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Thursday, 29 August 2013

A meeting with an old friend.

The lush environment arose, the embers of love with sharp eyes of understanding. The two friends were sitting in serene atmosphere with whispers of birds that sung and the ducks that swam in the pond doing the chorus. The sky appeared judgemental, that it would glow very profoundly that very day. The two friends waited for words to be spoken. While the sunrise was harboured across.
When in school, Ram was the boy who asked many questions and kept on indulging Sheema in his words. Now, that time had passed since they talked, they had maintained decorum for far longer a time. It's not that they were disconnected the time in between. They knew each other's tryst with struggles. Still, they wanted to feel the sensation of the warm winds that carried its luster into their purified hearts. They had barely exchanged few sentences from the time they met and having seated themselves on the bench, kept thinking of what to say; or waiting for some holy ceremony it seemed.
Now, the winds were aghast; more pouring and Sheema's scarf went flying into the air. Ram rung into laughter, and his heart volumed the stanzas of the gone days. He ran after the winds that carried in its arms, the scarf.
Sheema, see; how beautiful the winds are. They bring us back to those memories. And you..,"You haven't changed. I can see, the silk scarf outlined with the calligraphy that intended to you, called to you."
Yes, Ram; I keep the same love for those magnificent, the handmade clothes. You know, the choices that one makes in childhood go along with the person; the person can't change oneself anymore, once he/she's in love. The very nature of love, itself espouses you and at last forms you."
So, you still go to the Historical monuments that allured you when you were a little girl?
Yes, that's a natural tendency of humans to seek the best calligraphy; to praise the beautiful craftsmanship ever done. It's so aromatic and brings you back to the smell of the rocks that cluster together as strong bonds of patronage and richness. The varsity of such feelings of love generate once, you walk into one chamber that belongs to your dreams; the one where you have recited yourself so purely; where you can express yourself. When I am there, life resounds and expresses all it wants to. I talk to myself and get the energy to live , in the struggles of life. It makes it far more beautiful and fantastic.
I looked into her eyes once more and I had read that this lady had come together with that girl; whose purity dazzled in her youth and fell in love with her life in every passing moment. Love is yours, one just needs to have the patience to understand, feel and let it vibrate in you; giving the answers to the enormous questions in tranquility and patience.
She spent more time talking on the topics that we did talk whence children. Now, life were in a different boat and we sailed ahead; knowing more of one another and lightening the skies of glory along as we walked through the park that smelt joy at every footstep that was put or being initiated.

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Roads of dreams!

I had reached the metro station before anyone else did that day. My group of friends were late every time except me, as I kept to my time table with precision. Shweta was frequent to our parties and being a good friend to Rhea, she befriended us too. For, Rhea was in our group and so she invited Shweta all the times whenever we would plan a hang out. Now that the college was over, we had been busy with either jobs or further studies. Getting to plan a meet up within ourselves meant, foregoing all the meetings and plans that were ushered upon us by our employers or our teachers. We did bunk those meetings or lectures to meet our friends and that brought reminiscence bells ringing. 

Driving on those roads that led to our best hang out spots when in college, now brought us back on to them. For, we had grown up magnificently; onto doing the jobs that we wanted and the career we had offset in our plans. All of it flowed like a dream, or more than that. But one thing that sounded in all of the hearts was the missing phenomenon; that happens with all friends. Once they are away, the roads are different and we are away. When we walk the roads past, we get a tone of our gone days; its joy and belief over the fact that time has passed and that we are in the reality of life. At the same time, teardrops scatter around our eye lids; while we clean them and try to look ahead. Emotions can't take you away from the reality and the face of it; it comes to all in the same equations.
One day, Shweta had brought for me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and that was the very pleasant day when she proposed her love for me. I duly accepted her sweetness and I didn't keep my likeness for her hidden in my heart. I held her arm and we danced for a longer time. Longer than a night could ever be. That day, when the lights reflected the most of life's truths. Her eyes danced as if trying to look beyond what was visible, in that day.
We talked about our future plans and she kept on telling me how much she loved me. I had little known the fact that she came to the parties only to find me there. Although, I had formed an inclination towards her from those days; yet I kept silent thinking that the love was one sided. Whereas it wasn't! I don't know if ours was the best love story, to me it sounded ordinary as we never had meetings such as in the films. We kept a distance in the college festivals but glared into each other's eyes for moments as if searching for innocence in the either of us. For a greater part of our knowing each other, I hadn't a thought that one day we could become so close. Later, whatever happened was so spontaneous that we liked to have each other's presence around wherever we went.
Rhea later made us aware that we had led a great start by expressing our love for each other. Soon, we married and today we have three children. Shweta, left me and our children when she was diagnosed with a disease. The children missed her daily, in between their meals; during their sleep. It was like, they were afraid without their mother - to live in a world with so many troubles and different people.
I resisted any act that could hurt their sentiments and taught them stories of moral values that could help them building their character in life.
Rhea often visited us when she got time and my friends from college, paid a visit once in a while. The kids got all the love that they could demand from me but being a father I couldn't provide them with the care and blessing that is held in a mother's hand. I remember my wife today and walk the same roads where we friends partied with a belief that life was long and always as fruitful as those days.
I was right and wrong at the same time. For my kids those roads provide them with dreams about their mother as I keep on telling them about how we met and fell in love; how we roamed and shopped after the marriage; how their mother enjoyed walking in gardens in the evenings.
This way we reach her and while remembering, feel her touch with us in the cross roads of life. I still feel, the spark in her eyes that gently asked answers; to the questions that I never knew. Now I feel that our love was special, it wasn't ordinary; rather no love is ordinary. It has its own acceptance.

We had accepted that she was looking at us with her eyes in those stars as it's often said; and Shweta is remembering us, with the same magnitude and grace with which we love and miss her.

Gagandeep Singh Vaid

Artist Address

Sunday, 25 August 2013

Philosophies of my mind!

Too many tasks splurge into our living, and it is important to get them done. While, at the same time we can spread our tasks, taking all the love from what we intend to do. Being aware of your job lands you to the gates of happiness. Given, you complete task by task and be prepared for more learning that keeps on mounting. Hence, filling in the chips of excitement and merry-making into your daily routine.
It is often said and quoted by dignitaries on how their over-night success was because of years of hard work and sheer determination. In the words of the INFOSYS's; Executive Chairman, Shri Narayana Murthy,"It took me 25 years to become an overnight success." It is your bond with your job that makes you reach the higher strides and lets you make a mark at last. Little by little, crumb by crumb you enhance your caliber.
Someone has rightly said, that accepting failure is a path towards your eventual glory. You can't imagine a breakthrough or sudden success sans knowing the values and minutest details of what your dream is. We get time to understand and learn, so why run away from it; by a fear of failure. It should rather draw us towards our dream. Paulo Coelho remarks, “There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
Dream as it comes to you. It comes naturally to you to feel attraction towards what actually enthusiasts you. Another beautiful story by veteran writer, Ruskin Bond, by the name of; "What's your dream?" gives us a mental picture that, "Follow your dream and don't steal anyone else's dream." You can't become like anyone else, and no one can be like you either.
All these stories, be it the success story of a person or inspirational stories that are penned; tend to teach us and make us stronger and sharper. Follow your morals and you would sustain your boat in the higher tides, because even if the boat goes upside down; you would end up swimming and sailing through.
The Panchtantra stories have marked such moral applause into childish brains. The children are entertained, while they read the stories and bag good values from the stories. These values shall nurture the young minds and provide the society with carols of affection. The little minds shall be responsible for the upcoming future so it is necessary to teach them in a fun loving way and provide them an environment of overall growth.
"The school should always have as its aim that the young man leave it as a harmonious personality, not as a specialist." Albert Einstein.

"Thoughts on my countrymen."

Life is, uncertain like a DTC bus. No adequate timing and not sure if it comes, for there are cases when the driver and the conductor befriend in order to save a trip by taking a reverse turn midway. They are caught in public glances and are rightful for a scrutiny. Whereas we, THE PUBLIC that knows every notion of their mindset leaves it as a talk in the air that the bus driver was a cheat!
Well, here I won't talk merely about the bus or any bus driver doing such a deed. I am here going to talk about the present scenario that is not different from DTC buses. It affects me right now, as I sit here on the bus stop awaiting my 375 number bus that shall take me to my college and save me from missing a class, presumably the first lecture of a new week, as today stands Monday. Tomorrow and day after is "Raksha Bandhan" and we are organized for a big cultural inhibition after the Holy Month of Ramzan that manifested with the celebration of Sewaiya Eid. The time table of the country moves along, let alone the one of a college student. Because, he/she stands nowhere when the Nation celebrates.
India grows at a superseding rate. Enter the metro blocks and I bet you would find people reading newspapers, early mornings. The people to whom, news of the surroundings and the world matters to the threshold. They are the people being affected. The currency rates are depriving India of it's special status. While, the Economic position of the Nation gets a blow; well, a HARSH BLOW! Be it about the students who dream of foreign education or the teens thinking of holidays. It's a long story of grief for every Indian. The Rupee plunges to Rs.65/- against one dollar, while the Euro befalls to Rs.80/- and Pound to Rs.100/-. It has been just a matter of few weeks within which this mayhem has passed onto the government billings. There are few who are making out enjoyment over it. The exporters, they are referred.
While travelling in the green DTC, as it accepts the students bus pass; I get to see the face of MY DELHI. There are patches, there are sands wherein glitters the liveliness of the artifacts. There are places where sulphur rules the air, bad smell conglomerates across the visible sky. Cleanliness is a forgotten tale in the manners and disposition of the people; the way they lead themselves, starting from carrying out their household chores. Your expression, out in the world makes the identity of yours and you make your country. Isn't it? Who else does that better than YOU. Just question yourself and reflect!
If I don't spit my betel leaves at every next wall, would my city not be appareled in a beautified a manner as it should be? Cleanliness isn't here a matter to be spoken on and about, in just the external presentation of you. Rather it plays a bigger part in your tryst to attain inner purity.
Needless to emphasize that your inner beauty is responsible for your external make-up. Remember what English Dramatist- Shakespeare once said; " All the world's a stage." It all starts from within, where each action of yours matters and is equally responsible for the description and image that becomes of our Nation." In addition, I would also like to talk about Gandhiji- who felt that self purification is utmost. If he lied, he confessed to his father and this way he not only corrected his bad manners of drinking alcohol but also felt ease and lighter from the intense of his soul.

Monday, 19 August 2013


On bag packing.
Over the mountaineous roads and the crimson stoves in the sky, The travellers walk parallel to the breeze, Their cherishing - enlivened times. They are wary of what occurs to them, Yet they are hopeful to let it be, hem. For, no forlorn footstep awry, Could harm their conviction, their glory, They roam like a bird across, The world that's moving gross.
To let this world be, Small enough for themselves, To let the love assemble, In every bit of the happening quarters, Or the one that's lonely.
Dreams are brought, Affectionate memories sought, To entertain their lives once, It's done, when they say life has but been, They are the one's wishful, To say, they have but lived, Across the seas and heard the meaningful chorus, That envisages, Around the world; Now, be it a mountaineous block, Or the pleasant nature over the seas.
Books gloved!
Library of the personages, Dustier, mockier slips the tame. They walk with bylanes, Of bookland, cold and pale.
Roads boycott, they say; are they alive, While reading, they lose themselves, into the dramatic vibes. The Nature to them is a singer, The charm is totally a humble mover, For them to walk past the memorables, The past linguistics and trembles, Be those the war or sustenance records, Well known convictions, or the further anecdotes, Sing-song the maladies of the past broken stalls, To light their own lamp of significance, To bring some colour to the darkness, Meaning and significance, The world is a magic box, We being, it's inhabitants.
The Reader furthers the pages, One day eventually, To only lead to his story, Over the pages, the Wisdom enriched foray.

Sunday, 11 August 2013


It was midnight, the table lamp was lit; while I was busy doing the math sums. What fantasized me that night was the very consistency, which I had maintained while studying and dreaming. At equal intervals of time or when one theme overlapped the other. What made me sit that late at night were these two rhythms. My frustrations to study the subject that I maintained a distance from, and my temptations to dream of something magical; sustained me in the ocean of life, when both the mathematical sums and my imaginations served as a life jacket. Neither of the two could sense the love, without each other.
The imaginations are an open ocean, you can reach anywhere; simply by willing to be there, in your mind's brackets. When these brackets tend to support you, energize you; this no one knows or can ever quantify. I had been wishful to complete my high school and was willing to read what I liked, do what my life was all about. "I couldn't pretend any longer"; saying this I reached in a story of an actress who had gone on a war, to entertain those real heroes who weren't aware if life was present tomorrow. To the soldiers; every moment smiled as if it were to be their last. Surprisingly, they smiled back; they knew their job. I wanted to read literature from so long, I were dying to analyze what allured me; other than what didn't bother me but I was studying that, to merely pass in the exams. Life wasn't to take things for granted and doing them; but for the very fun of feeling the vibrations, examining the texture and composition of what meant to us everything and was the calling of our life. Only we could ascertain or know it the best.
School exams happened, I passed them and my marks gave me admission into a good college too. Now, it was about following the interest and cultivating it further; not following the crowd but my own lane. My people, wanted the best out of me and gave me suggestions to opt for other courses, whereas my calling had been well equipped in my mind and had become the passage towards my identity. What good could life give me, if I don't give it what belongs to it? I pondered gravely, and the thought appeared again and again like a revolutionary fire for me to answer. I kept my thoughts to myself and after prolonged periods of struggles with my own self and thoughts, I had got the meaning behind my life, my actions. When that meaning appeared, I could sense the glory of the growing sun, the way I could feel it in my childhood. I felt, the preciousness of every moment, when I read the Novels, Story books, because these were the passages to knowing myself and bringing the best out of me.
The innocence of childhood was dazzling in the rosary of my youth. "Love" was in the air; that connects a person with his intense, with his soul; so was I connected. I felt as if I were a child once again. I had decided that I would stand for my dreams, the ones that captivated me late nights and made me do the math sums with as much delight, in order to carve out my path. Now, I had got my love back with the growing crescendo of my dreams. I had known who I was, what marked my identity and it made a fresh beginning to my life.
Gagandeep Singh Vaid English(H) 1st Year, Dyal Singh College, University of Delhi 11/08/2013

Sunday, 4 August 2013

On Childhood.

Little fingers and shorter size; still, life instills in them with fullest of delight. Innocent we call them, affectionately they kiss us. Dreams they see, their actions we watch. In the shorter span of life that the tiny-tots have led, they have been successful to teach us; what loving is, or they make us remember how once we had been like.
They flaunt in no cars, but bicycles that tempt their imagining. The sky appears to them like a magical treasure; that keeps them enthralled in dreams. How could the sky be "light blue in colour?", asks one girl to herself. Some children are naughty, that they enjoy fighting but many are introvert too; in their own land, unknown to anyone but them.
The love that they unconditionally usher unto their close ones, casts unto the loved one's eye, a garland of love. Children don't seek treasures in the gold coins and the kingdoms, they rather make their own kingdoms in their imaginations.
The little hands develop further more. Their understanding develops as they grow, but deep inside is an ocean of love; of closeness that shields them with their thoughts. The honest, the thoughts are; the rich a person is.
A special note about them is that they walk hand in hand with their friends and are so closely attached to their friends that, whatever be the problem; the togetherness won't ever break in the adversities of life. Who says, that troubles and struggles appear only once, when you are a grown up man. While, the adolescence and teens, the struggles to depict the world confronts in the minds of children. They are wishful to involve their understandings on the variant pacts of life; be it agony, be it grief or merriment. All these emotions constitute a greater impact in their lives.
These gentle steps can also lead to the incorrect ways, while answering their confusions, as these exist in enormity to the children. So, there is a greater need to give them time to reflect, whatever they feel. The brighter eyes, should be free to see the world as it is, devoid of any incorrect facts. For, they are to live up, grow in it. They have to find the solutions to righteous living that can make our surroundings a better place to live in. A closer watch on their actions by a guardian is also important to take them to the right track. Moreover, the moral values should be inculcated in their hearts and minds; in order to give them a sense of who they are and to where do they actually belong, that is, "to humanity".
An ode to childhood.
"Hold my hand dear sister, For I watchest in thee; My caretaker. Roads are quiet, We pass them in glee; Praising the rainbowy aperture; Whilst we singest a duet, A melody.
Along the fresh water lands, The sky that is pink; I offer thee sparkles, Now the world thou ink; We hold the powers, With rain drops we drink.
Above the mountains, The forests and the trees; We walkest, thee embrace me, Whilst we stretch our walk, to the plains; And then light the sky pinkish."