Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown..

The King!! – this very word paints a picture of unquestioned authority, regal grandeur, supreme splendor and anything and everything related to royalty. The heir apparent – The Prince is synonymous with chivalry, valour and a nonchalant way of life.

The excitement of being in the foothills of an epoch is a million times more than the satisfaction attained after climbing the peak. A prince’s mind is cluttered by what all he can do, a King’s mind by why he should NOT do. The burden of responsibility, the mountain of expectation is something that the King has to be content with. Without being tarnished by age, without the fear of facing failure life would seem a bed of roses. Little does he know that the thorns prick only the Supreme. The Prince has authority, yet no responsibility. In brief, isn’t his life a honeymoon? Yet, doesn’t every Prince want to become a King soon?

In some ways, a prince exemplifies an ordinary human’s life. Little does he know that the destination he craves for is itself colder than where he is now! While we crave for all the authority, respect and everything wordly little do we realize that it’s a bait for us to fall into a trap of stress, of unwanted responsibility, of wordly pleasure…into a world of darkness. While I write this article, I do realize I have fallen a prey to this bait many times..:)

Just when you thought it’s a compliment..

One of the most clichéd remarks at any social gatherings or reunion parties is the customary “Hey, You haven’t changed in the last 10 years!”. While its met with diplomatic thanks, to me it’s a veiled insult which meant “Dude, you haven’t been wise to learn anything in the last 2 years!”. The sugar coating of the message incited me to think on the interplay between diplomacy and sarcasm.

A deeper thought actually suggests that diplomacy is an intelligent man’s sarcasm. Diplomacy in crude words is encryption of hardened facts thereby seducing the user into a state where he actually accepts the fact which he wouldn’t have if the facts were put threadbare. Its sarcasm at its intelligent best.

Sarcasm according to me is one of the underestimated qualities of a person’s personality. A sarcastic person is usually recognized as an intelligent person by people unless off course when they are the victims of his sarcasm. A sarcastic is usually witty, is a good flirt, has a smart sense of humor and is usually well read. A sarcastic person usually can cut ice with strangers within the blink of an eye.

While I’ve never managed to learn to be sarcastic, one person from who Ive learnt whatever sarcasm I know today is X. Blessed with an extremely sharp sense of sarcasm, just after you thank for her the compliment do you realize you were actually the object of ridicule.

Dhanakawadi’s son

Nested in the southern part of the Punyanagari(Pune) in the vicinity of Sahyadri ranges is a small place called Dhanakawadi where I grew up. It isn’t Deccan which is dotted by colleges one more historical than the other. It isn’t Sahakarnagar, the cultural capital of city. It’s a poor man’s land, a land where I grew up and for which I have respect immeasurable.

In some ways, it is the quintessential lower middle class locality where kids liked playing in the galli more than being hooked to gadgets which even adults fail to comprehend. Ladies discussed more about the rates of vegetables than the latest haircut in town. Coffee for 10 rupees is considered to be a luxury. Talk about Coffee Day!!..That was not for us..:) Yes, I am a proud son of Dhanakawadi, a place which I can call my own and I belong to it.:)

Today in every action of my life, I find Dhankawadi in myself. Even when I see all my friends listening to the hip hop songs in English, I prefer to be drained in the local hits. I still enjoy the local block blusters. To me, a night still starts at 11. I think twice before placing a tip at the table for a waiter. While the so called intellects explain secularism in terms which have confused the populace with the highest grey matter for us it was a way of life. New years were marked by a small celebration with friends. We knew whats money. We knew whats love. We knew whats care.

In Dhankawadi, I found an elder brother on whose shoulders I could cry, a younger brother with whom I could fool around. Wherever I may be, I will always remains Dhanakawadi’s son

Should I laugh or should I cry?

An optimist may say “The glass is half full..” while a pessimist, “The glass is half empty!!”. I think I am a super pessimist.

The rule of inevitability suggests every game has a winner and a loser. Do we cry with the loser or do we celebrate with the winner? Do we mourn somebody’s loss or share somebody’s gain? I am proudly pessimistic here. I would prefer holding the losers hand than dancing with the winner. Yet, I may not be correct. For, the last thing that a person who has lost wants is somebody’s intrusion.

Sometimes. I wonder if there is anything in the world to bring joy to everybody. Somebody’s loss is always somebody’s gain. It reminds me remotely of the law of conservation of energy. ”total heat gained by a body is equal to total heat lost by a body.”. Possibly happiness is similar. Happiness is a temporary pleasure which ditches us in times least expected.

Even if it seems like am accusing the entire world, unfortunately I have always found the world romanticizing the vanquisher. The vanquished has no friends, no relatives……

A student’s teacher

13 years of innocent schooling, 2 years in a place which swung between being called a school or college, 4 years of grueling engineering…..I have lost count of the number of teachers. Some teachers imprisoned my eyes with their beautiful writing, while some captivated my ears with divine words, while some more fascinated my mind with thoughts surreal. Yet, you touched my heart by supporting every student at every staircase in the uncertain corridor of our career. And for that I will always fondly remember you as a “student’s” teacher for your unwavering commitment to the student’s cause.

Every moment in four years of engineering tested our strength, character and conviction of thoughts. Everytime, we failed..Everytime, we were down..Everytime, we felt like quitting, your words made us stand up and move forward. You read our mind,wiped our tears and held our hand in the brutal world of engineering.

I still, vividly remember the day I called you with less than 12 hours to go for exam and said, “Maam, I haven’t studied.!!”. You gave me hope. You protected me. You protected each one of us, all offcourse without an iota of expectation.

Today, as I stand on the threshold of engineering life, all I can say is “Thank YOU, Maam.”

Wish you a very happy married life….you will continue to be “our”..a student’s teacher forever……

[This post is dedicated to Miss[to be Mrs.] Lakshmi maam..:)]

The Bond of Blood

Is it red or is it white? Is it blood whose ties lie deeper or is it the invisible bond between individuals which is stronger?? The thread that ties both these bonds is off course the ubiquitous LOVE.

While fables are made out of friendships which stretch beyond the realm of the realm, its surprising to see the blood relation going largely uncelebrated. The only exception to this could possibly be parents. The care of a sister, the sweet pestering of a younger brother the protection of an elder brother is something every human would never let go. While I strive to stay clear out of the debate as to which is stronger I wonder whether the bond of blood has not got its due? While you choose your best friends you never choose your cousin neither can you decide who will be your uncle??

As I think about Mahabharatha, the immediate thought that comes across is the mythical friendship between Sudama and Krishna. On another hand we have our favorite hero murdering his uncle!!Possible this epic set a precedent for trends to follow.

For a person starved for relations for the majority of his childhood I do believe the bond of blood is as strong as any. Although I would steer clear of comparing it with anything else for the simple inhibition of not getting into a topic which has a potential to be really dig deep into..

Cannot See You cry!

When a person cries, his heart feels lighter..but when your loved one cries it only makes your heart heavier. Every time you pulled my leg, I tried to pull yours back, every time you poked fun at me I poked back at you. Every time you used ugly words, I used uglier words.

But NOW I don’t know what to do. I cannot see you without your smile. How I wish I could wipe your tears out! Even more distressing is the fact that I do not know whats made you go to your den! Suddenly you stop talking to somebody whose single message you never ignored even when the entire planet vouched that every single word spoken by him is crap!

Like a butterfly, you bring colour into my life…..cannot see the butterfly not flying high…….

Be your own master, Be your own servant

While wise men said “Helping humanity is helping God!” they also stressed the importance of helping oneself first. Sometimes we take things so much for granted that it is difficult to deal with the jolt received due to incident which we did not expect to happen.

Possibly that’s Gods way of teaching. Sometimes I feel God is a cruel teacher. Yet a teacher who never ceases to show us good path notwithstanding the thousand barbs we hurl at him. How often do we remember him when we feel all is well? Without deviating much from what I intended to write on the old adage of helping oneself is one’s need is indeed true and better learn without facing it. The placement season brings out the real faces of most men and I learnt it the hard way when I found out my very own friends turning their backs to me.

And the reason for this “You never helped us!”. Yet I don’t hate you guys. I know its probably due to circumstances. I should rather thank you for teaching me this wonderful lesson..Be Your master..Be Your Own Slave…Neither allow others decide what you should do..neither allow yourself to decide what others should do.

Intolerance is for the old!

The loud music and the inaudible lyrics made by Dad scream “This new music directors hide the lyrics in between those scything beats that it really evokes blood from the ear-buds..”.Then came food. Grandmother had her daily dose of lecture ready on my eating habits(read noodles and chats.)

All this made me wonder-Is tolerance an attribute of the young?? The old at heart unfailingly find a fault with anything new and anything outside their domain. For a child everything seems fresh..everything is a dream. Is it the burden of experience? Is it the shadow of failure? Is it the illusion of success? As one of Newton’s law say the human body is reluctant to accept change and that is what probably is the reason..All hail Newton..:P

The old in question shouldn’t be confused with the number of years we have lived on the planet. It is strange that incidents in life take such a huge toll on our lives that we permute and compute the various moves of everyday life. The same me who loved walking where the paths took me now only wants to tread the path I have treaded before. Not long ago I wanted to fly the world but strange things have happened. The wings have gone nor does the desire to swim across to the dream land remain.

This is possibly is what people say growing up. This is probably called maturing. But to me its only losing the desire to experiment. While I started with intolerance being an attribute of the old, over the course of this note I realize I have grown old!

The scar

While I sit to pen down my thoughts on the placement season, I find myself engulfed by a cloud of self-doubts which threaten to wipe out whatever little bright spots that hopes otherwise promise. And I write this short note very well aware of the fact that I will be branded a pessimist by few..selfish by many.

While the media might paint the campus placement to be a panacea for all the problems which besiege the job-seekers, to an average student like me it has only made me alien to the confidence which i possessed in abundance not long back.And this sudden despair isn’t without reason. All thanks to the human ego!After u attend an interview and get rejected, does the feeling really sink in that I just wasn’t worth enough for 4.5 lakhs.Well, lets stick to the old adage “Past is best forgotten.”. It’s the future which looks insecure than ever before. A few days from today, It will be imminent to see atleast a trillion statuses proudly proclaiming “Yes, I got my job!!”.No,now don’t mistake me..If you are my friend I will feel happy for you for a fleeting second atleast. But unfortunately, I love myself more than I love you. If I do indeed manage to get placed, that fleeting second might just expand itself to hours or even days. But then the dreaded question raises its head..”What If I fail to make the cut again??”. The very thought of not being good enough might manifest itself into something bigger than just a thought..the inferiority complex of having not got placed might slowly creep in…..the thousand questions of answering your parents,,your relatives who never cared an iota when you need them suddenly pop up with “Hey, you still didn’t get placed??”….But the most important of all..your very own friends telling you..”Never expected that you wont get placed!!” .The Infinite curses to Lady luck, a trillion “good-wishes” to the interviewer will only add fuel to the fire which would have by then consumed me. Today I stand at a unique threshold of life where I do not see more than a pin hole of light. But if God indeed does wish, that pin hole of light could guide me to my destiny.

It’s the scar of having seen failure once….Its the fear of failing again…….Its the fear of breaking down after failure…..

It’s the scar which I badly want to erase…….

Dil to Bachcha Hai ji!!

How often we are confronted with the same problem….”Mann..not able to control my mind..”!! And how often we find a solution only to forget it the next hour??After all Dil to bachcha hai ji!!

A small analysis of my mind by mind for my mind really make me think its indeed a child. Its innocent..its vulnerable..It gets tempted..ITS PERFECT!! The only thing it lacks is a parent! And our conscious is supposed to be parenting it….mould it the way we want it to be..that is..if we want our mind to behave the way we want it to be!

Alone does the child wander in lands unknown..crossing rivers of turbulence towards a destination which neither does it know..nor do we..The same mind which got tempted for a chocolate at six got tempted for a gal at 20 will get tempted for something at 40 for something else..Like a tender plant it gets swayed by every breeze that threatens to blow it….that promises to take it to newer planes..How would it know which breeze is meant for it??

The only thing that might separate a child from mind would be while the child grows up to be a man the mind remains the child that it was..It still yearns for different pleasures. It still listens to its master. Only its master changes!!

I know I have just bluffed something above!!

Tears of Sports

As clichéd it may sound though, opposites make the most celebrated of pairs.. And when the brutal world of sports is washed by the purest liquid on the planet—THE HUMAN TEAR…..isnt it a sight to behold? Human emotions at its purest best!!

When you see your ever infallible hero weeping out of inability or bad luck or for any reason that it may be, does it strike indeed he too is human. While the first lesson of sports will teach you to take every defeat in your stride, bury every emotion into the ground its this human facet of sport which makes it surreal. While a Sachin’s cover drive will send a nation into frenzy, Laxman’s artistry will keep a purist raving for years, its those images like Kambli weeping inconsolably after losing a WC match which touch the barest emotions.

But the tears aren’t shallow to be restricted to the men who play the game. The sight of an injured Ramsey walking out of the ground with a broken leg will still make the eyes of every Gooner moist. Tears in sport is a romantic confluence derived from the noblest world of sports and the ubiquitous tears. Every tear kissing hardened cheeks of a sportsman has brought a million hearts together. Every tear caressing the cheeks of a fan has produced a sporting spectacle one better than the one before. All this leads me to wonder, if this is not passion..What is??