On the tip of Grass

The man is not ready to believe the fact there the land belongs to mankind. It Is not too cheap to be traded with money, not too big to be divided into boundaries, not too strong endure the eternal atrocities it’s being inflicted upon.  The heart of the land is in tears and not surprisingly in the hue of crimson. Because we have made it force down an endless ocean of blood. Human blood. Blood dripping out of the shriek of a mother who has just lost her only son while fighting for the land he was told belongs to him and is still waiting for his ashes. Blood leaking out of the stone cold eyes of a small child whose father was shot down this evening only because he chose and believed that the path of righteousness and responsibility for the same would one day reign above everything. And also blood oozing out through the vagina of a dead virgin girl who was raped in a car seven years ago and later tortured to the level that she begged on her knees for her death. I can see that the sky has shed its usual colors and wrapped itself up in the perpetual color of red. Or maybe the sky is just a mirror making a streak of reflection about what is happening under. May be.

Now a days it is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between morning and dark. The sun and the moon all look the same to me. My eyes too are smothered in a monochrome. I’m not blind I’m simply color blind. And the blindness is the greatest gift of me to myself. Now I can’t tell which is blood and which is water. Which is selfishness and which is selflesness. Which is love and which is hatred. Which is murder and which is martyrdom. I have let the reins of my sense of judgment to a few people whom I thought were most eligible to manage but not to rule my land. I have traded my conscience to a void that is dreamless and emotionless. In that void, I can’t see through but there is absolutely no hint or trace of the rainbow of my imaginations. My perspective about the rising tomorrow of the land I still think is connected to me invisibly through some umbilical cord. No, nothing. Just a piercing and deafening scream of jet blackness. It’s giving me a great consolation for the irrevocable sin I have committed. I have in my fist a handful of the ashes of my soul I had burnt long ago. I can feel absolute numbness in my limbs because my heart doesn’t simmer me anymore with the deluge of affection. I’m dying naked with this chill. But I don’t know the pain of death. May be I’m dead a long time back or may be that I was never ever alive.  Dreams have turned into hallucinations and realities into nightmare. Are my eyes closing due to the undeniable and unforgiving syringe of death or opening from a long slumber I had?

I’m floating in air, at the intersection of life and death, the middle junction between the earth and the sky. Now the hands of my brothers, mothers, sisters or friends can never reach to me. Now their voices are blurring into an oblivion and their convergence is only a meek decibel star I can see that is too weak to lighten me again. I’m being catapulted away from every lovely imagery of life I’ve ever known or felt. The air gushing past me feels burning hot. And mingling with the cold sensation of my body, it is giving birth to a painful contrast. But I’m too dead to experience it.  Thank God.

But it’s far better than the pain to see your land surrendering so helplessly to the guns, tanks, mortars and money of a bunch of people. The shameless and the disgusting undressing of my land by self proclaimed protectors of its dignity. Ironical but true. Trust me, it’s way better than the pain of being an unemotional witness to a carnage than protesting against it. And that’s why I’ve picked up the trajectory of ignorance to elude that pain. My indifference is the only refuge from the siege of my ideologies, perceptions and experience with truth which have been bitter and shattering to say the least.

And that is the only reason why I believe that I can never be as common as the people around me are.

Girls to get 77.5% reservation in all medical and engineering colleges

Acting to the long standing complaints by boys of engineering and medical colleges, HRD minister Kapil Sibbal has announced that from next year onwards, 77.5% of seats would be reserved for girls in every engineering and medical institution. While rolling out the radical changes here at a press conference in Delhi, Mr. Sibbal said that the decision was taken because of the exponential drop in the percentage of girls seeking admissions in these colleges and the consequent rise in the number of suicide cases by boys whose last words have somewhat been on the lines of “Jeete ji main tumhara na ho saka shayad maut humein ek kar de” and “Aashiq tera ja raha hai yeh duniya chhorkar, bewafa tu jo chali gayi mujhse munh mod kar”. With himself being a wannabe poet, Mr. Sibbal couldn’t help plagiarizing a few of the lines and incorporate them into his upcoming autobiography “Main shaayar badnaam” which he said would be introduced in the curriculum of Ninth standard onwards from next year which would chronicle his journey from Harvard to HRD in a poetic manner. “I hope it inspires millions of today’s youth who see me as a role model and their icon”, Mr. Sibbal said with his trademark lopsided, broad smile. Although his wink while making this statement still remains a mystery to all.

In addition to this, every engineering and medical student would be given CDs of Shah Rukh Khan movies so that the guys can learn how to make any girl succumb to their charms by some really powerful romance packed lines. However, this action of the HRD has irked Mr. Salman Khan who is said to be the ace rival of Mr. Shah Rukh Khan. The former has gone on record by saying, “ladkiyaan Lux saabun se nahaane ya sarson kay kheton me gaane se nahi, gym mein paseena baha kar body banaane se pat ti hain.”

Taking a cue from Mr. Anna Hazare, the boys of engineering and medical colleges had earlier threatened to go on fast unto death until their demands were met with immediate effect. A representative of the student’s union said that they were fed up of having to undergo the trauma of seeing the pictures of their DU friends perpetually surrounded by “hot chicks” with “pouted lips and protruding hips” on Facebook. “.We are even more pained when we see pretty girls uploading pictures with their dogs. It makes us feel insecure and less significant despite being the baton holders of nation’s growth and development. Those are the moments we seriously wish that we also had furs and could do “wow wow” in their tongue. Sometimes we feel as if the pictures carry an implicit message saying “HAHA! NOW WHO’S HAVING THE LAST LAUGH, YOU NERDY BITCH.” Now we will no longer put up to the insult and embarrassment caused to us for being simply technically inclined. It is not our fault that while they were busy applying expensive shampoos to their hair, we were plucking off ours solving some mammoth algebraic equations” Another said.

But Mr. Hazare for whom hunger strike is almost like a profession and in a bid to eliminate any surfacing competition, has suggested a brilliant middle path for the libido ridden techies. Now the boys are all set to launch a nationwide ‘Poke unto death’ in which a girl would be poked on Facebook until the time she accepts to be a friend of the guy poking her. There have been instant reactions of shock, disbelief and disgust by many girls across the nation citing that it is their democratic right to decide who to befriend and who to reject. “This is outrageous and so undemocratic. I mean, we can’t be held at siege like this by some low-on-confidence-high-on-testosterone maniacs. It is not our fault that while we were shampooing our hair to get noticed, those fools were staring at their books with lust in their eyes and drool in their mouths for some stupid equations.” an infuriated girl said.

To this, the guys responded by yelling slogans like “I’m Anna” and “Bharat humaari maata hai, humein bhi romance karna aata hai” and said, “If Anna can do it so can we”.

Manmohan Singh to go on hunger strike from 16 August

 As the team Anna is rapidly soaring up in the popularity charts of all the leading newspapers for its crusade against corruption, Manmohan Singh has sent shock waves in the political circles by announcing that he would be sitting on an indefinite fast starting from the morning of 16 August.  Dr. Singh said that he was deeply hurt by being called ‘Silencer’ by people from all the sections of society and would be dragging Raju Hirani to court because his ‘idiot’ic movie had given people one more name to call him with. While no response has been received from Sonia Gandhi, Congress spokesman Manish Tiwari said that it’s all a “dramebaaji” to prove that he is as strong and respected in the party as Madamji. He also went on to add further that once Rahul baba was done with his ‘Padyatras’ and ‘Bhaashanbaaji’, Manmohan Singh would be very quickly and swiftly forgotten despite being the most educated Prime Minister ever. 


“Education earns no rewards, scandals do” said Mr. Suresh Kalmadi, the former OC of Commonwealth games, currently serving in Tihar jail with a mouthful of ‘Samosa’. “Look at me, I’m no rocket scientist like A.P.J. Abdul Kalam and yet I’ve got bigger house, greater wealth and more cars than him. Where is education required in politics? In fact, the less educated you are, the more chances you stand to get a ticket. Anyway, my best blessings are with Manmohan ji. After all, he also played a significant part in making me the next Hugh Hefner of India. And if he ever feels hungry or tired, he’s more than welcome to have a full course meal with me and the Jail superintendent. The gates of my cell are always open for him”  

The media advisors of PM were said to be in the middle of talks and negotiations with Amir khan to give the campaign a Bollywoodish boost but he has very politely refused because he doesn’t want to earn the wrath of Maratha Manhoos who had vandalized the theatres while the screening of ‘Rang De Basanti’ because of his candid statements on the issue of Narmada. Disappointed, they have finally zeroed down to Rakhi Sawant who says that that she would take this noble cause to another level by performing a sleazy item number to attract more audience and supporters and give a tough competition to Baba Ramdev who had managed to capture the imagination of many people by performing a running item number in a ‘Saree’.

On hearing the news, Pranab Mukhrejee, the unofficial troubleshooter of UPA immediately swung into action and was reported to be entering 7, Race Course Road with a wagon full of pizzas, pastas, macaronis and various other Italian dishes as a last bid attempt to save the face of the party. But this action of him backfired severely when Dr. Singh became even more agitated at the sight of them and threw them high up in the air. Aajtak and India TV nabbed the images of the spinning pizza and reported that alien ships or UFOs were circling above the PM’s residential compound. The situation could be resolved only when Manmohan Singh was served with ‘Sarso ka saag’ and ‘Makki ki roti’. Needless to say neither India TV nor Aajtak apologized for the UFO news for they still believed that they were indeed UFOs.

The PM has been flooded with calls from all over the world at the drop of this news. Pakistani President Asif Ali Zardari has promised that he would even send Miss Hina Rabbani Khar along with the fresh delegation of specially trained terrorists, once again to India to woo the Indian PM and persuade him to change his decision. British PM David Cameron said that he would personally see that Alastair Cook is not selected for any of the upcoming series against India and has even offered Kohinoor diamond back to where it really belongs. Chinese President has also taken a step forward and assured that he would be calling back all the cheap medicines, toys and electronic items that are preventing the growth of Indian economy.

But despite all the efforts, the PM is said to be adamant on going to a fast because now he believes that in a country of deaf, one who remains silent is called Manmohan Singh.

Your eight steps guide to modern English

1.    Mah: At first, it sounds like the vehement bleating sound of a goat whose tail has just been plucked off. Then it reminds me of the hard and loud burp, fuelled by the large swig of soft drink, shooting out of stomach to blow all the smiles off our enemies’ faces. But on deeper introspection, it is an illegitimate and disfigured off spring of the traditional ‘My’ fathered by the SMS and messenger user generation to communicate with one another easily. However, the one thing that still baffles me is that despite being greater in word length, why is it preferred over its old fashioned mother?

2.    Kewl: The second one in the family and very innocently rhyming with mule. Gone are the days when on witnessing something really whacky, we used “How cool that is”. Instead things are now kewling off to something that is beyond my comprehension for it bears no resemblance whatsoever at all from its root word which might as well be thought to be included in the Latin lexicon for its increasing lack of usage in modern times. In fact they are as close to each other as Mike Tyson endorsing a fairness cream. Still, you must know it to be kewl.

3.    Cole: Ok, until recently, the only Cole I knew was Cheryl Cole for obvious reasons. I never had even an iota of inkling that due to her popularity amongst men, the parallel English societies were deciding to make her name immortal by very subtly replacing it for ‘Call’. I hope when they bring out the official Dictionary of their work, they have a bikini clad picture of Cheryl Cole alongside saying ‘Cole me’. If not anything, even the Chinese people will also buy it and make some unconscious contribution to the flagging economy.

4.    TQ: When I first came across this word, I was as surprised as any old user of English would be. It was like giving an IPhone to a person still spinning in the round dial of old age telephones. Still, when I recovered from the blow, I expected it to be somehow related to Intelligence Quotient (IQ). But it was not, at least not to that of mine. A very kind gentleman, getting a whiff of my predicament told me that it was being used for ‘Thank you’. So finally Shakespear could shove his brutal Thy, thine, thou and the many other words which make an embarrassing spitting sound whenever spoken up his nose. Touched by the gentleman’s warm gesture, I could not help but uttering, “TQ Sire”.

5.    Cum: Are you kidding me? Cum on to the next one.

6.    Congo: Imagine a man with his shirt on but nothing below the waist. I know the mere imagination sight is more than disgusting (Of course, had it been Jessica Alba we would have merrily wished this imagination to turn into reality). Same goes with this word. Often used for the expression of one’s good wishes on someone’s accomplishment, it is a semi naked version of ‘Congratulations’. I can’t help but draw an analogy between this poor word and Draupadi for both of them are the victims of being stripped of their clothing by the society for no apparent reason. Alas! There are no Krishnas in this age to savage it and moreover, the Sarees are so costly these days that even the Lord would have to lend money from China as it’s the only rich daddy left on Earth.    

7.    Ssup: It is a word thrown at the face of all those people who considered that making a sound while sipping your tea amounted to bad mannerism. According to my knowledge of this form, all the “Hey! How are you? How is it going?” have been compressed to the four letters abbreviation which looks no less than the name of some Government service examination. Now MTV tells me that it finds its utility more amongst the tilted cap wearing dudes with chains dangling all over from clothes twice or even thrice their actual size probably picked up in a jiffy from a store up on a clearance sale. Some desi grapevine doing the rounds in political circles is that it is a special code word that expands as ‘Sweet spirited Uttar Pradesh’ to be used as the party slogan of BSP in the upcoming state assembly elections. And all the people who publicize and popularize this word would be awarded with their larger than life statues in the middle of the road. Now which one of them is true, I have no idea.

8.    K: Such a sweet and simple word..and the most taken for granted as well. From the taunts of grumpy and sexually frustrated mother in laws to their daughter in laws (Kalmoohi, kulta etc) to the way of agreeing or saying ‘OK’. But this OK is a thing of past now. Its existence has been totally wiped out or better KO(Knocked out). Now there is either K or Okkkk. It’s rather funny that the latter version reminds me of the King of farts..err I mean hearts who redefined and revolutionized this word while saying(at last) “Kkkkkiran”. Anyway, I’m somewhat uncomfortable in using this form. Or in other words, I’m not K with it. So I’ll just stick to the basics. And yes, I do hope that all the SRK fans are okkkk with me for taking a harmless dig at him.

The Last Goodbye-A tribute to my Alma Mater

The gates are opened once again. After a span of four years in my college, I truly realized the dimensions of this gate.What there was behind it and what lies beyond it. It seems like it has been laid open to the embrace of a new batch with the farewell to the last one. Yes, the roads, the gardens, the buildings, the statue, the commotion and the rush are still the same. For the first time I’m realizing how beautiful, how exquisite and how free they are. The late evening breeze sweeping past me leaves its silhouettes in the bright ochre light of the street lamps in whose dimness I’ve seen my shadows many times while taking the evening strolls.

Today’s shadow is also moving along with me. But it seems that it doesn’t want to go with me. In silent whispers it is pleading me to let go of it. To go back or rather run back to the classrooms, to quickly climb up the stairs that lead to the various labs we hated to go once. To escape away to hostel room and snuggle inside the bed for catching a carefree sleep. To rush to boring lectures that worked as the perfect sleeping pill for us but still we went just for the sake of attendance. To the lush lawns of Nescafe and parking on whose green grass blades, we’ve spent countless hours just discussing some of the most stupid things and some of the most useful ones. To the shades of the canopies and sit again with a cup of coffee in one hand and writing a practical file from another. To the ever bustling and vibrant admin whose winds are always more than welcoming and soothing to the soul.

But I can’t grant that one time wish of my heart. The roads are jogging past and I have to catch up with them that lead to a new life I’m going to embark. I feel more than helpless today. One part of me is taking me forward and one part of me is pulling me backward. The dilemma is too strong and gripping to be overcome by my logical engineering mind.

The ropes of the future are pulling me to a mirage of tomorrow. I can imagine myself sitting in a wonderful AC office with a wide window on one of the side walls that opens to the vastness of the blue color of ocean. Wearing an expensive suit taking decisions that would change the course of many fields in this country. To be a famous actor, to be a well known dancer, to be the Booker prize winner author, to be the highest respected scientists and economists and what not. The lure of money is too strong to resist and I find myself attracted to it. I have a big car, a beautiful house, a loving wife and wonderful children. Today I’m happy, more than I could ever have thought of. My professional life is running smooth and my family expectations are more than satisfactory and elating. I’m extremely happy with the way my life is going. Nothing is wrong at all. Nothing. But somewhere through some of the most dusty corners and dingy paths of brain, a tiny trace of a memory branches out. The trace that connects the present and the future. The trace of past.

My past here in this very campus whose four years were some of the best years of my life, The most wonderful moments of my existence. A place where I’ve truly been shaped into a crucible that can be filled with different colors of life. The raods have walked with me with my every mood. Which have never left me in my triumphs or in my defeats. The walls that have protected me from the searing heat of april to the chilly mornings of January. The leaves that danced with wildly with me and my every step and stride when I got my first job. But surprisingly, I'm noticing these things for the first time in Four years. 

And my past in the echoes of the loudest laughter while sitting with my best friends. The ones who have engineered a permanent place in the heart. A place that can never be shared or replaced with. A past which is filled with sweet and sour snapshots of the rainbows of memories of my best friends. Rainbows on which we are sliding downwards and then coming upward are running around me. But through all the ups and downs, they are still standing beside me like a rock and preventing me from falling down. In this one, they are faking a mocking smile just because I have cracked a very bad joke or bursting into an uproar just because I was at the best of my wit. The contorted and anger brimming faces before breaking into a fight to the white embarrassed countenances thinking over about who would say sorry first are so clear in this one are still vivid in front of me eyes.

Those honey filled voices coming straight from the house of the lord when you are absolutely beaten up and down in life. The only hands that outstretched to you when you’d fallen into an unexpected pit of a plan gone badly wrong . The thunderous deliberate pats that they lovingly gave coming from behind your back just to surprise or irritate you. The strong tug that pulled you out of the classroom while you wanted to attend the lecture but finally relented to the temptation of another hour of gossiping. Their mouths are all stuffed up with the aloo paranthas that one of them bought and all of them made it disappear with a quick swish of their fingers. The brim of the one coffee or ice tea mug that still carries the indelible lip marks of all of us is also lying somewhere unattended. On the sight of the girl I liked but never told her, they are whisteling and giving me furtive and mischevious glances and in suppressed tones are telling me to approach and talk to her. In the strings of myriad songs that we sang together loudly or in a hush are still resounding very clearly in my head, I try to search for that one single moment that was the best and the most amazing. But I badly fail in this futile pursuit because each second with them was the best and the most cherishing time of my lifetime of yet. I can’t distinguish between bright and somber memories. They all are tiny but luminous glitters of a wave whose ends are tickling me to a nostalgic laughter.

The sky above is still free and boisterous. And my shadow is still lurching backward again and again. So before it clings back to the hypnotic and ecstatic yesterdays, I must dig it into the deepest corner of my existence.  The clock is slowly ticking away and the life is coming to the completion of a circle. A circle that started four years ago from this very college gate and is ending today at the same place only. A place which has made me what I am today and given me the opportunity to become what I would be tomorrow.

And as I start walking towards the gate for the last time, I somewhere have the hope and desire to come back at this magical place just to relive the joyous days of my life once again. Thank you NSIT. 

Love across time

This is a story of a time ages ago
Of you and me and our imperishable glow
When under the sky, some place afar
We lit the nights sans moon or star

With the flicker of breaths, its inkiness dissolved
Amused I watched in glitters as they revolved
A handful of warmth I too blew from my palms
Which kissed the breeze and swayed it by its arms

On the swings of twigs, I pushed you high
Tickling the heavens, our laughter echoed across the sky
The air was heady with the melodies we weaved
Separation was never to come or so we believed

But a storm was coming in the hourglass of time
To shatter our song and its every rhyme
The words were buried in the womb of the dawn
Our strokes were dead and the story torn 

Farewell it was not and this promise we made
While we walked away from each other watching our faces fade
Into the shadows of fate, our paths were curved
But the love in our hearts was forever preserved

Ages later, on distant lands we both were born
To keep up a promise, to which we both had sworn
Through the mist of memoirs, with parched fragments of a name
Towards An enchanted embrace, we started walking again

Years hence someday with the maiden showers of rain
From a frayed tuft of cloud, our words drizzled again
Seeping into the memories lying untouched for so long
From the damp grounds of time burst forth a forgotten song

Deep within the symphonies were pools of golden streams
That drew us nearer to our hearts’ half lit dreams
Not a syllable was broken nor the fragile sighs
And the love was alive, still breathing inside our eyes

Beyond separations

Silent they stand, staring into each other’s eyes
With a defiance that shatters every word and its meaning
They speak not of the blisters of separation
Or of distances they’ve endured and survived
On a journey that lasted a bit longer than imagined
Their unflinching gazes, the only light
And their quivering breaths, the only sound
In the austerity of a starless, solitary night

They do not ask nor do they seek
For the parched pages they left behind
Where some unfinished strokes still wait
To be born again unto eternity
The yellowness that has seeped into them
Making their memoirs a little more undecipherable
Is a mute testament of a conspiracy
Their destinies webbed against them

They rather feel content with the soundless echoes
Of togetherness clinging stubbornly to their souls
As she moves her slender fingers through his tousled hair
Easing the creases of ruthless time on his forehead
He also removes some loose streaks of heavens
Falling over and veiling her velvet radiance
With a fragrance of freshly plucked lavender
Her wrinkles dissolving away at the mere hint of his caress
Her lips twitching unevenly in an anticipation
Before finally surrendering to a blissful smile

Few drops of tears trickle down her face
Which he captures with a gentle grasp
And mingles them with that of his own
He brings the liquid diamonds near his lips
Chanting something in a hush, a prayer may be
Then sprinkles them all around in a circle
Over the damp ground beneath their feet
From where gush out glittering showers of ecstasy
That paints the magnificence of the sky
With a splendid luster of their love

United they are once again, unfazed, unnerved
Undoing every legend that has ever been known
Of what it is to love, even beyond life sometimes
Hands intertwined, heads leant over against each other
They start ascending on a stairway conjured up
With whirls of blue smoke that vanishes with every step
Leaving behind all realities, laments, ashes

And an immortality in them which lie...lifeless, motionless