Small poem .. written 2 yrs ago

Facebook showed that I wrote it exactly 2 years ago. Must have been super upset with society.

Life changes. Change lives. A moment sun rises. A moment sun sets. Moment changes. Life changes.

The wrath of Sun will only hurt the one not willing to change his stand. But his stand was his life. But, Life changes.

That famous tree which did not fall, was willing to shed the ego so tall. Adamant egos died a change. Change lives.

Only change lives. Society you will not live unchanged.

Efforts in a Joint Family

It can be really frustrating and disappointing at seeing that the very thing that you wanted to prevent by taking an action has actually happened, only because you did what you think was the right way to prevent that thing.

Half of the day is spent in sorting out the differences and moderating the mood in the atmosphere. There are bunch of expectations from the new member of the house, expectations related to food, dress, size, family handling and also that the new member, the daughter in law has kept the parents' son happy.

The son comes with his own set of expectations. The wife should not bring disturbance in his peaceful house. She should be taught how she will live with his parents. How the elder or younger brother will have to be seen and dealt with like the husband has been doing. That she should not stop her studies and how she can squeeze time out from her busy schedule to study.

The wife comes with her own fears and with sole dependence on her husband, who is the main mediator and anchor for the family, till the time the wife settles in. She cries at the scold of the parents in law but only on the shoulder of her husband, who can not question his parents because the things that the parents told the wife to do have been there in his house for long. He has to keep balance so that neither the parents feel offended that their son is asking them to change their way of living, nor that the wife thinks that her husband is taking her lightly and is only concentrated on his parents.

Sometimes, the efforts backfire. And the mediator becomes the receiving end from both the sides! Neither his parents remain happy from him, because he had done something as a husband which was not acceptable as a son, not his wife agree with what he would have done, as she thought that it was her and her parents' in law matter and he should not have interfered in the process.

In the whole process, the air of the family gets heated up and no cooler or ac can cool it down. Again the anchor of peace in the house makes efforts to get the train back on track.

In this process, half of the day gets easily spent. And another half gets spent in office. Whole day goes away in stuff not enriching anyone, but only maintaining a long family.

p.s.: If you want to build a startup,, there is no good or bad time if you are strong willed and a risk taker, but if you want to maintain the already existing structure and add on bricks to it, be it family or anything else, the best time to do it would be when you are in your early 20s, when there is little more to zero responsibilities on your head! :)

Fire in Ideas

Ideas have great values. Their potential brings light to everyone around. Every second individual I meet has some idea or another in his mind. Humans are made of such sort of chemical which makes them forget that they exist when an idea that appeals their mind comes in front of them. They become one with the idea and after sharing their soul with the idea nurture the embryo of idea thus conceived.

 And its not just limited to ideas related to technology or any consumer specific problems, or the idea of a free nation or any ideology. An idea itself is not limited to any field. It will emerge anywhere, to anyone, whosoever wishes to change the things, for good or bad.

Hope is the soul of an idea. And it is something that never fades away. Even to a dying person, there is a hope of a better next life. Hope keeps the life flowing even to  a sinking, tired and dying sun, that it will rise again the next day. That the next day will be defined because of him only. A failed idea in a similar way will reemerge with greater prominence than before.

Fortunately most of the ideas emerging in contemporary time are for benefit of species here. As skills of people increase and efficient solutions to problems come in their minds, their souls, passion and hope of idea becoming successful combine to create an environment most conducive for their baby to flourish at good speed healthily. With time, this world is likely to become a better place with more people involved in solving problems than just a bunch of their representatives who, already occupied with large scale problems, find the small scale problems difficult to reach to without the people's support.

Successful ideas would fetch the creators a lifetime of satisfaction and monetary benefit comes as a bonus, though that's what most of the entrepreneurs set out to achieve as a primary goal. Some succeed in achieving this as primary goal, but many fail, because the goal was not backed by an appealing idea. The next version, emerging due to the hope alive even in the discarded idea, would be more refined and possibly more appealing.

The young and fresh come up with better solutions, or we can say that because the young are going to occupy the drivers seat in future, the solutions provided by them would be more valid in future. Hence they should be valued. Their ideas should be valued. Their potential, the hope of great power the world would be with them getting stronger, should be firmly believed. The spark in their eyes should be kept bright. We are seeing technology based solutions emerging in today's India, which are precise, scalable, least inefficient and easily accessible. But solutions are to be  found out in more domains. Social entrepreneurship is need of the time, and ngos like Goonj, Naz Foundation are doing appreciable work in this regard. Solutions related to agriculture, climate change, religious tolerance, better economics and many others are still pending and are open to the dynamic youth to take grip of and bring a better change in the world we live.

It is the ideas that keep us alive. Hope becomes a soul which is undoubtedly the most important ingredient any life needs, but in physical domain, the realisation of idea is what keeps us moving, active, and sails us through the daily turbulence of life. 

1, 2 and 3 days

Every night before getting lost in her dreamy world she thought of all those moments which once gave her strength to face world and at the same made her weak in front of him. Weak, because she never wanted him to go away from her. Possibly she was being selfish but she rather named it ‘love’. Love that made her do the craziest things, travel distances in chilly winter evenings just to see him for a few minutes, to sit next to him, to hear him say her name, to feel pretty, to share her stories, to feel his warmth, to click secret pictures, for that one parting shy hug which meant the world to her. All she has with her are memories. Certainly they don’t haunt her but makes her want to relive those moments forever and ever…but iisshhh reality bites she knows it can never happen again…‘Hum donno ki hai apni - apni lachaariyan…’

She is not in this mood for long though…rather a bit confused always, well that’s how she is, complicated. She feels going away from him wasn’t that bad also. It made her see some very important aspects to whom she was probably blind earlier. She realized her self worth, she became more accommodative, much more independent, trust worthy of people, firm believer in the fact that magic is yet to happen, and most important there are different but good people around– ‘Khud hi dhoond le ge kinaare…’

And she watched ‘love actually’ the very next day which again kept her thinking – was she in love ever? If No then that’s how it was supposed to be if Yes, did she try enough to be with him because if it was love they both would be watching some tale together sitting next to each other but well no that’s now never going to happen. Too many things buzzing in her head she decides to rest them all. A stamp to a relationship would have been great but no stamp no seeing each other no sharing lives does not mean it wasn’t love. There is love and that’s why she hopes to see him some day somewhere, bump into him and just look into his eyes. ‘God only knows what I’d be without you’

And today she woke up with a heavy heart...sigh! She dreamt of him…wondered why she could not control her dreams. Somewhere she liked it too, as he was wearing a bright colour t-shirt which she always insisted him to wear. He looked nice with that two weeks old beard, while she adored him in her dream he smiled looking at her, they both gazed at each other and ran somewhere unknown. That’s all she could remember when she opened her eyes in the morning. She dreamt of him, when he is no where close, when he is with someone for a life time, snuggling her, comforting her, loving her, showing her to the world, posting mushy pictures and probably seeing dreams with her which he once saw with her.

Why the hell she still dreamt of him she kept asking herself but did not get any answer to shut herself up! ‘Chhokar mere mann ko kiya tune kya ishara’

So close, yet so far

Lag Ja Galay, ki fir ye, hasin raat ho na ho
Shayad is janam mein, mulaakaat ho na ho

She is so far from me, but she is sitting there in front of my eyes, always singing this song, but never leaving me. There is a perennial flow of tears from her eyes, but she won't stop; she can't stop.

There can never be that last time with her. She is always there!

The Architect

Every one knew that he had arrived, before he could come out his car. Film stars were too common people to share the dias with him. He also knew that he is godly to those common folks. He knew all people wanted to embrace him, but he was not concerned. He knew it was all just like what he had designed.
His hands were the longest a human would have had, but there was no restlessness in them; to someone, the length would have suggested the growth and maturity of his actions. His hands were once the formatter of the space, but he knew he would be able to build it all over again. And here he was, showing himself off in front of the people.
There were emotions running all around him, and the intensity surprisingly was increasing with distance from him. Nearer people were getting calmer and calmer, though it was for sure that he shared no potion with them; he was satisfied at seeing that everything is going on as he had designed.
There were a few humans who had learnt some of his style, and were marvelled by the power of the architect. By showing off their skills to the architect, they were able to attract his attention to them. He was pleased to hint some fundamental knowledge to them, though he knew that all his design is interconnected and one can reach from any state to any other state by himself. He had just saved those few humans some time, to become free from time, because he knew time was just his tape to record events, possibly for audit purposes.
He architected one of the biggest systems in the universe. He never came out of his car. Off went his car and people could only remember that he was here.

Her Long Lost Home

Her great grand parents had left the village to flee to Britain, where they thought life for Indians would be better. Reduced further in status and wealth, her grandparents survived on assistive stipend and meals provided by the government. Life was certainly not better for them. English government was no more the mighty and infallible one for them.
It was contact with Mark Spencer that changed the direction of waves of penury and despise. He helped Smita's grandparents set up a garments shop.As the fortunes changed, solely attributed to the purchases by the British nationals, respect and then fondness of the western culture kept on increasing till the time everyone in Smita's family had forgotten that there was an Indian element in all of them. Even Smita's formal name was Sue.
Smita's urge to know India came from her school friend whose family went back to India a few weeks ago. She would post pics in fb, all excited about her old home, ancestry and culture. Also during chats, she would ask Smita to convince her parents to come at least once to India, "Ok Baba, come to India only for Taj Mahal, can you ?", her friend asked.
Smita was also finding it hard to connect to the British students. Culture in her school was not exactly like what she would have been comfortable in. In lieu of escaping from here course, she wanted to come to India and see what it got for her. She read an Indian history book, geography in India, climate and many other articles related to India.
Reading things about India, she got curious about her own caste and her village, which she asked from grandfather. And as Smita's grandfather kept on explaining his family's culture, how they evolved with time, and what's there in India for them now, he found himself attached to his home in India. Just in a matter of few weeks, all tickets to India were booked and arrangements in their native village set up to receive them. Many in Smita's family were about to witness some things for the first time in their lives. The dust from fields, homes without air condition, heat of the weather, the ancestral property, instant connection with kins, and many other things were waiting for Smita's arrival.

All in Smita's family were received warmly, and were driven to Basti, Uttar Pradesh, where it all began, the family tree. The open fields were like Smita had never seen before. Homes with cattle and tractors were delight to check out. Adding to this, the smile of her relatives were too genuine to forget ever. Her summers had already begun with her trip to Basti! "It's a different feeling here", said Smita. She had reached a place where she could connect instantly with people around her, and also had a lot to learn. She felt as if
she had come to her long lost home.