Some Muted Noise

Disclaimer: This came out as an impulse. Contains Intended Metaphor.

A muted noise was around,
Rainwater making its way to the ground.
The tree by the balcony, shivered by the showers...
That had begun to approach the fresh, green earthly blades.
A mist lay all around,
Dwindling drops of water falling down.

Standing there,
Hearing the clouds thunder,
Feeling the breeze on the face,
Was Somebody.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

His breathing was slow,
But mind was racing...
Far from the li'l droplets,
Past through the murky sky.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

The rains could turn out to be a storm: unpleasant.
Or form a Rainbow: Much from being just pleasant.
He was the chosen one to decide,

The pleasant or the unpleasant, was to be judged along, by him.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

Just too under-knowledged to decide, was he?
Or perhaps, just even a bit afraid to think about it?
The Rainbow meant treading along the harder path,
While the storm made its way, as a tempting one.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

The Rainbow finally turned out to be a ray of happiness and hope, he knew.
And the storm was something he won't want to face later, he knew.
The murky sky didn't help at all by thundering out,

The mist had no different case, either, but for confusing him out.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

Shivering though the tree was,
It wasn't unhelpful at all.
It was all drenched and misty,
Yet it stood, and stood tall with dignity.
A mist lay all around,

Dwindling drops of water falling down.

The path was finally decided upon,
Harder though it was,
The mist: now helped by lifting around,
Drops of water, not dwindling now, but still falling down.

He had to form the Rainbow.
Then though it meant treading along the murky sky.

After all,
He was Somebody,
And that Somebody,
Is Me.

Silent Tears..

Parting, is what we feared.
Parting, is what the immediate future.
Parting, is what that's near.

I didn't expect it to happen so suddenly and unexpected.
Neither did you,
I want it to be halted here, right now.
And so do you.

Some things aren't to be told, I know.
They're just to be understood.
And its the same thing that brought us near,
It still is the same thing that keeps us bonded.

Intially, love is innocent.
It always needs to be, too.
And it also is easily stripped off its innocence,
As Egos and Attitudes envy the same.

But we survived it all.
We still have our love innocent.

Nevertheless,
Sheer Love is envied always by the factors that surround it.

This is some test yet again.
A test we need now to endure.
That'll prove our love endless.

No Distance can break it,
No miles can halt it,
No factor can limit it.

My love for you is endless, sweetheart,
My love for you is beyond the boundaries of space and time.

A Way So Distant...

Great Heights I achieve,
Yet you stand higher than me.
Thus you disprove what I believe,
And ask me to look out for more than I see.

I now sit by the windw...
I stare out at the sky,
There's no hint of me being low,
And you there, up above me, high.

You're miles away, dad...
I miss you, you being at a different place,
Yet I'm your same lad,
Who never even gave a thought to miss you, when you were here, at my place.

Its not as if we aren't in contact,
Nor as if we won't ever meet.
But can't bear your unoccupied biking-hat,
I now need to have an alert sleep.

I know, I'll be joining you over in no time...
It'll be the same, all over again,
At your place, we shall be together then akin.
But the current scenario is what I see,
You see, I still refuse to drive your bike, in disdain.

It is a way, I know very near, to travel there to you...
Yet a way, my heart says, much distant, that's one in a few...

I miss you, dad,
I miss you.

My Heart Wanders

She's out somewhere, I don't know,
Yet slowly, my heart wanders...
Out on the thin air,
Out in the night,
Out of my dwindling sight

The breeze presses against the window-panes...
My eyes reckon the so friendly white-face in the sky.
Yet slowly, my heart wanders...
Out on the thin air,
Out in the night,
Out of my dwindling sight

Romanticism has hit me,
I wonder.
A slight bashful I get,
As my heart slowly wanders...
Out on the thin air,
Out in the night,
Out of my dwindling sight

Euphoric, my heart is...
Knowing that in no time,
The thin air will carry it to its better half.
Thus it wanders...
Out on the thin air,
Out in the night,
Out of my dwindling sight

The thin air then carries a surprising scent,
A scent, so well-known,
An aroma of love,
A fragrance so warming,
A perfume, just so inviting.

Happily 'nough,
My heart wanders...
Out on the thin air,
Out in the night,
Out of my dwindling sight

Cross-Roads

"Reminiscences, are queer. They make you cry over the things that you laughed on, and make you laugh over the things that you wept on."

I cannot help but get mesmerized. Memories, are really strange. They make best friends with you in an instant, and yet, in a split second, they make you feel as if they're somone but just like any alien person you pass by on the trafficked-street. You are then left with no other alternative than actually gettin dumbstruck.

Getting the same feeling, I turn onto my rest best-friends waiting for me in the hidden shafts of my buzzing-mind.

Well, its the same all over again. Another batch passing out of the school, with an enormous pomp. Also with a remarkable bidding, though, considering how special we were held in the eyes of the teachers.

School.....its all back to it. Say the name of my school: S-B-O-A, aloud, and my eyes get still moist. Talk about it, and it gets worse. I'm not used to claim myself as an "Ex-student" of the school I've been walking in since my toddling-years, after all. What's more, it even all started from this same institution on earth.

It was here that I learnt to converse in languages, other than my mother-tongue. It was here that I started saying “I didn’t bring,” instead of “I didn’t brought,” (but that improvement was right back in my Third-standard, mind you,). It was here that I learnt two plus two equals four. (C'mon everyone knows that, er-don't they?) It was here that I learnt Apples fall on the ground due to Gravity (Why didn’t Newton wonder at Pears falling on the ground?). It was here that I learnt Gobi Desert lies in China and not in India. (See the name? Gobi?). It was here that I learnt George Washington was the First president of the US and not Abraham Lincoln (Now get that!).

But its all not the same, now. No more of demanding PT periods to the other subject-teachers in return of completing Homeworks before time. No more of visits to the staff room alongwith neck-high towers of books of the class, remaining for correction. No more of glimpsing in the classroom through its window to see what's being taught, when punished outside for not being attentive. No more of bunking the periods with the excuse of getting the bladder full. No more of commenting on the teachers with friends when something's being taught; and then, getting beaten by a chalk, or, at the most, a ball-pen by the teacher. No more of being caught sleeping under the last desk when the dullest period is going on. No more of the same-old-rivalry between two classes for top-scoring, for winning the inter-class award, for topping the sporting events, and, for every-single-competitive-thing. No more of excited voices that'd be eagerly anticipating the Next-School-Captain. No more of studying until the last minute given before the examinations, and still, cursing "that tough-paper," No more, of roaming the corridors in groups of friends during intervals. No more of these years, itself.

The end of every farewell carries the same message: The hope that the students will brighten the name of the school and make it proud in the future. Just like the Moon gets illuminated by the light of the Sun, and then learns to spread its own, white-light on the Earth: The teachers are the Sun, the students: the Moon. And the End-of-the-farewell-message is thus founded into its being a fact.

School is an institution, a foundation, which inculcates numerous values, encourages good habits, teaches one to respect others and self, and most importantly, school is that building which ultimately exercises one's empathy. School, itself, is a second home.

Everyone passes through this stage in their life. Some with joy for being free at last, some with grief of leaving the school, and some, with just an excuse to pass onto the College-life. I do not come into any of the categories. These are my sentiments, these are my emotions, these are my feelings regarding my school. I do not think of being rational. But I am not grieved, even. This was a stage I needed to pass: Just like any other milestones in my life. But perhaps this Milestone will be the most cherished, most celebrated, and the most remarkable one of my life. These, are the Cross-Roads of my life.

Life takes a turn.....Sometimes for the best, Sometimes for the worst. But the best is what I hope for....What everyones hopes for.

Radiance

Another of those long wintry moony nights,
And I walking by the streets alone,
A breeze playing on my forehead, light.
But not even a sound of phone.

The breeze takes a turn for a gale,
And I shiver by the cold.
Only to miss her company: hearty and hale,
And the warm wrapping-up-of-me into her arm-folds...

I walk further, unknowingly,
And lo! She happens to be there as an Angel, lovingly...

Emotions start an immediate exchange through our eyes,
Demands, Arguments and even tokens of gratitude.
The exchange slowly away dies,
Her mingling of hands with mine, being the sudden change in mood.

We walk some distance further, hand-in-hand,
With my senses enchanted by her fragrance…
She continues the soft-touching by her hands,
A warmer one against the chill, being her presence.

She seemingly emits a warm radiance,
I think of her as an other-worldly-being.
But then laugh for her similar striking resemblance,
With a Mother, just so caring.

Warm, she is…
Cold, I am…
Her radiance helps me get warmer…
And the soft touch of her lips on mine,
Is the happening of the versus-cold, armor.

Solace

Being big, being responsible, was what my heart always desired,

Unknown though 'twas of the li'l pains that got the mature ones tired.

Today I stand on the same path,

No way ahead I find.

Though there're thistles truly painful,

Very few satisfying fruits, I find.

I'm desparate, but am helpless.

I'm tired, but I need to walk on.

What joke this is,

I'm too careless to pay heed.

King, maybe I am,

But a King with a thorned crown.

I maybe am the one desired,

But only to satisfy their faces full o'frowns.

Don't do they understand?

There's also a Soul in me.

There's a soul weary of the happenings.

There's a soul tired o'being wary of the next.

This is a burden I can't carry on all along.

I want to shout at the one who has put it all on an incomplete note.

The one, who no longer resides among us.

The one, who now is resting in peace.

I feel as if the world has itself sunk on an abrupt note.

So why should I be responsible?

Why should I be mature enough to hide my tears?

Tears are precious, I do know.

But precious is something lost to me.

The real path now lies in front o'me.

It may not be easy.

It may not be gentle.

But that's something I've to endure,

And Carry on through the rest storms o'life.

(Lost my 40-year-old Uncle. A tribute to him.)

Language- And It's War

“India is country of many languages. Yet we all are united under the name of India.”

We had this in our school, and perhaps, even read this same line in many of the forth-coming contexts of our life. We proudly state that every language is the sister of any other language…any other Indian language. Yes, all the regional-languages that we speak, we converse in, are nothing but an Indian Language first. Whatever the pronunciation, whatever be the script the language is written in, every single language in India, has its roots as an Indian Language first before being anything else.

Years before, or perhaps in the current times too, we said and learnt that “Hindu-Muslim bhai-bhai”. Those times, we needed to stress on secularism. But if you look at the current scenario, it seems that there will soon be a need to stress on regional-unity. It doesn’t mean that the stress on secularism needs to be eased…perhaps its increasing as ever.

Recently Kannada and Telugu joined the “Elite Group of Classical Languages” as described and invented by some. The former languages were Tamil and Malayalam. What does this mean? What do people have to conclude from this? That all the south Indian languages have a classic and rich heritage and literature that the other languages don’t?

What happened to the other languages? What about Oriya, Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi and even-The National Language-as we say-Hindi? Aren’t they all rich in literature? Aren’t they all classically cultured? This grouping of languages doesn’t promote anything, it-just-demotes-unity. And who are the people to decide what the specific language has and what others don’t?

Any Language, literally any, is invented from the basic need of man to converse with each other. Later, it evolves into many stages…it moulds itself according to the time, the type of people and the locations. The more it gets evolved, the more it gets spread accordingly. But that doesn’t mean that a language which hasn’t got many speakers around the world isn’t rich in heritage. Literature is the result of spontaneous flow of one’s emotions… the readers/the spectators/the audience later enjoy it as their source of entertainment. But who is the mother of all this? Yes, its language.

We’re currently engaged in another battle. The battle that some politicians theorize as “Son-of-the-soil.” Will anyone respect any language if it is burdened to be respected? Respect, as any other factor, is born out of self-realization towards any certain person or thing. It can't be burdened. It’s the same as a child… Will a child respect the one who scolds him every time that he has to respect him or the one who is soft-spoken to him and tries to convey his message in a not-so-loud-manner? In such case, the former one will see fear-no not respect- on the child’s face every time he sees him. On the other hand, the latter one will obviously enjoy his love and respect, both.

Its all back to terror again. Terror. Right from the Mughal Period to the English rule and to the Constant-terrorist-attacks to the current language-war scenario. Indians, as in the united name, are subjected to constant test of patience and terrorism since their forefathers’ age. One day these all emotions are bound to find a stream and we might even witness the handling of the law by the citizens. You say Iraq and Germany were the witnesses of a brutal dictatorship? And I say their pain will be nothing compared to the constant struggle endured by The Indians.

Where are we headed? What happened to the country that rose up against the British and threw them out? Is this the same country that had a famous rebellion of 1857? If this goes on like this for some period of time, we might even witness the forming of 27 new nations-all with different national languages. Someone needs to stop this. Whenever our National Anthem is played, we say proudly that this anthem is arguably the best one in the world. Remember what does it describe? The first line itself states the unity of the Indians to form a Country-INDIA…

What will the freedom-fighters, who endured tremendous struggle and constant vigilance to see the country free and united, say when they see the current scenario? We at least need to respect their sacrifices. We all are Indians… and we will be the same for the rest of our life before being anything else. Don’t just think, dare to act. Remember: No country itself is perfect; we need to make it perfect. But don’t apply the wrong means. That doesn’t help. What will the difference be then between you and the scenario which you’re trying to change?

Oh, our National Anthem it truly the best, I daresay….

“Jana Gana Mana Adhinayak Jaya Hey,
Bharat Bhagya Vidhata
Punjab Sindhu Gujarat Maratha
Dravid Utkala Banga…”.

“….and the truth shall set you free!!”