Nomads on their way...

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In the warmth of light from tungsten lamps, where adversity dwelt by the roadside, there I walked lonely in stretches that would seem to never end. I would recollect incidences during my walk that happened during the day and would curse them who brought so much hate for me in their hearts. To be the loved one of all, to be the one who is famous and everyone else owns a feeling of warmth for him, this expectation turns into a disaster each time I build my home on it. Nomads don’t own a home. They have chosen to walk, endlessly. They take rests however, but they don’t stop permanently as such. I never wanted to be a nomad. I wanted to settle down at a place, with all the fancy desirables in this world available at my doorstep. There came tides of experiences in the steady streams of time and they soaked me completely, making me aware of the unseen truth and correcting me from the otherwise dreamt stuffs. Nomads are the one who progresses. Their next destination, call it their next goal, can only be achieved if they choose to walk. Those who stop permanently, they land up falling into adversities under the warmth of tungsten lamps by the roadside.

To keep moving requires huge effort. Efforts to keep yourself motivated, to keep revising plans for achieving your goals, to keep yourself focused when all the human forces are against you. The expectation and desire must not be confused with each other. What is expected by me of all the people need not come true always, and that should not be conceived as a hurt to me. Desires are dear to me, and that should drive me. Not the expectation, because expectation is just a belief. Nomads have desire to progress. They take rest, and move on because they have desires to fulfill.
Though I never thought I would be a nomad, but eventually I am one now. The system is so designed that only nomads progress and survive. Progress stops when nomads stop.

I don’t know how much people would be able to relate to this post. But at my personal level, this makes sense to me. I look at the bigger picture, and I find bunch of nomads everywhere. They have aspirations to fulfill their desires. I find myself in one of the bunch too.

Eternal sunshine of an introvert mind

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In some part of the world there is a kingdom where nature basks in glory, where people still trust each other, where love thrives and deception has not stepped in. There lives a kid who spends his evening waiting for the princess to arrive in woods. As usual, he is there sitting on the log, his head dipped down. The tattered brown robe on his body is not enough to defend from the chill that sets in at night. It’s been more than an hour, but there is no sign of restlessness in kid. He knows she is going to come. Shades of trees are stretching with the sun going down. Within minutes the sun will be hidden behind the blue mountains. Cold wind from the west has started to blow. Grazing leaves on the forest floor has started to unsettle the calm.

…and the scene keeps building inside my head while chatter continues in cubicles around me. I don’t wish to break myself off from the imaginary build up projected on the screen of my mind, even when the chatter starts to dip into my own cubicle. But who cares what I want. I don’t want to get into conversations unnecessarily. Yes, I can enact to be a good speaker. But why does someone has to push me for it? The need of the hour drags me off from my comfort zone, and I temporarily pause all the drama inside my head. Damn! I feel pity for my characters who turn jobless while I am conversing with someone. I really enjoy being me.
In between imports of code and its reuses at office, I miss those days when I used to sit back and do nothing. Just do nothing for hours, and stay mused in thoughts; sometimes dark, sometimes illuminated. Now I crave to have some moments for myself where in them I would be alone. I would contemplate on what I did, I would plan what I will do.

As the office hours dissolve, once again I start to frame the story. The projection on the screen of my mind starts. I try to cut off from distractions as far as I can to ensure I have clear and crisp reception of my characters at play. I start to connect the pieces again and the story resumes.

Wolves have started to howl. The sun has set behind the blue mountains. The kid is afraid, he must return home now. His mom would be waiting. But the princess hasn't come yet. He loves his mom more. So he must return now. He stands up, and start to move with his face numb and his heart heavy. He won’t let the tears come. His mom will never wish to see him distressed, he knows. ‘Love is an illusion; I won’t be deluded by promises and die freezing here in woods’. As he was returning, a golden deer came running and stopped beside him. He turns to see the golden deer liberating godly rays. His surprised eyes start to roam on the shining body of the deer. And then he notices there is a letter lying by the forelegs of the deer. He picks up the letter, and unfolds it. The letter reads: ‘Tomorrow at dusk. Wait for me. I shall be there. Love. Only yours…’
Marks of her lipstick on the letter pouts and blows a kiss towards him.


Kid’s smile after reading the letter has taken over me too. His revitalized trust gives me strength for the coming day. I tuck into bed for sleep now. The new day will bring a different story, for me too and for my characters as well. 


His Ideals in Reflection...

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It has been three weeks since I joined TCS. I am being ingrained of moral values along with the main stream training of Java. Through our organisation, we were a part of the movement started by our Prime Minister, Shree Narendra Modi Ji for Swachh Bharat. And other than that, we participated in 3 kms of peace walk on 2nd of October 2014, on the birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi. Sharing with you the post that I wrote in ILP community of TCS, Gandhinagar. I am re-sharing the post here with photos that I clicked on that day, though they are little low in resolution as they were shot using a 3MP camera.
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The crowd of people around me is multiplying, but my ability to look around is abridging. What I see is just myself, what I care for is just me. I have sufficient in my account at bank, and I won’t disclose the measure of peace that I keep.

What was the last time you looked at people around you, and were sensitive towards what they were going through? Do you remember an incident lately where you didn't think of yourself first, and thought of restraining the troubles of someone?
We have become excessively self-centered, reactive of forces that affect our own selves directly or indirectly. Our problems weigh so much that the consolidated sum of problems by everyone around us fails to balance it. Our perception constitutes the world within us. Outside this world, universe ceases to exist. What can be the reason for this eccentricity?

We are never satisfied. It’s true that dissatisfaction in human race has helped to reach the skies in terms of our advancement, but has considerably mutated our thought processes. We have stepped into a habit of staying dissatisfied and sad of all those things that we wished we had, but we couldn't end up having them. We are sad because someone else has it, and we don’t. We are dissatisfied with ourselves because we couldn't make ourselves achieve what we wanted. But why are we not thankful of those things that we got in our lives. There are so many reasons to be thankful about. We need to be thankful, and this feeling comes when we get to look around us, realize what others are going through. If we look around, we would come across people who can’t even fulfill the basic needs in their lives, yet they are striving to live. Some might be afflicted severely which others can never think of. It’s good to strive for more, but at the same time being thankful to God for all that he gave us will bring peace. Just by being interested in others starts to bring changes in our lives. We start becoming more insightful of the world which in reality doesn't cease at the end points of our sole interests. The world starts to expand. Shouldn't we be a part of a good cause of helping someone bring down his/her afflictions to some extent?

Mahatma Gandhi has said, ‘The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.’ I take several lessons from what he said. Serve others, and that would bring peace to us. Peace should be the ultimate goal in our lives. Let’s keep the efforts coming, and peace will start to breeze in. I believe that it’s an ongoing process. To make the peace stay, efforts must be brought to play.

Yesterday’s event organized by our organisation on Gandhi Jayanti came to an end, but let’s not forget the ideals that were proposed behind organizing this event. It must be imbibed within us and reflect from our day to day lives. Let’s start to bring peace; to others and to us…







While it rained...

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My eyes used to take me till the horizon where a distant tree met the marshy land. I could see people, though scarce in number and outspread on the field, working as farmers for the crop…The crop that would feed them and us. I witnessed how their hard work benefited us, they made grains available for ourselves to buy. Then, I wondered that someday my hard work would help others too.

Interlaced with their sweat, rain washed the land. They ploughed and ploughed, till the land was ready to produce. In the uninterrupted pelting of rain, maverick birds flew through the wind…Some flew against, while some steered along with the wind.  I felt caged with all my defects in the small room at the roof, while children played outside. It was water here and there, and everywhere.

I heard happiness. I saw it too. I saw secrecy in the ambience where each one conspired for a productive tomorrow. Farmers, birds, children, trees, and the God, they unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky. I felt caged, but they enjoyed. They enjoyed themselves to the fullest, mocking me of the pitiful captivity I was in. Real chains were not necessary, my own thoughts of my defects had made me a slave.

After clouds faded off slowly into the pitch black and while the rain continued, a wise owl obliged me by resting at my window. I don’t remember when my eyes closed and how I leapt into the house of a farmer. But before I could have completed my play with their children, the owl woke me up. He said that he has come to my rescue, to unchain me. ‘The key to your chains is in your point of view’, he said.

The next day was different. I heard happiness and I saw it too. But I became a part of the ambience now. Farmers, birds, children, trees, me, and the God, everyone unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky, and we conspired for a productive tomorrow. The gloom of grey in surroundings was changed, because my point of view was changed. Keys to the most endured locks lie within us.

In the praise of Lord Ganesha

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I meditate on the glorious Lord Ganesha, clad in sparkling robe, omnipresent, endowed with four arms and a benign smiling face to ward off all impediments.

In all my good and bad, you make me aware of your presence. 
If death is about to come in the next move of the puzzle piece, I shall not be afraid to make it. 

I chant your name no matter what comes now, you will remain the king of all puzzles we were afraid of.



If you liked the photographs, don't forget to 'Like' my Facebook page. :)

In love...

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From the patches of scorn,
You furbished a clean soul.
In light of the goodness I wasn't aware of,
You infused a healed life in me.
The warmth of your embrace will linger,
Till the time the sun shines
And the moon cools the planet blue.
I rejoice the cherished moments we spent together,
In them I found love…

Going forward through a new start...

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It has been a month since my last blog post. Many new things popped up inside my head, but the creative tides got short of the extremely stronger gravitation pull, and that kept everything still…just a little hoo-ha came to the front. 

What was I exactly doing in this one month?

I left Durgapur on 5th of June. I am no more a college student now. I graduated officially from my college on 25th of June 2014. Ever since I joined college, I dreamt of scoring 9 pointer. It was a bliss even to think of being called a ‘nine pointer’ and don’t know how it felt to be one. I enjoyed this bliss to the fullest till I completed my second year engineering. After that I started to take pride in my reality. The result of 8th semester which evidently graduated me came out on 25th and there it was 9.04 on my grade card. Hard work for my final year project finally paid off. But this was not the reason for my disappearance from my blog. I was low on my health. More than the health itself, I was tensed thinking many bad possibilities associated with it. All the self-motivating stuffs loose their essence on me when my hyperactive brain starts churning. I wish to get well soon, and I am trying my best from my part for it.

And there was a good news too behind my disappearance.

After I graduated with title of Er. Anshul Gautam, as a token of appreciation (this is more than just a token, it’s huge for me) Papa gifted Nikon D5100 to me. It came with 18-55mm kit lens. Now being an owner of DSLR, a tool to open all doors of photographic skills, I am more than happy. It was a dream. It has come true now. I clicked lots of pictures and practiced various controls on the new cam. I will buy a zoom lens soon, probably 55-200mm one. I will be joining TCS and my salary will help me for the new lens, but till then I will stick to 18-55mm one.

An important lesson.

I spent my four years for engineering. I learnt innumerable lessons. The most important lesson I recall at this moment is: 'We should never let our own goodness die, no matter what killing spree is against us'. Endurance against the harsh blows of outsiders must be attained to safeguard the inner peace and sanity. Sanity is in preserving goodness, never making it escape from  our inside in the darkness of unlikelihood around us. I shall never forget this lesson, and will keep chanting at every time of need. 





(...among the first few shots taken from my camera)

A House at the Grange

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Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page

Music Rewinds

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Mai rahe, meenaa rahe, gardish mein paimaanaa rahe
Mere saaqi tuu rahe aabaad maikhana rahe...

I see a small kid, looking through the window. For him, having a look through window was itself a dream; a window that would allow to see outside. The window in his room allows to see till the horizon, no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them. Having no one to play, and with holidays at school, most of the time of his days are spent on imagining stories and his wishes getting fulfilled in them. He was the hero in all of his stories, the one who rules with all his wishes turning true.

Music plays always, at least always when the electricity is there at his home. The least understanding of his about the music, and even less about the rarest ghazals sung by Jagjit Singh, it does not bore him of staying surrounded by this aliened ambience. Immense meaning in the music never settled down his gut, but the soft tunes he remembers. He remembers tune in every track, and to some extent their words too. When no one is around, he mumbles those ghazals with somewhat original words and a little mixed with his own creations but the tune stays strictly the same. He has warmth for collecting memories. But what can be the best place to keep memories other than connecting them with music?

I see the kid has grown up into a man. Sitting by the balcony of his three storeys house, he is playing those tracks again. He now understands those words and immense meaning that Jagjit Singh carried in his ghazals. But he misses his old Tape Recorder, the kind of soft music it played with infrequent buzz and hitching of tape on head and reels. He still remembers every tune, and when no one is around he sings in a low voice. I see tears in those eyes which were once joyous mumbling broken words from the same ghazals. He rewinds the tape of memories hidden in those ghazals. And everything appears to be live before him again. As he leans at the railing of balcony, he reminisce instances of his tinker by the window. The window that allows to see till the horizon, where no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through them…

Zindagi ka lutf ho udti rahe haradam 'Riaz'
hum hon sheeshe ki pari ho ghar parikhana rahe...

Italicized lines are from the ghazal written by Riaz Khairabadi, and sung by late Shri Jagjit Singh in his album Mirage. You can listen to the track here.

Adios | BCET

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“…when I was in my first year, I was told that the four years of engineering will be over in the blink of an eye. Now, when I am at the verge of completion of my four years of engineering, I can say that yes I have experienced it. These four years swept by so quickly. To me it seems that the four years were one single moment but it carried innumerable stories within it. Every story is fresh and it will be forever.”
The CSE and IT department of our college gave us farewell on May 20, 2014. To receive warm affection from our teachers and a note of motivation for our lives ahead was mesmeric. As this was going to be the last meet of ours with teachers officially, I carried my point and shoot camera with me and captured as many moments that I could. I don’t want any moment to let go off my reach. I want to preserve them, each one of them. But yes, I try to overcome the bad memories at the earliest, failing to do at most of the times though. However, they also make me a more experienced person, a little more learned, but the canvas of imagery you build gets stained with unintended instances in life. The journey of four years at Bengal College of Engineering & Technology had been somewhat a mixture of good and bad experiences which in totality helped me grow. I find there have been a huge number of changes inside me. My seniors helped me to grow, so did my friends, and I can’t forget to mention the role of my teachers in it. Teachers always help you in one way or the other, and trust me, most of the times you won’t even get to notice that they have helped you. In the later stages of life, you realize how important they were. Yesterday, on June 2nd 2014, we gave the last exam of our B-Tech. After two days I am about to leave Durgapur, and I am filled with emotions towards some of the good teachers I was blessed with.

The starting note in this post is a part of the short speech I gave on the farewell day. I felt honored to get called along with Namrata, my best friend, by our HOD sir Dr.Prof. S Dasgupta to say something in front of the whole CSE & IT family.


“…these four years I was a part of the CSE and IT family. I have to leave now. But I wish to be remembered as a part of this family in the coming future too.”
This ended my speech then but filled me with melancholy. I can go on speaking of my college life endlessly. Most of the things I am backspacing here, probably I will let them out at some later stages of my life.

I want to thank each one and every one of them who were a part of the life I lived here at Durgapur.

Thank You!

Treasure of Love

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This world is a treasure; a treasure that not only has the wealth of love, but wraths of Satan too. Love and Hatred, these two can define each thing and everything that we find on Earth. What definition will mean correctly to us that depends on our state of mind and the essence of time. This world has everything. It’s just that each one of is differently abled and the extent of our sight is accordingly limited. Some can see and feel more while others may lie short and complain. What I can see in the treasure, it’s not necessary that everyone will be able to see. Likewise, what you may discover that might lie unnoticed by me forever. The one who has the limitless extent of sight, that’s the Almighty. And he is the only one, and none other than him is supremely abled. But whatever I can see, whatever you can see, either Love or Hatred defines them. And at one time, only one of the two exists. We need to look closely, and we will find that either we love or we hate. No state other than these we can rather be in.

All of us seek for love. Even if we impart hatred, we seek for love. With everyone of us seeking for love, stealing it indecisively, the treasure is going short of love. The amount of hatred continuously being imparted is making its amount in the treasure stupendous. 
Do you know why did Uncle Scrooge stop swimming in treasures? He was disappointed of skimming over colossal hatred in treasures everywhere. His own treasure at Duckburg that had only Love and no hatred, got stolen long ago.  From all corners of the world, Love is vanishing.

Law of conservation is the call of the time. If you seek love, remember you need to give the same amount of love back to this worldly treasure. Those who don’t pay back this world with love are selfish. And those who seek love, but deliver hatred, they are sons of Satan. To continue to make this place worth living we need to overpower selfish-ers and satan-ers. The early we wake up and realize, better the impact can be brought. 
Love is precious. And there is no alternative for it like we have for coal. Let’s stay human, and continue to spread love.


spread love save earth

If Earth were a cube...

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The morning started differently today. Though not at peace, but the weather had calmness in it. As I came near the window of my room, a narrow gush of wind succeeding through the blocks of our hostel from where timid wind rarely coursed caressed my face with the calmness it had. The calmness I always intended to have in me. But the peace is yet to come. Even the weather is not at peace. I can’t see trees from here, but the hasty clouds flowing and roaring above assure that the party outside has started. The dance of trees on the tunes of weather I miss by sitting from here. But the wakeless imagination takes me to every corner of this world. The Earth is round. But in my imagination it’s a cube, the one similar to Rubik’s. It was dismantled initially… it was in form of separate small cubes. The Almighty mantled them in form of a giant cube and gave each of its face a different color. Tiny cubes are sliding away, discombobulating the original structure. What will happen if the earthly cube is completely riddled again?

I stand on a podium, somewhere on a constituting cube and I see in front of me the life I lived so far. I can see till the edge from where it all started. If I go beyond that edge, I will fall off; disappear from this world like I never existed before I was born. I was born 22 years back and my journey started from that edge. Standing from here I can see places where I had been, people whom I met, and transformations I went into. I remember every smell that soil breathed out into the air when rain stroked. I remember the warmth and calmness in the weather that came with every season. I remember all illusions, delusions and in them my mere imaginations. I correlate with nature and its effects on me. Tides of time navigated me on an interesting journey, and at every instance made me aware of making out the path by my own. Others came and helped me improve in many ways. They refined me into a more professional and a mature person. I accepted all courses life had to teach me…Because I wanted to be a better person…I wanted to be a perfectionist.  

Turning myself back, I am moving towards the opposite edge now gradually. The footsteps will continue to advance till the destiny lets me. Although valleys on both the sides haunt me, prevent me from moving by inculcating the terror that I will fall off and vanish. But to have faith and do my part, I have learnt this from mom. I will someday stand at some another constituting cube of this giant earth and look back again. Reminiscing the past and agonizing a better me soothes me with satisfaction. At some another podium I will revert and contemplate how many small cubes I have covered. I forgot to mention, the face of cube where I lie is blue. I love blue.

if earth were a cube
The edge where I am headed to, what color shall I meet at the brink? I wish to meet yellow. The yellow has energy of the sun, and its life giving traits. I have night’s calmness, the one you witness on the starry night sky at beaches. The brief meeting at the edge before the two of us will fall off would be beautiful. :)


Having expectations is the trait of a valiant

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manuscript in accra
This is an excerpt from the book 'Manuscript in Accra', by Paulo Coelho. People are asking questions here, answers to which is being explained by the Copt (a learned character in the book). A merchant asks him, ‘Describe the defeated ones’, and the Copt replies. The snippet in the image is a part of that answer. I loved this part because it essentially focuses on having expectations. Yes, like all other traits of a valiant, having expectations is also one of them. It might make us disappointed when something does not come as expected. But to stop expecting in the next go is like letting go off the spark from our lives. Having expectations is like carrying the spark, the purpose within ourselves. And I believe it defines characteristics of a human. Why are we so determined to turn inhuman? Why are we so determined to let go off all the expectations? Just because we don’t wish to get hurt?

Getting hurt, nursing ourselves, and getting back into the battle should be the spirit of our lives. When expectations break it is a defeat. But it can also be a failure by our choice. Failure does not allow us to expect again. We should know that defeat is a part of our lives. Only the defeated know love. Only the defeated ones will know the honor of losing and the joy of winning.

Calling Humanity

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Once upon a time, there existed a land of Gods. The emblem of an ancient civilization, it was the kernel of culture with enormous values. That country was where love dwelt, the art grew, and harmony existed among people of different tastes. Its rare spices added an unforgettable flavor throughout the world.

But then there came an epidemic. An epidemic which diseased more than half of the population of that country. Gods had already departed from their homeland long ago, they left the remaining humans to trample in the waves of epidemic. Many waves came, and they kept spoiling the population. With consecutive spoliation, the ancient glory started to fade off. Love, harmony, peace, and humanity, they all started to pine away. That country now is at the verge where humanity ceases to exist inside people and their ruthless facets rule. The epidemic is killing us with its effects. A new culture has evolved which is the manifestation of this epidemic.

Today’s politics, the corrupt leaders, and their corrupt governance, these come much later. Before we comment on this why shouldn’t we contemplate where has the humanity at each individual level gone? Is it now a mistake to expect a person to behave humanly, and should we apologize for expecting this? Whatever views you may lay upon this, I personally believe that indeed that’s a mistake to expect of some humanity. From big cities to small towns, the new culture dominates now. Lets not talk of what big portion of the country has gone affected by the waves of this inhuman epidemic, and try to realize how less is left from being affected. In this epidemic what not is coming up on the population as its effects. Rape, abortion, child abuse, child abandonment and what not. Daily newspapers after advertising the Lotus and the common man’s hand, only mentions of these effects on the people. By the people, on the people, each day there is a new ruthless tale to read. Read, sympathize, and forget.

Like the way waves of this epidemic comes, waves to stand up for change and bring a revolution comes too. The only difference is that the epidemic’s waves never leave but waves to stand up for change and bring a revolution come and go. The churn to speak out on this issue came inside me after having watched 'Thanks Maa', directed by Irfan Kamal. I know the churn will subside soon, because like many I have grown a tendency to get used to and to move on. But I will never forget the inhuman sides of people now.

I own a very little knowledge about politics and the way it works, but I get to have at least the feel of what’s going on good and what’s not. And this post is not about the politics, it’s about social evils created by the people that exist around us. Those who have watched ‘Thanks Maa’, they would relate to this post quite easily. The movie focuses on the issue of child abandonment. One can easily make out from the movie that how much degradation has incurred to humans, and how they have been adding other evil as well into the society. At many scenes I kept saying to myself, ‘Oh God, no not this.’ Irfan Kamal through his movie has made his audience shiver terribly by some brutal depictions of truth published in the newspapers. Having watched those scenes in the movie was atrocious. It has been rightly said by someone that both heaven and hell exists on this earth.

If we try to mend our own localized holes, slowly we would find that the whole of the unified garment has been restored. The garment which covers all of us its underneath, needs to be refurbished. We can’t survive in the nakedness. The humanity is expected from each one of us. And to expect this should never be a mistake.

The Third Eye

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They have always listened to what they wanted to listen. They have believed what they always wanted to believe. Sacrifices, good deeds, love, affection, they are all tested by the terms they keep within them and by their mind’s frame. Someone might die caring, loving, or fighting for some cause, but those who cannot understand the true essence of it are bound to fail on their mind-frame’s test. Since ages the human race has stayed afflicted, and shall likely stay to be so tomorrow too. Truth, it will continue to stay obscured and people deluded. Because they will always see what they want to see, they will listen what they want to listen, and they will believe what they want to believe.

Words matter the most. And harsh words matter even more. Beneath the effect of few harsh words, millions of words expressing love and affection goes crushed. An honest heart has broken ten times more. A selfless action has always been challenged, and mutual profits have been praised. Comfort lies in staying deluded, and satisfaction in abiding by the terms within mind’s frame. But what forms someone’s mind frame? Words flow down, their meaning muster up, and start to build a mind frame. Who cares if the meanings were right? They will see what they want to see, they will listen what they want to listen, and they will believe what they want to believe.

The truth is strange, and people weird. Diplomacy is the tool to success, straightforwardness in truth a hindrance. Truth won’t win hearts, it causes suspicion and people believe easily on what they find near to reality. And the reality is a kingdom where corruption rules, and each government change places and take their turns. An honest truth is difficult to endure, a manipulated truth goes down easily. Everything that happens in and around us, and the way we accept them, it’s all guided by our mind’s frame.

I wish if the almighty had gifted a third eye to everyone. That third eye could have helped to see the truth in its purest form which we can't see now. I wish our mind’s frame is carved out only after having seen the truth. And the third eye could be the tool for making this possible. What we accept, what we perceive, and what choices we would make, I wish if these could be arrived at only after having seen the truth. That third eye, if it existed could have wiped out deception, delusion, and confusion from this world.

the third eye

Multiple Commenting System widget for Blogger using jQuery UI

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This blog post covers in detail those steps that will help you include a jQuery-UI based multiple commenting box widget to your blogger blogs. jQuery user interfaces are being used extensively as they provide an eloquent user interface and are light weight, ie they are faster to load. Moreover, they are compact and in a small screen area more of controls can be dealt with within its interface. I used the same jQuery-UI and developed a multiple commenting box widget for my blog. Currently I have included the Facebook comments, Blogger comments, and Google+ comments. This post is in continuation with my earlier post, where I described how to add different commenting system except Blogger’s default commenting system. Lately, I figured out a way in which Blogger’s default commenting system can also be used in the widget. And thus, here I am to share my code. If you find my code not working, or you get struck anywhere, feel free to comment and ask your query. You can connect with me on various social media platforms as well. I will feel glad to help you.

Step1 > Make a Facebook App. I hope you already know how to make one. This is required because we need the ‘App id’ for Facebook comment to start working.
Now, in the template editor, paste the following code before </head> :

<link rel="stylesheet" href="//code.jquery.com/ui/1.10.4/themes/smoothness/jquery-ui.css">
<script src="//code.jquery.com/jquery-1.10.2.js"></script>
<script src="//code.jquery.com/ui/1.10.4/jquery-ui.js"></script>
  
  <script>
  $(function() {
    $( "#tabs" ).tabs();
  });
  </script>
<meta content='YourFacebookProfileUserID' property='fb:admins'/>
<meta content='YourFacebookAppID' property='fb:app_id'/>

Just enter your Facebook Profile UserID and your App ID in the required place before pasting the code.

Step2 > Go to Blogger’s Edit Html section, and find <div class='comments' id='comments'>. If you click just before <div class='comments' id='comments'> on the template pane, you will find that the code within this <div> tag gets collapsed. This will help us to select the entire content within these tags. 
(the highlighted one in the screenshot is what we will select and paste there the new code)
Now we need to cut this selected content and paste there the code below:


Step3 > Save the template. And refresh your blog. You will find my multiple commenting box instead of Blogger’s default commenting interface. You will get Facebook comments, Blogger’s and Google+ commenting system in this widget. If you wish to add some other commenting system, then that can be done too. Just leave me a message. And will help you out with that.

Note: This widget can be customized to different styles by overriding the default CSS. I am using the same widget with a slightly different styling done by me. The different styling can be done either by altering the default CSS or by explicitly using an inline CSS.

Search for the life

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As the train takes me through the darkness
My eyes search for the light,
To find in the thickets
If somewhere the life survives.
Rattling of wheels on tracks,
Keeps me mused and awake
Against the envelope of sleep
Embraced over the stretches of darkness.
Blindfolded on my open eyes
My ears make me see now;
Bridges, tunnels, plains…
All I hear, and in my mind I see.
But where is the life?
That, I can’t see.
I search for the light
To find in the thickets
If somewhere the life survives.
In sky is embellished,
Stars and the pearly moon.
And the rest is swallowed
In the endless depths of darkness
Through which I am moving
And in them my eyes keep looking
For if I can find light.
Who knows…
Somewhere out there the life still survives.




Image Courtesy: Google Images Search

Looking back for a moment...

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What has started, will someday come to an end. Be it my journey, yours, or someone else’s, or be this universe, all that has started will someday come to an end. Our lives in totality comprise of several small and big journey’s whose start and end are the subset of the set ‘the life we lived so far’, which in turn is the subset of a Godly universal set. Human’s thoughts and perceptions, they belong to a range of output from a philosophical function. This function drives the way a person enacts. With experience this function updates, and so does the output. Sometimes I wonder, how closely related philosophy of life, mathematics and science are. I can mathematically, programmatically relate different aspects as I see in my life. 

At the back of my minds, I am being flooded with memories I reminisce about the start of my college life. I always aspired to be a Computer Science Engineer. Having failed at IIT-JEE, my moral was pathetically down. In the year 2009, I was sent to Kota for pursuing the coaching at Bansal Classes. Even after the rigorous study, I admit my mistakes had been there, all investments turned unsuccessful. I reattempted the IIT-JEE in 2010, and failed at it again. But through West Bengal Joint Entrance Examination, I secured a significant rank that helped me to get Computer Science at Bengal College of Engineering and Technology at Durgapur. The college life that started on 10th August 2010 is about to end now. As I said before, this journey is just like one such journey among many which is a subset of the set ‘the life I lived so far’.

I have always been a kind of person who develops attachments very easily, and finds it difficult to move on. I had the same feeling at its peak when I was about to leave Kota as I am having right now. Various incidents, good as well as bad, they start to toil down the memory lane as I sit back for a moment in silence. I still miss Kota, lovely people I met there, and my friends whose friendship I will cherish forever. And I will miss Durgapur too. With million slaps of bitterness, there are several notes to sooth me off too, which are like mementos for achievement. 

I remember, I even wrote a poetry to express my attachment with our hostel. In these four years, I am the one who have lived in the hostel for the maximum amount of time. I have written several short stories, many poems, and innumerable random blog posts. All of these, they will still be with me, connected with incidents from the past. Now that in a month I will be leaving college, I want to thank all of them who contributed towards building a better 'me'. Durgapur, it will be special to me always. A part of me will live here forever, amongst the silence of roads gushed with wind and dead leaves in them, in those corridors of hostel where I stood alone for hours thinking what I don't know, in all those rooms where I lived in these four years. Its not a ghostly feeling and its description. "I will come back", and this will give a hint of what part of me will continue to live in Durgapur.

But as I said before, this journey is just like one such journey among many which is a subset of the set ‘the life I lived so far’. There shall be more journeys for me.

(when I was in first year of my college)

To be who you are...

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‘Be who you are…’ I have come across this as a teaching in many books, numerous articles on the internet about self-improvement, as well as in the movies. I have no doubt on this that it is an instinct which successful ones had in them. Even in the book ‘The Winner Stands Alone’ by Paulo Coelho, the message has been delivered to stick to the original in you and you will stand away from the crowd but on the right track towards success. And this notion somewhere suffice to comply as a trait and add up with many other traits that a winner possess.  

But I seldom confuse myself. This may be because of not having much experience in life, or may be because I am not able to understand the message in the aforesaid line completely. I confuse whether the statement is conditional. Secondly, I don’t doubt on the statement but I perceive that the statement alone is not solely correct. I believe that I need to look into priorities, I need to judge what is right and what is not, and I need to foresee the outcome of my actions before I apply ‘To be who I am.’

Our mind is a factory of thoughts. Many thoughts produced go overlooked while many others make us contemplate. And I contemplate and I find I cannot be entirely who I am at all instances. I need to look if my team-mates are not being offended as a result of my strict nature towards achieving quality performance. I need to get a bit flexible to allow everyone to perform together, happily. I don't like to talk much, but when I am on the job as a salesman I need to be expressive, patient, and talkative. Stupid examples they may sound, but to me they are like few of instances out of many where I cannot be simply who I am. I need to look into other parameters like my priority, foreseen outcome of my actions, or to be say simply in a profitable position. To be who a drug dealer is, or a criminal mastermind to be what he is, that’s completely wrong and that cannot be preached. Wrong doing and right doing, and our ability to judge them, drives what we want to be and what we should be. The statement ‘To be yourself’ is a culmination of attributes that blend our stand in our lives. It stands above all in the hierarchy of self-improvement traits. When all traits below have been considered, then only the top one can be fetched, and that adds a whole lot of meaning to the statement itself. 

Life is not entirely about me and myself. I am just one of the person on this planet, which is just one of the planet of this unfathomable universe. To the life as I see, I don’t find there is anything that lies at the elemental level solely with all the importance. Life is all about totality, various constituents of it combining together to form a meaning. You add two independent things and we get a meaningful thing, you add two meaningful things and that would yield a third meaningful thing. Likewise, to be who I am, that signifies to its truest meaning when all forms of traits combine together. All those traits together would define me what truly I am, or what I choose to be. 

 I am alone
Image courtesy: Google Images Search

The Love that I saw...

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The dreamscape was not over yet… Stories within stories were still unfolding, and I was there the protagonist savoring the near perfect life. There were friends, relationships, and the love existed in those relationships. Life was not a cramp to live with in a city of hustle. It was winter, the moon shining white, and the musk floated in the air of a small town called Brotherhood. A colony of people dwelt there who loved to grow affection for others. They cultivated love, they ate love, but they never sold them. They had stored so much of love in their hearts that their chests were bigger than the people on the other side, separated from dreamy episodes by a thin film. ‘Those who rupture the film don’t get roles in our episodes’, he had said. They must cross over it, without tearing apart their own existence as well as that of the film.
I am not the creator of dreamscape; I am the protagonist playing the role that I wanted. He always insisted me to quench my thirst with Love and gallop on the pavements without the fear of falling down and getting injured. He confirmed, as long as I am in Brotherhood and my wishes are sacred I won’t get injured, although he never guarantees anything for the world on the other side. Everyone calls him the Grandfather. Big chested people say that he is the creator of Brotherhood.


I had always thought of love. I imagined that one day I will be at par with them who were loved on this side, in the real world. I was in delusion in reality. I was deluded till the night when the grandfather explained me the truth. I don’t remember how it happened, but I recollect that he had crossed the film, stepped into the real world, and carried me away to Brotherhood. In that episode, I spent the whole night at Grandfather’s mansion where he lives alone. He is the one with the biggest chest in his town. There we had dinner together; we had roasted turkey, sausages, and warm milk for me while he had wine for himself. He kept smiling at me in between his sips of wine, and through pauses in his speech. He explained me how deluding the world on the other side is, and how deluding its inhabitants are.

‘Love is not just between a girl and a boy. Love is so sacred that it exists between every two entities and more. Love is between sand and stones. Love is between air and the mountains. Love is between birds and the sky. Love is between a mother and her kids. Love is between me and you. And don’t forget, that the love is between you and yourself.’

As the grandfather spoke, his eyes used to get closed and his right arm swung here and there in air.

‘But do you know what is necessary for the Love to be present? It’s the truth and the honesty. And I doubt they don’t exist anymore on the other side’, his head bowed down, his eyes were still closed.

Grandfather sipped some more, and then followed his words.

‘You might get yourself hurt my son. Expectations have been killing people from inside. I have lived my whole life there, and I know how many times I was killed.’

‘Will I get killed too grandfather?’, I asked hesitatingly.

‘I will not let you. And I have brought here to prevent you from any injury you might incur. Expectations, wishing for love staying on the other side, these are potentially dangerous’, replied he.

‘Come on, give me your hand and lets go for a night stroll. Let me show you how the Love feels like in its truest form. But I suggest you not to expect the same when you wake up in your world. In Brotherhood we cultivate love, we eat love, but we never sell them. You must know what the true love is and this will prevent you from falsehood and delusions…’

The night was beautiful. Trees were dressed with shimmering lights from fireflies. The twilight was mused in the music of violin coming from a distant hut. I saw the moon through the clouds that were not polluted. I could see people with varying sizes of chest. And I could easily deduce who were more loving. ‘Truth and Honesty’, I was engrossed within depths of my mind with these two words told by the grandfather to an extent that I watched every movement in that episode to confirm that indeed the truth and the honesty existed there which made the whole ambience so loving. The truth and the honesty, they existed in families, between friends, and strangers. I was the protagonist, but I was the stranger too. But the showering love never seemed to go lesser on me.

I would never free my hand from the grandfather’s. I wish if I could stay here forever… I wish if…
I was about to mutter some more to myself but the episode ended. The night full of love came to an end with the warm sun overhead and with the alarm clock proudly at its work.

It’s not summer here, but still the heat is killing. I don’t focus on weather reports. I have a different measurement scale like the one that the grandfather used in his life here. I want to learn some more from him. But not right now. I must hurry for the school. I will be the protagonist in the next episode of the dreamscape tonight.  



PS: Every night I get into dreams, and they are like episodes of a tele serial where the life is what I have always wanted. Dreamscape is a tele serial, and I am the protagonist, and I will continue to be in each of its upcoming episodes.

A token that spreads happiness...

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Happiness is not just a state of mind; it is the reason for us to live. From the smallest of our actions to those of our biggest futuristic plans, they circle around our desire to attain happiness. Reasons to be happy are innumerable, but its us who decide what would make us happy at the end. Job, money, foreign tour, a lavish bungalow, and the list can go on increasing. But the reason for happiness for a few around us could be to be able to get a full day meal for himself and kids. The reason for happiness could be to gather enough money to cure the disease that the wife is dealing with.
They gave me a token of happiness, and it changed my perspective towards life forever…

Bodh Gaya is the prominent tourist spot in eastern India, famous for Mahabodhi Temple. It lies in Gaya District of my home state, Bihar, and is known for Gautam Buddha to have obtained enlightenment here. Events that I will explain to you here dates back to the time when I was in class sixth. I, along with my mom and dad were on tour in Bodh Gaya. It was around 10 AM, and we are strolling down the streets outside the premises of Mahabodhi Temple. I was reluctant to move, while mom consistently pulled me by my arm, making me step forward forcibly. I merely inched, and that too through baby steps. Do you know why?

BARKHA

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“Pearls of my eyes, today I seek over again to solace you. Be still; I won’t let you sneak out through ages of love homed in my eyes.
Be gentle; ease me off to sleep, for I am awake since you left me. I am seized in the wait endless, staring forever at the skies.”

Mr. Partho Ghosh mumbled these words, his voice heavy, and eyes strained from insomnia. In between closing and reopening of his eye lids, he stared at the night sky through the open window close to his squealing bed. Stars displeased him.
He wanted sleep to take over him, but she had been meanest and rudest to him lately. This sixty two year old man, with his mind mused in some belonging he cared to keep alive forever, lived in a small one bedroom flat alone. His flat has a leaky roof and it damps after rain. People in general would hate that, but Partho loves it. He loves rain.
I watch Partho every time. I wish if I could help him out. But I am also a mere toy in hands of the almighty.
II

Mr. Partho was a poet, not by profession but yes he was very much passionate about it. His wife used to be the agonist in all of his story telling poetry. Things haven’t changed even today.

“Hello Mr. Partho, how are you doing?”, greeted Mr. Kashyap at the grocery store.
Mr. Kashyap was the fresher for the job from which Mr. Partho retired. Mr. Partho never accepted his promotion. He retired from the post which he had when he joined the company. He knew promotion brings ‘transfer’, and he never wanted to leave his home and his wife. He wanted to be in this town for ever and ever. Because it was here in this town where he met her for the first time.
“I am fine Babu Saheb, just the mornings have been a bit cruel to me. Nights are also no different”, replied Mr. Partho.
“I suppose you are not getting sleep properly. Your eyes tell the whole story.”
“I am sure they do, but I tell you that the sweet and memorable part of the story they don’t tell, and you will never know of it”, replied Mr. Partho.
“I see. But I suggest you that at this age you must not live alone. Moreover your health has been consistently declining.”
“What should I do then? Get myself registered at Briddhashram? I mean what you call as Old Aged Home? Hmm?”, questioned Mr. Partho stiffly.
“No no. I didn’t mean that. I mean you should invite your relative at your place or go to live at theirs sometime.”, replied Mr. Kashyap.
“Hehehe. No thank you. I have only one relative, and she visits me every year. I think that time of year has already arrived.”, and with this Mr. Partho walked away.
Mr. Kashyap kept trying to figure out what Mr. Partho kept mumbling as he passed across him.

Pains of Partho weaken me. I feel trembled. Even though I know what the old man wants but I can do nothing. After all I am also a mere toy in hands of the almighty.

III

I can see him from here, Mr. Partho has resumed with his poetry. Perhaps his diary of poetry can turn out to be the best seller if published, but Mr. Partho would never want to publish them.

“The chill, now the wind has contained. Kissing my neck with the breeze some sweet some sour. And in this breeze I…”,
Mr. Partho was gumming these words but then stopped as came the knock on his door. Mr. Partho walked towards the door. And the knock came for the second time.
As the door got opened, there she was holding a dishware; perhaps she had cooked something special and thought of sharing with Mr. Partho.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes. Please do come in Mrs. Dutta.”
Mrs. Dutta was Mr. Partho’s neighbor and his only friend. She was a year older than Mr. Partho.
“I know it’s a special day for you. I made something on this occasion. Wouldn’t you like to taste it?” asked Mrs. Dutta.
“Why not Mrs. Dutta. Its 11th of August. Even if you ask me for poison, then I am ready to try that too on this day.”, said Mr. Partho laughingly.
“Why would I ask something like that Partho. Do you think I am mad? It’s your wife’s birthday. I have made a cake for you.”, replied Mrs. Dutta.
“Do you know Mrs. Dutta, I went to grocery store today. I did buy the ingredients. But when I started the work in my kitchen, I couldn’t put together all what Barkha used to do for preparing the cake. She used to cook so well, the vanilla puffed cake was her specialty. She never explained me how she used to make those lovely cakes. Neither did I care to learn. I used to think my wife will never leave me. She will stick to me till my breath will last.”
Mr. Partho got carried away. His eyes moist, and voice got heavy as he spoke his words. Silence prevailed in the room, and it seemed as if it’s going to last forever.
“Don’t say like that Partho. She never left you. It’s all destiny. God loved Barkha so much. And that’s why he…”
“Don’t you think I loved her too? I loved her more than God. She should have stayed here with me. Always. Forever.”, cried Mr. Partho, almost on the verge of breaking down he was.
Silence existed for few more moments. But it ended as Mrs. Dutta tried to fill the void.
“Now come on. Lets cut the cake. Its Barkha’s birthday and you are not going to disappoint her. She was a lovely wife. You must not sadden her by saddening yourself like this. Nature and its laws, we can’t go against it. Don’t you think so Partho?”
 “No Mrs. Dutta. I won’t cut the cake. I won’t celebrate until she gets back here. I want to get drenched with her caresses of love”, said Mr. Partho.
“Have you gone mad Partho? How can she come now?”, questioned Mrs. Dutta with surprisal.  
“You don’t know Mrs. Dutta. I have been waiting endlessly for her arrival. I have been calling out her name, looking at the skies all day and night”.

As came more of his words, the more he started to turn weak. It seemed as if he is going to fall down. But then Mrs. Dutta helped him to settle on the chair.
“Oh Partho. Please be seated. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry”
“Barkha!”, yelled Mr. Partho.

IV

Two hours swept on the clock. Mrs Dutta had left. And Mr. Partho was still on the chair, baffled and dejected. Suddenly tube light in the room flickered. It started with the lightening in the sky. As came the cracking of thunder in the sky, Mr. Partho woke up from his trance. He came to the window and glanced at the sky. A gush of adrenalin rushed inside his veins. Rushing outside of his flat, forgetting of the locks that he left open, he hurried towards the lawn.
It had started raining. As drops of rain touched his forehead, it seemed to him as if he got hold of his departed love from his life once again. Memories that his old eyes had preserved afresh, seemed to revive into existence. Pellets of rain, skinned over love and compassion from heaven solaced him.
Moving by the kitchen window of Mrs. Dutta’s house, he cried her name.
“Mrs. Dutta. Oh Mrs. Dutta. Come out and see. Barkha has arrived.”



 ...

As I told you before, I watch Mr. Partho always. I watch him closely all days and nights. But I am devoid of any emotions now. God turned me like this. Reasons are unexplainable that why he did so. However, I know what Mr. Partho wants. Every wife knows what his husband wants. He wants me back in his life. But how can I? I am also a mere toy in hands of the almighty.


Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I am… (sighs)
I was Barkha Ghosh, wife of an angel in reality, Mr. Partho Ghosh.



Image Courtesy: Google Images Search