Painless

The incessant setbacks in the path to my goal are reflected in this poem, penned after the latest disappointment.

It's 7 now,
in a row,
Six years gone,
slogging,
with anticipations,
with visuals,
of success,
that remain
where they take birth,
still there.

While others,
they've raced ahead,
piled up reserves,
work experience,
some married,
some dads,
travellers,
and their trekking fads.

Experts, they are,
with break-free careers.

And here,
a huge gap,
no specialization,
half-jack of all trades.
Uniform, yes,
knowledge, rare.
General knowledge,
oh yeah,
that habit,
of binge-watching the newspapers.

The desire to rise,
the sick road taken,
the idealism,
that started it all,
is flickering,
those 'reforms',
the 'selflessness',
is stuttering,
facing essential questions,
is it OK to be selfish?
It might well be.

The determination,
is all but gone,
the thought of,
having missed,
the sceneries around
the 'determined' road,
haunts,
or have I not
missed much?

But there are stories,
of miracles,
of last-ditch attempts,
the final push,
the 'Do-or-die' fevour,
that mattered in the end,
all guilts evaporated,
pain forgotten,
'impossible' was proscribed.

The vigor must remain,
cool head,
careful analysis,
for these 7 may have
been due a reason,
What reason?
He knows.

Calmness,
diligence,
smart work,
concentration-
all needed.
For anyways,
it's already painless now.

The Happy Road

I turn, and I enter
the dim road,
brought into shape,
by a street lamp.

Travellers,
hardly any,
maybe a rare cyclist,
like me, or
a daily wage earner.

Residents,
many.
A tree,
dancing merrily with wind,
'content in solitude'.
Few shops,
workers tending machines,
the waiting barber, and
a lady, tired,
of ironing the 'rich' clothes,
the iron lady.

A school,
haunted,
till the morning bell.

The 'party' plot,
dark and lonely,
after the last night glitter.

At the far end,
a tea stall,
with an odd guest.
Adjoining the roadside temple,
the ringing bell,
of faith,
the sleepy priest.
And outside,
his partner,
the florist,
sifting the dead ones.

But the road,
it is happy,
to rest,
to roll,
basking in the moonlight.

Where does it lead to?
My mind.

P.S: I enjoy cycling on weekends these days. A particular street I cross, caught my attention and led to this poem.

No Longer The Studying Kind

Wrote the following paragraph on 23rd March 2010 (2nd year of B.Tech). Things certainly had changed from school to college:

There were school days when I used to enjoy studying, how eagerly I did my homework and how good were the teachers. But now, it has been long since I met books. This bloody laptop, through which I am writing my feelings is a damn idiot thing, that is responsible. On the whole I am myself responsible for this ordeal. There's nothing such as true interest left in me. Study just a day before, grasp the facts as much as you can. In the friend circles, we enjoy a lot but dedication is no longer to be seen. To a college student of today's era, my thoughts may seem cynical. The "chill" attitude that I have developed, troubles me a lot. Somewhere I miss that tint of contentedness that I used to have doing my home work myself, and not copying it two minutes before the deadline, like we do here today. You see the student who is my age group studying in MIT, is still thinking of solving that silly problem he faced developing the algorithm or visualizing the graphics of that game and I ? Full of remorse, days passing by .... I may get a job, then we would recall that how much fun we used to have, but true to heart maybe a pinch of guilt will continue to remain. I heard that life comes only once.....God help me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Interview: Before it began

So much of a build-up, multiple climaxes that mind makes up and gives berth to fears - at least that's been the case with me for last few years before any important event is to take place. Including this one, the UPSC civil services interview. Thank God, who gives the courage that helps us soldier on. One moment I am in the Dafuq-HAHA-I-failed mood after mains 2014 failure, and now I am happy-cum-surprised over having been in tense, but calm corridors of UPSC.

Got up at around 8 in the morning, rushed to get the elusive newspaper in TG's Lajpat Nagar's by-lanes, for the probability of a question being asked from that day's paper is high. Sadly, couldn't locate a paper boy. But, I could get my face shaved to look prepared a bit. Thereafter, had milk and bread as breakfast, until Gopal and Amit (Mota) arrived with paraphernalia (like shoe polish). Got shirt and pant ironed....and fast forward to gate number 2 of UPSC Bhavan, the British era block with multiple security checks. On inquiring the guard who was checking my roll number against the list, he told that my number was the first on the list. A solace? Or a BAM, 'Come on kid!! We were waiting for you so long'. Some document verification and a little glance on newspapers of the day (all of them except The Hindu were on the table, as if deliberately done so) and jovial talks from fellow interviewees. After that we were taken to the core of UPSC bhavan where office of the Commission members are located. 

The Idea

He gets ready, 
verses on his lips apace, 
his inner self brims with excitement,
the fear of the unknown has been cornered,
the preacher enchants few last lines,
"to ensure a smooth passage", he confirms, 
fastening the belt,
off the boy's back.
"Heaven awaits you", promises he,
no inkling of what it looks like.

He's young, restless,
greenish eyeballs, hugs an idea,
the idea of bookish world,
"unjust world full of disbelievers",
that shall be reformed.
"Reformed" with explosives,
and blood as solvent,
of those, who draw cartoons,
of those, who doubt Him,
of those, who question faith,
to avenge injustice meted out,
to his God.

The shrapnel luggage
turns out to be a bit heavier,
but he needn't stand,
he'll drive the van,
into the market,
as if a vegetable van,
but instead supply fresh death,
to vendors, homemakers,
onlookers and by-standers.

He begins,
for his last stop,
verses run on his 'head'lines,
he speeds up,
so does the uneasiness,
a stray 'why?' crosses his mind,
an idea, but not firm enough.

The horn blares,
recklessly,
follows a zig-zag trail,
until a thud! 

Ashes, 
limbs, fluids,
scattered,
the lad, young and
restless, 
flesh and bones vanish,
undone,
becomes an idea,
a failed one,
maybe, and
Heaven, did he reach there?
No idea,
no messages yet.

Days of Hope

The title describes the political or maybe social atmosphere that prevails today with Mr. Prime Minister determined to reach each and every citizen. With extensive use of social media and his extempore speeches, he is out to broom away the hopelessness that had become synonymous with the previous regime. Attractive schemes, catchy slogans, jargon used in his speeches - the ones in his team preparing them and the faithful government public relations machinery (AIR/Doordarshan/PIB) - must be working real hard. 

All these point out to the fact the government is moving to the "governance" paradigm with all stakeholders involved in its decision-making. 

Citizens - Yes. How?
PM's portal - mygov.in - is being used to take suggestions to alleviate the popular problems that beset the common man. 

Market - Yes. How?
Addressing business tycoons with his "Make in India" campaign and pitching for foreign investment from businessmen in all the countries he has toured since.

Civil Society - Partly.
Say, a NGO, dedicated to the cause of cleanliness will find it helpful that government is serious about cleanliness and in a way, supplement its efforts. A field-level official implementing PM's vision will try to redouble his efforts by involving all the willing partners. 

On the other hand, but the Green NGOs are going to have tough time and it is in their ability to keep in touch with people and keep their efforts going without govt support, that the future of environmental activism lies. Dilution of several green laws is already being cried out loud.

Bureaucrats at top levels must be the busiest lot with a demanding and inquisitive leader of political executive guiding them.  

On the whole, favorable market conditions, camaraderie that he has shown with meeting regional as well as global leaders plus issues pertinent to common man like women safety and empowerment - all are adding up to his aura. He too believes that faith reposed by people in him is immense. We, as citizens, are bound to have soaring expectations from him.

For that, we have to cooperate with him by participating in the govt schemes as "governance" is a shared space where one-sided efforts are bound to fail. 

But at the same time, we have to realize that govt needs to be reminded of its shortcomings whenever they occur and not get lost in one-man's aura. All platforms including govt's own have to be utilized to criticize all the wrongs. As social harmony may find itself cornered with "majoritarian" vigor rising these days (or so claimed by the Opposition parties), it is upon us to be a mature citizenry and douse such fears. As it is commonly said, "Eternal vigilance is price of liberty".

Depending upon how we use this opportunity provided by a pro-active leader, will depend how far we achieve all the dreams he has shared with us in past few months. 

The Charminar

I've heard people loathing Charminar a lot, with not much to see around it. But I've held rather contrary views, as not only the towers but also the people around it, the bustling marketplace, the vibrant mosque - comprise of the grandeur of this monument. What's better than visiting it when it is at its peak rush (3rd August). We had initially planned it for around 4am in the morning, as suhoor begins and capturing life and religion early morning would be a new experience for us. That we have led nocturnal lives for pretty much of our half-a-decade of existence in this city, couldn't stop us from planning at least. But when it came to implementation, it was as "perfect" as our resolves, that at the beginning of each semester used to be. So finally, it was in the evening (after playing the game) that we set out in our kurtas and pyjamas (chitta chaadra) and beard in somewhat-Muslim style. With jam-packed roads leading to the old city area and police and commandos guarding every nook and corner, it is all light show in the month of Ramazan that sets the region ablaze. But, wait, there's more to it. Not only Ramazan but also Hindu festivities continue with full vigour. We came across a procession with Hindu deities flowing past the well-lit congested roads and all the by-standers (even Muslims) watching eagerly. It was a part of Bonalu festival celebrations (learnt about it only the next day from newspaper), with constant rhythm of dholz enthralling the dancers that lead procession.

We parked our bike at a point where there was hardly any space and set out to explore the flashy shops, carts that have dozens of people particularly the burka-clad women. The surroundings reminded me of the hustle and bustle that covers the city back home during navratras and Diwali. Two narrow passages led to Charminar, with all types of flashy things to attract women. Some vendors even using mikes to announce their attractive and slashed offers to woo the passersby. Festivities are one of those moments that bring us closer, together. Pretending to be models, we were moving through those passages imagining them as the ramp. Just at the minar, we could see 2 men fist-fighting with each other (over a bag), another aspect of the large congregations we usually have - sort of a showstopper, after which normal pace resumes. Also, special commandos were to be seen moving around to maintain 'law and order' under control. It is the fear of communal clashes that brings them into the civilian areas, it's a pity. Bargaining is another interesting thing to be tried out there. Vendors start with too high a price, then their prices dip (as instantly as INR currency).

"Bhai, ye belt kitne ki?"
"Sir, 210"
"75 ki laga rahe ho?"
"Nahi sir, achi quality ki hai"
"Aage jayein kya?"
"Ok sir, 100 se kam nahi"

So that fall from 210 to 100 rupees was indeed drastic. Bargaining, that's what we are known worldwide for (Thanks to Russell Peters for that as well).

We relished Kahwa at one of the carts, checked out some scents available. From one of the carts, we could hear a young guy making announcements on mike, the way he made those were interesting. "Itar, itar, itar..ayiye ayiye, itar, itar, itar.." We tried capturing him in a video, only for him to be chided by his owner to concentrate on work and not on getting video-shot by us. We moved on, checking out a plethora of other items on display, there is this josh in atmosphere that tells you time and again, "life is indeed beautiful", and that we need to understand the ones around us in a better fashion, be more tolerant and forgiving.

Came back home late in the evening, leaving that vibrant and jubilant environs behind.