*antagonize*

in the village, there stood a tall, cemented height.

with a bulb perching on its top,

it occupied the courtyard of village.

the sun bade goodbye every evening

and every evening oil lamps burnt

for the houses had no bulbs but the cemented pillar had one.

every evening came out a boy,

with his companions, a paper and a pen

to lean against the pillar, to wait under the bulb

for the sun will go and the bulb will glow.

and will antagonize the vast darkness

with its small cone of light below which

the pen will write and he will talk

he and the paper will talk long

silent conversations will flow incessantly in verses

between them and the paper will personify a patient listener

containing the verses till the bulb goes cold,

till the sun rises back.

his diary

Today he is sad. He contained in himself a mix of feelings, angry like a tornado with its full might, sad like a beautiful bird refusing to chirp, his weak and tensed face hoping for support like a plain creased paper resisting the punches of wind. It was not new to me. It was a long time ago but yes, I had seen him like this before also. I am accustomed to all his avatars. On somedays, he would be on the top of the world because he had been selected to preside over an important event of the company, then many days would pass normally discussing just the progress of that event, then someday he would talk about how he stealthily popped again and again out of his cubicle just to admire the beauty of his crush!!, any other day he would just nostalgically pen down poems, some day he would promise me that he would be making drastic changes in himself with an immediate effect ,for his betterment,  his success and sometimes he would be completely down just because of a vacuum of confidence of finishing his assigned work with efficiency and perfection. But I have a complete record  of his getting success everytime he was not sure of getting it. I was there for him all these days, even the ones when he talked that he had got another friend like me, when he talked that 'she' was exactly like me. Today was no different.  Today also he is lacking that confidence. Today he is thinking of a resignation from his post because he is not able to absorb the work pressure. Its not different. He will come to me and I will make him reminisce his past accomplishments.  He will take time to think, will keep on putting his views to me but I can handle it. Let him start...
-his diary

"change"

Change is an event that brings a gale of versatility in a squeezed out land of monotony, change bears that marvel which dwells, just for example, when a bottleguard dish tastes better only because you have added chunks of tomato to it. Entering into the central idea behind this writing, I want bring to light an attitude of us, the citizens of a developing nation. I have many a times observed that we, taking the human race as a whole, escape into monotonicity very swiftly which straight away reduces our efficiency in our respective professions. Bitter, but reality and this monotonicity comes because we accept our present as our future and since we do not see any improvement, any promotion, we lose interest in our present. Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam in his book, " Ignited Minds " airs the idea that india, to get tagged as a developed country first needs to believe that it actually can do so. We need to stop flying off the very ideas of rapid development saying them as impractical or as ideologies. We are not made to provide market for FDI or for the foreign retailers,  we are not made to provide manforce overseas, we can't just sit and see 'brain drain' deprive us from talented minds. I know that it is not that easy to just flip our way of living or our ideologies but small, steady steps can really help us and at least we can give our full dedication to our present profession for rapid growth which will eventually develop in us, a risk taking ability to risk the present for a more developed future. So, start afresh having a mindset of more and more growth, more and more development.

shattered - a ballad

today, a month has passed by
of her going to a school nearby

always behind her  bearded spouse, she walked the norm,
the sari being her school uniform.

child marriage, her relation had a name
post marriage, her studies went lame

she cried before her in laws
who didn't realise their flaws

time passed, paint on walls turned light
but atlast her perseverance gave her a delight

for she went to school again
although all her schoolish fun slain

she studied and she cooked
loads of duties on a child's back

today, her destiny left her shattered
a child's emotions,  all tattered

when a lad, her classmate
gave her a rose, an informal date

and all she could do was apologise
I am old enough to take roses, came her faint noise

memoir

I had been summoned by my parents to take our scooter to the roadside repairer to do its puncture. As the sun was out, bright yellow, I moaned while fumbling for the keys of the two-wheeler. All through the stairs, I kept moaning and sported a face with my cheeks drooped down. Anyways, I unlocked the scooter and out of reluctance to pull that heavy steel body to the repairer under the scorching sun, I thought of riding the scooter but then dropped the foolish idea. Reaching the destination, I asked the man, a tobacco chewing man garbed in a rugged up green shirt and a trouser folded twice from the bottom to repair the puncture but he showed me his priorities pointing towards a scooter and a car already parked there for getting repaired. I had to wait. Here was I, moaning loudly of the sun and there was my protagonist, that tobacco man working ceaselessly under the same angry sun, changing tyres, inflating them with right amount of air, sweating in between and doing punctures but he endured all that calmly. I jerked myself angrily to learn that toleration. I learnt how to lose all your problems, all your complaints in the dedication for your work. 

waves

Wandering along the coast,
their synergistic violence, I saw.
with every crest crashing down
the ocean turned less tranquil.
They splashed all over the stretched ocean
and wetted the sand along my amble
They took a toll on the vast blue
like the profound thoughts in me did to me.
leaving me with my pen,  disturbed.
I return empty but ironically, contented
As I lose all my thoughts, all my chaos in this vast intranquility, in the dying down of waves.

Happy Father's Day

you care for us like the sun cares for a plant making it a tree, you valued our well being before yourself,

your guidance keeps fertilizing my mediocre methods into perfect ones,  

your motivation lights up the dark of my despair, encouraging me to rise up once again everytime,

your knowledge is like the endless blue sky, molding our novice thoughts into expert ones,  

your attitude is like a liquid shaping itself for every container, teaching us to tackle every turn and slope of life,

your leadership is a perfect blend of fire and water, a maslin of convention and freshness, making us know the equal value of taking risks and also of following rules,

we ‘ve grown up learning from you, ‘Thank You papa’ 

Honor killing

both have grown taller

old memories still testing their valor,

memories of devilish beheading

or of inhumane burning alive in fire standing,

memories of bhraman ‘romeos’ who craved

for kayasth ‘juliets’, separation they both braved

memories of those who couldn’t validate their devotion

before an invalid custom, a baseless notion

memories of those who never forgot a date

to stealthily admire their love, to meet their mate

memories of those whose eyes reached there

where stood their love in a crowded village fair

memories of those who ran with their love, for their loyalty

only to delay their subjection to cruelty

memories of those, whose parents

found their honor in slaying their own blood

...they both have grown young

stealthily but truly, their love sung

only to return the honor of their creators

of their parents, of their begetters

Questions of a tree

Myself a small plant down here

Wishing thy hand to look to my answers

Beginning from my evolution, I had chaos

Chaos outside and chaos inside

I had questions burdening my leaves

not stopped a single life, but you

A child mudded his hands, I overheard

And I came out

My birthday is the day today

One year up and I didn’t get a brother or sister

Will you embark building my family?

Time comes and goes and

I mourn the demise of my distant companions

For more birds are perching on my twigs

after losing their habitats on my companions.

Will you save them?

+World Environment Day 

Limiting Reagent

The title suggests a plunge into the knowledge printed in the perhaps, brown colored science textbooks which would rather have been stacked for use by your younger siblings. Limiting reagents were taught to us as the compounds which prominently decide the rate of reaction, concentration of products added. Inflecting the actual meaning in the context of the future of India’s oldest and largest democracy, I think that NaMo should stamp the dispersed limiting reagents under his control beforehand to discard any possibilities of giving a limited output to the Indians, who are right now high on anticipations. Moving ahead, we were lectured to calculate the product concentration due to every reactant one by one and the reactant busted giving the least amount of product will consequentially be the limiting reagent. Broadly speaking, the idea concerns individual recognition. Modiji should acknowledge the individual recognition of every cabinet occupant to figure out the personified limiting reagents under him who are a barrier in the making of a world superpower.