The Door

Doors Doors everywhere, not a door to enter. that is what Aaron's dilemma was. he didnt always have many options, like he did now. but now that he did, he was confused. He could be a carpenter or be an engineer. He could be anything. anything, but the master of his own destiny. For that he believed, had already been decided. Ironic? Not so! You see, Aaron wrote in his diary, we may not be able to pass through the space-time continuum. But we definitely pass through situations. Big and small. It was like a cricket match, where a ball is thrown to you. where and how you hit it, is your choice. and what happens when those choices become an exponent of life? its 360 degrees up to you, ranging from cover-drives to normal defenses. but What does one do with such a predicament. One thinks. And Aaron thought of constructiveness. He wasnt Ayn rand's selfish objectivist Howard. He wanted to help people. sincerely help them. But people dont need help. only a few ever come up to you and ask for it. of course, most of the ones who ask end up in Alcoholics anonymous or with a psychotherapy session. Aaron didnt undermine group therapy sessions, but one could definitely therapeutize, if thats a word, oneself. All one needs is balance. Balance in all the four spheres. There are many doors. doors that open to unimaginable worlds. One of them that particularly aroused Aaron's interest was Tolkien's Middle Earth. It seemed so perfect to be an elf or a dwarf or even a hobbit. So perfect to speak their own languages without being thought of as inferior. But now came the end of the page, and today's fable was done. Aaron closed the book and tried to go to sleep. But sleep wouldnt come. There was so much buzzing in his head, in front of his eyes. There was an exam tomorrow. right now, his choices were cornered. but there would be more at hand. Soon enough, he would be able to discover his destiny. A destiny that was now driving him to sleep.

Patriotism

Patriotism. What is patriotism. the dictionary defines it as the love of the country and willingness to sacrifice for it. what the dictionary doesnt define is whether people are really into it or not. I'll say most of us are not. Our Forefathers have put in a lot of effort to get us where we stand today. Battles were fought, movements were organised and what not. so, in a way, we it to them to save our country from the nefarious evils out there. The most basic of the problems faced by India today, is corruption. Mr Anna Hazare is trying his best for the lokpal bill, but still the end of corruption has a long way to go. Just try imagining a corruption-free government and a corruption free India. you might have to pay the thulla an extra 500 rs, cuz u were running red lights, but if you look at the bigger picture, its all for the greater good. The new budget has also proved that there are still people who care for the general populace. so what is our role towards a corruption free india. its can be multifaceted. i'll name one. if we could just grab our morality and start listening to our conscience, we might actually witness the nayak's world in our own lives. and our children, well, we're securing a shining India for them. All in all, we could be the next super power if only we loved our country enough. think abt it. Jai hind

A Predicament

Saari umr hum, mar mar ke jeete hain, ek pal to ab humen jeene do jeene do. Kabir was pursing mbbs. but he had a talent to write. and write what? ranging from anything to everything. it was his favourite pastime. writing poetry, articles, doing online writing jobs... he just loved writing so much. but he was into a different stream altogether. what could he do? after two years of speculation, as to whether he should quit mbbs or continue doing it, after 2 years of a predicament, he realised he could do both. Writing is just a tool, he realised. you gotta have some basis to write upon. like a doctor writes abt medicine. an engineer abt something (how would i know?). this was a world he was now growing into. it was a precarious world. being a master of one trade is hard enough. here there were two subjects to be mastered. 2 subjects owing their allegiance to one king. maybe it is royal then. the more subjects a king has, the more powerful is his kingdom. and Kabir's kingdom of writing and mbbs could go hand in hand, if only, he could concentrate on both easily. would be able to? what do you say?

Budgeteer and Musketeer

There were two men. One called Anna and the other Pranna (disambiguation pranab). Pranna and Anna, though not the best of friends, strived towards one common goal- The welfare of the nation. But they had different methods- one legal and the other, well an agitated sort of legal. Pranab Mukhergee presented the budget today that had various gains and pains. but mainly, it seeks to address the problems of the country, like oil prices and taxes. With the Big Yankee breathing down its neck, India is lucky to be able to survive with Persian ties. We can only hope that things get better. but as they say, they get a lot worse before they get any better.
Anna has always worked hard for transparency. he himself if a pretty transparent man. Uses simple words, has simple motives. Only a leader like Anna could have achieved what he has achieved- an autonomous body governing the government- the answer to the question, quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
Both Pranna and Anna, today, endevour to build a shining India. The shinier the better. Lets take a moment here and pray for a better country, better administration and better communication. Unity is what it takes to hold a nation together. and Hindu-Muslim brotherhood is the key to it. take care. stand united.

Unfinished Business

it must have been around 5:30. i awoke with a start. not knowing what to do or where to go, i went to the kitchen to have some water. as i opened the creaking door, there was a weird sound coming from behind the door. i didnt pay attention at first. but then, soon i realised, there was something funny abt this situation. there are no ghosts. so what was i thinking? suddenly, out the blue, i saw my brother, opening the creaking refridgerator door. haha... No Ghosts No Ghosts.
I went back to sleep that day and many days passed uneventfully. until one day, people were coming into my room and messing things up. they were sort of collecting things, like souvenirs. I tried hushing and pushing them away, but they didnt listen. they never listened, my parents, my brother, my brothers, nooone ever listened to me. but this was serious. Why would people take things away from my room. I went and tried talkin to my mother. but she was gone. all of them were gone. Shit, this place had been sold to someone else. Why was this happening to me, i couldnt understand at first. but slowly, gradually, i began to absorb the whole picture, bit by bit. Now I had a gut feeling. I walked to the local cemetery. No signs of Almathan tyler. i searched and searched, and the more i searched, the more i was relieved. Until at last, i came upon a grave written, Almathan tyler. RIP. the date indicated i had died 6 months ago. so why was i still on earth? some unfinished business? maybe! they say, a lot will die for one to survive. if i am part of the grand equation, so be it. im not afraid. I will not be afraid. I will just wait for the right time to come, when Hermes takes me back to heaven or Hades summons me to the netherworld. Touchwood.

Dreams

Once there was a little boy. he had a dream. a dream that kept him up for long at night. no kind of chocolates or games or entertainment would take him away from that dream. he had become a function of that dream. but he still liked the idea to be in control. so that he could do something about it. This little boy, who recently achieved a target no mortal has ever achieved, is proof that dreams come true if you persist enough. Sachin Tendulkar is no ordinary man. he has accomplished what no man has ever accomplished and as it seems, no man ever will. This is the story of a man, who persevered so much, it used to sweat out of his brow and sometimes even his undies- have u noticed how sachin ducks a little when he's in pressure. aah, thats just blasphemy. A demigod deserves better.
So where did it all begin. For someone who started to train as a fast bowler, Sachin has come a long way from it. he has played as a batsman in countless matches, and proved that someone on earth can still make the dead turn in their graves. of course, Don bradman is a restless soul these days. but cutting a long story short, and just delivering the message that i want to deliver, I wont go into the details of who Sachin is and more importantly, what is he made of (some people would say pure ether). all of you know the story of the legend. i'll just say what the master blaster says himself- hold on to your dreams. they will become your reality.

Little John

The Bogeys were set on fire. The entire nation was enraged. How could a minority be so audacious. Well, these were questions that didn’t matter to the little John, who was locked in a cabin inside a house, had been locked for days now, with no food or water supply, except for the occasional drops of water that would trickle down the roof through the cracks in the wall. Little John was 10 years old. He had never seen pain before in his life, like the way he saw it now. Shops being burnt by violent fanatics. Victims finding places for shelter. Little John had been lucky to find this little apartment, not very far from him original home. His parents had died in the riots. His father was a cardiac patient. So he couldn’t really owe his life to the craziness. But his mum. His mum he missed. He had a pendant to remember her, and he would hold it and pray. Things had been changing outside the apartment. Little did he know that a greater destiny awaited him.
It was well past midnight when he awoke with a start. There was a weeping sound coming from outside. he was too scared to go out and check. But mustering all his strength, he still did. It took him the courage of his life to open the creaking door and tiptoe outside into the verandah, and ensure that there was no major problem. That it was just a dog crying its lazy cry. But it turned out to be a man. An old man. John didn’t know what to do. He came up to the old man. The Man was doubly bent with legs that could barely support him. His aquiline nose did well to hook him to the string of life but his eyes. His eyes were that of a man in serious pain. Excruciating pain. John extended a hand, but the old man refused to be comforted. Take my hand Old Man, i can help you, said the young john, who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. The Old man looked back at john with bloodshot eyes and with partial agreement, nodded his head but still didn’t take john’s hand. John made a bold move here. He reached out for the old man’s hand and pulled him up. Surprisingly, the old man was weak enough to be pulled up so easily. As soon as he was on his feet, he tumbled back down on the ground. With great effort, John brought the old man back to the apartment. He gave him some of the water he had collected. But the old man needed food. And there was none.
John was scared at the idea of leaving this apartment. The old man would die soon- die of starvation if not of old age. Something had to be done. 6 hours had passed, and a curfew lay upon the day that was dawning upon the earth. John listened for any sound that was coming from outside. No sound. Maybe the rioters had left this particular area and gone elsewhere. There was a bakery close by the apartment. There may still be hope. John picked his favourite weapon, a slingshot and slowly crept out of the room. The morning light touched him, and everything else in his optimistic path- gave it a little sparkle. John walked and walked till he found the bend on the road which led to the bakery. It was a shook up town that he saw. Fires were raging at places. Everything lay scattered. Pieces of bread were strewn all around the bakery. Maybe there was fresher stuff inside, thought john. As he came close to the bakery, he got a better look of the matters inside. The front door had been broken open. A half eaten bread was lying on the threshold. Seemed like it had all happened recently. No time to think about that, he thought, i just need to take some bread and get back to the old man. John entered the bakery and starting filling his small leather pouch with little crumbs of bread. If only there was juice too. Within 10 minutes, the bag was full and he was ready to leave. That is when there was a screeching noise, like someone was shouting at him. He left the bakery in haste and went outside only to find a man with a gun rambling wildly. He must be drunk. As soon as the man saw John, he tried pointing his gun at him and even shot a round. But he missed. John stood frozen to the ground, unable to move. The man ordered John to come closer to him. John did. and As he inspected john with his hideous fingers, John knew that his time was up. He would soon be dead. The dishevelled man looked john straight in the eyes and asked one simple question, more like one last question- have you... have you seen my father?
John was stunned. One moment ago he’d thought this man would bring about his death, and now it was totally different. I haven’t seen him, but i could help you find him, said john with hope. The dishevelled man, pleased at this remark, then turned his attention to what john was carrying. What is that? He inquired. That is my leather pouch, said John. It’s got some bread for.. for someone. What someone, he asked. John, with an increasingly reluctant tone answered- there’s an old man in an apartment close by. I need to fetch him some bread. Otherwise, he will die. Oh my God, said the rambler. That could be my father. They hurried back to the apartment. Nothing had changed except that there was a weird smell. And the old man’s body was proof of it. It was the stench of death. The dirty man couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t take it. He got so mad, he drove a bullet through his head. John, who was witnessing it all, couldn’t say a word. He was a changed man now. He had seen fire, water, earth and ether. And what was ether? The death and murder of two men right in front of him. Things would never be the same for John. in any case, when are they?