ARCHIVE.
I found this poem of mine, written in grade8 in this booklet called 'Images of Innocence' published in 2005 by the English Department.


WAR
The epaulette, far from a distance;
the flame of courage that I often desire.
The courageous mind shows no resistance,
Just a second, I see the fire.
As you are, even they are
Strong and bold enough to begin the war.

One is injured, one is dead;
Still you show no signs of deserting,
This is the war, you've lead.
Stand no still, continue the combat,
Wait until the last breath,
Till you face death.

Over the seas, through the mountains
The victory that you wish, you must seek.
The counquered territories, the soldiers
Don't feel giulty and remorse
For the many you've killed.
Think of nothing but your destiny.

Now I reminisce those war days,
Cherish all the memories I have
Sing to my grandchildren rhythmic rhymes,
With blood pouring down as tears.

The vision can never fade
For the efforts I made,
And in my memory,
Celebrated to honour the soldiers
Who carried the heavy rifle on their shoulders.

P.S I was rather tempted to edit it because at parts I feel stupid but i gladly resisted.

Comeback.

Okay.
I do realize.
I know.
I really have mastered the art of delaying, of latecomings and more appropriately, late posting.
So, yes, I was listening to the soundtrack of 'Chariots of Fire' by Vangelis and that is masterpiece.
Sadly, Rahman's Jai Ho is far away from a musical symphony like that of Vangelis.
Am I to blame the time the movie is/was set in? The country? The director's bad choice?
Perhaps Dilli6 Drained Rahman of all his best.

So I've made my comeback and I'm glad.
There are bigger plans for this vacation .
Hope's there's something major to write about because this randomness is really getting quite boring.
Have been catching on a number of movies and think I found Seven Pounds pretty brilliant.
Will Smith worked his genius.
Maupassant seems boring to be read now, let's see, some suggestions should be great.
I'm thinking some utterly hideous Sheldon kind of fiction-pulf fiction?Is that what it is called?

Liars Paradise.

A holiday has been declared for Saturday but I have little to be happy about.
'Holiday'-it's such a misnomer here at Assam Valley that I simply cannot help but laugh at the futility of having one.
It's an immediate chance for a million more practice sessions; most often; unrequited.
Just when I felt the desperate need for sleep, to catch the first movie in the past three months and perhaps even having something creative on my blog-I can see the dreadful and undesirable Saturday ruthlessly approaching .
My first poem with some romantic element(in today's term) shall remain incomplete till eternity.
Another awful yet rooted story is half way through typing process.
But, I can only complain, whine and even wail if the need may come, which undoubtedly is close.

Rush, and more rush is the way of life. Incomplete prep work, dark circles of the worst kind and constant chiding has become an essential aspect of my daily life here.

And to think of it all,
I am writing a 'quiet' poem.

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."
OSCAR WILDE

I so relate to it that I could hardly believe it when I found this one, however, from Wilde you do not expect some long drawn moral-ish jargon.

Man's progress, especially in the last few years, has been swift and remarkable yet he continues to degenerate into the depths of regression as rapidly as he has attained success.

We are all progressing and developing, but only into becoming more ignorant and intolerant. It is unsettling to see how we actually we seem to personify  hypocrisy. We advertise for "fair, beautiful brides" and "eligible Brahmin grooms" in matrimonial sites; vilify the inclusion of financially secure Scheduled Castes and Tribes, and as if these with their colour and caste bias are not enough, we now give vent to our angst in the most primitive of ways. I speak of the rage of my fellow Indians against the recent racist attacks in Australia. That simply is not fair and if I may add, neither is the racism.

Also, I find the situation rife with irony. The students that have been attacked  have apparently chosen the country for a 'better' education, but what great education is it offering, I wonder, when it fails to instill among its own people respect for the varied shades of ethnicities. We discriminate, we are communal and yet, we dare to call ourselves educated. We suffer from pomposity  and our vision is narrow. What use of an education if it does not teach us patience, tolerance and above all, humanity?

An Ode to Melody

Bring me that cello no more

Let the strings chase the swallow today

And thou shalt sway

With the strokes of the fiddle this May

Till my song blended with the cries that distance heard 

An emotion so summery dry

I feel this thirsty spirit

In me all of a sudden lit.

These hummings lament mamories

Many deep of cruel atrocities

Others of joy unbound

This spirit in me is found

With poetic verses of eternity

Painted with the serene storkes of beauty.

Amidst the lasting stillness

"What is it", I still press

Shakespeare found and Mozart lost?

Or perhaps a capture of no cost

It is fleeting, passing...

The fondness slowly fading

The emptiness growing

But the spirit found still beholds.

Idealism Intact!

Whining and whining still, we find ourselves 'wanting'. we complain and sympathise and redo the routine all over again, till one begins to wonder, why we wait, and wait all the time for the world to change. For, it never will, until you and I passionately will for it to change.

A Slumdog Millionaire, an editorial of an incident of inhumane treatment meted out to the common man during a communal riot- are only momentarily pitied. And we simply choose to be complacent thinking," this too shall pass". But, there is more- more to do, more to give , more to serve. Let us not eternally bask in the glory of our fortunate births, Rather, it is only an opportunity to lend a helping hand to the destitute.

Service knows no caste, no creed. It brings a felling of contentment which you and I seldom experience. There is a moment of joy when you pour out an ounce of rice to man who has been starving. I am being no hypocrite, I realized this during the Flood Relief Campaign last year.

Ask yourselves if there has been such a worthy moment in your lives, a time when you got up to take an initiative, a time when you have not been ignorant.

Find a moment of introspection , to try and find answers to the many unanswered questions in our lives, to abandon all selfishness that is within us. Let us turn over a new leaf.

P.S- I gave this speech on assembly on the 5th of June, 09 and the community seemed to have liked it , so I decided to publish it.