Giving Wings To Dreams

The moment anyone reads the phrase "domestic violence," an automated image is generated in the subconscious mind—an image of a man unabashedly using his masculine prowess on his better half, the delicate one in the couple. But though that is the reality for a large chunk of the population, it is only a restricted view. The broader aspect involves unscrupulous violence against the older generation. Every other day, on social networking sites and in newspapers circulated across the nation, I would come across many such horrendous incidents. But somehow, the impact never lingered—until an akin incident occurred with one of my close acquaintances. A routine talk with my almost 74-years-old mother took an unexpected turn the day before yesterday. I had dialed her number three to four times, but it was engaged. When she was finally available, she called me back. She said, “I was on call with your late father’s best friend’s widow.” My father and uncle were childhood friends who had...

Mathematics of relationships has jostled, jerked, pissed and pushed, dragged and drowned human races. There's as such no absolute recipe that can help you bake or cook the signature dish of healthy relationships. Even the chef's special needs addition and subtraction. House speciality needs some wise multiplication and division. There's mostly an imbalance. At times salt is more, At another sugar is less. If by chance the chef manages to deal well with both the key ingredients, Still chances are he might fail, Since the customer's favorite might be just sour and umami. The garden of relationships is thus difficult to tend. Calculations of a seasoned gardener might also fail. A little less attention to details, A little more liberal hand at fertilizers and pesticides, Can contaminate soil, water and turf, And ultimately might head the dearly planned entire crop of his on the decay's trail. A beautiful blend of passion and patience is a seedsman's strongest tool, ...

Inertia, siesta, sleep or slumber Regardless of how you might be addressed, May I ask humbly—what’s the motive or purpose of you? You mostly befall when you aren't needed. Your arrival is tempestuous and causes havoc, Especially when the soul is in communion with its one and only mate, Who is brighter than the Pole Star And as stubborn as the Northern Star, Which can't wait For the soul to wake up. Aren’t your forty winks supposed to delay When the poor soul wishes to walk on heart's ecstatic way? But the soul isn't strong—it can't help being lost in your Morpheus arms. Acknowledgement to the fact that you are the biggest bliss, That's auto-generated in childhood and youth alike. And you are considered no less than a blessing For the tired beings struggling in middle age to run the 24/7 mill. Whereas for the old and senile, you are a far-fetched, long-lost dream, Who have to often drug themselves to be on your cherished lap. To some, you are r...

Authority doesn't mean barging into someone's personal workspace, Showing airs, carrying a stern face. Authority doesn't give liberty to anyone to be rude at daybreak, Forgetting all manners of wishing and greeting, Yet still expecting others to smile and bow before you. Don't deem it essential that everyone will obey the rule of harshness. Let others have their way. While you may be a believer and worshipper of strict ways, Others might know how to work in a friendly and sweet way— Especially while dealing with tender hearts who might at times go astray, And may have weird ways, They may also have adamant sways, But to someone, they are the most precious assets and jewels. Once in a while, a few flaws can be overlooked, Once in a while, a dish of guiding discourse for them without chilli can be cooked. Authority must have humility, Politeness and equality. If you are out to reform and reset, the focus shouldn't be a sole niche or a corner. Let your light spread far...

Someone had rightly said that life is a journey. Through different stages of life, one has to traverse—and mostly, it is a journey where one has to be all by himself or herself. Metaphorically correct. Now let's talk about it literally. Traveling, like most of us love, I also adore. During the 47 years of my life, I have traveled mostly from Haryana—the state known for the White Revolution—to Himachal, the state where Gods reside. It's not that I have commuted between these two states only. I am fortunate enough to have visited at least half of the states of our beautiful nation, India. But mostly, it was a journey by road. A couple of times, it was by train as well, but the number of train journeys that I have undertaken so far can easily be counted—around a dozen or so. And every time, there was a memorable experience. But today, it's not the journey by road or train that I intend to mention. It is the journey by air, which was once considered royal and very dignified....

Every beginning sees an end. Every day, year or season ends. Every meeting, session or festivity ends. Be it pain, misery or happiness that also ends. Childhood, youth or old age also meets its end. Life itself that once joyously blooms sadly at its appointed hour ends. End is for sure certain.  Still end is what scares, End is what is never welcomed. Beginnings are while cherished. End for some reasons is never glorified. Especially when end isn't all of a sudden. And, forces of nature have no hidden hand to play the button of end or decay. Rather end is more because of constant ignorance to the red flags. The red flags taken lightly, because of holding on too long on false vows and promises so tightly. When one fails to realize that one's voice has for others become a noise. When one's absence goes unheeded and presence becomes cumbersome.  When one no longer stands out of the crowd, But is treated just as an unnoticed part of that very crowd.  When the one's sweet wo...

A battered soul was entrapped in a huge hellish tower, Decades on decades were rushing by, tears would flow blinding its petrified eyes.  For far and miles there wasn't a single soul who could hear its pathetic cries. No bird of peace ever flew near that damned tower's skies. Darkness overpowered as impenetrable unvarying dark clouds surrounded above the devilish tower. No ray of optimism, could kill the unfathomable pessimistic murk, as in that empire of gloom, ray wielded no supreme power. Serpents of sorrows wriggled in and around. Wolves of fear and scorpions of insecurities frowned from every square. The ill-fated soul could barely move with heavy shackles tightly secured around its feet, With no anticipation of liberation all it wished was the ultimate salvation. There wasn't even a trace of a little bit hope, When out of nowhere the doomed soul chanced upon an unexpected miracle. One fine morning,an angel passed by that dark dismal den. Enroute to his heavenly abode,...

TRIBUTE TO FATHER IS AN EFFORT TO GIVE WORDS TO ONE OF MY COLLEAGUES IN DAV (ONCE MY HAPPY WORKPLACE), JASWINDER SIR'S FEELINGS WHO OF COURSE, ACKNOWLEDGES A MOTHER'S CONTRIBUTION BUT WISHED A FATHER MUST ALSO GET HIS DUE IN HIS CHILDREN'S UPBRINGING. I HOPE JUSTICE HAS BEEN DONE THROUGH  THIS SMALL EFFORT.  At times ,cold as ice yet comforting and balming, hard as coconut but sweetest at core that's a father's pretenceless heart, sturdy as a mountain an unshakeable support, rough and rugged as a road that for sure leads to  the beautiful resorts, Such is the beauty of a father's love. Love that makes no audible noise, That mostly abstains from public display of affection, But round the clock makes sure that the fire beneath the hearth of his home shouldn't ever extinguish, Works like  an ox, Doesn't mind what it takes blood, sweat or tears Every price for his little ones' smiles he is willing to pay.  Often misunderstood,  often underestimated,  oft...

Exhausted,  exasperated, trodden, burdened and beaten, Like the dumb driven cattle, Every living being is an isolated island. Fuming , fretting , fussing and fighting  Within and without for reasons unknown and forever impossible to be explored. Caught between the silky webs of right and wrong, moral and immoral,  the more one tries to escape these vicious webs, The more one gets entangled and trapped. Choices are infinite, options at times are countless. The whole world is as if ebbing around Good, better and the best, Fine, finner and the finest. Amid this never ceasing race Innocent hearts tend to lose all innocence,  When there seems no purpose and life makes no sense.  Pinnacle of pelf is when already scaled, loved ones are in every possible way for future secured and superbly cared, In the lap of luxury the little ones are cradled. Velvet road one has already traversed. Yet, something is amiss, When pomp and show of the world no more allures, Delicacies of...

Silence is golden, Silence is an indisputed lethal weapon,  when enemy is unknown.  Silence is unshakeable truce, when you want an unwanted altercation to cease.  The strongest prayer is silent. The sage reading of the human disposition is also silent. Silence for sure is end of violence. Alas! Though Silence is considered a precious asset  Yet  silence has another not so welcoming facade.  Face that is devoid of grace and  that has capacity to wipe out the goodness of the human race. Silence undoubtedly is synonym of end, End of the road that leads to good times ahead. While dialogue though heated is a thread  That clutches on flimsy hope . Hope that once negativity of battered hearts is flushed out. The radiant flowers of new and better days would be blossomed. Life is noise while death is quiet. Therefore,  before picking the silent ways, Let your soul one final time shriek or cry, Otherwise, you will have no choice left,  But to free...

The creator of the earth must Himself be amazed, When He would have painted this beautiful earth, And filled softer hues of multiple emotions in the human heart and brain. How proud He would have felt , on  weighing  His master stroke that was undoubtedly mother's selfless love. Love that needs no returns, Love that sees no reciprocal turns.  Mother's love of course is infinite and matchless, Like ray of light in the darkest night, And shade in the warmest day, Like shelter overhead in the heavy rain, And medicine for relieving excruciating pain. When the whole world unites to judge and criticize, If you even once stumble, fail or fall, Your Mother's love will be your strongest shield And would for sure ward off all evil eyes. Mother's love keeps her offspring round-the-clock warm and saves them from every harm. This love for her progeny won't for a moment cease, reduce or leave them uncovered even when the heart that's its constant spring stops to beat. When in...

A boatman trapped in the middle of a raging storm, looked pleadingly towards the persistently rising tides, vigilant to the fact, that from land he had drifted too far to expect assistance in any form. Waves after waves were touching the mammoth skies, As if making space to gulp and swallow the boat alongwith its boatman. Up there in the firmament gloomy clouds also appeared to be scheming that day, peering into every corner of the incensed ocean, to make sure to turn everything upside down,  to spare no pains in order to move heaven and earth, to extinguish the lamp of hope that would always stay lighted in the boatman's little heart. The lamp of light that had previously preached the poor boatman to spare no effort, to pull out all the stops and to be ready to move the mountains if need be, was as if eclipsed. Dense clouds were ready to burst on the frail watercraft, to dig the water grave of the God- fearing seafarer. The able-bodied seaman, beseechingly fixed his gaze towards t...

A saint sitting on a silent island, mastering silently the art of meditation, Seems satisfied with soundlessness, wordlessness, voicelessness and speechlessness of the vicinity.  The reticence that his soul holds signals, towards  something for sure that is concealed, unsaid, unheard and may be suppressed. Pensive and spiritual are outwardly his ways, deep down inside the silent cave of his superficially silent heart, There can be traces of some painful scars.  With his stern silence on the silent island, he might be venturing to find the scheme of salvation for constantly screaming earthly souls, because to practice and preach selflessness is his sole goal. Amid his silent ways and prayers surprisingly and contrastingly the silent island,  Like an orphaned baby awaits for the painful silence to break, It awaits for sweet chiruppings of the little  birds to fill the silence of its surface. For constant sea waves to strike its silent shores to end the tranquility...

Irony, satire, pun and word play leaves touchy sensitive hearts battered and in a fitful sway. Truth seemingly is tightly bottled, sealed or buried inside the airtight , impassable thick layers of lies.  On surface, every image is sugary sweet , but beneath the plain exterior there is an ocean of cramped uneasiness, grappling hard not to ooze out, not to leak out the shades of grim truths. In  our contemporary cosmos whatever is fake is real, and surprisingly  irony is whatever strikes as real is fake. ' All that glitters isn't gold', is often just casually told. But these are the golden words pointing poignantly towards the candidness of the aforementioned maxim. God's eyes are needed to decipher truth lying defenselessly dormant inside the deep ditch of resilient web of lies. Howsoever, puny truth may squeal the ear-splitting screeches of rugged lies always succeed in muffling  up the genuine cries, unless the receptor has  inherited the empathy and unbiased e...

Motherhood is the most beautiful and satiating moment of every woman's life. The mammoth task of rearing a child becomes the sole driving force behind every woman once she attains motherhood.One of the most beautiful moments of my life was also undoubtedly when l had 21 years ago seen the face of my first born for the first time and another was when the Almighty had blessed me with my younger born 19 years back. Since then the centre of my life became the two children born to me. Day in and day out a silent prayer for their health and well-being goes on in my conscience, and that's what every mother does. My profession the sublimest one i.e teaching has mostly female staff who have a strong motherly instinct and are thus able to relish strong bond with the students. Present day teaching demands rigorous in-service trainings. The teachers like me attended various workshops from time to time in order to enhance their skills. During these workshops we got to interact with the teac...

Every soul enroute it's life  span at one time wonders, at another frets. Wonders when views others fail and fall, frets when it itself fumbles and stumbles,  on the semi-illumined and semi-dark alleys of love i.e the sublimest of all the human emotions.  Why love hurts is perhaps the only question that to all humans haunts. Why love hurts so much is a question that is being pondered by sages since ages. The heartless question abounds around the absence of exalted and untainted love, unsullied love that's pivotal for the peace and harmony,  for human growth and the solitary life sustaining hope. Why siblings' blood turns white and there is no inhibition while picking up the knife against one's own brothers in hand just for  a piece of land ? Why emotions go so deadly cold , when the old wrinkled hands of parents, which once made their offspring stand with sweat of their brow are brazenly lead to old age homes? Why true love is easily sold for comforts and bricks...

One more year has slipped by Of course, now there are no more audible cries. Yet, the pain of your departure is still acutely strong, Nothing can be done to rectify twenty two years old wrong, When you were quiet aware of the chiming of your death gong. And decided to suddenly without any prior intimation to be forever gone. And those final twenty four hours seemed to be so heavy and long, when from human form you were turned into ashes who was once so strong. Alas! that day,  It wasn't you who were solely  gutted in that so called holy fire, So much more was turned into coal and tar, Your younger ones' innocence and elder ones' desires were with you for a while gone. With you gone, Suddenly the warm gusts of this dreary world were chasing your progeny. But law of life is to keep going, Day or night, Dawn or dusk, Alone or with people around, With or without you, Life moved on and is still moving. But though physically missing  Yet, you haven't been completely forlorn....