Tales of Perfection...

It was a casual discussion with friends, when one talk led to another and we drifted from quizzing each other on capitals, currencies, to histories, to the Raj, and to Gandhi. And often had such discussions ended in quite a dismal denouement. With a number of varied notions on the Father of the Nation, the Mahatma stands as an inarticulate dartboard for the public to opine on him. Opinion is genuine, opinion is a thought, agreed, and that keeps the Earth spinning. But it should be contained enough and not let go hay way as kamikaze pots of pitch tarnishing the stature of many a great men.

The man under the lens showed the world a path of love and peace. Many who let their angst on his deeds, may as well have been correct, should refrain from derogating him. Bhagat Singh could have dodged the gallows, claim many, had Gandhi wished. Gandhi, again lash many, slept with several girls at his ashram. First things first, the political cauldron of the first half of 1900s was simmering, with a hundred of angles and views. Deliberate acts as we think today, could well have been circumstantial or inevitable then in the interest of the masses. Secondly, of all the claims and charges being authentic, one must weigh his contributions to his shortcomings. He was Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, like any person one of us, who sacrificed his career, family and life for the people of his country. He wasn’t alone of his ilk, but he was the instrument of independence – a war sans bloodshed! So much is he revered by all around the globe, that the slaves in USA, for the past many centuries, were treated humane soon when they adopted his methods.

So this prompts us to turn reflective, and one should accept the fact that all things beautiful have a sordid tale behind them. Just as a rose has thorns any success story isn’t bereft of pangs of horror, deceit, corruption, or all of them at one point or the other, is it large or a miniscule part. Its Earthy and human that breaks every man, situation or thing existing into the good and the bad. Even an atom – the smallest possible breakup scientifically, has a mass of proton (+) and electrons (-) around it. So who was Gandhi? Or for that matter the person sitting next to me, when nature itself defines the positive and negative together? The onus lies on us to enjoy the virtues and bask in the sun, or to keep lamenting of the vices of the person, cribbing of the rain.

Nature apart, even God couldn’t hold back to display the truth of the earth, when he walked in human form. Even Ram couldn’t, or was not allowed to (circumstantially) trust the purest woman, his wife.

ABC of Exams...

Jumping with glee, unaware of the repercussions

I was taken aback; shit! Examinations…

Each alphabet of the word has a different comprehension,

Each viewing angle causes such an altercation.

E-stands for endless studies, just to start,

As if horizons pushed back with no mark.

Marks? Is the serious question to get an answer for;

But questions on such a gamut of topics are countless and more.

Xerox copies strewn here and there,

A loose sheet of diag.; screamed I, “came out from where?”

Last day, my incomplete work invites the bundle of Photostat;

“50paisa per page bhaiya, it’s such a towering stack.”

A - Apple/atoms/Archimedes/abacus/antennas, Anxiety!

“Ab kya hoga?” is I sigh with all my lost gaiety.

Never thought I this, a week before the exams commenced.

Endless phone calls for solace now, dial a friend I, when tensed.

Mind in confusion to learn this or that,

With losing hours on the clock, nervous I sat.

Unit 4 is half, Unit 6 left. What about the 1^st unit?

Calculating my time, all my nails I bit.

I calls for interaction of subjects one into another.

“#^*&@ that’s FRS and EMF is a different subject all together.”

‘Last moment’ does the trick, I rub the chin, mind perplexed.

A firm decision, the concept belongs to this and not the next.

Non-stop studies, if it helps, are the last resort.

Syllabi outstripping the time, quite mundane chores we abort.

Bathing, shaving is luxury; two square meals are all.

Lucky are those who sleep four hours, for that’s called a ball.

A – This one stands for admonishes and not anxiety.

After our souls, our parents and teachers, for our state is such a pity.

“Kept on telling you to study, you never paid heed.”

Cycles of scolds and consoles are all that, now, breed.

Try, try, try again is the mantra.

Keep on trying till you get the funda.

Endless discussions till I finally understand it all,

Questions, doubts and revisions over the phone fall!

I is now incomplete tasks to be done.

For the left up pages in the notebook I run.

Consultancy is on a all time high,

Movement of books is all one can see by.

Overnight scanning, burning the midnight oil.

It’s not merely a phrase, for we indeed toil.

Day and night, sleep doesn’t divide.

It’s a nap of two hours, where our fears confide.

N – Now I get no N for this…

Aftermath of exams is all this and bliss.

I can grasp no more, think no more…

All the best to all if examinations knock your door.!

Dynamic Alternations: cycle of life!

For those who breathe under the endless burden of life’s problems.

For them who crave for an existence without troubles.

For those who feel they have been singled out.

For those who are sick of their daily trifles and turbulence.

For all who dream of an immaculately peaceful and perfect life ahead!

A faint smile painted and I heave a sigh of relief,
The sun is up as I inhale the cool breeze.
Lock it now, whisper I. lock it till eternity.
Let none touch it now. Touch! for its perfect beauty.

I’d sat cross legged by the lake. I’d paced on the terrace.
I cried dry eyed. I craved to scream, scream out my face.
Sobbed sans noise, insulated was I, marooned all alone.
Gazed at the stars, wondered why, wondered what would atone.

Held my head, took a breath for I had heard-
Deep breaths help, don’t know if that worked.
Calmed I the inside of me, that wept like a baby;
Inside was the whirlpool that threw all astray.

One counted I, second followed; thought the third.
They were turmoil of my life, problems that stole my mirth.
One I could unravel, two was all His will as vanished the third.
Half tangible, and half were children of my wandering head.

Exhaled it out heavily, resolved a few remedies.
Wiped away I the unseen tear, and dusted the creases.
Down I went to bed with yet another, a prayer.
Prayer, to Him for all my soul’s axles to repair.

The sun is up as I inhale the cool breeze.
A faint smile painted and I heave a sigh of relief,
Lock it now, whisper I. lock it till eternity.
Let none touch it now. Touch! For it’s perfect beauty.

Chuckled I, as the world smiled and all fell into place,
Giggled I, for life I realized was nothing but a  race.
Those scars and scarlet wounds, those sighs of relief;
Alternate cycles form Life, untouched beauty is brief.


Concrete or figment of my head, troubles carry me ahead.
I can't lock the beauty forever, for static, they call it dead!

Wake up Raj!

While returning to the hostel yesterday, my friend exasperatedly narrated an incident from his class. “You know, how happy they were when they read that Karan Johar said sorry to Raj Thackeray… just because the movie said Bombay and not Mumbai.” Well his rage is justified, do the stars in the movie calling Mumbai, Bombay, anyhow lessen the city? Has somebody legally/constitutionally challenged the name, for which such brouhaha? It’s just a movie. Even the grammar of the languages has scope for formal writing and colloquial styles. Then Bombay remains the former name or shall we say a pet name now? Raj sahib we still refer to Mumbai everywhere official.

This didn’t come as a publicity stunt, for just a couple of days back did he propose a permit for non-Maharashtrians to visit the city. Just a sorry (if that comes), would it suffice for such unconstitutionally erratic behaviour? Well now some strong heads of the country (oh! I still include aamchi Mumbai), would parade to get him jailed for stirring up lingual differences in the jannlok. Does he run a parallel government or does Raj fancies him crowned for an autocracy? Dictator on the rise, rather! Where have the policing been? I don’t count the regular stoic State Police, but the high spirited moral police. A licence to move about in my country! Isn’t he being morally bad? Hey Raj (if this pleases your ears), these very people have made Bombay, Mumbai. Alas! Such ironies are just platitude to him. Expel the apologetic Johar and his ilk, and India loses the jewel, Mumbai.

What fears you Thackeray, the loss of original Mumbaikars? Have a panoramic view on the land beyond Mumbai. Sardars have been the fuel of laughter for all at the cost of the community, taking all sportingly. Any voracious eater is pointed out as the Bengal ka bhooka. My Bihari friends have given a wonderful Bhojpuri accent to make moments lighter. And here you keep a hisaab of a rupee, there comes the remark arre re Sindhi! How do I forget the Swami of the South? When I call all a Madrasi, these hilarious movie caricatures take all in the stride. Had all these regionally divided men taken umbrage to their references, or isolated themselves on the illusion of superiority, Raj bhau, India would have disintegrated into 28 odd pieces. So is Ranbir and Konkona’s reference to Mumbai as Bombay an insult; as hurting as those to Sardars or Bengalis? Is Johar visiting you, repentant for being colloquial, justified? It degrades the spirit of Mumbai, Raj bhaiya!

Anyways the movie was superb for all us aimless beings. Oh! Thackeray saab, did you relate yourself to it? I mean, all of us, my friends thought it was ‘just so me’. I suppose it could give you an aim. Look into your Mumbai. Arre forget who’s calling the city what! Look in what mess is that city. For the love of your Mumbai, do something of it’s now Oscar winning slums. Dilapidated infrastructure! That adjective too falls short to describe the status quo infrastructure. So how were the water logging this year? Thank God it didn’t rain hell this monsoon. And the honking traffic? The wonderful Taj graded security? The power? The filth and squalor? Raj bhai, our Mumbai lists in the top 52 dirtiest cities of the world. Shanghai, New York the financial capitals of the world stand as the quintessential cosmopolitan cities, cant India’s money capital be at least a true metropolis, showcasing the entire country?

Wake up Raj! Wake up!