Soul of a Man

18th February, 2014.

                                “Won't somebody tell me?
                                  Answer if you can,
                                   I want someone to tell me
                                  What is the soul of a man??

What is the soul of man? I don’t know. As a fact, no one does. They only interpret. Humans, when they run out of answers, turn to interpret things, does not matter if they are right or not. It would be an overstatement if I say I tried to find the answer to steven sterns’ question. Not being any different from others, I too tried to interpret, and to be truthful, I am sure mine won’t be different from the other.

In almost every theological explanation, it is said, the soul is the fragment of the Supreme Being. I won’t delve into that much intellectuality, I am not that good, but it’s more than that. It has to be. Or how else can we explain the little voice in the back of our head? The voice that rules out the dilemmas of head and heart, and shows the way. The one who bares itself to all the atrocities of worlds, the pains and hurt inflicted by every other person, yet walks with nonchalance. With all the bleeding wounds, it dwells quite deliberately in the places where a scar would be inevitable, yet doesn’t back off, just to search a light of happiness and hope. And perhaps, it searches the better half of itself, which also bears the same wounds. And for whom? The mind which is cold and precise, and the heart, whose opinions are hardly relevant in these days, a caged bird. Irony is we never listen to the soul. We tend to forget that the voice of soul is always the amalgamation of the voices of head and heart together, who by the way do not go along always. We are so afraid of things, of results, that we deliberately take the wrong choice, with reluctance.

And as it happens, in that process, we turn cold, loose the compassion, wear mask, a façade of happiness and carry on with a fake smile. The soul, as I have felt at times, tries to cry out, but the sheer cruelty of our decisions asphyxiates it. And in due course of time, we, or the soul to be precise, loose some great powers. We turn a blind eye to the cries of our heart who seeks love and freedom, loose the power of raising a dead from grave. So much so, we even ignore the cries of another heart which is either lost or is dying. We have became cruel, monsters. We love to kill both the souls, that tendency is like being addicted to drug abuse. And we do not want help, denying the fact that something is lost or dead inside. And I find those people liars and cowards, who claim to listen to the soul, as they are almost always visibly taking wrong and devastating decisions, depriving us of love. Soul is never wrong. I know this, because I have seen or done all of these. I too was cold, without empathy, remorse and compassion. Or I still am! We are losing the touch.

My soul is lost, mind is on the verge of a criminal lunacy and heart is beating in a shattered state. But then, I won’t bother my supposed readers with my trivial rants. Nobody cares.And why should they?
The reason is simple regarding all these…we all are searching for the soul’s answer; or the soul itself…maybe this will keep us reminding not to ignore when either comes.

Regards.

Running Out of Time.

4th February, 2014.

When I was in primary school, I always waited for the month of February. Us Hindus have this saraswati pujo, where the goddess of education and talent is worshipped on an auspicious date in this month. Moreover, according to Indian calendar, this day is also worshipped as the “Indian valentine’s day”, or vasant panchami as we call it.

Neither of the above said reasons made any difference to me, nor does makes one now, so to speak. One Valentine ’s Day is enough and I am not in the good books of god, never have been; what really mattered to me was the fact that I will be meeting my friends. Our school holds a function or event or whatever every year to celebrate this day. Yes, we met every day at school itself, but this particular date had something very peculiar in it. The sheer excitement of a kid for reasons unknown. I still don’t know why it occurred.

By the time I came to secondary school, I made it a point to make sure that I do not miss this day for any given reason, and that all of my friends must be there. Maybe due to the dawning realization that after the school days are over, we may or may not be able to meet up… funny how things work. We never meet except this day. I passed out of my school 3 years back.

Today when I reached school, not many people from my batch showed up. Hmm. I’ve expecting all, or at least many of them. But I cannot say I was disappointed, I knew this would happen. We all are running out of time. We don’t even have time for ourselves. He’s doing job, she’s studying or something, they’re busy with something…busy busy busy!!   Some would actually say on reading this- “they are career oriented, you should be like that too.” But why should it mean we cannot take a time out for friends? For the people who once were the beating hearts of our lives, now are descending into oblivion, an abyss. A few years later, I know, we won’t even remember each other’s faces, that how do we sound or did. A bleak name, just to be remembered on occasions. And the bad news is, we are not even trying to stop it from happening, just letting it to happen, not that we are out of any power or such, but the willingness is depleting.

We can always continue with our ‘jobs’ or ‘study’ or this and that, all the bloody year to be fair, but then, it does not mean anything to us these days. Friends. It has become an old fashioned notion. Just finish this bloody race, settle down, no time for  fun, friends, love…
Maybe it’s too late. Maybe we did run out of time.

Regards.

The Asylum...

                                                                      ''Asylum'' - rishiraj
And when,
this fluttering heart
can’t bear the ataxia,
the sheer bedlam of moments and chaos,
that breaks the pattern,
I,
am pulled into a vortex, voluntarily I let
it be.
A slip and fall into oblivion,
my own pages of history that I
wrote. Time here ceases to flow.
The grey area between light and dark, this,
is where everything is still. Unstirred by the action
I’m yet to take.
Here,
everything turns into placid,
deathly still.
Color drowns into
black and white
from all the blossoms. Trees are not green,
neither the lake is blue, just dark blackened waves now
stale by this stagnant whist.
Here the blood flows cold, just neutral vibes in
the air.
It’s like walking through a
mist, a dense fog,
yet I can’t feel it, I don’t want to.
The people here,
are shadows in the mist,
undecipherable mumbles replaces the voices.
Here,
nothing is made, nothing done. So still, calm, tranquil.
here, nothing is too
late to mend.
My heaven here has not been
built yet, to be
corrupted by myself later.
Here,
nothing is made,
like a clock
but with no craftsman.
Everything is so still.
I prefer this.
Prefer the stillness here,
here, my solace, from all the
madness, all this discord of world
and the people's pandemonium.
Here,
The asylum....
--------------------Rishiraj--------------------------

one of my poetic ventures...

farewell sir...

17^th January, 2014.

Dark clouds all over Delhi this morning. Though there was hardly any chance of rain, yet, I could taste the wetness in the air. But every atmospheric beauty seemed irrelevant today, if not unnecessary.

There was a farewell meeting to be held in the history committee room, as our beloved professor, personally, my favorite, Dr. P.K Chaudhary of ancient Indian history was taking his voluntary retirement. Such matter hardly seems important or relevant to me, but this was about Prof. Chaudhary we were talking about. Hard, strict, unforgiving at times, never laughed during the classes and a person you would never mess with. But even so, he became our favorite teacher for a reason. His ideas; he always advocates abstract thinking. Do not think big, think enormous, which is what human mind is for, to think and dream more than normal, he says. And not only has he advocated that, he follows that line to the meaning of literal and taught us to do the same. Now there are teachers who just come and babbles thing, half of which goes over the head, and the other half never reached us. He, unlike all, almost effortlessly made his way to our minds, filling it with ideas. History is not a subject for that, but then, a teacher is not known by the subject he teaches, but by the ideas he provides otherwise.

Now I can go on and on with the appraisal, but I choose not to. When asked why he was leaving (it was naturally an element of surprise for us) he said, and I quote - “I have been teaching in this college for almost 25 years, but I guess now it was the time to live my part of dreams. To quote Gorky, a man spends his entire life just in the preparation to live. I’d rather choose to live now, than just preparing for it until I die. I have plans, dreams, regarding so much and so little time. Furthermore, I am bored with the lethal routine for the last 25 years, nothing productive there. My plan now changes its course. I have some projects in my mind, and I need a complete focus on them.”

The rest is unimportant in contrast of relevance I suppose. The usual speeches by students, their emotions. I refrain such trivialities, so I maintained my silence. Before bidding his goodbye he just said one thing. As he regrets the fact that this generation is losing its ability to think logically or illogically, he hopes that we, his students won’t stop dreaming or thinking in abstract form… “Amurta chintan” as he’d put it. Think, read, dream, and do it in an abnormal way.

We, or at least I, would try not failing him on this one.

Thank you professor, for expanding my ideas and faculty for at least in a miniscule level.

Farewell.

                                                                    the man himself

Regards.

Last Vow

13^th January, 2013.

Today at college-

Me- *giving a stuff to my friend* here you go bro, I promised you I’ll get this for you.

Him- you… you really take your promises really very seriously, don’t you?

Me- yep!!!

This has been my problem for like a decade now. Promises, vows, words… I take them as seriously as life itself. There has to be a possible explanation, totally logical one, but the only answer I know is the one that I created for my own satisfaction. I am afraid, I have promised a many great things to the people I know, or care. And one of my few endeavors has been to keep the promises intact and unbreakable. As a child, I was taught that keeping a promise makes us a better person than the rest of the others. Am I trying to be a better person? A great one? I don’t know, I never was a better person, kind of a guy whom one does not possibly want to engage, or even if one does, I am, was, and will be the last pick, which is practically fine by me. But even then, I try and keep the vows intact until either it is completed or I am freed. Yes, I know, it looks I am like dr. exaggerator, babbling my greatness and shit, but that is what I am. A show off.

On the other hand, I am totally unable to keep the promises I did to myself, which by far, has not really been a bad experience, a bittersweet one, I presume. Promising to other is fine, unlimited ways to fulfill them, to self, it just bounds you with your incapability. Resolutions are not my milieu.  

Maybe it just gives me a taste of satisfaction, the sheer tinge of a little happiness when I see a smile in the face of the person whom I promised something, or when someone, after years of disconnection, finds that I still kept the vow I made, unbroken. Yes, there were one or two incidents when I had to reluctantly break them, which I will repent for the rest of the years, sure, I am not perfect, but the balance remains on my favor. And plus, sometimes I feel like the godfather, although with minimal expectation or none at all, never did any good, expecting from others. Yet, I’ll continue to do so; whenever I can, promising stuff and keeping the crap intact. Especially to those who mean more than dear to me…only a few are there…maybe 5 in total.

So, this is my last vow, to you all who are this much close to a beat of heart of my heart, I will always be there. Promise.

Regards.

sunshine on my shoulders.

6th January, 2014.

Although there is hardly anything to write today as nothing has happened which can actually qualify to be composed, yet I find it obligatory to myself to write as I never wrote on New Year’s Eve. Although I did thought, even made a draft to write about the developments in the year 2013, which comprised of 12 things that happened to me, yet I decided against it, maybe later someday when it will really matter.

So, it was the first day at college, after a long hiatus, which was lethally mundane, I found my deteriorated sanity back on tracks, id est., I as my friends would say, back in my own image (don’t know what it meant though).  And plus, it is the last semester of my last year in college. People don’t give this thought that much seriousness, but then, I do not belong to the common lot (a drawback for me sometimes). I don’t know what is there out in the coming days, but I guess I have let myself flow with the currents…it’s been a while that I have done such a thing, surrendering myself has not been my advantage very lately. I can use some sunshine on my shoulder, a warm ray of light. And I hope whoever reads this, may find their own sky, with a bright sun shining and some cotton clouds.

Regards,

Ps - this has to be the shortest blog I wrote, forgive me.

Pps- I may not be this much available from now…college! But I will try to write as often…

Blessed - A visit to the Dargah.

27th December, 2013.

Hmm… this is odd. Really odd. This is the first time when I am sitting in front of the screen to write something, yet I am at loss of words. I have no idea from where to start and what to say and I guess raking my brains won’t do any good; still I’ll try my best to summarize the stuff.
The day, as usual, was void of any decadence. Well, that has been the story of my vacations for like a decade, so no complaints there. Well maybe one, as I was hoping for some decent fun. But as it always happens, my phone never rang, no messages, no one to visit (ah, my naïve hopes, can’t leave them, can’t live without them). Even the slightest insinuation would have been enough, but then, I can’t force people to come over, or go out, or talk…so, yeah.

It was this evening which turned out to be unexpected. I had no plans as such, so after the tuitions were over, I went out to pick my brother up from sheikh sarai. Half an hour of walk was fine, especially when it had rained and the chilly winter breezes with faint petrichor was overwhelming. I was there by 8.00.

Now, area of Dakshinpuri has not much to see, except the dargah of Chirag-i- delhvi.
On our return from sheikh sarai, me and bhai decided to visit the dargah for irrelevant reasons. Neither of us had any idea or plan to go there, it just happens to be on the way to our home. The decision was instantaneous.

Nothing much happened there, nothing unusual, we just entered the place, which was deserted by 8.00, just a couple of dogs, a guard, who was more busy in warming himself by the bonfire than guarding the gate (can’t blame him, its Delhi winter!). We bought the ‘agarbattis’ and the usual things and did some prayers, I myself asked for some forgiveness and prayed for some tolerance, I don’t know what bhai asked for. We never ask. And after 10 minutes of stay, we left for home, only with a cat accompanying us to the gates of the dargah.

I do not have much of faith on gods, the only gift which I am yet to get. But on my way home from Chirag Delhi, I felt particularly…blessed!! I don’t have any idea why I was there or why do I feel like that, yet, I have a certain belief, that Nasiruddin Mahmud Chirag e Dehlvi was watching, he heard me. Maybe, he can solve the restlessness or, just show me a way on how to. I any case, I feel strangely calm…WHEW!!!!...

                                        not much of place i agree, yet, it is more than anything.

                             i dont know why bhai agreed all of a sudden, maybe he needed this too.

                                                         Dargah of Chirag e Delhvi.