Learn to Live first

                                                                  And then to Achieve

Hundreds of youngsters these days are more obsessed about their results and ranks rather than anything else. For them a failure is a doomed life and success marks the beginning of the next struggle ahead. This fail and pass things has become a mess in which a student is stuck. He has his highly expecting parents and teachers on one end while he is unaware of the other end. Their high expectations and comparisons with the highest at time somewhat seems to make the mediocre students an outcast. What for? Success? Money? Or simply bullshit?

A student is misplaced most of the times, and this is what leads to failure. This is the case when a lion, placed in a green field devoid of animals, dies. In the case of the lion, it dies once while a student dies each day under stress and pressure of a wrong direction, or rather a direction which ceases to attract him. The meaning of a student’s life is to earn ranks and score marks. Gosh! Sometimes I think about the generation which we are leading into. I never see a child, these days looking up at the blue sky blindly imagining the clouds, silently hearing the chirpings and feeling the cool breeze tingling his senses. These days a student sees only the fat dusty books, hears the unending lectures of the class and has a constant feel of fear and insecurity.

I never understand as to what they are going to do after a few years. Life is a golden chance given to live for 60 years. This life is to learn, to enjoy, to develop and to explore. All small and big things make this life. Career is necessary but pondering over results, fear of failure and developing jealousy is actually adding rubbish to this journey. We are all born for a reason, but later on that reason becomes an aim of sitting quietly in a packed up cabin, rubbing the hands over a mug of coffee and busy typing endless documents. Is that all what we need? That is becoming a functional machine? No Human…

Of course life doesn’t end if one misses to make it to the IIT or a better college. Life is very vast, endless to live if we understand the reason of our birth. The reason is propagating humanity and love to others. The reason is to make the world one, with hands in hands trying to connect every soul and explore each other truly and deeply. Of course a scientific temper is necessary, but this should be to explore things at depth and not to make fast bucks and secure positions. Happiness is everyone’s goal but this doesn’t mean that we keep on stretching ourselves and give others a minimal space.

A visionary for prospect is needed. That visionary should be developed through every brain and should be visible to everyone’s eyes. Failure is nothing; life goes on, endlessly until the winds of death wraps us. There are numerous arenas to develop and divert the brain. There are very many things to be worked upon, to research upon. We need to realize where our inclination lies and then choose accordingly. Then we must proceed to discover the prospects of the thing before it’s too late.

Book Review- The Disappearance Of Tejas Sharma… And Other Hauntings

Horror and supernatural genera has fascinated people around the globe since ages. Undoubtedly short stories of the supernatural have been a great entertainment. Talking about Manish Mahajan’s book, there are twelve stories which discuss the supernatural in different plots and themes.

Beginning with the narration, the stories stand strong and powerful. A very lucid flow has been maintained with the text, which makes a reader develop interest as he proceeds further, thus making him more engrossed. The language is quite powerful, that the magic which a supernatural genera author creates to intensify terrible feelings.

The stories really bring out real horror, it all seems to move on naturally, and that’s the best part of the book. The author is completely acquainted with the reader’s imaginations, as some of the stories like Begunkodor Ghost Station, Her Unkempt Promise, The secret in the Photograph, Burn the old Papers and The Disappearance of Tejas Sharma are really chilling and Spooky. They are brilliantly crafted. As a reader proceeds with these stories he gets into a complete vacuum and begins to explore the deepest form of horror. The rest of the stories are also fine.

However I must point out two things; one is the price- it’s should have been a bit low. Secondly about the story ‘The Valley Of The Dead- it was good but I think it lacked a story-like form.

However these can be ignored as the book is really brilliant and gives the readers, a real feeling of the supernatural. Looking forward for your upcoming books.

Cheers!

                                                                                            OF LOVE AND RELATIONS

I never tried to take a close look at human relations.  The regular adda at the ghats beside our college is a perfect place for smoking. Moments of magic, fun and relaxations were just simply puffed into the air flashed out as smoke from the mouth. No concerns were placed regarding the scenario of human beings and the path that was giving a complete makeover in human relations.

Last Thursday on a similar set up our gang of five was enjoying at the ghat. A guy puffed up smoke into the air and popped up with the dialogue that he had broken up with his girlfriend after a long relationship of three months. His EX although now!

Is that all how you suddenly begin to assign this particular nickname to a person who at one time was everything for you? Aren’t relations delicate? Is the bond of love so very fragile that it is on the hands of mood fluctuations? When I asked him the reason of breakup he said that he had found her talking to another guy.

SO WHAT?  Is possessiveness applied to the soul which stands to soothe the heart? One misunderstanding stands so very serious? Then what understanding did he have during the entire relation?

‘LOVE’ that strange word which means the association of hearts, the purity, the blend of emotions and attachments’. By loving someone we tend to submit ourselves into his/her’s trust. The mere attachments’ of pleasure and fun has erased something that is called LIFE. That realization, that dil ka dhadkana, that nervousness, that shyness, that strange bonding, that feeling when the hands accidently touch each other, that first treat, that eye contact, that enjoyment of togetherness and endless other small garnishes that bring out the passion, the dedication and the romance. ALL ARE LOST! Our haste and mere physical pleasures are placed at top preference. Moreover, our generation has now adapted to a strange culture of feeling bored. How can one feel bored in love?

Osho says “love is all about appreciation and not attachments’”. Well now love is all about possessing a cool, rich and hot guy/girl rather than a good and genuine person. Being humble is an old quality, now we prefer being rude.

Have you heard of the common phrases “managing GF/BF”? Commodities are the things which need to be managed and not relations. And the one who acts to manage love ends up in an emotional misery. Mere waiting day and night for calls and messages doesn’t show love, instead working hard day and night to make the future bright and the standing by your love shows its true attachment. Costly gifts, cards and money can never buy love, it’s reserved only for pleasure. Love can be brought with a smile and a heart.

Trust is blind. Then why does the concept of misunderstanding arise in relations. This is only because of the lack of attachment and feelings. It might also be a cause for severe depressions and sometimes may lead to breaking of relations. This needs to be immediately sorted out in a relationship with mutual talks involving the couple. Remember during the talk be simple, decent and be good (not a fake one).

Lust and love are two very different terms. They should be never be mistaken as same. Lust is thirst, which involves a search of physical pleasures. When you simply reach the epitome of pleasure findings; you move on, on a new target. Love, on the other hand is a journey, the more you travel-the more you explore. Relations are very pure. Never let them get weakened on the sands of time. Never taunt or disrespect them. Instead, preserve them and then you will learn the way to live a life.

That feeling not only occurs by a combination of chemical hormones within the body, but it is a phenomenon where the mind, body and soul sublime in the hands of an entity simply, without fearing the consequences. Love is a reflection of an object between two mirrors which shows infinity. When you love someone, focus more on your future so that no matter whatever is the opposition faced, the brighter side will always remain. Never cry or shout over useless things as it tends to destroy the rust and the base of a relationship. Always solve it with silence and a SMILE.

Love is also blind like trust, so let it flow. Never see where you are being lead but believe as long as you have a hand to hold you will be safe. If you fall in love, fall deeply, carefree for wherever you land you will be safe and sound. “Are pyar thori na roz-roz hota hai”

Love and be loved. Cheers!

 IMAGE SOURCE-- GOOGLE

A HORROR STORY

I woke up one morning and couldn’t feel him.

“Oww Where is it?” was first thing I asked myself.

Everything was in the same place but only my Boomba was missing. I ran towards the kitchen hastily to ask my mom. She was the only one who entered my room every morning to clean the entire stuff. She wasn’t there. I randomly searched the entire house but there was no sign of her. The whole house was unkempt; ‘Ramuda’ was even no more, perhaps he was on an everlasting holiday. He had suddenly disappeared one morning and we never found him again. My father was too out on a sudden business meeting. He never ignored his meetings.

Something couldn’t be more irritating. My Boomba was missing, the house needed a cleanup, mum wasn’t there and the worst Boishree aunty had come. She greeted me; this lady had the wickedest of smile-resembling a witch. The locality people didn’t talk to her much due to her frequent abrupt behaviour, some even said she had killed her own husband! Strange, though she looked like a murderer, but I couldn’t ignore for she was my neighbour. We had recently shifted to this house. We had left our old house in Kolkata due to some land dispute and had come to live in Darjeeling. The mountains were silent, but the winds made a shrill every now and then. The chilling air did freeze our bones but this place was wonderful. I had only one friend here, my Boomba. We roamed endlessly in the woods and sat near the silent end of the park which earlier was an old graveyard. Our house seemed like the ‘old Haweli types-which they show in Bengali art films’. The corridors were dark and endless. Yet my friend Boomba was the best. We ran around the corridors all day. I had found Boomba lying on an old dusty suitcase when I had shifted here. His clothes were tattered but my mother stitched it back, he had curly hairs and he even wore socks. The best part was his everlasting smile.

Boishree aunty entered the house and enquired about mamma. I said her she might have left for the bazaar.

“Where is Boomba, I don’t see him in your arms?” she asked me and made a frowning look.

“I can’t find him; I think mamma has kept him somewhere”

“Beware of that Boomba, stay away from that toy. When mum comes tell her there is a small puja at my house, she should come.”

“Ok”

Boishree aunty always seemed to be in a problem with my Boomba, she had previously warned me about it. She even disliked the house. Whenever I brought Boomba close to her, she behaved as if she wanted to run away. That’s strange. How can Boomba be so? He is my best friend. Boishree aunty had been living here since fifteen years. After her husband’s death he sons too deserted her. Yet, she had a lot of money left by her husband which she used to spend lavishly.

Anyways this wasn’t my concern. I had to find Boomba and even mamma. Meanwhile when I went to fetch a glass of water when I heard running tap water from upstairs; our bathroom was on the second floor. I went there, the door was wide open and water was flowing continuously.

“Mamma, are you there?” I shouted

There was no response, the water was still flowing.  After a minute I slowly entered the bathroom. As soon as I went near the bathtub my legs began to shiver and for a moment I stood still. The entire water in the bathtub had turned red. Mamma’s head was floating on the top. It was separated from her body. Before I could run away, at the corner of the sink, I saw Boomba. He was smiling at me.

“Little soul must have been frightened on seeing this”, I said Boomba and closed his eyes.

I noticed a large knife lying closer to Boomba. I ignored it, took Boomba in my arms and ran to call the neighbours. Boomba was still smiling. His smile looked fresh than ever!

                                                                                                                                                            

A SHORT STORY (the dialogues were in Bengali but for easy reading I have used English)

I was at the hair cutting salon last Sunday. It wasn’t raining but dense black clouds indicated a heavy downpour soon. The cool breeze outside and ‘waada karo nahi choroge tum mera sath’ being played at the FM radio of the shop were soothing my senses. Minutes ago I was in a frustrated mood. My repeated attempts of having long hairs and beard resulted in vain. My mom prevented it telling it would look like lunatic and moreover Brahmins (yes that’s more of my identity with my title) keep a simple look. This was an old salon, there were a few customers but it was the cheapest one as always. Just ten rupees for a decent cut is NOT a bad deal; in fact it’s the cheapest rate. The occupant of the wooden chair opposite to me was a man in his early seventies. He wore a decent shirt and a black colour pant. He seemed to resemble my chemistry professor!! His specs were quite old as one side of the frame was tied with a string. Occasionally he gave a glance at his old Timex watch. ‘He must have been sitting here for long’ I thought. We both were waiting for our turn while the barber was busy in giving a finishing touch to the French beard of a stout man who occupied the cushioned chair. The master skills of beard shaving were being performed with utmost care. The barber never forgot to greet me with a smile every time I entered his shop. ‘panditji aasun, kemon achhen’, was his regular dialogue and it simple got me pissed off. Never mind!

The stout man was over with his hair cut and shaving, he still lingered on the cushioned seat looking in the mirror at his hair in every possible direction to point out minute mistakes. He soon left. The man opposite to me went towards the seat as it was his turn. Surprisingly the barber indicated me to come and sit. I looked puzzled—yes only I looked so perhaps. The old man again sat on the wooden chair back smiling at me while the barber was quite normal.

“I think it is his turn”, I said

“You better sit down, I have to go for lunch”, the barber replied

I quietly took a seat while sprayed water on my hair. The old man was still smiling. STRANGE!!

I was quite. The barber turned towards the man and said

“You please come later”

(Aah!!! That’s not fair. Not AT all!!)

He simply smiled and indicated some hand movements. He was DUMB. He kept on indicating his hands in a particular pattern which made me confuse. I asked the barber,

“pachu da what is he saying?”

“O nothing, leave it. He comes everyday”, he replied and took the scissors.

“So why don’t you serve him?”

“He doesn’t pay…..actually he doesn’t have anything to give me. Sometimes I cut his hair for free but not always. I do not run a charity”

“But see his clothes; he is no way a beggar”

“Who said he is a beggar. He is a local resident. Some family problems are there and many other reasons keep him disturbed. Moreover, no one from his family pays me on his behalf. Instead they threaten when I ask for money”, pachu da indicated him to leave.

I stopped him and left my seat. Silently I indicated pachu da to serve him and took out a ten rupee note and paid on his behalf. It didn’t matter to him as long as I paid nor was I affected as it was just a question of ten rupees. He smiled at me and left after the haircut.

Three days later…

I was getting late for college. I took my cycle at full speed and rode towards the station. HE (the man at the salon) SUDDENLY JUMPED in front of my cycle.

“ae are you mad”, I shouted

He seemed to be unaffected. He came towards me and gave me a book in my hand. I hesitated but his smile seemed to hypnotise me for a second and I accepted it. He didn’t take money from me for the book. He waved me and left.

On returning home I took out the book; ‘FOLK TALES FROM INDIA’ was the title. I turned over the first page.

‘FROM DADU (grandpa) ---TO BUBAI’ was written on the page with a smiley made at one corner. I smiled and gave the book to my sister.