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Sunday, 29 June 2014

Talks, and the times!

Many a thoughts he had in his mind. From where to start and where to end. Music played, the old melodies as his mother listened to them with all her heart. In the beginning he was glad, to sit next to his mom; as they were sitting on different sofas in the living room. Rajan enjoyed the music, the tunes; as his mother remembered those days of simplicity and grace. How, to his mother, how to her friends in their college days; would all of this sound. The love songs, the actors, the films; he wondered as she kept on telling him stories of those days.

In the beginning he was very willing, to give her company just by being there, with his laptop on; preparing the excel sheets. He loved the songs of the bygone era, of Hindi cinema; but then, his mother increased the volume of the songs on the playlist and it started to disturb him. For he couldn’t fully concentrate on what he was doing. In the next moment, he picked up earplugs from the table and asked her to use them. His mother was surprised, that very moment.

Rajan’s mom would often tell him to spend time with her as well, because he was mostly carried away by his office work and when not that, he was busy with his friends. She knew it very well that to give time to friends was important too. At times, she couldn’t help it but complain about his easy going attitude at home; that it was even important to keep updated about the family members. How could one’s work sit on one’s mind all day and night; this his mother wondered and asked him about it, straight. Rajan couldn’t stand in front of her questions, he would say sorry and describe that he was working on a very important business project in his office. In addition, his company was having a tough competition with the others and also it was a tough time for the economy. “Mom, you know about the slowdown of the economy, and how it affects our company; I have reports to submit to my boss, studying the factors that should be kept in concern to safeguard the interests of our customers, who have entrusted their confidence upon us. I will just finish with it, in sometime.”  Rajan explained and soon, his mother picked up the earplugs to not disturb him any further and at the same time, enjoy the melodies herself.

Then it was a day, when his friends came home as Rajan’s mother had invited them, for she knew them as they had studied in the same school as Rajan's. She enquired about their jobs, their parents and it was a very lively atmosphere that day. It was one of those days, when his mother had no complains with anyone. She would prepare the lunch for the boys and girls and they would serve the chapatis and the curry amongst themselves. “There is never any burden, when children come to meet.”, mother would say this quite often. It was a jolly day led forward, when they talked about their experiences from different events, with one another. As it was evening, and Rajan’s friends were about to leave for their homes. They thought it better to spend some more time with Rajan’s mother.

As they were talking, a topic looped up to be given an eye to. It was about, how important it was to not leave one’s interests and hobbies in life. Rajendra, cited one incident of his friend who would often fight at home, when his parents won’t allow him to join the cricket coaching at a stadium that was very far from their home. So, they asked him to wait because he was very young at that time. They couldn’t let him go there alone, so they simply resisted. Then he grew up, did cricket training at an academy near his house, but later on he left it and put the blame wholly on his parents for not allowing him to play his game at a young age when he could have reached the greatest heights. For him, the greatest heights meant to play for India one day. And as he couldn’t, he had left playing the game of cricket ever since. Ratnanjali was sitting and listening to the story of Rajendra’s friend from him with great interest, and as soon as he ended the story, she spoke out.

She was soft in her speech, as she asked this question to everyone, “Like really? One has to play for India, and what about playing for one’s happiness? One could still celebrate one’s love for that game, even when one grows old. There’s no age for playing, but the spirit matters the most, I suppose.” Others agreed to her say.

Then it was time for mother to say few words to express how she felt about this matter. She said, “ I don’t think, if a person can carry a passion for years and at then at a point in time the comments of other people could lower his/her confidence so easily. To the extent that the person thinks so low of one’s own abilities and lets go of that talent and craft for which, s/he must had carved for long. It’s not about winning always, what matters is that you do a thing for yourself. It’s not important to be a winner in the eyes of people always, but in your eyes never let your soul die.”

Everyone nodded and it was that strong gesture from everyone. Then topics went on changing and mother showed great willingness to her interaction with Rajan’s friends. Ratnanjali at this point shared a story of her brother, who had run away with a girl when inter-caste marriages weren’t allowed in their village. Theirs' was a love story, when they had to part in the end. How her brother still loved that girl, and how much she loved him; this everyone had known really well. How they both wished, if they could have run away from the village together without getting caught in the middle of the dark night. Everything had been with the plan, just they got unlucky, when a friend of the girl informed her parents. Ratnanjali was sad on telling everyone about this story. How, she wished they could go away, live life together; but she knew this could have led to troubles in the village within the two communities. The situation came under control after the Panchayat in the village decided to send the boy out of the village for work for two years and the two of them were asked to never meet again, if they wanted to save themselves from even worse aftermaths. Ratnanjali’s brother and his beloved never met since that day, the Panchayat packed his bags and made him leave the village. In the days to follow, the girl got married to a man from her community and culture only. This news even baffled Ratnanjali's brother and he wanted to take revenge from his beloved’s family for crushing their dreams and forcing her to marry someone whom she didn’t love.

Everyone fell silent including Rajan’s mother. Then Rajan spoke, “I have heard this wonderful line, that ‘don’t fall in love but rise in love.’ Shri Shri Ravi Shankar gave volume to these words, decorated along to form a beautiful line. Moreover, it’s not merely a line to be said, but to be realized and felt by one’s heart. Your brother, Ratna; shouldn’t think of causing anyone harm or do them bad, he should let it be; because now things can’t be changed. Love never gets over, it wasn’t love if it was to end. Love always grew manifold, with hours, with days and so on. He shouldn’t limit it and take revenge, this would only lead to blunders and it will be in his failing to understand the spirit of love. If he could do but little to bring a change to the mentality of people, it would be with the success of love, by making them realize how wrong they were. People do bad to you, doesn't mean you do the same to them. There will be no difference between you and them, if you also react in the same manner"  Everyone looked at him, either in belief or disbelief; this was left on each one present there, to realize what love was. Rajan didn’t preach, but he expressed his heart open to everyone. Ratnanjali expressed her approval of what he had said, and told him that she would try to make him not let the love take such a bad form of anger, furies for them. Maybe, it was in his destiny, that whatever happened.

Sooner everyone left for their homes and mother was waiting in the living room at night and listening again to her favourite songs and that day, Rajan had no work to do. They sat together and talked on about life and living, it was really a memorable day for the mother-son duo, to express and feel what they had in their minds.
27’ june’ 14

Stories and the love!

Newspapers were put together in a stack, while Shivam picked them up one by one, to experience the news in a differently chaste way by different reporters in every paper. He wondered what he was looking for in the newspapers, then reverted on reading them once again by himself. Same news had been covered in all of them. What was the change in the same news was the style of presentation! Styles were being experienced he thought, subtly!

Then he thought of taking along the same paper to his office, the one he was reading at his home. In a way, he had just fallen in love with its fonts or was it merely the paper that he liked to carry in his hand, that something in it, connected to his heart?

Then he moved his hand on the printed letters as he loved one interview by a famous actor, in the entertainment box. All in all, he loved every bit of it. So much so, he had thought to save it in his cupboard so that he could read it again whenever he would like. Or just for the sake of keeping it to cherish the colourful pictures and the extremely heartfelt write-ups. There was something special in words, needless to say.

People would think, how foolish of him to have an idea of saving the papers in the cupboard. Whereas they could never read the writer's heart. The most important thing that made him, keep the newspaper with him; was a write-up by a young girl who had been in love once. How she had expressed her thoughts about that one person, whom she adored the most. She had written about him. But, destiny had something else in store for her. She could never explain her feelings to the man whom she had given her heart.

"Good enough!" Thought the writer that she didn't have to go through the pain that exists in loving someone. But he had forgotten the fact that he had been in her place too. How he had loved a girl but wasn't able to say it to her. She was his inspiration, in his writings; everywhere he could feel her presence. Had it not been for her, he wouldn't have known what it was to praise even his days of fatigue. That was where he saw himself, that was where he read his own story, that was where the writer fell in love with that newspaper more and more as he thought about his teenage. How she looked in her dazzling black dress one day when she came to the tuition class to tell her scores of the final exams to the teacher. Shivam also remembered how it became the last time he saw her. From that day, he had only written about her! Shivam never got a chance again to meet her. His love had been a closed chapter. But wait, love only prospers! How could he control his feelings, when she had disappeared somewhere. Her eyes always tend to inspire him to this day.

Anyways, he drove his car to the metro station to reach his office. When he moved inside the metro coach, he found people reading different newspapers in the metro coach. On this sight, he laughed and murmured to himself, "Oh! Wow! So, they found themselves too in the paper!" But, not everyone was like him, another thought crossed his mind.

"Some stories which have happened to us, remain with us in our hearts. Regardless of how far we go from them, one day or the other we realise, we can't part from them. Because we can't part from ourselves and the stories that are left behind."

He reached his office, read other papers as his routine had been but, what he felt reading the young girl's article was seen in no other publication. The girl's article was in the newspaper that he had carried with himself. Or was it that he had carried another lovers' heart with this lovers' heart in himself? There wasn't much to be said or explained, if there was anything then it was to love and yes, fall in love yet again with those days of his teen years!

Gagandeep Singh Vaid

Monday, 23 June 2014

Have wings, will fly!

Few things can't be explained. Those aren't meant to be, understood by one and all. People do prepare for the others fall, not even letting them have say in the decision making process. This is one very shortcoming which comes in a society. One believes in the majority. What about the others, who didn't belong to the majority? Are they to suffer, for what others plan for them. Which may not be the right decision. Which appears wrong only to few but they can't put their say, because decisions are always made by those in the power. The minority can't stop it, what the majority walks with; being the torchbearers. Disdain.

Then they have to walk out.
When the power-holders  exercise their free will, and the crowd follows suit, then it happens that the people with a far-sight who don't belong to the crowds, walk out. They had no space in the system.
They walk out in their own lands, to create for a world of their own makings. It is because of that undying faith that kept them alive and not made them follow the crowds as everyone else did.
It's because they are optimists, and as pointed out earlier, don't let their faith die off. They can't really let some Ruler define what they have to follow. So, they plan for themselves. They bear the losses, go through the struggles being a part of the system, they go through it themselves even after knowing that it's wrong. But, at the back of their minds they always know; they have to be the change they want to see.
We all are debaters and are looking forward to put straight the facts that everyone has at the back of his/her mind. We don't introspect and so we, keep on following this rat race of who's better or who won the first prize.

To make a change in the end, one has to believe and not let that belief die off. Have wings, will fly!

It was about a state of mind!

Sheema thought if she was the only person who had to sit in a house without a fan. She told her friends how in the peak of summers, she had to go through it, to feel the heat. When the temperature ranged from 45 degrees to 47 degrees, she had to but sit and move a paper fan, to beat the heat. She would complain her parents, on their lacking to provide their daughter with even the basic things in life. She would question them, "do I ask more; just if you could work a bit harder or smarter to bring the electricity. We are so poor, aren't we? Yes, we are!" Then she would cry and further this would lead to the broken hearts of her parents. What could they do, if their daughter didn't understand what they went through, when they heard her say all that she had to say to them. Regarding their inability to provide for, what everyone, almost everyone got.

What had to happen, both husband and wife had to work ever more; taking up different works altogether. They weren't literate, so this added to their vows. They would be paid very meagre amount for their work and that only gave them their bread and butter. She would at times, complain that she was the unluckiest of all her friends, to be born to her parents who had nothing to give her. One day she finally thought of running away from her home. At home, she didn't study, her mind wasn't there, anywhere near. She missed her tution classes, having complaints against the tutors as well. Parents were worried and life wasn't at all sailing well as it should have. No peace of mind for the three, parents and their daughter. So, she ran away all alone by herself, thinking of making things better for herself.

When her parents got to know of what had become of the situation, they lost their minds and mother just collapsed on learning about it. Father took care of her, by giving her proper medication, for he had known it that she wasn't keeping well in health. She had to visit the hospital at a weekly stretch, but it wasn't the most important matter at that time. Father rushed to the police station to report about his daughter's absence from home. He could himself narrate it to the police officer on how his daughter was unhappy when she didn't get what she thought was very basic requirement and she was right, it was so. Just that her parents couldn't provide for those things, adding to the dismay of their situation in life.

Police officer agreed it was out of sheer innocence that the young girl had run away on her own. Whereas, they could still not put curtains on the possibility of a kidnapping. The probe team was notified about the missing girl and police envisaged people in the local areas, with the photograph of the girl, in case they had seen her. Later on, they checked the children on the streets at night, or under shelters provided for by the government. She was nowhere to be found. It was somewhere clear that she wasn't kidnapped because four days had passed since she was last seen. Her friends had no idea about her, whereas they could only tell her mental state in those days. On how she had started to be alone and not meet her friends in the evenings as they always did. They knew she was upset with things but they thought it better to give her the  space she required. No one had little an idea that she could run, when she hadn't but travelled far in her life. Where could she also go, the question remained. It was a very bitter stage for the parents to live in, when they were unknown, lost, and felt defeated.

Not far, not too far had their daughter been. Near, very near had she been. When many problems did augment their streams into her life, she had thought it better to not complain but take an active stance. Unbearable for her, wasn't that she had no fan above her head, unbearable was it, that she had to see her parents getting so much trouble and still not getting what they deserved the most, at least the basic amenities they deserved she asked her God. How could she be so different, in a moment or two; when once she complained as a trigger of anger did burst out from her demeanour. The next week she came herself back home, only to hug her parents as tight as she could, when she could tell her parents how much she loved them. But, where was she, in the past days, one week had that time been. "Where were you, dear Sheema? Why did you leave us all alone?" asked the father when the mother wailed in endless tears. "We know, we aren't good parents, but no parent wants his/her child to suffer, but only bless their child with a better, yes in our case a far better life than us. We are so sorry, we couldn't give you even the basic necessities of life. We are sorry but does that mean, that our lovely daughter will leave us? Hmm..." Father stopped and didn't say a word next.

It was time for Sheema now, to explain herself yet again, after doing it endless times before; only to leave her parents in disdain then. But now, their daughter had changed, yes; her perceptions about life had changed. "Dad and mom, I thought of going somewhere far, very far from you; I hadn't seen much of the society, other than my friends. On the thought of going away, when all the stories about people were in my mind, regarding how it was to befriend unknown people, the thought quite scared me. Then I talked to strangers, I saw there was no one who could help me, then I realized how important you were for me, my mom and dad. How unconditionally your love came to me, but I never regarded it the way I should have. How I saw, the scarcity of water on my way to unknown roads, how people worked with plough on the fields under the scorching blaze of the sun. On how women collected water from the deep wells, when even its water level had declined. In the faces of people the many lines were created which showed their walk through their turmoils, and all those times were combined together in a bun. Life wasn't that easily moving for everyone, when people would feel it a blessing to find work and when that work could get them two meals a day, then nothing else was asked for. When people had faith in their God's, they never complained but still believed that a better day was to fall in line. Few men were there working endless hours in the fields, to make ends meet; when they had big families. Not everyone knew that, bad times could also emerge from nowhere. What was happy in a moment, need not be the same way, the next. When I look back and find my behaviour with you dear dad and mom, I feel how childish my demands were; how immature I am. I am sorry for all the trouble I caused to you. I won't do that again. I love you so much."

Family was complete once again and this time, there was a greater understanding that built their relations even stronger. She could feel the simplicity in manners, on how a glass of cold water was the best drink, to soothe one's thirst, after a hard day's work. She played badminton with her father and they had a good time in the mornings in the gardens; when free at home, she would help her mom in cooking and sometimes, prepared the dinner at home all by herself. She knew her responsibilities and could feel the joy of working. For it wasn't about having the best things in life to make one happy, it was just a state of mind. This was more important to note, that "a calm mind could overcome even a storm" as it's often said. There was just a need to practise that patience and calmness and she had felt the greatest happiness of her life in those moments. Everything was the same, the difference was in her mindset now and hence leading her towards a beautiful life.
Gagandeep Singh Vaid

Friday, 20 June 2014

Don't limit yourself!

Harness the life give it a wing,
Contain the imagining.

Being trapped and squeezed,
Left blank and hollowed;
Still you adapt, stand bold.

Get over with the droplets of hatred,
Abuse not in person, instead;
Smile across and let it way,
In through your loneliness,
To your threatened pace,
Be a bit humble, do say.

For those who went distant,
Unreason being their such style.
You don’t bother to linger in fade,
Let it way, let it say; in that while,
From your side, it so went,
That it was also a lost mile.

For those who really loved,
Went not in a squeeze of sand,
When all it fell a sudden, in a stead,
They wouldn’t have then cleared their hand.
But given love and hugged,
They don’t now deserve such a band;
Of missing, of loving, in a stead.

For those who call you mad,
Laugh at your turmoil,
Ask them once well in hand,
To point difference in the soil.

Those who limit your boundaries are lazy,
They will laugh at you, also scorn;
Your eyes need to be clear, not hazy,
Don’t  wear what others always had worn.
If you think, what they believed was wrong-tipsy,
Make your own journey, for sun will warm.

Don’t lose your battle but win it.
Be yourself and link it,
Who you are and what defines your life,
Mark it, say it; be a winner in the strife.

Gagandeep Singh Vaid

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

A promise to live by!

What was it, thought Robin. That made him feel low again and again. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Yes, it was so.

Why would any girl keep on writing him, well; he was thinking about this. About Jenny. It was quite a time, whence she had stopped doing so, writing him back. "Everyone got busy with one's life, wasn't it so?", replied Jenny many a times, whenever he would make her realize that he expected her to talk to him and not break the flow even after doing it himself at a point of time.

She was working in a very famous bank and mostly she gave her time to her job, and when not there; she did hang out with her girl friends, and yes, Robin was a lost thought now. Because, the time she had been waiting for him to talk to her, he was busy with his life. Now, same happened too, just the people on the adjacent sides had exchanged.

"Realization is a good fact, but you should accept walking on parallel sides with it. Alright?" Another such reply from her, made him sink even deeper into loneliness. With whom, would he share his heartiest feelings, to whom he would write letters at regular intervals, the question was raised in his mind. She won't reply anymore with that grace. "Jenny had seen me doing the same. She must have been hurt." he thought.

When he had found that he had lost one friend, he felt deprived of all happiness. For, he knew that she was really caring; but after what he did, in response to her love was really annoying. He had only written her this, "Don't disturb me again and again. Don't disturb my personal life, I want space and can't share every thing with you. Don't you get this?" This response didn't really affect her, because she wrote him more often, she had understood his persona but couldn't help it. They lived in different cities, they were going through different situations in their lives, they were depressed, yet gleeful with life; but alone. But, time passed; she wrote to him in reply to which he had nothing to convey. She had expressed all her heart of a friend to him. For a moment it appeared that he read none of her letters and that he had left her all alone by herself, to feel the pangs of separation.

Two years had passed when he came back to her, yes; his letter reached back to her. He had asked, "Hey, Jenny! How are you and life?" Her reply was instant, a long paragraph describing her success and failures. That paragraph was quite long. Robin could sense that she had poured out her heart for him to know how real her feelings of true friendship were. That how much she wanted that friend of hers, whom she had loved like anything. Whom she had told all her secrets but that friend had moved far, even his letters couldn't find way towards Jenny because those were never written. That paragraph in her expression didn't end until the last word. She had forgotten that she was writing a letter, she had only wanted to say it all at once. And those lines also said this.

"My dearest friend, I never thought of you to go away from me; but even as you did so, without my prior permission, I won't complain. I would just like to tell you, that you made me strong with every time I cried in missing you. You knew that you meant to me so much, even after my constant telling you the same; how could you do it to your friend. How could you do it to Jenny? It's been two years that I have waited for your single glance at me and today it was magical that I received you, in through your words, but I soon realized, I had lost my friend midway. Not that I can say that you have changed, with the two lines I heard from you before, that you were busy. But, that time which in between remained in a state of an unknown, has just flown by. Will it ever come back to me or you? Whatever we have achieved these past two years, don't you think, it could have been better to feel had you been there for me and if I were there for you? Do meet me when you plan to visit my city. I won't disturb you all the more again, even after knowing that you are wilful to talk now, unlike before. Because you just ignored me then. Well, I would want to know those reasons of yours, but still; I would say, we have grown. Grown like strangers in the past two years."

Robin felt that shame and even then wanted to write back. Every time with apologies. She listened to him, read his letters; but replied not with the same flair and grace as she once did. Yes, she would say that the time they had seen together as friends, depending on each other was so perfect. It was a beautiful memory to cherish, but towards the end, the way he ran away was so annoying. He wrote her many letters, she replied only precisely.

One day, Robin had come to her city and according to his letter he was expecting her to meet him at the City Square at noon. Although he had felt, that she wasn't going to come. He had been ashamed of himself all the more. He was there at City Square right at the given time. She wasn't there, as far as he could see. He stayed there, at first standing with flowers in his hands to greet her; the flowers she liked. She didn't come. When he was about to leave, it was around six in the evening. When he started walking deprived of that hand of care from Jenny's side; he felt a touch, and then someone held his hand. It was Jenny.

She said, "You know, what is the special thing about you?" He moved his head in denial of the fact, almost tears in his eyes.. "You are so innocent still. So mad, that your innocence gets carried away with even stubbornness. You were so hard heartened that you didn't look back at me once in this time, knowing how I was missing you. I know you are not hard at heart, but you are always making it painful for yourself, as much as you do for me. Why? Do you ever know, I could never forget you? Because of this innocence of yours, that took away my heart and your space no one can take idiot. Ever thought about it?" She questioned and answered on knowing how he would never answer and she fully understood him, how he felt the pain of not talking to her as she did.

The time he had been waiting for her, that time she was there; but at a distance staring at him. To notice, if he had really changed but the manner he jumped every time any tonga stopped near him, to see if the person in the tonga were she, herself; in the tonga. The evening took shape towards the fall of darkness but this time wasn't darkness for the two of them. They had met in sheer brightness, understanding each other; brightness of their love for each other, and light of the friendship that was destined to be forever.

Jenny whispered in his ears, "Idiot, don't go again."
Robin replied, " It's a promise to live by, to be your closest friend. "

Monday, 9 June 2014

Creativity of a person

"Would time ever wait for me? Would it but look back once at me again after it flies away?"

Who was it, who could conquer the time, could win over it! Or was it not possible? Questions as such did move in and out of his mind. It was quite uneasy for him, to see his world drifting; things getting apart.

How could he forget it all; how could he redo what was the wrong, only if he could correct the errors. Thinking of all that, he thought this as well that once time flies by, it shouldn't be asked to come back again. It is not that, there was a kind of unique wave in that time that was, which is different from now. It's just that we have seen life better, more closely; in through those experiences which occurred in our past. Things are to be tried for and not let to be as they are themselves coming. "There needs to be a passage in our thinking, that makes us hold certain belief in ourselves." That whatever happens to life, however it may turn out to be, good or bad; good experiences or bad, we are moving towards our creation. The creation of our soul, that goes on as we live. In through various phases of life, moves this soul. A blend, a mixture of emotions and feelings intertwined. It's through this passage of our walk that we ascertain right or wrong, get to decide for ourselves. Walk the roads and get the strength to keep moving amidst all heartbreaks and surprises in life.

A person is learned, when? When that person does actually accept the situations, the world as it is in its existence. For how long can one be living in the existence of the unknown, drawn alone to walk sans people. To know the people, one needs to maintain relations, and this is in no way being selfish; that we are merely maintaining relations to understand people. To live life is to keep on a constant check at the flourishing world. What is happening in the society, because in the end, that's what bothers our well being too. When we meet people, we tend to be jolly, and at peace by letting them know what we go through; given they are our close friends. Our heart and soul is at ease then.

There was a seer sitting under the tree, umbrella over his head; in the sunny day, whilst a young boy sitting behind him, who was also a cobbler asked him a question. "Babaji, what are we doing in this world?"
The man in orange clothes looked at him and answered in this way. "This world is moving, we are mere travellers. We all like to travel, isn't it? Be it our tryst to visit different countries; know different cultures or simply to go from our home to our office. We are those strangers to this strange world where we take birth and in through this journey keep on learning the art of living this life. To know the people around, how they are; to understand the rituals, religion, patronage etc. We make mistakes, say harsh words, experience life; and we grow older, we are referred to as learned men. It's this journey that we are on, to build our mind; observe and create ourselves, that it is called life. We are here to create ourselves and our presence affects this strange world also in one way or the other. We cause harm to other beings, to our environment, relations go through different stages. Experience is all I have to say, is the motto of this life. Live it."

In addition to what the seer had confessed, he composed few lines instantly; through his poetical aperture, thought process."Up above the dream that flies,
Deep within, the heart that sighs;
I lookest thee, as you look back at me;
Oh, how we create such a harmony.

Time you are such a healer,
You have touched every fear;
In your presence was I torn,
Along you am I made a stone.
Still I know, to look aback;
Isn't easy to walk the same stack,
For what was a royal attention,
And what did sprout as a pretence.

I don't yet forget that phase,
The one of disarray so grave;
I am glad I am not a naive,
I have walked over it, that stage."

Time really gave enough to visualize and to live for. In the memories, a lot many wisdom enrich seeds were sown. To that stage when the heart sank to an ocean of sentimentality, in search of solace, whence of it appeared no trace; only bitterness and melting haze; within that fought with the person. The person was made to see the world as it is, in its reality. It is then, that person's identity is created; on how he understands and responds to the situations. Does that person, want to learn for good or just not accept the bitterness and harshness. Then is a time when the same person goes through it, an inward yet outward journey of life and steps in furtherance to understand the world a better way. Then peace accustoms in lineage and contentment. The stars in the sky can be appreciated again then, when the heart accepts all and moves with the time; the time, the present.

"Thy past be a bottle of emotions,
You drink of them, whenever heart blossoms;
Bringing you back to the world of strife.
Time you really are one of the great wonders."

Sunday, 8 June 2014

Pitfall to paradise!

Rahul Vanketraman was a young boy, when he was left alone; in a land, unfamiliar to his innocent mindset. As a mistaken identity, he had roamed in the streets of the city; sometimes, in search of his guardians, then for bread.

For a child, it was a greater asking; to tell him, to earn his own livelihood. In the summer season, he would be a street hawker, selling fish on the roadside along with other stalls undergoing similar business. That city, of Kolkata.

Freshness spread in through the mind, into his actions; when he would reach the government apartments from the Salt Lake, surpassing the morning walkers. He pleased his employers who lived in the flats, by being right on time; he washed their cars.

Rahul would never ask for any kind of help from anyone, it was just he, himself; loitering from road to road, looking for a better life, every turn, every block. Passerby's were pleased to see him, with his face bearing greetings and messages of goodness and harmony for them. They asked for his well being too but they knew, he was not perfect in life, but he was still satisfied with it.

Many works to do in a city, many lives to be lived by the young boy. Yes, he was quite well to do; if one compared his state with others of his age, who were similar to him in one way or the other, loitering in the streets without any sharp will to make things better for themselves unlike him. Rahul fixed his eyes, on to their faces and their actions, and he was taken aback every time. Shubham, his pal would beg at the Kalighat Temple, burn tobacco in the meantime. “Life was unsettled”, thought Rahul.

In the days to follow, his optimism towards life paid him well. His employer Ms. Ramita Bose, offered him a job in her printing press. Rahul agreed to it instantaneously, as soon as he heard about it; he jumped in with glory. In the days to follow, he learnt the art of printing, how were sheets pressed against the printing machine, and how were blank pages put inside the machine in a bundle. Rahul had known about the technology through the conversations with Ms. Ramita even before she offered him this job. Maybe, she made him know about it, to see his interest in that and to note his immediate response to what she had just told him. She wasn't turned down with any lack of interest from the lad's side but on the other hand, she was greeted with charisma, that spoke volumes about his will to succeed in life. Once she asked him, regarding what success meant to him. He would always reply, “to learn and to enjoy, every new thing; unknown, and unheard of; that would make me a gentleman.”, he ended this sentence with a grin and precision, as if he had memorized that line like a parrot. At his saying so, Ms. Ramita passed an imaginative sigh of wonder, to find how seamlessly this lad could interpret his thoughts and somewhere his dreams as well.

In the days to follow, Rahul had started to read and write as the lady whose heart this boy took away, didn't want to see him settled in life with less. She believed that he had a sharp mind and could make a beautiful success story. For her, he was an inspiration. While Rahul enjoyed his new life, he wondered how far he had come; how the stars that would once enchant hunger and forlorn to his heart, cheered him along this time.

Meanwhile he sensed freshness of fruits in the summers. His favourite fruit being mango, he would present his employer with a mango treat every other day. Moreover, he liked the idea of a holiday on Sunday. He had started living his life like never before. It appeared as if vibrant colours in galore had occurred all of a sudden in form of positivity and merriment.

Ms. Ramita Bose had her personal issues when she had problems at home. When she had to regularly send money back home for the proper medication of her younger sister, who was ailing from a disease. Money wasn't flowing that easily, but it was very much required. She would end up crying, to know that the operation was the only left route to her sister's wellness. Herself a strong lady, Rahul's employer would be desolate like a broken dream. No one by her side, she was all alone. Not many friends were by her side, as they had lived in different cities and they were all busy in their lives, least to ask for her goodness. She never had close friends and so she had not herself been that close to anyone either. When young, she would fight with people because she found their thoughts, so creepy and hers as the most satisfying. She had wondered all her life, in what fool's paradise she had lived, as ignoring people and being a silent person herself.

In those days she found her close relatives tearing apart their relations with her family. After that time, she had been a recluse, living in her own world of either fantasies or gloominess. It had been her problem, that she wanted peace; and to her, it had only meant to be, in being alone and not having expectations to address for someone. She had become a person who couldn't trust anyone and at the same time, no one could fully trust her. That's what made her realize that she was wrong, be-fooled by her own conditions in life. Unknown, not wishful to space out and let people in her life, she had dwindled with the thought of friendship in correlation. After a family disturbance, when relations broke between her father and his brothers and how their family got sidelined, she was left shattered; with the mischief further on, adding to her vows.

Rahul was young, he could not sense her pain she thought; from what she went through. But, somewhere she had ceased to realize, from where he had come and how he had worked day and night, to see himself flourish; to learn how to read and write. When he could decide for himself, at that age; that he didn't want to waste the roots of his life, in learning nothing by either begging or eating for free at the temples. He had taken a stand and stood to it unaltered, like a rock. There was no one to guide him, but his innocence. Ms. Ramita wondered if it was with God's grace, that he was untouched by the ways and means of the cruel world. That he had always walked up the ladder of success, in his own limitation and boundaries of childhood. All that he could see around him, he could make of it an analysis of what was right and what not! That was what made the difference. She thought of talking to him after all that he had seen life through his own lens.

Ms. Ramita: Rahul, tell me one thing. What's the difference you see between you and those tiny tots who wander on the roads and not work to fill their tummy?
Rahul: Madam, there's no difference between them and me. I wandered too, when I saw that no one responded to my weeping. When I was stuck, when I couldn't decide for myself, my life. I thought if people would sympathize with me and then raise me up as their own kid. But every time, I was broken apart. There was no one, on whom I could trust in this city, no friend, no one to accompany. It was about a new day, that I met new faces. I caught fishes from the river, learning the skills after watching young boys and fishermen doing the same. I befriended them, gave them portion of my earnings. I could make for two meals in a day. In a way, my life became really beautiful and lively every other passing day. I was satisfied when I could eat by my own money. That was a feeling of fulfilment. Then, I would sleep at night under the stars, unafraid of insects at night; I remember how we friends made fun of one another, when someone would be afraid of ants scrolling on their heads in the midst of night. Under the street light, we would talk, abuse one another, for leaning on others money. There were differences that we sought, and then we moved ahead. Friends for few days, we would finally all disintegrate, to meet any other day; to stop and say a hello and share a glimpse of grin.
Ms. Ramita: Then, why did you fight? You boys, I mean; why so many differences?
Rahul: We were jealous of one another, when one of us struck a better work somewhere and could make more rupees.

They fell silent after this conversation, Ms. Ramita was surprised all throughout this time as she listened to him. It wasn't that he said something legendary of himself. But he was being honest regarding what he had seen in his days of the past. She smiled and patted him on his shoulders and he greeted her love with a pleasant sigh. It was a realization for this lady who was twice his age, but it was in his words that made her sense the richness of purity embedded, as are red sandstones in the monuments of the city. Monument, as a rich portrayal of one's spirits. That what so ever be the situation in life, the faith wasn't customary to be broken, but even made stronger as one fell and stood up again. There were problems in everyone's life. What one could do was to be happy and give a further thought on life bringing that change to the person. To be strengthened to walk past the difficult period. Moreover, life not always gave what was expected of it, one had to curb ones emotions and dreams; thinking that maybe if not this, then something even better is there waiting for us to be met with. When it was about fulfilling one's wishes and dreams, then we would finally draw towards our calling and grow with the hardships of life. In and through all these struggles, life would define itself in the passage of days.

Problems at home and family caused tension and pain, but knowing that it would all be better one day and it would settle one fine day; was to attain harmony within oneself and the people around. Yes, for sure one needed support of others, but even if Ms. Ramita didn't have friends in her early life, she had got a close friend now, who was fourteen years old. Friendship came along, and so did feelings glue in the very lines of magic and the so called bonhomie. Life danced once again for her and it was in the pursuit of happiness that she looked at the night sky, to witness the life in the twinkling stars. And keeping the image of them with her eyes closed, she understood the importance to breathe easy, to dream with all the problems that would otherwise sit as parasites to one's mind.

Life had won yet again, and this winning spirit flowed from Rahul Vanketraman to Ms. Ramita Bose as the wave of heartfelt joys. More was to come to life. Isn't it?

Sunday, 1 June 2014

It wasn't about a day!

His eyes were fixed on the letter post daily. He knew that she wouldn't write to him anytime again but still there was quite a belief that she would, someday or the other in the near future. Days combined together in a bun, there was nothing else to witness than the loss of a true lover. He knew, she would still be having his thoughts in her mind, but he knew this too that she would no longer want to carry another round of conversations with him. Knowing what had become of their friendship, that feeling of love; how it had been brought to a melancholy end, how everything seemed to fall apart. How at once, the world seemed to skid away, things that were slipping away. It was in that feeling that many emotions were composed.

There wasn't much room for any guilt but yes, there was a little wish, a keen desire; to know more about her. To know how she was, her well being. It was in that time, when they had no more talks for days, even they knew that they were waiting for each others initiative first to message but none of the duo came forward to keep relations as strong as those appeared for once in time. Their friendship looked like a forever thing and before love, came their connection of bonhomie. Now, it wasn't visible even.

This guy, Shamit would often linger around their favourite cafes and search about the tables to find her sitting there. She wasn't there, but he didn't add on to his vows. He cheered himself up easily, when he thought of his passion in life, to scribble on the canvas, the paint of imaginations and  widespread thoughts. He had felt that the words that couldn't be spoken in a state of being an unknown, could be interpreted on the canvas with contentment. It was when no one stood to listen to his heart. At that time it was his passion that stood with strength to give him the same.

Another thing that spoke his heartiest volumes was his closeness with his art. He never sold those paintings, in her name; in her thoughts, in the bottled emotions that were collected together, to only describe how real the truth was, that he missed her and how in missing her, he could give to the world, a depiction, of how beautiful love was. The appreciation of beauty, the spark of a pearl, when adorned in a necklace and the gemstones that flickered with shine and marvels. Everything in a little thing, he thought by himself. Little thing was mind, that revolved around every single droplet of happiness, agony and remorse. That was life, he had thought.

Then one fine day, at his painting exhibition; he saw a group of friends, praising the paintings, on how every colour defined someone's heart. They hadn't known that in all paintings, only one heart breathed, it was of the friend of the painter. That girl, to whom he had once expressed his love, but it was let to be only there. She had other plans, new roads to follow; her dreams to fulfil. To her friendship was everything, but love wasn't what she wanted. To never let anyone give more importance to her than that person would give to his/her own self. Also, he wondered at times on how; she never wanted to share her emotions, her struggles with anyone. Shamit knew it all, and he was guiltless about the fact that he had told her what he had in his heart for her. But at the same time, he thought; how nicer it would have been, had he not expressed his feelings to her. Maybe, friendship wouldn't be broken and cleared in disarray. Whence he found the group of friends at his painting exhibition, he held his heart in his hands and brought that painting for them as a gift, a token of his appreciation of their amicable bondage. The painting, that he had drawn for the girl, for Ridhima. Shamit had at a point quite believed that he wouldn't hear from her again, he had lost his belief for a lifelong friendship with her. But, he wanted to thank the boys and girls, who made him walk back the memory lanes of his student life. He was just glad and felt that it defined their togetherness too, as it did to the togetherness of himself and Ridhima.

That day, he walked on the silent roads; it was quite cold and in that cool breeze, he felt that in his walk, he had been walking with Ridhima only. Her aura sensed to his feelings, her crazy talks moved him errands, her gentle touch on his face, to make him shut his stupid talks redefined yet again, as the winds hit him that night; bringing her back once again in his life.

Then he thought, that there was so much to celebrate in this life. One never knew if the people who mean a lot to us today, are going to be walking by our side always. They might have to leave, because that maybe the only choice for their goodness and happiness. Whilst at the same time, they won't be away, for however far they go, the imprints of their friendship would walk besides always. Shamit believed that Ridhima would also feel his presence, as he felt hers beside him, everywhere.