www.ayreej.com

Today

2012-01-17T07:35:00.001-08:00

When you think you are down,
When you see the rainy days and no sunshine.
Smile, as you tell yourself,
Today is a new beginning,
Because I have,
Another dream to weave,
Another smile to give,
Another moment to live.
Another plan to make,
Another toy to break.
Another cake to bake,
Another joke to share,
Another pet to care.
Another promise to keep,
Another wish to wish,
Another game to win,
Another sea to swim,
Another song to sing,
Another kite to fly,
Another story to write...
The world Beckons,
Because, today is your day.

Empty page

2011-11-05T13:16:00.000-07:00

A book, that doesn’t have even two empty pages are of nouse, These couple of pages can have more potentials than the entire book andendless possibilities of what it can transform in to,

A poem of a beautiful beginning,

A message to someone you love,

A note,

A memoir,

A smiley for your successor,

Or you can just leave it empty, as a reminder of a beautifultomorrow.

Because there is always a tomorrow.

---

For tomorrow.

Ayreej Rahman,

4|11|2011- Pune

P.S: Inspired from something I read somewhere long ago about empty pages, Cantrecollect the author or any other details

Home

2011-09-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

This is where it all started,

This is where I started Crawling,

This is where I started dreaming,

This is where I started writing,

This is what my heart yearns for,

This is where my love lies,

This is what I call peace,

This is what I slog my ass for,

This is what I take all the blame for,

This is why I count my days for,

This is what I call Happiness,

This is what defines me.
his is where my roots are,

This is my God,

This is my prayer,
This is nirvana,

This is eternity,

This is Home.

~Ay.

Perception...

2011-07-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

Karla Caves

2011-06-14T07:42:00.000-07:00

Hope

2011-06-14T07:32:00.001-07:00

Let there be light2

2011-06-14T07:30:00.001-07:00

And he said "Let there be light"

2011-06-14T07:24:00.001-07:00

The Irony

2011-02-03T11:42:00.000-08:00

That evening I stood there at the Howrah bridge, Holding that rail and watching to Hooghly flow wide and deep, My loss my mine alone, It hadn't changed a thing for anybody else, the crowd was still the same, No one stopped and bothered to ask 'Are you alright' everyone was in a rush, the race that was to be won.

I stood there watching the sun beginning to retire after his hectic day shift and remembered It wasn't déjà vu ,and I had seen this standing right here a hundred times before , but the last time I did that was ten years ago , and the world had changed since then....I had changed!!!

As my memories unraveled, the world began to shrink and the surroundings disappeared...

I remembered... Things that were once lost in the time, when the life gets in our way and we hurdle to win the race, The Rat race...

I remembered...

It must be in the early eighties I was transferred to Calcutta from a village in Maharashtra, Thorough my childhood I had read a lot of things about Calcutta the land of Tagore and Satyajit Ray...I was enthralled when I first heard about the transfer. Everything was exciting I was getting used to the culture, learning Bengali and visiting places around Bengal and then before I realized two years had passed.

In the evenings I used to walk down the Howrah bridge on the way to my quarters, passing familiar faces, but one face was very peculiar and I used to see him daily holding the rail and looking at the Hooghly , every time I passed by him he smiled at me, and I returned him the same.

He was lean, in his early fifties with a long grey beard being the most prominent feature of his face. He always looked happy. Every time I saw him he wore a white kurta pyjama, I always thought he was a writer, an Intellectual with that attire .So one day I decided to stop by and get acquainted.

I couldn't stop myself from bluntly asking him “Are you a writer???”

He laughed out loud hearing that.” What made you think so?”

“It was the attire” I said

He continued laughing, and I joined him trying to conceal my embarrassment

“So what is it that you do?” He asked

When I told him I was working for the Railways he said

“Yes, you look like a sarkari babu, with the 'Attire'” and continued laughing

I really liked his sense of humor but my curiosity was building up

So I asked him 'So what do you do, again?'

“Do you have time; I would rather show it to you”

Being single I had all the time in the world, and I thought it would be an escape from my usual boredom of bachelorhood, and moreover his reply had triggered my curiosity to a much higher level.

“Sure”

“Where are we going?” I asked...

“Patience my friend, Is a virtue” came the answer.

As we walked down the bridge he told me his name was Shubrojeet Roy, and he lived in Calcutta for the past 30 years... and we stopped by for a cup of tea.

There we talked about cultures, art, literature and lot of other things. I realized we had a lot of things in common.

After the tea we went to a small old lodge across the street where he said he had been living for the past 20 years, the lodge was an old building built in the Victorian era, and was very badly maintained. As we climbed up the wooden stairs he asked me to be careful, not to step on the broken plank.

It was a small room with a bed and a table, and lot of canvases piled up...

“So you are a painter, I asked”

He nodded...

I have always loved paintings, and have even tried my hands on it a couple of times and realized that ' It's just not my cup of tea' ... Can I see them???

“Go ahead' He said.

I fumbled through them, and I loved almost all the paintings he had there, it was amazing!!!

“So it’s Modern art” I said being naive.

He corrected me “Abstract Art... My boy, or call it contemporary, Modern art is for Art-Proletarians, I don't think you belong to that category, Do you”

“I smiled, It's brilliant the colours, the texture, I just loved it “I said unable to control the excitement. “Why do you keep this here in the room, you should talk to some art gallery and put up an exhibition or something of that sort...”

“I am glad you liked it” he said , I have tried that but it didn't work-out , you see Not everybody like my style, They say I am too unorthodox... I manage to sell some though a local antique shop down the street, but...you see ... it's difficult to find buyers”

“Then how do you manage to survive then” I asked as I knew this was the case with most of the artists, they struggle to make both ends meet.

“I used to be in the communist party, so the comrades came to me for painting posters, but now days that too happen very rarely, but money is not the reason I paint. I paint ,because that's what I always wanted to do ,Colours made me happy and from my childhood I was in love with them.. I enjoy the feeling I get when I run the Brush over the canvas... or the smell of the linseed oil...it's better than sex ,it's Eternal Bliss ” and he burst out laughing.

We sat there in his room for almost three hours talking about our lives, He told me how he dropped out of school to join politics, and then how ruthlessly the political system works, I was about to leave then he asked me to wait. And Picked up a painting from the stack and handed it over to me saying

“This was one of my first work, and one of my favorites, I want you to have it... It's a little dark but I think you'll like it'

First I resisted, but he insisted, and when I tried to pay him he said “You don't pay for gifts, do you?”

After that day we met daily and spend the evening together watching the sunset from the Howrah Bridge....

He once said, ”I have a long romantic relation with the sunset. Thirty years and I can’t remember one day that I missed coming to see her, Isn’t she beautiful ... and you know what the best part is??? She never gets old.”

Then we would have chai and everyday he had something interesting to tell me, He even taught me to read and write Bengali, He would hand me Bengali literature and would insist me to read them.

He once told me that I reminded him of his brother, who died in a riot, and asked me to call him 'Dada'... As each day passed our bond grew stronger, and we grew closer to each other

Good things doesn’t last long they say; A year later a year I was transferred to Delhi and had to report immediately, when he heard that he was very disappointed I could tell, but he wouldn't show it

He ran his hand through the grey beard and said after a long pause 'You have to go, the life beckons you... I would miss you for sure but you have your life to built up, I don't want you to become another shubrojeet Roy, I want you to be successful, and I know you will... I want to be proud of you my boy... and May be one day I will be at your doorstep to visit you in Delhi, I have always wanted to see the Taj....’ he smiled 'don’t worry we will write to each other’

He even came to see me off to the railway station

Delhi was a different world and my whole life had changed but we still wrote to each other... Dada told me that he had couple art exhibition and it went well and there was a feature on him in the local dailies but people still didn’t buy the paintings even if they praised it.

I told him about Rekha and we had planned to get married, He replied that he couldn’t come because of his health problems, and sent me a telegram and a painting as a wedding gift instead

As the time passed by the letters from him stopped, and he didn’t reply to the ones I sent him... I was worried for a couple of months. But gradually my worries faded as I got busier with life, Rekha gave birth to two beautiful baby boys.

I convinced her to name my eldest ' Shubrojeet'.

I still used to think about him, and whenever that happened I used to write to him hopping to see a reply some day.

I missed him., The long conversations we had, the chai, and the sunset ended up as just bed time stories that I told my kids, I knew they wouldn’t understand anything that I said but I wanted my kids to know him like I did... I wanted them to look up to him like me.

Then one day after six years I was again transferred to Calcutta, this time with a promotion.

My hopes of finding dada blossomed. When I reached Calcutta I sent Rekha and the kids to the guesthouse and I went straight to the street where the lodge stood, but the city had changed and there was a shopping mall instead of the old Victorian building and so did all the places near by. Nobody knew what the place looked like before the transformation, and the whereabouts of people who lived there...

I was disheartened.

Later, I went to the local Newspaper office which published the article on him... They directed me to the Arindam Basu., who was Editor for Art and Literature section.

I called Arindam and he said he was willing to meet me when I said the name Shubrojeet Roy., The painter.

He invited me to his apartment in salt lake.

Arindam looked much younger than I thought

He invited me for tea and I told him the story.

He was silent, and I felt something very negative building up in the room...

He said “I know this would be difficult for you, but we just can’t changes what happened.... It was two years ago...It was cancer and for the past couple of years he was fighting it, He was a brave man.... I'm sorry” He then stood up and went inside.

I felt a lump in my throat,

I just couldn’t accept it that he's gone....the eerie silence kept building and his face kept flashing through my mind, followed by the guilt that I was not there for him when he needed me the most.

Not being able to say goodbye to someone who you love is a helpless feeling!!!

Why would he hide it from me ... He could have given me a hint, I kept thinking as I fought a tear.

Arindam came back with an envelope which he then handed it over to me...

In it was a couple of photographs and a newspaper cutting which said

“Shubrojeet Roy – The Indian 'Jackson Pollock' is no more”

That evening I stood there at the Howrah bridge, holding that rail and watching the Hooghly flow wide and deep, My loss … mine alone, there was no change to anybody, the crowd on the pedestrians was still the same, No one stopped and bothered to ask 'Are you alright' everyone was in a rush , the Rat race was to be won, I couldn’t stop thinking that if there is a spirit then his' would be standing right next to me... at his most favorite spot, watching the love of his life...'The Sunset' .

Couple of months ago Arindam called me and said there was an exhibition and fund raiser at the town hall organized by the Ministry of Culture, as a tribute to Shubrojeet Roy. He said “Shubrojeet would have wanted you to come”

As I walked into the exhibition, my heart rejoiced to see the crowd of artist, critics, painting enthusiasts and politicians that had come to pay homage to Dada; I felt his presence in the place...

In there, I saw many paintings. Some looked familiar and some weren’t, but there was one painting which Dada himself called 'The Irony' and below it read

'SOLD: Rs 500,000 to Sir Peter Murdock’

I met Arindam and thanked him and rushed out, because I was starting to miss him even more...

On the way back to my apartment 'The Irony' was flashing in front of my eyes.

The irony was that - He had that same old painting for the past 10 years in his stack, and he lived his whole life in poverty.

I looked up in the sky thinking, if there is a God like they say there is.... he sure does have a good sense of humor.

Solitude

2011-01-28T12:49:00.000-08:00

When I look into the mirror,

My loss stares right through me…

The emptiness has a colour and it's dark,

Your voice cuts through me when you say Good bye.

For years I have known you,

and yet I haven’t known you at all,

This is where our dreams part,

Where I let you go,

I wouldn’t frown,

I wouldn’t whine…

I wouldn't shed a tear for something that was never mine

and I return to what was my ever mine...

My solitude, My true friend!!!
----
Ayreej Rahman| Pune,2011

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and You shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.~Kahlil Gibran

Solitude

2011-01-18T12:41:00.000-08:00

Dona Paula ,Goa

My Experiment with lenses

2010-10-31T09:28:00.000-07:00

Muzhapalngadi beach, Kannur, Kerala.

The longest drive-in beach in south Asia.
Awesome place...

Dry Rose Petals

2010-09-12T12:59:00.000-07:00

“There is never a wrong time to visit Goa” Exclaimed the floor manager as I walked into the Rendezvous, A shack facing the beach on the Bagha …

“Yes , that’s true” I said.

“Well , are you alone Sir “ he asked.

And I just smiled at him.

“Understood, I have a perfect place for you he said, You would have a perfect view at the beach and lesser audience … Here sir”

“That’s just perfect… I’ll have a beer, Premium please…. and fish fingers… Yes that will be all“ I said making myself comfortable…

“give me 10 minutes” He replied and walked right through the shells hung on the door frame…

I pulled out my book from my backpack and placed it on my table. Call me old fashioned but I still write in a book, Not that I don’t accept technology and change, but I love the smell of the ink, and the feel that ink smudges gives me.

My vacation was almost over and so was my book; But the endings always put me to a corner, and Sometimes I feel I have to be fair to my characters, but then Life isn’t just fair…

My eyes followed a cool gush of the sea breeze, Just to see the blue vast sea flirting with the wind…

I felt as If I was having a conversation with the sea, and I was telling her how beautiful she looked .

I was enjoying the trance…

Then my eyes turned towards a guy coming straight at me with open arms, with the pace that he had, I couldn’t get a proper look at his face.

“Aman My brother, what a great surprise” he said as he hugged me tight.

“Rahul, wow .., It’s great to see you… “ I said trying my luck with the names, which I always keep forgetting

“How are you ….Where have you been…. you look great… are you alone” He asked, Well I could say that he looked excited.“Hey you know what, you can answer them later. First I want you to meet somebody”

He dragged me out of my seat , Well that was Rahul, warm and friendly, We were partners in crime back in the college… back then I always thought of him as Puzo’s Godfather, The cartel leader.

Then when time passes by , life gets us all busy…

“Aman, I am going to introduce you to my wife, Neha…. We are on our honeymoon” He said as we approached their table, He then hugged from behind…

I saw her face, as she smiled and turned around …

There I saw her again…

Dressed in a white salwar, she looked even more beautiful than the last time we met three years ago.

I could feel the world spinning around me, … I thought I was having a panic attack … I blinked , to ensure this wasn’t a dream or I was just not hallucinating .

‘No it’s all real Aman, Face it’ Said someone within.

She stared at me in disbelief , as Rahul introduced me to her ‘ Neha ,meet my friend Aman, We used to be best buddies in the college, but, after the college he just disappeared, and today , after eight long years I bumped into him here isn’t that great’

Yes, Rahul the world is a very small place I said regaining my senses to normal…

I smiled at him, so he just wouldn’t see her staring at me in shock…

My waiter was kind enough to bring my stuffs to the table, “it happens all the time” He said

‘So tell me where are you now a days and how are you ’ Rahul asked with the same amount of curiosity that I saw in him when we both first saw a stash of weed in the hostel.

“ Pune, I work as a copywriter with an ad agency, Life ‘s good , Tell me where have been”

“Arrey Yaar, London , After post-graduation I settled there, We got married last month.You know how it is ,parents always wanted an arranged-marriage, but I am happy that I found Neha. She’s just perfect for me” He moved towards her and kissed her on her cheek…

She smiled…

The same smile that she gave me years ago ,when she accidentally broke my crystal vase…

I noticed that she never took her eyes off me… and then our eyes met… in spite of all my efforts to stop that from happening.

The wind blew her hair onto her face, and She tucked the strides of hair between her ears, I used to love it when she did that…

My mind drifted like a paper caught in the wind, back into streets of memories…

Everything flashed in front of my eyes.

The first day we met,

Our first date,

Our first kiss,

And then the good bye…

Rahul cut the silence saying “ Neha, Aman used to be the writer in the pack, we used to listen to his poetry when we got drunk, Do you still write Aman?”

“You know what they say; Old habits die hard…, I still do, I am writing a book. And the Goa vacation was an excuse to complete it”

“Oh that’s fantastic, What is the book about” Curious Rahul asked.

I smiled and said “Read it, when it’s published”

He laughed out loud…

I couldn’t stop looking at her; God ,she looked beautiful!

In the backdrop the sun had started retiring back to its solitude.

even though I managed to kept my sanity in check, I couldn’t help a deep feeling of despair that crept through my soul , leaving it hollow once again.

But then things started appearing more lucid and the perfect ending for my story was coming to me …

I told him that I was in a hurry, and we exchanged numbers.

As I was leaving a dry rose, slipped out of my book and fell at her feet.

Our eyes met again as she picked it up.

I turned around and walked into the sunset.

She didn’t speak a word , but her eyes talked to me…She said “I am sorry”

And I said …..

Ayreej Rahman

12^th Spetember 2010; 4:10 AM

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. :)

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

2010-06-30T12:52:00.000-07:00

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come,

or a plane to go or the mail to come,

or the rain to go or the phone to ring,

or the snow to snow

or waiting around for a Yes or No

or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite

or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps,

For their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil,

or a Better Break or a string of pearls,

or a pair of pants or a wig with curls,

or Another Chance.

Everyone is just waiting.

**This is an Excerpt from Dr.Seuss's poem called 'Oh! The Places You’ll Go!'

**I just loved it and thought I'll share it with you guys...

The Software Engineer Who Sold His Soul For A Pack of Cigarettes

2010-04-28T13:17:00.000-07:00

Not everyday you see a European Ramp Model look-alike sipping Whiskey in a Desi Bar (TASMAC ) somewhere in the in the Outskirts of Coimbatore. … The first thought that crossed my mind is that another Foreigner who came soul searching to India , Without the knowledge that people here still had no clue that they already have sold their souls For petty things like religions, demographics, the-IPL, Bollywood and the Great-Indian-Politics

----

I fumbled into this bar to celebrate my yearly LACK of Appraisal , that I just had in the office, a few hours ago.

Four years as a software developer , I had seen people who Joined as fresher , raise to the level of Seniors and Leads and I am still at the place that I started off. The Same old Sweaty seat and the same old weary Desktop.

The Place was a bit crowded but ; I didn’t care…

I just wanted to get drunk quickly. so this is the best place. they serve liquor that tastes like Alien Shit, 95% Homemade with Vijay Malliya’s Million dollar Brand Name just to give it an exotic feel.

But as of today I wasn’t bothered about how it tasted and what the Ethanol or Fucking Methanol proportions was.

I should have listened to my friends back in the Engineering college who told me that Coimbatore was a bad choice; When I had other options like Bangalore, Chennai, Hyderabad and Even Cochin If I wanted to stick to Southern terrain of the country. Well I just turned them all down because I just thought I was happy with my achievement, which I later realized to be the biggest blunder of all.

I always have been a happy-go-Lucky-guy. Never wanted to bite more than I could chew ,I remember my grandma Told me this... but Grandma had no clue what Corporate India would turn out to be… and I would end up at the very bottom of the corporate-food-chain – A Shrimp in a Small software company , where I would report to the guy who just passed out of college two years ago, …

And to make things Worse I have a Boss who has No Balls at all , He could be a Desi version of the Pointed Hairy Boss from the Dilbert comic strip, John was the Marketing Manager of an FMCG company Prior to joining iMac Software Solution (P) Ltd as Chief Operating Officer.

He still thinks Writing Java codes for a much complex Inventory Management system is as simple as selling a Detergent Soaps.

The last bit of the respect for him vaporized when that bastard told me “Vivek you are a Hard worker, But you aren’t a smart worker, There are lot of areas that you have to improve like Excel and Macros, See Java alone wouldn’t get you anywhere.. So The Management has decided you to consider your promotion for the next year…. We have other plans for you. The company has decided to provide you with additional responsibilities so that you yourself could explore your true potential and there is a three percent Hike on your profile for this, that’s the best we are giving Considering the current Economic Situations”

“What the Fuck” No I didn’t say that….

All I said was “Thank you John” and I walked out of the Room

Man , This is all So unfair I know I am much Smarter than most of my seniors. I really wished I had a better life!

I realized that I was out of Cigarettes, I had almost quit smoking a few days ago but you just can’t when you work with assholes desperately trying to Poke a dagger up your ass every time you turn around, Stabbing skill scale differing with the demographics.

A few hours ago I came into this place which looked very odd and 4 shots of Whisky-like fluid made all the eeriness disappear. And It looked a lot like home now .

I waved for the waiter;

I politely asked him, If they had Goldflake Kings…and he Politely told me NO!

Super!!!

A few seconds later … The guy seated on the next to me extended a packet of Dunhill Red, and said; "Help yourself."

Well in my true senses I am very Skeptical and the first thing I would have done in such a situation is refused but to my surprise I just pulled out one and said “Thank you” the Guy lit a match and offered it to me… I took a good look at him, He looked like a European model you see in the FTV Mens with elvish charms and evilly tender frame . His Face was fair and without a single mark or scar, that was all I could catch in the Twilight of the BAR.

Haven’t seen you around, tourist Huh?: My curiosity Popped it!

Oh really? But I have seen you a lot of times;, I know you well. He replied with an accent.

What? I was puzzled, and this was not the answer I was expecting, was the guy hitting on me???

You heard me , I have seen you , I know where you live , where you work, I know your family, your girlfriend, Everything about you. "I EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (:p)" He said taking a long drag from his cigarette.

I was in no intention of retreat; Tell me what was I talking to Swati about, last weekend.

He smiled and said “You didn’t meet her last weekend but the one before... you guys went to Pizza hut and You were whining about how much you hated Rahul’s Mr. Know-It-All attitude and the confidence which he cooks up bullshit”

Well Now, things started to change, the guy was telling me real conversations from my life, Quoting me exactly the way I said it!

Either I am being stalked or I am under surveillance. Or this guy is Supernatural: Don’t tell me- a Vampire? Options chased in one after the another…

But there was one thing: I don’t know why I was stupidly Courageous! Or let me rephrase “I WAS DRUNK, enough not to feel fear”

I looked at him he had all the basic criteria that would qualify him as one.

He smiled and said “I know exactly what you are thinking, But I am no vampire, I am the one who they Bow to…”

“The Devil?” Now I could literally feel blood drain away from my Face, I was desperately hoping Cyrus Broacha jump out of nowhere and tell me “This is MTV Bakra, Vivek” or Aston Kutcher came running screaming you’ve been Punked!!!

For the Next 15 Minutes, I sat there and nothing like that happened, and I was sure that this was the last cigarette I am ever going to have,so I took long drags savoring it’s flavor…

“I am not going to kill you , I am just here to help, Normally I give 10 wishes but taking in consideration the current Prices hike In India My Accounts Department and Downsized the list to two in return for your soul . Non-Negotiable! He continued “What‘s in your mind ?”

Think:

what do you expect from a guy who is completely SLOSHED when asked such a question

:I said “I Need to pay the bill and get back Home, and Can I have one more cigarette”

Next thing I hear is “Granted and you can keep the pack, Thank you Nice doing business with you” …. And he walks away into the darkness…

Well , after a month I received an Offer Letter from IBM ; Behind the cover it was written “Complimentary offer: Happy B’day”

Dork," The Adventures of Robin Einstien Varghese" ; A review

2010-04-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading Dork by Sidhin Vadukut, The First thing that Comes to my mind is "Robin, You Bastard . You did it!!!"

The Dork is about a young MBA Graduate who joins up with a multinational Management consulting firm, and how he struggles to survive the corporate world just to end up as a legend in the business consulting world. And how Robin, the protagonist manages to woo his long time love interest 'Gauri'.
It would be unfair to call just another a romantic comedy nor a complete office cult fiction, But it surely tells you some things you really don't want to try it in your office ;)

I liked the way the story was narrated ,as an extract from the Journal of Robin Einstein Varghese in ,which the author found in the appartment that he just moved into, in a compact disk abondoned along with five CDS of pornos.

Sidhin has managed to maintain the what-is-on-the-next-page sensation thought the book without losing it's charm and Humor that makes it a good read!!!

In Simple words: It's way better than Chethan Bhagath!

Senseless Adsense

2010-03-08T01:37:00.000-08:00

(Click on the image to enlarge it)
Google ad-sense may lack sense of compassion; But it sure does provide an instant solution to the problem.
Quite Ironic!

(This screenshot was taken from a very popular news website)

The guest called Death

2010-02-22T23:21:00.000-08:00

For what is it to die but to stand naked
in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to
free the breath from its restless tides...

- Khalil Gibran

Last Sunday [Day before] I happened to see an accident .The first hand experience of this incident sent a chill down my spine, and left me totally disturbed with the fact how helpless we are .

All I could do was watch a man die and and do nothing about it, Things like this are hard to forget, the Man gasping for his last breaths, and the pain in his eyes , and the pool of Gore on the road , and some bloody foot prints left behind by someone...
Death at that time was just 5 foots away from me.
Your worst nightmares could be more pleasing than this.

A few Minutes later the place was filled with Cops and onlookers taking snaps in their mobile phones as if it was some sort of tourist spot.
I went home with a bag of Mixed emotion Grief, Helplessness, Fear, and above all - The realization of 'How mortal we all are!'
and questions like
Would the man have thought that this was this last goodbye, when he left home that morning?
Where was he going?
Wouldn't his family be waiting for him?
Would his daughter see her father again...

I don't know anything about him, except a broken license plate. Yet I felt like I just had lost someone I know.

Death is a guest who comes and always gifts it's host with a loss when he leaves ,a loss that can never be compensated. At that point we all realize how beautiful our lives are and How lucky we are just to stay alive, and to have just another day here with the ones you love...The real Paradise!

---
[This is a tribute to Who ever he was : Let his Soul R.I.P]

The Buzz about 'Buzz'

2010-02-16T21:33:00.000-08:00

As they say, Its better late than Never!

Google had caught up with the status update concept of-late, when Face book and Twitter has already acquired the market share 40% and 48% respectively. It seems that google never considered the idea to be potential enough unless they found the great success of Twitter.
In spite of it's late release I have been hearing some great reviews from the users about buzz.

As far as I am concerned the Idea of One-Id-For-All is a great concept, and there still would be people interested in it, thinking about the convenience of remembering 3-10 passwords for emails and social networking sites all togethe.

There are a few good things that I found with the Buzz....

1. One is that You dont have a 140 Character constrain:
I tweet a lot but didn't actually liked the way twitter refrained me to enter more than 140 characters in a single message...But Buzz in cool, you can can enter how much you want without shortening and screwing my message

2- You can integrate sites like twitter, picassa etc using Buzz, So that whenever I tweet , it is listed in the Buzz too, my every update in the sites linked to it is shown to my followers..

3- My blogspots: The feeds from my blog is pulled into buzz , now this is something similar to the previous point, but I wanted to give this emphasis, because I found this a very helpful tool to market my blog, each time I post something new, It's shown to my followers *Un-tampered* and I have found my hits on the blog Increasing after the buzz-Blogger integration.

4- It's easy: Another best thing about Buzz is that It's simple: Some of my friends still don't tweet because they cannot understand 'How To use Twitter' [Next time you I will get you a link for twitter for Dummies , I promise :P] but Buzz is simply 'Simple' that My grandma can go Buzzing !!!

5- Following friends: You can follow anyone in your contacts who has a buzz, that's cool!!! See the benefit of One-id-For-All !!

One thing I would like to see is in Buzz is; A two way data transfer to twitter [A Twitter API]- so that I can sit back in the office, and tweet through the Buzz;
This way I dont get my ass whipped by My Manager or Network guy :p!

[P.S: If my Manager is reading this post :Please excuse my french, I didnt mean you, I just meant -generally!!!]

In Thy name they Kill

2010-02-05T01:45:00.000-08:00

He stared at the Rubbles,

His home

Just a pile of cement blocks remained.

He looked for his mother,
Dead hopes and
false promises of hevean was all he found.
Innocent blood spilt,

for the wrong cause,
They praised the martys
but whose was the Loss?

He looked up in the sky and asked
“In thy name they kill,Why don't thee stop them?"

All he could find was airplanes and Black clouds of smoke

And all he could hear was screams for an answer.

In thy name they kill...

Did thee even know???

iPad is i-Sad

2010-01-29T09:39:00.000-08:00

I-pad was one of the most awaited gadget of the year, it was expected to revolutionize the Netbooks and Tablet-Pcs. Ipad was well marketted, Not even the name 'ipad' was a secret before the launch . Apple did their best as usual marketting it the evangelist way.Everybody was talking , tweeting and Blogging about the most awaited surpise that they had in the Apple Store..."It was all over the internet"
On 27 January 2008, Apple Corporation had the official launch of Ipad, which almost disapointed almost everybody even the frantic apple worshipers. It turned out that the Much awaited surprise turned out to nothing but to a bigger ipod touch. It does everything that the new generation Ipod touch and lacks:

1.   A camera: I really didn't know if they forgot to include it when they designed it . Yea Even I don't see a point in holding it high and taking photos, but what about video chatting?

2. Multi-tasking : Now a days when even phones come with multitasking facility, how can you pay 700 for a tablet without multitasking . We have been shouting this from our roof tops quite a while now , I was hoping that At least Iphones3GS would come with Multi tasking and Flash support, But No!!! same goes for Ipad! Is it really becuase, the processors cant take the load ??? :P

3.   It's not a Mac : Seriously when I heard about the plans , I honestly thought that it's going to ba a Mac integrated into one single piece.

4.   Apple boast that you can browse internet using it, Sincerely what is the point when you dont have flash support and almost half the internet is FLASH??? As I said, Iphones, Ipod touch , Now Ipad, I dont know what does Apple have against Flash and Multi tasking?

5.   Adding more data, Is impossible, It doesnt have an MMC slot or you cannot connect an external Hard drive.

6.   A phone function could have been good

7. HDMI Ports are Missing; If you want to watch your HD videos There is no way...

Ipad looks cute, hell Yea... That's what apple products are famous for 'Aesthetics'.
It supports Iphone apps, Plays games [i would rather get a PS3 or a PSP- for portability sake]... Yea right... what else???

Ask me honestly:It a result of bad design [am not talking about the looks] hopefully they come out with the Next generation with all these fixed.
.It's not a phone, Its no a Mac, It's not a pod then what is it??? It's nothing but an over sized media player....I-sad!!!!!

P.S: Guys Watch out for ADAM; It really is a Ipad Killer!!!

My Random act of Kindness

2010-01-26T23:25:00.000-08:00

It was a cold November night, and I was heading home after work, almost 11,30 I checked my watch, I heard a growl from my stomach that reminded me "I have to eat" .

I could see a small hotel nearby ... walking towards it , I checked my purse (I do that very often: I don’t know what do you call the fear of realizing I have an empty pocket and cant pay for what I just ate: Empty purse phobia)

53 Rupees!

Suddenly I bumped into somebody and I looked up at his face , he must be in his 30s There is a lady and a kid with him.

He said: Bhai sahab aap hindi jantey ho?...[Do you speak Hindi]

Thoda.[A little]..I replied

He looked relived , We are from UP our luggage was stolen along with all the money in the train and we had to get down here, we didn’t have anything since morning, please help us...

I was literally moved when I saw the look on his wife and son's face!

I started thinking- It could have been me, these things could happen to anybody...
I gave the Man all the money I had in my pocket and I walked towards my apartment,

I passed the ATM counter and it was staring at me, but there was no point of course, It was the month end and I didn’t have any money in the bank, I was hungry but I was Happy... I felt that I had done something good for somebody, and that night I sleep with peace, feeling proud about my 'Act of kindness'.... [Mummy I am not that mean you see...]

Weeks passed, and my life got on the same old track.

One day I was taking a stroll on MG Road with a friend of mine, It was a fine Saturday, So we had made plans for a movie.

He went to get the ticket I waited outside the theater lighting a cigarette.

Bhai sahab aap hindi jantey ho?... I heard a voice behind me , I turned around and I saw the same guy , the only difference was this time he had another lady posing as his wife and another kid...

Holy cow, I walked to the man and asked him did he you recognize me... he said No Sir, I am from Bihar, Just arrived here this morning looking for a job, we haven’t eaten anything since last two day... Help...

I said I don’t know if you remember or not, I had given you some money a few weeks ago and then It was a different story with different Wife and kid... and I'm going to call the police.

The guy started Pleading!!!

Right then my friend arrived with ticket, he said, Dude, I know this man... I gave him 100 Bucks for a ticket last month...

Brain said 'Go on hand the guy over to the police.. Let him get what he deserves'

My instincts said 'Dude, If you hand him to the police he'd get away bribing the guy, So you are just contributing to the corrupt system [Welcome to India!!!], else you can atleast be happy you fed an empty stomach [Even thought he did not deserve it]'

I left the guy, but I did feel remorse- not for my 50 bucks, but for my random act of kindness going in vain!!

Addicted

2010-01-22T01:32:00.000-08:00

Lone was I before you came,
Life was dark like the starless sky,
The black clouds,
which refuse to shower,
Through the broken glass pane
Sneaked in the cruel cold wind,
Cold as January can ever get.

Then like the spring you came,
You brought blossom into it.
I saw the flowers bloom and the bird sing
You embraced me with warmth,
Of a promise to stay.
Life wasn’t the same anymore...

It always has to come,
The truth never hides forever.
Hallucination of a dream never last more than a night…
With the anguish with eloquence
I admit it.

It is real hard when the dreams fade.
When the promises made
are as fake as the mirage,
and in this truth, alone I wade.

Still don’t know what am i addicted to,
Those lonely Nights that kept me high
Or the smoke that kept me sane...
But all I know is,
I’m addicted!
It’s real hard to quit.
It’s real late to try.

----
This one is very old dated back to my college days, I have edited this several times since then,still I feel something is missing.
Please let me know what you feel about this.

Where is the Justice II

2010-01-13T02:11:00.000-08:00

Another verdict by a court has allowed a rapist back on the streets stating: The victim’s sexual organs were not fully formed...

See: Victim’s ‘deformity’ sets rape accused free

Now would someone help me understand what does this have to do with the real verdict: If the lady was rapped or not, No one is asking the high court judge if her private parts are intact or not...

Last few years I have been really annoyed by the corrupt system we have, let it be Judiciary or legislative. Ruchika Molestation case was another example of how corrupt our systems are.

It's really high time that we tie up loose ends.

After reading one of my post about the Ruchika case , one of my twitter friend (Tinu Antony) Tweeted: "If it was Saudi, Rathore would have been beheaded the very next Friday" ...

From one angle: yes, I would like to see justice served, and 19 years is almost a quarter of an average human life span. Do we really have all this time for a court verdict?

We have to learn from Legal (and other) systems applied around the world, I am not saying Sharia laws , (Similar to the ones that we have in Saudi Arabia) has to be enforced in India, Because I personally think It's way too Primitive, and radical

[Plus I don't like my ass to be whipped just for having a couple of beers and I don’t think somebody should be hanged just because his sexual orientation was different than others] but we can learn a lot from them and other parts of the world that would help them come out with more SENSIBLE Verdicts.

I am not saying to re-invent the wheel… All I am saying is Just Add more spokes to the wheel !!!

The Life of a Software Engineer

2010-01-07T08:43:00.001-08:00

I wonder if ever a software engineer’s life was portrayed with more simplicity and perfection.

* The result is based on an online survey done on a popular website, 98% of them said "Their Ass was on fire”, and the rest 2% was too numb to realize" [This was the result for the survey done for Indian SW Engineers]
**Depends on factors like Age, Work Location and Seniority

What's Up Tiger?

2010-01-01T02:15:00.000-08:00

So the tiger woods is in the hot-seat, but one honest question?

Why do everyone make it look like Tiger woods is the only person on earth who has committed adultery...

Is it just because people like to watch the one of the most-paid sportsman step his down his ladder of pride and reputation.

Or is it because Woods actually lived their fantasies of banging eleven ladies (and counting) ?

What are they really pissed off by???

I am not advocating transgression or Woods... but just wondering how many of you out there has been really loyal to the ones you have loved, how many of you have never committed adultery even once, even in their thoughts?

All I want to say is that :

Let him who is without sin among you be the first to cast a stone

My mother always used to tell me this when I was a child "When you point one finger at anyone, you should always remember that there are three fingers pointed at you already"

So whats up Tiger; You still want to throw stones at Woods!

Where is the Justice???

2009-12-30T02:37:00.000-08:00

I was really disturbed when i heard the verdict of the special court on the Ruchika Molestation case. It took them 19 years, 40 adjournments, and more than 400 hearings to decide if the Director General of Police, Haryana, India - Shambhu Pratap Singh Rathore was guilty as charged. and the uneasiness grew when I heard that the guy was scentenced toJust Six months imprisonment and thousand rupees fine...( $20 )...WTF.

For people who don't know, who Ruchika is ,
She was a 14 year old budding tennis player, who was molested by Rathore in 1990. Rathore was also the founding president of Hariyana Tennis Lawns Association , where she used to practice tennis. She had lodged a complaint against rathore on this incident , Rathore Literally harassed the whole family, and made their life a living hell. Ruchika's brother , a seven year old was charged of Several Petty cases, and he was tortured and beaten up and was told to force his sister to withdraw the complaint. Her Father too was charged of cases like stealing , Due to which he was suspended from his employment at the Bank. and then you know How it works in India, ...
Ruchika committed suicide after 3 years when she couldn't take it anymore. It took her father 3 years even to get the autopsy report which was forged by the Rathore's henchmen , The cause of death was made to look like the intake of Slimming pills to cover up that it was a suicide. Her Brother was Illegally detained and beaten up by drunk policemen prior to the day of Ruchika's death, and He was unconscious even during the last rites of his only sister...

Ruchika's father had been fighting the case ever , and After this long 19 years of wait, and 400 hearings, the best that Indian justice system can give a Criminals like Rathore is a sentence of six months in jail and One thousand rupees fine...WTF???

Then somebody who read the draft told me :

Welcome to India ,Where Justice is Just a blindfolded lady with a stupid scale , which never weighs equally.

Any sick fuck can get away with almost anythings here If he is or related to any of these category :

A: Filthy rich
B: A Politician
C: High Ranking bureaucrat

Seriously Dude.. Where is the Justice???

Five Things to do before 2010

2009-12-29T08:05:00.000-08:00

1- Change your passwords:

Last day I came across a hacker's post in which he revealed that most of the websites still stored the passwords in TEXT files, without proper encryption methods.

He had just used the simple SQL injection method to fetch them, When I read this post, Insecure, I felt, Because I have always ignored Passwords even after knowing all the potential risks that might cause. So , This time I put it up in the list to create strong passwords for all my accounts , We have a lot of trusted password manager like keepass etc available over the internet either for free or cheap to help us create strong passwords and remember them (Be careful with the app you chose to use).

2- Write something in your Blog

I know almost everyone who read this do have a Blog accounts registered, but would have left it aside due to several reason varying from lack of time to the "Writer's block" (As some like to call it), I used to face the same problem, I had registered this Blog last year, but did not scribble a thing in it, I didn’t really know what to write about .

till this December when I realized,

"If you want to start writing, you JUST have to start writing"

So Pick up a random topic and Just write... If you are just scared that it won’t come out good... For god sake you aren’t writing for The Tribunal or The Herald, It's just your personal Blog...You’d improve …Unleash the writer in you!

3- Clean your mail boxes from unwanted mails & spams

We'll I do admit I still have the Viagra for 1 cent Mails, and British Lottery Mails in my mail ,It's not that I don’t want to get rid of them , I just have been lazy to sit my ass down and delete the whole bunch of spams that consumes, Three-Fourth of my Mailboxes' size.

The same thing goes with the forward mail chains that we receive, we have lots of forward mails about love and friendship, feels like there is no room for hatredness and racism... (Sometimes I wonder- Why's all these are just limited to Mail-chains , Books and movies???) So the point is :we would have a bunch of silly jokes, romantic quotes, Friendship mails and Porn Clips, Clean up all those mails that you possibly can stay alive without. PLUS Re-check your spam settings too!

4- Free up space in your laptop:

I do admit I’m not that organized, but sometimes I realize that and I start arranging my stuffs on the desk, and all. As far as I remember my laptop is a Mess… I have scores of Word File in my desktop, I have e-books that I have finished reading , I have movies that I have watched many times , and I have Songs that I would blow my brains if I listen to them one more time.

So what I am going to do is I 'm doing to sort My files and then burn all those stuffs that I am done with into a DVD . And Free some Gigs,

5- Unread Bookmarks

I am a Bookmark Junkie, I end up bookmarking almost everything I come across in the internet, I’m cool with that, cause that’s alright, most of us do that!!!, But the actual problem is , I never revisit my bookmarks. So when I open my Bookmarks tab in my browser, I have to scroll down a meter to find the site I'm actually searching for .So this goes up my list too, I’m going to make sure, I read all of it (Almost) and then delete the ones I dont really need …I am going to download the delicious bookmarking add on for mozzila , It's pretty cool you have to try it out too...(If you haven't yet)

I have a very cool year coming ahead. Wish you guys the same So Happy new year Guys!!!

~Ayreej

Prayer and the Universal Law of Attraction (LOA):

2009-12-23T06:36:00.000-08:00

When was the last time that you realized that the incident that has taken place is exactly what you prayed for?

The theory of Laws of attraction: "That which is likened unto itself is drawn" or more simply put, "Like attracts like". Or let me put it this way : when we desire something and focus all our possible positive energy towards it, Visualize that happening and we attract what we have desired . This could be either good things or sometimes of incidents we have feared of.

Now if you just take your time to think “Doesn’t prayer do the same thing?”

When we pray that we need something to happen what we do is we register the request in our subconscious mind, and as we have already programmed our subconscious minds right from our childhood with our beliefs (Which is : Pray and It shall be answered). Our subconscious mind plays the rest ,it anticipates the result and we call it hope and it attracts what we longed for.

The same goes for fear… That is why when we fear something very bad; we encounter those things in our lives… (Of course this doesn’t include Vampires and Ghosts :-))

Almost everything that we experience can be analyzed and then It’s up to person whether he want to conclude his findings on the basis of the analysis or on what he has always believed in.

B_O_M_B_A_Y

2009-12-22T02:09:00.000-08:00

(The Author is unknown!!!)

Bombay has no bombs and is a harbor not a bay.
Church-gate has neither a church nor a gate. It is a railway station.
There is no darkness in Andheri.
Lal-baag is neither red nor a garden.
No king ever stayed at Kings Circle .
Nor did Queen Victoria stay at Victoria Terminus.
Nor is there any princess at Princess Street .
Lower Parel is at the same level as Parel
There are no marines or sailors at Marine Lines.
The Mahalaxmi temple is at Haji Ali not at Mahalaxmi.
There are no pigs traded at Dukar bazaar.
Teen bati is a junction of 3 roads, not three lamps.
Trams used to terminate at Kings circle not Dadar* Tram Terminus (Dadar T.T..).
Breach Candy is not a sweetmeat market, but there is a Hospital.
Safed Pool has the dirtiest and blackest water.
You cannot buy coal at Kolsa street .
There are no Iron smiths at Lohar chawl.
There are no pot makers at Kumbhar wada.
Lokhandwala complex is not an Iron and steel market.
Null bazaar does not sell taps.
You will not find ladyfingers at Bheendi Bazaar.
Kalachowki does not have a black Police station...
Hanging Gardens are not suspended.
Mirchi Gully does not sell chillies.
Figs do not grow in Anjir Wadi.
Sitafals do not grow in Sitafal Wadi,
Jackfruits do not grow at Fanaswadi.
But it is true that you may get fleeced at Chor Bazaar!
AMCHI MUMBAI

A City where everything is possible, especially the impossible:

To the Spirit of Mumbai: Salam Mumbai!!!!

Defining success

2009-12-15T22:18:00.000-08:00

Given below is a speech from my archives………………..a speech delivered by Subroto Bagchi @ IIM Bangalore in 06. His story is a typical one of many Desi guys here who have strived hard to put the word “IT” on the Map of India.

It is a long speech but worth reading…………………….

Address to the Class of 2006 at the IIM, Bangalore on Defining Success by Subroto Bagchi

(a man who was vice- president for Lucent Technologies and Wipro with just a Political science degree from Utkal
University ) & then Chief Operating Officer, Mind Tree consulting

I was the last child of a small-time government servant, in a family of five brothers. My earliest memory of my father is as that of a District
Employment Officer in Koraput, Orissa. It was, and remains as back of beyond as you can imagine. There was no electricity; no primary school nearby
and water did not flow out of a tap. As a result, I did not go to school until the age of eight; I was home-schooled. My father used to get
transferred every year. The family belongings fit into the back of a jeep - so the family moved from place to place and without any trouble, my Mother
would set up an establishment and get us going. Raised by a widow who had come as a refugee from the then East Bengal, she was a matriculate when she married my Father.

My parents set the foundation of my life and the value system, which makes me what I am today and largely, defines what success means to me today. As
District Employment Officer, my father was given a jeep by the government. There was no garage in the Office, so the jeep was parked in our house.
My father refused to use it to commute to the office. He told us that the jeep is an expensive resource given by the government - he reiterated to us
that it was not ''his jeep'' but the government's jeep. Insisting that he would use it only to tour the interiors, he would walk to his office on
normal days. He also made sure that we never sat in the government jeep - we could sit in it only when it was stationary.

That was our early childhood lesson in governance - a lesson that corporate managers learn the hard way, some never does.

The driver of the jeep was treated with respect due to any other member of my Father's office. As small children, we were taught not to call him
by his name. We had to use the suffix 'dada' whenever we were to refer to him in public or private. When I grew up to own a car and a driver by the name
of Raju was appointed - I repeated the lesson to my two small daughters. They have, as a result, grown up to call Raju, 'Raju Uncle' - very different
from many of their friends who refer to their family driver, as 'my driver'. When I hear that term from a school- or college-going person, I cringe.

To me, the lesson was significant - you treat small people with more respect than how you treat big people. It is more important to respect your
subordinates than your superiors.

Our day used to start with the family huddling around my Mother's chulha - an earthen fire place she would build at each place of posting where
she would cook for the family. There was neither gas, nor electrical stoves. The morning routine started with tea. As the brew was served, Father would
ask us to read aloud the editorial page of The Statesman's 'muffosil' edition -
delivered one day late. We did not understand much of what we were reading. But the ritual was meant for us to know that the world was larger than Koraput district and the
English I speak today, despite having studied in an Oriya medium school, has to do with that routine. After reading the newspaper aloud, we were
told to fold it neatly.

Father taught us a simple lesson. He used to say, "You should leave your newspaper and your toilet, the way you expect to find it". That lesson
was about showing consideration to others. Business begins and ends with that simple precept.

Being small children, we were always enamored with advertisements in the newspaper for transistor radios - we did not have one. We saw other
people having radios in their homes and each time there was an advertisement of Philips, Murphy or Bush radios, we would ask Father when we could get
one. Each time, my Father would reply that we did not need one because he already
had five radios - alluding to his five sons. We also did not have a house of our own and would occasionally ask Father as to when, like others, we would live in our own house. He would give a similar reply," We do not need a house of our own. I already own five houses". His replies did not gladden our hearts in that instant.

Nonetheless, we learnt that it is important not to measure personal success and sense of well being through material possessions. Government
houses seldom came with fences. Mother and I collected twigs and built a small fence. After lunch, my Mother would never sleep. She would take her
kitchen utensils and with those she and I would dig the rocky, white ant infested surrounding. We planted flowering bushes. The white ants destroyed
them. My mother brought ash from her chulha and mixed it in the earth and we planted the seedlings all over again. This time, they bloomed. At that time,
my father's transfer order came. A few neighbors told my mother why she was
taking so much pain to beautify a government house, why she was planting seeds that would only benefit the next occupant. My mother replied that
it did not matter to her that she would not see the flowers in full bloom. She said, "I have to create a bloom in a desert and whenever I am given a
new place, I must leave it more beautiful than what I had inherited”. That was my first lesson in success. It is not about what you create
for yourself, it is what you leave behind that defines success. My mother began developing a cataract in her eyes when I was very small. At that time, the eldest among my brothers got a teaching job at the University in
Bhubaneswar and had to prepare for the civil services examination. So, it was decided that my Mother would move to cook for him and, as her appendage, I had to move too. For the first time in my life I saw electricity in homes and water coming out of a tap. It was around 1965 and the country was going to war with Pakistan. My mother was having problems reading and in any case,
being Bengali, she did not know the Oriya script. So, in addition to my daily chores, my job was to read her the local newspaper - end to end. That
created in me a sense of connectedness with a larger world. I began taking interest in many different things. While reading out news about the
war, I felt that I was fighting the war myself. She and I discussed the daily news and built a bond with the larger universe. In it, we became part of a
larger reality. Till date, I measure my success in terms of that sense of larger connectedness. Meanwhile, the war raged and India was fighting on both
fronts. Lal Bahadur Shastri, the then Prime Minster, coined the term "Jai Jawan, Jai Kishan" and galvanized the nation in to patriotic fervor.
Other than reading out the newspaper to my mother, I had no clue about how I could be part of the action. So, after reading her the newspaper, every day I
would land up near the University's water tank, which served the community. I would spend hours under it, imagining that there could be spies who
would come to poison the water and I had to watch for them. I would daydream about catching one and how the next day, I would be featured in the
newspaper. Unfortunately for me, the spies at war ignored the sleepy town of Bhubaneswar and I never got a chance to catch one in action. Yet, that act
unlocked my imagination.

Imagination is everything. If we can imagine a future, we can create it, if we can create that future, others will live in it. That is the essence
of success. Over the next few years, my mother's eyesight dimmed but in me she created a larger vision, a vision with which I continue to see the
world and, I sense, through my eyes, she was seeing too. As the next few years unfolded, her vision deteriorated and she was operated for cataract. I
remember, when she returned after her operation and she saw my face clearly for the first time, she was astonished. She said, "Oh my God, I did not
know you were so fair". I remain mighty pleased with that adulation even till date. Within weeks of getting her sight back, she developed a corneal
ulcer and, overnight, became blind in both eyes. That was 1969. She died in 2002. In all those 32 years of living with blindness, she never complained
about her fate even once. Curious to know what she saw with blind eyes, I asked her once if she sees darkness. She replied, "No, I do not see darkness.
I only see light even with my eyes closed". Until she was eighty years of age, she did her morning yoga everyday, swept her own room and washed her own
clothes.

To me, success is about the sense of independence; it is about not seeing the world but seeing the light. Over the many intervening years, I grew
up, studied, joined the industry and began to carve my life's own journey. I began my life as a clerk in a government office, went on to become a Management Trainee with the DCM group and eventually found my life's
calling with the IT industry when fourth generation computers came to India in 1981. Life took me places - I worked with outstanding people, challenging
assignments and traveled all over the world. In 1992, while I was posted in the US, I learnt that my father, living a retired life with my eldest brother, had suffered a third degree burn injury and was admitted in
the Safderjung Hospital in Delhi. I flew back to attend to him - he remained for a few days in critical stage, bandaged from neck to toe. The
Safderjung Hospital is a cockroach infested, dirty, inhuman place. The overworked, under-resourced sisters in the burn ward are both victims and perpetrators
of dehumanized life at its worst. One morning, while attending to my Father, I realized that the blood bottle was empty and fearing that air would
go into his vein, I asked the attending nurse to change it. She bluntly told me to do it myself. In that horrible theater of death, I was in pain and
frustration and anger. Finally when she relented and came, my Father opened his eyes and murmured to her, "Why have you not gone home yet?" Here
was a man on his deathbed but more concerned about the overworked nurse than his
own state. I was stunned at his stoic self.

There I learnt that there is no limit to how concerned you can be for another human being and what the limit of inclusion is you can create.

My father died the next day. He was a man whose success was defined by his principles, his frugality, his universalism and his sense of
inclusion.

Above all, he taught me that success is your ability to rise above your discomfort, whatever may be your current state. You can, if you want,
raise your consciousness above your immediate surroundings. Success is not about building material comforts - the transistor that he never could buy or
the house that he never owned. His success was about the legacy he left, the memetic continuity of his ideals that grew beyond the smallness of a
ill-paid, unrecognized government servant's world.

My father was a fervent believer in the British Raj. He sincerely doubted the capability of the post-independence Indian political parties to
govern the country. To him, the lowering of the Union Jack was a sad event. My Mother was the exact opposite. When Subhash Bose quit the Indian
National Congress and came to Dacca, my mother, then a schoolgirl, garlanded him. She learnt to spin khadi and joined an underground movement that trained
her in using daggers and swords. Consequently, our household saw diversity in the political outlook of the two. On major issues concerning the world, the
Old Man and the Old Lady had differing opinions.

In them, we learnt the power of disagreements, of dialogue and the essence of living with diversity in thinking. Success is not about the ability to
create a definitive dogmatic end state; it is about the unfolding of thought processes, of dialogue and continuum. Two years back, at the age of
eighty-two, Mother had a paralytic stroke and was lying in a government hospital in Bhubaneswar. I flew down from the US where I was serving
my second stint, to see her. I spent two weeks with her in the hospital as she remained in a paralytic state. She was neither getting better nor
moving on. Eventually I had to return to work. While leaving her behind, I kissed
her face. In that paralytic state and a garbled voice, she said, "Why are you kissing me, go kiss the world." Her river was nearing its
journey, at the confluence of life and death, this woman who came to India as a refugee, raised by a widowed Mother, no more educated than high school, married to an anonymous government servant whose last salary was
Rupees Three Hundred, robbed of her eyesight by fate and crowned by adversity was telling me to go and kiss the world!

Success to me is about Vision. It is the ability to rise above the immediacy of pain. It is about imagination. It is about sensitivity to small
people. It is about building inclusion. It is about connectedness to a larger world existence. It is about personal tenacity. It is about giving back more to life than you take out of it. It is about creating extra-ordinary
success with ordinary lives.

Thank you very much; I wish you good luck and God's speed. Go! , kiss the world.

Subrato Bagchi

Addiction I

2009-12-08T21:36:00.001-08:00

Something’s in life gets very much attached :

and we call them addiction!

it might be words,

might be people,

habits or things;

they become so close that

they never leave us until

the end of the journey,

they stay with us

like a good friend

which has a lot of vices

but still it’s hard to avoid ‘em.

i dedicate this, for one of my such addiction

to someone …………..

To someone out there.

To someone who always smiles after reading this……..

To someone who loves the above as much as i do……

To someone who told me ‘ for the world you may be someone, but for someone you are the world ‘

To someone….who means everything to me.

Y O U

2009-12-08T21:35:00.001-08:00

You are like a mystery to me,
But I’ve known you for ages.
You are like a mirage to me,
But I’ve seen you for ages.
Your voice seems like an echo to me,
But I’ve heard them for ages.
Your love,
Your care,
Your presence,
Is all that I posses.
Your voice have been my breath for ages.
I don’t know who I am, or what I am,
But all I know is that,
You have been my identity for ages.

Lost

2009-12-08T21:34:00.001-08:00

lost is the time that we had together
the smile of ur cheeks
shine of ur eyes,
all are left just as memories.
good or ill,
joy or painful,
are just left as memories.
once where we met,
where a thousand of flowers,
once bloomed,
is now a desert,
where it hardly rains.
when i smell the virgin mud,
i know how much,
i once loved u.
when i see the bristle ,
on my window,
on a rainy day,
i still remember those,
good old days that i spend ,
with u.
and when the sun drowns,
itself in the golden ocean,
and when the night falls on,
i feel how much,
i miss u in my life.
how much pain is within me.
and how bad it hurts inside.
and more when i feel,
that how near u are.
but still when ,
i spread my arms for u,
you are not there…..
its all left as memories,
and wounds in the heart,
which refuse to heal,
even after the time passes
on and on and on……….

A Monsoon Rain..

2009-12-08T21:33:00.002-08:00

it’s the monsoon..
cloudy sky,
cold wind,
damp mud,
drops falling from heaven.
I love to see the rain,
and recall those days,
when i see the little boy,
who throws his umbrella,
and runs out into the shower,
when his mother shouts,
I love to see him smile.
I love to recall those days,
when i see the little girl,
who let her paper boat ,
into the flooding streets of Cochin.
I love to see her smile,
when her boat sails along.
when others run for a roof,
they spread their arms,
to fetch those heavenly drops.
I love to see the happiness,
a monsoon drops in…
i love to see it rain…

Jodha

2009-12-08T21:33:00.000-08:00

Staring at the starlit sky,
I Hold your hand,
as we lay in the sand,
Sing me a song Jodha.. i said
make me melt in that eternal bliss.
you run your fingers over my ears
as if they were words,
I would write them down,
Make it immortal with your lips
and the moonlight lit up your face,
and those diamonds shines
as they roll down your cheeks,
The tide washing our feet,
and the soft breeze caressing your hair..
I hold you hand close to my chest,
…