The sky

I've been asked a million times,

"what's your obsession with the stars and the moon?" 

I wish I sang back in rhymes, 

"it's equally deep with the sun at noon." 

But there's more than what meets the eye,

lessons to be learnt and thoughts to amuse,

under a clear midnight sky I lie,

asking for answers and searching for clues.

I ask about their creator the God, 

to know who controls their movements and how? 

They just twinkle, must be their head nod, 

"we just do it like we are in love." 

I ask them about their power to rule, 

the kith and kin of every human ever,

"it's not our fault that you are a fool." 

Their ambiguity makes them sound clever.

I ask them about how they see us humans, 

tiny as a grain of sand? 

They say we are guns, huns and puns, 

a kindling life amidst this mystery grand. 

I ask them how should we lead our life? 

Being changes but changes remain, 

they speak about learning from strife, 

"nothing to lose is nothing to gain."

I ask them about others of my kind, 

how to live in harmony and peace. 

They told me to control my own mind, 

"it's about the warmth, not the fleece." 

I ask them about the purpose of our existence,

why are we the way we are.

They'd just stare at me in silence,

pushing me into my introspective war.

Answers and clues are there in the sky,

the one above your earthly thoughts,

past the clouding veils of your mind lie,

waiting for you to connect the dots.

The introspective war goes on and on,

but I don't find a solution.

If it's a thrilling journey we embarked on,

who cares about the destination?

Spin

A top, spinning, looking in different directions, to find sources that'd retain spinning, balanced on a sharp tip, all earth forcing it down, strongly pulling, only to kill, only to pull down, and when the nature's force wins, top shall rest, stop spreading out it's warmth, and live at rest. Die?

The earth, spinning slowly, thinking sun rises and sets, not knowing it's spinning, balanced on the perfect speed, one perfect orbital speed, sun pulling towards, controlled, think it's alright. Ignore the spin, burn or freeze, to death. Ain't you spinning? Ain't you gonna be played around with?

I was the ant. I faced the top, and became one. I faced the wall and became one. I faced the thunder and became one. I faced the ocean and became one. I faced the earth and became one. Im facing the sun, you know why?

I want energy to spin, and gravity to hold me, I want to buy the ego and stop playing good, I want to be whatever troubles me, but keep me lit, keep me spinning. I live. Do you?

The last minute

You and I staring into the empty air, 

the noise of the world in the backdrop, 

a thousand words unsaid in your stare,

heard it in my eyes, a teardrop, 

they spoke about memories you and I share,

moments when I wished the time to stop, 

we feel that we were solely born to care, 

but our dreams' balloon would just pop.

The time had passed and we move apart, 

far from each other into this world senseless,

lump in my throat and a heavy heart, 

lost wandering alone in random busyness, 

in search of fresh memories and a fresh start, 

to a dejavu of this emotion I guess, 

how would i stay unhurt by your bye dart, 

how could I, my love for you, confess? 

Do you know how affectionate and fond, 

I am of you? Oh! you sure do, 

for I know what you think of our bond, 

I heard that in your eyes' mute speech too. 

All I wish for is this world to be a pond, 

for I'd love it when my dreams would woo, 

that I'd meet you again, I may be conned, 

but some fairytales are better than this reality true.

Is change really constant?

Change is the only constant, Heraclitus once said. And when he did, there are many things he wished to say were not constant. Like energy, momentum, mass or even karma. The universe is ever changing, expanding, stars burning, planets moving, days counting, clocks ticking, animals dying, plants growing, winds blowing, and humans thinking. At the end of this thought process are pens writing, guns firing, cars moving, and a thousand more events happening.

And what the universe is now, it isn't a moment later, or wasn't a moment before. My thought, the words I type, the words you read, the examples we seek, the interpretations we take, the changes we imbibe, the lives we live, the deaths we die, and the wonders we create amidst our births and deaths, and the wonders we don't create, and the not so wonderful things we do, are all a part of the change.

The universe itself isn't constant. Like Shantaram's David or Gautama, the Buddha puts it, we are an ever changing and expanding lot. The change is in the pattern or the pace of how universe is changing too. Or how that pace of change is happening. Maybe, our position, velocity, acceleration or the jerk versus time haven't remained the same. Maybe, the universe itself changed forcing everything that could have been a constant, including the definitions of words 'constant' and 'change' to change, leaving behind nothing constant.

Or it is also possible that we are continuously warping through an infinite number of multiverses, placed one next to another with a tiny time gap, and imagining a non-existent time scale. Nevertheless, discovering this wouldn't help us live a better life. But knowing that things change can help us deal with a lot of problems.

Knowledge that every injury heals can help us prevent these suicides. Knowledge that every broken heart moves onto find a new one helps us be emotionally strong. Knowledge that changes can be both good and bad makes us humane, and helps us believe that the nature is more powerful. Knowledge that some changes are in your hands helps you make them happen, slow or fast.

Knowing that people change (including self) is the key to relationships. Knowing that the countries change is the key to governance. And knowing that there are these changes, and there is a change in the changes, a change in the change of changes, and so on leaves us with a hope for a better tomorrow, and with a confidence to believe that we can empower a couple of changes ourselves. So, change.

Also, change the way you look at the happening change. I doubt Heraclitus is wrong.

Thank you.

The run

The breezes blew to kiss the rock and escape, little did they know they were trapped,
for they did miss the exits of that landscape, where no leaves rustled, no wings flapped.
She jumped in, her shawl as an identity drape, he rode quickly on the road he mapped.
The hustle vanished behind the buzzing vape, their relationships with our world snapped.

The breezes whizzed past the speeding car, throwingin the odours of eagles and sands.
their love song was anointing the ailing scar, no words were spoken if not by their hands.
They were aiming for the skies with no star, where no one either cares, or understands.
they saw both the cities, fragile,small and far, one they left and one in the unknown lands.

Had love inspired in them the courage to try, they’d have turned with the road to live then.
Had they tried to stand there, scream and cry, their pains would have faded to feed a pen.
They were vexed by the foolish society’s pry, that was inherited intact from a nomadic den.
The wheels dusted slipping from the road dry, no one knew where they went thence, amen.

Candle

Why do we act like we are a firework rocket,
like we shall die as soon as we are born,
racing all the way, aiming for the sky,
ever running in the race, forever,
when we have a lifetime to go,
a time as long as a lifetime,
maybe we can savour it,
or maybe rest along,
for death is later,
a life later,
savour.

Why do we feel like we are a bursting cracker,

like some magic would turn our lives over,

in a blink of an eye from rags to riches,

believe that we can change at once,

ignoring our inertial imperfection,

knowing it is hard to change,

return to our messy selves,

disappointed much,

change slower,

a tortoise,

forever.

Why do we try to live like the neon lights shine,
ever bright to be noticed by every passer by,
ever constant without any ups and downs,
smooth out every such randomness,
that the fluttering life throws at us,
forgetting that random pulses,
of emotions and events,
make human lives,
like your life,
or my life,
life.

Why do we not see that we are naught but a candle,

flickering to the playful nature's slightest breezes,

growing brighter from birth to death, glowing,

dying out when our wax runs out, lifetime,

dancing to our nature's unpredictability,

and that we could die at any point,

if only a bad hand would swish,

or a witch would wish,

we are all candles,

burning to die,

flickering,

living.

The Wild West

Day (-1) (21/09/17) : 

It all started 6 months ago, when I found that I would get a big vacation for Dussera. The first thoughts that came in were Goa and the coast, and the initial planning went on for 5 months before I finally skipped Goa from the list because of dates and distances. As I look back now, I do not regret my decision at all. The plan was called set, and I started to pack, got my chain tensed and tightened, checked each and every lubricating spot, oils and coolant, kits and the bike was all set to go. I was procrastinating making the list of things to pack until afternoon and then jotted a huge list of useless things only to be left panicking if I’d have to carry more than one bag. That day, as I went home from the office, I quickly started packing and pushed everything on my list into the bag. Everything fit in, except a couple of guards for my partner, some duct tape and lubes. I took a smaller lunch bag and shoved them up in. Only minors were left which were to be packed on the riding day. And the preparation ended.

Day 1 (23/09/17) : 

I woke up early, picked and packed everything, and went to the office, half an earlier than the usual, in our ‘rider’ avatar. I had to plan this half an hour too, because I am still embarrassed to be the odd one out, especially when I’m being the better one there (Okay, I don’t go ATGATT to the office on a daily basis.) I passed enough time, thought of sleeping which never happened, waited till afternoon, and walked out all suited up. I got the bike running through the Hyderabad traffic for more than 1.5 hours until I felt I was out all the fuss. I quickly took my break, opened up my guards, bungeed my bag to the pillion seat (Heck, thats what the seat was designed for, nay?) and there I go. The first leg was as boring as it could get. A plain NH-65 running through the barren lands and scarce farms until Humnabad. 

Welcome to Karnataka

Break 2, it was 5 in the evening and I was deciding whether to go to Gulbarga (1.5 hours away) or Solapur (3 hours away) and I did what was sensible. Go to solapur!!! “140km away and 3 hours 15 minutes? You mad, google?“ I said to myself as I got comfortable with the stance. 30 kms down and the highway suddenly disappeared, leaving potholes and diversions. 30 more and I realised my foolishness. The sun sank, 6:45 in the evening, I was riding solo between trucks and potholes. I saw a lodging and should have retired, but hey, It’s just 75km more, I can do it, and I moved on. 15km more, 7:30 in the night, and I had to take a break. “60 to go, it must take an hour and a half,” I thought to myself and pulled in, 2km more and I fused out my high beam. I was tailgating trucks on a highway full of potholes. What happened next was something that changed my everything thence.

With 55km more, 8 PM in the night, it started to rain heavily. I had to break at a dhaba, wait for the rain to subside, forward again, wait again and so on. After three breaks and more tailgating, I realised I was all wet and it wouldn’t matter if I get any wetter. So I kept on following the trucks, until I went all my forks deep into one pothole and hit back. I saw another dhaba then, and thought of stopping. I didn’t realise how feeble and weak I was until i slammed the rear discs only to skid and scratch my undercowls against the divider. For the moment, I really considered myself lucky, pulled over, waited for the rain to become a drizzle (for almost an hour) and reached a village 10km out of sholapur, walked into the first motel I could spot, and rested. I should have cried, but I was dehydrated.

Every gear and cloth was dripping water, only the bag remained dry. I ate and retired to bed, all the while wondering how mad could I be. And then, the law of real times and distances hit me strongly. 

Day 2 (24/09/17) :

I woke up to my senses, got ready, and got onto the road by 08:30 in the morning. The plan was to meet Vamsi at Kolhapur for lunch and ride down to Dandeli in the evening. I rode quick, crossed Solapur, oh wait, how beautiful was NH65 there, but nevertheless, I turned out towards Kolhapur on state highways. Quickly, the town disappeared and I was in the green pastures. I did not notice it when the barren plateaus changed to lush farms in the rain previous night, but the well-paved roads amidst lively greens made me all comfortable. 

Greenery on the Solapur side

I stopped at a small point only to realize the breakfast options were being limited to wada-pav and pav-bhaji. I resorted to wada-pav, and wondered how did bread become a staple breakfast in the land of Bal Thackeray. Oh yes, all the while in Maharastra, every alternative vehicle had saffron flags marking the rightward inclination. Maybe, they were adapting simaltaneously to the best of cultures. However, breakfast breads and saffron flags sound hypocritical. I guess some RSS guy should explain it better. 

Everything got better as I crosssed Sangli towards Kolhapur. Greenery everywhere, hills and winds and clouds, wider roads and life everywhere. I and Vamsi met where our highways joined. Blessed we were as we changed the plan to stay back in Kolhapur seeing the huge clouds that were ahead of us. And we stayed that night in Kolhapur, and witnessed a storm, and sneezes.

Day 3 (25/09/17) : 

Plans were quickly changing and we decided to cover up. We woke up early, started quick and were out on NH48 by 07:45 in the morning. It was mist and fog everywhere. We drank chai, our bikes consumed petrol, and we rolled quick enough to reach the Suvarna Vidhana Soudha in Belagavi for breakfast. Constructed to be an architectural marvel, this monument looked like a fort from the farther spots. We had the Idli-Poori-Bhaaji (a typical mixed breakfast at this border) as Suprabhatam was being played at 09:45. And then, we went further until Hubbali by 11, cut off towards Karwar and the roads got serious. A 2-lane straight highway with innumerable trucks playing the overtaking game. An elephant was being transported in one and I was wondering,”what if the elephant decided to step aside by one stride?”

Suvarna Vidhana Soudha

It was a small stretch before we ended up on a quite NH52 that was flowing smoothly, village after village, thickening forests. By 1:30 in the afternoon, we crossed Yallapur and the roads have become as Dandeli-cious as they could. It started raining by 2, and we stopped near a village we had just passed, for the forests were pure. It poured down heavily for 30 minute before diminishing into the tiny drizzle. 

I and Vamsi passing time in the rain

Dandelicious

Rainstop

We moved ahead, raincoats on, lunched at 3, cut out from the 52nd soon after lunch to cross the Gangavati river, a river being formed by many rains like the one we had just witnessed. There was peace in the calm state road that turned on the ghats, even more peace in the break we took over the bridge, and the tiny villages with blue-uniformed students and teachers and middle-class employees and RTC buses (Childhood? YES! YES!!) We were stopped by rain again at 5, on a stunning land, witnessing sea waters in the far off. We soon met the NH66, rode to Kumta in a drizzle that slowly rose into steady rain, and located a resort 20km into the villages. We rode there to hear that it was not in operation, moved further to a resort suggested and ended up at “Nirvana nature.” 

Panorama of the Gangavati bridge

Clouds kissing mountains

Backwaters and sea beyond the ghats

This was a resort by a pristine fishing beach, after jogging up a 2km muddy rocky paved way, run by an ayurveda practitioner with treehouses and cottages and everything Goa-ish. Oh, and there were guide dogs, dogs so loyal at their job that they withstood mosquitoes crying as we had breakfast. No wonder on dog’s faith. And there were crows that came fishing, and dogs that were chasing crows (oh, wild dogs can sprint at Bolt speeds) and the beach and sunset. Goa? No Regrets! As the night fell, I and Vamsi got into serious discussions about how to move the next day only to end up “Let’s go where the universe takes us.”

Sunset at Nirvana Beach, Kumta

The VIBYOR sunset

Coconut plants - Nirvana nature

Day 4 (26/09/17) : 

The day began in the lap of nature, and we were tired to start quick. Several ups and downs later, we were on the road by 0830, back on NH66 by 9, riding freeway in search of a good mechanic (I had voluntarily deflated at a bunk ignorant that their machine was defunct and Vamsi’s chain was on the looser side). By 10AM, we were at the exit to Jog falls via NH206 and SH144. The road was all plain within small villages and towns and lots of domestication everywhere. We ran for an hour until we came across a stream in the middle of nowhere passing under us. There was a surprising waterfall very far off that was pouring waters to the stream below. We relished it with a break, met a family travelling down the hills and normally surprised at our mode of transport. I still couldn’t find that tiny bridge or the waterfall on google maps.

A cloudy dawn at Kumta beach

That nameless waterfall in a panoramic view

The journey continued until we came to the Jog falls view point, ate some maggi and omelettes and went to see the “WORLD FAMOUS JOG FALLS” (Yes, that’s what the tourism department wants you to call it) Yes, they were pretty, very tall, and the sounds of water were echoing. We spotted a couple of houses just over the falls that were away from the tourist fuss and wondered how life would be there. And still, Jog falls are overrated. Vamsi noticed how we tend to love the normal things, just water trickling down after rains, and in that madness, get carried. Well, love, you know. A couple of panoramas later, we realised that it was not as ecstatic if not for the entire journey that bought us there. We set ahead, went in the wrong road for 5 kms, and then turned back and caught up with the SH50, that led from Jog falls to Bhatkal, the most beautiful leg of the entire journey. 

Jog falls - The Panorama

So high I couldn't see the crash or the foam

I want that lone house 

The road was a forest ghat, and the weather was right on spot. 24 Celsius, the sun and clouds playing around and the Sharavati wildlife sanctuary was everything we needed. The trees grew higher and higher, and we were riding under a 100 feet high canopy of sals, bamboos and jackfruits. The trees cut for the road were laid right beside and had girths more than our heights, and the 10 foot wide road still maintained its way. The roads were completely shadowed for long stretches. Just when I was busy leading into the wild, very sparsely touched, this peacock crossed my path. (Tell me a superstition of what happens next.) We rejoiced and sped towards Bhatkal and fell back on NH66 by 03:45PM, tired and hungry. I was too fascinated and absorbed to stop and click a picture.

We had Poori Bhaji and lots of coconut water and sped towards Udupi. 50 minutes of boring diversions, construction patches, rash trucks and potholes later, we reached our planned end of the previous day. Maravanthe beach, and we did no wrong in missing our plan. The beach was witnessing the construction too. Nevertheless, we stopped. Here is a NH bound by sea on one side and backwaters on the other. We clicked a few pics and moved on over the new bridge and suddenly, the road became smooth as butter. Kundapur onwards, the highway was the typical beautiful 4-laner NH and we quickly went to Brahmavar, just on the outskirts of Udupi and rested for the day.

I know you wouldn't believe me, but it is a candid.

Vamsi got a candid too

Break at the beach - Selfie

NH66 along the sea

Road, sea and sky, things to get you high

DAY 5 (27/09/17) : 

We started out early at 07:30 scared of google’s rain prediction for the entire route that day. It was cloudy and we quickly caught up for our way to Kunchikal falls and Shimoga. We were back in the clean forest ghats, in the morning, with clouds all around us. Right after we stopped for a break to see the clouds below us, Vamsi’s bag had slipped off the pillion set. We fixed it under better grip and moved on, and reached the Kunchikal checkpost by 10:30 where the police told us that we cannot go see the falls because its steep and slippery in the rainy season (but that’s when the falls run too.) 

Random waterfall 2

Random view enroute Shivamogga

Random waterfall 3

Riding alongside the clouds - The best experience

A tree I could estimate the height to be over a 100 feet - one of the many of these ghats

Tall trees and smooth roads

We moved further on SH52, stopping for a brief break on Varahi river and riding further towards Shimoga. An hour more and the ghats ended, the plains were here, and so were the problems. With rich rainfall comes rich vegetation and fertile soils, and thence come human settlements called villages, and where people get a good road, they spoil it. That was the story on SH52 for an hour more, and we were at Shimoga by 01:45PM. People were having picnics towards the near end of Shimoga. Finally, we got Vamsi’s chain tightened which seemed to be hanging from the axle. A quick lunch later, we headed to Dawangere on one of the straightest stretches of road I ever saw (So straight you could design rulers alongside.)

Stationary waters of Varahi river, on the top of Ghats - serenity

Stationary waters of Varahi river, on the top of Ghats - serenity - 2

The beautiful SH52 - Kundapura to Shimoga 

The super smooth Karnataka state highways - Neighbour's envy, owner's pride

The last leg to Shivamogga, tall trees and good forests

1 hour down, 3km away from the next small town of Honnalli, we were stopped by the police. After we showed him all our documents, he said we were being fined for overspeeding. For cruising at 70kmph on the world’s straightest road ever? (But yeah, we had to give him what he demanded, 100 bucks each, trust me it felt much happier giving to the staff who maintained the Sharavati when they directly asked “Dasara mamool”, but thats all we can do, or get into an argument there, which we were not in the mood for.)

iPhone 6S does it so well at times

Pit stop post Honnalli, when the plains started turning into the plateaus

A few more hills and glasses of sugarcane juice later, back on NH48, 6km away from our rest for day, it started pouring down. Learn it now, umbrellas are of little use on the bigger NHs. Wet again, we stopped that night in Davangere, at this spectacular hotel called “SriGandha Residency” on SH76, special mentions for their excellent rooms, food and maintenance. 

SriGandha, Davangere - A pure bliss

Day 6&7 (28 & 29/09/17): 

We woke up late resting well after 3 tiring days, and set out towards Anantapur. Out at 9, Challakere by 10, everything was smooth without a breakfast. And then the tarmac disappeared. We were following Google maps sincerely, and some efforts later, found ourselves at KalyanDurg by 1:30. We continued to move after a drinks break and then noticed the windmills. There were so (sooooooo) many of them and got denser as we moved from Challakere to Anantapur.

A dry Vedavathi river bed marking the entrance to Rayalaseema

Windmill stop 1

Windmill stop 2

Windmill stop 3

Windmill and us

Finally, a few pics later, 10kms away from Anantapur, we were stuck in a violent downpour again. Lots of water everywhere, and rains no one had anticipated except us. We stopped in 3 legs for almost one hour, and moved into the city and stopped at a simple hotel. And that’s when we ate the only meal that day, 5:30 PM in the evening. The night passed, and the next day, we started early towards Hyderabad. For 3 hours, the clouds kept condensing on our visors on the smooth NH44, and we eventually came until the last toll gate of Hyderabad almost eventless. 

Plain NH44, controlled cruise at 100kmph for one leg, and 80 for the other, and everything was perfect until rain struck us. Less than half an hour journey left, perfect everything and it rains, the fifth time in seven days. Anyways, we were using the service road of ORR and pulled over in a subway and waited patiently. By the way, the service roads are real good except for the speedbreakers. And then, we got home. Safe, satisfied and sound.

Overshadowed

When it was an innocent dark night, all my passions lit by the moonlight, 

when I blossomed in my narcissistic dreams, i throbbed for the lone wolf's screams, 

I felt joyous to be young wild and free, to be running the sensory pleasure's spree.

When the sun rose to make the day bright, the moon gloomed to be a tiny white, 

the wise light shone on all of us as one, I realised there's a lot more to be done, 

the joy was in the philosophical banter, not as much in being a reaper as in a planter.

The moonlit joys of young times, and of romantic egoistic rhymes, 

are overshadowed by the burning sun, more meaningful dreams are on the run.

Those wanderer's dilemmas shall now be shun, for more meaningful dreams are on the run.

Stargazing

One day when I was eight years old, I had watched the mystery unfold, 

about the Orion and scorpion was I told, and the tale of Hercules the bold. 

I would've known all their stories, add to it the myths and the histories, 

the good brave heroes and their glories, my wave of thought knew where my shore is.

Eight years later I was sixteen, deeply enchanted by my own sheen, 

I looked always into mirrors clean, never at skies where stars were seen. 

Inspired by heroic tales from eight, I would fake my accent and limp my gait, 

through the selfish waters of Ego strait, I tried to swim to joy islands straight.

Eight years later call it yesterday, I searched for the stars' hopeful ray, 

the busy city shone across my way, polluted was my sky around where I stay. 

The drifting clouds were on fire, kindling the great Ursa's pyre, 

I forgot the skies of my shire, add to it the tales I sang on the lyre.

Oh, a surprise had come to me now, from far off lands as a unbroken vow, 

putting off every light on the row, like a balloon by a stretched bow. 

I see the stars and skies again, I sing in joy and I weep in pain, 

joy that the good I do didn't go in vain, pain that the bitter truth is just too plain.

Clouded by egos and pursuits endless, not caring or trying to get out of the mess, 

we forget the root causes of our happiness, we know the answers but we only guess.

Do you know yourself?

Are you the one decided by your zodiac sign?
Can you know someone just by his bread and wine?
Is there a way to know you by knowing your shrine?
Can you judge yourself by drawing a line?

Can you imagine how you move with eyes shut? 

Do you know your face as well as your hut? 

Can you think how I see you as you turn a nut? 

Do you really know yourself if not by your gut?

You can only imagine what you see, hear and talk, 

the paths are many, you can walk only your walk.

Our perception is much like a unicoloured chalk, 

you'll often end up with a green sun or a blue stalk.

That you know yourself less than you think you do, 

is a truth to be aware of, bitter yet true.

Questions

Is it to make fellow humans around, the society nod? 

Is it to ascend the stairway to heaven and witness God? 

Is it to enjoy your freedom and fly in a dreamy sky? 

Is it to tell a tale to someone who'll be born after you die?

Why should I live a life that is a lie? 

Tell me why! Tell me why!!

Is it by floating along the life river that flows? 

Is it by following a path an anonymous book shows? 

Is it by going with the instinct of a sensible mind? 

Is it by not looking at the colourful world by being blind? 

How should I live a life that I don't love? 

Tell me how! Tell me how!!

Red

Do you remember the TVC of Satyamev Jayate wherein Aamir Khan would be judging who'd and how many would watch his show by pointing out to the people who stop or not stop at an empty junction when the traffic signal turns red somewhere past midnight? It is about following the rules humans have imposed upon themselves, regardless of whether you're under the vigilant eye of a power or not.

1. As a newborn baby, we are all random. No rules for the infant. Soon, in our childhoods, we learn the rules as they're taught, and abide by to perfection. Gradually, we follow our parents and idols as we grow into adolescents. Later on, we take inspiration from the world around in our attempt to learn from the entire world. And as we mature into the youth, we freeze into the last viewpoint we hold and enter into the backfire mode in case we are challenged. It is important to teach the best lessons, by practice more than by word.

2. You're in the rat race of running from A to B alongside many others travelling between many other places, running other races, thinking at different paces, all those different faces. While it is humane to compete and let your ego come between, remember that the bus driver is safer while jumping the signal than a 70 year old on his little Luna. It's more important to reach B to know whether you won or lost, assuming that the ambulances don't go to B. 

3. It's not a crime to wait for the green, to be overtaken by a bus and a Luna. And it'll be fun to watch the world run the rat race, being a mere spectator. Try standing at the entrance gate to the main metro station/railway station and observe the people. You'll know why Shakespeare called this entire world a stage. I would still be speaking sense if I'd ask you to plan your next vacation not to Leh/Dehradun/Darjeeling but to Rajivchowk/Dharavi and embark upon your viewpoint, and watch the nature at work. Oh yeah, forget not, humans are also a part of nature. Please judge how well do we look compared to all those beautiful groups of animals. 

Thanks for reading the boring thought process. Happy weekend.

Extroversion

A trait that is associated with most successful people of the millennium. Entrepreneurs to scientists to writers, often to players and dancers too, people who can say it in front of a group, a crowd are those who can perform. Have you ever heard a successful man of today's generation say, "I have sat by a window that looked over the emptiness, contemplated the situation and decided to do this?" And to take your skills of communication and socialising with people around into account might not sound good, but it is far worse.

I've been there, done that. Brought up in a almost rural suburb, educated in schools where memory power meant marks, and in systems that cared for your problem-solving skills more than your ability to express, we never knew who extroverts were. Until we met these super-talented cool dudes from the urban convents, oh how fluent their English is, how cheeky their references to literature are, and how easily do they come up to initiate tasks and relationships while we sit in the corner of the same group praying no one points out to us and says, "how about you start?"

Yes, they were the cool dudes, the civilised ones, until we saw them at work, across the table, peeping into their sheets and screens to see how coolly they would have performed the same task we'd both been assigned. And thanks to good fair selections all the time, we were all in the same boat. Yet they're the leads and heads, just because they can socialise well with the higher officials, fake up smiles and relations, carry out tasks well (as they flaunt it) and not to mention, negotiate us introverts like a boss.

As if that were not enough, as if we only belonged on a farm and not on campus, the introverts are often ignored out of gangs. And we well know that introvert gang is an oxymoron. Thus, being a teacher who's introvert at heart, extrovert by profession, I now see what efforts it took me, and how different my personal and professional lives are. And it is very true that the measure of ones language and presentation is leading the measure of work abilities. You better know how you judge.

Friends

A mould of clay, in inertia of rest lay, passing night and day, to know a better way,

to become a human, to be the only one, with all thoughts done, to shine like the sun, 

and give to mankind, what they didn't find, in the dark lust blind, let my story unwind.

Once upon a time, I found a pal of mine, whom I could mime, in every virtue or crime. 

Came the person two, a pal of mine too, whom I would woo, and trust to be so true. 

Came a person three, I got many pals free, thou be my talking tree, thou be my thinking spree.

It's the verse third, now I am flying bird, the philosophical nerd, the perverted shepherd. 

The clay my wings shed, washed in an emotional flood, in tears had been bled, let it go enough said. Thanks for being by me, I'm not me I'm we, let us celebrate this chi, oh that is the peace key.

Kites and strings

A bright day and the sun was up, the cool winds blew west.
The kite took flight and in moments and joined the rest.
I watched at it from very far, to see the kites' random dance.
And now I don't rejoice my great flight, no more lost in the trance.

I lived by a pond with a lot of fish, most of them were bland.
I wanted to know something new, and flew across the land.
It's been a long time I've moved out, tasting every prey,
my feathers have worn out, my white wings are now grey.

On my way, I met black feathers and many such kites.
I've made many friendships and enjoyed my rights.
Now I see that I am lost, there's no more bland fish,
to return to my own old land shall be my last wish.

Oh, look at all these kites that are bound to their own,
and yet by breezes are brought up and flown.
After the day is done and the night has come,
they have a place called own where they are from.

It is good to fly long and free, to hover and soar,
and to fill yourself with the storms' lightening and roar.
But where you come from and who you are,
is all you shall not forget when you travel far.

Unique

Would it take a thousand pictures to tell a good story?
Would it take a million people to make history?
Would a hundred people at once make a hangout better?
Would a random bunch of words make a love letter?

Would a cat jump the same wall if not for the ancestors?
Would a soldier be as proud if all were Nestors?
Would one man lone in thought change the human mind?
Would one tooth alone, a bunch of peanuts grind?

Wouldn't all the dishes suffice one hunger?
Wouldn't all the leaves in one breeze linger?
Wouldn't all the worlds follow the same law?
Wouldn't all of us end under the same claw?

Wouldnt the same twine have many knots?
Wouldn't the same art spark different thoughts?
Wouldn't the same victory be the result of all games?
Wouldn't the same randomness be given many names?

There are many there is one,
there is none for there are none.
The duel of one and many is not ending soon,
it's moon after the sun and sun after the moon.

There is one for many there is many for one,
would you not believe if I say it is a lot of fun?
Swim out of the ocean and sit by the beach,
you will see you follow what you will preach.

Speed thrills

The breeze had carried away the seed, tossed it in lands where stallions speed.
Thousands of seeds later was a sapling seen, to thrive and grow was its destiny keen. 

Time had watered and the luck was in favour, years before such fruits could a stallion savour. 

The nature likes changes steady and slow, such lives last long standing many a blow.

With great might does the sea rise, to gulp all the land at once, cheese to mice, 

only to recede and end up where it began, such is madness, chaos without a plan. 

Every marsh would sprout up in an year, such hasty changes, Mother Nature does not fear. 

The nature hates changes frenzy and fast, the faster the future, the lesser the past.

We wasted millennia to cover our skin in silk, to be alive on love, warmth and milk, 

and only in a century are reverting back, to shelters under rock and building a shack. 

We flew and communicated in air, and left the ground for heavens stair, 

five generations later we changed sand, into costing more than an acre of fertile land.

For we are changing faster by being smart, we will end up soon busy in our own art. 

For victory came like a lightning in the sky, wait to fear the thunder rumble, wait to cry. 

The human race shall end faster than we think, think before you wink, think before you blink, 

for tomorrow there will the earth be, but what about us, animals like you and me?

Knives and bulbs

Most discoveries in the history of humanity have their roots in two key areas. 

1. Accidentally stumbling upon a new ideation. Let me say, as humans of 1800s, we started observing that heated metal radiates visible light. Then we understood that a high resistance high current filament produces enough light for a room. We would use this technique and improvise it further to make a light bulb.
2. Desperation to solve a problem and creating a method to it. Or let me say, as humans in a parallel universe, we created automobiles before bulbs, and hence needed light devices that'd not blow off, don't need oxygen to burn and produce a lot of light. We'd work our brains for 60-70 years and end up with bulbs yet again.

We are busy taking a thin metal strap and heating it to thousands of Kelvin and when we observe that it starts turning red, we simply put it off afraid of melting, hammer it into a knife and use it to slice bananas. No, I am not speaking about metal and light. There are alternatives, we can come up with LEDs later. I am making a point against how we are teaching our kids. Yes, we can come up with alternatives like AI later on that can solve every problem by themselves, but does that mean we should discard our own human race and let machines take control? Isn't the entire point of civilisation to have humans last further in balance with the nature?

We have been trying to come up with an education system that makes a student master the math and science as Pandit Nehru must have dreamed. And when they do, we are trying to turn them into engineers, masters of systematic design, problem solving and logical thinking. For one essay, I'll ignore all the gems we have forced into engineering and end up with random campus placements. I'm speaking about the minority, the real gems who continue to shine, often more brighter after their engineering entrance examinations, by being the gem students they were taught all their life to be. I'm speaking about the 99.9 percentile diamond of a gems we would find in our raw material who are sharp enough to find feasible solutions to the limitless problems of our savaa sau karod desh vaasi.

When the metal finally reaches the perfect temperature, the perfect college farewell moment, we switch the circuit off, we hammer the metal, stressing it to our shape in the name of reservations and family constraints, cooling it in the waters of brain drain until we've lost a sharp mind into a sharp knife. Yes, we are still making good knives, but out of filaments that could've been lighting a home, helping an entire generation come up who'd have designed a knife, sword, pistol, ammo and a whole lot of nuclear silos for us.

P.S.:.No, I'm not a direct victim because I've found a problem to solve and I'm working against odds to make it happen. However, being from an elite college where these gems rot for years, interacting with many Indian-bred engineers working to create marvels abroad as a part of my work, and working in the batteries that input the educational heat into these filaments, I write the above based on my observations collected over 3 years and a moving article I read this morning.

Reference : I do not agree completely with the author's views but I quote for inspiration. Of course, a real beautiful article to read and think about..

http://www.zeading.com/story/what-more-could-i-do-cat-99-36-and-still-no-iims

Illusion

Opened a door, saw a new world, I closed it and into me furled.

A light somewhere, noon sun or a faint star, with curtains I bar. 

Trying to smell, no air, I sense neither foul nor fair. 

I hear none, not a heart beat, no leaves, breeze or feet.

Senses lost, dreams destroyed, thoughts fade into a black hole void. 

I like it here, this hopeless way, no night no day. 

I like it here, no you no I, none to care if I die. 

But would this void, vanish out, or take another soul I doubt.

Thinking about all I see, my universe, couldn't be penned in verse. 

And seeing that nothing, be everything, reveals a illusion writhing.

I open my eyes, the illusion present, I see many zodiacs and crescents. 

And life is here, all in the blink, and my thoughts connect such links.