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Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Meeting the Idol!

Rashid follows an old man. From the old man's manners, Rashid picks up manners. The way he reacts, the old man; similarly this young boy reacts as closely as possible. Rashid doesn't critically follow him like a mirror image but draws in his mental picture, the appearance of the old man.

The young boy talks to himself while walking the lane with little steps. He's getting noticed for following the man. This Rashid doesn't know. For, the boy is in the land of his makings. He murmurs, "How many decades, oh my God, how many uncountable years, he has walked these lanes...I come to this market rarely. My Baba is always seen here."

Now, Rashid sits by near a kachori(Indian eatery) stall next to the lane where Abdul Baba goes through. Now, he sits alone other than the little crowd that's busy enjoying the kachori. He's alone, because his world was destined to Abdul Baba. Now, he was left to sit with his own self; unknown of other occurrences in the colourful bazaar.

Abdul Baba repairs all the kitchen wares with as much smoothness and karigiri, that no one in the locality holds such name as he does. Whatever a person becomes, he/she should be best at it. Now, the young boy was filmy, and thanks to an interview by veteran actor of Hindi Cinema, Shri.Raj Kumar. Who answered on being questioned on what he were to become if not an actor? He answered, "Hum jo bhi kaam karte usme hamara naam hota. Agar hum Bombai me joota bhi polish karne waale hote, to Number-1 joota polish karne waale hote."

Rashid, could switch different sayings and at last felt what called to him. He listened very patiently to his heart and followed it's vibrations. As if all life that he held in his soul, stood in those vibrations. As if, no other thing could hold as much significance in his life, than his calling.

It wasn't that, he were to become like Abdul Mia..there was a far greater spirit that bound people to their jobs. It was tajurba(experience), that gave a person; his/her identity.

Rashid came back home and watched a television show wherein he saw a play and the ending part of the narrator. It said, "We all have role models. Those, whom if we see once; we forget the problems and the barriers that can be in the path towards our glory. They are the strong pillars spreading the antiquity and grace of the positive spirits around their persona. We learn from them, we follow the streams of labour, dedication."

Rashid went the next day too, in search of Abdul uncle. Now, it seemed if he were busy, that he wasn't seen by the kachori stall where he kept his place when he had no work. The boy waited for far greater time, until his hero in the old man appeared in fresh sight. The joy to see him flew like a seamstress and awakened the boy's heart towards his role model.


Magician's eyes,
Colorful portrait,
The manner she looks, dignified enough.
 I lament naught, On losing her; I celebrate, for having known her.
Magnetic, my patience;
While attuned she was,
To this holy spirit of love,
I got to know, wasn't it for me,
Still, I loved.
Roads were blank,
While I saw her appearing,
Chirping in my silence,
Her affectionate disposition towards me.
I walkest alike, a caricature of love,
That intensified it's holiness, whilst I thought of her.
I sung songs,
I heard them whistle,
From long a distance, unto heart's intense being.
A sole twinkle awakened in me,
Lightening and dreams,
That I witness today too,
While I move,
Ahead in the roads,
Of smile and melancholy alike.
Moving with dreams,  broken but aligned,
With parallel bonds of hopes destined.

Tuesday, 24 September 2013

The communication link!

The best thing about life is that we know we are losing in one place. The funniest thing is that we still carry on doing that job. The only hope that pertains is, to get out of the loses. Hence forward a road towards victory.
To comment on my city, is to comment on it's people, the linguistics, the aesthetics, the dreams of Delhi. Delhi being the capital of India, makes my comment on India as a whole. Not merely the Delhites- who live permanently here, but the Indians who reach Delhi to follow the race against time. The race to create an identity of oneself, to get what belongs to us. We get opportunities, but in metropolitan cities, such is Delhi.
Income Tax Office(I.T.O), the office in general but known widely as a bridge followed by a road where it is located. The road that links East Delhi to the Central Delhi; is one of the busiest roads in Delhi. There's a bus stop where in every five minutes, develops a thunderous crowd. The D.T.C buses fill with passengers, few step on the fellow passenger's foot. While, the fellow passenger keeps his cool. He knows, that as soon as the bus moves, they all would settle down in harmony. Few chirpy guys, who are new to the bus's aura get into being the angry birds. But many know the ethics of bus travelling. Everyone is in a hurry, isn't it?
Now, why do I tell you about I.T.O? Yes, I am telling you why the bus comes filled towards it(now, going towards East Delhi) and goes filled away from there. Very funny and for few readers, it may turn out to be very weird that I tell anything, that might be of no use. But from my eyes, it is of use.
Go away from this place and you get to reach the infamous, Laxmi Nagar and you have entered East Delhi by now. If you walk some steps down from your bus, soon you would get mixed in the crowd, not as heavy as Chandni Chowk but some less. Here, you would be greeted with young boys, wearing tattered clothes handing you pamphlets for C.A. coaching and coaching related to the Commerce background in excess. And if you aren't a C.A. aspirant, still you have choices. You don't treat these boys, any illiterate. For if you do, then they would by obvious nature count heavy on you. They know every C.A. teacher by his/her name, from their fee structure to left vacancies in an ongoing session. If you don't believe me, then stand next to them for a minute and you would get your answers. So, yes. Never go by their external appearance. "Paushaak, ko tolna haanikaarak hota hai ji." Few men do the similar business. Although, their attitudes are a bit relaxed. They are more exposed to lightening a cheap beedi, or chewing the paan masala. In Laxmi Nagar are the most number of affordable PG's, so this area is famous amongst the college going students as this area is well covered with restaurants and eateries at every next shop. Also known, for it's paisa vasool documentation that involves getting photostats at a minimal amount, to getting lamination's done.etc. Don't miss the frill of this place.
If you find people going towards ITO(from East Delhi), then you better know, that this bridge links East Delhi to the rest of Delhi. So, obvious reason for long stretches of traffic in the mornings. But, there isn't a jam, for the road is beautified and also, many newer roads have been stretched in the recent past. From the flyovers, to the increased usage of Delhi Metro for transportation, traffic has been brought to near control.
Now upon, I shall conclude my article just the way I had started it. I had written on, how busy the Delhites are and how Delhi becomes a center for the rest of India. Including the villages, the less developed cities and states. Opportunities are manifold and so we move in our city, running, following our tides and waves. So, we aren't left aback but known for what we believe, our vision.

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Passage behind the lane!

I walked and stood still, I was waiting for a bus to drive me back home. At an interval did I stop. I stood blank for a moment, as a pause to my walking. I glared with wide open eyes until I saw no bus in the vicinity of the passage that was visible. I carried forward with thoughts other than of bus, but the dreams. After reaching another bus stoppage, I found a bus criss-crossing me. I couldn't have asked for more. A blessing had been offered to me by the sun dazzling spirits that sensed to me, reached to me. I got into the bus and in the crowd of the bus seeking youth and old alike, I reached my home. In the meantime, I had dreamt with freshness, about almost everything that flew it's wings in my minds' personages while I walked past the bus stop's.
I stood like the other passengers who were my college friends. Well, many of them were familiar faces, whom I saw daily alongside me. The students who were waiting for their bus to drive through the bus stop. It was evening and so was the waiting being more biting. As every minute passed, so did their question and answers. Hey, it's been so long that I am standing here, the bus doesn't seem to come today.
Soon, a bus came in and the students loaded the bus; hence fighting out their way into it. Don't ask how they freaked into it, they just did it. To stand on one another's foot was an ordinary business wherein others could argue not anything but accept what happened. On the other hand, they wouldn't expect anyone frightening on them after they hit the other guy, just to tickle the phone from one's pocket. When in bus, the people are exposed to all these elements of fright and terror. Well, these appear in the normal travelling sight. So, one may criticize if it's really the terror that I write about. I answer; Yes, it is terror for that person who is not aware of such occurrences that happen just naturally with Delhi. So, better stay away or accept it. I suggest that you should accept it.
Many people would ponder over why do I, tell them to accept the DTC buses for travelling. I shall give you enough food for thought regarding that, as my blog post progresses. It's a universally accepted fact that a country is it's people. So, to get an honest picture of our country is to experience the interaction between people. In buses not only the bonhomie between the citizens be manifested, given; you maintain your calm and disposition if answering to situations that go wayward with a cool mind. You need not examine your Kingly attitude there because if you make believe that you are superior then you wouldn't learn a bit. Try to be free of all tensions and let the breeze of solitude and peace happen to you. Don't yield or lose to the circumstances that appear when there's more crowd than the bus can accept. In the process of one's travelling, one shall get to see people hanging over the doors and furthermore, not letting it shut(electronic doors). Now, if the bus conductor doesn't resist, no one can stop their entry into the bus; now be it half way in and half way out of the bus. Similarly, the ways and means of the bus conductors differ from one another.
In your tryst to know your city, you shall progress only after figuring out their actions and words of speech.
It was after days that my friend and I started talking for longer. We thought of getting back home using metro. Yes, I would use metro after longer to get back home as my friend did everyday. The attendance that day was low in college as elections had been held a day before. The environment of the college was serene and compose. One could sense the rhythm of the air streaming up and down in it's own chorus of liveliness and affection. I talked to him regarding the films, songs, stories. I liked his company. Later on, I felt that metro wasn't overcrowded as an ordinary business set across. It was free just like my thoughts had been; swinging in the air and being it's part in no time. Time comrades with my benevolence. I liked the very fact that in calculated time the Delhi Metro could drive you back home. So, it was. I didn't wait for the bus, although I missed a metro just because it was crowded at one station. Otherwise, it wasn't such hubbub to drive me nuts. Then, I felt some ease. After days of running to know people, I sensed every bit of the time in moments that passed. Now, was it the magic of the air conditioner or the words of my friend that reached to my heart. The moments clung to my heart and like a magician swung across bearing love and fruitfulness as it's components.

If it isn't about love, then what?

Love isn't about gifting precious diamonds. It's neither a flame for people to rest their lives upon. It's the essence of long dealt freedom. When the mind or heart isn't shy to express to the world it's very attraction. Whatever it feels, it easily expresses. Love the world and so does the world love you.
The patches are green, the moisture in the air is softly drenching the cheeks of sweat. The walk maintains with the equilibrium in interest paving the traveler ahead. It's not that the road is very clear and smooth, it's about experimenting and the love of doing that. Blending the art craft to one's soul and transcending the beauty of nature into one's patient mind- transgresses the enormous textures to the real world from the artificial colours that occur. Such is the highness and glory of art. It emulsifies the artist with similar equations and enlightens every roadway and road past that we move and comrade with added notches of learning and perseverance.

An artistry imagery..

An artistry imagery holds the guild to make perfection out of a raw thing. The unacceptable of the less done works, and over emphasis of one’s down pouring heart; gives to the world light to nurture and feel affection in and apart. Thine appearance of charm elongates, trustful incarnation of thy soul. The way you feel, you tend to show to the people around. For, they form the world out there and an audience to the artist’s craft.
Songs of thine optimism and pessimism alike, make an innate picture of love and it’s dismissal. The space given to each thought carves out of you, an artist and such art adoring portrayal. Portrayal of life that is but there, the sun that glows and endears. The night that befalls and the trees respire the shades of silence and rescue. After, the attaining scorching heat that mumbles upon in deep frenzy and solitaire. Each emotion is equally felt and passed through one’s acceptance of life here and there. The opinion making is the one that is referred as when the mind flaunts for literature of knowledge across the regions and the spheres.


New tastes did occur, as the days moved closer, as one can say that the college days were coming to their closure or towards the destined treaty that exclaimed that one fine day the conclusion bells would ring. I had got a new taste for drinks like, drinking Gatorade, Fanta other than Pepsi. I had started liking the milk shakes; something I didn’t do long back.
You can refer to the passing times as the real transformer. I have started gaining interests in varied activities. A man gets tastes as and when he lives through different emotions and times. Figuring the people, different mood or simply revisiting the settings of the progressing country. One moves around one’s country and nears about knowing the texture, the composition of what rings the hearts of people, the minds of people

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Bells of conscience

Love me not for what naught I have in me. Rather love me for what I possess in me to offer to you. I won't disagree on the fact that I am a novice, yet I am looking forward towards the light. The light that I see isn't the one buzzing in commotion over any funeral pyres burning head-long, it is my own beauty of civilized manners. The manners that off-spring out of the silent me, over the threshold of my mentality. In confusions and distortments, in lineages and orderliness, I am transformed rather metamorphosis occurs for the material good of myself. I had far long visualized a scenery and a dream in my minds' space of wisdom, wherein I had outlined my standing in life. So am I here, lightening the stars with that twinkle and hubbub, that it rings to me, reaches to me in the dialect of love. Love has no individuality of it's own, for it is universal as the sunlight and not just a lantern. When love rings itself, it reaches it's vibrancy to all men, not after looking at their caste or religion. For, love itself is a religion and doesn't differentiate between the Creation of the great Creator! Letting the art form become a mantlepiece of glory and not decay. I blend and give you my heart to nurture the portion of love that I can dance in the vicinity of the world as occurs to me.
Let go of any ill being but love as it's the only feeling that makes you alive. It livens with you in pain, sacrifice, being there a little unseen but making you get up and stare for the beauty that asks for your sight to figure out.

Sunday, 8 September 2013

Unspoken, sentences that matter!

Eyes ask for a closure, Mind envelopes a distant cynosure. What is very much liked, No more is in the capacity to write. When a lot is said, believed and sensed, Mind blows away in unlinked cadence.
In the morning sing the birds, They wake me up, and forbade, Me of any further sleep. My heart ceases the left tendency, Patience and rightful reflection, Occur to me, While I remain a distant weaver, To understand my state of irony.

The Rummaging!!

Dusky-the texture, people moved across, it was the hubbub of the street. Eatery shops endeared the sight of freshness in their makings. Boys cracked jokes, ate the pastries, the chocolate truffles in a palate wherein all shared with care and affection. Attorned, the white ironed Kurta that did downpour from their necks down to the knees, as the air blew with cadence in it's forthcoming.
In no time two auto rickshaw drivers mocked the arena of the street side. They infected the flow of people by colliding with one another in the street that looked like a little artery that is to a human body. The crowd including the shop owners and the kids enthralled with great sharpness in face and manners, to witness the further involvement of the two drivers who came out with uncanny beard, on either one's face. The shop owners had got their food for the hunger to disseminate; they were far too bored to sit at their shop's that had no buyer for distant ages. It was time for entertainment to the young boys.
They(boys) had been wishful to witness the drama erupting out through the crevices of the street side. For, they were going to be the first among the spectators to experience the fright, the fight of words, torture and disdain. They usually maligned to those fights after hearing loud uproars of terror in the adjacent streets, while this was an invitation for free and the first hand experience that they were going to intake out of the ordinary business happening in the crowded streets every now and then. The two men stood facing each other, one being shorter in height than the other.
They started with the normal business of spewing expletives. The hubbub of the street got the bubbles of manifestation as soon as that thing prolonged and stretched. Instead of separating the two men, the crowd stood blank and stubborn not to give their standing space to any other guy, as much willful to watch the procession as they had become. The terror walked in everyone's head once the two men started hitting against one another. It was a drama outset, planned and directed by their prejudices that if one was standing in front of you, then you need to win the fight of words, you need not sway away into the bushes. Being silent and practicing harmony was against their mentality. The men had gathered to witness some fresh drama and the performers were left to do their offerings to let it become a case filed in the nearby Police Station; a case that would never be resolved. Who could guess that in little a time, the crime could be fatal as well. As more little rash between the two men could land them into trouble.
Few minutes of enjoyment of people around could hurt the two lives. The disdained souls weren't separated and they ended up causing physical harm to each other. When it had happened, a policeman was brought to the spot. They were taken to the police station as part of the usual business and the crowd once again freshened to carry out their tasks with a story in head to recite to friends for a day or two to come or to the family when they would in the day vignettes or highlights.
The young boys had left for their homes, with a story to discuss in the school the next morning. Telling, how they had witnessed a good fight being the front rising audience. One boy mumbled, "Yes, it was one of the best fights I had seen in a long time. Well, one month is a long time. Isn't it?"
The darkness occurred and the light of the shops gained glitter with florescent tubes doing the lightening. Then, new crowd pulled inside the eatery shops. Few were early for dinner and the alternative case when the men entered in a bunch to celebrate for a warm sit together as the evening drew towards the gate of night.

Saturday, 7 September 2013

Unlit stars!

Two boys were walking down the street after playing for nearly two hours. They were getting back home. It was Srinivasan's house and Rajkumar's mother was a servant at Srinivasan's home. The two boys got together well, fighting, playing, arguing and continuing the play with the football. 

Rajkumar had been a frequent visitor to their home, an area full of plants, a swimming pool being an attraction for the wayfarers. Still, the two boys went for an even bigger playground to practice. Srinivasan's mother was well acquainted with the fact that Raju's mother was a servant and so was her son to be pictured as one. "Raju merely picks up the ball and brings to my son, as my son is a very good player. He's intelligent that he makes use of this loafer, who does naught a thing else than sitting at the veranda with an old yellowed thick textbook in his hands. What a trouble is to look at him, he's so dull and compose." She whispered to herself, in a higher pitch as if she were talking to someone in front of her. Continued. "Yes, he knows his work very well, about where he stands and where would he land in his life. When he grows up, he would wash Srinivasan's clothes and pity, he thinks that he's studying." ; "These rascals give birth to children, to make a print of themselves in the little ones.", "It's the call of, rather law of life, the way you are, so are your children. Now, she can't be like us and teach Raju as we teach our son with luxury and comfort of all kinds." ; "What would anyone study when there is not even an air conditioner working?" She questioned herself and sprang with conviction. "Yes-yes; that's the reality. You see, what shall be the fate of this studious yet illiterate boy." 

Afternoon passed that day and the boy kept on sitting with sun occurring as a lantern; the warm breeze rung as coldness for his wet sleeves, he was drenched with sweat. All that time he had been sitting under the hot sun, he was more concerned with the story that he was reading; the one where a King had two wives and was living under the ambiguity for whom of the two was to be taken for a grand carnival. To Rajkumar, his mother's message in the morning was enough that he had to study the entire lesson before they left for their home and ate their lunch together. Now, the afternoon fell in the hands of the vibrant evening where sun faded it's glow and let the children play freely, as they had already studied and completed their portions for the day by that hour. Raju's mother was still indoors while no one had come out of the glass door all the time that he sat outside. His patience struggled to be stay to it's silent nature. He wanted to ring the house bell and ask for mother. What was wrong? He had heard that they were going to eat lunch after a day's gap. He wanted to experience a sight, or a little glimpse could do, of his mother. He wanted his maa alright and for God's sake, not tortured by the Malkin.
In sometime, the door itself opened. The mother came out and held his hand after hugging him, to leave for home. She had done a lot of work because the Malkin had given her a threat that she could be easily driven out of her job if she complained for over-work. "Maa, why are you to be here for so long?", he questioned. "Beta, we don't have a Sarkari naukari , we are daily wagers. If we miss a day's work, we miss our income, or can even lose our job and our Malik's pity upon us. Today, be happy! Your maa, will prepare Raita and Chawal(Rice) for you. Let's go to the bazaar, I will buy you a chocolate. I remember, last month you had shown a wish to eat it. Today, it comes true. Thank the Lord! Your mother has earned to make her child fill his tummy today. So, beta; you studied?", "Yes, maa..I did! I will tell you the story.. There was a very rich king.." "Beta, all the kings are rich..",  "Oh, alright. Anyway..You know he had married twice and..."
The mother and child walked through the market, and then reached their home. They had shared their experiences of the day. To the mother there was only Rajkumar and his goodwill the utmost thing. In the mornings, she sent him to school and later he waited for her outside the Malkin's house or in their veranda. They were big people, they did pity on the lady by giving her child- the space in the sun to study. His homework's were done there. He had sound health whereas his mother's health deteriorated by every passing day.
In fewer days, his mother was bedridden. He had no choice but to look for work while she kept longing for life in the government led hospital. The doctors were kind and the best there but little money to buy food for himself and his mother made him work in a roadside Dhaba. His childhood was falling prey to the fright of his employer. One day, Srinivasan got to know about his friend and while coming back from the school, he asked the cab driver to wait for sometime so that he could talk to Raju. "Hey, what has happened of your football champ? I thought, you were as good as me! What sick business are you falling into. It's very deep, these people slap your face and there are no provisions in the law or court to prosecute their culture of expletives. You just run away. Listen me? You go to school! Fine?" Here, Srinivasan had given his thoughts for Rajkumar to reflect upon. "No, Srinivasan.."; replied Raju- "Before going to school, one has to fill one's tummy too. Now, that responsibilities have come...."
Mother couldn't work any longer and earn her child a good life. He was left wandering for new jobs..few lasted weeks and few went on for months.. At last, he became a Richshaw puller where upon he transported carts and racks holding heavy carpets. A lonely boy, pulled along hundreds of kilograms and in the same shimmer of the sunlight. The mother of Srinivasan had rightly pointed the child's future. To him books were distant dreams and a chocolate from maa's hand of care was a sight of the past.. Life moved with struggles, the real struggles..the real labour!

Sunday, 1 September 2013

Heartbeats and erosion!

Hurt and Disregard!
Her love was real,
In the realm of her charm,
Composed that vigour to know me more,
To chant my name, for love did engross,
Us together,
Still she goes to never look at me.
I ask her, Dearest Lady;
Had you been silent,
To listen to thyself,
I am certain, you could have carried,
The truth, that you are wary about,
Unknown about.
If any day, you pass the street we walked,
Be calm enough to bring the rays of coldness and paleness that you shall find in there.
For there floats my heart's arch,
My waiting for thee of several hours,
When one thine look could make my day,
My sustenance lively and shine on my way;
Dearest, look at me once; you shall know,
Why this heart prays and dies in the ocean of pain..
The Farewell
If the sun rays could satisfy,
Why not you purify;
Thy hearth of it's affection,
My beloved!
I kept on the clock,
To note if you were seeking,
My attention;
That you weren't,
My beloved!
I could fall aback,
Thousand stars, could rather;
Fall upon me,
Had you said;
You would wait,
For me.
I could let the sea's sublime,
With waters- waving up-down,
Had you said,
You would wait for me.
Now, that you go,
Let this poor heart bid you bye.
When the roads to you, lead nowhere,
I shall erase my name from thy self,
Then go insane running in this world,
Crying all by myself;
I tell thee; I won't sought after you,
I shall forget you completely,
I shall cry, I wouldn't ever come back to you.
For, I wouldn't want to show you the truth any longer;
You weren't indulgent to know it rather,
Lest, I were to tell you.
Now, that your calling asks for you,
Go towards it, I won't stop you;
For I shall go,
To never come back.