Friends..

As any other guy, the day I entered the premises of my college for graduation, with just dream to gather as much as I can. I have nothing to lose at that time because I possessed nothing. The day I left the grounds, the scenario had tumbled. During all those years, some stayed by me to know the real me. Probably the time has come when I must unfold the real personas of those who had seen me changing in these past years. Next few posts would never be enough to decipher my feelings into words, yet I shall do it with the pure words of honesty.It shall carry the brief description of:

Kapil Bansal (First yar)
Amardeep Puri (First year)
: It was pretty strange to share my room with someone else too, yet i found it comfortable.

Robin Bansal (Second year)
Siddarth Aggarwal (Second year)
: These both took the hell out of me in second year with their stubborn rivalry all day and night.

Amulpreet Singh Sehgal (Third year)
Ashish Syngal (Third year)
: The year, I spoke the least. Mostly the computer system in our room kept banging with the silent walls of the room.

Ashish Marwaha (Third and final year)
Sumeet Goyal (Third and final year)
: Do I need to mention it !!!

to be continued......

time is running..

I am back to my home. Amritsar, city reminds of the moments i lived here, always want to relive those again. Get on the next post.

My clock..My cousin came back from her hostel just when i was preparing to get into one. Among her things, i found this squared ticking masterpiece. Quickly i put it in my closet, where i was piling up the things required for my hostel. Being in school even the thought of an engineering college could wreck havoc in minds. I brought that clock, as a legacy, and placed it upon my table. It gave the magnificent looks during first year. Time never grant clemency for older stuff. With the wrath of fate, it lost it sheen. Glasses plunged into shattered pieces in third year, minute hand lost in a fortnight after that. Buzzing alarms and continuous pat over it, could never be forgotten. Humming the most annoyed alarms every time, yet i never shrug it off my life. That clock was a rectangular shaped, carrying black plastic along its periphery. When its glass broke out, i engraved over the inner background " time is running ". I still regret that act, as clock never ticked afterwards. When i came to Delhi, i packed it making vague plans of using it once again. Neither i got time to rectify nor did i actually require it anymore. Being an ardent follower, i shall try to instill life in it once more. Last six months went past packed in my black bag and in near time nothing, but the history seems possible.

I hope the day will come, seen as an emergence of livid clock once again, and till then
" time is running "...

Time takes out the necessary changes all by itself. One need not to ponder over it just sail with the waves. This is exactly what i am doing since last week or may be just apprehending to do so. Just a matter of four more days, ship of my life will find a coast to rest upon for some time.

Last time i wrote the post, clouds of uncertainty were vividly hovering over it. Acting so weirdly out of the exploration of a new series of topics. My clock would be the topic of my next post. It was a very beautiful clock, with the brunt of time, lost its sheen but not the follower. Shattered pieces of glass and some plastic curtained over the perimeter are left with me. Get rid of seminar this weekend at Patiala and i shall pursue it more tenaciously. Good luck...

my carry bag..

A guy is running with his bag hanging down shoulders. It is a blue bag, with some scratches of white and sky blue colours. Stretched unevenly in vertical dimensions, it carries no zipper to lock from the top. A mere thread is there to tighten the top loophole. There are two pockets sealed on both sides of it and one is placed in front of it. Calculator is packed inside the front pocket along with a sharpener and a black HB pencil. Right pocket inculcate a mysterious stone, it is a crystal. This crystal sparkles in orange colour when beamed with sunlight, otherwise it sustains a dark brown colour. It is accompanied with an electric plug which was bought to fit into the bare wires of table lamp, but that plan was never executed. Hence it is still lying with astonished stone. Other pocket contains the ear phones of nokia 3110. Upon peeping into the ultimate shell, a pile of papers almost teared from the sides because of continuous wear and tear with other stuff. Two more copies, one was brought in january yet it never come to an end. One more wallet carrying those green papers upon which eyes are always staring with sneer emotions. Two pens are rolling inside it, one doesn't even carry a cap over its top. It left the copies and other documents with blue imprints, reminding about happy stay of both inside bag. Just like everyone is worried about the zips, all the threads are plucked out timely to diminish the rampage which these threads can brought out.

This is all about my carry bag, which had accompanied me everywhere it goes. It never left me desolated in this mean world. I am really blessed to have such a bag with me. May it live long happily and god please never part our ways in future..

it is called..

One more day entered my life and left without any fuss. Nights are still bustling around some corner, but days went pathetic. Words are limiting my inexpressibility to explain you the chemistry, my mind is observing these days. Every bit existing seems to be farce and fake. Working for long hours, making seminars, out for dinners, spilling wee hours for reading senseless novels of insane authors every individual act of mine is echoing back hurting me. I thought spending some time over orkut or blogging may rejuvenate my spirits. Yesterday i spent handsomely over reading every unknown blog and did my favourite past-time "orkut ting". During my graduation days, i had lavishly spent my time over internet surfing. I do the things in profound manner, never concerned about resources shrinking in it. Unless you do the things in extreme, one never tend to enjoy it. If you do not relish your acts, probably your survival seems to be getting blurred in this world. But why am i indulging in such serious talks?

I want to admit one thing, i always dream of writing some hilarious posts over my blog, something which could make others giggle for a while, one could feel aroma of happyness diverging from innerself. Everytime i signed in with steely determination to penn down the jovial moments, but all thoughts deter as if i had never smiled in my life for last so long. A feeling of jealousness arouse in me reading blogs of saurav or geet. People do write about merry rides. A phobia for happyness is creeping in my mind. But when it comes to shortcomings, my efforts never fall short in ridiculing such thoughts. So better pull up your socks and i guess all such gloomy thouhghts hovering over my blog would vanish into matterless none, with a fine smile on your face. Atleast i shall try.

This part of my life is called "pursuit of happyness".

time table..

I got free from my work before the lunch time. So i quit, ran back as fast as i could to relish some leisure. Every hour spent in writing those calculations from the meter testing hurled so fast, so fast even i couldn't' notice the intensity of sun reducing with every passing moment. After hours passed by, when i could feel the eyes running out of step with efforts, i gave up with a promise to return next day brimming with more courage to extend it further. Never sure whether its end would ever be a pleasure for me, i carry on. Two girls went past me hastily carrying a sheet of their time-table. One commented," see, tomorrow i have my class at 11am." Not in any mood to intervene in their conversation, i gave a not-so-interesting glance over her time-table.

Need not to went back into historic ages, four years back i was quite a same maniac staring over my time-table on the every first day of semester. All eyes focusing upon the schedule of friday and monday. Friday were the days everyone carrying bags to their homes and hustling back with same spirit on monday. Getting free on friday before lunch was considered to be the luckiest and delayed mondays were also welcomed with same regard. Those girls were carrying some pamphlet of college too, i was never so lucky to get any introduction lecture about the courses assigned or about the locations of various blocks. Handed with the five day schedule from 8am to 5pm, irrespective of seasons, we had to knock at our classrooms directly. We had not even the minutest ideas of location in that helluva college, asking every senior," Excuse me, may i know where is E block?". List of queries were endless; where is F-block, where is electrical dept, workshop, c hall, k lawns, power system lab, computer lab, reading room, nescafe, sagar ratna and many more. Asking seniors was never considered a better option, it was preferable to be lost in that ruthless crowd. Shamelessly entering the classes with the same lame excuse everytime of being lost in B block, but it was confined for freshers only. Writing down the time-tables on the last pages of copies, losing them in consecutive days and text messaging to friends asking for class room. Those short and sweet chuckles over the electrical machines with jumper and verma were the real times of pleasure. Short and needful rounds of sagar ratna during lab hours, glancing over sheer beauties were handsomely the best days. Spending hours pressing those hard-cushioned chairs in sagar ratna with magan till night could never be recalled. Those were flawlessly the most disgusting moments at those times, but the most memorable ones at present.

Getting back to those girls, they just went ahead continuing thier talks which were once the inseparable part of my life too. I realized my day dreaming has come to a bitter end. Back to your work....

I am trying hard, rather very hard to come to my real senses, yet the fate is betraying me. Its betraying me not for the first time, yet in its new ways. Time needs no clock to watch upon and unsurprisingly same goes for me too. All days went past moving in for foggy goal upon that trodden path yet skeptical for my destination. Nothing seems to be going me way, as i want to do, as i expect it to explore, unleashing the mysterious ways to put me in trouble. Work is not putting me off, its just that even its not known to me what exactly is pinching me. It is fierce and scars over my mental toughness is a proof, one can't doubt any more. After a stormy night, calm cheerful morning is always pending. I hope such a say is not confined over the literature only. May it bless my beleagured soul as well. One fine morning would have been engraved by the almighty in my future pages, i pray my courageous efforts will last helping me to see that horizon of happyness once again.

till then i shall carry on..

a new era..

Change is only constant factor always persisting in this world. I'm fed up writing those fullish usage. why not try a new english attire for my posts. No more constant peeping into the dictionary nor sitting with fingers creeping into hair in despair. A jovial soul also resides inside my frustrating life. You will see the fair side too very soon. Though as per my friends, i'm not a hilarious personality to be applauded. I shall try to meet up with your expections, if any. take care !!

Life is a terrible mess. It seems as diving in a pool of problems yet skeptical that one day i shall emerge a winner amidst all the soaring tensions. Left hapless in this world everyday unleashing a fury of obstacles for me. Yet this one word keeps me moving, "hope". Originator of this word would have been lost in this masked mob but his preachings are still given the most revered regard. It had never diminished in past endless decades and i HOPE that this HOPE will keep sailing with me unless confronted by the inescapable fate. My mind is disdainfully let down by the mockery of corporate world for which one word fits in comfortably; " a flock of ruthless money makers". I am glad being tagged and served under the same notorious fame.

Please change the topic for heaven's sake. I shall give you the precise and untouched version of corporate world very soon. It is matchless sponged in the terms of relationships, composure and love. Do not ponder much over last sentence, it is horrible true. Trying to lift up my spirits by vomiting out dreaded thoughts is actually pleasing me. I could have explained it more lucidly deciphering into my native language but alternatives are not so friendly coming over my way. Concluding over this very thoughtful post (at least for me and may be inane for you), all these comments over my post are pretty touching for me though may be scribbled in callous ways. I heartily thank you for reading my obnoxious posts combating with chaotic sense of words usage. I admire every minutest phase of time, you spill over reading my posts. Thank you.

excuse me..

A thought struck my mind while disconnecting a phone call early morning. Profusely defying my friend in her absolute need felt really awful. I never hold much regards about me being a very good person, had those instances of selfishness not touched my life. Always serving my own purpose keeping in mind not to dwell into the interest of others, I tried my best not to affect others adversely with my decision. Believe me; I can’t count you a single benevolent act solely for others. Every act is converging for the vested interests of me, may it be directly or in some veiled manner. My friends have a very soft corner for me, seriously not even in my wildest dreams had I ever lend a helping thought even. I know it’s bizarre on my account to discuss my inborn thinking, that too in a menacing manner. It would prove to be retrieving composure to my dogged mind, as I had already admitted to all my fallacious thinking. I had always been inactful to my peers in acute times. I regret my maligned efforts yet had already been ransacked by the vicious destiny-oriented mind.

Hmmm. Yet I shall try in coming times applying my impure soul to instill some purity in realm of my friends. Same is the lives of notorious literature composers like V S Naipaul or Salman Rushdie, incite me to the most. Going through the prologue of Midnight’s Children gave me fair idea about the vastness of topic covered in it, yet etched in very lucidly. I have to keep my black vintage dictionary for a better insight into the imaginative world of such pinnacle of literature. Desperately needful for his novel, I have to wait till company deposit my vague earnings into my bank account. Till then embodying on the newspapers and my own composed pile of posts.

Please excuse me..

one more round..

My mornings always got kicked start when abhishek wake me up. Already running terribly late, our next confrontation is on the dining table. Swallowing every bit of parantha, omlette or poha (it tastes like stuffed rice in yellow colour), galloping hastily towards outer gate to catch auto. These astute drivers forge out the way through the jam-packed roads quite menacingly. Half heartedly drowning ourselves into the lift took us to the second floor, building-20, Nehru place. Next eight hours are beyond my imagination to decipher into my words. Long lasting sessions, group discussions, transforming the wildest imaginations into the bitter reality, activity and finally concluding by verbally summing up all tumultuous moments could make it even worse. Hearts are worn out, menacingly torn out to shreds to serve us to some mammoth insect. Those rebukes over dressing sense, weirdly accented English and every unique postulate act as if pelting stones over the dignity of young minds. As far as convergence of my mind can occur, nobody could ever get rid of his/her native tongue. Dwindling hopes over the survival are dashed to the ground, upon getting the expected rejection for poor English vocabulary (do not worry; this dismaying snippet is not about me). Heart promptly beating as if extending a helping hand to that shaking soul, such appalling instances should never be treated in a revered manner, should be barred from entering into the technical meetings.

In simple words, a technical person should be regarded for his unmatched techniques but never be excused lamely for his unconventional verbal or bodily stances. I am deeply distressed over such farce issues creeping in our society and crippling our imaginative power. Everyone is blessed with a unique mind in this world.

Last line reminds me another damsel beauty enlightening the park in the evening. I delayed my routinely run by 45 minutes to synchronize it with her. Amidst all the uproar happening there, my eyes are always pinned upon her, shrewdly piercing all the leafy trees. Obviously exaggerating last line, yesterday I was moving ahead of her (10 meters) gazing everywhere except her. "Excuse me; may I know the time please?" I got every word itched into my heart. Yet I responded as if those words went unheard lost in the solitude beauty. She asked the same but without mentioning the ‘please’ factor. "Aah, its 8:25 pm", I could have uttered some more words. "Thanks", sculpturing out my heart was all, those last words had done. Went past me unhurriedly swashing her smile brimmed with charm, I was completely mesmerized. If given a chance, I would have asked her to accompany me for one more round of this plush green park, pleading to god that this round may never end…

first day at job..

June 16, 2008

Under the scrutiny of hovering clouds I reached main office well before time. I wasn’t much startled gazing at squared room humming under the equivocal cords of many upcoming employees of that firm. I have been to this conference hall many times where our wistful longings were mercilessly strangulated. I guess daman and saurav would nod affirmatively. Mr. Saurav Gandhi, a gifted orator and our HR manger, entered appareled in formals.

“Our company is all about CONNECTION & COLLECTION”

Everybody in that hall could accolade the direction of their carrier at that instance. All eyes glued over the enviable traits of HR manager. He heaped so much praise over his welcome speech. Next week unveiled so many top notch officials sharing their views when Reliance took over command of electricity in Delhi. It was succumbed under the notorious image clasped tightly by the corruptive menaces. It took almost half a decade to confine unperturbed flow of black money under those white collar jobs. Six days went past clinging to those rotating chairs till 5 pm or even more. Wait friends, I am feeling uneasiness graving this post in my blog. Whatever is encapsulated in my posts reflect my shrewd thinking over the tactical world. Quite unprecedentedly, I am halting this bickering discussion here only…

I have many memorable moments clinging to my heart; trying to flourish some escapade through the window of my heart. Turbulently stirring my soul with fallacious smile of her, my heart stops pumping. She is vivacious tenaciously holding my breath for an hour daily. My heart really can’t suffer the wrath of her absence for even one day. I always run in reverse direction to pull down maximum confrontations with her. I was galloping at decent pace lost in her thoughts; she came down wearing that heart-throbbing smile. Meeting at a corner of rectangular park, I just gathered the pace to pass it before her, so that one needs not to drop down the speed at curve. Rather amending the same thoughts in her mind, she too put in effort to cover that extra inch to avoid collision, which I would love to make. Putting on shackles on my pace, yet my shoes skidded forward due to momentum. She rolled out her arms (may be she wanted to hug me) extending in moving direction to avoid that much-awaited collision. I diverted my path unwillingly and heart sobbing, yet was content with sighed relief on her beautiful face.

Feeling those inexpressible moments I used to live in childhood, beckoning me again with monsoons lashing out all my worries. Yesterday, tears rolled down my eyes graciously embracing the droplets of water in my hand, but soon they drained out of my hands. These droplets resembles inexplicably the cherished moments. One can’t get hold of these glorious moments (or droplets), cherish till it lasts. My romance with life continues and I hope will continue in all directions including in park too..

This intolerable wait won't last anymore. All this jeopardy would be vanished with the fine touch of appointment letter tomorrow. I never embrace such haphazaradly ways with pleasure, but can't dump it either. I shall shot down the next post very soon unmoved by those speedy slaps on orkut, against all those who gritted teeth over my blog. English is not anyone's paternal language. I love goofing up the words, simply irresistable are my feelings for my posts. I am still rock solid and unqueered by mockery...

Soon will write one for all those who love reading it and for those too, who get some words to bitch about this farce blog of Aseem Rambani..

my life..

Life raced past the years in most ferocious manners and came the time to climb another step. Unlike the most guys I was rather feeling amused losing the flock of friends and tying knots with the new ones. I appeared in admission test at Guru Harkrishan public school, a renowned bunch of students holding the maximum stakes in merit list. I made a miraculous exit in the first round after initial proceedings and I was heart-broken. Unmoved by my delinquent efforts, I applied in DAV specialized in its ardent teaching methodology. Hugely gained infrastructure along with plush green corridors were just the foggy view amidst the dampened hues and cries of students. Appearing with around 500 students, competing for a mere 40 seats in the most labyrinth section-A of school while would have to settle with notorious tag of sections ranging from B to M. Cracking the test in typical diffident manner, I was allotted section-D. I was inexplicably stuck with grief yet went to school in a muted manner. Guess what, section-D was considered the bright section not section-A. Whack, I could never explain my limit of happiness at that instant.

Those treacherous methods of teaching, those cumbersome periods and the strife to excel defying every dogma shaped my life, which was earlier ransacked by many tumultuous ridges. Never composed over the virtual ordinance of god in every bit, my efforts were the destiny who could underscore the pre-destined facts. Never gave heart in those competitive humdingers, I carved out my way denying the inevitable approval of almighty in my success. There came some testing times scuffing all my lauded efforts and every hope mingled with the dummy dust yet I had the unmoved supports of my loved ones.

It might be 5 rupees prize for solving numerical in class or be the first one to snatch that single seat to glue with those awesome Alexandra girls (her name could never drain out of my memory, kanika :p) I forged out my sublime efforts everywhere. During those four years in exemplary league under the strenuous teaching classes, it armored me with tricks to face weary altercations at every doorstep. That five-rupee paper held the utmost longing, which was tamed by person that could crack the numerical in class itself. I could still recall that prestigious bit upon which I pounced over just once, cracking a friction related numerical. Came hauling the last class of school, huddling the horrid troubles for competitive exams and cramming every bit of physics, chemistry and mathematics. I could no longer tolerate the inescapable burden; I quit the tuitions after first month. I used to share my concepts in my dreaded room all day with my solitude. Unwary of the contentious world, I kept crawling over the pages of my course until the end. Being caught red-handed cushioning my head over the piles of book were the most disgusting times. Making timetables and breaching it in successive days held no charm. All day looking out with wistful eyes holding so many dreams in my mellow heart, it became standstill stretching every moment.

Those silent unheard efforts were all who came to my rescue in those troubled days. Nevertheless, those never-ending days taught me sense of solitude precipitating my own identity. It polished me with the sense of accomplishment, never to rope down in catwalk of this uncanny world. One may sniff the stinking smell of attitude in my post. These 21 revolutions around sun have shown me brittle personality of materialistic world from every viewpoint. Have the attitude, else one could rob your identity leaving you to render in this innovative global world.

Ending the glorious moments of my life, which holds so much for me, I am still living my way, painted with the expectations of my known ones and trying to give a smile to everyone in this dreaded world. I am pretty happy being a phlegmatic..

my life..

Those echoes of the school bell rung after every 40 minutes had the crescendo effect upon me. One-hour journey back home in that juggernaut bus, loaded with out poured contents, were the happiest times. As I had the last stop, driver used to wake me up from my sweetest slumber after that regular visit to gatherings of nerds. Shouldering the inescapable books, buried under the expectations of whole world, came back crawling to home. Munching the lunch lying on my table never gave me any pleasure, yet swallowed down the every bit of it. I never shirked doing my sheets; my mind masked it being the universal karma of every beleaguered soul like me.

Employing me in cricket has profound memories bucked with my heart. A small skeptic visit to temple like a prodigal follower soothed my mind. Reason never concerned with any religious sentiments rather getting a break from the endless sheets piled over my shelf. Regular tests at home to horn my skills were the most maligned times for me that brought out the stupendous results. “Please god, gift me a break from these regular tests today”, bemoaning to almighty in most humble manners. Escaping tests used to be the splendid moments that I would have had ranked higher over any other happy shot in my life. As any other teenager glued to the cricket mania, I loved to cheer over the boundaries in initial fifteen overs. Entrenched in the fantasy world of NFS (need for speed), picking a black polished car with tainted windows driving frantically, and wishing one day I would fill up the empty porch with the same car. Monsoons lashing out all over daily routines, i love skidding over the frictionless mud plates. Drowned in the pool of water through that narrow lane caged by wheat fields, I splashed down my way for mandir in the rains. Throwing pebbles in the stagnant water making negligible disturbance was the game I had excelled always. Looking at the settling dusk over the long streams of water nearby my home is the coveted view I always long to relish. Though I never confessed, dogs scared me to the hell at every moment. Walking legs got numb, soul unconscious over the witty dogmatic view yet I never uttered a voice out of my stammered tongue. Ignoring those black mammoth animals with feeble glitter in my eyes, I galloped fast enough splitting milk over the floor as if leaving the proof of my courageous acts.

Eating that half-baked food in the lunch sessions brought me to tears every time, I hate it even now. One could never be saviour to my plight except that canteen in my school. Yet had to face even bigger hurdle of saving money, I never had those scuffed rotten pieces of papers enough to snatch a couple of samosa and chilled drink. Yet I was content sharing the half of that delicious meal with my financier friends hiding my sneer emotions. Playing cricket under the sweltering heat never wriggle out the passion to continue it for a while.

I am dumbfounded, speechless to express my feelings brimmed with sheer joy upon hearing the bell rung for the last period. I flied out of that hell in the most fanatical manner as if bulging out from the jail after serving endless life sentences. Making way through the mob carrying my priceless books, roaring and lifting the dust with our marching feet, every journey leading to the exit, every mind encapsulating the torn pieces after long baffling sessions in school and that rare spirit of passion, one could never see in this obnoxious world.

to be continued...

my life..

This post will probably explore some murky shades of my life. Nurtured with my tender yet acute emotions, I’ll regard this post with my utmost sincerity. I was clueless, mind rendering over the various topics to penn down one on my extremist blog. A phone call from home and came back all the most relished memories of my childhood. I am turning the clocks way back onto the February 19, 1987….

Crying in a babbling manner (as my grandma) told me, I was skeptic ridden into everyone’s arms. I never like being played into the hands of others, yet people came embarking me as I am lofted ball. Yet I never confessed the uneasiness poured over me indiscriminately. Those times were not so blessed with harmony, rampaged by the armoured blue star operation still fringing its effects. My grandma could never fade those horrendous memories from her mind; always recollecting those battered pebbles (times) that I had listened to with feverish glitter in my eyes. Along with such nightmarish moments, she narrated me the jubilant times of British rule. Came along with them were endless scattered moments about my dad’s boyish times, whom I had always tried to capture with my eyes. She briefed her past spent in lalpur (in Pakistan) and in context with it, about her childhood in chucking manner. Amused me with her mischievous happenings in life and my giggles were all, I couldn’t help hiding.

Neither my conspicuous memory holds things much vividly nor do I want those boisterous fairytales, narrated by my mom, to publish here. As far back as could stretch the shackles of my mind, I have some dubious reminiscences after completing 8 years. I never left my ever dented routine of visiting mandir after completing 8 revolutions of sun. Doing those 3 rhymed prayers always took 13-14 minutes and eyes gazing relentlessly at ticking of clock. Priests kept rendering with the winds of change but never did my routine. Though I was never much adamant yet forcefully sacrificing my 15 minutes, it has supposedly favoured me with widest grins throughout my life. I am a minnow yet riding high as per the ordinance of almighty god. Summer vacations were the most awaited one for me. Tears roll down my eyes recalling those gracious innocent acts congruently with my lovely cousins. I could sense fragrance of reaped white fields, lashing out one to put it under my t-shirt. Those sweat drenched t-shirts, mud soaked socks could never fade away.

Bundling past the years came the time I started cycling. Staking whole week in Lucknow for this purpose ended with my swollen knees and groaned cries, which always made my elder sister laughed out her heart. Those childish atrocities got perished by end of winters and I got my very own two-wheeled chopper (for me atleast) on august 15.

to be continued...

ASEEM RAMBANI, this name would be punched on the rolls of company from June 16, 2008.

I got stuck with inexpressible joy when my HR manager Mr. Saurabh Gandhi, most admirable hunk in the league (atleast for that instance), finally nodded affirmatively in our favour. Clenching fists and flashing unabashedly my wide grin, I got tumbling downstairs from second floor. The inevitable trials from our college management to delay my joining were ruthlessly thwarted. I too have learnt all tricky mind games from those sick nerds only. All my tireless vigorous attempts seem to be getting cashed in the near future. Every moment spent here came flashing as if sarcastically reminding me of struggling times.

I am really happy J

i doubt it..

Reading about the economic terrorism in market made my mind leapt over well-known say: live n let live. How much our living standards are streamlining to this gloss truth? It left me yearning over the smoothly sailing columns glorifying the excruciating price hike in petrol and diesel. Yet those media persons were showing the gloat intentions over the untouched kerosene oil in this spooky market. Mumbai was the worst bitten areas by this infectious inflation while bottomed up by Delhi. Certainly, it will be lashed out leading to tempting protests all across country by those anonymous protagonists. Just one question keeps tumbling over my mellow mind; can I do something to barrage this contentious outflow of crude oil?

Frankly, the answer is not much lost in this contemporary mindset. A heart unperturbed by this outshone monetary class may dare to dump such scornful conspiracies. A bunch of journalists came hauling for the untouched prices of kerosene oil, which is the only source of power in endless rural areas. I would like to ask how many of those have been presently surviving on redeemed kerosene oil. Everyone is sucking this distilled fluid for a comfort air-conditioned ride to their offices. One would prefer hustling to office alone and reeling back the vehicle to drop his/her privileged child for school. Seriously, we pretend as if facing some helpless circumstances. We always blaming the impoverished growth of country or blemishing rules. Figures may be not accurate, but oil-marketing companies are importing petrol and diesel for 75 and 70 rupees/litre respectively. Incurring a loss of million dollars, by serving it to Indians at half the price, to make sure a middle class person can clinch the luxurious life in this modest India.

Situation is not as disgusting as it is put on the celluloid. Still we can resurrect this dilapidating condition. Let the reins of your mind be loosened averting the brisk pace of gulping up the rarest fuel. It may not hurt your prestige travelling with your daughter in one car. You may not feel relentless rolling down the windowpanes on the course to office. You shall not be gasping for fresh air accompanying your colleagues in boarding bus packed to its capacity. Doing it twice a week won’t let your social image attacked by some unleashed fury in your mind. Solution is not any technical drama as if drilling machines have stopped operating at Bombay high oil wells. The dilemma all lies in your inner virtues and principals. We are living infesting the souls of others, looking at this miraculous world with the eyes of others. Nothing is mine, not even my identity. It is painted by the exemplary trends nourished by the society.

“NOTHING IS AS DIVINE AND PURE AS YOUR SOUL” and I doubt it !!

N R E G A..

A mind has got under hibernation since Sunday. The reason is NREGA, national rural employment guarantee act. Before crucifying the actual basics, I would narrate a story.

A female aged in her mid-thirties asked in anguish,” Why can’t schools be open in summer vacations too?” The journalist stood their frozen as if trying to pacify her motherly emotions for her child. She repeated,” It could fetch my child a mid-day meal that I can never arrange before night. My child could save some food for his grandfather too.” This is bitter reality nevertheless, it is as bitter as any famine. Two days intensive reading over this topic has ripened out the real essence of life. Leading life in a plush manner, one cannot even let the reins of their mind race through this hard fact of life in their wildest nightmares.

How a person works burdened under the piles of responsibility? And it could never get worse when one has to migrate to nearby sites to ensure his family would not die out of hunger. Gulping the hot coffee after midnight to read such horrendous unpleasant facts, nothing could be more tragic. Unleashing such facts would be pacified in a day or two in this mud-slinging pessimistic world. Calling out the persons, who can loiter around with ecstasy in office, optimistic is utter non-sense. Surviving through the natural catastrophes moving ahead without losing the vigorous sting is all about being optimistic. persons like me will shudder over such news as if applying it to polish my vocabulary. still i consider it a very noble aspect of government to initiate and support such acts which are a boon for rural india, which is the native place of the soul of our country...

weak me or society ?

Two extreme types of souls reside on this earth.

As once pooled splendidly by Rabindranath Tagore,

"One lives bleating the wriggles of their sentiments and following the paved track of human exploitation.

And one heaps out of conventional track to redefine the essence of human existence and to make world a melody of harmony and progress”.

Straight the hearts would be the ardent followers of the latter species. Who bothers for the weaker ones? Nobody did, it would be passed onto the upcoming generations to avoid the resilience for the betterment of humanity. One would smother the acts of minority because they were not capable of or may not be exposed to the outer better world. This flock of snobs will not let the weak to reside in their eloped world in preordained way as wished by the almighty.

Take an instance of a college of nerds, every geeky is puffed up with endless queries and there may be some, content wandering in their own nurtured fantasies. Stooping over the last invisible bench won’t get me a sighed relief. Professors keep harassing me over my jerky cerebellum and fellow friends never mind playing sarcastically with my emotions. Feeling heart-broken, I would leave the place in remorse growing even darker with every moment. Praying silently when world went into deep slumber, “God why you parcel me to this unsustainable place? “My efforts recklessly ditched as if some unwanted garbage left to mingle with the very source (mother earth). I shall try not to peep into the lives of gifted species, haplessly galloping the endless track in a darkened night with foggy hopes, looking for some virtual destination, where no one ever reaches..