Being in the company of myself - Alone

In school I remember reading the famous poem by Tagore, which read: Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high. While that wonderful poem was written in the backdrop of the freedom struggle; I immediately stuck a cord with the first line. To me the whole poem was about being the master of my own mind, being fearless and having enough courage to keep my head high in all circumstances and adversities. The other day I heard this song based on the poem by Tagore again, which read:  Jodi Tor Daak Shune Keu Na Ase Tobe Ekla Chalo Re. Yet again this song piece stuck a cord and I inevitably was pulled towards the intrigue of the whole thought process behind this beautiful piece.What stood out was: Eklo Chalo Re; meaning Walk Alone!

While I walk alone in this world; I proclaim myself as own master. Being a master doesn't come easy; especially when you are constantly thwarted by hordes of cynics, ready to pull you down, prove you wrong and have perceived dichotomies regarding your whole viewpoint. I came alone in this world, didn't I? I shall go alone too, isn't it? I have often found myself gasping for breath in the race for singular survival and habitation. So what if I find myself wanting for an odd company every now and then; I still am going to walk the path alone.

Surely I was surrounded by people at the time of my birth with whom I had no connection barring those, forged by the societal definitions.The only connection I really had was with my mother, who nurtured me for 9 months in her womb. Apart from her; I was unknown to any relation, absolutely what so ever, in this world. Sometimes I am forced to think: even my mother walked alone in her pursuit of bringing me in this world. I thank thee, my mother, for bringing me in this world. Yet, I have to walk alone. I am beginning to feel pangs of loneliness right now and this feeling is certainly not a good one. How do I keep my head held high right now? How do i keep my mind uncluttered and fearless? How do I face challenges which poke me right in the face and tell me to back-off?

And just at this point of time I tell myself: If you bow down right now; you shall remain bowed till your funeral pyre. If I call upon that last reserve of resolve, steely grit, calmness and self-belief; I shall stand tall. The choice is mine. I don't have to scream or have to discuss it with multitude of people to decide which option should I stick to. I, after all, am my own master. And it doesn't take a lot of intelligence to decide that I should stick with the later option and stand tall.

Alas, in almost 99% of situations; I bow down. I bow down and yet I find myself walking alone, with my head dropped, and mind being afraid of the next moment. The very next moment; I might, yet again, have to chose among bowing down or standing tall. The desirable option is known to me and to everyone. The reality is apparently known too; I bow down and still walk alone.

Ekla Chalo Re!! I have my own meaning of this phrase - in this own unique way; I am own master ;)

How much is mine?

The whole world, I screamed, is mine. After all, we are always told that you can conquer the whole world. If you will, you may please have it too. But, how much can I really have? Can I have a quantifiable number or measurement metric to explain? In the last few days; I've been striving to understand, " How Much is mine?" As in, really mine; which I lay claim on. Once I know what is mine: I shall ensure that I have a proper lock and key and not let it slip out of my hands ever.

As a nascent thought; I do not like this idea of claiming something as mine. I imagine a golden pathway to an unseen, unknown treasure. But, then even the street dogs imagine a lot. They imagine hearty meal, a shelter in the rain, a little pat on the head full with sympathy. Do they get it, ever? At least I haven't seen them get such, till date. In all probability I can also only dream of owning something or rather; even see something that could have been mine and still see it go away. That implies that nothing is mine. I have a feeling that the very sense of ownership is futile. Indeed we came with nothing on us and we go with absolutely nothing along (we've been hearing this since time immemorial). But such is our heart and mind that we unknowingly long for things. We crave for realistic, emotional, physical, mental, spiritual stimulation. We ask just about everyday; What is mine? And there is something lying in front of us; we ask-how much of it is mine? We look around to see if someone is looking at us and if we are in the company of none- we claim it all as ours.

I am an average guy with all the qualities that qualifies me just about average.
And hence; I had the thought: How much is mine in this world?
I surely think that all that glitters is gold.
And i am blinded by the shining light.
I dream each day and think; someday; I shall call it all mine.
Till then - Nothing really is mine. Till then - It's all in the mind.
I've my bags packed, for the day that gives me an extra dime.
Till then, I'm dreaming and the world thinks I am blind.
Till, I don't have it; I don't need the lock and key.
I am having my palms cupped and arms stretched to grab it.

Forced to be back - but it feels good to be forced too!

The ticking of the clock is clear and crisp at this hour. I can hear the watchman whistling away to provide a fake sense of security to all those sleeping. The screen is a bit too bright for sleep deprived eyes which can easily be mistaken for being dreamy. And; I am thinking- do I need to do this? Do I really need to revive my passion? Is it worth to just do something because you feel unworthy of not having anything unique or worth being appreciated? Or is it my ego which is making me pick up the modern day pen and type my way to yet another attempt at making myself loud and clear- that I am what I really am. Good, bad or Ugly - you can't get more than what I have; from me.

Writing had been my passion since the time I can remember. Or rather I should say; I wrote better than I spoke. I didn't realise when did I start writing and in all honesty; I don't even remember what was the first stuff I wrote. I do remember my folks telling me: " our son writes so well and he won the second prize in the school debate". Hah; Am I really lucky here? I came second and my folks they were proud of me. Whatever happened to that, " Our kid came first"? I've penned down my thought for umpteen times and each time I have always had a confused mind about what to write. I always thought; how should I write. The biggest challenge was: Goodness gracious; Would I even be able to express what I am feeling in a confused mind.

As I write this, yet again the watchman whistles. And this takes my mind back in time, when I was a kid. There were a spate of thefts in the locality I stayed in. And all the residents worried about the increasing rate of thefts, decided to utilize the services of a night watchman.  Man, I was excited at that very thought. A night watchman to me sounded like some superhero right out of the comic books. And boy; that day I understood that comics were purely a work of fiction. Right in front of us stood our Watchman. My first, natural, reaction at seeing him was: He is the watchman? He was an elderly fellow of around fifty and three. He sported a white moustache and had more wrinkles on his face than he ever seemed to have hair on his gleaming shiny head. I asked my father; how would this guy protect us from thefts? He himself needs protection. I could see the same question making rounds in my father's mind. Nonetheless, he was employed as our night watchman of two blocks. Fortunately for that elderly gentleman; there was a reduction in the thefts due to the crackdown of a particular gang of thieves.

Yet again; I sat down to write something else and ended up writing about the watchman. The title of this note should probably read:  The elderly watchman. I can't stop smiling on my confusions which still wrestle my mind each time I try to pen down something, err sorry Type something I mean. I am again trying to revive this craft of mine which I call; being a writer ( trust me; it's cool to be something like this - 'Oh I write', as if Willy himself gave me his pen to write). And before I finish this meaningless post - I am definitely good at writing. And I know it's cool to have something unique. It's good to be forced sometimes from the slumber.

The watchman has gone crazy today. Maybe he's got to know that I've just finished writing about his fraternity. I salute thy watchman. You keep me safe when I sleep. :D 

Where have I been

It's been a while, a long while since i've been off the blocks. A little more longer and I presume it could well be the penultimate shot to the last nail. A plethora of emotions and situations have tried their hands at messing it up for me. Needless to say, I did get gobbled up sometime. A lot of times I've been asked where the fuck I've been. I just say, I've been here only, you chose not to see me. I know I'm hiding from them all - I love to hide. It's easy to hide and be away from the thoughts. However, that's certainly not me.

I love the feeling of standing right under the flashlights; being a rockstar! All Said and done, this certainly is my time; just as it is for everyone else. I'm gonna crank it up and loud now! That's how I like it.

I'm a lover, a figher, a writer, a painter, a rebellion, a poet, a relentless traveler.

An evening sun drawn in red.

An evening sun drawn in red,

Just doesn’t seem to comfort

Just an ill fated hour in the summer,

For a moment I couldn’t hold forth.

Why, just why do we hate?

Nothing is mine, neither is yours

Explain to me the stakes.

Sometimes it seems like a surreal truth

Fuck I don’t like the gory lakes

I’m tired of questions and counters.

My children are so sweet

Their acts are so tender

They want a world of smiles

Definitely not full of splinters.

What wrong doing have they done?

It’s a just a little sometime they’ve been born

Grave is the last step from the cradle

If it is, so let it be me. Please let it be me.

A scared expression is glowing so dull

It’s scarred and not just plain scared

My parents want me back home every evening

My gal longs to see me after a hard days work.

This isn’t about religion or creed.

This isn’t about freedom and regression.

This is about each one of us.

It’s about living in peace and compassion.

Campus hiring-2008/09 @ my office

This month had been very busy and full of work. I've had the pleasure to visit the top engineering colleges of the Northern part of the country and scout for fresh talent to join our office.

I am never short of being amazed at the breakneck speed with which we are moving; technology, intelligence, knowledge, attitude to name just a few things. The students now are much more aware of their environment. They are much more clear of what they want to do and how they want to do. All the candidates's that I've hired so far have been "Rockstars" in their own way. No wonder the companies are shelling out the rectangular paper in mind boggling numbers. I am certainly not averse to the idea of paying the deserving. However, I just get a lil anxious re: their future path. On second thoughts I am sure they're sure of sustaining the good work that they've done so far.

I've been involved in hiring of people at all the levels of hierarchy in all the departments. However, fresher hiring is simply the most interesting hiring. Nothing beats the energy of a 21 year old chap; full of exuberance, confidence, knowledge, creative thinking and desire to get the job. You can just see it in their eyes the need to get the job. And its not just monetary aspect that drives them. They genuinely want to mark their presence in the professional world and aspire to reach unprecedented heights. However, you'd also come across folks who cut a sorry figure. They are normally not really bothered about job or placements. I wouldn't really like to talk about them at this moment.

Last but definitely not the least, you get a chance to meet new people, visit new places and expand your knowledge. I'm lovin it.

The Constant Run

There are times when you cry.
And times when there are no bounds for joy.
For life is like earth.
Orbitting around the sun.
With days and nights on a constant run.
I dont know how it feels to be in pain.
And neither for joy.
For im not worthy of having emotions.
As im GOD`s creation known as MAN..
There`s no use crying for the gone.
When you know you`ll always be all alone.
`Coz you`d never have the right,
To go with someone on the last flight.
Still take all the joys as they come.
`Coz sorrow is more and joy just one.
So better have memories of fun.
As life`s always on a constant run.

Part of me

Its not in me But I can feel it so close
I’m waiting for it’s time Its all over my mind
I’m unable to hold my joy I wanna scream and shout
How would it look like? What shall I call upon?
The happiness is unparalleled; The bond would grow, ah so strong
We’ll be each others mate
I wanna dance along all the while
I would let it make its own style
The thought of its smile and tenderness make my heart melt

To think of it, its not even here. But I know it is, coz its me!

Vapor Wishes

Wishes are just wishes.

Vanishing, resurfacing; they make me cry.

Like cloud of vapors they come, likewise they go.

Thoughts becoming dreams, dreams turning into wishes.

Wishes making me more miserable; I cannot stop thinking.

Wishes of the poor, wishes from the rich

I wish I could stop wishing; could have saved a stitch.

I wasted my time and wished it could come back.

No matter whose they are, wishes just lost track.

Rainy days are here, oh I wish to dance.

Wishes are so fragile, i just broke my stance.

Its so cold outside, i wish my lover was here.

Wishes are so docile, i lost all my courage.

My last wish was a simple one.

He probably didn't wish the same.

I wish i have a wish granted someday.

I want my sun shining, and my children always play.