Archive for February, 2013


जब चाँद हवा की पगडण्डी पर चलते-चलते ठहरा हो ,
जब नीली आँखों पर काली जोगन का जादू गहरा हो .
जब शोर मचाते बाज़ारों के होठ पे लटके ताले हो ,
जब अलसाई सी राहो ने आधे से होश संभाले हो.
जब बंजारे जुगनी चांदी की लौ में जलते-बुझते हो,
और तारे नींद के आँचल की सिलवट में छुपकर बैठे हो.
तब बन कस्तूरी मेरे फीके ख़्वाबों को रंग जाना तुम ,
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर तब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

जब बुझा अंगीठी अम्मा चौबारे में थककर लेटी हो ,
जब बाबा के खर्राटों की आवाज़ से तुम डर बैठी हो .
जब बंद पड़ोसन के बिट्टू-मुन्नी-बबलू का झगडा हो ,
जब लगा किवाड़ों में कुण्डी चुप्पी में कैद मौहल्ला हो .
जब दिल की धड़कन चौकीदार की सीटी से भी तेज़ सुनो ,
हर सांस पे जब तुम खुद से धीमे-धीमे मेरी बात करो .
तब आस मेरी होठों पर ले , मुझको आवाज़ लगाना तुम ,
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर तब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

जब तुम्हे छुऊँ मैं आँखों से तुम आँखें मेरी पढ़ लेना ,
पथरीली रातों के पर्वत , मेरी बाहें थामे चढ़ लेना .
मैं सहलाऊँ जब बदन तुम्हारा , सूखे पात की उंगली से ,
मेरी नब्ज़ की हिचकी सुनना तुम गेसू की झीनी बदली से .
तुम अपनी ठंडी आहों से मेरा तपता सीना तर करना ,
मासूम अदा की बौछारों से प्यार मुझे जी भर करना .
फिर सिमट के अपने सायों को हाथों से जकड शरमाना तुम ,
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर जब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

जब चाँद तुम्हारी छत के जीने चढ़ने में अलसाता हो ,
जब सूखे होठों पर हौले से नाम मेरा बिछ जाता हो .
जब पकवानों की खुशबू से भी मीठी तुमको भूख लगे ,
जब दुआ में मेरी खैर मांगते दिन बीते और सांझ ढले .
मेरी याद की जूठन होठ लगा ,तुम चाँद चखो जब छलनी से ,
और मेरी तस्वीरें ढूंढो चंदा पे झपटती बदली में .
तब मेरा किस्सा हंसी में ले ,पानी को हाथ लगाना तुम ,
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर तब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

मैं बन सागर जो तुम्हे संदेसे भेजूं उठती लहरों से ,
बेताब किसी नदिया सी आना छूट के जग के पहरों से .
तुम मेरे आधे गीतों को सरगम बनकर पूरा करना ,
तुम मेरे मन की ताल पे अपने घुँघरू की बोली भरना .
मैं भस्म लपेटे बैरागी सा झूमूं जब नटराज बना,
तुम शैलसुता सी जोगन हो मेरे मन की थिरकन बनना.
मैं कान्हा बन जब मुरली छेड़ूं . राधा सी हो जाना तुम .
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर तब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

मैं कभी जो घबरा करवट लूं तुम सिरहाने थपकी देना
अपने आंसूं बरसा कर मुझपर हंसी होंठ पर रख लेना .
जो कभी क़दम मेरे भटके बेछोर भंवर में सपनो की ,
राहत दे देना मुझको राहें देकर अपने क़दमों की .
मैं हो जाऊं जब धुंधले हर्फ़ सा दफन किसी दिन पन्नो में
गुलाब सी महकी मिलना तब मुझको तुम बंद किताबों में .
मैं मूंदूं आँख तो रूह में मेरी खुशबू सी घुल जाना तुम .
हाँ लाज का घूंघट ढलका कर तब मुझसे मिलने आना तुम .

Vivek Malviya

Maulana Azad National Institute of Technology, Bhopal

Ansal Properties & Infrastructure Ltd.

http://www.euphonicalvivek.blogspot.com/

Advertisements

A Plea to Kin

Posted: February 28, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , ,

Unnoticed, he had walked
Into the depths of the polis.

Unobserved, he stared as would a pebble
At the river’s roiling current.

Unmarked, he stood still
Fiddle in hand, snared by rime and rue.

Grant me a moment of limpidity, prayed he
Ere I let the strings blaze.

Let me ponder on futility a while
For futility never goes senile.

In an instant then, he felt
His limbs relax, his shoulders sag.

The gift of enervation, finally,
A rest before everlasting reprieve.

Eyes half closed, he heard the echo
Of life seething back and forth.

Permitting himself a smile
Only now he wondered at those lives.

Few would lock gazes with their fellows
Did crowds so demand wilful anonymity?

Their fears, their struggles,
They were much the same.

Yet each believed themselves unique
And bore their burdens alone.

There were those, he knew
Who spoke of compassion. For kin, and others.

But what know we, of compassion?
For it is not a human emotion.

A free embrace to encompass all
And yet, we guard the giving of it.

Speak not to me of compassion
For the only such promise is death.

Futility, then, the master of men
Roamed free still, with a spring in its step.

The storm in his head grew back
And brought up the fiddle yet again.

Time then, to do as commanded
Time for the gods to make merry.

The bow talked to the fiddle
And the strings cried out a summons to all.

Every soul on the cobbled path
Struck by the wail, looked to him.

We hear your call, said they.
What do you seek, they asked.

I seek nothing, friends,
A gift I hold, for all who would receive.

What gift do you hide, they asked, while he played on
Give us the gift, they clamoured, unanswered.

I endow you now, brothers and sisters,
With a blessing from your gods.

For you have been loyal, and faithful,
And they are pleased with you all.

The tune grew higher, and faster,
His bow a blur against his fiddle.

Do they grant us riches, then?
Do they grant us bountiful food?

Do they promise rains for our fields?
What manner of fortune do our blessed lords give us?

The bow suddenly halted, the fiddle moaned
And the fiddler smiled a smile not his own.

Not riches, not food, for they are easily spent;
Not rains, for they oft lash out with spite.

Fortunes, yes, but not of a nature you seek.
What they gift you, sirs, is compassion.

The bow rose yet again, and landed on the strings
With a grace unmatched.

The song grew into solemn woe
Touching all who heard it.

They hung on to every note
Even as the flesh erupted from their bodies.

Like a man possessed, the fiddler played on
As the aspected song gently tore through all

Soon, there was left no one standing
They all slept with a peace well earned.

The mist of blood settled on him
As the morning dew on a leaf.

I only wished for people to listen,
I wished to show them bold truths.

Instead, I am now doomed to glisten,
With the blood of my kin.

With my hair standing on end.
With the fear of playing again.

O friends, let us mourn together,
For fate crushes the brave.

Varun Udupa

NITK Surathkal

http://uduga.blogspot.com/

Daughters of India

Posted: February 27, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: ,

After the horrifying incidence of Delhi bus case of Rape and murder , the whole nation has witnessed rounds of agitation , protests in national capital along with discussions of the intellectual club of India with many politician and godmen adding humour to it with their disgusting and highly irresponsible comments on dainted painted crowd and the fault of the victim for not enchanting some mantras.

I hope all this is just not a momentary response and does not quit the memory of people as the story slips from front pages of news papers.

One of the accused has revealed that “the defiance of the victim and her standing up and fighting back” was what enraged him the most , further one of the self acclaimed godman has said that had the victim begged for mercy and would have called them brothers, she could have escaped her fate(Can any one beat that).

Both the two statements depicts the same mentality of the society, that a girl is here to satisfy the male ego and how dare she can move confidently in the society , how can she even stand upto them and fight back when she is a mere coy representative of home decor. We are supposed to be in our boundary lines. We are supposed to ignore every whistle , every lewd comment every groping, and this is what encourage them to even go further and commit heinous crimes like delhi case.

I fail to understand the logic of the society, you don’t want a girl child as you think its a liability , now here we are ready to go out and work and make our own space and identity in the society so that you don’t have to worry for our future.

Then again this so called male ego is hurt. We are supposed to be scared of every watchman, every bus driver, every single lucha lafangas coz they belong to so called better and favoured human gender. No matter what status we have earned for ourselves in society, we cannot think ourselves at par and don’t have the right to feel confident in our bodies, freak out with our friends and speak our mind.

I have been lucky to be born in a family where gals are considered to be at par, where i Have been given freedom to explore and develop my self as a person.

But still i live in a society where i am not scared jumping of a mountain cliff, diving into the sea taking on adventure sports even guys would n’t but i am sacred of every whistle on the road, scared of being followed on my way back to home, scared of boarding a bus , and all this in my very own country.

Today i a daughter of India after so may years of independence ask for my right, right to feel the life without any fear, without bias , without hatred.

Let not any other gal suffer as braveheart did.

Ruchi K

ruchi656@gmail.com

Adieu!

Posted: February 27, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , ,

Death is inevitable..it has to come to everyone..whatever we acquire, we possess, we inherit, we earn is left behind and one departs leaving everything behind..leaving the loved ones behind..so did my grandma.. leaving me, my parents and all my family members alone & shattered.. they say God needs good people as much as we do on earth..maybe that’s why my dearest grandma left us so untimely for heavenly abode.

Staying away from grandma in a different place never really lessened the beautiful and selfless love she had for me and all of us . Everytime she came to guwahati and visited my place, she was all the same..her evercaring nature..and so were her questions..she used to ask, “Aur kitne saal baaki hai teri padhai puri hone me?” and all the time I lazily replied, ”Do, teen, chaar saal lagenge aur dadima” ,to which she instantly said, “itttne saal…”. I never said anything after that because the time factor concerned her just the way all the parents do. Such short repeatedly occurring conversations between us now painfully strikes my mind every time I think of her. The last time when she visited my place, just the time when she was leaving..I felt an urge to reach out to her and embrace her..the feeling was somewhat completely different as if those last moments were not completely greek to my mind . Being a bit introvert in expressing my feel ing, I kept it to myself..not knowing that it was for the last time I am seeing her..the very last time. My heart tears apart whenever the thoughts of her being no more comes to my mind..whom I shall call dadimaa now..for whom shall I visit my hometown..who will put her hands on my head countless number of times and bless me and wish for my success and well being. Who…? The void created in our lives can never be filled now. 

Wherever you are, I will forever miss you..miss your lovely words…your voice…your being. I hope someday I fulfill everything you wished for me. May your soul rest in peace ever…Adieu!

 

Laxmi Chachan

Assam Engineering College

luxmi.chachan14@gmail.com

A QUESTION THAT BUGS THE MIND….

Posted: February 26, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags:

Hey… look the train is coming…hurry up… we have to cross the tracks and catch the train… no I don’t have any time to go through the over bridge as I am already late and if I miss the train I will be late for my office…come quickly….
CRASH…

Oh my God! The poor man went under the train, go quickly, and find an ambulance… oh! Good Lord he is completely cut into pieces, his body cannot be recognized…

FEW HOURS LATER…
Madam, I am so sorry to say that your son is no more…He has been run over by a train while crossing the tracks….
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING…MY HEALTHY SON, ONLY TWENTY SIX YEARS OLD…HOW CAN HE DIE…NOW WHO WILL LOOK AFTER US…ME AND HIS PHYSICALLY HANDICAPPED FATHER??? WE WILL STARVE TO DEATH…
What a tragedy…A young lad crushed to death by an approaching train that could have taken him to his destination if this young man would have used the over bridge to go to the platform…this is a problem that all of us face…in this modern world where everyone has to participate in the rat’s race, we try to run ahead of time…we feel that if only we can move a little faster, we can easily compete with someone and move in front. But what we fail to realize is in doing so we not only keep our life at stake but also that of those who are dependent on us and eagerly wait for our return…

To modern man ‘leisure’ is a word which has become extinct along with the words like ‘love’, ‘humility’, ‘fantasy’ which now belong to the group of most endangered qualities…these qualities roamed about freely in the minds of men even a few years back…Now days we give more value to material things and in order to possess them we just battle with one another without stopping to think even for a minute that we are not only destroying ourselves and our fellow beings but also this planet in order to meet our selfish ends…
So, as we have forgotten to enjoy leisure, we have also forgotten to just sit at home with family and relax…we have forgotten to take our dogs for long walks just to enjoy nature…we have forgotten to appreciate the beauty of sunrise, sunset or a night illuminated with stars…in short we have forgotten to live…Like robots, from morning to night, we are just running…running to catch the bus…running to reach our work place before time…running to complete our projects and again running to reach home…

Human beings are called social animals…if that is so then why we, like addicts, are just running after those things which are difficult to acquire instead of admiring and appreciating the sweet pleasures of life…
I DON’ T HAVE ANY ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION…DO YOU???

Indrani Basu

St. Francis Xavier School

indrani_official@rediffmail.com

http://indraniofficial.wordpress.com/

I asked, he said…

Posted: February 26, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: ,

I asked, he said…
Because a ‘HE’ proposing 
In red shirt and yellow pants
A rose in hand and kneeling down on knees 
Is too mainstream.
The usual sky was then filled with dull grey clouds covering the lush green campus as if trying to put a veil of obscurity over all its inhabitants. I was walking down the dusty lanes on a cloudy afternoon when suddenly rain drops turned into a steam as they sprinkled onto the pitch black road. The rain was expending itself fully; every drop of promise, every ounce of potential love was realized being without being held back. I was partially drenched by the circumferential raindrops from my umbrella. I could feel the delicate cool breeze buffing my skin as I hurried along the corridor. I was just on time to find a place to butt in. As the rain splashed down heavily on the glass pane of the windows, the meeting commenced with a formal greeting to the newcomers, I being one of them. Everyone turned around to have a look at the new faces. Amongst them I could notice a pair of brilliant jet black eyes gazing at me. A few moments later the glance turned mightily captivating. Afte r an hour of long discussion and debates, the meeting was at an end; other team-mates hovered around the newbies for an informal introduction. It was then when we first met.
“Hi, I’m Rohit. Welcome to the team. I hope you would like working with us. I suppose you are a friend of Tanvir. He’ll fill you in with the details of your work. Welcome once again and good luck, err… what was your name again?”I ogled in awe at his mesmerizing charm and incandescence as he talked. After an awkward pause I said, “It’s Divya.” As I was assigned to his team we always had to sit by the same table and work with him. He was very sincere in his work apart from being remarkably good at it. I always dreaded if I could live up to his expectations as he was a perfectionist to the core. On day he found me in a constant turmoil with an assignment. Then the next thing I discovered was a cup of freshly brewed hazelnut flavored coffee on my table. He had one in his hand too. While sipping a gulp he asked to me take a break and not to stress myself out. My glasses steamed over as I held the cup close to my lips; it was such a relief. To my very surprise Rohit wanted me to talk about anything but work and then we discussed on many random topics and at the end of a very long conversation I was relaxed. His X-factor relieved me of so many doubts and troubles making my heart and mind as light as a feather. Had the conversation not happened, I could have never worked comfortably with him. Since then we spent millions of seconds discussing work, chatting about personal lives, random stuff and bonded over numerous cups of coffee. Even after working together for so long I could never put up the courage to ask him out.
“Divya, I think it’s high time you should tell him.”
“Yes, Tanvir even I want to tell him but you know it well how bad I’m when it comes to opening up to someone with the most delicate feelings of your heart.”
“Do you want me to help, because I know him very well and you are my best friend maybe I could talk him into this.”
“Yes, that would be really nice. I knew you would definitely come to my rescue. After all that is why best friends are for. Now, I officially declare you my wingman.” We laughed heartily and returned to our dorms.
One fine day Tanvir invites me and Rohit for a dinner treat. This was the first time in 2 months we met. We talked we laughed; my long suppressed feelings were gradually resurfacing. In the meanwhile Tanvir kept on dropping accidental hints about my feelings on him and he was too blind and foolish to even notice them. After 2-3 composite meetings I and Rohit started going out very often but none of us ever talked a word about each other feelings and emotions as if they were under-actuated.
We had a little in common which gave a plethora of various topics to talk about. He is humble and gentle yet ambitious. The differences in our characteristic traits charmed me even more and were the most attractive qualities which made me grow fond of him. But he was too shy to express himself many of the times. Well that is the characteristic traits a Capricorn man. How could he be an exception? We usually went out for dinner or movies. Amongst us I was the one who did the talking. He always allowed for conversation but at the same time took some focus off me so that I’m not pressured to talk incessantly. He always provided the right balance of conversation and pleasant distraction. Inspite of all outings I always felt as if he is always enclosed within a string wall, which is not too easy to breach. A very funny thing about him was his poor ability to handle compliments. If and when he gets any, his ears would turn pink, his eyes would carry a sparkling glow and he m ay pass it off as a joke. I always wondered if I ever get to see a charming person who loves to dream, likes getting wet and seeks compliments within him.
“Hi, Rohit. We are having a party with all our friends and we would like if you come.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I think it’s a power cut. Let me check with the other guys. Rohit you have to wait for a few moments before I get this thing fixed.” 
(That moment when the power was off I got tremendously nervous. I didn’t want to say something that I might regret later but I had to let it out or I would simply explode. Trying to get my beating heart out of my throat to talk became a mighty challenge. I kept on taking deep breaths and pretended as if everything was fine.)
“That is absolutely fine Tanvir. I’m sure I can find something to pass time. By the way where is Divya?”
“Well, you’ll find out soon.”
“Aaj ki raat dil ki yeh baat keheke keheke rahinga tujhse
Haan kar tu ya na kar de izhaar toh kar mujhse…”
As I sang with my nervous voice and skipped heart, a dim light lit his face and I could see him look at me with a mixed emotion of surprise, shock and happiness. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what was happening. Gauri and Vishakha helped me with the background score with their guitars. When the song faded, my heart almost skipped a beat. I raised my eyes and looked at him nervously; I was frozen with fear and had a terrible anticipation.
“Well I thought you would never ask.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked softly with the faintest voice unable to hear myself.
“Saying I love you is too mainstream. Can you wait till I come up with something extra-ordinary or …”
All shouted in a union, “Just say it dufford.”

And he said, “Yes!!!”
But, I asked.

P.S.: Dating him since then was a modern day battlefield of romance where hearts are won and broken, the not-quite so version of chivalry and wooing.

IIT Kharagpur

Prisoner

Posted: February 25, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags:

Tejpratap stood quietly,gazing out of the transparent wall in front of him. He was waiting there along with a few family members. Everybody present was related to each other by blood. Close people, with their goals and welfare prospects inter meshed with each other.A family, a clan closely knit. They stood and talking to each other in the luxurious waiting area. They talked of matters that were common to them,shared interests and hopes. Anyone following their conversations would easily comprehend their social proximity to each other. But, the man they all adored and cared most for was the man who stood silent, away from the group ,gazing at the sky through the transparent fibre glass walls.
The sun was setting. A bird, probably an eagle, seemed to float in a spiral around it. It’s rings getting smaller and smaller as it approached the peak of this imaginary helix it was navigating.

Tejpratap was born in a remote village in Haryana,India. As a kid he was an attention seeker. The congenital instinct was pronounced in him. Something which if missing made him feel empty. Growing up he observed that the people on television were paid the most attention.Amongst them, the best were the ones in movies. The “manly” guys. “Saviours of the oppressed”. Brave hearts.” Romeos”. Women loved them. Mothers and aunts. Fathers and uncles. In-laws and police constables. Everyone knew them and were obsessed by them.The people working in the cities would come home and be the proud narrators of the story lines of the released movies yet not aired on the T.V. Every evening after dusk the men gathered at the communes discussing the latest heroes and their evil antagonists,good and bad story lines and pretty women.A movie was an important experience one lived through.The more actors you could name,the more storylines you were familiar with was a par t of your social position.The people working in cities talked about glimpses of the opulent lifestyles of the actors. The cars,the villas,the clothes,the hairstyles and the money. He dreamt of the city,the huge audiences at the movie screenings. The fan following and the good life.
Closely observing what people liked watching and what they liked to hear and what they talked about he went about imitating and developed his mannerisms and style.Next, he organized his own theatre group and started performing plays and scoop’s from movies. Their performances were hits. Their renditions were enjoyed by audiences everywhere they performed. In a mater of a few years he was the pride of his village. He had gathered a local following by the time he was sixteen. His village became famous. Kids in his village saw him as their taste-maker. Soon people from surrounding villages queued regularly for his acts.

But then something happened. Back home his parents were prodding him to get married to a girl who would bring him a big dowry. He considered his options and by the next dawn he had packed his few belongings and had left for the city to put in all his effort into being a successful actor.

The initial period was inconvenient and frustrating. He was out of work and money.The days were long and insecurity followed him around like a ominous shadow overclouding most of his thoughts. No one considered his accent and imitated mannerisms fit. He spent his time working on odd jobs and auditioning.And being rejected.Learning to live with consecutive rejections without ceding his efforts and dreams was a useful lesson.His intent never wavered and after six long years he was chosen for a role in a small production which did unprecedented business. His contributions were appreciated and he transitioned from a beggar to a chooser in the space of a few months. Keeping up the goodwork he soon made a segue into lead roles which were well accepted and cheered. People now flocked to get a glimpse of him. He had the success he had always wanted and it emboldened him.He started skirting with ventures bearing elements of substantial risk.The critiques gave him a hard time, revi ews became binary ,often shifting between extremes. But his following increased and became more loyal.He was now perceived an auteur. His admirers now fought with people who maligned his work. His movies went on to the international arena. They were now dubbed into foreign tongues. And his onscreen presence was celebrated worldwide.He was now the cynosure of his times.
His fame escalated. His schedules became crowded,he then had to resort to using a private aircraft for the travelling required by his schedule. Appointments with him had to be scheduled months in advance.Every conversation was a money making conversation. He found himself launching brands he would have never used just to cut into market share and grow as a business.

He had always been a person with a very few friends but now the few people he considered friends became distant. His family had made peace with him and his success brought them closer but he hardly spent time with them. His birthdays were small occasions of love,blessings and good wishes which now became huge events covered by the media. He was a quiet man who only talked of things that were important, nowadays an importunate man with a mike and questions was always around the corner and he argued the most frivolous and trivial of things ,he found himself participating in events he was never interested in, just because his agents found it convincing. He was associated with a thousand activities, none of which he cared much about. His dreams were gone,as were his aspirations. He was now a man who lived his whole life according to the whims of others, most importantly a large firm which employed hundreds of people.

He looked down at the city below him. A labyrinth,in which dwelled inmates. People with no will or thoughts of their own. Each living in his own part of the maze. Each knowing nothing and almost afraid of an existence outside the prison. A life without tap water,a life without chemicals wrapped attractively in plastic packs to heal you when you felt uncomfortable .A life without movies or music. A life without home delivery or heaters and cooking gas.Life without sports teams and parties. A prison of university and school degrees and diplomas.Deadlines,growth rates and industries,a veneer of civilisation. A system thriving against nature. Where dreams nurtured were of possessions ,and where dreams and lives could change overnight.A world changing every second. The dynamic nature of time was amplified for everyone to observe but no one noticed it or planned much by it. People fretted more over trivialities and important issues took a backseat. A montage of lifestyles .Posh pas tures and decrepit communities which once were lush. A reflection of the truth no one noticed.

A newborn’s cries filled the lounge,within moments a television screen blinked on and played a live stream of a newborn kid wailing and being cleaned and covered.Everyone was exited.Gesticulations ,murmurs and smiles seemed to possess all in the room but nothing possessed Tej.The bird had stopped the spiral and now took a different direction,the evergrowing labyrinth below and the setting sun above, his mind was focused somewhere in between.
The wails had stilled.The excitement had hushed as the new member of family was brought to the joyous awaiters.Tej,turned and watched the filial affection bestowed by all present.His son made his way to him ,carried and passed from one person to another, all murmuring words of affection and promise.It seemed to him like an act of persuasion, to maybe persuade the kid to stay on.That a life here was better,that the realities were not so bad,nor were the prospects useless and unworthy.Maybe the kid knew the reality,the accurate nature of the world and maybe that was the reason it was scared and needed the consolation,the persuasion.The final transfer took place and he held his child,the quiet bundle of prospects,of responsibility,of the primordial urge for survival.The kid yawned and broke into shrill wails,the universal signal for attention born from fear.”I’m sorry” ,said Tej.

http://existentialsatire.blogspot.in/

A TRIBUTE TO MY VALENTINE…TWINKLE

Posted: February 24, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: ,

James Herriot, the famous vet, in one of his masterpiece described about the boy Wes, who in order to save his dog Duke from distemper, turned from a mischievous miscreant to a responsible lad earning honest money to buy Duke fresh food and medicine. But when Duke died, the same boy turned into a crook who at the age of thirteen started stealing cars. This shows that animals do play very important roles in the development of a child. In this modern world of nuclear families where parents are busy in following their ambitions, a child find solace in the companionship of his furry friend be it a boisterous lab or a cool composed cat or even a hamster. This is very true in my case as my best friends have always been ‘dogs’.

I acquired my first dog at the age of seven and from then on I have learnt so many things from each one of them. I learnt working in group, loyalty, patience, never to complain, adjusting power and many more…Anim als can be our nonstop teacher…teaching us different facts of life that we are losing with our drifting off from the nature. Jim Corbett picked up his Robin from a dirty basket consisting of a litter of his other brothers and sisters. He was told, Robin was a spaniel and he bought him for a sum of thirty rupees -when the pup was only three months old. Later, Corbett realized that he had indeed picked up a winner and when Robin was thirteen years old Corbett declared that even all the gold of India could not take Robin from him. I find this story of Robin very interesting because this was exactly what happened with me. I went to my aunt’s house in Champahati (Sunderban area) and visited a relative’s house. There I found that their Cocker spaniel has given birth to a litter of five puppies and one of them instantly attracted my attention towards her…her big, round, soft, brown eyes that looked up to me made me fall instantly for her…and at that moment witho ut thinking of any pros and cons, brought her home – when she was just one month old with my first earned salary…and from that day every penny that I earned went for her upkeep…her bed, collar, necklace, medicine and what not! And from that day began my adult relationship with her … a relationship based on love, understanding and trust. She was very intelligent as a young pup and it was very easy for me to train her and she quickly responded to my different commands like ‘boso’, ‘esho’ etc. She has been my constant companion since then. I have heard that dogs who are left all to themselves develop problems but my Twinkle…that’s what I call her because of her mischievous, twinkling eyes …never developed any sort of problem.

Whenever I leave for work she says goodbye to me with her beautiful eyes and smiling mouth and when I return from my work and before I press the calling bell, I can hear her excited bark and when the door is opened she gives me a hearty welcome to show how happy she is to see me. She never complains if I am ever late…she treats me like a princess whenever I am at home… she does not mind sitting with me when I am at home, she loves exploring our locality whenever I am ready for walk…she loves socialising with me when my friends come over for tea… so I, like Corbett, can tell that I have picked up a champion from the remote village of Champahati. Only once in her entire life of seven years she barred her teeth to me because I unknowingly touched her paw which was painful. But after this incident she was so embarrassed that she remained lying on my feet and licking my feet for the entire day to tell me how sorry she has been to lose her temper on me…this shows that we have lots to learn from our pets if we do spend our time with them…even a small gold fish can teach us many things. We just have to look around and learn. So in conclusion I can suggest one thing that just as I h ave learned so many lessons from my sweet tempered, docile pet and the others before her, every child must have a pet of his own who will guide him to be a perfect individual essential for our planet…

Indrani Basu

St. Francis Xavier School

kuch kehna, kuch sunna tha…

Posted: February 24, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , ,

kuch kehna ,kuch sunna tha…

jo khawab dekhe kabhi unhe haqeeqat me bunna tha…

suraj k tapish me yun jale kuch hum is tarha ke reh gyi sari khwahishein simat kar kahi,palkon k kisi kone se beh gyi nehron ki tarha..

na khwahishon ko chain mila na dil ko sukoon mila..

is junoon ke aghosh me ab main zinda hu,main toote hue khwabo ka ek parinda hu..

na kisi ki ahaat na kisi ka fasana hai…bas jo yaad reh gya wo guzra hua zamana hai..

kuch adhuri baatein,kuch adhuri yaadein…na mukammal koi jahan ka thikana mila…

ke kabhi kuch kehna,kuch sunna tha..jo dekhe the sapne unhe haqeeqat me bunna tha..

Nahid Naushad

Calcutta University

Resources

Posted: February 23, 2013 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , ,

The three powerful resources you always have available to you: love, prayer, and forgiveness. But for some people, humans are resources.

This ‘HURTS MY INTELLIGENCE”

Microwave ovens are resources, phones are resources, laptops and internets are all resources – but humans are humans. And the sooner we realize that, the better it will be for all of us.

Addressing or using human as “resources” most likely commenced in medieval times when there were autocratic lords and they had labours who sow their crop, cut their harvest, look after their livestock and to do all the other things that required humans. If a labour died or was handicapped they could simply be replaced by another who could do the same thing – a typical direct replacement, like replacing your refill when the pen ink gets over.

However, we now live in more civilised times (even if you feel that your boss is a autocratic lord sometimes, trust me, he cannot order your head chopped off anymore!) and I feel that it is time we stopped using humans like that – as if they were replaceable or renewable and regenerable cogs (aka resources) in some huge organic engine.

IT jobs these days by its very nature is a creative pain – you may spend countless hours or days on a problem without coming up with a optimum answer and all of a sudden it strikes you when you go to get that fifteenth cup of coffee to keep you alive Or maybe you need to just sleep on it and the next day on your way to to your office it all magically becomes clear and you wonder how you missed something so simple and obvious.

Show of hands – how many people have never had this happen once in their career so far? No hands? I thought so!

Anyway, the point I want to make is that the real resource you need care about if you are a project manager (God help you!) is not the quantity humans or the time they should spend on a given problem or a piece of so called work. Instead, you should be worrying about their levels of result, inspiration, motivation and even current mental state. Sadly, these are all very ideals and abstract qualities and, moreover, they do not have any units of measurement. Project managers cannot say, for example – I need 7 grams of creativity, 120 metres of inspiration and 10 motivations on this project for the next 6 months. So, ironically, they only decision or measurement what they can – number of people and time – and think they are done. That is where the debate comes in, because

‘X’ people is not equal to ‘X’ other people

Actually, the real fallacy is not in the numbers themselves but in considering them as if they were only numbers. They are not – not numbers, not resources, not exchangeable, not replaceable. They are humans – real, live, blood and flesh and feelings humans who have their own strengths and weaknesses, their own likes and dislikes, their own hopes and fears and dreams and their own state of mind on any given day, and who will go to the corners of the planet to pull off a miracle for you if they actually want to.

If you only considered them like – humans.

Nikhil Chandwani

VIT University, Vellore

nikhil.chandwani2011@vit.ac.in

http://nikhilchandwani.com/