Just thoughts...

       The sound of squealing tyres and squeaking pedals broke the monotony of the isolated patch of road. Vivian pedalled hard with tears streaking his face. Once again he had an argument with his friends. Ha.. if you could call them friends. Ever since he remembered, Vivian never got along well with any homo sapiens. His mother forever encouraged him to make friends but however hard he may try it would be futile. As the site neared, the familiar calm started to soothe Vivian's aggravated conscience. This place was quite different, something was really weird about this place. Nothing much about the climb but it was at the very edge of the town. An uphill ride on his bicycle took him to the place, a clearing which ended in a cliff overhanging a valley which ran about a mile deep. It was here, Vivian found peace, but today that peace seemed tainted. The place seemed aware of not one but two consciences. This quite startled him, for no one ever came all the way up here, it was strang

         The time when you pick up a pen to write, the pen streams yours thoughts and ideas putting them together. The flow of visions and opinions all through such a petty seeming device. The mere pen seems so powerful when all seems lost enough. The medium matters as they say. The journey always matters more than the destination. Hence applying this to the skill of writing, we find similar conclusions. The times when we the so called bookworms end up being cooped with another book, such times cannot be scaled with any parameter whatsoever. The world is so infinitely limitless that nothing can encompass it. Writers have often found a vent tho their innermost of ideas and expressions through writing. It is in fact so blissful to admire a write up. Many times we are supposed to write essays during language papers. It is such a calming feeling when you are satisfied by the writing your pen has produced. Such an emotion cannot be bound even by the mighty words.       Writing provides with

                                 An emotion unknown to Deep untill that very moment surrounded his auricles and ventricles. The strong feeling to give joy and receive in return. His five minus one senses were enhanced as if by some strange power. As Ron's yelps quietened Deep found his diction and was able to articulate and said, "I can't beleive its you. After all these 3 years finally I get to meet you in flesh and bone." Kaamika's voice answered, "Umm.. yes we finally do meet." Deep fumbled for Ron's leash, "Here, take it" said Kaamika as she handed him the leash. The pair started walking down the street returning to Deep's house. Kaamika strapped her cross satchel and walked at a steady pace. " It was I who was supposed to pick you up and not the other way round. By the way how did you recognise me?" said Deep. Kaamika replied in her sweet voice, " I really don't know. I just saw you sprawling in front of the ca

      Deep rubbed his eyes as he woke to the gentle chime of the alarm clock by his bedside table. His hair askew and sleep still clutching tightly at the ends of his consciousness. Deep gathered his thoughts, organised them and smiled. The smile of pure joy and innocence. The smile which brightened the weary days of many a people. Deep made his way towards the restroom and refreshed himself. His mother called him for the steaming hot breakfast. The aroma of the molten butter on the hot cooked parathas roasted to a finesse enticed him to quicken his pace. As he passed down the stairs he felt the warm glow of the morning sun bathe him in bliss. Everyday Deep would stand at this very step and bask for a while, as if recharging his battery for the day. Today he couldn't spare a moment for it. Today his penfriend was to meet him personally. It had been three years since he had been corresponding with her. Every week Deep would sit with his mother persuading her to write for him, Deep h

             "I was distracted " How many times do I get to hear this phrase nowadays. Just a couple of days back I heard a 2nd grade boy say it. How amusing it was that little kid saying it so nonchalantly. Distracted is something which we all are. Every one of us has that peculiar distraction which we fall prey to. However hard we may try it is there somewhere lurking in the shadows ready to pounce every moment exactly when we do not wish to be distracted. Yes so funny that when one decides with great will to complete a particular task. The level of enthusiasm is so high you can sense it in the surrounding air. It is contagious too and of course human nature. From what I observed I could say that, that two tendencies follow with a few exceptions. Whenever we observe any sort of action in our surroundings passively or actively some sort of an impression is left on our consciousness. And somehow we do get influenced by it. The two tendencies could be exemplified as follows:

          The jeep screeched to a halt with a billowing cloud of dust exploding at its rear end. The three passengers jerked ahead at this sudden stop. The three passengers made a strange trio. The first was a lean and well built guy, Prateek, A medium heighted girl with short cropped hair in trekking gear called Sybill and lastly Ric a nervous looking guy who constantly kept clutching at a pendant studded in diamond around his neck. The trio, all in their late teens jumped out off the rickety automobile, "where in the world are we?", asked a frustrated Prateek. "Prateek, relax man we are yet to begin exploring and you are already raising your mercury", gestured Sybill.          They propped up their bag packs complete with all trekking gear and provisions to last a week. In the distance Ric glance a couple of shambling huts and started towards them still clutching at his pendant. Prateek signalled Sybill to follow as they abandoned the jeep and strutted towards

                A bit about a new blog by my friend Mohit Karekar called Futuremakers. A new vista has been opened for all those out there whose only power and inspiration is uncontrolled frustration. The blog is vent to newer thoughts and personal opinions based only on observation and sheer observation. Personally speaking the blog has many new thoughts and minute observations. A newer fact is that the posts not only highlight the problems but also provide a scope for solutions and practical steps. It although very early to speak much about it but the posts provide enough promise for the future. I have tried my level best to spread the news about a smaller revolution rising which derives its source of inspiration is self reflection. Hopefully all those who sincerely wish to be a part of a new revolution which isnt all about speeches and thought but being the change..

                     The old man sat rocking back and forth on the oak chair creaking due to the lack of oiling. His large frame spectacles lay askew on his belly which had shrunk considerably, while the newspaper lay drapped over over his once wide chest. He gazed into the distance as far as his dwindling eyesight could reach out. The door of the cottage lay open and the wall withering due to the onslaught of the natural forces. He thought of the good old days when he was a commander in the Royal army. The days when you had to kill each individual enemy with a stab or a shot in the chest, when there were no missiles or bombs to aid you. Only the treacherous short range rifles which gave way at the wrong moment. As a heavy curtain of nostalgia closed around his consciousness. The day when he left his wife and son for war duty. His memory still vividly remembered the pleading look in the eyes of his son. Those innocent eyes begged for his father with such intensity which could melt the

                The night dragged on as the stars shimmered from far beyond and afar. Kshitija sat gazing in the balcony of her home. Her brown eyes gazed into the horizon the same horizon which had christened her. The moon was a shiny disc of pure and divine silver light. The strum of a single grass hopper pierced the silence of the night shroud. As Kshitija closed her eyes and listened to the high pitched incessant stir of the grasshopper. It was soothing and eerily hypnotising. She sat alone and let her consciousness drift on the waves of imagination and  strike the shores of infinity. She cruised over the beautiful cloak of black spread all around her with her dreamy gaze.                 The night wore on and so did the chill. The ambience was ecstatic and then she saw it. A bright tail of fire striking hard in contrast to the dark sky blazing in an descending arc. She hadn't ever seen a shooting star but had always hoped to. And today she was here witnessing the myriad phen

                                         In the town of Velpan yet another day dragged on. The tranquil that entombed was dreadening. The birds weren't their chirpy best. But the wind was considerably vociferous. The wind blew shrilling whistles and engorged all other sounds. The towners had limited themselves to their boundaries of the so called safe havens. This day was a bit unusual even for Velpan. In the mansion of  'Viranis', Vidyuta just another girl in her mid teens sat beside a rickety window. Her flint black eyes stared into the distance. The gaze was impeccable. You could see her sitting still but her mind had already played game of catch. It was whirling rapidly with an array of thoughts. The tumultuous wind had made her parents stay back at her aunt's place, she thought so lonely. Her hand automatically moved towards the window latch but is was open as she proceeded to open the window it sprang open as if it had a life of its own.                        

Deja- vu read this word about a few years back. Didn't know what it is untill one of my sirs' explained me. That spooky feeling when u think an event has occurred and it is repeating again in front of you. Really very spooky at times. Even when I write this I think i have already written this blog. The feeling of deja vu makes us realize in very small measures the power that our mind holds. The slightest taste of something supernatural is brought upon us. 

  Atharva the same boy from the town of Velpan was sitting in his swing. This swing held a very special place for him. His entire childhood had been woven around this very swing. As usual he had a book propped in his arms. The other world did not exist for him now. This consciousness was long lost in the engrossing pages of the book. This particular book intrigued him a lot. The librarian was very reluctant to lend this book. Even the book was not bound by Atharva in the library shelves.      It was just a matter of chance that Atharva could find this book. After a tirade of arguments Atharva could finally borrow the book. The librarian had though warned him. "Beware" was the word the librarian had uttered. Presently Atharva couldn't take off his eyes from the mysterious pages of the book, it wasn't unusual but a bit strange. The book didn't have a story. It wasn't that Atharva was reading the book. It was SURELY THE OTHER WAY ROUND. The book was reading Ath

sometimes everyone must have experienced it that we cannot pour out our thoughts or even bind them to rational values set by the ethics. We feel muddled and lost. In crowd yet secluded far away from all, all alone. When you don't have anyone to share your thoughts with, it is frustrating at times and then we take out our anger on somebody else which we dont mean to do. Then it is followed by repentance which is even more frustrating. Wish I could garner more control on my speech and hold my tongue, but it will take time. Nevertheless there is an improvement, whenever i now get angry i take a deep breath and then bless the person towards whom our anger is directed.     The results are immediate and awesome, slowly I don't feel like talking a lot. Like being alone. It may be a bit wrongly classified by some but it is right for me and works.

                              In the same town of Velpan was a boy called Atharva. He was about fifteen years of age. Being a lone child he had a subdued childhood. He never usually liked to mingle with children of his own age. Not his fault though because it was his nature and one cannot change a person's nature no matter how hard one tries. This loneliness had another effect on Atharva. He found peace and tranquil in books and his imagination flourished. He literally lived in a world of his own where harry potter co existed with Sherlock Holmes.                      Once Atharva was returning from his school. As usual he enjoyed school, not so much because it was fun but because there in school he could lose himself in the myriad world of books. On his way home on the school bus he was gazing through the windows at the real world that was not very significant through his eyes. He could see the dark rain clouds clustering together in the sky and slowly enveloping the world in bl

As mentioned time and again I am a great fan of books. But when I saw a little deeper into my book lists and the authors that I have read I was surprised to find a majority of the authors to be European. My favourite being J.K. Rowling, then comes Sir Arthur conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, Michael scott, Rick riordion (not european), Dan brown, and the list is always varying except for the first name. Why do I feel drawn towards the west authors and when there is quite a legacy of Great authors in my country India. When I think a bit more I do understand that may be I have not yet come in contact of any Indian book which could truly touch me except of course my all time favourite by Mrs. Sudha Murthy. It feels sometimes guilty to not have read a lot of Indian books. Truly its is a bit reddening but fact is a fact and I hardly try to deviate from the facts.  I got the answer finally, quoting a proverb " the grass is always greener on the other side ". May be this is the only re

             A sunny morning in the town of Velpan. Kshitij was up early as usual. His best friend Ric the dog was following him, sometimes jumping, sometimes sprinting, all the time wagging its tail, full of happiness. Kshitij had taken his small box of snacks and his favourite water bottle. Daily he would go to the meadows a little distance from Velpan.              The birds chirped as they woke up from a deep slumber of the day before. The clouds were fluffy like cotton candy and the sun a bright yellow ball smiling down on Kshitij and Ric. After walking for a little while Kshitij decided to camp out on the small puny hillock ahead of him. A huge Banyan tree stood there wide and mighty like a grandfather guarding his grandson.Kshitij spread out his favourite sheet and unpacked the snacks. Ric was leaping around and barking with joy. A little while later Kshitij felt drowsy and sleepy, having filled his tummy. The cool shade of the banyan tree was quite soothing. His lunch basket

Life so good if we  look at it through different angle... but how to find that angle paralax... In my life.. i like rading books.. they realy give me a sense of fulfillment... its a good addiction.. how one can lose oneself in the myriad blessings of life... we have to look at the brighter side always...... Why did we make life complicated? Why cant we just get up and Live as we wish?.. Do we really need this thing called science.... Its wonderful ofcourse but just look at the cons.... if life was as simple as a copule and half millenia ago.... how content we would be... India.. my country is still so connected with the cosmic life force.....do we ever stop to think...what is our eventual result...where shall we ende up...................... i just wish that we tap the treasurehouse of our mind and then glance thru those vivid eyes............

The academy award winning movie Hugo, watched it Ben Stiller does an awesome job in the movie. The cinematography is impeccable. I would recommend others to do watch it. I have watched and cherished a few select movies which could penetrate deep into my thoughts. I would surely like to put forth to all. They are: Shala- a Marathi movie reminds something to all those who watch it. Narnia voyage of the dawn treader- liked it for its visuals and the only movie to have come closest to the book. Swades- my all time favourite. Every time I watch it, it is heartwarming and all the soundtracks and songs are touching forever.

Writing this blog i don't have any specific aims. Like many have of making money. I simply love to pour out myself and wait if any body out there on the WWW has an inclination to my thoughts and opinions and have the  grace of evaluating my thoughts. Till my junior college I wasn't interested in blogging but suddenly i found some blogs which are more than interesting.  recently when I was reading Eight cousins for the second time i realised how beautiful the language of the author is. I have always had a liking for the old world charm of the books perhaps that is the reason that i have writers like Enid blyton, Agatha Christie, Alcott, Viktor Hugo and others in my small unorganised library. I always respect those who have a passion for reading, because reading makes you think a lot. I prompts u to action and never lets you down in time of need. Every reader a true one of course must be familiar with the smell of a book which is so pleasing though it may sound weird to others.

Books though many may deny are often the solace in times of despair and in delight. Sifting through authors and books whose authors prefer to be anonymous have given me a lot. Though i guess very few would read this passage but it is the truth. currently I am reading the Nicolas flamel series by michael scott. Yes a good book to read. I am surprised how i didn't come across it earlier. When my mad house hunt to find a good book was almost about to dwindle i found this book on a site called  www.goodreads.com  a heaven for those especially those who have recently finished a book series and are feeling lonely. I surely know how depressing it is to end a loved book series but this series has given something to look forward too. Let's see what happens next.