Posted in Socio-Political

The malicious followers

You cannot be sure if  your followers share the same idealogies and philosophy that you worship. One man can start a change but for its sustainability, followers are required. Those men and women, who can carry forward his baton and distribute in different directions, are essential so that the agenda could prosper everywhere at the same time. But coming to the original question; what if these followers become malicious. The leader can be great with his tolerance and endurance and other hefty values required to be one, but his herd do not reflect him and it should not. There is a difference between him and the group. He is there to lead them. Over the time, the original principles talked about by the leader can get some add-ons from the virus stricken minds of few followers who want to outsmart or take advantage of other naive followers. And unfortunately this is a fact with every ideology that persisted. Being it a religious one or political, all got inflicted with the later disciples that added their own wrong intents. The examples are omnipresent, Buddhism divided later into Hinayana and Mahayana based on Buddha’s incarnation theory. Sikhism divided into different beliefs under bogus religious saints in the modern situation. How come two persons claiming to follow Communist principles reckon a totally different actions on poor population? Lenin and Stalin had portrayed different drawings into the Russian canvas with the same brush of Communism.

Taking this theory further into technological advents. A person can invent a tool to help community thrive but the malicious users can use it for their own negative agendas. Being it any tool that constitue social media, the intent was to connect the world. But some political attention seekers have been using it to pollute the minds of the innocents by spreading rumours, to ultimately benefit a political party in an election. The recent Russian involvement in US Elections, is one of the many examples of such an action. Thus the followers can understand things limited to their capacity and such half knowlegdge or contexual one can give rise to apathy and hatred.

Posted in Thinker

The interview

“What is he?” – the powerful leader asked.

“Do you mean who is he?” – his secretary enquired.

“No, I mean, what is he made of? How could a person like that exist in such a corrupt and filthy field of politics? How he survived till now? How can he become so powerful that today my position is on stake?” – he spoke, eating most of his words in his mouth.

The television broadcast took their attention, almost bewildered him and his secretary. The person they were talking about was on the prime news channel, getting interviewed by a tough faced journalist who was grinning due to his stature and reputation, he earned, in the news world. Their eyes shifted to the monitor.

“Why you risked your high-end job and got into this filth?” – The journalist was on point.

“I didn’t risked anything. This is the right job, I was seeking for long. I was meant to come here. I was searching for my motive and was tricked by the society to follow the norms and get into a comfortable job. They tried, that I shouldn’d find the real goal of mine. As that would have endangered their positions. After falling into the trap, finally I am at a right place. I am the leader of the ruling party of the state. And want to set an example of righteous administration that can run with all transparency.” – he answered with the same confidence that journalist showcased in his question.

Coming back from the tough interview, he was sitting at home, thinking about the past life. The comfortable job that paid him well but took away his peace of mind, his contentment. He moved out of it and into the politics fighting for the rights of the poor and generatl public under the banner of Communists. He was meant for it and it for him. At the dinner table, the televsion was brodcasting his recorded interview. He looked into it hard. Listened the answers clearly and went into a comtemplation mode.

Posted in Life

I want to be simple

Religion is complex,

I want to be simple.

Marriage is ruthless,

I want to be simple.

Materials are posh,

I want to be simple.

Love defies logic,

I want to be simple.

Relationships break hearts,

I want to be simple.

God makes people weak,

I want to be simple.

Talking is dramatic,

I want to be simple.

Gatherings are awkard,

I want to be simple.

People won’t listen,

I want to be simple.

It’s a trap,

I want to be simple.

Peace is nowhere,

I want to be in peace.

Posted in The Lady

The Lady-4: His Story

He was lost in his own thoughts, while Meera was scolding the babysitter, Ramya. She was standing like a guilty school girl. Her family also showed their support to Meera. She came home without informing her and left her phone unattended while whole family was watching a movie in the lobby. She almost forgot about Meera. And it was after the movie ended that she turned towards her phone to check 15 missed calls from her. She called Meera back. And the present scene was brought to life when Meera along with Simr rushed to her flat, numbered 1608. Initially, he took interest, but lost it eventually. It was then he saw Ramya’s younger brother who was staring at Meera, puzzled. He remembered his own story, puzzled and lost right from his childhood. He went to school because he was asked to. He went to the college, when he was asked to. He then started his job as a System Architect in a MNC, when he was old enough to be an earning family member like his siblings and cousins.

He focused on studies as he belonged to a lower middle-class family, that had just enough of everything. Unlike his siblings, he went to a renowned Catholic school. The rules were harsh, and the head mistress was strict. He tried to save his arse from any wrong doing. And played safe. He became habitual of being a nice guy, away from any rebellion. Same actions were cascaded to his college life. He tried very hard to prevent any backlogs. Flirtation was not his cup of tea. He lived in utter simplicity. And in his job too, he was cautious and disciplined. He was living in a flat to which he returned after bidding bye to Meera, who was exhausted and at the same time excited having the baby with her. He put the key to unlock the door of his flat. He was expecting the flat to be without any distubance. But it was seconds after this thought, that he trembled when a shrill voice inquired – “Are you home?”, the voice of the girl demanded a prompt answer from that poor soul.

Posted in Heartbroken Friend

Has it ended?

The call from him, was a shocker. As he was drunk and called out her name again and again. I couldn’t console him as the heart was broken into pieces long time back, but the impact, it made, was still tangible. The two years of relationship came to an end on the context of insecurity from the girl’s side. The guy was fresh out of college without any placement, and that became a big issue, as per her justificaton of leaving him. But the reality looked different. The love cannot die out of such meagre issue. Unemployment is temporary for those who are skilled. And today he is employed and doing great at his job. So the question stands tall, “What was her real reason?”. The long distance could be one, although I never met her, I can see through, a girl like her, required a support, ready to be deployed as soon as she is in trouble. For that reason, the support should be nearby. And probably she found one in the medical college situated in Kumaon region of Uttarakhand, where she was studying. And it doesn’t take much time for a witty guy to steal a committed girl, that too a girl who was so weak, who subdued herself without thinking of her lover, who, on the contrary, was strong as hell.

How easily people get impressed by fakeness in the modern world is a subject of curiosity and investigation. How hard it is for them to differentiate between truth and falsehood. May be her ignorance is a bliss for her, she do not have to think about it or give it a thought for even a second. But for the realized ones, like my friend, who showed strong will to hold her hand forever, finds himself weak and broken. The hearbroken friend.


Posted in Life, Poem

The merciless life

Harder I try,

more I get into it.

The swamp holds me tight,

Nothing seems right about it.

It is a long tale of bearing,

While sharing and caring.

But the world is mum,

With the dimwits not enough daring.

To uproot or uproar that loud,

But being a part of a crowd.

Comfortable and illusioned in their vibes,

Hallucinating single second in epicurean lives.

The slap is tight on the realized ones,

The reality strikes with the bombs.

It is better to be ignorant as the fools live,

No meaning should be made of this life, is what I think.


Posted in Past

The confession

The call went for an hour. And after it concluded, he was shocked and awestruck. Contemplating it for sometime, he became self critical. Didn’t he also fantasized about her? She had a curvy figure that made many people dumbfounded. And being her friend, he had a chance to explore her more often. He was not pretentious when he showed that he had pure thoughts, but owing to the moments that suppresses the logical whereabouts and get into the voluptuousness of physical attributes, his imagination flourished. He has to make himself a confession out of neccessity that demanded answer for his treachery afterwards. He felt an immediate urge to call her back and confess his sin. That he has same thoughts that were expressed aloud by other friend of hers. Only difference, he never spoke it out. Without that action he felt helpless and sinful.

But on his defense, those thoughts were momentary and never impacted his behavior towards her, being it face to face interaction or over the call. He never crossed his line and remained a good listener. And as he thought, she would be proud of her perfect body and it ought to get that attention of her followers and thoughts in her followers’ minds. Moreover, he never approached her sexually. Nonetheless there was no harm done to anyone by his thoughts. He kept those to himself. So, he averted calling her back, after thinking more on such line. It is better that everyone keep such thoughts to themselves, he thought.

Posted in Love

Platonic attraction

Is it possible to have it? People will say yes. But I am talking from the perspective of a guy having attraction towards a girl. Could it be platonic? Falling for a girl on the basis of her intellect and temperament. In college, I saw desperate guys looking onto beautiful girls or for the matter of fact, girls who had assets that I don’t want to discuss owing to the title of this article. While writing this, indeed I am feeling platonic that is helping me in suppressing my hormonal outbursts. At the age when the physicality was a mystery and the existential questions never crossed minds, also the time when there was indifference towards the physical attributes of other beings, the attraction was pure. What if that kind of thinking extends into adolescence. But sadly it doesn’t.

I remember, one of my friend asking me “Did you see that girl? Did you like her?”, pointing to a girl crossing the road, and I answered, being his pillion ride, with the phrase that only focused her face. And he mocked me saying, “Were you only looking at her face?” It took me seconds to realize what he meant and the self doubt arose that made me quiet and contemplate for a while. Going into college, didn’t change things for me. I acknowledged the looks but nature was paramount. Honestly, I saw dark hearts of most of the “beautiful” girls and discovered gold stash of humbleness in others. Flirtations never was my cup of tea. And I showed indifference to every female counterpart except very few with whom I felt a platonic connection but that wasn’t enought to keep them as the motive is always physical at the end, is what I understood.

Posted in Past

Curious case of Jai Singh

The news spread like a wild fire. He was found burnt in his separate room. The weird thing was, he was discovered in a sitting posture. What would have happened to him, was the question popped into everyone’s mind. There was no sign of struggle in the room. He looked calm and composed, even in that dreary condition. Rumours rose from every nook and corner. Some said he had super powers to transcend and send his spirit to help the needy. And during such feat, his body got fire due to the burning of joss stick. Without spirit the body is dead. Some suspected a fishy business, and were skeptical about a conspiracy of his murder by making him unconscious. But they didn’t figured out the motive of the murder. My personal thoughts over the incident relied more on the fulcrum that supported the initial findings but ignoring the super power thing. This was based on the meeting I had with him.

Jai Singh was my grandfather’s friend. No doubt he had spiritual aroma around him. Dressed in white, he had a saintly outlook. He was free from all ills and evils. The old phase was passing in reading the holy scripture. Sharing and discussing religious thoughts with the old and the young, became his pastime. He used to meditate for long hours in his room. But to which degree he practiced it and achieved some enlightenment, was a mystery. Did he really transcended beyond the level of a human capability? Or is human has that immense potential to open the doors for such a feat? No clear or solid answer came regarding his causes of death. It remained and will remain an unsolved puzzle.

Posted in Past

On this day

4th Nov ’97, twenty years back, outside the Safadarjang Hospital in Delhi, a matador was standing as still as a dead body lying inside, the body wrapped in grey and white blanket. Outside there was a rush of relatives, that was sorrounding a woman who was sobbing and crying uncontrollabely. He arrived there later, and was unknown of the fact that he has lost his father. Two hours back on that day, he was asked to get ready to go to the hospital. He searched his black school shoes in his relative’s home in Malviya Nagar and sat in the car. Along the way, he thought “Why they are going back to their native?”. “Is his father’s health recovered?”. The worst case scenario never passed his mind until he reached there. The matador started its 7 hours long journey. He recollected, the ambassador car that drove his sick father, and them to the dreadful hospital on Diwali day of 30th Oct ’97. His father went in coma right after he was operated in the godforsaken OPD. His father was alcoholic and the liver grew weaker over the time and gave up eventually.

After reaching home, the hue and cries started. He went inside his grandpa’s room and slept. Never came out of it, but was listening to the turmoil inside and outside. He never cried and didn’t bid last farewell to his father. He remembered the sick lady lying on the opposite bed in the OPD, whose son use to pray to Goddess Laxmi’s photo attached on the hospital’s wall. The whole scene of that OPD recreated itself in front of his eyes. He remembered the rude nurses who treated patients as animals. The following days remained sorrowful and upsetting with occassional cries on the arrival of the relatives from the far flung Rajasthan, Orissa and Madhya Pradesh towns. He remained absent from school, to which, his teachers led by Principal Mrs Dashmana came one day to visit and offered condolences. When he went back to the school after a long time, his close friend Parvesh Joshi, in his utter innocense, suggested that might be his father was not dead but just lying down. He listened, as he didn’t have words. The quietness prevailed thereafter. The careless nature turned into careful personality. The calm and composure withstood carrying the evergreen volcano inside that erupted every single day.