Jattan

It was power cut once again."Jattan! It seems out phase only has blown up, no one else is at home now, go to the main pole and get it fixed now. Its too very hot today."

Ram Jattan, a pseudo servant serving his master , in gratitude of a government job of peon arranged by his master , ten years ago, was completely unaware of the process to fix that blown up phase. He though at once of refusing but his inner self chided him at this thought. This mere idea of insolent behavior on his part was utterly unacceptable to his self.He had seen other people fixing it by poking their stick at the wire junction on the electricity pole, but, he had never done it himself, and more so he wasn't sure if this would work as well. However, bound by his obeisance to him he decided to give it a try. It was getting late anyways and he had to go back to his home as early, as he had to go to railway station early morning tomorrow to fetch his sahab's elder son.

A letter to editor.

Sir,
Referring to the editorial by Mr. Harish khare, I would like to second the concern raised by him. These tendencies towards a "fascist" rule supplanting a democratic rule must be avoided. The bourgeois class of India has no faith left politicians post Gandhi/Nehru era, and it just serves to disseminate those tendencies, however, the way out is for them to take part into the mainstream democrcay , rather than standing on the sidelines and intermitteltly raising slogans slamming the system. Politicians come from our society itself and they are as good as people themselves.
Its time that the self-indulgent middle class looks beyond its immediate personal interests and be an active participant in the building of the nation.If the voices are to be raised ,they should be raised for a more efficient, inclusive and non-corrupt democracy. That would serve the purpose better than cutting itself out and giving rise to fascist tendencies.

Indians and their gods.

"God is an infinite source of energy", said a plank put up by our physics teacher. During those adolescent days, when questions had begun to unrest the soul, it seemed as a perfect haven for peace. Being born in a Brahman family, I was close in quarters with this idea. Daily prayer after bath, reciting chalisas to elders, listening to the daily litanies of elders shaped my faith. It built in me a notion of an unknown supreme power moving along , to whom if I paid daily reverence through my prayers and right conduct , I shall be rewarded with His blessings. I am the story is almost the same for almost all middle class Indian households, more so in middle and lower middle class.

Bombay attacks response - A sham or a sincere outcry?

Mumbai has been under attack once again, no, not by Raj Thackrey and his goons, they are hibernating for some time now, rather its an attack by other terrorists , purportedly , sent from our neighboring country, belonging to a certain “difficult to be pronounced” militant outfit.

Newspapers, TV channels, Ministers are on a roll, doling out their condolences to the nation and pledging to avert this next time. I guess they are pledging to take the vow of eradicating it if it happens again. That’s not a small gesture on their part. People have been held hostage in Taj and Oberoi, however, their round the clock status is reaching us every moment. Thanks to our “responsible” media. All the technical as well as political aspects of this attack is being vociferously debated on News channels by hyperactive hosts. They are fighting a parallel battle as NSGs are in Taj and Oberoi, in terms of who could pose the ,most difficult question, most witty remark and shout at the top of their voice. In their small TV studio they seem to reach a final consensus which they believe represents Indian masses. All the future “to be done” steps have been finalized by them together with some eminent dignitaries. Huh!
Enough of this sham! Put it off!

With the Indian masses it has been always the same. At any time when their vested interests have been hurt , their has been a huge uproar. Responsible citizens would come to the fore and criticize the government. They will light candles to commemorate the dead. They will gather together to pass there message to the government. And everyone will shout at the top pf their voice, “ System needs change”.

My intentions over here are not to rebuke any such person who mourns for the dead. I too sympathize with the victims from the very core of my heart. However, I am pointing to the other problem. The problem that the Indian Middle class doesn’t budge until and unless it hits them directly. Our country isn’t an affluent country and a vast swathe of population is still very poor. Around 35-40% of them are facing acute food shortages. But these problems don’t attract their attention.They are not vehement in their demands of change at that time. Where were these eminent citizens lying when Raj Thackrey and his goons were committing atrocities on the poor mass of Bombay , in which few succumbed to death as well . There wasn’t even a single public demonstration. Where was this public anger when vast swathe of farmers committed suicides in Maharashtra and in several other areas. There is no uproar from our eminent citizens when our country is ranked 66 out of 88 countries in GHI (Global Hunger Index). 17 Indian states have an acute food crisis, but they never gathered the attention of our “sincere” and “concerned” middle class. With every passing day I seem to concur more and more with Pavan and his findings. This Indian Middle class, is so much engrossed into its own vested interests that it will only serve to destroy what has been earned by our forefathers.

Put this pretense of being “concerned” citizen to back burner and go and have your drinks. You were never concerned for the nation.

Nehru - A Revelation.

Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, our first prime minister of sovereign India , has been my object of study in recent weeks. It was a rewarding experience to go through his autobiography. The rewards cannot be materialistically listed by me, but one of the primary gift that it had for me was "revelation". Revelation of Nehru himself, revelation of an India before the years of Independence, revelation of Gandhji's ideals and his social standing in that era, revelation of socialistic values , revelation of the bourgeois nature of our Independence movement, revelation of liberals etc .. the list would be too long to put in here.

His appeal primarily lied in the fact that he had a wider view of the world while at the same time he had a cognizance of the plight of peasants. He bore an open mind towards Industrialization and socialism , unlike Gandhji, and more so he was a staunch supporter of Poorna Swaraj from the very beginning. It was rather he who bought this idea into forefront.

Throughout the book , he has questioned existing order of our country then and he also drew himself into the ring of debates. He had been in gaol seven times till 1935 and it was during his last jail visit that the got into writing his autobiography. This book , I feel to be important to me as it revealed to me an India before that D day of 15th August. It revealed to me an India that existed before it , and the importance of those days which led up to that momentous night.

He was an avid reader of books , and it is through these roots that he gained an impartial view of the world and thus could identify strongly the position of India. He had largely differed with Gandihjee on several issues and has revealed it thoroughly into this book .
Throughout this book his soft spot towards animals and nature has been amply demonstrated during his stays in gaol. He made friends with many of them and those were his chief companions during his stay there.

Besides these, going through several topics that he has dealt with in his book would convince you that he was a visionary .Even when the country was creeping under the mighty British dominance , he saw India in future. He saw the future of country and its social upheaval. He was largely against the existing social order of country, opposite to Gandhijee, but he thought gaining independence was of foremost importance at that time for our country and other changes will then gradually follow .

His sacrifice and diligence towards that single cause moved me very much and I can certainly say that I know him better now as a person. This is always the case if you read autobiographies. The enigma created by mass disappears and you know the person in its pristine form. It was a pleasure knowing this man , after I have already read about Gandhijee, and I hope that the ideas that he had so strongly endorsed encourage us to look beyond our own personal selves to the greater social good and in the process an upliftment of personal soul and knowledge and experience.

Paranoia

You wouldn't believe me if I tell you the truth. No! Not because you are a liar , rather you are an epitome of truth and anything resembling it, however,you have become so very much inured to it that its presence doesn't seem possible. Its paranoia , really, it is so. I am typing this blog here sitting in office , fearing that no one catches me doing this. Driving to office poses a challenge in keeping the fear of being hit , subdued. And then when I reach the outskirts of my workplace a mild fear of collapsing building and collapsing economy slithers into my mind. I bet it does with you too, only you have got too inured to it.

Aravinda and Pavan

Who are they ? Well I am sure you know Aravinda Adiga much better than Pavan K Verma. Reason. Former has just won the prestigious Man booker prize for his book, The White Tiger , while latter is the author of a critique of Indian masses "The Great Indian Middle Class". Last week, I had been reading these two and I almsot felt like I am reading the same book. One treats the same issue in an aesthetic manner while the other takes us through some glaring facts.

I will discuss them individually, however.

The White Tiger.

An epistolary, highly criticized, facile English book by a novice author. I had my own misgivings about this book after having read so many bad reviews about the authenticity of the tale and blah blah. However, I took a chance and it paid. For this is an awesome book by an Indian foreigner, who has critically or rather cynically taken up the case of lower strata of Indian society. He portrays a devilish picture of Indian rich class and sad and gloomy picture of a Indian Poor. He has portrayed with craft and ingenuousness of Balram Halwai, the protagonist, the hardships of a poor man and the exploitation of poor by rich and powerful. He has been utter;y cynic in his description of a parallel India that exists and is untouched by the boon of developments. All the rhetoric of Indian economic upheaval are nothing but a lie on their face. He has taken liberty to create self conceived notions of poor people and his metaphor of Village as Darkness would but only enrage many. He could be vindicated on the ground that he has taken up a work of fiction, and in fiction you need to go to extremes to draw out the contrasts.

However, the base story wasn't something which an Indian reader would feel as a novel one. They see it around themselves daily. Maybe foreign readers would find this very surprising, considering the image of Indian they have post Globalization boom. It was the narration which was interesting. The base lacked in originality and authenticity however the topping was good.

The Great Indian Middle Class:

This book is by an erudite author, backed by his IFS post in Indian government, which leaves no opportunity to look for any trace of an inauthentic book. Rather , its a revelation of the way things are around us. The country is doing well in economic terms , but how much share has the 40% of the lower strata of this country have had? He asks this question on your face, and along with that he brings out beautifully the central theme of Indian Middle Class. How it has evolved, what are its inner landscapes and how it has continuously failed to read the writing on the wall. He appreciates the tenacity of ,middle class as successful entrepreneurs, labors ,winners despite all odds, however he shuns them for their inability to look beyond their own personal gain. He shuns the short sightedness of this class and ridicules the way they have got inured to the pandemic poverty around them, forgetting even that it exists. This book beautifully discusses the transition of middle class and their ideologies from pre -independence to post independence to the era of economic liberation [1991] . How has this particular class ,which always looks for an ideology to live by , in lack of it, has become a consuming giant , not looking beyond its own personal interest. He also points out that in a country which is still so vastly poor it doesn't make sense for the middle class to be so ,lost in itself. If they don't see the writing on the wall now, it could lead to a deeper chasms between two classes and also a breakage of social fabric and more so in his own words ,

"If it [the middle class] does not [look at it] , the India of today will be the envy of amoral,cynical,economically lackluster and debilitatingly divided nation that can emerge tomorrow. the harvest of an opportunity lost, a heritage wasted"

Personally , I liked the starting the book a lot , wherein he raises a pertinent question that when at the stroke of midnight India became free , Nehru delivered his speech in ENGLISH, certainly not the language of common masses. He has very beautifully brought forward a relevant point about the Indian freedom movement and freedom. Quoting him over here,

"On 15 August 1947 the bells of freedom tolled for all Indians, but they tolled specially for those who inherited the paraphernalia of giving shape to independent India"

A ride to ....

A gift for you on your birthday; a constrained choice of options and possibilities. What shall I gift you? Shall I weave a dreamland for you or shall I net a fairy tale? I wish to take you to the land unknown, my pen would love to do so.
Come! Lend me your hands! Hold my hands tight for it will be a long flight into those lands. We are out on a long journey. Hearken now the gurgling of waters in the stream flowing down, the chirping of birds and the whistle of the wind welcomes us. Moon shines there , half naked, in the sky. Feel its silhouette on your face. And now hold my hands tighter for we shall go further now to those distant parts , where no one knows us.

Clouds shroud the moon intermittently and so does it do with your basking face. Open up your hands wide and feel the wind on your face, allow it to dissolve you in itself. Watch trees there, reveling in joy with the wind. Come ! we too shall dance with joy and forget the why.

And now the night has grown darker as the moon has faded away. Wind moderates into a gentle breeze. Lets rest now for a while. Put your head on my shoulders and hear our breaths racing against each other, listen to the beats of our hearts creating a symphony by taking turns. You lend yourself to me and I take in the whole. Your warm breath soothes me and makes the cold night bearable.

A symphony arises out of our union and falls on our hearts , spell binding it. Mind goes numb and we get lost into each other. The journey isn't drawing to close however we get lost, never to be found again. And in one last moment of sense I kiss your eyes and whisper into your ears , " Happy Birthday".

A lonely night

Loneliness is the poverty of soul. I have had heard that somewhere, and was observing now. A silent roar was running through my body producing a deafening silence. Things are moving in front of my eyes in one moment, and in other moment they are still. A chaos was running through my room , things were falling apart. Strong wind gushed into my room and it became pitch dark. A thunder growled heavily and I cowered with fear and closed my eyes and ears, and shrieked. Calm down! Peace!

A cultural miss

Being born in Bihar, brought up in present Jharkhand and growing in Karnatka , I have always had an implicit phrase imposed on me that I have had a "cultural miss". I feel alienated to all these cultures that I have lived in. While at my hometown I am being looked as an outsider with an inside root.And while I am in Bangalore I represent a Bihari culture in their eyes. Its difficult for me to deny any of these remarks put upon me, all these tags are stamped on my face by people around me.

My moments

Every few moments
I get a sense of being alive.

At times its the sight of beauty,
and mostly its the call of duty,

Beauty lends itself in munificent ways,
from a charming lady to bright sun rays.

Pulses rejuvenate at the sight of it,
defying any morals that may defy it.

Call of duty, puts all aside;
forced to take strident and long strikes.

What lies then in between those moments,
a lethargy, a tardiness an unnamed power, which clips me down and bringeth the silence.

Ahh! questions comes back looming large.
Am I in search of the peace or do I possess it in those moments.

Or its just an another view of the moment.
I may never know this, and for the moment I shall be the moment,
that lies in my laps.

My pen and me...

My pen swings out of desperation to weave a blanket of words.A blanket that would engulf me into its majesty, hide me in its bosoms, away from all the joys and sorrows , and would take me to a land that promises nothing yet delivers all.

Rudderless boats would get a complex from the wandering course that it takes. Its ramble is hard to be put together in a logical chain. Weave a cozy blanket of love, a poem of beauty, or an epic of duty. Its aspirations are boundless, higher than the sky above and deeper than the faith.

A story to tell, a joke to spill, a night to glorify , a dress to be revered , all seems possible with it. They just wait for their turns, who knows which way shall this philanderer turn the next moment.

Aimless and directionless though it is, however, a solvent of time couldn't be better. A loving friend mostly , a boring pal at times, a critique more often and an element of envy in some moments. It never leaves my life free of its influence. Come O! friend , lets move to where we take each other.

A paean for her.

A dusky beauty, on my laps.
Squirming her body, and fluttering her flaps.


Squirrel eyes and elephantine ears,
laughs at what she sees and all that she hears.


Intermittent though is her smile,
appears to be a laughter wrapped in frivolity.


Pedaling of legs and beating of hands,
weariness of days and waking of nights.

A tryst with nature on the way to ...

It was cold inside , and tired of the continuous boredom I came out of the chamber. It wasn't hot outside, although it was humid. It was around afternoon and skies bore the signs of an imminent shower. A deafening silence prevailed in the surroundings, although there were many things in motion, which either didn't produce any noise or may be their noise was smothered by the gloom in the air. Feeling calmed, I sat at the opening to marvel at the picturesque nature lying in front of me.
Everything has been soaked in rain and bore the wetness. The panorama had a large field in front and a narrow street laid down by its side. Sun shone furtively through the clouds and embellished the scenery with its dusky shine. There were men moving along the track waiting impatiently and helplessly for the signal. In the near distance a crow perched over an electric pole and croaked intermittently. Its harsh noise served as an indication that the world was still moving. Perhaps, it served as a placeholder of human commotion for the moment and thus added to the vitality of the scenery.

The 25th Birthday

With a tick of clock at midnight I turned 25. What did I say ? I turned 25. Whoop! Really! Its only when time has passed away, you find that you have lived through it. A silver jubilee of my birth, and just like that.
Like any other silver jubilee celebration, mine too was nonetheless grand, and the beauty was that I didn't had any idea whatsoever that it would turn up this way. Multitude of gifts, equally greater number of wishes, and much more love. I couldn't have had expected more than this. It was a fresh 25th Birthday of mine.

Adding to this joy was birth of my bhaanji Aahana, the very next morning. Now her fate has been attached to mine, inseprarble and inextricable fate. Not only by dates but also by stars. I have opted the name for her and it means "First rays of Sun", which she would be for many.

And in the end, just one more thing. Its when you expect the least that the best of the things happen, as was my 25th Birthday. Thanks a lot, to all of you.

Music

Standing tall on the boundary wall of his house he would marvel at those sounds that seemed to come from the panorama in near distance. the view had a garden filled with assorted plants and few benches sprawled along. He wasn't looking at them, though, he was contemplating on the source of his continuous intrigue, "Where does that music come from after all?". There didn't seem to be any inhabitants in near sight, it just appeared to come from the oblivion.

‘Bombs and pistols do not make revolution’

[Through this brilliant statement Bhagat Singh demolished the basis of the Sessions Court judgment and emphasised the importance of motive. The motive of action, he argued, should be the main consideration while judging the offence of an accused.]

MY LORDS,

We are neither lawyers nor masters of English language, nor holders of degrees. Therefore, please do not expect any oratorial speech from us. We therefore pray that instead of going into the language mistakes of our statement Your Lordships will try to understand the real sense of it.

Leaving other points to our lawyers, I will confine myself to one point only. The point is very important in this case. The point is as to what were our intentions and to what extent we are guilty. This is a very complicated question and no one will be able to express before you that height to mental elevation which inspired us to think and act in a particular manner. We want that this should be kept in mind while assessing our intentions our offence. According to the famous jurist Solomon, one should not be punished for his criminal offence if his aim is not against law.

We had submitted a written statement in the Sessions Court. That statement explains our aim and, as such, explains our intentions also. But the learned judge dismissed it with one stroke of pen, saying that “generally the operation of law is not affected by how or why one committed the offence. In this country the aim of the offence is very rarely mentioned in legal commentaries”.

My Lords, our contention is that under the circumstances the learned judge ought to have judged us either by the result of our action or on the basis of the psychological part of our statement. But he did not take any of these factors into consideration.

The point to be considered is that the two bombs we threw in the Assembly did not harm anybody physically or economically. As such the punishment awarded to us is not only very harsh but revengeful also. Moreover, the motive knowing his psychology. And no one can do justice to anybody without taking his motive into consideration. If we ignore the motive, the biggest generals of the world will appear like ordinary murderers; revenue officers will look like thieves and cheats. Even judges will be accused of murder. This way the entire social system and the civilisation will be reduced to murders, thefts and cheating. If we ignore the motive, the government will have no right to expect sacrifice from its people and its officials. Ignore the motive and every religious preacher will be dubbed as a preacher of falsehoods, and every prophet will be charged of misguiding crores of simple and ignorant people.

If we set aside the motive, then Jesus Christ will appear to be a man responsible for creating disturbances, breaking peace and preaching revolt, and will be considered to be a “dangerous personality” in the language of the law. But we worship him. He commands great respect in our hearts and his image creates vibrations of spiritualism amongst us. Why? Because the inspiration behind his actions was that of a high ideal. The rulers of that age could not recognise that high idealism. They only saw his outward actions. Nineteen centuries have passed since then. Have we not progressed during this period? Shall we repeat that mistake again? If that be so, then we shall have to admit that all the sacrifices of the mankind and all the efforts of the great martyrs were useless and it would appear as if we are still at the same place where we stood twenty centuries back.

From the legal point of view also, the question of motive is of special importance. Take the example of General Dyer. He resorted to firing and killed hundreds of innocent and unarmed people. But the military court did not order him to be shot. It gave him lakhs of rupees as award. Take another example. Shri Kharag Bahadur Singh, a young Gurkha, Killed a Marwari in Calcutta. If the motive be set aside, then Kharag Bahadur Singh ought to have been hanged. But he was awarded a mild sentence of a few years only. He was even released much before the expiry of his sentence. Was there any loophole in the law that he escaped capital punishment? Or, was the charge of murder not proved against him? Like us, he also accepted the full responsibility of his action, but he escaped death. He is free today. I ask Your Lordship, why was he not awarded capital punishment? His action was well calculated and well planned. From the motive end, his action was more serious and fatal than ours. He was awarded a mild punishment because his intentions were good. He saved the society from a dirty leech who had sucked the life-blood of so many pretty young girls. Kharag Singh was given a mild punishment just to uphold the formalities of the law.

This principle (that the law does not take motive into consideration - ed.) is quite absurd. This is against the basic principles of the law which declares that “the law is for man and not man for the law”. As such, why the same norms are not being applied to us also? It is quite clear that while convicting Kharag Singh his motive was kept in mind, otherwise a murderer can never escape the hangman’s noose. Are we being deprived of the ordinary advantage of the law because our offence is against the government, or because our action has a political importance?

My Lords, under these circumstances, please permit us to assert that a government which seeks shelter behind such mean methods has no right to exist. If it is exists, it is for the time being only, and that too with the blood of thousands of people on its head. If the law does not see the motive there can be no justice, nor can there be stable peace. Mixing of arsenic (poison) in the flour will not be considered to be a crime, provided its purpose is to kill rats. But if the purpose is to kill a man, it becomes a crime of murder. Therefore, such laws which do not stand the test of reason and which are against the principle of justice should be abolished. Because of such unjust laws, many great intellectuals had to adopt the path of revolt.

The facts regarding our case are very simple. We threw two bombs in the legislative Assembly on April 8, 1929. As a result of the explosion, a few persons received minor scratches. There was pandemonium in the chamber, hundreds of visitors and members of the Assembly ran out. Only my friend B.K. Dutt and myself remained seated in the visitors gallery and offered ourselves for arrest. We were tried for attempt to murder, and convicted for life. As mentioned above, as a result of the bomb explosion, only four or five persons were slightly injured and one bench got damaged. We offered ourselves for arrest without any resistance. The Sessions Judge admitted that we could have very easily escaped, had we had any intention like that. We accepted our offence and gave a statement explaining our position. We are not afraid of punishment. But we do not want that we should be wrongly understood. The judge removed a few paragraphs from our statement. This we consider to be harmful for our real position.

A proper study of the full text of our statement will make it clear that, according to us, our country is passing through a delicate phase. We saw the coming catastrophe and thought it proper to give a timely warning with a loud voice, and we gave the warning in the manner we thought proper. We may be wrong. Our line of thinking and that of the learned judge may be different, but that does not mean that we be deprived of the permission to express our ideas, and wrong things be propagated in our name.

In our statement we explained in detail what we mean by “Long Live Revolution” and “Down With Imperialism”. That formed the crux of our ideas. That portion was removed from our statement. Generally a wrong meaning is attributed to the word revolution. That is not our understanding. Bombs and pistols do not make revolution. That is not our understanding. The sword of revolution is sharpened on the whetting-stone of ideas. This is what we wanted to emphasise. By revolution we mean the end of the miseries of capitalist wars. It was not proper to pronounce judgement without understanding our aims and objects and the process of achieving them. To associate wrong ideas with our names is out and out injustice.

It was very necessary to give the timely warning that the unrest of the people is increasing and that the malady may take a serious turn, if not treated in time and properly. If our warning is not heeded, no human power will be able to stop it. We took this step to give proper direction to the storm. We are serious students of history. We believe that, had the ruling powers acted correctly at the proper time, there would have been no bloody revolutions in France and Russia. Several big power of the world tried to check the storm of ideas and were sunk in the atmosphere of bloodshed. The ruling people cannot change the flow of the current. We wanted to give the first warning. Had we aimed at killing some important personalities, we would have failed in the attainment of our aim.

My Lords, this was the aim and the spirit behind our action, and the result of the action corroborates our statement. There is one more point which needs elucidation, and that is regarding the strength of the bombs. Had we had no idea of the strength of the bombs, there would have been no question of our throwing them in the presence of our respected national leader like Pandit Motilal Nehru, Shri Kelkar, Shri Jayaker and Shri Jinnah. How could we have risked the lives of our leaders? After all we are not mad and, had we been so, we would have certainly been sent to the lunatic asylum, instead of being put in jail.

We had full knowledge about the strength of the bombs and that is why we acted with so much confidence. It was very easy to have thrown the bombs on the occupied benches, but it was difficult to have thrown them on unoccupied seats. Had we not of saner mind or had we been mentally unbalanced, the bombs would have fallen on occupied benches and not in empty places.

Therefore I would say that we should be rewarded for the courage we showed in carefully selecting the empty places. Under these conditions, My Lords, we think we have not been understood, My Lords, we think we have not been understood properly. We have not come before you to get our sentences reduced. We have come here to clarify our position. We want that we should not be given any unjust treatment, nor should any unjust opinion be pronounced about us. The question of punishment is of secondary importance before us.

Source: shahidbhagatsingh.org

Sweet Love!!

Love, when given a tag, loses its meaning. Its a feeling , which is so very difficult to be capture and commanded. Its so subtle that none can enforce it upon others , nor can it be felt on its own. Its like that sweet dream which fades away the moment you try to hold it. Its ephemeral.

As with all the emotions, this too doesn't last forever, but, the beauty of this ,is that it can be nurtured and developed into passion which would constantly aflame one's heart. This transition of love into passion is the phase which lets human beings transcend their limits and reach beyond it to achieve it.

This ephemeral feeling of love is what everyone encounters in their lifetime. How many times we have felt that inundation of love into our hearts while talking to an unknown person, or maybe while doing something which we wont even be able to recapitulate later. Alas! the society in its frenzied act tends to bind the feeling into a brand, into a tag of a relationship. Its no wonder then the scandals that we get to hear are the consequence of this foolish pattern. The person involved in thse scandals, furtively drank the nectar of moment under the influence of this emotion. And they are branded as scandals by the guardians of our society. However, there are those coward and hypocrite souls too , who fear this barrier of society so much , that they let this emotion fly away, when it knocks on their doors.

A very common recurrent event corresponding to the serendipity of love is generally found at social gatherings. We meet some affable person sometimes, and we just keep longing that we had spent some more time together. I have felt such serendipity of emotions when sometimes , at public places , my eyes gets caught up with a pretty lady's eyes. We exchange furtive glances at each other. And then going on with our social norms we part away without even talking and keeping that sweetness into our hearts. These moments don't stay with us but certainly the joy of these moments is what we definitely feel , without attaching a name to it. Ah!! Its that pure placid and sweet love!!

Words of Frustration.

Born in a fucked up place and country, I never had a belief of making it big. Into the heated and dusty place, commuting daily for multiple tuition classes, to learn god knew what.I always had to get myself f****d up against all odds. And all those f*****g worries and tensions went into a gutter, drained away to nothing. What was the meaning of all those sleepless nights that I had? and then to make things worse my lust overgrew itself and I landed up into an obsession of love, which destroyed me beyond repairs. Getting f****d up every morning and night, hoping to hold on until things get better, which they never did. The idea of a sunrise after a long dark night never manifested itself in reality.With each passing day a part of me was mutilated, humiliated, disgraced and destroyed. Putting up sham of seriousness and diligence in life I tried to captivate my mind into the bounds of studies, but that never helped and I went into a deeper abyss. The situation was so dimly vague that it led me inwards into the search if my own self, realization of truth and wisdom. Putting up a considerable amount of effort and time I carried out the search of my inner-being, only to get lost at each new discovery. My laziness overpowered my capacity and dreamland became my dwelling point.

And then with an insouciant desire to be something existing simultaneously with a losing faith in self, I was led into the realms of self-realization. They led me to unknown corners of my thoughts and desire,but, as always none of them could hold me for long. The demolition of the soul continues each day, chiseled finely by the hands of clock, and marveled by the timing and sharpness. And , then confusion rears its head once again. The confusion of being something, of having someone. Everything is lost and fucked up. I don't know what the hell did James Frey (Author: A million Little Pieces) think, but I am sure this life is a f****d up place and all I can afford is to be getting f****d each day and night. This is what my destiny is.

A tryst with an Innominate Stranger

He smiles as I do. As I keep staring at him, he gets embarrassed in some time. The smile on my face reflects on his face too, but suppressed in its content, trying to smother or feign a pain or anguish. Now, as I try to move away, he implores my presence in the scene. I turn back and stare deeper into his eyes, the request drips not from his lips but from his eyes, and drenches my soul.