The Christmas Poem

Christmas is the time when everybody cheers,
All the religions- in both the hemispheres,
As all the rich & poor forget their fears
And celebrate the festive occasion with food, clothes & beer.
This is the time when all foes unite,
A universal brotherhood overcomes every fight;
Darkness fades away, prevails only light
Truly it can only be a God’s might!
The follower of Christ in every part,
On this festive day, can’t stay apart-
This a time for friendship, no time to hurt,
Its all the preparations for a brand new start.
The poor families who work everyday
But, now they are happy & gay
For only one day, their happiness stays,
What they do is only pray, pray & pray.
In India also, the joy is no less,
And you can see the spirit in everyone’s face;
Though the Hindus are more than the Christian race:
The epics are lost & Jesus has taken their place!
I also have quite a nice time,
With all my friends till half past nine
Help all the needy in every single line:
Its only my wish- they would’ve a jolly good time.

Remember Me

Do not shed tears when I have gone
but smile instead because I have lived.

Do not shut your eyes and pray to God that I’ll come back
but open your eyes and see all that I have left behind.

I know your heart will be empty because you cannot see me
but still I want you to be full of the love we shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live only for yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of what happened
between us yesterday.

You can remember me and grieve that I have gone
or you can cherish my memory and let it live on.

You can cry and lose yourself become distraught
and turn your back on the world
or you can do what I want - smile, wipe away the tears,
learn to love again and go on.

*I can't go on. I must go on. I'll go on.

----David Harkins----

Un-named #01

My friends ask me, 'Why did you? '

An answer demanded, to which I've no clue,

Realise it is futile to struggle on,

The only term which can describe me is 'gone'.

I wordlessly fade away in tears,

My soul has been overshadowed with fears;

Only memories in my heart I can keep,

Still there're many more miles to go before I sleep!

Taare Zameen Par: Review

First of all, what I really liked about this movie is the simplicity in acting, none of the actors/actresses tried to act out of their skins.

The film's hero, Darsheel Safary, is a talented boy, no doubt, his expressions, acting really portray the work of a professional.

The film starts with Ishaan Avasti (Darsheel Safary) being dragged into his school bus after school as he was busy catching fishes from the drain. The boy comes home, and displays a childish tendency to disobey his mother's orders & when being questioned about the exam results, he diverts his attention to other works (coz he has got 2/25 in some paper) & he is ashamed of the fact. The story glitters on as we see our hero bunking school & enjoying his day outside, a symptom that he is someone special, not like the ordinary boys who follow the die hard schedule of school life. He sees the world from a different perspective, he dwells in his own world, animating simple objects into something playful. His problem: he commits spelling mistakes & he seems to have an odium for studies, the sole reason he is being sent to a boarding school (so that he can pick up his self).

The strict discipline maintained there also don't help as teachers mock him & scold him, humiliating the child's soul & obliterate's his self confidence.

Enter Ram Shankar Nikumbh (Aamir Khan) as the art teacher, who, soon understands the pattern of mistakes done by Ishaan & visits his home, where he is shown the child's earlier works, and much to his surprise, he learns that Ishaan loves to draw, a fact which shocks him as the latter refused to draw when asked generously by him. He experiences the boy's creations & even understands his internal turmoil when he sees the dreaded notebook where the same drawing is drawn, father, mother, elder son & younger son, the last fading away from the family with each turning of the page. He identifies this problem of Ishaan as dyslexia, in which the child has is impaired & can't distinguish among letters, sounds, numbers etc.

He takes it upon himself to improve Ishaan's ability to cope with the other "normal" students and at last, his hidden talent is recognised by all, when he wins the drawing competition organised by Nikumbh, proving that its love which can heal all disorders, not scoldings & strict discipline.

Rating: 8/10

Director's Note

P.S. Enjoy the special background music, "Kholo Kholo" from this film.

From The Eyes Of A Litter

(Although “litter” means “rubbish things, garbage” etc, here I’ve used it in the context of a human being )

As the dawn breaks in beckoning a whole new day,
A shackled life searches for a way to exist,
The eternal firmament, seems, but a dusk of gray,
The soothing air, just a demented, grisly mist.
Sprouting of green leaves never happen in my life;
To imagine of tomorrow, hurts like one beastly pointed knife!

Lying by the side of the roads, inhaling dusty smokes,
With just a shattered gown to warm the soul,
These eyes gaze at speeding cars & busy people-my only hopes,
As I prepare myself for another battle, holding the blessed bowl.
Spits, abuses & awkward stares will be hurled at me,
Yet, I cannot, but plead with clasped hands, help this rusted body.

Sometimes a note, sometimes a clinking coin enriches my pot,
Sometimes a vicious kick leaves an agonizing black spot;
This has been my life through all these years & more,
As I’ve experienced countless internal uproars.
My identity is not a human, but a beggar,
And though you say, “I care for you”, you’ll despise me forever.

Immobile

Empty spaces feel me from inside

Like a large vacuole engulfing its prey

I feel a minute tinge of pain, running down my spine

I feel light, I experience something divine

Black shadows encircle me, Communicating

with my soul, beckoning it to interpret their silent words

A pale glow pre-dominates in the eyes,

Eyes that've seen much, tolerated much,

Eyes that've seen every loving touch,

The blackenend blood winds its way upto the poisoned heart

Sending pulses for it to relieve the body of any more misery.

People around me talk in some unknown language,

Unknown, or known, but seems to be unknown?

A svelte veil shields the animate from the inanimate

I ask slowly. "Is this what it feels like to be enlightened?"

A voice deep inside cogitates, and whispers,

"This is what feels like

Death."

Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

----Langston Hughes----

EPL Super Sunday: Liverpool v/s Manchester United

A classic Sunday showdown between two arch rivals, Liverpool & Manchester United, only 6 points separating them, a match everyone was looking forward to, as Rafael Benitez (Liverpool Manager) set onto re-write his record of a poor performance of his side against the Red Devils in the last 6 games.

Game starts: Anfield Liverpool in their traditional all red, Man U in all black.

It was a tension packed exciting encounter between the 2 football Giants, full of tackles, bookings, heated arguments. Liverpool had their chances, with Fernando Torres with the best chance of the game heading the ball off target while Van der Sar was out of his marked space. The Spaniard wasn't at his majestic best, the kind of form he is capable of & the kind of form he in the game against Marseille.

In the 43rd Minute, Carlos Tevez flicked on from a Giggs corner after Rooney had sent it firing towards the goal, the opener more a result of poor defending & no marking from the hosts than class from the Argentinian forward.

Liverpool really heated things up in the first part of the 2nd half, but, Ferdinand, Evra, Vidic & Co. were rock solid at the back, determined to see through the rising pressure. United had another chance to double their lead, but, Wayne sent it wide.

Liverpool tried hard, but couldn't net in an equaliser, Steven Gerrard failing to inspire his team, unlike many times.

At the 93rd minute, the whistle blew, bringing an end to Liverpool's chances of getting to the top as they drifted 9 points apart from the defending champions, Manchester United.

Final Score- Liverpool 0:1 Manchester United

What a match, full of excitement, never did I feel bored while my eyes were glued to the TV throughout the whole episode. Waiting for the next match now, another Grand Slam when Arsenal host Chelsea in the Emirates Stadium.

Took a short break & came online to have an updated score on my blog. :D

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

----Dylan Thomas----

May Be I'm Addicted....

Throughout my 20 years, I have fallen victim to several addictions (not drugs of course, and also not gambling), most of the addictions have been harmful playing crazes, a determination to see the end of the game within a week, or doing stuff that won't lead me anywhere. Here's a summarized list:

1) Crazy about Harry Potter & liking everything about the teenage wizard, an addiction in itself, I would buy every available stuff (shirts, pencils, erasers, game CDs & other HP merchandise) & I am not mentioning the books here, as I have gone through the majority of them a zillion times. At one point of time, I was so obsessed that I was prepared to go to Oxfordshire to meet Emma Watson (Hermione Granger) & also audition for a role in the forthcoming movies.

2) Then came WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment), I would each show on TV twice a day, one in the evening & one at night, I was completely taken over by WWE. I would perform the "wrestling" moves on pillows, and began to go to gym & develop my muscles (a move that I don't regret now). I dreamnt of wrestling, I ate, slept, drank wrestling, it seemed the most beautiful thing on Earth & several times I told my mother: I wanna be a Wrestler, nothing else. I was so engrossed with the thing & once, when I was in class 9, a heated argument with a friend resulted me in "choke slamming" him on the study table, he didn't go unconscious, but was badly hurt & our class teacher called my mother & complained about my violent behavior. She later wrote in my slam book (on the penultimate day of class 9) that I was Muhammad Ali!

3) My peak teenage years, 15-18 were spent in indulging in various acts, of which girls played an insignificant role, well, I always wanted a girl, and still want her now. Nevertheless, smoking, which I took up in class 11, as fun, turned into an addiction, it didn't go beyond all barriers, but, I dunno for some reason, I loved smoking, as to me, it gave a sense of freedom, a feeling of maturity, I didn't smoke out of depression or sadness or tension, nothing like that, but out of fun, I know it seems insane, but that's what it was, I smoked for fun. (I managed to quit it a year back).

4) Next came, the online game Tribal Wars, a strategy game, like Age Of Empires, a strategy game that I couldn't take my eyes off. I would sit hours (usually 12-14) in front of my laptop (I was in hostel then) & chalk out plans to attack my enemies, defend myself against incoming dangers, grow my empire etc. I would advise all of you to try out the game, it's cool, but gets boring after sometime.

5) Then, comes Orkut, I started with: What the hell is this fucking thing? People keep on sending me requests in my e-mail to join it, I was a little apprehensive of making the move, but, eventually I joined the gargantuan network of friends & blessed it for reviving the falling relationships with my school buddies. Here comes the funny part, when I came back to Kolkata, I took up Orkut seriously & would be online in there 24*7, scraps, as they call them, became my obsession, I would toil day & night to increase them. When I finally deleted my account on 31st October, 2007, I had 760,010 scraps, and this isn't a lie, I was ranked #31 in India & #1 in Kolkata & West Bengal.
Well, I do have an Orkut account (which I use not-so-often) & I have another 76 Accounts which I don't log into at all (so you can well understand my craze about this thing).

6) My latest addiction is Blogging, you can find me online in Blogger, for more than 10 hours a day, checking others' blogs, writing stuff with a frequency & intensity I never knew I could achieve & have also made some very good friends, some of whom I would mention in here: The girl with a zillion namesakes, Clouds (Deya), Nothingman, Sean, Arnold & many more, with whom I can share feelings & thoughts.

-Sam.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

----William Ernest Henley----

The poet was suffering from tuberculosis in his joints, he wrote this poem while he was on bed.

Black....

I came to Kolkata with high hopes of enjoying time with friends, meeting relatives, going out, having fun, spend time with my mom.

Look at my current situation, I am confined to the shelter of my study room, as carpenters work on the door of my bedroom, my mother too busy in her daily schedule & has diverted her attention to the carpenters. No time for me, sadly.

My friends are all battling for dear life, with their semester exams going on, and they'll continue upto 18th or 20th of December, so another week of dull days for me, sitting in front of my PC & blogging or playing FIFA 2007.

Coming to relatives, my closest & dearest cousin is also having her exams, my uncles are outta town with their families, my cousin bro is sick, and so, I've reached a dead end in here also.

So, I'm here counting days which seem to continue for eternities & cursing my luck for having such a horrendous time in my home town.

Announcement

Added a new background music to my blog, I hope the readers would like it, its one of my favorites of all time, if not the favorite, "Right Here Waiting For You" by "Richard Marx."


P.S. I have also created a poll on "Background Music" asking for the opinion of the readers, please feel free to Vote.

Regards,
-Sam.

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all: we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

----Charles Bukowski----

I really like the title & the amazing contradiction of words which prove to be accurate at the same time.

Celebrating Christmas

We, the people of Blogger, are, after all, middle class people, some rich too. We celebrate Christmas splendidly, because, it is the one day of the year where we all can unite. We become spendthrifts, trying to buy or provide every possible amenity that our loved ones can desire. So all in all, Christmas to us, is a time for merriment. Everyone is happy. It seems that there can't be any sorrow anywhere.

But, what about the poor, hapless children crowding in the road-sides? What about the beggars who live on the streets? What about the fever-stricken, homeless people of Africa or the neglected ones? Have we ever thought of them? Did someone ever ask them, "What do you need?" or, maybe, "Would you like a new cloth?". The answer is no. We all are too pre-occupied with our own selves. But, they too are humans, they too have dreams & they too like us, want to celebrate Christmas. But, all their wishes vanish into thin air for they are poor, their lives have been engulfed by poverty & negligence. The children, they too want to dress in new clothes & go to the churches to pray, but, all they get is maybe, a torn cloth. Sometimes, we see that there are a few well-wishers who donate somethings to them, like food, necessities, clothes etc. But, only few, very few, & that too, when do charity work, that is donate to organizations, half of what they give, don't go to the intended people in need. So, the bottomline is, they remain in misery. And that dstroys all their dreams.

But, this scene can be changed if we, collectively, help them to get out of this situation. We spend so much lavishly, we don't have counts how our money gets spent, here & there. Can't we just do something to see our fellow human beings live a happy life? Can't we each just donate $1 for their welfare? In a large city like New York or Paris or London or Mumbai , a one-dollar contribution from each person can lead to a huge sum of money, running into millions. That would be more than enough to provide for all of them.

But, we would think, what we would get in return? They can't repay us. Probably not, we can't get any expensive things from them. Or maybe, we can, we can get their smiles, their happiness, which we'll feel happy that we've given them, & last we can get their blessings, which is far more expensive than all the material wishes we desire in our life.

Hmm..What To Say?

The following article contains explicit adult content & reader discretion is advised. The views expressed are purely the author's views & readers have the full right of agreeing with it or conflicting/contrasting with it. Please don't read it if you don't think you can handle the words!!
This is a request, not a command.


Well, I had always prided myself on being more informative about life of the people of The States or United Kingdom than others, mostly my friends. I have chatted with many people, the majority of them being teenagers.
At first, I thought that their way of growing up was so adventurous & exciting, they are free-birds after they turn 16, completely independant in whatever activities they indulge. In India, to some extent, we're bogged down by our parents, a fact is not to my liking. Then, as I grew more experienced on their way of growing up, I got the real picture & it seemed really atrocious & disgusting to me.
Here, I'll add that I am not criticizing the whole American or British culture, because not all people are like that. But the vast majority of teenagers, I don't know for some reason are nothing but sex crazy people. If you visit Chat Avenue or for that matter any other leading chat site & enter one of the rooms, all you'll see are the following messages & comments which inundate the page:

1) Any horny girls wanna see a hot naked boy wank on cam, please private message (pm) me, only cam2cam (c2c) & hot, sexy girls with great boobs.

2)Any sexy boys who wanna show me their big dicks/cocks & pay me $1 or Pound 1 for seeing my completely naked show, please pm or add me in Msn [and then, they give their respective e-mails]

I don't know what has gotten into these people, well, if they are 18+ & they wanna have sex or c2c, then, its ok, but a couple of days back, when I visited a chat room for a normal friendly chat, a 12-year old girl asked me, "Would you mind fucking me hard? "
I was completely taken aback by such an outrageous statement coming from a teenager who was on her first years of puberty.
It seems that most of the teenagers can't think of anything but sex & love & seduction. Here again, I am not taking into account all the people, but, the dominant force, that is the teenage society who love to test their adult skills at the bare ages of 12,13,14 etc.

Well, to conclude with, I would say Indian culture (or way of growing up) & our lifestyle are much more ethical & moral than their ways. I don't blame their parents, because most of them work & they don't know what their sons & daughters are doing at home. Maybe, I sound a little harsh, but, that's the real story. It would seem wrong on our part to indulge in full-fledged sex in our early teenage years, but to them, it is not as they're accustomed to it & it is right to them.

Many of you (especially Americans & Britons) after reading this article may blame me or criticize me or abuse me, I will take that heartily, but, do you think that its right for a child of 12 or 13 years to think about losing virginity at that tender age instead of concentrating on her studies, you can't deny that its true. May be, you people like that, appreciate that, and to a poor humble Indian, it only seems against morality. Believe me, this article is the result of 5 years of chatting with teenagers from nearly all the states of USA & nearly the whole of UK, its not a mere dull imagination of mine, its not a grudge, its a reality, I am not against teenagers indulging in sexual acts, I am against kids & early teenage people having that impression on their minds that sex is the all-important thing on Earth, a thing they simply just can't wait for till they turn 18 or 20.

P.S. Very few Indian girls/boys can be found in such websites lingering on, looking for sex.

New Installation

Installed the new shout-box, I sincerely hope that visitors will use, it. Hell, if they don't I will use it & keep chatting with myself! Lol.



On a more serious note, please test out this one, I know many of you are familiar with it, so



Keep Shouting!! :) :)

-Sam.

A Sunday Showdown

Story from Times Of India & Bangalore Mirror


Scene: Cubbon Park, MG Road, Bangalore, Sunday, 25th November, 2007.
A green tree snake slithering on a tree branch, trying to look for food on a damp afternoon in the city. It eventually found out its victim, a baby parrot, peacefully lying in its shelter, unaware of the incoming danger. The snake seemed to be ready for the kill, a nice meal which would serve the purpose of meeting his needs for the day.

Enter the Parent Parrots & there was a twist in the tale. The mother started guarding the nest, while the father took his aim at the snake's tail, in a desperate bid to teach him a lesson. The snake, completely unprepared for such a violent resistance, retreated back a little, but, didn't altogether abandon his mission. He kept crawling towards the nest. The mother parrot had seen enough, and she too, joined in the attack, pecking away on the tail of the hapless snake with a venomous intent. The combined efforts of the parents proved a little too much for their opponent who was clearly looking to get away with a easy catch, underestimating the power of the birds. He started his retreat back into his den, but, the parrots followed & kept on nagging & striking him near the caudal region.

Visitors to the park watched, awed by the scene they were experiencing, too overwhelmed to take any action. Eventually the Forest Officials came & rescued the snake, which would otherwise have been gravely injured & treated it.

P.S. The strategy & the on-the-spot courage & plan of the parrots amazed me, they knew that if they tried to take on the snake one-on-one facing him, they would make a meal out of themselves, so instead, they took the back door & came up triumphant, saving their baby & winning the hearts of the stunned onlookers.


Original Story from Times Of India:

A hunt for a snake created panic among visitors at Cubbon Park on Saturday noon. An 8-foot-long rat snake climbed a Gulmohar tree in front of the Bangalore Press Club in search of a meal.

Calls of alarm from a bunch of parakeets trying to protect their newborns and unhatched eggs on the tree attracted onlookers. Soon, a brigade of photographers converged on the spot.

After an SOS was made to a snake rescue team, reptile conservationist Mohan reached the spot and rescued the snake.

It was released at Bannerghatta National Park.

Conservationists, however, say, this amounts to "interference with nature”. Hundreds of reptiles co-exist with other creatures in Cubbon Park.

"It's unfair to relocate them," an urban ecologist said.

"This is the breeding season (September to January) of Rose-Ringed Parakeets, which are common in Cubbon Park, along with 100-plus bird species. They nest in tree holes carved by the Lesser Golden-Backed Woodpecker.
The snakes generally feed on the eggs and newborns during this season," said an ornithologist.

London At Night....

Memories of the bustling city from the dark corners of my mind....



The Big Ben, standing tall & handsome, overlooking the teeming millions gliding past it, no time to admire its uniqueness & beauty.

The old double-decker, the heart of London, an experience on its own, though there are double-deckers in Kolkata also, this was a completely new enriching experience I had, treasured in my cerebrum.






The majestic Thames, the soul of the capital, slithering on at her own pace, ignorant of the happenings of the city, the people who worship here, love her, adore her & depend on her for their livelihood.






The famous red telephone booths, witnesses of innumerable movies, stand alone beckoning the visitors to have their own "moments of fame."

The road-side benches, a perfect place for lovers, sitting in the dark & utter words of romance, the trees shielding them from the voyeurs who haunt the streets at night.



A perfect blend of every element of Earth, a visitor's paradise in terms of sight-seeing, shopping, enjoyment, you name it, you will get it!

Dreams

Dreams I have,
Where I am never wrong;
Dreams I have,
In which I remain forever young.

Dreams I have,
With skies of sun & blue;
Dreams in which
Every known wish comes true.

Dreams I have,
In lands of seas & plains,
Dreams where there are
Only bullock carts & steam-trains.

Dreams I have-
Strolling on winding roads studded with trees,
Dreams which show
Honest people residing in peaceful cities.

Dreams where colorful birds sing
And what a joy it brings to hear their melodious tones,
Dreams in which animals subsist
In perfect harmony, nurturing their owns.

Dreams I have, where money is
Not the indispensable craze on Earth
Dreams in which life canters on,
Love has no dearth.

Dreams in which a million stars
Sparkle as bubbles of hope,
Dreams where existence thrives
Without the slightest tinge of grope.

Dreams where I can see, I'm happy
Contended with my own humble ways,
Dreams in which unknown future glows
In bright, glistening rays.

Dreams where I have the person I love
And she's with me through all
Dreams in brief, dissolve each grief
Only Death will bring my downfall.

Dreams which seem strikingly real
Dreams which arouse expectations,
Dreams in which I cross frontiers
And migrate to every nation.

Dreams 'they' say, I shouldn't have
For those are hard to believe,
Dreams get shattered, pulling me down to Earth,
Proving to be mere fantasies!

Betrayal

Her eyes were transfixed upon him,
Her face bore a perplexed look of utter disbelief,
Hands drawn close to her chest-
Shielding the scarlet mosaic of blood.
The vibrant colors had turned into a ghostly white,
Her mouth was open in an awkward shape,
Trying desperately to squeeze out some words.
Tears streamed down the "once rosy" cheeks,
She experienced a sudden thrust of agonizing pain;

As a final action, she recalled the past memories,
They were so much in love, (or seemed to be in love),
They were inseparable, Oh!
all the promises he'd made to her,
Of lifelong companionship & continual support,
They seemed so hollow now, false & unreal;
Oh! the divine moments, were they all illusory too?
Yes, her life was only a struggle in vain!
He, whom she'd trusted above all, Had
betrayed her, had stabbed the knife into her heart
And tore it apart
With a merciless blow;
"How...." the words faded away into the murky silence
The blood congealed in the circulating veins-
Her lifeless body crumpled on the floor....

A Hall Of Mirrors

In the International Museum of Mirrors in Burbank, California, I was standing alongside my parents & little sister. They were getting bored, looking at their dumb reflections circling the room on all sides. I gazed at the stupendous panoply.
“ Come on, let’s go,” my sister blurted out.My parents agreed at the suggestion, but I stood fascinated at the numerous pieces of me staring at me with bespectacled eyes.I told my parents that I’d stay there a little longer & promised to meet them in front of the museum in half an hour. They agreed & walked away. As I went from place to place, studying each one carefully & distinguishing it from the other, I had a strange sensation that I was being watched.
“I am being watched by myself only,” I chuckled at my joke. When I stood in front of one & was examining it, I saw a flash of light in the glass & then a completely different world appeared before me.

I noticed that I’d grown up into a minister & was the president of The United States Of America. I was enjoying the power in my hands & lavishly spending my time.A phone rang, I picked it up & smiled heartlessly & cruelly.When my sub-ordinates enquired about the matter, I told them the whole of Asia has been conquered; they’re now in our hands.There was a burst of applause & congratulations started pouring in.I was at once named the most successful of all the presidents & thoroughly honored.The White House became the subject of every conversation. Washington D.C. was showered by innumerable supporters from all parts of the country- Dallas, New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Anchorage, Las Vegas, San Francisco & many others.Press reporters & cameramen flooded my sides, asking all sorts of questions about my remarkable achievement. The TV channels flashed pictures of thousands of tortured men & women, lying naked on the streets, dead.Vultures & other scavengers were zooming in & feasting on their big supper. The ones alive were made prisoners-of-war & treated like slaves. Chains tied around their necks, they were being dragged across the pavements. The pain they suffered was excruciating.All my American soldiers were laughing their hearts out, the inhuman cruelty seemed like some form of amusement to them.The newspapers read lengthy articles with huge headings “3 cheers for the President” & “America: The ruler of the world.”
Seeing the intolerable scenes, I turned away from the mirror in abomination & walked to another one, my heart aching with agony that I could be so unforgiving, heartless & monstrous. But, as I rounded off another mirror, a similar flash appeared & in it, I could visualize myself as a doctor, a cardiologist surgeon.

This gave me some hope & I looked in more closely. I was the head of the department of Cardiology in the J.F. Kennedy National Hospital in New York City. I was a respected person & reputed too. At that time, I was engaged in a critical surgery involving a heart transplant. The success rate being very rare, I was gripped with anxiety & tension & never, lost my heart. After 12 hours of brain cracking nervousness, I emerged victorious, I’d saved a 80 year old woman from the hands of death. I felt on top of the world & full of life & happiness, nothing could go wrong, it seemed. There was much excitement inside the operation theatre, all my colleagues congratulating each other. When the world comes to know of my achievement, I’d surely be awarded. And as expected, the very next thing I knew was that I was being awarded the most prestigious medal in the history of medicine. The newspapers hailed me as “The Savior” & my picture flooded the television channels. On the skies above, I could see God smiling at me, blessing & beckoning me for more such performances. Glad at heart, I left that mirror too, thinking about the huge contrast in my character that I’d witnessed just a moment ago. So, I learnt a valuable lesson that exercising unwanted powers to rule over the people doesn’t earn a place in heaven, but, helping them is the surest way to salvation. I thought of the U.S. president misusing his powers, killing people like a tyrant & on the other hand, a man saving the life of another fellow human being in the same country!

As I neared the exit doors, I could see my family beaming at me.“What did you learn from a bunch of mirrors?” father asked.“A thousand valuable things that can’t be told,” came my answer.My parents & sister looked at me with narrow, questioning eyes.
I smiled to myself, “You’ll never know what priceless teachings I got from them.”

Unspoken Grief

A silent tear punctuated
His placid eyes, And
swiftly rolled down his cheek onto the floor,
A forlorn moon gazed at the black silhouette-
Standing at the window,
His mind racing in another universe, Of
happiness & freedom,
A life he'd longed for so badly,
A life that would end all his miseries.
Below, the roar of the sea intensified his
Dying feelings, Intensified his restlessness
to abandon this material world,
To reunite with his Lord.
He wouldn't have to be itinerant any more,
He wouldn't have to beg for mercy any more,
Many a crime he had perpetrated with ruthless aggression,
And yet, he had felt sympathy for the victims sometimes.
He wasn't that bad after all.
"But, what does it all matter now?", he said aloud
"When Black has engrossed me?"
This inevitable end seemed to be the only fitting conclusion
For a life led in an inscrutable manner, A life
difficult for the ordinary to comprehend.
Yes, he had accomplished all his goals,
And now it was time to lay down his soul
On the Eternal Earth,
For he had abhorred life!
The golden days sparkled ahead,
Free of human emotions, free of earthly entanglements,
A life less desired by the ordinary,
But he was no ordinary.
At this thought, a smile spread across his lips,
Lightened his heart, soothed his nerves,
He was free, he was alone
He was going Home,
Yet, there was the tear....

The Years Go By

By my beloved friend, Suprateek Mitra....



I still remember the days I walked into nursery,
A small little bag & absolutely no worry,
School was great! School was fun,
I always longed for the next day to come.
Games and streamers were all that were that there;
Wherever I looked- here, there & everywhere.

On came the years.
And we all grew with it,
The kiddish jokes disappeared
And days had practical jokes in it.
School was good, school was good.
And all things went on as they should.
Junior, Middle & Senior came by-
We sat on the wings of time, and let it all fly by....

"Let's bunk class!" became the new motto,
It still is, but everyone gets tired of it....
Someday!

Years went on, studies became harder,
And what do you know? We all became smarter....
Though the years still go by,
There no longer will be school-
For, it's going to end in a month or two.

As the years go by, we will fly-
But there is going to be no school,
And that my friends, is a reason to cry!

A tragic reality we all have to accept, we all have to get used to, how hard we crave to get those days back, time doesn't permit us to fulfil our desires, and those glorious days we enjoyed in our "second home" remain sparkling as diamonds in our "pebble-studded" life!


P.S. The author of this poem was too lazy & shy to post this on his blog (www.supratik.blogspot.com), so, I took the initiative of bringing this poem into the limelight with the consent of my friend.

The Stone

"And will you cut a stone for him,
To set above his head?
And will you cut a stone for him--
A stone for him?" she said.

Three days before, a splintered rock
Had struck her lover dead--
Had struck him in the quarry dead,
Where, careless of a warning call,
He loitered, while the shot was fired--
A lively stripling, brave and tall,
And sure of all his heart desired . . .
A flash, a shock,
A rumbling fall . . .
And, broken 'neath the broken rock,
A lifeless heap, with face of clay,
And still as any stone he lay,
With eyes that saw the end of all.

I went to break the news to her:
And I could hear my own heart beat
With dread of what my lips might say;
But some poor fool had sped before;
And, flinging wide her father's door,
Had blurted out the news to her,
Had struck her lover dead for her,
Had struck the girl's heart dead in her,
Had struck life, lifeless, at a word,
And dropped it at her feet:
Then hurried on his witless way,
Scarce knowing she had heard.

And when I came, she stood alone--
A woman, turned to stone:
And, though no word at all she said,
I knew that all was known.

Because her heart was dead,
She did not sigh nor moan.
His mother wept:
She could not weep.
Her lover slept:
She could not sleep.
Three days, three nights,
She did not stir:
Three days, three nights,
Were one to her,
Who never closed her eyes
From sunset to sunrise,
From dawn to evenfall--
Her tearless, staring eyes,
That, seeing naught, saw all.

The fourth night when I came from work,
I found her at my door.
"And will you cut a stone for him?"
She said: and spoke no more:
But followed me, as I went in,
And sank upon a chair;
And fixed her grey eyes on my face,
With still, unseeing stare.
And, as she waited patiently,
I could not bear to feel
Those still, grey eyes that followed me,
Those eyes that plucked the heart from me,
Those eyes that sucked the breath from me
And curdled the warm blood in me,
Those eyes that cut me to the bone,
And cut my marrow like cold steel.

And so I rose and sought a stone;
And cut it smooth and square:
And, as I worked, she sat and watched,
Beside me, in her chair.
Night after night, by candlelight,
I cut her lover's name:
Night after night, so still and white,
And like a ghost she came;
And sat beside me, in her chair,
And watched with eyes aflame.

She eyed each stroke,
And hardly stirred:
she never spoke
A single word:
And not a sound or murmur broke
The quiet, save the mallet stroke.

With still eyes ever on my hands,
With eyes that seemed to burn my hands,
My wincing, overwearied hands,
She watched, with bloodless lips apart,
And silent, indrawn breath:
And every stroke my chisel cut,
Death cut still deeper in her heart:
The two of us were chiselling,
Together, I and Death.

And when at length my job was done,
And I had laid the mallet by,
As if, at last, her peace were won,
She breathed his name, and, with a sigh,
Passed slowly through the open door:
And never crossed my threshold more.

Next night I laboured late, alone,
To cut her name upon the stone.

----Wilfred Wilson Gibson----


The poignancy & intensity of the woman's love & the heart-writhing sadness still continue to mesmerize me, after I have gone through this one more than 30 times.

Fortitude....

I've died in a thousand dreams
I've strolled on a million lands,
I've committed innumerable minute errors-
That have pulled my life into a quick sand.
Teachers have punished me for various wrong doings,
Friends have treated with disrespect for the unspeakables;
Parents have hung their heads in shame
Trying to cover up my actions, terming them with different labels.
Elders have been outraged by the shocking arrogance
Girls have fled from the insolent behavior,
God has also shunned this eccentric soul-
Leaving me to be my "own life's seer"!
Obstacles have deterred me from achieving salvation
Society has kept me in an unremitting exile,
Failures have shattered tiny bubbles of hopes,
Degrading it to a baffling journey of countless miles!
There isn't a tragedy that has eluded me,
There isn't a thunderstorm that hasn't passed by my door,
I've been "long dead" in the books of the cowards,
No, I'm alive, standing unscathed, asking for "more"!