Confessions ...

I move on in life, trying hard to make my friends and people whom I meet smile and laugh at my humor, jokes and efficacy. I feel good when I see them smiling because of me. I love even being a small kid to prosper their smiles, of course I am always a child with children around me. However, having said that I still have so many issues which keep my heart far from that eternal and blissful happiness, that satisfaction and that splendor. They say no one has a perfect life but my imperfections are so keen to bring depression as one of my closest chum. I try to break free, my smile helps, but this all apparently is like a lost war, with only failures ahead.

My first big issue is losing friends. Some days in the past they would be like the best of people I had, right now they are far away like at horizon. I don’t know who the culprit in those misunderstandings was but I know whenever someone goes away from me I start evaluating and judging him/her. This is such a bad habit of me, why should I curse them only because they choose to leave me. Who am I to evaluate that they were wrong and I was right. In fact, I can never forget the words of last friend who went away from my life, “It is you who is losing friends and making people far, so the problem is within you, not others. You are like a hope at first who later automatically turns into disaster when people know you closely.” All I have been thinking since that day is I still have so many people so near in my life to disprove his statement, but I assume that his confrontation was true; I just can say from my heart that I will try not to turn to disaster from now for them who still take me as a hope. I feel so guilty in myself, apologetic.

I may lie to people around me but I can never lie to my own heart. There are days in my life when focus and hard work is such important, however, in those urgent times, my laziness allows procrastination to be such great friend of mine. Later on, I feel the pressure of my back jostled badly against the wall, almost a panic situation. Somehow, I survive those scenarios, determine myself I will avoid such circumstances in future, to the worse, such circumstances never change, all my determinations to avoid them look so fake. But to be honest I really try the best I can to avoid panic situations in my life; it’s only that they never work out well.

There was a time in my life when writing was my passion, my dedication and my inspiration. But I guess gone with the wind are those good old days, when I used to write so much, literally all emotions of my heart, and write so spontaneously, and beautifully. These days when I think about writing something, I have to inspire myself a lot to even start.

With all these negativism in heart, I still have many positives. I am thankful to this life and such a great family; there are many people in my life who care about me a lot, who love me a lot. I have seen and felt people with a million more anxieties than me, however, their smiles still so prevalent. All I need is a fresh start. I remember when I was in B.Sc. 1st year, 2nd Semester or during the times of my GRE study or in USA in the times when my final thesis defense was coming near I was a student dedicated so much to my studies and work ethics. I need to be much more consistent. I must forget those who left me, without any grudges whatsoever, never discuss about people and never be keen to backbite anyone even those who think bad of me. Let them be dealt by god himself.

I feel happy to write this note in my blog after such a long time. Life is moving on and some day if I keep trying I will definitely achieve what I deserve. Through this public forum, I thank all my well-wishers, my friends, my seniors and my colleagues who have inspired me to do well and apologize from the bottom of my heart if I hurt them knowingly or unknowingly, or didn't stand up to their expectations.

For me the journey begins here, although my efforts have failed uncountable times. I have a message to people who are reading this piece, I hope if you guys have such issues like me, you all will be strong enough, patient and look for the solutions instead of talking about the problems consistently again and again. I leave you guys with opening lines of one special song from Bill Withers entitled 'Lean on me' - 'Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain we all have sorrows. But if we are wise we know that there's always tomorrow.' All I can say from my experience is that life is too short to regret about mistakes but long enough to start learning to rectify those mistakes.

Another night without my sleeps

It’s all defeats that are in my heart right now ready to be spoken loud. I am swinging at the apex of loneliness, like a warrior who has lost the battle completely but waiting to be assassinated. Life; what is it actually, a day of fun followed by thousand more of anguish? Agreed it is so, however, why it acts better to selfish humans and bitter to the honest ones. But then who am I to distinguish and judge who is selfish and who is not. I don’t deserve my place to revolutionize against what god has fixed in destiny for us. Failures with uncountable nights where my slumbers were absent, thoughts that bring me near depression, gosh I hate this life so much. Numbness progressing more and being successful to engulf me completely; I don’t know where are the roads to escape out of these hazardous times. I miss you mom so much, “Earlier I was pointing people to be selfish; here my selfishness is no less,” my heart speaks to me, “You miss mom when you find yourself surrounded by bad times.” “Is this true mom?” I am not in a position to ask this question to my life’s angel, my mom as I don’t want her to worry about me.

Do I really deserve these days, or the heart in me tells me right that I should keep fighting, keep hoping that this darkest hour of the night full of lightening, thunder and storms will vanish away making way for a new sunny day; it’s just about time. Again, time makes me so much impatient. Such is life, in every struggle I face, I tend to think these are the worst days, when the struggles change their chapter, I remain clueless how the degree of worseness increases itself breaking its own record. They say so right that when peace is not your friend, luck and destiny can never be, neither can be optimism.

The silent tears when I am in crowd that change into big when I am alone, the heavy heart full of emotional questions and loneliness that has already befriended my blood and my soul; all are speechless right now waiting for answers. I wish I can run away, take shelter in my mom’s lap and sleep with peace. I wish my friends whom I expected to be near were there for me to console me that everything will be fine someday very soon, I wish I could have answers of some of the complex emotional questions, I wish the smile which I show to the people I meet in daily life would not have been such ostentatious, I wish I would rather find myself near poor, hungry and old lives sharing a word of encouragement and happiness if not helping them, I wish if these were the final days of my life I would meet demise with obsession.

Seldom have we seen any wishes in life get fulfilled. That too, right now, even a foolish can say that they will never be fulfilled. I only wait for these darkest hours to vanish; at least I can act to be strong. Among all these frustrated thought my mind carries, I keep searching the meaning of my life, my goals with the uniqueness of this quest being that I am already lost and completely scattered.

I really miss you mom and I hope this time my heart won’t call me selfish.

I stopped near the slums

They, my friends, went ahead too far
I stopped near the slums
those poor children smiled
unfair so much, I wasn't the messiah.

The early winter morning and their askance
those eyes that hoped to see food when I stopped.

That piece of bread the dog left half chewed
they didn't see, I did
I ran away gulping it, my starvation terminated
leaving space for guilt to stay longer in my heart.

Conversation of a life time between me and my heart ... as on Wednesday, October 19, 2011

“Insomniac, slumberless, depressed, lost, completely alone” whatever you like to call me at this moment my dearest heart, I give you the leeway to rename me @(3:55 – 4) am – they say the old generation people used to wake up at this time, my grandmother has numerous such stories, me; so much substantially weird that m awake, with sleep not my friend at all at least for today (or say tonight).

I can definitely feel that I am losing my strength to jot down various feelings, however at least yesterday, I wrote a beautiful line, my own line, here it goes

“Wo anmol kuch kagaz ki kastiya phir se yaad aayi hume, ke is paraye deshki baris bhi virani si hai” (I miss again those paper boats at times as the rain in this foreign land is stranger too)

I realize I must not at all be the part of this clueless travel from now, a travel in which I don’t even know whether I can meet the final day of my M.Sc. or not, even if I happen to meet it what’s going to be that final day like, how the hell will I cover up such huge hurdles of cross-dating (matching age pattern in trees) the weirdest tree in the world (well, it’s not proved in science but for me, it definitely is the weirdest). I have many more questions, but before I speak more, my heart stops me and tells me that I am the culprit for this precarious situation, I should have endeavored much more. True, I don’t have any excuses; I only want to move towards the solution my dear heart. Wait, my heart doesn’t let me set free so easily, “You ruined your research completely.” Gosh, it’s getting harder for me to stand now amidst all these harsh words, “I don’t want to argue more in this, whatever has happened can’t be changed. Let bygones be bygones, let’s be friends and search together for the solution.” Wait, wait, wait, my heart rebuffs, I am left with the most scary look now, hoping to survive more of that brutal disparage, what I hear isn’t so bad though, indeed it’s a reality, “You think cross-dating will be all dude, are you nuts not to realize that you will get only to half the whole research thing even if you finish cross-dating.”

I do understand that I have to wrap up my M.Sc. within the next four months by hook or by crook; otherwise, there will be so many entities which I will regret about later on both in the short and long runs of this ever melodramatic life. Now, I and my heart both think as my professor told me some days ago, “Sanjeev the clock is ticking for you, you got to burn the midnight oil now.” EFFORTS, more EFFORTS, more than more EFFORTS … is the only solution for this problem right now … no alternative … “mix a lot of hope and faith with EFFORTS” … I finally console my heart about this very problem of my research, “It’s not too worse right now, you remember once I almost thought of quitting everything of this hurting foreign life and escape back to home … for anyone else accepts me or not, my family will always do, embracing all my failures too … “but then the same failures will be completely contrary to what people who love and care about me expected from me.” Do you remember or not my dear heart that the same words stopped me back then to drip back to my country.

Now I will definitely go but with immense dignity, with the satisfaction of feeling happiness in hearts of so many people who love me so much, the satisfaction of standing up to their expectations and also with the feeling that I shut the mouths of some insane fellows too who proclaim me to be a predestined looser.

Happy at my speech, my heart has sweetest of words to conclude this amazing conversation, “Don’t feel lonely Sanju, keep trying at your end without worrying about the results, as at the end of the day the people who love you will always love you and be with you even in your worst fiascoes.

At this moment, I can feel that I am not alone at all, even though I am listening to what I perceive as one of the most beautiful songs yet the loneliest too repeatedly for more than four hours now, even though I confess that when I started listening to it, I perceived that I am just bereft of everything, “Yeh dile naadan, yeh dile nadaan .. arzoo kya hai zustajoo kya hai …”

The war within - Good Vs Bad

Writing after a hiatus indeed, not sure what it was for - as it was indeed contradictory to my belief that being a part of literature in even a minute way is what I cherish the most. Nevertheless, writing again for some noble causes. Will definitely continue rather often.

Many a times there are moments of indifference in me when I just tend to think that I have yet again traveled a day forward in life's mysterious odyssey, a day close to the frantic encounter with my demise, a lot of hopes from future "either tomorrow or a week later or a year down the road" - although somewhere my heart has already compromised that nothing new has been done, nothing new will be done, nothing new can be done. I can see two extremes in me, when I endeavor to focus the chapters of life a bit arrogantly making a self centered approach, I feel puzzled every now and then, a moment later to escape away from the dilemma I try hard to find the humbleness in me, I feel it lost in the so called charisma of present rugged individualism.

There have been optimistic lessons in my life too, many being from my parents, others from teachers, well wishers, friends and coevals, whom I should have envied for my better instead of being jealous for the bad parts of selfishness. In my childhood, I read the story of a blind man for whom light was cryptic, however, he rendered threats to darkness by carrying a lamp while walking along different streets at night. A lot of fools would declare him moonstruck, the human beings better at heart would inspire from his gesture of offering light to others in the darkness in spite of the fact that light would always be a failure to him.

Morally, the story above and such stories of sacrifice are reflective that we should not sequester the decency we have in us even if our egotistical nature hates to do so. But then how many of us don't think that it’s as hard to find a diamond as to find such people in practical life. Honestly, I would have spent my time alone fighting with anxieties of darkness rather than carrying a lamp for favoring my biggest enemy had I been in place of the blind man. I was definitely inspired from him during my childhood years because innocence was my biggest weapon back then as it is to every child, time passed, it filled its hideous ornaments of selfishness in me with its passage. Time fills selfishness in everyone, what matters ultimately is to what level we can separate it from taking possession in us.

The war between idol and evil in the same human heart keeps on with life, in everyone's life I am sure there are times when evil wins over the idol different situations mentioned. Others may argue that they always win over the evil instinct; I confess that there have been so many instants where I am a looser to evil in my war of good and bad. I just regret for the situation and try to rectify the mistake before it grows big. Truth in us has to win against all haughtiness for our lives to be peaceful even in the midst of anxieties.

Happiness will be a part in us if we be a helping hand for someone in need rather than looking to abolish others’ satisfaction for our mentally must be gained type priorities. I bet even if we accompany the success of completing our priorities following the latter theory, we will make eternal happiness our biggest enemy for no reasons.

The Street Children

They all are so fearless, somehow innocently rude, using rough words with each other and the people who avoid their panhandles. People walking around render an ugly look at them as if they have stolen all their precious entities, not all though, some glare at them with sympathy yet doing nothing except silently walking away. The poorest thing on their behalf being that such destiny had been chosen for them at god’s land, ugly sources anonymous. They all are innocent from cradle to grave yet they have a destiny to suffer, to struggle for food and money, to compete with the hideous trend of society that sequesters them as if they have just no rights to smile, cheer and be happy. Such is the life of poor street children in our country.

I confess that I fall in the second category of people for such children. Yet there have been moments in my life where one of the street children would interpolate my callous attitudes of affording them sympathy rather than a hand of friendship, avoiding them as far as possible rather than an embrace and teach me a bunch of beautiful chapters that they too have the ability to struggle for their happiness. The hospice they are in may look subtle and fragile to the world, they innovate ahead to make it a land of shield defense where even the cruelest human being would find hard to show brutality at them. Here is the best chapter worth sharing.

It was some eight years behind the scene when I happened to meet a little girl on my course of travel from my home town Mahendranagar to the capital. She climbed in our bus and started hobnobbing with the passengers for some money. Yet a cruel animal in the form of a human started acting pervert with the little child who hadn’t even stepped into her teens. I don’t know about other passengers in the bus but my heart always condemns me of being more frantic than that animal because I never dared step ahead to help the girl like everyone in the bus just because he was an army officer and army had supreme power at that time in our country. The girl instead stared at every face at first as if she was waiting for someone to save her from the savage. She found no one, accumulated courage astonishingly, a moment later people saw her escaping away as fast as she could after spitting at the army officer’s face. Filled with loathe and anger the officer chased her, amazingly she had already skulked in one of the huts in the slum. Simultaneously, leaving some mysterious reasons behind, the officer refused to travel in our bus.

This incident kept haunting me on ample occasions until I saw her again on my way back to my home town, this time in a completely different place. Luckily for me or her, I don’t know, there were no such perverts on this bus. When she approached me after going to a number of passengers in search of money, I smiled at her generously, “You are a brave child and I am sorry that I couldn’t help you that moment.” She spontaneously remembered me as a face of the cowards witnessing that incident, gracefully said, “Its okay brother. Indeed I feel surprised that for the first time someone talked so nicely with me otherwise I generally expect rude behaviors from people.” Among many things she told was her beautiful name Ichya and that she was doing all this for surviving herself from orphanage. I still think about reasons why she didn’t take anything from me even the small amount of money I wanted to render her; instead she thanked me for the way I behaved with her. In all of my journeys to and fro since then, my eyes definitely look for cute little Ichya, however, I still haven’t been able to find her.

Many people proudly proclaim children of being images of god, however, inside they are far more unforgiving than their fake identities. It’s such a dreadful thing to see that some of the parents use their own children as a weapon to get away from their poverty. Ichya told me stories of many of her such friends, shedding a quote of maturity that she was indeed happy not to live the destiny like her friends.

They may be spread all over our country in different forms showing a variety of nature and make up from the most remote villages to the most developed streets of the capital, regardless of wherever they are, most know to enjoy their own small world with hale and happiness. I have seen them taking nap in their own unique sojourns, play even with the most unattractive dogs and pigs around them which for them would be the most beautiful creatures in the earth; share whatever they have with each other and sacrifice their nights for finding sleeps to their friends. Well off children may learn about selfishness due to their upbringing but they would never. The truth that they are their own teachers will help them to be far from being selfish. They all just wait for perceptions to be changed when people think about them like a small street girl poorest at money but richest at heart taught me a lesson to endeavor to be a part of their problems and feel the satisfaction that follows.

LETTERS

It was her eighteenth birthday, yet her mother didn’t even call her to wish her. Roshani expected her calls at least in her birthdays although she knew that her mother hates her so much. She never wished her in all these years. Roshani had tried so hard to achieve her mother’s love and affection ever since she realized she was bereft of that. When she understood her childhood for the first time she was shocked to observe that her mother kept distances from her and behaved with her rudely even if she tried to be close with her.

On her sixth birthday, when her father and other relatives wished her she realized that her mother was just indifferent to her even for that day. Then she ran through all the tears she could and asked her father, “Dad why is mom behaving like this even today. I thought this was just my illusion that mom hates me but today I am sure you are hiding something from me.” Her father looked at her astonishingly; he was stunned that such a small child could ask such a big question. He realized that it was the right time to explain Roshani what had happened during her birth.

“Roshani, my princess today I will tell you everything” her father began, “Look it’s not anyone’s fault but destiny found a road like this during the time of your birth. Your mother had always wished for a son since the day we got married, I said I wished a daughter. But then we promised each other that either son or a daughter we will always take care of the child. During her pregnancy we came to know from the doctor that she would give birth to twins, a son and a daughter. We were so happy to hear that news. Everything was running fine before one day she fell of a ladder just a couple of days earlier than her expected delivery. She went unconscious, the doctors at the hospital later on explained to me that the case had become much more complex. They tried hard in the operation but couldn’t save your twin brother. When your mother came to know about this, she underwent a strange shock. When we took you in front of her, she had cried for your brother aloud, “Take away this girl from me, she isn’t my daughter in fact she has killed my son.” She continued crying for days, the doctors later said that the pain of the death of her son had incepted such a bad effect suddenly that she had started to hate you when she first saw you.” Her father finished and silence covered that room for sometime which was almost killing Roshani. She broke the silence, “But dad didn’t you talk to her regarding this later on up to now?” “Of course I tried a lot of times; however, I don’t know why her mind and face would feel a strange type of agony when I started talking about you. She just screamed with anguish that you had killed your brother” Her father broke into tears, “You know Roshani she didn’t even milk you during your early childhood.” The scene was outrageous. Moments later both hugged each other and cried for long.

A week later Roshani asked her father regarding the hardest decision she had to make in such early years for her, “Dad I can’t live here with mom being like the way she is to me. Please send me far away to hostel for my studies. I can’t survive mom being near me and hating me. But if I am far from her maybe she will realize my love for her one day.” Her father was astonished, “Do you know what are you saying Roshani? Don’t lose hopes my child we will try our best together to make your mom overcome the shock she went through and start loving you again. Please baby” “No dad” Roshani replied firmly, “I thought about this for so long. I feel as if I am almost dying when I realize that mom hates me and I can’t live like this together with her.” She went to her mother as she was about to leave home, “Mom I am going far from your life today. I just want to say that whatever happened wasn’t due to me, I wish I had died that day instead of my brother so that you would have been fine and happy nowadays. I hope someday in life you will understand that I love you more than my life.” Roshani almost cried listening to her mom’s reply, “I will always hate you for killing my son you devil. Go away and never come back in my life.” She took a step back, turned around; her mother didn’t see the big drops of tears all through her eyes as she kept running away from her to the gate where her father was standing to take her to the hostel.

Roshani had decided that she would never return home unless her mother felt love for her. She thought she would share her feelings of love and respect for her mother in her secret letters of loneliness. Though she wouldn’t send all the letters to her mom, she would send a letter once in a year just before her birthday keeping her fingers crossed that maybe this year her mom’s heart would melt for her. Years went by doing as she decided, yet no replies from her mom. Her father tried to take her back many times yet didn’t succeed because of her determination of not going in front of her mother unless she completely spread love for her.

The letters which she wrote during different times of her loneliness continued growing more matured and emotional as time passed by still her mother was on the same boat of hate and angriness for her. Roshani would spend numerous nights sleeplessly while writing the letter which she sent to her mother just before every of her birthday carefully scrutinizing every of the word she would write. However, she always heard from her father that her mom never read those letters even once. She tore them without even glancing at them.

Roshani was lost in all emotional feelings while crossing the road a day after her eighteenth birthday as she often used to, she couldn’t notice a big car rushing towards her. Although the driver tried to control the accident by applying brakes, it was too late to avoid the collision. She got struck by the car and was thrown a few meters away. She was murmuring before she went unconscious, “Don’t hate me mom please. I can’t live without your love.” Instantly, in spite of being far away from her, a strange anguish went inside her mother’s heart as if she had listened to those words, she screamed aloud, “Roshani”. Aside her husband woke up; it was middle of the night, “What happened dear? Did you saw a bad dream? Please keep courage; I know it’s hard for us for both of us to cope with our son’s death just a couple of months earlier but still we need to live for our princess Roshani.”

“Adi” as she called her husband whenever she was emotional, “If whatever I saw today was a dream, I am so much thankful to this dream for it has taught me the importance of our child Roshani in my life. Now, I will give her the love of her twin brother too which she can’t get in life because of his death during my delivery.”

Then slowly she stepped towards her small, cute and tiny two months old sleeping child Roshani, took her little hands, caressed them and kissed them. Two big drops of tears went down her eyes as she whispered softly, “I am so sorry for whatever I did even in my dreams princess. The letters will always be important not only for you but also for me too. We will write the sweetest words for each other in them and read them together when time comes”