Abstract ...

Open -

There was a box there... Kept right in the center of the table. The table in turn, lay in the middle of that room... That room with four white never-ending walls!

He opened the box... that box with pitch black walls inside. He took a minute to adjust his eyes to the darkness inside the box, and then looked carefully.

Oh, how wonderful... there's something at the bottom of that box... that box with pitch black walls. There's something that looks like a door, it's a green door with a silver door knob...

Something inside him said, stop! Don't try to open that door... that green door with a silver door knob...

He ignored all the warnings... stepped inside the box, which had suddenly grown in size and was now as big as that room itself... that room with four white never-ending walls.

He took a step towards the door, turned the knob and pushed the door away from him. For a minute he was blinded by the light, for he had so gotten used to the darkness by now. He took another minute, and allowed his eyes, to adjust to the the light.

He heard some music, inside that room, the room that had a door, a green door with a silver knob. Someone was playing a harp... He sat down, listened carefully, but for not more than a minute before he collapsed on the floor.

No, he had not died yet. He was just sound asleep... 

Progress - 

He knew he should not have opened it. He knew he should not have looked inside. But he had to... He had to see for himself, what was there in that box, that lay on that table, in the middle of that room; that room with never-ending white walls.

He had to see, and how bad it could get? And now, it hurts so much. A 100 times more than it did before he opened the box and looked inside...

A life long pain now, a never ending agony.

He had been asleep for so long that even when he woke up, he could hardly tell the difference. The last memory he had was of the harp's music. It was all the same, just like in his dreams. Only that the world seemed a little upside down. But that was okay, for the people were still the same, still playing their parts right.

The people, he saw, were still true to their roles, some laughing, some being laughed at and some just standing there, like pictures hung on walls, present and absent at the same time.

It also felt like time had frozen and he could now look back and analyze, review things, one frame at a time.

And then he cried out ... Oh god what did I do... ?
why did I open the box, why?

Close - 

All was lost now, everything gone...

The first to leave him was self-respect. Respect for others followed soon. Smiles and laughters they left together, while grief and gloom moved in... Friends and acquintences, they held on to him for a while, but soon found it exceedingly difficult to hold on, so they moved on too.

When all was gone, and the dust had settled in, and when grief and gloom were his only company, they too decided to move on. But before they did so, they got their friend to move in. She was a beautiful one. More beautiful than anything he had ever seen in his life. She smiled at him ... the prettiest smile he had ever seen.

For days they sat together, and chated and talked, and shared their thoughts... just she and him. In some strange way, she knew everything, and she also had all the answers. She knew just when to speak, and just when to listen. When she spoke, she was like poetry, when she listened she was like music.

At the end of their conversation, when all was said, and he was running out of question, he asked her name and why was she hear when everyone else was gone. She smiled again and looked deep into his eyes... in her very sweet voice, she said - for ages they have called me desolation, and I am here to hold your hand and never abandon you...

After what had been like a lifetime, he smiled again... and they kissed for the first time since their meeting... suddenly light started fading away, and the pain was gone too... there was just darkness, and peace...

Left alone

A million dollar Smile

You can take away everything, but my Smile... Her father sells baloons, red, green and blue ones; by the sector 18 traffic signal. Her mother, works as a rag-picker. For now she has just one job, to take care of her younger brother and herself, while her parents work. Ignored by the society, and by the gods, She still refuses to stop smiling...
 

 

 

 

Little Deaths...

Few are never missed, never liked, never cared for...
No one knows where they live, no one knows where they die, no one knows that they exist...

 

Look beyond the smoke, fire is what you will see

I do not promote anything, nor do I preach...
My simple motive is to ask you a question...
are you willing to look beyond the obvious?

A man and his dreams...

Man and his Dreams...

There never has been,

and never will be,

a better companin for man,

than his spirit...

The Exit Sign...

From where you stand,
All you see is the exit sign,
It’s quite dark
And you hear people clapping around…

It’s quite unnerving at first,
U can barely hear your own voice,
In the roar of all clapping,
And the people around…

And then they call your name,
They call you from every corner,
They say just do it again,
And cheer your every denial…

And then the light comes up,
The drum roll sets in motion,
You do one last jump in air
Before your hit the ground…

The crowd gets louder,
As you soar up in the air,
The clapping more ferocious,
As they see you burst to flames,

The light’s going out now,
They say the show is over,
It’s just you now,
Standing in the empty theater,

And as you raise your face,
Look up to the other side,
All you see is the dark room,
All you see is the exit sign…

The Skeptic

Have you seen that movie Contact (1997). Has one of my favorite actors, Jodi Foster. I love that movie. It's got a message, a beautiful one, but scary nonetheless.... Every time you discover something new, depending on how radical your findings are, the opposition you receive is equally proportional. This leads to another thought, we human beings always tend to support existing rules more and have an aversion to new or radically ideas or thoughts.

The more you try to bring in a change, the stronger people will resist it. Often to the point, that logical explanations would be called lies or delusions of your mind.

So does that mean that I start being skeptic as well?

Think for a moment. How do we grow and evolve? How do we find new things? How do we create new things?

It all starts with a new and at times radical idea. If we all had followed the same rule over and over and over again, I guess we would still be living in forests and eating raw meat. So it's essential that we accept changes and be open to them. But only if things were as simple...

Consider this scenario - as part of my new job, I meet a lot of people. I tell them how to do a few things in a certain way, and how to improve the existing processes. I certainly don't have a degree in process optimization, but I make my presentations and a few people seem to like it.

So I recently met this gentleman who's a Regional Sales Manager with an electric equipment manufacturer. He told me his problem and I proposed a solution. He liked the idea of getting an outsider's view and agreed to let me help. I would obviously be paid a certain agreed amount if it worked, and a certain agreed minimum amount if he called off the whole project or did not like the results.

So that's how it started. After some two weeks of analysis of some data I felt were relevant, I suggested the necessary changes. And voila, the skeptic shows up. One of the people affected by my recommendations raised an objection. I presented the necessary facts based on the data collected and the mutually agreed assumptions. Very late into the discussions and after some two hours of long conversation I found out that the only reason he objected was because he thought that my Ideas were too radical. No one's ever tried it before. Maybe it works in the outsourcing industry, does not mean it will work equally well in the manufacturing industry. It is bound to fail. We reasoned a little and with a little help was able to convince, or let me admit, arm-twist him into doing it.

That brings me back to the original question, why resist something you don't really know about?

Is it really a part of our nature? Or is it the risk involved that stops us from trying new ideas?

Even after questioning myself so many times, I can't really reach a conclusion. Even I do the same thing every now n then. I just wrote a whole article on this topic, but I know that when I go the restaurant tonight, I will order my tried and tested dishes and the same good old drink I order every single time. Until the day, the Chef comes out and says that the new dish he added to the menu is just wonderful. Everybody liked it. I will like it too...

Wait a minute, that answers my question... Did it answer yours?

Prisoner of My own Device...

Yesterday was so bright,
Sun still shining, in the moonlit sky,
And that rainbow,
The one that’s purple, red, yellow and blue,
Still reminding you of the rain last night,

You could still see the boats,
If you wanted to,
Floating down the road,
Fighting the winds and the waves,

Children in the neighborhood park,
Pushing, shoveling and falling apart,
To songs and to dances,
And some rhyming lyrics too,

Time had no meaning,
And nothing really mattered,
And world was always at peace,
For you could buy all for a penny,

I remember them all,
It was just yesterday,
Or maybe the day before,

It’s quite dark now,
As I sit and look out of my window,
It’s been a while,
that I took a moment to think,
And to Wonder and worry,

I gave up much,
To get too little,
Money for smile,
Delusions for dreams,

The boats floating down the river,
I don’t see them anymore,
I have a desk, and a file now,
and a dark glass window too,

It gives me a view,
of the neighborhood floors,
Full of people lost in time,
Digging out the dirt,
working their times,
like a prison it looks,
Like a dungeon it feels,

The more I try,
the further I sink,
losing my faith,
losing my belief,

Let me say good bye,
let me say Godspeed,
it’s time I moved on,
and followed my dreams…

an Irregular-Ode to a love lost long...

Brilliant eyes, electric bright,
laughter clear, to silence a crowd,
cheerful spirit, spreading around
was it a songbird, or was that you?

Just a glimpse and a hint of smile,
a fading memory and some music of your voice…
That’s all I have,
for you’ve been gone so long,
disappeared in the sand of time
and now it has been a while,
did you ever feel the same?

I spent the years running around,
To get a hint of you,
Spent the days searching in my mind,

And just when I had forgotten you,
And I thought I had moved in time,
You came back from the dead,
to stir up a storm around,

And I think I heard your voice again,
And I think I saw you smile,
Tell me you are real this time,
And say it’s not my mind,

Say that I’ve not created you,
Like I did before,
Tell me you are for real,
And not my mind playing games,

The last I remember,

You were still living in my dreams,

Tell me you are for real now,

And no longer a dream …

The weird ones...

Do you know how it feels,
To be strange and alone.
To be the only one,
Who gets the point…

To be the one who looks,
Beyond the lines of reason,
And be able to dream,
To sing and to hymn,
To be,
Stranger than the crowd around,
To be looked and laughed upon,

I met one today,
Sitting there,
In the corner of my mind,
Shrouded in dark, shunning all the light,
And attention,

He said I fear the light,
For there’s someone ready to show,
How bad I look, how good he is,
and how I don’t fit in…

And do they know,
that when they try,
to show me their light,
they take me off my path,
and they kill the one inside,
me…

I have asked myself,
over a million times,
why is it so difficult,
to be left the way I am

Why cant’s they let go off me,
why there’s always someone around,
ready with an answer,
to the questions I never ask…

White Lines

White lines of fear and dark...
Of few dreams that fell apart...
White lines of things near and far...


Meaningless they seem,
But they help you end it all,
Directionless they are,
But you’re not there either,


Infinite but discreet,
Restrained in its limitless boundaries,
Trying to solve your problem,
And lending that wicked helping hand,
White lines of your dreams...


Tearing you apart,
And breaking you to pieces,
Killing you slow,
one bit at a time,
white lines of your dreams…


Every inviting, in it’s own repulsiveness,
Ever seducing in it’s own nefariousness,
White lines of your dreams,


Now you think and realize,
How dependent have you been,
Oblivious to the world,
Eyes closed and floating around,
covering yourself up,
in white lines of your dreams,


No longer can you lie,
on white lines you rely,
not to live, not to dream,
Just to cry, and to scream.


Now the end,
It’s just you, and it’s me,
And there are,
The white lines of your dreams...

Salvation

This is the moment,
The one you've waited for,
The door to freedon
and window to salvation,
Eternal peace and glory my friend,

Don't be shy now,
It's too late already,
You can't go back from here,
Forward's the only direction now,

Don't bow down,
It's just one step you see,
Don't be afraid of the deapth already,

I know it's a little dark,
But that's just an illusion you know,
Just take the step,
and remember my friend,

The only way out, is deeper within,
Hidden between the layers you designed,
So many questions,
That wait for an answer,

Now is the time,
You think of them again,
Take a minute if you need,
For this is the End...

The end of confusion,
and end of your doubts,
The end to all fears,
Hidden inside,

The fall is illusion,
It won't hurt you at all,
Let go off your thoughts,
And follow my call...

It's time to dive my friend,
With your open mind,
Deep into the vale of your thoughts,
and in river of your soul,
For there lies the answer,
To this imaginary pain...

Hope

When it's dark in my mind,
and cold in my Heart.
When life is all pain,
and things are falling apart...

When people who mattered,
can see me no more.
And when all my dreams,
Just lie there scattered...

When it won't stop raining,
and wounds won't heal anymore.
And the pictures in my album,
Won't bring back a smile...

When the daylight starts fading,
and you know it's my time.
Just do it my friend,
just One last time...

Show me the light,
the one you call hope,
Set me on fire, and lighten me up....

Self-Motivated…Really…?

Well, until very recently, this word, right up there, was just a HR term for me, that I knew needs some comments in my quarterly performance reviews. Every single time I reached that section of the self evaluation sheet, this is what I wrote – “ I am a highly self-motivated person. I push myself to raise the bar for my own performance and don’t need to be pushed to do things”. And trust me when I say that I DON”T MEAN A WORD OF THAT…

But then, recently, in fact, just last night, my understanding of this term changed and will remain that way for the rest of my life. Now I am not writing this to teach you what it means, and will not drop in a lecture explaining the whole idea behind this self-motivated terminology… I am writing this, so that when I forget it’s meaning in future, I can sit back, read this and remind myself what it means to me. I am also writing this because I know we all like stories and also I want to really sound like some cool guy who writes and people think him to be a great thinker or something…

Now that the confession is done, let’s get back to the story…

Off late, in fact, for the last two years, Metro has become an important part of my life. To put down some number, I send 15 hours a week in the metro and have now found a way of using that time. I plan my work, plan my day, listen to music, and my favorite part observing people. Okay, the last part is in a totally non-creepy, non psychopathic fashion. I just like to look at people and try to find their stories…

Well, last Friday night’s train ride was a new lesson for me. Some 15 minutes into the journey, I heard a voice. And in between the noise of the people around me and that of the headphones of my iPod blaring Holy Wars in my ears, I heard the word Jesus twice… I thought for a moment, FINALLY, THE GODS HAVE LISTENED TO ME… THE GOD IS TALKING TO ME… Then I suddenly realized, hey, hang on, get real dude. God’s got better things to do .He’s got a busy weekend with all the people getting drunk and asking for forgiveness…

So off goes the headphones and I found the source of the noise. Okay, fine, VOICE if you like the polite language so much… It was a man, about 45 years old, wearing a tidy blue shirt, over a black trouser. He was carrying a laptop back-pack, and was speaking in fluent English with a slight eastern European accent that turned into a full blown Indian accent 8-10 minutes into his speech. I noticed a badge that he was wearing; it said Mr. PQR – Director at XYZABC (one of the largest consulting firms).

Oh no, not again, someone’s fighting over a seat again. That should explain Jesus getting into the picture. I mean we Indians normally remember and call out god’s name, when we are fighting. So, I thought let’s get back to my music, Doors were next on the playlist…

Wait, did I hear Money? Hell yes I did… That’s awesome, god and money, part of the same battle; I am going to see a holy war right here. But why’s there just one man shouting? Where’s the other part of the battle?

Oh come-on dude, don’t ruin it. Speak up. Shout it out man. Where are you…?

Another 15 seconds and there was no second noise…

Okay, seriously, am I in India or what? There’s got to be a fight somewhere. I just need to listen carefully. And that’s when I heard the man’s full sentences for the first time in the last 10 minutes or so. I heard, and I quote “If peace is what you are looking for, you have to just look inside, for that is where our Lord Jesus Christ is…”. “ Your money, power, everything else in the world can never give you peace until you believe in your god, the one who lives in your heart, the one who is all mighty, the Lord Jesus Christ…”

WHAT, someone’s preaching inside the metro. How curious? Who’s this man, what does he want?

This was enough to get my attention. I noticed that this man (will call him the preacher going forward, for my own convenience), the preacher, was walking through the crowd and talking about how this life is meaningless if we do not follow the path of god, and we do not help our fellow brothers and sisters like lord Jesus Christ did in his time.

Now I am not a particularly religious person. I mean I do believe in god and some all powerful force, but now the way my parents would like it. So it was the other thing about the Preacher that got me curious. Inside the train, even while he was speaking at the top of his voice, no one was really listening to him… They were busy doing what they do best, talking, complaining, cribbing, and most of them doing absolutely nothing at all. Normally, someone who was addressing a crowd, this would have been an unnerving scenario. You are talking but no one’s listening. How bad it would feel? But for the Preacher, not even a hint of care or concern for the fact that no one was listening. He continued speaking, at the top of his voice for the next 30 minutes before it was my turn to get out of the train. He too boarded out and walked to the stairs with his head held high, calm and composed and smiling as if he had achieved something.

From what I had observed, he had just been talking to the glass doors and windows of the train while people laughed at him. I am sure 95% of the people in there thought he was some nut job who just could not take it anymore and was almost losing his head or about to lose it.

This got me thinking. How is it that for someone, like this preacher, who could have easily guessed how people were reacting, could just shut down the world and it’s distractions around him, and continue doing what he thought was important to him? I am assuming that he was not getting paid for this preaching in metro. And going by his badge, I am sure he did not need much either.

So what was it that could motivate him to do this work? Wait a second; it’s his belief in his work I guess. He is motivating himself to do what he believes is right and makes a difference. WOW. So this is what they mean by the term SELF-MOTIVATED/DRIVEN…

How simple it seems now! Someone who has a strong belief in his capabilities and knows that putting all his heart into it will make a difference to him, if not the world. And in a second, it was clear, like brightly lit day. It’s all about your belief. It’s all in your head. It’s all there, just waiting for you to tap into it…

I am sure a lot of people reading this would disagree, even say that the example is out of place and out of context… but then, does it really matter what example you chose. It’s more about how you chose to interpret things in life and decide how to do them.

For me, ever since that day, I have a new interest in my writing, I have a new interest in my work at office, and I have a renewed interest in life…

The gift From Lucifer... the one who questioned...

He dreamt,
of a future unheard of, a future unseen,
dreamt of things they never imagined,
thought of possibilities they said never existed,
he had ideas, and some imagination too,
He could create things, and enjoy them too...

And then the Corruption,
of thought, ideas, and dreams,
they called it enlightenment,
and named it the holy scheme,
they taught him to follow,
and mug up and learn,
to sing like a chorus,
beat like a drum,
a constant hollow sound he turned into...

for a 1000 years, it remained the same, before he asked his first question,
and was branded insane,
they hated, despised and mocked his ways,
he was beaten, bullied and looked upon,
banished from heaven, and banished from hell,

another 1000 years, and the corruption was gone,
he questioned again,
challenged the logic, reasons and the order alike,
he questioned the right and questioned the wrong,
questioned the men and confronted the God,

why must one follow, and why must obey,
why not ask question, but always adapt,
why does it have to be same all the way,
why no deviation, and why not astray,
why's there a road, always chosen for him,
why there's destiny and why there's a fate,
why there's a heaven, and why there's a hell,

his questions are unheard,
unacknowledged till day,
his disobedience punished, and muffled again,
and as it's in heaven,
on earth shall it be,
one must raise his voice
and question the scheme...

Just a little Higher...

It's quite strange,
when I think about it!
How much I give away,
to gain so little!

My morning sun,
no more than a pain,
no better,
than a rude alarm,

and nights,
do they even exist?
for all I do,
is sleep them off .

I give away,
so many dreams every day,
I'm beginning to lose count now,
of time and of places,
of people and faces,
and of things to do,
and things to forget,

and then,
when I really think again,
is it all,
really worth the madness?
is it all,
really worth the effort?

couldn't days be a little brighter?
and couldn't nights be full of dreams?
couldn't people be,
a bit more free,
to fly,
just a little higher...

For rest he doesn't care

Some of it he's forgotten
Some he doesn't remember
Some of it is now forgiven
For rest he doesn't care

The first thing he heard
They said it would be good
things would be just fine...
For he was the chosen one
And he stood a chance...

The message was clear
He took it to heart
Made it his duty
to follow or fall apart
He believed and Followed
Like a true solider does
Killing his believes, and that of others


For ten years, he was prepared
and trained hard for the war
For ten years, He was killed every day
his soul ripped every night...
Ripped, and torn down to pieces
made to believe things that never existed
Promised a paradise
War was his stairway


He buried his questioning soul
a hundred miles
within his body

until the war...

He fought with his heart
but did not succeed
nor did he perish

A fallen solider, he was sent home
where no heart sang a sonnet
no one said a  welcome notes

dejected and doomed
he collected himself
said it's not over
and he must fight again

six more years
wasted preparing for the war
until the day, they decided for him

it’s time you stopped fighting
and it’s best to follow
because in this real world
there's not living within the dreams

think of the future
and think about us
think of the things that are destined to be…
It’s destiny that controls
not the other way round

until yesterday
I saw him follow
The rules, regulations and society’s norms
living his life
to fulfil their dreams…

he no longer cares to differentiate
between his dreams
and that of others
because some of it he has now forgiven,
For rest he doesn't care …

Your Conscience...My Soul...

Everyone needs a leader,
a guide, or a mentor sometimes,
to be their torch bearer,
and show them the light...

We too had one,
We too have one,
Our conscience, Our souls...

For if it were not for the human soul,
how would it be, that you could tell,
who's warm and what is cold...?
and who's a friend, and what is to fear...?

our thoughts, and ideas,
so different they are,
yet how do you tell,
a soul from a soul...

and then there's this question...

if all men have, but one human soul...!
why am I so different,
why are You so cold?
and why do we have religions,
when all there is, but one human soul...?

The daughters of Adam,
and sons of Eve,
is this how they were destined to be?
beings with one soul,
but different to be...!

The heart of a woman

I could say it in seven speeches,
and write it in ten,
it's meaning my love,
shall still be the same...

The first poetry I read,
was deep in your eyes,
First verses, I wrote,
deeper still,

your love was the one thing,
you taught me to feel,
and that it's not the same,
when you write it with steel...

For how do you tell a sun,
how bright it is,
and how do you tell a moon,
how charming it looks...?

but then I know,
I've been a fool all the while,
My woman needs no word,
for she lives in my heart,

she knows what I am,
she knows what I feel,
and how much I try,
to tell her the things,
I could never write,

she knows how dear,
she has been to me,
and she knows how close,
I hold her,
to my dear heart...

And in the beginning...

The best way is to be candid...! I admit, I run short of words, and the fact that I run short of ideas, does not help either...
It's not the first time that I have tried writing, but the fear of criticism is too much for me. Like most of the people I know, I am very scared of being laughed at, and I guess that's more or less.

But then, why should I write at all? Isn't it a lot of trouble with no returns guaranteed...?

I guess it is, but what about the part of me that wants to create something, irrespective of the fact that people may or may not choose to like it. Well, after giving it some thought, let's write something, howsoever meaningless and stupid it may be...

Good luck with that...
and thank you for your visit...