A nice poem..no this time I haven't written it

Given that We're Happy to Be Here

Given that we're happy to be here,
Remember what we're gaining and we're losing.
Admittedly, the moment is confusing,
Demanding sad farewells and well-earned cheer.
Underneath the moment is the motion,
A silent passage out to open sea,
Taking place regardless what may be
In front of us, a ritual commotion.
Of what we are, but little will remain,
Nor will we ever come this way again.

Divisions & Multiplications

Though I don’t like to write on political matters but I am trying to experiment with everything.Here is one such endeavour

DIVISIONS AND MULTIPLICATIONS

When I was in 3^rd standard in Maths there used to be a chapter Division and Multiplication. At that time I never thought it would be used so extensively. But now after 61 years of freedom (approx) that chapter has found its application in dividing the country and multiplying everything from population to prices. Gorkhaland looks a weird name to be a state, but it is possible, quite possible. Well, I have built my own land…Fantasyland. Would you like to have a look? Here we go!

THE FANTASYLAND

In Fantasy land the Indian government has finally given the freedom to make their own countries, to disintegrate the whole country in many smaller countries. People have already started coming up with their wished country. Bengalis already address West Bengal as “amar desh”. So no doubt they would ask for one. This how Left will announce the new country. “Today on this glorious day let me announce that this is our country…”AMAR DESH” BENGAL! No east no west, just the great Bengal. Bangladesh our neighboring country is like our sister (girls still are supposed to have lesser freedom, and strength!). And China is our alma mater, our father. Communism in our new country would ensure that increasing US effects are properly avoided (In short developments would be fewer, say almost negligible). China has already donated a huge sum for the development of the great Bengal!

Jammu and Kashmir has already seen pools of blood oozing out of their lands to cling on to the present India. Few people out their have still not forgotten the way India had intruded into their COUNTRY on the basis of a small agreement (which didn’t even allow India to unfurl their flag on their land). Betrayed, that’s the one word they use. Pakistani protégé party just like the Chinese protégé Lefts would rule, new militant camps would be opened to increase the employment rate in the new country. And in this way population would always be in control as well. Democracy would be kicked and people donning defence uniforms would limit the people’s freedom This time Pakistan would be the father.

With Shivsena stomping effects in Maharashtra definitely an new country would pop out of that part of the present country. Bal Thackrey would be the head, until his death, and after that his family would rule. For now the new ruler of Maharashtra would be called King Bal Thackrey. Uddhav and Raj would become prince! Valentine’s Day would be strictly banned. Anybody found with anything related to that holy day would be executed. “Love should be inside the bedroom not outside” that would be the message of the King for his public! Muslims and Biharis would be beaten and locked into the jails and secretly they would be executed one by one. US would be condemned in public but not when the King would drink expensive US brand wines.

North East part is already an isolated one, I have no doubt they would demand for a separate country, probably known as NAGALAND! Here also Biharis would be executed. Tourists would be banned, or if allowed they would be left on roads to decide their trip. Dogs would enter into the endangered species.

That’s it I don’t have the courage to play this cruel game of divisions and multiplications. I cant see unity in the diversity, only diversity in diversity. Isolations from all the sides, classifications on the basis of religion and region, that’s what I see. When British’s East India Company perched on our land there was no single country India, but countless small countries already weak by the regional wars. Divisions and Multiplications! And now again a country whose existence was not even known before its independence, is about to loose its existence once again. History is on the verge to repeat itself.The only question is can we stop it?

EXITING FANATSYLAND

Hey Time..Lets take a walk

I have opened MS word, but I really don’t know what I want to write. I am going, really I am. How does it feel? Bad, for leaving everything, every single thing which till now acted like my life support system. Friends…it’s hard to leave them, to tell yourself that you won’t even see most of them again. It’s like trying to erase something written by pen. Leaving those girls who never came so close, but never went that far as well, hope to date with them would go down with the first step in the train(stop laughing!). With that first step, with that new beginning, several things would end, several parts of my stories would find solace in the history. Just 20 days, that’s all I am left with. Time is too short. I needed some more time, to finish off few things, to meet my old buddies, meet few people around me. Tell them how much I respect their presence in my life, how much I would miss them. Even these songs are not making things easy. Every time I try to look at the blinking cursor, my vision gets blurred, the head as well. Circling memories cover up the whole memory like pregnant clouds of monsoon cover the sky. I close my eyes; try hard to listen to my heart beats, just to assure myself I m alive. I wish I could say some last few words to few people long gone. I wish I could complete those unfinished sentences, say some words who are still finding a base to stand upon. I wish time slows down like any slow motion movie clip, for I want to live these moments more than time is allowing me. Lets stretch the time a bit more, for I want to travel a bit more on the road of time with my friends and family around me. It looks like suddenly someone has pushed me out of my shell. I wish I could sleep a bit more in the soothing darkness of comfort before standing alone in the sunshine, alone, absolutely alone. I wish I could spend some more time before scripting a new beginning. A new beginning is about to begin, like a sunshine and I have shrunk my self to the comforting shadows of past, making sure this new sunshine doesn’t touch me anywhere. I wish I could say a little more than I have, for my heart is full of thoughts, but words have refused to give me a company. Fingers are finding it hard to type, as the numbness had made the movements sluggish. Its like I m dragging my fingers just like dragging myself to keep up with time…a constant war, and a constant defeat. Brad Paisley still singing I Live For Little Moments Like That….

A short Story

I love writing stories, my few friends already know that. So here is my new story. Its basically about the village and a villager. Just because I have returned from my village, don't think the story has anything to do with it, the story was in the head, village gave me the suitable plot. Here is the story.

ELEPHANT OR FATE?

Night was beautiful, darkness ruled on the streets, but inside the corridor which people call ‘dalaan’ here was illuminated by a lantern, attracting different kinds of flies and moths. On the greasy old wall above my head a lizard had just gobbled a fly. In front of my eyes a man was sitting who was about to become my story’s central character. He was a short man right now slouched in his old chair coated with a greasy layer of all day’s sweat and dirt shining in the dim light of lantern. Tiny beads of sweat made his nose look nauseating, probably he used his nose to make oil, at least it looked like that— an old oil factory. His nostrils used to tighten up everytime he stared at me as if he used his nose to see me. He was bald on top but still was left with some crop on the outskirts of his shiny (One more object in the shiny list!) crown. I had given him his due name Mr. Frog, shiny yet creepy.

Mr. Frog is known as Mahesh ji in the village, one of those very influential people of the village. He had well enough money, land pieces and long enough contacts! I was visiting my village after a long time so he had invited me on dinner. No way I could have refused, after all he was the powerful…the stronger one here. I reached for dinner just in time, but dinner reached an hour late just like the trains of Bihar. I didn’t eat much, hence was finished with my dinner when Frog was starting his 3^rd chapatti. In village strange customs rule like a never ending contagious hope. And one of them is that you are not supposed to leave the table before everybody is finished especially when you are the younger one. I was left with no option other than watching him eat his food; tongue comes out, wraps around the bite in his hand and swallows the whole—perfect frog!, I thought. But believe me he was not as bad as he looks to be. He cracked jokes in between, laughed and then expected me to laugh on those already umpteenth time heard jokes. During the dinner he told me about his farms, revenues, contacts and offered me his free help as well, which I just wondered where would I need.

He also told me about his son who was in fifth class(that’s means around eleven years old I calculated), bright…very bright as he had described his son, but there were some fears lingering around the corners of his eyes clearly visible even in the dim light of the lantern. Reason was there as well; his boy’s health was the subject of concern these days. Initially he thought Bihar’s loo had kissed his son, and the effect would fade away in 2-3 days, he tried all the villagish methods of curing loo, but nothing worked like the cure was sleeping in the darkest corner of the earth. Several hakeems and vaids had visited his son and asked him to swallow different things from weird bitter roots and leaves to strange smelling ash powders. Nothing worked, no one stayed. I expressed my concern for his child, which I admit was not totally genuine, and departed from his dalaan.

Next whole day I kept meeting new people, various unknown faces eager to watch a city guy. As if in cities people live with few extra eyes and ears. Only when darkness had announced its arrival on the village streets I was given the privilege of being alone on my dalaan. My head was buzzing with words, with blurred faces I had seen all day. I saw Mahesh ji passing by, eyes stressing hard to see the path in the darkness, taking long strides, and hands moving with legs in perfect symphony. He saw me sitting alone at the dalaan and for a moment he stopped, a familiar fear was still in his eyes. Undecided he looked at me and then probably decided against of whatever he wanted to tell me, I didn’t stop him. Few more steps and he stopped again; he came back and said “My son’s health has deteriorated since last night, so I am going to Pandit Yashu Maharaj”. Pandit? I screeched, this was my first reaction and then in a bit lowered voice I asked adapting a sarcastic tone in my voice “Don’t you think you should go to a doctor?” “Doctors are real illiterates; they don’t know anything, only Pandit ji can ask God to save my child, would you like to come with me?” I nodded and followed him. This time I really wanted to see how God treats a boy. This sheer curiosity of watching villagish trends made me follow Mr.Frog.

Pandit ji came, wearing a dhoti, his huge tummy attracted all the attention, still panting as Mahesh ji made him jog from Pandit ji’s house to his own dalaan, and started looking at the now unconscious child. After a long time he asked is the boy still alive? Mahesh ji lowered his head and placed his ear on the boy’s chest and after few seconds said “yesyes he is alive, I can hear his fain heart beats”

“What is your boy’s name?” Pandit ji asked again? “Ganesh”. “Hmmmm…”he said in a tone as if he had caught the bug and continued “Now I understand the whole story. See your name is Mahesh, Shiva, the lord of destruction and recreation and your son’s name is Ganesh. Probably God needs some kind of service from you for using his name. Do one thing Mahesh buy an elephant and start taking care of him, and see the magic, life would wash your boy’s face” Hands joined in front his chest, back slightly bowed out of respect Mahesh agreed, and for me all this was nothing but utter nonsense. How can an elephant save a boy’s life?

Next day I saw crowd flowing towards the ancestral garden of the village, popularly known as “Bageecha”. Even I accompanied the rest of my family members. A small crowd had already gathered around a huge…huge black as black elephant. Pandemonium was becoming intolerable now. Elephant was fully grown up, he was decorated with rice-powder. I don’t know who the beautician was, but make up was impressive, especially around the eyes, it made him look a heavenly creature. Name was a big question, after several rejections Mahesh ji agreed on the name ‘Gajraj’. The crowd expressed their happiness, some people demonstrated their whistling skills, some limited their happiness to occasional ‘Ho-Hos’. Gradually the crowd dispersed and even the elephant looked relieved now. That day nothing occurred to me but while having my dinner I saw another lizard, this time on the wall of my room gobbling a mosquito and a question flashed in my head “what about Ganesh, did this elephant trick really cured him?” I wanted answers, so enquired my brothers, to my surprise the answer was YES, they had seen the same Ganesh playing with some other village boys in the Bageecha. Was it a coincidence, or really the elephant affected the child’s health, I have no answers, neither I have any suitable logic to produce, it just happened so.

Days passed and smile on Mr. Frog’s face had come back, smiling Frog looks better I used to think whenever I saw Mahesh ji. Who knew the seeds of destruction were sown by the invisible hands of destiny when everybody was busy reaping the benefits of glory. An elephant is after all an elephant, his meals also matches its huge shape. Meals were huge as well. What Mahesh ji and his son would have eaten in 1 week, the elephant used to eat in one day. Few days later even Mahesh ji started feeling the weight of elephant on his cotton money bag. The elephant’s tummy expanded and the cotton money bag shrunk further, deflated like a punctured balloon. This reverse elephantiasis had started showing its affect, smile faded as swiftly as it had come. Mr. Frog was left with the ever loyal fear. Fear of losing, losing money, money needed for life, life money. Money life, all these words used to dance in the dark corner of his brain. Within a month cotton bag was empty and Mahesh ji decided that since boy was perfectly alright, there is no need of the elephant any more. The elephant was sold, Mahesh ji was relieved, more so because his son was fine even after the departure of the elephant. Whole village started guessing the fate of Mahesh ji and his son. Few said his son would die, few said he shan’t have sold the elephant, few expressed their sympathy for the situation in which Mahesh ji was. It had become the hot burning topic in the chit chats. From sas bahus, old under-the-tree card players, farmers, everybody was discussing just one thing, the fate, fate of a person. Speculations were high, on stake was nothing just one life, one story. No one cared who would die who would gain who won’t, what mattered was who guesses it right.

On the fourth day, it was Ganesh Chaturthi, I was having my fresh breakfast, my brother’s only son came running and said Ganesh died, hurry, Ganesh died. First I couldn’t believe my ears, but it really happened, Ganesh died. What is this, a coincidence again, is it possible? No one had a clue how Ganesh died, not even Mahesh ji. He died while sleeping, closed his eyes, never to see the world again. Howling women circled the dead Ganesh. Though Ganesh was motherless ever since he announced his existence, people say his mother couldn’t even hear the first cries of Ganesh. But suddenly after death he had found several mothers to mourn on his death. Funeral process started, Pandit Yashu Maharaj started chanting mantras and shlokas with supreme expertise. This time there was not much chaos; crowd was there, but no pandemonium. None of the Mahesh ji’s high contacts were present, money had already dried, the black elephant had suck all of it, fields were standing right where they were, smiling with the waves of winds. For few days whole village renounced spicy food as a ritual. Food used to be simple khichdi, only with some very basic ingredients. Days passed and I didn’t see Mahesh ji.

Finally the day came when I had to leave for my city. I woke up a bit early as I had to pack my scattered belongings. Train’s arrival time was 3.26 pm, so at noon after having an early lunch I was all set to go, but before that I needed to meet few people for the last time. I met many people, again many unknown faces and a series of pranams’ and Kush rahos’. But I didn’t meet Mahesh ji, just couldn’t gather the courage, just couldn’t find the correct words to console him.

My brother was standing at the door with his jeep parked on the roadside. I threw my only luggage, an airbag inside the jeep and as I turned to see the village for the last time(at least for the time being) I saw Mahesh ji passing by slowly with a lota in his hand. Clothes were not as good as the first day when he had invited me on dinner. Dirt coating was evident on the dhoti; socks were bearing huge holes near the toe part. Long dried tears had made a passage on his cheeks like the silky shiny path a snail leaves as it crawls. His back was bent slightly, this time not out of respect, but because of the burden of the elephant and his son’s fate. But one thing hadn’t changed, the shine of many ingredients of summer on his body, in fact it looked as if an extra coating of mourning had made him shine even more. Beads of sweat were still present on his nose just like the loyal fear, which was still residing inside the shallow Mahesh ji. Many people called him, but he kept walking as if he was deaf. I jumped inside the Jeep and suddenly Jeep’s engine came to life. We were moving, when we reached a bit far I saw a figure walking slowly across the fields, holding something in his hand, we both were moving away from each other. And I had just one question in my head was it the elephant or the fate?

The Devil Is BACK!

Yes! I am back after a short trip and a long drive...really long drive. I mean 1038 Kms isn't short is it? How was the trip? You need not ask, it was good in many ways, and probably all the ways. I have come back from there with loads of good good memories in my bag, fresh air in my lungs, eye opening truths in my head...and many more things lets say etcetra etcetra! For now this is more than enough...coz right now after the back breaking drive all I need is a sound sleep. Keep looking I have loads to post.Bye-Bye for now.

Bye-Bye for sometime

Few of my friends have gone on a trip to Manali, but no I am not one of them.I am going to my village, almost after six long years. So no need to say I am excited, but not as excited as I would have had I gone with my friends to Manali. My friends are there in cool weather, watching snow, and here I am about to face the Bihar's loo hot hot music! This is not fair, but who said life is fair!

I just hope that it would bring the much needed welcome change in my life. With all my friends away I do nothing except playing games, chatting and a bit of book reading, gradually all this was becoming a bit boring, and I hate boredom in my kingdom. Probably this small village trip would help...I hope so.

But yeah I would miss few things, like my super selector contest(no internet there), Discovery Channel, My Blog. But I have to go, so Bye-Bye Miss Blog(yeah my blog is like my girlfriend, thats why I am using 'Miss'!) Miss You...Love You(whispering).
Cya all after sometime!
Bye-Bye

Lets Try Again

Feeling so sad, so blue
if you only knew
all that i'd do
not to lose you
my heart's in pain
no sunshine just rain
a tear stain
i'm going insane
you can save me
just try to be
not you and i, but we
together you see
the hurt is real
my soul you kill
my spirit you steal
and yet i feel
locked in your heart
can't break apart
or know where to start
its abstract art
complex at best
is there any rest
is this a test
were on a quest
can we last
and let go the past
our love's been cast
and true and vast
we can withstand
the test of time and
of each other demand
love thats grand
respect, honesty
patience, humility
compassion, loyalty
infinitely, all eternity.

From my archives..I SEE

A search in the desert of pain, directionless, purposeless. It has no definition, no existence. Nothing to prove, nothing to show. All it has is the loneliness. The music of winds is as if restless souls crying for salvation. It is a kind of music played during requiem. I "m in a search of what I don"t know, I follow a voice which comes from where I don't know, I keep moving to where I don't know. I am a peregrine, I travel not an inch on the roads but miles in my thoughts, I eat nothing but my own soul, I breath nothing just the winds of painful desert. A desert which has no beginning, neither I see any end of it. I see the stars in the sky, without them, I don't like the sky. In these stars, I see my life like a collection of million stories. Each in its place, few of them linked together, just like the constellations, few are too dim to be seen, but still they exist. I see them watching me, as if they are enjoying this story of mine, a story I hate, my life. I see them laughing, weeping, and sometimes even teasing me. But I love them, at least I have someone to share this hopeless story. When will this story end, I am tired of my role.

When I close my eyes, I see a scene, where I see lots of people, all in black. Lots of leaves, more on roads than on trees, I hear that mourning sound of floating dried leaves on the road. Sometimes in the air, sometimes kissing the road and then again with the wind. I see those people in black, sympathy in their eyes, looking at the one in the coffin performing the final act of his story, probably the easiest one, you don't have to show emotions, no way you can utter words. All you have to do is lay there, still, eyes closed. Isn't that easy? And the next moment I see those people in black whispering when the earth has swallowed the existence of the dead. Gradually one by one everybody disperses, even those who loved the dead. What is left behind is haunting voices, whispers of silence, and leaves everywhere, gently assuring the dead, you are not alone, we are there for you. Just surrender yourself to the winds. These winds, so cold on face, so soft on skin, and so harsh on heart.

I see some faces, their shadows. They have intruded even in my dreams. I would love to forget these faces, these entities of past keep haunting me in the present. In particular, I see a face I loved a lot; I see the beauty, which only I discovered. I see her going away, disappearing in the extreme intensity of light. No, no please don't go, don't leave me here alone. You remember, you did some promises, its time to show that you meant what you said. I have some questions, but no one can answer except the one who has long gone. I miss her, I see the winds touching her face as I used to. I see them (winds) playing with her long silky hair as my fingers used to play. I see her clothes kissing her skin as I would have kissed her. I see her eyes with a bit of “kajol” looking at me with a kind of love, which I see in the eyes of none. I still remember how I used to hold her soft hands in mine, I remember that feel and warmth of her presence, those tiny droplets of sweat on her forehead, her smell, those three dimples, that angel smile spreading orchids everywhere. I see everything, every time, all the time, everywhere. I remember everything, every time, all the time, everywhere.

How many died?...how many are dead?

Lets Start with a question, say you are blind, then what would be your priority, Eyes or Beautiful Eyes? In almost all the cases priority would be given to eyes, because as a blind person you would look for eyes, beautiful or not...doesn't matter. At least I used to think so.

But not many agree with me, including the news channel. Last night I was listening to radio, and the radio jockey said "Almost 20,000 people died in China's Earthquake" Since I was out whole day, I was clueless about the earthquake, and it came as a shock. I felt something heavy inside me, probably that was a little of the weight of the people who died in the earthquake. Though I don't like China, but still who died were people...human beings. People having families, having a life(till yesterday) just like any other person on this earth. But now all had vanished in the tremors of some plates miles beneath our feet.

I wanted to know more about the earthquake, so I switched on the TV, expecting TV channels would be showing full coverage of that disaster. But guess what, not even a single news channel mentioned anything about it, except few occasional lines appearing on the bottom of the screen mentioning the China's earthquake. Channels were more interested in a wrestler's fucking life. Some were busy with entertainment news, like bollywood chit-chats, cricket bonanza, some sex maniac father raping her daughter..and I don't know what not.

Have the priorities changed? Has life taken a back seat? Is life so cheap that nobody cares anymore? Is this the so called bloody PERFECT way to live, where no one cares about others, death of 20 grand people affects none, leave alone the tears, nobody even FEELS the sorrow. Are we dead...more dead than those who died in China? So many questions, and I have NO answer. But wait the real shocker was about to come, it came when after endless surfing among all the news channels I found one news reader telling the TOP STORIES of the day, I waited to listen for China's earthquake, it came but only after he had told everything about IPL(see priorities have really changed), after the long wait the news caster says "About 20,000 people are said to have died in the China's earthquake" WITH A SMILE. Yes that bastard had a smile on his face while reading this news. As if he was making a fool out of us.

I was puzzled, confused...sad? Yes I was..for the stoicism, lifelessness of life. For I found out there are not just 20,000 who died last night, there are many who have died long ago, heartbeats still making noise, but hearts have slept forever. Those moments were anguishing, and I could clearly hear Jack Johnson singing...

"A million people died on the news tonight, but not so many cried at the terrible sight
My mama says, it just make believe, you can't believe everything you see, so baby close your eyes to the lullabies on the news tonight....
why don't the news casters cry when they tell about people who died, atleast they could be decent enough to put just a tear in their eyes
My mama says...."

Last Few Days

No, don't even think I am about to die, I am talking about the last few days of my college life(for now). Four wonderful years of engineering, and when they passed, I didn't even notice. Time flew by quietly like a thief, without even warning me about the precious memories it stole as it went away!

I still remember my first day in institute, how I entered the main entrance gate scared from the "HUNGRY FOR RAGGING" seniors, excited about the coming future, anxious about the way my classmates would behave. All so many things I had in my head while I searched for my class. I remember how we(me and my friends) used to be in the first year. With time boldness grew older as well, and we started bunking classes, used to run from the Mathematics class AFTER attendance. There are so many memories in every corner of my head, stored like mini clips, and I play them, whenever, wherever I want. Memories are still so fresh that it looks like only yesterday I was in the first year, and now here I am...about be thrown out of the college after four years.

The most amazing part is the drastic changes around and within me. Yes, I have changed, a lot, I don't know whether for good or bad, but I have changed. From cold drinks to beer to whiskey to rum to ciggs! Yes I have changed and so have people around me. Some have grown fatter, some have shrunk further, some people are noticed by the size of their tummies while some others are noticed by their muscles! Probably from boyhood to manhood, all have changed.

And suddenly a sinking feeling comes and says "Dude, its all over now". A hungry world awaits, jobs, so called responsibilities are waiting patiently to put the burden on me, while my heart still want to be with my friends, still wants to spend some time with friends under a tree sipping chilled beer.

These four years have given me some nice friends, and foes(nice ones!) as well! I have gained hell lot of knowledge( I doubt though) and a bit of experience (No matter how much you gain, it still looks small). I will miss my days, my friends, my college life, bunking classes, troubling teachers, reading newspaper in the classroom, drinking beer in the college campus, finishing practical work in the last minute, outdoor trips with friends, "BIRD WATCHING", though there were not many beautiful birds but still I will miss my favorite job!

I really don't know what's next, but I will miss everything about the last four years. I don't know how to end this, shall I wish good luck to all my friends AND foes, nay, I don't think so, then shall I leave an emotional message for them, NOWAY!

mmmm.... Lets leave it just like this..incomplete...my friends are smart enough to figure out what I am saying.

Life Of A Dream...

Dream, a word which still fascinates me. The most mystifying, magical, and amazing word in my dictionary. In short I love this word dream. Last night I was thinking about I don’t know what and then suddenly a line popped up in my mind… “Life Of a Dream”.

I don’t know from where a dream starts its journey, a journey which often ends in a sad story, a journey which often ends with the death of that dream, just like human beings. Are dreams like human beings? Do they have a life as well? Do they have their own moments of happiness and sorrows? Just like us?

Lets start with a dream, unborn, still not into existence, somewhere behind the clouds of uncertainty it waits for its time to come. It comes, without even knocking the doors of our consciousness. It settles itself in our life like it won’t leave us now, not even if the world asks it to, as if it would carry on even after we lose our own existence. Then a time comes when we feel its presence, “Aaaahhh…a DREAM” we exclaim, so nice so beautiful, so soft on soul, so sweet in taste. A point comes when it's hard to say what to do next, and we think “Should I jump, should I yell from a high point and tell others about MY so precious dream?” That’s a magical period, hard to explain, believe me what I have written is not a single percent of what I felt. It’s just a small effort to give you an Idea of the happiness when a new dream arrives in your heart. The situation is almost like when a new baby is born, the world changes, suddenly, life seems colorful, all we see is the spring of smiles. Yes, exactly, that’s exactly what happens when one feels the dream. Even for me the world had changed, even a colorblind like me saw colors…yes it really happened. That’s the magic, call it the power of dream. Yes, that exactly how we welcome the birth of a new dream, that’s exactly how I welcomed mine.

Life looks like a blossoming garden, so colorful, various flowers of hope spreading the aroma of brightness in it. Grass on ground like the bed made of soft snowy clouds, air full with the freshness of the dream. Am I exaggerating? No I am not, believe me…I am not. That’s how life looks like…until…until we hear a slap. This slap is a very interesting word. Harsh in its taste, short just like its effect, sharp just like the wounds it gives, "never healing ones". Yes that’s how slap works. Short, quick, sharp, effective, and deadly. I call them the slaps of life, yes life slaps, not to hurt you, but to give you a shape which would help to face the winds of troubles. But it hurts, a lot. So that's how the "Slap Of Life" introduces you to the reality.

Slap may come from any corner, but comes from where you expect the least. A slap comes and suddenly the whole garden turns in a sea of sand, burning from beneath, blazing from north. That’s how it happens, and before you realize slap shatters the dream into a million pieces, pieces bleeding, blood oozing out of the edges of shattered dreams. We cry, we moan. Moan is an extremely soft word for the harshest feeling which I wanted to describe. That’s how the dream ends...in a flash. Thats how the life of a dream ends.

But wait, cycle never stops, we don’t stop dreaming after someone brutally murders a dream. We dream, dream like a king, king of a virtual world, world of a dream. Again we go through everything, but still every feeling looks a new one, better than the previous one.

That is how life and dreams keep going on…hands in hand.

This is life and a dream

This is a life of a dream

First few words...

Many have lived a life; many have spent years here, searching for something unknown, unseen. Many have done this, and many will do the same thing. I don’t know what people want, what they are looking for...But deep down in my heart, I think I have a vague idea of what I want. I say, many have lived a life, let's live a dream for a change. No matter how shattered and withered time and people have made it. No matter how much it has bled by the hands of dream murderers, but still it’s the only thing which is mine. It is MY dream. No one can snatch my dream from me until my body rests in peace. Even then probably my soul will carry the candle of dream. In the pain of this very dream, I will live, with pain reminding me that I am ALIVE. Feeling proud of the fact that unlike others I have not forgotten what life was meant for, what live expects from us. I will live…with my dreams. One day, I will...

This a place, where I will share my life, my dreams, my sorrows, my pains...You all must be thinking Happiness is missing in this list of sharing, but Nay, I didn't include it, because there are already many to share that with.

This place would reflect my thoughts, my mood...and most importantly Me.
You all are welcome to view and comment upon them as and when you wish. If you understand them, good. If not, even better. 'Cause I don't expect anything from you. Neither do I want you to expect anything from me.

As my title says, I am a Peregrine, from the west of sunset, a place beyond Sun, darkest of all.