The Twenty First Birth

The journey is never so much about changing landscapes,as seeing them with new eyes........

A Phoenix's rebirth.


The olympics exemplifies the very ideals that man has stood for....over centuries.

Man's eternal quest to overcome nature....pushing himself, excruciatingly, punishingly, inch by inch, beyond boundaries that are only human.the spirit to achieve.....to shine among a galaxy of millions....to posses the olympic halo that pronounces one the ultimate victor.


The greatest show on earth.


A personification of all that man can, ever, achieve. An embodiment of man's ultimate aspirations,dreams, desires.............



But my blog is not about this already talked to death about topic.No. its about another talked to death about topic.



A certain Abhinav Bindra.Who sent billions into a celebrating frenzy.

A socerer who reincarnated a whole nation.he has come to symbolise that eternal hope for India. Awakening a long awakening spirit; a victors will to conquer.

Maybe brought us those few precious moments when the quaint, ancient tunes of

Jana Gana fill us with a passionate pride.


Somehow, very strangely, economics, business, five year plans, public sector....

all fade away beside the figure of this slight man. Or maybe we just choose to ignore all else beside him. its a rare enough indulgence.



i have always believed, india with its teeming populations can stand tall....... a giant dwarfing giants. my country's strength.....its youth.



Watch it rising like a Phoenix. For though India has the makings of a shambles, it also has the potential to be a celebration of life.


Pain.....

Pain is not romantic. It is ugly , vicious, parasitic. There isnt any glory, there isnt any praise associated with it. Nothing to make the pain feel worthwhile. It is unjust, unfair and merciless. it brings charity and sympathy , never empathy. And
all too often, it brings sadistic pleasure. Lapierre was wrong : there is no heroism in suffering . the human spirit is resilient. It survives. Nearly always.

I LOVE MY COUNTRY............


Cynicism is as easy to catch as malaria and far more dangerous.especially for the young people.we pick it up like an echo from professors, from movies,from one another.


it sounds adult. sophisticated.worldly wise.One who knows.


Another 15 august is upon us.The daily papers have daily news of daily disasters.This horrible country. Why cant we be like England? America? Australia? Canada? Anywhere?you see, its all these filthy politicians.its all because of our education system. its all a matter of population.its all because we are a tropical country. Its all because we are simply illiterate.All the stuff about helping the poor-what can you do with millions and millions of them? what are we paying taxes for? stop right there.



There is indeeed a lot that is wrong with us.The thing is, that there is a lot that there is wrong with every country in the world.I would not like to be in a country that despises me because im brown. In a country where everyone has a gun and is likely to shoot me because they feel like it. Where i would be treated as contemptibly inferior. where they havent got a language they can call their own and little enough culture.whre my religion makes me a terrorist.



No. i think I would prefer this country that I live in. On. With. For.



I am proud of my roots.Of a country that defied empires to arrive at freedom,even if we have made a bit a mess of that freedom, freedom it still is and we are working at it. This land flows in my blood, breathes in mylungs, pumps in my heart.




Welcome 15th August.

Vagaries..........

it couldnt have been him. No . Of course not.Even as he lay wounded and dying, he was desperate for one thread of of assurance ,a glance,an indication,an iota of someone's belief....... a whisper that could put his tortured conscience , finally,to peace that had eluded him for years......in the last thereos of life,one often hears...........scenes of life flash before one's life................. then was he dying??? Maybe. Probably.



Somebody was shifting the venetian blinds.............and bright sunlight filtered in..............

"tomar bondhu esheche"

"ke? ashish?"

"hmm"


..................it was such a sunny morning..............how could it have turned into one of darkest days of his life????????

life was fast ebbing out of him..................he was now aware of a numbness that was gripping him...........how long before he turned cold????........


the highway was in perfect condition.........perfect enough for a real spin before college................the sensations were so real........... flying through the air................great music.......
heavenly day.


Blackness was spreading over his eyes............blurred streetlights in the distance....... honking horns all fading away........maybe he might yet find peace...

........Ashish's smashed face loomed large..........what had happened???? how had Ashish died???
surely he wasnt responsible??? No,of course not. wasnt that what his mum had told him??? his dad had repeated???



Maybe he'd ask Ashish. Ashish always spoke the truth.

heyyyyyy......lyfe;s just startin..............

that was me.strolling down the beautiful lawn of my college on what was the first day at college.......it felt like a dream..........and like with all good dreams,i was soon jerked out of my reveries......my teachers.....?(.oops,sorry...lecturers they are called i was told.)gave me a rude shock.





the kind that not merely wakes u up- it throws you off the bed and onto the floor and makes you run right out the door...............





college SIX DAYS A WEEK?? ???




right from 10 in the morning to 4.30 in the evening????????



she couldnt have been serious......im sure of that.
somebody has a sense of humor.


attendance for all the classes taken in the SAME REGISTER??? so that if you attend one class you have to attend all?????????????




a lunch break for only 15 MINUTES????(i mean even in the jail some people call school we had half an hour to satiate ourselves....)



my college athourities call it discipline.
actually , its more like child labour. i mean its just not legal.


truly.......;" colourful clothes do not a college make".
we live in constant hope.im sure im dreaming.im having a nightmare.somebody please, please
wake me up!!!

7 things I learnt from school.

1.the best thing about going to school is the ride back home.

2.breaking rules doesnt necessarily necessarily mean disrespecting authority.

3.the most charming people can be really and truly rotten inside.

4.you can tell a lot about people by looking at how they treat theit infereiors.

5.there is always a next exam to do better in .

6.perhaps the best knowledge imparted .........is in those ungaurded moments when teachers dont teach....

7.long after you've left people behind,somtimes on rainy days..............u remember not how many papers they topped in........but how they made you feel when you sat beside them in class....

PS:this'll be my last post about school.I promise.