Thursday, December 2, 2010

life is a gamble, either take it or leave it!!

4rm d day v r born; 2 d day v r buried
earth 2 earth; ash 2 ash
life is a gamble, either take it or leave it!

sometimes v face a blackboard; sometimes it is a blackhole
seems like v r sitting @ shore & d ocean an unending revelation of d immortal soul
life is a gamble, either take it or leave it!
anxiety & depression engraved over our forehead
love lust libido or pure happiness? with each passing day v r no less a glutton
life is a gamble, either take it or leave it!

myopic is our view & so is d thought
having been born does not oblige us 2 d specific guidelines
do not try hard coz dis time round life is not a gamble!
either take it or leave it!!

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love 
prasan :)

Monday, November 22, 2010

shiva's-d evergreen "ChiVas"

It is a damn numb afternoon
A dumb workshop in the beckoning
My friend shiva is on a roll
Leaders transformed to legends, entrepreneurs estranged by media
Techies turning tandrom over desktops;
Presentation for the audience or audiences’s presentation?
Over half a century of freedom
Both society and its occupants breaking free from the schackles!
Economies of boom or a catastrophic bane;
Amicable settlements an era of the past?
Weapons of mass destruction, a era of the present!
A generation of homosexuals under laws of mutation;
Metaphase, anaphase a matter of history
New age mysteries of decoding DNA’s and IVF’s
Robots at the push of a button, leisure or luxury?
Spies camouflage  as UFO’s and UFO’s as extra-terrestrials!
Nano technology from the niche countries,
Nuclear fusion in the alpland, defying basic laws of physics
Selfless people turned samaritans, selfish people turned sexists!
Facebook among every 14 people in this world, innovation delivered by creativity
crazy people on the crazy train waiting to be delivered to a place less travelled and explored!
Riders on the storm, its the highway to hell!!

Saturday, November 20, 2010

wRong NumBeR!

Namita’s mom was furious with a stockpile of questions waiting to be triggered just like a fully loaded Automatic Kalashnikov-1947. It was almost 36 hours since Namita had last communicated with her. To add to the miss-fortune, it was that time of the year when most people forget about the wrong doings and the missed opportunities with resolutions for the new beginning. It is the New Year eve and Namita’s family and friends are frantically trying to reach her. The only response everyone is left to scratch their head is ‘tumhi sampark kelela vyakti vyapti pradesha baher aahe; krupaya punaha thodya velya nantar prayatna kara’. {The person you are trying to call is currently not reachable; please try again after some time}
                I (Samuel) and Namita are seated in a 15 lakh vehicle; don’t know how anyone can call it a semi luxury bus(?), waiting to be departed from the KG bus terminus in Bangalore. On a day when most people are hooked up to their television sets, watching some entertainment crap; we were on our way to find true love. Probably I happened to day dream, true love? I couldn’t stop imagining how pathetic my life had become. It was preposterous to board a bus which delivered to our destination only half way through. The other half had to be either discovered or painstakingly searched as that of the items to be gathered in a treasure hunt event. It was the search for the Treasure Island where true love beckoned with emphatic reunion of two bodies with a single soul! God, am I some kinda poet?
                I met Namita at the parking lot of our college last monsoon. It has been almost a year and half since we met and we share quite a relationship. A relationship glued together by the non-existence of fear for each other. Namita intends to become a self proclaimed fashion designer who is renowned but at the same time very reserved. I, on the other hand would probably like to understand the basics and fundamentals of the fashion and apparels industry. Having to study in the most prestigious college for fashion designing i.e. NIFT; we the aspirants needed to have an eye for creativity wit ideas which were both vague and in vogue. Most of the who’s who of the Indian fashion industry are a product of our institute.
                Speaking of creative ideas, I and Nami were no short of such ideas be it creative or wacky. During one of our casual talks after college, I was describing about my stincts as a college freshman during my pre-university studies.
Sam: how far do you think a person can foray into unexplored territories in order to recognize love?
Nami: as far as the person has money to bear for the travel expenses! (Smiling)
Sam: true! But don’t you think this world of ours is too small to accommodate all of the 3.29 million sq.km of Indian soil! (Candid)
Nami: what are you speaking of finding, true love? Or is it Hermit in the Himalaya?
Sam: (serious) hmmm the Gods must be crazy, so it has to be the Hermit!
Nami: why? (emphasizing)  Is it because the monk sold his Ferrari?
Sam: no actually because Alice is in wonderland! (giggling)
Nami: (determined stare) ohh is that the case.  Then why is God laughing?
Sam: (giggling).. Because the soup intended for the soul was consumed by the chicken!
Nami: (irritated).. Who cares for the soup, the soul or the chicken when the 5 people you meet in heaven are actually your friends!
Sam: ahh c’mmon now; it’s Tuesday and I don’t know about Morrie.
Nami: (furious).. Alright, alright I bow. Now will you describe about your search for soul mate during college days?
Sam: great; that is what I expected of you! Finally if tomorrow comes then hopefully I might find my soul mate.
Nami: you crazy bugger, are you interested to speak any sense or have I to bid adieu; for I got other better things to accomplish on my to do list before I die.
Sam: it goes like this; her name is Shruti. She is a pretty girl admired by every other girl during our college days. Her eyes were green as green peas and on the day we met she was wearing a yellow salwar as that of the sunflower.
Nami: Ahh, I guessed! (with one eyebrow dwindling down) the next lines should go like this I reckon. I (Samuel) was wearing denims as that of the blue sky and my hair colored as that of the chocolate chips over the cornetto. Ain’t it what you were gonna say Sam?
Sam: my god (astonished), you should have been a mind reader like one of those people sitting in the corner of a street; parrots guiding the fate of the fortunate!! You such a dumb ass.
Nami: (whining) what else should I imagine? least you don’t have the potential to proclaim as a filmmaker nor a story teller.
Sam: I never proclaimed to be none of what you said. You are the one jumping or may be the right word would be catapulting to conclusion.
Nami: (angry) bottom-line? You interested to unfold the boredom mystery?
Sam: (joyous) absolutely dear. It is you who abruptly interrupted for otherwise I would have taken you to a world where SRK (me) is tantalizing to the tune of ‘tujhe dekha toh yeh jaana sanam, pyaar hota hai dewana sanam’ in the midst of the lush green fields; scarecrow in the centre of it; potentially depicting you!
Nami: shh, don’t you brag me into this conversation of yours. I am no less a shooter for I have the privilege to occupy the vantage point with a sniper at my behest.
Sam: fine. (Exhaling) frantically out of luck I was rather looking for a good crush which transformed into a better chemistry and there in the best love story to be told to my grand children. Hopeless crushes had filled up my closet of life. All that was remaining was another crush to be duped by my irrelevant concern of rejection.
Nami: Oh I see, so you are a pervert!
Sam: shut up you pesky dwarf, this is a phenomena encountered by almost 70% of the human race and it is proven scientifically.
Nami: whatever … do carry on with your anecdote; pervert! (Giggling)
Sam: for things to change, radical measures need to be adopted. Hence on the pretext of change I finally approached Shru after a long 8 months of following her.
Nami: (confused) are you a extremist to speak about radical measures?  And what the fuck! You stalked her for 8 months! Ridiculous Sam. I didn’t expect this from you. I am in pandemonium as to whether you really are a pervert.
Sam: hey listen now, you are really taking on my nerve. Let me finish what I gotta say. You knucklehead.
Nami: stalker Sam … stalker Sam…(Sniggering)
Sam: (restless) it was the culminating day of our class Xl exams and all the students were in joyful mood. The tension of having to approach her had made me a sensible maniac. I didn’t attend the final examination as the  11th hour  thought of being rejected slowly ran through my veins from head to toe.
Nami: Shit! Man. You such a big looser. Risking it all just for a girl you hardly knew… Damn I hate loosers.
Sam: (feeling proud) Ya Ya looser I agree. But I call myself a sensible maniac for this purpose. Just before the exams were to begin, I had utilized my contacts in college to get the answer script out of the examination hall and had also appointed one of the top ranked senior students from my college to fill it up neatly just sufficient enough  to clear the paper.
Nami: Freak Oh! Who am I associated with. A criminal? What are you? You making me feel that you some kinda con artist. You sure what you are speaking? Because whatever it is, I feel…
I feel its interesting! (Amused)
Sam: HAh HAh! Oh! Ya thanks for the compliment in disguise (shy). I feel as if a hawk flying high in the sky.
Nami: It ain’t no compliment in disguise (convincingly). Don’t miss represent yourself Sam. I just said that it was interesting to listen to your story. It is much of a thought provocation than revocation.
Sam: During the time of examination, I felt a bit awkward for all the professors were staring at me in and out of the college canteen. How deeply I wondered then, was I wearing some kind of bikini may be one piece (dirty smile..)  making the professor stare at me in such exuberant excitement.
Nami: You can be bit more disciplined Sam. Remember to whom you are speaking. Don’t let a women’s imagination go wild!!
Sam: Ok Ok (clearing the throat) you creep head! The exam got over with most of my mates leaving the examination hall secluded well an hour before the final bell could have rung. No objections, who can help the sympathizers and empathizers. I needed them more than I needed Shru in my life at that moment (sentimental).
Nami: Hey! (Fuming) Don’t you think you are stretching bit more than what is necessary. Come to the point don’t beat around the bush.
Sam: (You start speaking about your friends in front of a girl and be assured to be either silenced for good or get jacked for no reason) (Sad).  So she comes out of the examination hall happily flaunting her hair. Probably she and her weird friends were discussing about making out to a movie. My lips were trembling and my words were no longer making any sense. Seemingly my accent was becoming as that heard in the classic comedy flick- ‘Gods must be crazy’. Some how my mates kicked my butt and forced me to speak to her. There I was in front of her. All the wait in this world would not have changed my feeling for her. I thought at that moment I would lead a life much like that of Tom Hanks played in the movie ‘Cast Away’ had I to be rejected. I even had reached to the heights of imagining who would cast the role of Wilson in this original, real life cast away from the rest of the world.
Nami: what happened afterwards? What did you say to her? What was her reply? (Anxious)
Sam: oh hoo…nami will you please stop impounding me with so many questions. Be slow, can’t you understand, I am letting my feelings to you.. (Attitude)
Nami: you such a moron. Man, you guys can never have true feelings towards girls. Cheap males…
Sam: don’t you insult me or the male gender. It is because of us that you are here!
Nami: what do you mean…you, you cheap bugger..?
Sam: nothing, nothing; just a thought which happened to be of conflict of opinion. Don’t bother. Huh, coming back to where I was; will you let me complete the proceedings dear (pesky girls).
Nami: haan, haan go ahead. But don’t say the same to any other girl idiot. You might just loose upon your chances to father your kids..
Sam: that was rude dear. Chuck it. Anyway there I was in front of her (pictorial imagination) for the first time. Waiting to say something, she was silently raising the accelerator of her new TVS scooty. At that juncture; I remembered the song by Ferrari dedicated to Michael Schumacher where the sheer sound of the F1 engine roaring to the tunes of Schumacher made me go mad. A couple of minutes passed by, with me silently admiring the profound curves of Shru. All this while Shru was losing her persistence but was determined that I would puke out a few words. In the mockery of unfolded event, I gathered my thought process and finally blurted a few words.
(Mumbling) how was your exam?
Nami: jeez you should be kidding!?
Sam: phew neah, her response was even more kiddish. She whispered something which will be remembered in any circumstance of my life. She replied rather disgusted.
(Bizarre face) who are you? Asked Shru.
Nami: (cackling) it must be a real heart breaker?
Sam: heart breaker? I could have felt every part of my soul crumbling to ground. I was melting like mercury (recuperative).
 Nami: then, then what happened? What did our reprehensible baby do after that? (Curious)
Sam: with one last hit, I rather compassionately said to her. You are the most beautiful woman in this world to me..!!
Nami: sheesh. Each  girl listens to such crap every  alternate day,  upon reaching puberty.
Sam: rightly said. But that was the first time I had ever told it to someone and believe me or not it is true from the core of my soul (exhaling slowly).
Nami: hey don’t worry, if its true and if the girl is lucky enough she will definitely become your life partner (convincingly). C’mmon now I am famished. Let us go out somewhere.
Finding it hard to recover from the unbearable pain, we made our way to the nearby Cuppa outlet.
Nami: so Mr. who are you! What was her response?
Sam: quite interesting…it had me in a soup.
Nami: can you be specific Mr. who are you?
Sam: I was advised to meet a psychiatric doctor! (smiles)
Nami: that is how even I would have reacted …(phew).
Sam: unable to still digest the fact that she didn’t know who I was even after me putting in 8 months of my precious time behind her. I was in agony and so am I now too. Somehow instantaneously I mumbled.
You are the doctor I am looking forward to make an appointment with!
Nami: ayyo, so chweet, had I to be in her position; I would have been flattered by now.
Sam: yupy, only if had you to be her. I was left to consume the carbon monoxide and hydrocarbons coming from the exhaust of her new vehicle. 
Nami: hey sam! Don’t be upset; life is a process. I hope you learnt from your own deceit. Should we move now? Have to visit aunt’s place.
Sam: hmm (contended), thanks for the motivational talk. Hey but do listen to the other side of the story. It’s a complete flip to the previous hitch.
Nami: sure dear, take care for now. Meet ya at class chomorrow. Goodie nite.
Namita has had her life spread across four different states with the latest state being Tamil Nadu. Neha is her little sissy. Her father whose name I don’t remember is into the banking sector and keeps juggling from one place to other every 3 years. Her mother Niharika is a dedicated home-maker with interests in philosophy. I love the food prepared by her, it is just mouth watering.
Previously before joining NIFT, Nami was located in Mumbai in an upbeat locality in Kanjur Marg very near to Powai. During her school days she had come to be known as an above average student with interests in extra-curricular activities like athletics and dance. She had even got laurels to the school in various  competitions. During her class Xl inter school dance competition, she had met the man of her life or maybe a dreamboy or prince charming.
                The boy’s name is Amogh and he lived in a nearby society to that of Namita. Amogh and Namita had become very close and it was Amogh who had early indications of attraction. Although it was mutual, Nami was a typical orthodox Indian girl when it came to romance. It was during her 17 th birthday that Amogh proposed. It was a indicative yes from Nami without any hesitation. Both shared a prolific relationship and did contemplate each other very well. Quarrels were few and both gave inputs over each other’s weakness and strengths.
                Having survived the relation for almost two years, it was time for them to depart in order to establish themselves vigorously in their respective fields of interest. Nami got selected in NIFT and was given the opportunity to pursue FD in Bangalore campus. Amogh on the other hand being a native of Ratnagiri; planned and succeeded to pursue Engineering in Computer Science from one of the reputed colleges nearby. Amogh had promised to visit Nami whenever the occasion demanded for. Both were earnest in their pursuit to achieve career goals.
                With coming of years Amogh had become busy with different gang of friends and very less often did he communicate to Nami. Nami however didn’t find the fact disturbing and hence on this pretext she never challenged him. Now it is almost a year and half since they last met. Nami is faintly frustrated and is getting desperate each day. Someone has said quite right,’ love increases proportionately with distance’ but has repercussions of its own. Too much of distance is also not fair.
                It is the 31 st December 2007 when suddenly Nami turns up at college with a backpack. Shocked, I enquired about her intentions.
Sam: going out trekking or some kinda campfire dear?
Nami: (introspective for some time with a feeble subtle voice) will you be my accomplice?
Sam: you are incoherent; you can be far more audible dear! Don’t you know? Accomplice in what? (Yelling)
Nami : I am going to meet Amogh.
Sam: you outta yo mind?
Silence followed with every query of mine.
Nami: I don’t know anything. I need to meet him, I need your help.
                The professor yelling his balls out, the noise of vehicles honking outside, fellow mates discussing about the latest lakme fashion week and thought of having to accompany Nami to a place never heard. All of them swirling in my mind made me sick. Total pandemonium as that after, a debate between the ruling party and the opposition party in a democracy leading to no definite conclusive decision. I had to leave the classroom. I caught Nami by her hand and forced her to the canteen. Are you nuts? Said Nami. Nami: What should the professor imagine?
Sam: Don’t worry dumbo, I’ll explain it to him later.
Nami: (frowning) explain? Explain what?
Sam: have I to tell you that? What is the first thought you get; had you to be the professor?
Nami: hmm, let me think. Ahh! Yeah.
That we are lovers and need to do something very urgent. Right?
Sam: Exactllyy!
Nami: but we ain’t what the professor thinks; right Sam? (Rather biting her nails).
Sam: absolutely waste!  but that is what the explanation is; you insane maniac!
Nami: alright, alright; no need to be so harsh. I am already pissed off by the thought of having to meet Amogh with only a few details at my disposal.
Sam:  what? (Jaw dropping) what do u intend to communicate?
Nami: this will be the best road trip you would ever have Sammy!
Sam: gosh Namita! You are just pathetic. You don’t have his address?
Nami: actually Sam, what happened is….Stop Nami….stop; yelled Sam.
Sam: that ain’t any good for me…lord o Jesus, the saviour, please shower your mercy upon thee.
 END OF PART ONE———————–à>>>> TO BE CONTINUED………….

"foRget mE Not"

The sparkling eyes of the child made me feel about a sense, a sense of happiness covering a thick unbound layer of pain, helplessness, dis-satisfaction and anger. Anger for having been produced in a world with competency in every breath of life. There was a sudden provocation in my mind, seemed that we all are non marketable products being produced in a manufacturing factory with an expiry date. There were no warranties or guarantees and the spares for the product being expensive than the original price of the product itself. At the same time there was respite for having produced in a factory and been sold to a customer efficient enough to take care of me until it was time I became the successive customer. At that moment I was contradicting myself for the happiness of the good I am today and the bad that I am doing to myself.
It was the festive season of the year with Diwali around the corner. I was on a rail trip to my hometown for the celebrations with gifts in my backpack for the loved ones at home. With much of quarrel followed with repeated requests and apologies I was on my way on a weeklong retreat. Imagination surrounding my thought with the opportunity to taste the homemade food of mom after a grueling 119 days. My taste buds were almost dead and my stomach seemed to be a garbage can. Mal nutrition was sweeping in slowly, I looked like one of those boys in Somalia where leave alone food, even a glass of water was hard to find. No doubt the snap taken by a journalist of one such boy won the national geographic award for the best picture portraying the state of affairs in that country. My tummy was peeping out due to the erratic eating habit of mine topped by the high class international chefs at our guest house in Paradeep.
Being a marine engineer, I was recruited by the ports trust of India and immediately deputed at paradeep. It was a comedy of errors when I was first informed about the posting. Vaguely I remembered of being heard about a place called Paradeep during my school days; reckon it was the geography class. Being a travelling junky I fetched my map and started to browse about the east coast. Initially I thought that Paradeep was actually paradwip and was satisfied to head start my career in a place which was surrounded by water all around. Seriously, that is what is given in the atlas, it an island for the publishers. Staying away from home was not an issue for me and thus I didn’t alter my mindset.
I planned to visit the places of interest in Orissa such as the great Jaganath temple in Puri, the sun temple at Konark, the largest salt water lake in India the Chilka lake and the rural Orissa less travelled and explored by the common man. Photography was an inherited hobby of mine and I utilized the lessons to the best of my skill. The thing with Orissa is that it has huge chunks of iron ore deposits and Paradeep is the focal point for the export of this ore to major countries like china and Russia. Working at the port is like walking around in the Sahara desert with sand storm making life even more miserable. No doubt by the time I am heading back to the guest house my body is painted maroon with the song of ‘Maroon 5’ “I won’t go home without you” at the back of mind.
It was the offset of summer when I joined and the fields around the railway track were barren and dry. Having to reach Paradeep I had to make a transit journey from either Bhubaneshwar or Cuttack. The 30 hour long journey from Bangalore to Bhubaneswar seemed to be an unending journey. It was as if I was on a space mission to mars with a quarter of my life being spent in a space shuttle travelling around meteors and extraterrestrials.
To add to the cerebral dysfunction at that moment our train halted at Vizag with rumors flowing around about a train derailment in the route we were supposed to pass through. It was an opportunity in disguise to me and I quickly made a dash outside the railway station. I suffer from a chronic illness and had to get the medicine desperately. Gasping for breath I had a long stare at the carriageway about the direction in which I had to proceed. At a few hundred meters there was light, a bright light bringing respite to my soul. I hopped onto the pavement and the thought of losing the train at the back of mind; I reached my destination like a sprinter competing against Usain Bolt in the final of Olympic.
“Ek packet badi gold flake dena bhaiya” (one packet large gold flake brother) I muttered to the pan shop vendor. There was no response from the opposite party as I gasped for the polluted carbon monoxide filled atmospheric air. I repeated the sentence twice and then came to senses that it was Andhra Pradesh. Quickly sparing no time I utilized my dumb charades skill and brought a packet of impotency causing, cancer generating tobacco and ran back to the station. As I made my way through the crowd I pondered upon a station master. Enquiring him about the delay in services, I was left with another jaw dropping response. The train was delayed for a full 2 hour.
Killing time was like a no submission wrestling match with the delay now indefinite. After an excruciating 6 hour delay finally our train resumed service with the honking and screeching sound of the engine. Penaltimately I reached Bhubaneswar the following morning with a complete 14 hour beyond schedule.
I had to board the next train to Paradeep at 7:30 am that morning and our train from Bangalore reached Bhubaneswar at 7:00 am. A frenzy search for the train among 10 platforms resulted in me missing the train narrowly. I had to wait another 4 hours at the platform for a passenger train to my destination. However, with a bit of scuffle here and there I reached Paradeep two hours past noon only to find in amusement that there was no freaking platform in Paradeep. I wondered I was stepping into a crevice while alighting from the train; the ground below was some 5 feet away from the footboard of the train. God o mine I was having the worst nightmare of my life.
The following 119 days at Paradeep was a battle of odds and each day I convinced myself that I was the great warrior hector from the movie troy. Initially my perspective about Orissa was that it was an under-developed state but after spending some time with the people out there I felt that it was not the state which is under-developed but rather it was the people residing there. There is an opposition to change. People want to be the same as their ancestors and are reluctant to any sort of revolution. Whatever it is, personally Orissa is a beautiful state to visit and stay. The people of Orissa are extremely friendly and co-operative. At some point of time I even had a notion that it was a girl from Orissa with whom I would tie the holy knot of marriage.
By the time I reached the station at Bhubaneswar there was dense population at the platform.I cursed my fate and thought that at least this time round the train would arrive in time. My fate changed its usual course and smiled upon my miseries. The train arrived within normal deviation timing and there I was on my way back to home, sweet home.
Monsoon was over and its usual path from south west to north east was covered successfully that year. The fields were at their peak with lush green grass all around. The sheer joy of the scenery was splendid and the experience of watching Orissa in a completely different scenario was breath taking. The fields were filled with water everywhere and the mountains covered with thick moss. People practicing pond culture was a new sight as our train paused around the scenic beauty of Orissa.
The serenity all around such as the water logged fields, the huts constructed of mud and coconut leaves, cattle grazing upon the freshly  grown grass, breeding season puppies playing around with their mother, thick clouds brushing against mountain top, unique texture and shine of the rocks which is so natural. All these scenes had me rejuvenated from the disastrous life that not only me but almost everybody experience once out of college and into a seat less occupied.
By the time I disembarked upon the platform of Kurda road railway station, the platform was echoing with noises all around. There I was unnoticed and indifferent to everyone else. The air around was fresh with a few pretty girly faces making the atmosphere even more pleasant. I assume it was the crossing point for another train and our express train halted there for a good half hour. With the motivation of having to watch some more pretty faces I loitered along the platform with glimpses of tea vendors selling tobacco at the platform itself. Unable to resist the thought of having to keep a buffer stock I made my way to a vendor and enquired about the price. The prices were exorbitantly leveraged with a clause stating that no loose ones available, only full packet.
I said chuck it; anyway I had some remaining and convinced myself that I’ll push it somehow. As our train began to pull out from the station I resumed my reading streak with Amitav Ghosh’s ‘Sea of poppies’. I guess the only moment of silence during the entire trip was only during the night hours after 11 pm. All day long there were pantry attendants making their rounds with eatables and beverages. The entire episode was a mish mash like that at the ticket counter of a film theatre.
As I was reading there was a short yet determined stature moving along the pathway in our boogie. As the figure moved closer, I recognized that it was a boy without any shirt, crawling along the pathway. The kid must have been around 10-12 years and was pale brown. He was wearing a dark grey trouser which without doubt was not of his size, with a jute rope tied along his waist. Throughout the compartment no one noticed him talking and it was a silent affair all around.
No wonder even I didn’t recognize him speaking as the kid never opened his mouth. Silently he would sweep the floor with his shirt without troubling any other passenger on board and would slowly lift his hand in the direction of each commuter pausing for some time. Some people remunerated the child while some others like me just gave a awkward gesture with the slight tilting of the neck signaling to move forward.
The kid was approaching towards me with a slow yet brisk pace as I lay unmoved in my birth with various thoughts swirling like that of the rainbow; different colors yet distinctive ones. The kid was expressionless probably gathered and experienced in the profession he was. I imagined what would be the probable number of such children all throughout. For the first time I felt weak at math without any conclusive value being arrived at. The kid upon reaching our cabin initially gave a wild stare at me and then followed his routine to clean the floor. I was taken aback with my usual reasoning ability queing my mind with questions to which I had no answers. Why did the kid stare at me? What is the kid trying to say or communicate? What is the kid depressed about? Why is he not speaking to anyone? What is he more worried about, life or death? Does he have parents if not then who are his guardians? Family, home?
I was bewildered by the fact that the boy was emotionless, he undoubtedly was focused in whatever he pursued. Probably he could have been far better had he to be born in a family more supportive. As he cleaned the floor there were passengers hushing him forward as he finally approached me. I was sympathetic but at the same time I was helpless. I guess all that the boy expected from a hard day’s work was a good meal at the end of day. I had to see what the kid was seeing. I wanted to freeze the moment and for a moment wished to experience what it would be like had I to be the same. I wouldn’t have dared to lead a life so excruciatingly painful each moment, each hour, each day.
As we exchanged glances there was nothing I could have done to help him be it temporary or permanent. He waved his hand for a couple of times and in a moment of desperation moved ahead to the next compartment. I was left aghast with seemingly unending queries and counter queries, for at that moment I was pushing myself a bit close to the edge of cliff.
By dusk the feeling was vary and the whole episode was fading away like I was some kind of amnesia patient. I didn’t want to stress myself and hence went back to continue reading till it was time for bed. Following morning I reached Bangalore to a warm reception by mom and sister at the station. Felt as if I had returned from the great world war. I had a splendid Diwali back home with sweets made by mom. All the time somewhere at the corner of heart and mind I had a concern for the boy whom I couldn’t have helped. I had to decipher the cause for concern but I pledged to do it once I returned to duty. There was a slight deviation in my otherwise varying thought process.
After a couple of weeks of returning to work I was finally finding my way to the hidden clue to the concern. It was not money, not help nor was it sympathy that the boy was asking. It was pure HOPE that the boy asked. It was that hope which carried him forward each time when some one chucked him. A hope which had transformed him to be more deterministic in life. A small boy having nothing, no home to stay, no friends to play, no school for basic education but he had just one tiny thing magnified to the core of it. On the other hand, we being so self sufficient lack that tiny bit of hope to achieve what we really desire to become. The same opportunity provided to the boy would have proved wonders. This is what we all are lacking today, the hope to move forward and the determination to conquer the unconquered. For the boy it could have been by the fumbles and tumbles he had to witness at a so very young age, it was more out of need and compulsion rather than experience.
If it is not for others, at least have it for you, it’s like self help. Ambitions and aspirations are two different things but when clubbed with the word HOPE they both assume the same course of travel with enhanced performance of the product.