Warrior

The stage is all set.

For the courage to play

And defeat those lies within

Prying and proclaiming to be truth

Against his lord's pray.

The courage has to act strong

To make the fear go

And kill the ominous thong.

No, not just wait

And continue to contemplate

But to act, enact and direct

The righteousness state.

Determined against all odds

He now stands bold and tall

To fight and to win

Over his evils in all forms.

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His life as a Shadow

His life as a shadow… The part of his life which wandered to find its existence in light. Each day, with the Sun in the sky, he was there, with its intensity dependent on the gleaming source of light. He crossed by every road, and people kept the distance, afraid of their sacred quintessence to get polluted. The shadow knew the only sacred quintessence that ever existed in this world was Love. The love in people’s heart would never intersect the path that shadow followed. The shadow would contemplate, over-think, and when he could no longer conclude a definite reason, he would get drowned in glasses of darkness.

He felt safer there, in those glasses of darkness, as darkness numbed his feelings and prevented him to seek Love. Love is a thirst for him, to be loved, to be embraced in warmth of arms, to be felt over the hearty bosom. But who could have explained him, that shadows can never be embraced, they can never be hugged… While the cat’s crossing the road before sanity of love in people’s heart is blamed a bad omen, the shadow’s urge to be loved was treated as a disease, that potentially had the efficacy to disturb the balance of love in the world.

The shadow had a theory, that this world is fixated on one of the pan of a universal balance, on the other pan sits love. This universal balance is under control of the almighty, and love is a blessing that the almighty has gifted people with. Love in each of the people’s heart accumulated together, in form of a big ball, sits on the other pan of the universal balance and maintains the scale to neutral position. If ever someone shared their love with the shadow, the scale of this balance will fluctuate, and the pan where this world sits will be endangered. People don’t wish that to happen, and want to keep their home safe.

The shadow questioned himself, if sharing love with him endangered the world’s existence on the balance, then why not grow more love, the extra part, and make that for the parched shadow. He couldn’t find the answer, and he soaked himself in the glass of darkness to relax, to numb his senses and feelings.

The shadow feels himself complete in the darkness, healed, and relaxed. Though still thirsty, but he feasts on the never ending darkness, instead of Love that he longs for. The light discriminates him, for the odd that he has within. This is the story of his life as a 'Shadow'.

(Image Courtesy : Google Images Search)

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Heart Beats

Heart needs love. It might lie that it doesn’t, but even the strongest of its kind needs love. The love that heart seeks is above kindness, and pity offered due to assumed depravity of the seeker. Love is the language that hearts chose to speak in midst of multi lingual existence around. Words from mouth can have different forms and different intentions to trick hearts. Through tides of time, heart has been tricked so often that gradually they have stopped talking to each other. They are now allowed to meet only out of pity and kindness for one another. 

Heart has desires. Desires that are afraid to escape from mouths, desires which are constrained within complex control of brains, they thrive inside hearts safely. The desire that’s taboo to the world is dear to someone’s heart. For heart has never learnt to discriminate, it homes desires of all kinds. Desires are slaves to brain, and to the societal values. They are cared for by their sole protector, their guard who packs them safely within thick thumping walls. Desires may get punished, but are never killed by their guard. 

Heart is pure. Heart is whiter than the whitest pearl that the mankind ever witnessed. White catches dirt easily. Is it the fault of white that it’s fairest of all? In the rampage where hearts are made to run, it’s evident that splashes of blood will spill out, and spill onto, hiding the purity that hearts have. The neighborhood is cold. The warmth of togetherness is a history that jargons play in their songs to bring attention and fame. Hearts know to sing too. But who will cure these ears which are audile to jargons’ dissonance only.

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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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Search for the life

As the train takes me through the darkness

My eyes search for the light,

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

Rattling of wheels on tracks,

Keeps me mused and awake

Against the envelope of sleep

Embraced over the stretches of darkness.

Blindfolded on my open eyes

My ears make me see now;

Bridges, tunnels, plains…

All I hear, and in my mind I see.

But where is the life?

That, I can’t see.

I search for the light

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

In sky is embellished,

Stars and the pearly moon.

And the rest is swallowed

In the endless depths of darkness

Through which I am moving

And in them my eyes keep looking

For if I can find light.

Who knows…

Somewhere out there the life still survives.

Image Courtesy: Google Images Search

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Looking back for a moment...

What has started, will someday come to an end. Be it my journey, yours, or someone else’s, or be this universe, all that has started will someday come to an end. Our lives in totality comprise of several small and big journey’s whose start and end are the subset of the set ‘the life we lived so far’, which in turn is the subset of a Godly universal set. Human’s thoughts and perceptions, they belong to a range of output from a philosophical function. This function drives the way a person enacts. With experience this function updates, and so does the output. Sometimes I wonder, how closely related philosophy of life, mathematics and science are. I can mathematically, programmatically relate different aspects as I see in my life. 

At the back of my minds, I am being flooded with memories I reminisce about the start of my college life. I always aspired to be a Computer Science Engineer. Having failed at IIT-JEE, my moral was pathetically down. In the year 2009, I was sent to Kota for pursuing the coaching at Bansal Classes. Even after the rigorous study, I admit my mistakes had been there, all investments turned unsuccessful. I reattempted the IIT-JEE in 2010, and failed at it again. But through West Bengal Joint Entrance Examination, I secured a significant rank that helped me to get Computer Science at Bengal College of Engineering and Technology at Durgapur. The college life that started on 10th August 2010 is about to end now. As I said before, this journey is just like one such journey among many which is a subset of the set ‘the life I lived so far’.

I have always been a kind of person who develops attachments very easily, and finds it difficult to move on. I had the same feeling at its peak when I was about to leave Kota as I am having right now. Various incidents, good as well as bad, they start to toil down the memory lane as I sit back for a moment in silence. I still miss Kota, lovely people I met there, and my friends whose friendship I will cherish forever. And I will miss Durgapur too. With million slaps of bitterness, there are several notes to sooth me off too, which are like mementos for achievement. 

I remember, I even wrote a poetry to express my attachment with our hostel. In these four years, I am the one who have lived in the hostel for the maximum amount of time. I have written several short stories, many poems, and innumerable random blog posts. All of these, they will still be with me, connected with incidents from the past. Now that in a month I will be leaving college, I want to thank all of them who contributed towards building a better 'me'. Durgapur, it will be special to me always. A part of me will live here forever, amongst the silence of roads gushed with wind and dead leaves in them, in those corridors of hostel where I stood alone for hours thinking what I don't know, in all those rooms where I lived in these four years. Its not a ghostly feeling and its description. "I will come back", and this will give a hint of what part of me will continue to live in Durgapur.

But as I said before, this journey is just like one such journey among many which is a subset of the set ‘the life I lived so far’. There shall be more journeys for me.

(when I was in first year of my college)

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Sacred Touch

Bliss is in your touch,

The feat to heal.

Antiquated is the bond of ours,

In your every touch I feel.

Your pokes… Your pulls…

Your caresses of love

Your every touch I know.

But when I face you

Crimson and blushed I go

Naiveness I show.

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Brain-sick's Diary >> In my year fourth…

Few hours from now, and our entire vacant hostel will get swigged in shouts and murmurs. People will be back. In this one month of training period, which constitutes an integral part of curriculum of WBUT for our seventh semester, I was in heavens sky. I love silence, and there it was in abundance here at our hostel. For no one was here at hostel, I had tight sleeps through nights. I read some of the best short stories by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore. His short stories steered my thoughts on the road that I never cared for before. And in the folds of silence at the grounds, I had enormous space to let my thoughts plunder every corner of my imaginative world. Sitting by the window, and letting juices in my brain convulse to build a different world, were frequent each day. I even witnessed love, the one in its purest form. The feeling that I used to admire once, I could only wish for, now I had it experienced. That feeling is of ‘being loved’. To love someone is not something which brows up my attention, but its ‘being loved’ truly is what that hooks me. God! Bless me…

I am in my fourth year of B-Tech course. One year from now, and I will be a pass-out. Time flies; who knows this better than them who studied in engineering colleges. I recall that existence of energy in me and that zeal when I was in first year. I had several friend circles, lots of well-wishers (at least I supposed them to be) and dreams to accomplish. Everything has changed now. Or I should say they have got refined. With the changing and moving time, life adds various filters through which you sieve out many people. I was no exception.

Challenges on my way, and few trusted supports I have. I wish to keep up with the expectations that my family has from me. But I don’t know really what I would be writing here one year later from now.

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bon voyage

How clearly the emotions we remember, of those frightened steps that were hesitant to move ahead. That was the day when few timid hearts obliged with immense aspirations consoled themselves, and accepted what they ultimately arrived at. That was the first day when we entered our engineering college…

(click to enlarge)

I am in final year of my B-tech now. And for me, there has been a series of learning and experiences outside my textbooks. I know this would be true for my immediate seniors too. They ended their terms in our college after their completion of final semester, and have left us alone. I had been attached emotionally with some, and tied friendliness with many.  The most crucial thing I am going to miss now is I won’t be hanging around them explaining peculiar thoughts and curiosities that pet in my mind. Few things no one understands, and I never explain them to everyone. I will miss them who truly understood what I used to explain. :D

Whatever be your college's status, whatever curse you prize your college with, at the end you are going to miss it. I have seen them… not just through the moistness that prevailed in their eyes but through the unexplainable silence rooted somewhere deep inside. Emotions pouring through eyes are not as powerful as the silence is, and that too creased in a smile. Unexplainable situations, I know I would have to witness myself too. The one which is a year far, I know that will get closer in blink of an eye. At the end, we people turn out to be so dependent on the ambiance that prevail consistently in our hostel. When back to home, we tend to stick to the same routine, we tend to find the same people. Who is going to bang on to our doors shouting aloud names connecting them with girls in the nearest girl’s hostel, who will be there to quarrel for a puff of cigarette? Friendship is the last string that keeps you attached in your memories despite of truck load conspiracies you got to confront in your four years.

I won’t point out names of my seniors specifically because almost everyone had been very special to me in one way or the other. I got to learn something from them which awakened me from sort of darkness in different realms. Now me being in the final year, I take the responsibility to support and elate my juniors. I have plans for this year. I hope I will be able to execute them efficiently. And for my seniors, I wish them good luck for their lives ahead. And as Robert Frost had said, ‘In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on’; so lets move on, and pledge to work even harder in our future and march ourselves towards excellence.

Please do stay in touch!

ANSHUL GAUTAM

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An Odd Invention

Like the way OS drives hardware,

My tender heart drives my actions.

My CPU seldom pauses its function,

Clutched in multiple processes

And deadly thread synchronization.

Endured against suffocation,

Withstanding brute deadlock condition;

I envy that giant-tiny mastermind,

Fabricated into a chip

Named after Intel’s perfection.

My limbs and glands,

Constitute my local connection.

Through narrow bandwidth in my nerves

Runs protocol for communication.

In meshes, in rings, in stars or on buses,

With niggling breaks and data congestion

My dreams sail in intense versions.

Full of exclamations and interjections,

My vision surpasses

Chris Nolan’s ‘Inception’.

Procuring the imagination

Of an unmatched conviction.

With new thoughts’ propulsion

At my solitary mansion,

I head towards tranquility

Drawing my steps towards the invention.

An invention that can help you find

Eternal love for your life 

Exempted of distrust and disgust.

Aided with honesty, and upheld warmly.

And that would be my ultimate innovation;

My blow of life,

Into lives of millions & millions.

Images Courtesy : Google Images Search

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Enviousness

I envy him…

The stealer who sneaked into my vase,

Furtively he lavished my flowers with glam.

With strokes of his magic wand;

Vanished my flowers; their essence scrammed.

I still care and preserve,

The leftover aroma in the emptiness.

I envy him…

As he turned into a giant black cloud,

Hovered above; embraced my love in the night sky.

A tear rolled down, and mingled with stillness in lake.

And soon it rained; emerged an urge to crush my ache.

But I stood low, dormant and lifeless.

I wait for the sky to get clear.

I envy him…

The musketeer who plundered into my home.

He took away all that was mine,

Sweetness on her lips, and her dimpled face in shine.

I wish his musket to kill me,

As her memories couldn’t help me die.

Image Courtesy : Anshul Gautam's - ViBGYOR

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The Open Window...

(Click on Image to Enlarge)

On closing my eyes, I fill thick brooded meshes in my lungs with air… I hold it for a while, pushing it a little further, until I can hold it no more. Freshness sprouting outside my open window descends deep down into me… Perhaps, its spring; I can see through the open window, trees ladened with new leaves and buds; birds chirruping, squeaking around in happy-playful mood. Jolly squirrel nests on the tree too, jumping from branch to branch. Sometime they stop by at the open window, staring at my partially lit face.

Can I be ever free? I have been captive under chains of my psychotic mind. Along every perspectived dimension in my mind, there jolts clumsy curiosity; the curiosity to arrive at a clue to freedom, a way to cut bars in the open window, to dissolve the tiny autumn within me and dilute it into the sprawling spring outside.

Tools made out of elemental love, I have used enough. Adamant chains tied around my torso don’t listen to them. In the environs of spooky silent nights, my imaginary friend visits me. He preaches to carve my tools out from hatred, assuring the success on blood soiled chains. Morally fed soul of mine ravages at this juncture; it still trusts in love, although yet to recover from past injuries bought in the love’s conspiracy.

The sunlight is warm, grazing over green trees outside the open window. At a certain time of the day, the Sun bathes my dark pestered room, throwing a shine of hope on my face. It’s the time when my friend in my shadow visits me. He shares his thoughts with me, conjuring me about life; What is life?

As the Sun rises up in the sky, friend in my shadow recedes, and he is away when its all dark again. He left me a note yesterday… When the Sun was bathing me in a spotlight of hope today at its time, I read the note:

“Life is beautiful outside your open window. Free yourself from the chains that never physically existed. Free yourself from the captivity laid by chains of your diverse mind. I am waiting, outside your open window….                                                  -Anshul"

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The Journey...

Its album ‘Passions’ by Ghazal Maestro, Late Shree Jagjit Singh, playing on my computer while I am typing this. And the lyrics is conforming with emotions once I had. It was my first semester break, and I was going back home, in Gujarat. I had tried to cage my emotions within sheets of my notebook, somewhere which remains in its hideous isolation now.Then, I was different, from what I am now. At least I had tears, and I could spill them when I needed. Now even after million tries, I don’t get any. I wish, if I could feel light, bursting out from the complex lockage in my brains.

I was travelling alone, and I talked with myself all through the journey. And the reciprocation of turbulence of thoughts was imprisoned within certain pages. I stopped by at those pages today, while I was tearing them off before putting them on fire. And the pages read :

I sit still, and scenes through my window ‘pass’ by. 

Like projection of memories on walls, 

Glimpses of my existence in them pass by.

The distant horizon moves with me, like the ultimate goal in my life. 

Hills and its ranges, terrain rough and sprawling solitude pass by.

I watch as a viewer, terrains where I had been. 

Scraped pieces of my loneliness, my jobless thoughts in them pass by.

Rivulets in their topsy-turvy curves, 

Meeting and dividing; behold my soul. 

Kinships I had and pain of their losses pass by.

Away from solitude, my eyes snap at commotion,

As the city in energy passes by.

Of all few causes that put us down,

Million reasons to rise and smile pass by.

The obstinacy to laugh, promises to shine pass by.

The shine is in our goal, and the journey is our road to shine.

I still still, and scenes through my window pass by.

I close my eyes slowly,

Dazzles of glistens, sparks of enticement,

Fervor in my goals ‘waltz’ by.

Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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New Leaflets

Innocence in stipules,

The novelty in its shade

Pigmented in green

Lustrous in rays from Sun,

Waves in the air

Flimsy and translucent leaflets.

Born from the old stem

Brown and rigid,

Textured with experiences

It gained in a long time.

Leaflets breeze joy,

Pacify the previous pain

Sprinkling the newness in air

Freshening the surrounding

With ambiance of liveliness,

Like notes from sitar

Played in an early morning,

Solacing our mind

Healing the anguish

Descending into our ruptured soul.

Who cares, who plucked the leaf

Who pinned the giant in pain,

New leaflets must come

And breathe in life again.

The nature and its laws

Leaflets acquaint well.

Life has to move on,

With the newness, each new day

And prosper towards future

Till the pigment stays green.

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Photo-Snippets -> 'Bird of Passage'

I am a wanderer
Lost in the wilderness
Off the desolated road,
Into the sprawling realms.
On the brink, 
At the edge of my life,
The road will project me
Into an outer space where
Nix will be emotions.
I expect to meet someone
In that absolute emptiness;
My ultimate pacifier.
That shall end my Journey,
My never meandering.

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Brain-sick's Diary #2 >> If I were a Bird

It has been harsh these days. Weather has been behaving strangely. The sun is shy to come out, and has lost somewhere. Probably it has its own chores to sort out. I can see how the clouds have been troubling him. And there has been rain which was not anticipated, at least not at this time of year. Flowers in my garden, with feeble colors on their petals, are showing their miseries. I can do nothing other than watching them wither in cold. It pains to watch them die; flowers I had gardened with all my care.

Even the birds have migrated. Who is going to look after their homes now? I watch them fly together, flapping their wings slowly in distant sky, sometimes showing up, sometimes hiding behind clouds. Among the flock, I try to find the one, who is lonely. It may be because I want someone to resemble me. I look for my existence in them. The bad side of me, and a little good in me, I appraise each one minutely. In books, I read, living life with too much care and precautions is certainly not a good lifestyle. We should be carefree, and joyous. We should never look back in the long race we are running in. These are what books on ‘Art of Living’ say.

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Home!!! | Gharaonda...

घर की याद तो आती थी,

आंसू छलक भी जाते थे;

लफ़्ज़ों में हाल बयां ना करते,

पर दर्शक समझ ही जाते थे.

हमारी तेज़ और स्पर्धा को

नयी उचाइयां जो देनी थी,

कुछ अधूरे ख्वाब थे हमारे,

पुराने कुर्ते के फटे जेब थे सारे;

इनको नया जो करना था,

अम्बर से प्रकाश को लाना था.

घर की झोली कम पर जाती

तो हौसला अपने अन्दर ही भर लिए;

मैं फिर आऊंगा की दस्तक छोर कर

घर से दूर हम निकल लिए.

वर्ष कितने ऐसे ही बीते;

संघर्ष में सनी स्याही से,

हम इतिहास के नये पन्ने भरते.

घर की बिलखती यादों को शांत कर

ह्रदय कठोर, हौसला ठान कर,

मैं जल्द आऊंगा के गीत गा कर,

मंजिलों की ओर हम बढ़ते रहते.

  

अपने आंगन से दूर रह कर,

विशाल गगन में अपनी छाप छोर कर,

आज चंद सितारे तोड़ लाया हूँ;

घर से दूर रह कर

अंधकार जो हमने देखा था,

हिम्मतों की खरी लौ में आज,

अमर दीपक जला कर लाया हूँ.

मंजिलों को हासिल करके,

कुछ और नये ख्वाब देख के,

हौसला कुछ और समेट ले आया हूँ;

नए धुनों में अपने गीत भर कर,

अपनी आवाज़ में गुनगुना रहा हूँ.

माँ के पास आज लौटने,

घर वापस मैं जा रहा हूँ...

घर वापस मैं जा रहा हूँ…

(C) ANSHUL GAUTAM

/*     I want to dedicate this poem to my lovely Father. What sort of days we have seen together, living away from our own home, for consecutive five years almost, they can' be described in words. However I just tried to present a glimpse in this poem. This is for the first time in my life when I have tried to write a poem in Hindi. I can speak, but honestly, I am very weak at writing Hindi. But still, I have tried.
And my Dad; he is very happy on being back to our home town, back to our home. My mom and me; we glad on seeing him happy. :))     */

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Explorations

Life has its meaning in living it. Praising one’s life presumes the extent to which they live their life. Living confined in boundaries of a garden never feasts us with reality. The reality has no limits, I suppose. Just pop your head above the boundary in your garden and there you will find another reality. The reality, that you never ever explored, as you were stitched to grounds and trapped in the circumference that you created for yourself. There is a lot to explore. The life itself ends when explorations end. Check your veins. Its pulsating is not an essential proof for your existence to be alive, but your continued exploration is.

I have always tried my hands on loads of things that impress me the most. Apart from writing, filming movies and photographing has fascinated me the most. I have started to explore this field too nowadays. Consequently I had been on a research to find a good cam for myself. Finally, almost two weeks ago I received my Camera from Flipkart. Its Canon Powershot SX-150 IS. This is a bridge camera and helps me learn all those tunings and options that are available in a DSLR. Effectiveness might not be that true in terms of quality in its images compared to DSLR, but is sufficient for beginners. I am an amateur beginner for Photography so this was my choice. Moreover this was the best possible bridge camera under my budget.

After my exams reached end, I shifted with my baggage at my friends’ flat and will be staying here till my classes resume. I couldn’t go to my home, missing my mom and dad. :( But I had no choice. I had to learn few of my Computer Science subjects so I am staying here. But other than this saddened face of coin, there is a lit face on the other side where I am learning photography with huge vigor and interest. Anirban Da has been helping me, being a support always, and guiding me appropriately. :)

I will be soon coming up here on my blog with photographs that I will be shooting in the process of my learning. :)

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Vividity

Few things I don’t see. Eyes work and brain responds too; but still few things intimidate me, deceive me and offer challenges not true. Lines in my book I read, but meanings I incarnate make my heart glue, even the story characters I misjudge and climax the end forcibly not true. But I don’t draw back, I continue…
I impose faith on imposters blurred in my visions. They are pickpockets, but love in their caresses I guess. Their shrewdness I appreciate, their words fly me high and to land back on ground I don’t get any modes true. Appreciation I give to them, or is it delusion I bathe in?
I conjecture my journey is on a car, the car that would drive me happy. Relaxation on my face seems visible, even though the car tank remains empty.
But I don’t draw back, I continue…

The time tides me with ups and downs and makes me aware of what lied inside the crown. I slow down; I realize how I have come along. This was not what I had proposed, certainly not which I always disposed. 

Story in my book seems to be waste; characters in vain and their roles with no tastes. Their ends seem not possible; just a pile of pages with scribbling of an untamed writer. 

People are jealous, they misguide me. They don’t wish to see me reach my goal.

And why I am still on this car? I chose the wrong car; probably it was never meant for me. On a cart of perplexity rather, I am on a journey that was meant to drive me insane with its fuel tank nearly empty. I stop, and reverse my path…

Experiences shower on me, make me bright and cheer me colorful. But I get matured and low on energy. I realize that things were just made for me. My eyes saw them good and brain traced them true, I realize. 

Even the incarnated meanings were true and so were characters in my story book. The best climax I could have seen if I continued to read, I realize. 

People were good too, they tried to understand me and helped me with the best they could have done. I should have offered them respect, I realize.

The car was perfect for me and happiness was true. I should have traversed few miles more, fuel station was near. My journey could have completed if I never looked back. I regret, I realize…

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Oh Time! If you could sublime...

Coveting the time to go slow,

Wishing to hold the moments and dont let them go.

Time is now reminding about my return,

To get ready and go about turn.

Can you not spare me this time?
Let me enjoy more,
I am making castles of sand,
And with playing music band,
I am roaming ashore.
Have some wait,
A nap of relaxing bait.
You move on and on,
You never stop
To regret what’s gone.
Why are you so “unhearty”?
Why you never pity Oh dirty?
Is that so because you can’t die?
Oh Come on! It’s just a lie.
Whom will you live with
If we are not here
To pay you rich.
Leave your taste of lime,
Go hearty, and sublime.
Let us live some more,
Making castles of sand,
And with playing music band,
Let us roam some more ashore.
Are you jealous of our laugh?
Stop your poking,
Trying to make them dwarf.
Be with us,
With our joy luminous,
Don’t cut them away,
With your ticking array.
Let us live some more,
Making castles of sand,
And with playing music band,
Let us roam some more ashore.

Images Courtesy: - Google Images Search

Copyrights  - ANSHUL GAUTAM

 

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