Over-rated

Hugs, kisses, tears, and smiles. Broken dreams, joy and light. Trusting bonds, deception and lies.

I wonder how much of "you" is over-rated. Would you ever change? Guess not. They seem to like you just the way you are. I guess, someone did say that it is difficult to improve on perfection. So, how very perfect are you? Doesn't matter, they think you are.

Dont know why

Ok! This aint no decent post. Not at all. They say "Behind every neat table, there is a cluttered drawer", well I have my own adaptation of this, "behind every neat desktop, there is a cluttered folder". In an attempt to clean up the various such cluttered folders on my laptop, I ran into this poem that I had written sometime back. It all started when I made an attempt at writing poems. Ahh, it is a failed attempt but I'm putting it up anywayz. My condolences to the readers :D

surrounded by darkness
my mind sleeps
dislocated memories
and wandering dreams

a world full of chaos
sorrow and grief
for what i see
makes my eyes bleed
inhumanity takes it's toll on me


live i must
to fullfil a dream
pain and suffering
have no place there to be!

Bant Singh can still sing!

First of all let me apologize to my non-punjabi reader, but hey! it has sub-titles. This video is for all those people who think that India is through with caste system. Let me assure, it still exists very much. But that is not the point here. It isn't just about casteism. It is about all the wrong things that are done by the rich and powerful.

What is the video about? Seen in the video is Bant Singh. He is a labourer from some where in Punjab. His a story of constant suppression by the higher castes of his village. Some where in year 2000 his minor daughter was raped by seven members of the higher caste including the village Sarpanch's son. This brave son of the soil revolted and all kinds of pressure was applied to silence him. The police refused to register his FIR, and the village panchayat dismissed his case. He was exiled from the community and refused to be given work. But he didn't give up. In year 2002 he was able to secure conviction for the people who raped his daughter including a woman (bloody bitch) who helped them in their act. However, the story was not yet done. The fact that a dalit had risen against them and managed to secure conviction constantly irked the members of higher caste. One day while returning from work, he was attacked by them. They had a gun and he tried to flee. But he couldn't out run them; they had a car. Soon enough they started beating him up. They constantly hit him on the hands and legs with sticks and broke his bones. After being left for dead, some people came to his help later. He was taken to the local government hospital. The son-of-a-bitch doctor had already been bribed and he refused to treat him without being paid 1000rs first. After 3 hours, the doctor was paid money but Bant Singh was still not treated. Later he was moved to a bigger hospital in Chandigarh by his relatives. It had been 36 hours since he was attacked. Having failed to receive treatment for so long, gangerine had set into all his limbs. His both arms and one leg had to be amputated. He now has one leg which the doctors are still trying to save. This case has received much spotlight, because this is the first case from the region in which a dalit has been able to secure conviction for members of a higher caste.

My beloved India, why are you like this? Where do you fit such things amongst all the religious righteousness? It is not about casteism. No it is not. This happens everywhere. our society is not a society of equals. It never will be. We enjoy it the way it is, because we are in a favoured position right now. It is something that we can't let go off. We as a society have constantly exploited our poor. British did whatever they did. But today we Indians are doing it to our own fellow Indians. Would we ever be able to look above and beyond our hollow traditions and culture. the culture that we are so proud of, and yet fails to qualify on grounds of humanity. Some where along the line, everything got so materialized that we have forgotten what being human means.

And as for my dear Punjab, I still remember how you revolted against Ram Rahim Singh, the fellow who disguised himself as Guru Gobind Singh Ji. You labeled it as a disgrace to our gurus and our beliefs. Let me tell you, no one has disgraced our gurus more than you. Punjab is one of the leading states for caste based crimes. The very caste system which our Gurus fought hard to abolish. It was the very basis of Sikhism. The surname "Singh" was adopted so that no one could be differentiated based on their caste. The "Langar" was established so that people of all caste and religion sat together at the same level and ate food. No mater if it was a king, soldier or an untouchable, they all had to sit together for the langar. But now we are nothing more than a society of hypocrites. To make matters worse, the perpetrators of the very crime are none other than our own very proud "Jatt Sikh" community. Wake up Khalsa. Wake up!

Holy Scriptures

Religion. I know how much it means to me. I have my own understanding of it all. And I love the way I understand it. So why the hell does someone think that I need to be told as to what I should or should not do. Today I ended up in a confrontation with my flatmate. Nasty one. I have never taken kindly to people trying to impose their way of life and principles upon me or others. I swear to god I hate such people.

Religion is not a set of rules. Please stop treating it like a Constitution. No one religion is complete in itself. None is. The thing breaks down into figuring out as to what is a religion? Isn't religion supposed to be a way of life that leads to attainment of god. How does one attain god? Isn't it all about doing good in life? What the hell does god have to do with anything else? If god does really exist, do you think he would be concerned about what you are wearing today? I don't think so. For me religion has always meant something which has brought peace within, especially at times when I needed it the most. At times when I could feel my self being consumed by my environment.

I have lived my life as a good man. Have done some bad things, but purely out of ignorance. Things I have apologized for. Never intentionally hurt someone, unless they deserved it. Have always come to the aid of those who needed it. Been an honest person and never cheated anyone. This is my religion. This and nothing more. I do not believe in anything more than doing good and being good. All the rest is crap to me. Beyond this, all religions are crap.

Masjid dha dey,
Mandir dha dey,
Dha dey jo kuch disda,
Par kisi da dil na dhavien,
Rabb dil vich vasda.

Destroy the Mosques,
Destroy the temples,
Destroy what ever you can see,
But do not break someones heart,
Coz that is where god lives.

So that is the truth of it all. God is in our heart. No pilgrimage, no rituals, no religious tantrums. I have lived a spiritual, religious life, if I am a good person. If I bring warmth to people around me. If I help the needy in whatever way I can. If my heart bleeds to the pain of others. And if don;t turn a deaf ear to someone else's grief. Is it still more important to do that pilgrimage, or read the holy scriptures everyday in the morning. Is it still necessary to go to the Gurdwara, Mandir or Mosque to be good in the eyes of the god?

Religious scriptures are no doubt extremely important. But the fact is, that each one of us understands them differently. The language of the saints is beyond what our normal minds can comprehend. Everything they say, can be interpreted in a way that suits what you seek. In the end, what you get, is what you had sought for. If you seek peace, they offer you peace. If you seek aggression, they offer you aggression. And if you seek god, they offer you the path to him. So, it is all about what you seek. The frame of mind with which you read them. I know what I seek, and without doubt it is different than what he sought. I got what I wanted and believe he did as well. What the fuck gives you the right to impose your beliefs on me. My religion is my personal property. I understand it in a way that is much different than you do. And I have every right to believe that I am right. At least god has given me the choice, and it is mine to make.

Thankfully, my vision has not been corrupted by blind faith. How can blind faith lead to enlightenment? No, it can't. I do not agree with rituals, customs or traditions. If you could attain god by shouting for him in the mosque, going to Vaishno Devi, or taking a dip in the sarovar at Golden Temple, then wouldn't we all have attained him.? Why do we still search for him? If it was so simple to attain him, then the world would have been rid of all the evil. Next time you are taking a pilgrimage, or a dip in holy water, look to your left and right. The person next to you, might be a serial killer, thug, or purely a son-of-a-bitch. And despite all the holy shit they do, still it doesn't seem to put an end to all the adultery in this world.

Haaji Lok Mecce Nu Jaande
Asaan Jaan Takht Hazaare
Jitt Vall Yaar Usse Vall Qaaba
Bhavein Phol Kitabaan Chare

People take pilgrimage to Mecca
But I desire to go to my lords court
My Qaaba is wherever my beloved (god) is
Even if all the religious scriptures tell me otherwise

---

Pi sharaab tey kha kabab, heth baal haddaan di ag,

Bulleha bhan ghar rab da, ais thuggan de thug noo thug.

Drench yourself in wine and feast on roasted flesh, roasting in the fires flaming out of the bones. O Bulleha, break into the house of God and swindle the cheat of cheats.

---

Mulla tay mashaalchi dohaan ikko chit
Loukan karday chananan, aap anhairae vich

The priest and the torch-bearer are both very similar
They give light to others, but are themselves in dark

---

Hum mailae, tu ujjwal karat
Hum nirgun, tu daata
Hum moorakh, tum chattar sayanae
Tu sarab kala da gyata

We are in the dark, you enlighten us
We are worthless, you are our lord
We are idiots, and you are clever
You are master of all tricks

I believe that this post might not go down well with all my readers. I know, that like me, even you don't like being imposed with someone else's beliefs. However, my sincere and unconditional apology to those who might have felt hurt. All of the above verses or others cited in this post are by my beloved Baba Bulleh Shah. Only the last one is from Guru Granth Sahib. Unfortunately Bulleh Shah mostly referred to things from Islam as he himself was once a Muslim. But in my post, I am not targeting any specific religion. For those who have been able to understand the post, it was targeted at those people, that try to impose their beliefs at others. Religion is for me to follow at my own terms. I need not confirm with someone else's take at things or how they understand it. It is none of their business as to how and what I follow. Religion is path for you to follow. It is not about making others follow it.

Topics such as these always incite aggressive responses. However, I shall not reply to any such aggressive or inappropriate comments made here. Those if any, that are hurt, I didn't intend it. Sorry! But I'm not targeting any religion at all.

Mirza Saihbaan

Why is it that India's most famous love stories, they all happened in one small region of Punjab? I mean, was rest of India sleeping or what? What kept love from happening? Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal, & Sassi Punnu. No, I haven't forgotten the most important one. But hey! Do you really know about it?

Mirza Sehban, is the most beloved of all the love fables from my dear land Punjab. The shear tragedy touches my heart. Every single time I come across a song with references to the story, I feel their pain as my own. However, I have discovered that most people still do not know of this most beautiful love lorn tale. The story goes as follows...

Mirza and Saihbaan were both in love with each other. Saihbaan was being forced by her parents to marry someone else. So she sends out a message through the kaazi to Mirza, "You must come and decorate Sahiban’s hand with the marriage henna". Mirza could not control his young blood, and set out to bring her home. He rode to her village and brought her back on his horse. On the way back, they decided to take rest under the a tree before continuing further. It was summers and they were both tired, and thus easily fell asleep under the tree. Somewhile later Saihbaan woke up and she spotted her brothers coming at a distance. Mirza was known for his archery and Saihbaan didn't want him to kill her brothers. So she breaks his arrows, and then wakes him up. She had thought that once her brothers were closer and they see the two of them together; they would cool down and hug her. However, they attacked Mirza upon reaching closer. Mirza fought with his sword but he was no match for 4 people and was eventually slayed. Saihbaan's brothers left her with his dead body, and in the end she kills herself with a sword. (Ref: Wikipedia)

Most Punjabi literature talks about what all Mirza's soul would have said to Saihbaan's soul in heaven. It all gets too touchy. Bellow is a song by Harbhajan Mann based on the same story,

(Ref: Youtube)

Jadd teer tod tae Saihbaan nae
Marda hoya mirza kee kainda
Vaidyaan ch rondeean manva nu
Tauleyaan chon pajiyaan banwaan nu
Saihbaan tain madee kitee nee

Saihbaan tain madee kitee nee
Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Nee main lyonda naal bhrawaan nu

Ek pasae todae teer kurae
Ek pasae tere veer kurae
Jatt kalam kalae Mirzae nu
Nee tokha dae gayee taqdeer kudae

Jae teer salamat hundae taan
Ni mien tinda bind hawawa nu
Marda hoya mirza bol peya

Jatt kalam kala reh geya nee
Kalae nu ghera pae geya ni
Jhall da reya vaar gandeseyan dae ni
Ni mere siron malasa lae geya ni
Ni mere gall vich paindi chanj kurae

Koi na mirza dae sang kudae
Jae hundae bhai bhand kudae
Ni mere laindae dukhade vand kurae

Koi Mirza jag tae ni jamna
Putt jamdae rain gae maanvaan nu
Marda hoya Mirza bol pyea
Saihbaan tae madee kitee ni
Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Ni main lyonda naal bharava nu

Mere bhen vastae paundi rayee
Mainu mintaan naal manundi rahee
Syalan dian nara buree yae na ni
Oh kunj waang kar laundi rahee
Naa pae Syalan dae raah vera
Khodi to kaathi la vera
Na ja vera na ja vera
Ni mera aaj di raat nikah vira
Kadd veer mera karr aayega
Mere bhain udaeke raawa nu
Saihbaan tain madee kitee ni

Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Ni mien lyonda naal bharawa nu

Well now a feeble attempt at trying to translate the above...

Upon finding his arrows broken by Saihbaan
What did the dying Mirza say
Of the mothers crying in the corridors
Of the arms that had run to hug him
Saihbaan you have deceived me

Saihbaan you have deceived me
Had I known that you would do this
I would have brought my brothers with me

On one side you have broken my arrows, girl
And on the other side are you brothers, girl
The lonely Jatt Mirza has
Been deceived by his destiny

Had my arrows been alright
I would have shattered the winds
The dying Mirza uttered

I have been left alone and abandoned
I'm alone and I have been surrounded
I kept on taking blows from their axes
My turban has fallen from my head
There is uneasiness in my throat

There is no one with Mirza, oh girl
Had my brothers been here
They would have distributed by grief amongst themselves

Another Mirza shall never take birth in this world
Though mothers will keep giving birth to sons
The dying Mirza uttered
Saihbaan you have deceived me
Had I known you would do this
I would have brought my brothers with me

My sister kept on insisting
She kept pleading me
The women of Sial are bad
She kept insisting
Don't go on the path to Sial

Please remove the saddle from the horse brother
Please dont go brother, please dont
It is my marriage tonite
When will my brother return
My sister awaits on my path
Saihbaan you have deceived me

Had I known you would do this
I would have brought my brother with me

Touchy touchy. Ya I know the translation sucked, but I'm a bit busy with things these days. Couldn't give it anymore time, but it did deserve more time. Anywayz, there is much reasoning behind what ever Saihbaan did. You have to read the whole story for that. Do read the story on the link provided in the references.

For the amazing part! In all such love stories from punjab, we always take the name of the girl first. Sassi Punnu, Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal. See, the name of the girl is always taken first. However, this is the only one in which the name of the male is taken first. Mirza Saihbaan. That is so, because what ever the reason might have been, she did deceive her lover. So we take Mirza's name first. Sad part is, Mirza is seen as the greatest lover of all times, while Saihbaan is looked down upon. Hope I have brought you people something new this time. Just see it as my tribute to the couple. What made me write it? Well I remembered this one party I had once. There was this guy who didn't understand a word of Punjabi. He was Chinki. I showed him this video and told him about the story. Damn, he got glued to this thing. For the rest of the party, he kept on listening to it again and again. In the end, he wept. Anywayz, my translation sucked, and at last I found some words in Punjabi that I might not have understood, or failed to translate into English. Kindly forgive me for such mistakes if any, and do let me know if so. And in the end, last but not the least, Dunia ch vasdae nae log batharae, Punjabian dee shaan vakhree, Buraaaaah

Bibliography:
1. Mirza Sahiba. (2007, October 21). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 14:00, November 2, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Mirza_Sahiba&oldid=166023335

2. Mirza Sahiba (2006, June 11). In Youtube, Broadcast Yourself. Retrieved 14:00, November 2, 2007, from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rtn7BK7L7p4

Bullet / Patang

Zindagi kae is mod par
Ek naya chorr nazr aane laga hai
Dhadkte dil kae dard ko
Sehnae mien ab maza aana laga hai

Kaafila jo aagey badh geya thaa
Mud kar wapis aane laga hai
Tanha zindagi kae shorr ko
Sunane mien maza aane laga hai

Pal pal ke asmanjas mien
Ek nazaria kho jaane laga hai
Ghultee huee is hava mien
Saans lene ka maza aane laga hai

Harr din ik naya khawaab
Ye dil dikhane laga hai
Mushkil se jo dhoondhee thee yaad
Usae fir bhulane mien maza aane laga hai

Jaan mere tu jaanta hai
Phir bhi anjaane mien kho jaane laga hai
Apni galtiaan bhool kae
Ilzzam us pae lagane ka maza aane laga hai

Hypocrite me

Shakespeare once said something about life being a stage and all of us being actors, each actor playing their role and carrying on. Not a definition I like but can't disagree with. It does sort of feel right, just another way of looking at things. A lot happens in one's lifetime, we meet new people through out. Constantly developing new relations, trying to read people, living up to expectations, and the constant effort we put into stabilizing any relationship. No relationship is stable, as a mater of fact even Earth ain't stable. Every relationship has it's ups and downs. Each and every move you make in a relationship can strengthen it or cause damage beyond repair. So what truly defines a successful relationship? and, can a relationship be strengthened enough to be immune to any sort of damage?

Oh! I'm not going to be able to answer those questions and if you are reading further in a hope to find some answer ... bye bye. Lolz. Back in my days at Delhi, I enjoyed huge networks. Probably everyone on campus fell into my network someway or the other. I knew more people than I could probably remember names of. So every other day, I was building a new relationship, friendly or hostile. Every time a relationship came into existence, new expectations were placed on me. At times, I imposed expectations of my own on them. Expectations are an important part of any relationship. Without expectations there can be no relationship. Such relationship can only exist under ideal conditions. But then would such a expectation-less relationship be strong enough to last long?

Each relationship built, required a new role to be full filed by me. I think that is what happens to everyone. The role of a considerate friend, obedient student, honest employee, compassionate lover, a godfather and what not. Some roles were easy to play, and yet there were those that I wasn't ready for. I had no clue about them and wondered as to how I fit in. And still I choose to play them, making the other person more so dependent on myself. Things I didn't associate myself with and still trying my level best to be, just because they needed it. It wasn't me, it was what they sought of me. I tried and tried not to let them down, until I could do it no more. How much of a hypocrite does that make me?

Precious child

Today, something touched my heart after a long time. I have always been aware of this weak side to myself. It just doesn't help. Leaves me feeling worthless. Shouldn't my life mean more than just me. It is easy to be lost in one's own pain and suffering and not realize what others are going through. Many holy men talk about looking at others pain before crying about your own. It does help you feel better, doesn't it? Someone else is more miserable than yourself. So you thank god, that you are at least better off than them. I have done that at times. At times when life doesn't seem to be headed the right way. But today, again I feel sorry for them. So much going wrong around me while I just sit back and watch it happen. What is life about? Is it about living moments and cherishing them? Facing problems as they come? Doing something for your country? Dedicating oneself to the religion? To be a successful man and earn loads of money? They all seem quite right and there. Or maybe it depends on the person. Life can mean all this and maybe more and yet not mean anything at all.

Somehow, I never really got it right. It was never a fixed thing for me. At one point life meant riding my tobu cycle. Sometime later it was religion, then parents and on and on. My parents active social life did expose me to a lot. I still remember the fortnightly visits that we made to "Precious child" foundation. On one side I stood holding my old shoes which I no longer used and still unwilling to part with, and on the other side his hands stretching out and the smile on his disturbed face. The rough skin, unkempt hair turning muddy brown, a shirt that must have been passed for at least a decade, and chappals that had been stitched up together. The mind went blank and I watched as I let go of the shoes and he galloped away with them. Sat there in a corner trying to push his feet into them. It was unique. For a moment I wished I had more shoes to part with and bring a smile on all the other faces that stood there watching him try them on.

What touched me bad today, was a detective serial. The detective has his car stolen by a teenage kid. He puts his best into tracing the kid and his car. In the end he runs into the kids house which is more of a stable than a house. In the corner he sat there with his two much younger siblings. All abandoned and freezing in the cold. In front of them is a very small Christmas tree with no decorations on it. The detective was heart broken at the sight and so was I.

I wish life continues to mean more than just me, and that I'm able to live upto the dreams that I see of meaning something to someone. Life is not about living it, but helping others live it. I wonder if my shoes are still being passed on. I wonder if they are still bringing a smile to an unknown precious child's face. I hope they are.

Queer Tharunka 2

Frontcover


Backcover


Innercover


Editorial


My post

As per Cuckoo's request, I have posted the pics of the magazine.

The front cover is ok nothing very gay about it until you look at the minute text and the symbols used. The backcover has a drawing of men lying butt naked. Those who know what gay men do would get the idea. The innercover features the picture of a trans-sexual (a man dressed as a woman). The editorial talks about the magazine and what queer means. Then you see my article. The editorial staff most probably thought that I'm a woman and thus lesbian. So they think that in the post I'm talking about my feelings for a woman as a lesbian. Oh god!

P.S: The text in the images is readable. Give it some time to load completely. Those that dug deep into the thing; Ya i know it is not spelt right but still it is hardly a condolence for my soul.

Queer Tharunka

I don't know what to say today. Seriously confused! When I came here, it was strange. The way people were all so normal about the gay/lesbian thing. Definitely was something strange and different. It was something "Queer". Sometime back, when I started writing this blog, I wanted to get published in university magazine or something like it. Didn't know what to do, whom to approach. so one day, while going through my university's website I ran into this advertisement asking for articles to be published. I was happy and forwarded two of my posts from this blog. A few days later I received a response. They didn't think my articles were in line with the magazine. I was confused as to what they meant. However, a few days later I received an email from the female editor of the magazine telling me how she loved reading my article and that she wants to publish it. I was delighted ofcos. My posts titled "It rained" was going to be published in the annual edition. Then I received an email asking me if I was okay with the article being published under my real name. Hell yes. Why not? Ofcos I wanted it to be published under my real name.

Lesbians are cute. Oh yes. Always excited me. But gay? Oh no. I just can't imagine myself on top of another man. Eeeew! I guess you have to be a man to understand how disgusting the whole concept is. Few days back I was watching this series called "Six feet under". Apart from the other things in the series, one of the characters was gay. Oh I felt so sympathetic. The way society treated him, how hard he found it to adjust and to conceal. The way his family reacted when they found out. Etc etc. In the end, the way I saw things and the way I reacted had changed. It was no more alright to make fun of gay men. I stopped cracking gay jokes. I learned to respect the freedom of choice, the choice to be different.

So why all this? Today the magazine got published. I was happy to see my article featured in it. Very happy, though for a short while! What is Queer? To me it meant being strange or out of ordinary. The dictionary defines it as "strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually different; singular: a queer notion of justice". I was oblivious to the fact that gay men are often referred to as queer. The magazine is called "Queer Tharunka". It is full of articles relating to homosexuality. Hey, I'm no homosexual. Now I understand as to why they asked me if it was ok to publish it under my real name. Oh no, all the people that must be reading my article now. Gosh. The post gets a whole new meaning. They probably think that Jiwateshwar Singh is a lesbian or probably a trans-sexual. Don't want to hurt anyone's sentiments here but hey, I have officially been labeled as the latest homosexual on the block. Damn! Why do such things always happen to me? Bloody hell! Life just ain't fair is it?

So many

So many things gone unsaid,
So many emotions not expressed,
So many people don't know that I love them yet,
So many of you are not yet dead,
So many set my heart aflutter,
So many yet make it suffer,
So many desires and so many dreams,
So many moments yet not lived,
So many comments yet not made,
So many comments not going to make,
So many nights for me to turn and toss,
So many days I'm going to walk,
So many things I still have to learn,
So many things I'm being forced to learn,
So many why,
So many what,
So many So manys,
So many ends,
So many yuks at this poem,
So many eew,
So many I know,
So many I don't,
So many reasons,
So many poems I will write anyways,
So many don't try to stop me.
So many smilys :)

I know I suck, but hey! Just felt like doin this. Give this man some room aye!

Surprised

Don't know how she did. I still doubt that some of my unfaithful, disloyal, and dishonest friends helped her out at it (Lolz). But anyways she does surprise me. The very first guess she takes is correct. My closest dearest friends have so far been unable to recognize me in that picture. Till date no one has been able to get it right. Pata nahi how she did it, but she did it. Congrats, you are the official winner :). Neeraja to surprised me, but with little help :), but still. None of my friends have been able to get it right, even with help, so Neeraja deserves a special mention as well :).

Lets play

My first school! Don Bosco Public School Chandigarh. LKG UKG KG don't know which order they fall in. Small school. I loved my teachers, both of them. Happy teachers day, sorry I don't remember your names, but I remember that you two were the kindest teachers I ever had. Very sweet, loving, never harsh or rude, never beat me :). Thank you for that!

Can any of you recognize me in this picture? I give you all 5 guesses each. Guess it in one go itself! Lets see now what people come up with :). For your convenience, I'm letting the image remain click-able so that you can access the larger version. Good luck folks!

गुस्थाकी माफ़

क्या आपको हिंदी मिएँ ब्लोग करना आता है? में अभी सीख रहा

हूँ। वाह वाह, लगता है बड़ी जल्दी सीख जाऊंगा। पर मेरी

लिखित हिंदी बहुत जादा खराब है। हिंदी की अध्यापिका

हमेशा मुझ से परेशान रहती थी। छोटी और बड़ी "ई" कि

मात्रा में भेदभाव ना कर पाने कि अश्मता ने सदेव मुझे

अध्यापिका के कोप का पात्र बनाया।

जितनी जादा गलातिआं करता, उतना जादा दण्ड प्राप्त

करता। फिर भी जीत मुझे ही हासिल हुई, जब

अध्यापिका ने परेशान होकर मेरी

गलतियाँ सुधारनी बंद ही कर दीं।

इस कारन आप ये पायेंगे की मैंने

बहुत विफलता सै यहाँ पर ढ़ेर सारी गलतियाँ

की हैं, मगर यह गलतियाँ मैंने जान बूझ कर नही

की हैं। इस लिये आप कृपया मुझे अपनी दया

का पात्र बनायें, और मेरी गलतिआं माफ़ करें।

इस कै लिये मेरी आने वाली (?) सात पुश्प्तें

आपकी आभारी होंगी।

धन्यवाद। । ओं में कैया थैन्कूजीं॥

My unborn child 2

As promised, I return to tell you about the poem in the previous post. The poem is written by my one dear childhood friend AH. I'm not in touch with any of my childhood friends except her and maybe a few others. Dad had a transferable job, so couldn't help it, and thus easily lost contact with pals from the era of "no emails". She however is special. She is my mums best friends daughter. Auntie was very dear to me and my family always, a sister to my mother which she didn't have. AH was my third sister to me. I hated my sisters and her as well in those days. Arrey we were small kids, and I think you all remember the girl-boy rivalry in bachpann.

-------
Girl: "Can we play cricket with you?"
Boy: "Sorry, we don't play with sissy girls!"
----
Boy: "Can we come into your doll house?"
Girl: "Sorry we don't have room for dirty boys in our doll house"
-------

Haha, those were funny times, so the thing is that I used to fight a lot with her and my sisters. But then she was the maturer one out of my sisters. So there were times when we both could play without fighting when my other two sisters were not around. And during one such short lived moment of "ceasefire", we both decided to write a poem together. My memory of the poem is very faint, something about a lattoo (top). The poem had 10 lines, I would write one line and she would write the next. So 5 lines each. The poem had soon become a priced possession and we would both narrate it to almost anyone we met. Then there was a poem writing competition at school. Now I had to make my contribution, rite? So I submitted our poem, and only wrote my name for it, she wasn't in my school, thus I couldn't have possibly written her name with mine. Upon returning home, I met her in the evening and told her about the competition. Oh I still remember the excitement on her face, the ear to ear smile, the raised eyebrows, the widened eyes, and how I killed it when I told her that I could only submit it under my name. Sorry but I couldn't do it otherwise. I'm really sorry!

Later, Auntie got transferred and we lost touch. But then we met again last year. Oh I'm glad we did. Talking about our childhood she still cursed me for the poem. Lolz, we were both glad that we remembered it, and the silence that followed the realization as we both dipped into our memories of sweet childhood. Damn! Abhi a few days back I wondered if she too maintains a blog like me. So I googled it up. Sure did find something, sadly she has deleted the blog, and google had only this one page in it's cache. And it was a poem. A poem again! The only poem that I was ever able to write belonged to us both, and now she was still writing poems. Felt strange, that I had nothing to do with this poem. If only I could have contributed in someway to this poem, a poem which we could now publish under both our names together! No school competitions :)

She and auntie are the only people that still address me as Minda, my first name. Abhi writing her an email and requesting her to let me write a poem with her :) and also if she would let me read her other poems if any which she might have written. Not telling her that I maintain a blog, gosh can't let my family know about the existence of this thing :)

P.S.: Not using her real name in the post for the fear that she might google her own name up and run into my blog! The same reason for publishing her poem as a picture! You can't google text which is published as a picture :)

My unborn child!

Ohh no, I didn't write it. I have this habit of googling up everyone. I google my friends, relatives etc etc. So googling up for one such childhood friend, google came up with this in it's cache. She has removed the blog, I don't know why? Nywayz read this for now, and later I shall tell you why this is special :)

Absolute Rubbish!

A strange habit, I know it isn't good. Cursed myself many a times for it. To trust people too easily, to rely on them, take their word for it, to expect something from them, and to give everything in return. Many a times this has caused much distress and pain. But I never seem to learn. It is a part of me somehow. Always had an excuse for it, I'm a Leo and this is supposed to be what I am. Stupid excuse, ya I know, but then I cant help it. I truly am each and everything that is associated with Leos. The good and the bad, without any give or take. Always afraid of being played around with, not wanting to be used or be kept in the dark. Cautious of people that might want to take advantage of me. Cautious of people that might deceive me. Build relations too fast. Networks of trust. Forget and forgive.

Should have never expected so much from you. Don't know why I did. But did I ask for too much? For it was you that told me this friendship was special! All the trust I put into you!

Once again feeling deceived and vulnerable! Every part of me has failed to deceive the agony! Don't know when I would be able to give up on this habit of expecting truth and honesty, for it is all I ever asked from you! Again and again and maybe again!

Mice from hell!

Dreams are a big deal! I mean the real(?) dreams, the ones you see when you are asleep. I guess I'm one of the lucky few, that see one almost every time they fall asleep. My friends tell me that they rarely dream, and some don't see dreams at all! Is that possible? To not have dreams when you sleep? Something I find hard to believe. I have run into varied opinions about dreams. Most scientist say that dreaming is a healthy exercise that provides the mind some sort of balance. What sort of balance? Duhh, I'm not sure about that. Psychologist say that dreams are the sign of a troubled mind that finds it hard to rest. Gosh! I ain't no troubled soul for that matter. I see all sorts of dreams, but the hardest part is that I never seem to have dreams about the things that I really want to dream about. I have fantasies, we all do. Now now, I'm not talking anything sexual here. Fantasies that I'm supposed to be too mature for now, the kiddish fantasies. I would like to dream about being a superman, going to the moon, being the richest man in the world, owning the fastest car in the world..., So at times I try to plan what I want to dream about before I go to sleep. But it doesn't happen. Something else would always crawl up into my dreams. The one thing that I want to dream about, it never happens. Gosh, how miserable is that?

Like any man alive, I do have certain deep rooted fears. Things that really make the hair on arms stand up. Amazingly enough, most of these fears did originate from my dreams. One such dream that I still remember, is of time when I was about 12 years old. I dreamt of these giant mice hanging from their tails on trees. If you touched one, they'd come to life. Oh no they didn't gobble you up or anything like that, but hey would follow you around where ever you'd go. Still remember how I woke up with a loud shriek that night. Knocked on my parents door and spent the next couple of nights curled up between them. The reassuring "warmth" of their hugs. Have hugged many people, but that warmth, it's exclusive and found no where else. Only they can make me feel it, just them. "Jadoo ki jhappi?", now that sure is a funny sounding name for it, but then what about it is not magical? Oh no, I'm not scared of those "giant mice" anymore! Seriously yaar !

Evil Bloggers

I love StumbleUpon! For those of you that still don't know what it is, you dudes are missing something in life! While stumbling recently, I stumbled into this page with a list of things to prove that internet is evil :), This is what it had to say about blogging...

2. Bloggers

Don’t get me wrong here, I love reading funny articles. I have no problem whatsoever with a well written article, that happens to be displayed in blog format. But, what I do have a problem with is the “personal blogger”. These are the kind of blogs that are updated three times a day, just to let us know exactly what is going on in the blogger’s life. I don’t even want that much information about my own family, why would I want it about some stranger on the internet? This needs to stop now. A message needs to be sent to all these personal bloggers, letting them know we won’t stand for it any longer. No, we don’t care what you had for lunch. No, we don’t care that your cat is cute (of course it is, they all are). And, we definitely don’t want to read your haiku on life. Get over yourself bloggers, you’re not that important, and you’re not special like your mother told you.

For rest of the list click here.
By the way, I couldn't agree anymore with it. Personal bloggers so very much piss me off!

The Ethical People

Religion was meant to be a guide, to lead people on the path of spiritual attainment. However in today's world religion is no longer what it was meant to be. There is much more involved now. Politics, money, corruption and what not. It has all become an integral part of every religion. Nothing about them is holy anymore.

In a recent attempt not very long back, the Australian government tried to lift a long standing ban on Stem Cell Research. A panel was set up consisting of some of the greatest scientist of the land. As a dedicated biotechnologist, I was excited about it. A week before the bill was to come up in the parliament the Catholic Arch Bishop had something to say on the issue. He came out with a press release that sounded more like a threat. He threatened to excommunicate any member of parliament who voted in favor of passing the bill. Which means that they will be out casted from their religion. I know I love my religion, everyone loves their religion. It is what we were brought up with. The beliefs have been rooted deep into our personalities. But do I love my religion enough? Religion brings to us a sense of right and wrong. So, do i really need a priest to tell me what is right and what is wrong? Do I love my religion enough to risk my freedom in the hands of a priest? What right does a priest have to dictate to me as to how I should live my life, for I can think for myself.

Religion is more than just being told what rights and what is wrong. The true essence of any religion lies in the ability of a human to by himself understand the difference between right/wrong, to know what makes a right wrong, and what makes a wrong right. Right and wrong are no fixed things. They change with time, situation and necessity. Enslaving one self to the preachers of one's religion, can not be the teachings of a holy being. What kind of self realization or spiritual attainment can a enslaved mind attain?

How does it concern a priest, as to what a pregnant mother does with her fetus? Isn't it her body, her child! What does he know about her social conditions? Is he ready to pay for the child's upbringing? Or at least adopt the child! A holy man is not so holy after all. At least most of them are not holy. It is our inability to commit ourselves to honesty which which has brought them these powers. We are afraid, afraid of all the things that we do in our day to day life. Our awareness of all the bad things that we do, the wrong things. We do realize what our actions mean. Don't we?

So does a priest have the power to convert my wrong into a right then? Who bestowed him with the power to forgive me for my sins? God? Then how come God didn't give them a brain capable of performing logical functionality? Any priest that claims to be the hand of the almighty, to be more than a mere human, or in any sense to be more human than what I am, can not be holy. He is the biggest sinner of them all! It is about time these priests stopped directing us on issues such as Stem Cell research/ Cloning/ Abortion etc! God gave you nothing more than what I have. Let me think for myself. You still want to excommunicate someone? Go excommunicate Bush!

P.S:- The Archbishop received a fitting reply in the news papers...
Tony Stewart, a Catholic and Labor Party member of the New South Wales Parliament, said the country does not "need a religious leader telling members of parliament what should be done," adding, "Maybe I'll go to hell, but if I go to hell, I'm going to do so by saving a lot of lives, because that's what this bill is about."

In another development, my dear Pakistani friend Ali, who is a Sunni muslim, has decided to marry his Shiya girl friend. Five years of love. He has been threatened with excommunication from the main mosque in his home town Karachi.

If all these holy people really want to prevent people from doing the wrong things in life, then how come we never heard a single one of them lashing out at Bush for all that he did wrong in Afghanistan and Iraq? For all the money that has ever been put up into weapon's research or development of nuclear bombs? How come not a single hindu, sikh, christian, or any other religious body react to the Godhra massacre?

Stem Cells

Biotechnology is an exciting science and contrary to what my friends believe, I do have a passion for it which they some how fail to see. It is an incredible science and everything about it is amazing. The ability to modify a living organism to perform additional functionality, to be able to understand what truly goes on a living organism, and to be able to create totally new forms of life, everything about it is god like. It deals with absolute raw power, for there can be nothing greater. However, it is this very power that makes it the most controversial science ever. It has been subjected to far too many ethical debates. Every one seems to take their go at it. At times I face people who think of me as nothing less than a monster. I think it is their fear and inability to understand what the real deal is.

I believe you have all heard of Stem Cell Technology. A truly amazing branch of medical biotechnology which enables us to repair any living tissue or organ in the human body, which makes every known human disease curable. It enables us to treat diabetes, Alzheimer's, heart failures, liver failures, kidney failures, etc etc etc. You name it, and we can treat it. It is a simple technique. I guess I should try to explain it to you-

The human body consist of different organs, which further consist of different tissues, that further consist of various cells. Most disease involve breaking down of this structure and causing damage to particular organs. As in diabetes, the pancreas is damaged rendering it unable to secrete enzymes that are essential for digestion of glucose in body. Stem cells are special cells that exist in the body naturally. They are special repair cells, which can replace a damaged cell and thus reviving the functionality of an organ. However stem cells occur in fairly low numbers and thus impossible to extract from the body. Thus we have to look at other ways of making them. For this we use a procedure similar o cloning, or actually cloning itself. Each cell in your body has DNA, and this DNA is found in a special compartment inside the cell called Nucleus. In cloning, the DNA from one of your body's cells (any cell) is taken and inserted into an unfertilized human egg. This when allowed to grow in a petri dish, multiplies and assumes a form identical to the early stages of a human embryo. This stage is known as blastula. If further this is implanted into the womb of a human female, has the ability to grow into a complete organism much identical to the nucleus donor. However blastula is just a collection of 32 cells that are capable of developing into one human being but not human yet. The 32 cells in this stage are stem cells and can be used for therapeutic purposes.

So now you tell me what is wrong with this? For those still skeptical, here is a picture of blastula for you...


Now, does it like a human being to you? It doesn't look like a human being to me at least. So the thing is that extraction of stem cells from this blastula would seal it's fate, and it wont be able to become a human being. But then again it is not human yet!

This makes it one of the most controversial techniques ever. You must have heard about it, or read of it in the news papers. Haven't you? This science is capable of lending sight to the blind, rid your grandmother of her joint pains, cure arthritis, repair holes in heart, rid you of diabetes, and maybe at some stage even cure AIDS. Amazing isn't it? However, what if I told you, that this science is banned in most of the countries across the world. India being an exception ofcourse, we people were never concerned about ethics!

It hurts!

I think love really is a great part of my life. Truly more than what I estimate it to be. How is it possible? I haven't had a successful relationship as yet. Then why, everytime I get drunk do I find myself thinking about her. She brings out a form of frustration that seems to have become a deep rooted part of my life, and I'm truly afraid of the realization that I might never be able to get over her. I try and I try hard, to forget everything about her. I deleted her each and every picture that I once owned, deleted all her emails that either she sent to me or I sent to her, done everything possible to remove all that might remind me of her. I spend a few days and then think to myself, yes I'm finally over her. But isn't the thought about me being over her in itself an indication that I still remember her and long for her. My selfish desires prevent me from gettin over it. Ain't it? I know that I wont be able to find another one like her, for she is unique. The one and only. Life would be good but not the same without her. Isn't it? Mind is full of question at this point, but I know the answer to most of them. The only true solution, is to get over it. But the one question that still goes unanswered is "How?"

If time is truly the best healer, then why doesn't it seem to be working for me? Gosh, I know I would feel better tomorrow morning when the alcohol seeps out, but then why is it, that I don't want to feel better? Why do I want to stay adrift in this sensation which seems to inflict the harshest atrocities known! I don't know if love is beautiful or not but I do know that it hurts like hell!

Abey daddu hato bey!

Dont know why I have been seeing this video over and over again and laughing about it. Seen in the video is Mr. Daddu. Me and Shwait are trying to capture some young hot girls into my camera while Alok walks into the view blocking it. e seems to be worried and looking for some girl that might capture his imagination, or she already seems to have captured his imagination and run away. I remember Alok once telling me that he had seen some girl around college and he had an eye lock with her of some sorts and he knew that she was the one he wanted. I also remember Alok hoping that she turned up in this fest. But I guess she didn't as Alok never talked about her again. Gosh!!

Chauke Wala nae chaktae fattae :)

Cuckoo is truly an amazing birdie now. She is the most intelligent girl I ever met for she was the only one who was able to solve my riddle without any clues and directly in the first go as well. Congrats Cuckoo, since you were the only one who did it, you get a free chocolate cake! :)

Harpreet Singh Sran is truly a mate, and one I'm glad to have. Though late but he eventually figured it out. But it doesn't really matter, coz this day never really meant much to me. But I love it when people send out cards and wishes specially ones telling me that what our friendships mean to each other. Thanks again Harpreet for everything. Other people I would like to thank are Alok, Wali, Nisheet, Shwait, Nisha, Parul, Swati, Nikhil, Gayathri, Swatantra, Ankur, Rajni, and last but not the least to my parents.

Specially my mom that narrated to me the event of my birth for the first time to me. She tells me I was the most beautiful kid ever she had seen. I was all pink skinned and people used to flock to have a look at me. I know that to a mother, her child is definitely the most beautiful ever born, but anyways the words felt too good!

Special thanks to all the others that tried and tried hard to solve the riddle. For those still baffled check this out. Thanks Harpreet for the special wishes :)

Time lost or gained?

Australia is 4.5 hours ahead of India. That is a lot of difference, specially when you wake up in the morning and want to call up your parents and realize through your sleep that they are still sleeping. So initially it was time that I had gained. I mean, I am 4.5 hours ahead of IST, rite? So these 4.5 hours were what I gained through the back-breaking 16 hour long flight to Australia and not to count the 11.5 hours of halt at Bangkok. Anywayz, a sudden thought about the event. I thought about it, and then it hit me, that tonight at midnight I will actually loose 4.5 hours from my life, and the only way to correct it would be to go back to India. Confusing rite? Only some would be able to solve this riddle!!

Feeling patriotic yet?

What is going on? Well I'm getting ready to celebrate our 60th Independence day of cos. Something is strange this time. I was always patriotic and have always felt indebted to our freedom fighters for all they did for us. But this time.. Maybe because of the fact that I'm not home, bcoz I'm far away from my motherland. The feeling is much more. Definitely is!

Personally I feel that India has come along way from where it was. It is progressing fast and very fast indeed. The changes we have experienced in the last decade or so are truly amazing. There are better job opportunities, more luxuries, facilities etc etc.

There is a lot I want to say today, a lot lot, but I wont be doing justice to those issues. So here is me signing of with a realization that I haven't really evoked the feeling of patriotism in you with what ever I have put up, It just was not enough. However, just a little thing I would request all you bloggers out there to do. I would like to request all you Indian bloggers out there, to post the picture of the Indian flag on your blogs in celebration of our Independence Day. Just a small little thing to do, aint it? Jai Hind!

Sarhadon kae rakhwale

Now how can my celebrations be complete unless I pay tribute to our Army. Couldn't find anything impressive but I like this one :)
Salute!

Bhagat Singh

My personal hero. A true life hero and one of the best ever. This dude took it all the way!

National Anthem!

The lyrics are missing, thus you dont need to be in a standing position :), Oh you don't believe me? Well check the musicians. They are sitting rite?

Oh forgot to tell you! You have to stand up for the second part :)

India Pakistan

Love this video and may god bless the guy who made it. I was a very anti Pakistan person myself, but then my first roomate in Australia was a pakistani. Oh, he is now just like an elder brother to me. Definitely there will be a sunrise when we shall be friends. Waise bhi I think Pakistani women are really beautiful :)

Vande Mataram

Another one of those deep rooted songs within. Something is so so magical about this one. I just close my eyes and listen to it. It really soothes me so so much. However I couldn't find the full version. Would really owe you one if you find it!

Aao bachon tumhe sikhayein

Now who hasn't heard this?

India vs. India

Amitabh Bachan really rocks! Doesnt he?

India Rising!

Saw this video after coming here. Man I love the music and the theme. Listen to it carefully. Can anyone tell me what they are singing that sounds like opera?

Milae sur mera tumhara!

This song, oh god this song! The words say it all, and I just love this song so much :)

Visual Aid!

Procrastination!

Ohh, I'll write something here later! :)

bEAST!!!!

Many people that I have met over the internet through blogging have time and again asked me as to why I address myself as the bEAST. Many times I wanted t oanswer their query but somehow never got around to doing it. The name doesn't stand for my looks, my personality or anything as such. Neither am I a psychopath or sadistic. And I definitely don't believe in the existence of a trapped wild thing inside me. But the name means a lot to me for there is so much attached to it.

During my bachelors, I stayed in the hostel provided by the college. We had an impressive (shuks!) LAN system in there. LAN? It stands for Local Area Network. Wats that? Well in simpler terms, it is just like the internet you use. Hooking up our computer to the LAN required us to name our computer. A distinct name, which would identify our computers. I got my computer a bit too late than others. My roommate at the time, didn't have a computer of his own. So my computer would be the gateway into our world so I had to come up with a name that would somehow stand for the both of us. Now if it stood for me, it had to be something Macho! Rite? So I decided to use the name Beastieboyz, which was a popular rock band at sometime.

Now the LAN is a wonderful thing. It is like this one big society, a wonderland where you could do many things. Sharing movies, songs, chatting with people in other rooms, talking to girls all night long :). It takes computer gaming to a whole new level where many people play the same game at the same time against each other. One such game was CounterStrike better known as CS. It is a shooting game where we get to fight posing as either policemen or terrorist. So a bunch of us can pretend to be policemen while the other have to be terrorist. Can't explain the whole concept here and it is not relevant here. So people had already been playing this game for a long time now, and I was a total newbie since I was one of the last to bring in my computer.

The game further required us to come up with names that were unique to ourselves. Now I didn't really want to go through the whole thing again, screening names and choosing one etc. So I just picked up the beast part of Beastieboyz. People already knew my computers name and thus beast would make perfect sense. Also since the game was a bit violent, thus beast was just perfect. But I don't do simple things. Something about it had to be different. Thus I wrote it in a different manner. bEAST with a small B and capital everything :)

I had hardly played the game for a week and was now facing the Inter College CounterStrike Championship. Oh I so very much wanted to participate but my lack of experience and amateur skills would not get me into a good team. Luckily I was picked up by a team which had average rated players in it. The tournament was to start at 9 on this Sunday morning and I was absolutely excited. I got up early in morning, practiced my hand on the game and got dressed up after a bath. I walked up into my team members room where different shooting techniques were being discussed. However it was supposed to be a team of 5 players and we were 6 people in the room. I asked him ...

"What is going on? Have you.... changed team?"

to which he coldly replied

"You are not in our team"

Oh, I was furious and hurt. This was no gentlemanly behavior. How could he do this? Pathetic! I retreated back to my room. All the adrenalin which I had built up since morning was wasted away in the punches that I delivered to my desk and the wall. Ahh, I put on some music and tried to relax, thinking about all the fun that I would have had, all the stories that would be narrated to me by my friends who will participate. Trying to sooth myself, I closed my eyes and sat with my head back on my chair. I knew I wasn't good, I knew I wouldn't have won it. But, but this was no way to let go of me. I should have been informed before hand so that I could at least try secure a position elsewhere.

God does whatever he does, for the best! Ya! A while later I heard an announcement. It was one of my close friends. None other than Mr. Jack Sparrow. He has put up a team, and they were short of one guy. Till last night he wasn't planing on playing but Something in the morning changed his mind. Oh I ran upto him...

"Oye! stop announcing, I'm available, I will play"

How could he say no to me, he was my friend, he had to say yes. But I think he did it willingly :). The team he ad pt up had two very good players and I was surprised as to why they had been unable to find another player and settled in for me.

I now had the chance to play, and I just wanted revenge. No matter what, I'll defeat the team that kicked me out so disgracefully. CounterStrike was still in its premature form at my college. Where people played without any plans. Just before the game I had a crazy idea in mind. We would have a decoy. As a terrorist the game requires us to plant a bomb. We have the option of two sites to plant the bomb at. The other team has to defuse the bomb in 45 seconds. For which they need to know where the bomb has been planted. I decided to send out a decoy. One of us would go to the first site and starting firing bullets in the air and make noise, everything to create a diversion. The other team would rush to the first site while we would successfully plant the bomb at the second site and take up defensive positions. Thus was born the first strategy for playing counterstrike at JIIT. The concept was new to other players. Ah we blew the competition away. By the end of the game, the competition didn't know what struck them. That day I played like a bEAST. The performance was amazing, and mind blowing. We all performed equally well. We won the first game then the second then the third, the semi finals, and the finals. No one could believe that a bunch of amateurs had won the competition. The so called Gods of CounterStrike were delivered a disgraceful defeat by us. We couldn't believe that we had won it.

Soon the names bEAST, Osama, J, Blade and Prateek were on everyones lips. The game meant life to everyone in campus. We were soon looked up to. The new Lords! Since then people referred to me as the bEAST instead of Jiwa. I liked it :). People there still know me as bEAST! I am the bEAST. However I'm no longer that good with the game. It only lasted for an year, and soon other people started developing strategies. They worked hard and harder than me. I was never ready to give so much for a game to be working hard on new strats. So I just gave it up. But people still remember me and my team mates, for we were the stuff taht legends are made of. Oh I guess I'm aging too fast :)

Burning in love!

Read this somewhere on the internet,

Mein Jo Mehka To Meri Shaakh Jala Dee Uss Ne
Sabz Mausam Mein Mujhe Zard Hawa Dee Uss Ne

Pehlay Ek Lamhe Ki Zanjeer Se Bandha Mujhko
Aur Phir Waqt Ki Raftaar Barha Dee Uss Ne

Meri Nakaam Mohabbat Mujhe Wapis Kar K
Yun Mere Haath Meri Laash Thama Dee Uss Ne

Janta Tha Ke Mujhe Maut Sakoon Bakhshay Gee
Woh Sitamgar Tha So Jeenay ki dua di usne

Attempting a translation...

When I was to bloom, he cut me off the branch
In the spring he made me suffer in cold winds

First he tied me up in bonds of a moment
And then he increased the pace of time

He returned my failed love to me
And then handed my corpse to me

I knew death would grant me peace
But the tyrant prayed for my life!

Beautiful! Aint it?

My First!

Ah, I can't believe I'm about to blog this. Don't know why, but it just came flying back to me with a gush of wind that knocked me off my feet. My first, yes my first proposal. The very first time I tried to be man enough to tell a girl that I might be in love with her.

I spent most of my life in Kerala, a place totally on the opposite end of Punjab. Being a total punjabi brat myself, I could never associate myself to the culture and people I saw around me. Some part of me always longed for my home land, my Punjab, my dear Punjab. It was tough, people always treated me like an alien, since I stand out for my appearance. So when I finished my 12th grade, I begged my father to take us back to Punjab, "Dad please do something, take me back, back to Punjab, I can't live here anymore, please get a transfer or something!". As always, my dad had simple solutions to my at the time tough problems, "You want to go back to punjab? Then study hard, clear the exams (entrance exam), get admission in a North Indian college and go back. Earn it yourself son."

That day I knew, I knew if I want to go back, then I will have to work it out myself. So I studied hard? Nah! I can't do that :), however, I managed to land myself a seat in a North Indian college. Parents tried their best to not let me go, gave me all the reasons to not go, but I just wanted to get out of south.

It was not my first time in Delhi, I had been there before as child and always loved the city. College began, but I wasn't there. I reached late, late by one week. College was hip, absolutely. The first girl I laid my eyes upon had a tattoo on her chest. Oh man, I had never seen so many beautiful girls at one place before.

The first time I saw her, I was sitting in my classroom of 120 brats, and she was jumping all up and down with something in her hand. Just another girl, nothing special about her, she was very fair, a bit fat but not too much, a normal pleasant voice, and always happy about something that obviously wasn't around, or at least I couldn't see it. Didn't think much of her, nothing about her would attract my attention again. At least that is what I thought right then.

A few days pass by, many things happened in my life. Had a couple of fights with seniors, had trouble adjusting to hostel life and many such things. A month passed and we now had our college fest. There was an array of events, but I was waiting for the one special event, the Giddah. A folk dance often performed by punjabi women. The long wait came to an end, and the dance started. She danced beautifully, a true copy of the traditional method. The dress, the music, the steps, the expressions. I didn't realize it then, but I was slowly falling into love. A few days later I found myself looking for her, staring at her unintentionally. Everything about her was amazing now, she had now become the most punjabi a girl could ever be, it couldn't be better than this. But it was unlikely of me to be taking steps. Falling in love was always a one way affair for me.

Time passed and passed. Each day I would wake up feeling more and more miserable about myself, the pain the burden of love was inflicting upon me was growing more and more intolerable with each day that passed. I wasn't too good at keeping secrets. One friend found out, another friend out, their friends found out, the whole college found out, she found out! It wasn't a secret anymore, all that remained was a direct confession, something I tried hard to avoid. For the moment I would pacify my heart by stealing glimpses of her.

At times I would flirt with the idea of having a relationship with her, thinking about what could happen and possibly go wrong if I was to propose her and express my love. A deep rooted realization that she would never say yes always prevented me from making a fool out of myself. But I wasn't the only one falling in love, it was happening all around me. Every second day a guy would propose a girl and love would happen. With each successful story coming out the burden on my heart grew. I had to do it, I can't live like this, this has gone on for too long, I have to end it. If she said yes, then it would be all rosy and glossy and if she said no, then at least I might try to get over it. I cant live like this any longer now! But still, I couldn't sum up the courage to do it.
The worse possible happened, two other guys had by now fallen in love with her. I would see them making moves towards her. One of them was a huge guy, quite muscular, and I wondered if I would be able to take on him in a hand to hand fight.

By now, the second college fest had come around. Love was a thing that happened mostly around fests in my college. Strangely all the guys would choose this same time to propose. I knew I would have to do it this time around. The fest lasted 3 days. Each day I would prepare myself, I have to do it today, and do nothing. The last night of the fest, I walked upto her, and walked past. Towards the end I sighted her again, but she was with the other guy, he had flowers in his hand, flowers for her. The heart sank, I have missed the window. I thought to myself, had i done it yesterday or an hour back ...

The whole night, I spent thinking about her, thinking about the flowers she had received. "Why, why didn't I do it?". I stepped into the college with a heavy heart next day. Still thinking hard about all that had gone wrong. The day proceeded and I didn't look even once at her. Sometime later in the day I found out, NO!, she hadn't been proposed to, not yet. A new hope!

I returned back home feeling much better about it all. The delight definitely visible on my face, but one important question remained, would I cash on this opportunity or not? A debate followed where I was ridiculed by my friends for my inability to do something about it. The heat moved in and I boldly proclaimed, "I'm gonna do it tomorrow, yes I will!". They all laughed about it and bet me a sum of Rs.500. I had to do it now, I had to. I spent the whole night planing what I'm going to say, how I'm going to approach her, how I'm gonna get around to confessing my crime! I had each line planned out.

The D-day was upon me and I grew nervous with each passing hour into the day. Around 2pm I decided to go for it. Scouts were sent out and she was traced to the library. I sat outside the library for half an hour or so looking at her through the window, still not sure if I'm going to be able to do it, practicing my lines over and over again.

"Go get her Shwait!", to which he gleefully troded away. All the while I wished, I wished I could call him back, hold him back from approaching her, but he was already out of my reach and into her sight. Through the window I saw him gently lean over her shoulders and whisper into her ears. Her head turned and she looked at me, our eyes clashed and my heart froze. For the next 15-20 seconds that she took to reach me, I could feel the numbness spread from my feet to the brain. The heart skipped a beat too many and yet pounding like a fish out of water. I tried my best to control it, but all attempts failed.

"Hi Jiwa, Shwait said you wanted to talk to me!", the expressions on her face told me that she knew what was coming her way. The fear was obvious. It didn't make it any easier for me, it left me paralyzed. With much strength I said what I did...

"You obviously know what I'm here for! It isn't easy for me but I want to tell you, whatever you have heard is true. Yes, I'm in love with you. I don't know how it happened and when it happened, but it just did. I'm sorry, for I have been unable to conceal my feelings well enough. I know it must have been hard for you, all the people ridiculing you about me. I wish I could take it away! No... please let me complete what I have started. I do realize that you do not feel the same way about me, I do not blame you for that. I'm not here expecting anything from you, but it had become essential that I express my feelings for you, I had to do it. I don't require you to give me an answer as in yes or a no. You don't have to say anything, it is just that I had to express myself to you. I'm not proposing a relationship! I don't need an answer, I don't need to give you time to reply to me. I know this can't work out. I know you don' love me! I hope you understand I had to do it. I'm sorry for any discomfort my actions might have caused you and hope you forgive me!"

I started to walk off and she ...

"Jiwa... listen...", I interrupted...

"No, please don't say anything, I'm sorry once again"

And then I walked off. I can't say that it made it any easier for me. It hadn't helped me the way I thought it would. I went home straight away, didn't have the strength to wait for the bus. I was alone at home, felt the cold tears dropping out of my eyes. A part of me was glad, for I had done it. "Yes! I have proven it to myself, that I am man enough to do it". The other part cursed me, cursed me for doing it. I knew what was coming. I would be the laughing stock of the college. But that is not what bothered me the most. I was worried...

"Would I be able to live without her? All the dreams I had seen of being together, what about them? Would life be the same? No, I can't live without her! Why, why did you tell her that you don't need a reply? She could have said yes! She might have! I know I can't live without her".

Nothing seemed to sooth the pain that night. I didn't emerge out from the under the blanket that evening when my friends came home. I avoided seeing them the next morning too, until they had left for college, I didn't go. Just didn't have the courage to face any one anymore. Everyone in the college would have known about it by now!

I tried hard to come over the pain which was still sending salty water down my cheeks. I resorted to music and the only thing I could find was Marc Anthony. I didn't know how fatal the choice would be. It didn't make it any easier...

"Look at me
I'm not the man I used to be
When she smiles at me
I live the light I used to see
There she goes, and I know
on my own I'm not whole
Can't believe she can't see
That she's taking the best part of me"

These words delivered a fatal blow. Days went past, and I tried hard to overcome the pain of my failure. I knew I said all the wrong things. It was no way to propose, she wouldn't have said yes to such a lousy proposal. I should have let her speak, I should have listened to what she had to say. But I guess I knew, that I would be better of living with the hope that she might have said yes rather than knowing that she said no. However, things became easier after some days. I discovered that she was already in a 5 year long relationship. Later, I was glad it didn't work out, for reasons that I prefer not to disclose here coz at least till some point of time she was the one I loved.

As time passed by, I got over her. We managed to get into fights. Reasons I still prefer not to disclose. After three years I managed to fall in love again, with some one else. But a lot was different this time. It somehow wasn't the same thing as before. The feeling, the desperation, the craving, was somehow not so intense. It just wasn't. I tried hard, hard to figure it out. I wanted to feel the same level of emotional desperation again, but it just didn't happen. Perhaps my heart had now become immune to the pain, maybe it was still in there but I just couldn't feel it anymore. Oh I wish I could feel the emotions of first love once again. I want the pain back!

What made me write this? Rachel Miller! She is the one responsible, and I totally blame her for it. Once she came out with a post called "The First". To which I had gladly commented...

"A woman never forgets her first love, and a man cant forget his last love".

I guess I'm eating my own words now!

Saat phere!

**tring tring! .....

Me: Satsriakal mumma!
Mum: Hello Raja! ...

**Couple of minutes later...

Mum: Ahh beta! Just three more months left now for your graduation. You must be feeling good about it.
Me: Ya sort of, but not really.
Mum: Why? Don't you want to graduate?
Me: Oh yes I do, but I'm sad that I will have to leave my friends.
Mum: Oh beta, It is all a part of life. Developing new relationships where ever you go and then letting go of it.
Me: Ya, but still.
Mum: Don't worry you will get over it once you get married.
Me: Married"!?"
Mum: Yes ofcos, you come home, we have already started looking for a girl.
Me: Cmon mum, you cant be serious. I'm just 22, how the hell can you possibly be thinking of marrying me off?
Mum: The boy is not married off, it is the girl that is married off as she is the one who has to move into a new place.
Me: You know what i meant. Cmon, I'm not going to have this discussion with you. God, how can you possibly think of my marriage.
Mum: What cmon? You have to get married one day, you know that! Wont you get married?
Me: No no no! I aint gettin married, that is just not happening.
Mum: Ohh I see, so you already have a girl in mind then?
Me: Mummy, stop it please!
Mum: Oh you can tell me you know.
Me: No, I don't have a girl, and I'm not getting married, not now, not ever!
Mum: Raja, you have to get married. Now is the right age.
Me: Oh god, I'm not having this conversation with you, I'm keeping the phone. Bye bye, ask dad to call me when he is free.

**cut!

**tring! tring!.....

Me: Yes mom, what is it now.
Mum: How can you say that you wont get married. It has to happen...... eventually.
Me: Nooooo! Stop buggin me ma.
Mum: You see, now you are 22, so by 23 you should get married, because young couples look really beautiful, as they get to enjoy life. Get married now, enjoy life with your wife for 4-5 years. Go to places, see the world before you have to start thinking of having kids.
Me: Have kidssss"!?" Mom what the hell is wrong with you?
Mum: What? You wont have kids now?
Me: Oh god, this must be a bad day.
Mum: Rajaaa! These are facts of life, you have to have kids some day and ...
Me: Stop it maa....
Mum: You know Shilpa, your sister's friend?
Me: Ya I do! So?
Mum: Oh I just met her a few days back and I think she would make a lovely wife for you...
Me: Stop it ma, I'm so not having this conversation, this is over, bye bye, and don't call me again!

**cut!

**tring tring! (calling my friend up)

Friend: Hello!
Me: Hey guess what?
Friend: What?
Me: My mum is gettin me married soon after my graduation, how cool is that. Great!!
Friend: !@#$%^&* Grrrr!

**This post is a tribute to all those brave souls out there that pretend that they don't want to get married! :)

**Saat phere = Something we do in Indian marriages
**Beta = Son
**Satsriakal = Hello
**Raja = My pet name
**Shilpa = Fictional name, couldn't use the real name now could I!

Aging

Life, oh dear life! I think I have tried to keep it as simple as possible, constantly running away from any sort of complexity. It was never a choice, but more of a necessity for me. I just can’t stand complexities. Everything has been simple; always! Family relationships, friendships, or any other social relationships for the matter. The moment something got too complex for me to handle, I would abandon it and look beyond. This often required giving up on friends or bringing an end to such a relationship. If I liked someone, then it came without any strings attached to it. So there were always and always only two categories; people I like and the people I dislike.

Yesterday while waiting for a bus, I saw this very old woman walk up towards me. Probably in her 80’s she could hardly walk but still trying. I think I have always been good with elderly. No matter how impatient otherwise.

“Are you waiting for the 303?”

It is the only bus that passes through that bus stop connecting it to the rest of the “world”, so I answered with a simple polite “Yes”.

“You are a long way from home son!” with a gentle smile no different than what I often see on my grandma’s face.

My lips spread wide into a smile again, still trying to figure out as to what she might have meant. Unable to do so, I asked “Do you mean in Sydney or India?”

“You are a Sikh! Are you not?” answering my question with another question!

At that moment I gleamed with pride, a Caucasian knew what my identity was, till date very few people that I have met actually knew as to what Sikhs are. It feels good to be recognized, oh yes it does. Just imagine how screwed up you would be in a similar situation where someone tells you that you are Pakistani, Fijian or Bangladeshi. So this indeed was sweet; sweet as in nice. The conversation continued for another odd half an hour or so. We boarded the same bus, I helped her onto it, all the while thinking of my grandmother back at home in India. In the little less than half hour, she narrated to me a short version of her entire life’s story.

Her youth, her first love, the second world war, her brother in army, herself in army, the downfall of Japanese, her first marriage, her first child, her first car, her farms, her divorce, her second marriage, her second child, her third child, her second car, her third car and so on.

I just sat there looking into her eyes all the time, pretending to be listening to her while lending in an ear to my own thoughts.

Why? Why is she narrating all this to me?

Not really a question for me. All these years that I have spent with my grandparents, I learnt something, they all need one thing, someone to talk to. No matter what they talk about, they just need to know that someone is still there, some one still willing to listen to them, give them their time and attention. Someone to tell them, that yes, they are still an integral part of my world.

Back at home every night before I went to sleep, I would go into my grandmother’s room; always find her watching T.V. waiting for me to come in. I would sit besides her and she would run her hand on my forehead and then kiss it. Then I would massage her back and legs while she would narrate a totally new story from her life to me. She says the massage helps her fall asleep. I doubt it! I think all she wanted was my company, for me to sit besides her, for her to be able to tell me that once she was no different than I am, that she too had a life once.

A simple life, with complexities no different than the ones I face!