Just not the monsoon I was waiting for….(Part 4)

 

There was one a person who made me feel safe,
Held my hand when I began to fall from grace.

This person was my angel, she's the one I miss,
She brought me love and endless happiness.

Why did you have to go please tell me why?
Now I have to drink and do drugs just to get by.

I wish you were here love, I miss you so much,
No one even knows what I would do just for your one single touch.

Why does everyone else get to have there loved ones near
Do they know I'd do anything to have my princess here?

I'm sad and lost girl, won’t you help me find my way?
Will you get rid of the tears I cry each day?

I know the answer and the answer is no,
Coz for me to move on I have to let you go.

Honey I love you and thank you for all you did for me
And I hope someday you will miss me and come back to me.

For all those that have there lovely ladies, hold her tight,
Don’t ever say you hate her even when you fight.

For you never know when she might have to go
And the pain that it brings..... I hope you never have to know.  

…..!!@@!!

PERCEPTION….

 

The day ended usually as it daily happens with some card and booze drinks in the boys hostel. I was thinking of replying to one of my friends message on facebook. I was deeply moved by the content of a mail in my inbox and I thought to share it over here. I squinted through it but believe me I read it again with my glasses on.

 

PERCEPTION

 

In Washington DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes.  During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. 

After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing.  He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About 4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar.  A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly.  The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time.  This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:
The musician played continuously.  Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while.  About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace.  The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over.  No one noticed and no one applauded.  There was no recognition at all.

  No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world.  He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a Stradivarius violin worth $3.5 million dollars.  Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story.  Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the DC Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

This experiment raised several questions:
      *In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
      *If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
      *Do we recognise talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .

How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

Words-Worth…..

 

Being a petty member of our human race It just happened to me to brief out something which I feel is a stigma on the face of mankind. And moreover being a part of the civil society I reserve every right to express my concern over the issue.

I hope nobody is going to freak out if I say trust if the most basic requirement for a relation to flourish. We as humans have been bestowed by the almighty several different ways to express our trust. The day I filled out the verbosely designed form for TISCO I took it as a chance to express something that I would like to give back to the society. Society gives us so many things. How do we revert back to it? As the citizens are we trustworthy? Can our words be trusted?

Before commenting anything over this dilemma of mine I would like to share something with you fellahs. I happened to go to my our newly appointed placement officer before the Indian Army interview to get my certificates attested. I was not carrying my original certificates with me. So I requested the professor to countersign my certificates. He simply nodded his head signalling that he was not going to attest the copies under any circumstances. Being a very untidy and careless person I had forgotten to collect my certificates from the college those were submitted at the time of admission. But when I am wrong I accept the fault is mine. But my certificates were genuine. Even a electronics professor tried to convince the stubborn ass by saying that he knows me personally and my certificates were original. But he was rigid. But he didn’t know that no body cares for his uncanny stupid attitude. We are used to ignore such professors as we are NITPians. And I could attend the interview without any attestation required.

The point I want to make over here is that why is the value of a man’s word so low. He could have had faith in me and countersigned my certificates as it was only a formality. But the ever so growing cases of forgery, fraud and corruption have forced our authorities to have there balls in their throat. They are scared.

Leave my case talking about the general life. If a man at the railway station comes to you and seeks some help saying that his wallet has been stolen. 95 % among us would walk away pretending that we don’t care and as if the guy seeking help is a beggar or a criminal. What if your son, brother or somebody close happens to be stranded in a metropolis and be mistreated like dirt? YEAH that’s where the weak link is. Had I been the ward of some professor or the dean the Placement officer would have attested my certificates without even caring for whether they are true copies or the the scanned ones.

So my dilemma is why has the value of our words  declined so much. Even if it comes to making relations. Why are we scared in getting committed? Just because we don’t trust our partner as much as we should. And why wouldn’t we be scared when we can’t rule out the chances of being betrayed at some point of time. Even the strongest of the relations get screwed up because of petty issues and minor misunderstandings. Even I couldn’t fathom it how this dog’s summer whistled passed sweeping all the greens from the olive rendering me pale and devastated. Even I never could imagine how my words were not worth it.

Independence Day: A Lump in my throat

This special day is once again upon us, swelling our hearts with pride as we try to manoeuvre our way through traffic diversions (to make way for the iconic appearances of our political and bureaucratic bigwigs) amid the loudspeakers blaring out patriotic songs—some of them almost as old as our freedom. There is always a lump in my throat as I bow my head, saluting the national tricolour on this momentous day when India awoke to freedom as the rest of the world slept.

Alas! We seem to have gone back to a deep independence induced slumber, rising bleary eyed occasionally, on days like this one today, and going back to a state of blissful ineptitude for the rest of the year. Independence Day seems to have become like any other special day dedicated to specific causes – Mother’s Day, Teacher’s Day, Doctor’s Day, Environment Day ....the list is endless. But isn’t Independence Day a bit different from all these? Isn’t it a heady combination of all of them and many more? Unless we are efficient administrators, loving parents, dedicated teachers and doctors and responsible, law abiding citizens, we have no right to rejoice in our freedom.

We freed ourselves physically from the much touted tyranny of the British Raj 63 years ago. But we are yet to gain independence from the insensitive and parochial attitude of our own leaders—be they political, religious or social. As long as people are deprived of two square meals a day, the powers-to-be pilfer the natural wealth of country to fill their own coffers in the name of development, women (and men) are killed in the name of family prestige, hatred is fomented in the name of religion, and lawlessness becomes a synonym for power, we cannot call ourselves independent or free.

The India- Pakistan Peace March and candle light processions for solidarity are laudable initiatives of the civil society seeking peaceful solutions to fiery problems. But the ideas of peaceful coexistence propagated by them have to be imbibed in spirit and not be lost as rhetoric. These efforts have to become more than a ritual. They have to become our way of life.

The real freedom of the spirit, which the Mahatma wanted to instil in us, is still eluding us, or perhaps we are yet not strong enough to imbibe it in our thoughts words and actions. Freedom from want and desire may be too tall an order. But at least we can tread this path carefully and remember that ‘My freedom ends where someone else’s begins’. Only if we could try to live by this credo, there would be no female foeticides, no inhuman subjugation of the weak, and no atrocities on innocent citizens.
There is a lot to be proud of, and yet, a lot of shame needs to be wiped off from all around us, the Commonwealth Games notwithstanding.

JAI HIND!!!