To the Best of Times.

The year is at its end, and it’s a time for a toast for all that happened this year. The good things and the bad ones, the ones I will never forget and the things I never want to remember again, the things that I am grateful for and the things I wish never happened. The year had it all for me, suspense, romance, action, drama; everything a good adventure needs and I know yours where just as much fun if not better. Now that we stand at the last days of 2011, one thought keeps me alive, much more alive that I ever was. It’s the knowledge that though a lot of good things had happened and many more did not quite work out just as well, I can rest assured that this is not over yet and the best of the moments are yet to come. Now that a beautiful year is finally about to bid adieu to us all and as the clock strikes twelve tonight, a new year will be born, an year of promises, hope and of the countless to be born memories.

As 2012 rolls in, I believe we have an obligation, an obligation to raise a toast to all the good things that made 2011 and eleven special. A toast to all the friendships we made, all the moments we lived in all the people we care about and all the people who care about us. A toast for the times we laughed out loud and all the time we cried alone tucked to a corner of the dark rooms, all the pranks we pulled and all the little things we did to make our special ones happy.

2011 was no walk in the park, it was an adventure and adventure we all shared and we together made a memory of. May 2012 be only better, may 2012 bring us more joy and prosperity, may we all go forward and not backward, may our future be just as perfect as we ourselves are. Friends some of you I know, some of you I do not, but nevertheless may all of us live a life that we always wanted. So guys please rise your glasses a for 2012 is here!....................................Cheers! To the Best of Times.

Happy New Year, Ladies and Gentleman,

May all of us live happily ever after…

Speak of the Devil and ..

How strange that I write this today, when all I see is darkness and I am tired, so tired of searching for the light and hope. I am doomed, I fear my own words and I fear the death of myself by my own ideas. Its not but strange that a few days ago I was blossoming in the comfort of the illusion of security and permanence that I have woven. But now in seconds they have disappeared and I am staring at nothing but darkness all around, I can hear memories sneak up me from directions unknown, I am afraid, really afraid.

A couple of day ago, I got a call, a call that has turned my world into a mess. From the precipice of luxury I plunged into a feeble being plagued by misery and fear, I can’t neither think straight nor respond to a door bell without being paranoid. It has come back, It has come back to avenge me, the lies, the secrets. My past has come back, a past that I have worked so hard day and night to forget, The nightmares that I have consciously abolished with sleepless nights and pills that I shall not speak of again in my life.

It is not strange, I should have expected it, I should have known better. I should have known that it will come back and haunt me again and again no matter how hard I run. The initial impulse is always to run, But now I know no mountain is high enough, no oceans wide enough to keep me from myself. I am my worst enemy, a nemesis that will not heed until truly defeated. I have to take action, I have to face him, I cannot run anymore, If I do I will risk more than myself, I will risk losing my family, my friends, my life and may be those some things that I have valued more than life, I will lose myself to it. I cannot run anymore I have to face him, face to face, I should look him in the eye and end this once and for all, otherwise I will lose it all, I will lose everything.

I shall not speak about it again, But I should talk now, if have to never speak of it again, else the devil will come back to haunt me again, it won’t heed till I pay for my insolence. I should face my fate and write my history myself, even if it means that it all ends with a full stop or if there is something left to it, then with that, But I should do it and I should do it now.

My First Poem

Guys! As you might have guessed it already, I am going to tell you the story of how I wrote my first poem. Technically it was not my first poem, in fact I am not sure how many poems I wrote before this one, but I am sure about one thing, they all s**ked! So my first poem … right!..

It was a winter morning, the class was shaking of the crispy snowflakes attached to the window railing, I was watching the pupil come in to the class one by one through the frosted window, wrestling the weather and dodging the snow balls…. Oh! Who am I Kidding, There was no snow, no snow flakes and it was a summer, a damn hot one too. And if these guys were wrestling and dodging anything they were the bullies and their unmerciful punches. I will just tell the dull story of my first poem and about the narrative I have been watching ‘How I met your Mother’ Damn… Good….

So as I said earlier, it was an average summer day in an average south Indian school, in an more than average neighborhood, in fact it was so average that the only neighbors we had were the unmistakably terribly old residential apartments and the crazy ole lady that lived in one of them, I will talk about her some other day, seriously guys I am jumping around a lot with this story. SO We had our English lecture for the first hour that day and my our lecturer  Mrs. (I don’t know a another very old lady, not crazy though) had asked us to write a poem and bring. Shall we call her Mrs. Lecturer? Okay! So as I said Mrs. Lecturer has asked us to bring about a poem. And to top it all up our poem would get read by a random person in the class.

So I had a buddy who used to sit next to me all the time and whom I particularly love because he used to be take the major share of the beating because he was a tiny bit fat a little slower than me. I just ran away and he got beaten up, I would come back a little later to check on him with a tissue. So as she had asked us to write a poem and so far (taking my friends account then), I s**ked at it. We had only hardly a few minutes left before she would pop up in the class and treat a bunch of 10 graders like kindergarteners and kick them around. We were scared of her, really SCARED! So as I said my friend who took the beating for me turned to me asked to write him a poem. Yeah! Sure! He always stuck out for me and I always let him down, but seriously guys! A poem in five minutes is hard enough, now I had to write two.

So anyway I decided to write two, two poems. And I have absolutely no idea what I wrote, But I wrote two poems. I have a bleak memory that one was about winter and life and the other was ‘The Poets’. The one about the winter was kind of nice, or so I thought, It was a very sophisticated piece of words with nice hard to guess words, you practically needed a dictionary to read that poem and the other was in simple terms, really simple. So Somehow I finished and I gave him the Poets and explained the meaning of the poem to him, Okay there was nothing to explain, It was something like ‘Poets are Crazy’ themed. But anyhow I really liked the winter poem and thought this will be my great break through, I could even imagine the whole class standing up in appreciation and giving a great ceremony in honour and all those things, the girls asking for autographs, Okay! I admit I was a bit carried away.

So all that was about to be crushed, pooh! She called out my friends name and he went in with a paper clutched to his hand, Oh I forgot she forgot to mix the papers between friends, she just asked us to read our poems. So as I said he went in and recited out ‘The Winter Poem’ and explained how crazy poets are. I don’t think anyone listened but Mrs. Lecturer, she threw him out and asked him to run around the school, the first he did happily and the second he did not do. So then I was left with the poem ‘ that I wrote for him, Nope I did not get a standing ovation, She said I could sit in the class, As if I wanted that but then that got me into poetry and I have did good since then.

Oh! this has nothing to do with the post, I just liked it. So....

SO guys! That the story of How I wrote my first poem, and for the guy! He kind of did not like me sitting and he being out, once the class was over he trashed me, and now I had Another Bully to dodge and I had no one to share a beating with till I met ‘Abby’, Oh! That’s one story that’s full of lies and even if you like this one or not, I am going to make you listen to that one too, watch me!

And if by any odd chance you liked this one, give a comment!

The Many Dreams of You and Me

Every single night its in your dreams that I cherish, in the long voyages that we take through uncharted waters, in the beautiful strolls through gardens and boulevards from very pricey magazine pages. The colours and the emotions that we share and cherish are truly remarkable. Though I expect nothing less from a beautiful dream, you’re here presence makes it unimaginable magnificent. Dreams that I have are all so wonderful so are the ones I believe you have, but the ones we share like our heart and our soul are sure to be unworldly.

Its been a couple of years since I met her, I still remember it be on a very ordinary day in a very ordinary chemistry lab, She came and stood next to me , she turned and she gave a smile that told me that we are meant to be. But the blind idiot I was made sure that nothing happened for the many days to come. It was certainly not the first time we have seen. Studying in same class seeing would not have been a problem. As days went on and on, our hearts grew closer and closer, the cold winters made us come close in search of warmth and the sizzling showers in envy, the scorching summer in search of shades and finally the spring in search of love. 

I do know that every one tells it, but I promise you this that what I tell is the truth and nothing but the truth. I do believe with all my heart that I knew her way before the first time I  laid eyes on her petite being. I assure you I have enjoyed the taste of her delicate throbbing lips way before in generations unknown to me. Her being is not strange, not any stranger than that of myself. May be this is what they call 'LOVE', may be this is how being in love is, If it is so and this is what I get from being in love and being loved, then I require the warmth of no stranger bosom than that of beloved one.

When she walked into my life at the time of great crisis, A time when I have had lost faith in all the worlds love, I trusted no one not even god for that matter, sinking into the depths of despair, alas! those were the dark days. Her touch was the guiding light that led me ashore, when romantic voyages after voyages failed and I was no better than a sinking soul. I am no great lover but at the moments I despise myself I keep telling my wounded soul, its not all that wounded. But much latter only I realised that had I not made those mistakes I would never have been able to see the right things, when it appeared before me. Had I not seen the darkness and experienced the piercing thrones I would never have realised it when I saw the rose bloom before my very eyes. Love does happen but so is it a search, it’s a special journey like none other, it will show you what that is that rightfully belongs to you and you rightfully belong to.

I am no great lover and mess up a little a lot of times, but I have done no such thing that by which I had betrayed her. It weights down my neck a duty to remain faithful. I know that a girl like her deserves much more and what I have is too pure to be in such dirty hands. But I see no reason to let go, call it lust call it selfishness, for she is mine and I indent to keep it that way for eternities to come. I do wait for the days that are ours to live, and the dreams that we share are ours to realise.

-          A tribute to my other half.

 " You have taught me love and how to love, in your hands i blossomed and in your love I grew and in you arms I wish to die"

A Million Candles of Hope

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How marvelous and symbolic it would be if we could light a million candles on this eve, A million candles to celebrate hope. Of all the days that we could do it on, today it would make most sense. When over 4 million people alone suffer in silence under the evil reign of AIDS, we could instigate hope in their heart and light up their spirits. We would move them from the dark worlds they are now confined to and show them that there really are butterflies and gardens in this world and there is a world where the sun shines bright. I know I cannot do it alone, I would have done it if I could have done it alone, but still that doesn’t mean we can’t! If we all try and try hard maybe we could make the ‘Million Candles of Hope’ much more than a daydream.

Lighting up their lives

It is true that HIV is not all that taken lightly in the nation, the sadder truth is people are more afraid of the people than the disease. There is an urgent and imposing need to change the public perspective of this disease. It needs to be made sure that having HIV is not a crime and the victims need to be looked at with an eye of care rather than through an eye of discrimination. They are people much like me and you, they have a heart and they do have a feeling. To have a disease is no reason to tag them untouchables. We have made progress in instilling in many the truth of the matter, but the way is still long to the dreams that we share.

It will be but a matter of time before we have a cure and a real solution, a solution that is accessible to all. Then there will be no hypes that surround this disease, it will be like any other disease just like it should be. But till that day comes it is the duty bestowed upon us by virtue of the divine order to show men who are blinded by misconceptions the truth. The truth, touching a person or hugging someone is not going to get you HIV. A truth that everyone knows and many find convenient to forget and live with the lesser beliefs.

May be one day my dream of a million candles of hope will come true and though I have already lighted them in my mind and one in my room one day a million dancing lights will show the way. They will show the way to hope and better still will they stand to see the day when we shall all walk n hands, like we are meant to be, like brothers and sister, like one big family, one big caring family. One day a million candles will dance, A Million Candles of Hope.

A Million Candles like these for hope ?