Merry X'Mas
I laid on the bed trying hard to shut my eyes and dive into a sound sleep, but there was a chill of excitement and anxiety that was running through my veins and keeping me awake. This was one of those moments when I had to concentrate hard to get some sleep, sounds pretty absurd and contradictory, but that’s how it is. Meanwhile I stretched my hands to sense any unusual objects below or around my pillow, but to my disappointment, there were none. I cannot recollect for how long this continued, but I was soon submerged into deep sleep. It was a typical cold winter night when one is lazy enough to even turn to the other side of the bed and here I was still moving my hands to sense something miraculous. It wasn’t too late before I finally bumped my fingers into a pile around my pillow and it generated a crackling sound.
Alas!!! I leaped out of the bed in no time and called out for every single member of my family. They took their own time to respond and my impatience prompted me to rush to the switchboard and turn on the lights. I yelled “Santa Claus has come!!! Wake up!!!” I rushed my tiny feet towards my sisters’ room breaking their sleep and overhearing their abusing remarks for shattering their virtual dream world. The adrenaline rush was so high, that I wouldn’t have given a second thought before taking a bet with Jesse Owens. I ran back to my room and saw my folks with their swollen eyes and electrocuted hair sticking their faces out of the quilt and jackets and smiling at me. When I turned around, I couldn’t see any of my sisters following the trail and there I went like a humming bird right on to their beds dragging each one of them out to my room. I played the highlight reel again “Santa Claus has come!!! Wake up!!!” By now the marijuana effect had left our house and everyone was in their complete senses and looking at me with an amused expression. Till now I hadn’t even explored the stuff that made me perform this crazy act. Then I pull out the pile of socks and stocking from below my pillow and began to unravel each one of them on the bed like a flee market shopkeeper. It was full with different variety of candies, sweets, chocolates, goodies and next to them were some toys or maybe games that I had been looking for. My family around me was happier to see my expressions than that bunch of stuff I had spread and decorated on my bed. All along I took a break and yelled my slogan again and punched my hands in the air in excitement with a deeper sense of accomplishment. Once everything had been revealed and explored, it was like an hour or so and everyone was trying hard to pull their eyelids up and was frequently yawing. Then they convinced me to pull down the shutter of my store as it was pretty late and that’s when the trivial question struck me “I am so happy [grinning non-stop], but did anyone see from where did Santa Claus come in?” That’s when they all became saints and my sisters took the charge of giving me an explanation that would eventually convince me “No one knows where he enters the home from, but if any of the members is awake, he returns and doesn’t come back”. With this fear in my mind, year after year I would try to sleep ASAP and force everyone around me also to hit the bed for good.
Roll Back (1 month): My middle sister would ask me to write the letter to Santa Claus and list the things I would want from him. Considering myself nothing less than Sherlock Holmes, I would secretly scribble down the letter along with the list and seal it inside a white envelop. I would pull out my small diary from the drawer and write the address of Mr. Claus, given by my middle sister, on the top. I was too young to move out on my own and stick a stamp on it and push it across into a letter box, hence I had to hand it over to my dad. They all would politely and politically drive me into revealing what all I had enlisted in the letter, but I seem to be too loyal to Santa Claus and wouldn’t reveal a word. I had even shared the address of Santa Claus with a few friends in my class and also one of the gals I had a crush on asking them not to reveal it to everyone. I would eagerly wait for the final day and being greedy, I would collect every possible socks in the house and ask my mom to help me wash them a day before. Everyone would go nuts not finding their socks in the shoe rack. My sisters would go insane looking at my craziness but I would be Jesus for that moment forgiving them for all their repulsive behavior or action, for the fruit of this hard work made my eyes gloom and heart blossom J.
Over the years, when I grew up and the day I discovered that it was all a fantasy and not a reality, I became a partial zombie not because it wasn’t Santa who was doing this, but because all this excitement would now come to an end. I was told that my middle sister was the Santa here, who would lay awake all night waiting for me to go off to sleep before she could sneak in and carefully place everything next to my pillow. She would get really annoyed cuz of my habit of reaching out to feel anything around my pillow all the time. It made thing hell for her. The letter I thought Dad would have posted was actually slit open and scrutinized, as some one the things I wrote in my list were dam crazy, anything from a live pup to an automatic rifle. So they had to manipulate and get a little more realistic and begin their shopping for my big day. Later on when I found a few things missing from the list I had sent him across, I would not utter a single word, as my sister had told me “You are never supposed to tell anyone what you have asked Santa to bring you”. Every year on 1st April, I played a prank and fooled my father and then run around laughing “April Fool!!! April Fool!!!” I later realized that he would deliberately fall for my pranks to make me feel happy. One of those days when my sis and Mom were around, he blushed and said “It’s al right son, I have been fooling you for so many years” and he burst out laughing. My Mom winked at him asking him not to give any hints, but I wouldn’t bother about that statement and laugh aloud along with him.
Move Forward (16 yrs, 2007): I follow my usual routine the night before. Come back from work, hit the gym, exhaust myself, return home, take a shower and move out for dinner. I go back home and maybe read something before dozing off. Somewhere around midnight when I am fast asleep, I would be woken up by the text message beep of my cell phone lying next to the pillow. It would be from a family member or friend wishing me Merry Christmas. That’s the only point when I would realize, hey its Christmas and I would sail back down in the memory lane to my early years of celebrating this festival with my family. Now the only reason about X’mas that makes me feel happy, other than it being a festival is the fact that it would be an off from work and if planned proactively, I could manage to take the last week of the year off and go anywhere on a vacation. The next morning I would call my folks and sis and have a good laugh about how crazy and hysterical I used to become that night. For a moment I would want to flush out all the sanity inside my system and get back to being crazy as I used to be, but I am unable to. All these years I have couple of times wondered about the events that must have taken place at my friends home, with whom I shared the hypothetical Santa’s mailing address. If I could recollect their names, I would have definitely put an end to my curiosity and shot them this question inside my head.
Nailed Down
It was the time of the year I always looked forward to. Coming home on Diwali was something that was eagerly awaited by all my family members. It’s been almost 7 yrs now and I can hardly remember occasions when all of us were under one roof at a given point of time. Since I walked out of my primary institution leaving golden memories behind, life has been a different ball game all along. The process of learning, the art of surviving, the tricks for excelling … etc. has never taken a backseat since then. But it’s always healthy to travel back to the moments you think were the brightest spots in your life. And who better than your comrades during that phase can help you relive them. As usual, the moment I stepped inside my home, I was nothing less than a crocodile taking a sunbath on a winter day. Not that I am smacked by metal chains at my workplace and deprived of sleep, but there is definitely something about the comfort of home, that just makes me hibernate as though am a victim of Jetlag. My friends who are very well aware of this phenomenon do not bother to buzz me for a few days, nor do they ask me about how I spent my first few days here. It was always fun to meet them till the time we all were graduating. But then it seemed as though Cupid declared his last trip on planet Earth and none of them wanted to let this opportunity go off their hands. Every time I had a word with them, I got to hear about someone or the other getting nailed down into a permanent, committed and so called LEGAL relationship. Yes, the term “nailed down” is what I would refer to it throughout, doesn’t matter if it sounds iterative. Initially there was a ray of excitement with every incoming surprise. But guess what, initially my new handset excited me too, but with days passing by, it was nothing more than an instrument used for making calls and messaging for me. For those who felt offended by that comparison need to realign their thought process, as I dint target the statement at what they thought it to be. Soon all the surprises and excitement began to materialize and in no time did I realize that the jerseys of all my friends I would have generally hung out with during my vacation have already been retired in the arena. Now they all had their own families to attend to and their priorities had changed. To add some weight to the entire heavy feeling, I realized that all my elder sisters were married too. Hence, their priorities too were realigned to some extent. This left me with not many options and resulted in the hibernation period getting extended till the last day of my vacation. As a kid, I was always very excited about this festival, as this satiated my destructive tendencies in the safest possible manner. At the same time, it was an occasion to pamper my sweet tooth. But off lately, seems I got too much inspired by the phony nature preservation campaigns by our celebrities and I lost all my interest in bombarding the lawn outside my home. Even though I preferred planting them in my school campus :):):) hi hi hi … I just spilled some beans ;-). Thanks to my genetics, I had to keep a watch on what I eat and my workout regularly, which went on a major toss while this croc was out of the marshy land and enjoying a vacation in the Bahamas. So in a short, Diwali vacation was like another break for me, just that being a major festival, it made my leaves approval at workplace a little easier.
There was another twist to the tale which I dint see coming in the beginning. During my conversation with mom, at times I would tell her about my friends who were getting married. It wasn’t a major concern for her until my youngest sister also got nailed down two years back and then I was the only one they could see next in row standing with a “Prospective Bachelor” placard in my hand. It took me a while to understand the grave I was digging for myself during the happiness sharing conversation. For some vague reasons, people outside your family are more concerned about your marriage than you yourself. With their constant bickering it was pretty obvious that my folks became more concerned than ever about me loitering and haggling with my life alone all these years. Hence, the new version of my vacations passed by trying to avoid certain topics from invading my conversation with my folks as there were certain ideology clashes happening on that front and none of us were eager to step back from our lines of formation. Then I would soon be spotting ancient cavemen from some forbidden corner of Earth raiding my house and making attempts to bring back my memories of taking piggyback rides on their back as a kid. Even if I couldn’t recollect a shit about those bumpy rides, I would just smile back nodding my head as though the mere thought of those good old days made me feel like a wizard riding a white unicorn in lush green meadows. Just before I began to act like one, they would pop up their favorite topic of “How to crucify Indian youth during the happiest phase of their lives”. With the most obvious and cheeky grin they would talk about how my folks could retire and take a dip in holy Ganges by nailing down their last burden “ASAP”. All along they would be juggling their glance between me and my folks to see the contrasting reactions and to analyse if their only chance to witness the fountain of youth would be materialised if their master plan was successfully executed. They were the same warriors who were pillaging our territories when my sisters were the celebrities on the Hot-Seat. Somehow their fake rubber bullets were never able to penetrate through my system.
Cornered from almost all possible directions inside my home, I thought of rushing out for fresh air. My comrades from childhood days were there for my help. We were having a school reunion party being thrown in order to wake up our already expired alumni. Now this was the place I was expecting to see like minded people, who would give me some company and be a part of a common tribe inflicted with similar disease. I had a hunch that I would bump into familiar faces I bump into on the networking sites, in my messenger friends list, in my phonebook, in my address book, maybe there would be one out the blue new entry this time. Soon I ended my speculations as I entered the venue. It was pretty much as I had expected it to be. The juniors whom we pulled out of their lines during school days for breaking some stupid rule were all grown up; their hair longer than the belt holding their trousers. As usual, my bunch of pals was well inside my line of sight and I joined their army in the beehive located right in the center of the floor. There were a few blood diamonds coming in, who would react nothing less than the winner of a beauty pageant as though you were a piece of amusement for them. Their phony reactions were as always unbearable. They made every attempt to make you believe how miserable their lives had been until they saw you a moment back only to vanish back into their superficial black holes and never reappear again. And I must honour the respectable nerds I always avoided and prayed they would change, but alas, the world is not enough for them. While we were catching up on one another and keeping our eyes on everyone from our posts, I saw this gal with a million dollar smile waving in my direction. Since I couldn’t recollect who it was, I thought probably it wasn’t me that she was waving at. But I couldn’t see any change in her reaction and I tugged my pal next to me confirming if that gal was waving at us. Even before we could mutually reach a conclusion, she was already heading towards us. Memory lapse took backstage and we laughed on our sides of the incident just happened. The predator I was escaping from once again located me under its GPS. She was also getting nailed down soon, even before it was time to change our calendars. For some unexplained phenomena, I had this feeling that this was just the beginning of how miserable things might be getting soon. It wasn’t surprising anymore as my instincts never failed me. Most of my pals who got married … err … nailed down exactly seven months back were already ahead of most of us in increasing their headcount. There was similar news flowing from every possible corner and I just looked up in the sky and a formation of clouds apparently gave me an impression of a wicked smile. Am sure it wasn’t Eros, or Aphrodite, or Cupid, or Pan … for me THIS was IT, this was Satan, the end. The scale was now getting unbalanced with most of my comrades taking the subway to the other side. The only door, I thought would open to the city of similar faces was nothing but a mirage. I found myself trapped from all directions, LOL … yeah … reminds me of the famous last words from my then spinster sisters “Don’t smile, it’s gonna be your turn soon”.
Labels: Bachelor, Diwali, Marriage, Reunion, School, Vacation
Overtly Sung Saga of Beaten Heroes
7:45 a.m. I am passing the shops on sideways on my way to the station and I overhear a few people excitedly enquiring and discussing about some cricket match which is going to be played today. It doesn’t bother me much to even find out what trophy is it or how does the score tally looks like or to be honest which teams are playing and where is it being played. I walk on. I board the regular morning local to Vashi Station. It’s completely jam packed and hardly has any space to adjust my limbs in a more comfortable posture. But despite that I see a few more enthusiasts giving expert predictions and opinions on (I presume) the same cricket match. Their gestures, expressions and involvement would make one feel that they were being paid a handsome amount to do that job. But as of now this was of least concern, as I am desperately waiting for my destination, meanwhile striving to rise a little higher on my toes to get a whiff of fresh air. To my relief, I dint have to bear the suffocation for long as my goal was to travel to a station hardly 15 mins from my place. As a daily ritual, I have a cup of strong tea at my regular snacks outlet and moved towards the boarding point. I see another bunch of office colleagues discussing about (I presume again) the same cricket match. I think, lets not be so oblivious and at least find out about the match which is creating such a buzz amongst everyone. If not for the results, then at least to keep myself updated with the current happenings.
As it turns out, it’s another test match India is playing to regain their lost form. The discussion just doesn’t seem to end and as we board the bus, I can see a few other people doing the same drill in their own corners. “They should remove Sehwag from the team” said one, to which the other agreed “yes! He should. He hasn’t done his job well in so many matches”. Another Bong comes up with a suggestion, “They should bring our Dada back in team, Dravid is too slow and placid for a captain.” I see a few head’s poping up from different direction to get a closer look at the guy who made that statement. Others in the group being anti Ganguly retaliated “You crazy to get that nerd back in the team???”, “Why not?” the Bong replied, “He has had a successful track record as the Captain of Indian team” to which someone passed a comment “and an even more successful end” and they burst into laughter. Anyways, I am having my share of fun being a spectator. I hold myself back from pooling in my suggestion to ban the entire Indian team from playing International cricket, as that would have got a few ardent fans really agitated.
I reached office and fond my cubicle mates already abusing Sehwag, who got out even before I walked down to my cubicle from the entrance. That was pretty quick and I couldn’t control myself from laughing on their faces, but their expressions were quite cold as though seriously hurt by my reaction. So without irritating them any further I just switched on my desktop and began my days work. It was soon time for lunch and I headed for the canteen with my colleague, who is pretty much not too keen in cricket either. To my surprise, I saw people heading straight for the television sets rather than checking out the menu for the day. Most of them were hovering with their plates on the tables closer to the TV set. By then the Indian squad had swapped its role and were all scattered on the field. As usual, they were being criticized on every table for their inefficiency and their involvement in endorsing products more than concentrating on the game. I finished my meal and resumed my work, even though most of the faces I had seen when I came to the canteen were still stuck up on the screen. In the evening I saw them again hooked on the sets and in the evening while returning back home, it was a repeat telecast of the entire match being broadcasted verbally by numerous fans in the bus.
The scenario remaining pretty much the same till the time India lost the series and people started identifying the Indian side as pathetic and hopeless. The news and television media was firing cannonballs of criticism on the players, our ex-superstars gathering on a round table giving their expert views, which is the only option majority retired players end up choosing other than opening a restaurant to keep their bank balances buzzing with activity, the cartoonists getting a good theme on their upcoming section in the daily prints. The 24 hour news channels dint have anything more productive to be telecasted, so they hung on to this story for hours and days till they got some other piece of news which more or less qualified for achieving the status of “Breaking News”, just because it was able to break the monotony the viewers watching the same news over n over again for hours.
But shortly, in no time India is in for another series and people just seem to have buried all their traumas and rushed back to their television sets despite having a pre-conceived notion that only some miraculous performance might be able to save them from witnessing another replay. And yet again, after the expected results people again get back home all frustrated about the performance the team had delivered. There is no doubt about the lack in conviction and determination which our side displays on the green field. But are they the only ones to be blamed for the entire tattered picture? NO!!! We are equally responsible for encouraging them to continue with their awful performances, taking the sentiments of millions of viewers for granted. Large amount of money is being spent on this game through different channels and at a point the player starts looking at it as a money minting machine more than taking a pride in representing the entire nation on international front. There are other sportsmen in the country being neglected on all fronts and their sport getting overshadowed by the larger than life status of cricket in our country.
The print media is just concerned about glamorizing the stars of this sport, trying to get into each and every unwanted detail of their personal lives rather than taking some pains and foregrounding the true picture and status of sports in our nation. There have been medal winners for our nation who are still struggling hard to earn themselves one meal for the day. The other sports are bearing a heavy price too. They do not have sufficient grants to provide the players basic infrastructure and facilities to transcend them onto higher level competitions. Long back, I had seen a documentary on this particular subject, where it was really disturbing to see an ex-hockey player of our country in his old age, living in a meager shanty in come remote village talking about his golden days as an international hockey player representing our nation. Despite the unfortunate circumstances he was living in, he was still very enthusiastic while narrating his experiences in the past. To add to his excitement, he went inside his small hut and emerged out after a minute, clearing the layer of dust off the pile of medals n trophies with a small broom. He said that the government had promised him a grant of five thousand rupees, which till date he hasn’t received. He literally fell into tears explaining the starving days he and his family has been going through as a price of winning medals for his nation.
Its high time people should abandon unnecessary and redundant information being broadcasted on the television and the useless gossip being printed in newspapers. Media is one powerful medium which can bring about revolutionary change in the entire nation. But, over the period, it is loosing its entire meaning. There is large amount of money being spent on the game of Cricket and this is directly inhibiting the growth of other potential sports in our country. It’s not about winning or loosing the series they take part in, but their enthusiasm level and the effort is below the standards of a professional team attaining the international status. Too much of media intervention and the politics catching fire in the management are hampering the true spirit of sports.
When I express these views to a few ardent cricket fans, they come up with a positive perspective of the entire scenario, claiming their loyalty as a sign of “Faith and Hope” they have on our side. Is it Hope or Hopelessness, that we devote our faith in people who least value it, people who’re more concerned about everything other than sports, people who are overshadowing the hidden talents which are worth our dedicated loyalty?
Labels: cricket, india, media
Masked Men
Long time back while searching for some good quality images and artwork on internet I came across a masterpiece. From there on it always represented my image on any profile I hooked online. It was just its quality and depth of expression that caught my attention all along. Some people responded to it as the masked man while the others found it closer to a comic character in the Batman series. Just the other day one of my friend dropped an inquisitive message asking me what that image stood for. Since he was one of those genuine guys who actually wouldn’t have bothered to throw that question at me until he would have been truly were looking for an answer; it was time I gave it a thought myself.
I spent a minute in solitude trying to introspect what possibly could that image stand for. There was definitely something more than the artwork that captivated my attention despite everyone around judging it as one of the weirdest images they had come across. Within no time I gathered my thoughts and drew the conclusion. I realized that someone had appropriately termed it as the Masked Man. I believe that it was the image of a concealed perception of every common man, an aspect of the personality that remains inside him or is not freely exposed to the people around him. One can take the liberty of comparing it to dual personality on subtle grounds.
The life of every human can be broadly said to be governed on two lines: one, what he desires and second, what he ultimately is destined to accept. There maybe occasions when the two paths would merge into one, while there would be moments when they would retain their individual identity. On such junctures he might fall under circumstances where he would want to do things but for some inevitable rational reasons it wouldn’t be possible for him to take a stand he believes in. He would have to move ahead with a masquerade and hope the two paths would cross in the near future. Call that masquerade a mask of pretense that he needs to sport considering the gravity of circumstances.
In a different scenario there are people whom you cannot judge by their actions and appearance. They might be completely opposite to how we perceive them as. It’s only with time and some effort that we get exposed to their hidden or unseen segments. I am yet to come across somebody who would qualify to posses a crystal clear personality. People behave accordingly in different situations; there would be numerous instances throughout the day when one would have to change their stance, their perception and their behavior with what the situation demands. They might have to interact with people whom they detest or land up in scenarios they’re not comfortable in, but yet again for some pre-defined rational and practical logics they would have to surrender their true selves and portray a side called for. Term this act of portrayal as another process to mask ourselves.
In another situation some people nurture their diverse side in isolation with a fear of it not being accepted. In some extreme cases the experiences give birth to a disorder that is termed as Split Personality. In my opinion we all cater to an extremely mild side of this disorder in our day to day lives. The only factor drawing a demarcation is the fact that one is in complete senses and control in one scenario, while it’s the opposite in the other. By and large we all put on a mask to hide or portray an image we want others to perceive, not enabling them to get exposed to what lies beneath the cover. For some reasons it might cause discomfort to the others. Each one of us needs a space of our own, to detach ourselves from the worldly norms and for a while be what we want to be and in an attempt we yet again alter our personalities to strike a balance with between our desires and the gravity of what is expected from us.
I was ultimately able to make some more sense out of the picture that represented me all this long and at the same time relating to the face of a common man. I am not very sure if someone who has a glance at the picture would be able to relate it to the words above, but then isn’t it all about our perception :)
Labels: Masked Men Dual Split-Personality
Heroes
Right from childhood we grow up perceiving images of superficial characters for whom the word “Impossible” doesn’t exist. We see them fighting in animation channels and comic strips, slashing off evil from our neighborhood. Our degree of fascination leads us to a point of accepting their undeniable existence. As we grow up and our horizons expand beyond the small screen and comics, we realize that the face of heroes we had related to all these years were a mere brainchild of human imagination. The heroic figures in the factual world are not the masked men with supernatural powers, but they are ordinary people who take up the charge to accomplish the impossible. I believe it is not heroic to achieve something of high degree by sheer power one has been gifted with, but a truly heroic act would be achieving it with firm determination, constant efforts and perseverance; in the course, overthrowing every contender and being unmoved by any obstacle. The persona and aura of these figures just sweeps us off our feet. But we just tend to get exposed and mesmerized by the brighter and glorious side of being heroic. For a moment, all the painful years of hard work appear to be undersized in comparison to the feat accomplished. Leonardo Da Vinci had stated: “If one looks at the amount of hard work it took me to gain mastery, it wouldn’t appear fascinating anymore”.
It’s not easy being in their shoes; it’s not easy being able to stand by every larger than life expectation residing on their shoulders; it’s not easy being looked upon nothing less than miraculous. Reminds me of the track by Five for Fighting “It’s not easy being me (referring to the comic character Superman)”. Every coin has two sides and they’re no exception. There are people who constantly try to shatter them to bits and pieces, not leaving a single chance to extract that last drop of blood left in them. They make constant efforts to exploit every opportunity to abate their iconic image, posing obstacles in their courses to compel them into submission. There are always people who want to see a hero fail, rather than succeed. Despite it all, the determination, the perseverance, the courage to rise back from the ashes and achieve the goals is what defines the strong character of these heroic figures.
In our society, losers are looked down as the hopeless and unsuccessful breed of human beings who are not worth competing and making a place of their own in the hierarchy. Rather than encouraging them to stand again on their feet and fight back, they are de motivated and loaded with negative energy. They are made to believe that once tagged as failure, life becomes a painful journey forever. Michael Jordan said “If you’re not successful doesn’t mean that you failed, at least you tried. I failed a thousand times before I finally succeeded”. He is the same athlete who was dropped out of his high school team for not being an appropriate choice for their basketball squad. He returned back with force and went on to dominate the court in a manner no athlete till date has been able to. He is the greatest basketball player ever to play the game and also managed to be in the list of the richest athletes even after his retirement.
Losers may not be Winners for the moment, but when they succeed, they are the toughest winners, ones that the competitors would have to struggle really hard to sideline. Losers- without them, there wouldn't be a winner. For if not for the losers, winning wouldn't have been so glorious and Herculean a task to accomplish. It doesn't matter whether you win or lose; all that matters is that you give it your best shot. You should walk out with the feeling of content that you did all that you possibly could to win.
Destiny favors those brave men who trust their instincts and take steps they firmly believe in without being unmoved by the burden of negativity attempting to squash them. Time and again there have been more than enough instances in the history when courageous men and women have defied all odds and made us believe that one doesn’t need to posses special gifts or powers to accomplish the unachievable. We all are equipped with the weapons needed to succeed in achieving our goals; no matter how high they are set. But only a few of us are able to realize their significance and exploit them to rise above the rest, setting standards and inspiring the generations to follow. We all have been blessed with the ability to foreground the heroic figure hidden inside us. It’s all in our mind and perception how we want to be looked upon as.
Inside Me
For the past five years every single day was an attempt to combat the hardships and barriers posed by the surroundings, there were times when I succeeded and craved to celebrate it with someone special and close to heart. On the other hand, there were times when I could not stand up to the expectations and had to surrender. Even then I fell short of a comforting hand. As time passed by, my entire perception towards various aspects of life took a new mold. No more did I need that comforting hand to lift up my spirits and encourage me to fight back into the battle. I fought and earned my independence by myself, devised my own methods to cruise smoothly through destitution. It was a victory of intelligence over emotions. But then the internal battles weren’t over yet, only the external were answered. Mind games are hard to tackle; their intricacy levels can soar far beyond the control of a common man. Heart plays its own tricks; once it takes on the reign of your chariot, it has a potential to paralyze the intellectual thinking machine. I couldn’t stay far from being bitten by them and it gave birth to internal battles raging within my system. It was a tug of war between the two most imperative powers governing the entire universe: “Brain” and “Heart”. The organisms in which one of them is anesthetized are able to relieve themselves from this painful brawl (Wish I was amongst them). Both of them swung me between extreme ends and tested my patience and strength. The result: Victory of the Brain was at the cost of suffering for the Heart and the triumph of the Heart was at the cost of weakened intellectuality of the Brain. Eventually this turmoil surfaced and began making an impact on my external actions and interface with the surroundings. At the end of the day, I was the only one who endured the trials and tribulation caused by the two integral and inseparable parts of me. It was stressful to see either of them in pain and discomfort. In due course of time I strove hard to pacify these intense battles, even then at certain occasions their enmity left me shattered. But after immense efforts, now I have managed to overcome its vigor to a large extend. People who know me are never exposed to this side of me; hence they might not be able to relate to what I am saying. How does it even matter now, when it’s up to me to decide; whether it’s a battle of the Brain and Heart or is it a battle between their combined forces against Me ….
Time and Friends
There is something in the vast universe that eclipses all the advancement mankind has ever made or possibly can think of, making him a puny creature circumvented by the Kingdom of Time. Right from Aristotle to Galileo, Copernicus to Stephan Hawkins, there have been many theories proposed and proven, but their mentors have diminished somewhere in deep trenches of time. None of them have been able to stand against the ruler of this vast unbounded territory. Many have diminished; many are yet to make their mark in the pages of history. Let time judge for itself. Just the other day I reached home at my usual midnight hour and got glued to the PC after finishing off with my dinner. I opened the group photographs of my junior and primary school posted on the board by a friend. It spontaneously brought a vibrant smile across my face. It transported me to a vivid image of my dreams about this embryonic world where am with my contemporaries having a feast of my life, relishing every moment, oblivious to the surroundings. A world nurtured with innocence, a world of peace and brotherhood, a world free from tribulations. But I was soon pulled back to veracity by a phone call. Once done with the conversation I immediately shifted my attention to the picture on the desktop. I then realized how our paths diverged once we passed out of school. Was it destiny that had brought all of us together? Was there some purpose behind each of us being together for a phase in our lives? It’s been ages since I met all those who stand alongside in the picture. We all are striving to pursue and reach the goals set by us and somewhere in this process have lost the touch, though at the back of our minds we still have vague memories of yesteryears. It feels good that technology has gifted us means to bridge this gap and enable us to stay together in this walk of life, to hold each others hands and sail through this journey of time which we began from a common point. I am a firm believer in Destiny. Though it’s a maxim that one shapes his/her own destiny, but there is definitely a driving force which is responsible for certain actions that we unintentionally perform.
I laid on the bed trying hard to shut my eyes and dive into a sound sleep, but there was a chill of excitement and anxiety that was running through my veins and keeping me awake. This was one of those moments when I had to concentrate hard to get some sleep, sounds pretty absurd and contradictory, but that’s how it is. Meanwhile I stretched my hands to sense any unusual objects below or around my pillow, but to my disappointment, there were none. I cannot recollect for how long this continued, but I was soon submerged into deep sleep. It was a typical cold winter night when one is lazy enough to even turn to the other side of the bed and here I was still moving my hands to sense something miraculous. It wasn’t too late before I finally bumped my fingers into a pile around my pillow and it generated a crackling sound.
