To The Man with Wings of Fire

It has been a while since I decided to type words into a blank computer screen in order to upload on my blog; but tonight, sitting here in this crammed up room with a false ceiling to hide the asbestos sheet above, I cannot help but do this. It has only been a couple of hours since the demise of the former Indian president. While the world is, at this very moment, posting their condolences on the various social networking sites, I want to pay my own homage, how much ever short it is, to this man that I know and knew nothing about.

Dear Sir

You never knew me. I missed several chances to attend your functions in my life (not that if I attended you would know me). But I want you to know that I always deeply admired you.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe your life story, a portion of which I had to study as a school student actually inspired me. Maybe it is the fact that you had humble origins but raised yourself to the highest position of the land much like the story of Christ. Or perhaps it is the fact that when I see your face, I feel happy for reasons I cannot fathom at this moment. As a young scout, I named my patrol and group after you. I wanted to finish my scouting career with the Rashtrapati Award which I dreamt of receiving from you.

When you did not become the president for a second term, I was disappointed. But then again, I thought that it was time you took a break from such ‘worldly’ matters and focused on your own life and travelling, especially on what you loved to do most – meeting ‘young minds’.

I am not quite sure why I feel my chest is heavy at this moment, but I know this one thing sir – somewhere deep inside, though I know and knew nothing about you, though I have not yet read any of your many books completely, though I have not followed up on your life in the last few years, I could connect to you. Your farewell is much like that of one of my own loved ones. People may term this to be the ‘dark hour’ of India or perhaps ‘a great loss’ for the country, but I believe, you have only gone to a better abode having left this world for us to complete your Vision. May you find peace.

With love and respect

A Fellow Indian 

Call Taxi 50 15 – 91 15 – 2 21

The bible claims Jesus turned water into wine, he healed the sick, he gave sight to the blind, he walked on water and he brought back dead people to life. But nearly two thousand years down the line, many claim that such miracles do not happen anymore. In fact, miracles in themselves have stopped occurring. Or at least that is what they wish to believe. And the reason for all this- they see nothing that looks like a miracle to them. But is this not what Jesus himself had prophesied about our generation? When St. Thomas insisted that he had to touch and feel the crucifixion wounds of Jesus if he were to believe in the resurrection, his wish was granted. However, Jesus then said, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe”. (John 20:29). Wasn't Jesus talking about us? We, his children who believe in his name yet have not seen him! In spite of that, miracles happen in our lives every day. We are either too busy to acknowledge them or we are too ignorant to accept them to be miracles.

It was a cool breezy morning in Muscat sometime in December 2009. I was preparing for my class 10 mathematics exam which was scheduled for the following day. This exam was very important to me since it would be one of the deciding factors for my admissions to class 11. Hence, for one final revision, I was on my way to the tuitions in a hired vehicle. I had known the driver for a while. He was a soft spoken gentleman who was always careful with the roads. We had to take a full 270 degrees turn around a roundabout to reach our highway. We were halfway making this turn with careful acceleration when suddenly I felt the car moving freely as if over ice. My driver had lost control of the steering. It was as if the car turned exactly where he did not intend it to. I knew something bad was going to happen. There was a lot of noise outside and I sensed chaos. Then I heard the sound of the tires skidding and the brakes being hit hard. From the rear view mirror I saw the cars behind me coming to sudden halts. Before I knew it, our car had crashed into the grass-patched roundabout. And then it was silence.

 It took me a while to realize that it was an accident or at least what had to be a really bad incident. My driver was pale. Of course he would be. He had to worry about not just his life, but about the car and yes, about me too since I was apparently his responsibility. I told him I was fine. We got out of the car.  A couple of by standers came up to us and asked us if we were alright. It did not take long for the cops to arrive. I knew that my driver may get into trouble for the accident. I saw him say something to the police and the by standers were nodding their heads. After a while my driver came to me and gave me some money. He told me that I would have to take a taxi and go for tuition since he cannot, for obvious reasons, drop me. Moreover, he had to be present while the police investigated the cause of the accident and proceeded with the other formalities. But Taxi??? Now my heart began throbbing for real.

In all my life in Muscat I had never traveled in a taxi. I had heard horrible stories about horrible taxi drivers who did really horrible things to innocent people. Moreover, my parents always made arrangements for my traveling purposes, and there was never a need to take a cab for any reason whatsoever. There would either be my dad, or some driver that he sent from the company, or a next door neighbor, or a friend or some other human to drop me at places I had to go. But taxi- never! 

It was also due to the fact that the taxi vans always had at least 4 people inside (if not more) and I was sure I would get too conscious and begin to stutter if I were to tell the driver where I had to go. To make my situation worse, the place I had to go that day was ‘Azaiba’. It looks like an innocent name. But it began with a syllable that was difficult for me to utter at times, especially when I was conscious. But I could not just stand there. The next day was my exam and I had already wasted precious time on the road. My other friends would have already covered several lessons while I was in this situation.

All these thoughts were being brewed in my mind while I crossed the road and waited at the spot where taxis would stop. I was scared, worried, tensed and breathless. I closed my eyes and made a simple prayer “God, if only you could send an empty taxi for me, I could muster up the courage to utter the place and get there on time. I don’t want to be stuttering in front of the other passengers. Jesus, please help me”.  Though I had never stepped into a taxi in the 13 years I lived there, I was not dumb enough to miss the fact that it was the busy time of the day when taxis would be full. But before I could complete that thought inside my head I saw it.

An empty Toyota taxi van was approaching me from around the corner. Wait a minute. Am I seeing another empty one behind that? And there was one more behind that, and it was empty except for a single passenger. It doesn't end there. Two empty taxi sedans were also making their way towards me. All in all, two empty taxi vans, one nearly empty taxi van and two empty taxi sedans all waiting for me to choose. I chose the first one. But here was the best part. I had been concerned about what language would I have to use with the driver. Would he know enough English to understand phrases like “stop here”? I opened the front passenger door and the driver greeted me with the warmest smile of the day. And he spoke in deep accented Arabic, “Where to man?”. I told him ‘Azaiba’ without stuttering. I got in beside him. The place was about 6 kilometers away. On the way there were several spots from where potential passengers would board this shared taxi. But none boarded mine. It was like a private vehicle just for me. I felt comfortable and relieved. I would not have to embarrass myself if I stutter while I ask him to stop. During the journey he spoke to me in fluent English. I was shocked. He spoke too well for a local Arabic taxi driver. He dropped me off and went on his way.

As I walked to my tutor’s house, I just realized what God had done for me. Some may call it coincidence, but I knew it was not one. God knew how scared I was. He knew I was tensed about my exams, not to mention the accident. And then if I were to board a taxi for the first time in my life while I was conscious of my stuttering, God knew it would all be too much for me in a single day. I just couldn't explain what else could have timed the arrival of those taxis as well as the fluent English of the driver that day. God works in mysterious ways. At times it is in plain sight. We just don’t see it.

Thinking over it again, there was no need for me to be surprised if God answered me that day, for scripture tells that God would always answer. 
We just need to make the call, 50 15 – 91 15 – 2 21:

1.   “Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (Psalms 50:15).

2.   “When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them” (Psalms 91:15).

3.   “Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved” (Acts 2:21).

The scripture has so many more verses assuring us of God’s saving hand.

For the remaining three years that I lived in Muscat, I used countless taxis, at any time of the day. Of course, not all of them were empty, but I was comfortable all the same. By the way, my driver was let off the hook. Apparently there was some oil spill on the road and that caused the vehicle to get out of control. He had come back to pick me up from tuition that very day.

Miracles are happening all the time. We just don’t have the time to acknowledge them. 

Bible and Alcohol

Time and again a Christian is subjected to the dilemma of alcohol consumption and whether or not it is prohibited by the Bible. Recently I came across a very influential non-Christian speaker who claimed that he was a better Christian ‘than most Christians’ because he did not consume alcohol. According to him, and many other people, the Bible prohibits the consumption of alcohol. And therefore, the people who drink them, be it wine or any other ‘strong drink’ (as referred to in the Bible) are breaking a direct command of the Lord almighty. This would mean that several Christians are now at a spot of extreme discomfort because they have been drinking wine and other alcoholic substances. However, would it be a consolation if one were to think about how Jesus himself drank wine, or at least aided in supplying ‘good wine’ to the guests at the wedding feast in Cana? Here then lies another conflict that certain non-Christians would point to in order to demoralize Christianity, that Jesus himself broke the commandment of the Bible by consuming wine.

What if the Bible never prohibited alcohol consumption in the first place? What if many people had the faulty assumption that the Bible prohibited alcohol? What if many Christians themselves were unaware of what the Bible actually told about wine or alcohol?

Let it be clear that the Bible DOES NOT prohibit wine or alcohol consumption, nor is it mentioned in any book (of the Bible) that wine is not to be consumed (context to be noted if said otherwise).

It is important at this juncture to acknowledge the fact that wine was a very important part of the Jewish tradition and culture (Jesus was a Jew, just in case you were not aware of it). It was served at all important functions like weddings, circumcisions and the like. It also formed an integral part of the daily meals on the table. Quite incidentally the first miracle performed by Jesus involved turning water into wine. Moving on, let us now look into what the Bible says about drinking. Most people who claim that the Bible prohibits wine quote the following verses: 

1. ‘Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler and whoever is led astray by it is not wise.’ (Proverbs 20:1) 
2. ‘Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit…’ (Ephesians 5:18) 
3. ‘It is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that makes your brother or sister stumble.’ (Romans 14:21)

The Bible provides so many more verses in this regard and it would only take a mouse click for one to browse through the biblical verses about alcohol.

A very basic knowledge of the language would make it clear that the Bible is not prohibiting alcohol in anyway in the above verses; rather, it is a warning against being ‘led astray’, or getting ‘drunk’. Since it was obvious that too much of wine would get us drunk, God was merely warning us that wine was dangerous when consumed to such an extent that one cannot differentiate between what is right and what is wrong. This brings us to the third verse mentioned above, that it would be better not to drink wine if we would be led astray by it and pose a threat to our brother or sister. There is absolutely no problem in drinking wine or alcohol however, one should pay heed to the fact that when we consume wine we need to be aware of our own selves and ensure that we do not lose consciousness of who we are and where we are, thereby, we should be able to differentiate between what is good and what is wrong (by biblical standards of course).

Moreover, the Bible clearly states that ‘If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.’ (1 Corinthians 3:17). This would very simply mean that, one who indulges in wine or anything that is a threat to the body and mind, the gift of God, are committing a grave sin and will face the penalty, in this case, destruction.

Also, when any substance/person becomes more important to us than God, then we break the first commandment of the Lord ‘I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me’.

In several cases, drinking wine becomes an addiction and this addiction, many claim, is a means of recreation or space to cope with one’s problems and the like. However, God is the help that we need to seek at such times and replacing God with alcohol or any other such object would be synonymous to worshiping a different god. Meanwhile, it could pose serious biological and psychological problems that would lead to the defilement of the temple of God, our self.

Consuming wine does not guarantee that we are walking towards addiction and breaking God’s commandments, however, one should drink wine with caution and ensure that we have complete control over what we are engaging with.

Very interestingly the Bible goes on to say that ‘No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.’ (1 Timothy 5:23). That would mean that the Bible does recommend wine in case of ailments. This should lead us to the fact that Bible has never prohibited wine; instead it has recommended wine (of course for a specific purpose).

Hence, the simple point that I would like to make is that the Bible has not prohibited consumption of alcohol but only given restrictions and warnings so that one may not get addicted to this substance. Anyone who claims that Christians are not supposed to drink alcohol, have wrongly interpreted the Bible. One is always free to choose to drink alcohol or not, as long as it does not affect one’s body and mind or replace God in anyway. However, if drinking alcohol or spending time amidst those who indulge in alcohol would invite trouble or cause one to sin, it is always better to stay away from it. After all Jesus said, ‘And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.’ (Matthew 5:30). In the context of this discussion, if alcohol or people who drink alcohol ‘causes you to sin’, it is better to avoid it altogether. No harm will come out of it. Prevention is always better than cure. 

Farewell is it?

People are saying that there are hardly few more weeks to go before we are done with our under-grads in this college. Its funny, but this statement is disturbing me nonetheless. I believe that this is not something to be sad about (since most people talk about it like its the end of the world). This is life! We are never in one place for our whole life, are we? People who have been living in different cities throughout their lives would understand what I am trying to say. 

According to me, we are all nomads (correct me if otherwise). We can never belong to one particular region, unless we are fortunate to be there from our birth to our death. When I was doing my schooling, I had shifted six times, six different cities. My mom and I, helped to pack and unpack more than 9 houses and in my 3 years of hostel life, I have shifted twice already. Please do not misunderstand that I cannot stick myself to one particular place, for I am a very adaptable person. However, it is the situations that force me to change my locations; my dad's job and so on. And so is it for life. 

You are never fixed to one particular place. Lets see...

What if your town was facing the crisis of being submerged under the rising ocean, or the volcano was about to destroy the whole land; or your entire hometown is being attacked by some random group of people and staying there would be a threat to your family? Would you still continue to live in the same place? Of course not! It may be hard to leave behind all that you acquired during your stay there, but situations make you do things you wished you never had to do. 

And the same theory holds good when it comes to matters of life and death. You are never truly from this Earth. One day we need to leave this life we live and return to our heavenly abode. If so be the case with human beings, why should the last few weeks of college bother someone? Relax... this is life :) 

A Day To Remember

I was in my 11^th grade when I was called to perform together with my school orchestra for the World Diabetics Day at the Petroleum Development Oman (PDO) campus, a brilliant place near the beach side. I thought this was going to be an amazing opportunity for me to perform outside school and so I joined with a lot of enthusiasm. Well, only after I reached there did we realize that it was more of a DJ party arena than a place to play few Indian classical pieces. I was shocked seeing the kind of crowd that dint look too happy when the DJ was turned off for our performance. Worst of all, there were no microphones. Apparently they had thought that Indian instruments could make really loud sounds which wouldn’t need amplifiers (since in Oman bagpipes are used extensively which need no amplifiers). We began playing. I couldn’t hear what the keys were playing, nor could the tablaist sync his beat with the chorus. The mandolin and the sitar were trying hard to catch up to the rhythm and the entire thing, at least to me, was like a cacophony of blabbering cows.  But I did notice a Korean Couple who could catch the beat and rhythm in our seemingly bizarre music and they looked like they enjoyed it. After the program, they came up to me to tell me that they really enjoyed the music and that they had not seen most of these instruments ever before. And for the next couple of minutes my friends and I were busy explaining to them about each of the instruments that we had and they listened with keen interest.

However, I returned home late that night with a bottle of ice cold pepsi and a Big Mac from McDonalds and collapsed in my room and thought about my day. I realized that there were two kinds of people in this world of music. The first group is an adamant one, who would not budge for whatever novel matter is prevalent around them. They do not appreciate or respect other cultures and their music along with it. The second group consists of people who are always willing to acquire as much knowledge as they can about anything and everything about music and musical instruments and they are always blessed to enjoy every bit of music around them, even if it meant the ‘cacophony of blabbering cows’.

Music Today

The present state of music, according to me is one that elicits discomfort to a music lover like me. What we have these days is only an imitation of  popular culture and not of purposeful talent. Everyone believes that the youth is the future of this world. Well things are not very different when it comes to music. Most of the movies made today try to focus on the large proportion of the youth. At least in this country we live in, things are youth oriented or beginning to be so. And these days, music means movies. Therefore, what is reflected in movies today is what seems to be the youth of this country. This holds good for the music they produce too. Yes, i am talking about the kind of music they produce in movies these days which is seemingly 'the new generation genre'. Nonsense! is what i would call that. Agreed, movies are made for a large audience. but what makes the music producers believe that 'rock' is the only genre of music that the youth prefer today. A majority of people I know, despise such movie songs. I am not well versed in bollywood, however, i can talk for the Malayalam movies produced (yeah, thats right, I am from Kerala). One of the latest additions to this list of hilarious songs, according to me is from the Movie 'Ustad Hotel'.

Set initially in Dubai and then in Kerala, the movies tells a simple and wonderful story of an uneducated grandfather and his well educated and ambitious grandson, both linked by their common love for food. I loved this movie and I would happily rated it as one of the best movies I had watched in recent past, had that 'rock song' not been added. The music and tune of the song is addictive and beautiful, but the lyrics of the song just don't make sense.

Have songs in our country gone to these extreme levels where nonsense verse actually becomes songs that are played every where you go?... I was actually in a disbelief and wouldn't accept that this was a song of a real movie. rather i thought this was just some funny lyrics composed to make people laugh. Perhaps such songs would be re-sung at occasions but they would never compete with the all time favorites 'QAYAMAT SE QAYAMAT TAK' songs like 'papa Kahte hain bada naam' and the like.

Well, let me make this clear. The youth of this country and even this world are not just obsessed with 'rock'. There exists other genres of music like folk songs, country side songs that we still enjoy. I would personally enjoy John Denver's Country Roads than listen to Lamb of God screaming their throats out.

Why Music!

Why would I choose music as a theme for my New Media CIA and also as the underlying theme for my blog when I first made this blog nearly an year ago? Well, to answer that question I would have to take you back to my 5th grade, nearly a decade old story. I did my 5th grade in a small town which was located nearly 170 kilometers away from Muscat City, a tiny place located in a merciless desert. Though most of Oman's deserts are rocky, this particular desert is among those that are quite dangerous due to its sandstorms and weather conditions. It was to such a place that my father was posted, in order to establish underground pipe systems, for a year.

After school, at around 2 pm  I am back in my bedroom after a long tiring hot day. It was a common site to see many of my friends bleeding from their noses due to the heat and such instances made me realize how lucky I was not to be one among them. This statement should re-confirm and better explain the phrase i used before "  long tiring hot day ". There wasn't much to watch on TV except for maybe 4 or 5 channels which were of least interest to me. Why would anyone bother to improve the satellite reception in this God-forsaken   land? It was during this time that I began growing close to music. All I had in my room was a Casio keyboard and an old Panasonic Cassette Player (for those who don't remember what cassettes are- they are rectangular objects with tiny shiny stuff wound inside which help to record and replay music). accompanying this was a cassette of the Bollywood movie "Kaho Na Pyaar Hai". 2 months of vacations all by myself, and i would spend the entire day trying to learn how to play the different songs of the movie on the keys. Every month when Papa took me to Carrefour Mall in Muscat city to buy the provisions for a month (since there was no decent shop to buy your household and groceries in that desert), I would go on a rampage in the music shop located on the ground floor of the mall and walk out with absolutely 'nothing' in my hands. There you go, no matter how many times i listened to the same songs again, i never felt bored. I realized that irrespective of the massive amount of time i spent on music, i was never tired of it. And so today, I had decided to make Music as my theme...

Violin

I was always fascinated by the structure of the violin and always subdued by its melodious tone. Its beautifully carved side curves and the deep 'f' holes and the fret-less neck always made me joyous. I had never seen a violin till i was in my 8th grade. It was the day when my dad had taken me to my first violin class. I was so excited and as I held the violin in my hands, I did not look at it, instead shut my eyes and prayed that it be a new beginning in my life. for reasons unknown to my consciousness I believed that my violin and I had some invisible bond that I can never put into words. To me the violin was not just a wooden object but a being that could understand my feelings and vibrate her strings in sync with my thoughts. Well, it may sound crazy, but if Indians can vote every 5 years for some political party to rule them in spite of repeated errors, I see nothing crazy in me talking to my violins as if they were breathing. 

My dad gifted me my first violin as a surprise one night after he came back from work, and you wouldn't believe this but i sat an entire hour simply starring at the violin and not daring to touch it till I had taken her beauty completely. Even today, I am able to rediscover her beauty, though it has been 8 years since i got her. Her beauty never fades. My only regret about my violin was that I could play her only once before a crowd with my mother in it. I had always wished that I could play the violin several times before a crowd where my mother would be, but life moves on, and my violin would be there with me, every step i take forward.

My First Instrument

I was 8 years old when I had an urge to try my hand at musical instruments. Since keyboard was the trend those days ( and not guitar as it is today) I persuaded my mom to persuade my dad (the usual familial and familiar chain of persuasion) to let me join keyboard classes. My father was alright with me going for the classes until I began persuading my mom to persuade my dad to buy me a keyboard of my own. Well. this time it did not work. My dad was adamant on not buying me a keyboard. And why?... The keyboard was bigger than me. was i to wait till i outgrew the keyboard?

However it so happened that one evening my father came back from work. I was sitting in my room reading Oliver Twist and before I could turn another page, my dad roared out my name. He usually did so when I had done something to displease him and so I walked to the bedroom where he was standing. He looked at me seriously and asked me what was under the bed. How would I know what was under the bed? Did I dump something under the bed? Anyways, expecting the worst, with a thumping heart, I crouched to see what was it under the bed. It was a huge box, nearly bigger than me. I stretched my arm and tried to slide it towards me and it came so easily. And then I realized - IT WAS A BRAND NEW KEYBOARD!!....A Casio CTK 130. I cried out to my mom. She looked so happy and kept smiling at me radiantly  Thinking about it now, I wonder if she was happy seeing the keyboard that I asked her for, or was she happy to see me so happy. Well, Ill never know that. Anyways, I wouldn't forget my mom and dad watching me uncover the keyboard and dad helping me to install it. My mother kept giving me instructions not to dirty the keyboard and to look after it well and everything. Ever since that day, my keyboard had been an excellent companion to me. 

The Way

He made His way through the manger,
He made His way through the cross,
When a Savior was born to them,
Away from Jerusalem,
In the city of Bethlehem.

He made His way through the manger,

He made His way through the cross,
When the people were mesmerized,
As the water turned to wine,
And the demons entered the swine.

He made His way through the manger,
He made His way through the cross,
When the soldiers surrounded the king,
And Iscariot did such a thing-
For the 30 silver coins, a kiss became the sin.

But His death was only the beginning,

Of beauty in suffering.
Like the glory of a single sun ray,
His people continued on The Way.

He made His way through the manger,
He made The Way through the cross,
When Peter declared him Christ,
The man who denied him thrice,
Made another three thousand rise.

He made His way through the manger,

He made The Way through the cross,
Nothing was in vain,
Even when Stephen was slain,
There was an inspiration being inflamed.

He made His way through the manger,

He made The Way through the cross,
When Saul forced them to sway,
And made the Christians his prey,
Was chosen to lead The Way.

Know that the King will come again,

And the heavens will forever reign.
But fire waits those who forsake,
And the rest will rise above human race.

For He is the truth and the life.

He is my way – the only way.

My Lady

When she kisses my neck,

My blood pounds in my veins,

My senses awake,

Yet my mind relaxes.

She has a power over me,

She has a grasp over my life.

I submit to her perfection,

Nothing can replace her majesty.

Yet she is meek as a servant,

When she sleeps all by herself,

Awaiting my fingers,

To run along her locks.

Her sweet silence is my slumber,

Her every utterance is my breath,

When my soul meets her heart,

I hear the symphony of my life.

A beauty so profound,

Her curves so perfect,

O queen of my heart,

Salvation of my soul.

Thou art the lady,

who makes my world whole.

The night was dark and silent and i sat alone in the upstairs room of my house. the lights were switched off and my face was glowing in the blue haze emitted by the laptop screen in front of me.

The laptop was connected to the internet, I was virtually connected to the entire world. I could watch every video I ever wanted to watch or I could chat online with the never ending flow of friends who make themselves available at such late hours since they are free at no other time of the glorious day.

But there I dint want to do any of that. something was missing in my heart, something was not in place, something was bothering me. I closed my eyes and i could visualize the perfect curves carved out of wood of my violin, i could feel the warmth of the wood on my body. I realized what was missing in my life at that moment. As I sat in this room after having celebrated Christmas just the previous day, I thought about my violins, back in the desolated hostel room, miles away from me.

'A beauty so profound

Her curves so perfect.'

As i did not have any pen or pencil at my disposal at that moment, i marked those verses in my mind and switched off my laptop.

Few weeks later, as I sat in my Literature class, and sleep began creeping into my (innocent) eyes, i decided to complete 'My Lady' on the back of my notebook under the pretext that I was 'actually' taking down notes on the subject. .

Revival of Life

Hail o comrade in life.

Soothing words are what you seek.

For there will come a time,

A moment, that never seems to cease.

When success never comes your way,

Failure after failure shall wrap you,

Tears of sorrow shall drown your heavy heart,

Darkness shall swallow all your light,

Peace will be a virtue you will only dream,

Death shall strike your fallen mind,

And you will remain in your grave as if forever.

But rise o comrade I tell you.

Break your coffin of humiliation.

Take the reins of your life and ride.

On a road back to power and glory.

Avenge your past and make a new beginning.

Rise o comrade I tell you.

And make your weakness your strength,

Your curse your blessing,

Make this life worth living,

For the elixir to success is believing

That, you can do anything.

The day was bright. And my class room was brighter. Everyone was excited. The next period was chemistry and our sir was to distribute the answer scripts of the Mock 2 examnitaions. I sat quiety at my desk in the corner of the class. My friends knew what was going on in my mind. But they dint know how to console me. 

Yeah, i was sure that i would not pass. Somehow the science textbooks after class 10 never made sense to me. expecially physics. but i had sincerely prepared for this exam, and the very thought that i would not pass was discouraging as ever. I thought about my future, if i were to continue with my medical studies, chemistry would be an essential part of my syllabus. and here, in school, in spite of studying so much, if i could not pass, what would i do with bio-chemistry in college! My biology was up to the mark and i liked the subject, but I would never be a doctor if i keep failing in chemistry like this. I had to decide what the course of my life should be like on this day. It all depended on this answer script i was about to receive.

The class went quiet. Of course, sir had entered, i was back to the Class XII B, a student of science and here was my fate about to be declared. As the students got up from their seats to collect theirs, i shut my eyes. After almost the entire class had received the answer scripts, my name was called out. My friends fixed their gaze at me. Something told me that they felt pity for me. I hated that more than hell itself. I reached the front of the class, the sir gave me a look that i cannot describe in words, but i knew what it meant-yes i failed. I gave a weak smile, and walked back to my seat in complete distress and shame. I sat on my chair and just kept smiling at everyone who looked at me. One of them came up to me and patted my back, 'you can do it for the boards, you have one month man, cheer up!'.

Yeah right, tell that to my parents. I sat there looking at the happy faces around me, but i looked sympathetically at few students who were grumbling that they dint receive marks that they deserved. I went to them, 'hey its fine. relax. how much you got anyways?'. They answered me and I immediately turned my back at them and sat down at my place with a thud, CRAP - is int 85% good enough for these idiots? 

All my hopes of doing well in life were shattered. I could not stand the shame and disgrace and pity anymore. I closed my eyes and prayed, 'Oh Lord, show me the Way, out of this life.' The bell rang and the sir walked out, and in came my English teacher, 'Aghil, come out for a moment.' Her face was shining and i wondered what had happened to her. I walked out of the class lazily and met her in the corridor. She smiled at me and patted my arm, ' You just received the Class A Commendation Award for your Essay from the Commonwealth Society in London.' I gazed at her for a moment. The Royal Commonwealth society in London! 'The certificate is a very important one, so keep it safe, and congratulations. The principal would officially be giving you the certificate during the morning assembly. Now go back to class.' 

She smiled at me. I was dumbstruck. I walked back to class quietly. I sat down at my place and said nothing to anyone. At the end of the day, I could not help but break the news to my friends. And after a long time, I felt like i did achieve something worthwhile and to be proud of. That night, I thought about all the failures I faced and decided to try my hand at something different, something daring, something that none of my friends would ever think of doing-and time proved it. I decided to try my luck with English, thought of putting away matters of money, comforts, ambitions, and going behind the will of my heart. 'Where your treasure is, there your heart shall be.' I was always ridiculed for writing poetry (cant blame them,i used to write poetry while i was in the examination hall) or doing well in English (while I did badly for other subjects-so no complaints), and every one said that this would not help me in the long run and I need to pay more attention to the sciences i did. But that night I decided to 'make my weaknesses my strength, and my curse, my blessing'... This verse struck me and before it could die out I switched on my study lamp, to write down 'Revival of Life'

Mortal Bonds

Ending of one,

Beginning of another,

For this is life,

A journey of many meetings and partings.

He who wearies his heart,

On parting old mates is a fool.

For he will do nothing in life,

Other than mourn.

And he who rejoices,

On meeting new ones be warned,

You will part some day.

For nothing is as it is forever.

When old bonds are broken,

New ones will be formed.

When old friends are lost,

New ones will be found.

One day this bond of life too shall break,

But remember that it is only the beginning,

Of yet another.

I was sitting at the study table in my room. The air conditioner was switched on, though it was a cold day of January 2010. I always maintained my room at 23-24 degrees (Celsius). This was the temperature i could work in. The soft running of the air conditioner muffled the sound of the vehicles which were on the highway below my apartments, running at speeds above 120Km/h. I looked out from my window, I could get a glimpse of the beach which opened into the Arabian Sea. I recalled the countless number of times I went there in the past 17 years. 

But now it was time for me to leave this city. My class 12 Mock Exams were going on and in a month's time I would appear for the class 12 CBSE boards. But after the exams, i dint know what I would do. I dint want to be a doctor (though i was preparing for biology and the medical examinations), nor did i want anything to do with medicine. Even if i did, i was not sure where i would study. Would I be in one of the states in my home country, or somewhere else.

The worse fear was that of loosing old friends I made in school. The very thought of making new ones was scary. I was scared if I would make the right friends, I dint know how i would live all by myself, without having to depend on my parents, I dint want to break my shell of comfort. 

But then i realized that it was inevitable. As I sat on that chair, with my science books spread out in front of me, I thought about the chemical bonds that has to be broken to be transformed into new substances. 

                  'When old bonds are broken

                    New ones will be formed'

Before I knew it, i had already snatched a paper from my shelf and my Faber Castell ball point pen scribbled 'Mortal Bonds'.

A Dead Man’s Words

The last air that I shall ever breathe had left me

And I could feel the cold creeping over me

I wanted to tell them to stop crying for me

But I knew that I shall never speak

I wanted to embrace them

But I knew that I shall never move

Alas! The good Lord had called my soul early

Many were the things left for me to do

But I knew that I shall never finish them

I was dressed in white linen and placed in a coffin

They put a crucifix on my chest

Then I was lifted and carried by tall men

The journey to the graveyard had begun

And it seemed ages before they laid the coffin on the fresh grass

I could see a priest bending over me

His lips moved in prayer but I knew that I shall never hear him

He threw some flowers on me and everyone did the same

It was time to close the coffin and

I strained to have a last glimpse of this beautiful world

But I was drowned in darkness and at that moment I thought-

From dust I came, to dust I return

True, for I could feel the men lowering me

Into the grave they had prepared for me

Lower and lower and lower I went

And then everything was still

After all:

I was a dead man.                 

It was a fine morning. The sun was bright as ever and the streets were busy as usual. I was at my mom's place for vacations.

While having my breakfast, my younger cousin came to me running and said, "A young man passed away yesterday. His house is down the lane. They are going to bury him today.' It was only the previous night that I was narrating one of my created horror stories to him about graveyards and spirits. And the death of this young man was a little disturbing. After all I was hardly 7 years old.

However, the two of us decided to accompany our uncle to the funeral. On entering the dead man's house, there was an eerie silence. It seemed like all the happiness in my life was drained out when I stepped in (more like the Dementor effect). There was weeping all around me. I held my uncle's arm tightly and my cousin clutched mine tighter.

After sometime, the casket was taken out and kept on a decorated hearse. There were altar boys holding candles and an elderly man stood between the two young boys, with a big silver cross lined with tiny bells. The people formed a procession led by the man with the cross. The hearse followed the cross and the people followed the hearse. So did my uncle, cousin and I. As we walked through the congested street, a hymn was being sung and prayers being chanted. Before I knew it, we had reached the church cemetry. A grave was already prepared for him, and a priest blessed the casket and few men helped to lower the coffin into the grave.

Minutes later, as we walked back to our house in silence, I thought about the entire incident. My 7-year-old mind imagined the dead man still being able to sense the happenings around him, I imagined what would that man say if he was given a chance to speak about his own funeral. The fact that he was dead and would never come back to life did not matter to me at that age. With time I stopped thinking about it.

An year later, in my Catechism class, which was more than 2000 miles away from that graveyard, my teacher was talking about death and she quoted a line from the Holy Bible-'From dust I came, to dust I return'. At that moment, I recalled the funeral of the dead man. But like a dying flame, my thoughts about the entire event died. However 7 years later, for reasons unknown to myself,  I sat down, on a cold December night, recalling the incident that took place more than 10 years before, to write down 'A Dead Man's Words‘.