Let's be alchemists: Change those wings back to GOLD!

“Yeh Kahaan Aa Gaye Hum, Yoonhi Saath Saath Chalte?”  “Where are we heading, having been unknowingly walking together?”

(This is not a Bollywood post like the previous one, but it does have one thing in common with it: the country from where both originate: India! India, and where the youth’s taking it.)

India! The country where the earliest civilizations started, where the mother of mothers, Mother Teresa, father of fathers, Mahatma Gandhiji, son of sons, Shravan Kumar and daughter of daughters, Rani Laxmi Bai set their feet. The nation where science and literature, architecture and music, astrology and astronomy, mathematics and poetry took birth and walked hand in hand to reach the zenith of all possible glories! The same India, Hindustan, Bharat or Aryavarta, where the Guptas, the Mauryas, the Mughals, the French, the Portuguese, the British laid hands on: some to construct, some to demolish. India, like the charm of crystal, the purity of a pearl, the essentiality of water and the décor of eras; is nothing less than the enigma of the present world!

For someone who is unaware of India, as a nation must happen to draw up a lovely image of a country bustling with every possible image of prosperity! He must have thought of ‘the enigma to the world’ as the unknown reason for such an amazing state! But sadly, if this person were to visit the place, he would find me and kill me for feeding him with the bullshit I’ve stated about the country in the above few lines. But, unlike him, the world knows it’s true! But then, sorrowfully, unlike the world, and like the person I talked about, our youth, the buzzing new generation doesn’t even have a guess, for whether it’s true or false.

The sons and daughters the nation provided us with continued to be ripe and fresh, ready to serve, ready to know and ready to acknowledge and respect the country. But it happens to be such that someone suddenly stopped watering the soil of our country; that the generation produced today, happens to be, not a little, but pretty much unaware of anything related to our country.  

I do not here, emphasize on the fact that India is a great country, and we must praise it for its flaws. I am also not being the crooked History teacher and asking every child to memorize when, where, how and why! But then, isn’t it important for us to know? For our children to know? And theirs and on and on?

“Unless India stands up to the world, no one will respect us. In this world, fear has no place. Only strength respects strength.” -Abdul Kalam.

We know the present scenario isn’t much of a worthwhile ‘watch and praise’ kind, but to lift the nation from the dooms of decay to the skies of development (which it lost a while ago) we need to children of the nation to do nothing more than this in the first place: LOVE! Yes, the simple four letter word again! But it’s got power. Power amounting to heights that can force one to be the change and continue to change. And maybe India only needs an alteration. So, imagine what respect can do!

When I was a little kid, my mother would tell me about how wonderful India is, about how glorious we were and ought to be. She taught me patriotic songs, we watched movies that moved me, even as a child! My father, during bed time, would tell me the Ramayana and Mahabharata, just so that I knew! It’s never unnecessary to pass on cultural stories. It’s never genius to not let your children know.

Today, if you pick a child and ask him, what we contributed to the world, he’ll smirk and say: ZERO! And no one would correct him. Well, you’ll say, “He is not even wrong! We did contribute that digit” But you do not know, with a zero, he means nothing! He needs to know, that it was math we gave the world, it was physics, it was art, it was poetry, it was design, it was democracy, it was fashion, it was yoga and, beyond all: CULTURE!

Have we forgotten what we taught?

Is there where we were destined to be?

Is this Bharat Mata? Are these her sons and daughters?

Let’s change the answer form a ‘YES’ to ‘NO’!

As children (even if you’re 18+), we’ll read and watch and as adults we’ll so the same, but also teach. We have inexhaustible raw material! A population of over 1.2 billion!

Let’s no longer call India a nation! Let’s let it be what it is: a festival! A festival called India! The festival that people join from around the globe, the festival where we show them what we’ve got, the festival where we CELEBRATE INDIA!

“India of the ages is not dead nor has she spoken her last creative word; she lives and has still something to do for herself and the human peoples.”

-Sri Aurobindo

The destroyed dream of acting drunk in a saree.

“Karvatey Badalte Rahe Saari Raat Hum, Aap Ki Kasam! Aap Ki Kasam!”

Out of most of the things I’ve literally died within myself wanting to do, singing this song with Rajesh Khanna in place of Mumtaz. Sigh. Life.

Anyway, here I am in the 21^st century, still wondering about how wonderful it would have been at that point of time. The era, the glory, the respect! What life can reward me with is a television with old classics playing, me watching and listening to them, imagining, imagining and imagining! It’s not all that bad though.

Acting is such an amazing thing, something that I could do for free, for the love of it! I’ve hardly made any great advances in it, no one even knows much about it, except for a play in my previous school, and my selection into the dramatics club and then dropping out due to unavoidable reasons! It’s a sad story and maybe I shouldn’t even have an incline towards going on about it. The ‘unavoidable circumstance’ is responsible for many more unavoidable things that came later. Sigh again.

This piece of writing, I mean the post you’re reading is very light hearted and being written just to put across a pretty grievous story of my life. So, take things lightly as you read. It’s just a silly piece of writing.

Now, as one may wonder, “if her love for acting is so huge that it forms such an integral part of this ‘drama-queen’s’ life, why doesn’t she try now?” I have excuses to this too. 

Reason one being the fact that you need to slim down to weigh probably 50 kilos to even reach the screen and be accepted as a good ‘actress’ today. (That is if I go in young.) Yes, sadly, acting in a way is inversely proportional to your weight. Otherwise they would cast Huma Quereshi in place of Katrina Kaif! Back then, during the 90s, you needed to look presentable. That’s it. Chubbiness was accepted. Today you need have a perfect jaw line, have sunken cheeks (that look like concave, very opposite to mine that are pretty convex!), have your beauty bone to be very visible. (Unless I go in like when Kirron Kher did!) And, of course, the saddest thing, for each of those, you need to move your body and eat less. Very sad indeed.

Reason two being that, in order to make people love you even more, more and more you need to wear less. You didn’t need to do the same back then. You could sing a “Hawa Ke Saath Saath, Ghata Ke Sang Sang” with a hot and cute person like Sanjeev Kumar, wearing full pants (that too bell-bottoms) and a full sleeved shirt. You could dance on in “Chup Gaye Sare Nazaare” with Rajesh Khanna wearing a salwar suit and a saree. I could even act drunk in a saree, if you remember "Jai Jai Shiv Shankar"! What could get more decent? You’re doing your job- people are getting entertained, and then you don’t have to get into swimwear to woo people. Everything was so respectable. Unlike now. I couldn’t go in now, maybe because I wouldn’t want to be up there on the ‘bada pardaa’ with everyone whistling. I want to move their hearts, not other parts.

Reason three being; I could pursue true drama then! True crying, intense emotions- love, hatred and so much more. Today, even if I am the main reason why some people couldn’t feel the essence of a movie like ‘Jab Tak Hai Jaan’, I’ll be signed up for ten other films. Why? Because I am a showpiece. Tadaa.

Overall, it’s pretty sad I wasn’t born back then. I know cinema has a lot to offer even today, but somewhere down the lane the respect of a lady has been given up. Walking around on the beaches, playing volleyball, even shopping in bikinis is on the go. Women are being used; they’re passing wrong messages (Item songs, where the blondes don’t even know what they’re dancing to!) Nothing about the present industry even excites any longer. We have smarter directors, but maybe a deteriorated culture. Actors have to be performers today. And even outside the movies, they need to keep advertising to keep them visible. (The most useless thing! Truly! It’s like bribing people.)

I realize that back then also you had a Zeenat Aman who did roughly the same in Satyam Shivam Sundaram, and there was a Helen, but maybe what they did wasn’t mandatory.

Ending things on a pleasant note, here is a picture of a lady romancing one of the best on screen lover, in snow, wearing a fur coat. (Not having drunk packs of beer to bear the cold in her little dress!) 

Because I know you'll be there for me, when the rain starts to pour!

Sometimes when you sit back and procrastinate, think about where you were wrong, silly, smart or witty; unknowingly there are a bunch of people who continue reappearing in every flashback.

They’re there when you have a look at the pictures of how you celebrated your birthday in play school, when you cried over a stolen story in UKG, when you failed an integers test in grade six (they failed too!), when you copied (so effing much) on a civics test, when you became a teenager, when you went mad crushing on every guy as a ‘teenager’, when you cried waterfalls at the end of grade ten.

They were still there when you parted, there were mails in inboxes, letters in the mailbox, calls every Sunday, skyping every weekend! They were there as you grew up. From a toddler to an adult. They were there- for encouragement, for wiping tears, for more tears (happiness)!

This post of mine takes pride in being dedicated to those indispensible pals of a lifetime!

 A million praises would fall short: this line is old school. They aren’t gods and goddesses, for God’s sake! But then, in the end, they’re crazy people, with heavenly powers meant to be used only on you. They make you. It is said that your friends are your only relations you make-you chose. And I’ve chosen very wisely! At least a few!

It hasn’t been a very smooth sail, we’ve had storms- ALL SORTS OF ‘EM! In the end, like self-declared mature individuals, we’ve accepted each other. I’ve accepted one’s spontaneity, one’s bragging, their crib-iness, their teasing. They must have just thanked God for bestowing me upon them. So, with this set up, we proceed towards being the best buffalo buddies ever!

I tough wood as I type this: our journey for over several years now has been so ideal, with ups and downs, but never a fall; with cries and smiles, but never a loss; with arguing and agreeing, but never a disregard! *TOUCHES WOOD AGAIN!*

A day off and it feels like a void. I wonder if they feel the same. My best friends.

I could have gone on to write essays, probably even a book; but I have some buddies who would kill me for making them read so much. So, for the readers and non-readers, the apt size of the post is this.

I don’t love you guys, because the emotion has two poles. I just feel. Everything was meant to be.  One little ready-to-be-angel once told me, this was one of his favorite lines: As we proceed on with life, we meet new people; during this, our roads cross and become one!

No good post can end without poetry. (Heh, I declared it as good!)

“So no one told you life was going to be this way. 

Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.
But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

You're still in bed at ten, the work began at eight.
You've burned your breakfast, so far, things are going great.
Your mother warned you there'd be days like these,
But she didn't tell you when the world has brought you down to your knees.
That, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

No one could ever know me, no one could ever see me.
Seems like you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me.
Someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with,
Someone I'll always laugh with, even at my worst, I'm best with you.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.
But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.”

Because we all love F.R.I.E.N.D.S (Few Relations In Earth Never Die)

PS It should be ‘on’ earth, but you get the message right? Wasn’t that the only reason behind inventing language? So, to hell with prepositions!

Getting desi, something I can’t resist, at least when it’s about how I feel (bollywood):

“Tera mujhse Hai Pehle Ka Naata Koi
Yoonhi Nahin Dil Lubhaata Koi
Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na
Maane Tu Ya Maane Na”

And my friend’s favorite: “Ajaa Mai hawaon mein baitha ke le chaloon, tu hi toh meri dost hai” Okay. Kidding. I have no friends with such a bad taste in music. 

All the pictures are age old. I doubt anyone looks the same. :) 
Long time no see na! 

If there is no God, we have to set things right!

“The Darkest Places in Hell are Reserved for Those Who Remain Neutral During a Moral Crisis.”

Gandhiji, maybe after doing some work for freedom (which I think is undue credit) left the world with his three monkeys: The blind one, who couldn’t see bad; the deaf one, who couldn’t hear bad; and the dumb one, who could speak no bad. In a very silly manner, we were all told to unify our soul with that of these three monkeys. No one ever understood the repercussions.

The blind monkey couldn’t see bad. But, if he was blind, could he see the good? Could the deaf one hear the cries for good? Could the dumb one speak in praise? Sadly, they were just handicapped.

Passing on ancestral knowledge, we passed on this. Today, each Indian blooms with the blindness, deafness and muteness of the monkey-pals. Neither can see perceive the evil prancing around, nor can they feel the goodness of good. They’ve become numb walking machines. Machines that adhere only to themselves. Machines that have lost faith in others. Machines that have become liabilities for the Indian culture.

Good prevailed over evil a few centuries ago. Today, neutrality does. My affair is mine. Yours is yours. No one speaks in favor, no one speaks against. Oops! I almost forgot. They’re blind, deaf and mute!

Blind to the sufferings of the poor. Blind to the wars. Blind to the conditions towards which our future moves.

Deaf to the wails of homeless people. Deaf to the cries of mother earth. Deaf to the knowledge being imparted on them.

Dumb enough to speak the truth. Dumb, to an extent where they have sealed lips. Dumb and dumb to caress someone. Dumb so as to give someone a reason to smile.

I did not intend on writing something today, or at this time, but the sadness lurks around me everywhere. The numbness of people. The dead souls, the crushed consciences.

Maybe we could just pay some heed to someone in need, and “together we’ll make a brighter day, just me and you! We are the world!”

If there is no God, we have to set things right. 

A Lot Can Happen Over Coffee!

With deep reflection, one knows that one exists for another.

CCD: The place where the first world people strike conversations and realize that a lot can happen over coffee. A few days ago, I realized what all can genuinely happen. (Maybe not over coffee, rather ice cream and brownies, but never mind!)

I visited the place a few days ago (as previously mentioned) and ordered my dark passion. I paid the bill and took the seat next to the window in the multi storied Café Coffee Day complex. As I waited inside the air conditioned complex, for a cold delicacy to come and greet me, I gazed out of the window, only to find myself at a shallow place.

While I sat inside, away from, yet so close to the scorching heat outside, I saw what we see each day. Stray dogs barked, cows basked their thick skins, garbage flooded the streets and tired and unquenched mouths of several hawkers argued for an extra rupee. The scene was ironic. I had to sit inside the conditioned room to empathise with those under the sun! While I waited for ice cream, out there middle- classed people tried to lower down the price of the kulfi and falooda they wanted to relish.

Kulfi and falooda

When I stared right across the almost empty road, I could clearly see a beer shop. It was named ‘Imported Beer ki dukaan’. The location, the paint, the gate, the surroundings, the atmosphere, all spoke against the name of the shop. But who cared if it spoke against it, or in favor? Beer is beer. The poor man’s ticket to paradise, to heaven! I thought that each evening a crowd would be gathering there. By the time I’ll finish my order and leave for home, a poor beggar from the signal nearby, a wage worker from a construction site, a fifteen year old from a chicken stall and the falooda seller standing nearby would stand there. There, they would wait for their turn for the illegal beer shop to offer them their tickets for less than fifty rupees. Tickets that would take them away from reality, very away.

Sometimes I wonder if the government has the right to shut down the shops. Where the government offers taxes for the tiny bit of property they own and the little income they have, the shop offers them an open chance to curse and abuse to their heart’s content. Where the government wants to annex their illegal carts on the footpath, the shop gives them friends who empathize. Where the government shoves them deeper into the hell of debt, the shop offers them a carefree mind and soul. Where the government tells them that their life is a pain to the economy, the shop makes them feel the beauty of things that circle their life.

Who is better?

Which is better: Death by pain forever, or death by sudden pain with a joyful life? (Talking about the aftermath of drinking.)

In the end again, I finished my brownie bits, wiped the glass cup clean, cleaned my clean hands and mouth and got into the car. I left behind the hungry children, the sore hawkers, the hungry dogs. I walked away like everyone else- maybe a bit better, from the point of thinking moral. But bring moral?

No. Never. Isn’t easy.

And the reflections, the sadness, the urges of care and sympathy drove out of me, as the car drove out of the complex. 

No, I ain't gonna comb my hair. I ain't going anywhere!

I've been wanting to write for a long while now. The last post I published was on 1st of April. It's been more than a month now. No writing, at all. I'm getting desperate, very desperate, to write. I am so blank that when I look, around in search of a topic, I can't feel the vibe, well enough to pursue me to write about it. I am unsure about whether it should be light hearted or heavy. So, here I am, writing, not about something else, but the weirdness in the environment. 

I reached Lagos a week ago. It's been amazing. Each day has been memorable till now. It's like truly living each day like it's your last. Not exactly, but, maybe, if you would choose to be a lazy lad on your last day, then yes! 

The TV is blaring on my right. Not blaring, but annoying me. I wish like getting up an going somewhe where it could be peaceful, but again, laziness conquers. 

Hush! I don't want my mind to think, so I'm fulfilling my desire to write, by simple catching hold of what my senses can register by default. Talking of sense, one is of taste. I had falafel yesterday at Tawak King, Ikeja. I can still taste it. My taste buds seem to just pop up so violently at the thought, thinking that I'm going to let the, have the delicacy everyday! Silly buds. 

And leaving them, and myself to being silly, lazy and lathargic, I'll end this post. 

A lazy song for the closing:

"Today I don't feel like doing anything, 

I just wanna lay in my bed, 

Don't feel like picking up my phone, 

So leave a message at the tone.

No I ain't gonna comb my hair, 

Cause I aint going anywhere!" 

Paint Your Life!

Paint your life,
Let desires unfold, Light or dark; subtle or bold.
Break the rules, and set free, be how the heart longs to be.
Use your colors, as you may, to make your masterpiece, your way.

Paint your life,
It was yours, and is; to experiment and create bliss.
Grab the joy, hold it tight; keep it there during the darkest night.
Smile and write, on the manuscript; notes of music, simple or flipped.

Paint your life,
Grab your brush, give it a stroke; choose your hue and let life soak.
Draw no boundaries, no limits; feel free to flee.
Set aside the tears and wails; it’s your life, and today’s your day.

Paint your life,
Waste not a second, and no moment; steal the time to go the distance.
Shed away the burden and the baggage; let pass by the hours and the days.
Explore beyond explored, take time to look within; learn, introspect and paint the world you're in!

-आ कां क्षा .

Experience Doesn't Lie.

It is often seen that the old aged ones sit idly at one place allotted to them in their homes. It is seen that no one listens to them, with an excuse of not having enough time. It is seen that teenagers flinch when the elderly ones begin with their tales. It is seen, yet ignored. No one cares. Why should they? They’re of a different era, have things to tell, that can’t be applied today. Right? No. Wrong.

I’ve always lived away from relatives, and with a bunch of three others, like a nuclear family. For the first time, have I got a chance to live with my grandmother, and experiences with her have been worthwhile!

Every time I’m away from magnetism or Einstein’s energy-mass conversions, I find myself beside her. I’ve heard her for over a year now. It’s been thought provoking.

The way she thinks is like what babies do today. The way she sees things, in their simple and pristine form is what sets her aside from the ‘mechanized’ adults of the generation, her sons and daughter. Wishing for a simple life, longing only for necessities, having hardly any desires, she laughs at us all getting clumsier and sillier in these times.

She described to me her village, and the customs they had then. She told me about how bad it was for boys and girls to mingle. I learnt that my great grandmother was a really strong lady and great grandfather a poet! She told me storied about her childhood, and the friends she had then. Times when she was much more naive than five year olds today. Times where they didn’t know about bad things, nor did they ever crave to. Times when they had little, but enough to set the family in an air of happiness and sheer.

There were questions asked to us on farewell, and I asked her two.

The first question was, ‘If you could travel in time, what time would you go in?’ She said (in Hindi) that she would go to the past, only to lead the simpler life without phones and televisions. Times when time would fly and yet there would be enough for family. When there was no wastage of resources and each one had what he needed. When everyone was fit, and there were no things as ‘pizzas aur tizzas’ as she put it. She showed no interest in the future. It was nil.

This thought made we wonder that, man today wants to see the future, where he is heading to (which certainly does not seem heavenly!) but no one really wants to know where they’ve come from!

The second question I asked her was, ‘If you could choose an age, which one would you choose?’ I thought she would say infancy, as I would. But she had a different perception on that too! She said that she would choose youth. Youth, the time when everyone could do their work themselves. No dependencies on anyone! And when I asked her, ‘Why not babyhood?’ She said, she wouldn’t choose that under any circumstances! The reason being that the baby doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t know his surroundings. A young man knows himself, his aim, and can work for the world. She pointed out to that fact, that we’re humans, the superior race. We need to know, understand and work.

So, that old lady, or the old man, who sits idly has lots going on in their minds. They have tons to share and tons to grab. Learn from them, and make them learn. (Like I taught mine the life cycle of a malaria parasite and interactions in a honeycomb.) It’s an experience that will teach you morals.

A few things may sound silly. But, don’t forget to sit silently, and while you meditate (if you do) or maybe, whenever you’re alone, away from the ‘gadgets’. You could ask your inner-self, only to know that their experience isn’t lying. They know the mystic works of the world!

Daadi.

Don't read. It's nonsense. Crap.

I started writing about Leonardo da Vinci, as promised in the previous post, but I wanted something light for now. After all, unlike him, I'm a mere 21st century teenager (almost adult) who lives on for good grades, and getting into a good college via NEET. Keeping the shallow desires apart, let's talk about...I don't know! (Riya, I need topics!)

Okay, how about a something to do with a product. More of a review? I bought this L'oreal total repair five hair masque just yesterday, and used it today. I believed it wouldn't do great things, but I was wrong. This product, worth Rs.325, is a wow! It makes hair soft, and it smells good. Only if I had waited to use it tomorrow, have to go out na!

So, buy it. Thanks.

Every Title Would Feel Vague (except this!)

A few people have lived by, and trust me, I feel so shallow when I talk about them. But, sincerely, some of them, never cease to fascinate me. May it be their life, their adventures, what they taught the world or just whatsoever! Today, at half past midnight, I had the urge, to let you be enlightened on the men (sad, none are females!) that have caught my attention where ever I've come across their name. Usually, in the pages of history, but history that created a new vision for the world as a whole. People who can never be forgotten. There may be many, but I'll talk about the three that I would love to meet and learn from. (I know, vague, impossible, but maybe, I meet them in some afterlife. There is always hope. If people meet God, these are just dead people, aren't they?)

So, with an undefined order, I'll list their names. How unimaginably tiny I feel while introducing them, I mean their names! They're Chanakya (Indian), Leonardo Da Vinci (Italian) and Nostradamus (French). It's amazing to see how great civilisations yield great people. Yes, I'm pointing to the inability of not-well-rooted countries like USA to do so. Keeping grudges aside, here is the beginning of the article. 

Let me begin with Nostradamus, just as fun is the fun of pronouncing his name, that scary and mind-boggling-ly crazy, unimaginable is his work. Many won't know, so for them, Nostradamus, is our very own 'The Man Who Saw Tomorrow!' 

After reading about him on many websites, what I could infer more about him, was that he was psychic. It's sad to use that word for him, but tho whole idea of having records telling us that he was educated by his great-grandfather who dies when Nastro was an year old is a but difficult to regard as sane. Having to his credit 6,338 prophecies, which predicted for thousands of years to come makes his personality more sacred, or rather very touched. Touched, in both, the touched and blessed sense.



Mr. Nostradamus, predicted the rise of Antichrists, one being Hitler, whom he referred to as Hister. He predicted the fall of the entire of Europe by the Arabs. (Yet to happen!) He describes an Arabian, wearing a blue turban, who shall contaminate the waters of the Mediterranean, such that eating the fish will kill men. Crazy eh? We'll call is heavy nuclear weapons. He called him the third Antichrist. He mentions about India, as the land where three seas meet, and talks about a man who'll save the world from the ultimate destruction. From a few of his prophecies, it's clear that to that man, Thursdays will be holy. And aren't thursdays attributed to Sai baba? Guess work involved. 

Overall, he predicted about the Ottoman empire, Hitler, Louis Pasteur, Kennedy's assassination, Princess Diana's death, French revolution, 9/11 very aptly. He predicted the end of the world too! This is how he described it: 


"But my Son… I tell you, that I have seen it thus: there will be FLOODS of such nature that no place on this world will not be affected and for a long time everything will be beneath the surface of water and everything will be destroyed, with the exception of the weather and space."

He wrote it in his letter to his son. And the end is predicted to be 7000 years after the writing of this letter. He says his prophecies could not go beyond the 39th century.

That has a while, so I can say, my generation might escape the 'Ghor Kalyug!'
Overall, that's Nostradamus. A weird, yet fascinating man.

You can buy DVDs about him. That's where most of this comes from. (Really, read his prophecies. This post is just like an introduction to the powers of a human, who had a humane mind, and yet did the things we won't want to believe. Somewhere, down there, we all do.)

I'll write about the rest later. It's 1.00am! I'll update with pictures too. It promotes reading, doesn't it?

Late addition: He has an entire book full of such prophecies that is missing, further, he predicted WWIII. He also referred to 2012 and 2013, as the 'times of trouble!'

Again, you can read more here. There are a hundred websites, but this one covers almost all.

Love the Life you Live, Live the Life you Love: My Foot! (Full version.)

Living and loving, were synonymous words. When I say this, I’m probably talking about the era of the Bible or maybe the Satya Yuga, times when Jesus and Rama dwelled on with a backbone of love, and not the (fat) flesh. I might even be going wrong at places, because despite the fact that the Ramayana encircled around love in search of a lovable life, eventually, society predominated the love life. Even then, you couldn’t live the life you love, and it was worse then. Laxmana’s wife lived (rather died each day) for fourteen years without him, Rama lived without his father, couldn’t even witness his dead body. What do you call this? Living the life you love?

Basically, my point it, no matter what the epoch, era, whatsoever; life never really offers you a wholesome chance to love. Maybe, the Kal Yuga is even better, since we betray the systems of life and nature to lead the lovable life. But eventually, we’re trapping ourselves to a life worse.

I’ve written confusing stuff eh?

Let me make it clear. In simple language. 

When a child is born, he wants to get back into to warmth of the womb, when we’re put into school, we resist the whole idea. We always want to grow old, and then desire to be young again. We want to earn and spend for ourselves, but then realize that living at someone’s expense was much easier. Simply, we’re sacrificing at each step of life, moving ahead with huger and heavier baggage. And then somewhere, on some billboard (like me) you’ll come across: “Love the Life you live, Live the Life you Love!” * Freakin’ S#!t.* You spit out the words, and with anger and guilt somewhere, you move ahead thinking of how well advertisements could make fun of your life.

My father, depicted this to me one day, when I asked him if he was happy with life, and why he thought so much for making little decisions about where to invest and where to settle. Whether he should send me abroad, or let me go to my own country. These decisions were little to me. They seemed way easier than deciding what to wear to a party, at that age of 13.

He said, “Life is like a pyramid, the broad base being your childhood. You have lots of place to run around. You can jump and be ecstatic and will have no harm caused. Then you become teenagers. You reach a newer level. The base gets narrower. You can run, but not too far, or you’ll lose path. Then you become adults. This time, it’s not just you. There’s your wife, your kids, and their lives depend on you. Level three is very hard. A little mistake and you fall of the edge. Along with your family.” He told me, that he was on level three. So he couldn’t just chose what he wanted and couldn’t keep us to himself. He has taken his decision. It’s not depriving him of love, but it’s not what he would have loved.

Being a hippie is great. You distribute peace and love. But what about those who can’t be hippies? Not all are born with silver spoons, and not all die with them. Yet life goes on.  We live the life society makes us live. We read the great quotations, and sigh day and night. But, we still chose to live. The brave ones do.  They just somehow find a way to love the life they’re bound to live. Destined to. And when they learn how to find the lost happiness in their miserable lives, they die leaving behind theories of loving life.

So, let’s all just love the life we live, even if it’s not the life we love.

I just thought I’d post the lyrics of one of my favorite songs.

“Raindrops keep falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin' seems to fit
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling

So I just did me some talkin' to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he' got things done
Sleepin' on the job
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling

But there's one thing I know
The blues he sends to meet me won't defeat me
It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head 

But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Crying's not for me
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me!”

[My comment (not needed, yet I intend to share)]: And then of course, it might just be raining men, raining so strong, that it’s soaking wet! *Insert the stupidest, yet happiest expression you’ve ever seen here.* :{D .

Love the life you live, live the life you love: MY FOOT!

It's just the pictures now, probably, trying to explain what I may write about.

I'll do it later, when time permits. 

*Coming Soon!*

Out of Nowhere.

I just decided to write a post, not out of boredom, since I have lots to do. But the fact that I can't complete an entire chapter of  'Solutions' for my upcoming Chemistry examination, in the fifteen minutes I have before lunch, I chose to write.

Having no clue about what I can talk about at the moment, I'll just tell you about how situations are. I'm done with two of the highly-used-for-judging-a-child's-brain's board examinations: English and Physics. Frankly, they didn't even feels like 'BOARDS', but the feeling was negotiable enough. I can't say I chucked them so well, but I believe I've not chucked them, so damn horribly. Enough to fetch me what I deserve, hopefully more than that.

I have to do Chemistry, loads of it in the remaining week. I don't want to. But life doesn't ask you, 'Would you like to show the world how smart and intelligent you really are?' 

I think I'll end it here, because the sound of GTA coming from my brother's XBOX is getting on my nerves. And of course, I'm hungry. 

COLORS!

Ask a blind person, “What the most beautiful thing in the world is?” He would say ‘the blackness that makes everything one’. Ask a soldier, “What the worst thing in the world is?” He would say ‘the redness of bloodshed.’ Ask the mourners, “What is the most peaceful thing on earth?” They would say, ‘the whiteness that calms the soul’. Ask the saints, “What describes the all mighty?” They would say ‘the orange hue of spirituality”.

Colors, unknowingly, somewhere are the greatest blessing to mankind. Ranging from the white soother to the richness of black, we’re surrounded with every color that can be drawn out of the rainbow. They talk to us, communicate, they’re a means of emotional and sentimental sensing and at the same time are the symbols of vitality, springing life! Colors, they’re happiness and sorrow, they’re pain and relief, they’re smiles and tears, they’re calmness and motion.

Imagining a world without the spectrum is not a hard thing, but feeling the feeling of living in such a world is the greatest task. It makes us insane. The feel of colors around us, our response to their feel, is what living with an insight for beauty is all about.

Each color has a mood. Where red can be strong and bold, talking of danger, and yet demarcating auspiciousness, blue can calm the mind and assure one of no danger. I once met a person who said that she calms down the moment you put up the color blue in front of her. After all, hues have their magic. Green and orange talk about life, and gray and white simply advocate death.  Colors, colors, colors! They may lift your mood or make you the most depressed person ever!

While purple takes you to heaven, and makes you feel all spiritual, yellow reminds you of the brightness and strain life can offer. Each color, so well blended with another one, yet so distinct from it. Holding a board, screaming its identity, its value, its emotion, lays each color in its allocated spots by nature. The sea blending green and blue, the mountains gleaming all white and green; the valleys shooting out greenery and the skies with the clouds shining silvery white!  And flowers just capturing it all and presenting the beauty to us!

Lucky is a word, just so timid to describe the blessing of the wide ranging colors drawn out from three primary ones. Our earth representing it all, ever so beautifully, the blends, the hues, the taste and the essence of nature!  

Let the heart beat the way it desires to!

"दिल जैसे धड़के, धड़कने दो।"

कैम्पबेल ने एक बार कहा था, "ज़िन्दगी का मकसद अपनी धड़कन को भ्रमाण के सुर के साथ जोड़ना है।" और हो भी तोह क्यूँ ना? ज़िन्दगी का सबसे मधुर स्वर, जो सदैव हमारे साथ रहता है, मरते दम तक वह तोह हमारी धड़कन ही  है। धड़कन ही तोह याद दिलाती है हमें, ऐसे हर क्षण में, जिसमें हमें लगता है, अब और नहीं, कि अब तोह बहुत बाकी है, अभी तोह और जीना है, अभी तोह दिल धड़क रहा है! 

आज कल की ओढ़ में, सभी को क्या कहना जब, मै, आप और आस पास का हर व्यक्ति यह भूल चूका है, कि ज़िन्दगी जीना, जीने के साधन इखत्ता करना ही नहीं है। जीवन का सुख उठाने के लिए जीवन को दांव पर लगाना अनिवार्य नहीं है! जीवन का सुख, वह अलग है, और उसे पाने का मार्ग अलग। मनुष्य ने तोह मार्ग को मंजिल बना लिया है, और इसमें असली सुख और असली दुःख का अनुभव ही करना भूल गया है। 

जब रोना आता है, तब ज़बरदस्ती हँसना पड़ता है, और जब कोई इंसान हँसना चाहता है, तक स्तिथि अनुसार उसे रोने का दिखावा करना पड़ता है। न तोह इंसान अपने मन से खुश ना अपने मन से सुखी हो सकता है। वह दर को छुपाता है और प्रेम दिखाने से डरता व कतराता है। ऐसे में यदि क्रोध के अलावा कुछ सामने आयेगा, और चीज़ों को बनाने में नहीं, बल्कि बिगाड़ने में जुटेगा, तोह यह कोई आश्चर्यजनक बात नहीं हुई! 

इंसान, हमारा और आप्नका दिल, एक प्याले के सामान ही होता है। जब उसमें अधिक से ज्यादा, झूट और दबाव के सामान पानी दाल जायेगा, तोह वह एक सीमा पार होने के बाद छलकेगा ही। इस छलक को समझने वाले भी कम ही मिलते हैं। और जो होते हैं, उन्हें हम अपनी अपनी मंजिल की ओर बढ़ते समय ही नकारा कर देते हैं- हमारे माँ-बाप, व भाई-बहन। 

ज़िन्दगी की ख़ुशी, जो हमें खुश करें, उन्हें समीप और जो दुःख पहुंचाएं व अकारात्मक भावना उजागर करें, उन्हें दूर रखना है। दुनिया के भीड़ में, इन्ही चंद लोगों को पहचानना है, उन्हें खुश रखना है। क्यूंकि ख़ुशी बाटने से ही तोह बढती है? ख़ुशी चीज़ों से नहीं, लोगों से मिलती है, हमारे जैसे और धड़कते दिलों से मिलती है। ऐसे दिल जो हमारे दिल को दुबारा सुर में धड़कना सिख सकें!

भावनाओं को जताना, ख़ुशी पर खुश होने, आते हुए आंसुओं को कभी न रोकना, जितना हो सके मुस्कुराना, क्रोध में भी सबकी अच्छाई याद रखना, येही तोह दिल को खुश रखने के कुछ तरीके हैं! हम किसी के गुलाम नहीं होते, अपने ही बनाये हुए बंधनों में जकड़कर रह जाते हैं। इन्ही बंधनों को तोडना है, सांस लेना है, मुस्कुराना है, हँसना है, रूठना है, मनाना है, और अपने दिल को जैसे वह धड़कना चाहे, वैसे धड़कने की अनुमति देनी है।

"ज़िन्दगी लिए गए साँसों से नहीं आपनी जाती, बल्कि उन लम्हों से आपि जाती है, जो हमारी सांस व धड़कन चीन ले गए!" 

Ten Guilty Pleasures.

Firstly, I stole the topic. I was out of any topic to write about, so I decided to surf the internet for some good topics to write about. And, I found this. FYI, Just the topic, the matter's all mine!

So, the ten guilty pleasures I have include:

1) Being cynical and critic-al about almost everything.
I've tried being very good, and have also tried loving my surroundings, but something inside me pushes me to the brink and causes me to spill out only cynicism. I would love to feel what loving the world was like, but my mind doesn't permit me to be amused. 
I was once told by someone near and dear, when I told them I loved the pyramids, that, they found it weird, and then said, 'It's weird from you, because I've never seen you be fascinated by anything!' And that is true. On reflecting, I realised, that I hated almost everything, and the worst part being, I love hating. 
I am guilty for this, since I've hurt feelings and sentiments, at times I go on to the level of criticising people whom I'm supposedly supposed to respect. But, it's fun. It's great from within to insult hate and pin-point everything, and feel like there is no one more superior. 
I am guilty, but hell yess, it's a part of my existence. 

2) Bitching.
I am a girl, and girls bitch. So, as simple as it sounded, that simply I let myself do it. I feel really bad, really really bad from within, when I talk about my own friends and my mind tells me that they've been good too! But, it's an irresistible pleasure, and for this one, I'm truly guilty. I can accept any level of punishment. 
PS By bitching, I mean, simple talking bad behind the back of one individual and discussing their flaws (sometimes the good qualities). Do not take it to another level. Thank you.

3) Being skeptic.
It's good to question things, but not to a level where you doubt what each one says. I have an issue with believing what I'm told. I need to experience it and then be sure of it. For this, I've gotten myself into issues with people, since I disregarded the previous judgments. I don't know if take real pleasure in this, but it sort of calms my mind when I investigate for myself. 

4) Being a morning-person, at 11.00am. 
I know, my mother loathes me for this, and I hate myself for it too. Sleeping is such a drug, you know? 
Legend says, 'Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.' For me it's twisted. It goes, early to bed, and late to rise...still produces similar results. 
I don't like the idea of getting up late, I even scold my brother for it, but it's just an irresistible pleasure! Going to bed and not waking up until nature calls you. Sigh.

5) Eating, rather, over eating.
I've never been on a diet in my life, forget that, I doubt being on a balanced diet.
I'm such a foodie, that I feel I might explode someday. Often people complain about being fat without eating, or being thin after eating, well, I am what I eat. 
Cheese, cold drinks, macroni, pizza, pasta, chole bhature, cakes, cream, and just everything that says 'WHOLE FAT'. It's gotta be tasted. 
I'm pretty guilty about that, for my own sake. I can't fit into gorgeous dresses, and can't flaunt my saree that way I'd want to. But, since I'm said to be cute, I accept my crime, and shall continue to do so. 

6) Not exercising.
Of course, even those who slog in the gyms know that it's a pleasure to sit at home and chop (Nigerian slang). So is it with me. And I am guilty. Yeah, whatever. Shut up.

7) Not being very helpful.
I often do not help my friends when in need. I am not told so, but I feel so. 
They ask me to do their work, and I politely refuse. I feel guilty, but c'mon, I have the right to feel the pleasure in seeing all of you work your *ahems* while I've done all my work. *Evil grin!*

8) Being moody.
It's lovely to follow your moods. To dwindle according to your hormones. I know it gets on the nerves of my friends, but I enjoy it. I am guilty, maybe will try to resist it, but, ugh!

9) Being rude, as if I'm the king of the world. Correction: queen.
I was just rude again to someone. Ugh, I can't help it. 
When people be dumb, and behave all 'Ow, I can't do all of that' I could skin them off, or skin myself. 
It hurts them, and their ego, but I have a huge lot of it in store.

10) BEING LAZY!
I reserved this for the end. Haahh, I am a freaking lazy bone! I can never get myself to work unless forced to. And now I've begun leaving important tasks too.
I am scared if I'll refuse to hold the pen and write during an exam, because three hours is a long while to write. I'm scared if I'll feel too lazy to exercise my brains in a MCQ test. It sounds far-fetched, but it's true. I am not scared of the questions, but am afraid of the idea of such intense labor. 
But, I still have the hope, since I've typed pretty long. 
I am guilty, but it's fun sitting there on the couch setting all around you to work. 

It feels good, being guilty. And that could be point number eleven.