I've seen a lot of world and being son of an army personnel, I literally mean it. I've been to various places and I've learnt some invaluable things that I'll be sharing here.
I feel that lucky are those men/women who have people to take care of them. And I feel I'm very lucky. Here I don't want to speak about family, but friends. Friends.... a gift to most of us without which we are incomplete; a gift that should be most valued but the truth is the otherwise.
Friends...this term brings to mind a lot of names, faces and incidents. Some people that come in your life are no more than just acquaintances, but some turn into great friends. I'm lucky to have a huge circle of friends spread throughout the country. Friends who really care; friends who I can trust; friends who I can rely on. There are some incidents that are really touching that I would like to share with you:
1. One friend gives me refuge for months in his lair without any complaints in an age when children don't even like to have their parents living with them; in a world where privacy is the most important thing to most. The friend doesn't just allow me to stay over but also change his ways to suit me; is ready to leave the bed and sleep on floor and then claim that he prefers the floor to the bed.
His never-say-die attitude and the power to see that there's always a next time has got me over many disasters (referring to bad exams). He is someone I can fall back on (literally, considering that his body would cusion the fall)to find some comfort and motivation after screwing up something badly.
2. Have you ever had a friend who has danced, literally danced, with joy for your success; dancing as if it was his own success, completely forgetting about his own result? Well I'm grateful to say that I have such a friend. A friend, who understands me well; a friend who knows me inside-out; a friend with whom I can share the silliest to the most serious stuff. Both of us think very much alike (at least in some ways) and hence talking to him mostly gives me the comfort of not being a retard. I can discuss almost anything with him, be it studies, my failures/success, far-fetched and superfluous plans about future,etc...
3. Few days ago, I was chatting over the internet with a friend and cribbing about my inability to deliver my best in exams thanks to 'silly mistakes'. After a little,literally, discussion over the internet, he calls me up to console me and discuss the problem, forgetting about his own exam the next day; an exam with course that was driving him crazy. The call was 'not at all expected' and nor were his words, which in some way were comforting.
He also has the patience to hear my weird ideas/dreams, most of which are nearly unattainable now, and also agree to help me with it. He is one of the most considerate people I know, as the incident here shows, and I wish to be one like him.
4. Another 'special friend' of mine possesses the gift of looking deep inside me just through a status update (on facebook) or an article on the blog. And she won't just let me know that she knows, but she'd take the pains to draft long (really long) messages to make me see the brighter side or to make me believe that it wasn't my fault even when no one else can be held responsible for it. Amazingly those messages do the charm (to some extent) and most of my fear/regret/despair is converte to hope/happiness. She has made me feel special; made me feel confident at times I had lost hope; made things seem attainable; made me know myself better.
As I write, many more incidents flood my mind but I'm falling short of appropriate words to describe some incidents that have been engraved into my memory. I wouldn't want to forget them ever in my life as they make me feel lucky to have such great friends.
To conclude I'd like to say the following:
Friends, THANK YOU. Thank you for laughing at my silly jokes, thank you for attending my calls at late nights just to talk randomly, thank you for making me laugh at times I felt low, thank you for being there to share my happiness, thank you for being there for me , thank you for making me feel so special, thank you ...
I've gained a lot from my friends; to such an extent that it would be an understatement to say that they had a crucial role in making me what I'm today. I don't think that I've ever done anything like those mentioned above and this makes me wonder, "what have I done to deserve to know such great people?"
--- "ITS A BLESSING TO HAVE SUCH GREAT FRIENDS"---
NOTE: I'vent used names here because I'm not sure of how many of those referred to here don't mind their names appearing on this page (despite the fact that I have no other readers other than those few readers themselves).
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Searching for HOPE in RUINS
Does it pay to know? Does it ever pay to love what you do? Will practice ever prove its worth in my life?
None of the above questions is new, but the recurrence is traumatizing. These questions have come up over and over, probably since the time I was born. How many times have I been tested at something I love to do; love it much more than all others who are being tested as well. But who turns out to be more successful, not me, of course. I fail, very often, in proving my skill at what I love, and I despise this fact.
With such frequency, I would love to give up. Won't it be so easy? Or maybe just tune yourself to ignore the results of such assessments. But is the way out? Is this in some way an indication, that I'm not completely honest to what I love? Does it mean that I need to give much more time; does it mean that I haven't given n enough so far?
It seems I've failed in my effort to please someone I love, and the one who has, will now take over. I've failed despite my stronger affection; despite my appreciation of each and every thing to do with my love, while the winner doesn't and can't do the same.
But I can't lay my weapons, can I? Having come so far following my heart, I'll be nowhere if I just let go of the dream. So I'm forced to move on. All I hope, is that the love is not lost on the way, cause the only worse thing that can now happen to me is "Losing interest and still succeeding" (though that won't be success altogether).
All I want now, and will work towards, is to show my dedication to what I love and I'm sure, I'll get back all I need in return.
None of the above questions is new, but the recurrence is traumatizing. These questions have come up over and over, probably since the time I was born. How many times have I been tested at something I love to do; love it much more than all others who are being tested as well. But who turns out to be more successful, not me, of course. I fail, very often, in proving my skill at what I love, and I despise this fact.
With such frequency, I would love to give up. Won't it be so easy? Or maybe just tune yourself to ignore the results of such assessments. But is the way out? Is this in some way an indication, that I'm not completely honest to what I love? Does it mean that I need to give much more time; does it mean that I haven't given n enough so far?
It seems I've failed in my effort to please someone I love, and the one who has, will now take over. I've failed despite my stronger affection; despite my appreciation of each and every thing to do with my love, while the winner doesn't and can't do the same.
But I can't lay my weapons, can I? Having come so far following my heart, I'll be nowhere if I just let go of the dream. So I'm forced to move on. All I hope, is that the love is not lost on the way, cause the only worse thing that can now happen to me is "Losing interest and still succeeding" (though that won't be success altogether).
All I want now, and will work towards, is to show my dedication to what I love and I'm sure, I'll get back all I need in return.
Friday, February 19, 2010
if(state==bored){ write blog }
Look at the watch, sigh, open the 'pdf', try to focus, sigh within seconds thinking minutes have passed, open browser, surf the net (not going to facebook) and then repeat the cycle.
Since the past 30 minutes, I've been stuck in the same cycle, multitasking and frequently switching the active program. Various thoughts surface, some of them that haunt more often are :
1. I've an exam tomorrow, I should study. Its my favourite subject but with some
boring topics.
2. To hell with the 'hardware of computers'. Who doesn't know it? (This is followed
by the answer - Me).
3. How about writing an article for my Blog? What will I write about?
So here I'm in a confused and bored state of mind. I hope that after seeing my thoughts, you'd have realised that I've a Computer Science exam tomorrow. Yes, it is the subject I like the most, but it also covers some topics that are not worth being tested. The whole idea of being asked questions to test how well you know the hardware, kills the motive to study to learn.
Well that can't be helpeed, so lets not discuss that.
but I've nothing to write about......
if(blog_idea==NULL) {end;}
Since the past 30 minutes, I've been stuck in the same cycle, multitasking and frequently switching the active program. Various thoughts surface, some of them that haunt more often are :
1. I've an exam tomorrow, I should study. Its my favourite subject but with some
boring topics.
2. To hell with the 'hardware of computers'. Who doesn't know it? (This is followed
by the answer - Me).
3. How about writing an article for my Blog? What will I write about?
So here I'm in a confused and bored state of mind. I hope that after seeing my thoughts, you'd have realised that I've a Computer Science exam tomorrow. Yes, it is the subject I like the most, but it also covers some topics that are not worth being tested. The whole idea of being asked questions to test how well you know the hardware, kills the motive to study to learn.
Well that can't be helpeed, so lets not discuss that.
but I've nothing to write about......
if(blog_idea==NULL) {end;}
Monday, February 1, 2010
31st January 2010 - - - a RED-LETTER day
After the incident described in “BASED ON A TRUE INCIDENT” yesterday, I was pretty sure that the day wasn’t going to be a good one. And soon when I couldn’t concentrate on my studies, I had this feeling that the rest of the day will be uneventful. It was expected to be boring, spent in attempt to study while my brain wandered in prohibited areas, places to be enjoyed only when time permits, only when there is no urgent matter to attend to. But after all, I’m no prophet. As always, my prediction failed me once again.
But it was partly my mistake. How could I forget that I still had one more meal to have in the hostel mess that day, and that certainly isn’t uneventful! Three times a day, most of us have critical times; times when we have to approach the mess to have a meal. We observe a fierce battle; battle between two giants, “Need” and “Desire”. As soon as we leave our rooms, a lot of questions, arguments, etc sweep across the brain. Some of the arguments are as follows :
Need : Lets go and get something to eat
Desire : Yeah, the canteen has some cool new stock, and they now even have some better chocolates.
Need : The body needs nutrition and pocket needs to have some money in it (so spend less).
Desire : F*** both. Look at all the nutrition packed food items offer. Oh the energy-bars provide som much energy. What more do you want?
Need : You know nothing what this body demands. Let me handle the issue. Just fuck off.
Desire : What do you mean I don’t know about it. You want to kill the taste-buds. You want make them swear to have no food item pass over them. You want the throat to feel the pain of improperly mixed salts/chillies. You will make them system weep. If we agree what you say....
And it goes on, becoming fiercer as we approach the dining hall and the sight of the meal flares it up even more. With the first bite in, “desire” prevails over “need” most of the times, exceptions being those frequent times when one forgets to get money out of the ATM.
A similar battle ensued the decision to have meal yesterday. Though, this time both were somewhat supportive of going to the mess, driven by the fact that the name of the dish (at least the name) matched exactly with one in the top priorities of “Desire” as well as “Need” : Chicken.
So with lesser confusion, I entered the hall, and took my share of the dish and walked away with some rotis. As I reached the table, my ears caught some flying words, “tasty”, “good”, “great by their standards” and the likes. Filled with anticipation, I took the first bite and knew what they meant.
It was another unforgetable meal, this time because of the “tasty” (a rare phenomenon) food. 31st January 2010 has been written down in the annals of the Hostel and will always be remembered as “The day the food was much more than just edible”.
But it was partly my mistake. How could I forget that I still had one more meal to have in the hostel mess that day, and that certainly isn’t uneventful! Three times a day, most of us have critical times; times when we have to approach the mess to have a meal. We observe a fierce battle; battle between two giants, “Need” and “Desire”. As soon as we leave our rooms, a lot of questions, arguments, etc sweep across the brain. Some of the arguments are as follows :
Need : Lets go and get something to eat
Desire : Yeah, the canteen has some cool new stock, and they now even have some better chocolates.
Need : The body needs nutrition and pocket needs to have some money in it (so spend less).
Desire : F*** both. Look at all the nutrition packed food items offer. Oh the energy-bars provide som much energy. What more do you want?
Need : You know nothing what this body demands. Let me handle the issue. Just fuck off.
Desire : What do you mean I don’t know about it. You want to kill the taste-buds. You want make them swear to have no food item pass over them. You want the throat to feel the pain of improperly mixed salts/chillies. You will make them system weep. If we agree what you say....
And it goes on, becoming fiercer as we approach the dining hall and the sight of the meal flares it up even more. With the first bite in, “desire” prevails over “need” most of the times, exceptions being those frequent times when one forgets to get money out of the ATM.
A similar battle ensued the decision to have meal yesterday. Though, this time both were somewhat supportive of going to the mess, driven by the fact that the name of the dish (at least the name) matched exactly with one in the top priorities of “Desire” as well as “Need” : Chicken.
So with lesser confusion, I entered the hall, and took my share of the dish and walked away with some rotis. As I reached the table, my ears caught some flying words, “tasty”, “good”, “great by their standards” and the likes. Filled with anticipation, I took the first bite and knew what they meant.
It was another unforgetable meal, this time because of the “tasty” (a rare phenomenon) food. 31st January 2010 has been written down in the annals of the Hostel and will always be remembered as “The day the food was much more than just edible”.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
BASED ON A TRUE INCIDENT
As the temperatures started rising, the fear of water receded. Following the routine of the cold winters, the boy decided to visit the dreaded friend on alternate days only, and if possible, even lesser. But the rising temperatures coupled with repetitive use of the same pair of socks for over two days, forced him to change his thoughts about water. His body had begun to release toxins so powerful that if he hadn’t done something about it, his respiratory tract would have burned or shut down the entry points to save itself.
So gathering a lot of courage, motivated by the desire to have his respiratory tract intact, he picked up his bucket, mug and soap and entered the bathroom. After about 10 minutes, when he was all cleaned up and smelling of water, he smiled to himself, satisfied with the decision. But the smile didn’t last long.
He wanted to move the hands of the clock backwards, undo what he had done less than a quarter of an hour ago. He wanted to correct his mistake; a mistake too trivial to be made. He had broken one of the most fundamental rules of bathing. He had forgotten to carry his towel. Next moment he wanted to bang his head against the wall.
With no better option left, he stood there to test some laws of physics on evaporation of water. For once he thought of exerting some energy to heat his body to help evaporation but then the thought of the associated release of toxins came back to him and he refrained from moving a muscle. As a he decided to wait, a stream of forbidden words left his mouth addressed to the trio of himself, luck and his smart decision.
After running out of all the restricted words he knew ten times over(which took quite a while), he stopped. He learnt that evaporation does occur, but it’s a very slow process, at least when we talk about water on someone’s body. Finally, losing patience, he covered himself up in whatever clothes were left dry, ignoring the wetness over his body, and rushed back to his room.
Within the safe (and warm) zone, he quickly dried himself and swore to himself to never forget the importance of that piece of cloth. Soon after he wrote what you just read.
PS: The actual incident wasn’t as dramatic. Now I know why they actually say “BASED ON A TRUE INCIDENT”.
So gathering a lot of courage, motivated by the desire to have his respiratory tract intact, he picked up his bucket, mug and soap and entered the bathroom. After about 10 minutes, when he was all cleaned up and smelling of water, he smiled to himself, satisfied with the decision. But the smile didn’t last long.
He wanted to move the hands of the clock backwards, undo what he had done less than a quarter of an hour ago. He wanted to correct his mistake; a mistake too trivial to be made. He had broken one of the most fundamental rules of bathing. He had forgotten to carry his towel. Next moment he wanted to bang his head against the wall.
With no better option left, he stood there to test some laws of physics on evaporation of water. For once he thought of exerting some energy to heat his body to help evaporation but then the thought of the associated release of toxins came back to him and he refrained from moving a muscle. As a he decided to wait, a stream of forbidden words left his mouth addressed to the trio of himself, luck and his smart decision.
After running out of all the restricted words he knew ten times over(which took quite a while), he stopped. He learnt that evaporation does occur, but it’s a very slow process, at least when we talk about water on someone’s body. Finally, losing patience, he covered himself up in whatever clothes were left dry, ignoring the wetness over his body, and rushed back to his room.
Within the safe (and warm) zone, he quickly dried himself and swore to himself to never forget the importance of that piece of cloth. Soon after he wrote what you just read.
PS: The actual incident wasn’t as dramatic. Now I know why they actually say “BASED ON A TRUE INCIDENT”.
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