Friends!

Forever, Reliant, Indispensable, Indelible, Darling, and Sincere: these are the attributes without which the essence of the word, friends, remains hollow. If your friends happen to lack any one of these six traits, then you need to rethink as to the status of your friendship.

No doubt, life is tough! But friends help diffuse the draconian plight of life to a stage that is smooth and easy. Friends are the sail that helps fight the typhoons of life. Sans friends, life is life- less.

In this materialistic and self-centered world it is well-nigh impossible to find the pristine emotion of friendship. But then who said that miracles have stopped to happen in the world? Yes, real friends and true friendship are yet to be extinct.

The world is fraught with souls that are illuminated with virtues of the notion called friendship. These people appreciate the others to a tee. They are compassionate, but they don’t pity their friends’ state. Instead, they provide succor to their friends that helps decimate the pernicious guffaw of calamity and introduces the tranquil chortle of bliss. Real friends are not like the shadow of self that leaves one, when there is gloom. They are like streams of breath that is always there, through thick and thin.

Real friends reject hierarchy. They enjoy sailing in the same boat and weathering the storm with the united dint. There are times when misconceptions creep in but these submit before the inimitable trust and pure affection.

Real friends may fight with you but they fight for you as well! They sob when you cry; their eyes well up, when your heart pains. Likewise, they are delighted, when you are ecstatic. They celebrate your steps of success as if it is their own and their prayers are full of wishes for you.

Real friends are the fortitude in the times of strife; they are the hope in the times of despondency; and they are the grit in the times of grim. Sheer serendipity helps us find our friends in the course of life, and it is also an onus on the part of all friends to preserve the friendship by strengthening the invisible, but completely present, fabric of friendship through indefatigable efforts.

Friends are answers of our prayers to god; they are evidence of divine interference in the world. Those are lucky who have friends to unfurl their heavy heart before and confide their secrets in. Friends are precious; we should try our utmost to save ourselves from losing these gems that proffer shine and shimmer to our life!

Pain and Human

The words rhyme fortunately or unfortunately. God created humans and gifted them a pouch (holding pain) advising to use it with discretion. Since then, pain has helped define many a chapters in the history of the human society. On some chapters, we can feel proud of, but on some; we feel ashamed!

The pain is glorified when a pair of hands with chisel and hammer carves life out of an inanimate stone; when a pair of hands repairs an ailing body part; and when a pair of hands bundles joy into a microchip.

Pain becomes sublime when human endeavours float in space, swim in air and run on earth. Pain is integral part of every invention of human history. When a filament glowers, an engine roars, and a rocket soars, pain gets honoured.

For eons human beings have endured pain to lessen pain. However, history is also rife with illustrations where humans have afflicted pain to worsen pain. Hatred is one element that has contributed enormously to augment the pain factor in human life. With all weaknesses of mind and soul, humans have scripted venomous and virulent stories of all time. The ideologies, sometimes, got so flagrant that the most uncouth form of humanity got revealed.

No part of the world is untouched of the abject notions. In the name of race, cast and creed, the pain has been administered to human beings all around the world. Be it miasmic gases, naked daggers or earth-ripping bombs, they have helped establish the reign of pain.

Whenever, a body is blown to smithereens, is ripped like a cloth, or suffocated in a closed chamber, ignominious becomes the humanity. When one set of lips laughs at the other pair of wet eyes, pure form of pain perishes and the ugly gets procreated.

There are two types of pain. One etches beatific smile on lips while other draws horror to the eyes. There are already innumerable avatars of nature that give pain to us in shape of natural calamities, death, injuries, etc.., so why add the extra potion of pain in life. The humans should take pain to refine themselves once and for all, so that negative façade of pain gets obliterated and pain is always referred to as in a context that is life- enriching not life-snatching!

When She Smiles…

When she smiles gloom dies,

When she smiles bloom sighs.

When she smiles meaningful becomes life,

When she smiles happiness becomes rife.

When she smiles life gets confident,

When she smiles strife gets absent.

When she smiles, blissful becomes surround,

When she smiles, beautiful becomes around.

When she smiles, rainbow glowers,

When she smiles, glee-bow showers.

When she smiles, earth becomes more new,

When she smiles, sky becomes pure view.

When she smiles, dew gets sheen,

When she smiles, hope gets umpteen.

(Dedicated to a friend who inspires life.)

Meaning of Being Sachin Tendulkar in India!

Indian middle class population is by and large busy with anxiety of future and concerns of today. Amid ever increasing demands of life, people seldom find an occasion of respite. Workload of office, tension of work commute, tight monthly budget, increasing prices of essential commodities, you name them and you will find a problem or two clutching this stratum of Indian society. In such situation, there is one fad of this class that helps it forget its problems and that is: cricket!

It is said that cricket is religion in India. Then there must be a god of the religion. Yes, this religion does have one. And the name of the God is: Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. This name has been synonymous with hope and dream for the middle class. With the flight of the career of Sachin Tendulkar , dreams of middle class also soared. This player gave the middle class belief to surmount the insurmountable and achieve the unachievable.

Through his cricketing skills, he showed that dream is slave of spunk, ambitions submit to grit and goals respect perseverance. There is always a vicarious happiness across the middle class, whenever Sachin is happy. Through his centuries and wickets, the middle class lives its own dreams. The deeds of god inspire generations to resist giving up and desist giving in. Like an indefatigable warrior he fights the cricketing battles to rewrite the meanings of competition, competitor, and victories.

As an indomitable competitor he describes the game in his own way that is just and sublime. Cricket has also got a definitive ambassador in him.

World at large is indebted to him for various occasions that he brought to the destiny of the game named cricket. Indian middle class in particular has witnessed several festive moments thanks to swashbuckling endeavours of the diminutive wizard. Sachin has filled new coloures to Holi and new brightness to Diwali. The power of the Sachin’s sleight turns a frazzled face into a sprightly pool of beatific emotions.

Sachin Tendulkar signifies rectitude that makes a life meaningful and fortitude that makes a person adorable. If we can cultivate these two attributes of Sachin in our life, then we can also make our life teeming with achievements like Sachin’s !

The Past Perfect!

Past is always glorious, bewitching and enchanting -- be it a life of a society or a nation. Past always conjures up a sense of supremacy for societies around the world. ‘We were this or we were that’ gives a velvety shed from the scorching challenges of present. Every society longs for a revisit of past. It wants to revisit the glory of past that it is bereft of in the dominance of present.

Several wars have been fought on the face of the earth to revisit the golden dream of past. Societies and Nations alike have sacrificed tranquility of present to repeat the sheen of the past. Blood and brutality has been used several times in the space of time to move the clock backwards.

The penchant for past is inseparably embedded in  human psyche. Whenever we, as a nation or as a society, mention the word past, we tend to skim only achievements and ignore debacles. And this tendency to embrace glory and avoid gloom is a cardinal force behind our infatuation for past.

Whenever archeologists excavate traces of forgotten civilizations, the integral to the exploration is always the word ‘imposing’. In a way we congratulate ourselves on being the heir of a magnanimous legacy. And that is why, there is hunger to dig earth layer by layer.  

With the word past, the word pride is subtly intertwined. And when societies rummage for their past, they actually try to delve for their pride that is buried under the dust of time. The major chunk of present is expended cogitating about the past that was immaculate and the past that was perfect.

Basking in the past provides soothing refuge to the tumultuous present. And many a times past has been inspiration to achieve something in present that is awe inspiring. Dwelling in the past is ok as long as the present is not being sacrificed. If present is strangulated perforce to make the past alive again, then a precarious situation emerges that engulfs the future as well.

So, we should always take care while submerging ourselves into hallucinating effects of past to give proper respect to our present and future. It is better to sprinkle experiences of past on the destiny of present than to expunge the opportunities of present for the nostalgic hubris of past.

Being Defeated!

The world is a throng. Chances are always high that you get lost in this labyrinth of human sea to never find yourself again. To keep yourself from drowning in the abysmal moat of oblivion, you need to trudge along the path that is rife with thorns. Nobody cares whether your feet are caked with blood or your lungs are deplete of breath, the world is only interested in whether you are a winner!


If you happen to be a mutilated soul by the incessant invasions of worldly challenges, you will hardly find any balmy palm that will hold the puddle of tears from your eyes. The world will celebrate the wounds of the winner and leave the gash of the looser to only ooze.


In such a world, being anybody less that a winner seems a crime! To achieve is everything; to strive is nothing. The world seldom agrees that you need volumes of fortitude to blanket yourself with an aphotic reality of defeat amid the blinding aura of victory.


But then who said that the world is always right?


World is besotted with victories but it forgets that it is the defeats that have changes the very destiny of the world. Because someday, somebody had shown the courage to get defeated, that is why today we have the luxury of wings in the air; because someday, somebody had dared to lose, that is why we have stars twinkling on the earth even in the wee hours of the night; and because someday, somebody discouraged the word defeat, that is why today we have our voice waves travelling across the oceans and continents.


So, as a state, defeat in itself is not ignominious. It is fault of the eyes of the world that fails to see the sprouts of success smeared in the ash of defeat.

A Journey Called Life!

The journey of life is the most fascinating of all other odysseys that a human being experiences on the face of the earth. The body and mind traverse miles of space without making any evident noise. The tacit chugging of the combined entity (i.e. body and mind) measures length of time, width of emotions, and breadth of thoughts. There is hardly any human invention that can equally give the joy of a journey as the body and mind proffers. No bikes, cars or airplanes can provide the ecstasy of a journey parallel to the one provided by the body and mind combination. As a source of vehicle they take us through different stations of life.


What are these different stations of life? Ages.


Through the mirror of age human beings manifest their dreams, wishes and aspirations. When one is an infant, one wishes to explore the riddle called world, when adult one dreams of conquering the world, and when old one aspires to submit to the sublimity of the world. When one is child expressions are doodled .When one gets to adulthood thoughts are sketched. When one is ripe, the emotions are painted.


From being incomplete the accomplished and from being half to being full to the brim is the essence of the stages of life.


Appreciation for the complex web of life comes only after being entangled with it. Emotions of joy and sorrow, ecstasy and woes are prime extremes between which life dangles. Learning is the booty that one garners with every passing phase of life. With the acquired learning, the life gets a direction.


The directions reach people to their desired destinations. And a journey gets completed with touching down on the destination. At the destination the lamp of the body starts flickering but the soul gets filled with blinding ocean of sheen. And at this point, life is said to be completely complete!

An Ism that deserves extinction!

World has seen several sorts of ‘isms’ so far—Communism, Socialism, Patriotism etc…. Each ‘ism’ has to do with deaths of people ranging from mild to major extents. Deaths caused by these ‘isms’ have some tenable arguments. But there is one ‘ism’ where deaths caused are diametrically untenable. And this ‘ism’ has terror as its crux.


To frighten somebody having only extremities as fighting weapons in comparison to sophisticated Kalashnikovs and A.K. 47s is an outright act of abject cowardice. But the terrorist outfits hail such acts as paradigm of valour and heroism.


When tender flesh of suckling babies get lacerated by splinters ;when defenseless women and the elderly are perforated with sharp bullets ; and when young frames ,that are only recourse of their frail parents in their twilight, get punctured by the mortal grenades—the soul of terrorism achieves utter ecstasy. People, who carry precarious attacks to satiate the imaginary doctrines of their religion, believe that their God will commend such deeds and welcome them with open arms in the divine pasture of heaven. Seldom do they realize that when a bereaved mother’s (be she of any religion) eyes become a puddle of grief and pain, their own formless God’s eyes emanate drops of blood.


It doesn’t matter however strong and pious is the cornerstone of arguments for terrorist acts, if such acts ruthlessly and incessantly try to smother the laughter of children (whom everybody’s God loves the most), then these acts are antithesis of God’s desires for a tolerant world.


Killing of vulnerable school children, unprepared tourists, and unarmed hotel staffs is highly unlike the tenet of the religion in which name the massacre is carried out. Because this monotheistic religion exhorts to give the least amount of pain possible even to animals that need to be slaughtered to douse the fire of hunger.


I don’t think that such considerate religion will have a God with a heart as callous as stone. And I don’t think it either that ferocious and savage deeds of scare that are touted as wish list of Allah are even approved of by the almighty, let alone the talk of getting prime posts in heaven.


When humanity is tattered and humans don the mantle of demons, the casualty is the piety of God’s desires. And what God desires? It desires that one human becomes the tool for blowing life in the veins of other humans instead of scotching their breath; It desires that one human becomes the tool to adorn other humans’ sky with scintillating stars instead of covering it with daunting clouds; and it desires that one human enlightens other humans’ brain about the true will of its and real objectives of human life instead of enmeshing them into the fallacious crusades.


The earth is like a garden and life on it is like luscious flowers. When these flowers bloom and the fragrance of humanity envelops the world, the God’s purpose of fashioning life out of earth reaches apogee of magnanimity. But when acidic standpoints try to wilt these flowers perforce, God’s purpose of creating humans injures. And terrorism is one such act that mutilates brutally the wholesome intentions of God to harvest smiles in volumes, out of a life elapsed on the earth.


Terrorists dedicate their reprehensible act to the glorification task of their God’s regime. But they hardly realize that by killing innocents they can only earn curse and wrath of their God. Though terrorism in discussion entails religion as its integral aspect, it shows every signs of nihilism. Terrorism annihilates very emotions of sympathy and compassion —which are sine qua non elements of a religion. And when a religion gets bereft of these two aforesaid facets, the religion becomes hollow. And what I am trying to convey is that the terrorists don’t represent Islam but a deceptive and beguiling pile of notions that are purported as essentially Islamic.


Terrorist mindset argues that means of devastation are used to bring forth the gripe and grievances of a community. But trying to get justice with unjust tactics not only dwarfs the stature of the efforts to be heard but it also brings the unwitting ignominy to the religion in which name the war has been waged.






I pray for a situation in this world wherein some panacea replaces rabid grouse and salubrious ideology replaces sucking terrorism!

A Lesson In The Park

It was a usual scene -- a park teeming with joggers. Every sphere of life-- i.e. childhood, youth, and old age—was scattered all over the park. Sweating faces, sloshing paunches, and swift legs ruled the early morning hour of the park.


I was there sitting on a bench after taking a light stroll. Since, I was in the middle of the oval garden, I was able to reckon rounds that people were taking. Some took 20 laps of swift walk, while some preferred to only 5.


After a while a couple with an almost 10 years old boy entered the park and started their rounds of health. Both parents had clutched hands of the boy from either side. The boy was walking in the middle of his parents. They took one lap and completed second and went on. When this family crossed my eyes after the third lap, a little girl of six caught my attention. She was insisting her grandfather on playing football with her. It was obvious from grandpa’s gestures that due to his arthritis, he was trying to persuade the little lady to be confined to his lap. Grandpa tried to veer her attention from football and pointed his finger toward the sky to show a flock of birds. And I assumed (the constant stare of the girl toward the sky helped me assume) that the old chap conjured up a story then and there to placate the football passion of the girl. The girl lost into the story; I, into the Sky.


“How vast the bosom of the Sky is?” I thought. The decoration of the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars weaves a spectacle for the eyes. There is very hardly any roof in this world as sumptuously accoutered as the Sky. I was enthralled at the grandeur of nature.


My attention pertaining to the glorification of the nature broke by the footsteps coming toward a bench beside mine. It was those three who had entered a while ago. After the tiring rounds of walk, they had come to relax on the bench. For some time they relished the breathtaking view around the park, before being disturbed by the honking horn of an ice-cream-man. The child tugged on the sari (a dressing piece of cloth for women in India) of her mother to let her know his demand of an ice cream cone. Mother complied with his demand and bought him a cone of ice cream.




I wondered why he himself didn’t reach out for the ice cream trolly, like many children do?




On closer examination, I came to know that he was unable to see. That is why his parents were helping him to finish up the ice cream. After devouring the delicious dollops, he rested his back on the rear part of the bench. His translucent eyeballs rolled from one corner to the other corner of his eyes tracing every sound that happened in the atmosphere. In fact the eyeballs were corresponding with the directions his ears gave him as to a sound. He was continuously active with his two organs to explore the surrounding he was in.




“What an irony!” I thought. “There is so much of color around him, but he was deprived of that.” My heart got filled with sympathetic feelings for him. I felt vicarious pain for his inability to see things. I cursed every thing from God to nature for the injustice done to this little soul.


With feelings of despondency, I made an approach to converse with him by asking his name. (His father erased skepticism in his eyes for a stranger’s voice by addressing me as uncle and told him to tell me his name.)


“Sumit” he sounded sonorously.




“In which class do you read, Sumit?” I asked.




“Class five”




“Do you have any hobbies?”




“He sings very well, has won many music competitions too.” Informed his father.




“Oh! Is it?” “… Then why no have a music treat from you?”




The boy was shy to start with, but once he started singing (upon his mother’s encouragement), I was spellbound. The voice of his had a glimpse of aplomb, which can surmount any difficulties of life; the shimmer in his eyes had grains of grit, that can pierce any citadel of success; and the whole body of his had elements of ebullition, which can indefatigably encourage him to stay optimistic in life.




The song, which was a hymn, ended and ‘bravo’ spelt out of my mouth. His parents clapped.


The pleasant duration of morning was passing by quickly and the Sun was becoming a little bitter to bear. All three rose to take leave, I insisted to walk for some distance with them. Halfway our journey, I found a grocery shop. I went into it and bought a packet of chocolates for Sumit. I came out and gifted the packet to him in appreciation of his entertaining performance for me. He received the packet with élan; he was ecstatic. I could feel his emotions through his smiling lips. After a few minutes, we parted ways.




I was alone and strolling back to my destination. Some notions started springing up in my mind. They were troublesome for me. These views were about my prior contemplation about the kid. I thought why I felt pessimistic about the existence of the kid. The boy was full of life and I had described his life as drab and bland. Why I thought downside about the boy, only because he couldn’t see. Is it that only people with ability to see have the right to enjoy the gifts of life? No, life can be enjoyed even without the ability to see.


Enjoyment of life has nothing to do with the ability to see, but to the ability to feel. If one can feel life, then one is alive, otherwise dead. But this is not the situation with the ability to see. One can miss the light of eyes and at the same time enjoy the life to the full. I am not sure whether I was dead, when I thought hopeless things about the lad, but am sure about now that I am alive. Because, I am enlightened and know something more as to life than I did an hour or so before.


Finally, it dawned on me that I was utterly wrong in assessing his plight. And the acknowledgement of mistake was with a guilt feeling. That day I promised myself that I won’t fell sorry for any disabled person in the future, for this belittles the importance of their struggle and courage that they use to lead this life. The crux of my thinking session was that the moment I feel that somebody is disabled; I make myself disabled too. Because, this way I manifest my disabilities to comprehend the import of their existence in encouraging us (the abled ones) to conquer the impediments of our lives without having any grievances. Anyways life is a learning curve and everyone is learning something or the other by every passing moment. I have learnt a lesson too that I will remember until I die err as long as I live.

The Unhealthy Divide

There are different types of separations on the surface of the globe: oceans separating land, mountains separating climate, and borders separating countries. And this demeanor of nature has, perhaps, influenced the life style of human beings on the earth too. Reason for this assumption is the life style of human society, which is replete with sundry divisions.


Cleavage between the black and the white, the rich and the poor, and the strong and the weak has been discussed seriously, but one division hasn’t been scrutinizes as them. And that division is: the division between the healthy and the indisposed population of the world.


However queer it may seem, this division is a reeking truth of today’s human society. If we leave out a handful of selfless NGO’s and generous celebrities, the society as a whole is very indifferent, very inconsiderate, and very insensitive towards the emotional needs of an ailed person.


Be the ailment due to accidents or physical vulnerability, stagnation is a word that smears with every ailing person. Wheel chairs and hospital beds sap energy and hope and all other positives that make a life worth living. The legs of patients get so weak that they struggle to keep pace with the rest of the world; the hands get so weak that they tremble to hold the gauntlet; the eyes get so weak that they grapple to hold delightful dreams. Even so, they are winners in their own right. Therefore, they deserve all respect in the world for their courage to fight, for their volition to win and for their endeavor to survive.


But often, they don’t get what they deserve. Their friends, partners and relatives (save for parents and siblings) try to steer clear of them as soon as the disease gets disclosed. Suddenly, the sick are unwanted; the sick are unproductive; the sick are out of contention and race.


The “healthy heard” of society, very soon, indulge itself in its own routine life for the quest of hollow materialistic success. I don’t mean that the chasing for success is bad, no, what I am saying is just to appreciate the contributions made in your life by that ill and to resurrect the hope for life in his/her heart too. Help the stagnant views of the diseased get wings of resplendent tomorrow.


The yelling, heard at regular intervals from some nook and corner of the world, to outcast the patients of Leprosy, T.B, Epilepsy, Aids from the social circle is still making humanity feel ashamed.


The disdain only shows that how brittle we are despite of making steels; how little we are despite of touching the sky; and how shallow we are despite of fathoming the oceans. It serves a purpose to be reminded here that the headway of present-day human race is the upshot of an evolution process entailing million years.


Now back to the subject of patients. When situation becomes unbearable for some patients, tolerating bitter pills and pointed jabs and indifferent behavior they succumb. But their capitulation is solemn and asks answer to the question: when the Homo sapiens will become humane sapiens?


However, this might not be too tough ask if we rinse our heart in pursuit of love, care and passion—the gifts bestowed upon us by the almighty to be human being in true sense. We must try to paint our soul with these three elements profusely and the time is no far when we see the lacuna between two leanings of behavioral pattern plugged for the progression of society and its inhabitants.