The road taken !

The sky is dark above me,
Thick, black clouds!
The wind opposing my motion,
The dust blurs my vision.
My thoughts in a whirlpool,
I try to think clear, my mind betrays me.
I fight with them all,
So simple they appear,yet complicated in design.

I have so much to be happy about,
Yet, crave for more!
More? What is more and what is less?
What is the yardstick?

All I want is difficult to achieve,
All I look forward to, an elite’s win.
I don’t understand reason,
All I know, I want them all.
Would I reach where I have set out for?
Do enough to satiate my own desires?

What if I fail to do it!
It may not be anybody’s fault,
Yet I would blame somebody.
Apprehensions are multitude,
Yet I cannot look back.

The path looks tough,
But, the thoughts of my destination
Fills my heart with glee.
It spreads an instant smile,
And makes me chuckle to my fears.

And deep within it assures me,
You can make it,
You can reach beyond the sky.
This is the picture you had painted,
And this is all you had wanted.

Soul-mate...

I am a practical person, for all those who know me pretty well all these years. My practical, straightforward, argumentative and scientific bent of mind has been with me ever since I have begun building my own set of ideas, notions and principles.
I never live in fantasies, yet wonder if fantasies were not actually fantasies. Fairy-tales are my favorite pastime to enjoy and forget and yet I question myself what if such worlds actually did exist ( just like in the movie Horton). Similarly I am not a particularly romantic person, yet there still are questions unanswered. What is love? Who is a soul mate? Why it is one seeks for only one soul mate for life? Why is it, still others manage to fall in love multiple times in their lives? Such questions don’t disturb me, but I have never found any convincing answers to the same. However, I came across a certain book, and wish to state a particular theory that struck a cord in my heart. Thus would go into a bit deeper discussion on the same.
As this book stated “we form a part of what the alchemists called the Anima mundi - The Soul of the World”. This seemed to answer a lot of unanswered questions. If we believe in rebirth and reincarnation, how come the world having started with only a few souls, reached this vast, uncountable number?
The theory explains, "Every soul in its rebirth divides into two parts, the male and the female, each entering into a new body ignorant of the other. The essence that drives one part of the soul to seek for the other during one’s life span and find the one out among uncountable new and unknown faces only to recognize oneself in the other is Love."
So, as it goes, when one sets out in search of love, one seeks the soul mate. The other self, which one alone can recognize, associate with and alone can converse in unspoken words as when one speaks to one’s own mind and soul.
So, to give a yet lame definition of the phenomenon (great thinkers have tried describing all their lives), Love is an essence, the force that brings souls together who learn to freeze time to enjoy every bit of the indescribable happiness. And a soul mate in none other than the other one which completes one-self, one’s alter-ego.

There are people who have experienced love for a mtter of moments, but those moments brought wih them, happiness so intense that it was enough to justify the rest of their days.
So no matter how expensive it has been, how many hearts lay broken, how may souls sleep depressed, love touches all. One who ignores it tends to drown oneself in bitter loneliness. The feeling it arouses, the mistakes one makes and the sacrifices one deals with, everything forms a part of it, everything that completes the same.
So,
Love lies not in staring at each other in the sparkle of the eyes, but looking together in the same direction, not in speaking to each other at a day’s length, but being able to converse without having to speak, not in demanding things to be done in one’s own fashion but respecting the differences that exist.
Thus, Love is nothing but all about knowing oneself. Because love conquers all. :)

I miss it all !

It’s a strange feeling for a person like me. I miss hostel!
Imagine…. I miss hostel.. !
The very girl, who had been running away from the hostel and always blamed for rushing back home 30kms away at a drop of a hat has now, started missing hostel.
Days have passed and I am now at home completely relaxed and at ease.
Days in the hostel were never the same. Though I was a rather a rare visitor there at times like examinations and stuff, I remember the days of mirth and laughter unleashed during the span of four years.
There was room of every kind that one encountered in the hostel.
Some were dedicated to the pure khatti culture. If you came across such rooms without the impulse of sitting there at least an hour to involve yourself in the updated jokes and laughter that can simply keep you rolling on the floor, you certainly stayed in the hostel to build a career. No matter it was post internals or pre-semesters, the noise in these rooms always remained above normal decibel levels.
Some specialized in the gossip culture. Spare some time and you come up with the latest gossip updates. Who’s with whom, which senior (boy off course) was mostly seen around the hostel campus, which junior never cared to adhere to strict norms, who spoke constantly and regularly over the phone after sociable hours for hours again and never admitted seeing somebody, who betrayed the general body and passed on crucial inside information to the hostel warden, everything was discussed in the minutest detail.
Still other rooms were termed the NERD room. If you happenned to drop in by such rooms, you could hear people talking in hushed tones lest the other one be disturbed ( as a matter of fact even if the others did not pour over books, they had a culture of speaking in a way inside their rooms such that one had to strain her ears really hard).
As a matter of fact, there were neutral rooms too. Always empty. Devoid of activities. The inmates belonged to diverse cultures and drifted to their individual room of interest and concern.
Everything in hostel was in fact fun. Be it lining before the nearest municipal tap to collect bucketfuls of water, when the motor as usual frequently was out of order, or keeping your buckets ready to take the next bath.
The food was distasteful to all, no matter how it was actually. The custom followed so as to term it miserable, repulsive and at large inedible. The maggi culture was always in its height (the custom of going about room to room enquiring if there was a packet of noodles available when one wished to have a better dinner)
Days (oops night!) before the semesters were always in focus. One was awake, asleep, standing or walking, the brain and the book/notes always stuck together. It is actually amazing how one was able to cover the course in one night which the lecturers took whole six months to cover! Coffee mugs and water heaters were always at work. The taste buds accepted whatever it received without much efforts. Topics were discussed in groups larger than ones even in international conferences. Poor soul..One who had cared to do it before time!
Work was shared. Be it sweeping the floor, fetching the snacks or getting notes Xeroxed, there always seemed to be constant bickering over such petty activities.
One thing good about the ladies hostel was one never fell short of accessories to go with one’s latest trendy wear. All one had to do was take a complete round and not only get the best fitting ear studs and danglers but also a complete change of combinations until the style was universally and unanimously admired.
I really miss it all. Miss the real fun that I had missed out mostly, miss the mirthful days of real fun and enjoyment, and miss the constant company of friends that it offered.