What young India wants

What young India wants? Not a ‘revolution 2020’. Young India is bored of politics. Young India wants to read how ‘one night at a call center’ would be. Young India is more interested in listening to a ‘five point someone’ who has willingly committed ‘three mistakes of his life’ by boiling his autobiography in the soup of imagination and smearing it with salt and pepper till it’s completely hot. Yes, he is Chetan Bhagat, the author who has lived only in ‘2 states’ for 30 years and has sold more copies than their entire population would buy. Why him? Well, many so called intellectuals around me, in various situations were found criticizing him, for the cheap text he sells full of vulgarity.

Graduating from India's top class institutions, this renowned author has dramatically snatched the Indian book market of teen fiction from the authors of ‘twilight’ and sci-fi of the west. With a deep insight of what the country is, how it behaves and reacts, and how its youth feel and think, he has pulled all the sensitive strings an Indian would otherwise fear to touch, with utmost ease. His business principles are nevertheless simple. Write what your reader wants to read and he will ask you to write more. Placing that aside, this Indian Sidney Sheldon is everyday found writing columns his target audience shall never care to read in newspapers his target audience shall never care to pay a penny for. He is well known by every convent schooled Indian teen, and is very much admired for his simple language, rather bilingual dialect, low priced small books, which one such teen would read at a stretch in a boring Indian train journey, where he shall much more be entertained by the fancies of this guy than watching, learning and observing from the variety of people around him. Thanks to the Indian system of schooling.

Back to our dear author, he can be appreciated for writing of creating a zero corruption utopia, a secularist country where a guy and a girl fall in love and marry despite from being cultures far apart as Madras and Delhi, and a college where the student shall be evaluated by his talent and nothing else. Yes, this guy fantasizes too much. Nevertheless, his appraisal shall not be complete without his recognition for pulling the best minds of India into the hobby/profession of reading English novels. His columns though often trolled by the ‘great’ journal writers, often remind young Indians that there is a page termed editorial in the newspaper too. However, he shall be taunted by a few of the intellects, for his usage of sexual fantasies and irregular story plots, for his biased single person male oriented writing style and for degrading the average quality of English fiction in the Indian bookstore. No doubt he was pointed during the anti-rape protests and education oriented discussions for his provoking works and untrue educational success stories, also thanks to his speeches at the centers of learning about a better nation.

I would like to remind the brainy people around that he has been an inspiration to a ton of budding writers around; he has laid the building stones of English reading in this younger generation very firmly, and shall be solely credited for all his work. I don't support him completely, because I shall never forget the deterioration of the language nor the quality of text a teenager shall be expected to read with the moderately high IQ he possesses. Above all, before you point a finger at him, remember you too were excited, dragged into and floated through his imagination someday, pondering over your chances to enjoy such a life, though later did you repent wasting a few of your precious hours which otherwise would have gone into sleeping, costing you the wisdom of knowing what young India wants, because when you read what he writes, I am pretty sure you will surely realize what young India wants.

Love story

Like the stars on a gloomy cloudy night, her eyes did twinkle bright.
The warmth of a winter morning's sunlight, to abide in her breath did fight.
Did the breezes by her hair glide, to let not those splendid tender ears hide.
Did the elephants and horses abort their ride, as she in her white gown did stride.

Rose petals snuggled below the thorns in shy, as her lips smiled pink like the spring dawn's sky.
Far far away did those pigeons fly, as the peace in her heart they could not buy.
Tender jasmines of honey went draught, as for her sweetness the air sought.
The nightingales and the cuckoos fought, for that sweet voice was her's they never thought.

Feathers all over summited over being soft to feel, for born of her hands none did ever reveal.
Once long ago a pirate of creepers failed to steal, her slim waist's theft of the unsigned deal.
Lucky was the grass that went under her feet, light to bore and soft to meet.
The sunflowers and rabbits bowed to greet, for that lady of charm was so sweet to treat.

Kind was she that when her fingers would tip, the hardest thorns shall try to slip.
Addictive was she to kiss with one's lip, more than a hot brewing coffee sip.
Naughty by word and cute when speechless, blushes did blush they had to confess.
To embrace her lucky was her white dress, to abide by her heart was born tenderness.

Lucky shall i be, to write about her beauty, luckier shall i be, if to praise her was my daily duty.
Lucky shall be he who gets to wear her the ring, for his life shall all forth fairytales sing.
God i shall praise you for giving her to me, and for a few days making her and me to be we.
Love i love you when she loves to share you with me, for more do i love her that any can see.

Dreams we live in

I walked into my classroom, clad in a sky blue shirt and a navy blue trouser, my tie tightened to my neck, lunch basket in my hand, and a package of books on my back. It was like any other day except that a terrifying guilt crept and grew deep inside me. I was dull. I knew I had to do the homework, yet I didn't. Miss Shruti, my 7th class science teacher is well known for her knocking knuckles punishment of the steel ruler. I shivered more. Lately came that hour, and so did the teacher. In a few minutes, she was standing in front of me, I handed the empty book to her standing as sweat drenched my socks. I did it. The teacher stood gazing bizarre and a commotion replaced the utter silence. I did disappear. The next moment, I was in my bed. My dad was trying to wake me and he did shake me off the sleep. I woke to see the incomplete notes still on my table, pages fluttering and so were my thoughts. The justice league john effect it was. I was dreaming of having such a superpower to disappear. The dream was special. I dreamed of being technically sound as batman, fast as flash, wearing a ring where light shall take the form I wish and do work for me. Yes, justice league was my dream.

My early teens it was. Running from everywhere I would return to my hall to watch Indian batting. There he walks in. He is a guy not so tall, with a little childish smile, chasing his dreams, hitting the ball everywhere. Then I dream of learning cricket, playing it being the 'tiny master.' This life is simple easy and interesting. He has got lots of money and fame and a loving wife too. I would play cricket all the time, it would be fun. I will take this. Somewhere I hear Spiderman say, "With great power comes great responsibility." justice league fades out of my mind as a career choice given the responsibility that accompanies the power I get. I realize my dreams were a bit too embarrassing and oriented towards my own advantage. I shall call myself selfish then. I won't be selfish.

I watch Disney princes living the life the way they want, always having a beautiful princess to hold their hand at the end. The life would be full of adventures, forests and magic, evil witches and talking animals. The life as a Disney prince would be fun. And the story would end happily always. Later on, after my youth passes, I would pen down my entire story and live the rest of my life playing with my children and their children too. To be another Tendulkar is not easy. I would have to practice a lot. I would have to overcome all the team politics, I would have to smile at the critic, perform well every day, and dedicate my entire life to the game. No, it needs lot of passion and dedication. I am not that strong nor hawk eyed.

A few years later, I learn of war and bombs. I wish the place I live gets bombed barren and I alone survive, with food for the rest of my life alive, and so does that one friend whose company makes the rest of the world seem meaningless. I wish to go on a long jeep drive forever through the desert and the forest and be at peace on white sandy beaches and baskets of peaches. It is much better than running across unknown ways every day in the search of a princess or a golden treasure. The Disney prince's job ends with his marriage. Later let the princess become the jealous ugly queen, or eat too much royal food and become the fat lady, no one cares. The life shall be plain and I will have subjects to look after. It will be more of a headache. No, I don't want it.

I cross 18 someday. I shall be officially licensed to drive. I dream to sit behind the wheels of a 63 AMG or 6 series convertible and race through the life, thrilled by the speed and savoring the driving pleasure dashing amidst cars. But what of a world where no one lives? I call it a day dream and move on further, for without a fellow human being, I am a lonely one and I hate being it. So, I decide that I should be a part of the society.

Today, despite a thousand such dreams, I realize what I always dreamed of. It was of a life of not being mine. I dreamed with eyes wide open, nerves passing currents every moment, my senses at work. Yes I day dreamed. And sooner or later I always realized that this life is the best, despite all the complexities it puts to display. Sharing my love, chasing my passion, serving my fellows, I shall do all that my destiny directs me to, for that journey is my life. It defines me. It shall write my story and that shall be the best literature I will ever read, inside my mind, turning through the pages of memories, because this life is the most awesome thing that can ever happen to me. Your dreams may be different, so may be your thoughts, your destinies and your lives. Yet we love our own history than any other fairy tale.

Fear

When born, a child fears fire and strangers. In childhood we fear parents and socializing. A teenager fears rash driving. In youth, the fear of future exists. Fear of kids being attracted to malpractices in 30's and of their future in 40's, fear of death in the later age, is not uncommon. From going to toilet through the dark corridor after 9 when you're 9, to reconsidering the fat in your body after fifty, fear becomes a habit in the long way. Embedded deep down to each of your nerve, this feeling of being afraid, snatches your life and leaves you a completely different creature from what you would have been without that intuition. Fear lies deep down in your heart. Dormant, weaving webs like a spider, hiding deep below in it forever, blanketed by the web, to cover her from the light of reason that might illuminate and maybe, burn her to ashes. Thus fear evades reason. Fear avoids reason. Many people around you are afraid of cobwebs. And why? Well, no one knows why.

Fear has friends, guilt being its best friend. Others include ignorance, shy, experience, and tales and myths. The fear of parents keeps the child in control. The fear of being hurt keeps a puppy away. The fear of war helps maintain peace. The fear of future generations controls pollution. The fear of god keeps the devil in you suppressed. Fear thus is used, by every superior over its inferior counterpart. Thus fear helps the world run the way it today is. The fear of failure overpowers the inventor. The fear of being rejected takes over every proposal of love to opposite gender. The fear of losing pulls the nerve of player who on the verge of a loss. Thus fear often prevents you from bringing out the best in you. So does it do good and bad for the humankind.

Fear is the weapon of a monarch. Fear is the strength of every power. The day a man succeeds his internal war, lets his determination wins over fear, will be miraculous for him. That day shall his true from be shown. The fear of being noticed often binds you to be limited to being a social animal. The fear of speaking to public buries your opinions in your own mind. Overcome such fear and you shall sense the victory. The fear of unknown, the fear because of ignorance limits the reactions of a man to the vast universe. If you fear something, learn about it. Wisdom is fear's chief enemy. Once you are wise and know every consequence of doing what you fear, it shall be gone. That one fear shall be left in you which shall truly be called fear. That fear that has no reason that fear that shall rule every sense of yours, is the 'FEAR'.

Everyone has it and it is nothing inferior. The one who overcomes this unknown fear shall live past the normal life. Notice that every superhero today is one who could rule it. Every great mind executes war over fear, pushing it to the farthest ranges, where from it shall be unable to influence one's work. Using your fear as a strength makes you a better person. Letting your fear be your worst enemy helps it engulf you. Thus fear plays a vital role in one's life.

My life

Far away unreachable and dormant, lies a heart whose absence does torment.
For you are the only one who shall care, my joys and pains you shall share.
I do share feelings as you do, for a lone world of us two,
calm and composed we yet enjoy, for you and me are but sheer joy.

A lucky day it needs to be with her, we talk too less to call her a sister.
Yet in sighs we speak it all we need, a friend in need is a friend indeed.
Call for help and care and you know, she's always there never saying a no.
Sweet and cute and adorable and all, and ask me about her the list is too tall.

You do know it's about you, my only friend who knows me all true.
I preach to you i speak to you, i listen to you i understand you.
Been there times when you heard me taunt, never count for your joy is all i want.
Be there you in this life of mine, nothing shall be dull the whole world fine.

Half the time to be with, half the time to show our wit.
Half the time to sing our song, half the time to dance along.
Half the way to argue and fight, half the way to make it light.
Half you and half me make, the table full of twice the stake.

You four mould me into who am i, evil a little and a speck of shy.
With you four i can say my heart aloud, for however stupid, i shall ever be loved.  

Embracing after an end

Days many and many since we last talked, held our hands and in silence walked.
Yet the distance is unanimously dwarfed, for at once, over all the pain you laughed.
Deeper was my mind's pit to bury my love, for my heart lazily recited not our vow.
And today you come back again my dear, for you speak and all the haze did clear.

Far as cut even to breeze were you and I, but were tied by the invisible care.
It was an ego storm that blinded sun in the sky, but to shine, the sun didn't spare.
The skies cleared as finally the gloomy hearts rained in compassionate tears.
The hearts twined as their embraces taught them of the future's real fears.

Like upon the water swims the rose petal, so softly will your fingers touch mine.
Like off thy nail's pluck sings the thin metal, so will that touch pass shivers in my spine.
Like as the creepers dance in twirl and lock, so will our hands hold together today.
Like as the anchored ships in a stormy dock, to every wind of deep emotion do they sway.

One's eyes admiring others in looks calm, and speaking all those words deep buried in hearts,
Dancing on fingers are their palms, and an affectionate ritual of love starts.
Care and love rains in the music of breathe, as words hustle in the silent night.
Mourning in the smiles of anger and tears' death, they loved forever till sun and moon might.