Strange Connections

Ahh! You are here. After a wait of just 2.30 hrs finally you decided to show up.

No! No! I am not complaining. What rights do I have to even think about complaining?

My point was, won’t it be terrific if we know about each other’s timings of coming to library. Or let’s not complicate things; wouldn’t it be easy if I knew your preferred timings of coming here.

I know it sounds too much of a commitment but I think I deserve to know at least that much about you.

Oh! I am so sorry. Let me rephrase. I already know enough about you from your online profiles. I know your name; the city you belong to, the school u went to and yes the company you worked for.  What else a guy wants to know about a girl before……..!!!

But for the sake of simplicity and to make it less serendipitous don’t you think I should know the preferred time you would love to come and read Ayn Rand.

Yes! I know she is your favourite writer. I have seen you with her books so many times… last month it was Atlas Shrugged and I know you loved it. The way you were engrossed into that thick book made me realise how passionate you are about things you love. Don’t worry I am not judging you. It is one of my favourites also.  If anything it made me feel closer to you. I know you feel like Atlas carrying the burden of millions on his shoulders, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders. And I also know that you want to shrug but the mere sense of responsibility and achievement is making you walk that extra mile. 

What! How can you not sit in the same seat where you always used to? The same seat in the left corner which has only one charging point. The seat in which, no one else likes to sit. Do not give me that cold look. I totally understand your choice. Even I would have chosen the same seat, had I not seen you there sitting and enjoying your lone time.  

But why did you leave that seat today? I sat diametrically opposite to the seat so that I can look at you while you enjoy your book without you noticing my predicament. And now I can’t even see your face.

By the way you look tremendously excited today. Your face is glowing like a spark of fire. Ahh!! A new book! Tell me which one is it. Looking at the cover as far as I can guess it should be: A Thousand Splendid Suns: a brilliant love story of Laila and Tariq framed in a disturbing backdrop of Afghanistan.   If you ask me please do not read it. It is too depressing for you and I can’t stand that helpless look on your face when you will read about the atrocities on Mariam and Laila. But I can see that you are too adamant when it comes to books.

As stupid it may seem but I already feel like your Tariq who wants you but this veil of silence and anonymity will always be our biggest problem. I might know about you a lot, but you are still ignorant of my existence. There must not have been even a single day when before entering the library your thought has not crossed my mind. Every time I got ready, I secretly wished that you notice my presence near you.

Yes I accept that I stalked your profile a million times but let me be honest my intentions were pious. I know we are worlds apart, just liking similar books or choosing the same seat doesn’t make us a perfect match but whenever I look at you I see my reflection in you. I know you have different plans for your life and you will never be interested in my existence in your world. But I have always wished just to talk to you for once. To hear you talk passionately about books which have moved you deeply. And just look into your eyes to see that glow which I often notice when you find a new book to read.

I know this may sound too far-fetched but as your favourite writer says:

“A man will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer--because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement.”      

Believe me; for me you are the one.

Ajab 'DATA' ki Gazab Kahanni

After a year and a half wasted in a futile degree in jargon I recently had an epiphany which changed my outlook towards life, well to be honest, towards bachelor life. Being a happy engineer (though the two words cannot be used in a same sentence together but still…) and before coming to the 9^th circle of hell and sharing a bed with Lucifer, the quest of life was only to find a suitable mate of opposite sex (I really don’t know how to put it more delicately). But then MBA happened and the objective of the quest changed, which I recently became enlightened with. Since day one I found myself and innocent people like me, around me running a different race to find the more coveted goal: Data. Sometimes it was an assignment, sometimes it was digging graves to unearth the dead which was fashioned enough to be called research, some other time it was some crazy ass competition for a potential recruiter which basically is MBA euphemism for cheap labor, sometimes it was live project and since last one month it has been intern-ship which basically is a ship with worse fate than titanic (at least in titanic the hero got to have some fun just before wrecking).  So coming back to the quest, recently a female friend of mine after being frustrated with being single, pinged me on chat and said ‘I want a Boy Friend’ and I retorted ‘well I want data’. And this ladies and gentlemen was the moment of truth for me. The discussion that followed affirmed my belief on the hypothesis of DATA quest.

Friend: We are talking about more important things in life. Boyfriend is more important than data. Data can be generated (typical MBA confidence after getting acquainted with RAND() in excel) but boyfriend can’t be.

Me: See you can imagine a boyfriend and there is no limit to that imagination but with data you can’t imagine or assume after a certain limit. Boyfriend can betray you any day but data is always loyal to you. Boyfriend can lie to u but data will stare at your face with naked truth, though however irrelevant it may be. Boyfriend will make your life hell but data will make your hell worth living. Most importantly data will let you happily work on it, well that is the other way round with a boyfriend. A boyfriend can only get u laid but data if correctly represented will get you paid as well as ‘ppo’ed (which by the way is very important in an internship).
Call me a romantic but data can be loosely correlated to the Hindi word DAATA which is synonymous to GOD both spiritually and metaphorically.

My Friend didn’t reply after this and I highly doubt she ever will but my preposition was not entirely wrong. If only we had better things to do than running the race of DATA and if not, then they should change the name to MDA (Master in Data Abomination)….

P.S: To all those data Hunters out there who are struggling and working their asses off to get some DATA like me......

The Agony called Love

Today when I looked out of the window of my room,sliding the curtains in the evening, I saw that he was gloomy, he was alone, he was sad. there was something so depressing about this evening that even he has hide behind the veil of the dark gloomy clouds. He who has been so clear, so energizing and so blue, today looks deeply blue, ready to break down into tears and drench us all in the soliloquy of his solitude. Seems he is reaching out to his love, waiting she would look at him with passion, or love, or compassion, or something but she seems to be lost in her own ways. She seems to be dry, cold and life less from where he looks at her.


Just once, just once if she opens her arms for him he would bathe her in his love in form of a stream of thousand, million droplets, each being a small kiss running down her parched lips and dry cheeks.


The agony of the day is so evident in the air between them... The sky still waits to kiss his only desire...the Earth.





The Eternal Wait



Let it Rain...Let them be together... Let them live for this night drenched in the cozy agony of their love. Let the stream of love connect the beating hearts of the two to make it a Valentine.

Chasing the Mirage: An Illusive journey.

For the perplexed karam yogis of my age, it usually starts 8-9 years back, when kids like me get distracted towards a path of career building with a focused insight of what they need to do in their life. And to their dismay, for some like me again, who with all the grace of Lord, choose engineering to be their road to perdition, the journey which seems so simple and straight is actually a beautiful tapestry of illusions. Few of you reading this might contradict with me on the above thought but with no disregard to any of your emotions towards the field, I seriously recommend those haves not to read any further to disagree with the have not’s.

So we were discussing our eternal path to damnation. Once set en route, we do not look back. After 3-4 years of rigorous preparation and coaching (which is told to us to be the best in the nation or at least best within our reach), one fine morning we sit to write our destiny believing that our life changes hereafter. For few amongst us it definitely does but the rest like me either settle for the side salad of the main course or decide to wait for another serving. At that moment we actually never realize that no matter how delicious the salad tastes it’s only good for nothing more than digestion (pun intended). Well, leaving the bygones to be bygones, we embark upon a new journey, with a focused insight again for what we need to do in our 4 years of degree program. Wandering in a desert of opportunities we are always made to believe that our future is pregnant with great opportunities but unlike all the mammals this future never delivers on time. So with hopes against hope we keep on chasing the wild goose because somehow during this journey after our continual humiliation for being an Engineer, we develop an ego of being one.

Towards the end of this chase, we once again try our luck of writing our destiny and once again instead of the main course we had ordered or atleast wished to order, we have to be satisfied with the salad or just the wine depending upon the restaurant we chose to eat in. Hereafter we realize the journey doesn’t end here and we set our sails for the nearest coast possible. We are left with some selected options viz: MBA, GMAT, GRE and a less traveled but equally illusive road of Civil services. Now we put in extra efforts to sail against the wind with a job in hand and a focused insight for the final destination. In this seemingly endless endeavor of writing our destiny and waiting for our tomorrow to deliver, we actually forget to read what is already written. At no point of time during this collision course we are ready to accept that we might have taken the wrong path or the wrong turn.

This is where we need to define a line which should have been drawn some years back but I guess being an engineer we never learn to create boundaries or to define limits, instead going beyond them is what keeps us alive.

The Princess and the Snow... a story incomplete.

She was flying into the blue infinity, flirting with the winds and kissing the white clouds. She felt free, the blood running in her veins was powered with adrenalin. With one flap of her strong wings she could scale the highest of the mountains, touch the cold waters of the vast oceans, hover over the green pastures: She felt life; she was a bird; she was alive.
But then, suddenly she was falling, those strong wings of her started to shorten; with all her powers she fluttered; she was scared, she could see the blood oozing out from her body but there was no pain, she wanted to scream but her voice failed her; gasping for air she could see the ground racing towards her. She was losing to herself . She smelt death, but then suddenly she found her voice and screamed aloud.
Panting and drenched in sweat she became conscious of her surroundings and realized that it was a dream; a horrible dream. She reached out for the glass of water and saw it was still dark outside. Too terrified to sleep again, she climbed out of the bed to put on her robe. She went to the window to get some fresh air and felt the morning chill kissing her soft white skin. She looked at the horizon; still dark above the vast ocean. The view was exquisite yet somehow she was used to it. She walked towards the fountain garden of her palace. It was quite and calm, the wind was playing its harmony on the surface of the water in the pool. Bare foot she walked on the damp grass, she liked the touch of the morning dew on her feet. Sitting by the pool she saw the night sky was losing its darkness and the birds have come out of their abode. This reminded her of the dream she had. It was a disturbing experience that was haunting her for many a nights now. She couldn't understand the implication of the same dream every night but it meant something to her. The dawn stole into her gardens quietly; the beauty of the rising sun was breathtaking yet it didn't interest her. It has been quite a long since she is confined to this palace and now she was used to all these amusements.
The white pigeon; Snow she had named it, came and sat by the pool just opposite to her. It seemed there was something it wanted to say. In her attempt to hear a voice she said, " lucky enough you are to have those wings". And to her utter surprise Snow replied "you can have them too my princess. This palace is no place for the bird in you." She couldn't believe her ears but the pigeon continued, " Come with me, my princess, you shouldn't be confined to the walls of this palace. No concrete can incarcerate your free spirit. Come touch my wings and you can have them too." She was confused and thought of it being a dream. She pinched herself but it was no dream at all. She realized her disturbing thought is going to be true. She was a bird indeed stuck in a girl's body. With apprehension she moved towards the pigeon to touch its wings but it flew away. "Is this a joke" she cried out in exasperation. "Hear me out completely my princess", the bird replied "my wings come with a price. You have a choice to make: If you touch my wings you can have wings strongest of all, you can kiss the moon and play with the winds but you will have to pay with your life. Third day from now you will be shot by a charming prince. Or touch my head and you will have a gift of long life, you will have many a brave sons and many a beautiful daughters but you can never touch the sky".
She was deeply disappointed by the words of Snow. She thought hard, judged her life on the balance of the price to pay and then at last she came to a conclusion. She stepped up and with fumbling hands she touched the.......


P.S: Here I leave the climax to the reader. I was not sure of the perfect ending to the story. But I suppose all of us once have a choice to make which decides our destiny. So go ahead and give this story a deserving climax......

As it touched the parched Earth....

After a long day of work under the bland ambiance of my office, as I walked towards the exit to ephemeral freedom, I looked out through the glass window and found the color of the outside world to be shades of red and orange. This rather came as a surprise and instantly I closed my eyes thinking that they need some time to adjust to the light after incessantly gazing at an ancient 14 inch colored screen. As I passed through different levels of security check with impatience growing in the pit of my stomach I became conscious of what I was perceiving through the glass door. At last, only after the guard has ripped me off all my possessions and put them under the scanner where I strongly feel, if he is allowed he will put me too, I could step into the crimson new world.
With brisk steps I looked towards the dark skies and smelt the air. It was redolent with life and promises. Soon it grew darker and the shades of red turned into the strokes of grey. There was a piquant melody in the mellifluous sound of wind which was growing louder with my every step. I searched in my bag for an umbrella as somebody round the corner shouted "here comes the first of the season". Confused between the enthusiasm and caveat behind that statement I put up my umbrella as the first showers touched the parched earth. The air at the brim of my nostril smelt desperately, making my olfactory senses go into an overdrive. As the rains grew stronger and wind doing the rest of the damage I shrank myself under my helpless umbrella, like a baby bear cuddling to its mother, to save the tiny bits and pieces of me which were left dry. It didn't take me much longer to realize the frailty of my endeavors and soon I raised the portcullis of my fragile defense against the mighty. Now there stood only a flimsy umbrella between me and the dark skies glowing with the flashes of lightening but to my dismay this too didn't last for long as I lost my umbrella to a strong gush of wind. Acknowledging my defeat to a worthy opponent I let myself drenched in the glory of my defeat and got soaked in the cold water running down from the skies above.
There was a turmoil everywhere around me but every face had a smile on it or at least a sense of satisfaction as most like me had faced a defeat or didn't even bother to put up a challenge. I heard some boys hooting at the grey clouds above, a lady running for her sandal as she slipped out of one while crossing the road, 3 kids making the most of the moment on their cycles, a couple enjoying the romanticism of rains inside an auto rickshaw, throwing droplets of water on each others face, an innocent dog finding its way, crawling under the truck, howling every-time the thunder struck. I am sure every one of them will cherish the moment( not so sure about the helpless dog), throughout the year till the next first showers but as I sit by the window of my room watching the incessant rain for the 3rd continuous day I don't know for how long will the air smell of 'life' and 'promises'.....

The Homecoming

The horizon on the far end is brushed with a gamut of colors: the blue sky fading into the strokes of yellow and orange with a hint of pink at the bottom. The sun has long gone into the gulf of darkness, whatever left is the faint expression of the adieu to the long tiresome day. Soon there will be only a single color of night. This night seems to bring a lot of promises for a better tomorrow but still darkness is what brings an air of anticipation and anxiety into the mind space that seems to be restless by just looking out this small window. It is like floating in the ocean of darkness with no pole star above you to guide you on what seems to be a never ending road. It reminds me of a dry leaf that has long been detached from its branch and lost the root that used to keep it green, on a windy street being dragged, pushed and agitated on the mercy of the winds that toss it from pillars to post. Long back this leaf had a dream to fly like the birds that used to come to it’s tree for shelter and one day with hope to find its own sky and wings it left its abode. There was no turning back, it knew but it was also ignorant of what lies ahead. In anticipation and a surge of optimism it surrendered itself to the winds finding new legs and wings in each stroke of the wind, scaling new heights and touching new skies but then the winds grew cruel. It was battered, hammered and dragged brutally till the last corner down the road and then smashed on the wall like a million times. Now it has lost its color, someday it was green, prosperous and juvenile now it is pale, dull and ancient. Though it still wants to touch the blue but it misses the green abode where it was fed and nourished. Lying there at the corner of the dusty path the leaf decays and becomes the nourishment for the tree nearby and soon its essence finds itself in a new green abode with rejuvenated dream of touching the blue sky.

P.S: Tonight similar feelings grip the mind space. The leaf might just be a metaphor but something has really decayed in me that needs to be revoked and refurbished, so that I can once again chase my own blue sky.

Blasphemy..... A new religion.

What is my religion? Where shall I get redemption? Who is my God?

I have been lost on this matter for quite a long time now. Well, calling me lost would be very presumptuous on my part, as if initially I knew where I was heading to on this path. Honestly, I was lost ever since I began walking down this road. They say, when you are on a journey of your life the path you take is your religion, your intentions are your prayers, moving towards your destination is your worship and your goal is your GOD which is your redemption. But, now when I look back on the sands of time, my own foot prints seem to be a sacrilege against what is supposed to be my religion. I had doubted my intentions millions of times, many a times I was so broke that I gave up on my goal and started looking for options, whenever I had a choice, just due to my weak will I chose the one that was the easiest and above all after everything I did in this profanity, I cursed Him for letting me down this road.

The essence of any world religion lies solely in the answer to the question: Why do I exist, and what is my relationship to the infinite universe that surrounds me?
-Leo Tolstoy.

Very aptly said by the world’s best theologian but nobody said a word about what if someone is not able to get to the essence. Will he be termed as an infidel? Will he be tried for blasphemy on the day of judgment? There are opinions but no answer on this. I have read that everything in a man’s life is already written, Maktub as the Holy Quran describes it, then why we humans even strive to find the purpose of life? If we are just marionette in His hands and He is playing us according to His plan then what is the point in pursuing our dreams?
These are some questions we ask our self at some point of time in our life, but I suppose there is no answer. It is vicious circle. A man can never stop believing. He can leave everything in this material world but his faith comes from his soul. The day he is broke, he questions his existence, he strives hard, he yields and then someday he gets a reward in some way or the other for his sweat. This goes on until his faith, his soul leaves his body. Warriors of light, as a famous writer describes the people who fight for a reason in life.
Certainly we are warriors who are on a trodden path that is not ours; we have failed our spiritual obligations, lost faith in future and doubted the existence of our puppet master but as every warrior is once tried for the slaughter in the battlefield we will also be tried for this blasphemy. Nobody knows what will be our sentence but we will have to keep fighting to find the answer to this question….