Band Of Brothers : Miss you all

Here is story of s Band OF Brothers

A self contented group of loving, caring, fighting and potent brothers.

There we love....

Like we are a single soul

Like we are the creators of each other,

Like we can never live with out

There we share....

Like we could never consume with out each other.

Like we can never breath with out each other,

Like we can never rhyme with out each other.

There we live....

Like there is no end of today.

Like there is no beginning of tomorrow.

Like life is all that we hold each other's hand.

There we laugh....

Like there is no reason to cry.

Like there is no moment that can stop it.

Like there is no matter where ever it is.

There we fight...

Like we are the most powerful.

Like we are united.

Like we are inseparable.

Like we are the strength, we are the sun and we are limitless.

There we are brothers....

Like we never had friends other than us.

Like we have the same blood running.

Like we are no two, but the absolute unity!

---

They are my life line.

I love you all so much.

My dearest G.A.N.G

Tuku Nana(nana), Fuku NaNa, Papu NaNa(Pana), Babun Dad(Ba-daa),

Jitu Bhaina(Jiva), Manti Bhaina (My MB).

I just don't wanna leave you, just for I love you.

Truly

Abinash

I earned the difficult skill. (Sleeping)

I realized, I have earned the skill lately, the skill of sleeping. Now I can sleep anywhere, any time and of course on anything. Now I have got experience of
Sleeping on:
Bed Chair Floor Terrace Table Platform Bike Bicycle Ground
Now I have experience of sleeping while:
Sleeping Sitting Working Reading Writing Talking Looking Eating
Now I have experience of sleeping in:
Office Home Road Bus Train Flight Boat Hotel Restaurant Car
With all these vast experience I will tell u how I manage to sleep.

Truly
Abinash

Happy Moment

It is a weird feeling to be nostalgic about present. You are obsessed with what’s happening, possessed by the present, occupied with imaginations.
Hey, this is the time you always wanted. The so called happy Moments. The lively life and the fantasies taking shape. The whole world suddenly seems to be a better place. The whole idea of being human seems to be the greatest satisfaction. The whole desire to flank your own boundaries. And the whole theme called life becomes the everlasting inspiration. Thank you all those people around me. Thanks for making me happy.

Truly
Abinash

:( just lil sad

Not getting the funda. Flounder for words. Nah.. will write some other time. though of writing on the code of living, on GOD and on possibilities. But not getting the big idea. So will post it tomorrow.
Bye.
Truly
Abinash

Liked it so posted it. Picked it from a friend's blog. ;)

---

Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates.
I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt.
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.

Cheerio
Abinash

In the time bygone and the time to come,
I am waiting for none.

For those who find me still,
For those who are entangled with me,
For those who loathe me,
You are a mundane affair.

For those who deceit me,
For those who lie me,
For those who feel I should die
You are an extinguished fire.

You are an anesthetized dead body.

Truly
Abinash

Abinash's Postulates - The inside out

I have always been a stealler. I steal ideas, imaginations and words among many. I keep them in my safe vault untill I become the undisputable creator of them. I become the creator as the stolen entities (I propose them as comodities) would be aged enough to have been erased from junta's mind by the time I would claim my ownership. People now don't remebr who exactly this idea comes from. Even the one who had suggested it would take it as a 'deja vu' when he learns it.
But I am so proficient in it. No one knows when and what I steal. I am an ideal idle man. Too reluctant to think, too lazy to even try to think and more, too ignorant to learn what exactly "thinking" is.

Truly
Abinash

Identity Missing And Unknown

My brain is flourishing with all kind of negative thoughts. In all possible negative axes of all possible dimension.

My restless eyes searching for an obsolete, abandoned object inside me. My heart has become no more than a dump yard. It contains every thing that my brain dumps.
And on an narrow edge I stand with my identity missing and unknown.

Truly
Abinash

Some Crap Don't Read

The other day a mail I received
proclaiming , great onliners on T-Shirt.
As usual my devil mind worked with the serenity to create some onliner replies
for them.... thought of not posting it still though a crap still I am posting it.
**MR stands for my reply
1) I wear my attitude.
MR: Then your attitude needs a wash.
2) I am who I am.
MR: You are "Who I am" - I never knew People copy me to that extent.
3) Some crappy IIT T-shirt said : We don't follow rules, we create them.
MR: If u don't use why u create them, Oh... u mean u create useless things.
4) Again some crappy IIT T-shirt said on the back:
See I am First, U are second to me.
MR: Yeah but I am looking back at you, Why are u moving in the wrong direction.

Its not
Truly
Abinash

The crowd has learned lately. This morning I was caught in a disgusting traffic near Domlur Signal and where vehicles lined up beyond my sight can catch; like a pile of scattered books in an old library. But one thing I could see and hear was an Ambulance desperately searching for a way to escape. The loud siren was in coherent with the desperate try of the motor, enough to raise an alarm of urgency. I felt pity for the patient inside so as the traffic does not seem to move in the next 30 minutes. But then the whole stuck traffic started in unison and amidst the jam, a narrow yet traversable passage started to appear.
By the time the dynamic passage neared me involuntarily I moved my bike awkwardly to left and leaned it a little, The auto rickshaw, the Benz, the scoda, the lorry every thing moved, not along the road but laterally and a way is made for the ambulance to move ahead.
No one would question others movement, everything occurred as a predefined pattern and ah... the man is fortunate, he cut through the traffic and the ambulance was set on move again. Amazing, The Indian crowd is no more illiterate of ‘raising-to-the-need-of-the-hour’.

Part II : -

But what has made the traffic to stand still is same what made me alter my notion on Indian crowd. I figured out sudden the automated traffic signals went off, and the traffic police came in to play waving their hands. And stopped this particular path for more than 6 minutes now and hence the vehicles have piled up to a length beyond control. 6 minutes now is 10 minutes... 12 minutes... but the hand won't signal a GO. Why? It became clear as soon as a White Ambassador with a red light on went passed before us escorted by a police jeep. Some crappy state minister. For them s traffic would stand still and may be people should die even if the need be. Each of us lost 15 + 3 minutes each 18 minutes. and the total number of people would certainly be more than 500 then.. so 500 * 18 = 9000 minutes = 150 hours was lost in the traffic. Plus the fuel + the pollution + the start of a bad day for these 500 poor guys. All for the sake of some crappy minister who would prefer traffic free or say empty road ahead to his destination. How sad? The man inside the ambulance could have dies in the deal. A man may get late for some exam and even he reaches with some mental dissatisfaction he would not be able to deliver. Software professionals like me who are paid hourly basis say 200$ per day..... Would loose a good chunk. And all these in the deal to get way for some crappy minister who does not even know the traffic rules. I would change the notion to
The Indian crowd – (politician) is no more illiterate of ‘raising-to-the-need-of-the-hour’. A good part and a bad part both belong to the same traffic. Its how INDIAN traffic is

Truly
Abinash

Kill me for I want to Die.

Its run run run and cry..
Kill me for I want to die.
A soul full of sins..
A hand full of crimes.. I am rotten, can't take it more...
Kill me for I want to die.
A disaster in run..
A history that burn...
A lie of living truth...
A spy of unknown sleuth...
It can't get any worse...
Kill me I won't remorse..
Me is waste dirt and filthy ...I can't see any light, my conscience is guilty.
Kill me for I want ot die.

Truly
Abinash

A Man's Story

It was just another morning. Or may be the same morning repeated over and over again. He would stand by the iron wall facing the sun and wonder what’s the difference? His world was limited by a hexagonal structure surrounded by fences of 12 feet high. He never tried to scramble them, in fact he never thought of doing so. His life is now a repetitive loop with a period of 24hours-aday. How big difference is there between a day then and a day now, he would think. He knows white very well. A special bond all share is a brotherhood of white. All inmates wear white, he too. The only thing he loves about this place is equality. He had spent 32 years of his life here, day and night. Not for a single moment he had seen the outside world. But today at the age of 64 he is going out. Nothing much left out to live for.
You are always innocent of the crime you have not committed, that’s the ideal rule. Not always. He had pleaded, cried, screamed at the ears which had gone deaf to justice. But that does not make sense anymore. He is now accustomed to a routine, wake up at 5:30 AM sharp, stand in a queue to lavatory. Hurry to take bath and get ready by 7:00 Am for break fast, a mug of hot (Only when it was prepared, not when it was served) tea, 2 pieces of bread. Get your part of work assigned and follow the go-work-struggle to rest- work-comeback chain. Have lunch at sharp 1:00 and follow the chain again. Work till 5:00 come back. Have rest and finish your supper by 7:00 and go to bed. Lights go off at 10:00. He was accustomed to a slow, monotone of life. He has not heard anything beautiful as he had not heard a sonnet being played or a note of music at its crescendo. Anything beautiful can’t be expressed in words, beauty must rhyme, and beauty must reoccur and beauty must be poetic and lyrical. The jail was the place many later found to be more convenient, no need to fight changes for they never occur, a simple routine life and no worries of outside world. You get your share of bread at the end of the day, and living in uniformity as being ruled by communists. But his case was different, he did not belong to this place, he was out of sync. Not because he can’t survive with same routine food and white clothes for years but because he did not share the most fundamental cord of committing a crime. He knew he was innocent. With this remote hope of justice he struggled and learned to survive which almost extinguished the day after he spent the first day there.
Now he is free. After 32 years he will see the outer world. His eye sight is not coping with his desires and taken the side of old age. He would not resist anything that is louder, he has been silent for years. Any sound other than human voice is a song for him. He would walk clumsily on the road. A lot has changed; he does not really recall the way to home. He hardly recognizes the movie starts on the posters. He would hardly believe that the place which had hand pulled rickshaw stand is now some auto rickshaw stand. He can’t believe the ten storey buildings on his left. He could not even recognize the outer wall of the jail where he had spent 32 years.
People have changed; his house is now no more than a dump yard at the midst of a society as they call it. Everything now seems faster than him. The number of vehicles has significantly out numbered the number of men. It was hard for him to cope with the life, the run, the pace. He tried working at few places to earn his living but nothing would work out for him. Hope is a good thing and he had it. He some how knew he can’t make it any more in the outside world. Now it must end. His life must end. But he was not the kind to commit suicide. What else? He can’t take it anymore living like a cast away. He took refuge in alcohol and just lived waiting for the end. But some other day he was no more. People started to gather outside his dump yard. He committed suicide or he went for salvation. But he is now free. He had chosen this freedom as he could not bear the pain of sudden social freedom. Like a bird can’t fly after a year of imprisonment. A man can’t live after a life term sentence. He escaped; he rejoiced and enjoyed the pain of dieing more than the pleasure of living.

Truly
Abinash

The agony of the ecstatic face - 3rd 69th word post

And my apparent vulnerability does not go unnoticed. They approach, pretentiously amicable and selflessly selfish. They come closer with that poisonous touch and I stay indifferent as usual. They suck my blood out and I reciprocate with my silent pain gulped. I fight with my self, I fight with my thoughs. The exploitation becomes unbearable and I call it quit, how long? How long? No more. No more.

Truly
Abinash.

The 'C' factor of typical India

The other day I was thinking about what are so common in India and Indians. And I found most of the things have this ‘C’ factor. So I will juxtapose all these strikingly unrelated yet the most commonly accepted C factors here.
1. Cricket, 2. Corruption, 3. Cinema

CRICKET :
Cricket is a house hold name here in India from the poorest to the richest are love in it.
Its arguably the only performing game in India. The early morning you wake up and go for a walk its not normal scene that you find people of all age group ranging from 8 to 35 dressed in white are up on the wheel with there kit bags or at least a bat dangling on the back, ride to the stadiums, fields and clubs. These are the upper class and some times middle class ‘cricketism’ in India. Now the lower middle class version of the same spirit is a different scene. It would be in the evening that all these guys would assemble at an public ground, the first few minutes are spared to find a place to start, its India one man can be a place holder for hundreds the only thing you need to do is to shout, its booked they are coming or just put your wickets are stand by it. Then one by one the whole gang arrives none in white, some come directly in school uniform so only those would flaunt their white shirts. They dream more about Ranji matches and local cricket heroes, then the Indian team. One padded bats man with more cycle tubes as the handle grip for their bat with worn gloves is quite a common scene. With the approaching darkness they rush directly to the Coaching classes or to join other house hold work no time to discuss or learn, what they call practice is more of a pass time and a struggle to learn.
Now the slum version is again strikingly different. Their boys mostly below 12 year play it and keep the tempo high. Their people play it with naked body and bare foot, just a half pant or even a towel does the trick. They don’t care about bats, pads, kit, gloves in that case the white track suit seems a remote possibility. They don’t mind even the roads, called ‘guly cricket’ and some times the drain side cemented space. And yeah they don’t have nay specific time like morning or evening as most of they have no routine.
In India Cricket seems to be the only high status game with a true Indian touch and flexibility. It has many forms, versions and space to accommodate people from any class and social standard. In a country like India with such a diversified society where the standard of living varies from BPL to Millionaires and each group claims a good chunk of the whole mass its true that we need at least on game like cricket which is like democracy, for all. By the people, of the people and for the people. May be that’s why cricket continues to be the most popular game.

Corruption:

‘Corruption’ is an integral part of India and Indian. Every layer defines a new corrupt system of its own. From the government to public sector, even private sectors. But if we take a closer look and try to define corruption then, we can find the true reason. Corruption is a way of self centered thing to betray the moral code to get some materialistic possessions. Now by materialistic I mean the power too. It’s a corrupt system from top to bottom. You go to a ‘Thsil’office and you know the whole blue print. The peon who is paid to set appointment timings take 20-50 rupees to give you a time before afternoon, as if you end up with a after noon timing the process will surely be prolonged to next day and possible the next next day too. The clerk then takes 50-100 rupees to give you the stamped paper. Then the Tahsil dar would take anything depends on who you are. But not directly after all he is tahsildar. So his share the lion share comes from an indirect route. Here people are not corrupt because the system is corrupt and they are a small element of whole system and being honest would possibly disintegrate them from this main stream, as they give the excuse. But its because Corruption is a part of the attitude of Indian mass. We the Indians search for easy routes, we are too lazy to up hold our dreams and work for it rather again we expect some miracle to happen which will increase our standard of living automatically. We run away from responsibility and are very good at blame game. But the principal reason is dissatisfaction and intolerance of Indians. We live in a society where the standard of living of people residing in a community varies from hell to heaven. So this induces an envy and dissatisfaction in the intolerant ones. Hence as a habit they search for a easy way and find solace in the corrupt system.
The corruption is so high now that you need to bribe cremation of you grand parents. This is another Indian C factor.

Cinema:
The grand Indian cinema. Always the Indian cinemas go over acted or get over reacted by the crowd. With cinemas produced in 14 different languages in one country targeted at people from virtually all community and social standard, Indian cinema has its own space and hype. The actors are Gods here. The music is a soul mate and the celeb news magazine are a highly circulated material. The cinema has created many categories of consumers and a different marketing field. Few cinemas which are worth watching and are well directed don’t do much business here. The movies are somuch hyped that the internation movies don’t come in line with the bollywood movies. The great success of cinema in India may be due to the linguistic clash. The south Indian denounce all Hindi movies nehce they have to excel in their own cadre and match up to the standard and the Hindi movies are a largely consumed commodity so have to be good. In this race the beneficiary is the consumer. And movies have always been a great means of mass education and moral learning In India.

Truly
Abinash

The I cult V/S the W cult

Two differences I found between the Indian culture and the Western culture.

1. In India urination and defecation in public is accepted but not kissing and display of affection.
There kissing and display of affection is accepted but not urination and defecation.

Which is correct?

2. In India Love ends with sex.

There love start with sex.

Which is correct?

3. In india the trend is arrange marriage where you explore each other's body first.. and only after the lust is gone may or may not you would think of exploring the soul and the philosophy you carry.

There the bodies are explored just as a matter of fun and need but never as a demand and marriage comes only when the souls are explored.

Which is correct?

Then why we always condemn teh western culture????
This is I am writing as an answer to some one's question.

Truly
Abinash

A Lie....

And I am asked "What u want me to do?". I would think for a long moment and helplessly more untruthfull answer, what they want to hear and not what I want to speak. I do the same not for I am tired of speaking my desires or I conceal them in me. But speaking what they want to hear would eliminate the need to explain and it would be easier for them to understand. No reproach no condemnation. Just an unwanted approval and resistless acceptance.... may be this is the part I hate most. Thats why I hate it, I hate it all. I hate them, I hate them all. And then serendipitously I would find my thoughts being admired. My thought? But i have not spoken them, they are still unrevealed. I just givewhat they want and I take pride in my thoughts. Then this moment comes heavly repeated over every moment as the time passes at 1 hour per hour speed. I become an aimless fake. And end up being one Lie. A strong desire I hold is to loudly cry.

Truly
Abinash

"She was the eternity" - 2nd 69th word post

“She was there, looking through closed eyes with all those fantasies and imagination taking shape. Her fingers won’t move, her skin glowing as usual and though calm yet glittering the glimpse. He was standing by her, with eyes open but they had gone dry, like his soul. Her presence was the only thing which reassured her absence. And all remained was the unacceptable fact ‘she is DEAD’.”

Truly
Abinash

A decision of death or new start? the 1st 69th word post

“It was not for the first time., infact it has been happening since quite long. The same rejection, reproach and turned down thumbs. He was accustomed to all them. He mutilated the Résumé and threw up in the air. The only sound left echoing there was the last sigh and the blow of speeding train. He took the last look at himself and the train took him to another SEARCH.”

Truly
Abinash.

Intro to the Chapter called "The 69th Word"

Hi,
I am introducing a new chapter to my blog called "The 69th word" . U can serch for "The 69th word" tag for all writing under this cadre. How ever it will contain writings from all section, love life, fights, emotion, apathy, sympaty, planning, screwing up, crazzyness virtually everything. But the uniqueness is every wrting will exactly be of 69 words and the 69th word will be a decisive one. which will conclude the story. Lets see how far can I take this one.
C ya,
Truly
Abinash

Ek choti si love story - Part # 2

The e-mail neatly written on a flowery back ground containing all sort of flowery wordsand all cosmetics to give that extra impression. But only thing which I could not endure was the first word, it was beyond my tolerance. The address was “Hi Gopal”. I was not accustomed to this hi followed by my formal name. It would always be either “My sweet heart G” or “Darling G”, may it be a one liner mail or a fifty liner like this one. She would always call me G pronounced as “zeeeeee” or may be with a yet more prolonged e, long enough to give me the soothing pleasure and short enough that I would demand more. I could not hold my eyes any more and took them off, I found the corner of my eyes filled with two tiny droplets of the most transparent and innocent liquid called tear. It was involuntary, I could only know when the image before my eyes went blur and a sharp compulsion to close my eyes evoked in me. I gave in to myself and closed them, and it all came back as a fast flash back. The first day we met, was in an over crowded BMTC bus. I used to be in Bangalore those days and those daily struggling through the running crowd and stopped traffic to reach at work had made me robust to tolerate physical pressure with out any reproach. With a disgusting sigh I would look at every one who would look at me, and I would spend my flat 40 minutes journey standing and frowning.I hurried into the bus and some how managed to get a ten square inch place to stand on, I don’t remember if I was standing on some one’s feet or some one was standing on mine. And I started the same old style of pretending to make all those good looking girls fell the “I-am-not-looking-at-you” factor. But I knew it was false as I sneaked my way to grasp every single sight of their faces and some thing more too, in fact intention would be more than face. While doing so hands would automatically move to set the hair, just as a false try to convince myself it would make me look handsome. Then the half of the standing crowd got down at some stop and then I saw her glittering face, with the innocent smile and two dimples just to complete the perfection. A pink salwar with white dupatta, tight enough to give you the sense of her perfect figure. I continued looking at her until I found her looking back at me from the corner of her eyes. I don’t know why I took my eyes off her at once and struggled to show that looking at her was just incidental. But I don’t know whom I was trying to convince that notion, as I knew the truth and no one else was looking at me, may be it was for her. Then I looked at her again and just hardly a second had passed as she looked at me again with a stealth sight, but this time I decided look straight into her eyes. And we were eye locked. Later I figured out she was working in the office opposite to mine. Then I would often see her with her friends and colleagues, I knew she is as desirous to talk to me as I was to her but neither she would ever start nor I. I took it for granted that it was crush, just a mere infatuation the advanced phase of ogling. I could never know when this infatuation became love and the love became craziness. It was the juice center were I found her standing alone one day and I gathered all the courage, took some long breaths, had a final look of myself in a rear view mirror of a bike, adjusted my hair for that same false reason, tried to expand my chest little more with the belly taken little inside and moved closer to her. Later I thought all those process are there always whether you want or not, this is male psychology I suppose. Moving a little closer I said “Hi”. Spoken not in the usual way but like “Haaii”…. Just to show that was my style. She responded “Oohh Hi…. We met in the bus right?”. It made me uncomfortable, I was not ready for such a straight question. I fumbled and said..’ ya ya… right. You work with Infotech correct? 3rd floor raheja IT towers.” She was chuckling as she responded … “Ya but how do you know? You have any friend there?”. I don’t know where these mice come to you gut from, when you desperately struggle to be confident. And mostly while with a girl, a beautiful girl. “No no.. yes.. I mean, you know like, I mean its just that I happened to see you getting in there.” I spoke looking away from her. But I don’t know what my eyes were searching there at the ground. I fought with all my strength but my eyes would not move to look into hers. Then I was quite and she was too, she was looking away from me as I was looking at my foot with hands promptly in the jeans pocket, that was a habit. I said ‘what would you like to have?”, “No nothing just that… can we go for a walk if you won’t mind. I had my lunch just now so may be that would be a better idea.” She told what I held in my eyes ,throat and every where. I jumped off my feet just to end up looking funny. ‘Sorry actually I got excited about the idea of going for a walk.” I defended. “But that was nice.” She told with a blinking eye, slightly tilted head which made a small bunch of those silky hairs dangle by the left ear, moving freely in the air, I suddenly found myself comparing her that look with Aishwarya Rai, just to conclude that “Aishwarya Rai does not look that good.”. We went for the walk with each step we got closer as the distance in meter came down to centimeters. I did not notice when our hands had started to strike each other so lovingly that I could walk for the rest of my life like that. I falsely became an attentive listener as she spoke with all that zeal and like we have been talking since ages. How holy was the feeling, I thought, crystal clear like a flowing fountain, which drives away all that is unwanted, like the seamless blue ocean which would never keep anything inside and just like the endless sky, the more you look into it, the more it looks into you. I was not listening to any of her words, I was submerged in my own thoughts. She than said some thing, all I could here was the word, love , and you. I don’t know what she said but I replied, ‘Ya I love you.” “What? Again… what you said. Are you all right?” Then I realized she had not said “Do you love me?’. But it was something else. “Sorry actually.. I mean you understand… hhmm… I mean I was thinking something else.”. She smiled and I was gone again. But the sentence that followed the smile was eternal, “Buddhoo, I love you too.” I could hardly believe. It felt like, like…. Like what I am yet to figure out.I have reiterated this story to all my close friends more than a thousand times. Then everything continued and life felt like heaven, until the evening of that rainy day. It was pouring heavily I parked my bike in front of the CCD and we hastily got in… But just the moment I pulled the door open for her, I was numb. (Continuing…).

Truly
Abinash

Rage .. rage against the sublim self.

Something to answer a doubt of some one. Something to asset my creation and something to claim my creation as indigenous.
Here it goes....
Well I have always been a polemist, not because people accuse me of plagiarism but because they find my thought to challenge their human orthodox. But who is afraid of being eccentric, everything that is accepted and cherished today was eccentric some day. You learn that you are perfectly “you” only when your action is questioned, only when you’re self being is questioned. But it’s your vision, dreams, beliefs, credos and desires that bring up your self image. And this image is what we should always look up to. This is the image of our truest form, revealed only to us. And like a signature it reflects in everything we do and think. As a living men we are not indifferent to every emotion, we too like things and proudly at least I proclaim loudly things and people I love. I accept my shortcoming shamelessly. I am shameless as I love myself and as I love things my “self” loves. I don’t hesitate in taking humility neither in taking pride. That’s how I define life, a breakless wheel which is steered by only you and guided by people you love, who love you. That’s a life full of energy, enthusiasm, raw spirit, a desire to explore all horizons and courage to take new path.
"Sin is nothing, sin is brain,
Sin is something that makes me insane."
These are my lines for what is sin. Sin is an illusion, if u agree something to be a sin its a sin. Sin is a perception and not a judgement. Now the fact that being a second hander is sin or not I must say blatantly, every indivisual is a secondhander in one or other way. We are not the creators of everthing but we use them and change them with selfish authority. But one should have the guts to admit and respect other's creation, one must be able to say its his creation that driffted me towards my idea, its impossible to say "I am always self drivven", as the logic justifies if u r driven u need a motive and all alone u can't have a motive. Aas long as you don't betray your own self respect its no evil, its no sin.

#1 Chapter 1- Ek Chotti si love story

Hi!
It’s a part of my love story, a small love story. May be a boring one and ugly to you but beautiful to me. I am Gopal…. A simple guy with a high ambition, eye full of dreams and
heart full of love with a little space in it for every one who is my friend… eerr may be for those who hate me also. Confused? Don’t be I will tell you everything one fold after another unfolding all my life before you. So lets go on the journey.

CHAPTER # 1.

It was a rainy evening, I was sitting by the window, my hands resting on my knees and my head resting on my hands. Looking constantly to the falling drops or rain which would bring the sense of cold and beauty and take away the thirst of my desires. I was watching constantly not missing a single falling drop off the shaft. But to my surprise I found myself thinking of some one. I knew she was not there and why? Why should she be there? I was struggling my own thoughts and realized the fact that thoughts some times can be more painful than sword. A small piece of scrambled paper with something fuzzy written on it zapped on to my face by the healing cold air. Then I thought of the day, one month before all that happened, I felt the pain growing more intense and my eyes wet, the warm drops pouring down my chicks were easy to discern. I wished to hide it but my hand, but they would not move. I sat eyes closed and my head thrown back and everything replayed, each second.

6th October 2006, Minnesota , USA.

The half written letters, unsent mails, the unsent messages in the draft folder and the missed calls saved properly to thousand times see the date, time and the name. Just to imagine what I was doing while I got the message or call, what she might be doing when and thought of me, how she would have smiled while calling me and all that. It has been quite a few days that I had noticed she would not reply properly and was keeping little off as if we had just acquaintance and I was pushing it little harder to get closer and inadvertently she was avoiding this sudden overreach. But when ever I sent an e- mail … my heart will pace at the highest. Soon I would wait impatiently for the reply to come and the alert to ping at the right corner of my monitor, some time even before I click the send button my eyes would move involuntarily to the right corner of monitor for new mail allert. I would spend my days just logging in and logging off into my mail box and the Computer would be running whole night. But no reply comes as the date changes on the calenders, as morning slips into scorching noon and then gloomy evenings. Next morning I would be the first to reach the 24 hour open computer lab. I don’t know why they made it 24 hour open but I took the most of it may be I was wasting time but I would spend sleepless night just waiting for the mail to come. Some times before the lab would opens I would take tours around it. As soon as it opens I rush in just to find my mail box empty. After a number of frustrating failure anticipations I would finally get a reply. My heart beat goes up with anticipation. It just takes 10-15 seconds to open the mail, in this brief time my mind makes all the jumbled permutations and combinations of words and feelings, regarding what she might have written. But every time I will find only a 5-6 liner reply to my 100 line e-mail. While struggling with words to give my mail that X-factor I just feel I have a whole lot of things to say even more than the words on the morning news paper. Now this latter… half heartedly written with no attention to the punctuation marks and all words in small letters. I just take it for granted that her key board’s shift key might not be functioning and she must have written hastily. But that would be just a self imposed consolation which goes in vain. But it was a snowy morning of November when I got this mail from her, my very own “Preeti” … yup that’s the name that runs as screen saver on my lab computer. It was a 50 line mail which contained 13 full stops, 10 commas, all the first letter of sentences in caps and 413 words as a whole. I remember because I had read it more than I had read my own name occurring at different places at different instances over the years. This was different and weird…. I was taken aback …. Just from the first line itself.. (Continuing).

The Introduction to "Ek chotti si love story"

Hi this time I am introducing a character which would take to his journey of love story. His very own story, some thing he lived. Here on This chracter will tell u a part of the story like a Saas/Bahu TV serial in a break up structure. Later I will add some images too. So Ready to be a part of "Gopal's" Love story.... This character is a totally imaginary creation. It has nothing to do with any one. So gear up.... to taste the sweet and the sour.

Feeling Blue....

Its the rythem. Its the sound of my heart beat and the fluent movement of my agile fingers on the black key board. Then their is the sound of the wind and the CPU fan. All are well timed, well synchronised and well formed. They made sense and I wondered how I never noticed it. These are the sounds close to me that I don't share with anyone. These are more pleasing than the six strings. Then the current goes out and the only thing glowing the whole area ia my computer and my glowing face with the reflection. My slow movement of my eyes, not coherent with the thought. The mind is thinking something, the heart demands something and the eyes are stuck to something else, all are randomly set. BUt there is a common cord, all are mine. I feel the proud, I feel the ineer glow. I got up from the seat making the number of B'Adams more audible. I walked directly to the window moving my face rythemically with the danglling window screen, like a wave in the wind, the slow soothing wind. I breathed deeply once and smiled, the smile was necessary I thought. In fact the smile was the only thing necessary at that moving, more needed than my breath. I could feel it. Then my long fingers involuntaryly went up to touch my eyes as if the new born wonders to see the action of its hands. My incoherent thoughts assembled and I jumped back. I felt a strong desire to cry and laugh. I wanted to be crazy as crazy as I am .
I was standing alone like the lost jigsaw puzzle of a single piece set. I liked watching my mobile. Willing it to ring. I thought I've broken words and hearts of course And absolutely no remorse! I struggled to make my thought ryme. Its a habit I thought this breaking things and needless rhyme now that I thought I almost had it there. Bang it goes and stops that flow fine! The current was back and with my eyes semiclosed in pain of light. The sudden leap from the dark to light was intolerable. Then I thought I am intolerant but I always wanted to be. I wanted to be cared, being the point of discussion, being loved and mostly to be social, which I am not.

Truly
Abinash.

Adarsh Prem By Dr. Bachchan

प्यार किसी को करना लेकिन
कहकर उसे बताना कया
अपने को अपर्ण करना पर
औ‌र को अपनाना क्या

गुण का ग्राहक बनना लेकिन
गाकर उसे सुनाना क्या
मन के कल्पित भावों से
औरों को भ्रम में लाना क्या

ले लेना सुगन्ध सुमनों की
तोड़ उन्हें मुरझाना क्या
प्रेम हार पहनाना लेकिन
प्रेम पाश फैलाना क्या

त्याग अंक में पले प्रेम शिशु
उनमें स्वार्थ बताना क्या
देकर ह्रदय ह्रदय पाने की
आशा व्यर्थ लगाना क्या
-----------------------------
By Dr. Harvansh Rai Bachchan.

The nothing ness....

"In the beginning, this (universe)was the self alone, in the shape of a person. He reflected and saw nothing else but his self. He first said, "I am he". Therefore, he came to be known by the name "I (Aham)". hence, even now when a person is addressed, he first says, "it is I", and then says whatever other name he may have

-----Brihdranyaha Upanishad.
--------------------------------------------------
All around me are familiar faces Worn out places,
worn out faces Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell youI find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, veryMad
WorldMad world

-Gary Jules
----------------------------------------------------------

" The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

---- Troy.

If I could be a hero....

If I could be hero, if just for one day
If I could be that courageous just for one day.

If I could be fearless and valiant just for one day
I wish I would be the man I wish to be.

If I could look direct into the Sun, just for one day.
If I could swim across the oceans, just once,
I would be the man I want.

If I could conquer the lands and win myself,
If I could jump from the mountain and walk on fire,
I wish I will be the man of my desire.

I wish my arms would be of steel and my heart rock solid,
I wish I could see the Gods and the sprits,
And my wish would come true
Being myself I will never rue.

The new unit of Time...

The time is flying. I don't know how fast but its flying. In this course my random incoherent thoughts stopped as I took a peek at the wall clock which also shows the date. Date? " Huh.." who on earth remembers the dates!!!! Its all the days now: Mon to Sun. And I believe we count the days just because we awaits for the beautiful Friday evening. On Monday morning its nothing but more kind of a new variety of count. Neither a count down nor a count up but a "Count through" for the upcoming Friday. And that how now I cope with this flying time. When I was in the school I remember counting time by periods. One day would be 6 periods, and with every passing period a day used to get shorten. Then I became little older and dates would soon become the counting unit. But it couldn't last long.
Then the engineering career the 4 years. Where we counted a year as two semester. With one semester half year ended. And a semester became the unit of time for 4 years, of course we had few shorter units like mid-sems which would account for half of a semester. Then this corporate life.... now the unit is "week". A month is no more a collection of 30 days on an average but a month is of 4 weeks. Each week is calculated with days and days are of 2 half. 9-1 the first half and 2-6 the second half. The week ends, the month ends and with this ends a year. I become one year older or say one more year closer to my death! what ever that aint the point of discussion. I just wanted to express my bewilderment of this changing unit of time.
Now a week does not seem long may be because a week accounts for a very small proportion of our age, while a period seemed very long in school may be because the proportion of a week to our present age is less than the proportion of a period to our child hood age.

Murder of a Cricket team

At last BCCI finished the autopsy and the fact is revealed that the death of Indian team had been due to semi murder and semi suicide. How? The 50% murder was done by chapell. And the suicide is of course the poor performance of the whole team. And when this murder and suicide attempt occurred at the same time the whole rotten episode was played.
Now the BCCI has put constraints on the endorsement. But seldom they understand a check on endorsement won’t help but it will worsen the situation.
Dhoni stormed into the limelight and became hero overnight. It was then that he became the poster boy for the The Cricinfo Guide to International Cricket 2007 by Steven Lynch.
The cricketers as well as the public knows number of endorsement agreement is directly propertional to the players performance. So when some one does not look handsome on the wicket, it means he is loosing the deal. On the contrary these ad deals are motivational factors which would lead a man to do better. Now with this cut in match fee and endorsements, as of now it seems it will work negatively. Moreover to be the brand ambassador of some company is a personal choice so BCCI does not have the right to check the personal interest. It may act as boomerang on BCCI. Only coming time to tell.
Now all we can understand form the aftermath of World cup is only the team and the public has the eye to see chapell’s fault. All the way chapel called his baseless experimentations as “PROCESS” which was ambiguous through out with out and goal and invested zeal. The so called process had to phases along with a branch phase.

PHASE 1: Drop a man- pick him back- drop him again-pick him back.
(N.B In this phase of the “PROCESS” players are tested for the stress tolerance against the insecure place and playing off and on.)
PHASE 2: Shuffle the batting order and the bowling order like u r playing cards.
( N.B during this phase of the “PROCESS” the player is tested for the capacity to act like second god…. Come on I respect god so gave him 1st place. See the man must be able to come down at any point of the game and should be capable of doing miracles of hitting 10 sixes at a stretch.)

The special Branch phase of the “PROCESS” was the open rows between the players and the coach. Going to press and then finding fault in everything.

This is how the team was slow poisoned with the “PROCESS”. But to the utter astonishment the process never included any strategic planning. No action in transforming the ‘defensive fielding’ to ‘attacking fielding’. NO planned strategy to handle different teams at different wickets and weathers.

This is how the 50% murder was done at one go. Now the suicidal part: the players are the one who are actually expected to perform. Now taking into account the background of the players none have emerged as gifted. All of them have worked hard to reach the height. Now given that, it is obvious to expect them to do well regardless of all these strategic incompetence and sick coaching. After all “you r a bats man and the only goal is to hit runs from the bat” with this motto in mind no bats man played. Same with the bowlers. So they forgot their own motto just to screw up them selves in the fake hype and finding faults. But they are too not all responsible its rooted in Indian culture. Any where we are the first to break the rules. We are the first to forget all the efforts and the fact we-are-not-risk-taker is taken for granted. It is evident in Indian way of fielding.Only two way to save Indian cricket :God comes and save sit or the players understand their motto.

Life a view...

We live, we eat, we survive, we grow, we love, we war, we entertain, we reproduce but what we r human for is "WE THINK". We think to accomplish all these activities. We think to think even. We r bonded to each other. In this transient world we choose our relation ship, we choose the longevity of the relation. We the living r in actual terms dead. What is wrong if I would say we r a different species of deads making a different class of our own. We too follow a monotonous and classical protocol. We seldom thrive to use the ultimate human qualities viz. courage, creativity and reasoning. We r born unique but we die a copy ! Through out our life we try following others doing what has already been done and following an already created way. We never try reaching new heights, unleashing new horizons. We live in but in a dead way, wrapping our all strengths under the coat of fear.
We claim the world is changing century after century. The change is only constant and the acceleration of change is accelerating. But when we take a close look we find it was an illusion. Actually we r looping in a circular path, like the ageing process. We create then destroy, we claim then blame, we create boundaries then we circumvent. What we do is we struggle our self, we struggle with our own thought and we struggle to convince our selves that life is real but is it?? We make relations; we love , we love to take pain for our love. We presume we can't survive with out them. But when they depart still we love; we love their memory, time continues and life goes on. Nothing changes except few of our behaviors. Its not because we adapt but because some how we know we r in the loop, we will be back to that point some time. That's why life goes on .

Truly
Abinash

Analogy!

Great genius Albert Einstein proved this world to be a relative one following some rules of relativity and having some constraints. Hats off to that visionary genius.
It sounds paradoxical that the non physical things r more relative than the physical substance. We assume some one to be an intelligent person with respect to some one. We say some one is good relative to another. All these mental attributes r relative. So we and our thoughts r also relative.
We say a point is something which has no dimension and hence we can't put a definition for it. But we define a straight line as an one dimensional collection of points. Points?? But have not we just concluded that point has no definition; how come we can define something as a collection of something which it self is undefined. Isn't that weird. Again we say a plane is a collection of these points spreading infinitesimally. How come? If something has no dimension how can we assume its collection would make any sense? Worth's some thinking.
Now come to human attitude. We will make a geometrical analogy of it. If we r single minded and have a single character it hardly make any sense like a point but if we have a collection of such characters then is will be like a straight-line. But compare the straight line with a plane .....the straight-line is blank isn't it? So we still need to be versatile and have more firm characters to make some sense. But isn't a plane blank as compared to the 3-dimetional cube; yes its blank. That means there is not a limit to the point we can grow our character attributes. To make us mark able we need MULTIDIMENSIONAL growth of CHARACTER. Then only we r distinct .
So, we can conclude 2 points from the above analogy.
1) We need to grow in multiple dimetion with multiple abilities to match up life's indefinite requirements.
2) And most importantly we must not neglect any event or any thing because its small. the point is that it has some significance, up on which we can build on. Like a small dimensionless point builds a straight line which in turn builds a plane and ultimately the plane build the cube which is full.

Truly
Abinash

ddddd

The small photo here....

Is man Good or Bad in born????

Yesterday while discussing (ok.. ok... arguing) with on of my friends a weird topic came out and prolonged our so called discussion for 1 more hour. The topic was "Is man Good or Bad?". Thats as a creature man has always been enjoying the self proclaimed victory over earth and the superiority to all other living beings. Now we decide whats good and whats bad. But the question is when we are born.... what is our moral status. Do we posses a conscience by birth. Are we "The Man" good and ethical by birth and only this society and circumstances makes us evil???? I strongly disagree. In my point man is evil by birth. When we are born we have only one thing known to us "destruction" and anything that is bad. In fact its the society where we learn what is good and this bad-man suppresses. Not convinced? Ok look into it this way...
We say a baby is the purest form and knows only good as it is unaware of the maya and is indifferent to materialistic possession. But thats where this theory has the largest flaw and fails. A baby is the true sinner.
Point 1) Consider a child which knows nothing, not even how to speak and not what is death and what is construction or destruction. And here a butterfly comes which fascinates our baby. No sooner the butterfly comes to its reach, the baby catch holds of it just to mutilate it in to torn pieces and a life ends. Now the child does not know killing is bad but some thing some basic instinct worked inside which encouraged him to mutilate the butterfly. Had man been ever good by birth then the default instinct should be constructive instead of destructive. Give a new toy and its gone in no time. When man is born it has one instinct in him "evil", which knows destruction. But in flow of time, the social rules teaches us that we should not listen to this bad in us and we start to suppress it.
Point 2) Say you are alone and you know no one is there to see you. Then what is the action that first strikes to mind? Its the weirdest fantasies that we try to realize. Most of the times we feel the overwhelming urge to do anything that has been taught as bad.
Point 3) Teach a baby how to write a letter it will take much effort. But teach him how to break a pen it won't take ant effort. Any one adult or child to take very less time to learn anything thats bad. Because we have a hidden interest for it. Our inner self is slanted more towards bad then good. Accept it or not. Thats the truth.
This is the real bad that resides in us, in each of us. But we misunderstand to conclude that man is good by birth and only this society makes a bad out of us. But alas! only the reverse is true.

I loved you till dawn...

I loved you till dawn,
I was in crazy love waiting for sun.

In the peaceful bliss I chased your shadow,
Just to get abandoned in the middle of woods.

Then I searched for your smell,
To look into the bright eyes and behold you as my dream.

I ran again beyond the sun, beyond the sky,
I searched the heaven, the mountains and the oceans.

I searched your shadow everywhere;
just to find you in my heart,

With sunrise and the murmur of birds,
I wake up and find you sublimed in my dreams in eternal past.

The sun is in your side, the day is in your side,
But the moon and nights are mine.

Then I love the night and dark for they are my very own,
Every peaceful night in the dreams I love you till the dawn.

Truly
Abinash

Some times.....

Sometimes I become empty like a moistureless cloud,
Which can give a motion, a beauty but no rain.

Sometimes I become a featherless cuckoo,
Which can sing, entertain but can’t fly.

Sometimes I become a stopped fountain,
Which has water, sound but can’t flow.

Sometimes I become someone,
Which has life but not me.

But then times are there,
When I become what I want.

I become a dancing sea,
Which has energy, motion and unseen beauty.

I become a mountain,
Which is gigantic, unmovable and unfathomable.

I become a true man,
Who has a soul, a goal and the will.

At last I managed to become me

Bye,
Truly
Abinash

Well if any one wants to leave any comment on any writing. Including the earlier ones. Then please click on the comment link below every writing and write your comments.

absolute madness

Times are crazy and people are strange,
I am locked in tight, I am out of range,
I used to care but things have changed.

These words give a lot to think on. It may be the socialized version of men or about the one who enjoys the solitude. But it gives a hint about absolute madness.
What’s "Crazy" is about? Its about the dare to be different. We all are crazy in one or other way. We are insane deep with in. We have hidden desires which we never fail to execute or at least fancy when we are alone, with company of none. While alone mostly we are mad, or our general behavior is kind of crazy. But in real term that’s the real we. We are not crazy as it is understood but we are free and feel a sense of security. Logically we can derive, when we feel free and secure we are the true we and we may behave like crazy people do. But taking a deep thought we can find actually in this society we live with fear, and a parasitic happiness where we depend on others to be happy. So who is crazy the man who doesn't care what others would say when he passionately believes in his imagination, thinking and vision or the one who are always driven by others desires and reactions. Being crazy is a freedom from this social bondage and slavery. This social slavery is like a self imposed suffocation which makes us breathless just because people don't want us to breath. A crazy man can cry when he feels like, laugh at his will, try all the things we will never dare to and he is freed from the fear of failure or death. Isn't that a state of salvation. Isn't that a true freedom? But we the intellectually correct and high sounding people are not crazy. Pity that we are not crazy, we can't be for it takes absolute courage to be in absolute madness. But we live relatively depending on others.

truly
abinash

I want to now you!

All I need to know is you.
What all that you try,
what makes you laugh and cry.
I want to know your dream,
I want to shout and scream.
What makes you happy and sad,
where you are good and bad.

All I want to know is you.

LIfe Sucks.....

Hi,
What I discovered is: "Birth is easy, death is even easier but what is difficult is LIFE.". Life sucks here. I am frustrated, annoyed and irritated. The vehemence of denial is irresistible and I am unable to endure time. The sense of bondage is killing. But can't help. Thats why life sucks and I want to walk away from it as quick as and as soon as possible. I am helpless. I am unable to help myself. Oh God.....
Any way I am taking a off to go home tomorrow. May be it will heal me a little and rescue me form this unbearable pain. The sole feeling of going home is keeping me alive these days and the sole feeling of my spiritual guides keeps me going. I owe my life, success and anything that is good to them. Will write when come back from home.
Bye
Truly
Abinash