The social one

Drenched in sweat, gasping, absorbing the oxygen through his skin because aerobic respiration was not helping his cause anymore. He ran so far, so fast, he ran so long, after so long. His legs were crying for mercy, his lungs begged for oxygen, but no fatigue was potent enough to challenge his velocity. His body which felt like an abyss of energy had streams of sweat originating from his head and flowing all the way down in such volumes that would make earth feel humid. After all, he reached the hotel, and like a warrior pulls out his sword, he took out his smartphone and plugged it for charging. This was Smart boy Amandeep’s maiden taste of physical work in a long while. Till now, he was living life in bits and bytes. His legs and calories were going vestigial with time. You must be wondering why to endure such pain just to charge a smarter than required smartphone. I mean seriously, you guys really started wondering!! Ironical, isn’t it? Amount of battery charge available is directly proportional to our happiness index. So, let’s take a flashback into Smart boy Amandeep’s story.
It was the trip to gorgeous Macloud ganj in the Himalayas. But giving a blind eye to the scenic beauty of emerald-like green forests, being completely oblivious to the soothing sensation of the cold breeze that was capable of bringing Nirvana if welcomed by senses. But Amandeep was busy, he was busy capturing the perfect click to flaunt his profile picture. He was trying to capture the nature in 0s and 1s form courtesy of social media. Social media, where the socially introvert Smart boy Amandeep was living the most dynamic life. A life where he was a social activist slamming the orthodoxies and social evils, a patriot always ready with the most apt abuses to snapchat CEOs, Pakistanis and anyone who dared a bad eye towards our nation. And he always had crazy boy ratandeep and 35 others whenever he was feeling happy, sad, rebellious or thoughtful. In Macloud ganj, enduring the cold breeze, standing patiently for hours, so focussed that he did not even blink his eyes, even Gods would not have been so patient while meditating like Amandeep was while capturing the perfect clicks. But his Smarter than required smartphone’s battery was thirsty for electrons and ran out of life. And he rushed back to the hotel. You know, the purpose of some of his body parts even ignored biology. His mouth was used only to interact with google assistant or Siri, and his fingers did all the talking.
It was the last day of the trip to Macloud ganj, his smartphone was finally charged but yet again he could not capture the perfect click.
And yet again he lost the battle of the number of likes to Swag king sandy. Frustrated, he sought help from Rajneesh Singh Ronaldo, the ultimate Casanova of the virtual world. He enlightened him with life longing knowledge. He told him, you don’t capture a perfect click, you edit your ways towards it. But he refused to help him editing because he was 24*7 online on WhatsApp and had too much of posts to create. But do you know, what all this quest was about?? Amandeep’s heart was deluded by Angel Priya, She did not go to work because she was a princess. She the perfect flawless skin, dark deep eyes and she went to places that only existed in Bollywood song videos. And her circular pout featuring the most amazing lips were a treat to the eyes. But no one had seen her lips in their natural form. But looking at trends of these pouts these days, I hope theory of evolution goes wrong, imagining my grand grandchildren born with a beak really scares the hell out of me. Well, Time went by and surprisingly, Smart boy Amandeep did manage to fix a date with angel Priya, the princess who did not go to work. Anxious, excited, he dressed up in perfectly ironed clothes and sprayed the perfume that made angels fall from above in television ads. He finally reached the restaurant. But there was some girl sitting already on their table. He went near her and politely asked her to leave as the table had already been booked. Embarrassed, she said hesitatingly, Hi smart boy Amandeep, I am angel Priya……..What!!!
What about that flawless skin, and she was definitely better off with the pout. He was badly stuck by the theory of reality vs expectation. It was a “cham se jo toote koi sapna” moment. But suddenly his mind sensed something, an opportunity, yes an opportunity.

Darwin truly said once, its all about survival
and this time around it’s all about survival in the virtual world, and here only he who has the maximum number of likes is the ultimate survivor.

Convinced he was of her caliber, he asked her,” Angel Priya, will you please teach me editing”.

Yoon hi chalta rehta hai…


Waqt bhawar chalte chalte, kuch batein mujhse karta hai

Uthna, girna, chalna, firna  to yoon hi chalta rehta hai

Sard bhari wo ratein bhi fir yoon hi ati rehti hai

uske baad ujaale ka ana bhi yoon hi chalta rehta hai

waqt hamare sath me fir wo dagar dagar mandrata hai

har lamha fir kuch kiye bina hi kaliyon jese khilta hai

Har ik pal me khushiyon ka wo dil ki taal se mil jana

Aur tehelti shamo ka wo gulshan jese khil jana

Bahot suhana khel hai ye, bas yoon hi chalta rehta hai

Haar ki andhi ati hai, sab veerana ho jata hai

man bikhra bikhra hota hai, sabkuch begana lagta hai

beech samandar doobe to sahil afsaana lagta hai

Doobi kashti ko fir apne sahil tak pahocha jana

nidar adig bekhouf hue har mushkil se takra jana

asakt anant prayas dekh, manjil ka bhi muska jana

Parivartan ka khel hai ye bas yoon hi chalta rehta hai……



(Mobile phone ringing)

Hello !!

Yes maa…..

Yaa, ready to go..

Thanks maa !

Yaa, I ‘am prepared

Maa, how can I tell!!

It’s 11/250, climbing numerator is like climbing the Everest!!

Well I’am getting late now, ttyl,byee!!!

I was getting ready for the 7th interview of my selection starved career so far. After corruption I guess the most scoffy thing in India might be my resume. Although I had my decent share of good or better say gleaming moments when it comes to academics. But after graduation, the profusion of failures degraded the whole scenario. One can say that I tried way too much. Actually I was the victim of the most reputation destroying motivational line, “if you try, you may achieve success, but if you don’t, you will definitely not achieve one”. But now I realise that if I had not tried then there would be one less failure story for me to tell. I may appear very frustrated right now. But I’am not frustrated, I ‘am an “engineer”.

This time I had a bit higher expectations from this interview. This was my 7th interview, and some astrologer told my parents that 7 is my lucky number. These astrologers are the ages old family counsellors in our fate driven indian society. Well this may appear very irrational to the rational minds out there, but for a student esp. engineer in india, superstition is the best vaccine against depression. Believe it or not, you find some mystical motivation or better say hope when you feel that some supreme power is always there to help your cause. We can consider this one perk of being a theist.

My story starts way back in 2001.


“Sarang initiating a sprint from the left wing availing a gap. Utkarsh trying for the challenge, but what a beautiful 360 turn by Sarang , complimenting his idol zizou(zidane), here comes the shot and it’s a goooaaaaallllllll!!!!!!!!!!, this 10th standard boy from st. peter’s is such an artist.”

I’ am Sarang Mishra. This was the final of the interschool football tournament. I scored the winning goal and our school lifted the trophy. Watching me linger on the ground was synonymous to witnessing magic, they used to say. I was a huge zizou fan. From copying his skills to even have my hair trimmed to match his, I followed him in every possible way I could. Last night , he hit that gorgeous volley into back of the net in the champions league finale granting Real Madrid with the victory, I was on cloud nine. Back then, football was my life and zizou was my god. I could spend days and nights on that football field. On that green meadow wearing a Madrid jersey, I was flawless, myself, free unstoppable, and unaware of the commotions outside. But this was the ‘kalpanika yuga’ after was destined to remain as relic of my childhood in memories. the yathartha yuga was  waiting.

Yathartha yuga(reality era)

I finished my secondary education and scored decent 81% percent marks. And now came the much appalled +1 and +2 education. For a student especially those opting for science stream, transition from 10th to +1 feels like the transition of life. Our daily routine topples all of a sudden. Our teachers will scare the hell out of us by explaining the subtleness of the course. Siblings would brag about their respective +1 and +2 careers. And then you go to the tution classes and witness those fanatically strange teachers with a story of their own prolific but success less career to tell.

But amidst these rigorous and challenging circumstances, the thing that concerned me the most was that I would have to renounce my bond with football. Dad used to say, “they won’t ask you to score a goal in jee. Leave this crap and focus on your studies. “ you cannot win an argument with your father you know. Because you can never initiate one. A slightest of the hint of an initiation is potent enough to bring nightmares to your peaceful day. Talking about football as a career is like talking suicide, especially in mbbs/engineering obsessed like ours. So finally, I too took my harbour in the likes of concepts of physics, sk goyal, and other +1 and +2 version of vedas and verses. Two years went swiftly. A lot had been changed. I struggled with calculus, was really uncertain with uncertainity principle, I was frameless in rigid body dynamics and frenzied by those menacing waves and reactions. Boards came and solidifying my till then reputation as an average student, I came up with a very familiar result, 78%. The rigorous lifestyle had taken a toll on me. My shrewdness with football was lost. Meanwhile, we lost in that year’s inter school football tournament. I wasn’t allowed to participate in it, thanks to my dad.

I didn’t talk about my friends though. I must say, I enjoyed the company of one the freakiest group you will ever see. Ratnesh, my second best friend after football. Give him a six string and he will leave you spellbound. His fingers were carved to play guitar. Ambikesh, the steve wojniack of our group, was the craziest among us. He was a coding freak and he could even code one’s life, we used to say. But he knew coding and ………………coding only. Vivek, the poet, the calm, serene boy with his eyes potraying a dream. There was nothing more surreal thing in our school than vivek’s poems. We were like photons of dreams. Those were the days!!

Caution: we are in yathartha yuga , no room for passion and ardour here.

We were abandoned of our dreams by the dictators of our not so democratic life, our parents.  Ratnesh, wanted to be a rockstar. He used to mention it in our dream deluged gossips. His fantasy was to give a performance that would compel the audition to cry out of glee. Ambikesh, felt short of making it to iits due to his lack of knowledge in pcm. And our kumar vishwas vivek wanted to be a writer, but his family had different plans. Ratnesh went to delhi to pursue eng.from dce. Our wozniack took admission in city college to pursue bachelors degree in the subject his had aversion of, science. And me on the basis of marks in aieee managed a nit for myself to pursue in cs branch. So we all were wrought to follow the path prescribed by our parent who had more knowledge of life.


Am I missing something? How can a narration of school life be complete without mentioning your biggest crush. Yes, I too was a victim of the nature’s art. Sanhita, my classmate was the first girl I fantasised for. She induced first summit of hormonal secretions in my brain. She was the first to produce ripples of coherent beats in my heart. Did I try for her? Actually I am a Brahmin and love is a non solemnised criminal offense in brahminian condo. And I had no plans of becoming a criminal during those times. So I kept my feelings within myself and moved on.

So now came the life which can be entitled as the cusp of anyone’s life. The COLLEGE LIFE. I would call KRANTI YUGA(rebellion era).


Initially I was introduced to the do’s and dont’s of college life. I followed the dictum passed on by our godfathers in college, our seniors. One month and life had taken a completely different turn. There was an elusive freedom in that campus. A freedom which could be felt everywhere. As the rule of nature goes, a sense or even a crave for freedom results in rebellions. I wasn’t born to be an exception anyways. I too became a rebel, not in a socially positive sense though. I started breaking rules. I would bunk lectures and escape to movies with my other rebel friends. We would often go out for night outs. We had an army of rebels there. We strayed freely and carelessly. I even tasted the gourmet food which could have led to my exemption from my family had they known it. Yes, the revolution was at it’s peak and I was enjoying each and every moment of it.

But the problem with rebels is that they don’t usually enjoy good grades. And I wasn’t an exception like I told you. First semester results ceded me with two backlogs. So to curb the rebellion, the ultimate boss, my father took charge. The cause of the calamity was interrogated, ultimatum to change the attitude was imposed and the rebellion was over. Back to yathartha yuga friends.

So  once again, I had to indulge myself into studies to carry out the repairing work. Now, it was the time to endure thermodynamics, M2, those enigmatic c-programs, those crafty marginal utility curves and much more. I used to hate c-programming especially. My temper just kept floating in those floating point variables. I never knew that there existed such a huge crap behind these mobile phones, laptops, calculators, washing machines and all these so called digital systems. And I was never intrigued to learn that crap. It sometimes used to remind me of ambikesh. A guy like me who was novice to programming and had no interest in it was pursuing bachelors degree in computer science from such an elite institute. And on the other hand, a guy like him who was a coding freak and was expert in the field was tagged inapt to pursue the course. And then we complain about not producing extraordinary engineers. Here passion starves for opportunity.

Anyways, coming back to myself. I somehow managed decent grades in my subsequent semesters. And the repair work was over. But now was the time for the most euphoric and fervent era of one’s life. The youvan yuga(the age of rage).


Out of age factor, watching so many beautiful faces around and instigated by romantic movies and songs of Bollywood, my crave for a beautiful encounter was invoked. I became mad for a girl named kavita of my batch. A girl who could stir the poet, dreamer, singer, lover and so much more in my romance starved heart. She was like a nucleus and I was like an electron revolving around her. Her eyes were the cause of commotion in my wits. Her smile incited sweet tingling in my heart. Her presence was poignant. Slowly and carefully, by exchanging notes and casual talks, I somehow managed a light bond of friendship with her. But then out teenage commotions, I divulged all my feelings before her. And without deviating from the familiar results in such cases I was gifted with the first touch of her skin on my cheeks. Yes , in the form of a tight slap. You know, there cannot be a more disgraceful incident for a boy than being slapped by a girl. And after all I am a Brahmin and that too a sharp one, like my grandfather used to say(although I still don’t know what that sharp one pointed to). But still it quailed profound respect for us in our community. Here a brahminian ego was hurt. This incident marked the beginning of “SANGHARSHA YUGA”(trepidation era).



Darjeeling was the place to visit in june’s edition of traveller’s magazine. And unlike ever before, those serene and majestic landscapes of Bengal’s heaven induced the invigorations in the traveller in Raghu. Raghu, a 17year old boy from a small town in Madhya Pradesh had an unimpeded urge to visit the place.
But for a boy from a lower middle class like Raghu any trip to sight worthy destinations is basically limited within the cortex. But this dream was gliding its way out of his mere thoughts. Gathering all his courage, he asked his amma baba for a trip to Darjeeling. But as it seemed like eternity he was subjected to accusations of madness.
Crave for Darjeeling had sobered his soul. Anyways he had his share of two options.  One, going with the usual ending in such cases, he should forget the idea of any such trip and wait for time to mutate its course. This idea was recanted by his Darjeeling deluged heart. And second, he could carve his own way, implying that he could tackle the obstacle that was keeping him from his dream. The obstacle that he was accustomed of being overpowered by over the years, the obstacle of money. HE COULD EARN MONEY BY HIMSELF!!
But for a school student, earning money is not a common instance in our society. And especially for Raghu it was an out of skin task. He had never thought this way before. He had no clue initially from where to begin. Once in one of his favourite movies 3 idiots, he learnt that one should cash in on his talent to be successful in his life. He finally had the clue. Talking about skills, Raghu was a speckles painter. He was gifted with articulately stable hands. His elder sister used to define his paintings as a dream, they were so perfect in their forms. Apart from this he was just an average student. This meant that if anyhow he could harness required money was by utilising his painting skills. But the main question was how?? And again he was clueless.
Frustrated and dejected he would often elude in his imaginations of Darjeeling. Every day he would paint a view of the Darjeeling of his dreams. Sometimes of the green meadows and mountains ministrating a beautiful mystical unison, and sometimes the view of jovial toy trains sailing otiosely hoarding the delighted tourists, and so on. Then one day, one of his friends suggested him to sell his paintings to a shop in the old market ramming him with new hope. He contacted the shopkeeper and he offered 50rupees for each painting. Anything assisting him with money appeared a worthy deal during that time, so Raghu complied. This went on for couple of months. He managed to collect 700bucks till now. He felt that at this pace, it would take him ages to collect enough money.
Meanwhile he came to knowledge of yet another smart idea of money making, giving tution. But this idea had a constraint of being a studious student attached to it. Anyway he tried to gather students to give tution. But students seemed to consider him unworthy of handling such a prestigious job.
All this implied that he had no option but to perform well in the following quarterly exams to gain faith of fellow juniors. But for an otherwise average student Raghu who would do anything but study, it was even more than an uphill task. That day he painted his most beautiful view of the Darjeeling of his imagination. It felt like a shrine for gods. The kind of place that minstrels sing about. His thoughts and creativity were decked with the ineffable beauty of Darjeeling. He was ready to go any distance to complete his errand.
So the wayfarer was upto yet another challenge. Never ever in his till now life had he sit for more than 30min continuously with the purpose of studying, exam time being the only exception. And after 1hour of study he used to feel as if the words are bouncing off from the pages. But he was too ardent to give up. He endured all the headaches and haste and then after a couple of weeks he started feeling comfortable with it. He never thought that even a gruesome task like studying could be fun. He was exploring the mountain within. After toiling recklessly for a month and a half, came the quarterly exams. To every one’s surprise the midland wanderer in ranking system was now in the elite trio of top three students. Raghu’s enhancement in academics was the main topic of amazement and headline for days to come. Hard work paid off. This time there were around 10students seeking tution from him. He charged 500rupees a month from each student. Going this way, he could easily save the money required for the trip.
Time fled with a transformed Raghu to savour for his parents, and taking him closer to realising his yearlong dream. By the end of the session Raghu had cemented his position as the topper of the class. He saved 30000rupees earned from tutions and paintings, more than enough for realising his yearlong dream. He also convinced amma baba to accompany him to Darjeeling along with his sister.
He was on his way to railway station to book tickets. But in the way he received a call, a call on whose other side was grizzling a news that would topple all his plans upside down and would occlude his yearlong ambition. His baba met an accident and suffered severe injuries. He rushed to the city hospital.
Doctors were hopeful but treatment required money, the amount of money that would otherwise have been unaffordable if they did not have the assistance of Raghu’s 30000that he collected in over a year. He handed over all the money he had for baba’s treatment. Within a month baba’s treatment was over.
Surprisingly Raghu was not disappointed at all for missing out on his year long dream.
He realised over the past few days that life always comes out with the best possible plan for us. It’s really hard to fathom but destiny always surprises us. The real journey starts within oneself. No journey to anyplace place, be it Darjeeling or the Himalayas or the alps or the great canyon could have induced the rush and given the excitement that he had experienced during this one year journey. He was a transformed person now, fearless and enlightened.
Even a single moment is potent enough to shape our lives, we just need to be in ours senses to seize that particular moment.
“yet another journey and I’m all set to gleam
Be it any hurdle, be it as warm as steam
I’m ready to be ravaged by yet another dream”……



Ik waqt wo ek jamana tha, jb raahi ik parvaana tha
Uski chaalo me masti thi, wo fitrat se deewana tha
yun bekaraar uski dhadkan, har pal likhta afsaana tha
banjaara bhi esa ki naa koi ghar na thikaana tha
R dilfek bhi wo kuch esa tha, k har dehleez pe ana jana tha
raahon me thi uski manjil aur toote dil me thikana tha
mutmayin karta sbko, uski mehfil me hi maykhana tha
jalne ko itna tha atur, k shamma ka deewana tha