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.

The Street Girl

It was the mid monsoon season, the sky full of varying hues which blended into white near the horizon. A black patch here and another white one near it gave the illusion of the world being transformed into gray-scale. Water poured as if the heaven had been flooded due to some reason and was draining its waste.

Choti was standing under a small shade on the entrance of a small house which barely guarded her from the cruel chilling rain water. Choti? Yes, that was the name she was accustomed to hear. She almost forgot she was once named Shipra. Her pink frock was torn at the edges with stains of mud all over.

Shivering bitterly of cold but the need of her belly faded away the effect of cold weather. She had not eaten a morsel since the last day. How would she have when she has nobody to cook for and feed her? She cried at times when she remembered her mother, her only parent since childhood whom fate snatched from her a month ago.

‘It is good to cry in the rain because then nobody knows that you are crying’, a statement oft repeated by people did not hold good for her. How would she get food if she did not get sympathy?

The gate behind her beautifully carved and polished with silvery color having numerous red flowers with a large glittering WELCOME written at the top. The ‘WELCOME’ caught her attention.

‘May be I can get something to eat here?’ she thought.

Knock. Knock.

A man opened the gate.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I’ve not eaten anything Sir. If I could get some…..”

“We don’t have any food. Go, ask someone else” he shouted interrupting her and banged the door.

She turned back to move to some other option. The road was too slippery to walk. She tried a lot to be firm and hold herself but to no effect. She fell. Her blood droplets fell into the muddy water and transformed into a weird shade of brown.

‘It’s just little blood’ she consoled herself and moved.

She reached the highway. The road was almost empty with few cars moving to and fro at an interval of a minute or so. She started crossing the road with small shivering steps. All of a sudden a white BMW emerged out of nowhere; the driver tried hard but could not stop due to the slippery path.

Banggg.

She was hit with great force and thrown five meters away on her face. Blood smeared all over her face and her head bleeded heavily.

The car owner hurriedly came out of the car to look into the matter.

“Who is it?” asked his wife sitting inside the car.

“Some random street girl”

“Leave her or we’ll get into trouble. The road is empty, no one saw the accident.”

Choti was breathing heavily. The man left her, sat into the car, ignited it and went away. After driving a mile or so he played music to lighten the mood.

Choti was dying.

The Fallen Leaf

Driven by the wild selfish air,

Taken through all foul and fair,

I wonder if life always will be,

A fallen leaf yearning to get its tree.

Wind so stroked its ruthless blade,

An instant parting from life was made.

I screamed if someone could hold my fall,

My cry to the dumb world seemed small.

O you who move with pride on earth,

I too was once green with mirth,

Perplexed I’m why bliss is so brief,

Why all paths end up in grief?

I always followed the sun’s amber flight,

Amazed I was when all that was left,

With me was night!