Going!

I’ll be leaving in an hour.

I’ll be leaving home.

Just now, I was talking to Guddi Maasi, and she asked, “Dil taan nahin ghat reha?”

“Ajje takk taan nahin. Parson ghat reha si thoda jeha, baaki kal jaa ke pata lagu!” I replied.

Tiwana Uncle wished me luck, and said that he had just one thing to say- that sincerity and hardwork always pays. “That’s the experience of my life,” he added.

I’ve talked to almost my entire extended family today.

Over the last two weeks, I’ve met most of my close friends.

Each day has felt so special.

Each day has brought a few memorable moments with it.

Each day I’ve felt so rich- with the love, care and warmth- of my family and my friends.

Just a little while ago, Twinkle gifted me a ppt that I had seen her preparing earlier in the day- it had pics of everyone in the family, starting from Beeji, appearing one by one- and in the end, a Good Luck message. It was so sweet!

I’ve just mailed the ppt to myself.

I know I’ll be seeing it again, and again, quite soon.

In the evening today, I’d had the scraps that I’d collected from the seniors, my friends and my juniors over the last year-and-a-half, bounded into a scrap-book.

I’ve packed my old diaries, and photographs…..and hey! I’ve forgotten ‘Vine’!!!
Have remembered it in good time! (a mental note made to add it as soon as I stop writing).

The luggage is already 8 kg overweight. But that’s ok!

I added Dilraj in my messenger list. Till now, it made no sense- at one time, only one of us could be online. Tomorrow by now, we would have had our first chat.

It’s a new beginning.

I’ve been telling Dilraj to click my pics before I go.

Then, we can compare the ‘Before’ and the ‘After’ pics.

“Maybe, by the time you come back, I am not here,” he said.
That’s probable. He’s in 12th now- his ‘decisive’ year.

I’m going today.

I don’t know when I’ll come back.

Manu came home 2 hours ago. For these few hours, we are all together- Manu, Twinkle, Dilraj, Harsh and me. When next? None knows.

Twinkle just came to ask how much of my work is left. “We are all sitting together,” she said.

I’m going to join them.

I’m going to live this last hour with them- my family.

I’m going away from home.

A Boat beneath a sunny sky

A Boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July —
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear —
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream —
Lingering in the golden dream —
Life, what is it but a dream?

Lewis Carroll

The Alvida Chronicles

I’ve decided to chronicle every day of this week. I’m flying to Bangalore on 9th morning. I know there will be times there when I will want to relive these wonderful days.

It’s been almost two weeks now that every day has been bringing something new and exciting.

So, before the chronicles start, here is a quick recap of the past few days:

Awesome Weekend 1

Awesome Weekend 1

Date: 24th Nov
Time: 10 am

It’s a Saturday, and I’ve just woken up. The day seems just so relaxed! The POST project is going on. I’m supposed to do my share of coding on Friday and Monday. Monday evening is the deadline we’ve given to ourselves. I’ve done no work on Friday. What I did was go to a movie with Jyoti (we were ready for any movie- so we watched Bewoulf), and just hung around with my friends. Ran home at the earliest hour I could.

So, my yesterday has been great! And the tomorrow looks full of promise too! I feel just so rich!

Dilraj (my brother) is going for a movie in the afternoon with his friends. None of my friends will be able to go for a movie right now. (11-3 is the only slot I have free today).

So Harsh (my sister) and I decide that we will go by ourselves.

We get ready, and reach theatre Kiran. Despite the effort we made, we are 15 min late. “Doesn’t matter,” I say. It’s just ‘Om Shanti Om’ after all, and I’ve heard it’s a dumb movie. 15 minutes of dumbness is no major loss.

We get the tickets and get in.

I enjoy the movie.

It’s a good one-time watch. It entertained well.

After that, I get a hair-cut. It’s come out well (Ahem, ahem)

It’s already 4:30 by now. I drop Harsh at home, and leave for the Sangeet of Jassi’s Didi.

It feels great to meet the seniors. I’m meeting some of them after many, many months!

It’s a traditional sangeet. I hear many songs for the first time. I love listening to them!

Then comes the time for Jaago.

We are at the forefront, crying out loud “Gwaandhiyo jaagde ke sutte”. That’s the one line we keep repeating, again and again, and again, and again. We laugh each time we do so.

We dance at each house where the Jaago goes, and a gidhha call for the bride’s sisters and brothers is made.

I leave at 8:30, coz I’ve to pick someone up.

I go to Kanchan’s place. She’s ready and is waiting for me. We have a night-spend at my place tonight- Simran, Kanchan and me! The fun has just begun!

We spend the whole night talking.

It’s 5 am when I finally doze off. Kanchan and Sim persevere for another half hour.


Date: 25th Nov
Time: 10 am


I’ve just woken up. It’s the beginning of another great day!!!

I’ve to get a head-bath, and iron my clothes, and get ready and reach the Marriage Palace by 11:30! That’s the time I’d promised yesterday.

I reach there at 12:30. Late as always. Everyone knows by now.

Yesterday there’d been eight of us- Jas, Kaila, Bindra, Sujeet, Varun Verma, Swedha and me. Today, Deepti, Varun Jindal and Sumedha too are there.

The shaadi is going on neeche and that is where all the baaraatis are. But, we’re all sitting on the terrace of the palace. We’re having a good time chatting. I tell them that this maybe my farewell get-together with them- I may get posted out of Chandigarh. “So, please let’s definitely play a game of dumb charades at least once today,” I say. They grin at my attempt at sentimentality and promise that we would.

We literally set the stage afire that day! I’ve not danced like that since my cousin’s wedding last Dec. It is so great!!!



We are having such a good time that I just don’t want to leave! But I have to- we have a class get-together planned for the evening.

So, the scene now shifts to UIET-14. Only our group- Nitin, Jassi, Kanchan, Sim and me- turns up along with Aditi and Rajesh. Harmeet joins in briefly too.
We sit in the parking, and talk randomly.

The darkness sets in. The orange lights that I so love are switched on. I love looking at UIET and the surroundings swathed in that ethereal glow.

We walk to Stu-C, have a coffee there, and walk back.

Then, we go to the University Market.

By now, I’ve started getting phone calls from Deepti. They are waiting for me.

I will be going with Jassi- she will drop me at the sec 35 hotel where Mohina’s brother’s Sangeet is.

This is my last assignment for the day.

Deepti, Kaila and Sujeet are already there.

Once again, we dance a lot.

I grin. In the walk to Stu-C, my feet had felt so tired, having danced all day in heels, and yet here was I dancing again.

It is around 11 that my brother picks me up.

Once home, I can barely change into my night suit before collapsing on the bed into a deep, deep sleep.

It has been a happening weekend!

A Nice Talk!

:: From Forum ::

A young and pretty lady posted this on a popular forum:


Title: What should I do to marry a rich guy?

I'm going to be honest of what I'm going to say here. I'm 25 this year. I'm very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with $500k annual salary or above. You might say that I'm greedy, but an annual salary of $1M is considered only as middle class in New York. My requirement is not high. Is there anyone in this forum who has an income of $500k annual salary? Are you all married? I wanted to ask: what should I do to marry rich persons like you? Among those I've dated, the richest is $250k annual income, and it seems that this is my upper limit. If someone is going to move into high cost residential area on the west of New York City Garden (?), $250k annual income is not enough.

I'm here humbly to ask a few questions:
1) Where do most rich bachelors hang out? (Please list down the names and addresses of bars, restaurant, and gym)
2) Which age group should I target?
3) Why most wives of the riches is only average-looking? I've met a few girls who don't have looks and are not interesting, but they are able to marry rich guys
4) How do you decide who can be your wife, and who can only be your girlfriend? (My target now is to get married)

Ms. Pretty


Here's a reply from a Wall Street Financial guy:

Dear Ms. Pretty,

I have read your post with great interest. Guess there are lots of girls out there who have similar questions like yours. Please allow me to analyse your situation as a professional investor. My annual income is more than $500k, which meets your requirement, so I hope everyone believes that I’m not wasting time here. From the standpoint of a business person, it is a bad decision to marry you. The answer is very simple, so let me explain. Put the details aside, what you're trying to do is an exchange of "beauty" and "money": Person A provides beauty, and Person B pays for it, fair and square. However, there’s a deadly problem here, your beauty will fade, but my money will not be gone without any good reason. The fact is, my income might increase from year to year, but you can't be prettier year after year. Hence from the viewpoint of economics, I am an appreciation asset, and you are a depreciation asset. It's not just normal depreciation, but exponential depreciation. If that is your only asset, your value will be much worried 10 years later.

By the terms we use in Wall Street, every trading has a position, dating with you is also a "trading position". If the trade value dropped we will sell it and it is not a good idea to keep it for long term – same goes with the marriage that you wanted. It might be cruel to say this, but in order to make a wiser decision any assets with great depreciation value will be sold or "leased". Anyone with over $500k annual income is not a fool; we would only date you, but will not marry you. I would advice that you forget looking for any clues to marry a rich guy. And by the way, you could make yourself to become a rich person with $500k annual income. This has better chance than finding a rich fool.

Hope this reply helps. If you are interested in "leasing" services, do contact me…

Signed,
Mr. Finance Wizard

Witness to a suicide attempt

We were a happy group strolling by the lake, cracking jokes and laughing loud.

We paused when we saw a little crowd on the stone stairs that led down to the water. A man in a dripping track suit held a drenched old lady by her arm and firmly walked her up the stairs. The lady was crying.

“I want to die.”

She kept saying.

She resisted being taken away from the lake.

That man and the others around tried to soothe her.

The woman had a gnarled face, her wrinkled skin hanging loosely. She was older than my grandmother.

My friends had moved on already. I could not.

The man who had saved her spoke to no one in particular, “People spend their lifetimes sacrificing everything for their children. And when the children grow indifferent, who wouldn’t break down!”

A woman in a track suit sighed, “Such is life!”

A man set about to report the matter to the police post nearby. The others stopped him. “What would that solve? The police will tell her family and they will only get angry at her.”

It made sense. What could the police do?

Was there any solution?

The frail old lady- how unloved, uncared, un-understood she must have felt to have thought of ending her life! How desperate, how helpless she must have been!

When she would go home today, would anyone notice that she seemed too silent? Would they even think that she could have attempted a suicide just an hour ago?

She would now have to keep on living that same life- her suicide attempt had failed.

It was not this thought that froze me. I shivered at the realization that perhaps I did not always show the care I felt for my family.

Brainwave- The Ideators' Club

Samy and me have both been out-of-action for long now. And so, when we met yesterday, the first thing we decided was to 'do something.'

Life's been rusting in the office-home-office routine. I'm craving for some serious exchange of ideas!

So, we thought of starting an 'Ideators' club'- basically a get-together for people who want some nice, stimulating discussion on anything that interests them- be it books, music, something they wrote, something they would like to write, something that inspired them, something they dream of, some dream they want to realize- anything!

So, if you gotta brainwave that you are dying to share with some like-minded people, or if you are plain hungry for an exciting discussion, join the league :)

We are meeting this Saturday (27th Oct) in the University Grounds. The time is 4 pm. Anyone interested is most welcome.

The Power Of One

The Time: March 2006
The Context: The Magboard was going to conduct a panel discussion on

"Ask not what the country can do for you. Ask what you can do for the country."

As a run-up to the event, we had evolved Spektrum (the wall magazine of UIET) into a 'Discussion Forum' where the students could express their views on the topic.

This is the article I wrote for Spektrum then. Publishing it here, in deep nostalgia- an ode to the Days That Were!


One evening, not many days ago, soon after I reached home, I got a call. On the other side was Samy, sounding very excited and charged up. She had just got an idea.

“Tomorrow, I plan to clean up the mess left behind by Goonj(the Annual Fest of UIET) all around UIET. And I want you to do it with me. I’ll ask Aditi too. And we’ll do it, irrespective of whether anyone else joins us or not.”

I was really very impressed with the novel idea and readily agreed.

“But I am getting curious about this sudden inspiration…?” I joked. We had been together the whole evening that day, and this idea had been nowhere around then.

“Mere parents jab mujhe pick karne aaye, to they commented ke uiet kitna ganda lag raha hai. I really felt embarrassed to hear them say so.”

Well, to be very honest, I just had not noticed the garbage dump that UIET seemed to have become after Goonj!

So, the next day, we reached there at 8.30 a.m. The Mitra team(the social welfare club of UIET) too had joined hands with us. So, we were a team of around 10 volunteers. And, we started the work. Picking up all the litter from all around UIET and brooming it all clean. A few students, on seeing us work, came forward to help us.

By 10.30, it was all done! The whole area around UIET was looking neat, and we were beaming with pride at the transformation that WE had created! It was a feeling of immense joy and satisfaction.

That single experience taught me the power of ONE. Even a single person can make a positive difference to the society! Each one of us can- you and me!

And we don’t need to take any drastic or radical steps. Big dreams like “I’ll rid the country of all corrupt politicians”, “I want to eradicate poverty” etc. are beyond the reach of most of us, and so likely to remain mere dreams. But that is no reason for disillusionment. Its not an all-or-nothing scenario. Let us start with what we CAN do, simple things really, that we can easily do. For example, not littering the roads, picking up scraps of paper or waste that someone has carelessly thrown around, teaching a poor child, donating money, clothes or books to an orphanage….there are an infinite ways in which we can show Social Responsibility.

You may find that you may not have made much of a dent to the country’s problems as such. The scams, the poverty, the unemployment, the red-tapism and all the other evils may still continue unabated. But if you have made a positive difference to even one individual, you have been successful. You have spread the spark. You have done your duty towards your country.

One Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra has inspired us all.
One of them was a girl called Samy.
And that girl, thus inspired, in turn helped me find the spark in me.

That is how the spark grows!

That is the power of ONE!

Abhi Abhi ye hua yakeen
Ke aag hai mujhme kahin


P.S. I am suddenly feeling so good thinking about the awesome panel discussion it was! Still remembered so fondly by everyone as 'The RDB Debate.'










WE- THE MAGBOARD

Pictures courtesy: Prabhjot's photo album

Amrita Pritam

I really admire Amrita Pritam for the courageous woman she was. In more ways than one, she inspires me.

She was the first Punjabi writer, and the first woman to receive the Jnanpith Award. When asked to comment on the award, she replied in a line of her own verse — ‘Maan suche Ishq da hai, hunar da daava nahin…’ (I am proud of my pure dedication and I make no claims to artistry).

I loved that line, and wanted to save it (and so, it comes to the blog)

The Story Challenge- 5 by 30th

Dear Readers

Hi!

In my last post, I had asked myself 'When will I explore?'

Well, I knew the answer- 'Now.'

Over the weekend, I've thought about it.

I've been writing quite regularly now. But my works are so unformed, so unpolished yet!

Take for example 'Unknown Intersections'. When the idea for this story had come, I had gone 'Wow!' It was a simple, beautiful thought- we may never know it, but our life as it is today may have been shaped by total strangers- faceless, unknown, unrecognised.

But, in its execution, I couldn't convey this idea powerfully. It had a lot of potential but I failed to do justice to it.

I had thought I would rewrite it this weekend. I haven't though.

What I've done this weekend is total relaxation. I'm feeling rejuvenated now. Refreshed.

I had started reading 'The Google Story.' A thought came in my mind- Sergey Brin and Larry Page got an idea- and that idea changed the world. It's affected each one of us. That's how powerful it was.

Isn't that the real creativity? I too think. I write. But what difference does it make? To me? To anyone?

But then, I realized the answer too- that it is those ideas that change the world that are passionately believed in.

No idea is big or small. It's just the faith in the idea that matters.

I realized that in my writing, I am not really setting myself free. I am writing quite a restrained prose. I am not quite letting my imagination soar.

It's only that way that I may get one idea, which may be really wild, but which will be so unique that I will proudly call it mine.

So, that's where the challenge lies!

So, my dear readers, I hereby challenge myself that by Oct 30, I'll post here 5 stories- stories that I'll try to make my best so far.

You'll be the judges of how far I would have succeeded.

Cya then :)

One Morning With A Heavy Mind

The alarm went off at five.
The room, grudgingly alive
With its howl, was still
In slumber. I had no will
To wake. “Just half hour more”
I promised my self, and before
The squirreled self could squeak,
I set to sleep, though feeling weak.
The struggle to rouse resumed
At seven. My mom and sister fumed
And cooed in turns- insistent, incessant
Attempts to wake me up. I had no intent
To do so- to push myself through one more day.
At seven thirty, I tumbled out; I could no more push it away.

This is not the life I want, I groaned
To the sagely mirror, sleepy-eyed
As I brushed my teeth. Inside
My mind-a thousand thoughts droned
Maddeningly. To not know the miles
You walked, or the grounds you
Stand on now, or the paths you ought to
Take- is difficult! The uncertainty riles.
There are things I so wish to do,
That I wish I could fly away to
A place where no chains on my time
And mind would stifle my spirit’s chime.
Suddenly the unrest grew. “I want to soar.
I don’t know what I want.” When will I explore!


Japinder Gill

Unknown Intersections

Two strangers meet. They will never meet again. Will they remember this meeting?


One

She was about to enter the café when the little girl came up to her.

They had never seen each other. They would never again. But, for those fleeting seconds, they coexisted in the same coordinates. Their minds, well ensconced in their respective bodies, stood within inches of each other, each containing countless tales of her life.

In that instant, their orbits- totally remote until then- intersected.


Two

Anji wrote blazing poems. She was the most powerful actress in her group; maybe, because she had endured each emotion. She knew the shades of life.

One man had changed her destiny. She ardently wanted to make a similar difference- to someone, somewhere. This was the passion that drove her theatre and poetry.

She was the daughter of a maid.

She would have been another maid- going through the same daily cycle of washing and cleaning at others’ homes and suffering an abusive husband in her own with scores of children crying to be fed and clothed- had it not been for one man.

Shiv had convinced his maid, her mother, to send Anji to school. Her mother had agreed only when he promised to fund her entire education.

Anji was deeply grateful to him. She never let down the chance that he had given to her.

Shiv was a theatre director. His was a group dedicated to taking theatre to the masses- to the street corners and squares of each village and town.

The rehearsals for his plays were usually done at his home. Anji used to do little chores for them. Gradually, she was absorbed in the group; beginning from minor roles, she had become their lead actress.


Three

Shiv had been sitting on his desk for long. There was restlessness in his mind- a whirl of ideas- yet he was unable to give it a tangible shape.

The story he had read the last evening had shaken him. He had not been able to sleep in the night.

How would it be to live the life of that woman? Life could be like that too! The mere thought filled him with horror.

The maid entered the room with a broom. She switched off the fan. This broke Shiv’s reverie.

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Unknown Intersections-2

He looked at her. She seemed disturbed. He asked her how she was. She gave a dull reply. Her voice was wet. He softly asked her what the matter was.

She broke down, and told him how her husband was planning to sell her daughter. Her poor Anji; she was barely thirteen!

He froze. He saw the woman step out of the story and, in front of him, assume the face of Anji.

No! He would not let that happen! He would not let Anji become that woman!

He determined. He would rescue her.

He had to struggle to make the wretched maid agree to his idea. To put Anji to school would be to defy her husband- the mere notion terrorized her. In the end, however, he prevailed.

Many a times he wondered. What had driven him so forcefully that day to make that effort? He was a man of limited means. In saner moments, he would not have made such a reckless offer- Anji’s education would be a continuous expense, and what difference would it make anyway? She would still get married to a slum wastrel, and raise a brood of malnourished children.

He always reached the same conclusion. That decision had probably been made under the hangover of that story.


Four

Mohan had written a true story.

The sight of a pregnant woman bathing naked under a public tap had numbed him.

It had raised his shackles to know that life could be so ruthless! That woman could not afford even the most basic dignities! What would be the future of her child?

He had become obsessed with that thought. What would life be like for that child? Could he do something for her? Oh! How he wished he could somehow change her destiny!

He imagined that child would be a girl. He thought of all the struggles, and the miseries that lay in store for her childhood. She would grow up into exploitation, hopelessness and darkness- ultimately ending up under the same tap in the same situation as her mother.

His story was published to critical acclaim.


Five

That woman had indeed given birth to a girl. That girl had indeed spent her years bereft of light. She was now ten. Sometimes, she was called by her name. Geeta.


Six

Anji was about to enter the café when Geeta came up to her. She begged for alms.

Anji looked at her empty eyes. She was filled with pity. “Maybe I should write about that girl someday.”

She gave her a two-rupee coin and went inside.


Japinder Gill

The Black Hole

“Live your today like there would be no tomorrow. Cheers!”

He was radiant as he said these words to his friend over dinner. They had met after a long time. He was feeling calm, with a quiet confidence that life was beautiful- rich with wonderful moments, “like these,” he thought with a smile.

He came home with the lightness of being that comes from knowing that you are loved and cared for; that people from long ago still cherish you. You wonder why you had not stayed in touch all these years, but you also marvel that those years don’t show! It’s the same handshake, the same man, the same regard and the same you. It’s heartening to realize that You defeated Time in someone’s heart.

He came home, more wafting over the clouds, than walking on his feet.

He entered his room, and was submerged in the absolute darkness. The Darkness had welcomed him into its arms! A happy peace drenched his whole soul. He felt in a state of Oneness. He felt Whole. Complete. It was a moment of ecstasy.

He lingered.

Finally, he switched the lights on.

And, he welcomed the lights with the same delight. He felt at home at once in the light and in the dark. The whole world seemed his home! He felt Supreme.

He could feel an electric wave of Energy passing through him. He felt powerful! He could do Everything, Anything just then.

“Is this what they call Bliss?” It was a mighty emotion! He could feel a Force of Sanguinity dilating his soul, his very being. He was in Heaven.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt so overwhelmed by the absolute rapture that he was experiencing that he just lay down, and closed his eyes.

A cool, serene darkness engulfed his mind. He could feel the smile on his face and the slow rhythmic heaving of his chest. It was not air that he was breathing in, but a breeze of spirituality which was nourishing his soul.

He thought about his friend. Did he know the joy that he had given to him today? Could he thank him enough for it?

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The Black Hole-2

Indeed, when he had woken up in the morning, could he have even dared to hope that he would go to sleep in such a state of Fullness? Could he recall when had he last experienced such contentment?

He tried.

He lived a happy life, a life many would envy. He had a beautiful wife, and they both loved each other. He had a high-flying job. He traveled all over the world in his job, he made friends wherever he went, and was respected by all. He seemed poised for an accelerated climb up the hierarchy of his company.

He lived an ideal life. A life many would envy.

And he loved himself for his success. He was proud, but not arrogant. He was a happy man.

At 30, he seemed to have achieved the pinnacle of Being.
The pinnacle of Being?
The Pinnacle?
Of Being?
Had he?
He?

Who was he?

What did it mean to be him?

Did he know himself?

Did he know what it meant to be him?

When was the last time when he had felt such peace, such Bliss?

Wasn’t this Supreme Energy that he was now experiencing the true pinnacle?

Was it this “Divine Self” that people sought in religious scriptures, in caves, in mountains, in renunciation?

Why had he found it then in a friend over a dinner table in a busy restaurant?
He knew this Joy. He had felt it when he fell in love with his wife. For days and months and years, he had lived in that magic.
Before that, when had he experienced it?
………….
Probably never…..?
And after that?
Today.
After that……..Today!

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The Black Hole-3

Why?
Why not before today?

Why today?

He felt that these questions were the clouds, glowing with a silver tinge in the moonlight, wafting over the dark, cool ocean of his mind, its waters also reflecting the same tranquil silver moonlight.

He was at peace.

And he knew that he was asking questions that must be answered.

Questions that are asked only at rare moments such as these.
Questions through which your Self talks directly to you.

And he knew that the answers were within him.

Those answers would take him closer to his Self. They would tell him what it meant to Be.

He got up, went to his table and lit the lamp. He was aware that he had a report to be submitted early next morning. He had thought that he would finish it after coming from the dinner.

But now, he just picked up that file, kept it on his bed, cleared the clutter on the table, and took out a clean sheet of paper.

And he began to write.

He wrote in abandon. He thought as he wrote, and wrote what he thought. He was feeling more and more amazed. Was it He who was writing? Were these His thoughts? Why had he never felt them before?

But there was no time to pause. No time to re-read what had been written. No time to wonder about such exclamations.

He knew that it was Now or Infinity.

If he stopped mid-way, the spell would end, and he wouldn’t know after what infinite span he would get a glimpse of his Self again.

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The Black Hole-4

As he wrote, he realized how he had buried his Self under thick layers of Practicality, Pride and Ego. He could see that most of his actions were driven by these instincts, rather than his Self. He met people, was genial to them, and they all thought that he was a wonderful man. And thus his Ego would be satisfied. Even to his wife, he felt the need to show how respected and admired he was in office and outside. He had always made calculated, practical decisions. He had always wanted to be a Big Man. And it always pleased him to think that he had realized that ambition.

His life was not only successful, but also superficial.

He suddenly stopped writing.

What had he written?
Was his life superficial?
He was shocked!
Could success be superficial?
What was Success?

And he suddenly felt inadequate to explain this word which had been his cherished goal since childhood!

He could see that his definition of success was nothing more than a perpetual struggle to win the approval of others, to impress others, to earn their praise. That was why he constantly strove for the goodwill of the people. He alone knew his insecurities, his indifference, his opportunistic streak, and his jealousies. Even his wife had not been spared by these unholy emotions of his. Everyone called him a good person. But he knew the Bad inside him. Sometimes he would wonder if he wasn’t just faking it out. He felt himself to be a mere actor, playing out his role in the stage of world, with the desire of earning the applause of the audience.

Today, he felt like his Self had shown up.

Because his Ego had been defeated.

He had come to this town for a business meeting. He had known that this dear friend of his lived in this town, and had even taken his contact number from a common friend. For sometime, he had felt quite excited at the prospect of meeting him. After so many years!

But then, his Ego had asserted itself. He remembered all the past grievances he had had with this friend. It was in disappointment that he had turned away from his friend, who had never looked back either. This had hurt him deeply. He had been expecting his friend to redress his complaints, but when he didn’t do that, he had told himself that the friendship had not been worth his sincerity. He had moved on.

Thinking about this unhealed wound changed his mind. He would not call him. Rather, he would wait and see if his friend would call him up. He did. And they met that very day. That was the most splendid time he had had since long. He could see that his friend valued him, and cherished their friendship. This had made him feel rich.

Page 4/5

Continue

The Black Hole-5

He had been feeling twinges of guilt at having decided not to call his friend first. That had been his Ego, and it had been humbled- by the submission of his friend. And with the defeat of the Ego, the Self had emerged.

All his life he had chased success under the belief that it would bring him happiness. And he had obtained it too. But that happiness seemed infinitesimal before the Bliss he had experienced today.

Live today like there will be no tomorrow.

His words came back to him.

If he had only that day to live, would he still spend it the same way as he did now? Away from the people he loved? Not going to them, not reclaiming them, despite sincerely wanting to, because of his ego? Chaining himself to the life of an automaton? Calling himself an Achiever with pride?

No.

He had been doing just that all these years.
If anyone asked him if he were happy, he would answer ‘Yes.’

But did he feel Rapture? No.
Did he feel Content? No.
Did he feel Complete? No.

Would he like to die an incomplete, discontented man? No.

He knew that if he could see his last day coming, he would rather spend his time doing all
the things he had always wanted to do, but never did.

He would follow his heart.

He would listen to his Self.

Even as he wrote it, he could feel the Force surging once again through his Being. He knew he was on the right track.

That was the path to be on.
That was the path to his Being.

He wondered why he had lost sight of that path at all.

He wondered why he had been living the life that he was living.

He had not been living it for his Self. For whom then?

He had been living for Nobody.

It was a disturbing realization. He put the pen down, switched off the lamp and lay down on the bed.

“Damn! Why isn’t sleep coming?”


Japinder Gill

My Debilitated Mind

“All are born free.
Yet, all are in chains.”
Indeed?
Who was ever born free?
We all emerge
From the womb
With a chain
That pinions us
To where we came from.
That cord is cut
And other
More vicious
Less tangible
Cords take over

The Mind is the Man.
Agreed. So
Slyly, slowly
The chains
Snake into his mind.
And the man
Accepts the clamps
As a clutch of Life.
Fully.
Forever.

Chains grow
Out of him
And bind
Another mind.
A part more
To the Whole.
‘Every One’ made
The staple
No longer
An Oxymoron.


Chains grow
On the mind
Before
The mind grows.
The nascent mind
Welcomes the chains.
With an
Open embrace
Unsuspecting.
Oh! the beauty
Of the tragedy.


Mercy
It would be
To never see
The chains
To Live
Believing
That one was
Free.
To wing the mind
But not
Soar beyond
The horizon
So that the chains
Never get strained.
The heart content
Could then sing about
The joys of
Skies and Life!

There’s no
Bigger Tragedy than
To sense
The chains
And question them
That means
Moving out of the fold
Being a Rebel
Inviting the wrath
The collective lash
Of all the chains
Defensive.
Tenacious.
Vengeful.

The saddest setback
Would however
Be the doubts
Of your mind.
Which had
Dared to wake.
But nevertheless
Had for years
Rested on the
Cradle of chains
Believing them
To be a caress.
The Years fused
The chains
With the Soul
Now they are
One and whole.


My mind may question
Every chain
But it cannott
Erase them off.
Without them
There would be no
Me!

I want to be free.
I want to be me.
Now that’s an oxymoron.

Japinder Gill

Page 6

He was shocked by her grief
Had she loved him so much!
He had seen in disbelief
As from all, she lost her touch

“I wish I could have known before!”
How often he would thus rue!
Her misery his conscience bore
Something he ought to do!

He went to God, and prayed about
The burden on his soul
He must end her life’s drought
He owed to her this role

God sent him as a red rose
With grit it stood with her
Through her highs and all her lows
Her lifeline as it were

Did he do it out of love?
Or he felt a responsibility?
He who left the heavens above
Bound to earth to set her free

Such was the story of the man
To whom love came post death
After his death this story began
Indeed! There is no End.

Japinder Gill

Page 5

With time she found a partner true
Who esteemed her for her love
She wouldn’t love him as much he knew
Yet her he did love

She knew well how love could pain
She couldn’t bring it on someone
She knew the rose would still remain
That it wished her a new sun

She took the hand offered to her
And lived a life of bliss
In her heart, they both were
One as faith, and one as bliss

She still often went to the rose
For all her years it stood
And so as this legend shows
One falls in love for good

Thus it seems to end in glory
This tale of love’s glow
Yet you know just half the story
Just her side you do know

This story is his too
He too must have his side
He, who about her love knew
Only after he had died

Continue

Page 4

She firmed herself, got up to go
Then turned to the rose again
“Thanks” she said, with a tender glow
It had soothed her in pain

That whole day she felt at peace
At last, in a long, long time
She saw the sun and felt the breeze
Each thing did seem sublime

It occurred to her that she had seen
The rose in a full bloom
A bud some day it must have been
Unseen by her in gloom

To the rose she went at night
Sat still and saw and saw
Love’s flower bejewel the site
Where her grief would gnaw

Again she went the next morn
And sat there the whole day
That day didn’t her heart mourn
He did not seem away

She went to it day after day
Would sit content for hours
“Alone” again she did not say
She felt sheltered by powers

It came thus as no surprise
That the rose never faded away
It bloomed in pride, love’s prize
Forever, for her, would stay

She now felt that he did know
The rose was a blessing of God
This insight ended her woe
To Life she gave her nod

With verve, again she entered the world
Feeling loved by God, and him
To Life’s songs, she waltzed and twirled
With joy her heart would brim

He was with her, till the rose was there
This faith was firm and strong
It was his gift of love and care
With her, as life went along

Continue

Page 3

One day walking to the tree
With feet as of lead they were
She thought how she had ceased to be
And…a death wish came upon her

She reached the tree and sat underneath
Breathed in and closed her eyes
All was still, just she did breathe
And soon she too would rise

She opened her eyes with a mind serene
Looked at all afresh, anew
And saw where none had surely been
A rose bush now stood true

Was it for real? Oh, could it be?
Right next to her it stood
The prettiest rose she ever did see
Or mind’s whim to feel good?

She touched it, it did not go
True it was for sure
She felt, though why, she didn’t know
That God had sent her cure

Had it been standing there before?
Just she in her haze didn’t see?
Or was there to it something more?
Sure she could not be

Her heart whispered, it had grown
Where tears of hers had seeped
That its seed her love had sown
And ‘his’ love she had reaped!

Stunned, numbed, dumbed by the thought
She hushed her self in haste
No! Like this she must think not
Bitter will such a hope taste

She must not impose on him
Let his soul rest in peace
To ‘expect’ even in a whim
Taints worship of a priest

Continue

Page 2

Then they came to take him home
Silently she slipped out
From family, the stranger combed
Though many did feel a doubt

Wasn’t she just a friend of friend?
She and he had seldom talked
Yet her grief now knew no end
A question in minds was chalked

Did she…? Did she…? Could it be?
Perhaps! It now seemed so
But no one ever knew nor he
Never did her feelings show

His friends saw her slowly leave
The gloom in her they saw
Someone so much for him would grieve
How sad he never could know

That night under a moon full
In her garden she cried and cried
The moon, the air, she mournful
Her dear old tree too sighed

The tree into whose soothing chest
She had whispered her love
And poured her despair and unrest
Now sighed as it looked above

Swept off she was by a tide of thoughts
She didn’t know what she thought
An ache somewhere, her mind in knots
Not knowing what was, what not

She had lost him, he was gone
Yet hers never he had been
She felt a hole, she felt alone
A shroud on her unseen

Weighed down, lost, unknown to all
She within self withdrew
Absent answers to world’s call
Forlorn in a world she knew

The day in daze, the dark night
Was all she came to be
And when no thing seemed right
She wept under the old tree

Page 2/6.

Continue

Suggestions

Please leave comments about your experience on this site. Your feedback will help me make it better :)

My Writings

Updated: 0ct 13, 2007

One Morning With A Heavy Mind

A Poem
It was a 'I don't want to get up' morning.

The Sun Will Be Brighter Tomorrow

A story
The anatomy of temptation

Unknown Intersections

A story (2 pages)

Two strangers meet. They will never meet again. Will they remember this meeting?

The Black Hole

A man meets a long-lost friend- his soul.

My Debilitated Mind

To want something, ardently, and yet to know that you won't be able to get it- because you are weak. How would that feel?

The Poem That Got Completed

I started a poem, but could not complete it. Someone did.

Afterwards

She loved in silence. He died. She was heartbroken. Then, something happened.

A Flower By The Roadside

Everyone says that it is beautiful, but the flower by the roadside is thinking something else.

Back Into The Olden Days

Some memories always mesmerise. And when you get a chance to go back to those people, those places- magic results.

A Magical Year In The Magboard

One of the first poems I wrote in English. Written under the spell of the Magboard.

After Years

What happens when you meet someone very dear after years?

Evanascence

Do promises like "Forever" or "Always" make sense?

The Silence

She was silent. So was he.

In The Lab, On A Sunday

Two friends, soon going to part, relive their story on a cosy winter day.

On A Gray Day

There was no sun. The ground was deserted. The clouds were gloomy. But something cheered up the old sitting area. A soft, sparkling tale of true friendship.

The Site Map

Get introduced to my fiction- click on 'My Writings'.

The articles under each category are listed in the menu on your left. (The categories are listed here in the same order as in the menu)

My Writings:

A collection of stories and poems written by me.

The Word Of The Day:

Do you know it?

The Discussion Forum:

Some issues, strongly felt.

Infosys:

My experiences at work.

Musings:

Me, my mind and my philosophies.

On Writing:

Random collections on the art of writing.

Stories, Poetry and Songs:

A few pieces that I came across, liked and thought of sharing.

People:

Some of the people whom I find interesting.

Books:

Reviews on the books I read.

Humour:

Collection of witty quotes or poems.

Quotations:

The quotes I liked and wanted to save.

Advertising:

My experiences at JWT, where I worked as a trainee copywriter.

Links:

The blogs that I keep up-to-date with.

Blog Archive:

The trove of all my posts :)

The Must-Reads

Back Into The Olden Days

Some memories always mesmerise. And when you get a chance to go back to those people, those places- magic results.

One of my best poems so far. And one that I am myself enchanted by. I am proud of having written this poem.

Futile Love

I wrote this poem as my Bday gift to Shambhawi. This poem is about two of my most favorite people. I love it.

Afterwards

She loved in silence. He died. She was heartbroken. Then, something happened.

This is the first verse-story written by me. It was this poem that gave me the confidence to think of writing a novel-in-verse.

On A Gray Day

There was no sun. The ground was deserted. The clouds were gloomy. But something cheered up the old sitting area. A soft, sparkling tale of true friendship.

Latest Comments

Updated On: Nov 16, 2007

Goli commented on Witness To A Suicide Attempt

Hi,first time I have come on your blog through Shalini, and I must say that I am impressed. I hope to read more.
:D
It is little sad, ( I mean the story that you wrote), I have been quite a regular visitors to one of hte old age homes in bangy, and it is depressing.
Do keep blogging.
:D

Samy commented on On A Gray Day
is waali pe toh achha khaasa discussion hua tha apna, so im not commenting on it again. it would be a repetition..
so, i guess, this brings a temporary halt to my journey of ur blog...
so, come out with something new fatafat! :)

Samy commented on A Magical Year In Magboard
i liked this one this one too.
somehow when u combine poetry with a story, the particulsr style we were discussing last time on the phone, seems to come off as a honest and sincere effort and, thus, touches me in some way or the other.
either i giggle, or i smile, or i start thinking abt the particular subject u wrote upon. some thought process is always initiated.
keep on writing like this, i strongly reccommend that u use this style more often.

Samy commented on My Debilitated Mind
very nice. excellent again! :)
nothing more needs to be mentioned.
though i dont agree with this particular part:

There’s no
Bigger Tragedy than
To sense
The chains
And question them
That means
Moving out of the fold
Being a Rebel
Inviting the wrath
The collective lash
Of all the chains
Defensive.
Tenacious.
Vengeful

questioning ur "chains" isnt in the least "tragic". its challenging, exhilarating,... well, for me. but, then thats my interpretation and opinion.

and i do agree with this one:
The saddest setback
Would however
Be the doubts
Of your mind.
Which had
Dared to wake.
But nevertheless
Had for years
Rested on the
Cradle of chains
Believing them
To be a caress.
The Years fused
The chains
With the Soul
Now they are
One and whole.

and, again , i dont agree with this one:
My mind may question
Every chain
But it cannott
Erase them off.
Without them
There would be no
Me!

particularly, the last two lines:
Without them
There would be no
Me!

but, anyway, thats a matter of personal ideology.
as far as ur poem is concerned--nothing wrong with it at all.


Samy commented on The Black Hole
this one is really good japinder.
thought provoking. though i still believe, it could have been a leettle shorter..but, i know, when one begins writing ...one tends to get carried away.
nevertheless, this one was a good attempt


Samy commented on The Silence
japs darling, u could have done a much better job....i really didnt like this one. it started on a good note...somehow in the middle i lost interest..and at the end i was wondering- why has she written it?...
as always ur expression, ur theme, ur use of language..everything is good...but, it lacks magic, spark.
my dear, i will say the same thing again..i expect something unique and thought provoking everytime i begin to read ur blog. but this one didnt do anything..
u can do, and have done, much much better.
its a matter of treatment of the subject. dont treat it the way anybody wud treat it normally. ur subjects are always interesting. ur way of writing is always good. but, its the complete package that matters.
i am sure if you sit down and begin re-writing this one with the intention of making magic, u most definitely will.
u have that capability. bring it out more often.

Samy commented on Back Into The Olden Days
good work again! brilliant , in fact. i reaaly feel u write prose/poetry better than a normal story.
and i do strongly feel u should explore prose more.
i would love to read more of such prose/poetry pieces.
this one left me longing for more.

Samy commented on Evanescence
excellent! lovely, short and crisp. sparkling wisdom!
i feel u are better at writing poetry/prose than normal stories. though your stories are good too, i like ur poems better.
u should explore prose more.

Japinder commented on Afterwards
Thank You so much Sam...this is the kind of critical comments that I need right now.
Compliments from a person seem worthy only when you know that that person will also criticise what he doesn't like.
I AM gonna rewrite Unknown Intersections, to my satisfaction, and hopefully, to yours too.
I've been getting easy compliments on many of the pieces that I've written without making any special effort. That has left me dissatisfied, coz I want readers who will SAY that they are not good enough, that they need to be worked upon.
Thanks Sam for being one such reader :)
Your praise of Afterwards made me happy, coz this is one poem that I am proud of having written. There are not many such poems yet. There will be. I am sure.

Samy commented on The Sun Will Be Brighter Tomorrow
helloooo and welcome to the world of foodies!!
i dont need to elaborate upon the fact that i cud almost be the girl in the story!!! well...we have discussed a lot on that front already.
now about the story-
let me begin with the good things-
good writing style.
this one did build up a vivid imagery.
good expression.
u have explored into a new segment--writing on topics with a lighter vein.
now, the 'can be improved upon ' part-- just my suggestions-
you could have added a lot more to the story in terms of fiction--taken ur theme a little forward, by adding in elements which dont necessarily exist in ur life, to add more shape to the story.
you could have made the story out-and-out humorous.
abhi bhi aisa nahi hai ki the story doesnt make u laugh, it does. but, this particular capability of the story could be capitalised in a bigger way.

Samy commented on Afterwards
hi japinder
i read three of ur poems today:
after years, flower by the roadside, and afterwards.
i liked the last one the best. this one i know i wud remember years late. beautiful use of words and style.
to be very honest, i didnt like after years. that was the first one i read. it appeared to be bland.
not very satisfied by the experience, i ventured further, and then went on to read flower by the roadside.
that was better than the first one. but it didnt touch me. again, interesting style. but,i really think, ur work should move me as i read it. if it doesnt, it leaves me unsatisfied.
and, the reason i ventured further was that i know Japinder Gill possesses the capability to move a person through her literary abilities. but, why isnt it visible in every poem i read?
thats why i went on to read another one, desperately in search of the one poem/story which mirrors japinder's true potential.
"afterwards" was the one poem which does.
challenge yourself more japinder.
challenge yourself to produce unique works of art everytime u put ur pen to the paper.
dont be easily satisfied with whatever u write....u can write the most excellent of pieces..but, why should that be a once-in-a-while occurance?

Samy commented on Unknown Intersections
hi japs,i'll try and give u my honest feedback. one story per day. i hope it helps.
ok, back to this particular story.
see, we all know u can write well. you have a good expression. that is visible in each of your stories/poems. but, now you need to go beyond that.
you have to buid a compelling narrative...something which brings out some emotion in the reader..one way or the other.
you have picked up a very good theme here. your manner of construction is also very good.
overall the story is good, but, not compelling.
its like..you have everything for an excellent story..good plot,good expression,good construction...but,you just have to bind all the ingredients in a way that results in something unique.
it shuld not evoke a lukewarm response.
a story must paint a vivid picture in my mind, which is left behind, and through which i can remember ur story even 5 months after i read it.i feel a little more elaboration is needed on that front.
your story must compel the reader to say 'wow!' instead of 'good'. you can evoke the latter response effortlessly. its the "wow!" thats challenging and exhilarating.

Samy commented on One Morning With A Heavy Mind
i relate to this one wholly,completely,absolutely,most definitively!!!
every morning i make a promise to myself--i will not let myself slip into the mundane routine. i will indulge into all the exploration i want to. i will suceed in fulfilling all the promises i have made to myself. i will accomplish all targets i have set out for myself.
on some days...i succeed. on some others..i dont.
every morn i lead myself to believe that the vision of utopia i hold in my eyes every waking moment, can & will be created.
i promise myself that my utopia will not just remain a vision. the vision will, one day, meet its physical manifestation.
i can totally understand those 'thousand thoughts droning maddeningly ' in your mind. i answer those thoughts and questions every morning. :)
all i can say is , its good you have those questions troubling you. when these questions stop troubling you, it'll be a really scary situation then.
atleast, right now you are struggling to be true to yourself.
the real enemy lies within ourselves. simple virtues as discipline, patience, perseverance have to be developed.
though, sometimes i feel, my indiscipline is my window to creativity!! i guess, balance is the key.
so, my dear comrade, keep on fighting. the battle should and must have only one end-victory.
unless that particular end is achieved, the battle has not ended.
:)

Deepti commented on Afterwards
hii jappi,,, i have no words to comment on this poem ..still writing the very sipmle words for this beautiful poem that u wrote..
i enjoyed reading it.. and the facts u have used..the love after death and love must happen once..and that the rose will alwys be there as your love....which u urself have reaped...its really beautiful!!!
i have loved your poem same as the girl loved her love...:)

Sukhjot commented on The Black Hole
wonderful flow of words japs..
and then the break... "Could success be superficial?"
amazing..
keep writing!

Deepti commented on I wish we shared more!
hii jappi,,,
ur thought is much more stronger than th epoem u wrote based on this..really awesome thought but practically really difficult to be less defensive about ourselves..and to share our experiences openly with every1 especially unknowns...but i wish there could have such a world.
hey,,,what do u think about the spirit of competition...u know i hate competing any1...but see everywhere all around ppl running for the competition.
competition is when some1 wants to go ahead of others..but what u wrote also promotes a world where every1 will move together,, teaching some1 else and learning from others...in an attempt to make all lives equally good...
but its not possible as equality is not the law of nature...we all are supposed to live differntly as every component of this nature.
If sun starts learning from moon to be calm and silent and moon starts learning from sun to be warm and lightened..life will loose its balance..

smriti aka sammy commented on The Power Of One
yo japs!!
yup, it did take me back, for sure!
uiet was such a rocking time!!
proud and blessed to be an uietian!!

Meer commented...
Nice work done yaar ..
Read jst a few things now ..

Mohit Garg commented on Unknown Intersections
Nicely written.

Mohit Garg commented on My Debilitated Mind
Brilliant post.
(explore and fly away :P)

Vivek Agarwal commented on The Sun Will Be Brighter Tomorrow
Hey,
This is Vivek.. I guess Shalini doesnt pass all the info and gobbles some as tax...thx for liking the stories.. ne favorites..guess going through ur full blog will take time..there is quite a bit thr..bt ur dsign is awesome.. how do u create these formats?? Would like to upgrade mine. My mailid is vivglobal@gmail.com

Shalini commented on The Sun Will Be Brighter Tomorrow
Hahahaha... one day she will make it.. in a dark pink gown (dark helps in shaping up)standing by a huge door against the sea in high tide. She is still ravishing and she will always be. She need not do any compromises coz she doesn't know, her beauty is inner...buiscuits..no matter how many..can never take that away. Eat five more, for this comment. Love uu :)

smriti aka sammy commented on The Poem That Got Completed
oho,,yeh toh galti se mistake ho gaya...
well, those lines seemed to be in perfect tandem with your poem...so that how...well, i am sorry my dear friend..u have a completely valid reason to embarass me.. :)
but, that doesnt mean i didnt read ur poem. it is a beautiful poem.
u should start collecting your poems seriously, and get some published in international journals.
get a step ahead my dear girl!!
ab bahut ho gayi blog pe publishing, now i should expect to see japinder gill's name on the list of published indian authors!!!
start becoming deadly , as in dead serious, about your dream!!!!


Evan commented on Afterwards:
Wow, amazing site! I really like the poems you wrote. I have just started my website, its called www.poetexpress.blogspot.com
I'd like it if you would tell me how to make separete sections, because my website is all a jumble and I want to have a wonderful website such as yours.
Thank you.

Anonymous commented on The Sister Of My Heart
"Thanks sooo much for this beautifully crafted review...reading it has convinced me to read the book and i hope that it is as interesting and fun as u make it sound. i really enjoyed reading ur review and thnx once again for taking the time to write it out...Cheerz!!!"

Japinder commented on The Poem That Got Completed
"Sam, ab yeh to aap sharminda kar rahe ho.....matlab aapne dhyaan se padha bhi nahin :(
Woh lines maine nahin KD ne likhi thi
[tapp tapp]
[Disappointed aansoo]

smriti aka sammy commented on The Poem That Got Completed
"great piece of art, my dear friend.
i like this one the best.. :)
esp the last two lines..
'u remeber that once,
i made u smile!'

award winning stuff.
get ur novel ready soon!"

Himanshu Sahni commented on The Black Hole:
This was one of the most amazing stories i ever read. It started way too off d track as in i had no idea what i was reading and why i was reading until the 3 rd page and i got a glimpse of what dis girl wanted to say. I cud actually relate in bits n pieces to wat "he" was thinking. Ppl know der real self but dey suppress it intentionally because of sum fear within themselves. N sumtimes it s d right way to go because if u r in ur real self u tend to do things which make u satisfied n in d meantime u may ignore so many aspects. It is also possible dat everyone's real self may actually turn out to be d same and what v r actually seeing is something what distinguishes every human being from another.
The world is nt ideal so v r nt supposed to behave ideally here. If u r to survive here, u have to do wat it takes n may be hide ur real self(which i have a feeling might turn out to be d same for everyone)..


Mohit Garg commented on 'The Novel Awakes, the blog yawns':
"All the poetic best.."

Shalini commented on Restlessness:
"Hi Japs,
Visiting this magical blog after a long time and m happy that ur writing passion is on full bloom :)
Hv heard a lot about Coetzee's way of writing and ur post compells me to visit English Book Store asap.
Do keep writing!"

Varun Jindal commented on The Infy Experience- First Impressions:
"Feel great to write comments about my "BIRTHDAY PARTNER"...
I really liked the way you described your Infy experience... Being an Infoscion, I can understand how good it feels when someone joins a company like Infy having unmatched facilities as a fresher... But yes, in my case this experience didn't last too long... We, being humans, gradually get adapted to the kind the atmosphere we are provided with and don't like what we have been provided with... But I hope this should not happen with you... Perhaps, even Himanshi knows that this may not last very long and that's why she suggests Japinder to "Have fun @ Infy, as long as it lasts!" (Exclamation sign has a great importance attached to Himanshi's comments)...

Keep writing Japinder because it feels great to read ur writings!!!"

Prabhjot commented on The Poem That Got Completed:
"the cake was there ... KD jus seems to have put the icing on it !!!!
so .. i guess.. he surely is becoming one of us.. - The Elderly.. :P coz thats the time when you have these amazing amazing thought.. its not for the crazy young blazing guns... or the vodka shots i might say .. people like us r like the scotch or the wine.. which has matured in the oak casks with time.. :P *grin*

and so i complete this poem,
hoping someone. someday will complete mine,
hope that when we meet someday,
u remember that once,
i made u smile!"

awesome.. :)
*Pats KD's back*
thats a job well done my boy .. :)"

Mohit Garg commented on On A Gray Day:
"hmm..9 months and no comments for this one.Is my choice bad or what..
;-)
I like it..MORE!! MORE!!
(Or wud i hv 2 buy your buk..)"

Mohit Garg commented on Are you an Original?
"'this song is sung in chorus.' well, that doesn't necessarily mean that the there's total conformity of ideas(read : submission of self).the 'rebels' may agree on an underlying principle and be part of a rebellion even if their perspectives on the details are different.
"there is one person who actually rebels"..
possible that he is the one who is just providing a vent to a long suppressed 'volcano' , or to an idea whose time has come.Times change.So he cant be blasted for thinking about it first.

Recent Updates

Updated: 0ct 13, 2007

One Morning With A Heavy Mind

A Poem
It was a 'I don't want to get up' morning.

The Sun Will Be Brigher Tomorrow

A story.
The anatomy of temptation

Unknown Intersections

A story (2 pages)

Two strangers meet. They will never meet again. Will they remember this meeting?

Updated: Oct 5, 2007

The Black Hole

A story (4 pages)

A man meets a long-lost friend- his soul.

My Debilitated Mind

A poem.

To want something, ardently, and yet to know that you won't be able to get it- because you are weak. How would that feel?

Coming Soon!

Updated on: Oct 9, 2007

A story on Soopranakha, the sister of Ravana.

Fermenting in the mind:

1.A story on a king facing a mid-life crisis.

2. The Peek- We never know what the others know about us.

Song Of The Open Road

1


Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.


Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.


The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.


(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)


2

You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here.


Here the profound lesson of reception, neither preference or denial;
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,
They pass—I also pass—anything passes—none can be interdicted;
None but are accepted—none but are dear to me.


3

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings, and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I think you are latent with unseen existences—you are so dear to me.


You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d facades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has been near you, I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me;
From the living and the dead I think you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.


4

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road.


O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me?
Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost?
Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me?


O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you;
You express me better than I can express myself;
You shall be more to me than my poem.


I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also;
I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles;
(My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;)
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me;
I think whoever I see must be happy.


5

From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.


I inhale great draughts of space;
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.


I am larger, better than I thought;
I did not know I held so much goodness.


All seems beautiful to me;
I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the same to you.


I will recruit for myself and you as I go;
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go;
I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them;
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.


6

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me;
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me.


Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.


Here a great personal deed has room;
A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and mocks all authority and all argument against it.


Here is the test of wisdom;
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools;
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it;
Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the Soul.


Now I reexamine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds, and along the landscape and flowing currents.


Here is realization;
Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him;
The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.


Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?


Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashion’d—it is apropos;
Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?


7

Here is the efflux of the Soul;
The efflux of the Soul comes from within, through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions:
These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in the darkness, why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood?
Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the shore, as I walk by, and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good-will? What gives them to be free to mine?


8

The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is happiness;
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times;
Now it flows unto us—we are rightly charged.


Here rises the fluid and attaching character;
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman;
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)


Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old;
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments;
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.


9

Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me!
Traveling with me, you find what never tires.


The earth never tires;
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d;
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.


Allons! we must not stop here!
However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here;
However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here;
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while.


10

Allons! the inducements shall be greater;
We will sail pathless and wild seas;
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.


Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements!
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests!


The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.


Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance;
None may come to the trial, till he or she bring courage and health.


Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself;
Only those may come, who come in sweet and determin’d bodies;
No diseas’d person—no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.


I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes;
We convince by our presence.


11

Listen! I will be honest with you;
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you:


You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;
What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.


12

Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them!
They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women.
Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small,
Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues,
Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.


13

Allons! to that which is endless, as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys;
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you—however long, but it stretches and waits for you;
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoying all without labor or purchase—abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it;
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them—to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls.


14

The Soul travels;
The body does not travel as much as the soul;
The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.


All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe.


Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.


Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go;
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.


15

Allons! whoever you are! come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.


Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.


Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.


No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.


16

Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.


Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature?
Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.


My call is the call of battle—I nourish active rebellion;
He going with me must go well arm’d;
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.


17

Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well.


Allons! be not detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.


Mon enfant! I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money,
I give you myself, before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Walt Whitman