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).

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A silly ache !

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Screaming like that witch in the movie

it goes in the field of the intense dilemma,

stopping it by resisting

I take a chance of recreation .

But it hasn’t been stopped by neither the naive

or a erudite ,for it goes on

its songs are sung when it breaks

and also when it combines.

I keep motivating myself for the better

but this is something that cant be

recreated .

there are memories in it

all of them are elegies and lullabies that need to be published.

I dare say that I am not the only one suffering’

because i have read philosophies and verses

more miserable than my story of it

but there is no comparison for this is an ache.

stones are cut by the hammer in the meanwhile

my eyes get a blink and wink at the same time

a sudden feeling of hope comes into me

that says a message of flexibility.

watching the pain the sun feels

when the clouds cover it by their grey shades

i wish i would have helped it but then

i smelt my own heartache .

rays of hope was sent to me

despite it should have sent the sunshine,

and i being a moon in the blue night

as mighty as it took a chance

recreating everything in a silver lining,

i smiled and kept the pain at still

because this world is a remorseful stage

where this silly heartache stands nowhere .