Prose  vs  Poetry

In a world filled with tears

Don't become a source of fears

Don't become the source of pain

Rather be the whisper, which leads to gain

A gain which teaches all how is life 

And not how to sharpen a knife

The world needs power but not hatred

Ruthlessly putting someone to the sword is not sacred

Your life is all your

You be a saint or a whore

Every one has a heart which beats

A mind which thinks...

Become the commander of men

Blindly don't follow the heart...

Guide your brain.

Love is not life, it is a part

For it, don't set everything apart

There is always a soul which care

Because we were all created in pair

Promises are meant not to be kept

But still have faith in the humanity left.

FAREWELL 

As the cool breeze embraced her cheek,
She opened her eyes
Her ears deaf with far cries
Cries of hunger,cries of pain
Cries of elite cherishing gain
As she stood up,eyes shimmering
Burden of thousands overflowing.

Her soft footsteps fell on the floor
As she walked past the bedroom door
The horizon glowed dim
Throbbing was her besmeared skin.
Tattered were her breasts
That could never entice a child
Her face blue as wild.

She stood up on the railing
Her ugliness draining.
She looked serene, she looked calm
Then widened both her arm
To hug the world for the last time 
And provide love and warmth.

Down she went caressed the ground
Neither a scream nor sound
She didn't bleed she didn't ail
But her skin suddenly became pale.
Leaves began to moan,bowed down
Then saluted her with a crown
Roses drooped petals flown
Hemlock seed got sown.

Happiness was lonely,love dead
Leave alone truth in the shade.
The world cherished it cozy in bed.

   Waiting for .... 

A small ray of light through the ventilators was constantly disturbing.

          What is that … move it…

          No … was the resilient answer.

It blazed on his eyes. Finally it broke. He opened his eyes. What is the time … 8 already?? This the time he has been hating for the past few years but still he has become used to it. Bath. Dress. Breakfast and the rest enlisted in the imaginary time table. But today ... Isn’t it a bit different?? How come he took his id card at once … usually that was to take after he had locked all the doors … today at once …

          Frances Grey – id card displayed in bold. ‘Yes’, he said … he loved to see his name. Born to the Grey family, they have been residing in this country since the colonial rule ended here. He is happy here … employed in a company which serves him only a meagre amount that keeps him away from the lust and pomp of the city. Still he lives … “better than nothing… “ .

          As usual he rode the overcrowded bus. The bus made its way among the city roads. Grey took out his mobile- the notifications light winked at him .3 messages waiting for him .The first expected message from Rosalie- his love –“Come at 5, love  ... “ . He recalled his appointment with Rosalie .The thing came to his mind, he waited to cherish it – Rosalie – an affair of 2years age. Grey wanted to marry her before, but the financial barrier had stopped them- screeeech. Suddenly Grey came back to life as the bus came to a sudden halt …

          Grey wiped the screen for the next message –Unknown - “do or die”. Who’s this?? Gandhi?? Grey giggled.. Bsnl has perhaps connected a bit more …

          The next message – from the same number – “wait and watch “. What is going on??

No time. He hushed to come out of the rash in the bus and enter the office in time. He took a short look at the watch as the bus went away honking its awful horn.

          The Mickey Mouse watch is the best tranquillizer as Grey has felt for over the years and now it did the same. He found himself 2 minutes early.

          He entered the office and work went on as usual until it was 4 … time for home. He forgot… he has someone waiting … Rosalie. As promised Grey ran for her. No, he isn’t late today … still 5minutes left for the Mickey to touch at 5. He waited. Mickey crossed 5:30. The mobile pinged … a message from that same unknown number –“I won  ... “. Is that serious … or she is there behind??

          He waited … until it was 7. He was waiting for someone …….  

                                Lost Symbol .... 

Dan Brown ... and then comes Robert Langdon ... LOST SYMBOL ..  that is what this is all about ... 

Da Vinci Code .. and then Lost Symbol .... the thrillers are fundamentally the same - and with The Lost Symbol he has delivered the marketing department's dream, a straightforward knock-off of The Da Vinci Code, the world's all-time bestselling work of adult fiction, the book that reached people who don't normally bother with books. 

Like The Da Vinci Code, The Lost Symbol takes place over only a few hours. Like The Da Vinci Code, it kicks off with the discovery of a grotesque sign - here a severed hand carefully arranged to send a message, rather than a whole corpse - and proceeds via a series of ancient knick-knacks, inscribed with messages to be solved and fitted together.

Instead of Leonardo himself, there's a cameo role for Albrecht Durer, "the ultimate Renaissance mind To this day, nobody fully understands the messages hidden in Durer's art".

Most importantly, Dan Brown has preserved his own special brand of moronic narration. His characters ceaselessly explain all this esoteric cack to one another in long passages of information dumping, broken up by the printed equivalent of noddy shots from the recipients, always amazed by what they are hearing - "Katherine's heart was pounding Katherine almost choked on her tea Katherine's jaw fell open".

Brown has a unique gift for making even the briefest such physical description sound mechanistic and wrong. 

His characters also endlessly recap what they've just been told, to make sure everybody has understood.

Without the word "so", Brown would be lost. His use of italics for emphasis, several times on every page, is perhaps most charitably to be understood as a form of highlighting for those who have mislaid their own Magic Markers. 

The full book is available here ....
Download The Lost Symbol...

Musings of an Indian Student

If you think that the world all around is here to help you out to come out of trouble…..i am sorry to inform you that it is not….the components (biotic and abiotic both) all around you is just here to increase your trouble (most of the times)….when you are already tearing the little bit of hair left on your head…….
Life is too ironic too completely understand….when you have an answer to its question, feeling happy, your happiness turns into a fit of agony, within a moment, you find the question changed…so there is only one way out…live your life…. 
It does rain on you when you forget to take the umbrella….whereas a pleasant sunlight embraces you when you have an umbrella with yourself…… maximum number of power cuts takes place when its summer, I don’t know whether the machines in the power plants are inbuilt with intelligent sensors to understand temperature or not.
Next….a common thing in our student life, when you are not prepared well for your test….to multiply your trouble you would find your seating arrangement in the first bench, with the cunning invigilator spying your copy through his big specs.  Now, let me start a bit early…… you woke up late, and then you hurried to the bus stand and boarded a bus. You would soon find that dear bus stuck sweetly in a traffic jam…you would have a free treat of mouthwatering smoke, looking now and then into your watch…lamenting “Isshh!! Why did I watch the match last night… they are earning money that’s why they are playing… iss me mera kya…”
Now…leaving individuality and coming to greater cause (as moral science say)…. As much as I have seen and my parents have known I have heard of lok sabha elections only in summers….don’t know whether the election commission goes into hibernation in cooler months or not…. Or maybe it feels like a patriot to sacrifice citizens for the sake democracy. Or there’s one more possibility…. Maybe our intelligent elders might have foreseen our population explosion and found elections as an excellent remedy to it, before starting, while the process goes on and after too… to be clear before you have thousand of life loss due to political riots, while going…I guess you got it, and after is quite the same as before is, with an extra, that is the bank balance of ministers increases in a geometric progression with increasing tenure 


For if you think that now I would start with poverty, economic depression, or caste, creed and religion discrimination…. For the sake of your good health I won’t...cause our social science books have taught us a lot to last for a lifetime… and after that “Slumdog millionaire” has released, our poverty has own us numerous Oscars but inturn raped our countries little bit prestige which she had left, half naked Indians were a splendid topic to those bourgeoisie…… coz our bollywood have had produced far better films than that…and A.R Rehman himself has composed fantastic numbers than “Jai Ho” without any Oscar recognition   now I just wanna tell about our progress in science….it’s been amazing…we went to moon, we went to mars, we know what’s there, we went to down to sea bed, trying to discover or rather exploit all that nature has. But we don’t wanna know what’s in our locality…who lives the next door? And why would we, after all we are progressing with social networking…a nice way of having a chit chat with unknowns and staying unknown to known’s…..
       Next, coming to the nice attitudes of our people of imitating foreign culture. Things were bearable till it was just upto lifestyle…... but now it’s been upto names too…..parents are naming their childrens in foreign verse…doesn’t it tickle your nerves to hear a “Ricardo Chatterjee”, or  “Jennifer Singh”…. Ok, accepted now find me a “Ramesh Washington” or “Rekha Hartley”... maybe you can’t… but kya pata, god knows what’s the world upto!! Anyways if people have become so advanced (as they say) they should consider giving their surnames up too... that they don’t.
We imitate their culture, discard their mentality…
SCENARIO 1:  “X is returning from office seminar late, finds a lady alone in the street, and gives a lift in his car and dropped her home” passerby smiles and says “responsible guy”, this is certainly not India. 
SCENARIO 2: “X is returning from office seminar late, finds a lady alone in the street and provides a lift in his car and dropped her home passerby gives a cunning smile and says “aj kal ki generations, total barbad and characterless”. Has to be India
Reason again lies in childhood…we are taught upon to comment on the outcome not study the procedure. Result of this open today’s or yesterday’s paper you would surely find the result of this mentality. I guess you don’t want me to discuss further and make my writing serious because I won’t…life is too much serious I don’t want to add seriousness to it by wasting your time. But studying in a co-ed school since I was a sapling, I have a solution to it, and that is to make most of the schools in India co-ed gradually, which would surely change the mentality of people a lot. They wouldn’t be able think negative even if they want to. 
In case you may think what am I upto…for your kind info I have not become an ancient sage... I am still your schoolmate who being asked to write something wrote this gibberish stuff….not knowing what I actually wrote… but that doesn’t mean I would stop making fun with you all… this just for the sake of writing…I wrote, baas khatam.. Don’t want to torture you more (after all we can only write and do nothing, because since kids we learnt how to get taught, never, how to apply what is taught). Ok friends enough wasted your time, all this is just because to confess to our teachers that we do sometimes, by chance hear there out of book lectures too and think upon them. Teachers happy now!! (Mind it sir/mam, it’s by chance)

SNAPSHOTS OF LIFE .... 

I took a little time today,
to reminisce of yesterday.
To review our lives in the past
recorded here in photographs.As I page through the years,
Sometimes I may shed some tears.
So many faces I have known,
some passed away and others grown.
Sometimes it’s hard to realize,
when all spread out before my eyes,
With all the pictures that I took,
our whole lives are in this book.