A Salute

The lives of heroes who go to war for their nation. Death in the process. But pride to take back. And many a tales follow about them. Our forefathers.

The venerable sergeant conveyed the order.

The lives of many being downplayed in moments

A shriek fills the air, followed by the mother's wails.

Their lives, quoted as examples, as old mens' tales.

The Light Bearer

Photograph clicked by me on a walk down Viman nagar:

I look behind and after
And find that all is right,
In my deepest sorrows
There is a soul of light.

-Swami Vivekanand

Rishi Valley 1: Family of a sort

The girl second from left wearing my Black Sabbath tshirt is Tejal Johri, a weird person from Varanasi who used to call me 'Duckie' in an obnoxious manner, as can be imitated perfectly by Poopy, her lover.The one on the right with a pink jacket is Chetana Sabnis. She's a freak from Bangalore who used to call me 'Sushipaa'.

These two were my 'Mommy's in my last two years in Rishi Valley. They were loving and caring, would reprimand me when I needed, etc. You know. The whole mother-daughter thing. And would fight over their claim on me too. It was really nice. :) Tejal is now embarrassed by it. Sad.

These two were the ones whom I always paper chatted with. Tejal sat next to me in 12th and my chit to her would have to be passed on to Chetu who sat in one corner, and only when she replied would I get to see the chit again. The three of us waited everyday after Prep with anyone else who would like to join us. We'd sit under the Plumeria tree or in the backyard and talk about the day's happening. We'd tease each other, laugh, cook illegal Maggi, etc together and would always look out for each other in things. Fights would be resolved ASAP because it was too hard.

On Tejal's last night in school, she packed and woke us up at 5 in the morning. Three more hours and she'd be gone. We managed to get up, brush, and get out of Amaltash. The last walk as the three of us in this place. We went to the spot beyond Lost Pond where we'd had a house camp the previous year. We could see the three hills-RishiKonda, Middle Peak and Bodi Konda. We saw the sunrise together. We sat there, discussing how life would change for us. Then, we sat in silence. It was beautiful and overwhelming. We went to Senior School where Madiath took our photograph with his digital camera, something he almost got caught with by Sid M. We then rushed back to the hostel. Tejal went to have her last breakfast while we did her last minute packing. Then, the vehicle came and she said goodbye and left. Poopy and me ran to the gate to say Goodbye once again. It hurt. We knew it would. But there are memories to cherish and a friendship that will never be deterred. I'm just really glad they joined in the 11th! :)

Love you Mommy (1&2)

Duckie/Sushipaa...

I miss you guys!!!

The Pianist

The drama in my life goes beyond words
Yet the music encaptures the breaths I am living for,
My soul,yet unconquered,yearns to touch thee,
But circumstances forbid me from doing so.
The lady next door,the German,plays it herself.
If i did touch thee,I'd be dead.
She hates me without even knowing
My identity(what I knew of it) is dead.

I see you now,I can touch you.
My soul is set free as I do so,
My heart skips another beat,I've been dead so long!
Notes flow through my fingers and my hand gains control of me.
The yearnings of my past years' deaths coming back to me.

Confused state of mind

Its so easy to relate to what others are feeling because of the universality of emotions. If that be true, is there really anything truly 'unique' in this world? Is there even anything 'original' considering there is a lot that can influence a person to come up with something new, be it an idea, lyrics, a painting. Who gave the right to anyone who 'invented' something to take credit for it? Could it not be possible that someone somewhere had created the same thing, but had not had the means to claim it as his own? Correct me if I am wrong in thinking this way. When someone says that they are non-conformists, are they not conforming to the ideology of non-conformism? I am not propagating it, but why can violence not be justified? Not everyone has to go by Gandhi's " An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind". Alongside violence comes love-for your spouse, for family, for your country, for your child. You see grave injustice committed against a loved one. Your child is killed by a robber trying to steal a few thousand rupees from your wife's cupboard. He is an innocent six-year-old boy who happened to enter his mother's room because he had been hit by the household help for getting the floor dirty. He only wanted consolation from his mother, who had stepped out to buy vegetables for the house.Instead, he was greeted by the robber, who was not expecting company. In his fear of the boy screaming for help, he shot him. Would the boy's father not want to avenge his son's death, even if it meant more bloodshed? Would that be 'violence' too? Who draws that thin line between right and wrong nowadays? Was just curious to know, since my conscience seems to be failing me of late

Delusional

This poem was based on 'The Reader' (For those of you who have seen it and remember the characters played by Kate Winslet and Ralph Fiennes). For those who have not seen the movie/do not remember the intensity of the characters, take it just as any other poem.

It bothered him that he had not achieved his dream.

It bothered her that she had been in a delusion the whole while.

A delusion of the love that he seemed to have offered.

Of the vows he pretended to take up.

Of the facade of a happy life together.

Of the umpteen memories,now too distant.

The fading away of once cherished times from her mind spoke for themselves.

She knew that she had been defeated.

All her life,she had taken everything that had come her way.

And now,it would all end.

By any means pursued,she would detatch herself completely,

The last thing she had to do.

Help!

This is a poem I just found written in one of my note books and decided to put it up.Though the feelings it expresses are in the past, the rush of the feelings again is overwhelming.

Help!

I cannot do this alone

I cannot keep walking the path of knowing.

I want to divert,yet again,

And step into that undiscovered lair,

No proof.

No sense.

A plunge into the world of dark,false hopes,waiting in corners to seize.

I'd rather the smile be shunned,

The only permitted feeling,pain.

For that is the only familiarity in this soulless dirty living.

A part of me ripped out,

Holding on to pathetic memories,and photographs,and scents.

They'll do me no good in the long-run,

My memory will fail me.

That is the fate I deserve,

And what I wish Thee grant me.

Blurry

Underlying the fear within was the deep irony of it all,

To carry the loss be the deed done today.

And tomorrow.

For years to come shall it reside in me

Thoughts so deep one could drown.

In the breathlessness of the moment,

Emerging from nowhere,

Surrounded by the graves unburied,

Conviction needed to accept it.

To bear the loss alone I am willing

For it is mine own to bear.

After the decades of rotting,the belief shattered,

The legacy left behind.

Unclaimed.

Lost in time.

No escape

Entrapped in a world of singularity,

I feel alone, lost in the complexity,

It’s a new world I enter without you by my side.

Its new and scary, the rules I must abide by.

It’s been untold but understood that I must forget you

I despise my fate for having made me ever meet you!

Were you not in my life today I'd be free,

With myself and my thoughts, I wouldn’t disagree.

I'm happy it was you, and I miss the times

That we shared over the days, thirty-nine,

I know I’m selfish but I wish you didn’t leave

From neither me nor others can my pain be conceived.

You've touched a part of me that noone else has

My soul, if I have it, is now yours till my last...

And I saw her standing there...

The girl I've clicked in the photograph is Megha Bisaria.

Someone who lives in her own world and sometimes forgets how to get back to reality.

A friend, when needed and when she's not.

Funny, in an unconventional sense.

Has many blonde moments but yet, loveable.

Dances AMAZINGLY,especially to Papi Chulo and Head of My Class.

Food taste just like me-a lover of spices, Italian, Chinese, and the like.

Weird, in a good way.

In other words, one of my best friends.

Love you, Meg-Meg(I love embarrassing you. Sorry!)