the Kite puller!

Directionless so often, I’m way-less for sure.
As glides the kite high, in the endless azures;
Had heard this analogy for long I,
But felt its depth now, smiling, I sigh!



Multihued, the open is dotted with colour,
Swishing swirling and circulating higher and more,
Bright as they pep me up, glimmer they and shimmer.
I’m one of the bubbles that life up the blues as I flutter.



I transform into a smile as I soar high,
Rage takes over me, if someone else passes me by.
Kite or me, rejoice post victory;
Even panic at times, or at others turn we greedy.



The gale carries it, as to me the air around me.
I do nothing, but follow the race with glee.
At times its peace and am free,
Storms take its test, testing my spirit my synergy.



My endurance or the string’s strength,
Determination or thread well bent.
Aimless or swaying in the wind entwined,
Enjoy it I, and it worries my mind.



Call it string or call it spirit;
That’s the soul that runs it.
It may be the kite or I,
That soul is what veers us by.

The class that bullied!

The last lecture, exhausted and bored was that of some fibers and optics. The new teacher, very young, just graduated, novice and the first attempt at teaching kinds, takes our class with a great deal of preparations. Not only making her notes for the hour, but mentally being prepared to take such a Herculean task of controlling a class like ours, of putting up a brave fight, to be tormented again. There was a video shooting scheduled for today and that was a disaster for her. The class just won’t stop teasing her, disobeying her, troubling her and bullying her.

And there stands another of her age, her designation, but a little charming and of course in shape. Charming for the boys just get drooled over and the girls smile as she flashes her 1000 Watt so frequently. With no offenses to her, she does her job excellently and is encouraged by her audience, by the day. The question remains why such double standards?

I imagine myself if I were to stand and get assaulted by 70 young men and women, all closely knit, keeping me out and mocking at me. I imagine my heart bleed for being haplessly scorned at and disrespected even being an authority over the mob. Her moist eyes were evidence enough of the veritable rivers that would have flown out the moment she would have left the class.

Our ugly duckling struggles and strives to adapt to the new waters, though not perfect at her swim in the job, she gets discouraged each time she dips. Weak she is. Weak she may be at designation, weak in power – weak in speech or weak in the muscles. Weak could be shy, or could be timid. She could be weak for some insecurity or some inhibition, or weak if beauty is strength. She could be weak due to lack of confidence? And she goes weaker, loses her confidence till she is broke and finally breaks down! This is the stormy stoned path marked by lack of encouragement, leading to nothing but wrecked silence.

We all have a part in us that’s she! Just some by fate get so unveiled before all that Mockery smiles wicked at them. A piece of laughter for all, their excellence in various spheres bears the dark patch when they are ridiculed, made fun of or are discouraged. (Of course regular teasing by peers differs from bullies that insult a flaw!) A hilarious pastime for others might be recurrent steps towards the gallows for her.

This is a complex balance of patience, forgiveness and retaliation due to self esteem that’s demarked by fine lines. Testing her limit of patience, once it touches her self-respect she might fight back with vengeance breaking all cordial bonds that are taken for granted and disrespected. All would culminate in bad blood, all falling apart with hatred in the silence of dead end!

So next time you bully, remember the cords or fear your Big B, your Big Bully!

Attacking Authority!

Yellow journalism in its frenzied gait does stumble upon gold at times. Yes the media is inevitably a big support system when the system itself turns monstrous. Ruchika Girhotra, the most recent prey to the voyeuristic system got some ears to her wails 19 years after, hapless, she took away her life; for of course who’d tackle the big men in khaki and pristine white.

Once a Hindi flick very aptly showed this milkman cycling back to his quarter when two young men sporting Police badges, bullied him, tapping his milk can open and threatened if he turned off the tap, as they zoomed on their white Pulsars. Authority dude! Tears rolled down as a veritable milk-fall swished onto the pavement. And there, yelling on top of their voices, these vegetable vendors are aware that the hawaldars have an unsaid stake in their aamdani that’s per paao of the sabzi ! It’s realizable that they hawk up at improper places adding to the infra woes of congestion, but isn’t imposing a law or a rule, removing them from there, mentioned anywhere in the High books?

Here zips a case that’s much closer. We leisurely enjoyed the bike ride in the post rain gale, when my bike coughed and got choked and passed off right in the middle of the crossing. It sapped out its fuel and my seconds for green light to turn red paced. Botching, I dragged the heavy black soul-less body back behind the zebra lines. As the netherworld’s book says, the cops hauled me aside and the rest of it is the well known story. Was I their day’s fish, or they really shouldn’t be genuine and considerate while at work? They spoke of the NOC and PUC papers but my wise friend knew some laws and we won the debate. Innocents, I pity my citizens, who unaware of the regulations imposed on them succumb to these imps’ whims.

Brutus prudently soliloquized in Julius Caesar that power corrupts when exercised without compassion. Authority for that matter isn’t bound to the khaki clad or the men in Gandhi topi. The system corrupts at birth. Just turn reflective and start tallying the crooked seconds from the maternity home, to your school, to the playground, to college… even testimony of your existence – the birth certificate is forged for the admissions to school. Parents crib about the birth month-year Oedipus complex, so hasn’t anyone thought of redeeming and altering the system a bit? And now you are here at college, where apart from you there are numerous others who blame the system and yet form it to be blamed.

Why are they having lunch at 2:30 p.m., an hour after the scheduled? “Was working at the window then”, I got back. And who’s responsible for the line and chaos at 2 and a half? Who isn’t aware of the red tape style at colleges? Does one need to mention the delays and hassles for every trivial errand? Each man to his own job is the decree. Why can’t on a non working day one man collect/complete petty details/formalities of a few other friends along with his? The authority trounces you down on raising a little voice for time/energy/money/ease/fuel (concerns for a failed Copenhagen too), “you’ll teach me how to do my work?” is often roared in corridors, offices across the country. Concerns, these aren’t ignorable! Can’t we take a genuine step to answer the aforesaid?
Ignorant of our rights, we grovel down, submit ourselves to their tyranny, for they handle our careers, grades, admissions, licences or of course we don’t want the court-kachaeri ke chakkar, police tormenting our families like ill-fated Ruchika’s and the way in of the neta into the scene!

This comes here in this technical paper as an urge to all budding engineers to fabricate a system wherein all its components are well greased and needn’t be dealt with oily hands, wherein no independent axle disrupts the functioning, wherein the maximum efficiency is attained. System I sigh; it’s time we realize we are an integral ingredient of the much abused system. We need to mend our souls for its soles to run.