प्रियसी

होगा सवेरा चौखट पर फिर, अंगडाइयाँ जब दम तोडेंगी।
ऊषा की प्रथम किरण इस मुख पर जब अंकित होगी।

हे मेरी प्रियसी ! इन पलकों के खुलने से पहले तुम इनमे समा जाना।
मेरी धमनियों में रम जाना।

फिर मैं इन नयनों को खोलुंगा.....बस एक कृपा और कर देना।
इन नयनों से कभी निकल न जाना।
कभी निकल न जाना।

Thinking

The process of thinking has been changing quite drastically as many things happened in last few days and I learnt a lot from them.
I don't know what's happening with me? Even I am unable to recognize these changes. This materialist world doesn't fascinate me anymore. Books have become my only best friend. I want to live with them only. Rest seems to me as useless and senseless.
I'm an optimistic person and hope that these changes will also help in some way in the future.

I'm back

sorry for not writing anything in last few weeks. I was a bit busy in my usual affairs. But now all that things are over and I'll try to be regular with you my dear blog.
Many things happened in last one month, some are good while some are bad. The good thing is that I have dropped the idea of doing MBA after my graduation and have started preparing for IAS. The bad news is that I haven't written any poem so far after 'Sarhad' but will definately try to write something in next few days.
Let's hope to come back to original life.

पहेली

जिंदगी हर पल नए सवाल खडा करती है. . . .

सवालों में हर बार इक पहेली हुआ करती है. . . .

कब तक इन पहेलियों में जकडता जाऊंगा मैं.....

कब तक अपने विचारों से लडता रहूंगा मैं.....

पता नहीं पर....

अन्‍त की तलाश में शायद खुद मैं एक पहेली बन गया हूं।

मधुशाला (8)

लालायित अधरों से जिसने, हाय, नहीं चूमी हाला,

हर्ष-विकंपित कर से जिसने, हा, न छुआ मधु का प्याला,

हाथ पकड़ लज्जित साकी का पास नहीं जिसने खींचा,

व्यर्थ सुखा डाली जीवन की उसने मधुमय मधुशाला।

The extent upto which I could translate it;

" The one who couldn't kiss the wine with his thirsty lips. The one who couldn't touch the cup of wine with his jubilant hands. The one who couldn't snatch the shy bar girl towards himself has dried up his tavern of life. "

मधुशाला (7)

धर्मग्रन्थ सब जला चुकी है, जिसके अंतर की ज्वाला,

मंदिर, मसजिद, गिरिजे, सब को तोड़ चुका जो मतवाला,

पंिडत, मोमिन, पादिरयों के फंदांे को जो काट चुका,

कर सकती है आज उसी का स्वागत मेरी मधुशाला।

The extent upto which I could translate it:

" The one whose inner fire has burnt all the religious books and has broken down temples, mosque, church and all. The one who doesn't have any concern with brahmin, mollah and bishop, can be welcomed in 'my Madhushala' (the poet's tavern)."

Dilbert

Teacher's Day

The cribbing is from Teacher's Day.

" A day that is dedicated to the hard work that is input by the teacher all year long, a day that is a complete tribute to the teachers all around India. In India teacher day is celebrated on 5th of September. Teachers Day is a dedication to Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, who was a staunch believer of education and was one of the most well known diplomat, scholar, president of India and above all a teacher. As a tribute to this great teacher, his birthday has been observed as teachers' day and this led to its origin."

मधुशाला (4)

mauK sao tU Aivart khta jaa maQau¸ maidra¸ maadk halaa¸
haqaaoM maoM AnauBava krta jaa ek lailat kilpt Pyaalaa¸
Qyaana ike jaa mana maoM saumaQaur sauKkr¸ sauMdr saakI ka¸
AaOr baZ,a cala¸ piqak¸ na tuJakao dUr lagaogaI maQauSaalaa.


The extent upto which I could translate it:

"The poet is telling to the drink seeker, " You keep uttering words like sweet, wine and intoxicating liquid and feel an imaginary pot of wine in your hands. With the imagination of a beautiful girl who is serving the pot of wine, just go on, you will find 'Madhushala' (the tavern) not that far."

मधुशाला (3)

maidralaya jaanao kao Qar sao calata hO pInaovalaa¸
'iksa pqa sao jaa}ÐÆ' AsamaMjasa maoM hO vah BaaolaaBaalaa¸
AlagaAlaga pqa batlaato saba pr maOM yah batlaata hUÐ –
'rah pkD, tU ek calaa cala¸ pa jaaegaa maQauSaalaa.'


The extent upto which I could translate it:

" The drink seeker starts from home with an intention of finding a tavern but he is in a dilemma as to which path he should choose. Everyone tells him different paths to reach there but the poet tells him to choose any one path. If the drink seeker will follow one path (any one) then definitely he will get the tavern. "

कैसा हो श्रोता ! (A listener should be ...)

घड़ों का प्रसंग: प्रसंग चार घड़ों का है। एक घड़ा तल से फूटा हुआ होता है। उसमें जितना तरल पदार्थ डाला जाता है, सारा का सारा बाहर निकल जाता है। एक घड़ा पेट से फूटा हुआ होता है। उसमें डाला हुआ आधा जल सुरक्षित रह जाता है और बाकी बह जाता है। तीसरा घड़ा किनारों से फूटा होता है, उसमें काफी जल बचा रहता है और थोड़ा-सा निकल जाता है। चौथा घड़ा संपूर्ण होता है। उसमें जितना जल डाला जाएगा, वह सारा सुरक्षित रहता है। इसी प्रकार चार प्रकार के श्रोता होते हैं। पहली तरह का श्रोता वह है, जो इस कान से सुनकर उस कान से निकाल देता है। दूसरी तरह का श्रोता ज्यादा भूलता है, कम याद रखता है। तीसरी तरह का श्रोता थोड़ा भूलता है और अधिक याद रखता है। चौथी श्रेणी में वह श्रोता आता है जो अक्षर, मात्रा और बिन्दु को भी अपनी स्मृति से ओझल नहीं होने देता।


"The short tale is about four pots. One of them has a hole at the bottom so everything comes out very quickly no matter how much liquid you pour into it. Another one has a hole in the middle so half of the liquid remians while rest of it flows away. The third one is broken down at the edges so most of the liquid remains in the pot and a small amount of it flows away. The last one has no hole and it is completely perfect in its shape so everything that is poured, is retained completely in it.
In the same way, there are four types of listeners. The first one is who lets everything pass away from one ear to the other. He does not retain anything. The second one forgets more and remembers very less. The third listener forgets less but remembers more and the last one is who remembers even minutest things."

मधुशाला (2)

Baavaukta AMgaUr lata sao
KIMca klpnaa kI halaa¸
kiva saakI banakr Aayaa hO
Barkr kivata ka PyaalaaÂ
kBaI na kNa Bar KalaI haogaa¸
laaK ipeи dao laaK ipeÐ Ñ
pazkgaNa hOM pInaovaalao
pustk maorI maQauSaalaa.




The extent upto which I could translate it:

" The poet has come as a wineserver with the pot of wine as his poems, filled to the brim with his imaginations and thoughts. The pot will always be full no matter how much one drinks from it. He calls his readers the drinkers who are to soak themselves in the wine from his tavern which is what he comapares his book 'Madhushala' with."

मधुशाला (1)

मृदु भावों के अंगूरों की
आज बना लाया हाला,
प्रियतम, अपने ही हाथों से
आज पिलाऊँगा प्‍याला;

पहले भोग लगा लूँ तेरा,
फिर प्रसाद जग पाएगा;

सबसे पहले तेरा स्‍वागत
करती मेरी मधुशाला।



The extent upto which I could translate it:

"The poet is addressing God as his lover by saying that he(the poet) has made the wine of his sweet thoughts and will serve the pot of wine to him today. According to Hindu mythology, God's blessings are necessary to start a new work. Hence the poet is presenting the pot of wine as an offering to God on the starting of his 'Madhushala'(the house of liquor-pub). His 'Madhushala' is welcoming God as it's first customer."

Madhushala

"Madhushala - the house of liquor, pub"
After many days I wanted to read some hindi poems so searched for that in my collection of books. Fortunately 'Madhushala' caught my attention. Actually this was the only book that was left unread due to various reasons. So I started reading it.
As the title suggests, 'Madhushala' is about wine and a pot in which wine is poured and the house of liquor-pub. Mr. Haribansh rai bachhan has portrayed a magnificent sketch of wine sothat no body can resist oneself from feeling like a drunk. He has put all the hues of life and decorated it with his eloquent way of writing.
I remember when some of my friends used to praise this book and advise me to read it but I never showed any enthusiasm for it. Today I realized that they were right. These poems are really heart rendering. I couldn't resist myself to finish it in a single reading. Yes, I should have read this book much earlier.
I have become an ardent fan of this book so from tomorrow onwards, I shall upload one poem of 'Madhushala' daily on 'my blog' with english translation of it.

Day - 2 : " The Sarabjeet's Case "

Paksian has agreed on the consular access in this case. It seems a positive reply from Islamabad.

day-1 ::"India for humanitarian view of Sarabjeet case "

Few days back, the Pakistani supreme court has awarded the death sentence to Mr. Sarabjeet for his involvement in illegal activities. It is reported that he is an Indian. Across the border in India, his family believes in Mr. Sarabjeet's innocence and has been pleading to the Indian government to take necessary actions to save his life. Immense pressure from media and television channels pushed Indian government to talk with Pakistani officials. As a result, the external affairs minister Mr.Natwar Singh conveyed to the pakistani high commissioner Mr. Khan that this case should be treated as a 'humanitarian issue' by the pakistani government.
The External Affairs ministry spokesman said after the meeting of Mr. Natwar Singh and Mr.Khan," Minister said that this case is an humanitarian case and indian sentiments are involved for sparing Mr.Sarabjeet's life. Consular access being provided was taken up which hope that things would move in positive directions."
Soon after the meeting the high commissioner assured that he would convey this message to the higher officials in Islamabad.
In this case, government is hopeful that consular access would be granted and Pakistan would take lenient steps towards the victim.

सरहद (The Border)

This is the poem written by me (an unknown poet) in which I tried to depict the time of Independence behind the curtain of love. Few days back, I read 'Train to Pakistan' by Mr.Khushwant Singh and it made an everlasting impression on my mind. I decided to give my own words to represent the era of independence that was mentioned in 'Train to Pakistan'. Though my poem is mostly differ from the content of the book but the theme is same that lies on the partition in 1947. I added some of my own thoughts instead of copying from the book blindly.

There are mainly five parts of the poem depicting different situations. The first part envisages a village 'Mahua' and its life before partition. The second part is a romantic one which reflects the true love story of a Hindu boy with a Muslim girl. The third part is the heart of the poem which depicts the partition time and its consequences. While fourth part describes about the situation of 'Mahua' after partition and the last part shows the parting of Muslim girl to Pakistan with her father.

All the five parts are mutually inclusive to envisage the period of independence. I feel this is the best poem written by me so far. I spent more than three days to think again and again on this topic and finally I am happy that it has been completed.

१
एक गॉंव है महुआ बिल्‍कुल छोटा सा,
दीन दुनिया से बेखबर अपनी ही दुनिया में खोआ सा।

हवाऒं में जिसकी पीली मिट्‍टी की खुशबू आती है।
खेतों में उसके सरसों बोई जाती है।
पेडों पर कोयल कूका करती है।
कूँऐ में बच्‍चे कंकड फैका करते हैं।
मंदिर के घंटों से स्‍पंदन पैदा होता है, वहीं कुछ दूरी पर मज्ञ्‍जित में मौलाना नमाज़ अदा कर जाते हैं।
जैसे ही ये ध्‍वनियॉं कानों से टकराती हैं,
लोगों के लिये एक नई सुबह हो जाती है।
सब कायॊं में व्‍यस्‍त हो ज़ाते हैं,
महुआ की ज़िंदगी सांसे लेने लग जाती है।

लाहौर से दिल्‍ली जाने वाली सवारी गाडी दोपहर के खाने की याद दिलाती है।
मक्‍के की रोटी, सरसों का साग, उस पर गुड की छोटी सी ड़ेली, भरी दुपहरी में भी परम आनंद पहुंचाती है।
शाम को छुक - छुक करके चलने वाली मालगाडी अपने घर की याद दिलाती है।
गॉंव के बीचों बीच वटबृक्ष के नीचे पंचायत बैठा करती है।
हिन्‍दू-मुस्‍लिम सब मिल बैठ दिन भर की बातें बतियाते हैं।
उधर औरतें चूल्‍हा फूका करतीं हैं।
इधर बच्‍चे गुल्‍ली-डंडा खेला करते हैं।

यूंही देखते-देखते सूयॆ अस्‍त हो जाता है, रात दस्‍तक देने लग जाती है,
दिल्‍ली से लौटकर लाहौर जाने वाली गाडी सोने का संकेत दे जाती है।
बस फिर कुछ पल के लिये जिन्‍दगी थम सी जाती है,
पूरा महुआ चिर निद्रा में खो जाता है।
और एक नई सुबह आ जाती है........

२

महुआ की शुष्‍क हवाऔं में भी एक प्‍यार पनपता है।
किसान का बेटा रामलाल मौलाना की बेटी नूराह से रोज छुप-छुप कर मिलता है।
दोनों मीठी बातें करते हैं, जीने मरने की बातें करते हैं,
पल-पल हर-पल सपनों के शीशमहल में एक जिन्‍दगी जिया करते हैं,
पर जब भी रामलाल शादी की बातें किया करता है, नूराह की ऑंखों में ऑंसू आ जाते हैं,
वो सिसक-सिसक कर रोती और हर बार की तरह बस यही वो कहती।
तुम हिन्‍दू मैं मुस्‍लिम यही सबसे बडा दुभॊग्‍य है।
इस जात पात के चक्‍कर में जकडा अपना प्‍यार है।
शायद रिश्‍तों में बंधना अल्‍लाह का फरमान नहीं।
इसलिये इस जन्‍म में अपना निकाह मुम्‍किन नहीं...मुम्‍किन नहीं।
जैसे ही ये शब्‍द रामलाल के कानों में पडते हैं उसका बायीं ऑंख का ऑंसू झट से पलकों पर आ जाता है।
अपने सूखे अधरों से वो बस नूराह-नूराह कह पाता है। नूराह-नूराह कह पाता है।

यही उन दोनों की पे॒म कहानी है,
दो पल मिलते हैं, साथ-साथ चलते हैं, सपनों के शीशमहल बनते बिगडते हैं।
ऎसे ही हर दिन निकल जाता है और एक नई सुबह आ जाती है......

३

उधर हालात कुछ और ही थे।
हो गये इस देश के दो टुकडे थे।
मोहब्‍बत के दुश्‍मनों ने लकीर खींचकर सरहद बना दी।
उस सरहद की मॉंग खूनी रंग से सजा दी।
मैं हिन्‍दू तू मुस्‍लिम ...तू हिन्‍दू मैं मुस्‍लिम...
लोगों की सांसो का सौदा करती इस सरहद की सच्‍चाई थी।
पल-पल घुटती दम तोडती लोगों की अछ्‍छाई थी।

अब तो सफेद दीवारों पर खूनी शाम ढला करती थी।
घर के ऑंगन में हर रोज़ एक चिता जला करती थी।
खुद की परछाइयों ने भी अपना दामन छोड दिया,
गलियों में बस रूहें चला करती है।
गॉंव कस्‍बों में जहॉं जिंदगी बसा करती थी,
कब्रो ने भी सांसे भरना सीख लिया।
हवाऒं में जहॉं पीली मिट्‍टी की खुशबू आती थी,
इन हवाऒं तक ने अपना मुख मोड लिया।

लाहौर और दिल्‍ली वाली गाडी अब लाशें लेकर आती थी।
कौन हिन्‍दू कौन मुस्‍लिम ये लाशें बोला करती थी।
अब हर रात कब्रों में ढला करती थी।
हर सुबह लाशें ऒढा करती थी.....

४

महुआ के चॉंद में भी ग्रहण लग गया।
सरसों का रंग पीले से सुखॅ लाल हो गया।
गॉंव के बीचो-बीच वटवृक्ष के नीचे अब लाशें बैठा करती थी।
मंदिर में घंटे बजते थे पर मज्‍जिद सूनी रहती थी।
हर सहर एक खौफ ऒढे रहती थी, हर रात खूनी ऑंसू पिया करती थी।

वहीं खिडकी में नूराह नम ऑंखों से खुले आकाश को देखा करती थी।
अपनी मोहब्‍बत को बादलों में घिरते देख सिसक-सिसक कर रोया करती थी।
तारे गिना करती थी, उन तारों से कहा करती थी।
" कल मुझे सरहद पार जाना है अपने अब्‍बू के साथ।
तुम मुझे वहॉं जरुर मिल जाना , तुममें मैं अपनी मोहब्‍बत ढूंढ लूंगी।
तुम्‍हारे भरोसे बची कुची जिंदगी जी लूंगी....जिंदगी जी लूंगी।"

५

दिल्‍ली से लाहौर वाली गाडी आज कुछ देर से आती है।
नूराह अपने अब्‍बू के संग उस गाडी में चढ जाती है।
गाडी चलने लग जाती है, उसकी सांसें थम सी जाती है।
टूटती बिखरती सी वो दरबाजे पर खडी हो जाती है।
तभी कुछ दूर से उसे रामलाल दिखाई देता है।
उसकी बोझिल सांसें चलने लग जाती है।
पर गाडी की रफ्‍तार और तेज हो जाती है।
नूराह धबरा सी जाती है।
दौडता-भागता सा रामलाल उसके पास आ जाता है।
अपनी कपकपाती उंगलियों से उसके हाथों को छूकर यही बस कहता है,
" तुम अपना ख्‍याल रखना।
तुम सही कहती थी.....
इस जन्‍म में अपना निकाह मुम्‍किन नहीं।
इस जन्‍म में न सही अगले जन्‍म में मेरी ही बनकर रहना। मेरी ही बनकर रहना। "

वो कुछ न कह पाती है, जिन्‍दा लाश बनकर रह जाती है।
धुंधली आंखो से अपनी मोहब्‍बत को ओझल होते देखती है।
गाडी और तेज हो जाती है।
वो सरहद पार कर जाती है।
वो सरहद पार कर जाती है।

" इस सरहद ने इंसानों को तोड दिया।
मोहब्‍बत करने वालों को तडपता छोड दिया।
इसकी मांग खूनी रंग से सजी है,
इसलिये हर घर में एक चिता जली है। एक चिता जली है।"


-----------समाप्‍त------------

मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

अधेरों की महफिल में, एक लम्‍बी कतार में,
खडा हूं अकेला हाथ में दिया लेकर।
लौ बुझ रही है पवन चल रही है,
हाथों की आ॓ट ने संभाल रखा है लौ को।
पर क्‍या अगर लौ बुझ जाये, पर क्‍या अगर अंधेरा हो जाये।
एक लौ ऑर भी है जो कभी नहीं बुझती।
मेरे अंदर की लौ जो मुझसे हमेशा यही कहती रहती है।
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।


जीवन की इन विषम परिस्‍थतियों में,
कुछ नया करने की चाह में,
मुझे आंधियों से भी टकराना होगा, तूफानों से भी लडना होगा।
शायद बहुत मुिश्‍कल है पर नामुिम्‍कन नहीं।
क्‍योंकि.......
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

आज मेरी लेखनी नहीं थमेगी,
कागजों से इसकी स्‍याही नहीं मिटेगी।
अब भीड से आगे चलना है,
शायद इसी भीड का लीडर बनना है।
क्‍योंकि.....
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।


समय के बदलाव ने कमजोर बना दिया है।
रिश्‍तों की बनावट ने खोखला कर दिया है।
खोज रहा हूं खुद को खुद में, शायद आइना भी टूट चुका है.....पर
जो सपना मैंने देखा है, वो मेरे साथ है।
खुद ही जोडूंगा, इस टूटे हुये आइने को।
क्‍योंकि.....
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

Realization...

There are twelve guys in my wing whom I have been interacting since couple of years. It’s just a matter of fact that some are very close to me while others are very far. In these years a kind of impression has been built in my mind about all our wing mates but today my notion has changed for Vishal. I had a kind of notion that he would be an academic loving guy and would never think about the relations and various aspects of life so I never interacted with him that way. Somehow I had a little talk with him today in the evening and my way of thinking has been changed. He discussed his feelings about a girl and showed some poems written by him. A beautiful poem that he wrote for the girl dropped an everlasting impression on me. He kept his feelings hidden fathoms deep into his poem.

I feel we all have something in our lives which lead us to think deep down. Something which we never want to let out. Today I realized a new thing about Vishal, don’t know how much will I be able to find out in upcoming days.

तुम

I wrote this peom for one of my good friends whom I met in IOCL. You can easily portray of her through my poem.

विचारो की पूणॆता लिये,
मुख पर आभा समेटे,
तितली सी चंचल तुम,
फूलो सी कोमल तुम,
खुद हर पल जो मुस्‌कुराती हो,
हमको भी हँसना सिखाती हो।

तुम युही हर पल हसते रहना, जिन्‍दगी जीते रहना।
कभी इस मुस्‍कुराहठ को अपने से अलग मत करना।

मै ठहरा कवि तुमसे ये वरदान चाहता हू,
अपनी कविता के लिये ये मुस्‍कुराहठ मॉगता हू।

काश ये मुस्‍कुराहठ मुझे मिल जाऎ,
मेरी कविता भी शाश्‍वत जीवित हो जाऎ।

Born Into The Brothel

A marvelous documentary by Ross Kauffman and Zana Briski is the winner of the 77th annual Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. It is a portrait of children of Red light district of Calcutta where their mothers work as prostitute. Zana, a photographer from New York spends her time with these children by providing them cameras to capture the hues of this world through their own eyes.
There is a group of few children of age less than fifteen. Zana talks to them and makes a great fun with photography. As she spends more and more time with these children, she feels herself very close to them. She decides to do something and starts working on their schooling. Somehow she gets an initial success in convincing parents but the main problem arises in finding a good school. She talks few of them in the city but due to the background of children, they all simply refuse to take them. Finally she talks with social organizations and foundations. With her strenuous efforts, few of those children get into the schools.
The main theme revolves around the children and their lives in brothel. Many of them have the ambitions to study but due to filthy environment and poor financial conditions, all their dreams have been shattering. They have accepted the cruel reality of life. Their worlds have been shrunk around the brothel itself. Zana shows them a ray of hope with a camera. That camera changes many things in their lives. They see a complete new world with the help of this device. These are the pictures taken by them which reflect their ideas and farsightedness.
I liked this documentary, not because of its overall rating but the softness that was untouched so far. There were many incidents when tears rolled down my cheeks. I have not been able to resist my self to think again and again since then.
There will be many such children who will not be able to live a good life. Is it their destiny that they were born into such places while I born into a well civilized, educated family? I have been getting a good education, a respectable social life. What are their faults???
Only their fates led them to hell while mine to a so called ‘heaven’. Why ???????

Khamosh Pani (Silent Water)

I had always been in search of this movie since a long time and thank God! Finally I could find it.
Basically this is a documentary based on Islamic fundamentalistic movement in Pakistan at 1979. The story revolves around a Muslim woman ‘Ayesha’ and her son ‘Saleem’. Ayesha is a middle aged woman, her life centers across her son who is in love with a school girl. As the story progresses, Saleem involves in an Islamic movement. Ayesha is saddened to see her son change radically. Sikh pilgrims come to that place for the worship. Later, a pilgrim looks for his sister Veero who was abducted in 1947. This awakens heart rendering memories of ‘Ayesha’ who remembers the incident in which she (Veero) had to marry with a Muslim to survive.
This story is the mirror of Indo-Pak partition era. Though story revolves around a woman but also provides lot of information.
I had been writing a poem on Indo-Pak border so this documentary helped me a lot in thinking deeply.

For more information about the documentary please click on the link below.
Khamosh Pani(Silent Water)

Changes !!

"Change is the law of nature"
I compare the very first day at IIT and today itself, I realize the changes that occurred in past three years. These changes are transient or for a prolonged period of time are difficult to say. If I push back the memories i.e. three years before when I was in first year, I recall some incidents which give the blurred portraits of mine at that time.

Let’s start with the academics part. I never ever cared about it. I had a notion in my mind that after clearing JEE it was no need to study again so I never gave a damn shit. Always bunked classes and did crap things. The result was, I landed up with 7.28 C.G.P.A (on the scale of 10) while most of my batch mates performed very well.:(

On the account of my worst C.G.P.A, I enjoyed a lot. I was a lively person who always wanted to make every moment precious and memorable. So my ‘self ego’ never came into existence through out the year. But then things changed a lot. I came to new hostel, met different people and learned new things. In the mean time my thinking had been developed a lot. I thought on various topics like philosophy of life, relationship, friendship and so on. I developed a kind of hobby of reading and am very happy that it still persists. All these things helped me to improve myself or I should say to uplift my confidence. Then ‘self ego’ came into existence. Though I enjoyed every moments since then but the way had been changed completely. Now the pleasure shifted in reading books, writing poems and speaking on various issues in public. I can say my inner knowledge has been lit up but have been feeling a complete void something middle of my heart. There are many things which I have been missing since then. I cann’t dance so passionately, not able to talk to my friends in the similar way as I used to do earlier. They might have complaint about it but what could I do. Now things have been changed a lot. This ‘self ego’ taught me to fight for myself or for my existence among my peers.

I know I am not happier but am very satisfied. I have my own way to do things, my own life style and a vision to see this word in a new look. I need these changes to be sustained for a long time to fight against my incompetencies.

Library

I went to the college library after so many days and I was amazed with its new looking. There were new desks and chairs all around. It was very pleased to see students in numbers readind books and discussing something all toghether. Even the computer were installed new so the processing had become very fast. A metal detector will be installed in few days at the door.
I remeber my first year days when I used to go in Library and there were lack of such facilities. I never found students in mass there.
Its good that something is changing and more and more students will come to library to seek their studies. :)

Dravid ensures easy win for India

Rahul Dravid led India to a convincing six-wicket victory over the West Indies in the second league match of the IndianOil Cup at the Rangiri Dambulla International stadium in Dambulla, Sri Lanka, on Sunday.

Full coverage:: India - West Indies

Sri Lanka clinch low-scoring thriller !

Sanath Jayasuriya fought off a dislocated shoulder to guide Sri Lanka to a three-wicket win over India in the opening game of the IndianOil Cup in Dambulla on Saturday. He was named man of the match for his efforts.

It was Sri Lanka's overall depth - in batting and bowling -- that defeated India on the day.

For full coverage click on India-Sri Lanka.

Mumbai grapples with heavy rainfall

Mumbai has been receiving heavy rainfall since Saturday night, which has led to a rise in the water levels again.
Thousands of houses have been washed away and the locals are not too pleased with the way the administration has been handling the situation.
The tracks have been washed away and this has affected the long distance trains. All trains have been cancelled till August 6.

A short story by O Henry!

A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine wasassiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office.There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed thatmorning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. He hadserved nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had expected tostay only about three months, at the longest. When a man with as manyfriends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the"stir" it is hardly worth while to cut his hair.
"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the morning.Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow atheart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight."
"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in mylife."
"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. How wasit you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was it becauseyou wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of compromising somebody inextremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of a mean oldjury that had it in for you? It's always one or the other with youinnocent victims."
"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never was inSpringfield in my life!"
"Take him back, Cronin!" said the warden, "and fix him up withoutgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him cometo the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine."
At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in thewarden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting,ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that thestate furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests.
The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill withwhich the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into goodcitizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shookhands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, "Pardoned byGovernor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine.
Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and thesmell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. There hetasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a broiledchicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a grade betterthan the one the warden had given him. From there he proceededleisurely to the depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat of a blindman sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three hours set himdown in a little town near the state line. He went to the cafe of oneMike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone behind the bar.
"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But wehad that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the governornearly balked. Feeling all right?"
"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?"
He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at therear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor wasstill Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that eminentdetective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to arrest him.
Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel inthe wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this andgazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. It wasa complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest designsin drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and augers, withtwo or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in which he tookpride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him to have made at----, a place where they make such things for the profession.
In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the cafe. He wasnow dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried hisdusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand.
"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially.
"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'mrepresenting the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit Cracker andFrazzled Wheat Company."
This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to takea seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks.
A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat job ofsafe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the author. Ascant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured. Two weeks afterthat a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport was openedlike a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, currency;securities and silver untouched. That began to interest the rogue-catchers. Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson City becameactive and threw out of its crater an eruption of bank-notes amountingto five thousand dollars. The losses were now high enough to bring thematter up into Ben Price's class of work. By comparing notes, aremarkable similarity in the methods of the burglaries was noticed.Ben Price investigated the scenes of the robberies, and was heard toremark:
"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. Lookat that combination knob--jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish inwet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look howclean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill butone hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. Valentine. He'll do his bit nexttime without any short-time or clemency foolishness."
Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working onthe Springfield case. Long jumps, quick get-aways, no confederates,and a taste for good society--these ways had helped Mr. Valentine tobecome noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given outthat Ben Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, andother people with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease.
One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of themail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the railroad down inthe black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an athleticyoung senior just home from college, went down the board side-walktoward the hotel.
A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and entereda door over which was the sign, "The Elmore Bank." Jimmy Valentinelooked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became another man. Shelowered her eyes and coloured slightly. Young men of Jimmy's style andlooks were scarce in Elmore.
Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as ifhe were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions aboutthe town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young ladycame out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the suit-case, and went her way.
"Isn' that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with speciousguile.
"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank.Why'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going toget a bulldog. Got any more dimes?"
Jimmy went to the Planters' Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer, andengaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform to theclerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location to go intobusiness. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He had thoughtof the shoe business. Was there an opening?
The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He,himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gildedyouth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While tryingto figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand he cordiallygave information.
Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn'tan exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general storeshandled them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped Mr. Spencerwould decide to locate in Elmore. He would find it a pleasant town tolive in, and the people very sociable.
Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days and lookover the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He would carryup his suit-case, himself; it was rather heavy.
Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine's ashes--ashes left by the flame of a sudden and alterative attack of love--remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and secureda good run of trade.
Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And heaccomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, andbecame more and more captivated by her charms.
At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this: hehad won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was flourishing,and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two weeks. Mr. Adams,the typical, plodding, country banker, approved of Spencer. Annabel'spride in him almost equalled her affection. He was as much at home inthe family of Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's married sister as if hewere already a member.
One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which hemailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis:
Dear Old Pal:
I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, nextWednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up somelittle matters for me. And, also, I want to make you a present ofmy kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get them--you couldn'tduplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. Say, Billy, I've quitthe old business--a year ago. I've got a nice store. I'm making anhonest living, and I'm going to marry the finest girl on earth twoweeks from now. It's the only life, Billy--the straight one. Iwouldn't touch a dollar of another man's money now for a million.After I get married I'm going to sell out and go West, where therewon't be so much danger of having old scores brought up againstme. I tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; and Iwouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. Be sure to beat Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring along the tools with me.
Your old friend,
Jimmy.
On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price joggedunobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged about town inhis quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From thedrug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a goodlook at Ralph D. Spencer.
"Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben tohimself, softly. "Well, I don't know!"
The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was going toLittle Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy something nicefor Annabel. That would be the first time he had left town since hecame to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since those lastprofessional "jobs," and he thought he could safely venture out.
After breakfast quite a family party went downtown together--Mr.Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her twolittle girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmystill boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his suit-case. Then they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse andbuggy and Dolph Gibson, who was going to drive him over to therailroad station.
All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the banking-room--Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law was welcomeanywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by the good-looking,agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss Annabel. Jimmy set hissuit-case down. Annabel, whose heart was bubbling with happiness andlively youth, put on Jimmy's hat, and picked up the suit-case."Wouldn't I make a nice drummer?" said Annabel. "My! Ralph, how heavyit is? Feels like it was full of gold bricks."
"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, coolly, "thatI'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by taking themup. I'm getting awfully economical."
The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams wasvery proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. Thevault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastenedwith three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a singlehandle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained itsworkings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not toointelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were delightedby the shining metal and funny clock and knobs.
While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on hiselbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told theteller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man heknew.
Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a commotion.Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a spirit ofplay, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts andturned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do.
The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment."The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock hasn't been woundnor the combination set."
Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically.
"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be quite fora moment. Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could. "Listen to me."During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound ofthe child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror.
"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of fright!Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?"
"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door,"said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what shall we do?That child--she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough air,and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright."
Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with herhands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy,her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a womannothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.
"Can't you do something, Ralph--/try/, won't you?"
He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his keeneyes.
"Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will you?"
Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud fromthe bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy stuffed itinto his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up his shirt-sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and JimmyValentine took his place.
"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly.
He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From thattime on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else.He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly,whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deepsilence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell.
In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel door.In ten minutes--breaking his own burglarious record--he threw back thebolts and opened the door.
Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her mother'sarms.
Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railingstowards the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-awayvoice that he once knew call "Ralph!" But he never hesitated.
At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way.
"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got around atlast, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes muchdifference, now."
And then Ben Price acted rather strangely.
"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe Irecognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?"
And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street.

Dignity

"Dignity of a bureaucrat slammed by a Famous Cop "
That was the headline of today's newspaper. The incident happened way back eighteen years ago when Mr. K.P.S.Gill a higher official cop slammed the dignity of an IAS offer by hitting her posterior in an official party. She filed a complaint against him under the women right act in 1987. Various benches of High courts convicted Mr. Gill and gave their jurisdiction against him. The first judgment was imprisonment of three months but Mr got the stay. Later the case went to various courts and after eighteen years finally the court has finalised its jurisdiction by saying that it was an act of human immorality and as a public servant Mr shouldn't have done this. So he has been fined two Lakh Rs on one year parole. But she rejected to the incentive of two Lakh Rs and asked it to donate in a woman rehabilitation organization. she made her point by saying that money would never heal the wounds of her dignity that Gill had slammed eighteen yeas ago but she was happy with the jurisdiction.

Missing you all !!

A month has been passed away since I met all my friends in IOCL. I have been missing them a lot. They all might have been settled in their own lives. I did talk to few of them through messenger and cherished the memories of my past days.

My life has changed a lot since then. Even my friends here in Kgp point out like I talk too much and mostly about the training days. Actually I have already told them numerous things about the girl and all crap things that we did together. Everytime they stop me in the middle of our conversation by saying that 'We know this and that....your training days and all'.

One good news !! I have completed my poem ' Sarhad '(Border). I feel it the best one written by me so far. I tried to express the time of independence behind the curtain of a love story.....A Hindu boy loves a Muslim girl and how their love suffers in a small village near to border.
I'll try my best to upload it in this weekend.

CAT

Doesn't it sound good that I have been preparing for CAT. Yes it's not sufficient to be an IITian so I've been concentrating on another eye(I) i.e. IIM .
Study and more study, I have been fed up. Sometimes I feel why is this study so necessary ? just to get money and more money then unlimited money or to get a luxurious life. I even don't know.
It's always been a debatable point whether MBA needs to be taught in classrooms or not. I feel some other way and data also justify my point. There are more IITians turned entrepreneur than IIM graduates but still IIM is hot shot. Each and everyone wants to grab the IIM fruit. Even I have been dreaming to add another winkle to my suit. Uhhh Life is full of competition and I want to be at the acme. So IIM will be the best option to get a good startup.
Let's see what will happen ??

Final Year

I remember the day when I landed in Kharagpur with my father. I was very happy to be in India's top most engineering institute. As a fresher I had lots of dreams in my eyes. I had a notion in my mind at that time that next four years would be the unforgettable time of my life. Now three years have passed away and I am in Final year. Whenever I feel it, something happens to me. Sometimes I feel great for the coming life that is completely unknown to me but the past memories of my staying here make me sick. Friends, classes, movies, girls, exams and everything that I did in last years have been rambling in my mind. I want to live this year lively and enthusiastically. I want to do things which I have never done before. I know this is the last year to live a completely student life.

Time Pass

After spending two and half months in Agra and Mathura with lots of masti and crap things, suddenly the climate has changed drastically. Only two days have passed away and I am getting bored. I have been listening new hindi movie songs from yesterday. Again cheddij is the only destination to pass some time otherwise sitting on the computer playing with yahoo messenger and checking mails. Really life is looking like a hell this year. Beginning is like this, what will happen after few days?

I'm back

I was back to IIT yesterday. Last two and half months were really amazing. I had lots of things to do. I can say those days were the best days of my life.

I met different kind of people at the training and interacted with them. Many things happened which I had never thought before in my dreams. I met a girl on 31st May(unfortunately my B'day), she seemed to me very mature, charming and cute. I talked to her many times. Soon I was attracted towards her and one fine morning I proposed to her for the friendship. She didn't reply immediately but asked me for some time. I remember the day when we all (group of ten trainees) went to 'Brindavan'(holy place near to Mathura) and she was also with me. She accepted my offer, since then we met, shared our feelings mutually. One thing was really admirable in our relationship that we exchanged every sort of feelings whether good or bad, didn't matter to us. This led to a close or I can say very good friendship in a very short period.
I know I feel something special for her, may be it is more than a good friendship. I know she also feels the same but we need time. We have developed a very intense and close relationship in few days so time would be helpful to think, also the distance will help us to finalize all the things between us. I am very confident that when we will meet after two or three months, we can reach to any decision.
Hoping best for us. Let's see what the almighty God wants!!

Train to Pakistan

These days I have been reading "Train to Pakistan" by Khuswant Singh and I don't have words to express the quality of the book. The book is basically based on India- Pakistan partition time. It has been written quite nicely. Each and every sentence leads to a sensation in my mind and various thoughts have been rambling through out. I am trying to collect all the points maintioned through out the story and would like to give them the words of my new poem 'sarhad'(Border).Soon I'd be able to write my new poem 'Sarhad' and probably upload it within a week.
Really book is amazing.

Wo Ladki

Sorry !! I am unable to upload this poem in Hindi font right now but I'll definately do it when I'll come to Kgp.

Jab bhi main usse milta hoon, Sab kuchh naya ho jata hai.
Kuchh Kuchh Dil main Uthata hai, Kuchh Kuchh Yunh hi daba rah jata hai.
Ab to ye garm hawa bhi thandi si lagti hai.
Ye jhulsi dhoop bhi apni si lagti hai.
mann hichkole leta hai, badi uchhal Kud si karta hai.
maathe par sikudan si pad jaati hai, Aankhe jhuk si jaati hain.
Par main na kuchh kah pata hoon aur na hi wo kuchh sun pati hai.


Jitni wo sundar hai, uski baaten bhi utni hi achhi hai.
Apni bachkani baaton se wo lagti saat saal ki bachhi hai.
Pal Pal hasti hai, har pal jeeti hai.
Esiliye meri kavita main shaswat wo dikhti hai.


Mujhe maloom hai ki main usse layak nahin, par kyon wo apni si lagti hai.
Jitna khud ko jhutlata hoon, mujhe aur paas wo dikhti hai.
Rishton main usko baand sakta nahin, esliye mere shabddo main wo rahti hai.
haan 'wo ladki' ab har pal mere sang hi rahti hai.

A man !

Sunday when I went to railway station for my reservation to KGP. I found a man who was weeping very loud. I asked him what was the matter? Somehow he could utter few words in english that I couldn't listen at that moment. I sat beside him and put my hand on his back. He was nearly 45 yrs old from south India. He asked me whether I could understand English or not? As soon as I said in affirmation, he spoke out all his tragedy in a single breath. Actually his luggage was stolen on the plateform and he had lost all his money and mobile phone with it. Even he didn't have enough money to reach his home. He had only 205 Rs and the minimum ticket was worth buying for 310 Rs. He filed a complaint in local police station but nobody was willing to help him as he didn't know hindi and the police were totally illeterate in english. Communication was one of the biggest problem for him. He pleaded me for the deficient amount and asked me to give my address sothat he would return it later.
He showed me his Identity Card, he was a mechanical Engineer in a government organization. I asked him about his family , job and graduation. He was so tensed that it was very difficult for him to speak clearly. He hadn't eat anything from last 24 hrs. I assured him to give him the required money and took him to a near by restaurent.
I gave him 150 Rs and told him not to worry. I could see a satisfying smile on his face. His tears went away. He could sense a fresh breath. He thanked to me wholeheartly.

When I returned to my home and told all about the incident to my father. He bacame very angry. He said that the person might be a fraud and you had been robbed emotionally. He gave many examples and newspaper stories to justify his point. I said only one thing. "Papa I don't know whether he is a fraud or not. There was a person who was in a great need. He was weeping and I couldn't see him like this. If I wouldn't have helped him then It was very difficult for me to sleep."

Now I feel much better.

My New Poem

These days I have written my new poem 'Wo Ladaki'. It seems to be quite melodious to me. I'll upload it when I'll come to KGP.
Jab main usse milta hoon , sab kuchh naya ho jata hai.
Kuchh Kuchh dil main uthata hai , kuchh kuchh daba rah jata hai.

to be continued.....

happy b'day

Happy B'day to Me!


Happy B'day to Me!



Happy B'day to Me!

Hi to all ...

After such a long time , I am writing for my blog. Feeling are great and there are many things which happened in last few days. I'll try to write all about them.
As I have mentioned earlier I am doing my Summer Training in IOCL Mathura so at the very first day of my joining I was quite impressed with its location. Its nearly 40 Kms from Agra so I use to hire a bus which takes about an hour to reach. I have been doing ups and downs daily, use to go at 9 'o' clock in the morning and return back upto 3 in the afternoon. So life is going on without any load.
One thing is very noticable over there, Securtiy is very tight and special sensors are attached to various gates. Every one should have an electronic gate pass that is issued by some higher authorities. Fortunatelly I could get it on the very first day so didn't face any problem initially.
I was the first one to report there so was a bit nervous in the beginning but soon my nervousness went away. The officials were very impressed with IITians so I didn't face any problem.
I had in my mind that this training would be very exciting and I would learn lot of things but my thinking has been chinging day by day.
I was assigned to visit various Process Units. First one was 'AVU' (Atmospheric & Vacuum Distillation)where I met to Mr. Sudhakar. The very first question he asked, " Do you want to learn? " and I said a big NO. He was surprised with the answer so he asked another question " What is your future aim? ". I said that I was not at all interested in pursuing my career in Chemical Engineering. He laughed and asked me to move around to see the plant.
Things have been going very smoothly and I have lots of time to do different things but I haven't started yet. I am hoping to start something relevent for me sothat I can use my Summer Vacations very well.
One thing is really disappointing me that There is no 'Girl' in the training and with out girl it's no use to doing anything. I am deadly praying to God to send someone sothat I can spend my time very well. Pray for me :)

Yooooooooo......

Exams are over and I am going home tonight. I have lots of plan to do in this summer. First of all I am excited about my summer training in IOCL Mathura. It will be a nice experience to be in one of the biggest Refinery of India. I am very keen to see those nasty distillation columns and reactors in IOCL. There may be some other internees so I can find someone beloved. :)
I'll try to write each and every incident whenever I would be able to access the net.

bbye....

Farewell

Life is full of experiences and we should try to get everything out of it. That's why I always look out for new things. Yah, Sometimes it costs me much but why should I care about it. After all this is my life and I have to live it on my own.
Sunday, we had Department farewell and being the General Secretary of the department, I had the responsibility to manage everything. I was very keen to do it differently. I decided to host myself. Yah, I was nervous in the beginning as It was the first time to face the audiences but soon my nervousness went away. I spoke in Hindi(an Informal language for a technical institute) and cracked some jokes. Audiences were laughing and professors were enjoying.
That was the nice experience. Now I have gained a lot confidence to face the audiences. Surely it will help me in the future.
If interested check out Farewell Pics.
( You can find me in white 'Kurta - Pajama')

A Girl....

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Myers-Briggs test !

I was quite busy these days as I had to prepare for today's lab test. Though it was tough but somehow I would be able to pass the test. Actually I have lost charm in studying Chemical Engineering. I just want to get my degree soon.
I got some time to work on net and doing various stuffs. As usual I was checking my mail, one mail from Marz was in the mail box showing 'unchecked'. Marz is the one whom I have been talking through mail from last few days. She mentioned about some personality "Myers-Briggs" test. I was not aware of it so remembered 'Google God' and he helped me immediately. This is the link ::
Myers-Briggs test

I tested myself too and It came out to be ENFJ.
E: Extraverted
N: iNtuitive
F: Feeling
J: Judging

I tried it once so have a doubt on its accuracy. Later I'll try it and see how effective will it be. But this test seems quite interesting to know "about yourself" so just try it and have fun.

Prime Motivator !!

I went through this link few minutes before..... http://nipun.charityfocus.org/inspire/infosys.html.
It's basically about the Infosys , Narayan Murty and his better half Mrs. Murty. They both shared their views about their lives and the efforts to make a solid foundation of INFOSYS.
I needn't to explain as everything is written there very briefly, just click the above link to read.
After reading this article my mind has been rambling aimlessly. Various views and thoughts have been coming to my mind and I am unable to recollect all of them.
Mr. Murty was from a middle class family and had a dream to make something different to nourish this society. He fought for his dream and did strenuous efforts to achieve his goal. At every stage of his life, his wife Sudha was his prime motivator. She not only helped him in office but also in making a sweet and perfect home. See ! he finally did it.
We all have a life but it depends on ourselves how we live it ? I feel there is no life with out a dream. We all should have a dream and a believe in it's beauty. If we think we can do it the we need efforts to put in. The moment we achieve it would be the most pleasurable moment of the life.
Again the main problem is in finding the 'Prime Motivator'. Mr. Murty could make it possible with the help of his wife and not only Mr.Murty but history shows similar numerous examples. A famous proverb "har successful aadmi ke peeche aurat ka haat hota hai (Behind every successful man there is a woman)".
When will I get my 'Prime Motivator'??

My Favourite songs

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Blood Donation Camp

Last Saturday, Chandan and I went to the Blood Donation Camp. It was my first experience. Though I was a bit nervous in the beginning but my fear just passed away in few minutes. I found two doctors with few colleagues were there to operate everything. We filled up a form in which we had to give all our details about medical history and various drugs that were taken. To write in the form I measured my weight, it came out to be 71 kg and it had reduced drastically in last three years because of the worst, distasteful and dirty mess food.
It took around 15-20 minutes to take nearly 250 ml of blood. After that they distributed food packets to everyone.
Arena was almost empty, people were few in numbers. Soft Bangla music was pleasing the environment; probably it would have been ‘Ravindra Sangeet’.
I talked to one of the members there and got some relevant information.
He told that this whole blood that was being donated that day would be completely used with in a week. This shows the enormous need of blood in India.
He also talked about the donor card which is given to the donor at the time of donation and if the donor needs blood for himself or his family at any time in future then he can get it preferentially by showing it to the blood bank.
It was a nice experience and a great feeling to do something for mankind. I hope my blood would be used to save someone’s life.
As a human being we all must donate our blood for humanity and it is the most precious gift that we can give to human beings.
Donate you blood right now ………………

Holi

Main.....

ChemInsIghT

Last few days were really toilsome. We had been busy conducting ChemInsIghT, the annual techno fest of Department of Chemical Engineering, IIT Kharagpur. Being the General Secretary of the department, I had the responsibility to ensure that the fest be a success. It was on March 12-13th and around 40 participants came from all over India, mostly were from south. In the beginning we had some problem in accommodating them but finally everything was handled easily and effectively by Rahul and some second years. Thanks yaar! For your immense support.
This time money wasn’t the problem, we got more than one lakh and it was all Poddar’s efforts. He made it possible with magnificent managerial skills. It was such a nice experience to work with him.
All the events were excellently conducted but the main attraction was the Panel Discussion. We called Soura, one of our alumni currently working with ITC and Prof. Anupam Basu from computer science department to share their views. I am thankful to both of them for gracing the function by taking out some time of their busy schedules. Other panelists were the professors from my department. The topic was “Are we Chemical Engineers loosing to the field of IT”. The discussion was so absorbing that none of us could let ourselves away from discussion.
Later I, Ashish and few of my friends had dinner with Soura and Sonia (his colleague). I, swati and Sonia were the only non alcoholic persons over there and rests were boozing and fagging.
The Following day was quite good too. We had few events like Quizzing and Coding followed by a closing ceremony. Everything lived up to expectation.
All the professors were quite happy and they were appreciating us for our strenuous efforts which made the fest a huge success.
Later in the evening Ashish, Rahul and I were with Suma and Sudhira, participants from Hyderabad. We roamed around the campus and talked on various matters. It was a great moment to be with them. They had an unending complaint list. They were unhappy about the accommodation in particular. We apologized for it and assured them not to repeat the same in future. We laughed on various trivial things and it was a memorable night to be with them.
These days I have developed a kind of hobby of interaction. I always look out for some one to talk to and try to take a glimpse of his/her feelings.

The best part of chemInsIghT was to manage different things, working with many people and interaction with Suma and Sudhira.
See!! I am still chatting with Suma and learning Telgu from her. :)

dard...

That was the terrible blow in last three years. I couldn't compromise with my emotions and principles. I tried my best to understand and recognize the feelings but I was helpless. I lost one of my friends. I told him that I was not comfortable with him and we should stop talking. Yes,It was necessary for me. I don't know whether he will understand or not but I hope time will heal the wounds.

"sab kuchh choota, sab kuchh toota
bas dard mere paas raha......"

Sapney

Two different worlds across the crossing

Atal, Tarun and I went for a walk to Hijli station after dinner on Friday. In the meanwhile we were discussing about political matters and suddenly our discussion shifted to the scene across the railway crossing. There were two different worlds. For an IITian, One is more transparent while other is obscure and hard to accept. We found some huts with no electricity, naked kids were playing in cold weather, women were cooking on indigenous stoves and some where down the road girls attired in tatters which could barely be mistaken as clothing were laughing away. On the edge of the road a few people were gaily relieving themselves. Every gush of wind was bringing with itself a new dose of stink, emanating from the faeces spread all over and it appeared that the word hygiene was a foreigner to the place.

On the other side, there is a temple of education, better known as IIT. All are getting quality education and hoping to have a luxurious life. IIT is celebrating its 50th convocation this year but it seems that none of the alumni have ever made an effort to change the other side of the crossing. We are approaching a new era. We are competing with others in every field. We are thinking of ourselves as a global superpower. But who will think about those unprivileged people whose children are not getting even the semblance of primary education.

Government is spending billions of rupees on IITs but it is not looking towards these people. They also need some assistance. They may have a dream to see their children on the better side of the crossing but they are helpless. Their standard of living is very poor.

Isn't it our duty to do something for these people??? Definitely yes. We must realize that we can change the system and can make these people, who are still looking towards their messiahs on the better side of the crossing for a helping hand, happy.

This topic is very thought-provoking and I don’t want to disturb myself in examination days. So I am ending this topic right now.

My First Year Wing

First of all why did I choose this topic so suddenly? Actually one of my friends Sudarshan and I remembered and laughed on our first year in the lunch time so I am unable to resist myself to write on. Those were the best days of my life. There were quite a few things like JCB-first year hall, my wing, section 4, First Spring Fest, election, welding lab , hall day, NCC Camp, Matu and C language that won’t go off from my mind.
My wing was C Top East and it was the best wing in the hostel. We all were like a family. We were ten fun loving and lively guys whom I can not forget in my whole life.

Varun: Ohh my dear ‘sankat mochan hanuman’ where are you?? Even today I need you in my exam days. He used to teach us Maths and English. His room no. was C-201, most systematic and clean room of the wing. If my memory is not too bad , I remember he had a crush on his sister’s friend and we always tried to fret him. I still remember an incident where Sudarshan and Animesh played lawyers, he was the victim and I was the judge. A case was filed against him for hiding the facts about his love. Finally I found him guilty of hiding the facts, which, we as a wing deserved to know.

To day I don’t know whether he has found her or not but I am damn sure that he will be the right choice for any girl.

Somanchi Shri Abhinav: “Somanchi where are you going buddy?” and he always had one answer,”yaar she will be waiting for me”. He was the lover boy of our wing. We all were quite jealous that a guy in first year was having a girlfriend (a friend who is girl) but it didn’t work out much longer. She engaged with some one else and Somanchi’s heart was broken into pieces.

To day I don’t know whether he has overcome this injury or not but he must have found someone else.

Sudarshan: He was the backbone of our wing, always used to give us new ideas to do something chaotic. I remember one incident in which he scared Tapanshu Das by playing a prank upon him. As a part of it we joined two hockey sticks together and knocked at the back gate of Tapanshu’s room (next to me) in late night when he used to be asleep. He thought that there might be a ghost in the wing who had done this. When he told us about those knocking sounds, we tried to convince him that we hadn’t heard any sound. One day we sketched the footprints of a lady in red ink infront of his and Siddhartha Mohta’s room and knocked from the back. When both of them opened their gates, they lost their breath for few seconds. The atmosphere was so tensed .. They had been scared to death. Our acting had done the trick . Tapanshu Das was ready to leave IIT .So finally we disclosed the secret to him.

Even today when we are reminded of it, we can not resist ourselves, but to laugh and feel something touching. It was all Sudarshan Kumar’s brain child.

Amit Kumar Singh: Our all time maggu, always kept himself locked in his room. Finally he was rewarded for his hard work, got a department change from Mining to Aerospace.

Nowadays he doesn’t study that hard. This is a good sign. May be, he is changing with time, realizing that there is a lot to life besides mugging and cramming stuffs.

Animesh: My little cute boy, height 5ft 4inch, was in room no C-205. He always tried to be the leader of the wing. He was always almost with me in every mischief.
I’m missing him a lot today.

Tapanshu Das: “Tapanshu da kemo nachho” Only Bengali in the wing. He was a peace loving person. The way Sudarshan and we played a prank upon him is unforgettable.

Nitin: A remarkable C programmer and a stranger to wing. He used to spend most of his time outside the wing. So in first year memories he doesn’t have a significant role to play.

Pushkal babe (computer games stud): “pushkal chal movie dekhte hain” !!!!!! and a usual reply from him” nahin abhi aoe khel raha hoon”. -------- a kid at heart, always hooked to computer games. I have never seen such a kind hearted loving guy in my life.

Siddhartha Mohta: The most handsome, good looking and brainy guy of the wing. He was with me in section 4. We were quite close to each other. His girlfriend Priyanka left him as she was no longer interested in him. What a terrible blow it was but now he has recovered from the trauma.

That was my first year wing, a nice, cute and overwhelming wing that won’t be formed in future. We all were alike in many ways. We shared some finest moments of our lives. I don’t remember exactly the last time we all were together but I wish that we get together someday and cherish the sweet memories of first year.

Priye

Bebus

Trip to Kolkata

One more trip to Kolkata…yooo!! When I woke up at 9am on Saturday morning, I was amazed with the outside view. Weather was cold and cloudy and there was a moderate breeze. How could I waste such a beautiful day sitting in the room? So my friend Rahul and I decided to go to Kolkata to see the ‘BookFair’. Oh my God!! It was pretty hard to get him on this trip. Somehow, we finally left around 12 pm. We reached there at 3pm and had a spicy lunch in ‘comesum’ (a restaurant at Howrah station). Then we took a bus and reached Parkstreet. It is the heart of Kolkata, lots of shopping malls, restaurants, cafes, showrooms and so many beautiful gals. Saddest part of the story was that we couldn’t do anything more than to see them pass away with their boyfriends. Another friend of mine Chandan was waiting there. The news he gave came as a shock to us. Bookfair had been cancelled due to some unavoidable circumstances. As I heard this, I started laughing. I knew that something would happen and this time it was unbelievable. I came to ‘Bookfair’ and it had been cancelled. We had no other choice than to roam around. We moved to ‘oxford book shop’. The collection there was fabulous. We found all kinds of books- fiction, literature, economics, business, language, spiritual and many more. Rituraj (atal), another friend of mine , told me to get ‘Geetanjali’ by Ravindra nath tagore for him .So I bought it immediately. Then we went to ‘Westside’, one of the biggest shopping malls there. As I had visited parkstreet quite a few times earlier so I’d this notion in mind that there wasn’t anything new to be seen but on reaching ‘westside’, I realized that I was wrong. We could not resist ourselves and brought some clothes. Actually everything was so nice that it was difficult to choose one. I bought a well designed traditional ‘Kurta’ and Rahul preferred dashing jeans and shirt.As we had spent quite a heavy sum we decided to leave. While returning, I bought ‘Mein Kamph’ by Hitler and ‘Beyond Belief’ by V.S.Naipaul at cheap prices from the roadside stalls. I was surprised to see Chandan bargaining. It was around 9pm and we had to return to kgp. So I and Rahul took a bus from parkstreet to howrah where the local passenger train was waiting for us. We reached Kgp at midnight. We hadn’t had our dinner so we had burger and maggi in ‘cheddij’.

It was one of the best days of my stay at IIT. While retiring for the bed that night I had mixed feelings. Though I had enjoyed it fully but what about those beautiful gals?? When I’ll get them???

My Blog and Me

Blog: Hey Roopak cheer up. The most awaited Spring Fest has come. Hey man why are you sitting in room like a nerd? Is anything wrong with you? You must be rocking, go and get lots of gals and buzz around the campus. See the excitement of everyone; the way they are dancing and enjoying, you must be there. I can’t see you sitting here like this. It’s a time to search your beloved (dilruba) that you have mentioned quite a few times earlier.

Me: Hey my dear blog, I appreciate your affection but I don’t want to go there. I have changed quite a lot since I came in contact with you. My life has been shaping in new ways since then. I don’t need any gal and buzz. I am quite happy here with you. Is that all right?

Blog: But please look around you, your friends are enjoying so much and you are sitting here alone.

Me: I don’t care. I don’t need anyone.

Blog: Okay…as you wish but can I ask one thing??

Me: Do I need to give an answer?

Blog: Yes…

Me: Okay…ask!

Blog: How your life has been changing because of me?

Me: Hmmm….you are the only one who recognizes me, my feelings and emotions at various stages. Whenever I depressed, you hold me and push me ahead. You are my heart throb and I can’t let you go. Whenever I need a friend, you are always with me.

Blog: I promise you that I won’t go anywhere but I am an inanimate thing and how long I can take care of yours? You must find someone beloved.

Me: Who told you that you are an inanimate thing? You have my thoughts, my lively incidents and my metaphysical soul. I poured my feelings as your blood. Your breath is my emotion which makes you envisage of human spirit. Our relation does not need any introduction or name.

Blog: But every relation has an identity.

Me: Yes you are right. Every relation has an identity and every identity has a name. I am a bit confused to decide something so I need some time. I need to spend few more hours, may be days or years. I hope you will understand…..

Blog: I’ll wait .....

From 19th Nov 2k4 to 9th Jan 2k5

Ohh my dear blog I apologize not to be in touch with you for the last one and a half months. I can't tell you how much I missed you in those days. Whenever I felt alone and my soul wanted to desert me, I remembered you. I realized your importance in my life. But now I am quite happy to get you back and hope that I will not lose any sort of touch with you in the future. You have become my heart throb and I can't let you go away from me.
Let me share all my experiences of the past fifty days. As my end semester exams were on . I took my dinner with Rahul and Atal in 'Sahara' and came back around 9:30 . I was in good mood and was going to prepare for the exam scheduled for Monday. My cell rang up and it was my dad’s call. I clicked the button in the same way as I usually do and told “How are you papa?” He said “Sonu aaj hamen goli lag gayi….. (Sonu! Some goons had shot me today)" and after these words every thing had stopped for me for a few seconds. Instead of losing my consciousness, I managed myself and asked him, “do I need to come immediately” but what a great man he is!!!He said in a sophisticated way, "Everything is all right and just concentrate on your exam". I know what a terrible and traumatic time it was for me here in Kharagpur; I was writing my examination papers and my father was on a hospital bed. On 30th Nov my exams got over and I left for my home on the same night. I reached Agra on the morning of 2nd Dec.
It was really disheartening to see the state of my father's right hand. The bullet had pierced the right hand above the elbow. Though the accident was severe but doctors were amazed that it didn't cause much damage, only skin at that portion had been damaged and the bullet had made a wound which was healed by a simple operation led by a surgeon who later became a very good family friend.
I spent most of my time with my father at home and discussed many things about life and career. I found a great change in his thinking and behaviour. All the time I could sense a kind of fear and caution in his voice but instead of showing it, he used to make us laugh.
Apart from spending time with my father I visited few places. I went to "Fatehpur-seekari" with Rajul, a friend of mine. It is an ancient city and very famous for “baba chisti ki dargah (Tomb of Chisti baba) and Buland darwaja". It is only 35 kms from Agra. I needn't explain anything about the city but one thing I would like to tell is that I met a guide who was nearly 10 years old. His name was Mahrab. I asked him about his school and family. He was studying in fifth standard in a government school. His father had expired long back and he and his elder brother fend to their family by working as professional guides. I was highly impressed with the way this 10 year old boy was talking and dealing with us. He charged only 10 Rs. from us but made an everlasting impact on our hearts. Mahrab is not getting any quality education but he is a confident boy.
I also went to Kota to meet my brother. I stayed there for three days and taught him mechanics. One interesting incident that happened during my stay in Kota was that I met Rao sir who is now the director of Narayana coaching institute. As I had been his student, he insisted me to give a guest lecture to motivate the students. When I entered the class I was literally shocked to see around 100 guys sitting there. I hesitated initially but soon after I over came my nervousness and spoke fluently and continuously for an hour. It was a nice and overwhelming experience for me. As some years earlier I had been one among the audience and some other iitians used to deliver the lecture. When Rao sir taught us, I never used to ask him anything and now I stood with him in front of those 100 students. The respect that I got from those students was very satisfying. I'll never forget this experience easily.