He is here. He is here. He is here.

There's a time in your life, where you feel like you're standing in front of a wall and your insides are just weeping but your face shall refuse to show it. There's a time in your life where you'll feel like the universe was made for everyone but you, for everything in your life felt out of place always. There's a time in your life, you'll find an enemy in Time itself. There will always be a time like that. How far will you run away from that? It's gonna find you, it's gonna make you experience it, for only in such moments are you truly alone, only in such times are you truly insulated from any external force and only in such moments are you truly Yourself. Last year, I made friendship with those times. I accepted my sorrow and found a way to peace. My own version of peace for when you're at peace the world around you pauses, doesn't it?

"In my heart, in this cold heart

I can live, or I can die,

I believe, if I just try,

You'll believe in You and I"

Every night I put myself to sleep thinking of these lines and imagining how life could've been if only I had my child in my arms instead of dusty hospital records. Every night I used to cry. It was pain, and in that pain I found myself staring at a wall in front of me, my insides weeping but my face refusing to show it. 

This was June. Last Year. The year I guess a God somewhere heard me, because deep within I felt a warm voice soothing me and telling me that good shall come to you if you've been good to the world. In that voice I found my peace. And you do know what happens when you've found your inner peace, don't you? The world around you changes, the doors start to open, you start seeing the good things in your life, the body settles down and your mind starts to heal. 

And so this year, I have my answer. What I thought I had lost forever, what I thought I could never get back, what I thought was that lost grain of sand, is right now in my arms, sleeping. Every dream I had when I was awaiting this moment, I see them right now in my arms, sleeping. My God has given me the answer to all my questions. In my arms today, is proof that he exists. A sweet little miracle with the tiniest arms and legs, his forearms the size of my little finger, his entire body fitting on my forearm; a sweet little miracle with tiniest fingers and tinier ears, sleeping. My heaven is right here with him sleeping in my arms and me watching him do nothing but sleep. I don't feel like doing anything else anymore. Food - meh, sleep - bah, earn- nah. Just watch my little boy sleeping at peace. This little moment, this sweet little moment where you don't care about the world and are holding your own miracle in your arms, my friends, this sweet little moment is Happiness.

My dear friends, in your lives if you ever have the misfortune of facing that endless wall, don't lose hope. Hang in there. Keep your dreams intact, don't let even the darkest moments affect the flame in those dreams. Live those dreams every day and every night, for they're the most powerful things in the world. No damn force, no damn emotion, no damn person can stop you if you spend your days and nights believing in those dreams. Hang in there, my dear friends, for in those dreams lies the power to change your time.

Today as I hold you, my little king, I go back to the same time last year when I had broken down typing my heart out as it marked one year since I lost you, my child. I go back to the nights I relived those dreams with tears in my eyes where I could see you the same way as today, sleeping in my arms. I go back to the nights I relived those dreams with tears in my eyes where I would sing you lullabies and you'd do just what you're doing right now - sleep in my arms. You're the emperor, my dear son, who came back from the dead for me. You're my Caesar, you're my Xerxes, you're my Leonidas, you're my Raja Raja Chola, my Alexander, my Jalaluddin Akbar, you're the King of my dreams. You're now the reason I have meaning in my life. You, my son, are my dream come true....

..and so on this day, that marks exactly 2 years since I lost you...with tears in my eyes..I name you, my dearest son, my Kanishka.

Letter to my unborn

Of all that I've written, this was perhaps the hardest. Please do read and if you think this can help someone who has been through pain, do share.

Letter to my unborn:

My dear dearest,

I've dreamt of you so many times. I've dreamt of holding you in my arms. I've dreamt of singing a wordless lullaby just for you to sleep on my bony shoulders. I've dreamt of making space for you to jump on my fatless belly. I've dreamt you brighter than the stars, but like dust floating in an abandoned room you've left me floating in an endless loop.

My dear dearest I've wanted to cry, but somehow the Man in me didn't allow me to. My dear dearest I've wanted to cry, from extreme happiness the day your mother heard your heartbeat the first time. From extreme joy the day your mother realized you were making more space for yourself in her belly. From an unexplainable glee the day I saw you as a small blip in a black and white scan report. To feeling my heart crumble hearing from the doctor that your genes won't let you survive, I've wanted to cry. To seeing your mother breakdown on being told that you were not meant to be. To faking my strength as they took you and your mother into the operation theater knowing that only your mother would come back from there. To faking my courage as I stood there telling myself that it'd be alright. To cursing my fate to have been the 30000th in a genetic equation which had a 1/30000th chance. My dear dearest, I've wanted to cry. But the Father in me didn't allow me to.

There's a lot I wanted to tell you. From the glowing of the stars to the growling of the machines I've had stories to tell you. From the joy of holding a baby sheep to jumping in a pile of leaves I had moments to share with you. From the joy of mathematics to why your mother hated it there was so much I wanted to narrate to you. From the day I saw you to the day I'd close my eyes I had a life I wanted to share with you. And here I am now, staring into an endless void in my heart, not knowing what, where or who I am. I wish I could come with you to wherever they took you. I've dreamt of going for an early morning run with you, but today my dear dearest, I wish I could die with you.

Without you I am now just a 31 yr old software guy who struggles to make sense. Without you I am just a thin bearded husband spending weekends wondering about the purpose of time. Without you I am just a someone with nothing to look forward to. And yet I remember this week marks one year to the day they took you away from us and, before I could even tell you your name, filed you under a label and named you Trisomy-13. And yet I remember this was the week I called up everyone and told them with tears in my eyes that the 'Good News' I'd spoken of, is no more. This week marks one year to the darkest week in my life. My dear dearest, this week marks one year to the day I killed a part of my soul forever. The day I bled myself empty with fake courage on my face watching your mother cry her heart out.

I should've cried with her that day. I should've let it out that day, but I didn't. Somehow I decided to carry that pain and cover it with an expression of strength. Countless nights of sleeplessness and hours of staring at the man in the mirror, I've realized that pain is an after all an emotion which feels better when let out. You know, last week as I heard another little child cry for me as I left, I somehow heard you, my dear dearest. Every day after that, I've heard that cry resonating off the walls of my heart and every time I heard that cry I was back on the chair outside that operation theater where I couldn't even say goodbye, but this time, I felt my eyes let go those tears. I wanted you so bad, and by never letting anyone know I've realized I've only torn myself apart.

I know you'll come back. Some day, I know you'll come back and fill up that void yourself. Till then, my dear dearest, I promise you I won't cry because I lost you. I promise you I'll fill up that void with the stories, and tales I've wanted to tell you. I promise you I will fill that void with the best of everything I see everyday, for in those memories lies the beautiful world I wanted you to see. In those little frames of time lies the world I wanted you to share. In those little moments lies the life I wanted you to enjoy.

My dear dearest, I write this letter to you not to make you feel sad, but because I know you'll come back someday and read this yourself. I don't know if I'll ever be able to express myself the way I feel today, but I know you'll come back someday to my arms and fall asleep on my bony shoulders. I know some day I will make space for you to sit on my fatless belly. I know I will some day wake you up on a Sunday morning, go out for a run with you, and maybe jump into a pile of leaves on our way back. And on that day, my dear dearest, I'd know that you're not the 30000th but rather the 1 billionth in the ratio that's 'One in a Billion'.

Until then,

"In my heart, In this cold heart,

I can live, or I can die,

I believe if I just try,

you'll believe in you and I."

waiting for you,

with an empty heart full of silent dreams,

Your Father

Dear Vishnu - My Ice Breaker Speech

Sharing with you the full transcript of my Ice breaker speech at Zensar Toastmasters Club, Pune.

Speech Title: Dear Vishnu



Fellow Toastmasters, my name is Vishnu.

Last Sunday I got this letter in my mail. I thought I should read this for you all.


It says,

Dear Vishnu,

I write this letter to you today not because you "wanted" me to, but because deep within you know you "needed" me to. I write this letter not to tell the world who you are, but to tell YOU who you are.


I hope you do remember, dear Vishnu, that you were born some 40 yrs ago, no sorry 30 yrs ago, in a middle class south Indian family who already had a rock-star ideal son and were expecting a girl child. It took you time to realize, but I knew that you were born the same day as Dimple Kapadia and Shilpa Shetty. Maybe that's where you get your dimples and that figure. It may have been some consolation for your parents, dear Vishnu, but you were a lot more than just Shilpa Shetty.


You grew up in a town in central India amongst friends who knew not a single word of your mother tongue Malayalam. In fact, it took you 15 yrs to figure out how to write your own name in Malayalam and about half to know how to do it in Marathi. You do remember don't you, That you grew up only to be confused later whether you're a bad Malayalee or a bad Marathi. Nevertheless, whether you're a bad Malayalee or a bad Marathi doesn't matter because you do know, Vishnu, that you are one awesome hybrid Indian.

Although you went to a not so great school, got not so great grades yet successfully got into a not so great college. Although you got placed in a not so great company at a not so great package and in 2 yrs left it for obviously a not so great reason, you learnt the essential skill of how to learn what you want to learn. Always remember, dear Vishnu, it is that skill that helped you become a better than ever coder, a better than ever manager, a better than ever data scientist, the best possible son, although a not so great husband.


You've been through a lot dear Vishnu, you've shutdown Moody's Corporation's International network for an hour by not adding a semi colon to the end of a piece of code. You've recited squares of numbers from 1 to 61 correctly while you were drunk the first time. You've married the girl you fell in love with, you've designed the one and only machine learning based lender for rural farmers in India and you've also been through the sorrow of losing your first child to a rare genetic disorder. You've seen a lot Vishnu as you've grown from an annoying younger sibling who stole pocket money to being an independent earner for your family. You've seen the world change around you Vishnu. But both you and I know deep within that you're still that child who ran a razor blade across random scooters seats just to see how well it tore them, you're still that child who set a paper plane on fire to see it fly, the child who cried to get out of trouble and the same child who shamelessly blamed his brother for his mistakes. Remember, dear Vishnu, that no matter what you go through or see, you are who you are and not what the world wants you to be.


As I run out of space on this piece of paper let me conclude my dearest friend. I know you better than anyone ever can. I've known you so well that I know you'd be reading this out in front of an audience in Pune. But that's not why I wrote this letter to you, isn't it? I wrote this letter to you so that you know who you are. I reminded you of your past not because it affects you, but because you are a result of all your experiences.  You are who you are because of all the good that happened to you in spite of all the bad that you went through. You are who you are right now. Not what the past crashed you into.


And I think you've already understood that, because you may have realized it well by now that this letter, from Vishnu to Vishnu. This letter that Vishnu has written to his earnest self, this letter which is showing you your true self in front of the world...

...is, in fact....

.... just a BLANK piece of paper. 

Here's to my crazy ones

It's a typical Sunday morning, i scroll through some of the old folders in my computer and i stumble upon this old picture of mine which I'd thought I'd lost long back. I look at this foto of my college days and instantly i travel back to those days when wearing a sport shoe itself would've made me feel cool. As I leave my 20s and enter another decade of renewed desires and expectations i look back at those past classrooms and laboratories trying hard to change some of me, trying hard to change some of the outcomes, trying hard to change some of the moments knowing how it could change my future forever, yet failing nevertheless.

Growing up had changed long back from being an exciting journey to an unending tragedy of wilfull misery. I don't think anyone is born prepared for this nor can anyone teach you about this. You have to experience it first hand, feel how it feels, live through the endless days and sleepless nights, make those mistakes, yet survive nevertheless.

I've come a long way from where I started. Long away from the mist of my homely air cooler, long away from the shores of my mother's shadow, far away from the depths of my unkempt room into the unruly darkness of a corporate jungle. From a time when hours meeting friends went by in a jiffy, I've come far away into a time where every second in a meeting feels like a decade. From a time when an hour of Tom n Jerry was the definition of fun, I've come far away to a time where a long weekend is just a synonym for rest. Far away I've come not knowing where i am, not knowing where I'm on to, yet believe nevertheless.

In all these years i know I've lost a lot of friends. While I felt myself drifting away from my own self, i didnt realize I've pushed them too so far away from my life that i know it'll probably never be the same again. Most due to my own stupid misconceptions, misunderstandings and a whole lot of misguided overthinking. All I'm left with now is a bunch of timeless memories which i somehow preserve in the lockers of my unkempt mind and a whole set of ageless moments which i use to come back to life when i find myself emotionally dead. In an attempt to be independent in life I've made myself dependent on these bags of memories which I can control myself, yet surrender nevertheless.

Almost each one of those long lost friends is soon turning 30 just like me. To each one of you i thank you for being a part of my life. I would've drowned in my own stupid misconceptions, misunderstandings and a whole lot of misguided overthinking had i not had such good old pictures with ye all for me to come back to life. To each one of you who stayed behind, who helped me know my mistakes, who lent me a hand when i tripped myself into a well, who lifted me up, wiped my sorrows and helped me become what i am today, here's to another decade of hope, survival, belief and mindless surrender to memories. In my binary world of haves and have-nots, in my binary world of data full of zeroes, here's to my crazy ones.

...and promises to keep

This is what happens when you almost forget your wedding anniversary. You end up taking an unexpected half day at work, find a place to sit in the nearest bus stop, disconnect yourself from the noisy world outside, believe that you're no less than an Oscar Wilde, and try to work some magic to save yourself.

This is what I did this time. When written on an empty handmade card, it works like a charm. Saved my life (quite literally):



Let roses mock my cowardice,
Let vultures prey my fear,
Let the devil nail me upside down,
Let their arrows pierce my ear.
You stood by me when I needed you,
When I knew I was nothing,
You stood by me for who I am,
You made me kill my fear.

With you beside, I am myself,
Not a coward who doesn't care,
With you beside, I am myself,
The world I just don't care,
With you beside, I am myself,
No need for me to hide,
I'll nail the devil upside down, 
If you ever need me my dear.

Three years ago I took my vow,
That I'll be with you forever,
Three stanzas all I am right now,
my soul is yours to own.
Three years ago I made a promise,
A promise I will keep,
I'll stand by you for all years to come,
My dear dearest, my own.


-Vis

The Man in the Mirror

Almost 7 years have gone by since I wrote this (You might wanna read this first):

http://vishnu4ever.blogspot.in/2010/12/loved-once-loved-ones.html

A lot has changed in these 7 years: The world has seen more iPhones than Leaders, more Machine-Learning than Human, more Comedians than Comics, more Foes than Friends, more Servers than Servants, more priorities than realities, more Gun than Pen and more Children than Men. This isn’t the world I was born in, this isn’t the garden of life I was taught the world is, nor is this the society I once enjoyed growing up in. In the middle of all this, in these 7 years, I felt I’d lost myself in the labyrinth of a self-deprecating network of professionalism. In the middle of an air filled with hatred, terror and dismay where for every breath I took I felt myself exhaling a part of my soul , today, after a long time, the laughing man finally spoke to me…

Seven years ago I started on a journey to become what I wanted, a thorough professional, an expert in whatever it is that came in my way, a problem solver whom people could count on. I don’t know if I’ve become one now but I do know that a part of me doesn’t want to be that anymore. There is no fun in solving someone’s problems when my own problems have long remained unsolved. There is no satisfaction that any level of expertise can ever provide. By far the one thing I’ve known to be true is that being a professional entails being predictable, and if by being a thorough professional I’d become thoroughly predictable, what’s the point of being one? In seven years, I’d started to question my own intentions. In a short span of barely 84 months, I’d started to lose faith in my goals. In mere 2500 days, I’d started to lose my own self. But today, for once, after all these years, I heard the laughing man tell me about myself…

As I look back at the journey in these unknown waters I don’t see my family, I don’t see Home, I don’t see my friends. Instead I see distance, I see costly air tickets and I see whatsapp groups. It doesn’t feel good to see friends-since-childhood turn into just-childhood-friends, to see a family-of-four turn into three-families-of-two and to see yourself move from dependent-on-dad to dad-of-a-dependent. If this is what growing up meant, I’d started to feel I was better off never embarking on this journey at all. But this isn’t why I took up to writing today, for today is the day I found myself wandering in the same unseen garden of life - unattended. As I turn almost 30, today as I looked at the man in the mirror wondering where I was headed, I saw a strand of white hair on my beard. A strand of hair which I think stood there all along, hidden in the middle of all the sharp black ones, invisible to the focused eyes of a thorough professional but still there nevertheless. As I look closer I see a few more of them scattered around all over my beard. In the middle of all the chaos that life had drawn me into, I felt I had an epiphany.

I saw that same laughing man I saw seven years ago. Only this time, he spoke to me. I saw in his eyes that as the time machine moves forward, while the beard of responsibilities blackens your face it is that one strand of white positivity, the one strand of being childlike, the one strand of determination, that multiplies and spreads till it becomes the only truth of your soul. I was growing older, no doubt, but I wasn’t losing myself. I was just starting to see the white strands of myself. The shining strands of my character which was behind all that I’d faced over these years. All these years where I fought with myself and my decisions to understand what I was and what I wanted had only made these strands shinier, sharper and stronger. I am not a function of my past, I am instead a result of my endurance, my skill, and my determination which have led my through what I’d experienced in my past. The white strands that only time can bring in your life is what they all call Wisdom.

In the mirror I saw the man I was, telling me that while growing up isn’t all fun, it isn’t something we can run away from, but it is the one thing that chisels out the blackness off your character and makes you who you are. It removes all the stone around you and reveals the piece of art that God created in you. And for that one reason, the laughing man in his sheer remorselessness said, “Growing up is worth it”. 

Maximum City, Minimum Eyes

My P-2 Speech at Mahindra Worli Toastmasters. Sharing with you the text: 

cheers!

Maximum City, Minimum Eyes:

I've often wondered how this humongous city lives on this tiny little piece of land. It was always something for which I never got the right answer, I've got answers - Yes, but never really knew if it was right. For that matter, I didn't even know if a right answer exists for this question. How can people suffer this much, this long? Why do people endure these over filled trains every damn day to their office? Why do they take the same train every day? Why don't they want to escape from here? Why are they here? 

Under this pressure, Under this weight,

Who are these people? What are they?

With all these questions in my mind, on a bright April evening, I took my train to Mumbai.

Early morning as the train entered Mumbai, I had started to get answers to some of those questions. Outside the window was garbage. Right next to the Garbage was someone's home with a whole bunch of people playing cards. A tiny little home on which was another tiny little home with even more people inside. What was most memorable was that moments later i was greeted by a beautiful view of 3 men sitting in a straight line near the garbage, two of them facing the train and 1 with his back towards it, trying to get their daily accounts with the nature cleared. I really don't know if there's a better way to say that here. That, my friends, was a sight! I will never forget that. By the time I reached my destination the smell of fish in some corner of the platform silently entered my lungs and as I started to sweat profusely for no reason, I realized I was finally in Mumbai.

The next day was the first time I took the train to Office. I never knew that the whole damn world would descend upon this small little platform i was standing on just to get to work. I skipped 3 trains expecting the world to run out of men for the next train. This, was my first mistake. Mumbai is never out of people for the next train. With my  heart in my mouth, I tried to enter the next train, my second mistake. I was pushed out by people getting down from the train. Somewhere inside I registered my first lesson for the day: You never TRY to enter the train, just let go and The Force will take you inside. 

When The Force took me inside finally, my hands were locked in someone else's arms while holding the overhead grip as I was still near the door. Standing next to me was a random guy in random formals with a bag over his shoulders and effortlessly hanging on the doors holding onto the grip as if like a curtain. The next station was Mulund, and as this station approached this guy looks at me, at the top of his voice, starts shouting GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA....

Shocked to the end my wits I looked at him and all he did was look me in the eye and continue with this GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..for a second i thought i had stepped on his feet. I hadn't, but he was still going on! I started looking elsewhere in an attempt to try to ignore and prayed that he wasn't a terrorist. 

As the platform approached, It was then that this guy finished what he had started with..."AAAAANNNNPATI BAPPPAA.." and the whole bogie erupted with "...MOOORYAAAAAA!!". Good god I was shocked, relieved, humbled, numb, bamboozled and awestruck..all at once. I had no idea where on earth had I suddenly landed. Somewhere inside I registered my first question that day : "WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?"

Days passed by as I continued to wonder how this city manages to survive, I got used to seeing these crowded platforms and crowded trains full of lonely people. All around me I saw chaos, randomness, sadness and tension on the faces of these people. Mumbai was after all a place full of people who didn't know each other, I thought. I wondered why it was even called the Maximum City. This land didn't care for people, It doesn't care about relations, it doesn't have love and for the sake of humanity, this land doesn't value life.

It took me 4 months to realize how wrong I was.

August 2015, a usual day in office and as always I had to rush to take my train back home. As I rushed past hundreds of random lonely faces to reach my train's door, I didn't realize that my shoe's laces had fallen in love with each other. In the middle of this crowded Thursday they had managed to fall into each others arms and had already tied a knot. As I took my leap of faith to enter the train's door, by God's grace or what I don't know, I tripped. As my knees hit the platform I felt as if the whole world had paused. I could hear my heart beat but I knew it was about to stop. I wanted to move but I couldn't. Paralyzed by sheer fear I just looked at my feet and saw that the laces were now stuck on the door's corner and then I saw the mighty remorseless train had started to move. I was right there, on the platform with one leg on the edge, eyes shocked and wide open, my right hand still on the platform as I watched my feet being rubbed and dragged by a train which was slowly picking up speed. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see a thing, for a moment i had resigned from life for I knew that within moments I might just be under the next bogie's wheels. In a fraction of a second my whole life seemed to be played in front of my eyes, my parents, my friends, my love. The next bogie was mercilessly coming too soon as I felt my left foot dragged under the train force now. I tried to reach out to an unknown force out there with my left hand but deep within myself, for the first time in my life, I registered how it felt when you know you're about to die.

It was then that in the middle of those family pictures in my mind that I saw a hand. A random hazy hand which had come to me from out of nowhere. All my teared up eyes could see was that the hand was from someone inside the train. I did not realize that the hand had gripped my stretched left hand and in a jerk picked me up with the moving train's force. I felt my legs back up and as that random hand jerked once more I was pulled inside the train. It took me a few seconds to realize what had just happened for the last i remembered, I was almost dead. As I came back to my senses I saw that this random hand had a random face, one of those millions of faces I had ignored all these days. One of those faces whom I had labelled lonely in this crowded world. Little did I know that this random face had just saved my life. Within moments this random guy, whom I couldn't even thank, got down at the next station. I tried to watch him as he went, and as my teary eyes recorded each moment, within me, there was something which knew that this random guy had given me all my answers. As I was tracing the random guy silently walk past the crowd, I heard this voice inside me which said I had my answers for I saw this guy walk past the same crowds that I used to in the same lonely way that I used to. For the first time in my life, inside my head, inside my mind, from the deepest corners of my heart, I knew these answers were right. That random guy who'd saved my life was the soul of this beautiful city. That random guy who saved my life was Mumbai.

That horrifying experience left me with something I'd cherish forever. It gave me beautiful set of new eyes to look at the world around me. Through these eyes I realized that what I saw outside was always a reflection of what I had within me. All that chaos, all that randomness, all that loneliness was never Mumbai, it was always me! Through these new eyes I now started seeing a mother's love for her kid when I saw her smile at a phone call from "Son" on her phone. I started seeing peace inside the person who in the middle of a hyper crowded train found time to sleep. The same eyes which saw Garbage now saw how much life was valued in this city, for even Garbage wouldn't stop them from living a happy life. People didn't suffer here, for them this is home. Through these eyes I saw that the reason people travel in the same train is just to get to meet and speak to the same people every day. People always live here, in spite of the pressure, on this tiny little piece of land, not because they're fools but because behind every breeze of fresh air that blows in this city it brings with it that one glue which makes you live one more day, the glue of life called Hope.

 From Garbage to Loneliness, it wasn't Mumbai, it was all me. For Mumbai was just that random guy who tells you the time, who asks you to take the next left turn, who tells you that it's a one way, who tells you about the next station, and for all those who need, Mumbai is the guy who'd lend you a hand to lift you out of trouble. It didn't take me long to realize, that in reality, that for once and for ever, i had fallen in love with Mumbai. Somewhere deep within, I registered my answer:

"Under this pressure,

Under this weight,

They are diamonds,

taking shape..."

The next morning, with a much lighter mind, a much clearer view, I took that same train, went to that same spot near the door, put my bag over my shoulders, and as Mulund station arrived, with utmost peace inside me, held the grip like a curtain, to the sheer dismay of another young boy standing next to me, I screamed at the top of my voice....GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNPAATTIIIII BAPPPPAAAAAA...MORRRYAAAA

Anti Notional

There's whole lot of new stuff that's been going on around. Understanding Gravitational Waves is probably the easiest of them all. Things don't change themselves out of nowhere, well that's Physics. What is difficult to understand is how people bypass all their experience, all their knowledge, all their senses, and start believing in bull shit that some talking head speaks on TV. I've often wondered if we're any different from the mice that followed Pied Piper's music and disappeared with all their identities into a generalized lesson that the world teaches its kids.

 Whenever logic has erased itself from the minds of the learned, it is often replaced by blindness. We're all "logical", "educated" and "scientific" when we watch Paresh Rawal debate the presence of God in a movie on TV, but suddenly turn into blind fools when we change the channel and hear some TV news anchor blabber his crooked opinion as news. Are we really so lost that mere words can replace all our life's gains and turn us into brainless followers of bullshit? Are we so gullible that "Are you with us or against us?" erases every bit of what was once a calm and peaceful mind and turns you blind? Why do we let our minds so badly undefended? Why do we suddenly suspend all our senses? Why do we even listen to those fools on TV?

"If you wanna break free,'
You better listen to me,
You've got to learn how to see
In your fantasy"

There are people around you who've always believed in only one Mathematical operator...division. Give them some human beings and they'll call them Hindus and Muslims. Give them a Hindu they'll call some Brahmins and some others Dalits. Give them a Muslim and they'll turn them into Sunnis and Shias. Give them a Man and they'll call him Black or White. Give them a woman and they'll call her Fat or Thin. To all those fools who consider themselves to be representing a certain division I have but one question: This man that man, Black n White n Brown man - Tell me about the color of your soul. Brother, I wanna be a Human Being - not a Human Doing.

I am done with these fools polluting my TV and my mind with all their baseless crap which has nothing to do with my life. I seriously do not care why some scholar kills himself - if the scholar hasn't learned to value his life what kinda scholar is he? I seriously do not care why some University students protest against the government - if the student hasn't learned to value his time what kinda student is he? I seriously do not care which journo gets beaten up by whom - if the journo doesn't know the difference between facts and opinions then what kinda journo is he? 

If you, right now, want to punch me in my face, throw ink at me, throw slippers at me, raise slogans against me, send me to Pakistan...all I have to ask you is this:    

I really don't care about your notions, what kinda person does that make me? Remember Pied Piper?

Introverted Polynomial

Introverted Polynomial:

My silence hits unnerving chords
My sadness hits my tears.
My mind could blurt a thousand words
My eyes could sing a curse.
My arms and legs had seen it all
yet my face would still not tell
how peaceful I have been outside
with chaos all these years.

Everyday I see these files
I wonder if at all,
the file is how my life has been
no blunder yet to fall.
With pages filled with words and lies
I lay calm on my desk,
no brow would move in this damn war
my face would be my wall.

The world may find my silence bore
my way of life unclear.
My doldrums loud and seldom proud
my attitude not dear.
The world may ask me to grow up
for my wall is what they see,
but when this war is old and done
the world would know for real,
that far beyond their words and lies,
and deep within my fort,
inside my soul is where I know
I will conquer my fear.
I will conquer my fear.


-Vis

Mum Bye

Among the several millions that rush towards a hallucination, I am just one. every step i take ahead leaves behind a mark and to be judged on that mark is what hallucination is. Whenever I have been put into a forgettable place, in the darkness I seek my thoughts, in the cold i seek my destiny, in the black i seek my freedom. Life has its own roller coasters which move on its own beats, rushes on its own fuel, falls on its own might and to be riding on that is what freedom is.

Into another darkness I move now, without a clue which way the roller coaster's going. Every morning I see a bunch of children sleeping on the footpath, dirty, filthy and yet on their faces is a smile that costs them nothing. Right next to them were walking well dressed children going to some big shot school to learn how to get rich, how to stay clean, and how to build footpaths. I wonder which way the roller coaster went for them for inside those heavy bags are expensive notions and on the footpath are worthless dreams. After all, to be on the wrong side of fortune and yet find a reason to smile while the whole world rests on a string of hope is what dream is.

I am now in a city with a 100 million others. Not one soul here cares about that number, not one soul would worry that their lives are as hard as a feather. But within each one here lies a dream, a dream that refuses to fall, on which clings each day of their lives. An unperturbed and an un-quenching thirst to succeed, and an unnerving yet un-erasable will they call Faith. After all, to be walking on a road of unknown lengths holding on to a feather of hope, while hurdles drain away your strength, is what Life is.

Here I am standing on a platform waiting for a train. The train that has delivered the dreams of millions in this city and robbed the millions of many lives. On this platform stand several others like me, waiting for a miracle to change their lives, but deep within they know it well that if every day is a struggle then deep within they are
warriors. Among them I stand without a clue of life or how it will be ahead and all I have is a bag full of notions, a mind full of dreams, a heart that clings on to a hope, and a smile that costs nothing.

As the train finally arrives, I close my eyes and let myself free and let that flow of time take me to the ride of the roller coaster, a roller coaster called Life.

Resume

Cricket
Movies
Facts
Quizzes
History
India
Human Behavior
Geography
Indian Economy
Physics
Politics
Mahabharata
Chess
Minesweeper
Rubiks Cube
Oratory
Writer
Dance
Sing
Fiction
Music
Engineering
Electronics
Mathematics
Table Tennis
Tata Consultancy Services
Moodys Corporation
Mahindra & Mahindra
IBM Mainframe
COBOL
DB2
Java
C C++
SQL Server
RapidSQL Sybase
Excel VBA
C#.NET
VB.NET
Tally ERP
R Studio
R Shiny
HTML CSS
Trustworthy
Talkative
Friend
Best Friend
Brother
Husband
Son

...and yet an Idiot.

Children of the Sky

There is a child inside every one of you. You just cannot forget the one you were when you used to suck your thumb to find peace, when every new clothing was welcomed with pee, when world peace rested in your mother's arms. Those days may have gone, but you haven't. A part of you still subconsciously wants those wonderful days to return, wants you to age back, wants you to grow down. Your conscious busy overloaded overworked spaceless remorseless mind may put that thought to a halt, but somewhere within yourself you know it very well that given a Time machine the first place where you'd go is your childhood.

And look at where the world has come to now. Gone are the days when the biggest known fight was the one with the local bully over your new cycle, these men have grown up, they behead their enemies in public view now. Gone are the days when you could write whatever you wish in your exams with the only fear being the report card, the report cards have grown up now, they hack bloggers in public view if they don't like what's written by them. Gone are the days when vacations were spent in front of a TV and a video game, these games have grown up now, they bomb your cities with drones and in this game you don't have consoles but Guns, and the harshest reality of this game is that it doesn't come with multiple lives.

"World.. Hold on, Cmon
Everybody in the universe,
World.. Hold on...
One Day you will have to answer
to the children of the sky"

And look at where you have come to now. Gone are the days when you used to cry till you were given the Toy you wanted, the days when the strongest person was the father and the meanest person the brother. The essence of the world now lies in the fact that every moment is a conflict of the child in you with Time, a conflict that the child is losing and you are slowly becoming the devil that was once hidden under the bed. Why else do we turn a blind eye to the random man who fell off his bike in the middle of the road? Why else is understanding Injustice so difficult? why else is the only solution found in the Gun? and finally, Why else do we forget that regardless of where we are from, regardless of the color of the skin or the color of the cap, we are all children of the sky.

In a world where one is known by the God he follows I too am a follower of God, not the one you seek in Temples or Churches or Mosques, but the one who is most ignored, the one god that is so unprivileged that no one even gave him a religion, the one, and probably the only God, the whole world has so easily forgot. I am a follower of the God that lives right next to the child in you, the God that lives in your Mind. The only place where you can grow down, where all violence is futile, where consoles are consoles and report cards are just report cards, the only place in the world where one seeks to have Peace. It is here the greatest battles are decided, the greatest ideas created, the finest methods devised, and this is where your answer lies. The world may have religions, treaties, tariffs, Organizations, Guns, Bombs and Preachers, but in here there is just You. The Mind is that nursery where even your enemy is just a thought away from friendship. Forget the war of the worlds, the war within you that the world rages with your inner child, that is where it needs to end, that is where you need to fight, and that is perhaps the only place where victory matters. Let that child in you live, not because the world deserves forgiveness but because you deserve Peace.
Till then...
"World Hold On...Cmon
Everybody in the universe,
World Hold On...."

Beggerly Hills...

I am not Wind,
I am not Fire,
I am that man
no one's desire.

I am not cool,
I am not hot,
I am that guy
seldom your thought.

I am not geek,
i am not tall,
i am that fool
you'd never call.

i am not loud,
i am not glad,
i am that corner,
which is always sad.

I wish no bad,
for i am no fad
and yet when you saw my ugly face
i am that brother you never had.

i will not know,
for my mind is dead,
as long as life i know is there
i have not sweet I'll have no bread


oh God you see
how far i am
from the man you made
not one I am,
and yet i live on your handmade land
I see not you in a single man.

they see me here, they come to me
look at my face all sad no glee
they throw a coin then at my face
oh coin, poor you, you cannot flee.

they're rich they are with cars and bags
in a heap of filth I lie with rags,
and yet sadly they know inside
their blood is red, and so is mine.

with a coin they flip their kindness off
with no remorse they just walk off
as if i care, as if i were
about to ask them to see off.

In peace I die, not fun or fair
like a rich man dead I lay on flare
and yet here you've made that divide
i die all lone, not a tear to spare


Oh God you see i lie here bare
with not one soul who could just care
they say you live in them as well,
and yet how come I am like this
they call me a beggar, their words I wear.
they call me a beggar, their words I wear.

Je Suis Charlie. Je Suis Alive.

I saw two men. Their faces hidden, their arms swollen. Had guns in their hand, and a chant on their lips, and they were walking towards me in black. In their eyes i saw fear, but in mine they saw religion. They didn't ask me my name. They didn't look around for anyone. They came here with no eyes, for all they saw were infidels, and in their eyes was me.

The last I remember is a cold barrel that was held on my forehead. A finger filled with perspiration touching the trigger, a breath full of regret hitting my eyebrows and the last drop of tear that fell off my chin. I know he saw that drop on the floor, I know his mind must have recorded it, I know his insides felt a cramp as that innocent drop of teary water felt the saddened floor with utmost peace, I know his eyes had seen it all. And yet I don't care what his name was, I don't care where he came from, for the next to fall was me.

There was mercy in his heart, for he wanted to escape. There was chaos in his hands for his shots went haywire. He wanted to kill, but his legs wanted to run away. His lips repeated a name he was trained. Behind every word, he thought, he was reaching closer to his God. But not anymore, for his bullets were real and his God has seen it all. One on the head, one on the hand, one for the little guy who could barely stand. Like a nursery rhyme he shot them all word by word, line by line as if blood was his food and life was his wine. But for every bullet he fired, his trembling fingers had said it all that his mind was dead and to the devil he'd sold his soul. And yet I don't care who he was, I don't care where his God was, for his bullets had then found me.

There is no music in what had just happened, but many heartbeats in there were their last. With every heart that stopped, stopped millions of thoughts that could bring that change to the world. For all those millions around the world who wait for a miracle, that one thought was their last hope. There were no guitars in there, but in there died many strings that held families together. With every string that broke in there, ended a stream of notes that could bring joy to those saddened ears and minds who looked at others with a smile and with a pain filled regret, imagined themselves. There was no voice in there, for all they had were words of a handler who didn't even dare to face the world. I don't care who asked him to, I don't care which song it was, there was no tune in there, for the next to end was me.

In a blink that bullet went through me, In a moment it erased my existence, In a second my life was over, for in the time my lungs could breathe my last, my life was a part of  the past. It feels sad that all my life I had so many goals, so many targets, not many foes and in a blink of an eye I was reduced to a memory. But I don't care who I was, nor do i care who he was, for every Me that was shot in there, Millions today stand for me. I may be dead, I may be gone, but for once I know, be it Charlie, be it Ram, let it known to the dear killer of mine, no matter how many bullets he try, no matter how many children in line, Je Suis Charlie and I will stay alive.

For Kin and Country

dedicated to the never ending flame that lights the Amar Jawan...

For Kin & Country

Walking through the woods at night
While mothers sleep away alright,
An ambush is setup for us,
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We were five, my brothers & I,
Wore uniforms, held ourselves high,
Their bullets pierced along my arms
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We took our guard, my brothers & I
Trees around heard all our cry,
We ran towards one that was high
I am that son, I refuse to die.

The night was dark, all black n gray,
the air was chill, as cold as hay,
When a silent bush blew up so close
I am that son, I refuse to die.

In that light I saw at once,
The face of a man and gun at once
So fierce with a look let bullets he fly
I am that son, I refuse to die.

I ducked, I crawled, I slept on it all,
Let thorns thru my chest yet arms were strong,
I am a soldier, I heave no sigh,
I am that son, I refuse to die.

With all our strength my men & I,
Fired back each round, our guns held high
when one by one we killed them all
I am that son, I refuse to die.

They ran away with all their ride
When long at once I heard them cry
My men were back to kick their arse
I am that son, I refuse to die.

The Army came to save us now,
was then I saw, oh holy cow,
An air vent hole right through my chest
I am that son, I refuse to die.

We killed them all, my men & I,
Played with death and not with dye,
God so much blood I have on me
I am a son, I refuse to die.

I cannot lose any more hope
For hope is what I always have,
For all my mother and my land,
I am a son, I refuse to die.

As doctors clench my arm to help
I find within their eyes a cry
I can afford a smile right now,
For once, I know I have to die.

Let mother know my life's book
For life is what she cannot cook.

Go tell her living mind in all

her son was well, he will not fall.

My country has a soul all know,

in peace and war wont stand too low, 

For every Me that dies tonight

A million more will rise to fight.

A million more will rise to fight.

Farther in Law

Dedicated to a father whose daughter I got married to: My feet wobbling, my blood boiling, A part of me was born again, my sweet lil girl, my darling. she'd eyes of her mother, a cheek which was flatter, A part of me was born again for all I know I was her Father she grew up in front of my eyes, not tall at all yet high Fives, today I look beneath myself, for all I know Time just flies. I did not know who I am I hadn't felt it so clear, for all I know within myself, I am her Dad, she's my fear. I wasn't much a talker, wasn't much a hawker, for my love was too deep, God I am her Father. I asked myself If she knows, that my love for her was beyond all woes, I lied to myself, but my eyes couldn't lie, she knows. she walked out in that wedding dress today, as I looked at her all day, tears rolled down on their own for all I know I'd nothing to say. I did not know who I am I hadn't felt it so clear, for all I know within myself, I am her Dad, she's my fear. I fought with her loud and clear, but beneath my cover she was my dear, today as she walked into that stage, I stood there gripping all my fear. In her happiness I had fold myself, In her joy I had forgotten my self, today right here she's going away, and here I am staring at that empty shelf. Today I know who I am I never knew so clear, for all I knew within myself, I am her Dad, to hell with fear.

The Hidden Tooth

My little nephew, barely 18 month old was playing around my sofa, trying to slurp his hidden tooth, when his ever thirsty sight inadvertently fell on the elusive TV Remote. In a matter of seconds, that TV remote was all he wanted. It looked as if a Lokmanya Tilak had awakened inside him  for he was moving as if repeating, "The Remote is my Birthright...and I shall have it". Like an unstoppable cloud he kept on trying to move around me to reach that remote, trying everything in his limit to get around the seemingly gigantic Mount Everest that stood in front him. Even his primary weapon, "The Stare of Innocence", failed to work as I was determined not to let this poor defenseless unarmed TV remote be mercilessly tortured and have itself dismembered and dragged around before being thrown into a Lake of Pee. 18 months, and that little boy was already an expert at warfare - He called in his allies with his SOS (which is a monotonous signal which any ally could Comprehend-Respond-You, also called C.R.Y): He freaking cried. I had lost. His allies pounded me with their brutal assault. Within moments, the Mount Everest had collapsed, within seconds the cries silenced and within minutes the Remote was in The Lake of Pee.

The whole evening we (including the little boy, his allies, and me) were forced to watch a frivolously shouting and aimlessly blabbering Arnab Goswami who was repeating "MrSanjayJhaMrSanjayJhaMrSanjayJha " (yes, No Spaces) and Mr Sanjay Jha repeating "ArnabArnab Arnab" endlessly as if they were both being paid to say the other person's name. Never mind. We all deserve this. We've all tortured Mother Nature and its Environment so bad, it was bound to throw back at us at least one Arnab Goswami and one Sanjay Jha. The only person, however, who was enjoying that sight with his full-hearted and selfless egoless and  interestingly breakless laugh was also the reason we weren't able to change the channel. In 18 months, the little boy trying to slurp his hidden tooth had changed that so called super-prime-time-firing-debate into Tellytubbies.

I had no choice but to awaken the Engineer in me. Yes, that was perhaps the only time I got to show off my engineering skills. Before you imagine anything..No, I didn't repair that TV Remote. I rushed to the cablewala and bought a new remote. Exactly what Engineering had taught me, "When the going gets tough...buy a new car" (RTMNU - By Rashtrasant Tukdoji Maharaj, Vol 3 Verse 3:16). I returned to a champion welcome, took all the accolades, gave an angry stare to that hidden tooth boy, and walked like Jason Statham. I soon realized that Jason Statham generally walks like that when some new car is about to blow up behind him. The new car did blow up. I, the Engineer, the Champion Engineer, the Opportunist, the perfectionist, had forgot to buy batteries. I tried to use the old ones and what followed was exactly the kind of an Engineer I was...A mix of Arnab Goswami, Arvind Kejriwal and Pikachu: All words, no show, and yellow.

My last attempt somehow helped me go ahead by one channel. So now were all watching BBC. And what that channel showed, moved me. I, with an 18 month old baby on my lap, was watching young injured barely 18 month old babies and kids being carried away by their wailing fathers in Gaza. There was no noise in those images and yet they were a blow to my mind. There was no shrapnel in that video and yet it had pierced through my heart. I was staring at a child, as old as the one on my lap, being faced with an assault of the most brutal kind. For a kid so small, there is no country, no policy and no religion. For a kid so small, there is never an Arnab Goswami or Sanjay Jha, no ceasefire nor treaty. For a child so small, there is no war. His only weapon is his innocence, and his only bullet is his stare.

Within moments, we were all staring at the sheer luck that we were on the other side of the Mount Everest but one which could collapse any moment. Within moments we were all staring at the sheer helplessness of Engineers like me in trying to stop real cars from blowing up in real markets. While we all were staring at the harshest form of reality that BBC showed....within moments it was all over...I had Lost again...for within moments the new remote was in The Lake of Pee.

Absolutely Untitled..

I need to find time to write, to dance around, to sing loud, to laugh, to enjoy. But what I've realized over time is I need to find time to live. They say that work is what makes a kid a man. I find it difficult to believe that a man is born at the cost of the kid. I enjoy being the kid, for it is the kid in me that keeps me the way I am. It is the kid in me that laughs out loud, sings and dances around, enjoys. In this absolutely untitled world, It is this kid that keeps me alive, for I am that untitled kid.

They all say that you need to do something you've always wanted to, something you enjoy, something you love most, something that you are passionate about. And here I am, the idiot that I am, finding it difficult to understand the difference. All this time I've been on an unknown pursuit of the work that amazes me most, the work that-as they say-I am passionate about. And although I have traveled pretty far, I'm yet to find that one thing for at the end of all tunnels I find myself standing perplexed yet undisturbed. I find my own reflection which eerily stares at my face with peaceful eyes and even without uttering a word it erases all that's written in my mind -word by word.

I have no idea where this journey is taking me, nor do I know in which direction. But it is this very journey that has given me a pearl-like family, gold-like happiness, and diamond-like friends. It is this journey that has made me fall in love with these wild yet cricket crazy streets, with these nagging yet peaceful neighbors, with these crazy yet innocent kids. In this journey I may be alone, but who cares, I live in a world filled with worries, with ego, with jealousy, and with filthy politics. Who'd want partners when you know it is all walking slowly towards doom. Amidst all these worries, it is this journey that has given me my wings. I can fly over all this and still be me. These wings are mine, and this is what powers me through time.

I have grown up now. There's plenty of work. And today as I happened to hold my little kid nephew in my arms I saw what this journey was telling me all the while. In a far mirror was the end of the tunnel, I was an image of chaos while the kid in my arms was looking at my eyes-perplexed yet undisturbed. I was looking at the mirror and it was the kid who was eerily staring at my face with peaceful eyes and without uttering a single word he erased all the chaos that was written in my mind - word by word. And with a smile he'd said it all, that it was the kid in me that I always wanted to be, it was being that kid that I enjoyed most. Amidst all worries, I want to be the kid in me. To hell with the world, to hell with the man that is born at the cost of the kid, I am and will always be a kid inside, to hell with this absolutely untitled world ....for I am that Untitled Kid.

A Falling reason to Love..

For the first and second part:
I ) http://vishnu4ever.blogspot.in/2010/10/in-love-with-love.html
II ) http://vishnu4ever.blogspot.in/2011/02/in-love-with-loveagain.html

FICTION:


They said ask him why he loves you. They said ask him can't he find anyone with the same qualities. They all said there are better people you'll get. They all said they know more. But None of them had ever experienced the silence inside when such words of fire are fired right at your face with no mercy. None had felt the pain that such words create in a chaos filled mind. None could fathom the depth that these kind looking words could reach. They asked me what I am, what ability I had to ever think of love. They asked me to end it. But None had ever put on my shoes to see how it felt, None had my eyes to see the world I saw, None could think that these eyes had loads of tears that were held by the brute force of will. None had ever felt what it feels to be on the other side of fire... and yet they thought they were right.

"Give me reason to wash this memory clean,
 Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between.
 Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies,
 across this new divide."

I have asked myself those same questions every single time I looked into her eyes. Every single beat of heart that we shared had asked the same question a thousand times over and over again. The truth that came out that moment, and the only answer that still engulfs my mind is that I do not know. I've tried a lot and each time I got a new answer. May be I love her because she's the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life. May be I love her because there's no one in the world who knows me the way she does. May be I love her because she is sweet. "May be", that's an interesting set of words, may be, they say a lot and yet they end up saying nothing.

Like merciless stones into a lake, they threw those questions into my unarmed mind. Like a defenseless fort plundered by trebuchets, my mind crumbled into a heap of soft bricks bleeding the glue that had helped it stay strong. I was left with only chaos, and it was in this chaos that I found a hint of truth, the truth why I had loved her so much. In this chaos were answers. Amid this chaos were my answers to them, to those who questioned, to those who felt I didn't.

"I remember a prison of all memories,
and I'm drowning in tears come n help me please.
Stay with me...Stay with me,
baby when the lights go down.."

She knew me from the time I knew myself. The answer to why I love her is like that grain of white stone amid cooked rice, difficult to find, but once it hits, leaves its mark; difficult to know, but once it hits, difficult to ignore. The reason why I love her is something I do not know, for all i know is that she puts in that little bit of light in my mind the moment it turns dark. Her mere presence puts a blanket over my worries and brings back a smile which otherwise would've been lost in the debris of chaos. It brings in floods of happiness and joy when I get to laugh with her, something which has always been filtered by stones of relations and mud of uncertainty till now. Somehow she relieves me of this muddy trench and lifts me up above the rain. She is the reason I choose never to give up, the reason why I became who I am. I may not be able to quantify this, but to make her smile is a task I'll never get tired doing and will never stop myself from doing. It is by far the best work I do, for I know I am pretty good at it. Is she the most beautiful thing I've seen? No, I've seen Audis and Jaguars, but still I can't take my eyes off her even when there's an Audi next to her.

 I will never be able to explain or quantify such pointless yet meaningful things I've known about us. But she was the one I had when I experienced that silence inside when those words of fire were fired right at our face with no mercy. She had felt the pain that those words created in my chaos filled mind. She knew the depth that those kind looking words would reach. She was the only one who could see the world through my eyes, for she was that brute force which held together my tears.

When their words burned through my mind, she held my hand, felt my pain as I silently watched my world crumble...and yet they thought they were right.

Resigned from my heart

I had it decided. For some time I had that feeling inside and all this while I was waiting for a moment to decide. And soon that moment came, I saw where I was headed to with myself, I saw what I've become. I saw myself on a busy street and that very moment I had it decided, I wont turn into something I've never been or wanted to be. I will forever be me.

I wanted to write it out once and for all that I will not continue the job I've been doing, but I couldn't.I couldn't write that I was frustrated, agitated, annoyed and exhausted. I didn't. All this while I was wearing a joker's mask. A mask which I wore the moment I wore that blue ID card, the moment I entered those secured premises, the moment i go past those gates, and again the moment I sat onto a leaning chair in front of a machine which has no eyes or ears but has silent voice which runs thrills down many and an eerie face which can show you miracles. It was the mask I was turning into, I couldn't write this down because I never could get the right words, and I don't think English is big enough to express what I felt. I will not let this mask be me. I am what I am, and will forever be. I will be free for that's what is me.

I coded some scripts once a while, and for that I was paid a salary. I solved a few issues and for that I was paid a salary. I spent some time on a chair in front of that machine and for that I was paid a salary.Till the day I die I was gonna do this and for that I was paid a salary. To hell with this, I will make my own salary. I cannot be wearing a mask forever, I will not be the mask i wear. I may be that guy in the crowd, but I am not one of them. I will not live a life which waits desperately for the weekend and cries when it ends, I will not live a life where every one waits for the month to end and freely lets that cycle repeat itself in a slow yet painful way. I will not be that slave of an ounce of salary, I've never been that horse who runs for that carrot and will never be. I will not be a part of this place where every while you know that your path ahead is decided by someone else, and every light on the way is bleak. Hell! I am thin, but I am not weak.

"Open eyed now I run,
now I run to the other side..
Then I glide like a bird, 
I just want to be."

I may be living in a world where efforts are counted in hours and your dedication is remembered by your mistakes, but I still have a child in me who dreams. I still feel that my wings haven't rotten, I was born to fly and I will always do what I love to. I will not be clogged in this world of sh-IT where whether you do or not, you'll still get a sum of money which never changes. I will not sink into a hole dig by desperate promotion seeking people, I will make my own world and rise up. It's been a while I've been wearing this mask of uncertainty and today I throw it away. Dear Sir, today I resign.