tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50458686240972531082024-03-14T10:09:49.110-07:00The Page FictionEverything here is a creation out of nothing but imagination.Abhayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09410114780558959750noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-81747937752260970242011-12-26T06:48:00.000-08:002012-08-19T11:18:55.163-07:00I Too Had A Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;">First 20 years are undoubtedly the most important part of life. You are full of ideas, you want to do things, you want to learn and a lot of crazy thoughts you want to experiment with. 4 years in college make the best part of it. You are literally free there, to experiment with what you learn and learn what you want to. Things work out, good! If they don’t, well it doesn’t hurt much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">By the time you are in 4rd year you realize there is still so much left to do and time has passed by real fast! You try hard but planning things becomes out of control. There is a B.Tech project, there are placements, there is CAT, there are further studies option to ponder about, there are massive expectations mounting from everywhere. And then there in one corner is the idea you are crazy about. You think may be its time to let it be at ease for a while till you deal with other things. Placements start! You are not shortlisted in Day 1 and Day 2. You tell your Dad, he is not disappointed but surprised why you didn’t make it? First interview, you don’t go through. Second interview, you don’t get to the final round. People around you are getting placed and that leaves you worried. Pressure starts to crack you down and just when you start to think that it is all luck, in the very next days you are placed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You went through so much in this time! There were so many things to manage and so little time for everything. Exhausted you take a break. Everyone back home congratulates you for the job while on the back of your mind you know you don’t want to do it. Then a certain uncle tells you about how you would do brighter things in future and may be work for the biggest companies in the world very soon. People ask you when you are going to settle abroad. You don’t know the answers yourself but you put on a smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So much pours down upon you in literally a span of 3 months that you start doubting your dream. You cannot put the same faith in your idea anymore. But you don’t give up. One day you go and talk to your dad and tell him about your crazy idea- to be on your own and work for your crazy dreams. And he does not deny you from doing anything but just advise you to take the job for a while and gain some experience. And six months later, there you are- in the corporate food chain, fighting to etch a name of your own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You never realized how fast time moved after that. You earned good, you partied a lot, you made new friends and suddenly life was not all that bad. Until one day, you return from a hectic day in office and started thinking about the years that have passed by since college. You switched companies and increased you pay packet. You own a car and you have travelled abroad. You earn some respect in your work. But there is something you have missed. You don’t know what it is but somewhere you feel it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You take a break again. You look around to figure out how much world has changed. Only then you realize that you are 28 years old now! You meet up friends and find out that some person you knew in college is making it big. He owns a company and works on his crazy ideas. All your friends talk about him. You go back in time and revisit your idea. You too had a dream. You can’t sleep next few nights. You go to your father and discuss about the idea again. He doesn’t deny anything but asks you to think and plan everything before taking any step. Your mother asks you to get married. You ignore it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You return to office thinking that you will work upon the idea but a great project comes and demands you. You know you can do it and give it all it needs. It takes a year to complete it. Your work is appreciated and everybody applauses you and holds you high. Years pass and you get married too. You have a kid as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Finally one day you decide that you have done enough and you deserve to give a shot at something new. Nobody stops you but everyone advises you to think carefully and wishes you luck. You work upon your idea. It seems difficult but you know well how to get things done. You work like mad in the coming months. You give it all. And in the end; it fails.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You sit back and think what went wrong. You revisit the very first time you had a crazy idea that you wanted to work upon. You turn your head around and see your kid calling you. And then you realize; it is the 20 years that have passed by.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Link to the article on <a href="http://www.iitstories.com/2011/12/10/i-too-had-a-dream/" target="_blank">iitstories.com</a></span> </div>
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Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-86708224836312528672011-11-30T05:45:00.001-08:002012-08-19T11:15:29.083-07:00Curls In The Sky At IIT Kanpur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">It was the time of Antaragni in IIT Kanpur. The campus was unusually noisy
and full of beauties when I happened to see one incident which seems to come
straight from facebook funny videos. Two girls were walking down the campus
roads when someone on a bicycle stopped by and "Boom!" For a second
all curls of the girl were in air and I wondered how do they manage it, the
other moment a scream turned me to the man on bicycle who had sort of spanked
her head and run off! In the campus, I came to know about someone names Ashyup,
a man you must be terrified from, a man we had heard of only in stories, a man
who does not exist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">21 years ago there was a tree in the campus, a tree with long curls. It is
said to be a banyan tree. Reportedly a student in lack of company and companion
made friends with the tree. Souring relationships with academics, lab
experiments and Professors forced Ashyup to turn to the curly tree and share
his plight with it. Later he fell in love with its curls and treated it as his
gal. As with any tragic story this one was also not going to last. The romance
of Ashyup was shaken the day he found that a new hostel was to be built on the
site and the tree would be cut. Curly Tree had only few days left and Ashyup
gave all of his time to her (Her!...yes the relationship had become pretty
serious in last two months.) He would swing with her curls, narrate tales and tell
her how it would be okay and all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">The judgment day of the Curly arrived and it was being cut from the bottom.
Ashyup could see it no more. He ran and took the tree in his arms. The
construction workers tried to console him then request him then forced him to
leave but he didn't. So they decided to continue cutting the tree while it was
in Ashyup’s arms...and suddenly, THUD!!! The tree with all its curls swinging
in the sky fell on the ground. Every worker around ran towards the site to look
for Ashyup but he was nowhere to be found. With the life of curly Ashyup had
disappeared too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">Many theories have been proposed since about what happened but the most
accepted theory is that in the last moments of Curly, Ashyup became one with
her and disappeared with her soul. Later on that site GH2(Girls Hostel 2) was
built up and ever since curls of the girls is being swung by Ashyup every now
and then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">Some say that Ashyup does not like the curls of the new girls at all and so
he comes to make fun of them. Others say that Ashyup comes to remind the world
of Curly's curls who had to sacrifice her life for GH2. Anyways to honour the
martyr Ashyup was and his love for Kesh (Hair or curls) he was later
rechristened to Keshyup (Kesh-up). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">Hope everyone in IIT K would let their curls free once in a while to honour
the man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HI;">Up, up Keshyup!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-32027044425284093952010-02-17T11:00:00.000-08:002010-05-02T12:39:53.643-07:00The Story Of A SnailOnce upon a time in the jungle Cilaze, there lived a family of snails. They called themselves The Slorers. They were incredibly slow but were the wisest of all. In the world of snails, they were renowned for being adventurers and dreamers. When no one could even dare to dream of racing with turtles, Slorers invented skates to outperform them. The elder in their family would teach the younger generation of snails, their skills, so as to pass wisdom and knowledge across Cilaze. <br /><br />One day while taking a morning walk by the garden, Bate-the elder Slorer, saw Kip-the child snail from the family of Dumnails sitting alone. He was sad and weeping. When asked by Bate, Kip said that last night he had a dream. Like a butterfly, he grew wings and flew up in the sky. From there he saw Cliaze. He saw the waterfalls, the green pastures, the jungles, the mountain and it was beautiful! Like one can only dream of! But when he woke up, he didn’t find his wings and felt sad. He asked his mom and she told once great grand Dumnail also had the same dream and so he tried to climb the tallest tree in the forest to know how it looks like from the sky but before he could reach the top, a hungry hawk ate him. Now he knows he would never know how it looks like from the sky and will soon forget the dream as well. Even if he tries to climb the tree again and hungry hawk does not eat him, he will probably never reach the top and die on the way itself. This made him cry. <br /><br />Wise Bate had never faced a situation like this but he could not afford to break the heart of young Kip. So he thought for a while and said to him that if he could dream that he can see from the sky then he will but he has to believe in his dream. Then Kip promised that he will believe in his dream and returned happily.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="241"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/F6n4BNjjFBk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/F6n4BNjjFBk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="241"></embed></object><br /><br />It was on his way back, Bate was thinking all the while what he can do for Kip. All of a sudden he heard elephant Zeus coming his way. Heard it? Yes! The whole jungle shivered from pounding and thumping footsteps of Zeus and earth would sound like drums. When he came close, Bate greeted him but he did not respond. Zeus was known for being arrogant because he was powerful and no one dared to disrespect or challenge him. Even lions were afraid! Bate called him again loudly this time. Zeus turned towards him and said that he does not talk to such puny creatures. But Bate convinced him that it was important and told him the story of Kip. Zeus felt really sad for the child and agreed to help and they started thinking. But even after trying long and hard they couldn’t figure out any way to help Kip realize his dream. Bate felt sad but kept mulling over. When they were about to give up broken leaves and branches started to fall over them. In amazement they turned their heads up and there it was the Great Grand Giraffe Eddie chewing the tallest trees with his head on the top of the jungle! Bate and Zeus looked at each other and beamed in joy. On an impulse of thought they knew what had to be done. Zeus whistled to Eddie and told him the plan.<br /><br />Next morning, Bate knocked upon the Dumnails house. The Kip came out happily and told him how he spent all night dreaming like he told him to. Bate told him that he has brought him a surprise and from behind came Zeus and Eddie. But little Kip did not understand what was happening. Suddenly, Eddie lowered his neck, Zeus smiled and put young snail and Bate on his head and then Eddie lifted them up, high in the sky from where they could see the waterfalls, the pastures, the jungle, and the mountains, all so beautiful like one can only dream of! Kip cuddled wise Bate and tears started rolling down his eyes. His dream has come true! <br />“Just believe son, just believe!” Elder Slorer whispered.<br /><br /><br />P.S. The story has been selected for filming a three and half minute animation movie which will be released by the end of May 2010Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-21553344849414460642010-02-17T10:19:00.000-08:002011-08-01T06:32:34.822-07:00The GiftGiant cherry rose from the east and slowly turned orange! Dawn bathed the earth with its glow. And like a fearless robber, sunbeams streamed, from the window panes, into the room and robbed her of laziness from the last night. May felt her arm muscles stretching the warmth in the blood, chasing the cold gathered of sleep away. She opened her eyes smiled a song in the world and rose from the bed. Morning it is!<br />As she opened the door, her dog Kip came running for an early frolic, as if he was waiting the whole night just for that. Then she greeted her mother and set herself up for the daily chores.<br /><br />May made beautiful paintings. The whole world knew her for the artist she was. She emblazoned the black and white sketches with such perfection and exquisiteness, it seemed that universe of colours existed to be variegated just by her. Every night she would take the brushes and colourful pigments to imbue the dead sheets with the vibrant life she was made of.<br /><br />After the breakfast, she took a look at the paintings from last night, gave a thought or two to some and then walked up to her school. But she was alone as no classmates would gossip with her or share their jokes nor would any parents return her greetings or allow their children to befriend her. The whole town of Blume was jealous of May and she could not understand why? Once, in order to make friends she made portraits of all the children in the town and gave them as presents, still nobody came with her. She asked her mother about it and she said that they are just jealous of how beautiful, sweet and gifted she is. But could a child’s mind comprehend such idiotic thinking of human psyche? She was too innocent to believe her mother but did wonder how she really looked like but there were no mirrors back then, the pond in Blume was too dirty to look at anything and no one would draw her.<br /><br />So every evening she would watch the neighbourhood children play in the fields while she would sit alone with Kip. No one would invite her, nor take in their groups. At first, she did not care but as days passed, slowly she turned sad and secluded. Even Kip felt estranged because she would not play with him anymore. And finally it all appeared in her paintings as they turned dull and dingy. Every evening she would hope that tomorrow will be a different day full of friends and joy.<br /><br />It was the night of meteorite falls when her mother seeing her sad said “Pray it to the falling stars and they shall answer your wishes.” May looked at the sky, closed her eyes and with her heart she prayed to those millions of stars. She felt the stars are falling as if to bring a boon, falling as if to revitalise the world, falling as if to liven up every life and she remembered them all night. She felt that something is about to happen, something is about to change and she slept a deep peaceful slumber.<br /><br />When she woke up there by her side was a gift. The door was locked from inside so she knew mother could not have put it. She was surprised! As she turned on top of it was written,<br />“Be yours,<br />whatever you asked,<br />whatever you dreamed of,<br />whatever you whispered to the stars,<br />the stars shall bring you!”<br /><br />Suddenly she felt a great deal of excitement. She unwrapped the box as quickly as she could. Her heart was pounding with the speed of a cheetah. She wondered whether there would be magic, she wondered whether there would be friends, she wondered whether there would be happiness, her horse of imagination galloped free in the vast fields of dreams and hopes. She opened it, took out the gift and there it was looking onto her, the most beautiful girl in the whole world, smiling in amazement, filled with joy, animated with life. It was a mirror!<br /><br />Suddenly she knew why the whole world was jealous of her. Suddenly she knew that her mother was right. She opened the door to greet the most miraculous dawn in her life. Kip sensed it and ran into her for he knew she was happy and he wanted his May back. She opened her arms wide for the hug but as Kip jumped on her, she lost the hold of the gift and the mirror fell onto ground and broke into millions of pieces. And all the joy of May turned into tears! In anger she pushed Kip away, yelled at him, went into her room and slammed the door. She could not believe her dream was broken so soon and started to cry.<br /><br />After she had calmed down, Kip came and started to bark and pull her out of the room. She knew it was not his mistake and so playfully caressed him and when she came out of the room, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The broken pieces were growing big and right before her they all turned into mirrors and the whole house began to glow in the town of Blume. In amazement all the people came running. They had never seen a thing like that and all wanted to have one. May took all the mirrors and gave it to every child in Blume and they looked into it how beautiful they were.<br /><br />Everything changed for May and they all became her friends for such a wonderful gift. For the first time everyone wanted to take May in their group and in the evening she played with them until she was empty of every ounce of energy she had.<br />At night she looked at the sky and thanked the stars. She took out the gift again to look at her smiling face and felt something in its back. When she turned the gift and on the back it was etched,<br />“May every kid know how beautiful they are!<br />May every child realise, the real gift!”<br />And May understood it all!Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-68049912130572414712009-08-14T17:41:00.000-07:002010-04-21T07:42:53.917-07:00How I Met Haseen!Month of May is when the harsh cruel summer of Delhi starts unveiling its true colours. Trees don't talk, birds don't fly, squirrels don't dance and men run around to find cover from the fireball. All you can do is to look up helplessly at the glaring white sky and pray the God of rain to bless with some shower. But God likes to play games! It would tease for a little while, sprinkle for few minutes and just when, with the humming of clouds, the hopes will blossom in heart, you find it's all gone! In a blink of the eye every single drop of rain vaporises from the thirsty crust leaving so much anger and humidity behind.<br /><br />I hate anger and run away from it as far as I can. This time I decided to escape to Home. Now, over the years, bizarre incidents have happened and continue to happen in my train journeys. Sometimes I meet old friends and find out that they have become hippies, sometimes I meet soldiers from Kargil war with breathtaking stories almost choking you with action, excitement, emotion, drama and post war trauma, sometimes there is a criminal in chains travelling by my side with weird habits of praying Goddess Durga and chanting mantras, sometimes I find myself alone with a girl in the compartment and we end up journey without even knowing names and sometimes even people have got shot! So you can imagine that in these journeys I had met all types of people you can possibly hope but then I met someone I would not have thought of even in my dreams. I met Haseen!<br /><br />Now like every other, well cultured, well mannered mama's boy in our country, I avoid a direct stare at the girls. But then they say that sometimes angels descend from heaven! My eyes were unshakably fixed on her and suddenly I realized that everyone else was staring back at me. I was embarrassed but unusually the train was not crowded and I was ashamed less for my act. But gosh! Could I have helped! Had I ever seen anyone as calm, serene and graceful as her! Apparently I can find my peace even in the most turbulent emotional chaos. And I did as soon as the train started to loco mote. Unlike the still stagnant summer, now the trees started to run, poles approached, rivers passed, bridges howled and just as we ran past the Delhi border, birds started to fly. In the world outside the window there are enough wonders for my amusement. But then darkness comes and everything covers under the night leaving just trail of yellow light bulbs flashing in the distant villages and ghettos. She was sitting opposite me in the long lower berth and occasionally my eyes met hers and I always found her smiling. For some time I thought she's smiling at me and I smiled back. But soon I realized that she is not a sadistic pessimist moron like me but a happy in life person. <br /><br />The good thing about train to Rewa is that people do not talk much and as the train starts to sway them they start feeling sleepy. Ten minutes into the journey and many of them would already be dozing. And the bad thing is that the nocturnal animals have to suffer all night in darkness. Thank God I wasn't the only nocturnal creature this time. <br /><br />After the clock ticked 11:00 pm, the rest of the world fell asleep I grew more and more uncomfortable. I just wanted to talk to her. Sitting opposite me in yellow kurta and jeans, her curls playing around with the wind, her sparkling eyes gazing in the infinite sky may be shooting some stars and her love at first sight smile; maybe she was singing some song. I was wandering in dark narrow alleys of thoughts to come up with something to talk. When I had given up, she opened her blue VIP bag, took out a novel Erich Segal's Love Story and started reading. I had a whole bunch of novels and probability books in my bag, a diary and pen for emergency writing outburst and other stuff that could not be done with even in years of solemn pursuit for academic excellence but I acted like I am getting death bored. She smiled a feather smile and asked,<br />"Do you want something to read?"<br />I held my breath and made myself believe that it is actually her speaking and replied as calmly as I could have,<br />"If you have some other novel, it would be great!"<br /><br />She opened her bag again and handed me over 'Godan', the classic work of Prem Chand. I had read the novel two years ago but still I looked at it in amazement as if it were some alien object and thanked her. Of course I was not interested in reading; I was rather looking for some trigger to shoot a conversation. Finally I kindled my entire dare and said <br />"What is this novel about? I have learnt that Prem Chand wrote about social issues but never got a chance to read his work."<br />She looked over me in amazement and said "Is it so? What a chance to know him then! It's one of the most amazing works in literature. You must read it. This book is about..."<br />Her voice was so sweet and mellow that I was soaking in every word from her lips. Even her eyes spoke when she talked. I was mesmerized again and then she smiled me back in the real conversation. <br />"Okay!" I smiled back. "What is your name?"<br />It seemed she got puzzled by the question but then she said softly<br />"Haseen! And yours?"<br />"Abhay" After a moment of silence I said "What is your book about? I really like the design on the cover page." <br />"Oh! It's a love story and that is all I can say right now. I am done almost 100 pages may be I will tell after finishing it." And she dived back in the pages of the Love Story.<br /><br />I also started turning pages of Godan, remembering all the characters, Hori, Gobar, Dhania...The circumstances in which they were living, the poverty, the migration of Gobar to city etc. I remembered it all very well, so well crafted is the greatest creation by the legend! I waited patiently for her to finish the novel. After an hour she closed the book. By the emotion on her face I could tell that the novel moved her heart deeply. <br /><br />I turned towards her "So how was the book?"<br />"It's amazing!"<br />"Any punch lines?"<br />"Yes, yes, love means never having to say sorry."<br />"Sounds great!" <br />And then when I would have least expected, she started telling me the story. I was looking in her eyes and she was looking into mine and she told and she told. I heard her like a disciple following the sermon by his Goddess. I can still remember the gentle emotional pitches, fragrance of love and sacredness in her voice. It was like a soothing music. It was like a beautiful morning. It was like the scent of the first rain! When she completed the story I could say nothing but, <br />"Wow!" <br />I was so moved that I decided after returning to Delhi reading Love Story would be the first thing I will do. I was floating in an endless ocean of emotions and the rising waves would quiver me within. She sensed that I needed a moment of silence and she respected it. But then, I fell in grave silence. Probably the way she told the story reminded me of things I had not spoken of in years. Would tonight be the night of change in my life? Would Haseen be the angel for me? I knew I was thinking way too far but what if I dare to do? What if I let myself loose? What if I finally free myself of the inherent notion of being a good person who would hurt not a fly? What if I tonight I decide to live life more beautifully even if it is at the cost of a little hurt? I knew I wasn't thinking too far. This is the thing I have been waiting for my entire twenty one years of life-to be finally free of myself created silence. Suddenly the train stopped. I had no more courage to look in her eyes again. I silently stood up and stepped down on the platform and stared at the sky. It was dark but I could see the clouds. <br />"God please don't rain tonight!" I whispered.<br /><br />From the platform I bought Coke, some Haldiram's sweet and aloo bhujiya, mineral water and a chai. I boarded the train and as I reached my seat Haseen said, <br />"Abhay! Can you bring me a chai please?"<br />"Sure Haseen! And this is for you." I handed her over the sweets.<br />"Why?"<br />"Just..." Obviously I was fighting for words to fill in but she seemed to understand.<br />"Okay, thanks!"<br />I refused to take the money she offered and brought her another cup full of hot refreshing chai. Few minutes after the train started to move she opened the box of sweets and offered me. I also opened all the Coca Colas and bhujiyas and we ate it all happily, exchanging nothing but smiles and random chit chatting. She told me a joke or two which I later forgot. We revealed our business in studies and future plans in brief. She was awed when I told her that I am from IIT but then I was able to convince her that it is not what it all seems to be. She told that she was doing MBA from some college, which I again forgot, in Lucknow and kept bragging that it's nothing compared to the standards and students of IIT. I heard her humbly and accepted all her appreciation in simpers. She questioned little more of me and I answered little more of me. Then I asked her about her interest in novels and she explained her hobbies of writing, singing, dancing, painting and reading. Somehow we were able to form a very cosy bonding and friendship within an hour of talk in which I was mostly being flattered with all that I am and I am not. But she was so beautiful that I could have spent all night like that. I wished it not to stop. The sun not to rise another dawn. The whole world just to be here, forever! <br />Then she asked me of my interests and hobbies.<br />"Mostly, writing is all I do."<br />"What do you write?"<br />I just used to pen poems then and so I replied<br />"Poems"<br />"I love poems. Would you do me a favour?"<br />"What?" And then she asked something that really moved me.<br />"Write a poem for me!"<br />"What! Why?" For some reason I freaked out.<br />She smiled and calmly said "Like you brought me the sweets!" <br />Just as you would imagine divine angels from fairy tales to speak. I couldn't refuse. Now without the help of Microsoft Word, thesaurus and Concise Oxford English Dictionary, my job became really tough and challenging. But I managed to write a little poem of eight lines in forty minutes. All the while she kept silent and carefully read my face and working. I handed her over the paper, she glanced at my bad hand writing and it took her ten minutes to understand it. <br /><br />"Would you read it for me?"<br />"What!" I was totally out of words, out of expression and out of everything I had previously known. After my long confused quiet she said<br />"Please! I can't understand the emotion behind lines unless I hear them." <br />Of course it was true. I have been abstruse writer and sometimes after a month I myself can't decode my cryptic writings. And then I did something I can't imagine. I read it to her, flowing in the words, the emotions, the expressions, the pitches and whispers. The eight lines didn't seem all that short. An era passed by. In those ten minutes the howling, the fluttering, the sound of gush, the snorts and noises all fell mute. It seemed that there are only two people in the world. And when I finished Haseen took a deep breath and said<br />"Thank you Abhay. It's the most wonderful gift I have ever got!" <br />"You are welcome Haseen." I couldn't conceal my smile. <br /><br />We talked some more into the night and she fell asleep after a while. I was living the most beautiful dream and I wished to live in it longer but I didn't know when the night draped me into the hymns of sleep. <br />It was 6:30 or probably 7 am when she woke me up<br />"Abhay! My station has come I am leaving."<br />"Okay" I said.<br />"Bye"<br />"Bye" and she left.<br /><br />When her words actually reached my brain, in a split second my sleep vanished. I said "what!" I still can't say if I was dreaming or awake. Then I realised that it was actually Kanpur and she had taken away all her bags. Suddenly all the last night, the Serendipities and A walk to remembers flashed back in frames in my mind. I found my sandals and ran onto the platform. I could still see her leaving but the signal turned green and the train started to move. I couldn't think, I couldn't wait, I couldn't run, I choked but I could hold no more and I screamed <br />"Haseen! What is your number?"<br />She turned towards me, her hair curls fiddling with the wind, her eyes sparkling, and her face more blissful than ever, her grace glowing like the morning light. She turned towards me, the train gained pace, I stood still but she was far too away. I realized it was too late. <br />She screamed "Thank you" She smiled, turned back and left! And forever Haseen disappeared into the crowds.<br /><br />After a fortnight I returned to Delhi, ran into a book store to purchase the Erich Segal’s Love Story, read it and cried all night long.Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-53614109845907309432009-08-08T10:31:00.000-07:002009-08-08T10:37:13.155-07:00My EraIn last five years my home has become a sojourn for me. Now and then I have to find time, quite often steal it, to be back to the place which was once all mine. Life gets busy as you grow up, time turns elusive; things change. But there are memories and characteristics of the era you have lived in which you never forget. There are dimensions of that time, good or bad, that get lost. Some leave trail, some prefer a silent exit.<br /><br />This July when I was leaving home for Delhi, it was probably one of the rare times when I felt like 'am leaving home'. It has become a business in all these years but this was the season of rain with, if not dark lowly clouds, clear blue skies in the daytime, a shower in the evening and splendid starry nights-bright and young! But emotions have no value in the money driven professional world. Emotions have their place in closed closets, heavily locked so as to not let any human sign of feelings escape the door of terribly lost personal worlds. And so at night, I moved out of my house with blessings of father and mother, seated on back of the bike of my brother and there galloped the black horse, driving me to the railway station. <br /><br />We tore the world of silence, apart, riding on the lonely countryside road, cutting the farms, through the smell of rain, greenery of trees, against the fresh bathed wind and strong stink of rotting flesh probably a dog who met its fate under screeching tyres of truck. And we rode past all that is and was. My brother sensed my melancholy mind and as we passed by some men sitting by the road, he started this conversation<br /><br />"These people who sit by road side with beedis on one hand, don't mosquitoes bite them?"<br />"Probably they don't breed in open lands."<br />"Or probably beedis keep them away."<br />"Hmmm...maybe."<br />"Probably they don't come close due to stink."<br />We shared a light laugh. <br />After a few minutes I quipped<br />"It's actually wonderful you know."<br />"What is?"<br />"We would be telling stories to our next generation about our time when people used to sit by the road side in dawn and dark to produce colourful excreta. And they would wonder in awe where all that era has disappeared!"<br />"May be we would have fables about sharing beedis at night!"<br /><br />We shared a big laugh, at the thought of what would it be, almost losing balance of the bike and in a few minutes there I was in front of the station with memories of my era to escort me to Delhi.Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-36752150681677456182009-03-31T13:14:00.000-07:002009-03-31T13:39:51.581-07:00IdentityLong ago my brother asked me a simple question, "Who are you?"<br />I said, "I am Abhay Shukla."<br />"Yeah, but...who are you?"<br />"I am the son of M.P. Shukla"<br />"I am not asking who you are son of or who your father is. Am asking, who are you?"<br />"I am the resident of the country India. i live in rewa, m.p., and my name is abhay shukla"<br />"But that is not the answer to the question i have asked"<br />I got confused, "Am a human being!"<br />"Everyone's a human being, so how does that describe you?"<br /><br />I realized that this question is much much deeper than what i could have thought then as a ninth grade student.<br /><br />I gave probably a hundred more replies but every time i was answering back, i was growing more sure that this is not what the answer is supposed to be. And every other reply was like an introspection; finding out something that could distinguish you from every other entity around you. Finding out that very element and essence which makes you unique. <br /><br />I realised that an identity has to be something which is there even when all the connections have lost, something which is glowing when you are put in a swarm of billion strangers, something which could not be erased in time. <br /><br />Seven years have passed since but still am puzzled by the profundity of the question. It still gets me teetering and shaky. Although i believe that now i know myself a lot better than i ever did but when it comes to self realization and self identification i am still on the wander road...sometimes it feels am a stranger to myself!Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-82410029825124945252009-02-04T11:02:00.000-08:002009-02-04T11:07:20.873-08:00Self-DiscoverySometimes life goes stagnant like the car stuck in the jam of busy Monday evening. You can’t move forward, you can’t move backwards but just be there and wait for the signal to go green for you. While many of us see the signal and move, there are others who find themselves in long queues and before they could move it goes red again, and then there are others who can’t even notice the signal. <br /><br />Eventually everyone gets stuck at some point of time, somewhere in dimensions of life they choose for themselves. For few of us this would mean exploring a new route where we could find the vastness of an alternative world we were not familiar with, for many of us it would mean struggling as far and as long as we can, and for most of us it would mean the ultimate failure of self and a devastating experience rendering us to bitterness of life. But what we forget and fail to understand is that the car is stuck not because of us but the consequences of this stagnation are all because of us. We may choose to reach the inherent inbuilt in us and explore the capabilities, we may choose to struggle through the time or we might just ignore everything and let things happen. But the one who is ready to risk with the will and courage to see dreams and has the guts to do it eventually leads oneself to a far better reason. And it’s not about giving up everything and heading to Himalayas wishing to find some meaning there, it’s not about the ranks that system associates with us that we start believing to be as true as our identity, it’s not about being alone on the path we see and it’s not about fear, it’s about a free choice of what we want to be; just a choice. <br /><br />If you think of a happy meaningful life, it always comes down to very simple things. The experiences that are otherwise ordinary will astonish you with their elegance. Adventure and bliss is not only in the bosom of nature but it’s also in the depth of our thoughts and the way we perceive what we observe. No human mind is ordinary in the sense we think of ordinary. It’s an irony that we can not see through ourselves what we truly are. Borrowing eyes is not the best thing to do when you want to know something that is connected with you. And when you start to see it from your eyes, it’s all simple and apparently clear. As soon as you get into this path of free thought and independence from influences that affect your mind, you will know what gets you out of the jam; you will make a sudden change and embark your own journey!<br /><br />Life lies in the grassroots of reality and understanding this reality makes us a better person everyday. The more you dig the more you know ‘the who’ you are and easier it becomes to be ‘the who’ you are. And once you have reached the landscape where nothing is fake or affected by them and those, you see yourself naked as you are born, as you are and as you want to be. A pure self image gives you the ultimate freedom and power to make choices for your life. This is the freedom and power everyone yearns for all their lives but without diving into their pools, it can never come. And this is the freedom and the power to reason that makes every stagnation a new turn in this wonderful journey that is you!Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-31446474069129251632009-01-20T08:44:00.000-08:002009-01-20T08:57:40.790-08:00Sometimes i step back from my daily routine, work and paradigms that i live in for a while and think, is that really me?<br />Sometimes life appears very unreal. Everyone is moving with the mob not knowing what exactly they are doing, not knowing where they are heading to and somehow this system makes us believe that everything will work out fine. I am not sure whether it actually happens and i am not sure whether this is the right thing to do.<br />When i knew a little less about the world it was always essential for me to know where this road would lead me to. However i admit that the dreams and ambitions at this phase of life were very simple but as a kid it was as important as anything else. Now i have grown big and have learned to not know every time what the roads will end up with. But sometimes am confused and wonder is it the right thing to do?Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-74293844744026849512008-12-15T02:28:00.000-08:002008-12-15T02:32:02.152-08:00The PastThis space is a sacred place. This space has so much of depth that you can go in and may never be able to come out. This silence is ever widening and stronger than anything else.<br />Its amazing to know how the same silence can convey different things, emotions, arguments, messages at the same or different point of time.<br />There is no end to it because you can never know where it begun. It may appear that you hold an end of it but you don't. Our hands were not made to keep everything. Somethings just slip away like the sand, the more you try to hold it, the more you are losing the hold of it.<br />Past is like a dream that you have actually lived. Past is the action you did which has left the foot prints to teach you ever what you did; right or wrong. Past is a rememberance of the times that would eventually flash back to remind you what could have been but wasn't perfect.Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045868624097253108.post-64662865599975963802008-11-30T13:08:00.000-08:002008-11-30T14:54:01.640-08:00Kiddie TimesWhen my mother slapped me at 11 I felt I’m still a child. But I had friends. Friends who play gaga games, who do what is called mischievous, who do all sorts of nonsense and sometimes on rare occasions give their invaluable suggestions too. They gave me a glance of the outer world. It seemed good and bad…different people different world. And I realized it’s my mother who relegated me to a child. They told me am old enough to know what outer world lives on and how it does it and certainly am too old to be slapped. So I decided to escape from so thought small place and so bad mother. I got some idea and it was simple. Steal some money go to railways or buses, get a ticket and fly to a new adventurous place. It was easy. Two of my friends too got ready to accompany to the daring new world. They never told they too hated their mothers or what. Probably they are smarter to what they should tell. Whatever now I will not have to starve alone if something so happens or I would have reached a bad world because geography maps don’t show which part of globe is good or bad. <br /><br />It was an eventful day. The three captains with the same goals met to sketch out a plan something like they do in Hollywood movies or an indigenous robbery plan. I was so thrilled that day that I could hardly breathe out of excitement and fear. They were discussing the plan I tried a lot to listen and point out some mistake or give some idea of mine out of my small brain but I could hardly concentrate. I was lost dreaming. Dreaming of the new world away from all those scolds of mother away from all work and study….free and …..Free. The plan was finally somehow made. Everyone agreed to bring whatever money they can without thinking of what is left-if it is-would be enough for mothers or even brothers or sisters and of course who ever is left will not be awaited much cause he can lead others into trouble. And we also decided to run on the next Sunday people will think we are out for some play and we will be far by the time they would realize what has actually happened. How smart we are! We will become role models for all those whose mothers slap.<br /><br />A day before I stole some money with shivering hands and sinful soul and violating the agreement made. For the first time I felt how much in fear of being caught a thief is. And for the first time I felt am doing something wrong and I should give it a rethink. But as it is said an arrow shot from bow cannot be taken backwards so were my words. Cause they will start calling me a coward together with a child which I hated a lot that I can do anything to stop being called. On the destined evening we put all our survival kits in our bag and moved to the buses. “Hey Can u give us a ticket to some good place?” we asked to the ticket man. “There is no good place son” he replied. “Then take us somewhere we will find it ourselves” said one of my friends. “Go home son” replied the ticket man. <br /><br />We hopelessly waited four hours for the bus which will take us to somewhere until the sound of a motorcycle. And I saw it coming out of the dark bullying away silence and I began to shiver with a certain thought. And the expected giant figure became clear in light and asked us to sit back. No one can gather the courage to disobey and like a servant being ordered we followed the listened. He was my father. <br />He left us to respective places. I wish he could have left me somewhere else this very night but he didn’t. I didn’t have the courage to face mother instead she faced me. And I thought with a dozen more slaps it would get better to agree that I’m still a child. But she took me onto her lap wept a bit, kissed me and loved me. She held me so tight like a magnet given some godly power and I being a small iron nail. <br />“Mom don’t suffocate me I promise I will never leave”. She laughed and freed me-huffing and puffing to breathe. The following day four slaps did their job instead of dozen but now I knew my mother isn’t bad and may be she’s true when she says am still a child.Abhay Shuklahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05086619195629772152noreply@blogger.com2