Get inspired!

I watch them as plane goes over the sheets of different blue’s . I look at them from the corner of my right eye. I am not a criminal ; also, the guards carrying with them thick wooden stick for beating either  ,I am just alone ,and an explorer at least I ceased to be.

It was a fine morning when I suddenly decided to tighten my laces of branded shoes and to move out from a room that was closed from all the four sides. It was suffocating now because the window had the newspaper taped from start to end to stop the entrance of little mosquitoes that ;I slept and became the biggest intruders in my reality and world of dreams. The wall was red in colour,which sometimes was happening for having a pleasant  background for pictures when more people were in but sometimes it reminded me of blood ,pain and grief I have had experienced in my coldest night of dreams. It was now rotting,the person inside a well fabricated body was rotting because of the four walls he was caged in. I had to tighten my shoe laces even more stronger.

I left the place in afternoon carrying a side bag and a water bottle because the place I had thought of exploring were full of warm sun rays giving the idea of dryness it brought to my tongue that  was left tasteless,because I hadn’t had anything since morning. I caught the nearest metro and escaped the eyes of people who tagged me as a foreigner just because I was fair in colour and  being a non attention seeker I hated that. I knew they had been looking at my hair that was curly enough to shape my personality as one of the writer’s in town and as accidental it could be it was short too. I knew people in metro pointed at my get up that  was just a jeans and a jacket that I had bought long back when I had been in my home town. They peered through every space they could get ,also from the shoulder’s which were taking the support of a pole in the centre. They thought that I was unaware of there starring but I was aware though I didn’t mimicked them . I kept longing for my station which would be my first place to travel alone and I was excited to know the fate it would bring me.

I walked and stared at the narrow streets where till date at least one billion footsteps would have been marked by our master my being five ,let alone of my family.I stalked an old man’s wooden box covered with a very old white cloth so that the dust of the street would not enhance it’s degradation. I saw him counting something and my eye was directly on the different coins he had collected . They varied from era to era and recent . The one’s which had been expired as a result of new comers in the list. I just smiled and made my way.

I was followed by numerous rickshaw walla’s who thought of robbing me of my wallet ,only be cause they thought I was a tourist and had come to India for vacations. Had they little known about my individuality they would have buried my body into a sac and God knows what more would have I suffered ,had they known I was a Kashmiri. But ,I thank God of my voice and language that I was saved.

I went through lane by lane and entered into a monument which spoke to me. It spoke to me as I turned back to my life and I found hope. I found reasons to continue living and reasons to dream. This was a very strange thing but I could see faces of number of people who have entered in my life and exited . I had an experience of lifetime . I saw how world is filled with people of all types. I then recalled my suffocation in that four cornered room and thought of our master’s job which was to protect this balloon full of gas and I again praised him for I had a perfect life.  While entering this place I met with a peculiar incident  . As a mark of respect people from whichever place and status needed to take the shoe’s off so that the place remains cleaner then before. I did as I was ordered and suddenly a man with Kohl rinsed eyes and a Muslim scarf around his neck and a Muslim hat covering his hair and head approaches me with a smile and a Muslim way of greeting”salaam allaikum”. I said wallai kum salaam,and he asked for 300 rupees.  I was taken aback because I remembered as a kid whenever I went with my family to this place we were never asked to pay a ticket money and also people around me went free of cost. It angered me and I said with a loud voice “kyun bhaya”(why brother?).  To which he showed me a board on which the message was clear cut that only if I was a foreigner or outsider I had to pay them. I sighed and changed my language into my orginal and requested them to believe my individuality.  They happened to accuse me after showing them the skills of my changed dialect ,to lesson the pressure I showed them my I-card and hence I was relieved. The question didn’t come up for paying the sum it was of division between black and white. If I had been born with a black colour would I have been given respect as same to the respect I got while being fair?I just thought and as innocent as I was  the answer was “NO”.

Living in the city where still history rules the present one cannot help but be surprised at the various step wells one finds in the centre. These step wells mark the prison of that time for any ruler who could go beyond the actions. These step wells now were homes and shelters of various pigeons who had flight but needed a voice to shed off the  fear they had from the humans. In the evening that day I went to such  step-well “baoli” which to me was an inspiration. I could write about the well designed hand made walls and could write about the pigeons which went round and round the monument and left the audiences clapping. The sight was so mesmerising that one couldn’t help but start praising at the things he has bestowed us with. I chuckled within myself on a couple who made a romantic pose for a picture memory,had they known the sights the step-well had felt and witnessed they would have romanced in Switzerland rather in ruins which had  been a jail for many like us.

Being a Delhi wall-ah ,one needs to add up a spice in his journey to places his hand made map takes him.Because from a minaret to a bird everything inspires here and one forgets who came as a traveller and who went as an Inspired.

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-Jamia Masjid ,Old Delhi.

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-Ugersen ki baoli ,Hailey road cp.

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A good book is an event in my life -Library!

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College ,in the archaic sense is meant to be a place for fun,games and fights. But what is college without study?

My college,KAMLA NEHRU has not let the diversification of India put to shame. Where India is the epitome of cultural ,religious ,linguistic diversification my college is the Rainbow of contradiction.  Students vary from the sightliest likeness towards some canteen cuisines to the college societies each having their own important places.

With the various worlds of creativity that co-exists in my college,I have none in comparison to Kamala Nehru’in library ,for its vast and what more a completely new experience.  As a student of “English Honours” I love to spend time there watching every eye go over the words ,watching every hand writing and taking notes and people like me who dreams of reading her book someday while sitting in  library,library of this kind steals the moment and the world is ignored.

One cannot help but be surprised and astonished about the varieties one finds out there. It’s like moving into a place of learned men and woman. If you happen to visit library ,not for the sake of copying some study material but enhance your reading skills ,close your eyes for a moment and realize the authors sitting next to you and asking about their book as in”How is it”?.

This part is not a fancy tale or a creative piece of an amateur writer and reader like me but it’s the experience of my lifetime and college life. I once after having attended all my classes went to library for the sake of spending the free time I had in peace and silence. For “Chaupal”the favourite place for every Kamala nehru’in is always filled with voices and people who really can’t bless you with the peace. So I seated myself on a well furnished chair ,which was brown in colour and had a hand made back ,which reflected the sweat the old or youth skin would have shed off while crafting out the most archaic design. Placing the book that I had selected from 124/4 rack I opened it with the sense of writing a book someday. It was John Keats poems jumbled in a group in an analogy.  I had the first page swiped and then the second and the action moved on. But at a point where my outer circumference looked dark and people who were earlier visible turned to be head -less and body -less ,I had the author sitting next to me ,though his face appeared to be like one of the blurred pictures from my white cell phone. That moment was like one heck of eternal feeling and I thought for a second “am I still alive”?

The poetry flowed from me as the waterfall and it was never ending. That moment had all my breathes stop and I was numb. Life time experience ,yes it was .
It was better then sitting in a chaupal and gossiping like old grannies though having today’s cool element in it. I longed for that sight ever since I had a feeling of writing something and being a literate someday. But down the second floor and outside the world of words I heard the bell ringing and calling me for the next class I had.

I slapped myself,rinsed my eyes,looked here and there for the sight I had been subjected to but it was gone forever or had been piled up in my book of memories. I couldn’t see a dark surroundings any more but a more colour full atmosphere of Lord’s design. I closed the book and kept it back in 124 /4 rack and went to the class still being under the magic of the hallucination I have had experienced while deeply reading the book.

For me ,”A GOOD BOOK IS AN EVENT IN MY LIFE”,what’s your’s?

-Takbeer
-Student
-English honours
-Kamala NEHRU(Delhi university).

Happy Friendship day !

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“and they said I have changed had they known what is it like to be alone in the city  full of lights -takbeer “

Its been a year to hear their voices ,the last time i had met them was probably in november my final paper boards . But then I had made a connection through the online stuff ,we had been in a verbal contact and no physical one which is disheartening .But I had kept myself the same , the same takbeer as people say , the joyous , the ever lasting humor (bad or good I never knew ),the ever good -hearted girl ,yes I had kept all these things in time ,not shifted to the minimum ,I had still the same old definition to explain me, but somewhere along the coastline and along the continuity even the online stuff didn’t work ,I had to met with the texts like “hmm ,kk , and okay”I wasn’t born to be treated like this I told myself one day with my eyes full of tears.And then with this brawl with my own good self nature I had to quit being nice . I had to turn the glass the other way so that the lid is full . I ignored , i accepted that too . I disconnected but I had a right (,don’t you think so I should have done so?).Then the time came and i flew , i changed the city ,they texted me saying all nice good wishes but at that time I already had “it doesnt matter attitude ” for I had changed from being good to an irascibile . That wasn’t my fault ,was it?I dont think so ,it wasnt  mine .

Times changed ,changed my number too ,but still I was the one texting them with my new information and giving updates .Maybe that was the part of me that was missing them , the times spent with them had come up alive again , and i had to fall back because they didn’t know  “what is it like to be alone in a city full of lights ” Maybe i was subtle because i had shifted with life , complete different atmosphere or maybe i was selfish , because at the point i realized i needed them i revoke them once again ,or maybe the animosity in the past was dead . Things seemed nice enough to start all over again , until I met my college mates all together from different autobiographies and distances . And at that point I realized that its not how close you feel about your relation nor its like how much do you share ,its making someone feel nice about their existence and giving them a sense of pride of individuality ,and that moment i HAD A GOODBYE to the one who never actually stood for me ,they were large in number but then who cared when their heart didn’t function at all.Its a matter of time , that you will understand what actually you are looking for , i found my time when i was already in college .

And as i see today the calendar ,which spots on 4th august , i texted them HAPPY FRIENDSHIPS  DAY and still the same cold feeling re_-voked with the statement that I have changed . Sighing aint an option ,I am much more precious than doing this .ITS not a regret ,its simple i don’t care .

Beyond the equations !

The-calling-of-the-humanities-is-to-make-us-truly-human-in-the-best-sense-of-the-word.

We live in a generation where kids have phablets in their hands ,where teachers use google ,wikipedia , and youtube for discussions in classrooms,where even a baby can give you countings till 10 . Its fact ,call it a 21st century magic  ,  or the technological improvement, it is happening and the world is changing around us .Reflecting upon the past era’s where sometimes it was called a literary era ,where you could have find ghazals, sonnets , rubaiyats ,and epics in air ,where rhyming topic of english had its own charm ,where people produced epics and not fairy tales ,where humankind produced Shakespeare and Ghalib ,to an era where inventions and scientific developments had its own maximum level ,where Tesla had its electricity and Edison had its part of fake role , then it was a complete shift from literary -inventions-science-“working class “.It didn’t matter to people as to what they were doing ,the thing they were worried about was cash and the amount they would receive after spending half of the life sitting in one room with files and papers all filled with petty negotiations .

 

Beyond these eras ,of humankind and world has seen itself ,their lays this future generation the 90’s kids ,who are into rock and roll , music , paintings ,acting , and many creative things like this , who  are indulged greatly in doctor and engineering degree and who above all believe in everyday productivity .I belonging to same group of kids neither has an art of music ,nor has the creativity of painting sculptures , but to me my biggest asset is writing and i write for myself ,i don’t care about sarcasm because I know my perceptions . And for this love of words I took english honors , beyond equations lies this bunch of course which cant only suggest you to thank God at every moment you learn a new word but to the understanding between books and you it gives the immense pleasure one finds reading equations of ,mbbs and engineering .

 

and i took english honors ,because beyond equations it  helped me look more closer to God .

Those Tears (I am sorry)

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Tears are all around
In the eyes of old,
In the eyes of naive
There is a stream to flow.

Tears have their story
A story that is different
Some shed tears of longing
And some of deception.

But those tears when I saw
My heart stopped and crushed
It broke to pieces and I could hear
The mirror of my heart breaking.

That time I couldnt see deep
B’coz I was the reason
I cursed the situations
And I just couldnt stop from bleeding.

My heart was in pieces,it was sure
Blood was all around
It was b’coz of those wrinkled eyes
That I stopped breathing.

Time had stopped and I was frozen
I couldnt see no more of those tears
For I was tender,
I couldnt let him stop but,I could feel the outburst pressure.

This was the first time I saw him cry,
My life went into dark just because i was the naive
The doors of separation had started
And the days now could be counted

But ,dear daddy I LOVE YOU
ISINT that enough?
Though we cant stay that strong
But I promise to make you proud.

B’coz daddy friends might break,
Teacher may leave the class
Our relation has the limit sky
For,daddy you are my only star !!

P.s:I BEG YOU NEVER CRY AGAIN
AND ILL MAKE YOU PROUD!

Love to my beloved’s !

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It stands erect,straight
Beauty personified
But it grows old too
Like the man with the spectacles

I’m talking about
The chinar
To which my home is sparkled
It is like the young me
In autumn it sets that example.

But it also fades away
like my parents and I would
This is the world’s story
Where everything that goes
Around comes back.

They set for the journey
To there dreams
But leaving their
Old one’s alone.

They cry inside but
Never return back,for
They want to learn more.
Family is broken

Parents are shattered,
But these children make
A loud cry amidst the stars
When they shine

They go back to their parents
Repenting about their act
I was sitting on a bench
Beside the brave chinar.

Witnessing the story of the
Separation of kids
Tears flowed and I cursed
I had too left
But today i want to tell

My icons the tale of love
Dear,you are my heroes
Not less than any superhero
I am the one who escaped

I am the one who broke
But my deeds payed
Though leaving you alone
You’re my infinite lord

Ill be back
Back with the treasure
I would let you fly
Dont grow old till then ,I would be back with your love..

(#a tribute to my parents for letting me enjoy the every miracle of life, and a tribute to say that I LOVE YOU )

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So the moment is just like the same.There are many multi -tasking going on.Some are distributing sweets,huggs and kisses are being recieved and given .Some where even deciding my future and also guessing what the baby would be called.This is the moment called my birth.My moment of birth is just as same as any child.So amidst these happenings doctor in the meanwhile has given my mother the permission of going back home,and we are all set to start afreash ,the family of four.

My sister is small but she is a grown up in her own self , emotions that even lead one to death have certainly crept her inside for she has taken up the responsibility of the three of us ,I ,mother and father. At this stage of my life where i stand today and when i sometimes ponder about the past I smile and wonder that how does God beautifully bless people with family.How fortunate are the children who get so much love from two unknown people apparently their parents.Life is an IRONICAL statement itself.

So ,our family which is still struggling to get a worth life,where we strive for a better life each day .Eyes are there for people to dream,to make castles not only in day but also in reality.Fortunate are those not born with a silver spoon for they know the hidden reality of life.I personally dont think that king and queen of the town would have been able to answer the ‘what’s’ of life,for they just know the number of hotels they own leaving behind the reality of life who owns just his own life.tumblr_m4tfc0DuQR1qfet8co1_400tumblr_m4tfc0DuQR1qfet8co1_400