Nature's Elixir

You step onto the street outside

Sensing the anticipation

Feel the wind sighing in your face

And know of its coming.

You scan the skies, looking for signs

And watch with wary eyes

Dark, black clouds swarming above you

Like a stampede of wild bisons

Announcing themselves in the savannah

The earth trembles and welcomes its visitor

With a perfume laced with all her creation

That enters your mind through your heart

And stirs up a cocktail of emotions

That you never knew existed.

Birth. Creation. Pausing to be let out.

By a power far beyond the reach of mortals

And then the zeus parts open the skies

With light,causing them to roar.

Then in the momentary second of silence

A hush sweeps across the horizon and

Over you,to go silent

Just at the moment,to let that

One cold,pristine drop of life

Rest on your forehead, and announce

What Is Truth? Que Veritas....

"What is the truth?" Pontius Pilate reportedly asked the Christ.Buddha went in search of it.Krishna delivered a sermon to a desperate arjuna in the middle of a gory war about it.The Prophet Mohammed found it.But what is it?

Truth,as they say, is a very complicated word.I read this somewhere,'Everything you say,is true.But the opposite is too'.Funny,i thought.But is it? You walk around this strangely small,unique yet immensely vast planet of ours everyday.You watch your cohabitants and judge them.You learn a lot everyday.You observe and implement.But do you really learn? How do you make out what is right and what is wrong?A simple way to guess would be that you do what you are taught.A child's mind is tabula rasa - Liquid tablet.Anything you put in there would be absorbed and used in action.Which is one reason why your mother told you stories about brave,kind righteous and dutiful men and women.She warned you to speak the truth.Always.You beleived her.You believed that truth.

Then,You grew up.You wandered through this planet.You realised the truth.Nobody is holy.Nothing is either.You became cynical,pessimistic.You realise the futility of speaking the truth and the dangers of it too.I remember watching my father once lie to my mom about the price of something he bought.I went up to him later and asked him innocently,"Why did you lie?"
.He laughed and said wisely,"Son,The truth is always the right thing to say,but not always the best thing."

But how do you recognise the truth?Actually,you don't.You just accept it.And most of the time you are right.Just like a broken clock is right,at least two times in a day.The truth is relative,as the popular theory goes.It is what you want it to be.Which is what makes it all the more complicated.To each what he seeks.The truth though always has two versions.The kauravas were arjuna's enemies - True.The kauravas were arjuna's cousins - True.So which one is it that is right? Remember the old proverb of having to make the right choices.Yup.Your character is defined by the choice you make.

Now,that is the kicker.Your choices will depend on your priorities,and the priorities on your experiences.George bush is a true son of a gun when he declares that he is hunting osama down.That Osama is in a planet he has no clue about is another truth.This world is full of such complicated,two faced truths.Each one of us lives in his own planet of truths.'Samsara', was what the Buddha termed it.It is when two distinctly differrent planets collide that confusion arises.People fight,kill and behave like animals.To protect the 'truth' that they beleive in.

What is the truth? I do not know. which is why i am still human.

The Dance Of Shakti

She cuts through the crowd
Like a river through the rocks
Her sharp eyes searching
Fingers running through the vegetables
Turning,twisting and checking
she will only use the best
Green,Yellow,Red and some orange too
Packed in a huge cloth bag

She first lights the Fire
The primary element,the purifier
Then,she uses water
which bubbles and hisses upon the fire
She sits down with her weapons
cutting,chopping and mincing things
As she deems fit
Till you can see no difference in one
From the other

Her brow is sweaty,hair messy
She whirls like a dervish
in her small universe
Everything assembled together
she stirs them with her ladle
Like a sorcerer,muttering incantations
Dancing to the crackles of Fire
The Dance of Shakti
Till things reach a frenzy.
The liquid thickens
To a semisolid state and a sweet aroma
travels in the air,serene and calm
And suddenly,she extinguishes the fire

Silence overcomes all,Nothingness
Just a deep reverberation
The aftershocks of a frenzy
Till you can hear nothing but the word
The seed of creation

She calmly places it before me.
Her labor,her fruit and art
And stands before me.An artist
Creator and Mother.
"How does it taste?"

words

White paper with Blue ink
Black in some places, I think.
scribbled words in a straight line
A thought that is solely mine.

formless thoughts without a shape
Written neatly on a foolscap
Away from margins, within the line
The words shape up just fine.

Seamless thoughts unknowingly altered
Grammar and English diction faltered
Sentences ended eternally with a dot.
Was this what i had thought?

words,
They have an identity of their own,
You only read what is shown.
You'll never be able to read my mind,
Unless,you see the world these words hide behind.

Lucky Day..

The bus was empty as i got in.Empty as in,there was no space to sit but there was no problem in standing.The conductor was in no hurry fr my ticket,and i shared his view.I leaned on a nearby seat and waited as the bus took off jerkily on its journey.I looked around the bus.The first four benches were filled by girls....not aunties,not grandmas....girls.This must be my lucky day,I thought.A day just couldn't start better than this..

The bus slowed to a still at the next stop.I watched her climb in.Every step measured carefully,head steady and eyes - deep and searching. I waited for her to notice me.She did. I smiled at her, unsure of my next step.She started walking towards me,and the bus resumed its travel.It is an art to walk on a moving bus,with potholes for company.Just as we neared each other,the bus screeched to a halt.I held on to the handles on both sides of the bus,just in time.Suddenly time stalled.

It was one of those 'Matrix' moments, when everything around you stops in midair.I could see the conductor bending forward.I could see the driver,his mouth opened to form a curse.But more importantly,I could see her.As she fell forwards,her hands on my shoulder,leaning against me.I wished time would stop here forever..

for the next few moments we blubbered around embarrassedly.A few girls had seen this and were busy giggling.She smiled at me,not knowing what else to do.I,meanwhile,felt like i just had three shots of tequila followed by a double espresso.She was still holding me by the shoulder, I don't know if i consciously went red but she realised it and hastily held on to a nearby pole.I looked at her,trying to gauge what she was thinking
but she kept looking away.

A few minutes later, a seat in the ladies portion emptied.I asked her to sit down.I just stood near her for company.It is kind of weird,standing near a pretty girl.You subconsciously feel the glare of half the aunties of the bus,and of course,you can hear the curses of the boys in the back.I stood there,silent and stupid.

The aunty beside her got down at the next stop.I wondered if i should take that seat.... It is a 'ladies' seat' after all. "Why don't you sit down?", she asked... "It's a ladies' seat.." i blurted... " Doesn't matter.You can always get up if somebody comes.". No questions...

I watched as th wind played with her hair.And every time she would tuck it behind her ear resolutely.I kept watching her till the last moment when she would realize that i was looking at her.Before she could spot me,I would turn away.I got down with her,a few stops(15 mins) before my destination. "Don't you have to go further ahead?",she asked knowingly. " Oh,I am in no hurry",I said.

We walked all the way to her building.Talking about exams,preparations,notes adn future careers.I know,that was all we talked.A distance so short,a conversation that never started.We rached her building in no time. " Thanks for coming along.", she smiled. " No mention.",

A pause...."SO then...See ya.", I said hesitantly. "See you." she courtesied.Just as she turned,she stopped."You are coming to college tomorrow,aren't you?",was the question. " Tomorrow......is a sunday.",I said. she playfully slapped her head," I forgot.Sorry.See you on Monday then..". " I grinned and said,"Ya, C U."

I watched as she ran into her building,and waited till i could hear no more of her steps>Then i turned and continued my journey.IT is my lucky day...

Itni shiddat se tumhe paane ki koshish ki hai,
Ke har zarre ne mujhe tumse milane ki saazish ki hai!

Images Of A Morning

A foggy morning...A man cleaning his Maruti800...A lone crow on a tree..A lazy dog sleepig on the street..A red bus speeding away..A green mosque sounding its azaan..Parents and children waiting for the school bus..Tea boiling on a stove...Stacks of newspaper behind a bicycle...The paanwala opening his shutters...

Vehicles speeding down an empty road...Spittles of red and gray abstract on the ground...An Indian Airlines flight flying overhead...A white bus carrying people to office...A cow in the middle of the road...A cigarette packet in a store...Puffs of dust rising from a sweeper's broom...

A dead rat..A dried gutter...A man asleep on the pavement...A drunk beggar...A singular broken chappal...Crowded platform...Even more crowded train...Creaky Foot over Bridge...starved child asleep in the lap of its mother...Bell in a Jain Temple...Cobbler busy with his work..streetfight...girl dressed in green salwar..two men pushing a handcart...a woman arguing with a clothseller...

Groups of students...roadside vendors making dishes...Yellow building...watchman adjusting his cap...vast corridors ... an empty classroom... rows of benches... a red bag ... a blue pen on a long notebook... Strange thoughts flowing out in recognised words.... an experiment.

Untitled Poem..

Words lost under a twisted tongue
A mouth that refuses to open
Yet the conversation goes on
with what her eyes have spoken.

The wind whispers in her ears
Carelessly, he ruffles her hair
How my heart rages and sears
To see him put his mout there.

A single studded bangle clinks
On the wrist of her slender hand
How lucky the bangle is, i think,
To be entangled so,in her hand

No face ever looked so clear
No body ever felt so far
I was just so near
As the crow to the star.

Then she waved her hand
waiting for me to say goodbye
Rooted to the ground,i stand
But....I never even said Hi.

And so she left unanswered
The world grew darker
O what would i give to be heard,
To speak,open my heart to her.

Snakes and Ladders

It was my neice's 2nd year of life,So we brought it in with a grand bash.Being the only grandkid in the family (curent),she gets what i won't if i grovel at my dad's feet.After the day was done,I dropped off at my cousin's house to stay.As we were unpacking and taking out the trash,there emerged from the bag one,shiny wrapped up gift that somebody had obviously not taken home.We looked at it like little kids at a christmas present ( though we knew what was in it)

We opened it impatiently.Out came a board,painted in bright new primary colours of red,yellow,green and blue.Snakes crawled all over the bold numerals.A few misplaced ladders here and there,and a passage to a new dimension opened to us.We slit the side to let gush out a barrage of little coins.And of course,the most important piece of the game.......THE DICE...

We grinned like stupid school children at each other.The game began,at 12.When the world prepared to go into the recesses of slumber,we awoke to a pathway that led us deep into hallways that we had lost our way to.We ran up those ladders that revealed to us the joys of a forgotten childhood.We fell , bitten by the snakes of reality that would not allow us to forget responsibility.But we began again, fearless like little children.... laughing boisterously,shamelessly,like we never would.I thought i had forgotten the ways of this world.How we used to try and keep the dice with us for the maximum time so that it would favor us, and how we chanted the names of gods and uttered stupid incantations when in trouble.How every missed turn and stolen move warranted a fight...and how we always forgave the past to broker peace over a board game..

Snake and Ladder,Ludo,Businessmove,Monopoly......games that define summer vacations for every kid my age.Playstations were alien to us.Summer mornings were for cricket and afternoons for a board game on staircase of the host's building.HOw school was the scariest place to be in the night...excuses made up on the spur of the moment to skip school,the homeworks that could never be completed,they just had to be done on the last bench during some other teacher's period(lectures).The first time of detention,the first caning,days of white uniforms and canvas shoes......Had i forgotten all this??

We exchanged anecdotes from our lives,like grandfathers sitting on a park bench in the evening.When did we ever grow old?? How i remember those days clearly now,like the clear horizon after the parting of the mist....MY school, those little compositions that laid foundation,those brown book covers,my first geometry box.Memories that burst through like the vomit after a bad booze.They just wouldn't stay in.MY first day at school,the forgotten book - destined to be forgotten,a strict teacher,a punishment meted..........a wet pant and an embarassment for the rest of my life.I laugh now,but i remember not going to school for the next 3 days.We rolled on the bed laughing,tears flowing out,unwiped and unchecked;carrying with them a tinge of sorrow for the lost days mixed irretreivably within the happiness that caused them.I remembered Kamala Das' lines

" The real tragedy of life
Is not Death.
But growing up "

My uncle,who past sixty,prefers a little peace at night came out grumbling.He stood at the doorway for a while,then himself smiled at the sight of 3 full grown men grappling for the dice with each other over a game of ludo. " BOys...." he said

Really what keeps us apart
At the end of years is unshared childhood
R Parthasarthy

IN DEEP WATERS

The water splashes all around me.I wobble around uncomfortably in the weightlessness.For a moment darkness surrounds me.The moment expands,swallowing me in it and the world becomes silent.Then,water enters my lungs,air escapes through bubbles.My mind empties itself of all emotions,as actions slow down to a pause.Suddenly,a hand reaches down.Grabs me by the arm,and pulls me towards the light.And the world swings into action again.


The creek of Khadavli lies at a distance of 20-25 kilometres from the temple town of Titwala.After spending a month or so in total ennui,every one of us wanted to get off from the city.With temperatures in the city dropping to an all time low,we hit upon an ingenious idea - To go skinny dipping.

well, not entirely.But yes,the idea was to get to an even colder place and dare ourselves.I suggested this place, which is quite a spot for teens to be initiated into the 'big,bad world.' When i was a shy,little teenager, friends in my colony had taken me out to this water-hole to teach me to swim.And after that i had my first taste of beer.Boy,it was something to have fear and excitement running in the same quantity through your veins.It was perfect for a dare adventure thingy.

We decided to first visit the temple of Titwala,to seek blessings.The chilly Sunday morning was taking its toll.We had begun to shiver on the train itself, and we still weren't even close to the water.All of us put in our best prayers.After a while at the temple,we decided to hike our way to Khadavli.We had a slight difficulty in charting our way.Obviously,cos none of us,among 25 , knew north from south.The battalion was split into 4 groups.We created quite a ruckus as we walked through idyllic towns that we had only seen in movies.After about 10 kms, most of us were deflated.My group was in high spirits.We were carrying the 'munchkin' bag and had munched through it on our way. The guys ahead slowed down,and asked for the bag to be handed over to them.They wanted us to lead now.We did,while they kept wondering if the bag was really as light as they felt.

As we were just on the outskirts of the lake/creek,two well fed bulls came running our way.I had never seen such a sight.All i heard of such things was on TV,or when my mom described festivals held in her hometown down south.I froze for a moment,before my friend jerked my shirt.We ran....... ,not a fellow dared look back.Unfortunately,the bulls had changed course after coming after us for a couple of minutes or so.By the time we looked back,we were 3kms away from our destination.

We reached khadavli by 11 am.We hurried to find a spot for ourselves and found that most were booked by boys( who had skipped school).We chose one, gathered our papers round,set our bags on them.And we set off to practise our skills.Most of the guys knew swimming.Our group decided that we would go in last.We played around in the shallow part for a while.The water was too cold for my comfort,the sun hadn't warmed it yet.As most of the guys came out shivering in the flabby paunches ( i was the thinnest of them all,in fact , i looked malnourished in front of them.), Bunty opened the 8 pack. We grabbed our cans of Fosters and raised it to the sun.

An hour later games began.MY challenge was to perform the best dive that i could muster.I couldn't refuse,I knew that they would throw me in if i did. So i looked up at the sun. Took my position at the cliff. A few paces back.Then a stop.I pushed my feet forward on the slippery mud.MY mind raced through actions i could perform.MY heart started beating like a royal enfield.As my feet left the last of the dirt platform,and my body convoluted into an awkward position,my mind screamed "Maybe you should have told them that you don't know to swim".

As i rose up through the waters,shivering and coughing violently;my friends laughed, clapped and cheered.Amit looked at me and said "That,my friend, was a splendid dive.Where did you learn that?"

Of Bikes,Boys, and Booze

" Hey,meet me at Bandra by 6 pm."
"what!!! You xpect me 2 get from g'kopar to bandra in half an hour?"
"No,not you alone.Get in touch wid M.He's ringing his bike.I m joining hesh on his bike."

This was VJ.One of my oldest mates,M,Hesh,Vj,Nish.We go back a long tym.and there was a new addition halfway,R/So this was an all out boys trip planned for us.Why Bandra?? Well,these are guys from small towns and suburbs,naturally,bandra has that sort of effect on ppl.

"Where are you guys? We are already at the parking lot.Get down there fast.Nish and R won't make it" - Vj

We get there and the air of the place rings out with curse words.The solitude goes for a toss,so does the privacy of a lot of other ppl.we backslap each other,swear at ourselves,and laugh for silly nothings.The bikers give their accelerators a workout.Finally,we grin stupidly at each other and sit down.

"Well,its been 6 months since we last had a meet." - vj
"Yeah,and that was when you treated us to that f*@#$^g movie." - Hesh
" Hey,anyone's thirsty.I got beer." - M
" You never told me you had that in your box" - me
"Oh sorry,guys.It won't be chilled.He's been sitting over it for a while." - M
" Ass#@&e" - me.

" So,what do we have here? An accountant(ICWA- vj corrects),a businessman,and a chef.Of course,me being a good for nothing cross between a philosopher and a writer"

"Oh just thought we oughtta get together.Its been a long time.and......." - Hesh
" And what..? " - M
"Nothing, Vj had an announcement" - Hesh
"And you have nothing else to say??" - M
"No,after him." - Hesh

" well....." - me
" Nothing guys.there's good news and there's bad news." -Vj
"whats the bad news?" - Hesh
"Yeah,we'll go with the bad news first.Easier to gulp with the beer." - M( he has a bad sense of humor)
" well,my boss fired me." - Vj
" Son of a bi......" - M
" May he die with his @#$^* crucified.may he be allowed entrance to hell when i am in power" - hesh
" Amen"- M
" Why??How??" - me
" What does it matter?It's done and over.Ididn't plan to work there for long anyways." - Vj
"So what's the good news??" - me
" Yeah,and it better be good.Or you'll be ........." - M
" Well,you guys remember that girl i was going out with in ICWA" - Vj
" Yah, silly kind of a......... Yeah,sorry. please do continue". - Hesh ( stops after M nudges him)
"we have been going strong for the last to years......And i think this is going to contine." - Vj
" Cool" - me
" Yeah.boy.You go get her" - hesh
" Yeah.Fine.But what is the good news?" - M

And we all resort to slapping him again.We then gang on Vj,and start a celebratory singing of 'We will rock you'.By now the beer is rumbling my stomach.I never kind of liked it anyways.

"how can you be 21,be a rebel and not smoke or drink?" - Hesh
" You don't need to drink or smoke to be a rebel.And if that is the picture you have of a rebel,i am not conforming to it." - me
" What? " - M
" Forget it" - Hesh
" So wassup with the rest of you guys?" - vj
Oh well,My parents have handed over the family business to me" - hesh
" I am so sorry for them" - me
" Yeah,I guess they'll be bankrupt by a few years." - M
" Yeah,right ass... at least I don't have to spend the day burning my ass oer the oven with a *@#^head shouting in my ears" - hesh
" All right,cut it out you two.I think i am gonna puke" - me
"Hey,I paid for that beer,yu can't spit it on the street." - M
" Right,H.......Allright,M say AAAhh" - Vj

and we all break out layghing.The shit stays in my stomach for a while.And a second rund of the drinks are called for.As we sit on the seaface of the promenade,crowded by anonymous couples,we are a strange bunch.I sit in the middle.Hesh to my right,and M to my left.Vj sits to the right of hesh.

" I think I love...." - VJ
" What!!!!!!" - me
" what?" - hesh
M looks confusedly at us.He had been chatting with hesh before i shrieked.
" Vj said something" - me
" No,nothing" - VJ
" what did he say?" - M asks hesh
" Nothing" - hesh
" No, you ass#@*! ! before that" - M
"VJ... better be out with it." - me
" I think i love her." - Vj

The air went all still.The only sounds emanating were that of the sea.A slow lumbering drone.
Then the beer flowed out of our nostrils,and we fell onto the pavement laughing.Vj wasn't amused.

" i am serious" - Vj
" yeah,and I am Caesar" - M ( told ya he has a bad sense of humor)
" Vj,you are 21.At this age a lot of us feel a lot of things.You'll probably love somebody else by next year." - hesh

we packed him still protesting,into the bike and speed off for dinner.The night has gone deep.People are asleep.But we roar around on our bikes.And i puke onto the street without getting off.!!

Conversations In An Exam HAll

" hey there buddy!! you done for the exams??Now,don't you pull up that long face before me.....I knoe all you smart ass*&^#$!!! You guys prepare and then just try not to tell anyone.what was that ?? Oh of course, i prepared.What do you think i was doing yesterday? Except i have just prepared to score uptil the point,when the teacher can declare that i've passed the exams.

Hey A,wassup dude? Yeah,i got some serious problems with the political system..... oh,sorry,did you mean the subject?? Of course,you meant the subject.You got any extra notes.Oh man,sorry.I almost forgot.You too didn't attend any lectures,did ya?Yeah,the prof still has the hots for me.Last heard he was asking R about my whereabouts.No,yaar.I don't think he will come to supervise the exam.At most,he might come to give any corrections that we need.Not that it would help a lot.Yah,We need answers more than we need correct questions.HAHAHHA"

"No,you bloody .... go away,let me study in peace.No i don't know about the Federal system.Of course,I don't have any notes for that,which is the basic reason behind my not studying it.What do you mean?? NO WAY!!! They are not giving a 15 mark question for that chapter.Gimme that note.Wat do you mean you have to study?? what were you doing till now? Showing off. All right,seat your royal arse down.Let us work as a coalition,just till the exams."


......what??? The bell already rang?? Sure.... crap,these things go off just wen you don't want them to.You done the studying.Good,help me out if i ask you.Who's with you? oh,she's a 'good girl'.She will tell you any answers you want,just ask the right questions.Yes sir,we are ready for the exams.what sir? You want us to keep the bags outside the hall,how then are we supposed to write the exams? Jus' kidding sir,right away.Yeah,you too.Hey jackass,Best lucks, you need it more than anybody else in this room.At least we have sharing space on the benches,You seem to have hit an empty spot."

"what the f *** is this? Yes,thank you.I know it is a question paper.You know the first one.....Good,keep your paper to the right..easier to copy that way.Hey!! get your elbow outta the way."

" Hey!! stop kicking me from behind....I don't share your arsical properties that keep you immune from such feelings.What do you want?? The answer to the third question is about a page long.....I can't narrate it.I've been taking stuff from N in front of me.Wait till the last hour,wen i have finished scoring at least 35 marksI'll show you whatever you want to see....Hhaha.Glad to see that the fear of ATKT( for the uninitiated Allowed To Keep Terms)hasn't numbed that shit you call sense of humor."

"Yes Sir?? No sir,I am not copying.OF course.sir.I never knew copying.Do you think i can fail twice in the same exam if i can copy?? Yes sir....Ohhh that....I was asking her the time sir.The cap,....Sir?? It is for my good luck.Yes sirr, No amount f good luck can replace hard work.but sir,you oughtta try it once.No sir,never.I'd never keep ay chits under my cap.Any ways,Its the worst place to keep it.I'd rather keep it on the ...... Can i sit down to write, Sir? Yes sir.No more talking.I won't even breathe if you don't want me to.Thank you,sir."

" Hey N, what's with the attitude?C'mon girl...Jus the last answer.I promise i won't bother you again....Yes,that's the spirit.Ahhh...don't even fear him,He just threatens you with all sorts of things,never actually does one."

"What's the matter with you?I told you i still have an answer to write.What do you ean? I've kep my paper so far to the right that, that scumbag in the next row might write the paper.No,He's of no use.He's way below,even you...hard to beleive, yah!!Hey,write if you can,or else let me write the paper.At least one of us would pass this time."

" crap!! There goes that darn bell again..what is the next point....Son of a bi.......I had it here before that bell wentt off....sir,hold on,sir...just one more line...A few last words maybe....Sir,that could help me score a mark.......crap,wait till i get the better of you someday......Don't you even ask me,How was the paper?? You didn't even show me a proper,decent answer to begin with.Ok,was that 15 mark answer guaranteed? Yah,gratified..Thanx,that wud help."


Epilogue: The situations in this blog are not fictionalised or fake,They are as close to reality as possible.Yes,even those characters mentioned do exist.unfortunately.

SIN!!!!

I saw something today,that i might not forget for the rest of my life.Even the mere recollection of it brings my dinner up from the stomach.It was a bleak picture,except that it was life unfolding itself before me.I have sen this before,but it never struck me as being so poignant .

It was a 7-9 year old boy.In the middle of a hot afternoon,scourging through the garbage bin.he only company he had was that of a dog,who was there for his own selfish motive.He dipped in his hand and found a stale packet of bread.That was the find of the day for him.He sat under the shadow of the bin,and began sharing that stinking morsel with his friend.At that point,I just could not take it.Then I did what first came to my mind.I left my company,went up to him and gave him a 5 rupee coin.He was first apprehensive at this intrusion of his lunch,then surprised at my foolishness.But then,he smiled.No other smile that i remember had wrenched my heart so much as this one.He held the coin in his hand,picked up the packet and walked away.

My friend came up to me and said," Well,now he won't go hungry for 2 more days."His observation chilled my heart.If it was sarcasm,it was cold.If he said the truth,even more so.Now,I sit here on a public platform and tell my story to young,rebellious and intellectual minds.I could quote Sartre,speak like Che,but does it matter? If i do,I might get a few more hits on my blog.But then,would i not be the ame as the many ppl of this city,who see such sights everyday,tut-tut for a moment and catch the next train home?

we have all seen movies.SALAAM BOMBAY,CHANDNI BAR,TRAFFIC SIGNAL.What happens after these movies?We all applaud the grit,courage of the filmmaker.The director wins a national award,the actor a filmfare.But what of those characters?What about the beggars,the prostitutes,the 'system'?They keep on.With every turn of the reel they return to their pain,hunger and humiliation.Eternally trapped within 24 reels.

I am doing my BA today.I might do an Ma.Years later,I might go to Oxford.But what of the boy on the street?What future does he have?Is it going to be better? If so,how?What kind of company does he live in,what sort of a life would he lead?Does he have a family?Or a mother ? Where is his mother...does anyone know where his motheris? Is she happy that her son can feed himself? Or is she scavenging somewhere else?Or worse...?

Mumbai is a city of dreams.what sort of dreams are we talking about here?Does this boy even dream?He probably walks around those desolate streets at night,hungry and under the influence f drugs.Used more to obliviate hunger,than as a tool of pleasure.What country gives its citizens food not fit for dogs?So what if it is 'imported'.Well,we have so long been used to seeing slavery,oppression that some of us have got used to it.The poor are happy,as long as they get to eat,so what if it is dog food,It is imported.

I feel nauseating.I find my life and the existence of it in such a society disgusting.Who am I to judge others.I am a hypocrite myself.When you have such thoughts,questions,and see such sights.what do you do?What could you do,other than ignore them and continue to live in a blissfully fictional world,where 'pain is but an occasional episode'.

Wake up,for somebody else lives a life in pain.

The Naaka

He sits there in a corner ,on his haunches inches above the road.the crowd mills on.Its just morning.He is accompanied by scores of faces on the 'naka'.He puffs slowly on his 'bidi' without a care and yet the creases on his forehead are symbolic of a premature aging.There are more faces than my brain can register.I have no idea where they come from,who they are or what they do,but i see them there.everyday,every morning.

The morning sun starts burning from 9:30.The bank has just opened.Traffic is at its peak,yet these people stand there,unnoticed uncared.As if their existence itself is visible to a select few,the ones who seek and the ones who have found.The 'paan tapri' at the nukkad is doing brisk business.After all,these are his first customers of the day.The paans are not much asked for,they are above reach,instead the bidis and the sachets of gutkha flow out.

The boy brings in the tea-chandelier.I have often amazed at two things,one is the knowledge of travelers about an oncoming train without even looking at the indicator and the other is the dexterity of the eternal 'chotu' balancing ,more tea cuttings than his fingers.He hands over a cup to my 'unknown friend'.I watch as the boiling watery tea slowly decreases in volume.He waits patiently,after all patience is a virtue more associated with the poor than the rich.More out of default than choice.I know why he is waiting.

The truck arrives and the manager gets out of it.Soon the motley crowd is drawn to it.The voice of the 'manager' is heard shrilly above the rest.Clear,sharp and precise to the core.

It is a job at a construction site/50 rs for the day/No lunch provided/Those who are strong are the only ones who will be taken.

It is as simple as it can get.No complex interviews,no haggling over the wage,no cal-you-back-later.Just plain You-interested-Get in.He walks up to the manager,effortlessly grappling through the anxious crowd.He says something and gets picked immediately.An impression of his thumb on paper and he's off.The rest, a pack of young old men and old young men,wait for the next truck.

As the truck dissapears around the bend,I wonder why i am standing here.What was it that interested me,was it mere ennui or was it something more? I don't know.These are people that are fighting to exist.Each hou spent in idyll is more hours of hunger for a kid or a day more of labour for a wife.these people are not here out of choice,they are desperate to get job.What right do i have to use them for my creative pleasure?They feel to me like a lonely island of people who stand by each other in adversity,because they know if he doesn't work his kids will be just as hungry as mine.They wait patiently,puffing on their bidis mulling n their gutkhas,not cursing anyone a job acquired but waiting for a job,any job that comes for them.They are alone in this world of hungry,greedy and selfish sharks,like me,who'd use them to write a good article and not pay them a penny.Yes,they are alone.

As Rilke said

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

Pending Issue.

The tom-boy beside me,doffs my head with the heavy sociology book.

"wakey wakey, Old boy!! its afternoon." R

Of course it is afternoon.The clock behind her shows 2 pm.The 'misal paav' and 'cutlet' are burning my stomach.My tongue is parched and there is a sour acidic liquid going up and down inside of my throat. look up from my head rest to find all of them winking at me.I am in the library since 10 am,and have fallen asleep for the third time straight.

" oh boy! look at him.He is exhausted from all this studying." P snobs.

" You are not of much use in a group study.you know that !! ", V declares solemnly..

" Well, I try my best." Not my fault if they chose a boring subject to study.

"All right then.Bye.we are off.I think you could look into those xeroxes now that you are 'refreshed' " R chides.

" what!!! You can't leave me here.Alone!!!" I've never been alone in the library after 12pm.

A week to the exams,and they do this to you.friends!!! I look around at the table.There are 7-8 sheafs of xeroxs spread across,3 notebooks lying open.Neat.No wonder,they have great arms.Carrying all these must help.well,might as well look into it. What the F@#% !! damn that mobile.Where is it?? Crap!! These idiots,@#$%&*** (can't use the original thoughts,censors)!! Can't they keep things better placed and arranged.Ha,now here it is.(The whole library is staring up from their dreamholes at me.The library assistant has an evil look in his eyes.) I hate it when people look at me like that.Better try to pretend as if i am studying.

No use! I am bored before can get to the tenth page.Let me assure you that Sociology is not a rivetting read.I turn my eyes to the entrance.You would be amused at how much you can tell about a person by the way he walks into a library.Look,That one is a 'first timer'.see how he walks suspiciously,looking all around the place.And that....well,that is a 'showoff'.Well dressed,mp3 headset still inhis ears,one small book in hand and of course,the perennial arm candy by his side.Here he comes.The genuine reader.Casually dressed,walking with the confidence of a gladiator,straight where he knows he will get what he wants.And that is a cute girl at the counter.Hey!!! hold a minute.I know her .She's tha....... Holy crap!! She spotted me.Dive H,dive!!Pretend to read.

" Hi!!! what are you doing here??" she

" aerrmm... studying." Yeah. Right!!

" Good!I just came in to do the same."

" Great.You could give me company.Probably help me out." Right son.chance pe dance kar,beta,chance pe dance.

" Ok"

Five minutes pass.I look up at her,she's studying.Ten minutes pass,I look up at her.She's still studying.I wonder what my friends would say if i told them tat i was sitting there like a loser,in front of the smartest girl in class( not a bad looker either), and kept studying sociology.Naaahhh!! I know i sound like one of those idiots in your circle,but hey,at least this is better than understanding a theory proposed fifty years ago in an unregistrable language.Ok,so here goes.

" How far have you finished your subjects?" Great question H.Mindblowing!! Your grandson would do a better job. i.e if he ever comes to life.

" Oh!! I think i've got to just revise socio,and poitical.English is lagging behind."

"Ooookaaaayy." wow.Now i know how many subjects i have,That clears it all up.

" Could you help me out with english?? Ma'm said you are a good student."

" Yeah????? well.yeah.....sure.Did ma'm really say that?" she might have.During one of her insanity spells.

"Great!! we could meet here then next week till the exams."

" Of course." Wait.... Well,what the heck!!! " Ok .You hungry??" god,let her be.

" welllll,ya.I think"

" I am done here for today.Wanna join me for lunch(what time is it?3...no 4) My treat." Pleeeease.

" sure"

Well,and i live happily ever after.You see the library is not such a bad place to be after all.The dact remains that i have yet to start reading up on a subject,my english professor still keeps looking for me in the corridors.But at least,I have broken through.

The End - A fictional thought.

I can't see straight.The
tears in my eyes are blurring everything in view.The more i try not to cry,the faster they come out of my eyes.My insides are boiling.The pain is unbearable.it is as though a lava of hate is boiling over and threatening to spill out.I can't breathe.My head feels like a inflated balloon that is about to explode.It aches like hell.My bdy is trembling.all ican hear or think is curses.I want to gouge my eyes out,but my hands can't find them.I grab at the curtains and pull them down.The sunlight pours in on me like a pack of wolves on a lamb.

I feel everything in the room staring at me.as though scoffing and laughing at this unusually weird behaviour of their owner.I can hear their harsh laughs.They crash against the walls of the room and echo ten folds.Hate builds within me a euphoria of rage.I slam the nearest window and it crashes into pieces.I heave and drag the TV out of its corner and tip it over the edge.It slams face first,with sparks flying through its back.The beast inside me has by now woken up.I grab my bat and vent its prowess on the stereo.It cracks open within two blows,but keeps on humming.I bring the bat down on it agin,and again and again.Until both the bat and the stereo are done for.

I am breathless but intoicated ny the rage.I put my back to the wall,feet to the back of the cupboard and push it down.The room shakes under the crash.The walls begin to tremble in fear....of me.The cupboard lies on the floor,stricken by my anger.ike a giant redwood felled by lightning.I now take the curtain rod to be my weapon.It serves the purpose.By the next blow,my computer monitor is faceless.I pick the cpu and throw it out of the window,That is how you send 20,000 rupees flying.I throw the keyboard towards the door where it stops after hitting the door with an awkward thwack.

My hands are bleeding.But i can't feel the pain.Almost senseless,I am out of my mind,out of control.The room is destroyed,my anger isn't.I turn the curtain rod on myself.I feel dizzy,but unhurt.I hold the mirror and crash my face into it.The mirror now looks as bloody as my face.Teh burning inside me has increased.I kick the sink til i stop feeling my leg.

I am in a mess.The room round me bears witness to the existence of a beast.But nothing is completely prefect,not even destruction.Not until its cause becomes its end.I pick up the kitchen knife,it shines as i hold it up against the light.A wicked shine it is.One of a deceptive nature,that can feed you as well as kill you.I hold the hilt to my neck,blade downwards.My hands tremble as i ponder over the final moments.One wish icould have had,one thing i wanted to do,or one moment that i want to live forever.Too late.

I am sitting in the hall,my body streaming in sweat.The pain has begun to creep upon me slowly,i am hurting all over.Anger and Hate - two of my worst enemies and worser of friends - took me on and beat me.The blood gusjing out of my stomach is proof of that.The world has niw slowly begun to fade.The last sight of my sinful life is that of a destroyed room crying in pain.

I wake up with as much pain as i was in,but now i am alive.Newly born.

Something Fishy

I got into the compartment on the run.If i had looked before,I would never have got in.A stale blast of stink hit me face first as i tried to get in.My face shrunk and nose crinkled.It was the luggage compartent and was full of fish.I realised that the train was already at its top speed and i could not get down now.So i hung around at the door.And tried to watch what exactly were the people that travelled in this compartment.

The place was full of fish and fishermen.It was 5 am in the morning and most probably they were going to deposit their catches in the market.Each one of them stank as much as the fish.My first thoughts were to get off the compartment and try to breathe,but then something stopped me.I decided to do something different.I stayed on.The air adjusted to me,and my lungs began to breathe stale air.

After i crossed Thane,a guy from inside asked me where i had to get down at.I told him that i was going to Vidvihar.He laughed and asked me to goto the passenger compartment.I said,that i can travel in this compartment too.He laughed again and said that i could,but the time i would get to college i would stink like a fish.I didn't mind.He offered me a place to sit in the corner benches,the only ones there.I sat down and glanced around.These guys were strong all right,i thought,as i watched them lift and heave those heavy,dripping baskets of fish and pass it on to people standing outside.Their black taut skin,shone as the dim sun passed his fleeting reflections on to them.Their ropy biceps and muscles working again and again,moving the baskets,shifting them to make place for more and adjusting to accomodate everyone.The man sitting next to me ,prodded me and asked why i was here.I told him i was just curious.He laughed and said why would i sit here ,when i can be happy in the air of the passengers compartment.I said,I am happy now.He asked me what i studied.I replied his question.His neighbour by now joined in and said wouldn't it mean that after another year i might be well settled in life? I looked at his curious face,dripping in oily sweat.Maybe i would be settled and then,maybe i wouldn't.How come??,he asked.

The next fifteen minutes were spent tying to explain to a group of fishermen how education and graduation does not guarantee you comfortable lifestyle in todays world.I smiled to myself.How is this happening? One moment i am not even sure of what i am supposed to do.My dad is dissappointed with me,my mom thinks i have destroyed my future and ruined all my opportunities.everything i do seems to be going wrong,my friends have lost touch with me.My neighbours deride me,college seems to be monotonous.My life is all but alive.Then suddenly i am sitting here amongst a group of fisherfolk,trying to explain to them why this world is so complicated,why my life is so destroyed.exlplaining to them why education does not guarantee wisdom.and what is the difference between wisdom and knowledge.

As i get off at the station,i am not wiser than i was before.I still don't know where i am going wrong,but i do realise that ia m wrong somewhere.I don't know how this ralisation came to me.Maybe it was the smell of that fish.Or probably the sweat of those fishermen,that made me confess to them the mistakes that i never admitted to my parents.Myabe because they were honest,and unprejudiced.Or maybe because they really wanted to know whta a by like me was doing in their compartment.I don't know,but my heart felt a lot lighter.Those hardworking,honest men had taught me something i knew but had forgotten.No matter what the day,what the season,what the time,they catch fish and sell it.that is all they know and need to know.

Maybe i should do the same too.

A Father's Son

He hobbles through the college dor at the turn of the seventh hour of the morning.He is there everyday,rain or no rain.The college has just opened.Students are flowing in trickles.Few people are bothered to have a look at him,some others consciously avoid him.His father holds him by the hand as he climbs the stairs.I never knew a boy so religiously wanting to study.He is not normal,I say.Yes,He is not normal.He is autistic.

I can only imagine the struggles he goes through everyday.To be unable to perceive things the way 'normal' people do;to face a struggle to even smile.To watch people tease you as a madman,understand it and yet being unable to reply them in the offensive.Going through that every single day,to suffer ignominy and yet face it silently.It takes courage,a whole mountain of it.I watch as his father coaxes him to climb the stairs on his own.I just can't help feeling sorry for him.But i know what stuff he is made of.To watch him wait for his son in classes,take his notes,help him study is heart rending even if you do not have a heart.

The bo hobb;es,literally,his legs twisted at vague angles.His face is masked in a smile,as though hiding his pain forever.But the pain is evident in his eyes.I tried not to stare at him,but just couldn't help it.His father noticed me and smiled.I muttered my apologies.His father waved his hand,"Oh!! That is fine.We are used to it by now." whether he meant it in a jocular way,i don't know.But that defined the amount of scrutiny that they have went through.I mustered enough courage to ask the father about the boy,I was not sure i would be able to communicate with the boy that well.His father smiled and said,"Ask him yourself". Looking at the awkwardness on my face,he decided to help me out.I watched as the boy,went through several struggling motions to spell out a few sentences in his defense.I smiled back at him.

The father was a far better speaker,and he answered a lot of my queries.Since the bell was still a quarter hour to go.I asked him if he ever rethought about the decision to put his kid through college.He smiled and said" Did you father ever tell you that you should better drop out and work??".I said "No". Then "How would I do that ?". Yes,how would he have done thata.But it would have taken a tremendous amount of faith in his father's ability and an amazing amount of patience to do it.Imagine the amount of unwanted advice,the number of neighbours laughing at your decision.Your relatives telling you it is a lost cause,your son is not 'normal'.Imagine the pain in the father's heart,the pain of his dreams shattering,the burnt feeling that is caused by watching his son sit at home while his friends go on to become doctors,lawyers etc.And knowing that your son could also have been that,if only they'd give him a little time and patience.

'Not Normal',aid the father is a universal term.It is used to describe a madman,an autist and a deaf or dumb person.As though they are abnormal.But aren't we all different?Aren't we all unique? Does the inability to express term a person normal or abnormal?Do we not all have different perceptions of the same thing? And are we not sometimes slow in grasping it?How,then,would you define normalcy?Having two hands,twolegs and every organ intact in your body and yet living on your father's income;is that normal? Or having a sever learning disability,and yet struggling to come to college everyday to learn, to compete; is that normal?I don't know.Nor does that father.But one thing he knows,and I know he knows,He will make his child study.He will let him know the world's stupidity.He will make an effort to prove his snobby relatives wrong,that his child is normal.He can learn,speak,write and read.Though a bit slowly,but he can.AND HE WILL.

A Visit To The House of God

The sun beams from behind the huge structure of the temple gate.Shadows play in and out of the intricate ornations adorning it.Gods and goddesses look down,stirred from their divine slumber,upon mortals walking in and out of the temple .everyone is all pious and perfectly righteous as they wander in, in search of redemption.They are all promised just that,regardless of gender,caste or faith.But not everyone goes in,some like me linger on outside.Confused on whether they ought to go in or stay on,about where their loyalties lie.As usual,my eyes wander to search for the worst part of such a holy place.There are beggars sitting outside the gates,waiting for some good soul to come out and offer somthing to them.I order a cup of tea from the tea vendor,who seems scarcely bothered that he is sitting right outside the house of the most powerful non-human on earth.I watch as the days proceedings begin.

There are scores of beggars that are lying outside that place.They are in all sizs and types.Lepers,blind,handicapped and lame.Some really pitiable and others faking it.Little do they care or know that behind those gates lies an omniscient being that knows everything.They raise voices,hark out to anyone who would hear.They call out to them in his name,invoking his blessings on those who are generous enough.Of course,there is no doubting the generosity of humans in such places.They are so generous some would drop everything in their pockets,but at what exchange.I am a cynic,yes,but it seems to be thoroughly illogical to me that you come out of the presence of the omnipresent,omnipotent and all pervading spirit;having paid your obeisance to him and asked his favor and yet go on to ask the poor soul outside to invoke blessings for you in return for his morsel of food.But,not all things that hppen in this world are thorougly logical.Or else could someone explain to me how George Bush gets elected to the White house a second time.

The beggars are obviously not the most popular people around the temple.No poor soul likes being hankered after coming from a peaceful meeting.I'd rather they prefer the peace and quiet of himesh's songs.The priests are always on the alert from beggars.They never like competition.Understandably,as the common man's budget doesn't seem to fit an offering to both priests and beggars on the same day.Which is why they are always wary of these creatures.But working in the house of god always comes with certain 'Terms and Conditions Applied'.That is being good,kind,righteous et al.so the government steps in.Sometimes an irate havaldar would shoo off these guys ,and go on to be......err... for some offerings from fellow shopkeepers.All this while,a poor all powerful being watches jis creations display the full prowess of their mighty intellect.

As I was watching,the shopkeeper on the premises of the temple got terribly irritated with a few beggars.After a small argument,the head priest joined in and soon a crowd gathered.The beggars were left with no choice but to vacate their job for the day.As they left the shore,one-by-one, the last man stayed on for a while.He was a old blindman.After a while,he got to his feet,joined his hands and bowed the final time before the almighty(who i think was having his afternoon siesta)and decided to retire for the day.

As he walked away from the great house,he sang in his unique and rankling voice a song,that i had heard many times before.I do not know the entire song to heart,but the last couplet i heard stayed on in my ears.They were

" Anaathanchya Naatha Hari, Asa Dayavant
Vitthalachya Paayi veet,zhaali bhagyavant"

It roughly translates to this
"THe great god of the orphans (Hari) is so kind and munificent
that even the brick beneath his feet is liberated/ and hence is lucky"

The blind man saw the irony in the song.And the great god did too.

A Journey To The Deep Side Of my Heart

I settle down into my seat and turn over to the page of the book where i last stopped reading.the train slowly jerks into motion as I slip from a real to a virtually real world.A few minutes later,two tiny hands scratch at my knees.I do not look up,just nod negatedly and continue reading.They are stubborn business men.They tug at my elbow.I look up annoyedly.Two hungry,sleepless eyes stare back deploringly at me.And suddenly i am captivated.It is not always a very pleasant experience to look into someones eyes and feel what they feel.Not if it is hunger,pain and poverty.My hand hypnotically moves to a pocket and rummages for change.It comes out with a two rupee coin.I drop it into the expecting hands,and watch them gleefully pocket it.

I look around and find that she is not alone.Her two younger brothers trail along behind her,shyly and bashful.Together the sum of their ages might add up to 12 years,if i am right.I watch as she goes along to the next passenger and does what she does for a daily job.MY neighbour looks at me and says "You shouldn't give them money.Their parents force them to beg if the earn more."I look back at him.He looks like a mediocrely rich comfortable guy sitting in the train snacking on a Parle G.And the voices of my friends run through my head.I always was a sucker for emotion and passion.They always cursed me for thinking from my heart.I wondered if i could do that.Would that 'beggar girl' do that? Could she just think about herself? Could she do what she aims,or earn back a lost age of innocence and joy that might forever continue to haunt her?I wonder if my friends know that.I wonder if she cares,unlike them,that the sensex has just recovered from a bad day.does she know that Sanjay Dutt has been released on bail? Would it matter to her if the Indo-US nuke deal got through?I guess not.But she would rejoice in it ,that i am sure of.

She gets down at the next station.I follow my neighbour out to my destination platform.HE sits down on a bench and throws his remaining crumbs of biscuits down.Soon a few strays gather round and begin snifing him.He looks embarrassingly at me," I love dogs".I nod hesitatingly.The trio has just taken their position at the invisible side of the bookstall.The eldest sister ,puts her hand inside her torn dress and lifts out what looks like a wasted chapati.She unbiasedly divides it into three and distributes it to her younger siblings.The youngest one splits his share and offers it to a mother bitch and her pups that have taken guard near him.The boy hangs on playfully to the bitch's ears,while the pups gather round him.An irritated tug sends the boy cartwheeling backwards.He gets up,shakes his head and turns his eyes at me.soon,they gleam with a mischievious smile.

What world is this,i think? I am reminded of the Amitav Ghosh's words in 'The Hungry Tide': "What kind of people are these that are willing to sacrifice us for the sake of animals?Where do they live?Do they have families,children?Do they know what is being done in their name?It is as though the entire world has turned into an animal and our fault,the only one,is that we are still human".And i know i have fallen into one more of my rambles.

MY eyes shut into the darkness.And i hear a smile.A gentle,innocent smile that keeps growing till it is a laugh and does not stop.The laugh grows in tempo,baritone and manner and soon it has a derision to it.IT becomes the kind of laughter you laugh when your friend gets slapped by his GF.It keeps gaining momentum.And becomes a mad,evil cackle.One that keeps ringing in your ears,that advertise a jealousy,hatred and mockery at the hypocritic world that i live in.And then it stops.As abruptly as it began.The alarm goes off somewhere,and my mom nudges me to wakefulness.The next day has begun,and will soon end.Soon.

Freedom To Be - Aazadi Dil Ki

ON the night of our 61st year of independence,i sit in an enclosed room with the screen inches away from my face and wonder what is the hype all about.It is just another year.Well,at least for me.I am one of those guys who attended independence day anniversaries in school only b'coz of the chocolates.The best part was the teachers always thought that i was a fair kid and would distribute the things correctly,when i always ended up pocketing some of the packets.I never valued ideals much.For me the thought of people shedding their lives for their children to survive was a silly thought.Now,as i think back upon those years of innocence and carefree courage,i am thankful somebody did that.

I wasn't born anywhere near the troublesome days of India's history.Life has been very easy for me.I have never known hunger,strife or fear.My parents have struggled to keep my thankless soul well-fed,without letting me know what they were going through.So the idea of a freedom bought at the price of struggle is unknown to me.Freedom means a different thing to every person.To Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi it meant a non-british government.To Bhagat Singh it meant a secular socialist state.To you it might mean a Harley Davidson,tank filled and 25000 $ in cash.To someone else it might mean life,to me it might mean death.Though we all speak of it in a different manner,one thing is sure.We all need it.We love it like we love to live.

Freedom is a necessary essential a human being requires to be human.We were lucky enough to be born with it.Some still have to work it out,in order to achieve it.Men have shed blood ,lost lives ,fought their brothers to achieve it.All of us want it.But what do we do when we get it?The westerners often thought that a nation like ours,with its varied geographical,cultural,linguistic diversity would fall as soon as they leave us.And yeah,we didn't get freedom free.It was like those contracts with the greatest details hidden in a miniscule "Conditions Applied" in the end.We had riots,arson,poverty,famine.The british would have patted themselves for leaving this god forsaken country.But like the stubborn weed,that refuses to die after being denied nutrition we survived.We were lucky we had intelligent people at the helm,who refused to give up.Who were careful enough to put every single possible law into writing.Nehru was respected,Gandhi worshipped but there were a lot more unsung heroes who worked tirelessly to script the survival of this country post independence.As our nation now realises maturity in world politics,those people would smile from dusted shelves at their success.

Sure we have had riots.We have no dynamic infrastructure change since '47.We have lacked in developing literacy,reach to our most interior parts.But we have succeeded in protecting the most important gift that was given to us - FREEDOM.What is freedom?I searched for this answer for a long time today.I,like or unlike the most of you,have had a very comfortable childhood.I knoww not hunger,poverty or even pain.So how would i know what the value of freedom is?I learnt it in the most unconventional manner.

I met my friend at the railway station.I took his newspaper,opened it and found that the shiv sena had thrashed another weekly.I scoffed at the irony of the act being committed on the occassion of independence.He swore that these( i won't use the right words,i like my life too dearly)were people who interpreted independence the wrong way.Then it struck me.Freedom is not free-dom.It is liberty to do what you love.It does not necessarily mean that you can go and thrash any stupid nincompoop that you hate,but it allows you an opinion.NO matter who you are,what your sin is;regardless of caste,creed,gender and status your opinion is valued.That is freedom.To be able to express without fear,hesitation,or even remorse.To be respected as a human,valued as one and treated as one,for me that is freedom.

People have stayed on in this country not because we are the best place in the world with the cheapest cost of living,but because we have given them that power of freedom.The power to be right and the liberty to be wrong.And we will never give up this power for any other thing.And that is how our nation was formed.To put it in the words of a famous poet

" To be sowed,cared for,and shaped,
Generation after generation,until
It stays in our hands,in our eyes
And it is us and ours. "