Blessed is the…

A compartmented repost from my post ” The Divinity of Love” posted on 17th of august in 2016…

“Today I went thru two such moments. No matter I see something like that everyday but noticing was what I did today. A cute little girl with her father! It soothes me a lot. Try it someday and see your lips curling to smile, effortlessly. I saw a girl, maybe five or seven in years, with her father sitting on their parked scooter along a roadside bhutta stall. They were sharing it turn by turn. It wasn’t like the father was the richest or was the bike was posh nor the girl was a hot teenager (which, I admit, is the only thing “expected” to hold people of my age at a place). They were turn by turn nibbling the unit bhutta ,happy and content in their world of two, disconnected from the surrounding. Sometime views like these arouse in me a feeling to be a father, of a girl child (don’t judge me as a sexist but I absolutely have no idea why a girl). To be laughing and fooling with my cute little daughter whole day round. To be tending her when she’s sick, to take her on long rides and enjoying roadside bhutta and chain rain, to be madly celebrating reasonlessly, to go with her on hikes and to play tricks on her mom with her, to go for ice creams mid nights, watching movies and never letting her lose her innocence. I feel it though I am too young a man to feel the rush of these elderly desires, but I do feel it. Given a chance I would love to forget for the rationality, the calculative me and be her loved father and crazy friend forever. Though I’m not expected to but I can feel the happiness of being called “Papa aaj office mat jao na…” by my cute daughter. Oh yes it is heavenly good feeling and I find myself doing injustice trying to comprehend it in words.”

Discovered him…

Dated: Sunday, February 19, 2017

Timed: 12:40 AM

How do I define him? How should I draw him? I’ve seen him but the figure wasn’t distinct. I saw him in that waste picker. She was scrounging for something in the heap of dirt and filth in the dump yard with an old sack on his back. She was just a child, but I saw him in her. He attracted my conscience. There was someone in her. Dogs barked at her but she continued scrounging without giving them a damn. They seemed to talk to the one I was seeing. He was illusionary, like a candle’s flame he was figureless yet steady. For a moment I saw my reflection in him, though it too was none different that the figureless flame.

I stood looking at the figure and saving his image in my mind, but he seemed to change himself every moment. Was he playing with me or was he testing my patience or was he not noticing me at all. Was her talking to those dogs? Was I a voyeur there? He seemed to have an endless depth akin to the infinite questions in the eyes of the girl. He seemed to have a great height at the same time, none different than the heights of her dreams. His eerie illumination magnified every time the girl found something that brought smile to her face, and it rarefied each time a thorn or something bruised her tender fingers that were slowly getting used to picking waste.

Each time she threw a crushed bottle or a piece of metal from the dump on the dogs, they would pick ‘em up and collect it at a place. The light in the girl seemed to dance merrily with the game with his mates. The girl went on scrounging. There was still the childhood’s innocence and she lacked adult rational. I followed her, heap to heap, keeping distance from her and the stink. Like the dogs I too was completely idealess as to what would I do if I catch her. I just followed the candle in her. She reached a place where her family (apparently parent and an infant younger brother) was doing the same. Her parent had no illusionary candle in them. They had no dogs barking at them. Their eyes had a noetic look. They, unlike the girl, did not get pleased when they found something interesting. I looked at her younger brother revealing himself playfully to her sister from behind the mother. The dogs got happy and so did I, their song of game began. I smiled and looked the flame inside him, it was brighter than the girl’s.

The Divinity Of Love

By:Prashant

Dated: Sunday,July 31, 2016

Timed: 8:40 AM

In our lives we often encounter some of the moments which bring cataclysmic change in the way we observe, or rather perceive things, leave alone the fact of these changes being momentary or lingering. These moments are not very unusual ones rather we go thru these daily, but we are too involved in ourselves to feel the importance of the passing moment. These mesmerizing moments give to us (at least me) a realization that real happiness is nothing expensive, nothing to be scrounged for. These moments like a lively silhouette pass thru us to the setting sun of gloominess filling our horizons with twinkling stars of pleasure inducing smile of contentment to the soul.

Today I went thru two such moments. No matter I see something like that everyday but noticing was what I did today. A cute little girl with her father! It soothes me a lot. Try it someday and see your lips curling to smile, effortlessly. I saw a girl, maybe five or seven in years, with her father sitting on their parked scooter along a roadside bhutta stall. They were sharing it turn by turn. It wasn’t like the father was the richest or was the bike was posh nor the girl was a hot teenager (which, I admit, is the only thing “expected” to hold people of my age at a place). They were turn by turn nibbling the unit bhutta ,happy and content in their world of two, disconnected from the surrounding. Sometime views like these arouse in me a feeling to be a father, of a girl child (don’t judge me as a sexist but I absolutely have no idea why a girl). To be laughing and fooling with my cute little daughter whole day round. To be tending her when she’s sick, to take her on long rides and enjoying roadside bhutta and chain rain, to be madly celebrating reasonlessly, to go with her on hikes and to play tricks on her mom with her, to go for ice creams mid nights, watching movies and never letting her lose her innocence. I feel it though I am too young a man to feel the rush of these elderly desires, but I do feel it. Given a chance I would love to forget for the rationality, the calculative me and be her loved father and crazy friend forever. Though I’m not expected to but I can feel the happiness of being called “Papa aaj office mat jao na…” by my cute daughter. Oh yes it is heavenly good feeling and I find myself doing injustice trying to comprehend it in words.

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A few words before my second experience…

Teri baaton ki maasumiyat mein jee rahein the hum;

Teri aankhon ki gahraiyon mein jee rahein the hum;

Teri khilkhilahat ki baarishon mein bheeg rahein the hum;

Koshis to ki ki tujhse door rah sakein hum;

Par tera saath jo tha yakeen tha, jee rahin hai hum;

Jaana tha hume chorke tujhe;

Aur ab jab ki tu nahi hai nazron mein;

Naa jane q lagta hai saansein gayi ho tham;

Jaise anayas hi aankehein ho jaati ho num;

Bahot bedard hai tera yeh gum;

Tabhi to duniya ki bheed mein akele kahde hai hum!

Another moment was which I shouldn’t have had looked so attentively, it was uncivilized to do, but I couldn’t help it coz it was spell casting. It was irresistible. A middle aged man with her lady (wife, who was apparently on her family way) were taking a stroll on the road. It had rained a few hours back and the atmosphere was touching. What oftenly I’ve been observing (with my friends, obviously) about these couples on the streets was that if they looked good together. But today was different, I was in my soul company so I looked at them with my perspective. I was walking right behind them and could overhear the conversation. The lady said,” I wish it’s a boy, nothing different from you.” The man looked back and smiled, his smile had a matured and loving tinge. I had been noticing this man for quite some time (at my favorite bhel-puri stall) with his friends and he was dumb. I never saw him speak only that he had crude sign language. Whatever I saw today was astounding.  I was shocked to see the way the lady felt for her man. The way she saw him as if he was the best man in the world, a flawless man. Even that she wanted her son to be like him. I tried looking at  the man, he was no different from the people walking around me and that maybe coz I had no sentiments attached unlike her wife. Next I glanced the lady to check if she had gone nuts. I was wrong and happy to be wrong. The way she looked at him was what made him perfect, it was her love for him that concealed his disability. It wasn’t a sympathetic look, it was something as pure as newborn and as immortal as time. I stood looking at them, speechless and thoughtless, yet spelled, as their pure aura lingered and their silhouette faded into the setting sun.

These are the moments of sheer love that keeps me going, that (directly or indirectly) keeps you going, that keeps the world going. There is a world beyond governments, beyond stock markets, beyond terrorism, beyond illness, beyond material, the world of eternal love. This is what bring peace to the world, it isn’t the rising value of dollars or rupee that drives contentment in us, its love. These moments of sheer love stirs in our heart the seismic waves of love which rushes thru our nerves. Its incomprehensible, its indecipherable but its indelibility on our heat drives us. Material isn’t driving the world, they say its GOD, I say it’s the INEXPLICABLE DIVINITY OF LOVE that keeps us going.

 

 

FAREWELL TEACHERS…

10:43AM: 2ndFeb.,2016

Dear teachers,

I do not consider myself a good orator. I feel I can express better in writing. One reason is that I fear I might miss composure verbally. When I write the tears, the smiles, the loss, the gain all are hidden from the readers. There is a wall, opaque one, of monitor or at least a paper. Every expression of mine is behind the wall, all that readers get consequently is the feelings which apparently have no expression of mine rather they need to visualize my expressions, so the text might be perceived differently by every head. I think I should take a chance to express myself coz I am considered (even by myself) a person who does not reflects his soul. If you are reading it, I think I have decided to break the silence, at least for once. I request you to keep your ego of teacher aside while you read this. Read this stuff as an expression of a taught for his teachers.

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Before I say something, I feel it important to clarify that I have included certain names in this text. Some (many) are not included directly but diplomatically. I have considered only those who I personally know as to what they exactly are and what their ideologies are. I regret for not having included all. But if it was the case the letter would have been a big lie and a flattery stuff, but it’s not. Please do not consider the text a flattery or a critical stuff coz that would be a blemish on my attempt to understand you. My fingers shiver at times while typing this letter with the imagination as to how it is perceived. I hope you do not take any of the following stuff otherwise as was the case with some of my friends when I wrote a letter for them and stuck it in our classroom. Some of them complained me for not having included their name, but I couldn’t they are just acquainted to me, I can’t lie to make someone happy. Well I shouldn’t!

To be honest, I never understand a teacher completely due to lack of informal interaction. The case is not that I deliberately stay away but the fact is firstly that I speak less secondly I do not know what to speak and thirdly, to be open enough to say that, I do not want to be a headache to you by sticking to you. I like the company of certain teachers and even talking to them. Pawan sir, Tiwari ma’am, Principal sir, Tiwari sir are a few names for the same. Still I keep away. L

Tiwari Sir has been in my life from the day I came for my entrance test for admission to this school. I remember he was greatly impressed by my performance in the test and he offered me biscuits which I shyly accepted. J In early days I saw his strict and violent aura, the impact of his presence compelled opening up of books in students’ lap. The announcement of ‘Tiwari sir being spotted near our classroom filled us with terror’ but today with time and growing affection between sir and the students that they, especially I, wait for his class visit. I like it when he comes to our classroom to talk to us. I remember there have been instances (two, to be precise) of me being slapped by him. I do not tend to forget the punishments I receive coz if I do I am bound to commit the error again. He has apparently deep faith in me. I can recall an instant when I ethically broke the faith in fourth standard. I remember being thrashed by Balkrisna sir and Pawan sir for the same. I did not realize the worth of being thrashed then but today to turn back to the past to have a glance proves me that they were right in thrashing me. I never repeated any such instance of committing ethical blunders. Pawan sir has been like an elder brother to us. I remember he thrashed me and then pampered me when I cried in my early years at PPS. He has been with me since my childhood and in these years he has become a rather inseparable part of my life. I have literally no ideas as to why he called me ‘dictionary’ some years back. Though there has been a bit lack of interaction thereafter yet the relationship is unaffected. He has been with me and the school in all the shades of spectrum. To say that I feel thankful to him would be an understatement. When it comes to Principal sir, he has always been like a father to me. I always stole words of wisdom and experiences from his talks. He has been a thing of interest and (to be frank) a fashion icon among the student all thanks to his appealing persona. I have at times wished to be like him in my early years with him. But it is time that made me realize there can be no other person akin to him. I remember he once called me (obviously not before me) “mera shishya”. My keyboard and dictionary feels helpless describing the pleasure I felt that day. My Tiwari ma’am has been a matter of wonder for me the time she entered PPS.  Her diva like appearance with a formidable professional attitude filled me with a bit fear and awe at the same time. It was with passing years and my growing understanding for her that I saw her getting softer. And today I proudly call her MY MA’AM in my class. J I like her company so I rush up to her every fourth period especially if I feel a bit off. To disclose one of the biggest facts that I learnt about her is that she has the skill of gifting the tightest slap in PPS. I felt it once, maybe in sixth standard. It is harder than Tiwari sir’s and Principal Sir’s slap even! JJJ

The biggest shock that I received in my last few days was from Anjani sir. From the day he entered PPS premises I had a notion that he does not recognizes me or any student in particular coz there have been very few instances of him naming a student other than reading out from a printed list or something. This misconception was in my mind till I had taken my chemistry viva. The time I was taking the viva he revealed a lot about me to the examiner. Some facts were so strong that even my friends and family are unaware of! Something similar was observed during physics viva. I felt like thanking him for his support during the viva but I often find myself unsuccessful at executing such plans all thanks to lack of time and more importantly a favorable chance. I might not get a better chance to thank him. So sir I express my deep sense of gratitude through these words. Thank you so much for your support. And I apologize for having taken your silence as your ignorance. But now I gather that your silence is worth a thousand words. Thank you sir! To take a bit off stream mode I would like to express my affection for Gulrez sir even though he has not officially been my subject teacher yet he is a teacher of mine. I, like all others, love his poetic creations and since I have an inclination for literature (which only a few people know) I have inclination towards him too. I thank Ashish sir for igniting and making me realize the worth of computer in my life and connecting me to my dreams. Before him my life was aimless like water poured on the floor, but he made me realize that I had a stream so I could take a direction. On the same list I would take Nikhil sir. I have no idea as to what I should write for him. I have mixed feelings for him. I love the way he is, cheerful and lively. To be true I have taken a lesson from him to be what I am and to not try to be someone else. Coz everyone is one of a kind. The most beautiful kind of person is he himself.

There have been teachers in PPS who have, unknowingly obviously, made me ready for my next life. Deepika ma’am, Amit sir and none other than my class teacher Bimlesh ma’am. They and especially their persona had a great influence on my teen mindset. Bimlesh ma’am, besides getting me a hand on experience on my skills, has connected me to the contemporary world and more importantly people around me who I kept distance from. Spending around four months with her was the best time in last two years. The way she incorporates studies with fun is a skill I would love to carry with me throughout. Akin was Ravindra sir who made our subject a fun to study. When it comes to Sandeep sir, he has been very helpful throughout. Kamlesh sir made experimentation a fun filled time. He supported whenever I needed. Thank you sir.

Coming to my science teachers Sunil sir, Akash sir and Haridwar sir. I find their words encouraging besides being suggestive. I am never going to forget some of their words. Especially Sunil sir’s at IIIT’s cafeteria time guidance, Akash sir’s bus stop time suggestions and Haridwar sir’s tea talk at his place and his professional approach to his work. There are some of my life’s brightest stars who are not among us in PPS now. For them I just have three words ‘I miss them.’

I have learnt the importance of team work, understanding and true company in the last few months. I have seen, in the last few months, that a teacher can be a friend too. A friend who you can share all your problems all your worries. They have solution to all my problems. They are akin to:

A cool wave on my sunburnt pain; A fountain of ethics, an ocean of love;
A lunch box in hunger, A samosa in cashlessness; A like a pending picture to click;
A quench in dry throat; A phone call in solitude;
A guide in life’s puzzle; A Christmas to rejoice, A new year to celebrate;
A smile to keep smiling;
A milestone to cherish
!

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The passing years have always strengthened the bond. My ten years passed in this school, more than half of my life! Our official bonding is coming to conclusion but the informal relationship between us is eternal. I have often heard it from teachers that students tend to forget them. But this is just an insight. We might not stay in regular contact. For some it might mean that they never contact you but one thing that is never gonna change is that they won’t forget you. And sometimes in their solitude, in their pain, in their problems, in their joy…they will miss you. You may be many a miles away from us, but you are with us and will be with us in one form or the other maybe education, maybe teachings, maybe ethics or simply memories. No matter what the form is, you will always be a moral support at the time of stooped motion. I take an excerpt from my article in our school magazine (which was selected by Desh Ratan sir against my wish):

There have been moments in my life when I felt angry at you, really I did, but then I did not know the “YOU” in you. It took me time to explore you layer by layer with patience. I cannot, even today, say that I know even the 20% of you, but I’m contended with my current knowledge about you. Teachers, I, from a few years dream of you saying me ‘son’, just once would be like a complete life to me. I might not be following all your teachings but if this is the case that won’t be deliberate. You will stay in my heart forever no matter whether or not, we are in touch. All from me have been tolerated by you people, covering my inabilities, encouraging me even when you are disappointed by me, by citing illustrations from your own life experiences, at times articulately and other times finding us scoop the chance to disengage and smirk at your mediocre narration. Whatever there may be, souls keep embanking indelible impressions, and they say souls are eternal. Some teachings in that embankment shall be from your teachings as well, I might or might not stand a place in the world but your teachings will live for eternity, teachers-I’m pretty sure.

Thank you teachers for finding a moment to read ‘me’. It really means a lot to me. Thank you so much.

Now if you please excuse me its 1:44PM and I got to study for my CS practical exams for the next day and need to take a bath too before Papa comes home, else a scolding! J

Prashant

SEE YOU AGAIN

2:15AM: 30th Jan., 2016

Dear classmates,

I intensely feel that I should write this letter for you before leaving. Actually everyone should, if they feel that they have something to tell, some things to answer, some pending promises some pending things to say, some reply to skepticism or at least to say goodbye. So I am writing this at this weird timing of the night because this is the time in my whole day when I feel that I can understand my sentiments the best. Before I say something let me make it clear for you to understand the fact that I have included a few names in the letter, and I have not included many. The only reason for this is that I do not have anything to say in particular to those for now. Please mark the words ‘for now’. May be in sometimes my part two releases!!

In last few years especially the last two years of our schooling saw all of us changing. The reason maybe was blending of two completely diverging cultures section A and B! I too felt the change in me. Everything changed. The meaning of friendship, affection, unity even the meaning of the word ‘change’ changed. But with so many changes there came some very beautiful moments to cherish. That is what makes the schooling worth the chance. Mates, in general I am not the very open type person. I conceal, in such a nice manner that sometimes the facts are concealed from me even. But let me be the open one today coz I think I should. I need to, in short, show you a reflection (without inversion) of what I feel for you.

During these years I have committed many mistakes. I recall from my diaries that I hurt a lot of people and many a friends. The word ‘friend’ means a lot to me, it has a deep meaning. Apparently I have used that word with the same sense I feel for it, for only two people Adarsh and Suraj. Let me use it for some more today. So for those who I have hurt, forgive me. Sonal, Naaz, Mazhar and Adarsh this is for you. The fact behind my hyper reaction in stuffs is my hyper impulsive mood. I can’t handle adrenaline that efficiently you see. Mazhar you have been a good friend to be with these years. It was a pleasure being with you and especially coping you sensitivity more efficiently than others. Well some of the times you were very annoying but yeah that is what a friend is expected to be like. You really are not the godfather of…… you know what right? It’s my friend Suraj! And Mazhar dear ‘See you again!’Coz if I don’t what does the promise of friendship fetches then. You are a good man. With a bit “Mojo dodo” type hair style. Suraj will explain you the meaning of MOJO DODO.  When it comes to Adarsh I feel he is deeply unsatisfied by my attitude of not calling him a friend every minute. Well I can’t he is one of my best friends and today I say this publicly on this note. But Adarsh I can’t say that every minute to you. You are akin to my younger brother but bud I cannot say you friend every time. That’s it. My rationale forbids use of greasy and flowery language. And you are my friend, if I cannot be my ‘real self’ in front of you then the real sense of friendship dies and formality takes birth. I name call you every time right, but try to bring back the Adarsh in you who used to understand even the silence of Prashant leave alone the fact of name calling. You are changed, I’m sorry to say but for bad. But you still are the best friend who used to wait with me for “SURAJ” on the water point unnecessarily drinking water. And when it comes to name calling I would say that I cannot name call a person if I am not sentimentally attached to him still if you feel bad for it I’m sorry, I’ve stopped name calling you anyways. And for the impulsive temper in the auditorium I beg your pardon. I am very sorry for it. By the way thanks a lot for being with me whenever I needed like a true friend. Be with you always pal!

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Prateek dear you are the oldest friend I have. The first one to shake hands with me in PPS. Played ‘chahellum’ on the hills, had lunch in the grasses, contributed for Oyes, helped in exams, paced for swing. I remember, all of it. ‘Hamre beech kabhi koi nai aa skta right?’ I’ll miss your smile man! Really being with you for these years gave me (leave alone the fact of momentary or lasting) a reason to smile, to laugh. Your jokes are, my god laughoholic. And Richa I apologize to you for declining you offer to have lunch every time. I hope you understand! I’ve told you my choices when it comes to fooding. Being picky is a curse you see. Maahi I thank you for the pasta. It was great and officially the first time I had something from a girl’s tiffin so memorable too. Well if ever in my life I get to have an opportunity I would love to have it once again coz the last time you gave me Suraj had almost two third of it. Only a bit was left for me! He is such a bhukkhad.

Yes I can proudly declare that I have a bhukkhad friend. This bhukkhad considers me a punching bag so I keep receiving shots from him. I remember there were times when I used to take a massage of oil and balm at home when I got punches from him. I mean the man gave me bruises. I recall once he kicked me to floor and thrashed me, so embarrassing! I’m not going to speak a lot about him. If I am asked to write something for my brother or parents my fingers will definitely go numb, similar is the case for Suraj. SOMETHINGS ARE BETTER LEFT UNSAID. I have endless stories of we two guys to tell but limited pages to type. Well I love the way Gaurav and Suraj have an interactive affectionate tashan showoff. Gaurav is a good guy. I’ve never called him friend and I still have skeptical thoughts about him. He is best at doing one thing “adding fuel to fire” then enjoying the warmth of fire from distance. J I love this attitude of his, I too sometimes try doing this but lack of talent pushes me back foot. Well Gaurav it has been fun being with you! Time passed away so fast isn’t? You are my obvious choice when it comes to being with someone from our class. I hope you ever felt it, at least in IIIT. Frankly speaking I feel a bit of embarrassment walking with tall guys like you and Napster. Still I do, well samosas are not the primary aim, hope you understand, company matters. And every time I say that you are not my friend (which I do many times a day) I hear a voice from inside saying “Hatt jhuthe.” So I think today is the time to accept that you are indeed a friend to me a good one.

Ajay I don’t know what exactly to say about you, it was like lack of interaction between us due to your constantly diverted attention. But you have really been helpful to me sometimes and I love writing speeches for you. It polishes my skills. Thank you. And yeah…I like the way you call me ‘PINKIE’ …reminds me off all the foolish acts we did in those five days. Tripathi, Kuldeep, Gaurav and obviously Ajay…I wish we get one more night at the campus…together…poking and kicking in the planetarium, fooling in library, fishing and downloading in audi, pyaz ki kachori, spring rolls and burgers of cafeteria, audi me apne apne pasand ke scientist k sath baithna, pink-pink, aadhi raat ka tashan….Me opening up to this extent is all thanks to that environment and you guys. Ajay ek coffee aur pila de yaar …SUB k sath!adios-amigos

Aditya, you are a good mate and since you are from my previous school, we have a closer relationship to share. Thanks for pointing out flaws in me at times and showing me a distinct reflection. It really influenced me, at least my verbal skills. Hope you observed it! You love solitude right? Even I do! Keep your company strong with it. It might lead you to, maybe pessimistic approach of thinking sometimes but trust me life is always better alone after you overcome pessimism, at least by solitude. Trust me bud solitude is painful but it also, when given its time, heals the worst pain. Vikas, you have been a fun person to be with. I in solitude sometimes recall and laugh in myself for all the weird sound you produce at the weirdest time. What I feel is that you have a true literary approach to comments. It was great being with you. My boxer mate Abhishek, a loose guy with tight punches. I wonder at time as to how can a sportsman be so dangling. I love the way you feel strongly for music. This is probably the only reason we are friends other than your sweet heart. I’m good at scanning hearts of people. I cannot discuss music with idiot Suraj. He’s such a pain when it comes to music and all you see. Not far back but I came to know you properly since I started my staff bus cycle and you started your weekends! J

To say something in particular about a girl of our class would be a serious risk to take in my case. I want to stay away from controversies, at least at the end. This is because the moment I think that I know them next moment proves me wrong. Still I guess I can say something to Naaz if not anyone else, hope she understands. I owe you my CS project file. And to add to this I hope you didn’t take anything to heart, I mean whatever I keep doing. If you did, then I feel I lagged in something.

Frankly speaking a few months back I felt that I will not miss the school but now a complete contrary feeling comes in me. I will miss the school, for sure, I have a lot to miss, actually all I have in my life worth missing is majorly from PPS. We are parting, but we will definitely run into each other someday. We might not always be in contact and in my case it might be apparently never but friends especially Adarsh please do not take it as we have forgotten each other. In these years you all have become an inseparable membrane in the memory. Very far from our place, beyond the society, beyond the media, beyond the social media, there is a place called solitude, hope we see each other there! See you again mates!

Friendship is unnecessary! Like philosophy, like art, it has no survival value….but still it gives value to survival! Mates…Some people pass through our  world And leave it just as they found it. But people like you take the time, To do special things for others. They make the world more beautiful. Thank you for being good to me, friends. FAREWELL…

Its 5:35AM my God! Gotta try to sleep or at least rest! See you!

Your so called “stoic” friend

Prashant

I DON’T WISH TO BE THE PM

WHAT IF I WERE?

Being used to critically analyzing the roles of India’s present prime minister the worst part or rather the best introspection chance that comes to me is the question ‘What would have you done if you were the prime minister of India?’ It is a question that rather puts a full stop to any debate or argument commenced for the same context. It is the only question that makes the opponent win the debate without putting much effort in it. Undergoing many such debates I have learned that one can stay in the race only if he ponders sincerely over the identity crisis invoking question that what would have he done ‘if he were him”?

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Well had I been the prime minister of India the very first thing I would have done was to try and not collect sympathies on the name of miserable childhood and struggle to get that rank. At least not in front of a guest, especially if it was Barrak Obama. I would have never quoted any such comments which displayed my shallow mindedness publicly, the way public accepts it, is not the matter of fact. A person’s struggle and strive for dreams is something which people should realize instead of being, shoved stories up their ears on megaphones. Being the PM designate I would have made myself used to listening to the critical comments. This ideology hasn’t taken birth in my mind because I feel I cannot respond to them but rather let my deeds shut the critical mouths up.

To be the PM of the biggest democracy in the world with the world’s highest concentration of man power and human resources I would have tried to harness this resource for country’s all round development. Involving the upcoming generations and the current youth at the major ambitious positions without considering the worth of the action would have far reaching fruitful results. Knowing the ground reality of the rural developmental policies like MNREGA and MDM I would have spent the money wisely instead of splurging on them. God forbids but if a condition of a calamity arises I would have sent relief which would have focused on evacuating the place from humans instead of those who belonged to my state.

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I would have began my work of maintenance from my home itself, the cabinet, by electing my cabinet in all senses. To connect youth to my decisions, and live up the spirit of democracy, I would have taken the help of social media. Getting public connected is an assurance of nominal mistakes and improved efficiency.

To err is human. I would have committed errors too if I were the PM. I would have never let them go waste because every mistake brings to us an experience and every piece of experience brings wisdom and wisdom fetches perfection. Like all the politicians, at the end of tenure I would have dreamt for the next tenure to be mine too. Not by bragging of my works but with public’s support, the true one and the selfless one which comes out as a trust, not as the greed of the policies that are jotted into the manifesto sheet.

The Pain Of A Student

By:Prashant Mishra

Dated: Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Timed: 12:56 AM

Recalling the earliest memories of my academic life I can visualize my parent’s bedroom where my father stood holding a pink colored progress report card telling my mother that I had scored 94% in upper kindergarten. It had a comment on it on semester basis. The first semester remarked my performance to be ”v.good” and the later comment on my performance for final term was “excellent”. I remember I cried for being excellent, I wanted ‘good’ or ‘very good’ coz as I remember, these were the only words that meant something positive to me. I was ignorant of excellence, we competed among our mates for teacher’s ‘good’ and not excellent. Yeah I remember exactly everything coz I cried for getting ‘excellent’. Along with this I remember having lost my six percent for a reason that I could not perform in ‘recitation’ test. My weak point, memorizing!

Thirteen years dragged on. These years saw the better part of mine, a part which is expected by me and others to be a brilliantly logic oriented one. I’ve always been an academically fine student, more than academic okayness I have heard adjectives like genius and sharp for myself. I’m not trying to boast rather it is just a simple effort to make you understand what exactly I feel about myself now. I’ve always been a fine scorer in maths, science and computers but when it came to social science, general knowledge, hindi and english I’ve always been an unprivileged one. The biggest reason is my inability to memorize, see for the word it’s memorize not retain. Mugging up answers, maybe is a talent when it comes to the contemporary education system of India. In early stages of my schooling I saw school made papers which comprised mainly of logic based questions than memory based questions. But with time and intrusion of boards in higher classes I witnessed the growth in stats of memory based questions. I did it too, killing myself under a hellish heap of question banks of all sort of brands I had heard then. With this struggle and three months of rigorous mugging up of definitions in science and answers of social science and just one month on intellect oriented subjects and problems I completed my high schools with 10 CGPA. This 10 CGPA might mean a lot to me but when people hear that the exam was conducted on a home centre basis their eyes reflected their skeptical thoughts. I can understand that it is hard to trust. But yes I do trust my abilities, my potential.

Precious years of my life passed on and then came my senior secondary standard. I’m taking my +2 level exams as I write this. The new world as I concluded as I realized the sudden mountain of syllabus in eleventh standard. Frankly speaking I shattered under the pressure within a few months. Yet I collected myself and worked for twelfth, I was doing good when it came to solving problems and logic applications. But as I take my exams I feel it was not enough.

With pain of rottening of my efforts and yearlong labor I cried during my chemistry exams. It would be funny if I tell you why I did so, but if unveiling has started, let nothing remain veiled. I remember how madly I tried re-mugging of all the properties of elements of periodic table. All I could mug up with the names of antibiotics and antifertility drugs, I did. All that the trend analysis showed I mugged it up all. All the guess papers, yeah I did. I woke up two consecutive nights, which is not a hard nut for me to crack but continuous study for thirty two hours was something I never did. I was dead sure it would pay, at least the part that I had revised perfectly twice with my friend. But as most of the thoughts and anticipation go wrong in this so called vulnerable age this too went blank. A missed shot! Such a deviated arrow that I was done up with the test in just ninety minutes! What to do next was a big interrogation mark floating like cloud around me in the examination hall. To look out for help was something foolish to do in presence of two invigilators besides everyone else was penning their heart out on answer sheet. I felt so very out of place. I recalled the phase of my life when I penned till the conclusion bell and they sat watching me write. The place was just not mine. Giving up the idea of seeking help from the busy guys I took off my glasses. Intense pressure was what I felt. Everything till physics went absolutely well and projected score would have been around 93%. A moment and all was gone. One by one came the faces which expected me to perform well. I kept brushing them out of my mind. The last one was mine. I remember having smiled at my face. A smile which dictionaries call ‘smirk’. I smirked on myself, for the first time in my life. The smirk pinched hard somewhere deep inside me. I kept my head down on the stationary shuffled over the layer of question paper and beautifully empty answer sheet. I dropped a tear, then another, yet again! I did this till I went to sleep. I slept. I was at peace. The peace was till I slept, the moment I woke up, it vaporized. I saw everybody still caught in the same terrifying question paper. I felt sick. I felt like running out of that dreadful hall. Those fearful sound of pen on the paper was piercing the ears, the rustling of papers was repelling, the view of heads bent to the desk moving as if their movement was in sync with their pens brought to me a pain, an eerie silence in me broke with the eerie cry of this pain. I wanted to throw up the agony. I wanted to cry out all I mugged up for an year and didn’t get a question on it. I wanted to curse myself. I wanted to die. I wanted peace. But I did nothing to get what I wanted coz I knew it was my failure. The invigilator enquired if I was done, I replied affirmative giving her the shock of the day. My friend who was right behind me supported me who himself was still, ironically, engrossed in doing the paper. I looked through the invigilator. Previous papers were the ones in which I looked them into their eyes confidently today I was a loser, avoiding eye contact. I desperately wanted to leave. I realized for the first time in my life the fact that I wanted to go home. I never in my life had come up with this idea, even as a kid. It was exactly with this thought that I realized my agony. It would be like seeing a teenager having loads of friends all around and all means to enjoy, crying and saying “Mujhe ghar jana hai. Mujhe mummy k pas jana hai”. This was exactly what my condition was like. All this was thanks to a fact that I wasn’t a professional mugger who parroted periodic properties. I wasn’t a memory machine that is what paid me such a great blow.

Next in line came my mathematics test. I was still in the hangover of chemistry and the same agitation was what I reflected on paper. I was like pouring out my wish on the answer sheet that I did not want any marks. It was like I was fed up of the studies. I did just enough to pass the test. I knew I would pass with what I had done. The greed the hunger the thirst of marks was gone, vanished! I no longer was the guy who came to the chemistry examination hall in the morning with a wish to break all the previous records of my school. Though with maths there was still a chance of overcoming the records but I chose not to. I left eleven questions straightaway. I felt no guilt for it. I sat in like a stone in the room with guys engrossed like the previous day. I felt nothing, no agony, no repentance, no loss, no feeling of letting someone down. The expecting faces came again only this time I smirked at them. My face came. I looked out, it was raining, and I lost myself in my poetic creations which were dearer to me than my face. After I submitted the answer sheet I was happy. Happy to be free from any expectation, I could now do something without pressure. The projected score was now around 78%.

It was till physics I dreamt of 95 being confident to gain it, I believed on my potential. Now the belief was transferred from my potential to board’s potential. Board’s potential to break anybody’s diehard faith in oneself. Same way as it had done to me. It took a year of sacrifice to build up the confidence I had. It took just a few questions to shatter it all. It took an year of staying away from novels, from comic books, from parties, from movies, from games. It took days and nights to say that I was ready. It took locking myself in a room and engrossing in benzene rings when brother from the other room called for watching a movie. It took seven cups of coffee every night to say that the thirst to study isn’t still quenched when I was enervated. It took up filling each page of rough, writing on the boxes of sweets when rough copies exhausted midnight. It involved the pain of resisting a burger shot with friend. It involved forgetting the intuitions of the teenage.

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I know my fate is now sold. I have ruined it. I do not know who exactly I should blame. Some fingers are gonna point to my age, yeah they would say it’s vulnerable and I fell prey to evil. Some would say ‘god only knows what he did behind that shut doors’. The first one would be my father himself.  Some would say I brought them shame. Some would just not say a thing. Some would give dirty looks. I would have nothing left to say to them apart from avoiding eye contact. Coz saying anything would make me feel as if I am imparting excuses. Only the winners have right to speak. If I get a good standing, my talks become a philosophy, same talks become an excuse if it comes to you after a failure. I did my part, a bit more than I should have done. Yes I know the fact that I overdid it. But alas! I cannot prove it coz my statement would be contradicted by my grades on a beautifully printed sheet that board will send me proudly declaring me an average student. I did a lot even knowing the fact that I did not like being a mugging machine or a calculator working with Avogadro’s terrible number or performing factorials. Mugging up why is oxygen placed before florine in periodic table was horribly not my thing. Still I did and I can make out how it all paid me. It would be no wrong to ask the use of books in our life if everything was mugged up. It won’t be wrong in any way to ask the proper use of invention of calculator. Though I might be the wrong person to put forward such a question. The general instructions on each of the question paper daily remind us to not carry any calculator. Is it in any manner okay to accept thirty calculators instead of mathematics students taking exams? It was Leibnitz who said that it was wrong for man to be engrossed in hours of calculation if he is worthy of doing something productive. Relying on a syllabus designed in 1930s-40s is at all not justified. Should not the debate organizers conduct a debate on the applicability of prescribed syllabus on students’ real life rather than fighting over intolerance? Is it just for gaining a job?

Yeah, this is my agony speaking. But had I not underwent this pain still I would have written this stuff. I felt it for the whole year. In this closed room I cried, I yelled silently, I threw my books in frustration, yet I picked them up to be a calculator once again, I ripped ‘em off and stuck them again to mug up what was left. The pain is not of what is spilled on chemistry. It is the agony of twelve years. The anxiety of two decades of my life.

The life lasts properly to 55-60. I’m nearing twenty. Voila! Spent one third of my age mugging up, calculating and still gaining nothing.  Just forty years to go and the countdown began the day I was born. And who knows if I live up to sixty. Who knows if I choose to live up till then! Who knows! The first hour of my life’s examination has passed and I have seriously failed. I have two more hours left. I want to be happy through them. It’s hard but I need it. I choose to be happy. Time for my will! I will get it. I will!