soothing night breeze. It has become his loyal friend since the time he last saw her. It seems as if it is bringing him a message from her, saying how much she loves him, and how much she is missing his presence around her. It seems as if it was just yesterday when he last saw her. He had been trying to let her know what he felt for her; what role she had played in sculpting his character; and how much he had liked her from the day he saw her for the first time, when they shared benches in the fifth grade.

He wanted to spend his remaining days with her. Share with her his problems and ambitions in life, his happiness, his weakness and how he would appreciate life if she were with him. But all his feelings were left unsaid, unspoken, unexpressed and would remain so forever. It doesn’t help when the person you love does not exist in the same world you live in.  Only he knows how much he wished her to know how he felt. But now between his world and hers there exists a river of life and death that he cannot cross, and a mountain of  flesh and soul that he cannot tunnel through. It is only he who knows how much he hates the customs of this life that has stopped him from seeing her again, from touching her again, and from saying what was left unsaid.

He does not know when he would get a chance to meet her again. He does not know how much pain he would have to endure to be with her again. All he knows is that he would have to wait for his time on this planet to get over to be with her. But while he still breaths life he has promised himself that he would never again let his thoughts remain unspoken. Because even he has now understood that asking questions is pointless if they are not asked to the person we really want the answers from.

*This is entirely a work of fiction and it is not related to any living person- esp. not to me :D. I hope that you enjoyed the read.

In her presence

Image courtesy: Gordon Bruce, via Squidoo.com

Seeing her coming towards me have always made me feel joyous. In fact, just by the very thought that God has granted my deepest desire of giving me a slight hint of her arrival is a gift I am ready to trade with none. Never in my life have I wondered for a moment why we even crossed roads. But the question that I have always had from the time I saw her, which in fact still clouds my mind is: Who would be the lucky one to be proud of being the only person whom she would love, with whom she would share her secrets, with whom she would laugh and cry? Because I’m sure that I’m not the only one fallen for her beauty and her aura. Many times I wonder, is it only men or even the poor inanimate objects that are struck by her charm and sway to her will? I don’t blame them. Not that I can’t. (Humans can blame anything and everything). Who wouldn’t like to be called the only man made for her? Describing her beauty is a task no men can achieve, nor have I found any poem written till date that can be as beautiful as she is. You can obviously pinpoint my small view of the world but we all don’t live the same life.  I’m sure that my love for her can make me do the impossible or at least try. Who knows my stars might get aligned in a fortuitous pattern and she might take notice of my inner sense of love and respect for her and in return she might shower her love on me!

I don’t exactly remember the time I was actually- in Twilight’s parlance- imprinted by her. It might sound dramatic and over exaggerated but she could make the leaves of a tree rustle on their own accord. I have seen every part of the Ashoka‘s, lined in a self-aligned queue, dance and sing, as if they have taken notice of their mistress. The birds, even if they tried, cannot escape the whirlpool of craziness that engulfs everything that comes in contact with her. The sound these innocent beings make while attempting to escape the madness might have been the inspiration of Rahman‘s music. Where can one hear a medley created by chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the thoughts of a lonely soul trying to figure out the way of making her stay with him? Would she be moved by the beautiful and cathartic music composed just for her and that too out of the volition of the music makers? But does she even care what a mortal soul with nothing but an impure heart and selfish interests feels about her? I guess not.

I have always felt that she is with me but she isn’t. Weird it is I know, but that’s how it is. I don’t know why. Not considering her feelings (if she has any), nor the pain she might feel by my open declaration, I honestly declare that I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with her. The way she sings, the way she dances, the naughtiness with which she makes others love her tantrums- I love every bit of it. The pure feeling that arouses inside me on her arrival outshines the way she teases me and makes me feel stupid. I believe she is sent to this planet to make me, a mortal being, learn to love. I have seen leaves sprout and waters change direction when she is happy. Can these be my imagination which is making me see things that actually is caused by something else? Who cares!

But can it be always that one does not have any negative trait? She can be a sweet pain for those who don’t know how to pay her back with the love she expects in return of her care, or for those who don’t know to what extent they can command her. God save those who have even witnessed her anger. It is not that I have personally seen her getting angry but I have heard it from my friends who are also close to her. They say that she can be as cold hearted as possible if she is not in her mood. I believe that the only reason why she is able to command control on people and other beings around her is just because of her beauty, charm, her innocence, and her unselfishness. Brains: I’m not sure I can comment upon that because I have not had good chance to openly talk to her since ages.

I guess it was in my 11th grade when we actually met and had a good time together. That was the time when I actually felt her touch and it was special. It was the last time we were together as if we were one. Between us then there were no restrictions of parents, no rules of what is right and what is wrong. She would never ask anything from me except awaiting her arrival the next year. The only trace she often left behind was my wet clothes and sporadic appearance of puddles on the streets. Its been years since I have actually enjoyed her presence- the rain. Today sitting here in my front porch at 4 in the morning I am feeling her back again. Sipping hot tea at a time when it is only 2 hours before the sun would shine again and make the creatures of night to go back to their hiding, she has accompanied me. I loved it. She even touched my arms by the spray of shower that had bounced off the surface where I am sitting now. Dear rain, thank you for accompanying me on this sleepless night at a time when everyone’s asleep.

Gussa*

*Gussa: Anger

That’s not exactly how I look when I’m angry.

No rational thoughts are linked to the words that fly out of my mouth when I’m red-hot with anger. These words are like angry birds- ready to hit and smash the target. I become Arjuna– looking straight into the eyes of the object of my fury. The surroundings become invisible to me and what remains is an empty space between me and my counter-part. That’s my battle ground. Luckily, it has never come to fisticuffs. I do not swear -that’s the good part. The worst part: I carry this silly feeling of disgust for hours at a stretch. As a consequence some other innocent being (usually my family and friends) bears the brunt of my anger. What I feel after I cool down? A complete idiot.

Am I the only one with such a horrible trait in the entire universe? Not sure. How about the world then? Still negative. I see people getting involved in heated altercation over situations as silly as occupying a now-vacant seat in a bus, fighting to jump a queue to pay electricity bills, or while waiting at railway crossing. In fact at almost every juncture in life anger is widely existent, as is love, fear, and other emotions.  But is this emotion important to survive, or is detrimental to one’s relationship with others? Both, I say. I have been bestowed with a great quality of being a complete jerk/ass/idiot when it comes to handling a situation calling for keeping an ice slab on head. Reason: I find it hard to sugarcoat what I have to say. This is best known to people who are close to me. Many a times I just blurt out whatever comes to my mind when I’m angry. Some things are logical and others are just outright rubbish. I do regret (though, not always :D) having said them.

But, is it fair to suppress your true feelings? May be yes, may be no. Yes, because you do not want to hurt other persons feelings, nor do you want to blemish your relationship with him/her. You want to be seen as a good and lovable person who ‘never’ gets angry. You might want to avoid a confrontation which would make you look jerk in the eyes of others. Or, you are seeking a reward or incentive from the other party which makes you let go your ego.

There are reasons for acting otherwise as well. You do not want to keep the other person in false impression of who you really are. You do not want to act ‘congenial’ when you are feeling otherwise. You might want to solve the matter right there itself and avoid the situation of ‘bringing out the dead’. You like keeping small count of ‘real’ friends. There are no incentives or rewards that keeps you motivated to continue your relationship. Or, he/she might have been bitching about you behind your back while you considered him/her as your best friend. There are umpteen reasons for one to be angry. But no reason is a reason good enough to justify anger.

I do not have right to hurt people who care (at least pretend) about me. I do not possess any super-natural powers that makes me pass through walls. Neither do I wear a red cape around my neck that makes me levitate mid-air. And the last time I checked, the color of the blood flowing in my veins was still red and not blue. The bone of contention, however, is my lack of control on my anger. Of course, anger helps me get things done which other people can’t. Except this there’s no benefit of being a hot-head. Why I write this? No specific reason. This is one the rare times when I controlled my anger and was hunting for other mediums to vent out my anger. From now on I’ll try my level best to control my anger, if not stop it completely. I’ll try to be silent and mum for the first 10 minutes when I feel blood thumping in my veins and the angry birds begging to be released, just to let the peak of my gussa simmer down.

If you people have got better or maybe other great suggestions then please share. That’ll help me. 🙂 🙂

Random Rang* -II

*Rang: Colors

**Continued from Random Rang -I

What’s so common among all living beings and inanimate objects populating this planet? Think. Think. I assure you that this question is not intended to challenge your intellect nor does it reflect mine. 🙂 The answer, from what I believe, is Uncertainty. What binds us with the mountains, the air, the water, in fact with everything in this universe, is the uncertainty of time, of life, of existence. There’s a reason why we cannot see the future. There’s a reason why we have limitations in General Relativity Principle of Einstein. There’s a reason why meteorological department is never absolute in making weather forecasts (not that they are duffers :D). This uncertainty fills our life with excitement. This excitement can be either desired or undesired (which is most of the case). I too was stricken by this uncertainty bug a day after holi. Read ahead to know about it.

As I said earlier in Random Rang -I, I was not anticipating anything different than the usual celebrations we guys have on holi, but life had pleasant surprises in store for me for us. Before I begin, today I’ll introduce you for the first time to an amazing bunch of kids of Gulbai Tekra (a slum inhabited since ages by a community making Ganesha idols in Ahmedabad), and a team of zealous young volunteers. It’s been over 3 months since I’ve been working as a volunteer for Shwas (means ‘Breath’ in english). Shwas is a project affiliated to Yuva Unstoppable, a not-for-profit group of young volunteers. The community of Gulbai Tekra slum are poverty stricken people with less than the basic amenities, and almost no education. It’s a great paradox that the slum is in the vicinity of Gujarat University (oldest education body in Gujarat, set up in 1949) and still education has not penetrated this community. These people are born artists and business man. Making Ganesha idols and other such artifacts, and selling them roadside is their business model.

Kids of Shwas chanting the Gayatri Mantra.

She ran out of time and few spaces were left void of colors. But who gives a damn- She was happy with what she made and that's what matters in the end.

Like any other day I had gone to teach these kids Ganit (Mathematics) and English. But the uncertainty bug had already selected the change-makers of Yuva as its pawn. These change-makers (volunteers working at Yuva) organized a drawing competition, keeping holi as its theme. And this landed me an opportunity for the first time to watch these kids creativity and imagination. Give these children few crayons and a sheet of paper and they’ll teach you the art of concentration. (Didn’t I mention earlier that they are born artists!) Engrossed in nothing else but realizing their imagination on paper, these kids stroked colors that resonates with the spirit of holi. Here’s a few of the many creations I witnessed.

Created by Jayanti. One of the nicest drawings of the day. Holi fire, sporadic colors, caricatures in cathartic exultation. All elements of Holi theme in it.

Created by Bhavesh, a 2nd Grade student.

Opportunity of telling others the thought process one had while making their creations. This exercise helps foster confidence in these kids. That's what we all need in the end to succeed in life. Isn't it?

It was a good experience. Enjoyed the process of helping and encouraging these kids. Towards the end of the session, I and Krishnakant (a.k.a KK) helped one girl fill in colors in the drawing she made as she was running short of time. With me there were other volunteers- Jayesh, Kinjal, Sharad, Sahil, Riddhi, Siddhi and the change makers of Yuva- who helped organize the event and helped the kids as well. I wish you all readers that your life too may be filled with the colors of joy, happiness, and success, and may these kids too paint their life with their own hands in hues of spectrum colors. 🙂 And yes, let the uncertainty bug affect your life in a positive manner 😉

How did you celebrated Holi this year? Or, is there any festival in your country that uses colors to celebrate it?

Janma-Din* Ver. 25.0

*Janma-din: Birth-day 😀

Feels great that I have lived quarter of a century on this blue-green planet filled with beautiful people and life supporting oxygen and water. This was the very same day, and by default the very same month, when I received the ultimate gift of breathing life in human existence (which is boon or bane as per one’s perspective).

When I was in school I wondered how long would it take me to graduate, secure a job, hang out late night with friends, and live life. But now, I wonder if there can be anyway I could go back to my school life. It seems like a distant dream when on my birthdays I (wearing new and colorful clothes) used to take chocolates and pencils to school and distribute them among my class mates (while they were all dressed in school uniforms). Even the students not belonging to my class knew that I was the ‘Birthday Boy” just by noticing me perambulating the school corridors in civil dress. The day used to end in celebrations. My neighbors and friends coming to our home, me cutting a cake, and my parents taking me and my siblings out to visit a new restaurant every year. Everything seems so blur as if I have been travelling in Shatabdi ever since I gained consciousness. Is it that only I have this epiphany, or does it happens to all?

Today many of the aspects of celebrating birthday have changed- at least for me. ‘Course, life is like an ever flowing river; turbulent at falls and tranquil at zero slope. Change is the only permanent feature in this universe. Now I don’t feel the drive to wear new clothes on my birthday, nor do I seek people to wish me ‘happy birthday’. For me birthday is just another ordinary day. But still I’ve got friends who try to make my birthday worth to remember and help me weave memories to cherish.

This year too, the day started with me taking blessings of my mother. My father (not so usual) forgot my birthday; I do not blame him for this ’cause I can be as bad as my father in remembering dates. Messages started pouring in right from mid-night. Received phone calls from close and dear ones. Facebook played an important role in reminding my birthday to all my friends (including those whom I haven’t seen for long). All (esp. my friends at BK) wished me happy birthday.

The sky was painted in beautiful hues of orange and yellow, when Bhakti, Amit, Kshiti, Dev, and Mohit (jointly a.k.a Coffee @ Shambhu gang) arranged a small gathering at Shambhu. They brought in a cake and sang birthday song for me. The cake served the dual purpose: celebrating the arrival of Kshiti from her trip to Australia. Once again, thank you guys for the amazing gesture. 🙂

One more year has gone by and I am happy that this year I tried out many new things like, learning guitar, writing blogs, joining an MBA program, chucking my admission at Symbiosis, and lot many other stuffs. I hope that I take all the good habits and hobbies I’ve developed during this year into the coming year, leaving behind all my negative aspects. I ask for forgiveness from those people whom I might have hurt intentionally or inadvertently. Have a great life to you dear reader as well.

Whatever you are, be a good one- Abraham Lincoln

Surprise Santa

I know, I know! This is very ridiculous of me to write after almost a month without keeping any trail of my whereabouts. What’s the excuse? Have loads of them. But what the heck! Is anyone really interested in hearing them out 😀 So, let’s just keep the peripheral talks aside and get down to real business. This time I review my school life and reason Christmas stays close to my heart.

This year, which has been beautiful in every way possible is about to end. But time will not. Death is followed by Life. And so will come the year which made Nostradamus famous (especially in 2011). For me the coming year will be different in many ways. The most ‘hatke’ (extraordinarily different) being appearing for ‘ university exams’ from 2nd Jan ’12. That too back to back. 8 days, 8 subjects. Despite me not wanting to reveal the reason for my absence I have just mentioned it. Oh please! now do not correlate this fact to me scoring awesome in these tests. Good score and me are the two extreme poles of a magnet (or of earth for that matter).

I won’t be writing too long (have 60% syllabus still untouched). Firstly, I wish a belated Merry Christmas to all you people out there. Having studied in a christian school I have beautiful memories attached with this festival. We used to celebrate Christmas in school. For us, who were not Christians, this was the only way we celebrated Christmas. Going to school after school hours (not in uniforms :)). Arranging funds, bringing cakes, pastries, and snacks. Decorating class. Inviting teachers and faculties from other classes for visiting our ‘decorated’ class. Playing ‘Surprise Santa’. This was the best. On the day of the Christmas celebration, we were individually supposed to bring a decent gift to the class. Our class teacher would write down names of all the students in the class on chits which she would later ask each one of us to pick. We then were asked to give the gift that we had brought to the person whose name appeared in the chit. This way we would be playing the Santa for each other. This goes unsaid: School was the best part of my life. There is a reason I recollect these memories today. In the world we live in we are trying hard to keep ourselves happy. I guess I have found a way of being happy. Apart from simply following the 10 commandments, let’s just continue playing ‘surprise Santa’ and keep loving all those around. I do not ask nor do I resolute to do good to others all the time I find a chance. But, I do resolute to do good to those whom I can really help and make a difference in their life.

Okay then. Time to have a marathon run with my books and reading material. I again apologize for being absent. I promise that I’ll make up for this in the coming year. Wish you all a very happy a wonderful year ahead. May God be with each one of us and help us make this planet a beautiful place to live in. Again I wish a merry and joyful Christmas to all my friends from Seventh-Day Adventist High School.

And yes, of course, may the dire predictions of Nostradamus be totally off the mark :D.

Till then. Enjoy people. 🙂