Vagabond

The Broken Arrow!

2020-08-31T07:21:00.002-07:00

Ana could not believe herself.17 years, 3 months and 2 days is what it had taken life to come full circle for her. Still vivid in her memoirs, the mauve dress that she had worn for the graduation ceremony at college fest and stood beside the chosen one or rather the chosen ones – Mr and Ms springdale. The evening was full of smiles and squinted eyes, more squinted than smiling, for not everyone gets to be crowned the winner of the talent show at springdale. Leave alone the winning, the selection into the top 15 itself is something to savior for decades to come. Springdale is home to best of the minds in the country and at least 10000 students graduate at the end of the year, every year. A carefully chosen criteria, brings together the best of the mental and physical abilities to the surface of the culmination event, where Ana stood raising her hand like a celebrity besides, Heath. Yes, that was his name – Heath maven. Rumour had it that he belonged to the royal Maven family of Scotland and was the heir to the aristocracy.

Heath, a charming young prince at 18 did live upto the rumours, dark blue eyes, chiseled jawbone with thin lips. His nose was very straight and complimented his royalty perfectly well. It wasn’t news that oblivious to his looks, Heath was actually more interested in stars and mathematics, while also being able to go hours on social and economic history of the mortals. Someone like him, was destined to make a mark at the honorary alumni board of springdale, which boasted of former presidents and business stalwarts and Nobel laurates.

“Mam! Your time is up. Could you please leave now. It is not safe” – as if they were the quantum key of the time travel which had brought back Ana from the world lit with celebrations to the dungeon, the dark alley of which kept the fiercest criminals of this century.

Ana reluctantly closed her eyes to go back to the stage, but all she could see was, the long brown hair, the cheek bones which had martyred to age giving way to wrinkles and a scar which ran right across his royal nose. Everything seemed different, but the eyes – the blue eyes were the same and still resembled the 17 year old who had taken her heart away on that stage.

She turned and asked a question, almost as if it was her last – Heath, what happened to you? The reply was instantaneous – a blink of his blue eyes looking directly at her, almost as if making a bridge or reaching out, before the eyelids closed.

“I have to find out what happened here” – The top journalist of the BBC made a resolve here as she walked out of the dungeon into the blinding lights and clamor of the world, where we live in !

Keshav Darshit

2019-02-08T20:17:00.001-08:00

Yeh kaisa dwipath hai saarthi
Dharma kahan hai Adharma kahan
Yeh Kaisi niyati hai Keshav
Yayawar man mein jeet kahan

I am the crossroads today, I am.unable to understand what is right and wrong. What is the destiny that you have given me. How can I win in a mind which is so cluttered and lost ?

Dhanush samarpan karta hun main
Yudh na hoga mujhse yeh
Nahi chah mujhe swarna rajya ki
Parijan shav k Chandra mukut ki

I am putting down my weapons, I wont be able to fight. I dont wish for the divine kingdom. I dont have wish to get the crown at the cost of the death of my own.

Keshav

Satyavachan hain parth tumhare
Vishmayi yeh chann hai bhari
Jinki godh mein khele tum ho
Aaj vaan hain unpar taani

You are right, that this moment is truly unthought of. Those who have made you what you are today, you have your weapons raised against them.

Vyatha yahi, rudal yahi,
Samay darashta hai sabko
Mahabharat Ish manas mann ka
Raktabeej is dharma rann ka

The sad and sorry thing is that time does show you at some point, the greatest war that you mind should fight and the things you will lose in doing the right thing.

Utho paarth, netra kholo,
Pehchanno arjun k dharma ko
Naveen nahi hai
Dharmayudh hai yeh yugo yugo ka

Wake up arjuna, open your eyes, understand the right thing that you need to do. This is not new, but this is the battle of right in every era and every age of mankind.

Ram kabhi, Dasavtar kabhi,
Kabhi azad aur rana pratap kabhi
Arjun, ran karna hoga tumko
Dharma prajwalit Hoga tabhi

Arjun, you will be born as hero, Sometimes as a ram or sometimes as vishu avatar, sometimes as chandrasekhar azad or as other heroes of history. Unless you fight, you will not be able to lay the foundation of the light of the wisdom and right doings.

Yeh kalesh, yeh dosh sabhi
Sab tumhare apne hain
Saath jiye vilaxan tumne
Sab tumne sajoyen hain

The vices, the wrong doings and after effects, all of these you feel and you are right are your own. You have lived great moments with these vices, nurtured and cultivated them very carefully

Pehchano, inko, yeh nahi tum,
Tum inse acche ho
Dharma Staphna nihit iss ran mein
Tum hi iske karak ho

However, realize this, that you are not them and you are much better than them. This fight has the chance to start the right path all over again and you are the only one who can make it happen.

Iccha yahi hai parameshwar ki,
Tum baan uthao is ran mein
Vijayi teer Chalao tamas par
Moh nahi ho is pal mein

The God is with you and wants you to take action and fight this fight, pull the triggers on the tamas. There should be no attraction or weakness in this moment

Rann hi niyati, rann hi hai marg
Nahi hai koi aur chunav
Swayam vijay, ish Vijay ka
Karmvir hai ek hi saar.

The war is the destination and it is the journey, there is no other choice. To win over oneself and achieve the greatness, your karma of the warrior over vices is the only option.

After a long time - Amrit :)

The foothills of love

2014-09-01T00:52:00.000-07:00

"Where am I ? Did I sleep little too much, is this really an indian location, people do look indian, but the cleanliness, the ambience is way too different from other tourist destination - not that they are bad or so" simi said to herself balancing here thoughts in a debating manner as she has always done ever since she knew herself and looked around to see "Welcome to yatri nivas, Premanchal". She was indeed in India, just at the foothills of love....

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Simi closed her eyes for a moment and caressed them with her fingers as if asking them to sleep now. When she finally opened them, she could observe the sky out of her window changing its hue from pitch black and shiny stars to faded bluish black tinge and the stars slowly dissapearing as if someone was putting off the lights one by one. She kept her gaze fixed on quite a few and it indeed seemed that someone had carefully desiniged the turning off mechanism. It lasted a few minutes, by which the hue had changed to orange red specifically at one side of the hills - while the other side was slow to catch up. It was mesmerizing to see the forest of the hills clearly being demarcated by the a dark line with was sqeezing every minute as if the army of the luminous brilliance was cornering that of the ignorant unknown. She had seen the mornings before, she was often up till wee hours of the morning but never had occured to her before that darkness in itself does not exist, it is just the absence of the light. Ignorance in itself does not exist, it is the absence of knowledge - The hollowness in her does not exist by itself, it's just the absence of someone to complete her and she was missing the one whose hands had carefully painted each of her eye lashes in the one picture infront of her - just her eyes gazing at something or someone, she wouldnt know. She wished if she could know the entire story behind each of her paintings drawn by him - it sure had to have one.

She felt an inqusitiveness, an utter desire to discover herself through the eyes of the one who she wanted so much to keep away once. She went over each of the paintings slowly running her fingers over the lines and bold strokes as if painting them all over again - and her alarm rang, making her realize it was already 6:00. She just had an hour to get ready. She was amused first and still suprised - who does an interview at 7:30 in the morning. She had asked the secretary and had got a poilite reply - " Sir does and if it doesn't suit you, please wait for 15 days".

Simi got ready in 15 min - hardly ever took time and was in the office at 7:15 am. It was the curvy roads and a 2 km trek to the office which had taken so much time. She could have taken the battery powered golf carts but instead, she wanted to walk and discover the place a bit before she could talk to "Sir".

The small wooden office had an exquisite look, that of a spa and resort with lot of open spaces. she was standing in the waiting room overlooking valley from its balcony, when the secretary called her name - simi, would you please go in ?

"Please make yourself comfortable" - Simi looked up."Sir" seemed more interested in the view out of his window and didnt actually look like what she was expecting at least not with his back facing him. He looked much younger than her expectations.

Simi continued in her customary tone - " Thank you Sir, for an opportunity to connect to India''s biggest architectural magazine............" , when she was cut short - you have 15 min, come to the point -I know all about you guys and you.

Simi felt weird with his curt reply, not expecting her pleasantries to be cut down so sharply.

"Sir, I see you have built the place with lot of love ....." she tried to do a small talk and continue the conversation.

"What do you know about love Simi" - pat came the reply.

It was enough for Simi. She got up and said - what do you mean, this time in an agressive tone, her eyes furious with someone being judgemental about her, only to have felt dialation of the pupil and racing of the heart as "Sir" turned around - It was Omi or was he not -a definite look alike and she was losing her breath.......

Deja Vu

2014-08-06T23:54:00.000-07:00

She had to pack her bags and move to a tourist spot called "preetanchal", the latest heartthrob of north India, developed in the last 10 years. She had to cover the latest architectures in the region for her cover story. While packing her bags she thought to herself - strange name for a relatively modern and upcoming tourist vacation. It meant - the mountain of love, that's all she knew.
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" Preetanchal k liye yahan utar jaayen, .... O madam, appko preetanachal jaana tha na....", Simi opened her eyes to two gruesome looking eyes and moustache. The moustache blended into the beard and struck terribly odd on his small face as if a tomb on a slender, tall highrise building. Another "O madam" and she was fully awake, cognizant of the fact the the entire set of onlookers were almost questioning her with her eyes, including the driver who had turned sideways and was honking even though the bus was stand still. Simi quickly resurrected her off shite long t-shirt and grabbed her bag and water bottle resting on her legs for a long while now and inquisitively walked to the front exit while she heard the moustached conductor say - "yeh tho le jaiye", she turned back to take her black file, she had carried everywhere she travelled. "Pahle hi aapke karan bus 15 min late ho gayi, ab yeh choot jata tho dene aana padta" and she smiled and said "Thank you, nahi main aa jaati!", pressed the file to her bosom with one hand, tagged her bad on her shoulder and stepped down from the bus. She had always been carrying that file whenever she travelled, reminded her of her lost love - reminded her of Him, through his sketches. She would never take his name - it made her shiver to her core, glad and teary at the same time.

As she stepped down from the bus, she breathed heavily the gush of fresh air, the smell of soil with cold morning air, very familiar, very fresh. Simi didnt remember when was the last time she had slept so peacefully and had such deep sleep, no wonder, the peace around was contagious and freshness of the country side of course is always sleep friendly. Wait a moment, though, there was something more in this place. "It looks so ....... whats the word, familiar, have i been here before" and simi just smiled at understanding the true meaning of deja vu when her thoughts were interrupted by the three wheeler riskshaw puller's honking, although this one from a simple rubber instrument fixed to his handle, which made a dampening sound as the air through the small rubber orifice came gushing out due to the applied pressure of his hand.

"Kahan chalna hai madam !", Simi was blank for a moment ..."Prem anchal"....."Haan..." Simi was so lost today, didnt know why, may be something to do with the air or may be she slept a lot. Simi boarded the rick and instructed the rickshaw puller to go to 'yatri nivas', the official guest house of Shivam architectures, the guys majorly responsible for the development of the tourist site premanchal. As the rickshaw took speed, Simi noticed that this was not it wasn't a purely mechanical one, it was a blended model - battery and mechanical, something she had seen in newspaper recently. However, never expected it to ride on it and that too in an offbeat tourist location.

She got down and asked for the charge and was indicated to see the meter. She was little surprised and paid up. The inquisitive guard standing at the gate said - "madam u can take your tour card from the office and you can swipe it anywhere even on my rickshaw, proudly pointing at the a small card reader on the handle bar. you dont need to carry cash anywhere, not even at fruit stall".

"Where am I ? Did I sleep little too much, is this really an indian location, people do look indian, but the cleanliness, the ambience is way too different from other tourist destination - not that they are bad or so" simi said to herself balancing here thoughts in a debating manner as she has always done ever since she knew herself and looked around to see "Welcome to yatri nivas, Premanchal". She was indeed in India, just at the foothills of love.....

The clock ticks!

2014-06-28T13:06:00.002-07:00

"Adieu Om Sharma" - gestured Om with a salute on the name plate on the gate. Of course he did not know what next ...............

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Love is a very strange thing, I don't even know if it can be called a thing - sometimes love is the destiny and like every thing destined it does come to you someday or the other. People still fail to recognize it and live their life in oblivion.

Not with Simi; 8 long years and she had not forgotten someone's eyes which at times looked so torturous. Soon after Omi had left, Rahul had told him very casually - "Thank you Simi, you made my life so easy all over again and I am sorry I had to use you to get Omi out of my life. I love your company but I don't love you. Please let me know if you want to keep a casual relationship, nothing serious though. I can hang out with you one complete day whenever you want, however you want. You are always on my safe side". This was her 21st birthday - one year exactly when Omi had left.

Simi, in the midst of her placement season, was devastated with this revelation. She didn't know what to do, just knew that all her love and feelings had just been mocked and conspired against. Rahul had also sent him some burnt paintings signed, "with love" from Rahul. It has Omi's name written on the paintings. Simi, then just knew that she had lost her Rahul, the heartthrob of the college to some other new girl on the block.

Simi remembered, she wanted to blast at Rahul, but somehow in the placement frenzy and her sadness, she just kept quite. The day when she finally got placed into a top MNC, she chose not to celebrate but just be in her room and her eyes fell on the envelope - with love Rahul. The sketches inside were exact replica of her moods in the last few years - one of them had captured her moist eyes in library while the other had her smile perfectly portrayed. Simi looked at herself in the mirror and back at the sketches. She felt good. She flipped through all the copies and each of them had increased the curvature of her lips.

She filed all of them in a file and stood near her balcony, the weather which was slightly cloudy and gloomy since morning, had started to drizzle. She loved rains and for the first time in the last month, she felt like smiling again.

"8 years and still so fresh in my memory .........." and the thoughts were interrupted by the phone call. Another assignment; life had been crazy since she started writing about Indian architecture. Her work experience and love for ancient and modern Indian architectures had made her pursue this career and she was doing exceedingly well at it.

About AAP, U turns, common sensical 2 cents and why you should still survive !

2014-05-20T21:49:00.004-07:00

I am sick of your posts on taking your foot back in your mouth with every step you take. You started off well and somewhere u got greedy - you had everything a rookie could desire in indian polity. You had stalwarts and top business minds with you but still you failed because of lot of bad moves - sometimes reminding me of old days Indian Cricket with best batting line up and yet failing time and again.I am sure if you just stick around a little bit more, may be 5 years, work on the ground, contest in smaller level elections and do good work and that too quietly, it shall have more impact in the long term. However it seems u just want to hog all that you can and at one go. Believe me, the doctors advise against this , the economist too - don’t be a greedy fool.

Its time to get back to Mother Teresa foundation - finish the internship, connect to the people who have labelled u as fraud and try and change perception.You have lost your credibility Mr. Kejriwal. Try and bring it back. Taking u turn again and again and trying to form delhi govt with Congress may be a quick win but will hurt in the long run.I know you won’t be reading this blog and you don’t need to. Its just common sense which you should work with and which is so much at want in your actions.

However the moves u made - irrational policies with 3 months validity, not needed showoff or dharna in Delhi while in power, no security gag , no house gaga, throwing off your wicket on first bouncer saying - its too fast a ball. What did u think "sarkaar chalana bacchon ka kaam hai". It needs a lot of patience, diplomacy and thoughtfulness. Post that trying to play on 442 seats - first election 442 seats - no wonder u dint have funds. Did I miss that you did not speak a word against congress when in power in delhi, the basis of whose corruption laid the foundation of all your speeches earlier. This is another step which will be detrimentalfor you in long run but I still hope you form a govt in Delhi with congress support which I think u will and work hard there, trylearning balance and work your way up.

Still why don't I hate you!

You did one good - highlighted the need for change and brought together youth of this country and the urgency to change but then showed yourself as a talking cuckoo, an inexperienced and definitely who doesn’t know how to run a govt. In fact it felt as it you just wanted to get hit wicket coz u wanted to prepare for the IPL of loksabha. Your reasons may be different but that is how it reflected on the delhites who voted u to majority, india who watched u as a new role model and youth who saw u as a panacea for corruption.

The only reason I want you survive is because I want democracy and not monopoly. We have had 60 years of monopoly and we had enough of it. Not only a good government but a strong opponent is also required to make the democracy work. And I wish you become that before you seek to become the supreme party, else there would be no end to your U Turns. All the best!!!

Img Source

Finding me !!!

2014-04-21T12:52:00.001-07:00

The last couple of months have been tough. I have not been able to find myself all these days. Chances are that I might have been lost - lost in what ? Good question but I am so lost that I don't even know where I am. It is like the train station in Matrix where Neo is stranded alone or in simple parlance a void between living and being extinct.
I am keeping myself away from the story board because I don't know what form my words may take. I am not a writer. I just am someone who just has one story. One beautiful story which has always been close to his heart. I don't know how much or when can I do justice to that story but I must do that someday.
As of now, Amrit is recovering from a terrible loss - a loss of his own self which actually is a dated event but like some wounds which show up late.... this too has taken up a decade to surface. Had I known that it would hurt so much and not just to myself but also to the loss I would have definitely prevented it. They say that all is well that ends well. But some things are meant never to end. They are with u life long.... In person or in thoughts. I love my thoughts because sometimes they are so beautiful and never want them to end.....and for omi and simi ....don't worry...They are fine...just coming back to life...

Imagining reality (contd..)

2014-02-04T01:02:00.001-08:00

Somehow the pillow couldn't cover those A4 sheets of sketches and with little effort and help from the fan, the sketches had come out of the force holding them and floated around the room on the floor and Omi was making no effort to hold them back - not even the masterpiece.

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"Masterpieces do not always make it to the Louvre, most beautiful minds are found in lying in the graves so does most love stories. Why does it have to be a happy ending to every story...why does it have to be that the may the best man win, sometimes not, infact many a times it is the other way round ...." - penned Om while reflecting on the past year.

Rahul and Simi were officially going out together and it rarely mattered if Rahul was the heartthrob of the college and Omi was a witness to many other acquaitances with whom Rahul had a platonic relationship with. But it hardly mattered - isnt it ? Omi had seen many a love cards from Simi embracing the dust amongst other cards and he had often cleaned them and kept it on Rahul's table - afterall it was an expression of his Simi's love - so what if it had Rahul's name written all over it.

It was not that Omi didn't try to tell Simi about the acrobatic skills of Rahul. He still remembered his first and last conversation with Simi

Simi: Yes Sir, you called me in the library ( Sir was a common way to address seniors)

Omi was again tongue tied to speak anything and while he could mustering courage and deviating himself from watching her flickering eyelashes and her inquisitive eyes, simi blasted at him

Simi: Listen cheapo, Rahul has told me all about you, and you are nothing more than a lady ogling sick mind. and i didn't want to come, Rahul said i must go, so i am here (she had already told it to Rahul) and i know you are his so called brother but you have already hurt him a lot and i hate you looking at me all the time and just the way you are seeing me right now ...and she turned to go back

Omi: Listen Simi..... Rahul is not the right guy for you

Simi: Who the hell are you to tell me that ? and dont't ever get in touch with me again. I HATED you but now I hate you even more.

That was the time when Omi had failed in all the subjects in his architecture class and was officially a dropout from the best college in Delhi.

The last 4 seasons had seen the downfall of the once so promising kid that it would make people believe that Omi had pshycological problem and he saw the pshyciatrist and was diagnosed with severe depression. Little did the doctor know, often zilted love and depression have the same symptoms. For hours, Omi would be lying on his bed looking at the ceiling obstructed by the view of the running blades of the fan. The medicines had calmed all his senses, including the beautiful ones and meaning of life was restricted to food, walk and sleep. It seemed he had no interest in anything else now.

Off late, he had been writing logs of his thoughts just for himself. It had helped him more than the meds but the doctor would not agree. However, it was torturous for him to see Rahul playing with Simi. He did try to talk to Rahul once and it only did make matters worse. It was months they had talked even if as common courtesy.

Mr Sharma was too busy being the director of archaelogical survey of India and in excavating the medieval past could not look at the blistering present. Not his fault though, he had given Omi as much as he could and Omi didn't share quite a lot with Dr. Sharma, Rahul was making him proud everyday with his results and bright shimmering career ahead.

" I truly feel i don't belong here..........., Please do not look for me, I shall take care of myself" were his last words, when Omi packed his bags completing the letter. printed two copies and kept it on Rahul's bed and slipped it under Dr. Sharma's home office.

Yes, they would feel bad including Rahul - but this is the best thing to do .. Omi thought, while he slid automatic door, opened the front iron gate, looked one time at the modest government yellow house, which had been his abode for the last 8 years.

"Adieu Om Sharma" - gestured Om with a salute on the name plate on the gate. Of course he did not know what next ...............

Imagining reality (Contd..)

2014-01-14T23:07:00.001-08:00

As Omi wiped his face with the tissue, a million thoughts entered his mind - all the happy ones....

He took a deep breath to calm his thoughts or may be to breathe the love in the air

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The air had grown cold of late - the winter was seeming trying to pervade the hot and dusky afternoons of Delhi and the delhi heat was finally giving in. Seasons are beautiful, unlike thoughts they know when to come and when to depart - thoughts on the other hand do not seem to have any such definitive rule; what would otherwise explain the examination hall scene of everyone ardently working with their rulers and pencil creating wonders of architecture, mostly for those 1-100 digits which somehow they think makes life - marks i mean and one guy sketching something to do with long hairs on the answer sheet. It's the thoughts , isnt it ? Some times the distinction between imaginary and reality is very thin - Have you ever experienced that may be the imaginary is real and the real is by far imaginary ? Never mind, you need to be captivated by something strong to make sense of the above - something like love - something like Omi is right now, sketching the long hair and moist eyes to in an answer to showcase an example of gothic structure.

The last six months had been tumultous for Omi. No she failed to recognize him,and all his deliberate attempts of showing himself up at canteen, library and coffee machines had been in vain and worst of all - he still couldnt talk to her. However, he had discovered his new talent of sketching her and that is where he had excelled in the last six months. His interest of architecture was scaling new heights with exploring the god's creation and any other man made structure didn't impress him as much. How impractical and stupid - that's what his friends would tell him, although he hadn't disclosed the whereabouts of Simi. While others would be dreaming of cushy jobs and travelling the world two years later, Omi would restrict his world only to her - yes stupid may be. But often practicality and love are at poles apart when one is in love.

Exams were over and Omi was lying on his bed in his room going over the sketches he had made of Simi in the last 6 months - there she is with the hearty laugh, her eyes glistening and her smile beautifully captured, then there is other one intently studying in the library , with her ardent enemy, the pencil being mauled between her lips; but his favorite one was when he had watched her at the corner of the cricket stadium overlooking the pond, leaning slightly over the steps and the wind playing gleefully with her hair and her eyes fixed at something in the void. Omi had got a very scornful eye glance when she had noticed him looking at her.Nevertheless, its a small price for a master piece.

While in these thoughts, the door bell had rang twice. Omi hastily woke up to see the door, putting all his sketches on the bed and throwing a pillow over it.

"Hey Brother, so much time to open door, were you climbing on the tree " - Omi ignored , he was used to Rahul's comments often made on his beginnings , but what he couldn't ignore was Simi standing behind Rahul opening her sandals and slightly bent to ease the effort.

Omi rushed back to his room and shut the door !

Rahul said -" don't mind, he is my so called weirdo bro.. !"

Love is timeless!

2013-11-28T08:13:00.002-08:00

He would almost always wake up when he would be trying to look deeper into her bluish eyes, probably deciphering the love he had somewhere lost 2600 days back.

Love as someone rightly said is timeless ...

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and time.......some say... time has its own mind or may be its own design.

The new batch of freshers was in campus. Omi glanced at the lot of late teenagers, who inconspicuous of the environment looked happy and scared at the same time - happy on the feat that they were here and timid thinking probably of the days to come especially the ragging days. Supreme court had its order written in stone on ragging, but more often than not the institute would be blinded to minor ragging incidents. A general tone was that it made the freshers stronger.

It just looked as if it was yesterday, when Omi was in the line of admissions for architecture and Rahul was for mechanical engineering. Although Omi had scored more and could get any branch he wanted, of late he had developed a strange liking for the man made beauties of the world - the world of architecture. As per the God- made, he was yet to find her.

Omi just brushed her thoughts aside - although he would have loved to continue, but he had to rush for his class. He quickly took his bicycle from the stand and right when he was about to start, he noticed the lose chain. "Oh God! Why did it have to be now of all time ? " - the frustration was visible and all Omi could do was sit down and try and fix it. While carefully mounting the chain on the gear, his eyes caught the image of someone very familiar - the chain got dropped again, and the bicyle too lost its balance, Omi had his hand smeared with grease on his face in amazement.

The bicycle fell with a "thudd" and which did make faces of the freshers turn and look at Omi, but for Omi it seemed the only one face mattered - she looked inquisitively at the source of the sound with her eyebrows joined together in a wrikle. Her long black hair flutttered in the wind as she hastily turned her neck and her cheeks seemed even more pinkish, may be due to the welcome the sun god was giving to the freshers in the month of May. But what had caught Omi's eyes was the beautiful eyes, the eyelashes of which were sweeping against each other at the amazement of the guy staring continuously at him with grease on his face and cycle lying just next to him. Her lips were gaped apart - probably in concern as her mind started to decipher who is at more sixes and sevens, the greasy face guy or the cycle, whose front wheel was still in motion.

Omi was star struck - the same eyes, the same nose , the same temple and the same lips ..... she was the gorgeous Simi - wasn't she ? Yes she was. This realization made him realize a lot of other things - she had joined this year as a fresher and over the years she has grown more beautiful and that of all the time, it had to happen now - his bicycle chain and his asking God - Why ... and also that he had missed his class, which was remotely important.

He wanted to get up, rush to her - hold her and give her a hug , but by then better sense prevailed, the practical ones - which often make you do things you regret life long. Sometimes you should not be practical - not at all in matters of heart. Yes it is a risk - but it is a risk worth taking. Love, though is time less but time does play an important role in matters of love - Omi would have to learn it sooner or later.

He got up, took his bicycle and moved towards the canteen , looking calm and composed with grease smeared face - but little did folks around know that he was the happiest person on earth today. He had met Simi - his Simi , may be it was all destined... may be it was HIS way of telling Omi that God loves you. While he washed his face in the restroom of canteen, he looked at himself, at his eyes in the mirror - they shone like stars , of course they would .... they had seen the brightest one today.

As Omi wiped his face with the tissue, a million thoughts entered his mind - all the happy ones....

He took a deep breath to calm his thoughts or may be to breathe the love in the air.

Imagining Reality - The journey

2013-10-24T12:40:00.003-07:00

The rising sun would bring a new tomorrow to Omi, one in which he won't have anything but a hope - a hope of which he had kept the flicker alive since 289 days - yes, he was still counting!

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The morning sun was hiding behind the clouds as if it was trying to conspire against the most powerful - 'time'. Time indeed is so powerful; it is what maketh a man and detroys millions. It was only little more than six years but it was a leap of generations for some one - who else - Om Sharma , the tender Omi of the woods who had grown to be 20 years of age , the slender arms , the tough chest , broad shoulders but the same innocent eyes.

The eyes had seen a lot in the last six years - the bantering by the kids in school when he was first admitted, long periods of silence at the school and back to 36, chowrungi lane with eyes fixated on the skies in the bus and then on the road while walking home. He was older than the other kids in his class and often the feeling of being outcasted had tried to hit him straight in the face. However, Omi was special - oh yes definitely. A natural leaner and adept at lot of skills which the Delhi boys could just think of got him a lot of fan following. It was only after few exams that the teachers realized that this kid was special. He rose up the ranks from the last position to first within a matter of few months.

He secured few double promotions to reach Rahul's class in Xth. Professor Vaidya treated both the kids as equals and wanted them to like each other like brothers. The mother of Professor initially was not happy with Omi being inducted in the house but later both her aging eyes and mind failed to distinguish between the love for each of them.

However, Rahul wasn't happy with a village kid to share his house with a village kid. Moreover, the growing fondness of the school students and the abundant love at home for both made him to shun his share of love, inorder to distinguish himself from that village kid. Child psychology is very different than adults and often they say, a mother can know with the blink of an eye, what is wrong with her child.

In the absence of such affection, Rahul grew wary of Omi. Although Rahul secured more marks than Omi in the board, Omi on an upward trajectory topped the school in XIIth.

And this was the day when both Omi and Rahul were waiting for their results of their college application forms

Rahul hadn't slept the night before while Omi had again the same dream which made him to find himself smiling in the morning as he woke up. Nothing could go wrong when he had that dream - one in which simi would be sitting on the grey stone near the stream and he would be holding her hands in his on the pretext of trying read her palm. He would almost always wake up when he would be trying to look deeper into her bluish eyes, probably deciphering the love he had somewhere lost 2600 days back.

Love as someone rightly said is timeless ...

On Parenthood - Not exactly !!!

2013-10-24T12:08:00.001-07:00

I am generally very stoic in nature but there is something about parenthood which actually touches you deep within. I don't know if it is the fact the you have contributed to bring up something miraculous in this world, more wonderful than any man made wonders of the world. On a macro perspective, there is nothing great that is achieved but at a micro level, it seems numerous lives have been changed. It is this cycle of life which keeps mankind sustaining through numerous odds, enormous challenges and still make life possible even after once it has been made possible once by some one above.

And what do I tell you of the meticulous details in which that some one above plans things. The minutest of things needs to happen in an extremely connected fashion with six sigma accuracy. Sometimes I wonder how come I was indifferent to the presence of an architect and how much I disbelieved in his planning. I am beginning to realize a cliche - there are no coincidences, everything is planned. To realize the full potential of the plan for us and to be really happy, we need to believe... We need to believe that we are not alone and there is something designed and destined for us. It's just that we are sometimes blindfolded to the most obvious realities.

So what's the secret of being successful - there is no secret, you just need to try being. What's the secret of being happy , again none - you need to give yourself a chance and believe that the plan for your happiness, your success and whatever you wish for is already somewhere there - you just need to unfold the knot with your trial and belief.

So today, if you feel you are sad - just give yourself a chance to be happy, may be help someone, share a laughter or just close your eyes and remember someone you want to - that one try may bring u happiness and keep the journey alive. Most often than not the journeys we take in our lives do have a very special significance which we understand once we reach the other end of the hike. Keep the flicker of trial alive ....don't let it go, coz that's what life is - an eternal ray of hope.

Imagining Reality - The will meets the way !!!

2013-09-29T22:03:00.001-07:00

His fame soon rose amongst fellow travellers as "gifted".

Little did they know, its the will which maketh a man and the boy did have it in abundance....
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Omi was performing one of his classic mimicry around the bonfire while Prof. Rakesh Vaidya was observing him from a distance, partially immersed in his thoughts of proving the old fort located at the top of the hill to a reminescence of national importance and partially intrigued by the boys antiques.

Professor had been a frequent visitor to the "Durg" as the locale would call it and had often halted at Omi's abode. A very mild spoken but an inquisitive mind, he had found striking similarity in Omi's dissonance of the world and his will and grasp of collecting knowledge. After all, that's what the professor had devoted his life to - collecting the lost knowledge of the unknown and in Omi's small library of sorts, he could find the same urge, miniaturised but still the same.

Professor could also sense that this small place would not contain Omi. He was far beyond this place. Soon his curiosity would grow out of what the occasional travellers could fulfill.

Soon the evening turned into a beautiful night, where one can just lie down on the slightly titled ground and marvel at hide and seek between the leaves of the pine trees and the stars in the sky. The infinite fabric of the universe sprinkled with the diamonds would leave most of the travellers from the cozy homes and multi-storeyed building in amazement and often feeling blessed to have stayed at Omi's place. He had cleaned the area around his house to accomodate travellers.

Omi took pains to go beyond the customary relationship one should have with his customers. The midnight coffee was something which Professor Rakesh always loved while he was reading his superfat book with buildings and designs in it. However, tonight was different.He was engrossed in some other thought.

Omi, without disturbing the chain of thought kept the coffee on the stone alongside professor, which with repeated usage had become flat enough to hold the mug. "Omi!" , the professor called out - The voice was always very familiar to Omi. After all only few people called him by his name his amma (grandmom) had given him. Om was something which amma continuously had on her lips out of her devotion to Lord Shiva, the supreme hindu deity. Hence Omi was a natural choice for her. But the travellers had named him chotu , pappu , and some of them also krisshh. However, Professor Vaidya always had called him "Omi" from the first time he had asked " What's your name, son ?"

"Haan, Professor Saab" - Omi retorted in a polite way. "I went through your library. You have a very good collection of sorts. It seems you have a keen interest in knowledge" - Professor asked Omi.Omi had learnt to understand english a little bit in the last couple of years, thanks to his grasping ability and the chain of foreigners who had become interested in the "Durg" of late.

Omi - " accha lagta hai aap sab se seekhna"

Professor - "Aur seekhna chahte ho ? Mere saath Shaher chaloge ?........

Of course not. Omi sure did want to learn but this was his home, with so many memories, so many people to meet everyday, the trees , the forest, the streams , as if everything conspiring for him to make it the best place in the world for him. He had known that people felt bliss in his abode and would he leave his heaven for an another world, which he had sketched from multiple voices to be a trecherous cruel world inflicted with trechery, restlessness and lack of peace. Didn't the travellers come here searching for the "Peace" and wasn't that the most import ant thing in life?. Omi's answer was a straight NO ; it had to be, isn't it ? - until professor continued:

....... I live in Delhi, have a son your age Rahul and my mother. She would be very happy ........"

"Delhi" - wasn't that was the place where Simi had gone. Omi's ears had turned blank to all other words that professor had said.

"Yes! I will go" - said Omi.

It is strange that how emotions sometimes becomes good of natural common thinking. It's strange what emotions do to people, sometimes to fight with the whole world and sometimes to destroy their own world which they have very meticulously created in the hope of something which they don't even know they will ever get. To put at stake all you have and start afresh for something you have an idea of believing in - Isn't that madness, perhaps not , may be it is love , but where's the difference.

The rising sun would bring a new tomorrow to Omi, one in which he won't have anything but a hope - a hope of which he had kept the flicker alive since 289 days - yes, he was still counting!

Imagining Reality (Contd.. Part II)

2013-09-14T06:17:00.001-07:00

He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.

It seemed so trecherous now ......

Suddenly the abode which he thought as a part of himself all this while didn't seem his own. Every step that he took from now on was just to follow his dog and companion , who had been so much like him, all alone, knowing little that this would be his last journey with the dog as well.

Moti - his dog died this summer.

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Life moves on, doesn't it ! Omi still lived in the same house , the last time he had seem simi was well past a season or may be more.

The autumns had come and given him company before the life came back to those trees. He lost that company too when the leaves were born again, the trees seemed to enjoy the winds which had writhed Omi and them together few months back. However, the winds still had the same effect on Omi, a chilly cold feeling which would shiver him to his knucles.

For the trekkers and passerby, Omi was more than a source of food and odd jobs. Some of the regular trekkers had become fond of this kid, more so because of his distinct character. The world from which they had come from, this kid either seemed to be ignorant of the its ways or was actually someone very different instrisically. Omi never charged anything for his help, food and occasional shelter. Whatever people gave, he used to accept it with grace just like his grandmother.

He would also be a source of amusement for the passerby's for their bonfire entertainment. He had a natural flair for learning and he did learn from the trekkers. While it didn't interest him earlier, now he was fond of knowing how the world,which he didn't know of, was. People from various parts of the country and the tourist guides told him stories of the world he had not seen and he would connect the dots from various sources to build his own picture of the world outside.

He wanted to know more, to see more. Often when he would imitate the accent of a marathi, gujarati or Bihari and so on, he would get applauded for it by the night halters but little did they know that they were breathing life into a a fire - the hope that Omi had kept alive since the last 176 days , yes he was counting and had learnt counting to keep track of when was the last time he had met her.

It is often said, to learn all you need is company. Omi had a lot of them from various walks of life and they were happy to help him. Now when they offered money, he would return a part of it and ask for half an hour time from them to learn a new thing and most of them were too happy to help.

Some of them in their next trip brought him books, some world maps and so on and so forth. The forest house had been worked on by Omi extending it to a library, where he kept all those valuable counting , alphabets and picture books. Many of them just took their half an hour sessions with him as a fun, but gradually understood the brilliance of the boy in their next trip or on their way down. Omi learnt it all and very quickly.

His fame soon rose amongst fellow travellers as "gifted".

Little did they know, its the will which maketh a man and the boy did have it in abundance....

Imagining Reality!

2013-09-10T07:17:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a story today, a story of a boy, who lived in the woods. He was alone in this world, his grandmother had died when he was very small. That was the only human touch he remembered in a long while. All around him were mountains and trees. The forest had trekkers, occasionally, who seemed to enjoy his forest home. He had the company of his dog who was also his best friend. He lived off on the river stream ample with fishes and the seasonal berries were his favorites.

Sometimes, he would go down town in case he needed something which he called his house. It was nothing more than a ill assembled set of branches given a shape like a house. The roof was made of shafts covered with tree branches and the leaves so much so that the house looked like an integral part of the forest. He remembered his trips to the down town with his grandmother to the store every month. His grandmother used to live off on the alms and freebees given by the travellers and the boy had learnt the same. He had also built a small tea stall infront of his house which used to engage a lot of passerby during the chilly season.

The visits to down town were a remarkable feat for the boy, for he didn't seem to gel with the down town people. With the small sum of money or goods that earned from the passerby and travellers by tea and selling fish, he used to get chores for his survival. However, every trip to the down town was carefully planned, He would wear a shirt that day, and also tie around his head a towel as if it is a turban. His legs would be covered with one or the other piece of cloth often donated by the tourists and passerby. He would look at himself in the broken piece of mirror and comb his hair locks with his slender long fingers.

There was another reason for all this ritual, a reason which would make him stammer at the shop, his eyes looking dreeamy and his throat getting choked - she is beautiful, that's all he could think of whenever she was infront of her , angrily asking - " will you say something , what you want or should i call dada ?" Her voice armed with the anger would just seem like a lullaby to him, before dada would come and break his heavenly dream. He never understood why he was unable to speak in front of her. He wanted to say so many things to her, tell her how he can just grab a fish out of the flowing water, climb trees with ease and pick up the sweetest berry , how he can throw stones in the stream which would jump more than 8 times before dissapearing into the river bed....but he couldn't speak even " 1 kg sugar" infront of her.

Every month, the ritual would be repeated and he just left the downtown cursing himself, why he can't get the courage to talk to the girl. Often in his dreams he would see the same girl, bright and big eyes, neatly done two locks of hair and the yellow bangle in her hand. It had been three years when he had first seen the girl and still in 36 times he met her, he had only been able to stammer in reality.

The boy, although with no formal education had learnt his ways with the visitors and travellors and his memory helped him retain the counting he had once learnt from a trekker and also a bit of english from the tourist guides, who seemed to rever in the ruins of the fort on the top of the hill. He had been there many times with the tour groups helping them with the luggage and getting money and food in reward.He had also got few books from kids and their parents and despite his best efforts he could just look at the pictures and draw faint connection to the letters along side.

Today was a special day again, one where he would see "simi", yes that was her name, her dada used to call her. He was looking good in his green towel turban and humming a broken tune from his grandmom. His eyes were looking for simi, when dada called out " what do you want". He recited the monthly rationing he needed - his eyes still searching for the bright eyes and the twin pony tailed and the cute frown. He could find none.

While getting the ration, dada said - "kisko dhoond raha hai" , he could just say ...." siiiiiiimm.." . "Woh tho gayi , shaher padhne ke liye, kuch kaam tha.............."

and the rest was just noise to his ears...

He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.

It seemed so trecherous now ......

---------------------------------------------------To be continued----------------------------------------

Admit and Accept !!!

2013-08-30T23:04:00.001-07:00

Why do I shy away from writing ? Is it so difficult to pen down my thoughts ? Not really, if I think through it. It's just that I perhaps don't want to admit and accept what i have been thinking and also at a later point of time wonder on my thoughts. But thoughts, however transient they are, they are a part of us and actually our identity and self is in our thoughts. So the more we shy away from it, the more we fail to admit it, the more we find ourselves far from us, far from reality.

That holds true even for negative thoughts.. when i distance myself from a negative thought saying that it's not me, I am running away from a bitter truth of being human. God is smart, irrespective of the religions, and ensured that as humans we do have vices, lest each of us would know the ultimate truth, of which we just have an illusion of.

So what should you do? Fight the emotions, try to kill it with another set of emotions or actions. I say "Admit" and "Accept". When u admit and accept, you come closer to real you. When you "accept", you just ended a tussle with yourself, a tussle to kill a part of your own personality. That's precisely the way most of the cancer treatments work -'killing a part of your body' - but reasearch has shown that there are better ways to treat them.(the architecture of cancer - video from TED talks)

Let's just admit that i have 'this' without being any judgemental about it. Now i know you are wondering what "this" is - it may be anything that you are fighting with and generally against. For example, let me admit that i like being in deep thoughts, may be even wasting time just lazying and thinking. By thinking that i am not one to be swayed by thoughts, by thinking i am one who is stern and clearly defines my lanes and am not at all bothered by these wandering thoughts - I am actually running away from the very part of me which has defined me since long. I have been a vagabond all my life and that is what i am even now - learning the ways of life in every course of my journey.

The second phase after "admit" is "accept" - when you accept your feelings, u give a shape and form to it. Now once you recognize what is that part of you which you had shut your eyes from - you would probably be able to heal it.For example, I accept that i like thinking about people close to me or i wish were close to me.

Now that I have accepted, I am at peace.

The next logical question would be, what do i do with it ? The answer could be varied between the two extremes of - nothing to everything. If you can't do anything, just live with it. Believe me, it would be easier to live with no action than to fight the very root of it, the emotions - for they are pervasive in your subconciousness and they are a part of you - actions are not. Also, if you have watched the video, you would know that you can change the environment to bring the positiveness of the self which you had been overlooking all this while.

And yes ... rights and wrongs are just the fallacies of human understanding, not even the computer system is actually binary , it's all analog- Everything around us are just shades of grey, picking the shade may be an action one can't take, but shying away from liking the shade is almost like killing oneself; So stop judging yourself.

If you like someone - go ahead like him/ her. You may or may not act on your liking depending on the constraints, but fighting that thought, trying to slay that thought itself could be very difficult - sometimes much more difficult than fighting the whole world inorder to achieve it....

Good luck Ami!

Being Me- II

2013-07-21T10:37:00.000-07:00

"Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now, if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain’t you. You’re better than that!" - Rocky Balboa

The libran that you are believes in countering every negative emotion with the splash of positivity. You may not come up with an original idea, an original goal or may be life doesn't give me a chance to prove that you are Godsend for great things, but to quit trying is not what you know.

You may be slow, may take a pause and a deep breath to hold the moment as if forever, but you will release the breath and get back to the ascent uphill, for in your journey lies the sole purpose of being Amrit; its legacy should live on, if not in words, in his actions, in the lives he touches and in the lives he is touched by.

Let's just say all you need to do is keep moving and things that you always wanted will shape up and come to you. You never wanted the goals but the happiness attached to the goals you chose. What if the happiness comes with all the other milestones that comes your way. Give it a chance... Give life a chance and believe in yourself.

You are not a coward and you shall not point fingers, not even your yourself.

King once said - if you can't fly, run ...if you can't run, walk and if you can't walk .. crawl, but it's important to keep moving ..

Just move it ...and you shall be fine.

Being Me!

2013-07-20T07:53:00.001-07:00

It's true that I haven't been writing off late, although the urge to write and key down my thoughts has crossed my mind umpteen times. I wish I could write about all I think and all I do but I can't. I have been dragged or I should say I have jumped on to the race of life, although very well knowing the futility of it. I understand the life is a journey and each step is a stroke on the canvas of it. At the end of the journey, these little steps would decide if the painting is a masterstroke. Yet i have chosen myself a stroke, a course which the world approves of. Why do i need its approval. I don't but I care for people around me and it feels happy to see them revere in all this course. Moreover, it seems, as we grow older, the needs of the people around us will dictate the choices we make. However, I wish it just remains to seems and doesn't morph into an obvious reality for me, which it has for lots of people I know of.

Almost always, thoughts in my mind lead me to one question - what do I really want from this life. Ten years ago, i really knew what I wanted. I don't think there was a person who knew what he wanted better than I did. I wanted the most beautiful oasis of the desert, the sparkling white pearl from the heart of the ocean and the purest breeze from the top of the mountains. Yes, it was a dream but a dream personified, one which completes the reality of being me.

I could go on and on about the most beautiful dream I had. It's one of those dreams that gives you super powers and you can actually do anything for it. You can change the world even upside down for its sake.Happiness has a whole new meaning in this dream and you live for it and also die for it, all in bliss.

Now, years later when i know it was just a dream, I fail to answer - what do i really want from this life. The answer often starts and stops at the question itself. I still want meaning from it, but I guess it's hard to get a meaning for me now; the meaning probably if any has to be realized by people around me.

Defining your goals from a scratch is not easy; It's the feeling that everything I did was for a goal which i later realized was never there for me. Accepting things as fate or destiny is an easy solution.

Nevertheless, I know and accept reality. It's just that I can't choose a worthy goal now. It is this inability that is making me lose myself. I know, choosing or finding a worthier goal is going to be very difficult. The other solution is the philosophy I am practicing now. Just go on, don't set a target, enjoy the journey and carry on.

This philosophy is also very good and when I connect the dots backwards, it's not that bad. However, it does echo the lazy sentiment I have, let the purpose come to you and let the goals of life choose you.

But then I still fear, what if I never find a worthier goal... what if I never have another original idea from life?

Why don't I complain?

2012-12-29T04:02:00.000-08:00

1. I don't complain about the government because I didn't have any role is choosing my representative. I just voted once in my life time.

2. I don't complain about the police, because my hand goes in the pocket every time and pulls up 100/200 bucks when i am on the wrong side.

3. I don't complain about the bureaucracy, because I left that road for the lack of money and the hard work involved.

4.I don't complain about the rowdy because he/she doesn't trouble my family

5. I don't go ahead and protest on the roads, because I like spending time on Facebook, sharing how bad I felt eating bingo and refreshing to know how many people liked it

But overall, I don't change myself, because deep down i believe that No matter what ... nothing will change and I am just another selfish brat who thinks he has lot of his own problems to deal with than of the country, who segments his problems and that of others in top priority and no priority buckets, who has learnt that the people are no good to live for .. Live for money and for yourself....

I am just another Indian who doesn't understand that his "self" is useless unless it's meant for others..

PS: I disown any of the statement above for the selfish reasons of not being detained.

Restless ... again !!!

2012-10-06T10:06:00.001-07:00

This is just another Saturday and this is just another me, restless all over again.

I completed the book "How I braved Anu aunty and set up a million dollar company" by Varun Agarwal, a 25 year old bangaluru boy. The book is simple , a breezer without much ado on the language, but the message is strong.

"Screw it, Let's do it!" is the key message in the 100 odd pages in which Vikram tells a tale of his life on how he chased his dream in spite of the numerous critics around him. The book reminded me of 3 idiots all over again in which Madhvan says "Mujhe tho unka first name bhi nahi pata". Seriously, I don't know about others but I admit i closely identify with someone who is living someone else's life, just for the sake of what some x y z would think.

Some people have always had a distinct place in my life, sometimes intentional and sometimes it just happened. But the sum and substance is that those mr and mrs invisibles do influence what I think and what I do.

SP Jain helped me realize the futility of such relations or pressures; but I guess 2 years was too less to make me indifferent of the anu aunty's and uncles of the world.

It's not fear of criticism that makes me conform to them, it's also a contempt that I have for some of them that can't stand any criticism. I believe that they are too inferior to comment on what path i choose but at the same time i dread a situation when they pounce on me to tell me "we said, you are no use"

In-fact, when i look back, all that i did was to impress some x y z. I made it a point to prove and hell did I prove the doubting Thomas's that i am just not a good for nothing guy. But, it didn't really matter in the end, Did it? The Thomas are living their live and I don't find any sadistic pleasure in their sulking.

Yes, what does feel good is how the people who really care about me feel because of all this.It's important to see them happy, isn't it ? It feels good that they are treated well and your bits of glory has been an enabler of the same.

But someday, I need to claim this life of mine and live it on my own,the way I want it to be. The big Q is when is that day? Do I see it in the near future ?

The answer is "I don't know" and I am restless because I want to know ...

|| सरहद के उस पार ||

2012-07-03T08:06:00.005-07:00

पल में जश्न, पल में ग़म

आँखों में कहीं उम्मीद के मोती

गुच्छों में उलझे सोच के धागे

बीखरे हुए मोतियों से वक़्त से किये वायदे

कभी किसी लम्हे में अश्रु की यह धार यूँही बहती है

सरहद के उस पार भी क्या यही कहानी चलती है ।

पलकें बंद करके सपनों में खो जाना

खट्टी मीठी यादों से दिल को बहलाना

मंद मंद मुस्कान के साथ आँखों का नम हो जाना

कल की याद में आज को भूल जाना

क्या अक्सर यह गलतियाँ कहीं और भी होती है

सरहद के उस पार भी क्या यही कहानी चलती है ।

दिन बदले , मौसम बदले और गुजरे बहुतेरे बरस

मनं मेरे क्यूँ तू आज भी ढूंढे वही अरज ,

उन गलियों में अब यादों के रेत बहते हैं

जिनमे हम अरमानों के फूल सजाते थे

क्या सुमन की भीनी खुसबू और कहीं भी आती है ,

सरहद के उस पार भी क्या यही कहानी चलती है

आज कुछ भी कहीं नहीं है, फिर भी साँसें चलती हैं

दिल अलग, धड़कन जुदा फिर भी दुनिया जीने कहती है ....

क्या सरहद के उस पार भी यही कहानी चलती है ||

PS : Inspired by one of my fav movie - veer zara

क्यूँ रोकूँ मैं तुझे |

2012-03-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

क्यूँ रोकूँ मैं तुझे ...

तू निर्मल जल समूह धारा प्रचंड

मदमस्त बलखाती लय पर सवार

नदी नाले वन सजीव विजयी

अपनी धुन में मंत्रमुघ्द अलाप

क्यूँ रोकूँ मैं तुझे ....

तुझमे कांति नभ छूने की

व्योम के ध्रुव को प्रकाशित करने की

उर्जा तुझमे अनंत

दृढ़ता तुझमे प्रचंड

क्यूँ रोकूँ मैं तुझे ....

तू आत्मा विश्वास का जीवंत स्वरुप

मनुष्य की प्रचुर चेष्टा का प्रतीक

तुझमे बसी गंगा की धार

गिर के उठी तू बार बार

क्यूँ रोकूँ मैं तुझे ...

तू निरंतर जीवन का अमित सार

प्रकृति के चिरंजीवी का स्वरुप साकार |

कैसे रोकूँ मैं तुझे ....

PS :dedicated to a father on what he is feeling for his daughter's success and the comments of the society for her travel abroad

IRCTC sucks !!!

2012-03-10T19:51:00.000-08:00

A pathetic experience with the tatkal booking option of irctc.What were you thinking when you designed that stupid webpage , that it's for show and people wouldn't be using it for tatkal bookings or that the population of India is close to germany or france. Wake up , close to 2 lakhs are planning to book a train ticket in tatkal every day....

Being in India, you should know Indian realities. But including the railway ministry , the irctc folks either don't have technical understanding of India's needs or they are just as dumb.

Idiotic moves by Indian Railways

1. Tatkal window opens only 24 hrs before.
2. There are only 4 seats per train per class in Tatkal,
3. The site goes for a toss at 8:00 am.
4. The ajax field takes ages to load when required including server error 503
5. After all this if u r able to submit your request , a server error 200 throws up.
6. Finally at 8:30 if u r able to reach somewhere , a regret list is awaiting your request.

Guys, do us a favour , close the tatkal.

I don't know but it seems Railways has been trying to boost the Indian Airlines sector, for what else would explain the failure.

I do have face to face evidence working of the Indian railways while doing my development of corporate citizenship project in Pune. All we wanted was to estimate the feasibility of planting trees alongside railway tracks. However the department seemed to be too busy just running the trains and it seemed everything worked on jugaad.

There was a silver lining somewhere but the clouds around in Indian railways are very dark.....

I wish Laloo is back .. His being in railways improved the services and policies both for Indian railways and also for Bihar...

Regards,
Amrit

SPJIMR : Will I miss you?

2012-03-08T05:41:00.000-08:00

Most of the answers to the questions that I ask myself find a common answer "I don't know". Bloody hell, why don't I know the answers to most of my questions. Today I asked myself a simple question , will I miss SP Jain and again stumbled upon the same futile answer " I don't know". Seriously I am fed up of this monotonous student of life, i.e me , who does not have any answer for me.

Ok, let's probe further, what's there to miss in a college besides the usual "it's natural to miss your college". Just because you have been with something or somewhere for the last 2 years , do you miss it . Do I miss all the couplet years of my life. No I don't, I don't even remember most of my life.

So the point is , you miss the things you like the most. For example, i missed food and family when i was in Germany. What is that in college that I liked that I shall miss.

Like #1 : I liked the classes. Yes, I liked them. Not all, but most of them were very interactive, if u want , you learnt a lot of new ideas and lots of good things about life. The classes on what management is or the story of a boy which I forgot in the Learning Management Class were exciting. Most of the subjects that I studied ,could be very well practically applied to any business scenario. I loved the learning.

Like #2 : I loved the night canteen. I am generally awake till 3/4 , so the night canteen was something which always helped me get the fuel.Moreover, you can always find people around there to have a little chit-chat, curse some assignments ....

Like # 3 : Optimistic, that I am, I always believe in next time.However , if there is no next time, I would miss being with 101 E , specially some people with whom I had late night discussions and anything and everything.

Like #4 : I shall miss Moments like Anandwan and PG lab , which gave u a high !

I guess that's my short list. Let the college be over and let me see what actually shall I miss .....

SJ and JS : Thanks for shaping my thoughts!! RIP

2011-10-16T09:22:00.000-07:00

This is my first weekend in Mumbai after I started my internship in Citibank.

Pune, to me is a lot of good food, cozy home , lovely wife and sweet long drives. I missed it this time majorly for the sake of a deteriorated health which warranted travel. I didn’t just miss Pune this time but consciously avoided any other busy-ness.

It’s been long since I had a word with myself. The weather outside , the soothing sound of the rain , the lovely breeze caressing my disheveled hair locks , the quietness of the floor and no pressing work calls for a perfect date with myself.

Well , I can talk about a lot of things , my work - which I officially hate , my weight loss programme – which is yet to start , the future aspirations – that I am still confused about or the state of the MBA and engineering jobs being offered – a wholesale mandi these days.

However, I think I shall talk to myself about 2 important people in my life and about my favorite topic – my dreams.

Recently, there was sad demise of two important persons who had deeply touched my life and coincidentally their initials share the same letters: SJ and JS , i.e Steve Jobs and Jagjit Singh.The reasons though very different, their work in life has formed the pillars of my being and action.

I first got to know JS at the age of 14 , when most of the kids were lost in the cricketing fancies of Sachin. Thanks to the pathetic electricity at my hometown , I was bereft of many of those marvelous innings. However , the walkman that I had was an excellent company along with the then 60 Rs cassette of Sony Crescendo – Marasim.

I was a very thoughtful kid who had always wanted to understand and explore human emotions and JS voice and the lyrics of his ghazals were something I could relate to. My personal life was a collection of many subtle experiences, of which I had used to ponder endlessly.

With every passing year, the correlation between my life and the ghazals of JS became closer to the perfect one. Infact my first proposal to a girl in Class XIth was a result of one of the Ghazals “ yun mere khat ka jawab aaya”. Although not of JS, one can easily see the influence of Ghazals in my day to day life.

I was never a good student. However, the recipe to study which helped me work it out just fine for my IIT entrance examination was a closed room , with an airy window , a table lamp , black in colour , neatly arranged table on which in one corner was the Philips tape recorder with JS’ s voice soothing my nerves. It was hours for which I could solve the numerical while listening to his masterpieces.

Thanks to You! The recipe worked and I could clear IITJEE.

Even then the tryst with JS continued while my life resembled a roller coaster. While it was sometimes about love , sometimes sadness , sometimes it was just for the peace of my mind. Yeah , somehow they had found me a way to be at peace.

SJ , too has affected my mind considerably and probably for the rest of my life. SJ for me is an epitome of imagination turned into reality. He is one of those original thinkers who can envision future. The meaning of the word exciting for me is close to the bitten apple and his thoughts on how to connect the dots or how to stay hungry and foolish.

While at Infosys Services, I was selected as a research scientist in ISRO which I denied to work for Infosys R&D with the inspiration of creating something for the future, very much inspired by the Roark of my real life , SJ.

I kept following Apple closely and the protagonist SJ and his speech in Stanford about living each day was for a long time very close to my heart.

Today I am someone who wants to work on the products/services of the future, help create those, popularize them and make them reach the masses. I am an engineer from the heart , MBA from the mind and a philosopher from the soul, and I thank you both for leading me become what I am today.

Although I always thought there will be a day I could meet you, I think it shall have to wait till I give back to the world from the mind , heart and soul just as you both did !!! RIP...