Bush n' Boots

Since everybody is talking about it, I shall too,

President Bush and his tryst with the shoe.

Oh what a sight it was to see him dodge and duck

And what saved him, you'll agree, was plain luck.

There he was standing, bleating and gloating

A quick hasty farewell, was what he was hoping.

He arrived there with his battery of security men,

Only none could save him from the shoe-sized ten.

Who would have imagined or ever dreamed,

The most powerful president would be so creamed.

But happen it did, and what a way to go

Muntazer al-Zaidi, you certainly put up a show!

For the country you destroyed, here you are,

For the human loss you caused, you are without par.

Its from the homeless and the widows you have made,

For not listening to you, its the price Iraq paid.

So you will agree a shoe in the face is not that big a deal,

At least its not a sorrow, not a wound that will not heal.

For all those of you who criticize this telling act,

Frown upon it for lack of propriety or tact.

You talk of professional ethics and standards high

But do you see the reasons behind them?- Do try

Already he is a hero across the globe, in many parts

A name in history and a respect in many hearts.

Soon another news item will come and this matter will cool

But the question remains- Was the man brave or a complete fool?

The White Tiger

" Do we loathe our masters behind a facade of love - or do we love them behind a facade of loathing? "

Yes, I have finally joined the club. Have you noticed how every time a book wins a prize or award or any sort everyone gets divided into two classes? One is the politically correct class which have either read the book or know enough about it to bluff their way through a conversation, and the other class is the unfortunate, looked down upon who have not heard about or are frankly not bothered.

This book is truly ' common - man'. One can't do any lower than this, of course meant strictly in the light of ground reality. Another word that comes to mind to describe it is - scary.

No body can deny the truth in the way the relationship between the master and the servant, or the rich and the poor is described. In fact I think Adiga has been kind in not revealing just about everything. So if this is what is really going through our 'faithful' servant's head then truly Lord help us all. The other day as my friend and I were being dropped in some one's car we could not help sit up a little straighter, be a little more alert, watch with a little more caution. I mean I wonder what the driver was thinking?

In a manner an identity has been provided to the faceless masses of India and their plight has been presented for jugdement. And one can argue on both sides. 

Condemn them for their greed and lust for money and better things or defend their plight since greater forces are keeping them down effectively. But ultimately they too are humans with dreams and failings and when pushed beyond a point, taken for granted for too long there comes along a person who hits back , there comes along an animal once in a generation, 'The White Tiger'

Goodbye.

My aunt passed away on the 5th of December. The one who goes is beyond everything now but the ones left behind have to pick up the pieces and continue. She leaves behind 3 sons. Your heart just breaks when you see how they are trying to keep themselves from drowning in pain and consoling each other at the same time.
But there are things yet to be done and there are lives yet to be lived.

Mamma,they tell me you have gone to a better place
They tell me to keep a happy face.
But tell me what I am supposed to do,
When I want to hold you for a moment or two.

Mamma, they tell me to be strong and brave
They tell me not to be sad or grave.
But tell me where I shall find,
The unflinching faith and supreme courage of your kind.

Mamma, they tell me to get on with life again
They tell me to look beyond this pain.
But tell me where I am supposed to see,
To find the love with which you saw me.

Mamma, , oh Ma, you will always be with me, won't you?
You will always look after me ,won't you?
The place is hollowed now, where you had been
Your strenght is gone now on which I could lean.

Mamma, the dreams you dreamed for us all
Your visions of us standing proud and tall.
I promise you now your efforts I shall not waste,
All your invaluable gifts I will not lose in haste.

Mamma, things will not be the same with you gone
After this dark,dark hour I don't believe in a new dawn.
Then I look within me and find a part of you,
I see that you live in me, in a manner I never knew.

Mamma, I carry you in my heart, my very core
And with that knowledge I shall stand up once more.

Held Hostage.

Guns and bombs, bullets and blast
Once again its web, terror casts.
Bodies lie torn apart,
Come terror,let peace depart.
Bleeding bodies,broken hearts,
A fresh chapter of grief now starts.
Helpless people, innocent bystanders,
See how the facade of security flounders
The family who waits with their hearts in their hands,
Not knowing if death on their door now stands.
Waves of pain, sea of grief
Upon us in a moment so brief.
Bottomless sorrow, irreparable loss
Caution and Compassion gone for a toss.
Let's point a finger, let's put the blame,
But every one's a loser in this fatal game.
Their useless statements, their empty words
Repeated over and over by the political herds.
There's always a cause,always a reason,
For every single act of hatred or treason.
For the act of few,blacklist the community
Without doubt this is the terror entity.
Pay heed hatred begets hatred, how true it is
For sure he will avenge every brother of his.
Accusations and charges do fly about,
The guilt of this community we never doubt.
Look closer and see wounds fresh still,
Pricked by injustice, they shall never fill.
Sadly realization comes too late,
Only when it touches family or mate.
Fleeting sympathy when a neighbour's house burns,
Blistering anger when upon oneself the table turns.
The ones who really set terror loose,
Unfortunately never get the noose.
The real victims are you and I,
For their uses it's we who die.
I wonder if in the end truth shall prevail,
Or shall the system of natural justice itself fail.
They say justice is blind and fair,
Only no one's ready to wait for their share.
Its only when man acts like the Lord up there,
That we end up living in this nightmare.
-- An Indian

Poetic tide.

Back again armed with another poem. Had written it in a burst of inspiration , lost it in a hotel room and reproduced it in bits and pieces from memory.

For a city girl like me,

What a pleasure was the sea.

The roar and the splash,

The white foam and the mighty crash.

Again and again and one more time,

One by one all crashing in a line.

It licks your feet and kisses your toes,

Only one of it's many faces it now shows.

But beware of the sea for it was be friend or foe,

With nature there is always a line you can't toe.

There's beauty and power all in one,

And none to complain about how it's been done.

See what lies beneath it's calm surface,

Animals and plants in a watery haze.

The salty breeze that tosses your hair,

Comes straight from the sea God's lair.

Look at the horizon, see the band of blue,

Be washed with splendor anew.

God for some,Provider for many more,

Sunken treasures and pirates galore.

Sit for a while,absorb the sound

Or bury your feet in the sand all round.

Capture the moment, breathe in the sea

To conjure at a moments notice the enigmatic sea!

A lake tucked in the mountains..

Hey. I am back from roaming all over Tamil Nadu in an attempt to discover the flavours and sights of India. But be assured the blog was on my mind while dipping my feet in the sea at Pondicherry or shivering in the cold at Yercaud. And since I am suffering from the 'rhyme' infection my account of my trip shall not be in prose.

So here's the one which was written in the car while leaving Yercaud-

One more time , one more place
Out to see another part of Earth's face.

New things to do , new places to see
New handful of memories are now in my kitty.

The high mountains which nestled a Lil' lake,
The clouds beside us as company to take.

The 18th century room with the high bed,
Surrounded by flowers yellow and leaves red.

Upon winding roads through the mountains we go,
Beauteous tress of either side high and low.

Impressed and humbled, in wonder lost
Experiencing mesmerizing displays all free of cost.

Such an experience brings to mind a quote once said,
If you have not travelled you have only one page read.

All rise!

I have been thinking about writing on this topic for the past few days now. But for some reason I cannot find the words ,the phrases which would do justice and truly convey the awe in which I hold this man- Barrak Hussein Obama. I suppose truly this is an expression of - Dare to Dream. And what a dream it is.
America has matured. I happen to hear this man's name uttered at least once a day either on the news channel or by a person. For anyone still naive enough to believe his win does not effect us ,wake up. it has everything to do with us. Talking for myself - on an individual level this man inspires me to think big. What a spectacular rise Obama had. I can't help but be mesmerized whenever I hear him speak . To express yourself so eloquently and sway the people of a whole nation to believe in him a 'black' and a Muslim descendant. Sit up historians , take note.
We live in a time where there are laws on paper and but none are practised. The law has abolished racism and yet we find people with a mindset that if you are black then surely you must be at the very least a foul mouthed knife wielding maniac. Its the way we have been influenced to think so some other race can come up at the cost of the underprivileged.
This sentiment is not peculiar in India. We live in a land where communalism is on the rise. People are killed in the name of their faith. Minorities are at the mercy of the majority. A prejudice has been created against certain religions and the common man readily believes all the garbage being doled out by the media. Will anyone pause and question? Perhaps one day. Until then true justice will not be delivered. If you catch someone in the wrong do punish them but to give the dog a bad name and hang him only causes a negative ripple effect and then you wonder where all the violence comes from?
There is a signature attached to my mail- Happiness is Contagious; Start an epidemic today! Isn't it true? And isn't it truer that hope is even more potent? And today one can see the hope that it slowly spreading it's wings in all those people who have an unfulfilled desire, an unfinished dream, an unspoken need. Now is the time. Don't fear. Don't doubt. For as Obama said in his winning speech- YES WE CAN!

A tiny thought.

Obviously I am bored today but........

So I am sitting here as lonely as can be,

With no one to call or go and see.

The t.v is boring and the books have been read,

It's time to say g'nite and go to bed,

So here's sweet dreams for you and me.

Cheers!!

This poem was written for a special person to wish them a great life ahead. Enjoy!!

To You, With Love....

The special day has come around again,
And the gifts and wishes shall rain.
It’s a time to reflect and think,
It’s a time to eat and drink.
Flowers and cake are all for a day,
But the lessons learnt shall forever stay.
It’s to be a beacon of guiding light,
Beside you always to show what’s wrong and right.
All that you have seen,
Will make your senses sharp and keen.
All that you have felt,
Shall be a helping hand lent.
Standing on this threshold, what do you see?
Upon the verge of freedom, here’s the key.
Sure there will be troubles and pains,
Just like there will be profits and gains.
There will be obstacles along every way,
And to match a new joy every day.
Now on this precious moment,
Accept the wishes that I have sent.
Here’s to a long and successful run,
In the rat race you have just begun.
Go conquer the world waiting to be won,
Demand your rightful place under the sun.
Be confident, be bold and be brave,
For you have abilities others forever crave.
Don’t lose your gentleness or your strength,
Or let values and principles by circumstances be bent.
Brighten the world with the light inside,
All the while charming it’s people beside.
May success kiss your feet,
And joys accompany each heartbeat.
So cheers to a beginning new,
And a very Happy Birthday to you!

Long time.

For anybody who has been wondering where the writer of this blog has been, I am going to pacify you with the lame excuse of there being a wedding in the family and how there is so much to do and things to arrange and people to invite and shopping to be done so on and so forth.

Well truthfully I have not contributed to much since I have noticed that will the upper crest talks nobody pays attention to the lower crust( meant kindly ofcource). So here I am to tell you about the only thing I have done in connection to the wedding. SHOPPED!!

I have no idea how some people cannot like shopping I mean isn't there this exquisite pleasure in owning pretty things and then using them. I mean the feel of exchanging pieces of paper for all the lovely things that there are. The most fascinating are the shopkeepers. All those people are out to sell but only few can really charm you into buying even when you do not have the need. I happened to cross paths with such a gentleman and I am still confused about how he was able to sell me a dress which I had decided against.
I know you must be thinking about how this can't happen to me. But are you sure that you have never come across a salesman who charmed you into buying something you were not really needing to buy? And if you truly have not met such a person then let me tell you they are worth seeing for its truly an art to convince a person to part with his money in exchange of something he did not need in the first place.

To each his own.

YIPPEE. Another Indian bags the Man Booker prize!! Which just shows even if we can't play well at least we can write well. I know what I am saying goes against my earlier post but hey Adiga just won the Booker so how does it matter.

Imagine how one day long ago the seed of the idea must have formed in his head. He must have played with it, mulled over it ,argued against and for it and then finally decided to out it on paper. Imagine the hours he spent writing when the story came alive in his head and ran like a reel with him furiously penning it before he missed a single detail. The writing, rewriting, editing and then writing once again. My! the process must have brought him frustration, satisfaction , despair and joy all at once.

No no don't jump to the conclusion that my leaning towards the magic of the written word is turning into anything more than a leaning. Right now from where I am standing the grass looks greener on the other side.Thats all. Accounts is not a colourless profession mind you. For anybody who thinks otherwise you should really step into an accountants office before a deadline.

The adrenaline rush to fight our way through the maze of bills, challans , invoices and slips of paper with important numbers scribbled upon it and sometimes even lost school certificates to arrive at a profit and loss account. The hunt for the number which was right there, the search for the tax challan , the client was calls at the last hour with some vital piece of information. Its all there and much more.

( Psst. would have said more except I am in the process of developing an iron clad stomach)

The accountants who work on their accounts for a whole year and then look at you blankly when asked where a certain figure has come from. The books they send where you have to hazard a guess as to what they must have written. The entry that comes from nowhere but money goes somewhere.

Hah but thank the good Lord for it for if they could figure out what is happening with their business and their money what would I be doing? Probably predicting the unpredictable stock market.

Book Review.

This last week I have spent reading 'The God of Small Things' by Arundati Roy. For those who are aware of my reading habits a week might indicate something being amiss. Well yes the book took that much time and I have no idea why. But the strange part is that I am still debating as to what my final verdict regarding the book should be.

Has anybody else who has read it in the same dilemma? There is no one word to sum up the experience of that book. Somehow I felt that it was in parts brilliant, boring , absorbing and mundane.

I suppose that's how it is with these award winning books since nobody can write off the book as completely rubbish or completely awesome and nobody can talk about it because you have yet to grasp its meaning in totality,so you declare it brilliant because it has manged to confound so many intelligent readers all at once as to what dwells between its pages.

Had to say.

Its funny how I had initially started a blog in October 2007 but never found the inclination to write or post an entry.Then a casual remark was enough to rekindle the interest in maintaining a sort of online diary. And now that I have started this I cant get away from it. A constant strain of thought is running through my mind trying to mentally compose another article for my blog. Oh it gets a little funny too like how the other day I went to an aunt's place for brunch and seeing what happened with me I started wondering if I could write about this too?

We went there at the appointed hour and greeted and were greeted and introduced and made small talk with about the weather, clothes etc. You know the usual when actually everybody is wondering what they are going to be fed and the stomach is rumbling but you cant ask yet coz its rude so you pretend you have all the time in the world. And have you noticed how when you are finally served for example like with juice to start people peer in to the glass ask what is it, then sip cautiously and when the food comes they say they are too full to eat much. I mean really when you knew you were invited to a meal why stuff yourself before you leave your house? Or maybe they just say it because it is supposed to be said and then go ahead and do the exact opposite. I will have to observe next time.

Anyways I filled my plate with the delicacies being served. I was handed a spoon with the plate initially, then I got another spoon with the ' dahi bada' and I had to pick up a fork to eat the little fried chicken pieces. So here I was holding onto the plate lest it spill and trying to decide what to take a bite of next while mentally decided which one of the two spoons and fork to use to eat what when the waiter came and handed me a glass of water. Unable to help I placed the glass precariously onto the little glass table by my side. I don't see much purpose in those tiny glass top tables , they are only good for two things- decoration and tripping. Another matter was the chair i was sitting upon. Thought I actually wanted to sit on the bean bag I calculated that my plate would most probably tip and my blue dress will no longer look blue and my non-blue mother would definitely then look blue.

The rest of the meal was uneventful except for when I had to gulp the whole glass of water in one go because the chicken was too spicy and then had to look at the hostess with watery eyes when she asked me if I liked the food.
What I meant to say is that the blog has become like a favourite plant or a pet which you constantly take care of, worry about and absolutely enjoy.

P.S The comments are the cherry on the cake. The cake would still be there but be grossly incomplete without the cherry.

A pensive mood..

" Try to be like the turtle-at ease in your own shell" -- Bill Copeland



For anybody who has read even a single Reader's Digest they would surely understand the immortal nature of the book in question. So here I was spending the 'weak'end of my weekend rereading a copy of a certain issue when the above quote leaped out at me.

Raise your hand if you are one of the lucky ones who can truly at least for the moment say I am happy being exactly the way I am. Not only physically but also with respect to your surroundings and circumstances that you have reasonable control over. My hand is down a lot of time. Why is it that we never learn to be thankful for what we have? What is this weird 'bug' in human programming that keeps inner happiness just a bit out of reach? What stops us from stepping up and embracing that kind of satisfaction?

Isn't it always I wish i was smarter, richer, thinner, prettier,taller, more confident, more independent.........? The list of 'if only' is too long to mention here. Sadly we wait around thinking things will fall into place by themselves , never realizing that the peace with yourself that you want, the disquiet in your mind is not something that lies beyond our own self. It is within us to make our life as wholesome and as perfect as we want.

I know this topic has been milked dry by being repeated by everyone at every counselling lecture. They all tell you to accept your shortcomings. But now think from another point of view what if this inability to be constantly walking around as happy as a Christmas tree is actually good for us? It does not have to be only black or only white.
Maybe the reason for all this effort of soul searching and looking inward is just to provide us with an impetus to be better. Lets be optimistic since surely we have already lost the chance to ask God for another model in exchange. Here is the push you need. Here is the motivation. Do some spring cleaning , remove what you could do without and bring in the new.

Name:_________________

Much before the bundle of joy appears( really what about all the wailing and soiled diapers?) parents start choosing a name for the baby. And it is a big deal. A good example to quote here would be Baby Gogol of 'NameSake'. The importance of the right name can't be explained any better.
So when I arrived I was duly christened and the lamb sacrificed as per tradition, partaken digested and forgotten about. When a person of considerable importance to us recommended a name change the suggestion was accepted and in compliance another lamb was sacrificed and dispersed in the same manner. While the baby in question was blissfully unaware of all the momentous decisions being taken about her. I suppose even if the name was changed a half a dozen times more it would have affected the lamb population more than the blessed baby.

And so Baby Sehba came into being officially and the parents were happy that their girl was being called by a unique and hard-to-find-another-so-named-person name while the elders were happy that the name was as per the wishes of the 'higher authority' and the lambs were happy too.
The next three years passed uneventfully if I might say -The quiet before the storm. And then started the 'name game'. Let me explain . The game is something like this -every person has unlimited chances to get the name right. There have been rare winners who needed no extra chances and there have been losers who still cant say it right after years of association.
What is your name beta??
Sehba
Huh?
Sehba. ( a little louder)
Scehbha?
SEHba !!
OK OK you mean Shaiba.
No ma'am ( deep breath) S-E-H-B-A
OH I see. ( quickly jotting it down before the need to ask arises again)

I changed gears optimistically thinking that spelling it out on the first chance might help. But that too did not go down too well. A certain doctor took my dictation as such-'sehehba'. So now if I can help it I just snatch the pen without a word and write my precious name myself.
I remember how every first day when the new class teacher came in to take the name call my friends would start ribbing me , waiting in anticipation to see how this would turn out. I have quite a few memories of the person stopping at my name and peering more closely at the letters as if they would jump up and pronounce themselves. Tthis happens until I helpfully volunteer , " Ma'am that's me, Sehba" .
Thank you Saiba.
And there we go again. A certain geography teacher who taught me for 2 years called and spelled my name- Saheba. Who wants to bell the cat?
But out of school too the trouble followed. I had just given a sigh in relief that there would be no more versions developed as to how many ways my name can be pronounced in. But I was again wrong. For most commercial purposes one needs to send duly filled out forms so your name can appear on bank accounts,passports so on and so forth.
So I went out armed with papers to get myself a bank account. I had not to say a word. I submitted my form to the sour-looking man and was told my passbook and debit card would arrive by post later. I left thankful on not having to say my name.
As promised the passbook and card arrived- one for Sheba Ahmedi and the other for Sehmba Ahmedi.
To add insult to injury when I did a spell check for this document the darn computer offered helpfully-Samba???

Open your eyes and heart.

' Charity begins at home 'is a saying everyone has heard but only a few have had the opportunity to witness. In my opinion in the layman's point of view charity is giving alms to the beggar at the streetlight or to the ones who come knocking at your door on festivals or giving your old clothes to servants or even to giving sums of money to a charitable organization.

Have you ever seen people who regard charity as a way of life? Have you seen people who open their homes and hearts to orphans? Have you seen people who give not days or months but years of their life and their families to help the needy?

I had the opportunity to observe such selfless people tonight. And believe me it makes one look puny and selfish. Here were people who sacrifice pleasures and comforts to give others a better life.

So many of us have at various stages have been lectured about the importance of helping those who cant help themselves. Whatever be the religion or faith charity is paramount and that's what makes the faith a humanitarian one. We feel good about ourselves if we help old ladies or give ten rupees to a beggar on the road on a Friday but really what is the big deal about that.

Putting money on the table only goes so far and is only a secondary issue. Something that smoothens the way. It is the personal touch, the effort that does it. An organization run near my house is home to 87 orphans who are taken care of from childhood until they get married. They are educated in whatever field they want ,they are dressed well and fed well. They are well mannered, educated and I noticed even happy. The organization gives zakat to about 1500 people every year. A large amount of grains,sugar,oils etc. The people who run it have no qualms about accepting their extended family.

What are we doing? Nobody needs the money. It is the time. It made me think about what I was doing. How sad that I was living only for myself. Look at those who feel ashamed to live for themselves. How sad to have come in to this world and not to have touched a single life while you were here. How sad to not have shared your bounty with your neighbor. How sad to have never risen above our own existence.

A different flavour..

Meals are one of the accepted forms of socializing among mankind. Since yore meals have been looked upon as an announcement of brotherhood and sharing a meal or feeding someone taken as confirmation of friendship. Food and company both being some of the most primitive needs of man , we have found a way to blend them and enjoy both at the same time.

In almost every possible situation that revolves around food I am fairly correct except for one exception. And that refers to the meals I share with my jamaat sisters( cant think of another word). We have been sitting together at the same place for about 4 years now and I still cant tell you the names of each and everyone. Of course I am quite familiar by now with their eating habits but have never come around to asking their names. I know a few just not all.

Every meal starts like this. First my friends and I encounter faces which question our presence yet again among them. Then begins the silent meal , in case I am alone, the slow partaking of food, the study of the dirty linen, the secret study of the girls in front of me and the the now-almost-perfect-facade of pretending I am not bored.

I suppose it would be wrong to put the whole blame squarely upon them. They are just different. Being different is not bad , its just that they are a different that we cant reconcile ourselves with and vice verse.

It is ironical that we cant form relations with the very people we share the closest bonds with. It brings to mind a line I read somewhere- You dont find friends, you make them. And it seems we are not ready to make friends just yet.

Holiday Cheer

Well here I am again drumming my fingers on the keyboard wondering what topic under the sun can be stretched out enough to make an entry in my blog. Gosh for someone who can talk as much as me I dont have a topic. So how do the silent souls do it? Does it come bursting out onto the relatively safer medium of paper than the trecherous form of speech? Maybe I will ask mom about that , having no experience of being a quiet person myself. Hehe.

It is so funny sometimes how Fate has put such different persons under one roof? Or maybe thats the beauty of it. If all of us were alike we would just drive each other crazy. Very likely indeed. A little example can be how we view our sunday. Dad deems it to be a day when he can go and meet people he has not seen for a month or so. Mom announces it to be a the day when all pending house work shall be finished. Bhai sees it in his calender as another day gone from his stock of days of study. While I view it as a day to catch a couple of movies in the least. Yes sometimes its a mess sorting out what we should be doing.

But what is it about holidays that makes them so coveted? Is it the pleasure of having no demands on your time? Or the selfish instinct to give in to your lazyness. Whatever it might be holidays make no sense until they come in between work. Its only when you know how amazing it is to put up your aching feet or straighten your back for a while does the thought of a holiday make sense. By the way I remember reading in an issue of the Reader's digest long ago about how they was a time when the government had to make holidays a compulsary affair. In fact working on a sunday was made a punishable crime.

Now how would that sound? " My lord Mr. So and So should be punished for his henious crime of daring to sell shoes on Jan 12 a SUNDAY!!!!

Cure

You know this is supposed to be getting easier. This writing of thoughts, upon a whim. But it's clearly not. Sometimes i think this inspiration to write is like a cold. It strikes you at the time when you do not need it as an excuse nor is it a convenient time to be in bed. And when you are really hoping for one so you can pretend to be sick, you never get it.

A question to answer.

Hello there.

I was just thinking about what to write on my blog , which should actually not be so hard since its my personal diary sort of thing and I can scribble absolutely anything and the reader would be forced to read it in the hope that I will eventually get to the point after the half page of rambling. Hahahah. That's why the pen is mightier than the sword. It bends you as per the writer's will without the slightest hint of threat.

But then there is an inside story too. I wonder if our bestselling authors sit and ponder over their words for hours or days at end wondering what others will think about it, whether it is worth saying or not? Or is it that it just flows out from the end of their pens, from their minds into physical form seamlessly? What is it that makes them write? What is it that inspires them? Do they all have terrible personal lives which they draw upon as a reservoir and write those stories which make you weep? Or is it that the philosophical writers are individuals who might have been forced in their youth or their formative years to sit in one corner and think?

Why talk of only authors? Do excellent business rise from bed one day and say today I will push my net worth to over a million? Or do athletes join the Olympics on a whim and voila they have a medal? And to top it all does it comes to them just like that?

I don't know. And I suppose not. It is probably something which exists inside them and when rubbed and polished it shines from within. Micheal Phelps comes to mind at this point. What talent that was ,that the world was left with their mouths agape. Watching the news this evening I could not help but look up to Ratan Tata. What a man! I cant help admire the dignity, the poise, the quiet authority and the razor mind. Not to forget he is the man who said- A Promise is a Promise.

Thousands of brilliant men and women have passed through the times , each ones feat no less than the other. I only talk of those I know. And I wish there could be some way we could preserve and reuse such greatness of character again.

A thought comes to mind- Is there a limited supply of greatness? Or it that a spark or a granule lives inside each one of us? Is the big secret only that those people have been able to forge their inner ores and make fine steel out of it through hard work, perseverance, foresight and a desire, are the ones who have been luckily born into the elite club of super acheivors? And the rest of the populace has been given nothing but doomed to a life of serving as cogs in a bigger machine?

On the other hand what if all of us too have that 'light' inside us and we with our own hand snuff it out due to inner and outer circumstances? Isn't is scarier to think that all of us are vessels to a kind of talent but fail to recognize it and use. We might just be passing through life on the assumption that we are not what heroes are made of . And forever waste that opportunity of being somebody and doing something.

Domino Effect

Well i am here again. Yesterday my english teacher sent me a poem written by her about what age she believes to be best. Anyways the poem was amazing and it had a domino effect. I just had to write one myself. Take a look-

Choices
Sick musings of a person dear
Have struck a chord very near
Poetry and feet, rhythm and beat
All sounds so pretty and neat.

Somewhere a spot has been touched
The joy of writing, very much loved
The power of the pen, the voice inside
The struggling writer, the poet beside.

A path has already been chosen
A decision of the heart and head taken
An affair with accounts to last a lifetime
In these unchartered seas to provide a lifeline.

Yet the fling with writing shall always remain
Unexpectedly, yet insistently calling my name
To feed the fire just this one time
Put your heart on paper, its fine.

But the holiday will soon be over
And in the game of life it will be my turn
How hard I hit, the score on the board
Will decide how smooth is the next road.

Every debit has a credit they say
The scales of balance shall equally weigh
So thou shall do justice to your own self
Make occupation and vocation grow with equal help

The time has come, the lines been laid
The choices made and Gods called upon for aid
To all those who care wish me well
For there are demons yet to quell

There are some who worry
Who pray I shall not be sorry
How do I tell them all
That I shall never fall

Yet I cannot say such a thing
For even to my ears it has a hollow ring
Sometimes i doubt and pick up my feet
To take a step in defeat

Then something stiffens my spine
Of courage and resolution I hope its a sign
I know the way is hard and long
The destination way far beyond

One step at a time is my plan for now
Hand in hand the accountant and author and how!
Who says my final accounts shall not in poetry drip
Which the I.T officer in wonder shall flip.

My audit report beautifully worded
Tied in rhyme and artistically corded
Hamlet and Direct Tax Reckoner learnt by heart
And all this just to start.

I am sure many have passed
To whom this question was asked
Two roads lay spread out to choose
And for each the other we shall forever loose.

But one had to be picked and only one
Yet the treacherous heart wonders about the other one
What might have been i shall never know
For here it is that I choose to plant my roots and grow.

Baby Step

Well, I have finally done it. After weeks of debating and consideration I have decided to give it a shot. Please do not expect any philosophies to be explained here or ideas to be pounded out. All you can hope to get is ideal musing of a person who at that point of time had nothing better to do. And if you dont like it blame it on my uncle who planted the seed of the idea.
There is a selfish motive behind boring you to death. Wise men( debatable) have said that only when you keep writing do you improve. I suppose they stole the philosophy from there sports counterparts unable to come up with any better advise for the millions of 'struggling' writers!
Now that everything is clear I shall rest in peace. Until next time atleast I suppose.