Dream of Neruda

I wish I had complete power over the words, as to manipulate them to make beautiful verses and people would call me Neruda. But with every word I wrote down, I got disillusioned from my dream and an unbearable pain outgrew the passion for living. I can't write no more, my craft went corrupted with the cowardice thoughts. 

Now my only hope is to get a second chance; another life or afterlife to start-over, being rich in languages and words, being the architect of my own dreams. I shall then be known as the sultan of literature.

Love at sixth sight

Excerpts from my scribble diary, nothing serious though. At times you write to express, some times to hide or forget. This might fall in the latter category.

I was at this conference in Seattle today morning when I first saw her, that too amid an embarrassing moment.Usually, I have a problem of not being able to leave an impression to someone at the first shot, but this time I was pretty sure I made a very bad start. How many times does that happen?

Oh come on, don’t be mean, I know it happens very often. You don’t have to say that.

Well, we kept on meeting that day, here and there. Sometimes a half smile, at times a glance, most of the times nothing. Every time I saw her, I was more attracted to her. Most of the times I'm attracted to a girl at first sight or maybe after knowing them too much, but it’s the first time I’m falling for a girl at sixth sight. Unsurprisingly enough, my heart failed to explain this affair.  Slowly, I started becoming nervous every time I saw her. Alike the Urdu word Wehshat, I was so insanely devoted to her that I withdrew to myself completely and stopped thinking about the existence of a world outside. Her mystic eyes became so intense inside me that at one point I could had sailed my boat in them and never returned to the shore thereafter. There was so much of lost love and poems her glances planted in me, that I became lovesick and transcended all boundaries of reason. From the cage of sanity, my mind frenzied out breaking open all the chains of life. 

Live & Die

Once I lost my life over heartbreak.I think its how the living in this world is. You die every now and then, paving way to a new and better self. Your past emotions are lost, rotten relations are forgotten, all for good. This game of life is beyond the concept of success or failure;it is about how much resilient your mental capacity is, to start afresh every time you die. Life is nothing special to be memorable, nothing precious to be looked after. The more you memorize or look after your life, the more you are tensed of losing it.

In a way life is like money. Sometimes you save it for your loved one, as in sacrifices. But mostly you spend it for your own happiness but just like money, life can’t get you everything. You earn life and hope to spend it on right people, but at every opportunity you waste it on wrong ones. But there are misers of life, who spend nothing and die  their final death miserably. No matter how less your life is, you should spend it entirely to become a pauper and then start over again finding means to earn it back. 

In a different aspect life is a journey, people being the destinations. You travel to the destinations, hoping to settle down there. Sometimes you stay and most of the times you travel away completely heartbroken, hoping for a new destination. There is no end to any travel though. At each failed destinations, you die and get reborn to a brand new travel. At every birth, the destinations are new and so are you. At times you revisit some of the old destinations, but you perceive them in a completely different aspect. All of a sudden, a lost life is a reason for joy, a reason to live, and a reason to move on with life.

The sleep

Why did she, the sleep, knocked my door?

din't she knew my nights belonged to you?

Why did she illustrated of beautiful dreams in her?

din't she knew my exotic dreams were you?

Why did she wanted to comfort me under the blanket?

wasn't she aware of your comforting embrace?

Was she so insane to wait for me, or was that me for your love?

Crazy Love

I thought penning a poem could help, to wipe away all your memories.

As I moved my pen, I realized what an insane-make I am.

Would anyone be so quixotic, to throw away buckets of water
from an ocean hoping to evacuate it?

My failure is not the erroneous act of anxiety, my dear,
but it is the unbounded amount of love I have for you,

which is to be the concern.

Dear lass, I’m so lost in the beautiful depth of yours
Oh you, the shining romantic moonlight of my life,
ardent thoughts I have on your remembrance,
and whatever things that constitute you,
drives me crazy.............

Local Train

Bombay, i feel, is always my second home. A bunch of good experiences, good friends, healthy life style, there are a lot more reasons why I love Bombay. Today, I'd like tell you another of my experiences I had at this beautiful place.

After I left my job at Delhi for many reasons, I was back to Bombay in June 2009. I wanted to start afresh, forgetting the past. I had to try my luck again at Bombay. It was my 3rd Bombay life. I went on a full fledge job hunt, which didn't work out well. The city which always had supported me seemed to have lost all the love and affection for me. I gave something like 17 interviews, I dropped my resume around the globe. Nothing but disappointment was left in me. My wallet was size zero as the body of Kareina Kapoor. When I came to Bombay in June I had 3000 bucks with me, and it has now reduced to a mere 300 in August. My financial status was real mess, a credit card payment of 60k pending and other loans too. This made my situation worse. I just kept myself low, and calm so that I don't explode out my frustrations.

Fed up of job hunt, I started looking out for freelance jobs which might help me survive for a while. Sooner, I started omitting my lunch to save my money. I got a season ticket from Belapur to VT and roam from Dockyard line to Bellard Estate everyday to find work or job.

This day was very hectic, as I met like 7 vendors and had 2 interviews in a row. I was fully tired and hungry. I was craving for food, but was reluctant due to money shortage. I was sitting at the VT station. 3-4 trains passed by, but I sat like I don't care or as if I was waiting for something. The rush at the station was normal as it was just 4 in the evening.

That was when I noticed this guy, tall, lean and handsome. He wore a white shirt, black trousers and a black leather shoes. He had a small brown leather suitcase in his hand. He looked like a perfect sales executive to me. He had a shine on his face, and a smart grin too. He looked to very very happy.

He sat on a bench next to me and looked straight on to me. I tried to confine to myself. He looked around to make sure no one was looking at him. Once he did that, he pulled out his wallet, which had the brand name Wrangler printed on it. Cool purse, I admit. It had his photo on it, also of Lord Hanuman and of an old lady probably his mother.

There was a bunch of cards inside it, and he was looking through each one of them. I could understand that all were simple business cards and no debit or credit cards. I couldn't help noticing it by the way. Also, there was not a penny in that wallet. Then his hands went inside his shirt pocket only to find the season ticket. I couldn't understand why I didn't stop gazing at him. There is something wrong with this guy, I thought. He then opened his suitcase, and took a big file. As he unzipped the file, I could see his certificates, a lot. I don't know what all it was, but plain certificates. He got a cover inside and then he looked relaxed. It was 25 bucks inside, he took the 5 rupee note from that, kept everything inside and closed the suitcase. All of a sudden he looked at me and our sight clashed. He understood I was noticing him all the while. The grin on his face was replaced by the frustrated look, probably I could see all the hatred he had for the city and life on his face. I thought he would break down. After a while, he just moved to the tea shop and bought 2 vada paav. He consumed it in no time, I felt like he was starving for a long long time. He drank water from the filthy mug and washed his face. As he cleaned his face with the blue towel, his grin reappeared.

Untill then being confused what to do, I was sitting on the bench staring at him. I got into the Harbour line train to Belapur, and sat on a window seat. As the train started, the guy too got into the train. He sat next to me. I didn't give any more attention to him as I was lost in my own worries for the while. After a while he said hi to me. I replied with a smile.

He continued, " I don't know who you are. You were completely noticing me all the while and might have understood my current situation. Yes, I'm in search of a job for the past 4-5 months. All my money got drained and nothing is left in me. I'm doing all possible jobs in here to survive. I'm sure my condition will be better after a while. My hope is as big as this city."

It was sudden, I was speechless. Before I could speak he got down from the train and vanished into the crowd. Station name read Govandi and my train moved on.

once upon a time in mumbai

Hi guys,
Whenever I talk to anyone, my love to the city of Mumbai just bursts out from my heart. I just won't care to whom I'm talking to. For some Bangalore is the best, for some Delhi,and some Hyderabad, but for me it is always my aamchi Mumbai. It is there where my crucial diversion of life occurred, it is there where I started my career, it is the city which taught me how to dream. So, in many ways it is really important for me. But the love for the city is not because of all these things. During my childhood I never liked Mumbai for its appalling name in regard to the underworld and being the most dangerous place. But one single incident inverted my attitude towards the city. Let me share that with you.
It was in January 2006, when the most atrocious thing happened in my life. I was a student at CUSAT during those days. It had broken me completely; even the minute hope of good life was vanished. I was to reach Mumbai urgently. I cannot lose attendance as I fear of shortage and may risk having more supplies in my arsenal. So, the only option left was to transit via flight. I booked the ticket, I didn't know any other flight company other than Jet airways cos I had travelled in that long back when i was a child. The ticket was 6000rs one side. Yes, it was pretty very expensive. The family had a serious credit crunch faced, and the sad face of economic depression was visible at my mother's paycheck.
I lost the hope of survival, yes it was almost sure something is ending up harshly. My faith in god had already disappeared.
After booking the ticket I had no money to go to airport. Maybe some 500 rs or something was that I had. If I catch a taxi that will be almost 300, and then I will be left with just 200 rs. I requested a lot of people, who had bike to drop me at the airport, but no one was ready. More reasons to blame god, I thought. Finally I got a bike, thanks to JK, and now I need a driver who could drop me at the airport. This time Rakri came into picture. My good rapport with these people helped me, otherwise I’d had done with because even my closest friends didn’t wanted to help me. Rakri wanted a pack cigarette in return, I until now I failed to give him. Also, he is such a good friend that he never asked me.
Then I got down at the Mumbai airport. No idea where to go, I called a family friend to get to know the path. I was asked to reach nearest railway station, that is Vile Parle and catch a train to Church Gate. No idea how to get there. At last, I got a taxi to Vile Parle. He told it is very far and it will cost me 100 bucks. Again no idea, I told OK. He took me to the station in say 5 minutes. I totally freaked out, as I expected some like 10 km from the airport. I started arguing with the taxi driver. My first argument in Hindi(hehe)..
I freaked out again, as none concerned the fight going on, all just gave a glimpse and continued with what they were doing. I had no other option than to give him 100 bucks. One more reason to blame god.
All of a sudden out of nowhere, a traffic policeman jumped towards the taxi. He was short, thin, and dark with a big "marathi" cooling glass. He asked me what the problem was. I explained him the situation. He asked me to get into car along with him and ordered (yes it was) driver to take the vehicle to the police station. The driver was literally crying out of fear, and finally he left with only 20 rs.
The Traffic police man told me this, as I thanked him, "kabhee gabraao nahee, hum log tumhaare seva karne ke liye hee baita hai." It was the first time I was to deal with the police and it gave me confidence over the complete police dept of the country. A dim light of hope started popping up inside me right that second. The trust to god was replaced by trust to humanity. I suddenly started feeling everything is going to be fine. Every bad thing in my life will reverse back. That single incident brought alacrity to live.
When I turn back now, I find the ways I came through very acrid, but the flames of hope which this simple traffic police man had ignited in me still keeps me from breaking down at atrocities.
Whenever I feel bad, I think of Bombay, and this sentence comes up,"kabhee gabraao nahee, hum log tumhaare seva karne ke liye hee baita hai." And I'm then starting afresh to face the world with a reason to love life, humanity and Mumbai....