Another attempt at writing!

It is weird how writing has never come naturally to me despite having written so much. From poetries to articles, I assumed that I would be on an incline with my writing skills. But the writer’s block is real. More so the belief that this block was mightier than my desire to write made me hold back for long. But then it’s about writing what I feel, which is different from writing for an audience. The latter was never my cup of tea. Yet, it is what I most strongly desired. Today I resume writing with a hope that my feelings will pave way for better thought re- structuring and I will be able to write at least few lines about the world – my version of the world. I have always carried a critical point of view. For some reason, I had convinced myself that it is a very negative emotion to draw out in one’s writing. May be I am typical! Each time my heart goes out to the weak, not to the right. The only way to find out is to test myself against the tides and not wait and try to gauge the right tide. Sometimes, it’s the wrong ones that you ride help you believe in yourself and make people believe that there is another version of the truth.

The shades of grey

Life often sways between sunshine and thunder,

How do you describe the days in between I wonder,

When words seem to dull emotions,

What is perceived is just a notion,

The righteousness of an argument needs parity,

If it does not get categorized it lacks clarity,

For some, the point of view lies in between,

For some, life is enclosed within the area where right and wrong intertwine,

Life is sometimes beyond the definitions of black and white,

What is dark for some may be at the brink of being bright,

When emotions are desperate for that dusk between night and day,

Life unravels itself within the shades of grey.

Dont just discover. Re-discover.

There is little about ourselves that we discover. That little part of ourselves is what we truly understand. The rest, is the invention of many minds around us. Most of us prefer invention over discovery. Makes life easy, doesnt it? I mean if tomorrow somebody came up to you and asked you to discover a mobile phone what would you reply? the obvious response would be, "Its already invented." We somehow carry the same attitude about ourselves. We have gradually found our comfort level with these inventions about us that have been apparently discovered by others. Very much like the dependancy on mobile phones, our lives have developed a certain dependancy on these inventions- in simple term 'opinions'. 

The basic necessity for a person to realize he is kind is for people around him to tell him that. Also, if the world calls you crazy, you pretty much scrutinize every bit of your personality. I cannot blame anyone. Afterall who wants to be an outcast. We are social animals. We have set some standards of style and behaviour without which we are nothing more than a joke for the major cluster following it. We crave for social acceptance, we fear lonliness and accepting people's opnion of who we are doesn't seem to be a very high cost to pay. But, each one of us faces that one instant in life when we feel rejected. That intricate moment when we wish to truly understand ourselves. To realize that everything we did till today was not everything we always wanted to do. It is during that moment that we begin to re-discover ourselves. to give ourselves a chance to discover an opnion for ourselves and impose it on others. 

Where everyone strives to be unique, accepting that you are like another takes courage. When you deny an opnion about yourself, you deny that very part of who you are. You know the problem with modifying an invention? You are always aware about the facts but you will never understand the gravity. Hypocrite, fake, imposter; whichever way i try to interpret it, i am very much a part of it. There are people like whom i wish to be. But, while i powder my face with that presentable look i also wish to stare at that person in the mirror and make sure that i have done enough  to understand that single person in the mirror even if i am unable to grasp the jargons of the universe. It is one thing i would always do 'come what may'. I know i have to keep coming back to that person in the mirror, give him a chance and keep re-discovering myself. 

My Valentine.

Not braced by the sanctities of human logic,
Enveloped by an aura of true magic,
When a feeling that renders sublime devotion,
You know it has surpassed mere infatuation.

What meets the eye is always incomplete,
For they rarely see how the heart beats,
Two souls resonating to a common desire,
A communication that surpasses mere gesture.

Reality then is nothing short of a dream,
On her shoulders i let my life lean,
A relationship that in every sense is true,
A bond that surpasses the need to say “I love You.”

A lost soul.

A weary present looking back relentlessly,
a path that it traveled handicapped,
and now they call it a messed up past,
but the title cannot disguise the agony.

Feelings are not slaves of time,
Although people at times are conquered,
as countless emotions are killed by a feeble human mind,
expressions altered fail to decipher.

Sensation of that gentle touch,
dies the next moment,
a desire consequently born,
a scar waiting to be erased.

With every wish that signifies,
a feeling of meaningless sighs,
lost forever never to return,
a dream that never dies.

प्यार कि कहानी!

समय से लिपटे कुछ लम्हे ,
यादो से भीगे कुछ हम है,
किस बरस ये बंजर ज़िन्दगी खिल उठे ,
जिसकी आस लगाये बैठे , वो प्यार का मौसम है !

जब लगती है दुनिया एक ख़ूबसूरत सपना ,
जब वो एक हो जिसे हम केह पाये अपना,
वो ऋत खिले तोह कभी बीते न वो लम्हा,
फिर याद न करना पड़े वो दिल का तरसना!

आरज़ू कि एक नाज़ुक डोर ,
जो खिचती रहे हमे उसकी ओर,
उस लम्हे में ज़िन्दगी एक मधुर संगीत लगे,
सुनाई पड़े उस जगह भी, जहा मचे भीड़ का शोर!

कैसे थामे ये बेचैनी ,
कब है वो ऋत आनी,
उसे ढूंढ़ता कब से फिर रहा,
न खो जाऊ मैं बन के एक अधूरी कहानी!

Time.

They call me good and bad, They curse me I don’t know why, They call me happy and sad, As I just keep passing by. They want me to rush at times, At times they want me to freeze, They capture me in their memories, Yet, I flow like a gentle breeze. I am treasured as a lesson, And taught to every progeny, I am provided as a ray of hope, I am a mirror of destiny. They always expect me to be prosperous, They only want me to be sublime, Mistaken that they carry me on their wrists, You’ll never control me my friend!!.... I am time..

This day will be mine.

Gazing through the morning sky,
i see another day begin,
a yesterday left behind,
hoping that this day will be mine.

With a will to conquer the world,
and dreams that peek through horizon,
but actions so ordinary to accompany,
hoping that this day will be mine.

A feel that i am different,
a feel that i am born to shine,
willing to make the best of each moment,
hoping that this day will be mine.

as i travel through long tunnel,
i doubt my vision of the light,
believing every ray that i come along,
hoping that this day will be mine.

a destiny unrevealed to me,
a path undifferentiated to see,
yet, always picturing the end in my mind,
and hoping that this day will be mine.

Comeback.

Writing is no more the same. Earlier, it was a simple process. As I sat down running my hands gently over the keys and even before I pressed a single key an avalanche of thoughts would rush down from my mind into my hands. As I paved my way through those clusters of thoughts from varying interests picking up ideas that were analogous; I could carve them into something presentable. People appreciated it and that gave way to newer ideas to evolve within and a larger enthusiasm to carve them into a beautiful article. However, I have reached a ‘coma’ in my journey of creativity. It’s a sudden pause that is difficult to explain. I still have my hands with all eight fingers intact and thumb firmly placed on the spacebar. I also purchased a new keyboard, the glossy keys with neat printed alphabets which urge me to concatenate them into an appreciable manner. But it is something within that has lost its glaze.

My mind has lost somewhere among those clusters of ideas that has crowded its workspace. Suddenly, my mind has turned claustrophobic. It is not that I have never been in this situation but there is something about the moment I cannot explain my mind. It is constantly asking me for explanation but I condone its plea as I have larger issues at hand in the real world. Now, I have finally spared some time to find answers for my skeptical and obscure mind. I calmly ponder upon at the crowd of thoughts, ideas and memories that have clustered and constrained my mind. Inadvertently, I find nothing new. The entire scenario was something my creativity thrived on. It was out of this pandemonium that my mind would often help me engineer marvels that were appreciated by many. So what was the conundrum posed by time? I tried to think deeper. I assessed the situation from its root. How my earlier creations came into being? I said to myself, “ I developed ideas by learning each moment, every psychology, every situation, every phenomenon. Later, I thought over it again and again. Assessed, evaluated and also implied at times to verify them on a practical platform.
Is the situation different? I questioned myself. As I began analyzing my current state, the picture started bettering till I could finally understand my dilemma. Entering into the new phase of life has changed the equations for me. I am no more the teenager who had the freedom to pose a mere spectator to worldly issues. I am no more the novice who’s opinion was not worth. I am no more the juvenile who thinks he can control the world since he is able to make decisions at his own leisure. I am no more the youngster who could put aside his share of responsibilities and enjoy a weekend with friends or may be even plan a vacation by manipulating his schedule. I am no more the favourite student of a particular teacher who would provide him special guidance in tough situations. I am no more the kid that the elder’s often ignored and would be least interested whether or not he learned about important issues around. Today, I am a graduate- I am a professional. I do not think how I can change the world but I am worried of finding a right spot to fit myself in the larger picture. I am only favourite of those who can benefit from my work and I am a part of a constant race to prove myself to my colleagues and every other person around me who is directly or indirectly associated with my work. . More importantly, I require to prove myself and try not to lose myself in the rat race because no matter by what amount the number of variables in the equation increase, they would always equal to success in my formula for life. As I struggle to make a comeback, at least I realize now, its not the inspiration but the state of mind I am searching for.

The End.

For the past few months i have been struggling with my blog. the last couple of updates came from a small reservoir. currently, however, i have nothing to offer. may be i have nothing left within me. may be i gave out all that i have. although, all that i have was not enough for me, its a truth i require to accept someday. every creation has its end, for most writers the end of their creativity is their death. unfortunately, i am no writer. the truth is i never was.

writing was never my passion. i never wrote something because i held a strong emotion related to the idea. its just that it sounded "cool". writing was a rather unusual journey i began with. it was one journey that went on for a long time, though i never planned it to happen nor to continue. it all started when a friend of mine, whom i had a crush on, mentioned about some friend of hers who wrote beautiful poems. she herself wrote a couple but i never really had the chance to read many of her writings. i have always been a "why not?" type of a person. so, as a means to impress my friend, i asked myself-"what could be so tough with writing poems?" i had read so many poems in english literature by that time. i sat down to write a few lines. i could hardly manage approximately six to eight lines and i gave up. i carried that incomplete poem in my wallet for some time without even realising it was there. soon , the day arrived. i was having a casual conversation with her when she once again mentioned about her friend and his poem. i said,"i write too, i wrote one recently but its incomplete". she wanted to hear those incomplete lines. i rushed to my room and picked up my wallet. i rushed back to the telephone and read out- life is a war and we all are warriors,
some accept defeat, some chose to lead,
some find friends to go, some alone face the foe,
some fall in love and lose the battle,
some rise in love and chose to settle,
but the battle is still to be won,
as our aim's not just to find the one.

she looked impressed. i was happy to be praised by her. she thought i was talented. i knew, i wasnt. she encouraged me to complete the poem. i tried harder. finally, i completed. i was not happy because i wrote the first poem of my life but i did something that made someone happy. when i recited the poem to her she was happy. later, she shared a couple of her poems and i was encouraged to shape my ideas into poems. gradually, i reached a phase where i could no more frame verses. but, i wanted to write. i wanted to write because i had carried my writing far enough for many to appreciate it. the only way to keep my writing alive was to avoid restraining my mind by attempting to constrain simple ideas into short sentences. this is when i began writing articles.

every time i wrote an article i estimated the response. however, the fate of me as a writer was concealed. when i look at the friend who once encouraged me to write and many other who have succeeded as writers i realize the difference between their and my words. it was for the very simple reason that i wrote for people to appreciate and they wrote for people to acknowledge that i have finally reached my end as a writer. rather it would be inappropriate to call myself a writer in the minutest sense. a pretentious writer that i have been for 6 long years, i am somehow glad that this phase appeared in my life. these few writing would remain with me till i die. i know there wont be any other creation on this blog henceforth for i have reached the end.

What is happiness??

What is happiness? I asked a toddler,
It is when daddy gets a toy for me.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked a teen,
It is when I am free to do as I please.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked a man,
It is when I can fulfill all the needs of my family.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked an old man,
It is when I am content with my journey.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.

If the toddler’s answer is what I agree,
Then toys and gifts would make the world happy.
If the teen’s answer is what I agree,
Then happiness would be defined as spree.
If the man’s answer is what I agree,
Then a happy family would make the world happy.
The old man’s answer was rather intriguing,
It was so precise while others’ so materialistic,
And if I comprehend the answer of first three,
They complement the same philosophy.

Helpless

We are puppets tied to strings,
Controlled by a puppeteer,
Life is what each one calls,
He governs the entire cluster.

The puppets earn him his bread,
But has to follow some rules,
A balance necessarily followed,
He is a victim of his own rules.

His friends are death and time,
Who help him in his play,
Generation, evolution and destruction,
Unavoidable phenomena in every way.

He calls us ‘being’, his bread winners,
And endows power upon each one,
To chose a role of our own,
And maintain a flow in the long run.

Obsession of power envelopes his puppets,
Some even try to defy his laws,
Extending their power to the zenith,
Still unable to escape his claws.

He is invincible for any single puppet,
Even a majority may prove less,
Only a puppet who can see the larger picture,
Realizes, against life, he is always helpless.

Change.

I always thought that it was my quest for satisfaction that made my life a constant struggle. however, when i look at the past i realize that my quest was victorious in parts. it is when i ponder, i realize that i started my struggle with an ideal intention. the struggle at one point of time became so intense that the pace of it consumed me distracting me from my real intentions. now, i was fighting with life because i had to fight not because i wanted to. it became a habit. finally, life took a pause. it gave me a chance to assess what i had turned my life into and how i wish to mould it in future.

It is now that i take my time to realize that my struggle was never to achieve satisfaction. satisfaction derives its importance from the existence of unhappiness and pain. satisfaction is the absence of that struggle wherein all you want to achieve is satisfaction. i got blinded by my struggle and accepted my life to be a constant struggle. today, life provided me a pause to realize what i have been fighting for so long isn't satisfaction. it is change.

I want satisfaction to last forever. i do not wish to see it change into anything else that i haven't known it to be. when i stepped into this world, i was placed satisfactorily in my mother's womb. i was warm with care, i was protected, i was never hungry or thirsty; i was satisfied and that's the way i was born. but slowly life changed. i had to express my need for care, i had to protect myself and look after my own bread. even worse was the fact that something as simple as a touch, a word, a gesture, a silence, presence or absence of someone and similar ideas that could easily lose its meaning in the larger world started creating a chaos in my life. i became so vulnerable that every second of life possessed a phenomenon that could change how things were in the earlier second.

Like many others i grew tired. fortunately, my life gave me a chance to understand what i was struggling for. once again i wanted to be cared without expressing the need to be cared, i wanted to be protected and fed; i wanted life to not change from the way i knew it for the first time. but what is done cannot be undone. all i can do is try to continue my quest for satisfaction without losing track of my true goal so that when i achieve that momentary satisfaction i am able to endure it.

Surpassing Me.

One of the most relaxing moments for me are the ones when i keep all my work aside and recollect all the memories since childhood that i treasure. i don't just reminisce. i also bring back memories of tragic moments. in the course of time, it has become a routine. the aspect of this routine that keeps the interest in my memories alive is that every time i get back to an old memory it has something more to offer. every time i analyze it, i realize that there has been a further event that has provided a greater perception of a previous event. it helps me grow as i prepare myself for impending challenges.

You always cherish the idea of a better future. especially, as a child, you dream to conquer the world and are willing to make every possible sacrifice. however, as you grow old you tend to grow fond of these sacrifices. something we fail to realize is that, at times, we chase the same dreams we once portrayed in our mind as children. the difference lays in the vision. the idea becomes less hypothetical as we advance. also our vision narrows. our definition of achievement becomes more and more complicated.

As a child it is a general scenario wherein parents compare their children to other children of the same age group performing better. parents always strive to set role models for their children- be it a legend or just the neighbourhood lad who brings home better test scores or behaves more obediently. a child never understands the true motive of his parents. the child himself faces an obscure conundrum. something we fail to realize is the individuality. unfortunately, we need a reference. it is not just the parents portraying their child to be a successful individual but the child himself trying to step into the shoes of a different person.

As a child i had my role models, my ideologies, my definitions. with time, they changed. either they changed because i did or vice versa. in either case, there was one factor that remained unchanged- achievement. irrespective of the role model, ideologies or definitions, i always wanted to achieve. the quest for achievement demanded me to change for better or worse. however, the reference for better or worse wasn't my idol or ideology- it was me. it was then i began the quest for surpassing me.

Profession.

I was in school when i first learnt the secret of succeeding in a career. a secret that has been learnt by almost every teenager during his or her school days. the simplest philosophy that most of us voluntarily or involuntarily attempt to apply to our lives. the secret- make your passion, your profession. the key is to enjoy your profession in order to be more efficient and to succeed. obviously, getting into a profession and succeeding in that profession are two different aspects of a career.

Unfortunately, the scenario today is a little different. although, the society still believes in teaching the younger generation to be passionate about their profession and chose their hobby as their career, the practical scenario has a different story to unveil. i am a graduate. more precisely, i am an engineer. but engineering is not my passion. i have various hobbies and have been asked by many as to why i never considered choosing my hobby as my career. i never bothered justifying them because most Indians are too idealistic with their advices. i do not say that my theories are completely practical or its the ultimate reality but its my experience, my story.

As i grew older, the industry somewhere failed to assure me the success if i chose my hobby as my profession. another point of view could be that i was myslef never confident of succeeding in that field. not because i wasn't good but because i wasn't the best. someone may suggest that not everyone is born best but requires to work in order to become the best. this is where the industry did not seem supportive.

The way i mentioned about the secret of success known by every teenager then, there is another secret of success known by every graduate today. "In order to enter the industry, every candidate should be able to sell himself to the company. and even as a person works in an industry he requires to sustain a higher value for himself. every step, he should have something to offer to the industry. because today, the industry does not require an employee, the employee needs the industry." With globalization, the skills that were once acquired through hardwork and intelligence are now on sale. can an era in which knowledge and philosophy are marketed, value a person's passion? at the end of the day, its not always about right and wrong, its about profit and loss. more importantly, its not about personal satisfaction; its about the company's satisfaction.

I dont need to explain what a hobby is. however, we all agree that in a particular passion that we practice, we tend to experiment with our ideas. there is a certain freedom of thought; unconstrained. the end result is a new creation which provides you with self satisfaction. but if that certain passion is a profession then it isnt the creation but the appreciation of that creation which is a matter of self satisfaction. as a result of which the creativity gets constrained and the very act that once made a person happy, drives him into depression. but then you still have a reason not to worry because most organizations have a yoga or meditation or dance classes in order to help you relieve your stress and perform better. in short, a company follows a simple policy- if u love to swim they throw u in the deepest ocean giving you an "opportunity" to cross it with a few logs "just in case".

However sarcastic i try to be i cannot change the ground reality. the entire system has that kind of flow to it. hence, i chose not to make my passion, my profession. for me, my profession is a challenge. if i win, it elevates my confidence. if i lose, it lowers my confidence. yet, i realize that at the end of the day if i lose i will never break. because there are these "things" i do that help me understand that there is more to me and i can allow a fresh start next day. i write, i draw, i play, i travel, i cook and i read tarots; all with utmost passion and i know that till the day i am alive i have all these "things" i can do which make me feel real, feel alive, feel worth because they are my passion and not......my profession.

philosophy- a way of life.

It is so amusing, to sometimes think of people speaking so metaphorically about life. most philosophers depict a certain aspect of life in their art form. musicians would create beautiful tunes, a poet would decorate the idea with rhymes, an artist would portray it with different colors, an actor would stage an act of obvious human emotions to recreate a certain idea, a sculptor would carve an inanimate object to make it appear lively. the philosophy of these artists are majorly acknowledged because they are able to present it in an entertaining manner. well, its human psychology.

But then what about those millions of silent philosophers, the ideas of whom are born and demised in their own minds. it obviously doesn't mean they are inferior. in the end we all seek the truth. we have had our share of happiness and sorrows. the knowledge we acquire from life is mostly different. the augmented structure of life is responsible for it. it is the same as choosing a profession. we cannot acquire in- depth knowledge of various professions and so we choose one. however, in case of life, this choice is pre-determined. what determines it? well, some call it fate, some call it destiny, some call it the outcome of one's action but i rather not comment on it. because in the end, it doesn't matter. certain consequences from the past need to be shared by every progeny.

In every life-story, there is a part of life different than our own. the successful have different success stories, the unsuccessful have different unfortunate tragedies, the happy have different means to search for content and the unhappy have different means to accommodate their sorrows. and yet we are a part of this race to claim superiority. every person feels the need to allow the world to understand that unique aspect of life that has been his pre-determined fate. however, life has its own way of maintaining an equilibrium. with so many minds desperate to speak there are almost equal no of minds shut.

in the end, one requires to accept the difference between reality and philosophy. philosophy in itself is a way of life. it involves exploring life and viewing it with an altogether different perception. we appreciate those simple philosophies nurtured by various art forms because unconsciously we realize that it is a perception that we cannot embed into our minds. we have to depend on the artist to allow us to see that unique part of life through his eyes. we take for granted even those complicated ideas that lurk around us because we feel that we can view life from that angle. eventually some of us decide to make that beautiful perception of an artist our way of life and unintentionally mix up our own perception to form a new way of life- a new philosophy.

Normal.

Ever seen a mentally retarded person? they say that those people cannot behave normally. normally? if we remember our physics well then we should be able to recollect our theories that were built up on assumptions to begin with and those phenomena that contradicted a certain theory were termed as special cases. and i am not making it up when i say that many a times some phenomena that do not follow a normal theory are termed as 'special' cases. look at the irony, we term phenomena as 'special' when they behave abnormally or sub-normally but term the human beings who are not normal as mentally retarded, mentally ill or some term that gives you the idea that "something is wrong with this person".

Obviously, i cannot blame anyone for this but then it left me with a thought. a thought about their place in our world. in our normal world. you are supposed to be normal if you can speak in an existing accent, if your postures and gestures are similar to the other thousands that were born before you, if you can score an average grade and sustain a job, if you like money and luxuries; but what about those we call mentally ill? what do they seek? for a normal person, i often say that a path he chooses in life is to seek the meaning for his existence. but i don't know if this holds true with those born with mental disorders.

A few years back, an accident occurred at gateway of India. two girls were slashed with a knife by a mentally ill person. i learned that he was mentally ill since childhood. while discussing it with a friend, my friend argued that the person shouldn't be allowed in public. he should be kept in an asylum. but i knew how that ill person's parents must be feeling because i have a mentally ill person staying in my locality whose parents have raised him well as from what i have observed. he even threw a stone at me which was big enough to knock me down if it hit my head. but i luckily escaped. although i realized the threat, a stronger realization possessed my thoughts and that was his parents' love for him. however the child is- normal, abnormal or subnormal -their parents love doesn't change. i suppose that is the only thing that doesn't change as would be seen by normal human beings. while writing this i recollect the recent incident in which a baby that died in the mother's womb and remained in it for a long time had deformed body parts and was termed as an alien, adding to which, the mother wasn't allowed to see the child's dead body.

May be there are many terms that define normal, but, i am sure "cruel" is one of them. we tend to observe a person's character through his eyes while he is interacting. i have stared into the eyes of these mentally ill twice, but all i could sense was the innocence of a new born. the thought process was ongoing but the vibes that i received where more pleasant and innocent than destructive and manipulative. i hope there was a way to redefine the terms used to administer these mentally challenged as they are more subtly termed these days.

May be it is only i who feel so. but, when a normal person breaks a glass in a fit of rage, we term him as short tempered, when a normal person suddenly feels like playing while at work, we term him as moody, when a normal person eats his meal in a disgusting manner, we call him ill- mannered. But if a mentally retarded did any of the above disgraceful act there is only one thing that would come to our mind as normals- "he is mentally ill." i hope someday i can understand them and built a place for them at least in my world where i wont see them as ill or retarded or challenged or disabled but 'different'.

21

i always thought that i knew so much about life that if i had to start writing i'd probably have a couple of books published. yet, i havent heard of many writers, who at the age of 21, have written great books on life. when i was 10, i always fascinated the idea of being 21. at that age you dream of winning over the world by the time you complete your teens.

life at 10 isnt all that happening for an average kid like me. in addition, its human nature to find another guy wearing the same shirt as yours to be more handsome than you could see yourself in the mirror. in short, we are always interested in others' life than our own. so as i mentioned earlier, being an average kid, i was more interested in people around me. the one thing that intrigued me the most was the freedom privileged by the grown ups. i wanted to wear stylish clothes, go out for movies almost every weekend, have a girlfriend, stay out late night, hang out with friends for long time and have my own money to spend the way i want. but, i was 10 then.

now, m 21. style changes 4 me everyday, i go out for movies once in while, i dont have a girlfriend, i cannot stay out late night, i cannot hang out with friends for too long, i still dont have money of my own to spend the way i want and the worst of all is that even if i get a decent job after a few months i wont be able to spend it my way. why? its simple, m 21. i have deadlines, i have duties, i have responsibilities, i have a career and i have an image in society. you dont have any of these when you are 10. just some stupid exam to be passed by hook or by crook twice a year and till you do that you get what you want and you dont have to answer anyone else. but, m 21.

yes, m 21.however messed up my life is, i am more worried about whom aishwairya rai is getting married to or whom she broke up with. i speak with so much fake confidence that people around me imagine me to be the next bill gates. i read the sexpert column in the newspaper dutifully and read it with so much enthusiasm as if am planning on losing my virginity the same night and will be discovering myself being affected by all the possible STD's the next morning. i have a regenerating heart that actually works more efficiently and quickly than a lizard who is believed to be the only mammal on earth with the power 2 regenerate a body part. i guess, they never studied the heart of a 21 year old very well. it is said to be broken, destroyed, cut, withered and all possible adjectives for destruction when his love goes away. but within no time a new heart re-generates to make space for a fresh love. i read the horoscope hoping that my financial and romantic life will improve. at 10, it was studies and mom. at 21, its money and love.

unchangeable.

a destiny that awaits you at the horizon. the past is the reflection of the future. a sentence difficult to digest. but the one who understands the unchangeable destiny would understand exactly what i mean. but then its not all that complicated.

every person is born with a pre- decided fate. if you ponder upon the normal flow of life, you would say, as you sow, so shall you reap. in simple words, your act today leads to a possible outcome in future. Now, to interpret my idea you will need to visualize the opposite. it is because you are destined for a particular outcome in future, you perform an act in the present. unfortunately, there is no way to find out that pre- decided fate.

a very good friend of mine once told me,"life is unpredictable and the fact that it is makes it worth living." so all we can do is try not 2 judge ourselves on petty outcomes in the present because we have a larger future designed for us. all that we can do is work with all our heart in what we truly believe and may be that would become the most convenient way to reach that unchangeable destiny.

One extra mile.

i gotta walk that extra mile,
my destiny awaits on the other side,
its gonna be tough for a while,
i gotta walk that extra mile.

dragging many expectations along,
i try to ignore the elevation,
my will power isn't so fragile,
i gotta walk that extra mile.

the odds are stacked against me,
nobody said it would be easy,
although difficulties are ought to pile,
i gotta walk that extra mile.

a point of no return,
i cannot go back,
but the journey has made me docile,
i gotta walk that extra mile.

vision of victory, so clear,
there is no cost too high,
every step trying to be more agile,
i gotta walk that extra mile.

i will not give up, i know,
even if it took a life more,
my attempts wont remain futile,
i gotta walk that extra mile.