Ode to Farewell...

Thy keep gazing at the blue sky

Though thy have forgotten how to fly

Maybe thee learnt to mask a little truth

But have not yet learnt how to say a lie

Feathery clouds leave me in a delusion

Every moment looks as if it is an illusion

Thou got the words to light the lamp of eternity

And can take me to ‘the real’ and end the confusion

My bags are packed to leave for good

For I know what I’m doing and what I should

Every time you spoke, your words were heard

Never were your tales ever misunderstood

Baby! It’s hard to fly with a broken wing

When the ache in heart, hurts like a sting

But I need to go for you want to be alone

Leaving behind a song, that for you I’d sing.

Akhtar!

An old word...from the notes fulla dust!

The greatest accomplishments in life were not attained in colossal varsities; neither the excellence ever learnt in schools. It is what you were which made you what you are today. Many a times we wonder; What if we would have just escaped the present? Could we have ever reached where we stand today? What if a drop of sweat trickling down the forehead would have made us take a long rest? Could we ever win the battle of ongoing competition? What if a tear rolling down the cheek would have been strong enough to shatter our soul? Could we have ever won this everlasting smile which we possess today? My answer to all above WHAT IF’S is a BIG NO!

When these situations had bombarded me in my course of life; I chose to stand up against it. I faced the fire, felt the heat, felt the heartache but all of it wasn’t significant enough for my defeat. I can’t recall how many times I chose the hard path; by hard I do mean as hard as it could ever be. I realized that away from silver spoons there is a world where even wooden bowls are a rare gift. I thank all my hard times for the tenderness they brought in all my coming tomorrows. I also do thank all my friends who chose to leave me alone when I needed them the most; they taught me that nothing stays forever in this ever changing world. I do thank my poverty which I once faced; for it is the reason I can flaunt the two cents I have in my wallet today. Amongst all the gratitude and thankfulness I do apologize to those unmentioned identities who bestowed their love, care and life for a smile on my face. Perhaps my little mistake to recognize them is the reason they have become my necessity today.

At the end of the day I can sleep with no regrets in the mind, with no thoughts bewildering my psyche, with no ache prevailing in my heart and an unblemished soul which has always stood up for truth and will do the same in future too.

A moment at the Barber's

Nation’s finest economists, social reformers, educationalists can be found at two places. The first is a salon and the other is saloon. While getting a moustache chopped off, the thoughts about the devastated economy creeps up and the man in his late sixties, who can barely speak English, comes up with a talk about “Slow Markat”. Everyone jumps in and the conversation becomes a debate with the barber leaving the razors and participating with unsurpassed enthusiasm. The debate hardly gets finished when another turbaned, frail and “formally uneducated” comes up with the decreasing rate of literacy in countryside of the state. Here I am waiting for the barber to give me a nice haircut but to my surprise he is happier to give his two cents worth on literacy rate of the country. I also surrendered and thought of giving these commoners an ear or maybe both I have. What I observe was plain and simple; we all have words but lack a platform to speak them out. Some find it in the prayer assembly of high school, some at college youth fests, a few at party after a bottle of beer or two or ten and the rest resort to public places where their wrong opinion won’t earn them a laughter or criticism.

After about 40 minutes of wait I gave up and decided to ‘request’ for a haircut. The barber seemed confronted but gave me a grin and said in his native language, something that meant ‘we all are politicians in disguise’. I gave an affirmative nod and pointed towards my hair and beard and laughed out loud. The atmosphere which once was saturated with opinions, debates and serious talks was now quiet and all that could be heard was the sound of the hair trimmer. I seriously felt as if I did the biggest mistake of my life by interrupting in the debate of some of the greatest minds of my country. Anyways I got my haircut and a piece of word to write about. Here I am again staring at my groomed face and muddled psyche. Guess what! I have a higher opinion of my beard and my barber this day onwards.

It all makes it India…and we the Indians!