My Dead Sea Scroll

I am publishing something I had written almost 5 years back. I knew it was there somewhere hidden in one of those old books I used to carry around while travelling. As I opened the book and turned the pale yellow pages, I found what I had been looking for, since a very long time. The peculiar smell of aging papyrus and the words on it, took me back to that day...when I began writing this in the second class compartment of a local train, sitting on the edge...the fourth seat.

This is why I decided to call this

'My Dead Sea Scroll'.

‘Tum hi ho maata; pita tum hi ho
Tum hi ho bandhu; sakha tum hi ho.
Jo khil sakena who phool hum hain…
Tumhare charanon ke dhool hum hain.
Daya ki drishty sada hi rakhna…
Tum hi ho bandhu; sakha tum hi ho.’

I heard an enchanting voice sing these words today. He was no saint or singer. He was a poor old blind man. The place was no shrine or stage…it was the crowded second class compartment of a local train. But his voice was indeed enchanting like that of a saint. His voice made that second class coach seem like a serene peaceful shrine. His voice echoed and made invisible divine bells ring.

It touched me deep in my heart. That voice had not originated from his vocal chords…it originated from the pain that accompanied him always, hiding in the deep trenches of his heart. Drops of tears swelled up in my eyes.

He reminded me of those millions who live a cursed life on this earth…those souls who never break free from the shackles of life. The ugly tentacles of poverty and sorrow clutch them like prisoners of hell. They are like those caged birds, who dream of freedom inspite of their wings being cut.

The irony is that, we who are blessed are not as happy as they are. They find happiness even in the midst of sorrow. They enjoy the little pleasures of life…be it a glass of tea by the roadside or playing in the puddles during monsoon.

We the blessed, do not take a few minutes of life to measure what we have and be thankful. We fail to realize that we are blessed. We always complain about the things that we don’t have. We are never contented. They are the prisoners of life and we are the prisoners of our minds. It is we who are truly blinded by the fog of greed that covers the landscape of our minds.

Today, when I see this man, I thank God for everything that I have. I wanted to help him, but I could do nothing except give him a rupee.

I remain silent. Silence is my prayer to God. The drops of tears in my eyes are my offerings to him. I pray to him to be there for the good. I pray to him to awaken those asleep. I pray to him to give me the strength to contribute whatever I can to make this marvelous world more beautiful.

F2

This picture needs no description. I dedicate this picture to all my batchmates.

This picture reminds me of the journey which we were all a part of. I am sure that each and everyone of us remembers the very first day when we all stepped in, into this classroom…most of us unknown to each other…uncertain about the following two years…some excited…some anxious. The journey has been beautiful with its own share of ups and downs.

The assignments…to be completed overnight ;-)…which would eventually mean, struggling to keep your eyes open during the classes (though many a times it was due to the late night movies, distributed by the torrent masters of our class)

The rampant use of pendrives…laptops becoming victims of the ‘virus’ epidemic…the confusion of, which anti-virus to use…

The group projects…and the umpteen number of conflicts within the group ;-)

The projects…which would pile up and make us race towards the deadline…

The nightmares called exams…the best parts of which are the preparation sessions and group studies… ‘this one is meant for those who prepare and those who were a part of group studies ;-)’

The competitions…especially the Big Fight between Nexters and Spartans…the fury, commitment and passion of which, will remain unparalleled in the history of our college.

We all came together…spent great moments together and then parted ways. It is still hard for most of us to assimilate the fact that it is all over…but we can do nothing more than watch those days freeze into pictures and our hearts.

As I stand outside our class clicking this picture…I see the emptiness being filled once again with our presence…I hear our laughter echoing through the silence of the corridor. So here I leave you with this pic to feel what I felt and hear what I heard.

Let this be our rendezvous.

Blink of an Eye

I am convinced. I am convinced that, all it takes is a blink of an eye for the course of things to change.

It all started when the phone rang…infact it all started when the phone and my doorbell rang together…let me rephrase it: It actually started a few minutes before my phone and doorbell rang.

There were screams…people were panicking…there was a complete chaos on the stairway. It took me less than a few seconds to realize that the floor above mine was on fire. Some of us were trying to get in touch with the fire brigade but in vain. I heard someone say, that they were on their way.

And there it was, right it front of me, I could see the stairway wall lit up in bright orange. Tentacles of the fire had started leaping out of the flat where it started, on to the staircase. My parents were panicking, neighbours were running helter-skelter. I then saw my grand-mother, sitting there on her armchair, unaware of what was happening. She could not fathom the cause of the chaos. She wanted answers to her questions. I looked back at the wall which was now brighter than before and I knew it. We had to leave…taking my grandma along. My father echoed my thought. My grandma wasn’t sure of what were doing, especially since we hadn’t answered her questions. But there was no time for answers.

My mind was going numb. I wasn’t sure if it was due to the sound of screams all around or the fire that was consuming the brick and mortar a few feet away from us. All my senses were focused on one goal. Getting my grandma out of the building before the fire could catch up with us.

It was going to be a battle for life.

She had never stepped out after recovering from her illness. And now she had to climb down 2 dozen steps to reach down. Electricity was shut. It was pitch dark except for the torch lights and the fire. Grandma was sure that she would fall, but she didn’t have a choice anyway but to climb down. And she did…taking small baby steps. I have no clue how she did it…I guess even she had had an adrenaline rush. We were finally out, but that wasn’t enough. We had to clear the premises and the older people were shifted to flats in the adjoining buildings. One of my old neighbours got a small taste of the flames during the rescue operation.

It was a small relief that all the people were out. There was no threat to life now. I made my way through the crowd to the other side of the building to get an exterior view of the fire. I was aghast! It wasn’t just a fire. It was an inferno. It was consuming the floor. Flames were leaping out of the windows like tongues wanting to lick more, consume more. The fire brigade was supposedly on its way.

I looked around to absorb more of what was happening around me. People were wailing…some of them staring at the inferno unable to do anything. The building where we were born and brought up was under threat…our houses…our nests…were under threat. No amount of words can describe the pain of watching your own houses turning into ashes. Irrespective of who we were, irrespective of our age, caste, intellect… we were gripped with one common feeling… FEAR.

Fear united the people. Every individual was helping the other… some consoling those crying, some taking the weak and older people home, some preparing food for others. People had forgotten their differences. Those to whom you never spoke were now dear. Those at whom you never looked were now holding your hand and taking you to safety. Those houses you never entered had become shelters.

I kept praying silently.

The fire brigade came and started fighting the fire that now seemed invincible to most of us. After almost an hour that seemed like eternity, they succeeded. It was a relief. The house that held the inferno was now a heap of ashes. There was little but visible damages to the neighbouring houses. We knew that there would be subsequent problems…no electricity…no gas supply…the building was in a mess. But we didn’t mind putting up with any of these… We didn’t mind spending a night out… afterall our houses were now safe.

Catastrophes are interesting to watch on the TV sets…but the first hand experience of facing it, of being a part of it, of battling for life, of watching your house on threat, is different. But it did come along with some lessons…

I realized that no matter what you possess and what you are fond of…when catastrophe strikes, all you can think of is … your life…and that of your family.

And no matter how great your pride is, in building your empires, it can turn into ashes before you know it.

Hence it is best to live your life to the fullest and fill it with love, gratitude and harmony… afterall it takes just a Blink of an Eye…