Jihad

“Allah mentioned in His holy book, ‘And when the sacred months have passed, then kill the polytheists wherever you find them and capture them and besiege them and sit in wait for them at every place of ambush’. The command of your Lord calls you to kill them. Kill the Kaafirs, kill them all” their leader shouted raising his rifle.

“Indeed Ustaad” said Qasim in agreement holding his own rifle firmly.

Qasim was their best bet. His copper lined sword has slaughtered numerous Kaafirs and his gunshots have popped hundreds of brains. He has been the leader of numerous battalions sent for the ‘rights of Muslims’.

“The Kaafirs are destined to burn in hell. Let us go and coerce them to Islaam so that they may get into Jannah” the leader said again painting his plan with a tint of white.

“Let’s go then” shouted Qasim.

Qasim along with his partners went to the busiest market of the town. He parked his bike near a tailor’s shop. His bike loaded with bottles of diesel and Ammonium Nitrate. He went about twenty meters away and stopped thinking that it was the optimum distance to observe the show. Another bike loaded with explosives was parked at a nearby grocery store.

Qasim looked at his surroundings, put his hand inside his pocket and pressed the remote button. The detonator sparked and the bomb exploded with a deafening sound. Qasim put his left hand into another pocket to press the detonator for the second button.

A child approximately two years of age sat on the street near the grocery store crying and calling out for his mother. He was two young to understand why everyone was running in chaos. Qasim’s eyes met the small child’s eyes. He closed his eyes and pressed the button. The child’s body was thrown six meters away burnt beyond recognition.

Qasim started walking to the meeting place of the ‘mujahids’. His childhood flashed in his mind, when his parents were slaughtered in front of his eyes in the 2002 Gujarat riots. A saying of Prophet Muhammad flickered in his mind which commanded people not to kill women, children and old people or destroy plants even during wars. He knew for sure that killing children wasn’t good at least.

He went his home instead, opened his copy of the Qur’an and started reading Chapter 9.

“And if any one of the polytheists seeks your protection, then grant him protection so that he may hear the words of Allah. Then deliver him to his place of safety. That is because they are a people who do not know”

Now he knew that the chapter was concerned with wartime, fighting for your defense, behaving good if any of the opponents seeks help from you.

Qasim held his teeth tightly and headed to the meeting spot. He quietly sneaked inside their leader’s room.

“Hello Sir………Yes Sir the job is done, Qasim did it……..Yes Sir this time you’ll win the election……We have spread enough terror….HaHa” the leader terminated the call.

“You bastard! You made me kill people for money” Qasim shouted.

The leader shouted for other goons. Qasim pointed his pistol towards their leader. Another goon came and shot Qasim on his hand. Qasim cried with pain.

Qasim was put in shackles and brought in front of everyone.

“He has been maligned by the Kuffar” their leader shouted.

“You’re a shame to Islam” Qasim shouted back.

“We are soldiers of Islam. We are here to spread it. Shoot him.”

“There shall be no compulsion in the religion. The right course has become clear from the wrong. So whoever disbelieves in evil and believes in Allah has grasped the most trustworthy handhold with no break in it. And Allah is Hearing and Knowing” Qasim recited.

A bullet was fired into his head.

“Oh..Lordd. Forgive m…” Qasim mumbled before his breathing stopped.

Vision

I was walking alone on a derelict street. It was beginning to get dark with no sign of moon in the sky. December nights are cold but that night was extraordinarily chilling. The breeze struck my chest as a group of recently sharpened spears thrown with the very intention to rip the soul apart from my body. I dragged the zip of my jacket to the highest point available for the slide. The cold metal touched my neck and seemed to extract all heat from my numb body in one go. I lowered the slide a bit.

The only thing that helped my eye have a vision of objects was a lamp post about hundred meters away. I ignited a cigarette to pump some heat into my lungs. The fog made things barely visible beyond the lamp post. I somehow dragged myself to the lamp post. I looked up and saw the beautiful white beams emerging from the lamp. The fog made it very easy to see the trajectory of the rays. The leaves of the tree nearby sieved out the light rays which came as perfect tangents and spread radially into the atmosphere.

While I was busy analyzing the beauty of the scene, the lamp dimmed, sparkled bright again and got quenched. Damn! The only source of my vision was gone. I closed my eyes in dejection and kicked the dust on the street.

After a while I opened my eyes and looked onto the street. My pupils got dilated to collect extra light from the atmosphere. To my surprise I was able to see. I looked up and saw the moon emerging from beneath the dark clouds.

It wasn’t a full moon though.

Bullet Of Peace

People mistakenly assume silence to be peace but if you look deep down the stream you'll see that actual peace is attained by the sounds of flowing water, chirping birds and soft wind.

Silence is golden at times even synonymous with peace at few instances but surely you cannot induce peace by shutting the mouths and eyes of people forever.

Peace is only attained by open communication, by love and respect for others. You don't throw drones at the ones you want to be peaceful with.

Peace is no bullet to hit a target, don't turn it into one.

Fire-Cracker

I looked up the sky and got fascinated by the colorful sparks it is full of today. A red dazzling light in the sky shook my nerves with joy. I wondered if I would ever be able to celebrate like other people. I put my hand in my pocket.

One..Two…Nine.

Only nine rupees!

How could I purchase crackers with that much amount? Even the cheapest rocket cracker costs ten bucks. On top of that what will I have for breakfast if I spend this money on crackers? I gave a second look towards the sky with watery eyes.

Why was I so poor?

Why a street beggar?

Only if I had my own parents!

I looked down the dark street. My heart was filled with joy on sight of an unburned fire cracker. I picked it up and ran to find a spark to light it.

Finally, I got my own cracker.

I got a match from the uncle sleeping on the footpath. I was excited to see my own cracker exploding. I lighted the match and ignited the fire cracker. It ejected red and green sparks. I shut my ears as it was about to explode. A surge of joy flowed in my body. The cracker turned yellow….dull red….and decayed with a black smoke.

Reviving Sir Robert Frost : And Miles To Go...Continued

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
 
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
 
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
 
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep, 
And miles to go before I sleep.

Desire in my heart forms a heap,

Stunned by woods' beauty, I weep.

But I won't stop 'cause there are,

Acres of corn field yet to reap.

Both the thoughts are still at par,

My heart with mind is caught in war,

Leaving the snowy woods I've to move,

Following that bright still north star.

In state of such dilemma you've,

To make one choice and prove,

That you can never have it all,

How much ever you desire the grove.

My wish is naive but promises are tall,

Now they give my weary spirit a call,

So let the white snow flakes fall.

So let the white snow flakes fall.

Tanhaaiyaan

Dil ke suneypan ka ye aalam hua,

Ke har nazaare pe hai dhundhla dhuaa,

Aise kis jahaan aa gaye hum,

Ke har raah anjaani ho gayi.

Aagosh mein aaye phool bhi murjhaye,

Hawaaon ke rukh bhi hue paraaye,

Teri mehekti muskaan ki woh yaadein,

Kyu har baat ab puraani ho gayi.

Dheemi aahaton ko sunkar aaj bhi,

Dil tujhe soch baith’ta hai,

Meri sisakti rooh is qadar tanhaa hui,

Ke parchaaiyaan bhi begaani ho gayi.

Broken Promises

You said you loved me. Indeed you did love but I didn’t know what love was. I was the sand in wilderness. You heated me with the warmth of your love, melted me with your hug and then cooled me with your calm breath. There I stood fashioned into glass so clear and pure. Why did you break me with your own hands?

You promised me that you’ll be here, near me, forever. Indeed you’re still near because the warmth of your hug isn’t gone and the moisture of your kiss hasn’t vaporized. But Ah! Only if I could touch you once more!

You promised me to come for me in that white gown. You promised never to leave me. Why did you break all your promises? Why did you ditch me for death? You promised me to always take me with you. Why didn’t you take me to your grave?

Life at IIT #1

You clear one of the toughest entrance exams of the world and what fodder are you served, the ‘daal’ barely spiced, the ‘aaloo’ hardly peeled, the ‘shimla-mirch’ which astonishingly makes way into every other dish and the salad which seldom makes ghastly appearances in the mess menu.

Welcome to the ‘mess’ed up life of IIT.

We IITians no doubt can change the world and bring about the next revolution provided we survive the mess of the mess.

The breakfast has good edibles enlisted may be due to a reason because for IITians 10 minutes of sleep is more lovable than the Noodles, Pasta or the Parathas served in the morning. For lunch and dinner fried rice is the only refuge.

The mess people have provided a solution to the dreadful memories of the food’s taste, the ‘saunf-cheeni’ counter.

The canteen on the other hand is the polar opposite of the mess. After 12 midnight big and small ‘mehfils’ are summoned in the canteen for minor ‘chapos’ (1) which go on late till 2 or 3 am before people think about completing assignments or sleeping.

(1) Chapo – Chapo is the IIT term for a minor party. Chapo is the portmanteau of Chai and Pakoda.

Light?

Light lures every soul. Why wouldn't it? A powerful dazzle of light hardly makes things visible beyond. It spreads with perfection and falls on everything. Crickets and bands of tiny insects just yearn for a touch of their darling light as the only crucial task of their life.

But halt!
Is it always the bright that is good?
Something sparkles; why is it necessarily celebrated as right?

I had never seen the air in my life. One fine day I switched off all the lights and closed all the doors and windows. A small opening in the ventilator allowed a faint ray to pass through. The ray fell on my face. I changed my position and saw the perfection of the dust particles. The beauty with which the air moved them, their dance and collisions.

I finally saw air.

Tyndall Effect, the geeks say but for me, I realized that just light isn't needed to see some of the most beautiful things in life, darkness is essential at times.

Reflection

I looked through the glass of the window and saw,

Green leaves on the brown twigs. Some trees had the large ones while the others had too small that they appeared to be brushes smudging the blue sky. The old yellow leaves too withered to shake with joy.

A gentle breeze blew and the leaves rustled. Clouds got a grayish tint. The sun still peeped through a piece of the fluff. Very minute drops sprinkled over the trees and before they could completely wet the surface the clouds blew away.

A mysterious blur came over my eyes and I could not see. Then I realized that I had come too close to the glass that my breath condensed on it. It must have been cold outside. I wiped the droplets and saw an eagle flying high flapping its wings in the sky. She probably headed to the horizon. I wished I could follow her on her pathway to bliss. I wished I could follow my dreams and fly. But these bonds, Ah! How on earth could I get free of these mental bonds?

I looked through the glass of the window and saw, nothing.

Alvida

Ik mukammal muskaan,
Dekar chand lamhon ka saath,
Karke humein khud se muta'ssir,
Yun hi kar chale,
Alvida.

Ik dilkash mehek,
Ik hawaa bahaar ki,
Chookar mujhe chal di.
Hothon pe hai hasi,
Dil mein chubhan magar,
Kyu sab kar chale,
Alvida.

Kaash yun hota,
Ke tum theher jaate,
Qaai'naat ke nizaam ko bhulkar,
Jo na rukey tum,
Apni kabr ki garmahat ke taley,
Ab hum bhi chalein,
Alvida.
Alvida.

The Girl In Gown

"You want to sleep. You want a deep; a deep sleep where there's nothing except darkness", said the hypnotist as a vibrant spectrum of colors fell on the Karan's blank wide-open eyes. Eventually the lights were quenched and all that remained illuminated was a pattern of black and white curves. The curves had a mysterious intoxication associated with them. Anyone who looked deeper into the patterns craved for slumber even more.

"You are in a dark room with a small exit door. Tell me! Where are you?” the sudden change of pitch in the hypnotist’s voice pierced through the dark silence of the hypnosis laboratory.

"I...I...amm..in a daaark rooomm."

"You will forget all that happened last night."

"Yesss...Yes."

It was ironical that the hypnotist talked about forgetting the last night's incident his own laboratory carried a similar hellish look.

*** A Week Earlier ***

"Karan! Have you packed everything son?”

"Yes Mom. Just a few things remain."

"Okay do it quickly. You have your flight at 10 and it’s already half past 8."

Karan has never been so excited before. He got his first job, a job which surpassed every of his classmates'. Info-Soft Microsystems, the best software firm of India, recruited Karan. Why wouldn't they have recruited him? Karan was their best bet. He could forget everything save coding. Karan's mother was earlier reluctant to send him for a job to Goa. "Why couldn’t you get a job in Delhi? You don't want to live near me", she argued. Deep inside she knew that this was the best job her son could get so she didn't press upon him much.

After a tiring journey Karan finally reached Goa where he was received by Rohit, Karan's project manager.

"Welcome to Goa Karan."

 "Thank you Sir."

"Call me Rohit and stop being too formal or I'll haunt you."

"Ha Ha."

"Come on. Allow me to take you to your bungalow", Rohit said pointing towards his car.

"Bungalow?"

"Yes, obviously the company has made all world class arrangements for their best employee", Rohit smiled. Karan responded with a smile.

After a half hour drive they finally reached a silent lane which had too few houses to be termed a society. The car stopped in front of an elegant bungalow colored with dark brown on the canopy and a creamy color elsewhere. A pavement full of small pebbles, carved so beautifully that one could hardly make out a difference between any two except for the different shades. A beautiful flower bed along the pavement with flowers of all scents and colors. A lawn with unparalleled maintenance of grass that a speck of overgrown grass was hardly visible.

On the other side of the lane stood another house, dark and humongous as if someone had burnt it brutally unto destruction. Any  soul who praised the beauty of the bungalow could not help but mention about the monstrous house. 

Ting Tong. The doorbell rang.

“Good afternoon Sir”, the caretaker greeted them.

“Bring some refreshment for Karan Sir.”

Rohit started giving Karan a tour of the bungalow. Karan looked out of the window and the dark unkempt house in front caught his attention again.

"Who lives there?”

"No one. It has been abandoned since four years. Nobody knows who owns the property. Some say that the owner went abroad, others say that he died."

The caretaker brought coffee. They chatted for about an hour.

"I must leave now", Rohit said.

Karan accompanied Rohit to the exit.

"See you at the office tomorrow", Rohit smiled and drove off.

Karan was exhausted. He went to the bedroom upstairs and slept. The contrast of atmosphere from outside to the air conditioned one in the bedroom proved to be sedative and took him into depths of sleep.

***

It was almost dark.

Karan peeped out of the window and saw that a girl in a light blue gown was looking out of the window of the supposedly abandoned house. Not much was visible from such distance but Karan could make out that the girl was beautiful. Karan was hypnotized by her beauty. He ran downstairs and went to the street to get a closer view. He looked up but could not find anyone looking out of the house's window.

"Am I having hallucinations? What did I have for the lunch today", Karan talked to himself to lighten the air and turned back.

He heard footsteps going down the lane. He peeped closely into the dark and saw someone moving down the lane with steady steps. On a closer look he saw that she was the same girl in the blue gown.

"Excuse me", he called out.

The girl stopped for a while and started moving again without giving a look backwards.

"Excuse me Miss", Karan called again, in a louder voice this time.

The girl kept moving and started pacing. Karan paced too. She ran and all of a sudden disappeared into the dark lane. He stopped and saw that he stood by a cathedral. He bowed in respect and turned back only to see the same girl in the graveyard across the street.

"What is she doing in the graveyard at this point of time?”

He went inside the graveyard and said softly, "Hello".

She turned slowly.

Her face, the most beautiful one Karan had ever seen in his life, except for her eyes, they were completely white. He blinked his own eyes to see if it was an illusion. He tried hard to find a tincture of black, brown or blue in her eyes but to no success.  A breath got stuck in his throat and he was unable to exhale. She took hold of Karan and threw him several feet away. Karan ran at his maximum pace towards his bungalow, the girl followed him. He tripped over a stone and fell down. The girl caught hold of his neck and started squeezing his life out. He knew he was about to die, tiny droplets of sweat smeared his forehead.

“Oh…O..God sa..save me”, he muttered.

The cathedral’s bell rang and Karan jumped out of his bed.

"Wake up Sir. It is 7 am", the caretaker said handing over a large mug of coffee to Karan. Karan took the coffee mug and reflected hard to remember why he was so scared. He had forgotten all the happenings of the dream. 

The doorbell rang. The caretaker opened the door.

“Who is it?”

“None Karan Sir. Someone left a note for you.”

“Bring it to me.”

“You seem to be a really nice soul Karan. Please help me” the note read.

“Who is it from?”

“I don’t know Sir I just found this note when I opened the door.”

The entire day Karan could not stop thinking about the note.

Karan was returning from the evening walk.

“Excuse me Mister”, a lovely voice summoned Karan.

"Yes"

"Can you please help me with my luggage? I just moved in the nearby bungalow", a girl in blue gown requested.

Karan was mesmerized by her beauty. Everything looked dull before her; she had taken all the beauty and scent out of the flowers. Karan gazed at her face in awe.

"Please help me", she said again.

"Oh I am Sorry! Of course", Karan replied.

Karan helped her setting up her luggage.

"Karan. What is your name?” he asked extending his hand.

"Jane. Jane D'Souza", she replied.

"Thank you so much for your help".

“Coffee in the evening today?” Karan asked and pinched himself for being too straightforward.

"Yes. Why not?" She smiled.

They met a few more times that week after the coffee in the evening. She was the most intellectual and fun loving girl Karan had ever met. Whenever she smiled it seemed that the world smiled with her.

Karan started to develop a liking for Jane.

***

3 am

Karan got up and went to the wash-room. When he returned to his bedroom he found his almirah open. He went near the almirah to close it wondering why he had left it open. He closed the door and there she was behind it in a gown all white which competed with the moonlight that entered through the ventilation. Her eyes all white; red tear drops trying to ooze out of them.

"J..Jane", Karan fumbled with his words.

“Yess…Karan.”

“What…what are you doing here? And what are you?”

She kept her finger on Karan’s lips.

“Do you love me Karan?”

“Yes.”

She held Karan’s hand.

“Then please help me.”

“What help?”

She hugged him tightly.

“Help me.”

She disappeared from his arms.

A jackal squeaked somewhere in the nearby woods. Wind blew and the leaves of trees rustled.

Karan went unconscious.

*** Present Day ***

Karan walked out of the hypnosis laboratory.

"How are you feeling now?” the doctor inquired.

"Better", Karan lied; he could remember more or less everything about the last night.

"Come let us go out for some fun", Rohit said.

They went away in Karan's car.

"I can remember almost everything about the last night. It was definitely Jane, the girl who lives near my house."

They went to a peaceful high cliff.

"Oh! I forgot the drinks in the car. Let me bring them", Rohit said.

"Go on"

Karan turned towards the cliff and reflected on the recent happenings. Everything flashed in front of his eyes. The note, the meetings with Jane and the last night’s incident.

“What may have happened to Jane”, he thought.

The waves stroked the shore below and created a great echo.

Karan felt someone was just behind him. In a fraction of second he turned back and found that Rohit was about to push him.

"What the hell?” Karan got hold of Rohit's hand and pushed him back.

Rohit punched him on the face. Karan retaliated and held him from his collar. In the chaos Rohit slipped near the edge and was about to fall down when Karan caught his hand. Rohit hanged to the edge of the cliff.

"You moron. Why do you want to kill me?” Karan shouted.

"Because you know my secret about Jane".

"Jane? How do you know Jane? What secret?"

“Jane was my secretary.”

“What? But she just moved into the city.”

“I proposed her but the bitch refused.”

Karan was still struggling with Rohit’s words.

“In the fit of rage I kidnapped her and kept her at my alternative house, the now abandoned house in front of your bungalow. I raped that bitch for a month. How could she refuse me?”

“Then what happened to her?” Karan spoke trying to hold his anger.

“She starved. One day when I came back to the house saw her hanging to the ceiling fan from the bed sheet and the entire wall smeared with blood. ‘I will never forgive you’, she wrote.”

“You bastard! You killed her! You killed the innocent girl!”

“I washed the entire room. I went away and came back with a saw and cut her into small pieces. In the darkness of the night I took the pieces in a large bag and buried the bag in the graveyard near the cathedral. Then I spilled petrol and set the house on fire. Nobody ever knew what caused the fire.”

Tears oozed from the eyes of Karan listening to the devilish deed of Rohit. He loosened his grip and threw Rohit off the cliff.

“No…no..nooooo” Rohit shouted.

Karan turned back and went away in his car. He came to his bungalow and went to the bedroom. 

He found a note.  

"Thank you. -J"

He took the note, held it near his heart.

 “I love you too” he whispered and closed his eyes.

A Memoir May Remain

Soon I'll be gone with an expeditious stream,
On a swift time torrent as flick of a dream,
How much ever you may try you won't hold,
An emotion seldom summons once sold.
All marks of my existence will flow in a drain,
But Alas!
In a nook of your heart a memoir may remain.

Each soul has a given date you were oft told,
But to my silent tears you were often cold.
My footprint on sands you may perchance find,
A sweet recollection may flicker through your mind.
Tears from your eyes will then roll out in vain,
Alas!
In a nook of your heart a memoir may remain.

The echoes of that laughter will all die off,
A cold reminiscence will remain in mind's trough,
To touch me then you will give out your heart,
‘It’s too late my friend’ will be said by the dark.
In the monsoon cloud, you'll miss me in rain,
Alas!
In a nook of your heart a memoir may remain.

Beyond Horizon

Night has passed

Dawn has breathed

A crimson streak

In the sky weaved

Waxing rays come

Through sieve of cotton

Even on all life

Renew few drying some

An eagle ashore

Basking its wings

Into the heaven high

Preparing to soar

Awake and arisen

I am to move

A step or two

Beyond the Horizon

 

Ruke Hue Lafz

Sadr mein hain cheekte hue sannate
Hothon pe hain kuch lafz ruke
Dil theher-kar phir dhadakna chahta hai
Palkon pe ruka ek moti behna chahta hai

Yun samandar ki lehron se
Ufaan khaate hain jazbaat mere
Aaj jazbaat ke is samandar mein
Har ik armaan behna chahta hai

Aakhon ki chamakti bijliyaan bhi
Aaj ho gayi hain dhundli si
Har raah pe tutey patton sa bikhra
Ye patta bhi udd ke jeena chahta hai

Hothon pe hain alfaaz ruke phir bhi
Ye dil yun hi kuch kehna chahta hai

Eternal Love

As Rahul's finger was about to tighten on the trigger Amit took hold of his hand and threw the pistol away.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" shouted Amit.
"I don't want to live anymore" he replied.
"But why?"

Amit, Rahul's best friend. He always seized him and dragged him away from wrong. This was the second time he saved him from death which he was to mad to inflict upon himself.

"Because....", Rahul's shaky voice broke the silence.
"Because I miss her, I won't live without her. I miss the days when we used to laugh moving hand in hand. When she used to whisper her love into my ears. When she used to dance in the rain. When she used to hide in my arms because she was scared of the monster lizard that crept into her room. When she used to wear that angelic white gown at the evening parties......", Rahul went unconscious.

Tear drops oozed from Rahul's closed eyes and spread on his cheek. Amit wondered who was the girl Rahul talked about. Rahul told every bit of secret he held to Amit but how could he not tell him about the girl whom he loved. Amit lifted Rahul and helped him to the bed. He was confused about his friends state of mind when something in Rahul's study caught Amit's attention. It was a red rose kept on a novel under the lamp.
"Eternal Love" the novel's title read.
He opened the novel and a bookmark slipped to the floor. He picked it up and placed it inside again. He kept the novel back under the lamp when he noticed a the part of the bookmark that was outside the novel was signed 'Jane'. He quickly opened the novel again and read the note that was used as the bookmark.

Meet Me Soon...
No. 334
Opp. St. John's Church

-Jane

He kept the note back and was about to call Joseph to ask where St. John's Church was when he saw something astonishing on the novel cover again.

"Eternal Love"
By Jane D'Souza

He called Joseph immediately.
7 kms. from his current location.
He started his bike and turned the accelerator to its maximum. 25 minutes and he was before the St. John's Church.
"I've to find house number 334" he said to himself before he turned to see the houses opposite to the church. What took his breath was that there were no houses but a graveyard.
"Then what is number 334?" he asked himself trying to breathe properly.
He went inside the graveyard and saw:

Grave No. 334
Jane D'Souza
(1952-2003)

He ran at a rocketing pace, took out the novel and opened the last page.

Page 334:
....she took out the shiny knife and stabbed herself.
"I will always be waiting for you"

My Life Boat

Yonder a weary boat awaits,
A gray streak in the blue invokes,
Hither I'm on my dreams afloat,
Following desire: a serene abode.

Away rowing into the sea green,
Floating over waters never seen.
Tides love me with such hatred,
A dull smile, thither they are fled.

Tempests to the weary fiercely strike,
Dreams and Hopes shattered alike.
Lo! Foresees light, my heart näive,
A plank still floats on the wave.

Engineer's Day: on a different note

en-gi-neer [en-jə-ˈnir]
noun.
a person who has scientific training and who designs and builds complicated products, machines, systems, or structures
[Merriam Webster Dictionary]

noun.
a person who yearns for a 1 crore package at a US based MNC and eventually ends up in an IIM if this unfortunately does not happen.
a person who curses himself for not being in Computer Science and Engineering
[Dictionary of Current Indian Affairs]

Indian Institutes of Technology (IIT) Ranking slips in the Quacquarelli Symonds World University Rankings, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) tops the list second year in a row.
Why care about this when the IITs already came after 200th rank in the previous year’s list?

So, you’re an en-gi-neer and you’re proud of it?

Why Proud?

Because you can boast about how burdened you’re with your assignments, how you can pass just by studying the last night of exam, how you can post facebook updates like ‘I build the world’, how you can get a job that would make your neighbors raise their brows?

If you’re proud of any such thing then my friend you have been deceived, you have been deceived by the world and its glitter.

Quality of an Institute is not judged by how many of its students get jobs but by how helpful it is in the development of the World. How innovative its students are? What can they make which the world has never seen?

Does India lack brains?

Obviously not!
A girl from Goa developed a 3D gesture sensing technology which is good enough that it may replace (or complement) the touch screen technology. [MIT]
Another India based girl in USA developed a super capacitor that can charge your cell phone in seconds using Nano-Technology.

Ask yourself.
What are you striving for?

Even if you become a billionaire you may be in news for your lifetime but if you could give a technology that revolutionizes the world you’ll ever be memorized. That day you’ll be a true Billionaire, a billionaire of million hearts.

Earn. Earn enough. But don’t accumulate. Are going to live the next moment to enjoy your accumulation?

Be an Engineer not an E(arn)gineer.

Happy Engineers Day!

PS: Don’t google ‘Dictionary of Current Indian Affairs’, its fictional.

Yo Yo Honey Singh

Friends, Indians, countrymen give me your ears for I come here today not to praise modesty but to bury it. The noble elites say modesty is ancient and ‘modernism’ is today’s need but this is a grievous fault and seriously we have paid for it.

Many have criticized the celebrities who condemned the rape cases (specifically the Delhi rape) arguing that they are the ones who are one of the motivational factor behind these cases. They are the ones who objectify women in all of their productions be it movies, advertisements or most importantly ‘item’ songs.

‘Why item songs?’

‘Because woman is an item dude. Don’t you know?’

‘Use her and throw?’

‘Exactly’

Why criticize the actors for promoting visual objectification of women when we have audios which objectify women too?

Yo Yo Honey Singh!

Yes, you’ve heard that name. He started his career as a singer who sung adult Hindi/Punjabi songs and went all his way to rap in Bollywood songs.

‘But why criticize someone for his wrongs past?’

‘The point is: has he actually changed? He apparently stopped using obscene words but what he portrays has always been the same.’

Yet, Yo Yo is an honorable rapper.

His songs literally treat women as whores. People who protest with the placards of “Hang the Rapists” in the day are also being fed with the same mentality they are protesting against.

Yet, Yo Yo is an honorable rapper.

I had once heard that world today wanted something new to be high on. I never knew ‘something new’ implied ‘anything at all’.

Yet, Yo Yo is an honorable rapper.

I am told that music is something that soothes your mind and soul, something that persuades you to think. That being the case, this is not music.

The Silent Night

It was the end of September and nights had started to become a bit colder. The full moon, ruler of the night showered its milky beams upon the otherwise gloomy world. The moonlight gave a bluish hue to the Eucalyptus trees and the fireflies competed with the lamps of heaven.

The sheer silence of the scene was occasionally broken by the sharp sound of  the cricket.

“Did you see the moon?” Rahul asked Anjali.

“Yes! It’s beautiful” she replied.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

She did not respond but the wind whispered that a tear or two oozed from her sparkling eyes.

“I wish we had a world where only we existed. I would have danced with you for eternity” she said excitedly.

“Close your eyes. Let me take you to such a world.”

“Closed”

“Now see I am near you to hug you and comfort you” he said.

She tightened her arms on her own chest and hugged.

“I am feeling sleepy. Please play a song so that I may sleep calmly” she requested softly.

A song was played. The softness of music amplified into her heart and took her into an ocean of dreams and serenity. 

He paused the song to hear her breathe. Her exhalations relaxed his soul.

The moon hid behind a patch of cloud. 

“Good Night Love!” he whispered softly and hung up the call.