...just like that.

Ever imagined that in this entire planet, there's always more than half of the population that's awake and working at any single point of time. I wonder if with all that effort, the world is in such a mess...should we just stop?

or is the world in such a mess because we never seem to stop.

Rajbir said something once...in any transaction, there is always a party that profits, and a party that makes a loss. So when the entire world seems to be developing without anyone making any losses, it's the earth who's the loser.

Even though all management gurus (suppresses a sneer at the terminology :P) would "beg to" differ, it is true.

Well, I suppose truth was never meant to be the plastic beauty a la Miss Indias and Miss Universes we all have started admiring these days.

The Blind Seedling..

Dancing on him the fire burns fast...
leaving him alone wid jus one thought
Chanting, like a heartbeat it goes on..
"what have i done ..oh god..
what have i done "

this is a story of a seedling there was once
who wanted to grow tall, who wanted no fence
what he was,.. he cudnt just hide..
about his anger or his penance

taller he grew wid caress of the sun..
much he could reach.. soaking in rain
enjoying his bloom every mornin and season
he grew beyond patience,grew beyond pain
he swayed in da occasional breeze..
boasted his pride,that he was not fer seize

time passed by..an he was basking in expanse
little did he remember about his love.his romance..
which made him who he was,nurturing love an care
he was blinded to what was always there

loving him fer eternity,wid no reason no cause..
wid each simple love filled GRANULE that she was

he cudnt realise how firm she held him..
by his roots. with forgiveness an Love
he cudnt realise how far he grew away,
from her bosom so warm..
where she treasured every moment they shared

why cudnt he see the future
where even fallen fruits wud grow
in his shade so grey..but in her womb of love

every dead leaf.. a memory so bad they had
that he'd let go..
but She wud sink them in herelf an treasure.

why cudnt he see his life
always grew inside her,a new root..
that she wud source life..
into every dying branch in his vast..

Much to his expanse an pride,
she still held on to support an Giving..
Blinded,.. to stand on her he tried..
clouded by want,attention an living..

A day came wen he felt suns Heat..
Parched for rain, He looked Beat..
Still he cudnt realise, On her LOVE he stood..
when he felt the Sharp edge of an Axe
For someone else.. he was jus firewood.

Severed off from her he lay..
no height seemed tall.broken,he starts to pray
stripped off his pride.. cuts wudnt bleed,wont pain..
hope he sprouts a humble self..on her bosom again :(
not another day that he sees..
without realising.. she means.. wut he is..


Dancing on him the fire burns fast..
leaving him alone wid jus one thought
Chanting, like a heartbeat it goes on..
"what have i done ..oh god..
what have i done "

Of street urchins and stray mongrels

Corporate shopping can be such a bitch. So here I was, in the middle of nowhere, where time stood still - and so did traffic. Not still as in still you know. More like an inching-forward-slower-than-snails-having-afternoon-naps-and-hence-as-good-as-still still. And then I see a street urchin skittering across the road, holding a tattered shawl in place with one hand and a steaming cup of something in the other. He reached the traffic island in the middle of the road where a street dog had been standing for ages. The kid then started to cross the rest of the street, took a few steps forward, stopped, turned around and called to the dog: "aaja aaja... jaldi se aa". The dog was still too scared so the hero-of-our-tale leaned forward and made it sniff the cup. Holding the cup under the dog's nose he started to cross the road and the dog followed. The light changed but I presume they reached the other side safely, with shawl, cup and tail intact.

"Stray" is such a wrong word. And the world isn't all bad.

Homecoming

I and my flatmate met after a long while..well...a gap of four days, which is a considerable gap when you both are actually living in the same flat. In case you are wondering what the issue is then, well, we have different work schedules. I work morning till evening/night, and he works evening till morning. Hence we just say hello when I am leaving in the morning, ie, under normal circumstances. But lately I've been working a tad too much and too long...hence the gap.

It was nice, we chatted a bit, cribbed about work, and well...he cooked Iromba (it's a fabulous Manipuri dish cooked with boiled veggies and fermented fish. I am hoping I got the spelling correct!) which I absolutely love. But then, the office cab honked it's horn and I had to leave. So the Iromba goes to the refrigerator for my supper. But it suddenly felt good after a long while.

Today when most of the urban youth in India are staying away from their family and hometown, it's funny how we create our own suppport systems wherever we go. For some, it's the internet and virtual friends, for some its phone calls home, and for some, it's 30 minutes of just casual talking with the flatmate you've known only for the past 5 months.

Hence, next time I start feeling lonely and lost, I'll know that I am lucky; at least I have a real person to talk to and see when I get back home.

Yes, finally, home is not just back in Silchar.

In the beginning...

...there was the internet, and empty templates to be filled in. Or perhaps just ink and brush, or even pen and paper. I don't seem to remember the last time I had written and not typed something I wanted to write.

Lamentations will not take me anywhere...but blogs might...so here I am, with yet another blog for my self and my friends to create and share.

Let's see if at least this journey continues sans a destination.

Bismillah!