Detest

/* This post conveys feelings of a boy who spent lonesome days and nights... He was stranger to his own assets until the time a girl comes into his life, and makes him realize of what he was blessed with. Boy believed her words to be true, and her support pushed him towards wonderland.
But at the end he finds how she cheated upon him, hollowed him on every instance. She explains her reasons and asks for forgiveness... But how can the boy forgive? */

I ambled solely, none I accompanied, my shadow tailed behind. With Angel Falls’ beauty, you stepped across me. Without a hint, your shadow eclipsed mine and mingled. Our footsteps trailed where I led them to.
With arrival of the darkest hour, your footsteps diverged from mine, like the way your shadow vanished. You blamed the darkness.
Can I forgive? How Can I?

As trees swung, few notes I mumbled. Birds affirmed me and sky adorned with sprinkles. You clarified my mumbles to be my poetry, and perseverance you embellished around me. The harp tuned aloud, and tattered notes conjoined into a song.
When thunder arrived, birds ascertained it’s my song that called it. But I waited for your reaction. You were deaf you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

I hopped around, rumbled and jumbled. In my clothes soiled, I was clumsy with dust and carried limited attributes of tastes. You were different as you presumed, that I am covered with musk, with tastes of delectable pulps.
But the next spring seized you far away. It’s the extent of beauty in the other garden you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

In the empty space inside me, on my left, you found home for yourself. Giggling and twittering, kept me perked up. But with every happiest moment I saw, your mitts swept away all that was mine. You weaponized Love against me, hollowed the shell, and broke its sculptured torso.
You have established your new suite at someplace.
And you want me to forgive. But how can I?

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Footmarks

 

Strolling down the streets has turned a habit. New faces carrying distinct story behind them swivels across me. I tend to escape, I tend not to allude.  I wander to fetch something that I lost long way back. Last road bend and the diversion had already behaved strangely. It deluded me to a secluded traversal path that even the demon didn’t bother to sculpture on anyone's fortuned engravings.

I am searching if my story intersects somewhere with someone’s. Someone’s strange might mingle with stranger mine and we would wander together, in the lonesome streets; sometimes greener and sometimes derelict. Footprints and scribbling on the rocks give me power to move on. For I know through them, that someone made their way through it. Did they succeed? I shall walk till the finals to know if their exists scribbling on some rocks there too.

I will throw some initials. I will leave impressions on trunks to make the path easy for the followers. My footprints will be large and clearer.  I look back to confirm, no one I see. May be they will be lost somewhere. If their story intersects with mine, my left impressions will simplify the puzzle. 

Time has been ticking….each drop falling swiftly, trailing down the cheeks. Purest form, but insanity along and my footmarks are moving towards the finals.

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People (A Techie's Insights)

May be then he was different. He doesn’t seem to me the same what I earlier used to percept. But still dominated by his sick habits, he is antagonistic to me. These factors twisted me, and carried me away finally…

I used to be a loner then. Probably he is now. I am always surrounded with people nowadays. I am successful in keeping myself willingly busy in my routines and subroutines. 

Being a computer science student, my daily plans tend to get affected by sub routines. A halt to current process and acknowledgement for some current subroutine invocation rearrange my entire day. I am not a CPU literally where ALU and CU circuited to build the best performance. However I fight to beat the best, no matter what the end result turn out to be. Machines are what we program them to do; they abide and revolt quite a few times; rarely. We are turning into a machine itself this way, always wishing for the result that we seem to have programmed for ourselves. The real times existence and realization of true conditions are still well perceived and interpreted by humans only; and not by the puppet replica that we designed to work for us. The stroke of disappointment and clutches of anxiety never lose their tie ups with us. Probably this has turned out as a result of machinery instincts that we have habituated in ourselves. We need perfection and accuracy. I say we need success each time. Deviation from it brings unwanted clouds.

No doubt, I have turned into a machine myself too, but I am an exception here. I seek internet connection before Clouds can play with my life. I will be much happier with my tiny flash drive than to enroll myself in despaired clouds.

Well he is really not just the same. May be my traversal away to a distant far land had brought this change. I recall how MAC killed DOS. How traversal of Ubuntu and other FOSS closer towards us has been pushing Windows out from the scene. The same way he seems to have gone affected too. My program counter keeps ticking and I have been noticing his steps around. Dulcet face, no lit in eyes and a horrible smile to please me.

 

Sometimes updating the extensibility of your software rescues you, but other times a completely different platform may solve your issues. I have complied with the latter. And I can see the effects on my previous roommate. :D 

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Faces of India

Mr. AP Sharma didn’t let his voice go low ever, even when his hands were busy in labeling the plant cell organelle. He was discussing the functioning of each component of cell in his biology class.

“Students! Studies about cells enriched gradually, with every upcoming small development. And those developments resulted due to talented foreign scientists”, the teacher went on.

“1665, Robert Hooke, first discovered the cell. 1676, Anton van Leeuwenhoek, provided further evidence of cells. 1838, the German biologists Schleiden and Schwann advanced the idea that all organisms are made of cells. 1859, German physician and biologist Rudolph Vichow stated that all cells divide and that is how new cells are made.”

“How boring the class is. And how arrogant Sharma sir have become; he never remarked the ‘most’ important contribution ever made, which an ‘Indian’ had given”; a student in the class conversed in his mind, stressing on several words. Ankush, his name was. He posited in his mind, “Jagadish Chandra Bose, an Indian scientist said that plants have life; and this was the most important contribution. And what about Aryabhatta? He gave us the zero; and using that only you calculated the cell division rate”.

“I feel pity for you Sharma sir; you have lost love for your nation”.

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The Photo frame

The frame allures,

Windowed bafflement oarlocks me

Sick shredded stitches bothers again

And bespeak our love alive.

Your eyes were my dearest

Chasteness! 

With astuteness of ocean

Chaplets of sparkles existed,

Adored with passion in your eyes.

My hand blockades before the frame

But how would my heart?

Your fingermarks perch there;

They are costliest, I dare not botch.

I only entice to your call;

The call you make through the frame.

And your eyes clout me

In your lonesome photo I have.

Out of my clutches,

Memories are mellowed on the photo frame.

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The Friendship Day| 2012

The first Sunday of August, and I thought it to be a regular Sunday, until the time I opened Facebook. Yes the tagging day, the friendship day you call it. Keep juggling with your friend’s emotions throughout the year and on this day bouquet them your love, showing how much depth you have in your friendship.
This friendship day had certain distance bought for me. I already have very few people around me whom I consider to be trust worthy. I am very miser in creating friends. I fear to get betrayed and so I keep myself away from the causes that lead to betrayal. However, even after the cautious measures, my foot slips sometimes.

I thought I can blow away what happened yesterday, and proposed a soulful dawn for myself. I didn’t know that the dusk trails aren’t over for me yet. Few may proclaim that you need to move on. I do too. But I don’t have enough courage that Mr. Thomas Alva Edison had with himself to face 1000 failures before achieving success. There might be confusion on how I am relating Edison with my situation, but somewhere inside me I think I am right by comparing myself with him. I look around; find people on the internet that got to face circumstances that I have been facing now. I relate myself with them and try to figure out the best possible way to keep myself encouraged, moving, as I don’t want to stop. I have miles to go. I really don’t want to stop.

Things will turn out this way, I hadn’t thought. If I had sensed even a minute bit of this earlier, I would have stopped right then. I can’t scribble more. I learnt something. I learnt the difference between illusion, delusion and world around me at present. These three things often mingle together and delude our point of view, our conception. Bearing false conception which is likely to dishearten in near future should be prohibited. Thinking positive is something different. And I do support this. It is like; I don’t support people who think they can refill the toothpaste tube back with the paste that they eased off from it.
We must think, judge ourselves and our point of interests before we start considerations with them. These points of interests range from materialistic things to people alive and dead. We must not throw a blind faith on anyone.

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The Envelope

I was sleeping softly. My mom had dozed me off with one of her godly stories. I don’t remember how far I listened. I just remember what I dreamt of next. A wonderland, with supreme divinity all around; luscious petals and droplets covering their surfaces, were showering on my face. I can still smell that beauty. The light around suddenly became so bright that I had to close my eyes with my tiny little palms, but this didn’t cease my smile. Someone’s warm hand I felt which tried to get hold of my hands. I opened my eyes, offering him my both palms. His face hid the bright light coming from behind; I couldn’t see his face.
“Are you God?” I asked.
“I am a part of you”, came the reply, with depth in his voice.
“I need you” I remember what I had asked.
“And so do I”, his voice asserted.
“I am in search of my baby sister. My mom won’t let me go out and find her. Can you find her for me?” I questioned him.
I don’t remember what he said. I guess he didn’t say anything. I just saw the bright light fainting. A circular icy drop seemed to roll off from above, and landed on my nose. The drop sprinkled, I smiled. I knew he would help me.

…

I am 21 years old now, still the single child to my parents. Those intense and realistic dreams still incur persistently. I live them as if they are real, but in between I need to wake up. My mom continues to have faith in God. And she considers me his favorite child.

…

I spent my childhood as per the story I wrote for myself. I was led by my own creation of mind, something that I weaved out from my dreamland and believed them to be real. My mom knew that I wanted a sister. I often used to hold her by her hands and run towards TV whenever a cute little baby was there.
“Mom! When will my sister come?” I asked innocently.
“Arey ayegi beta”, she solaced me. She explained me again, that I was God’s favorite child and he had already witnessed my wish.
“He is going to surprise you soon son”, she jolted my head, and threw a smile. And then there was no limit to my happiness.

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Satisfaction

How confusing even the planned schema results into. An apple pie I ought to buy, but land feasting sweet corn soup. Its blue I love, and propose to get a new T-shirt in blue, but often finalize it for green. How environment affects sustainability is remarkable. And I am facing it. People I look around, along the corridor of my newly allotted hostel room, potpourri I find; not just with their activities but in terms of their wishes and aims. Aims have no limit, the higher you set it, the higher you work for it. Else just assembling your aims and worshiping them is worth nothing. 

I don’t know people out there are right or not, but they do carry a reasonable explanation for whatever they think of; for whatever their aim is to do after Engineering. Earlier I used to think that deciding the field of study after class Xth is the most crucial decision to make. I was wrong. There is still lot of important decisions to make regarding what to do after our Engineering gets completed. Amount of mentation people lay during the course of Engineering towards their future planning is just unfathomable. I had a clear vision of what I want and what I am working for. But sustainability seems to have gone affected by newly created surrounding here.

I never knew about those research options and institutes that they discussed about. Neither did I figure out what exactly is needed to get there. Probably they didn’t have the answer too. But their explanations were impressive. But I am confused if I am really impressed. Why would I go for research? I have dreamt of working like a workaholic in a higher software firm. Why should I considerate myself by their explanations? Preventing myself and trying to escape from the reality, I blame human nature to be the defaulter. Human has a tendency to get into believing something very soon. And with certain substantiation it becomes a truth for them easily. I think I am a human too.  

Among all irregularities in choices that one makes, among all foliated conceptions that lead an individual on a certain path, there is always one thing common: the end should be above satisfaction. But then, other than this, there is also another important factor that appraises your degree of satisfaction. Had you taken the path that ‘you’ wanted, to reach the ultimate? Were the perceptions 'your own' that you had scribbled permanently inside the real you, to get the ultimate? I still emphasize that self-satisfaction is the most crucial thing. And it is the ultimate goal that we run for. And the penultimate moral I slurped inside is :  there still lies satisfaction in facing the defeat which was by ‘your own’ choice, and not molded by 'others'.

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