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A Tightrope to Hope

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      Signing Off Bidding Farewell to Purdue... I stand by the fountain, t aking in it's glory While it tells me its story o f ENDURANCE How the water springs out l ike diamonds in sunlight powerful and bright i n MAGNIFICENCE How the droplets take flight i nto the clear skies Only some escape its reprise o f PERSEVERANCE And yet how they try f or try they must! To offer a refreshing gust o f HOPE To someone like me w ho admires its grace The beauty in its embrace o f LOVE The endurance of magnificence The perseverance of hope Aren't they a teaching For a day on tightrope?  

Alvida

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Ik begane sheher me  Safar shuru kiya tha humne Na socha tha ki itne Gehre rang ye chhodega apne Faasle na rakhne diye  Is haseen Dilli ne koi  Har boond me apna naam bhar diya isne Inhi boondon ki baarish aaj  Aankhon se ho chali hai  Dilli ki hi mitti aaj bheeg rahi hai  Apna banana iss sheher ko  Kumzor Dil ke bas ki nahi  Hum to bilkul mulayam aaye the  Socho Hume bhi bahadur bana Diya isne  Saath le ja rahe hai dosti ka khazana  Aisi shayad hi fir kabhi takdeer mil paegi  Ke badh chale hum ek ek kadam manzil ki oor  Aur saath dosti ki khushboo jaegi  Na socha tha ke roenge kabhi  Sheher to ye chhodna hi tha hume Magar himmat aage badhne ki bhi issi sheher ne di hai Aaj roenge us himmat se hi  Alvida kehti hun aaj  Inn sadko ko inn galiyon ko  Inn doston ko Iss begane sheher ko  Na chahkar bhi tujhme ghul gayi hun Mai  Dekh ... Shayad ab Mera rang tujhme kahi dikhne lage ...

A Brave Heart!

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The sun shone mildly in her balcony lovingly caressing her feet and face as she sat at the open door with her laptop sitting on her long spread legs as she typed her thoughts out. The winters were very cold this year. Public holidays and weekends were the only days when one could soak in the warm daylight in Delhi. The sun had a healing effect on her both physically and emotionally. Delhi had given her a lot and also taken a lot from her. What it couldn’t take and no one ever could take from her was her writing. Writing was therapeutic to her. As her face now basked in its brilliance, the sun brought back memories of the past years making her feel lucky for what she had in life.  Her balcony looked out into a beautiful square shaped garden with flowering plants on all sides and a well-kept bed of grass in the middle. Birds flew past the balcony every now and then chirping about in a very Delhi style chatter. She would often laugh at the various sounds that a simple cuckoo sittin

A place called LOVE

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A constant rumble from the skies An upset grumble; or a fine advice Or are they breaking clouds and ice Up in heaven's court? Flashlight lightens the sky so dark Turns it purple and pink with spark A stern line appears as an arc Splits our heaven in two! Cool air across my face Holds me in its embrace Touches my heart with a loving grace And it takes my soul away Pouring down the hot summer earth Taking away the heat from its berth Soil's own perfume is a friendly flirt Drenched in sheer happiness I let the breeze take my soul and Let the rain soak me whole Oh let with thunder my heartbeat roll Take me to a place called LOVE! 

THE VICTIM CALLED 'ME'

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Have you ever felt victimized? I'm sure everybody feels victimized at some point in life. Either at workplace by your superiors or peers; in a public setting; at home. It could be in any form especially in this 21 st century when there is a constant struggle of morals, social discipline, social etiquette, interpersonal respect, cross-gender respect or respect of humanity. In earlier days there used to be decorum in the society. There were certain rules that were never broken in a social setting. There was certain etiquette that was always followed among people and there was abundant interpersonal respect among people. People would never cross the line of appropriate social behavior. Hence it was easy to fall back on this social decorum for safety. In our heads we would know that this social behavioral value would always be maintained and hence we would take it for granted. Today this cannot be done. One cannot fall back on social values because in this age of personalization eve

Marriage and the role of Gender!

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Do you know what a breathalyzer is? The device that cops use to estimate whether a driver is drunk or not. Yes that one in which you breath into the device and it tells you whether you have had alcohol. Well, if there were a breathalyzer to detect the level of stress in a person at a certain point of time we would all be taking the test. It would become a household commodity like the weighing scale. People would measure stress every morning before leaving home and every night before sleeping. Psychiatrists and Psychologists would make you take the test before they call you in for an appointment. Now imagine if this device could measure the stress according to the category of stress - the alcohol analogy would be: measuring the alcohol content by the type of alcohol; how much whisky, how much beer, how much wine and how much vodka has been consumed? Take -stress due to family issues, stress due to social issues, stress due to personal issues, stress due to workplace issues and so on..

A Vicarious Trip to Assam

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In a small town called Barpeta in western Assam, 90km northwest of Guwahati every morning a 'Maasela' comes along on his bicycle shouting "Maas Laagbo naki SSS". He is wearing a blue and white checkered lungi around his waist. Mounted on his carrier is a metallic 'handi', a large pot, which contains freshly caught fish - alive and swimming in water. Maina's mother is waiting for the Maasela since morning and she runs out after the Maasela as soon as she hears him. She takes her pick from the fish in the pot and asks the fish seller to weigh it for her. The Maasela then picks the fish out of the water and weighs it on his weighing scale. The fish is still alive when it is weighed and sold. It is then cut alive in all Barpeta homes and cooked in various traditional recipes. Maina has also cut a live fish herself. It's a routine task for her back home! Sitting in our ornately furnished shared four bedroom apartment in Delhi, Maina recounts her normal

Delhi Metro - A journey!

The London Underground Tube is more than 150 years old and runs mighty smoothly for its age! They have metro cards for regular travellers and tickets printed on card sheet paper for the less frequent ones. They are said to be very crowded during peak work hours in week days and people are always in a rush in this system of transport in London. Even on escalators leading in or out of a tube station people stand aside on their left so that they can allow for the daily office goers to rush forward from the right (This rule is followed everywhere in London believe it or not!) . And then I saw the Delhi metro. I don’t seem to remember what station I was at when I first encountered the agility of this service. But the station seemed very organised. I looked at the coin sized plastic token in my hand that the man on the ticket counter had handed my father. He was still wondering how to use it. I said we will figure it out, let’s go to the platform. As we walked we were greeted by a secur

Café Crawl - Delhi

" A  pub crawl  (sometimes called a  bar tour ,  bar crawl  or  bar -hopping) is the act of one or more people drinking in multiple  pubs  or bars in a single night, normally travelling by foot or bus to each destination and occasionally by cycle."  "Well, we are doing a 'Caf é  Crawl'!" we thought aloud as we sat at the cafe inside Alliance Fran ç aise, on Max Mueller Marg in South Delhi, drinking our third round of beverages for the afternoon. It was a hot summer's day in May. We were draining ourselves to the hot and humid climate walking from a cafe to another, teasing our  palates. We started at Kunafa, an Arabic café that serves an  assortment  of Middle-Eastern sweets and a range of beverages including a variety of teas and coffees presented beautifully in jars behind glass counters. Located near the Meharchand Market in Lodhi colony, this place is a small café - more like a take away with almost no seating arrangement. Nevertheless, t

Re-conversions, really?

What have RSS and other religiously finicky groups been thinking when they declare that conversions and re-conversions have been taking place since several years and that they are now converting masses. 'Ghar Wapsi' is a shame name given to this concept and what they need is self introspection. All those who are involved in this ridiculous activity should sit back, relax and think about what religion they really belong to!  Do we as individuals ever think about why we follow a certain set of rituals prescribed by our so-called religion? What is religion in the first place? Why are we branded with a certain religion and what inside us is the real religion? Thanks to my parents' teachings and a secular schooling in 'Fravashi Academy' I have grown up with friends from all religions and faiths and have always been taught at home to inculcate radical thinking about all faiths. To me, Religion is faith. Something that can keep me going in the worst of my days in life