Love is timeless!

He would almost always wake up when he would be trying to look deeper into her bluish eyes, probably deciphering the love he had somewhere lost 2600 days back.

Love as someone rightly said is timeless ...

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and time.......some say... time has its own mind or may be its own design. 

The new batch of freshers was in campus. Omi glanced at the lot of late teenagers, who inconspicuous of the environment looked happy and scared at the same time - happy on the feat that they were here and timid thinking probably of the days to come especially the ragging days. Supreme court had its order written in stone on ragging, but more often than not the institute would be blinded to minor ragging incidents. A general tone was that it made the freshers stronger.

It just looked as if it was yesterday, when Omi was in the line of admissions for architecture and Rahul was for mechanical engineering. Although Omi had scored more and could get any branch he wanted, of late he had developed a strange liking for the man made beauties of the world - the world of architecture. As per the God- made, he was yet to find her. 

Omi just brushed her thoughts aside - although he would have loved to continue, but he had to rush for his class. He quickly took his bicycle from the stand and right when he was about to start, he noticed the lose chain. "Oh God! Why did it have to be now of all time ? " - the frustration was visible and all Omi could do was sit down and try and fix it. While carefully mounting the chain on the gear, his eyes caught the image of someone very familiar - the chain got dropped again, and the bicyle too lost its balance, Omi had his hand smeared with grease on his face in amazement. 

The bicycle fell with a "thudd" and which did make faces of the freshers turn and look at Omi, but for Omi it seemed the only one face mattered - she looked inquisitively at the source of the sound with her eyebrows joined together in a wrikle. Her long black hair flutttered in the wind as she hastily turned her neck and her cheeks seemed even more pinkish, may be due to the welcome the sun god was giving to the freshers in the month of May. But what had caught Omi's eyes was the beautiful eyes, the eyelashes of which were sweeping against each other at the amazement of the guy staring continuously at him with grease on his face and cycle lying just next to him. Her lips were gaped apart - probably in concern as her mind started to decipher who is at more sixes and sevens, the greasy face guy or the cycle, whose front wheel was still in motion. 

Omi was star struck - the same eyes, the same nose  , the same temple and the same lips ..... she was the gorgeous Simi - wasn't she ? Yes she was. This realization made him realize a lot of other things - she had joined this year as a fresher and over the years she has grown more beautiful and that of all the time, it had to happen now - his bicycle chain and his asking God - Why ... and also that he had missed his class, which was remotely important. 

He wanted to get up, rush to her - hold her and give her a hug , but by then better sense prevailed, the practical ones - which often make you do things you regret life long. Sometimes you should not be practical - not at all in matters of heart. Yes it is a risk - but it is a risk worth taking. Love, though is time less but time does play an important role in matters of love - Omi would have to learn it sooner or later.

He got up, took his bicycle and moved towards the canteen , looking calm and composed with grease smeared face - but little did folks around know that he was the happiest person on earth today. He had met Simi - his Simi , may be it was all destined... may be it was HIS way of telling Omi that God loves you. While he washed his face in the restroom of canteen, he looked at himself, at his eyes in the mirror - they shone like stars , of course they would .... they had seen the brightest one today. 

As Omi wiped his face with the tissue, a million thoughts entered his mind - all the happy ones....

He took a deep breath to calm his thoughts or may be to breathe the love in the air.

Imagining Reality - The journey

The rising sun would bring a new tomorrow to Omi, one in which he won't have anything but a hope - a hope of which he had kept the flicker alive since 289 days - yes, he was still counting!

============================================================================

The morning sun was hiding behind the clouds as if it was trying to conspire against the most powerful - 'time'. Time indeed is so powerful; it is what maketh a man and detroys millions. It was only little more than six years but it was a leap of generations for some one - who else - Om Sharma , the tender Omi of the woods who had  grown to be 20 years of age , the slender arms , the tough chest , broad shoulders but the same innocent eyes. 

The eyes had seen a lot in the last six years - the bantering by the kids in school when he was first admitted, long periods of silence at the school and back to 36, chowrungi lane with eyes fixated on the skies in the bus and then on the road while walking home. He was older than the other kids in his class and often the feeling of being outcasted had tried to hit him straight in the face. However, Omi was special - oh yes definitely. A natural leaner and adept at lot of skills which the Delhi boys could just think of got him a lot of fan following. It was only after few exams that the teachers realized that this kid was special. He rose up the ranks from the last position to first within a matter of few months. 

He secured few double promotions to reach Rahul's class in Xth. Professor Vaidya treated both the kids as equals and wanted them to like each other like brothers. The mother of Professor initially was not happy with Omi being inducted in the house but later both her aging eyes and mind failed to distinguish between the love for each of them. 

However, Rahul wasn't happy with a village kid to share his house with a village kid. Moreover, the growing fondness of the school students and the abundant love at home for both made him to shun his share of love, inorder to distinguish himself from that village kid. Child psychology is very different than adults and often they say, a mother can know with the blink of an eye, what is wrong with her child. 

In the absence of such affection, Rahul grew wary of Omi. Although Rahul secured more marks than Omi in the board, Omi on an upward trajectory topped the school in XIIth. 

And this was the day when both Omi and Rahul were waiting for their results of their college application forms

Rahul hadn't slept the night before while Omi had again the same dream which made him to find himself smiling in the morning as he woke up. Nothing could go wrong when he had that dream - one in which simi would be sitting on the grey stone near the stream and he would be holding her hands in his on the pretext of trying read her palm. He would almost always wake up when he would be trying to look deeper into her bluish eyes, probably deciphering the love he had somewhere lost 2600 days back.

Love as someone rightly said is timeless ...

On Parenthood - Not exactly !!!

I am generally very stoic in nature but there is something about parenthood which actually touches you deep within. I don't know if it is the fact the you have contributed to bring up something miraculous in this world, more wonderful than any man made wonders of the world. On a macro perspective, there is nothing great that is achieved but at a micro level, it seems numerous lives have been changed. It is this cycle of life which keeps mankind sustaining through numerous odds, enormous challenges and still make life possible even after once it has been made possible once by some one above.

And what do I tell you of the meticulous details in which that some one above plans things. The minutest of things needs to happen in an extremely connected fashion with six sigma accuracy. Sometimes I wonder how come I was indifferent to the presence of an architect and how much I disbelieved in his planning. I am beginning to realize a cliche - there are no coincidences, everything is planned. To realize the full potential of the plan for us and to be really happy, we need to believe... We need to believe that we are not alone and there is something designed and destined for us. It's just that we are sometimes blindfolded to the most obvious realities.

So what's the secret of being successful - there is no secret, you just need to try being. What's the secret of being happy , again none - you need to give yourself a chance and believe that the plan for your happiness, your success and whatever you wish for is already somewhere there - you just need to unfold the knot with your trial and belief.

So today, if you feel you are sad - just give yourself a chance to be happy, may be help someone, share a laughter or just close your eyes and remember someone you want to - that one try may bring u happiness and keep the journey alive. Most often than not the journeys we take in our lives do have a very special significance which we understand once we reach the other end of the hike. Keep the flicker of trial alive ....don't let it go, coz that's what life is - an eternal ray of hope.

Imagining Reality - The will meets the way !!!

His fame soon rose amongst fellow travellers as "gifted". 

Little did they know, its the will which maketh a man and the boy did have it in abundance....
==============================================================================

Omi was performing one of his classic mimicry around the bonfire while Prof. Rakesh Vaidya was observing him from a distance, partially immersed in his thoughts of proving the old fort located at the top of the hill to a reminescence of national importance and partially intrigued by the boys antiques. 

Professor had been a frequent visitor to the "Durg" as the locale would call it and had often halted at Omi's abode. A very mild spoken but an inquisitive mind, he had found striking similarity in Omi's dissonance of the world and his will and grasp of collecting knowledge. After all, that's what the professor had devoted his life to - collecting the lost knowledge of the unknown and in Omi's small library of sorts, he could find the same urge, miniaturised but still the same. 

Professor could also sense that this small place would not contain Omi. He was far beyond this place. Soon his curiosity would grow out of what the occasional travellers could fulfill. 

Soon the evening turned into a beautiful night, where one can just lie down on the slightly titled ground and marvel at hide and seek between the leaves of the pine trees and the stars in the sky. The infinite fabric of the universe sprinkled with the diamonds would leave most of the travellers from the cozy homes and multi-storeyed building in amazement and often feeling blessed to have stayed at Omi's place. He had cleaned the area around his house to accomodate travellers.

Omi took pains to go beyond the customary relationship one should have with his customers. The midnight coffee was something which Professor Rakesh always loved while he was reading his superfat book with buildings and designs in it. However, tonight was different.He was engrossed in some other thought.   

Omi, without disturbing the chain of thought kept the coffee on the stone alongside professor, which with repeated usage had become flat enough to hold the mug. "Omi!" , the professor called out - The voice was always very familiar to Omi. After all only few people called him by his name his amma (grandmom) had given him. Om was something which amma continuously had on her lips out of her devotion to Lord Shiva, the supreme hindu deity. Hence Omi was a natural choice for her. But the travellers had named him chotu , pappu , and some of them also krisshh. However, Professor Vaidya always had called him "Omi" from the first time he had asked " What's your name, son ?" 

"Haan, Professor Saab"  - Omi retorted in a polite way. "I went through your library. You have a very good collection of sorts. It seems you have a keen interest in knowledge"  - Professor asked Omi.Omi had learnt to understand english a little bit in the last couple of years, thanks to his grasping ability and the chain of foreigners who had become interested in the "Durg" of late.

Omi - " accha lagta hai aap sab se seekhna"

Professor - "Aur seekhna chahte ho ? Mere saath Shaher chaloge ?........

Of course not. Omi sure did want to learn but this was his home, with so many memories, so many people to meet everyday, the trees , the forest, the streams , as if everything conspiring for him to make it the best place in the world for him. He had known that people felt bliss in his abode and would he leave his heaven for an another world, which he had sketched from multiple voices to be a trecherous cruel world inflicted with trechery, restlessness and lack of peace. Didn't the travellers come here searching for the "Peace" and wasn't that the most import ant thing in life?. Omi's answer was a straight NO ; it had to be, isn't it ? -  until professor continued:

....... I live in Delhi, have a son your age Rahul and my mother. She would be very happy ........"

"Delhi" - wasn't that was the place where Simi had gone. Omi's ears had turned blank to all other words that professor had said. 

"Yes! I will go" - said Omi. 

It is strange that how emotions sometimes becomes good of natural common thinking. It's strange what emotions do to people, sometimes to fight with the whole world and sometimes to destroy their own world which they have very meticulously created in the hope of something which they don't even know they will ever get. To put at stake all you have and start afresh for something you have an idea of believing in  - Isn't that madness, perhaps not , may be it is love , but where's the difference. 

The rising sun would bring a new tomorrow to Omi, one in which he won't have anything but a hope - a hope of which he had kept the flicker alive since 289 days - yes, he was still counting!

Imagining Reality (Contd.. Part II)

He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.

It seemed so trecherous now ......



Suddenly the abode which he thought as a part of himself all this while didn't seem his own. Every step that he took from now on was just to follow his dog  and companion , who had been so much like him, all alone, knowing little that this would be his last journey with the dog as well. 

Moti - his dog died this summer.


=================================================================================
Life moves on, doesn't it ! Omi still lived in the same house , the last time he had seem simi was well past a season or may be more. 

The autumns had come and given him company before the life came back to those trees. He lost that company too when the leaves were born again, the trees seemed to enjoy the winds which had writhed Omi and them together few months back. However, the winds still had the same effect on Omi, a chilly cold feeling which would shiver him to his knucles. 

For the trekkers and passerby, Omi was more than a source of food and odd jobs. Some of the regular trekkers had become fond of this kid, more so because of his distinct character. The world from which they had come from, this kid either seemed to be ignorant of the its ways or was actually someone very different instrisically. Omi never charged anything for his help, food and occasional shelter. Whatever people gave, he used to accept it with grace just like his grandmother. 

He would also be a source of amusement for the passerby's for their bonfire entertainment. He had a natural flair for learning and he did learn from the trekkers. While it didn't interest him earlier, now he was fond of knowing how the world,which he didn't know of, was. People from various parts of the country and the tourist guides told him stories of the world he had not seen and he would connect the dots from various sources to build his own picture of the world outside. 

He wanted to know more, to see more. Often when he would imitate the accent of a marathi, gujarati or Bihari and so on, he would get applauded for it by the night halters but little did they know that they were breathing life into a a fire - the hope that Omi had kept alive since the last 176 days , yes he was counting and had learnt counting to keep track of when was the last time he had met her.

It is often said, to learn all you need is company. Omi had a lot of them from various walks of life and they were happy to help him. Now when they offered money, he would return a part of it and ask for half an hour time from them to learn a new thing and most of them were too happy to help. 

Some of them in their next trip brought him books, some world maps and so on and so forth. The forest house had been worked on by Omi extending it to a library, where he kept all those valuable counting , alphabets and picture books. Many of them just took their half an hour sessions with him as a fun, but gradually understood the brilliance of the boy in their next trip or on their way down. Omi learnt it all and very quickly. 

His fame soon rose amongst fellow travellers as "gifted". 

Little did they know, its the will which maketh a man and the boy did have it in abundance....

Imagining Reality!

Let me tell you a story today, a story of a boy, who lived in the woods. He was alone in this world, his grandmother had died when he was very small. That was the only human touch he remembered in a long while. All around him were mountains and trees. The forest had trekkers, occasionally, who seemed to enjoy his forest home. He had the company of his dog who was also his best friend. He lived off on the river stream ample with fishes and the seasonal berries were his favorites.

Sometimes, he would go down town in case he needed something which he called his house. It was nothing more than a ill assembled set of branches given a shape like a house. The roof was made of shafts covered with tree branches and the leaves so much so that the house looked like an integral part of the forest. He remembered his trips to the down town with his grandmother to the store every month.  His grandmother used to live off on the alms and freebees given by the travellers and the boy had learnt the same. He had also built a small tea stall infront of his house which used to engage a lot of passerby during the chilly season.

The visits to down town were a remarkable feat for the boy, for he didn't seem to gel with the down town people. With the small sum of money or goods that earned from the passerby and travellers by tea and selling fish, he used to get chores for his survival. However, every trip to the down town was carefully planned, He would wear a shirt that day, and also tie around his head a towel as if it is a turban. His legs would be covered with one or the other piece of cloth often donated by the tourists and passerby. He would look at himself in the broken piece of mirror and comb his hair locks with his slender long fingers.

There was another reason for all this ritual, a reason which would make him stammer at the shop, his eyes looking dreeamy and his throat getting choked - she is beautiful, that's all he could think of whenever she was infront of her , angrily asking - " will you say something , what you want or should i call dada ?" Her voice armed with the anger would just seem like a lullaby to him, before dada would come and break his heavenly dream. He never understood why he was unable to speak in front of her. He wanted to say so many things to her, tell her how he can just grab a fish out of the flowing water, climb trees with ease and pick up the sweetest berry , how he can throw stones in the stream which would jump more than 8 times before dissapearing into the river bed....but he couldn't speak even " 1 kg sugar" infront of her.

Every month, the ritual would be repeated and he just left the downtown cursing himself, why he can't get the courage to talk to the girl. Often in his dreams he would see the same girl, bright and big eyes, neatly done two locks of hair and the yellow bangle in her hand. It had been three years when he had first seen the girl and still in 36 times he met her, he had only been able to stammer in reality.

The boy, although with no formal education had learnt his ways with the visitors and travellors and his memory helped him retain the counting he had once learnt from a trekker and also a bit of english from the tourist guides, who seemed to rever in the ruins of the fort on the top of the hill. He had been there many times with the tour groups helping them with the luggage and getting money and food in reward.He had also got few books from kids and their parents and despite his best efforts he could just look at the pictures and draw faint connection to the letters along side.

Today was a special day again, one where he would see "simi", yes that was her name, her dada used to call her. He was looking good in his green towel turban and humming a broken tune from his grandmom. His eyes were looking for simi, when dada called out " what do you want". He recited the monthly rationing he needed - his eyes still searching for the bright eyes and the twin pony tailed and the cute frown. He could find none.

While getting the ration, dada said - "kisko dhoond raha hai" , he could just say ...." siiiiiiimm.." . "Woh tho gayi , shaher padhne ke liye, kuch kaam tha.............."

and the rest was just noise to his ears...

He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.

It seemed so trecherous now ......


---------------------------------------------------To be continued----------------------------------------

Admit and Accept !!!

Why do I shy away from writing ? Is it so difficult to pen down my thoughts ? Not really, if I think through it. It's just that I perhaps don't want to admit and accept what i have been thinking and also at a later point of time wonder on my thoughts. But thoughts, however transient they are, they are a part of us and actually our identity and self is in our thoughts. So the more we shy away from it, the more we fail to admit it, the more we find ourselves far from us, far from reality.

That holds true even for negative thoughts.. when i distance myself from a negative thought saying that it's not me, I am running away from a bitter truth of being human. God is smart, irrespective of the religions, and ensured that as humans we do have vices, lest each of us would know the ultimate truth, of which we just have an illusion of.

So what should you do? Fight the emotions, try to kill it with another set of emotions or actions. I say "Admit" and "Accept". When u admit and accept, you come closer to real you. When you "accept", you just ended a tussle with yourself, a tussle to kill a part of your own personality. That's precisely the way most of the cancer treatments work -'killing a part of your body' - but reasearch has shown that there are better ways to treat them.(the architecture of cancer - video from TED talks)

Let's just admit that i have 'this' without being any judgemental about it. Now i know you are wondering what "this" is - it may be anything that you are fighting with and generally against. For example, let me admit that i like being in deep thoughts, may be even wasting time just lazying and thinking. By thinking that i am not one to be swayed by thoughts, by thinking i am one who is stern and clearly defines my lanes and am not at all bothered by these wandering thoughts - I am actually running away from the very part of me which has defined me since long. I have been a vagabond all my life and that is what i am even now - learning the ways of life in every course of my journey.

The second phase after "admit" is "accept" - when you accept your feelings, u give a shape and form to it. Now once you recognize what is that part of you which you had shut your eyes from - you would probably be able to heal it.For example, I accept that i like thinking about people close to me or i wish were close to me.

Now that I have accepted, I am at peace.

The next logical question would be, what do i do with it ? The answer could be varied between the two extremes of - nothing to everything. If you can't do anything, just live with it. Believe me, it would be easier to live with no action than to fight the very root of it, the emotions - for they are pervasive in your subconciousness and they are a part of you - actions are not. Also, if you have watched the video, you would know that you can change the environment to bring the positiveness of the self which you had been overlooking all this while. 

And yes ... rights and wrongs are just the fallacies of human understanding, not even the computer system is actually binary , it's all analog- Everything around us are just shades of grey, picking the shade may be an action one can't take, but shying away from liking the shade is almost like killing oneself; So stop judging yourself.

If you like someone  - go ahead like him/ her. You may or may not act on your liking depending on the constraints, but fighting that thought, trying to slay that thought itself could be very difficult - sometimes much more difficult than fighting the whole world inorder to achieve it....

Good luck Ami!

Being Me- II

 "Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now, if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain’t you. You’re better than that!" - Rocky Balboa 

The libran that you are believes in countering every negative emotion with the splash of positivity. You may not come up with an original idea, an original goal or may be life doesn't give me a chance to prove that you are Godsend for great things, but to quit trying is not what you know. 

You may be slow, may take a pause and a deep breath to hold the moment as if forever, but you will release the breath and get back to the ascent uphill, for in your journey lies the sole purpose of being Amrit; its legacy should live on, if not in words, in his actions, in the lives he touches and in the lives he is touched by. 

Let's just say all you need to do is keep moving and things that you always wanted will shape up and come to you. You never wanted the goals but the happiness attached to the goals you chose. What if the happiness comes with all the other milestones that comes your way. Give it a chance... Give life a chance and believe in yourself. 

You are not a coward and you shall not point fingers, not even your yourself.

King once said - if you can't fly, run ...if you can't run, walk and if you can't walk .. crawl, but it's important to keep moving ..

Just move it ...and you shall be fine. 

Being Me!

It's true that I haven't been writing off late, although the urge to write and key down my thoughts has crossed my mind umpteen times. I wish I could write about all I think and all I do but I can't. I have been dragged or I should say I have jumped on to the race of life, although very well knowing the futility of it. I understand the life is a journey and each step is a stroke on the canvas of it. At the end of the journey, these little steps would decide if the painting is a masterstroke. Yet i have chosen myself a stroke, a course which the world approves of. Why do i need its approval. I don't but I care for people around me and it feels happy to see them revere in all this course. Moreover, it seems, as we grow older, the needs of the people around us will dictate the choices we make. However, I wish it just remains to seems and doesn't morph into an obvious reality for me, which it has for lots of people I know of.

Almost always, thoughts in my mind lead me to one question - what do I really want from this life. Ten years ago, i really knew what I wanted. I don't think there was a person who knew what he wanted better than I did. I wanted the most beautiful oasis of the desert, the sparkling white pearl from the heart of the ocean and the purest breeze from the top of the mountains. Yes, it was a dream but a dream personified, one which completes the reality of being me.

I could go on and on about the most beautiful dream I had. It's one of those dreams that gives you super powers and you can actually do anything for it. You can change the world even upside down for its sake.Happiness has a whole new meaning in this dream and you live for it and also die for it, all in bliss.

Now, years later when i know it was just a dream, I fail to answer - what do i really want from this life. The answer often starts and stops at the question itself. I still want meaning from it, but I guess it's hard to get a meaning for me now; the meaning probably if any has to be realized by people around me.

Defining your goals from a scratch is not easy; It's the feeling that everything I did was for a goal which i later realized was never there for me. Accepting things as fate or destiny is an easy solution.

Nevertheless, I know and accept reality. It's just that I can't choose a worthy goal now. It is this inability that is making me lose myself. I know, choosing or finding a worthier goal is going to be very difficult. The other solution is the philosophy I am practicing now. Just go on, don't set a target, enjoy the journey and carry on.

This philosophy is also very good and when I connect the dots backwards, it's not that bad. However, it does echo the lazy sentiment I have, let the purpose come to you and let the goals of life choose you.

But then I still fear, what if I never find a worthier goal... what if I never have another original idea from life?