Teenage Gone As I turn 20 Today : Into Eighth Grade

An era has ended, the seven years that affected me a lot since mine inception, popularly called the 'teen-age', have left me. Drilling his pace through the woes of life, man often forgets what his past was, what its glory was and just aims to have a good future. Likewise, in 2 or 3 years, I will forget what my teenage was like and then regret that why has my foolish mind, the holder of short-tenured memory been so rude in storing and cherishing the past memories. But the sole reason is that your mind is so preoccupied with the present, that it has no room left for the past good memories. The urge to attain worldly benefits, outweighs the importance to remember one's past , to cherish , to thank Lord for all his blisses.

I had entered my teenage when I was in my eighth standard, the class, the standard that set my soar towards hard work. Before that in the school, I had long survived as a diligent but unconscious mind, who was involved in the mischiefs with the bad boys of the class. Good company and my teacher's timely scolding turned my path. It was in eighth standard, I knew what hard work is. Though the inference from the word 'hard work' was merely spending more time with the books, it was indeed an important development that was to guide me to the precise definition. Yatish, the class topper was inspiration for me. When he used to say that he would not sleep for days, myself, who had not seen the world after 10 pm, got something to ponder upon. I also began sleeping for sometime in the evening, then waking up late at night, increasing my wakening range up to midnight. Studying in the outer veranda (chaar-divaari), I enjoyed studying for the first time. That year was to give much to me. I got second position in the class after Aditi, and left him behind. It was like an unseeded player beating the champion unexpectedly. I was placed on the merit list, at stunning fifth position. I had realized that I could do something better to leave all behind. Kavita Anand madame's that scolding in the seventh standard also had made me full of fear. I had unnecessarily stretched the word 'madame' as 'mai-dum', which she heard and resorted strongly against it. She called me in the front of the whole class, made me stand besides the window and told Yatish to call Sandhu madame (Vice-Principal). The word 'Principal' had much more fear those days than 'Director' has these days. I began to cry, she stopped him from going and further scolded me and forbade me to do it again ever. Her fear terrorized me, I never did it again in her class. I tried to be erect. Realizing the efforts she undertook to teach us Social Sciences, I tried to study her subject with devout honesty. In the eighth final exams, in Social Studies paper, we had got two questions from out of syllabus , which I had studied and wrote confidently in the paper. But such narrow a line is, that separates confidence and over-confidence, I missed two in-syllabus questions. I wonder how come I even didn't see them....... how bad I felt, I missed 100 marks. It's not geeky nature of me, but I just wanted to give my best to the faith, she had shown in me. Hope I always honour her, and never forget any of my teachers. School is the best organization, I've ever entered into. The other teachers that taught me were Mathur madame - Science, Amarjit Madame - English, Anita Arora - Maths, Monica Arora - Hindi, Manju Bhardwaj Madame - Punjabi. Mathur mam, too, had full faith in me as I had studied from her in fifth standard as well. Even now, when I go to the school she meets with same eyes of faith in me, always rating me as a genius. I, sometimes, feel that I have done nothing to earn that faith in me. ALL HIS BOUNTY. Manju mam is into government job now. Amarjit mam teaches in the branch school, my sisters study from her. Whatever English, I know is because of the firm base she built. I recall when we used to collect 2 Rs fine, from the one who spoke in hindi or punjabi in the school premesis, even when there was no teacher. How honest we used to be. That era never comes again..

The Blind Eagle

Wrote this poem in school days....when creativity used to be at the fore - May seem to experienced poem writers....but still the original..........

He was born on footpath,
where only dogs, no else could bath.
His eyes were in the pockets of God,
But he was given a prize
despite that odd,
his brain was sharp as a twinkling
sword,
the courage he bore was only in
almighty God.
Father had reached the end,
Mother was nearby, but
she had the will to betray
the cruel fate.
Blindness was a bane, which
got on his body as a cane.
but his courage was his guard.
He learnt from his mother, the
notes of music and the poor
piano which he had his only
wealth and parents' will.
He got a glow inside,
and enthralled people side by side.
He grew to famous height,
but remembered mother-father,
with bright plight.
He was lowest in the overconfidence,
for "higher a person gets, lower
his self becomes."
He had not seen the sun, but
he was glowing Sun
who helped others discover that
who thinks that it is possible,
the winner is only that,
the winner is only that!!!!!!!

Quack Quake

Wrote this poem a few years ago(2005) in the wake of Kashmir Quake that rocked the Kashmir valley on a gloomy morning, the heaven of India's crown.

It goes like this....

He came early in the morning,
not the sun nor light did it bring,
just the doom for thousand lives,
on the back of death they did cling.

He betrayed the bright destiny,
by giving the pills of long sleep,
to those who hoped to start,
a sunny and lucky day and life.

He knew not the needs of people,
but only the time when it had
to come,
and turn the buildings and
dreams into the slums.

On earth, rested the sky-high towers,
and all the almighty larks,
and this unqualified, un-awaited,
guest did come to
quack us all.

The school, a temple did stand
last night,
to groom young minds whose,
future was bright.
But the sun did not shine,
the death did.
The future's inhabitants were
compressed under concrete structures,
wailing were their parents reading,
the graveyard scriptures.

It knew no bounds whether
POK or LOC but knew its
time to come and go, leaving
behind a pall of dense blurred,
futuristic snow.

Village........

'Village'...... and some images breeze past your retinal camera........ Those green fields..scarecrows....women besides the lake or the well....farmers ploughing the Goddess. My village that nestles in the Himachal Pradesh, called 'devbhoomi' or land of Gods. It can be located from far as those mud coloured huts can be viewed amidst the fields having two or three odd trees in the middle. Truly a site to behold.I forget all the woes on seeing that heavenly abode of serenity and greenery. Those stony paths, that lead amongst the tiny space between two neighboring houses, better call them 'homes'. Simple food, festivity on every little occasion and pro-nature activities allow them to be festive moods everyday, mega as compared to the city's so-called 'cool - guys' and similar such approaches that do nothing, but conceal their woes and chores. The nation's happiness lies in the rural, howsoever tech-blessed your cities are!!!!

Vande Matram : A Materpiece of Peace

Do listen to this serene vande matram....... Vande Mataram by sheldonvijieth

TIME......

If I am asked to imagine the strangest event in my life or tell the one which actually happened and was far beyond understanding, I would definitely say that it is the PASSAGE OF TIME. I sit at my seat in class, I imagine that just yesterday another one like us was sitting on the same seat listening to the teacher and now he has headed to a different venture in his life. He has reached at a different juncture in his life, and soon I will be replaced by another who will perform same routines that I have been into. This way, the life moves on, the Shakespeare's seven ages, seven roles will have to be performed by us all till we face THE DAY OF DECISION. My idea should not be linked to a pessimistic approach towards life. Life has in for us, whatever we want. It covers all the flavors, all seasons, all the deadly situations, all the moments of joy and all sorts of people to deal with. We have to squeeze the fruit of life lest it gets rotten and we realize that it's all over. Do enjoy every moment of your life, don't ever say this is a boring moment or day because that moment or day will wastefully become history with no output to aim of your life. Life Is The Most Precious Gift That Has Been Bestowed To Us By Him.

Early To Bed, Early To Rise

The famous quote has a lot of significance in our lives. I used to sleep early in my school days, but hostel has much to offer during the night time. All we owlish guys, become active during the night and sleep with a word of 'GOOD MORNING'.Going against the laws of nature deserves and surely has to confront nature's fury. It's a bad habit , I will try to make up for it and may God help me in my judgments!!!!