मधुर मिलन के दिव्य स्वपन से जलाई थी जो तूने ज्वाला।
बुझ गयी वो जब देखी पर मनुज हेतु उसके हाथों में वरमाला।
है निष्ठुर प्रेम, त्याग इसे , उठा ले मदिरा।
देख परिणीता तेरी आज बनी है मधुशाला।
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
परिणीता
मधुर मिलन के दिव्य स्वपन से जलाई थी जो तूने ज्वाला।
बुझ गयी वो जब देखी पर मनुज हेतु उसके हाथों में वरमाला।
है निष्ठुर प्रेम, त्याग इसे , उठा ले मदिरा।
देख परिणीता तेरी आज बनी है मधुशाला।
Thursday, September 16, 2010
leniency- do we deserve it?
It’s one of those morning classes, yup the same morning, the night before of which you were lying drunk in a pool of your own vomit, and you still after a fight with your head and many a failed attempt to screw the top of toothpaste back, manage to turn up for the class at 7:35. But you are thrown out with many an expletives thrown your way, what do you do? Even when you were fuming that you even bothered to take such pains, You mutter an apology, turn back, and go home.
It’s one of those morning classes, yup the same morning, the night before of which you slept in late woke up late had a breakfast, deliberated about going to the class and after a few minutes strolled in the classroom at 8:00. One full hour late! You are allowed in. What do you do? You go in, find a seat in the back, and clap at the every mispronounced word uttered by the hapless professor.
Welcome, sir to IIT.
In the last semester when we were filling the choices for IT breadth I came across the name of a professor (who taught computer software) and numerous anecdotes associated with him. Someone said that he was an AIR 2 of his times; someone told that he is very simple, others claimed that he donates all that he earns to orphanages but whatever the said the consensus was that he is a very good teacher and a great human being. So naturally I was excited to learn from him, and thought people would also have the same attitude. But what I saw in the class was not interest. Student came and went as they wished; they clapped, booed and whistled. Okay this might be condoned but what happened next breached the limits.
Someone started to show his origami prowess by making airplanes from paper and throwing them in the class. It soon turned into a kind of competition. Tear. Fold. Fly. Now one of the planes (I don’t know if it was thrown there or the plane decided to change its trajectory) flew on to the black board and the timing was such that it fell in front of professor as soon as he turned his face towards us. Needless to say he was startled and stepped back. This triggered a peal of laughter amongst the students (with the plane makers laughing raucously). The professor though humiliated didn’t say anything and continued with his teaching. This encouraged them and they started calling him names. Fakir, sentry and some other chosen names. Some even commented on his simplicity.
It shook me. And I remembered word of some philosopher that humans don’t deserve civilization, they are by nature barbaric and hence need to be ruled by force. What could be a better example than what was in front of me? You create chaos in the class because you have a lenient professor who forgives each of your transgressions. But all your guts evaporate once you face someone who doesn’t permit even slightest of jokes.Try flying planes in his class.If you behaved alike in front of both the professor then it would have been commendable. But what you do indicate what idiots you are. And if you are reading it keep in mind that you don’t matter to the professor, that’s why he doesn’t give a shit to your activities in the class. You are not hurting him, you are hurting yourselves. What you are doing is not brave at all. Its the highest form of cowardice.
Adios.
It’s one of those morning classes, yup the same morning, the night before of which you slept in late woke up late had a breakfast, deliberated about going to the class and after a few minutes strolled in the classroom at 8:00. One full hour late! You are allowed in. What do you do? You go in, find a seat in the back, and clap at the every mispronounced word uttered by the hapless professor.
Welcome, sir to IIT.
In the last semester when we were filling the choices for IT breadth I came across the name of a professor (who taught computer software) and numerous anecdotes associated with him. Someone said that he was an AIR 2 of his times; someone told that he is very simple, others claimed that he donates all that he earns to orphanages but whatever the said the consensus was that he is a very good teacher and a great human being. So naturally I was excited to learn from him, and thought people would also have the same attitude. But what I saw in the class was not interest. Student came and went as they wished; they clapped, booed and whistled. Okay this might be condoned but what happened next breached the limits.
Someone started to show his origami prowess by making airplanes from paper and throwing them in the class. It soon turned into a kind of competition. Tear. Fold. Fly. Now one of the planes (I don’t know if it was thrown there or the plane decided to change its trajectory) flew on to the black board and the timing was such that it fell in front of professor as soon as he turned his face towards us. Needless to say he was startled and stepped back. This triggered a peal of laughter amongst the students (with the plane makers laughing raucously). The professor though humiliated didn’t say anything and continued with his teaching. This encouraged them and they started calling him names. Fakir, sentry and some other chosen names. Some even commented on his simplicity.
It shook me. And I remembered word of some philosopher that humans don’t deserve civilization, they are by nature barbaric and hence need to be ruled by force. What could be a better example than what was in front of me? You create chaos in the class because you have a lenient professor who forgives each of your transgressions. But all your guts evaporate once you face someone who doesn’t permit even slightest of jokes.Try flying planes in his class.If you behaved alike in front of both the professor then it would have been commendable. But what you do indicate what idiots you are. And if you are reading it keep in mind that you don’t matter to the professor, that’s why he doesn’t give a shit to your activities in the class. You are not hurting him, you are hurting yourselves. What you are doing is not brave at all. Its the highest form of cowardice.
Adios.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
power corrupts.
All persons,events and places in this article are purely fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental
“Arey woh tha na ek , jo fruit shop se juice lekar aata tha or common room me, jhapar maar ke chala jaata tha”(Hey do you remember that guy who used to buy juice from the fruit shop, then enter the common room, slap some guys around and leave). “Yeah I remember, what about him?” “Nothing it was just that these kinds of seniors are a bastard”. “I agree, by hitting someone they just want to assert their power.”
I heard these sentences at the beginning of this year when we were recounting our experiences in the orientation programme. And, it was really a painful subject for me because yours truly was one of the guys at the receiving end of the ‘juice’ guy’s wrath. The incident was still etched on my mind. The anguish was still new, the pain was still fresh. And I still cursed my fear, which forced me not to complain about his overtures. I rued the fact that I was a coward. And I rued the fact that I tried to hide my anguish behind my generosity. “arey yaar main isliye complain nahi kar raha hoon kyunki woh fifth year hai, pass out hone wala hai, saale ka year back lag jaayega.(I am not complaining cause he is a fifth year on the verge of passing out, the bastard will get a year back). I don’t want to ruin his future.”
Time heals most wounds they say, but it was still fresh when our turn to be the organisers of orientation programme arrived. Why the hell don’t you go to watch the events? CG doesn’t matter much, work for your CV, if you just have CG the company will think ki bahut bada maggu hai ( that you are only a swot). You can’t remember such small things and you call yourselves IITians . Did you shave today? Are we fools to tell you to shave every day? These were the oft repeated sentences. And the most ironic was “we say all this because it’s to improve your personality. You don’t know how much we put ourselves to risk just for your improvement.”
Me? I was fully enjoying myself, was setting different gags on the second years, was abrasive even abusive at times. How dare he get my year wrong? How dare he call me juice? How dare someone mix up one of my hundred batch mate’s hometown with another?
Then one day when the proceedings were in full flow, I witnessed something. I saw someone manhandling a junior. While slapping the senior was shouting “Abe teri galti hai(hey it’s your fault). Koi kuch bhi kahega toh karega( you will do anything anyone says). Don’t you have a mind of yours.” And then I saw something else. I saw a look of pure revulsion on the face of the junior. He was utterly disgusted with his tormentor. He was angry, not at his seniors but at himself. His face said many things. It cried with the feeling of being helpless, of being afraid. I saw all this and I saw myself reflected in his face.
I remembered my humiliation. I remembered my pain. I remembered the silent abuses I hurled at the sight of the bastard. I remembered my friend saying “do you know they conducted an experiment. They gave money to a group of people and made some of them prisoners and other wardens. The wardens had to do nothing; they just had to sit around. The prisoners could leave any time but they would have to forego the money. Do you know what happened? The wardens established rule of stick. They were mercilessly beating the ‘prisoners’ just because they were give power over them? So power corrupts”. I remembered me saying “all this is bull shit. Nobody is this sadistic”. And then I remembered all those abuses, all those transgressions made by me on someone’s dignity. I myself became the same thing which I hated for the last year.
Power corrupts. Your slapping me wasn’t your fault. I forgive you mister Sharma. I don’t curse you anymore.
Adios….
“Arey woh tha na ek , jo fruit shop se juice lekar aata tha or common room me, jhapar maar ke chala jaata tha”(Hey do you remember that guy who used to buy juice from the fruit shop, then enter the common room, slap some guys around and leave). “Yeah I remember, what about him?” “Nothing it was just that these kinds of seniors are a bastard”. “I agree, by hitting someone they just want to assert their power.”
I heard these sentences at the beginning of this year when we were recounting our experiences in the orientation programme. And, it was really a painful subject for me because yours truly was one of the guys at the receiving end of the ‘juice’ guy’s wrath. The incident was still etched on my mind. The anguish was still new, the pain was still fresh. And I still cursed my fear, which forced me not to complain about his overtures. I rued the fact that I was a coward. And I rued the fact that I tried to hide my anguish behind my generosity. “arey yaar main isliye complain nahi kar raha hoon kyunki woh fifth year hai, pass out hone wala hai, saale ka year back lag jaayega.(I am not complaining cause he is a fifth year on the verge of passing out, the bastard will get a year back). I don’t want to ruin his future.”
Time heals most wounds they say, but it was still fresh when our turn to be the organisers of orientation programme arrived. Why the hell don’t you go to watch the events? CG doesn’t matter much, work for your CV, if you just have CG the company will think ki bahut bada maggu hai ( that you are only a swot). You can’t remember such small things and you call yourselves IITians . Did you shave today? Are we fools to tell you to shave every day? These were the oft repeated sentences. And the most ironic was “we say all this because it’s to improve your personality. You don’t know how much we put ourselves to risk just for your improvement.”
Me? I was fully enjoying myself, was setting different gags on the second years, was abrasive even abusive at times. How dare he get my year wrong? How dare he call me juice? How dare someone mix up one of my hundred batch mate’s hometown with another?
Then one day when the proceedings were in full flow, I witnessed something. I saw someone manhandling a junior. While slapping the senior was shouting “Abe teri galti hai(hey it’s your fault). Koi kuch bhi kahega toh karega( you will do anything anyone says). Don’t you have a mind of yours.” And then I saw something else. I saw a look of pure revulsion on the face of the junior. He was utterly disgusted with his tormentor. He was angry, not at his seniors but at himself. His face said many things. It cried with the feeling of being helpless, of being afraid. I saw all this and I saw myself reflected in his face.
I remembered my humiliation. I remembered my pain. I remembered the silent abuses I hurled at the sight of the bastard. I remembered my friend saying “do you know they conducted an experiment. They gave money to a group of people and made some of them prisoners and other wardens. The wardens had to do nothing; they just had to sit around. The prisoners could leave any time but they would have to forego the money. Do you know what happened? The wardens established rule of stick. They were mercilessly beating the ‘prisoners’ just because they were give power over them? So power corrupts”. I remembered me saying “all this is bull shit. Nobody is this sadistic”. And then I remembered all those abuses, all those transgressions made by me on someone’s dignity. I myself became the same thing which I hated for the last year.
Power corrupts. Your slapping me wasn’t your fault. I forgive you mister Sharma. I don’t curse you anymore.
Adios….
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Friday the thirteenth
this is the story i submitted to some arbit competition.
“Rapids and gales
Storms and hails
You will have a rotten luck
If you leave your hammock
Cause sailing is nay’
If its thirteenth on a Friday.”
“I don’t know why the hell I cannot forget this stupid rhyme” cursed Jack, going about his morning
routine. “Okay today is Friday the thirteenth but what’s so special about it? Come on it’s just
another day”, were his thoughts on this particular day that plagued him at least once every year.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to let go all his superstitions about this particular day, but they were
so deeply instilled in him by his grandfather – a grey bearded loon of a sailor who lost both his crew
and his ship in some bizarre storm on this day.
The fact that he had an interview (an opportunity of a life time) which had been rescheduled to
this day irked him more. So it was either to go and join a banquet of twelve and die (as the Norse
people would have it, another one of his grandfather’s absurd stories) or sit at home and watch the
nonsensical pop cultural references about the day on the idiot box.
He remembered losing the red bike to rick when he gave away his ticket (the lucky one) to the local
fair. The baseball match, the Indiana Jones visit- all lost to ‘the day’. And how could he forget Natalia
–sweet Natalia whom he asked out for prom and couldn’t attend, all because his gee gee wouldn’t
allow him to venture out. “Jacky boy! You too will lose your ship as I did” was his gramps answer
every time.
“Oh! Screw it I am done with that old geezer, with him and his ship and his bull crap of superstitions.
For all that matter he might have been drunk when he drove his ship into that rock. I am going out to
settle it once and for all” Jack decided, and began dressing up.
“Free breakfast in the cafe (apparently he was the 13th customer entering the cafe), no traffic jams
on the way, a good parking spot. I wish the interview goes this good”.
“Oh! How I breezed through the interview. I aced all the questions and even my guesses hit the
bull’s eye. If I don’t get the job now then I never would”
“Mr. Jack I would be honest with you, we were going to give the job to the guy who came before
you, but somehow my guts say that you will be the best guy for this job. So here is your advance...”
“That old geezer was certainly a fool. I had a wonderful day, the job would have gone to someone
else.” While standing at the cash withdrawal counter Jack didn’t notice the gunman enter the bank,
neither did he see him slip the carbine into position, nor did he hear the staccato burst.
He just felt the bullet that entered his body tearing away the flesh. He remembered the red bike
and the boy crushed under the bus, the accident of that beautiful girl and
“Rapids and gales
Storms and hails....
Cause sailing is nay’
If its thirteenth on a Friday.
”
“Rapids and gales
Storms and hails
You will have a rotten luck
If you leave your hammock
Cause sailing is nay’
If its thirteenth on a Friday.”
“I don’t know why the hell I cannot forget this stupid rhyme” cursed Jack, going about his morning
routine. “Okay today is Friday the thirteenth but what’s so special about it? Come on it’s just
another day”, were his thoughts on this particular day that plagued him at least once every year.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to let go all his superstitions about this particular day, but they were
so deeply instilled in him by his grandfather – a grey bearded loon of a sailor who lost both his crew
and his ship in some bizarre storm on this day.
The fact that he had an interview (an opportunity of a life time) which had been rescheduled to
this day irked him more. So it was either to go and join a banquet of twelve and die (as the Norse
people would have it, another one of his grandfather’s absurd stories) or sit at home and watch the
nonsensical pop cultural references about the day on the idiot box.
He remembered losing the red bike to rick when he gave away his ticket (the lucky one) to the local
fair. The baseball match, the Indiana Jones visit- all lost to ‘the day’. And how could he forget Natalia
–sweet Natalia whom he asked out for prom and couldn’t attend, all because his gee gee wouldn’t
allow him to venture out. “Jacky boy! You too will lose your ship as I did” was his gramps answer
every time.
“Oh! Screw it I am done with that old geezer, with him and his ship and his bull crap of superstitions.
For all that matter he might have been drunk when he drove his ship into that rock. I am going out to
settle it once and for all” Jack decided, and began dressing up.
“Free breakfast in the cafe (apparently he was the 13th customer entering the cafe), no traffic jams
on the way, a good parking spot. I wish the interview goes this good”.
“Oh! How I breezed through the interview. I aced all the questions and even my guesses hit the
bull’s eye. If I don’t get the job now then I never would”
“Mr. Jack I would be honest with you, we were going to give the job to the guy who came before
you, but somehow my guts say that you will be the best guy for this job. So here is your advance...”
“That old geezer was certainly a fool. I had a wonderful day, the job would have gone to someone
else.” While standing at the cash withdrawal counter Jack didn’t notice the gunman enter the bank,
neither did he see him slip the carbine into position, nor did he hear the staccato burst.
He just felt the bullet that entered his body tearing away the flesh. He remembered the red bike
and the boy crushed under the bus, the accident of that beautiful girl and
“Rapids and gales
Storms and hails....
Cause sailing is nay’
If its thirteenth on a Friday.
”
Sunday, July 11, 2010
stone
Perched atop a hill
With all my unmovable will
I stood
Surveying all
I saw them
Lovers
Engulfed in throes of passion
Defined their love
Declared it on my bosom
For all the world to see
I didn’t rejoice
‘Cause I am stone...
I saw them
Lovers
Parting ways
Scratched
Leaving all but the impression of love they engraved
I wasn’t sad
As I am stone...
I saw them
Priests
Passionate priests
Mining
Cutting
Shaping
Sculpting
Inducting me in their revered halls
I wasn’t proud
As I am still a stone...
I saw him
The scourge
Cruel one
Killing
Plundering
Raping
Removed from my majestic pedestal
I wasn’t angry
I still am a stone...
I saw them
People
Frenzied mob
Shouting
Angry over the loss of their deity
Used me to inflict pain on that infant
I didn’t pity over him
It won’t befit me
Cause I am a stone...
Now lying on the ground
I see you
Man
Unaware
Unassuming
Unmoved
By the atrocities around him
Unfeeling
In his cocoon of materialistic comfort
Just like insects
I think
And I am suddenly feeling a multitude of emotions
Anger ,fear ,sadness
It’s not as if I am no longer a stone
But because You are slowly turning into one
Monday, June 21, 2010
The window
Through the pitch dark
a silver beam beckons me
Erasing despair from my heart
Will it set me free?
The belief that I am right
I am on the correct way
The goal is in my sight
Will this light guide me?
It may.
These nagging doubts hold me back
I find it hard to fight
Will I find a talisman?
Or the fate will crush me with all its might?
Yeah I am doubtful
I strive, I strike , I pray and I shout
Then I realise Though the light may come in
But the window is still too small to let me out....
a silver beam beckons me
Erasing despair from my heart
Will it set me free?
The belief that I am right
I am on the correct way
The goal is in my sight
Will this light guide me?
It may.
These nagging doubts hold me back
I find it hard to fight
Will I find a talisman?
Or the fate will crush me with all its might?
Yeah I am doubtful
I strive, I strike , I pray and I shout
Then I realise Though the light may come in
But the window is still too small to let me out....
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The Girl Next Door Experience
( you are in a for disappointment, if you are here for the risqué title)
Many a moons ago, when yours’ truly was still new in his education and the time of the myths when few guys had a laptop and when every such room was common room and when the only source of ‘worship’ were the American pie series which were seen and dissected and fantasised about many a times, somebody heard of ‘the girl next door’.
The movie was bound to generate some interest for it had impeccable credentials- a ‘porn star’ a sex video and Elisha Cuthbert. So the brother in arms decided that it will be a welcome break from the pie series and decided to spend two hours of our time and eons of fantasy on the movie. So promptly and discreetly laptop was asked for promptly because...well you know it and discreetly ...so as to keep the affair amongst the residents of a single wing. Both considerations were not met.
Finally after two hours and twenty guys in my room later we had on the front table a laptop and some borrowed speakers we started the soiree. Ten minutes in the movie our efforts were duly rewarded. Elisha Cuthbert stripping ...drool...and that red lingerie...drool...were enough to sate the voyeuristic pleasures of us all. Needless to say we all were delighted.
But this was only the beginning, the midnight dip in a pool and hot kiss soon followed. Needless to say all the assembled were waiting for the big one. Then the loser protagonist’s friend drops the bombshell. Miss Cuthbert was a pornstar- Hence will give it to even the loser quite easily.....
This was the part for which all had assembled there, a hot girl, hotter profession and even hotter situation. The scene started with promise, there she was, and on all fours prowling around but something was wrong the vibes were not right. And soon came the words –“I liked the way you looked at me” and everything changed both on the screen and in the room.
There was -however clichéd it may sound- pin-drop silence in the room. For many of us assembled there, it was a revelation. For the first time we appreciated other aspects of a women other than the visible ones. And the ‘love’ which was supposed to be only of the physical kind, took new meanings. And from then on till the entire movie we cheered for the love and even clapped when the guy refuses to ‘do’ some other porn star at the end of the movie.
For me it is the best of all the romantic movies. Do tell what you think. Adios!!!
( you are in a for disappointment, if you are here for the risqué title)
Many a moons ago, when yours’ truly was still new in his education and the time of the myths when few guys had a laptop and when every such room was common room and when the only source of ‘worship’ were the American pie series which were seen and dissected and fantasised about many a times, somebody heard of ‘the girl next door’.
The movie was bound to generate some interest for it had impeccable credentials- a ‘porn star’ a sex video and Elisha Cuthbert. So the brother in arms decided that it will be a welcome break from the pie series and decided to spend two hours of our time and eons of fantasy on the movie. So promptly and discreetly laptop was asked for promptly because...well you know it and discreetly ...so as to keep the affair amongst the residents of a single wing. Both considerations were not met.
Finally after two hours and twenty guys in my room later we had on the front table a laptop and some borrowed speakers we started the soiree. Ten minutes in the movie our efforts were duly rewarded. Elisha Cuthbert stripping ...drool...and that red lingerie...drool...were enough to sate the voyeuristic pleasures of us all. Needless to say we all were delighted.
But this was only the beginning, the midnight dip in a pool and hot kiss soon followed. Needless to say all the assembled were waiting for the big one. Then the loser protagonist’s friend drops the bombshell. Miss Cuthbert was a pornstar- Hence will give it to even the loser quite easily.....
This was the part for which all had assembled there, a hot girl, hotter profession and even hotter situation. The scene started with promise, there she was, and on all fours prowling around but something was wrong the vibes were not right. And soon came the words –“I liked the way you looked at me” and everything changed both on the screen and in the room.
There was -however clichéd it may sound- pin-drop silence in the room. For many of us assembled there, it was a revelation. For the first time we appreciated other aspects of a women other than the visible ones. And the ‘love’ which was supposed to be only of the physical kind, took new meanings. And from then on till the entire movie we cheered for the love and even clapped when the guy refuses to ‘do’ some other porn star at the end of the movie.
For me it is the best of all the romantic movies. Do tell what you think. Adios!!!
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