Warrior

He evolved from a lethal avalanche in the Lahaul valley in that golden March high up in the Himalayas. Snow blossomed under the glorious sunshine as she hopped, slipped and spun over raged grasses and owned everything that came in between. Robust arms widespread, his long hair breathing  glacial breeze, eyes closed, he stood still as volumes of snow kissed and bowed round him like royal old servants of faith. The brightest star flared in the background, behind the snow clad peak and blowed out the cuts of his neck, trap and forearm, whereas the snow looked like dust falling from a different world. His thick and long eyelashes, powdered with grains of snow, complimented the thinnest of skin that covered his eyes.

Harry Potter and the end of an Era

It was 2004. Shuffling the channels, I luckily decided to stop on POGO. There was this interesting movie being aired. A boy of my then age was being treated horribly by his relatives and by the time the snake sequence came, I was completely in awe of it. I remember I was forcing my sister to watch it too, but she was happily busy talking with Mom. Now she happens to be a die-hard Potter maniac. It was all so fascinating to watch, be it the strange market in Chu Mantar Gali (POGO aired it in Hindi, and till now I haven't seen any part in English completely) or the strange looking Goblins running the so-called safest bank named Gringotts, be it the legendary Quidditch game or the classes of potions. There were spells, broomsticks, trolls, flying cars, forbidden forests, ... anything and everything that could have my full attention or anyone my age. I saw the next three parts on DVD one after the other, then again back to the first one ! then  POGO  again ! Sixth and 7.1 were cherished in theater.! Phenomenal stuff ! I am not very fond of reading, but the other reason for not going through the books was that I didn't want to spoil the secrets and the stories that were waiting to be revealed through the films. Now I might read them all.

I simply loved all the instances and sequences, while some touched me more than the others. While explaining the Mirror of Erised (Shahibagh Aayena) to Harry, Dumbledore quoted, "Sabse khushkismat insaan wo hoga jo apne aap ko iss aayne main waisa hi dekh payega, jaisa wo khud hai" (The luckiest person shall be the one, who is able to see himself in the mirror as he is). The first Quidditch game and the glorious Golden Snitch. The fight in the Chamber of Secrets with Kaaldristi (Basilisk). Or yet another wisdom from Dumbledore at the Great Hall , "Aap jante hain khushiyaan aapko mil sakti hain bure se bure samay main bhi, agar tham ke rakhein roshni ka daman" (We all know you can have happiness in the darkest of times, if you have hope in heart).Voldemort vs Dumbledore face to face in Order of Phoenix. Harry Potter addressing Voldemort while the latter enters his body, "You are the weak one. And you will never know love, or friendship. And I feel sorry for you." Umbridge learns an important lesson, "One mustn't tell lies". The time travel in Prisoner of Azkaban, the breathtaking Triwizard Tournament, the fireworks by Weasley twins during the exams, the mighty Hagred regretting why he told Harry and his friends the mysteries and other important information every single time... Oh God ! I am in deep love with the trilogy ! People criticized The Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince, calling them boring. I had been involved with the series in such great respect and love that I have looked beyond numbers, reviews and opinions. I never disliked any part, neither would I rank them. I only knew one thing, they were all beautiful and I was thrilled every time.

Harry Potter was calm, courageous, popular, winner, discovering new dangers and adventures in and around something like Hogwarts with the best of friends. I always wanted to be him. I remember clearly I would inquire  people what would they ask if God were to fulfill their one wish, and I would hardly listen what they answered before I yell out mine, "I wish the world of Magic becomes a reality and I should be a significant part of it, just like Harry Potter !" It was sheer madness about the trilogy that motivated me to do things like the one you see to your left, and I feel extremely sorry for this now !

For me it all ended today at 1:00 am today morning. A wait of years, a relentless dedication, a wonderful attachment, all came to an end in the most beautiful manner. Its not that the attachment would vanish, its just that there is nothing to wait for, which is very sad. Harry Potter gave me reasons to smile and as Neville Longbottom said, Harry Potter will always be alive in our hearts. I don't think I will ever find something as fascinating, but who knows my kids might stop on POGO for Albus Severus Potter and his friends !

In fond memory of an epic- Harry Potter ...

1. The beautiful Hedwig's theme song -

2. A lookback through those seven glorious years and love of a lifetime (I didn't make it, just found it !) -

Love.

Only birds will sing tomorrow morning …

I have never seen clouds hovering below me. As I stand atop this mighty mountain hidden by this eventful night, I am thankful that rain will never upset the gravity. There is an army of angry clouds spread out miles, down in front of me. The thunderbolt and the storm are now a sight to behold, as I stand taller than them. Yet it’s terrifying and frightening, whenever the clouds rumble and detonates its cannonade, this creating an outburst followed by an uproar that deafens me, and it’s almost every third second.

I don’t ignore the darkness; neither do I eliminate any possibility that there are no clouds higher than me. It’s still a subject of great fascination to me that how could I reach a place so high.. So safe. Surely God has been kind. I pray that people who believe in love and trust are lifted too. Yet I am all alone here. Tomorrow morning, there shall be no thunderclaps, only birds will sing. I am well aware that these mountains have mysterious trails inscribed on them that will only be visible once there is a clear sky. Trails, whose origin is uncertain, just like the end. The comfort of having a bird’s eye view of the thunder is not eternal. To take a road, I will have to get down. There is a signboard that reads,

“THERE ARE HIGHER MOUNTAINS!“

I don’t… I can’t believe it. It’s difficult even trying not to be modest of the fact, that I could have been lifted higher. I find the thought full of kindness, kindness that I am not even close to deserve.

The roar of the lightning reverberates through the iniquities of the endless darkness, reminding me of that horrible night… When I was below the storm… When there was anguish… When there were tears… When there was a rebellion…

Amidst the black clouds, I felt disgusted. I didn’t want to get wet. I was all surrounded. There was no way I could escape. A wise man came to me and said, “either you run with the wind or against it, you can never be at peace. Look beyond the black clouds”. He disappeared. I wished I could ask him how he did that. Thundering started violently, the mighty wind blew and lightning flashed every second. I was crying. I was not prepared. I didn’t want to get wet. It became darker and darker.

I decided to run, still crying. Clouds leaked. I thought I would run past them. Drops, from the dark devils, attacked. I ran faster. Sprinted. Faster and faster. My limbs were in unendurable pain. Every bit of me struggled. Tears never stopped. I wept, shouting loudly, still running. Muscles backed out. Eyes could not afford more tears either. I fell. The loudest roar came then. I crawled. Shouting loud. Crawled a foot more. Then could nt. Rain continued to fall over me’

There is a delight in misery, the same delight which vapours feel after being heated upon. There is pain and helplessness only before they set themselves apart, break the barriers and fly off. Fortunate are those, who are in pain, those who can cry, for only they can realise how it feels to smile.

I wish to see white clouds floating swiftly in peace, like flakes of snow, only whiter. I cannot wait and reside atop this mountain, even if I wish. I’ll have to get down, choose the right path and climb the hill that will provide me with the view. Those moments are unforgettable when you cried or rejoiced, still I am not very thoughtful how I almost died with music left in me, neither I am worried how will I find the right road among hundreds. For now, I only adore  this majestic night, the brief silence after a flash of lightning, waiting to be perturbed before every bit of air is thunderstruck. It’s quite astonishing that I am trying to trace a pattern in the flashes of lightning that could have killed me once. I might spend the whole night doing that.

Love.

Hero Of Vacuum

The flame was oriented with no signs of deviation. Bright, right and upright. He was calm as he wasn't exposed to wind. He appeared strong because he was calm. Firm in motive, concentrated in dimensions & effective in purpose. Wax of the candle got emotional & started melting. She was very impressed & influenced by the flame. To her, he was a source of daily inspiration and a symbol to idealise. She was a bit inferior of its perfect composition & consistency because the flame appeared strong. Bright, right and upright. Until a day came, when windows were kept open. The wind played its flute & the flame was forced to dance. Wax was over-excited, by just imagining the idea of her hero dancing to the wind. Unfortunately, the flame ruined the show and the wind felt wasted for playing a delightful tune, in vain. Flame was all over the place. Wax felt cheated and was extremely disappointed. 

"My hero.. his wisdom and firmness was impersonating the silence of lack of power ... and for him, i melted & melted & melted ..."

Her NOTEBOOK had no lines !

I was on my way back to home. Life was miserable. I thought why not let the world go to hell (partners- Mayans) and start doing what matters to me. I needed a NOTEBOOK. The day was very hot, it had been raining heat. But that particular evening was a blessing in disguise. A cool soothing wind was blowing from nowhere. It was a pleasant sunset time, the time when elders itch for a cup of tea and children for a game or two. I failed to observe that it might well rain too. Yes, it did rain. But hardly much. Just good enough to save us from deadly heat. I climbed the staircase that led to the stationary shop. I was in love with the cool breeze before i noticed a girl was waiting to be loved more. (By now female readers would just lose interest in this note and the male ones would just start waking up, still yawning). I am sorry guys, she was too young.

A little girl had just entered the shop before me. She had a smile that would shame many actresses in no time. Hair nicely done, cleanly curled into two ponytails with the help of pink rubber bands, a pink & yellow frock, and a drawing book in her hand. She was the cutest kid i had ever seen. I was wondering why was she alone. She must have been in third or fourth grade. No, actually fourth grade precisely. The name tag on the drawing book proved it.

“Anamika Sharma

IV-B

Roll no. 8“

“Encle (ya, not uncle) i need water colors”

She spoke in such a soft, sweet and delicate manner that i was completely spellbound,

“Crimson, azure, golden, indigo and … eh .. orange”, she spoke again.

The shopkeeper quickly managed to present golden, indigo and orange, but just like me he was embarrassed of not knowing what were crimson and azure.

“And crimson. and azure.” the little girl demanded.

“Eh .. crim .. son ?”,  nodoubt shopkeeper sounded hopeless.

“Encle, crimson is red. Dark red. And azure is …”

By that time, she had already assessed that both the shopkeeper and the NOTEBOOK customer were dumb just like many boys in her class. So she chose to show us, what was azure, through pictures. (A picture speaks louder than words, actions are already eliminated!) She flipped the pages of her drawing book so rapidly that i could not see her creations, though i badly wanted to. She stopped on a page which had a drawing that a fourth grade little girl is not expected to draw. When I was in fourth grade,.. Or once upon a time when I was in fourth grade, I could draw only a hut (with a multi-utility door/window/ventilator) and a river flowing besides it which lost its shape and size very dramatically when it reached the mountains. The fact that I am saying that river flowed toward the mountain, is all because of the poor dimensions and shaken perspectives. That was my drawing in fourth grade and this was hers-

Basically there were two parts of that brilliant creation- the dark black clouds in the right and bright sun with sky painted with ‘azure’ of course, in left. It was hard to make where the division had started. The right side had a devilish look, the left side on a contrary, brought out life, hope and happiness. The strokes seemed perfect, at least to a dumb NOTEBOOK customer like me. All in all, i was so mesmerised and awestruck that at first, i thought of stealing that book so that i could share it with my friends when i write about it, lately i searched if there was a coloured photocopy facility available at the stationary shop. Sadly, neither could happen. Probably the drawing teacher would have been equally delighted when she must have seen the drawing, as she rewarded a “V.V.Good” in red, on the left side of the drawing, in a manner that only spoiled the drawing. She too, must have been lost in her childhood, when all she could draw, was a mango with the help of a compass (yes, fourth grade) which ended up looking a rotten orange.

“This is azure, Encle.”

The shopkeeper could hardly appreciate the beautiful drawing, but he was overjoyed as now he could search the colors easily. Anamika, now had all five small bottles of water colors in front of her. She looked highly elated, before another kid came panting to the shop.

He must have been in sixth or seven grade. He looked like a kind of boy they use in Horlicks’ advertisements – ‘ Taller! Stronger! Sharper! He had probably stolen Harry Potter’s frame (or James Potter’s) and then fitted the lens according to his weak eyes. His eyes were not very generous and they almost shouted, “Beat me in the half yearlies”. There was no real evidence available if he was in sixth grade or seventh, because he had a tennis ball in his hand. It’s not very surprising that girls perform better in studies, because boys are mostly into things that aren’t emphasised in schools. It’s more like a ‘TENNIS BALL vs. DRAWING BOOK’ thing. He reminded me of me, when I was in sixth grade (or seventh). Though my drawing improved marginally, the love for a new tennis ball was never decreasing. I was crazy about tennis balls which i always used for cricket (SORRY NADAL!) and of course the smell of a new tennis ball was a drug. But i had generous eyes then, and no specs.

He passed by me and came to Anamika’s side. I wasn’t that dumb to make out that he was the one that represented the brotherhood in the little girl’s family.

“Uncle (ya, not encle) how much?” the boy asked.

“55″

“I have only 30″, he said to his little sister.

“But Mumma gave you 60?” the little angel spoke with signs of sadness and curiosity.

“I bought the ball”, he said showing the ball and bouncing it as well proudly.

“Buy any two and come back for rest two later”, the shopkeeper advised. He reminded me that i had to kill him for not having a colour photocopy machine.

Her eyes were turning moist. She was deeply disappointed. Probably she had planned to buy the colours from quite a time. Probably she wanted to make a better drawing with no dark side. Her eyes, now more wet, were speaking of a broken little dream, which wasn't that little for her. Extremely disappointed, was she. But not a word, she said to her brother about the unplanned ball’s purchase. Clearly she did not want to cry in front of everyone, but certainly she wasn’t able to avoid that either. Did she cry? No. It was a time to make a decision.

“Az.. ure … and … yellow … encle”

She took the colours with a heavy heart. The boy walked ahead. While they had just left the shop, i heard ‘Anamika Sharma IV-B Roll no.8′ for the very last time, telling his brother..

“But I wanted all the colors”

“Can I have a NOTEBOOK Uncle?”

Carefree Nothingless

Body clocks don't come with warranty.

Do they? It’s sad, actually mine is devastated. Worst part, I am proud of it. I am not sure if my dad agrees with my pride and it’s genuinely understandable. It’s because when everyone at 78°01' E wakes up, there is this 64 kilograms of an absolute carefree stuff who is sleeping like a bear. Well that's me. And my father is worried because knowingly or unknowingly, his young lad follows the British time zone. Well that's me, again. Actually there is a reason why am I found sleeping when the rest of the family and other normal people are enjoying their lunch. Yes, there is a reason! I am this highly systematic and organised planner, so if I happen to date Emma Watson tomorrow, at least I won’t be jet-lagged on my date. SEE... I told you how systematic I am! The other real reason is, after 25 days or so, I will be sitting somewhere on a backbench in an Applied Mechanics classroom, with a tangled hairstyle and a tough struggle to start dreaming of that date with Emma. Emma Watson. To make it to that dream easy, I have to practice sleeping now. SEE... I told you how organised I am!

Wake up when you feel like. Most probably, all of you were born naked and without an alarm clock too. So if you can’t idolize the Nuba tribe of Africa and can’t go naked, at least for the sake of being human, everyone should avoid alarm clocks. Plus in this 'sake of human' thing, Salman Khan might fund you too. But I am a self-less person. In spite of not being funded, I manage my own expenditures and selflessly don't use alarm clocks.

There is no fun in reaching classes early and securing a front row. Waking up late has two direct advantages. First, you wake up late. Second, you get a back bench! So be proud of it, because I know you have tried many times to change your habit, or you have been forced to try. Look, there are two ways to get rid of a bad habit. First, be proud of it and make it a good habit. Second, get rid of it! I would suggest the former in this case. There is a delight in sleeping late. 16°Celsius, a cosy blanket and Emma Watson...

What a wonderful world...

Love.

Lets sprint it ... the private Big Bang

If  I am the universe, this is the Big Bang.

"Always an engineer- Aditya Deswal Live" What is it all about ?

Its complex to explain this place, just like the origins of the Universe, but they tried, so will I. Its about living every second of  my life. Life is beautiful, friends and there is a whole wonderful world out here. You got to have vision, not eyes. As James Dean said, "Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you will die today." This place is about pouring out heart. Its about feeling the goodness that surrounds us and the beauty that defines us. Its about smiling alone because you have an idea. Its about breathing, not the breath. Its about how little I know about this world, and its about being aware of the fact that knowing that you know less is knowledge too. Its about being unpredictable, being full of tarkeebein, being wild and raw. Approach a work, think how can you do it, and take a path that is ought to be taken, and then leave that path and do it the wrong way, or the way that may sound wrong. Its about being childish in aspirations. Its about a journey that I always dreamed of. Its about how I live every second of life. Life is simple, friends. We aren't as screwed up as we may radiate to be. The most important things are the simplest ones. Think easy. If you find me too childish, I swear I shall never grow up. 

I simply love you Mr. John Lennon for this -

In Life's Garden

Count your gardens by the flowers,
never by the leaves that fall.

Count your days by the golden hours,
don't remember the clouds at all.

Count your nights by the stars,
not by shadows.

Count your life by smiles not tears,
and with joy through all your life,
Count your age by friends not years.

Love.