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Thank you, "rampantheart"..

10 things I miss in my life right now:

I am not someone who’d “miss” anything. For I believe that one must grow with every past towards the future. But right now, the 1 thing that I really miss the most is my college! How I miss attending classes for the sake of “attendance”. Shouting for “free hours”, assignments, late submission, arguing with the staff, playing with friends, “Industrial visit”(read- picnic), etc. I wrote this poetry on 17^th April, for 16^th was our last working day. I dedicate the poetry to my Section- C and to all those people, who like me, are missing their life at college!

Tears on eyes
have not yet dried
nor has the smile left me- yet.
Memories are fresh
like the dew at the dawn
and still make my eyes- wet.

The teasing of friends
assignments and tests;
Proxies, bunks, pranks and rest.
Give me back- Oh life!
those days of fun
of friendship and fights, yet fears- none!

One day in future
I want, in life, a day
With friends, in college, all happy and gay.
I want no more
Yet-I want nothing less
I want it with all heart- true enough, I guess?

10 things I want to achieve within a decade:

There are many things that I wish to achieve. But I believe that people wish different things at different times., that is, their needs, aims and goals keep changing as they change. If you’d have asked me “Which is your favorite profession”? when I was in my 1^st standard, I would have replied “Bus conductor”! For, believe it or not, I used to be really fascinated by the way they move without even getting the hold of the rods provided even as the bus is in motion! Besides, I loved the way they held in hands, the “tickets” and distributed it!

So, now, I wouldn’t say it for sure, for these may change. So, right now, the things I wish to achieve are:

1) Read all those books that my dad has read so far, and then read more.

2) Improve my writing skills.

3) Someday, in future, try my hand at writing a novel and getting it published.

4) Contact Adnan Sami (Singer/Music Director) , Jotika/ Kareena Kapoor (Actress) and enquire them about their dietitians.

5) Find a good music teacher and continue my music lessons.

6) Play as many number of musical instruments as possible.

7) Become a polyglot.

8) I am already working of becoming ambidextrous. But I still need to perfect my skills.

9) Become a better human being.

10) Seeing to that that I wish for more and better things in future.

Now, I tag:

Karthik

Suchitra

Vidhya

Vanilla sky

Nithya

M I N D

Stubborn, yet wavering

Mighty, yet light

Formless and shapeless

It travels alone

Defying space-

Silent and fast

It defeats time-

The absolute truth.

Make it stop- they cry

The fools who fool themselves.

But it travels only to seek wisdom.

Breaking the layers of thoughts

Past the veil of memories

It flies on..

To seek, the Self.

Let it fly- wherever,

Till it flies- forever.

DEATH OF HATE

- “It eats and it is eaten”

A scowl that gave birth to a spark. A spark- that grew in size. Burning every bit of flesh it could reach out to. Tearing it down. Bit by bit, the flesh is cooked.

No shriek comes out. And the fire doesn’t stop. It crawls too slowly. Leaving out nothing. Its tongues tasting the meat.

It urges to kill. To taste pain. For nothing else, would make it stop. It relishes pain- the fire. And it prepares the meat- to taste the pain. Pain- not of the self. But of that cause of the scowl. That cause that lit the fire- which fuelled it. It urges the meat to finish the cause.

The meat feels helpless. It wants to finish the cause. But can’t. For, the cause, is in a cocoon. A cocoon, that can never be broken into. The meat burns- hoping that someday, the cocoon would break. And that day, it would finish it; with sheer strength, and no other weapon.

It wanted to relish in the pain of the cause- like the fire. It wanted to see the cause struggle. Hear it shriek. A shriek- that the meat could never let out. It wanted the cause to do it. Only then, the meat would live.

The meat was now coal. Red hot. Burning. But the cocoon was intact. The meat never saw the pain. It could never stop the fire. And soon, it’d be ash: A part of the soil; lost- forever!

510

The isolated corridor welcomed him with glee. It seemed to have befriended his betrayed soul. The sound of his shoes on floor, rhymed with his heart beat. He came to a halt- right before the door no. 510. The sight of that number tormented him with memories that he did not wish to remember, now.

The room was just the way as he’d left it. The vase remained broken. The glass table, which used to be gleaming spotless, was now covered with dust. And over it was the glass, now empty.

His lips parted- a thought which made him do so stopped him at once from uttering the name. The name did not exist.

He moved around that familiar place, eyes recognizing things that he’d used. Each of them, reminded him of the name, her name. Suchitra.

He stopped himself once again. The name was not to be said. And it was his fault- all his fault.
The room was blue, all around. She wanted it that way. But he should not think of her. But he couldn’t help it. Everything in that room spoke about her. And every single thing blamed him. They were shouting his name. and he slammed the door, shut.

He now stood facing the dining table. His chair was upturned. The kitchen was open. There shall no more be any food cooking inside. Everything was dead.

He had said to her that she never cared for him. He had blamed her for everything that happened to him. He shut the door against her. He never heard her plea. He made her leave. And now, she has left.

He sat on the couch. His eyes fell on a package. He’d never seen it before. He grabbed it and saw a familiar writing over it that had carved his name. Trembling, he opened it.

And he saw it. A watch. Just the one that he’d wanted. A note on it said, “Happy Birthday, Akhil”! The plague of the dead gripped him. Guilt, clutching his throat- throttled him, and yet, there was more on the note. He turned it. And it said- “ With lots of love, from Suchitra”!

MASTERJI

I lived in a place where the world begins with the rising sun and ends with the setting sun. A world where people smiled at one another, where people were satisfied with what they had and never wanted more than what they needed.

It was a very small village. So small it was that everyone knew each other. Our village had just two streets. All the houses were similar, except for the Big House. My father worked for the Big House.

We had to walk a distance of about 5km to reach our school; telling adventure stories, mostly concocted impromptu; we played at the fields after school; how we liked hiding our books beneath our shirts to protect them from rain! We loved using banana leaves as our umbrella! We liked the fresh aroma of the soil after the rain. The earth was our bed and sky- our blanket!

Masterji was considered the most learned man of our village. Masterji taught us math, English, about plants and planets. He would tell us stories. We all showed lot of affection and respect towards Masterji.

Father had been to the town since last week. Mother said he would bring lot of rice and vegetables and sweets from the town. And I waited everyday for him, to return.

Masterji taught us about plants outside our classroom. We had a big banyan tree in our school. We all sat under the banyan tree, while he would tell us why the leaved were green and that plants were also living beings. That day, before teaching us about fruits and vegetables, he asked each one of us to narrate what we had for breakfast. When it was my turn, I just blurted that I had onions and cabbage.

That afternoon, Masterji called me to his room. He told me that onions were not usually consumed during that time of the year and it was also not the time of year when cabbages were available. Then he called Sukumar. He was in my class and he lived in the Big House. Masterji asked him to get some extra lunch for me, from the next day, and everyday thereafter.

That evening I came home and cried. When my mother asked me why I was crying, I didn’t know the answer. But, I cried.

Thirty years later, today, I received a phone call. The voice from the other end was easily recognizable as Sukumar’s. He said, “Naveen, Masterji has left us all, today”.

And today, I cried, again!

DOODLE

Slow and steady, my hand gets to work,
Lines, circles and squares;
Houses and forts, buses and ports,
People, horses and mares;
As the talk proceeded
my hand moved faster-
Producing shapes as never before;
Racing into the future,
My mind is all lost;
Doodling forever and ever!

SANS THE BED OF ROSES...

A bed of roses spread on the green earth- the blue sky embellised with the jewels of the night and a soft breeze humming my favorite tune- gently, I fall asleep and smiling to myself as I do so; yet aware of the new dawn that lies ahead of me: a dawn that would take me away from all the luxuries that I had been enjoying so lavishly. And yet, I wanted to see this dawn; wanted it to come soon and deprive me of my luxuries,wanted to so desparately that my bed of roses failed to put me into the instant sleep as it usually does!
But why would I want it to come? Why would anyone ever want to deprive oneself of all the luxuries of life? The reason was simple. I wanted to see myself without my privileges. I wanted to see, how I would be if I weren't allowed what I had been enjoying in the past. Wanted to be like some my friends in my college- who were like me before they faced the "dawn"; but were full of praises for it, which was so tempting that I wanted to try it out as soon as possible and I was ready to pay the price!
As it came near, my curiosity was enroused. I was excited, nervous but happy all at once. But soon, I reached my new world- sans the bed of roses, sans the green earth and blue sky; but a world entrapped inside the pale blue walls that starts with a door of cheap wood without even a proper lock and ended with a rusted nail on the other side of that tiny room. All that the room could hold were three beds, placed so close to each other and yet there was no space to walk inside that room. An open shelf to "guard" my precious possessions- two windows that allowed the light from outside even during night time; a light without light and a fan with a broken regulator!
I was on my own. And this was what I had ever wanted.And if a broken regulator and some broken cot was the price that I was asked to pay for it- I was ready to pay it! But was I happy? Ofcourse yes! But this was a totally different kind of happiness. A happiness that came from finding myself in a situation where I had never been placed before and finding myself coping up with it. May be at a small level, but I was feeling as happy as a toddler as he tries and succeeds in taking his first step without his mother. I was as happy as a plant that tastes the first rain of the year. And as happy as a starving dog who gets his first piece of bone!
It was nearly two weeks since I had changed my world.Did I miss my world? Yes. So I hated my new world? Ofcourse not! But yes, I would surely like to go back to where I came from. But will I miss this world? Well, yes and no. Yes, for it taught me so many things that I had no chance of learning in my world- like to wash my clothes, adjust to a bad food, compromise with the not-so-good people around me, manage my time to suit my schedulde, and not to let go Mr. Gandhi unless he wanted to leave me. No, simply because, it wasn't my world, and I was very happy with mine that I do not need this one- not that I would forget my lessons; for they were chapters on survival which were vital- not just for me, but for everyone.
And so I am back into my world- my home; am happy and full of memories of my room, my bed, my account book and my life, at the hostel!