In Vain......

I am angry at my society, at my people, at myself…..all of a sudden, they all seem so unsuccessful. I can write a whole book on this I feel, I have hatred for Us not for militants, they do what they want…..but what are we doing…like lambs, one batch slaughtered, rest graze on as ignorant or in illusion…..today the whole of India is unsuccessful……like me……I laugh to weep…….

On this b’ful evening, everything was clear
Somehow a smoky cloud in air
Coz of crackers not to fear,

Bunty and Bubbly, had their affair since ninth
this year, they would be celebrating Diwali as husband & wife,
Raju was pretty excited all day
as papa has promised him, crackers filled night,
Abu was looking forward to Id
also Zenab was to come from Aligarh this week,
Mr. & Mrs. Sharma finally agreed on clothes
their daughter was getting married before snowfall,
Like a bird, they all had worked hard to weave their nest
now its festival time to decorate it at their best,

On this b’ful evening, everything was clear
Somehow a smoky cloud in air
Coz of crackers not to fear,

Three explosions is what the newsreader said
all ringing tones suddenly echoed fear and death,
A scoop for some channel, footage for rest
cops withered; as usual they failed the test,
Bodies mutilated, lying here & there
a dead child their, under the heap of clothes, uff…. with burnt hair,
Ambulances and fire brigades were delayed
c’mon Delhi roads are jammed, VIP movements all the way!

On this b’ful evening, everything was now not clear
a smoky cloud and voices drenched with pain, all I can see & hear,

Bunty & Bubbly are untraceable
Raju’s mom is inconsolable,
Zenab is coming this week
Sharma’s daughter is still unable to speak,

Memories all they remain
they are the one, which cause all the pain,

Homes are still illuminated, celebrating what?
and still there is a smoky cloud in air
Again just coz of crackers, not to fear!

Unsuccessful Escape......

Off late, I have not been writing much, primarily because I did not have anything new to say and also of time constraints. Actually I did not need a feel for writing, so I better waited until I have something to say. I always believe that when you try to word out your emotions, it should be spontaneous rather than pre-planned, because that’s when you could give your best, may whatever situation you are in.

Than the question I ask myself is, are all famous writers from the league of Shakespeare to our own Vikram Seth, just faking it? I believe not, because they have creative juices much in abandon which they have supplemented by a close watch of human behaviour and that is why, each of their characters and plots even though be just a fiction, seem so close to daily life.

Also these days in office, I observed that all groups in general (now be it of either sexes) have 3 common topics of discussion, besides bithching about others or verbally undressing your female colleagues

• How come “Qazi”, won this stupid Fame Gurukul?
• Should we protest for not giving us a holiday on Diwali?
• What should they buy? /Should Ganguly be the captain again?

Now, since I do not have a television at my home and newspaper is the only source for me to know about these things , so now I have switched on from Hindu to TOI because, Hindu is otherwise quite a newspaper rather than tabloid and since I have to mingle with commoners, I better read a tabloid, anyways I was a bit unaware about the guy “Qazi” so I kept quiet, on the second question, I am still dwindling because taking a off would mean, a disciplinary letter (of which, I do not care) but also a financial hit of 3,000/- so this is what pestering me a bit and on the third question, I don’t know why but I have lost interest in cricket, so I listen to arguments rather than pitching my views.

Now about her, ‘T’ came to my office yesterday, why I don’t know but a friend of mine had already told me that she was going to come, so it was not like I was caught unaware , I had before handed planned that what will I say but then it turned out to be dud affair.

Now she came somewhere around 11, and than she talked to all and I don’t know why but like we both ignored each other, I am sure that she knew I was there but than neither she came to me nor I went up to her….I am still asking myself that why I did not went? not because I was feeling guilty or scared and my heart was racing all the time when she was there but what transfixed me, I don’t know and why she stood her ground -

• perhaps she has forgotten me (I don’t believe this)
• She did not want to talk to me
• She was waiting for me to take initiative
• It does not matter to her

Whatever, at last I just messaged her “ Hi Mam, it was nice to see you – Sincere regards’ D”...and as usual i got no response back.

I never want her to feel uncomfortable and that was why I think, I did not went to talk to her…but still as we both courted the silence unsuccessfully in our stands, I belive it said a lot rather than had we talked, did it? or was it too unsuccessful like me......and for 'T'.......

(You can run, you can hide But you can't escape my love)

Here’s how it goes
You and me
Up and down
But maybe this time
We’ll get it right
Worth the fight
'Cause love is something
You can't shake
When it breaks
All it takes is some trying

If you feel like leaving
I'm not gonna
Beg you to stay
Soon you'll be finding
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love

So if you go
You should know
It's hard to just
Forget the past
So fast
It was good
It was bad but
It was real and that's
All you have
In the end
Our love mattered

If you feel like leaving
I'm not gonna
Beg you to stay
Soon you'll be finding
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love

You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love

Here's how it goes
All it takes is some trying

You can run
If you feel like leaving

I'm not gonna
Beg you to stay
Soon you'll be finding
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love

If you feel like leaving
I'm not gonna
Beg you to stay
Soon you'll be finding
You can run
You can hide
But you can't
Escape my love

You can run

(You can run, you can hide But you can't escape my love)
- By Enrique

Me - 1

Born on April 14’82
I dont know who on that day died,
But my mother told me
that next to me, a christian boy was also born alive,

My father, they say was elated with joy
but my grandpa, later i know
sighed with relief as I was a boy,

Father held me in his arms
and showed Delhi, from Safdurjung’s window no.5
little he knew than
that his son would end unsuccessful in this city only in his life,

Searching their success through me
my parents put every effort in,
blood in my veins was too strong
to let them easily win,

We were too rich to be poor
I never knew why!
but my dad towed a bicycle
and I always lusted for toys,

I stole 5 Rs. for a chocolate
how come the shopkeeper knew?
next day my mother wept
and I was beaten to black and blue,

This girl in my class
was two inches longer than me,
and we use to fight with water bottles
while waiting for the school bus spree,

I won the spelling contest, until class five
everytime mom said, she will love me even more
if I win the maths olympiad next time and this never bore,

1987 was the best year of all
my sis was born, and I had now someone to talk,
Some years back, she won a competition tight
In which, some years ago his brother was given third prize,

I fell in love with the neighbourhood girl
I dont know which year it was
I thought we had sex on weekends
until she realised that playing with genitals is nothing at all,

I also remember that day
when my mother slapped herself,
just because she taught me social studies
and it was Hindi’s paper hell!

First time I failed, was in sanskrit test
I remember my legs getting weak
just my mind was running
as how to hide this feat,

I fell in love gain, in class eight
my friend thought, I am crazy
laughed at my plight
as the girl was lame and had fat thighs,

I broke my leg in class ninth
while playing football,
my grandfather also died that year
and we had a family brawl,

Now came the boards
I was scared as in hell
In the last science exam
they told “Air” chapter was important
just before the exam bell!

In the year 1999, I saw titanic six times
a girl in my class, looked kate winslet type,
My ship sanked even before it sailed
her father was killed by someone in rage,
some months later, I tried again hard
this time another guy, won this award,
I kiddishly tried to play, the villian part
and ended with a bloody nose, in a street fight at last,

I just passed 12th
my parents dreams were shattered
and I thought
God,I finally won a battle.......

I know this is not a very good poetic attempt, but to depict my life is too complicated and I am born to be Unsuccessful......as far as 'T' is concerned, her fragrance still lingers on......and I fear falling in love again...not again...not with you 'T'...not with you......

The Flight....

As usual I have nothing special to write upon, I just try to sketch what’s going in my life for which I feel frustrated about, as I do not try to make any amendments to it, though knowing the repercussions and still succumb to whimsical moods of life.

I feel that life is a mirage, in all respects, now for days it would go on the same pattern and will make you feel, rather it would make you believe that, this is what you will be doing all through your existence and all of a sudden it takes such a sharp turn that you yourself wonder that what it was that you were hanging to! Sounds pessimistic….perhaps….view through my glasses and everything looks so coloured and as you move forward to enjoy, it turns all pale, which continuously makes me remember of my Unsuccessfulness.

Let me give you a small example, you passed out of the college when this chap entered in and now after 02 years you find him working with you at the same level….I don’t know whether he should call me ‘Sir’ or possibly if he does so, its more intentionally to save my face rather than he feeling proud, how would you react? I don’t know perhaps unsuccessful people like me are doomed to this….and wasn’t HE too unsuccessful as one of his own men betrayed him, while He knew, who it was…..may be you never need to borrow my glasses….let them be fixed to my eyes as they with time, slowly move inside and may replace my eyes…..and than am I fleeing…and if, than fleeing from what?

And on ‘T’, I have nothing to write upon, she has completely disconnected the chord, Training over, D over and I would not blame her on that, but still she doesn’t have a hold over my frugal dreams…..and each night I chase her their and that too unsuccessfully…..

I tried to write a poem but failed disastrously, so I threw in a few words and tried to draw a plot with those, here it comes….


The Flight’

Walking down the aisle
She suddenly realized
He was not perfect, with whom to lead her life,
All incense sticks now smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat,

White dress on her skin
like a dead man face
Hell, there is also a spot on lace,
Her mother’s smile phony, his father’s grave
as the best women whispered Sweety, step the pace,
All incense sticks now smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat,


Her mind thought, Now she is twenty-five
boys chased her, since high school time,
Did spread out her legs, when she was nineteen
does he really mean that I am his queen,
All incense sticks now smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat,

Is his face beaming with pride?
perhaps he is just waiting for some years to pass by,
Honeymoon in Las Vegas, it sucks!
rather she would choose getting dirty in mud,
'Run away baby' she heard someone scream
why then all calm, like still in dream!
All incense sticks now smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat,

Behind the priest, mother whispered to child divine
Son, this human needs respite,
The child eyes twinkled with glory
an arrogant assumption instantly crosses her mind with fury,
Bride eyes now swelled with tears
what’s happening, wondered her peers,
All incense sticks now smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat,

The bird hit the cage, with her beak
as blood came out, everyone freaked,
She ran away with all her might
That gold ring was too small, to her encircle her tight,
All incense sticks now really smelled bad
and fuck, the priest is also fat…..

"Deewane Ho?"

Amusingly after writing about Nizzamuddin Auliya, yesterday I went to that place, not exactly the mazar, but to Karim’s, actually Z came and said that since it was Ramzan time, he would not eat non-veg from anywhere, so we decided that safest bet for him would be to go to either Old Delhi or Nizzamuddin and since the later was close by, we went there. As far as I am concerned for me its ok whatever it is, until I do not seriously ponder over it, I mean what’s the difference; after all we are eating flesh!

Now after reaching there, this was the first time I felt that YES, there is a difference between Us and Them, though Z and Me have been friends for over 5 years now and he has no problem with consuming alcohol and never he takes my satirical remarks to his heart and even before him, I had many friends among Them, who were and still are more closer than with friends among Us.

Now here all people were wearing Ramzani caps and have flourishing beards with them, for a moment I felt that I am in by lanes of Karachi….some of them even speaking different languages and looking more like Afghans! And I do not know why but I was feeling a bit out of place as if this was not my country…I was a bit scared (or perhaps I am over thinking on it) but with Z around I knew I was more safe than in heaven.

Another thing I found out and wondered over that when Urdu is spoken in the same way, why it has sweetness in Lucknow and in Delhi it gets the local rustic touch, which considerably lessen down its charm! Still the waiters of Karim’s were quite proficient and soft-spoken, environ was exuberant and the food delectable. Later as when I came out, I saw a male goat tied, I asked Z, Bakr-id is still far, than why is he tied from now and Z smiled and said – “ Mad****d, what you just ate, was what?” and than I did not dared to look into that animal eyes……

Well after having dinner, as we were looking with shops all filled with delicacies, books and ramzani topis, than we ate pan and were discussing the cuisine difference between Awadhi and Mughlai.

As we moved I saw this wonderful shop in a narrow lane, filled with all types of Ramzani caps….and as Z was searching the best for me from there…..for a miniscule second, I got lost in the thoughts of ‘T’…wondering how will it be to come with her here, where all women are in black Burqas, green bangles and paan-redden lips…..I didn’t realized that a car is honking behind me so as to get inside that lane, until Z pulled me…..the Zen stopped and the next to drivers seat glass rolled down….I was prepared to be abused…when a nearly 60-70 year old lady moved her head out , spitted paan on the nearby dustbin and said entertainingly “Beta, Deewane Ho?" and than there were, female voices, laughing, from inside the car….I just smiled wryly and managed to say Sorry…..and as car snailed in that lane, I heard air whispering in my air “Yes, No….maybe……….

Keep Walking....

As usual today this blog would celebrtae one of the zeniths of unsuccessfullness, though I try hard not to put negative ideas in my mind but perhaps this is the only way I can write. May be positivity in my life has been lost for ever, than be it trifle issues or something of utmost importance.
However, lets walk past my life which spreads negativity all around and rather join the crowd of Delhi which will be running tommorow, for what, I don’t know…I just know that they would be running a marathon, each fleeing from his own fate towards an another one…..

On this I remember the famous saying by Khwaja Nizamuddin Awlia -“Hanooz, Dilli Door Ast!", who sent this message back to the then sultanate ruler Ghiasuddin Tughlak, who had told him that once he come back from Bengal expeditions he will punish him. Pity to his unsuccessfull son, Muhammad Bin Tughlaq, who had created a wooden platform so as when his dad’s elephant walks over it, he could be visible to the crowd, the platform broke down, king died and Awlia become a renowned saint!

How much we run for things, chase them, achieve them and then run for the others “It always remain still far”…. hence forth my condolences for the people of J&K and only God (if there is any) will know, when their marathon would last.

As far as T is concerned, I will now have to write a obituary on Me….that is not such a big task but than as I analyze over it again and again, I know how foolish I was but than I was so drawn into it that I had no other option.
Yesterday as we were departing ( for ever, I guess), I gave her a small couplet that too with spelling mistake…huh

‘…..and on you I will remain quiet
coz they say silence has the might,
as it expresses all
for what even words fall……..’

and on the back of it I wrote this weblog address, hoping she would read it (though I very much regret it later as it takes away my anonymousity from me)….I don’t know what else I could have done and then finally I had the coldest handshake on this earth with the women for whom I yearned for…..
I don’t what she did with that note…may be it was as unsuccessfull as me, to convey the feelings and would have been showcased in the dustbin….

Whatever, I than went to Buzz’ with the group who was now to work at different centres (excluding her, she said she has a meeting) and as alcohol streamed into my blood, the feeling of lonliness was replaced by that of anger….and than I danced as if it was the only way to express my anger…I don’t remember what music it was, something trance…but I just danced….and when I finally dwelled back to my little left senses…I messaged her – “Thx once again “Mam”…….a.k.a T ” and like always she did not replied…..

All I just want to know, that if all strings are detatched and T is asked to say something on me, what will she say…..an unsuccessfull question I guess!

I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been something you said,
I just died in your arms tonight

I keep on looking for something I can't get,
Broken hearts lay all around me,
But I don't see an easy way to get out of this,

Her diary sits by the bed side table,
The curtains closed, the cats in the cradle,
But who would have thought a boy like me could come to this ?

Ooh.. I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been something you said,
I just died in your arms tonight
Ooh..
I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away,
I should have walked away

Is there any just cause for feeling like this ?
on the surface, I'm just a name on a list
I try to be discrete but you blow it again.

I'm lost and found this is my final mistake,
She's loving by proxy no giving, all take,
resigned to fill her fantasy one of so many times

Ooh..
I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been something you said,
I just died in your arms tonight
Ooh..
I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away,
I should have walked away

It was a long hot night, she made it easy,
She made me feel right, and now its over,
The moment is gone
I followed my hands not my head
I knew I was wrong

Ooh..
I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been something you said,
I just died in your arms tonight
Ooh..
I just died in your arms tonight,
It must have been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away,
I should have walked away
- By Duran Duran

Dead Letters'

Well sometimes I think that when people want to brandish something they try to celebrate it. Now be it any festival or any celebration, because for what is omnipresent you do not require anything to make it visible or perhaps that the ubiquitous become so obscured in daily life that we have to do something phenomenal so as to make it perceptible once again.

If these days you move through Delhi at late night, you will see that various Navratras pandals illuminated by fluorescent tubes and with incorrigible devotional songs blaring on battery-run loud speakers. It’s a pity for those who unfortunately happen to live near such pandals. Also you can see young lads driving fast on motor-bikes and scooters, with that unmistakable vaishno-devi red/saffron flag tied fast on their foreheads. I don’t know how many of them succumb to road accidents and straightaway go to the goddesses’ palace but I pray for those who are just returning back to home from a hard day at work!

So this is what our so called lower class and lower middle class do but what about our hallowed high class, who work in swanky hi-tech offices, how do they make an occasion out of nothing and the various ways in which HR propagates it, one of them is “Ethnic Day”.
Well I always fail to understand the concept of “Ethnic Day”, may be I am too unsuccessful to comprehend even that but than if I am working in my own country, among my own people, except my office work talking in my own national language, eating the same dal-chawal in office along with roti or if you want to call it rice & chapatti. Than for what should I celebrate the fucking “Ethnic Day”?
Please don’t call me a lunatic over this, but if people come flaunting a designer Kurta with jeans and be gaga over “Ethnic Day”, than I refuse to be part of such a nonsensical crowd may what circumstances come. If in it true sense we want to celebrate “Ethnic Day”, why not come in a vest and lungi with gamcha, I think that’s ethnic, isn’t it?

Well may be I am being too cynical over it, but very unfortunately it does not make any sense to me and what that does not make sense to me, I refuse to acknowledge it or you can all me another escaper who does not have Kurtas as it does not look good on lean frame and tries here to defend himself, yet again unsuccessfully…..

Ok now my intrigues with T, well now we have 04 days more together and as each day passes away, I feel like distances increasing by miles, so finally, I thought I should wrote all that which I will never be able to say to her and remember this when I read it later, all I pray this blog does not die its death as we part, I will than loose my touch and what will I write, may be politics! So here what all I want to say to you T if I ever get a chance -

• I do not love you, I know, because I believe that between unequals there could never be love.
  
• I like you the most when your ears develops rashes and they go red, believe me it multiples your beauty a thousand times.
  
• I know you try to be a perfectionist and that is what that attracts me the most.
  
• When you wear that blue dress with your hair open, I than forget everything…..
  
• I want to take you out for a dinner, in the best bistro/restaurant of Delhi and believe me that day in that restaurant, I would be the most proud man.
  
• Your eyes say a thousand words…
  
• When you are tense, it amuses me, I just want to hear you than.
  
• Ok don’t get angry, it does not look too good on you, but I will take it.
  
• Yeah, that small scar on your forehead looks cute.
  
• Yes, No, Maybe…I wonder where it came from!
  
• You dance great but I hate it….I am sorry for this.
  
• When you make fun of me, in front of others, I than just want to hold you by waist pull you close and whisper in your ears “So…what else…”
  
• Sexy…..You? Let me think…..
  
• I respect you as a trainer and Yes you are good at it.
  
• Ok, if you have a boyfriend, close on your arms around him, look into his eyes straight and than give a peck and say that you love him more than anything, if he has a weak heart, he will die…..
  
• I know, you know but than I understand……..
  
• If we ever cross again and you with someone else, please don’t recognize me……

All these are dead letters, because never I will be able to say, never she will know...how unsuccessful

Pursuing Salvation'

Well, I today do not feel any reason to write or perhaps I do not have anything to write upon. I have nothing to do and I have so much to take care off. Sometimes I feel that why the time is not passing off and every now and then I have so much to do, that I start feeling the time constraint. I am so disgusted over my attitude and than I feel that there is nothing I can do much about it.

This is not relation to any one but only Me & Myself , I every time promise myself that I would work hard and would solely work towards my aim in life but than I have so many distractions, some created by myself and some which come along that I wonder that what ultimately would happen…..

Ok, anyhow as I was reading a book and I found some quotes that are worth remembering, these all show that the fight we continuously have within ourselves and in which we win to lose and vice-versa. I don’t know if they are applicable to each one of us but every time I read them and that through different angles and thoughts I find them worth applicable, so –

“Let him who seeks, continue seeking until he finds, when he finds, he will become troubled. When he becomes troubled, he will be astonished and he will rule over the all”

“Recognize what is in your sight and that which is hidden from you will become plain to you. For there is nothing hidden, which will not become manifest”

“That which you have will save you, if you bring it forth from yourselves. That which you do not have within you (will) kill you, if you do not have it within you”

“Light & Darkness, Life & Death, Right & Left are brothers of one another. They are inseparable. Because of this neither are the good, good nor the evil, evil, nor is life, life nor is death, death. For this reason each one will dissolve into its earliest origin. But those who are exalted above the world are indissoluble, eternal”

“When a blind man and one who sees are both together in darkness, they are no different from one another. When the light come, than who he sees will see the light and he who is blind will remain in darkness” *Bloody Hell, that’s science but still…*

And than when I read this all, I made my own proverb “Even HE was crowned to be despised and we are just mortals…”

And as I stepped out of these erratic musings into the real world, I remembered T and realized that how much I try not to be close to her, I find myself being pulled and than as I am being pulled I understood that when nothing is going to come out of it why to think? but than I cant help myself, I hate this…..than I tried to write something like one of Vikram Seth “Nightingale’s Story” and find that how unsuccessful I am even to copy some one….absurd!

I titled it The Princess and Peasant’


Far across the seven seas
There lived a princess, beautiful like never seen,
She was from the poets land
Born and brought up in English sand,
Nothing there in the distant realms
Hold her fantasy for long means,

The princess was a child at heart
Though matureness was her characters part,
She got bored of the jugglers game
Even nightingale songs were now insane,

Princess had a long cherished dream
To roam the whole world’s scene,
Know about people in and out
She liked their different voices and sound,
But alas across the seven seas
She didn’t had a bird free like means,

The princess had a prince also though
He wasn’t near, nor far a bow,
She missed him night and day
Only winters paved their meeting way,
She rejoiced and sparkles whenever he came
Falling snow was their favorite game,

A peasant from the princess native land
Heard about her mesmerizing charms
Some said Her hairs were long, as about his own arms,

He sailed across the seven seas
Through rough winds and wild beasts,
Finally reached the distant land
Heard princess palace was near the English sand,

He was too shy and confused
Didn’t knew why he came across the blues,
Went up to the palace and called her name
Guards imprisoned him for royal disdain,
Decision was rested in princess hand
Heard peasant was never asked about his stand,

Poet didn’t knew what happened next
Coz people in both countries burnt the rest text…………

On Rent....

Well I can’t help myself not writing this narrative, especially when I am again searching for a room. If one has ever lived a bachelor life out of his/her city, he/she would easily relate that search for a room is a big quest. It’s more or less like a pilgrimage succeeded, if you find a room and that too a good one.

So my quest till now has stretched over for 5 long years and has been a quite interesting one, though to depict them all would leave to eventual boredom, quipping some of them would be rather worth it.

The first time I searched for a room I was 19 years old, in the city of Nawabs i.e. Lucknow and had just left the college hostel as life outside, without any prohibitions was to amorous to be not lived off. So after 2 days of hectic search coupled with the disgruntled snores of the collegiate, in whose room me and my luggage were put alike, me and N found a room, it was more of a flat with a big garden and 3 big rooms, which later turned out to be too big for us, so after one month w again started looking for a new one….

……This time I got the best room of my life, the landlords were old couple whose son lived in Pune (may be in a rented room!). The room was fully furnished, a full size mirror and a narrow verandah which later was turned into a cricket pitch and our “Dope Zone”, my ears could still hear our voices filled with laughter of madness and our red eyes telling that we all are on a different platform from rest of the world.

After college I moved to the capital of India, now since both Me and N were now doing job, so we decided that we should live in a better place though Z wanted to live somewhere else, so Green Park Extension became our new home, this flat which we later furnished with TV, Cd-player/music system, a cooler than A.C…….
This room also witnessed my three phone friends, my small success and N’s triumph into C.D.S. and yeah it was also the place where Z and Me decide to take career breaks, one came out with flying colours and another too unsuccessful to talk about that….

So since I was not earning, I moved to cheaper place and a studious environ of Zia Sarai, my first Bong landlords, and the only contact with outside world was through a window which is criss-crossed by high voltage lines!
Things again moved and I moved with them from Zia Sarai to Rajinder Nagar from there to Vijay Nagar and now back to Zia Sarai but one thing I learnt through all this endeavors is that a house is not built by bricks or mortar rather it is built by people who live in there.

And if again I go back to each of the room where I stayed, I would feel an untold warmth irrespective of what I am now and what I will be, there would be a lot of memories that would have been left behind, hiding in some corner, waiting for me and others to come and take them away, and these memories would be priceless for which I do not have to pay any rent to any one….

T confuses Me everyday, one moment she seems so close and suddenly there is a blanket of aloofness that scares me down my spine. What will happen after this week, when Me and T would separate to go our ways, will she remember me or would I just be another trainee gone, would I be still writing about her or will that be the end of this small fling, that was born to be unsuccessful……just like rented homes- How much you like them, you have to leave them.


One fine day, a dew fell on a grass
Which has edges very sharp,
The Grass said “Go away you old damn”
The Dew replied It was God’s wish now it’s your turn to strive with”,
The grass, also started liking the dew
But alas Sun stroked and wind blew…..

Mahatma and Me'

After reading the newspaper, I only realized that today is October 2, “Bapu’s B’day”…..there was a long article in TOI, on how the Gen Nxt (I hope that includes me too) have forgotten his values and how he has been ridiculed for his sayings, which they think do not apply in contemporary times.
As I am writing this I also remember the question that I answered in JNU entrance exam about Bapu’s policies and their relevance in today’s globalized world. (I failed in that exam)

Two years ago for me M.K. Gandhi was just a political leader, raised as an apostle because of a party that ruled our independent India, I rated him below Bose because I could more relate to extremism than ahimsa.
As I read a few books on the independence struggle of India, of both Nationalist and Marxist views, one thing I realized, that for me... "M.K.Gandhi slowly turned to Bapu". I found out that Gandhi was indeed the essence of India and his place as the “Father of the Nation” is unquestionable.

He was the one who tied this country in one string and voiced the language of the masses, with whom our early leaders and even today the present leaders, fail to connect. A glimpse of his greatness was seen when J.L. Nehru was making his famous “Tryst with Destiny” speech in the secure environs of Delhi…..Bapu was in a small village around Calcutta trying to stop the riots just by his mere presence’

Whatever historians, journo and philosophers or so called Gandhians say, “Bapu” for each one of us is different..... for me Gandhi was politically apolitical, he was too religious and yet a non-believer, he was a fakir among elites and a saint among poor. He was and is the true India..my India.

On his B’day, I would just like to request that please buy a coy of “My Experiments with Truth” and read it…you will discover “Bapu” and like me you would hate to love him…because on what he did is so right yet so tough, to be said right….as he himself said “I emerged out successful to be unsuccessful….”

Back to my “Experiments with T…lol….

I don’t know what’s going on
The air has been dead for so long,
Sometimes you react and sometimes you are cool
And everytime I end like a fool,

When I say something
You dismay it like a vice,
And when I am not serious
Why you suddenly act so wise?

When I open my heart
You close all your doors,
And when I turn back
You say “I am professionally yours”,

I know I am not the best out there
But believe me; even I have flair,
Just say, you know what I mean
Or I am just living in a dream,

Even I know what’s going to be the end
But till than please take a stand,
This mystery kills me every night
And when we depart, you say “sleep tight!”

I don’t know what’s going on
The air has been dead for so long…..