The Other Versions

We all are products of the choices that we have made till now in our respective lives. How nice it would have been to discover what we would have turned into in case we had made different choices at different stages of our lives. I for one wish so not because I am unhappy with my status quo but out of sheer curiosity. Would they have talked like me? Would they have thought like me? Would they have been happier than me? Would they have even managed to survive? Questions galore! The curiosity, however, is not about how different my other versions would be from me but how similar we would have been (or are??). Strangely, it is the extent of similarity and not dissimilarity in this vast world that often manages to catch our attention.

The Quiet Shift

The ease with which one learns to live without things that were once considered an inseparable part of life is often the measure of life's forward shift. We try to hold on to those lovely things but as life moves on, we find those things gradually moving away from us and we somehow discover peace and pleasure in newer things, newer places, newer people. That is indeed where the beauty of life lies. It learns to let things go. It learns to conform to novelty. It learns to welcome the change. For better or for worse.

The Internal Conundrum

We are usually so busy finding logic, looking for particular reasons in our day-to-day decision making process that we fail to give our instincts a chance to display what they are capable of. There are times when our mind and body align precisely and we just know that nothing, absolutely nothing can go wrong in that particular moment. But the cruel habit of mistrusting our own instincts doesn't allow us to reap the benefits of that esthetic opportunity. All we are left with is a mixed feeling of joy and sorrow that arises from being capable of knowing the right path but not walking it. We often find ourselves as our biggest enemy.

The Hunted Ostrich

Ostrich is by far the fastest running bird. So fast that it can easily beat the race horses, let alone human beings. But when it senses a hunter lurking around, it digs a hole in the sand, buries its head in the hole and feels safe assuming that since it can't see itself, neither can the hunter. The hunter, meanwhile, gets the bird without using any of his lethal hunting equipments.The fastest bird, the hunter quips, happens to be the easiest prey. The ostrich, however, keeps wondering how the hunter managed to hunt it down.

A Matter of Time

When one craves for something for long and eventually achieves it with one final effort, one looks back wondering what took him so long. There are times when we give our best effort and the task appears to be insurmountable and then, sometimes a mere caress moves the seemingly immovable rock. Time has a knack of playing strange games. Trying to enjoy its playful nature is sometimes the best thing we can do.

Trial And Error

Trial and error, believe it or not, is the best form of learning. It gives the opportunity to look into what goes wrong when we do a job in one particular way. It provides opportunities to correct things at a pace which suits a human mind the best. A slow process, someone might say but quality is any day better than quantity. Moreover, it helps a person learn on his own. There is perhaps no better feeling than satisfaction. And that's why, there is no better way to know the laws of nature.

Game

Let's go out and play a game;
With zeal and slice of acclaim;
Having searing spirit and just one aim;
Where the winner is revered;
And the loser collects the blame.

Prey

It matters to me. It really does. They may never meet again, rather they won't meet again. I've ensured that. They won't hear each other again. They won't see each other again. I want it to hurt them. Unfortunately, my effort doesn't alter things much. I can only manhandle events; not the results. They themselves will determine their fate. Brutal may it sound but I am elated that world will never see them together. Sadist I am. I can only hope that they are not masochists. I pretend to heal wounds; I'm not known to inflict wounds. I enjoy my stealth. I move on. Quietly. Viciously. Proudly
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It hurts. It really does. There is an eerie sense of pain. Unbearable pain. It is about to obliterate every patch of vitality. I often thought that we would be together. Always. I always wished to see him; I always wished to hear him. It proved to be a gag. I was wrong. I was proved wrong. Brutally. Intentionally. Time, they say, heals wounds. I think otherwise. It seems that like everything else, time has eventually been corrupted. It has lost its character. Time has started bestowing wounds. May be, it always did. It is a sadist. It waits, hunts, enjoys. And then, moves on--quietly, viciously, proudly.
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I can sense victory...Another victory. I must thank them for their support.

Here It Goes

It can't get bigger than this. The much-anticipated mega-event that everyone (at least I) had been waiting for so long has finally arrived. ICC World Cup 2007. Right from my childhood, I have dreamt of watching India win the cricket world cup. People from the generation that precedes me don't tire telling me stories of how they went out beating dhols on the streets when India, unexpectedly of course, won 1983 Prudential World Cup; how a proud Kapil Dev whole-heartedly accepted the trophy on the famous balcony of Lord’s; how he and his teammates went around Delhi with the charming silver trophy; how Mrs. Indira Gandhi congratulated him for the grand success. And I don’t tire listening to them either. But there is a subtle sense of jealousy. I always feel jealous when they tell me those lusty episodes, for I have always wished to see all those events repeating themselves in our era. It was such a pleasure to watch that Prudential World Cup when I visited the Lord’s museum a couple of years ago. I can’t imagine the high spirits all around India if this present team manages to pull out a victory on April 28, 2007. Words of a person who is truly in love with the Indian cricket team.

History, as they say, repeats itself and I desire to see this saying coming true this year. Since that golden month of July 1983, India has come close to winning this event on more than one occasion—1987 semifinal and then 1996 semifinal. But none so closer than the grand finale of 2003 edition. Faces in the team have changed but desire has inevitably remained the same. Come on India. Give all of us a chance to beat dhols on the streets on India. Trust me, this generation of cricket lovers will pray in front of your idols for a long, long time. You guys are, of course, not Gods but you will be treated like nothing lesser than Gods in India.

Though I am an avid Indian cricket team fan, I would like the games of this WC to be tantalizingly poised rather than being one-sided. There is much more sense of elation when a whole team competes against another team to win a close match. Blazes of individual brilliance, most of the times, don’t manage to create such illustrious effect. 2003 WC was a spoilsport in this respect. Even that Indo-Pak encounter in Centurion Park resulted in a one-sided affair, thanks to some extraordinary effort by Tendulkar. That is why, unlike most Indians, I rate 1999 WC matches much higher than those of 2003 WC. One can recall that Australia-South Africa semifinal as an example to understand what I mean.

On a serious note, irrespective of which team wins the trophy, Cricket should be the ultimate winner. And may the best team win. Everything else is secondary.

Interesting

Interesting, in particular, is—ummm what shall I say--a very interesting word. It has got different meanings—ranging from one end of the spectrum where it might mean virtuous and groovy to the other end where it may also mean spoilt and ridiculous.

“You are actually a very interesting guy,” alleged a stranger whom I had met barely half an hour before when I apprized him that I was a big critic of Amitabh Bachchan’s contemporary works. For an avid fan of Amitabh that he was (he loved his every film--even movies like Mrityudaata and Boom), listening my statement was almost an offence and he wanted to call me names which I had never heard before. He, for some mysterious reasons beyond my mediocre intellect, opted for the softer choice of calling me interesting. I couldn’t decide if I would have liked him calling me names more, for I struggled to decipher what he exactly meant when he tagged me interesting. That was mental harassment.

The word interesting is also used when one struggles to find a suitable adjective to describe a particular person, thing or event—something like what I did at the beginning of this post (if you haven’t noticed yet). It also buys you time when you are not quite sure about the quality of something. “It’s an interesting tactics,” says a commentating Rameez Raza whenever he isn’t sure why the captain made a particular field placement. If the very next ball produces a healthy result, he would quickly replace the adjective with a more absolved one and say—what a splendid tactics by the captain. He surely has got a thinking head over his shoulders.

Similarly, this word saves you from public embarrassment if what you think is in complete contrast with the ideas of masses. Even if you think that Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is a pure tragedy of art and complete shit, you can save yourself from being abashed if you arc your eyebrows, curl your lips and call the painting interesting first and then pass priceless comments upon how Da Vinci could have made minor adjustments in the picture to make it look a bit better. You will invariable be tagged smart and a pundit in the field of painting. Now you know how certain journalists who don’t know the basics of a subject cleverly write half-a-page long columns in the newspapers and once you end up reading it, you feel overwhelmed. Overwhelmed because you couldn’t understand what he actually wanted to say. The melodic theme is that he never had anything to say.

Words having blurred and vague meanings always create an atmosphere where the speaker is invariably uplifted to the position of a great thinker and his listeners who couldn’t understand a single word discuss his profound greatness among themselves. Such is the power of obscurity. It sells. Things that are less understood have more magnetic power than their obvious counterparts.

I am again tempted to use the word interesting—with some caution and ingenuity. It surely is worth trying. Interesting is indeed an interesting word.

Cellphones And Their Users

“Daddy, I want a new cellphone,” an eight year old kid demands his decently rich dad. “But son, you had recently bought one,” contends his decently rich dad. “The latest model that arrived in the market yesterday has a 10 megapixels camera. Moreover, I bought my last phone six months ago,” he says with all his effort to make six months sound like six decades. “OK, we will get a new one tomorrow. And give this old one to our gardener’s son. He was also saying the other day that he had got bored with his cellphone. And he wants the one with MS Office.” World in 2009.

Mobiles phones are as basic a necessity for the younger generation as controversies to Rakhi Sawant. If you don’t own a cellphone, the general notion would be that you are a son/daughter of an unemployed or something. His family conditions must be really miserable. He can’t even afford a mobile, you would hear someone saying. And if you don’t know about the latest trends, you are tagged ancient. You haven’t even heard about Nokia N60? You must be living in Stone Age, you will inevitably be informed with raised eyebrows.

For most people, buying their first cellphone brings a delight with itself that can only be compared to Bill Gates handing over his empire to you. As soon as the phone is bought, the urge of letting others know that you have actually got a new cellphone takes over. The easiest way goes something like this. You go to one of your pals who seems relatively free and talk to him for a couple of minutes, bring out your cellphone, (pretend to) watch the time and say—Oh God, I am late again. I am doomed. I will call you later. Hey I have lost your phone number. Give me your number again.” “Nice cellphone,” he would invariably say despite knowing that you would never call him. You are delighted. Mission right on track!! As long as he keeps mentioning that your cellphone looks cool, you don’t mind him calling you the ugliest creature in the world. “Thanks, bought it yesterday only.” Then you go on talking about all the features it has got. Fifteen minutes pass by. The guy in front looks anything but involved. You sense that. Now that your mission is accomplished, you tighten your tie, keep the phone in your pocket and leave in hunt of another soul who would call your cellphone great. After a week or so, everyone in your family, office and friend circle gets to know that you have got a new cellphone. Meanwhile, one of your friends apprizes you that a new phone with superior features has been launched. Now the cellphone no longer remains new to you!! Can I afford to buy a new one, your cellphone-obsessed-mind thinks. Next day, you stand in front of some cellphone showroom and ask yourself the same question. The next salary-day isn't very far away, you remind yourself.

Now a days, it's difficult to guess whether a cellphone includes camera or is it the other way round. A cellphone is now a multipurpose device---camera with all sorts of zooming facilities, FM radio, mp3 player, MS Office, palmtop and yes, I almost forgot to mention that it includes a phone as well!! The level of facility of course, depends upon the depth of your pocket, with the facility to call others being the minimum one. Wonderful. Sounds like magic. To me, at least!

There are guys who know almost everything about cellphones—the latest models, models introduced in US but yet to arrive in India, their elusive features, their prices, their reliability, their battery life—virtually everything. Living cellphone encyclopedia, in short. And you can find such guys everywhere. They might possess the most ancient cellphones but dare not question their knowledge in this particular field. If one is about to buy a cellphone, he need not surf the sites or decide right at the cellphone shop. He just needs to meet one of those guys and give him the price range. The living encyclopedia would put his index finger on his chin, look towards the window pane, calculate something in his mind and then tell you--- Nokia xxxx is your best deal. You can trust his divine words blindly, go to the shop, ask for Nokia xxxx and come back gladly. No site-surfing, no decision-making! What more—such guys are always ready to company you to the cellphone shop. Angels, they are.

My cellphone is my lifeline, people are often heard saying. They just can’t imagine taking their hands off their phones. They might be right in front of their homes but they would still call their moms and say—‘yes mom, I am coming. I hope my food is ready.’ Some of the cellphone users have lots of money in their wallet (may be in their dads’ wallet) and they would participate in every contest that needs sending an option by sms. By the end of the day, they discover that they have sent 50-odd messages with no success in those contests. And there are people who call their mates whom they had talked in person 15 minutes ago and usually the chat goes on till eternity as if they hadn't talked to each other for centuries. And there are few (like me) who keep cellphones just because they are asked to. They don’t actually need them but they use them as clocks. Yes, clocks!! They often forget to carry their cellphones with themselves, put their phones in silent mode while going to sleep and calls they miss embarrassingly outnumbers those they attend. Someone calls to one such person and says—hi, what’s up? And the inevitable reply is something like—“Nothing’s up, everything is down. Come to the point. Why did you call?” These are the kind of people whose phone bills struggle to cross Rs. 100 mark per month. Telecommunication service providers try their best to allure such people to use their cellphones more often but they just refuse to talk. For them, cellphones are strictly SOS messaging protocol. When one of such persons (read: Abhieshek) goes to pay his sub-Rs100 bill at the service provider’s office (in case, it’s post paid), the bill collector almost bursts into laughter and is tempted to ask—‘How much did you actually spend to reach our office? I reckon it was threateningly close to your monthly bill. Wasn’t it?’ Thank God, the bill collectors are polite and understanding enough to refrain themselves from asking such mortifying questions. I love bill collectors!!

Educated Raavan

Sculptures of Raavan, Mehnaad and Kumbhkaran were erected hastily on Dussehra afternoon. By the time, the day drifted towards its end, the three sculptures were set to fire one by one with Raavan being the last casualty. Crackers installed inside them made deafening noise, huge spheres of smoke gained height above the burning sculptures, sparkling chunks of burning paper floated between the layers of air and baneful smell of gunpowder diffused into the atmosphere. A large crowd entertained itself by being a part of this evil-burning ceremony. With Raavan turned into ashes, the mob retrieved back discussing how harmful the rays coming out of crackers are and how polluted Delhi-air has become over the years. Two women talked about how their in-laws have made their lives miserable. Children accompanying them, oblivious to their talk, were glad with the sight they witnessed and asked each other who the two sculptures on either side of Raavan represented.

Raavan, despite being such a learned creature, an avid Lord Shiva devotee and a conqueror of entire cosmos, fell prey to evil and eventually couldn’t save himself and his family from fiasco and the wrath of Lord Rama. Today, we remember Raavan as the face of evil. What did those Vedas, Puranas, Upnishads teach him? Virtually nothing! That is perhaps why education has evolved over the years just as a medium of reading newspapers and getting a good job. It is only attitude that can help you gain some good name. Education— philosophical, religious, spiritual or any other form---is useless unless you don the right attitude.

Random

Life, as they say, is full of many more surprises and eldritch events than those in the most enthralling fiction one would ever come across. Just when we think that it is the end of the richest and most eventful experience, life promptly throws one more opportunity to attend something new, something unexpected. On the similar lines, when everything seems to be going right and we feel ourselves to be the best and luckiest person around, Someone makes sure that we know that dreadful times can be just around the corner. A great leveling act…isn’t it? I need to meet this equalizing person (person???).

We always gauge life in terms of victories and defeats, gains and losses, good(s) and bad(s), successes and failures, love and hate, and what not! But the subtle difference between the above mentioned terms is that while all other terms are relative, love and hate are always absolute, to say the least. There are zones beyond the periphery of gains and losses, beyond the boundaries of good and bad, beyond the fringes of success and failure. But everything and everyone seems to lie within the set of love and hate. Right from the first look, we tend to form a certain degree of respect (or disrespect) which gradually changes as we come across it thereafter. The scale of respect (and disrespect) can always be modified into that of love (and hate). Where shall I keep that equalizing person on this scale? Never thought about it! See, I am (of course, pretending to be) too busy a person!!!(lol)

Anyway, coming back to the topic of surprises that life presents, the weirdest of all is the microscopic amount of time (microseconds???) one needs to change his view about something. Knowing the kind of moody (read insane!) person that I am, one can easily guess how quickly my finger moves on the love-hate scale. And delivering no surprises, I woefully inform that the worst hit person in my game of pointing-finger-on-scales is none other than yours truly. Can’t help! Rules of the game are fixed and the show must go on. Casualties are part and parcel of the game. No matter if the injured (or killed) person is the mentor himself. That’s what the audience enjoys. Entertaining the world at one's own cost has a delight of its own.

"That’s the spirit my boy!!!", Someone whispers into my curious ears every now and then.

Words

There are phases in one’s life when empowerment of speech becomes the most appreciated gift of God to him and he just seeks acceptance of one last wish, which, according to him, is as important as the gift of speech---the presence of one such person who can listen all his thoughts, all his feelings, all his plans; that too without making any comment, without yielding any solution, without rendering any appreciation, without pointing any flaw. He solely wishes to read all the remarks, solutions, admirations and transgressions through the medium of continuously changing emotions on the face of the silent listener. Those births and deaths of different horizontal lines on the forehead, those narrowings and widenings of the eyes, those frequent changes in the curves traced by the lips of the trusted listener are supposed to generate indispensable, invisible words that the speaker’s eyes can easily decipher. The idea of transferring thoughts from our own mind and heart to someone else’s using audible words as protocol and then deriving response in the form of facial words brings holy peace to mind and soul…Trust me…
It is just a matter of finding one such person! Easier said than done...:)

Discovery

We live with ourselves 24 hours a day and we still struggle to define ourselves. We find it difficult to guess how we will conduct in a given situation. We live in an environment where we need to prove our credibility, our potential, our transcendence every now and then. And the worst part of the job is that we always need to establish ourselves in the eyes of those whom we love and believe in. We are constantly gazed at by the eyes of our community and surroundings. We are always on trial!

At times, this scenario makes life difficult and repressing as well. We are usually scared of what our loved ones would think of us if they come to know the literal human being inside us. In order to confront this arduous job of pleasing others, we generally wear masks and feign to be virtuous in front of others. In fact, the masks continue to change as we encounter different people. And continuous compliance to this pretence for a certain period of time buries our original face somewhere deep inside us. We tend to forget and sometimes, ignore what we actually are made up of.

In such a play script, some of our inherent feelings get submerged and are often not allowed to come out. There are certain forces and urges inside us that are blocked down for the sake of shamming. The posture of a rebel, a maverick and an outspoken person are asked to take a backseat for maneuvering this delusive task.

Why are we always asked to alter ourselves in order to shift into the comfort zone of the society? Do we constitute the society or is it the other way around? For how long shall we live pretending ourselves to be benevolent towards the wily society?

We ought to discover our actual character before we completely lose ourselves. But knowing ourselves is generally as difficult as detecting water in a desert. One way to let the dormant energy inside us pop up is by arguing with ourselves in rugged situations. Let us be honest to ourselves; fight against ourselves; and even be cruel to ourselves just to know what steel we are made up of. Character is defined by what we do when left alone. And we must adopt the same rules while being constantly stared by vicious eyes of the society. Let everybody know what we actually are. No fear, no pretence, no hiding. If you love me for what I am---Great. And even if you hate me for what I am---Great!!!

49.5%

49.5% - This number has succeeded in bewildering and to some extent, scaring masses over the last couple of weeks. Though I wished to write about it just after the declaration of this vicious reservation policy, I took my time to hunt the pros and cons assorted to it. I googled and came out with some interesting but blue results.

Let us first see what exactly this reservation policy holds in its core. I will not reserve myself just talking about 27% reservation for what they call OBCs but include few issues related to 22.5% reservation for SC/ST category as well. This highly-talked-about idea of reservation of seats in different institutions handled by government was first pronounced by Dr. B R Ambedkar, the creator of our constitution. It might be an interesting fact for few people that Dr. B R Ambedkar himself was a part of the backward section of the newly independent Indian society. He had probably witnessed the problems that the people of his community suffered with and hence, thought of erasing those problems by aiding them with this reservation policy. When this policy was first implemented, it was decided that it would be ceased once those socially backward people come at par with the non-backward section of the society.

No problems till now! Indian society moved on with this reservation policy and the backwards went on enjoying the reservation and slowly we reached the stage while V P Singh was enjoying his few golden years of his life as the PM of the largest democracy. Mandal commission had submitted its report about the socially backward and uneducated class of the society in 1980 and based upon it, reservation was supposed to be implemented during V P Singh’s era.

Let us see what Mr. B P Mandal had to say about Indian society. According to him, there are as many as 3743 castes and communities belonging to the OBC category which constitutes 52% of the Indian population. Moreover, it was already declared that around 25% of Indian population belongs to SC/ST category. So, class 2 Mathematics says that around 75% of Indian population is backward%, oh yes you read it correctly, 75%. Fantastic result! Isn’t it? There are few more such antic results to follow. Carry on.

There are 11 indicators which form the backbone of the results of the Mandal Commission. They are subdivided into 3 categories—Social, Educational and Economic. The 11 indicators for deciding OBCs are:

Social

• Castes/classes considered as socially backward by others.
• Castes/classes which mainly depend on manual labor for their livelihood.
• Castes/classes where the percentage of married women below 17 is 25% above the state average in rural areas and 10% in urban areas; and that of married men is 10% and 5% above the state average in rural and urban areas respectively.
• Castes/classes where participation of females in work is at least 25% above the state average.

Educational

• Castes/classes where the number of children in the age group of 5 to 15 years who never attended school is at least 25% above the state average.
• Castes/classes where the rate of student drop-out in the age group of 5-15 years is at least 25% above the state average.
• Castes/classes amongst whom the proportion of matriculates is at least 25% below the state average

Economic

• Castes/classes where the average value of family assets is at least 25% below the state average.
• Castes/classes where the number of families living in kachcha houses is at least 25 % above the state average.
• Castes/classes where the source of drinking water is beyond half a kilometer for more than 50% of the households.
• Castes/classes where the number of the house-holds having taken a consumption loan is at least 25% above the state average.

Though these indicators may sound perfectly normal at first look to many people, it has a number of loopholes which can be (and are!) easily exploited. Few of the above mentioned points are quite acceptable but some of them are very hazy and hence, controversial.

In 1990, the amendment in the constitution for 27% reservation was proposed in the Parliament but it broke the backbone of the government and Mr. V P Singh had to eventually resign.

Everything settled down. No reservation for OBCs but SC/ST categories continued enjoying the gratifying 22.5% reservation. 2006 arrives and this time, Arjun Singh comes up with a similar proposal for 27% reservation for OBC students in government educational institutions including IITs and IIMs. Here again, furor and protests rose from every corner of India. People who advocate this policy argue that this reservation policy for the OBCs would eventually lead to upgradation of the socially and economically backward section of the society. On the other hand, people who protest this policy say that it would dilute the high standards which these education institutions have set over the last fifty years. No denials. Valid points from both the sections!

Let’s see the crux of the problem. A generally-category-student scores 75 marks in a highly competitive entrance examination only to lose the seat to a reserved-category-student who scored mere 55. Result—that general-category-student will never be satisfied with this policy of undue inclination towards a reserved-category-student. It will obviously germinate the seeds of hatred against students obtaining preference over him. Moreover, the institution has to admit a student who is less meritorious than few others students who wrote the examination. The only gainer seems to be the student who enjoys the admission in the dandy institution just because he belongs to SC/ST/OBC category. Talking about the profit of the nation, it gained a student who is far less meritorious; it gained the hatred against reserved people and thus, disunity! Nation got richer!!!

But, is that the end of the story? No, not at all! Let’s confer what that student confronts once he enters the high-profile institution. He is asked to keep pace with those students who scored around 90 in the entrance examination. The result is quite obvious. He finds it difficult to match the demands of a cruel environment and generally falls behind. In some cases, he even struggles to secure the degree in the specified duration. Is this the kind of progress they look for??? I wonder!

The scenario is not very different in other fields as well. Even in jobs, they scramble against people who are much more meritorious. But, there is an interesting result to follow. Among people having annual earnings more than Rs. 50,000 in government jobs, the average salary of a SC/ST category person is nearly twice of that of a general category person, thanks to ultra-quick promotions through reservation policy. Though it contributes to better lives for reserved people at the expense of general category people, what nation loses is the service of people who are much more meritorious.

The problem is that the fruits of this policy never reach the section of the society that really needs it. It is always enjoyed by the richer section of the reserved class which has the capability to earn bread on its own. The poorer class is always deprived of the yields of this policy and thus, its condition never changes. In fact, it always shifts from bad to worse.

But the million dollars is question is—what is the solution of this problem? How can both these issues be taken care of? We can’t ignore one of them for the sake of other. It is a well known truth that merit is not the sole property of the forward section of the society. If given a chance, the backward class can also gain the skills needed to match shoulders in different spheres. So, there should be certain reservation for the economically backward people (in form of certain seat reservation and free education) at the primary level, say primary schools, so that they get equal opportunities to read and write and learn and as the person moves to the higher levels, the reservation should be gradually diminished so that it results to absolutely zero reservation when it comes to job prospects. This option serves the socially and economically backward section of the society without the interest of the forward class being hampered. Moreover, the nation will also gain the best hands to serve it. I sincerely hope that such an environment shapes up where every person of the society, no matter which class or creed or section he belongs to, gets fair and equal opportunity and that will be in the best interest of the nation.

Different Dimensions

Recognition captures the top rank when desires of a human being are talked about. Every person has a concealed desire to be recognized as an intellect and it is often forgotten that intellect is not the only parameter that defines a human being. There are several instances when we do things that an intellect is not supposed to practise. Anger and shedding tears are just few of them.

We always seek reasons for happenings around us and that’s our only criteria for judging the reality. We generally ask questions like why, why-not and how before placing an event in an elite category called facts. Hence, we, rather unknowingly, formulate two sets in which we drop ideas; one being objective and other subjective. We, in our mad quest of realism and truth, assume that intellect is the sole and supreme module and anything lying beyond its range is baseless and hence, untrue.

But the basic idea still remains that every person, somewhere deep inside, is irrational because no person has ever been able to detach himself from plinth of irrationality which comprises anger, annoyance, pique and chafe. A man consists of several quantities other than intellect which define his wholeness. Emotions, retention, the power of making a choice are just few of them. None of the above mentioned components can individually define a man but all of them dissolve into each other to create a human being. The awe of being called an intellect submerges us into a sea where what we realize is a world of water called intellect and we sense no air of sentiments and emotions. We take pride in saying that we are trying to explore every corner of this sea but the irony is that we can’t even see the world that lies beyond the surface of this limited water.

We detest to be called sentimental or emotional people. We rather take pride in being called rationalists. Since the very beginning of human civilization, we presume feelings to be malign which make us fallible and fragile. On the other hand, intellect is considered to be divine. A more intellectual man is regarded closer to perfection.

As the civilization progressed, we even tried to define emotions and sentiments by the tools of intellect. But if we look within ourselves minutely, we realize that it is instincts and emotions rather than reasons and facts that we trust upon during the hours of crisis. In fact, instincts come more naturally to us than intellect. The spontaneity of instincts makes us follow them when we step into a territory of problems and scarcity. On the other hand, intellect needs some conscious effort and sometimes, contrivance as well to reach a conclusion. And there are times when we need to make a quick decision and that’s where intellect tends to crumble and hence, leaves us alone with our feelings and instincts.

A better frame of mind and a calmer attitude can make us realize that there is something more for man to respect than just intellect. There is not even a trace of doubt that intellect has served man to touch new heights but there are various other dimensions of human nature that we need to find out and trust upon. Then only we can hope for acceleration towards perfection.

Two And One

An age old beginning, a primitive combat, an archaic love story and a lauded astuteness that continues till today and will go on till the very end of the clock. This one-sided affair evolved when the sun looked at the gorgeous earth for the very first time. Since then, he is burning himself to provide eyes to her. He spends whole day gazing at her, waiting for her one look. There comes another lover. The cloud, which axes his organs to satisfy the thirsty earth. He donates his blood to freshen her. And then, the flaming sphere goes wild! His searing rays deprive the earth of every gift from the cloud. The cloud feels jealous and unplugs the vision of the sun. The earth attends this sport of the naive neighbors in the sky. Keeps quiet, enjoys the colorless blood, cherishes the golden rays, and savors the battle!

There is no point burning firecrackers during explosions. Its sound is pronounced only if kindled during pin drop silence...

My Shadow

When the sun brings a pleasant morning with itself
My shadow starts fabricating itself to accompany me

When the ignited rays show their full strength on my face
My shadow cleverly hides itself behind me

When I turn my face to save myself from the scorching sunrays
My shadow slyly comes in front of me to make its presence felt

When the sun gets overhead and beams unkindly
My shadow tries to dissolve itself into my arms

When dusk comes closer and light starts to fade
My shadow lengthens itself and prepares to go away

When my nervous feet move through darkness looking for a company
My shadow smartly fuses itself into the gloom leaving me alone

Next day when the sun brings a pleasant morning with itself
My shadow again starts fabricating itself to accompany me

I don’t know why I still call that unfaithful ‘my’ shadow….