LIVE YOUR DREAMS

The weather is bad again, and she has again forgotten to bring an umbrella. With the mobile phone battery dead she cannot even call back home to say she would be late. “Mobile phone is switched off,” says a worried Ashish, “why on earth would she switch off the phone? Could something have possibly gone wrong? She is never late beyond 8 pm.” Looking weirdly at her watch, 9:40, Kavya, dashed towards the local train station. Kavya, a 46 year old software engineer works in an MNC in Mumbai. She has 2 kids, elder, Ashish, 20, is an engineering student and younger, Amit, 18, is in medical college. And life for Kavya is as tough as it can be for a widow living with two children, with her job demanding as much from her as demand her home and 2 fatherless boys so attached to their mom after their father’s departure that they would get worried if she was late even by half an hour. And they would always dine together, just like they used to, with their father in too, till about 3 years back.

SNAP-1 :.............(A REPORTER SPEAKS) On 6th of April, 2010, between 6 and 7 a.m. about 70 Jawaans were killed by Maoists in the Dantewada Dist. of Chattisgarh. SNAP-2 :.............. (SOMEONE TWEETS) Our sincere tribute to the Jawaans.. Next 7 days in India..: Day 1-Ranting Day 2-Statements Day 3-Condemnation Day 4-Promises Day 5-IPL Day 6-Sania Day 7-Jawans are long forgotten. SNAP-3 :............... (A CASUAL TALK) ..VIRAAT- How is the tribute going to help the Jawaans or their families?? ..FRIEND- Its not gonna help them, its gonna help you, become more sensitive to such issues. ..VIRAAT- How pathetic, in this dire situation of hallabaloo in our country, when more then 70 Jawaans died, not fighting on the border but brutally murdered by fellow Indians, we are still thinking about ourselves. So selfish we are, paying tribute for our satisfaction. We should be angry about it and not contended by paying a two minute silence tribute. ..FRIEND- What do you suggest we s

The ‘D’ October in Muzaffarpur was like a disease in approbation that made u dream of being under one of Alice in Wonderland skies and stuffed your nose with aroma of fresh air with a tinge of jasmine, but today it clogged his lungs and made him shudder from every nerve and sweat from every pore of his body. It was midnight and the fragrance outside didn’t seem to relieve him of the heat or humiliation within. Tonight desperation added a new element to his restless discontent. It rode his nerves like a hissing snake looking for somewhere to sink its fangs into. ‘Tapp’ fell another sweat drop on the glass of his specs. Hurriedly he took off the specs from over his big worried nose and gave another mighty push on the chest piece of the stethoscope placed on 12 year old Armaan’s chest. Shook his head in cringe. Another push… ‘Huh!!’...a sigh in guilt and he returned to his chair next to mine. Dr. R. Prasad or RP as we used to call him, from the Dept. of Emergency Medicine, was a man o

Of late, medical profession has become near-synonymous to ‘strikes’, be it doctors at peripheral hospitals or resident doctors at government hospitals. While the former strike for higher wages and better medical equipments, the latter do so, sometimes for or against imposing the benefit of reservation, sometimes against procrastination of promotions, and now-a-days purely against the government rule to impose compulsory rural postings on every course that the doctors undertook. The rule said 1 year after MBBS, 2 years after post graduation and 3 years after a super specialization. So a doctor who started his studies at 19-20 would complete his super specialization and postings at the end of 17 years i.e. by the time he would be in his late thirties. While thinking of all this, on my way back to college, after hearty Diwali celebrations at home, I went through the same gamut of sentiments. How insensitive can doctors get? After all they earn so much. How greedy of them to refuse rural

I have always loved her. Always. Day or night, through all seasons, from dawn to dusk and to the next dawn again, whether I am awake or sleepy, studying or partying, her love has stayed with me like some omnipresent fragrance, hypnotizing me in every moment of my day and every dream of my night. She looks so simply pretty, so unbelievably gorgeous. I’ve seen her in many disguises, she is like some royal queen in that marrige-like decked up look, and like some angel in that pretty flowy nightdress.. But she’s looked mesmerizingly pretty when she’s without make-up, careless, when she lets the lucky air play with her long hair, open and her locks growing from side of her temples. She lets a lock or two fall on her face, letting them drink from the flow of soft beauty; these locks sometimes try to kiss her lips and at others try to curtain her eyes, bathing in the cool innocence, naughtiness flowing from her eyes. Oh! And her simplicity I’ve seen her whole nights, that baby look on her fac

OH TIME!! LET ME... (i had written this poem shortly after leaving my alma mater St. Xavier's, found it in an old diary.. tell me if u like it.) The journey ends, the road goes on Life then sets in as if with a new dawn. But memories visit times, we weren’t alone Summon temptations last dusk had shown. Time! Oh time!! Break thou thy laws Let me again enjoy happy times, let me correct my flaws. Let me thank those who wrote my legend of friendship Beg pardon of whom I couldn’t follow the kinship. I look for those times in old books in my rack Let me have the days at St. Xavier’s back. Those summers, those winters, those autumns and springs To fly back to my school, oh time give me wings. Let me love all, let me laugh, have fun Let me be punished for home-works half done. Let me forget speeches on going to the dais Let me return home again with prizes and smile on my face. Let me do things, I regret, I never have done That’s bunking classes, going to movies to have fun. I was a nerd,