Eternal sunshine of an introvert mind

In some part of the world there is a kingdom where nature basks in glory, where people still trust each other, where love thrives and deception has not stepped in. There lives a kid who spends his evening waiting for the princess to arrive in woods. As usual, he is there sitting on the log, his head dipped down. The tattered brown robe on his body is not enough to defend from the chill that sets in at night. It’s been more than an hour, but there is no sign of restlessness in kid. He knows she is going to come. Shades of trees are stretching with the sun going down. Within minutes the sun will be hidden behind the blue mountains. Cold wind from the west has started to blow. Grazing leaves on the forest floor has started to unsettle the calm.

…and the scene keeps building inside my head while chatter continues in cubicles around me. I don’t wish to break myself off from the imaginary build up projected on the screen of my mind, even when the chatter starts to dip into my own cubicle. But who cares what I want. I don’t want to get into conversations unnecessarily. Yes, I can enact to be a good speaker. But why does someone has to push me for it? The need of the hour drags me off from my comfort zone, and I temporarily pause all the drama inside my head. Damn! I feel pity for my characters who turn jobless while I am conversing with someone. I really enjoy being me.

In between imports of code and its reuses at office, I miss those days when I used to sit back and do nothing. Just do nothing for hours, and stay mused in thoughts; sometimes dark, sometimes illuminated. Now I crave to have some moments for myself where in them I would be alone. I would contemplate on what I did, I would plan what I will do.

As the office hours dissolve, once again I start to frame the story. The projection on the screen of my mind starts. I try to cut off from distractions as far as I can to ensure I have clear and crisp reception of my characters at play. I start to connect the pieces again and the story resumes.

Wolves have started to howl. The sun has set behind the blue mountains. The kid is afraid, he must return home now. His mom would be waiting. But the princess hasn't come yet. He loves his mom more. So he must return now. He stands up, and start to move with his face numb and his heart heavy. He won’t let the tears come. His mom will never wish to see him distressed, he knows. ‘Love is an illusion; I won’t be deluded by promises and die freezing here in woods’. As he was returning, a golden deer came running and stopped beside him. He turns to see the golden deer liberating godly rays. His surprised eyes start to roam on the shining body of the deer. And then he notices there is a letter lying by the forelegs of the deer. He picks up the letter, and unfolds it. The letter reads: ‘Tomorrow at dusk. Wait for me. I shall be there. Love. Only yours…’
Marks of her lipstick on the letter pouts and blows a kiss towards him.

Kid’s smile after reading the letter has taken over me too. His revitalized trust gives me strength for the coming day. I tuck into bed for sleep now. The new day will bring a different story, for me too and for my characters as well. 

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His Ideals in Reflection...

It has been three weeks since I joined TCS. I am being ingrained of moral values along with the main stream training of Java. Through our organisation, we were a part of the movement started by our Prime Minister, Shree Narendra Modi Ji for Swachh Bharat. And other than that, we participated in 3 kms of peace walk on 2nd of October 2014, on the birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi. Sharing with you the post that I wrote in ILP community of TCS, Gandhinagar. I am re-sharing the post here with photos that I clicked on that day, though they are little low in resolution as they were shot using a 3MP camera.
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The crowd of people around me is multiplying, but my ability to look around is abridging. What I see is just myself, what I care for is just me. I have sufficient in my account at bank, and I won’t disclose the measure of peace that I keep.

What was the last time you looked at people around you, and were sensitive towards what they were going through? Do you remember an incident lately where you didn't think of yourself first, and thought of restraining the troubles of someone?
We have become excessively self-centered, reactive of forces that affect our own selves directly or indirectly. Our problems weigh so much that the consolidated sum of problems by everyone around us fails to balance it. Our perception constitutes the world within us. Outside this world, universe ceases to exist. What can be the reason for this eccentricity?

We are never satisfied. It’s true that dissatisfaction in human race has helped to reach the skies in terms of our advancement, but has considerably mutated our thought processes. We have stepped into a habit of staying dissatisfied and sad of all those things that we wished we had, but we couldn't end up having them. We are sad because someone else has it, and we don’t. We are dissatisfied with ourselves because we couldn't make ourselves achieve what we wanted. But why are we not thankful of those things that we got in our lives. There are so many reasons to be thankful about. We need to be thankful, and this feeling comes when we get to look around us, realize what others are going through. If we look around, we would come across people who can’t even fulfill the basic needs in their lives, yet they are striving to live. Some might be afflicted severely which others can never think of. It’s good to strive for more, but at the same time being thankful to God for all that he gave us will bring peace. Just by being interested in others starts to bring changes in our lives. We start becoming more insightful of the world which in reality doesn't cease at the end points of our sole interests. The world starts to expand. Shouldn't we be a part of a good cause of helping someone bring down his/her afflictions to some extent?

Mahatma Gandhi has said, ‘The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.’ I take several lessons from what he said. Serve others, and that would bring peace to us. Peace should be the ultimate goal in our lives. Let’s keep the efforts coming, and peace will start to breeze in. I believe that it’s an ongoing process. To make the peace stay, efforts must be brought to play.

Yesterday’s event organized by our organisation on Gandhi Jayanti came to an end, but let’s not forget the ideals that were proposed behind organizing this event. It must be imbibed within us and reflect from our day to day lives. Let’s start to bring peace; to others and to us…

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While it rained...

My eyes used to take me till the horizon where a distant tree met the marshy land. I could see people, though scarce in number and outspread on the field, working as farmers for the crop…The crop that would feed them and us. I witnessed how their hard work benefited us, they made grains available for ourselves to buy. Then, I wondered that someday my hard work would help others too.

Interlaced with their sweat, rain washed the land. They ploughed and ploughed, till the land was ready to produce. In the uninterrupted pelting of rain, maverick birds flew through the wind…Some flew against, while some steered along with the wind.  I felt caged with all my defects in the small room at the roof, while children played outside. It was water here and there, and everywhere.

I heard happiness. I saw it too. I saw secrecy in the ambience where each one conspired for a productive tomorrow. Farmers, birds, children, trees, and the God, they unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky. I felt caged, but they enjoyed. They enjoyed themselves to the fullest, mocking me of the pitiful captivity I was in. Real chains were not necessary, my own thoughts of my defects had made me a slave.

After clouds faded off slowly into the pitch black and while the rain continued, a wise owl obliged me by resting at my window. I don’t remember when my eyes closed and how I leapt into the house of a farmer. But before I could have completed my play with their children, the owl woke me up. He said that he has come to my rescue, to unchain me. ‘The key to your chains is in your point of view’, he said.

The next day was different. I heard happiness and I saw it too. But I became a part of the ambience now. Farmers, birds, children, trees, me, and the God, everyone unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky, and we conspired for a productive tomorrow. The gloom of grey in surroundings was changed, because my point of view was changed. Keys to the most endured locks lie within us.

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In the praise of Lord Ganesha

I meditate on the glorious Lord Ganesha, clad in sparkling robe, omnipresent, endowed with four arms and a benign smiling face to ward off all impediments.

In all my good and bad, you make me aware of your presence. 
If death is about to come in the next move of the puzzle piece, I shall not be afraid to make it. 

I chant your name no matter what comes now, you will remain the king of all puzzles we were afraid of.

If you liked the photographs, don't forget to 'Like' my Facebook page. :)

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In love...

From the patches of scorn,

You furbished a clean soul.

In light of the goodness I wasn't aware of,

You infused a healed life in me.

The warmth of your embrace will linger,

Till the time the sun shines

And the moon cools the planet blue.

I rejoice the cherished moments we spent together,
In them I found love…

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Going forward through a new start...

It has been a month since my last blog post. Many new things popped up inside my head, but the creative tides got short of the extremely stronger gravitation pull, and that kept everything still…just a little hoo-ha came to the front. 

What was I exactly doing in this one month?

I left Durgapur on 5th of June. I am no more a college student now. I graduated officially from my college on 25th of June 2014. Ever since I joined college, I dreamt of scoring 9 pointer. It was a bliss even to think of being called a ‘nine pointer’ and don’t know how it felt to be one. I enjoyed this bliss to the fullest till I completed my second year engineering. After that I started to take pride in my reality. The result of 8th semester which evidently graduated me came out on 25th and there it was 9.04 on my grade card. Hard work for my final year project finally paid off. But this was not the reason for my disappearance from my blog. I was low on my health. More than the health itself, I was tensed thinking many bad possibilities associated with it. All the self-motivating stuffs loose their essence on me when my hyperactive brain starts churning. I wish to get well soon, and I am trying my best from my part for it.

And there was a good news too behind my disappearance.

After I graduated with title of Er. Anshul Gautam, as a token of appreciation (this is more than just a token, it’s huge for me) Papa gifted Nikon D5100 to me. It came with 18-55mm kit lens. Now being an owner of DSLR, a tool to open all doors of photographic skills, I am more than happy. It was a dream. It has come true now. I clicked lots of pictures and practiced various controls on the new cam. I will buy a zoom lens soon, probably 55-200mm one. I will be joining TCS and my salary will help me for the new lens, but till then I will stick to 18-55mm one.

An important lesson.

I spent my four years for engineering. I learnt innumerable lessons. The most important lesson I recall at this moment is: 'We should never let our own goodness die, no matter what killing spree is against us'. Endurance against the harsh blows of outsiders must be attained to safeguard the inner peace and sanity. Sanity is in preserving goodness, never making it escape from  our inside in the darkness of unlikelihood around us. I shall never forget this lesson, and will keep chanting at every time of need. 

(...among the first few shots taken from my camera)

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A House at the Grange

Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page. 

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Music Rewinds

Mai rahe, meenaa rahe, gardish mein paimaanaa rahe

Mere saaqi tuu rahe aabaad maikhana rahe...

I see a small kid, looking through the window. For him, having a look through window was itself a dream; a window that would allow to see outside. The window in his room allows to see till the horizon, no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them. Having no one to play, and with holidays at school, most of the time of his days are spent on imagining stories and his wishes getting fulfilled in them. He was the hero in all of his stories, the one who rules with all his wishes turning true.

Music plays always, at least always when the electricity is there at his home. The least understanding of his about the music, and even less about the rarest ghazals sung by Jagjit Singh, it does not bore him of staying surrounded by this aliened ambience. Immense meaning in the music never settled down his gut, but the soft tunes he remembers. He remembers tune in every track, and to some extent their words too. When no one is around, he mumbles those ghazals with somewhat original words and a little mixed with his own creations but the tune stays strictly the same. He has warmth for collecting memories. But what can be the best place to keep memories other than connecting them with music?

I see the kid has grown up into a man. Sitting by the balcony of his three storeys house, he is playing those tracks again. He now understands those words and immense meaning that Jagjit Singh carried in his ghazals. But he misses his old Tape Recorder, the kind of soft music it played with infrequent buzz and hitching of tape on head and reels. He still remembers every tune, and when no one is around he sings in a low voice. I see tears in those eyes which were once joyous mumbling broken words from the same ghazals. He rewinds the tape of memories hidden in those ghazals. And everything appears to be live before him again. As he leans at the railing of balcony, he reminisce instances of his tinker by the window. The window that allows to see till the horizon, where no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them…

Zindagi ka lutf ho udti rahe haradam 'Riaz'

hum hon sheeshe ki pari ho ghar parikhana rahe...

Italicized lines are from the ghazal written by Riaz Khairabadi, and sung by late Shri Jagjit Singh in his album Mirage. You can listen to the track here.

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