I have a dream....

I have a dream. A dream fueled by my will to learn, influence, inspire and possibly educate. I am thankful to my parents who have let me pursue my dreams. They have supported me through everything. I have been fortunate. I have been fortunate to dream. Few have this luxury. Very few are born with silver spoons.

A young boy, hardly 20, works as a security guard at my office. You will know he is a kid, just by looking at him. His father is a security guard too. He had just finished his Technical training exams and was back in our office lobby after a month. So I offered to give him a book to read to pass his time. I was sure, he was not overburdened with work there. I got him Malgudi School Days by R K Narayan an easy & light read to start with. He was overjoyed, and for the next few days he zealously read the book. Every time I passed him, I got a beaming smile in return. It felt good.

Today though was different, the book, which had been lying on his desk every time of the day was no longer there. He called me towards his desk and told me with tears brimming in his eyes, that people don’t even like it that he is reading. He told me he wanted to get out of this place. He wanted to study, become an engineer. He would be quitting soon. I promised him that he could take any help he wanted from me for his studies.

I felt more fortunate at that instance, I saw myself in his tear filled eyes, I imagined what I would have done, if I was in his position. Life had been good to me. There wasn't anything to complain. My ambitions and aspirations might have grown, but I felt I had more to thank for. Things were not as bad as my mind made them to be. I had enough hope with me, enough for me to share it with those without it.

I hope this kid can quit, I hope he can get admission to his diploma. I hope he can live the life, of which I have a dream…..

The Sunflower...

How long have we known each other? Not for long, is it?

But we have known each other well.

You have been a real friend to me.

The best one amongst the many I have had every day.

We have risen together every morning, you following my every move.

I must say, dedication like yours is rare.

We have spent drowsy evenings conversing with the air.

I have given a part of my life to you and you have given a part too.

Who would have thought this day would come?

Maybe the fault was partly mine…

Maybe I led you on.

But believe me, my heart is pure, and hurting you is not, for what I was here.

With a heavy heart I have let you go, knowing you may never know, I cared, and how.

It is sad it has come to this now..

As you shrivel now, with sadness or fulfillment I know not.

I can’t promise you, but I shall try my best to dry your tears and help you bury the past…

I hope one day you will let go, let my friend, the rain, nourish the seeds that we helped create.

I shall wait for the day when you shall be reborn once again like the phoenix from the very ground on which you lie today…

We shall be friends again that day and sway with the breeze, rise together, laugh off the past pain.

For whatever I might be to some, to you I will be a light for life.

The last supper...

I climb the last flight of stairs, tired with the bike ride from my office. The traffic takes a toll on you. I find the door unlocked, my room mate seems to be in. Which is usually rare. He likes to spend his time in the campus once he gets back from his government job. Infact, he seems to spend more time in campus than his job actually!

I rap the door twice, our bell is never switched on, my roomie answers the door looking surprised. "Your Early", are his first words, which is true. Saying this he goes back to the kitchen. I follow him there, drawn by the aroma of dinner, almost ready. He has cooked his favorite dish today, Aloo Bhat ( a type of spiced steam rice with potatoes and veggies) and Pithla (a gravy -like dish made with gram flour). I will miss this dish, the last supper...

Bhushan Chambewar, painter, industrial planner turned urban planner, multiplex dozing, hard core Nagpurian who doesn't like oranges, almost a pure vegetarian, sugar dunking-pickle gobbling monster with a paunch-phobia whom I have known for the past 4 years is leaving and I don't believe it.

 

He has made me call this old dilapidated flat a home for the past 2 years, cooking up the most amazing food and at the same time cursing me when I most needed it. He has taught me to cook Nagpuri style and made me listen to the latest bollywood hits which I really didn't like to listen.

He is the 'mom' of the house which he absolutely hates being called. Now this kid is all left alone in the land of fafdas and khaman. But this post is not about me. Its about this great friend who has seen me through the crucial years of my very first job, my hobbies, my dreams. I wish him good luck in all his future endeavors  his new job and a normal life back in his home town. Adieu dear friend and god bless!

Random Thoughts(resurrected)....

As I sit in front of my computer browsing through my pictures, I wonder if there is some story in them. However, none seems to emerge. Are all my pictures just pictures or is there more to them? Usually when I come across some new hobby or even an idea, I am very eager to pursue it. But somehow I loose interest over some time in the classic "sour grapes case". I wonder if this picture addiction of mine will meet a similar fate!








The human brain is a strange thing. At times it will get you all excited, getting your adrenalin rushing and suddenly it will make you shrivel under pressure. This pressure, I wonder is it external? The fact that you feel weak in front of someone, or you always want to be someone and you fail trying. Who is at fault?

I relised this "external" force is not around us but within us. It is much easier to put the blame on someone but very difficult to accept our faults(clichéd but true!). Acceptance, that’s another funny word. How easily we accept what people say and turn a deaf ear to what our brain(or do we call it our conscience or its it our heart?).

 
I can hear the soft murmurings within(as opposed to extroverts who hear it loud!). These murmurings grow louder but still seem out of reach. I think I need a stethoscope. That’s what they call it right? Where will i get that?..the doctor? Maybe a friend can help me.....

Notes from a prison

*Notes from a prison

One moment you’re calmly sitting in your cubicle sipping sugar saturated tea and then something hits you. Your soul leaves your body, floats above your head and scorns at yourself, mocking at what has become of you. Showing off its freedom ….“You can never be as free as me!”

“You are locked up forever in those crisp green papers that are handed over every month; no; wrapped around your legs to prevent you from running and binding your hands to prevent you from setting yourself free. They are your master, they are your prison. All that you hope and wish to accomplish, all comes down to how stronger this prison will be. You are young; there is your whole life in front of you to enjoy what you’re doing but now you have to build this prison, to protect yourself from this world”.

What a strange prison this is? It is created to protect the prisoner from this world. I want to break through this prison. I want to burn it down.

Then you feel like tearing-up these masks, these fakes, trying to cover-up everything, trying to make everything look wonderful, when it’s not.  Why can’t I say whatever that is in my mind? Why can’t the world accept me as I am? Is there no end to this make believe. When do I actually start living and stop faking it?
 

---------------------------------------

 

 

*Image created by overlapping two photographs made in twilight, Feb 2011

 

Recipe for a hero: Talking Lance Armstrong

How many of us have seen real life heroes, or for that matter, heroic acts being performed by someone? Media, internet and social networking sites are creating new heroes every single day, but really how do your define the term hero? 

Here are some definitions:

A man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength. 

(In absence of these qualities in 'exceptional' quantities, it looks rather difficult to be called a hero!)

A man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

( Again here 'distinguished' is the key word! A hero must be expected to stand apart from the crowd. The word 'admired' used here is rather interesting as it brings in the question of acceptance, You might be a hero for some but you might be a villain for others!)

A person, typically a man, who is admired for courage or noble qualities.

(This definition reminded me that the word heroine must also be considered, else my blog will lose its precious female followers and will be a little more unbiased!)

(Please note that I am ignoring the definitions like 'lead character of a story or play etc...)

We have those that are constantly opposed by the powerful, who act defiantly in the face of adversity, facing the brutal challenges thrown at them with a single purpose that is- to overcome, to survive. This breed is rare. Their work acts as a inspiration to many and provides a guiding light to those who have been flung in the dark corners of the earth with little room to spare or measures to heal themselves.

I fondly recollect the days I used to cycle to school. I fondly recollect my dreams of cycling in the Tour de France. That school-boy's dream since has been lost in the humdrum of routine and the grind of an so called adult life. An inspiration to us, and even to those that have not followed the world of cycle racing, Lance Armstrong, is a surviving legend. Atleast till the day USADA charged him with doping( Read USADA Pro-cycling investigation) and finally the Union Cycliste International (UCI) stripped him of his Tour de France titles on October 22nd, 2012 (read more in CNN's complete coverage here). Now several hours have passed since Lance Armstrong has publicly accepted his participation in the doping scandal, that has shaken the world of Cycling (watch his interview with Oprah Winfrey). Lance is(or should I say 'was') a hero for the way he inspired people to succeed against all odds. Now as this image of Lance Armstrong is slowly peeled off exposing a vulnerable and should I dare to say a very human side of his, I wonder what really is the nature of heroism.

The story of Lance Armstrong is the story of the rise and fall of a public figure, fueled by the media and  corporations that had cashed in on his rise to popularity(or should I say heroism?). These same people have now swiftly withdrawn their support when his (their?) lies were exposed. The media will still cash-in on his fall from grace (Read Armstrong interview pulls 3.2 million viewers in US ). The big corporations have enough heroes with them to do their endorsements, so it won't affect them in any way either. 

Courtesy: the official website of Livestrong

A man lost his way, made a a few mistakes, encouraged by the nature of this world, climbed the pedestal, we built for him, several times, and finally got caught and questioned by the same people who  put him on the pedestal in the first place. In just a few days the life saving work done for cancer patients and their families by him through his organisation Livestrong has been erased and might also be questioned. Livestrong has however come out with its statement on its official website.

Lance the hero, who represented the force that fought cancer, survived, and helped others out of their misery, won several sporting challenges, undoubtedly faced several hurdles on the way to the top, moved & influenced millions of old & young people to live was reduced to tears in front of the world. The world lost a hero that it once, looked up to. Like one of the famous dialogue from the movie The Dark Knight "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself becoming the villain" (Aaron Eckhart - Harvey Dent/Two Face dialogue)

RIP the 'hero'- Lance Armstrong. Best wishes to Lance for his future ventures as one of us 'humans'.

Image courtesy: Official Lance Armstrong  Website

Back on my feet again...

Sometimes it just so happens that some wounds take time healing. No wonder how much ever you try, that piece of bone jutting out of your flesh refuses to give in. You have to deal with it. Eventually it will give in if you want it to. You will limp for a few days, but surely its just the warm-up for the run that follows. Much like this limping post I have written.

 

Its all about getting back on your feet. Letting the world know that I might be down, but I am not out. There is still a fight left in me. The world gives one blow after another and you keep taking it in... waiting. You wait for it to get tired and helpless, of watching you rise to your feet again(like Rocky Balboa ). That is when I will begin my attack. I will go under and surprise you with my blows, leave you thinking, from where I got all the energy. So let me limp today, I wont lay back and wait for my wounds to heal. Let me limp today and show the world, I still have enough of a fight left in me. I have enough to say and talk about.

 

 

To all young Suicides...

How many of you have had the feeling that you just want to kill yourself? Quite a few of you , ain't it? It is really strange how normal things can trigger such extreme reactions in our minds. 

 

Some hard facts about suicides in India:

 

1. Age group 15-24 yrs constitutes 16% of the population(Census of India 2001) & most suicides in India take place between 15-29 yrs age group according to a survey conducted for 2001-2003.

 

2. Suicide may soon become the leading cause of death in India, currently 2nd in number to Transportation accidents in men and maternal disorders in women.

3. According to Wikipedia out of half a million suicides happening in a year in the world, 20% take place from India, making it the suicide capital of the world.

The facts are just so upsetting. There is so much pressure both external and internal, that people, young and immature, are driven to take such drastic measures. Yes, competition has increased and we are just horses running behind that invisible dangling carrot, striding ahead and in the process trampling on our own dreams and wishes and aspirations blinded by society into believing that, only in this carrot lies our salvation.  Often people lose track of why their running and what their running for, finally losing their purpose to live. So they end it. A cold blooded murder of themselves is what supposedly is going to set them free from their misery. Oh! what  a terrible waste, if only people saw beyond that carrot. 

[This post is inspired by It's Kind of a Funny Story, a movie about a 16 year-old American boy who upset by his life, decides to commit suicide but is stopped by a vision of his parents. He checks into a hospital, asking to be treated, is put into a adult psychiatric ward where he meets others with similar problems. Slowly he realises there are more reasons to live and the others in the ward are suffering from much serious issues in their life. A funny, touching and inspiring tale.]

References:

Summary- Report on Causes of Death (2001-03) in India (Page no. 4)

Selected socio-economic statistics, India,2011, Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation, GOI   (Page no. 46)

Demographic Indicators, Census 2001  (Page no. 3)

Wikipedia: Suicides in India

Suicide second leading cause of death among young Indians

Young suicides major cause of deaths in India: Study