Soldier

I'm really scared to taste happiness
and then to see it disappear as soon
as it appeared.
She thought.

She sat up straight in her bed.
It was 2 AM.
The sky outside starry,
but the weather was bleak.

Staring into the darkness.
Into nothing.
This was what she had been doing of late.

The vivid memories
gushing in front of her eyes.
It was like someone had hit the
fast forward button, except
it was on a loop.

She thought he was her safe place.
He thought she was his safe place.
The humorous insults.
The jokes.
The berating of their dull routines.
The insights about life.

Sincere.
Honest.
Innocent.
Naive.

She had felt safe.
Once.
But then he wanted more.
More than what she could provide.
That shattered the safe place.
Once again.

Out in the open.
Vulnerable.
The constant looping
was taking a toll on her.

They come in your life
and fill this void
that you have always been avoiding.
And just like that
they leave.
People.

Is it worthwhile to cling on
to the memories, she wondered.

No, she whispered.

What comfort will I get, she wondered.

None.

I should move forward.

Yes.

And then the tears started rolling down.

She wiped them away swiftly
and clutched herself tightly
to keep from shaking.

I am a lone soldier in the storm.
She whispered into the night.

And as always,
I will weather this too.
She whispered into the night.

Lying down
she let the tears roll.
She closed her eyes
knowing that no one would comfort
her in this bleak of the night and
the loop would start all over again.

As I age...

I've been trying to pen this down for quite some time now, thinking I'd put it up the day I turn 20 but sadly I had been a little preoccupied. I wanted to write down some of the life lessons learnt by me so far down the line. Bear with me. And I know that I still have a long way to go, a lot more to experience but maybe we could just pause for a little while and ponder.

So here goes, some of the life lessons learnt in random order.

1) You realize how insignificant you are and how small our problems feel when you surround yourself with the vast expanses of mother nature.
2) Even if it has been only 2 years or say 10 years, you will never stop missing nor crying for the loved ones you lost.
3) To be open to love is to be vulnerable.
4) To be vulnerable is quite the learning experience.
5) A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.
6) We all are condescending at some point or the other.
7) We must accept that some relations cannot go beyond the mere greetings of hi and bye.
8) Never try to impose your ideologies upon someone else.
9) There is no substitute for hard work and perseverance.
10) Even though people ask you for advice, they will always do what is in the deepest of their hearts.
11) Music and books still remain the best company for me.
12) Locking yourself in your room and crying out loud is the second best therapy to deal with gloom, first being sleep.
13) Friendships forged over two years seem to be more valuable than those of six years.
14) As opposed to crying alone, laughing along with your friends is the best way to stay happy. That followed by music,
15) It goes without saying actually, but still, parents will always forgive you and love you unconditionally.
16) You never truly know a person.
17) Now I know that the outside appearance doesn't really matter, but sometimes if you dress well and groom yourself well, you feel confident about yourself and are able to carry yourself with some level of authority.
18) Suddenly everybody becomes religious when exams approach.
19) Being spontaneous has always had its charm.
20) A stranger in the bus can tell you an unforgettable story.
21) Teachers that teach you about life become your second parents.
22) Society is ever changing, so should people's attitudes towards it.
23) Forgive and forget.
24) When you look upon the eyes of your new born sibling, you forget the entire chaos outside. You are mooted there by the innocence they carry in those bright little eyes of theirs.
I wonder how would the parents feel to see their new born baby!
25) Lastly to quote Albus Dumbeldore, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light!

So there it is. A small list of things learnt as I age. Do tell me your favorite ones, the ones you could agree with, also the ones you could disagree with, and do tell me if you feel I have missed out on something.

Now gotta prepare for my month long semester exams...until then, live long and prosper.

Is she out of the woods yet?

She lay there
on the damp forest floor
curled up into a ball.
Hot tears rolling down her cheeks.
The sun was going down.
The darkness was surrounding her.
Leaves, rustling.
Wolves, howling.
Hyenas, laughing.
Mocking me probably, she thought.
She sat up straight.
The cold sent a shiver down her spine.
The tears went on for a while,
till none could flow.
She just sat there staring into nothingness.
All the memories
flooding before her eyes.
Oh how they laughed once upon a time.
Oh how they cried in each others arms.
Oh how they held each other through storms strong.
Alas it was all a lie.
Just smoke blowing in the winds
from a fire long doused out.
She felt numb.
Yet she felt cold.
She looked around.
Monsters surrounded her.
Some with fierce gaping mouths.
Some with sad drooping eyes.
She was scared.
Hungry. Alone. And cold.
She heard whispers behind her.
Turning around, she saw more monsters.
Adrenaline rising, she got up to her feet
and ran the other direction.
Ran in the dark.
Her feet tangled with something
and she tumbled to the ground.
She let out a scream.
Everything went silent.
Slowly she got up
and brushed off the mud
and ran again.
Ran away from the darkness.
Away from the creepy sounds.
Away from the fierce monsters.
She ran till she could run no more.
Panting she came to the shores
of a placid lake.
The night sky made it look eerie.
But that soothed her.
It started pouring.
But she didn't dare
run back into the woods.
She sat at the water edge
and let the rains soak her up.
She didn't know when she dozed off.
Come the sun, she realized
the monsters were only trees.
The whispers,wind and words.
And that she was in the clear.
Smiling she waded into the waters.

Caged

Staying awake

counting mistakes in the dark.

Oh how it pained her.

The anger

boiling like hot acid

tearing through the pit of her stomach

surging through all her veins

She knows...

taking steps is easy

standing still is hard.

Yet the beast inside her

is caged.

Her eyes reflect it rattling the cage.

How it longs to unleash its fury

and roar at all of mankind.

The cruelty it had been subjected to.

The torture, painful and unforgettable.

The betrayal, sharp as its own claws.

Her fingers tremble with rage.

She stands in front of the mirror

holding scissors in her hands

and shingles her hair.

Calmly setting down the scissors

she stares at her reflection

with fire burning bright behind

her eyes.

Time to open the cage.

A sly smile runs across her face.

Vagabond

I met up with a friend from junior college yesterday. Figured we could just walk on the beach and catch up on life. He urged me to walk bare foot on the sand saying it was better this way. Me being stubborn refused to do so. So we walked and talked for a while till accidentally a huge wave came up to my feet and drenched them. So I said, 'what the hell, lets just soak up!' So there we stood in knee deep waters lapping around us and watching the sun play hide and seek behind the grim monsoon clouds. After a really really long time I felt relaxed. It was the end of my holidays and I should have felt relaxed much earlier, but me being me, getting worked up for every little thing could not do so.

But feeling the moist sand against my feet and having the company of an insightful friend, did its job of calming me down. And after a while it started to pour like crazy and both of us decided to just soak in the damn rains.

So we were sitting right at the water edge, with the end of the waves lightly touching our feet and getting drenched in the downpour. The feel of the cool rain drops on my face calmed me down. I never felt so relaxed. So both of us, like some maniacs just getting soaked in the rains on the beach!
Nothing ever felt so wonderful. I felt free. I felt lighter. I felt like a vagabond.

Then both of us started shivering, so we decided to have a cup of coffee, and that is when my friend urged me to continue writing. And since I was wondering what I could write about, why not this.

 I was scrolling through pinterest, I came across this nice quote which goes as follows.

Blessed are the gypsies.
The makers of music.
The artists. Writers.
Dreamers of dreams.
Wanderers and Vagabonds.
Children and misfits: For
they teach us to see the world through
beautiful eyes.

This got me wondering, aren't we all vagabonds in life?Initially we decide to do a particular task thinking that we would be able to settle with it for the rest of our lives. But then slowly, disappointment and dissatisfaction creeps in and our minds start to wonder the dreaded "what if?"

So what do we do? Give up that particular task and start doing the one that will now bring us the needed satisfaction. Don't we? And then as years pass on, again the same cycle repeats. So in short the human mind does not get satisfaction on the long run. Hence rather than trying to think of this as a problem how about we just get along with it and enjoy while it lasts.

What I mean to say is be a wanderer. Not just going from place to place, but from one passionate task to another. Say you want to learnt the guitar today,you do so. Maybe after a few years you want to start making short films, its not like your guitar playing skills were a waste! Hence go for it. Don't think the what if.Just don't.Knowing and realizing that you are free to do whatever brings you happiness is enlightening. And what is even more beautiful, is the smile that we see across a stranger's face when we are doing something selfless. And hence sometimes going with the flow gives us more happiness than opposing it.

So as I was letting the rain drops wash away the clutter in my mind, I looked up towards the sky and smiled. I said to myself, I will start afresh. I will begin everything anew and let go of all the negative thinking. Learn from the past experiences. Let go of the people who are downright selfish and hold on to those who would bring a smile upon my face. And agree with my much maniac(just kidding) friend, to live each day one at a time.

So here's to new beginnings, new friendships and new efforts.
Cheers...

Hopelessness

I was sitting by the riverside and mulling over what happened today. A cool breeze then started blowing and with it tried to blow away these thoughts from my mind. I shook my head . I said to myself that what I've become isn't so bad. Yeah I may not be a very nice person, but I am loyal like a dog to the people I love. Isn't that enough? My meagre achievements are due to my hard work. Yes definitely they may not be effective in the long run, but they mattered today.  I may be a social outcast, I may feel lonely even when I am surrounded by a bunch of people, but I tell myself, I just have to get through the day. Yes I have hurt people and for that I am truly sorry. I tell myself that I am still loved by the people remaining in this broken faction of mine.

 I looked up. There was no moon today and hence the stars shone the brightest. The flow of the water tried to calm my mood, but in vain. I looked up again and saw a shooting star. When I was younger I used to think that wishing upon a shooting star would get us our wish. Just like every other childhood fantasy. Even then, I closed my eyes and longingly wished for just one day with her.

Wished for being waken up by her with a smile, wished for cooking with her in the kitchen and making a mess, wished for her oiling my hair, wished for her singing with me pretending our hairbrushes as microphones, wished for sitting with her on the patio and counting the stars, wished for her to sing me a lullaby while coddling me in her arms as I fell asleep. Just one more day, one more. I wished…

I wondered where she would be right now. Whether she could see me or hear me? Would she be smiling to see what a young woman I've become? Or would she be disappointed to see how exceptionally ordinary I am? Would she be proud of my skimpy achievements or think about what a bitter person I am?

I sighed and hoped that one day I could go back and make things right. I hoped that one day I could snuggle into her arms and let her warmth help me escape reality.

I sat there for a long while wishing…

Ara

The two kids were lying on their backs under the shade of the big willow tree, looking towards the skies and imagining various shapes of the clouds.

"Look Ara, that looks like our rabbit Tooba! Look right there, don't you see it?" cried Meqbool. Ara stared hard to where he was pointing and said, "No Meqbool, it looks like your crooked nose!" She got up and had a fit of laughter. She ran down the hill, laughing all the way, her curly black hair swaying behind her and every once a while she turned to look back with those dazzling blue eyes. Meqbool just started dumbfounded. He too chased after her, holding his skull cap from flying away.

The two eight year olds were running through the streets, laughing and chasing each other, completely ignorant to all the shattered houses,broken window panes, the bullet holes on the compounds,the limb beggars, the mortar shells lying around and the grey look of the city.

Ara and Meqbool reached over to Ara's house where her mother was just serving tea to her uncle. He smiled at the two,took a sip and gravely put it down. Both the kids rushed upstairs and hid behind the balustrade on the landing trying to eavesdrop every word her uncle was conveying to her mother regarding the on going war. Apparently his son's kebab restaurant down south was hit by a rocket propelled grenade. She let out a gasp, and he raised his hand to tell her there was nothing to worry, that her son was not present there at the moment. But a lot of people from the neighbourhood were caught in the cross fires.

Ara went to her room and sat on the edge of her bed, head hung down in silence. Meqbool followed and knelt before her and wiped away her tears.

"I just want this war to end. I don't want any more people hurting or dying. I don't want Kakajaan to come here and give us bad news everyday.Ever since the school explosion, I have not had the courage to look at my books. Ever since Ms. Nila died I cannot take a pen in my hand and write.I don't..." she began to sob.

"I promised you that I would always protect you from any harm. I will not let them lay a finger on you or hurt you in any way. And now as you promised me, please stop crying."

Meqbool got up,went over to window,removed Tooba the rabbit from its cage and placed it on her lap. She immediately stopped crying and started stroking its white fur. It was their teacher's pet rabbit. They had found it trapped under the debris near the school one day. Ara and Meqbool brought it home and took care of it.

She looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back through his broken tooth. They then went down, into the garden and played with the rabbit. Sometimes they pretended they were pirates, taking on the big seas. Sometimes she was the princess and it was his duty to fulfil her highness' wishes. They continued so till sundown and it was time for Meqbool to go home. Ara mother's called out to them and  Meqbool gave his broken toothed smile and waved a goodbye to both of them and went home.

Her father was running late, so Ara and her mother dined together. Ara told her mother about all she and Meqbool did today, what games they played, what they saw from the hill top, how many fruits they ate...but her mother's eyes kept fluctuating to the window behind her.


Ara was now lying in bed, the moonlight streaking through her window and a cool breeze blowing the curtains. For some reason, she felt uneasy. Then she heard voices downstairs. Wondering who it could be at this hour she tip toed out of her bedroom and again hid behind the balustrade. She heard her father speaking very softly to her mother in the living room. He had come from work,she could tell because he still had his work clothes on. She bent a little further to get a proper view and hear him out clearly.

He told her that there was a missile fired by the enemy into their region.He paused. She looked at him asking him to go on. He took a breath and said that Meqbool and his family's house had been charred to the ground. None made it out alive. She clutched her heart and collapsed on the sofa. There was a minute of silence and she clutching her burqa looked up to her husband all teary eyed and uttered the word Ara. They both looked towards the stairs and saw her clutching the rails so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her blue eyes frozen through the rails. In a swift moment Ara realised that her parents were looking at her and she rushed back into her room.

That night she just lay her head on her mother's lap and did not say a single word. Her mother was gently stroking her hair while she continued to stare out the window silently.

Days and months passed by. Ara did not say or ask anything about Meqbool. She quietly played with Tooba in their garden.Or went to the hill and sat under the willow tree looking at the sky, trying to figure out which cloud looked like Meqbool's crooked nose. She would heave a deep sigh and just walk back home.

One day, her uncle came and told her that the town committee was deciding to rebuild the school again. She was asked to be present there for the foundation laying ceremony. She did attend it with her parents. She saw some of her classmates. Some of them waved at her and some even wanted to talk to her. Her friend Leila was the only one she smiled back at.

Later that evening, when she was in her room, playing with Tooba, she suddenly heard a loud bang. Her heart skipping a beat, she rushed out only to see half her living room shattered. Then another loud bang right behind her. She screamed, "Mamma" and was flung off the first floor landing down on the crumpled living room floor. She fell right beside her mother's torn body. She screamed her lungs out and began crying. Trying to get up, she turned towards her right and saw her father's hand under a huge plank. Another loud bang. She ran out of the house, but she barely made it to the front door all wounded and leg fractured, that there was another loud bang.

She was lying in the garden. She couldn't open her eyes because the sun rays were stinging them. She opened them slowly and saw a silhouette above her. It was speaking. She could barely hear its voice. She tried to lift her hand, but she couldn't feel anything. She strained her ears and could hear the faint whisper..."And now as you promised me, please stop crying."Then everything went black.

Love that we think we deserve

You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. These are the words of Dr.Seuss. As I sat on the rocks close to the jetty and looked out at the vast ocean ahead of me, I kept pondering on this little thing called Love. And streams of questions began to flow into my mind. Is love all about hope or is it about hoping against hope? Is love for the fools or the wise ones? Does love take any giving or taking? When does one really comprehend the meaning of love?At what stage of life? And I turn around to my friends who are busy talking to each other or just singing songs down by the beach and I drift off in that sweet melody to another world...Here are the musings of a 19 year old girl who contemplates life very often (not really).

To begin with, I interpreted the quote by Dr. Seuss as the love you have for something that you immensely crave doing for the sole reason that it brings a smile upon your face and the thrill in your heart. You do it for the sheer love of it and derive pleasure out of it. Not because you want any monetary gain out of it or because of some sort of compulsion. This love is that what we see when one Roger Federer comes out onto the grass court holding that tennis racquet in his hands or one Sachin Tendulkar holding a cricket bat and gently raising it to the spectators when he hits a century. No I am not talking about fan adoration here. I am talking about the love any sports-person has for his game. It is his or her love for the game that makes them pursue it with full determination and commitment. If you are searching for any inspiration, I think the first source would be any sports personality. They have this never-back-down attitude that draws people to them.Their perseverance is truly motivating

I asked a couple of my friends to pen down their thoughts when one says the word Love and I'd like to share some of their snippets.

Shawn Kenneth Fernandes 

 Picture credits: Allen Vishal

You don’t love someone because they’re perfect or beautiful or confident,

You love someone in spite of the fact that they’re not.  

Embracing the pain and darkness in the other person.

Seeing how their flaws complete you.

If you ever have to change yourself for someone,

If you give up a part of yourself to be with someone,

You may lose the part that the other person fell in love with.

That would be a tragedy.

Never trust someone who says they love you but treat you ordinarily.

Everyone is extraordinary. Everyone is amazing.

Everyone has beauty. 

You just need to look for it. 

And if you see it in someone where others can’t,

Know that you are capable of loving.

My friend here has aptly talked about seeing how other's flaws complete you. Embracing one person for who they are is what nurture's true love. You loved someone for precisely the way they were, accepted all their flaws because that is what you loved about them in the first place. And as Shawn here says it would indeed be a tragedy if the other person tries to mould themselves into something they are not and eventually have a fallout.

For him, music is life. A means to express his inner demons and musings about life.An outlet. For him music is about sincerity. Through music he tries to perceive other people, what goes on in their minds et al and derives immense happiness when any kind of sincere music soothes him.

Sometimes when you go through ups and downs of life and you feel all alone and you hope somewhere inside, that someone would hear you out and listen to what you have to say. He does it very sincerely, lending you a ear. His love for music has made him very insightful.

Love.

Susan Pinto

Love

Some say it's good,

others say it's bad.

Some say it's forever,

others say it'll never last.

Some say it happens once,

but others have experienced twice.

Some say its beautiful,

others say: not so very nice.

I say it's worthwhile,

you will laugh and you will cry,

but you will never understand it,

unless you give it a try.

Susan, the most compassionate person I have ever come across till now. I admire her hope in love. In spite of falling down every time she manages to bounce back very quickly and put on a brave face. She is the hopeful one.

I remember reading an article not so long ago, something on the lines of being vulnerable and open to love by Vinita Nangia. She says that to love is to be vulnerable, to leave yourself open to hurt. Breene Brown says, what makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful. 

Opening up to love, I think exposes your vulnerability and hence allows others to see your inner beauty. As I said earlier, when someone embraces this beauty(flaws for some), it sparks love among them.

But, when you are at your most vulnerable and you have allowed this other person to let your guard down, and then left to hurt, you are left wondering if it was worth it in the end? I am of the opinion that if you have been left heartbroken, then there was nothing called love in the first place. You just took a wayward path. Some may be stronger and come to the end of the path with a bright smile, while some may just crumble along the way and never make it out.

So I leave that question to you...whether opening up is really worth it or not...

 Chetan Pangavane

I dont want to be the Snape of the Lily. Nor do I want a Snape if you are my Lily. I dont know if my love is all about possessiveness. But surely this feeling has sufficient genuineness. Maybe I love you just because I dont have you.But I do take pride in loving someone like you.

I know you already have someone in your heart. But you and only you can govern my heart.

I know this sudden awareness must be startling, but I have already done two years of waiting. Now I feel I've overdone everything . It's time to cease it all. 

Because, I guess love too has its limits and I am no great to cross them all.

Pray, be happy with your love, and me with mine,

and maybe you'll never know, 

and maybe I'll never say!

He reverberates my thoughts precisely. Unknown and unspoken love is the most hurtful. For those of you who live under a rock, Snape and Lily are characters from Harry Potter and the reference here to love has been put in the correct way. How painful it must be to love someone without telling them that?You wouldn't even know if the other person feels the same way. Misery. But if you see it in a different light, it is beautiful. It is beautiful how you will do anything in your power just to see the other person  smile.It is beautiful how you will try and try to get those words out yet fail.

Younita Pandey

Its when I was lying on the grass, acting like I was drunk. missing my best friends, who would come down 

the table to talk me out of my nonsense.

cry for me, when my heart would break, and wash my bleeding knees, when I fell hard.

*sigh.

they even tied my shoe laces in the twelfth standard.

and I was missing them.

I miss them.

but that evening when I lay acting like I was drunk, singing all the sad songs, being blue about everything, and you held my hand and said "I wont leave you"

I wanted to cry. but couldn't bring myself to it.

after all, who were you to hold my hand?

who were you?

damn! now I know, it wasn't you,

it was me who held your hand.

and you? you promised to keep it.

hold it back so I wont fall.hold it back so I could walk blindfold. 

hold me, until I could walk.

I know what this is. 

Its love in its purest form.

true concern in its sincerity.

care, without expectations.

unconditional, unselfish, love.

this was when I realized, friendship: it is.

friend, he was.  

Friend. That word has an altogether different meaning. But does it? Friends never hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are.

Mother. When she hears the cries of her baby in that maternity room for the first time, she falls in love for the second time in her life. As Abdul Kalam said, your birthday is the only day in your life where your mother smiled when you cried.

Parents love is unconditional. It means no bounds. And the best thing about it is, no one says I love you or something cliché . It is just inborn. It is expressed in such subtly beautiful ways. When your mother oils and braids your hair before sending you off to school, or when you cut yourself while playing, over all the yelling, she would be the one to apply the antiseptic to your wound, or how she would make you sit in front of the idol and recite all the prayers.

She will love you and protect you no matter what mistakes you do in life. And if you are fortunate enough, at any stage of your life,you can always cry on her lap, while she gently strokes your hair and soothes you...

Love should generate faith. Trust. Honesty. Sincerity. Love should be unconditional...

A day in the life of Pradnya!

So here I am, blogging after a long time, late at night, instead of studying for my tests which are in a week! Ahhh...so much has changed from the time I wrote about Rebecca. A lot of life lessons learnt, a lot of anguish lent out, met new people, made new friends, started viewing the world in a different light. And do you know the best part about this? Its that there is more to come. CHANGE is the only CONSTANT.
Since I seem to be not concentrating on how power amplifiers work, I'd rather pen down (here type it out) my musings of the night.

To start on a depressing note called Exams, that all of us hate, my semester exams went down well and I even scored pretty good grades. Yes I am definitely proud of my achievement. But somewhere down the line, with me being wired as one Pradnya Rane, can never try to feel proud about it. For some reason, I believe the universe is conspiring against me to just fall flat on my face every time I try to feel proud. Now you would say Pradnya, you are just over thinking it. Perhaps I am. But know one fact about me, is that I prefer to stay humble and modest and also look for a sense of humility in my fellow Earthlings!

So the other day, when the rain clouds had disappeared and the skies were beautiful hues of pink,orange and red, I sat in my balcony and had a moment of epiphany ( you see what I did there!!). Now I may sound completely irrational to you, but forgive me, I was a bit stupid to think so, but ultimately its the truth.So here goes...
When I look at the world and try to think about what everyone is trying to do here, in a sense , what exactly is our purpose here? So when I look around, I see people fighting over issues like this country is mine and not yours, this land is mine and mine alone. Men, women and children are being slaughtered for something as insignificant as land, or just because they did not obey certain customs of one's beliefs. Millions of people are dying without food and water and are hungry and miserable, with no roof over their heads nor a drop of water on their tongues. Millions. When you look at it that way, it ultimately looks like chaos.
Isn't that all were are? A big cauldron of chaos? Even the second law of thermodynamics states that Entropy of an isolated system never decreases, because the system always moves towards maximum entropy.
So there you have it. No matter what we do, the chaos will always increase.

I had seen this particular movie wherein there was a dialogue that made me think. "Oblivion is inevitable."
Currently, I am of the belief that after death nothing matters. Or even while dying, nothing matters except for being with your loved ones. Because after you die, you are definitely not going to remember Sigmund Freud's theory or Bernoulli's theorem or who was M.K Gandhi or whether you won the debate or not  etc etc. Ultimately they all seem insignificant. For example, when one climbs atop a high summit, and looks down upon the panorama, one realises their insignificance in this universe. This is a true feeling for each and every one of us. We come from nothing and go into nothing.
Now this nothing can be interpreted differently by different people and  I leave it up to you for thought.

Of late I have been completely saturated with sciences. Its said that when you do something in excess, it will eventually loose its meaning. I am feeling very guilty when I say this, that science no longer fuels my drive. I want it to. Because I find science pure and ultimate and very beautiful.But lately...perhaps its cause of the fatigue caused to mind from thinking about all the stuff that I wrote above.
 Sometimes I get this feeling, where I feel completely blanked out from the rest of the world and dont even know my thought processes.Sometimes I feel like sitting atop a high mountain and forgetting all about the world. For when this happens, I think I can sum up that feeling by quoting a few lines from Pablo Neruda's poem 'Keeping Quiet".

If we were not so single-minded

about keeping our lives moving,

and for once could do nothing,

perhaps a huge silence

might interrupt this sadness

of never understanding ourselves

and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us

as when everything seems dead

and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve

and you keep quiet and I will go.

But friends, I know all that sounded like a far fetched idea, but if you just stop for a minute and ask yourselves the same questions, wouldn't you feel the same?

Now to tell you how I changed my opinions about my own thoughts. My best friend made me realise that we maybe insignificant at the end, but what would matter is what we do before we all meet the end.

It would matter if you could make someone smile, put someone out of their misery, teach someone, give life to someone, pay someone for their hard work, make someone happy.

And doing this selflessly would give you  ultimate joy too. Do you want the whole world to love you or just the select few who would love you unconditionally?

How many people did you try to make smile today? Did you give food to the hungry beggar on the street? Did you teach someone an important life lesson? THIS IS WHAT IS GOING TO MATTER!

I tell myself that I am not in the worst condition. There are people who are dying fighting wars which are not their own, who dont get a simple 2 square meal or have no basic educational or healthcare facilities, and that I am very lucky to have amazing parents who love me despite all my flaws and loyal friends to whom I can always turn in times of need. I am forever grateful for this, because a lot of people out there dont even have all this.

Before signing off, I would like to say that we should try to live a life with no strings attached. We come here with nothing and are not going to take anything with us. Secondly, I tell this to myself, no matter how judgemental people are about me, I don't care. That is what they are. People. लोगोंका काम ही हैं कहना!! Because I know that I am crazy and that is not going to stop me from being the PRADNYA that I am.

People who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do. 

Because we all love Steve Jobs!

Rebecca in Red

She storms out of the building into the chilly evening, where she left her work presentation incomplete. She couldn't take it any more. She walks with her leaden heart and heavy feet across the posh plaza onto the streets.Her beautiful red dress which she had ironed out for this presentation caught the glimpses of a few ladies down the street, but she just continued to walk.

Her pace was in sync with her heart rate, which was pretty fast. She didn't know where she was going.She was dazed, just staring blankly ahead and going forward as if her feet had its own mind to think of where it were going.

 She reaches the main streets.From somewhere around a corner she could hear her favourite music blaring out of the speakers. Usually she would tap her feet and begin trotting about. Not today. She felt the tones hit her hard like a brick.She wondered why and moved forward.A few feet ahead she saw a bunch of kids playing, making merry  and enjoying their childhood. On a normal day this would bring about a smile on her face and those dimples on her cheeks would melt anyone's heart. But today wasn't her normal day. She stared blankly at the laughter of those kids and couldn't fathom any reasoning whatsoever. She moved forward.

Its twilight now.Further down the street she saw an old man trying to cross the road. No car nor any motorbike halted to let him get to the other side. She would have felt pity and helped him cross the road, but not today. Her leaden heart didn't allow her to break her step and she continued forward. Further more, a street vendor called out to her as she was his daily customer. But today she didn't heed to his beckoning not having the appetite and walked further.

Her red heels were killing her feet and she was surprised that she had walked this far in them. She took them off and came to a halt on the bridge in the city. Her back to the railings and to the dangerous drop down below, unaware of the serenity behind her that had the capacity to overcome her gloom.This slowly creeping sadness over takes her beautiful mind.She knows it.She knows she can fight it. But she has no energy left, no fathomable reason to do so. So she lets it take over. She saw all the auto mobiles gushing past her on the road. She saw all the people walking past her on the footpath. She saw them. But they didn't see this lady dressed in red. They didn't see her. She got angry. How can they just walk past me without knowing what inner turmoil I am going through, she wondered.

She turns her head to the right from where she just came and could see her office building towering over the others, mocking at her misery. She grips the heels in her hands even more tightly.She then turns her head to the left and sees a couple embraced in each others arms,passionately kissing away into the sunset. She is all the more angered and tosses her heels into the river below.

There is a cool breeze blowing through her beautiful black hair.She closes her eyes to let the breeze ease her pain. But she feels sore. She feels numb. She feels cold, no not from the breeze outside but the indifference that was generated inside her. This left her even more confused. She wanted to cry because they said crying would let it all out, but of late not a single tear came to her eye. She doubted her emotions. She looked at the building.Anger. Anger of not being satisfied with the job she was doing even though she excelled at it. She looked at the couple deep in love.Sadness, for she did not get a kiss yet that she deserved. Sadness for she too secretly yearned for a platonic warmth of sorts from her Prince Charming. Sigh.

Then she looks out at the vast expanse from that bridge. The sun has set and the moon has slowly crept up. The wind is now whistling and her hair is swaying in the wind even more.A chill runs down her spine.She embraces herself for the cold.She hoped that some one would come up to her and ask her about her turmoil. She just felt mooted in one place with all of life flowing past her in fast forward. She yelled out loudly, hoping for an answer to echo back to her. Sadly there was just the dull roar of the motor boat below. She wanted everybody to stop for once. She wished that everything would just halt for a minute, even for a minute, complete stillness, everybody doing nothing. She felt empty. She felt like somebody had taken an integral part of hers and tossed it into the river below. The dark waters intimidated her. She looked like a ghostly figure dressed in red under the moon light. 

The stars begin to peek out.She looks up and remembers what she was told when she was younger, about our loved ones residing in the stars after death. She hopes she could go home and cuddle up in her mother's arms just like before and forget all the worries of the world. It pains her to know this will never be possible. And there, a shiny tear rolls down her cheek. It felt cold like steel against her skin. She was taken aback. Then a cascade of hot tears begin to flow and she weeps like a baby.

Its almost past dinner time now and she is still standing there on that bridge under the moonlight staring at the expanse.The wind is still blowing through her hair. A shadow creeps up slowly towards her. She is aware of it but doesn't turn.The person is a silhouette now. Its a man. He slowly walks up to her and places his jacket onto her shoulders and walks past her. She is surprised and turns to look at the man. But he has already walked way too ahead. She just sees his silhouette disappear into the darkness.A faint smile comes across her face. Rebecca, clutches the jacket and turns toward the road to her house.

The stars above smile.

Madam Rides The Bus

I have always been fascinated by this commuting system in our country.The Bus.For some reason, I feel the bus is so much more than just a chassis with a roaring engine,much more than just an auto mobile.For me it is more of a means of non verbal communication.Feel free to argue with me, but I have been planning on writing this blog post for quite some time now.So here goes...

In the olden times, people were fascinated by The Bus.People in the rustic,rural areas found it as their only source to travel to the city, a place which offered new hopes for dreamers like me.So yes, it seemed something brilliant to them, something as a tool that provided opportunity. And hence they would wait with so much anticipation and enthusiasm for The Bus.And for spontaneous people like me, it was the means of going on an adventure.

I recall this short story we had in class 8th, where a girl of 8 years,Valli, is so taken at awe by this bus that travels through her village everyday at regular intervals of 2 hours.I can put myself in her shoes and say that it indeed fascinated me when I was younger.

And that feeling when you are sitting and quietly observing out the window and deeply contemplating life...exquisite...

Travelling almost everyday in the local bus during my schooling years, has been a joyful ride.For me it was not just about going from point A to point B.Everyday was a new day in the bus. Everyday I would see new faces.Every face had a story to tell.And me being the person who stands on the sidelines and observes, enjoyed this experience very much.If you watch your fellow passengers closely, you see that they are most of the times, if not always, themselves.You come to know so much about these passengers when you travel with them.
For example a pompous lady,who is dressed really to her extents, might be attending a wedding or some other religious function.Oh and the way she would talk to her friend/neighbour...as though she has all the authority to boss over other's life!!!One could say that she has her way with her husband!
Or look at the old man sitting there on the seat saying senior citizen.When I look into his eyes, for some reason I see sadness.I see him not being able to get the love of his child that he deserves.I see him not regretting all the sacrifices he and his wife made for their child, hence forgiving the child's mistake and moving on.
Then I see a simple man dressed in simple clothes carrying the weekly grocery.I see his enthusiasm, because he is pretty excited and happy to give his kids some new fruits that they enjoy.This makes me so happy,because despite not being rich, the man is at ease an satisfied with his life, which I wish we all were.
Sometimes I see the girls with the kohl draped eyes,typing away on their pesky little cellphones with their posh manicured hands, or the boys dressed in a way as if they had fallen into a big cauldron of paint, trying to seek the girls' attention.Trust me, these scenes are hilarious!!

So travelling from my place to the heart of the city was really an adventure.This may seem a bit of an exaggeration to you but honestly one must experience The Bus.The passengers and the ticket collector, or as we say, the conductor, have a different kind of language which is unique in its own way.Even if you are a rare bus passenger, the conductor somehow knows where you want to go.I call it intuition.And it is something I find subtly beautiful.

I have found myself having a nice conversation with some people who are new in the area.It is really nice how two people can share their thoughts over a small distance journey.And then I realised that in spite of saying the world is a small place,I may not meet these people ever again.I treasure the few minutes I shared with them.Because I realised that it takes less than few minutes for someone to impact your life, and the fact that you may not meet them ever again, makes you realise how small and insignificant we are in this big cruel world.

Alas,of late, The bus that I travel through now, to come to college, is full of people who enjoy the morning slumber.The bus feels so lifeless everyday.Its like people are just exhausted of their lives and are just mooted there, going on with life for the sake of it,having lost all their avidness in the daily travails of life.Makes me wonder, would I become like them eventually?Shudder...

Added to that is the worst tragedy this country faced on 16th December 2012.This same bus that fascinated me, took as well as gave something important to us,the women of India.That night was every girl's nightmare.Even while writing this I have goosebumps all over my body.That night, that bus, those men, that place, took away our security.It took away our safety.It took away our trust.It took away our freedom of being a woman in this free country.But it also gave us an important aspect.It invoked in each and every woman in this country a NIRBHAYA...

Just like how Valli's enthusiasm was doused when she saw the once gleeful cow lying dead because of a road kill, The Bus has become an intimidating factor for me and I no longer look at it the same way...

An inspiration to us all

As the people of South Africa and the whole wide world mourns the demise of the great hero of 20th century I'd like to share these words written by President Barack Obama which instills in me a new inspiration to fight against injustice.

To Graça Machel and the Mandela family; to President Zuma and members of the government; to heads of state and government, past and present; distinguished guests - it is a singular honor to be with you today, to celebrate a life unlike any other. To the people of South Africa - people of every race and walk of life - the world thanks you for sharing Nelson Mandela with us. His struggle was your struggle. His triumph was your triumph. Your dignity and hope found expression in his life, and your freedom, your democracy is his cherished legacy.

It is hard to eulogise any man - to capture in words not just the facts and the dates that make a life, but the essential truth of a person - their private joys and sorrows; the quiet moments and unique qualities that illuminate someone’s soul. How much harder to do so for a giant of history, who moved a nation toward justice, and in the process moved billions around the world.

Born during World War I, far from the corridors of power, a boy raised herding cattle and tutored by elders of his Thembu tribe - Madiba would emerge as the last great liberator of the 20th century. Like Gandhi, he would lead a resistance movement - a movement that at its start held little prospect of success. Like King, he would give potent voice to the claims of the oppressed, and the moral necessity of racial justice. He would endure a brutal imprisonment that began in the time of Kennedy and Khrushchev, and reached the final days of the Cold War.  Emerging from prison, without force of arms, he would - like Lincoln - hold his country together when it threatened to break apart.  Like America’s founding fathers, he would erect a constitutional order to preserve freedom for future generations - a commitment to democracy and rule of law ratified not only by his election, but by his willingness to step down from power.

Given the sweep of his life, and the adoration that he so rightly earned, it is tempting then to remember Nelson Mandela as an icon, smiling and serene, detached from the tawdry affairs of lesser men.  But Madiba himself strongly resisted such a lifeless portrait. Instead, he insisted on sharing with us his doubts and fears; his miscalculations along with his victories. “I’m not a saint,” he said, “unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”

It was precisely because he could admit to imperfection - because he could be so full of good humor, even mischief, despite the heavy burdens he carried - that we loved him so. He was not a bust made of marble; he was a man of flesh and blood - a son and husband, a father and a friend. That is why we learned so much from him; that is why we can learn from him still.  For nothing he achieved was inevitable. In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness; persistence and faith. He tells us what’s possible not just in the pages of dusty history books, but in our own lives as well.

Mandela showed us the power of action; of taking risks on behalf of our ideals. Perhaps Madiba was right that he inherited, “a proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” from his father. Certainly he shared with millions of black and colored South Africans the anger born of, “a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments…a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people.”

But like other early giants of the ANC - the Sisulus and Tambos - Madiba disciplined his anger; and channeled his desire to fight into organization, and platforms, and strategies for action, so men and women could stand-up for their god-given dignity. Moreover, he accepted the consequences of his actions, knowing that standing up to powerful interests and injustice carries a price. “I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination,” he said at his 1964 trial. “I’ve cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

Mandela taught us the power of action, but also ideas; the importance of reason and arguments; the need to study not only those you agree with, but those who you don’t. He understood that ideas cannot be contained by prison walls, or extinguished by a sniper’s bullet. He turned his trial into an indictment of apartheid because of his eloquence and passion, but also his training as an advocate. He used decades in prison to sharpen his arguments, but also to spread his thirst for knowledge to others in the movement. And he learned the language and customs of his oppressor so that one day he might better convey to them how their own freedom depended upon his.

Mandela demonstrated that action and ideas are not enough; no matter how right, they must be chiseled into laws and institutions. He was practical, testing his beliefs against the hard surface of circumstance and history. On core principles he was unyielding, which is why he could rebuff offers of conditional release, reminding the Apartheid regime that, “prisoners cannot enter into contracts.” But as he showed in painstaking negotiations to transfer power and draft new laws, he was not afraid to compromise for the sake of a larger goal. And because he was not only a leader of a movement, but a skillful politician, the Constitution that emerged was worthy of this multiracial democracy; true to his vision of laws that protect minority as well as majority rights, and the precious freedoms of every South African.

Finally, Mandela understood the ties that bind the human spirit. There is a word in South Africa- Ubuntu - that describes his greatest gift: his recognition that we are all bound together in ways that can be invisible to the eye; that there is a oneness to humanity; that we achieve ourselves by sharing ourselves with others, and caring for those around us. We can never know how much of this was innate in him, or how much of was shaped and burnished in a dark, solitary cell. But we remember the gestures, large and small - introducing his jailors as honored guests at his inauguration; taking the pitch in a Springbok uniform; turning his family’s heartbreak into a call to confront HIV/AIDS - that revealed the depth of his empathy and understanding. He not only embodied Ubuntu; he taught millions to find that truth within themselves. It took a man like Madiba to free not just the prisoner, but the jailor as well; to show that you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with inclusion, generosity and truth. He changed laws, but also hearts.

For the people of South Africa, for those he inspired around the globe - Madiba’s passing is rightly a time of mourning, and a time to celebrate his heroic life. But I believe it should also prompt in each of us a time for self-reflection. With honesty, regardless of our station or circumstance, we must ask:  how well have I applied his lessons in my own life?

It is a question I ask myself - as a man and as a President. We know that like South Africa, the United States had to overcome centuries of racial subjugation. As was true here, it took the sacrifice of countless people - known and unknown - to see the dawn of a new day. Michelle and I are the beneficiaries of that struggle. But in America and South Africa, and countries around the globe, we cannot allow our progress to cloud the fact that our work is not done. The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality and universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important. For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger, and disease; run-down schools, and few prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs; and are still persecuted for what they look like, or how they worship, or who they love.

We, too, must act on behalf of justice. We, too, must act on behalf of peace. There are too many of us who happily embrace Madiba’s legacy of racial reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would challenge chronic poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with Madiba’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own people. And there are too many of us who stand on the sidelines, comfortable in complacency or cynicism when our voices must be heard.

The questions we face today - how to promote equality and justice; to uphold freedom and human rights; to end conflict and sectarian war - do not have easy answers. But there were no easy answers in front of that child in Qunu. Nelson Mandela reminds us that it always seems impossible until it is done. South Africa shows us that is true. South Africa shows us we can change. We can choose to live in a world defined not by our differences, but by our common hopes. We can choose a world defined not by conflict, but by peace and justice and opportunity.

We will never see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. But let me say to the young people of Africa, and young people around the world - you can make his life’s work your own. Over thirty years ago, while still a student, I learned of Mandela and the struggles in this land. It stirred something in me. It woke me up to my responsibilities - to others, and to myself - and set me on an improbable journey that finds me here today. And while I will always fall short of Madiba’s example, he makes me want to be better. He speaks to what is best inside us. After this great liberator is laid to rest; when we have returned to our cities and villages, and rejoined our daily routines, let us search then for his strength - for his largeness of spirit - somewhere inside ourselves. And when the night grows dark, when injustice weighs heavy on our hearts, or our best laid plans seem beyond our reach - think of Madiba, and the words that brought him comfort within the four walls of a cell:

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

What a great soul it was. We will miss him deeply. May God bless the memory of Nelson Mandela. May God bless the people of South Africa.

मनुष्यता

Here's a hindi poem by Maithilisharan Gupt

मनुष्यता

विचार लो कि मर्त्य हो न मृत्यु से डरो कभी,
मरो परन्तु यों मरो कि याद जो करे सभी।
हुई न यों सु-मृत्यु तो वृथा मरे, वृथा जिए,
मरा नहीं वहीं कि जो जिया न आपके लिए।

यही पशु-प्रवृत्ति है कि आप आप ही चरे,
वही मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

उसी उदार की कथा सरस्वती बखानती,
उसी उदार से धरा कृतार्थ भाव मानती।
उसी उदार की सदा सजीव कीर्ति कूजती,
तथा उसी उदार को समस्त सृष्टि पूजती।

अखंड आत्म भाव जो असीम विश्व में भरे,
वही मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

सहानुभूति चाहिए, महाविभूति है वही,
वशीकृता सदैव है बनी हुई स्वयं मही।
विरुद्धवाद बुद्ध का दया-प्रवाह में बहा,
विनीत लोक वर्ग क्या न सामने झुका रहे?

अहा! वही उदार है परोपकार जो करे,
वहीं मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

अनंत अंतरिक्ष में अनंत देव हैं खड़े,
समक्ष ही स्वबाहु जो बढ़ा रहे बड़े-बड़े।
परस्परावलम्ब से उठो तथा बढ़ो सभी,
अभी अमर्त्य-अंक में अपंक हो चढ़ो सभी।

रहो न यों कि एक से न काम और का सरे,
वही मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

"मनुष्य मात्र बन्धु है" यही बड़ा विवेक है,
पुराण पुरुष स्वयंभू पिता प्रसिद्ध एक है।
फलानुसार कर्म के अवश्य बाह्य भेद है,
परंतु अंतरैक्य में प्रमाणभूत वेद हैं।

अनर्थ है कि बंधु हो न बंधु की व्यथा हरे,
वही मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

चलो अभीष्ट मार्ग में सहर्ष खेलते हुए,
विपत्ति विप्र जो पड़ें उन्हें ढकेलते हुए।
घटे न हेलमेल हाँ, बढ़े न भिन्नता कभी,
अतर्क एक पंथ के सतर्क पंथ हों सभी।

तभी समर्थ भाव है कि तारता हुआ तरे,
वही मनुष्य है कि जो मनुष्य के लिए मरे।

Of poems and lingering thoughts

Lately I've been empathizing about postmen, coolies, my local "pao wala", the general store's shopkeeper and  likes.I wonder how they go about their day...thinking only about feeding their wives and kids or wondering if they could get more out of life.
So I've decided to let my readers read poems, which will evoke such thoughts in their minds too.
So here's the first one.
Its by the great Robert Frost titled the Roadside Stand.

The little old house was out with a little new shed 

In front at the edge of the road where the traffic sped, 

A roadside stand that too pathetically plead, 

It would not be fair to say for a dole of bread, 

But for some of the money, the cash, whose flow supports 

The flower of cities from sinking and withering faint. 

The polished traffic passed with a mind ahead, 

Or if ever aside a moment, then out of sorts 

At having the landscape marred with the artless paint 

Of signs that with N turned wrong and S turned wrong 

Offered for sale wild berries in wooden quarts, 

Or crook-necked golden squash with silver warts, 

Or beauty rest in a beautiful mountain scene. 

You have the money, but if you want to be mean, 

Why keep your money (this crossly), and go along. 

The hurt to the scenery wouldn't be my complaint 

So much as the trusting sorrow of what is unsaid: 

Here far from the city we make our roadside stand 

And ask for some city money to feel in hand 

To try if it will not make our being expand, 

And give us the life of the moving pictures' promise 

That the party in power is said to be keeping from us. 

It is in the news that all these pitiful kin 

Are to be bought out and mercifully gathered in 

To live in villages next to the theatre and store 

At the shiny desert with spots of gloom 

That might be people and are but cedar, 

Have no purpose, have no leader, 

Have never made the first move to assemble, 

And so are nothing to make her tremble. 

She can think of places that are not thus 

Without indulging a 'Not for us!”

Life is not so sinister-grave. 

Matter of fact has made them brave. 

He is husband, she is wife. 

She fears not him, they fear not life. 

They know where another light has been 

And more than one to theirs akin, 

But earlier out for bed tonight, 

So lost on me in my surface flight. 

This I saw when waking late, 

Going by at a railroad rate, 

Looking through wreaths of engine smoke 

Far into the lives of other folk. 

The fallen rose

All alone it lies there, on that cobblestone road. All alone, neglected and not cared. That Rose which once flaunted its beauty is now turning a bitter shade of brown on that carefree road.

Perhaps it signifies the rejection of a loved one, or maybe has fallen off the head of a pompous unmindful lady or has been cast out from its rosy friends because it could no longer blend in with them. But nevertheless, that Rose lies there, meeting its death. Its beauty, all gone. Its alluring power fades to nothing.

I wonder if this happens to all of us. When we glow, show our avidness, or talents, our capabilities to the world, we feel as though we are on cloud nine, with people all around praising us, literally worshipping at our feet. The aura of awesomeness that surrounds us blinds us from the thorns of reality.  And just when that glow gradually dampens, we crash hard on the floor. The same people turn against us. We are now trodden on, neglected, not cared for and left for the dead.

The Rose which once swayed its plump redness in the winds with all bees and birds bumbling and chirping aloud around it has now been left to enjoy its solitary decay.

How can we be so cruel to such a beautiful thing? Wasn’t it the same rose that adorned our heads and met the glee of everyone? Wasn’t it the same rose that perhaps swooned at our grandmothers who sat in her veranda watching it? Wasn’t it the same rose that made our hearts flutter when it was presented to us as a token of friendship or love? Yes it was the same rose. Then why did we fail to see its significance when it just turned a tinge of brown. Why did we forget its purpose to us? Is it justifiable to be indifferent to things that once flattered our hearts…

Why is it that we always see what is on the outside? Why is it that we judge a person on their looks and their flamboyance? Isn’t there something called the inner beauty? Why do humans fail to see the inner beauty that is unique to each and every one of us? Why do people put up a fake personality and be unmindful to their inner beauty and sham about who they think they should be?

All these questions seem to mingle in the air around me when I think of that dead, decaying Rose fallen on that carefree road.

Looking out the window

They say birds of a feather flock together.
One tries to fly away and the other watches him closely from a wire, he says he wants to as well but he is a liar.He's never going to let go of  the wire.

I am staring out the window, listening to the pitter patter of the raindrops and the cry of the cicada, besieged by the sudden serenity that over comes nature in that lush moment.And I cant stop singing the above lines from Regina Spektor's song called 'Two birds'.This got me wondering about the similarities between the two birds and us humans.

One bird is not ready to leave the other.He says he wants to,he is not only fooling the other bird but also himself. Don't we humans to do the same?We cling on to so many unfathomable things.

People hold onto another person,or memories,good or bad,or different struggles of their life.They carve a special place in the niche of their hearts for these people.Yes you will say it is love, but one day when that person abruptly leaves them, their lives are shattered into a million pieces just like a mirror to bring in bad luck!
From my own personal experiences i say that people find it very hard to let go off a loved one.
Some how in this strangely working universe, this absence leaves a hollow space, an emptiness of sorts within each one of us.And its very difficult to fill in this hollow space.
Out of the fear of the unknown, people prefer to hold on to the familiar sufferings.I can rightly say that this will hinder one's personal growth, will make one shrivel up inside like an old leaf, and be unaware of the beautiful things happening around them.

I am writing this as a freshman, yes i am new to the whole 'College" experience but i can assure you, letting go of all my past struggles, challenges,bad memories and yes of course my mistakes which i had then deeply regretted, has really helped me open my eyes and broaden my mind a bit more than the usual(I am not gonna exaggerate).I am a person who finds it really tough to let go of anything, may it be some big struggle or some small snide remark by any person.

Is one afraid of repeating the same circumstances of the past and hence not moving forward?If it is so, then how would one adapt to change of any kind.While learning biology in junior college my teacher would keep on quoting Darwin's basic principle;SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST.And this is as much applicable to real life as it is to the evolutionary studies!

If you aren't ready to let go, you would not survive in this dog eat dog world.You would not open up to any new experiences or any other person what or who could really create a much more severe impact in your life.Basically you are not ready to give yourself a chance.In doing so you are not only adding misery to your own life but also directing it towards someone who doesn't need it.THINK!


Stephen King said, some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it. 

Why is it so difficult to just let go?Why do we keep wondering about 'what might have been'?For once just stop all this thinking and BREATHE!
Get yourself detached from all these cruel "rattraps" of the world.Stay aloof because you are not going to leave anything behind besides your thoughts and deeds. Your deeds should be selfless and that is what is gonna make them immortal and universal.

Now I'd love to go back to mesmerizing myself in the romantic scene outside my window and loosing myself in the novel I'm currently reading with a nice cup of coffee!