Poem

Hello Everyone!

I am "Poem",

Poet's penned script OR

Painter's themed thought OR

Lover's unexpressable feelings OR

Broken heart's blooded words OR

Achiever's endless hope

 

I am "Poem"

I can be an endless Ocean,

Also a river to connect many hearts...

I may be endless Sky,

Even can be air to take off someones blues.....

 

I am "Poem"

Most of the time:

My existence is always related to non existent things, so that my existence make prominance of the experience of non existent existence.

 

I am "Poem"

Always my birth will touch many hearts,

Some make me wet with Tears,

Some feel like kissing me,

Some drown in dreams with me....

Outch... tooo many fans ya.....

 

I am "Poem"

I show off True feelings

I show off True Friendship

I show off True Love

But many times I show some ones True Image.....

 

So, Finally its me every where with a name "Poem"

A ray of inspiration..

A ray of inspiration comes when you..

Believe in Yourself,
and Remember that
Anything Is Possible..

Believe in what makes you feel good.
Believe in what makes you happy..

Believe in the dreams you've always wanted to come true,
and give them every chance to..

Life makes no guarantees as to what you'll have.
It just gives you time to make choices..

Life holds no promises
as to what will come your way..

You must search for your own ideals
and work towards reaching them..

and to take chances,
and to discover whatever secrets might come your way..

If you are willing to take the opportunities you are given
and utilize the abilities you have,
you will constantly fill your life
with special moments and unforgettable times..

No one knows the mysteries of life or its ultimate meaning,
but for those who are willing..
to believe in their dreams and in themselves,
life is a precious gift in which anything is possible..

Believe in Yourself,
and Remember that
Everything Is Possible..

Then the Ray Of Inspiration becomes the Rising Sun of our Dreamzz.. :)

A half-day Parole

The sight of endless sky, without the obstruction of the cage grill , confused them. Their white feathers had turned yellowish and they had almost forgotten the art of flying. But the kids were eager to see the doves take off into the enormity of the sky….!!! Most of them had this dream about touching the horizon, and they wanted to see the birds crossing that  limit and disappearing in to the endless white of the outer space. it took a while for the birds to come to terms with the sudden realization of the freedom.The moment they were released from the hands of the minister , they flapped their wings  vigorously trying to to stay afloat . Unable to do so, most of them had to  land  on the ground . The press photographer  was more worried about missing an opportunity to get the cliche shot of the white dove spreading the wings and flying away from the dark hands of the politician. Head-master of the school understood the irony of the situation and cursed the pet shop guy Faizal  for not training them for the big occasion . The minister's smiling face almost went blank realizing that the inspiring speech he just delivered would lose the punch  if these birds failed to demonstrate the "flight to future". Suddenly the sound of firecrackers  going-off, reminded them of the metallic reverb of gun shots - the memory which had been passed down to them through generations. They all took-off in a flash… And the kids started clapping and screaming. The head-master breathed a sigh of relief. The minister left in a hurry as he had similar functions to attend across the state . Hence learning some bad lessons about freedom and hope, students returned home with a small tricolor pinned to their uniforms. 

It was almost sunset by the time Abdul reached the shop. The sky was full of dark clouds, and it had started drizzling. Kaushal the shop owner was furious. The lanky Abdul parked his two wheeler and started unloading the iron cage. He looked very tensed. From the weather beaten face it was evident that he had  worked hard the whole day without any food. He opened the iron cage and started transferring the doves in to the main rack, counting out loud. To their surprise , he ended up with one extra!!! Much relieved he gave a sheepish grin , to which Kaushal didn't react.

Staring in to the darkness, in the damp and cramped interior of the cage,the doves pushed against each other unable to spread their wet, clipped wings.

Cooing about the glimpses of true blue they would wait impatiently for the next year's independence day celebrations. And I sincerely hope that , next time they will be successful in escaping the inevitable...dream on...!!

The Search (abridged)

It is dark out there

Fire-force troop had a tough time clearing the bushes, with little cooperation from the local crowd, to figure out the exact location of the mysterious well, one of the oldest in the village. For them it was just another rescue operation in a remote place, which meant that they had no clue whatsoever regarding what they were getting into. They could hardly see the inside, making it hard to measure the depth. The kerosene lamp which they sent down, tied to a rope, came back with the fire put out. There was no oxygen down there. Then the long wait for the oxygen masks. The crowd was impatient, but they had no choice. Finally one of the  well-built and courageous sergeants went inside  and came back with the dead-bodies of 3 young men in their twenties. The trauma and chaos which followed was beyond description. But Raghavan master was more curious about some of the other facts, which he thought were more important than the life itself. So he approached the sergeant, who kept a cold-blooded composure throughout the rescue act. The sergeant's still eyes and deadpan look didn't give away much. He smoked continuously and did not seem to pay much attention to master's naive and seemingly unimportant questions. He was either not expecting such questions from an old man in his 70s or he was just not in the frame of mind to comprehend those questions.

Reincarnation at the unexpected place 

There was a period during which only black magicians and outlaws inhabited that compound and carried out their murky business during the odd hours of the night. The incantations to trap the exorcised spirits into the chopped heads of cats and the ceremony of dumping them into the darkness of the well brought many of the souls together inside the mystique boundaries of the well. Many stillborn and newborn babies ended up bathing in the cold water at the rock bottom to wash away the memories of their fleeting encounter with the cursed world. But all of us believed that the water at the very bottom of the well was pure as heaven and had this magical power to cure any thought, and interestingly it changed colors every evening…..the deep red of dripping blood to - the magical blue of snake bite to - the thick black of owls' eyeball to - the milky white of latex from the injured devil tree….and many more.

During the 1920s many villagers lost their lives in  the smallpox epidemic. People used to abandon the diseased or bury them alive.  A young priest was pushed into the well, wrapped inside a mat, thinking that he was dying. But his body did not reach the bottom. For three days, suspended  between life and death, he was stuck in the mesh of creepers. They believed that the Veliyila goddess, who meditated inside the petals of the wild flowers,which grew in abundance even inside the darkness of the well, healed him. On the fourth night he climbed up the well,  naked, like a newborn out of the womb and disappeared into the darkness, never to return. 

The Myth of Unnuly Granny:

Unnuly granny was born in a Dalit family. But she was very beautiful and fair unlike her parents. And even at the age of 90 she boasted that her biological father was the Lord of the province for whom her parents worked for. The Lord was very wealthy and had a palatial bungalow, outside the compound of which Unnuly granny's thatched hut was  located. During the riot, the bungalow was attacked, but the enemies could not get inside, thanks to the ironclad thick wooden doors.  Frustrated they set fire to the bungalow.
After a few hours the wind caught up and the bungalow went ablaze like a fire mountain. Suddenly people started running out half burnt. Most of them were killed by the fire and the rest by the aggressors. In the middle of all this, the main door was pushed open and one human fireball rushed out through the courtyard  and jumped into the depth of the well. Unnoly granny believed that it was the Lord. And she very secretly told her grand kid, Raghavn during one of their story telling sessions that the Lord had a box full of diamond and gold clasped to his chest while going down to the bottom of the well. Apparently that was the treasure many fancied…. including Ravunni. The  wealthiest are always the greediest.

What do they seek?

That was during the emergency period, when there was a severe famine everywhere. The local grocery storekeeper decided to hide 8 sacks full of rice hanging inside the well. He was betrayed by his own son. And the youth of the village - the so called Naxalites - caught hold of the shopkeeper and almost beaten him to death. They dragged Ravunni all the way through the street, followed by a procession of villagers, to whom subsequently the rice was distributed free of cost. That day onwards he hated the youth, including his own son, who very soon had to run away from the village. 

But watching the proceeding he seemed a little shaken…For a longtime he stared at the three bodies lying on the floor,..probably trying hard to imagine his son's grown-up figure...?  Trying to recollect those youth who went to the extremes just to show-off ?……My be he was just looking at the diamond ring falling out of the stiff hands of one of the bodies - shining through the smudged dark mud. But only he could see that….

The failed Interrogation

Like any other person from that village -  living or dead - the questions Raghavan master had were very simple. But the Sergeant couldn't recollect anything that happened inside the well. And he didn't know at that point in time  that the rest of his life will be spent in this futile exercise of trying to recollect those moments.  Master looked very eagerly and pleadingly into those indifferent eyes, which faded after every sip of the local brand of alcohol served at the Bar. The disappointed master left the place around midnight. And on his way back home he tried to imagine the bottom of the well - like everyone of us does during our prayers- and he could see that the water was as pure as it could get and he saw the full moon down there. But of course ,others might see it differently.

Oslo Chronicle

It’s about 6’ O Clock in India and everyone is ready to soothe and ease through a happy weekend. My wandering mind is at its fastest navigation, though in a contrasting calmness of the dark. It’s a perception, which sings me lullaby to bed and wakes me up with the chirrupy melody. You might not see sunshine for days and wonder if you are actually awake in the night or sleeping during the day! That’s your welcome to Oslo, if you happen to travel through my mind and be at Holmboes Gate 8, right at this moment.

Rest of the Indians in the apartment are asleep now, most having enjoyed a nice combination of ultra dilute alcohol (some call that Beer) followed by spicy chicken and a nice cup of ginger tea.

Fortunately or Unfortunately, I got included in that inscrutable group of common married people, who have transformed quite a bit to progress towards becoming a teetotaler. Don’t ask me if that was a conscious decision, for I don’t want to look rude to you. Sometimes for better elements of life, you need to lose other good elements of life.

Nevertheless, though neither intoxicated with beer, nor spiced up by chicken, it was definitely not bland, but was nicely sugarcoated with some delicious homemade vermicelli pudding. You do not dare think that I have had turned vegetarian though. Post dinner joined the happy alcoholics for fun filled frivolous discussions around life’s major philosophies. Those discussions had huge potential of getting Socrates to life for the sole reason of murdering us in Oslo and engrave on our tombs, “For the peace of Norwegians and Indians”.

This night, though eventually prolonged and alcoholic for most, as it was a weekend, was not much different from other week nights. Sharing anecdotes over dinner with some wisecracks here and there to discussing the ugly consequences of deferred execution principle of LINQ to the arguments around scientific principles of holistic Vedanta, we have it all here in Holmboes Gate 8. We have been a bunch of distinct people, strongly posting a nice advertisement of the traditional tagline of India, “Unity in Diversity”.

Though this trip has not quite been the best in capturing the exquisite “Patel Point” moments, where we barely got ourselves any chance to get clicked in front of each and every landmark in Europe, it’s been soothingly enjoyable walking round the crowded streets of Birkelunden and by the Akerselva River, listening to the whistle of a Norwegian homeless or ferrying around the Oslo Fjord by the Aker Brygge, or staring at the sea weeds crushed under our foot steps in Bygdoy just to realize that we had the same in dinner the other day.

Work has never been more than a depressing topic to discuss, but it’s definitely worth mentioning that we did work as well in Oslo.

Tomorrow or rather today, as it is already 4 AM in Oslo, I still have plans to bring back home some souvenirs for my loved ones. Still pretty confused as every married man is about finding something decent as a gift for my wife. In my case, it’s slightly worse though, as I am confused about the gifts for others as well.

In any case, here I am coming back to India, after a rocky welcome to Oslo, then some nice memories, some not so nice memories. Some other day, I would definitely be part of yet another chronicle of yet another city in yet another country. But at the core of my heart, I Love You India!!

Zindagi.....

Kadam yun hi chal paren us taraf
Ek kinara tha Zindagi ka choota jis taraf
humne koshish ki dhoondhne ki, sira us jindagi ka
Jise dhoondhte hain hum aaj bhi kanhi har taraf.............

We were not lost Private, we were in Normandy!

It’s past midnight, and the usual sleeplessness is keeping me glued to my laptop. Like any good geek worth his salt, I let myself get lost in the vast pool of information flowing into my laptop, through the fat invisible pipes connected to the net; not particularly looking for anything, but still keeping my eyes open for usable technology bricks for the glass houses that are getting built, destroyed and rebuilt all the time in my mind. But this late into the night, its hard to concentrate on what I am reading, my mind has decided that what the eyes skimming through are not interesting enough and has resigned into it’s favorite pass time of nit-picking on past.

Reflecting on past these days, is reflecting on the time spent in this project. It’s strange how easily mind could play this trick on you, telling you how much more important the things related to work are, compared to the personal things that need your attention. You buy that lie without a moment’s hesitation, because  that’s what you want to believe.

Looking back at time that has flown past you is a nostalgic indulgence, but it is even more so when cherishing the time spent rubbing shoulders with a team that could move mountains. It’s been nearly two years in this extremely talented and star studded team, and even though the load that we carried for most times were excruciatingly unbearable, I have enjoyed this ride for the most part.

I wouldn’t begin to tell you what we went through in v1; or how simple the decision to stick on  and continue into v2 was knowing full well that we might do a repeat of v1 in v2; or about seeing new replacements come in for old heavy weights and see them stutter and fail for most part; about being frustrated to the point of not caring anymore about how I felt. - What I would tell you about is what we built. We built a team that could move mountains. We had the drive to take on what was thrown at us, because we knew that the man in the foxhole next to us would be the best, not some draftee who's going to get us killed.

But now a days there is no mad rush, and we have come a long way from the frantic pace of the build phase to the composed and confident strides of bug fixes. The project is coming to an end, and I would definitely miss being part of this team once it is over. - “For he today that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother“.

I remember blogging about being part of a team that has the best chance of winning, earlier during our green field training (that was a long five years ago) but this sure is one team that’s fits that bill perfectly.

But one habit that is still continuing on from from the days of grinding it out on 16 hour days on the trot, is relying on Megadeth, CoB, LOG and the likes for blocking out the background noise while coding, here’s a big devil horns salute to them for keeping us sane! \m/

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Aside:

It’s great fun following this blogging challenge!. I never thought the Code Poets (Spidy Chong/JoyD) of our team had a real poetic mind, Vivek and the Nawab are as usual their eloquent-selves. And the musings are also doing quite well, with Punita doing a Tendulkar for their team. Looking forward to more good stuff! :)

And for those who are wondering what that title was about, Normandy was one of the bloodiest wars fought in the history of mankind, and the title line is an *altered* version of a very famous dialogue from the Band of Brothers.