The Letter...

The smell of fresh paint came at full blast as Abhimanyu entered his room. Abhimanyu, with his parents had moved to their newly furnished house; a proper house with a big front lawn, complete with a swing set for him to play on. Being a lone child, one had to while away time chasing space fantasies, as the swings become a launch pad to Jupiter, and jumping from the edge of the street at the apogee of the path of the swing became the actual launch. Those 4 seconds of thrill were always memorable.

Abhimanyu snapped back in to reality as he looked around his room. It was well furnished with a bed in one corner, to the right of a large window, overlooking the front lawn, a desk placed at the window and his closet towards the right. His belongings had already been placed in the closet, ready for use.
The house had belonged to another family who had moved out due to financial constraints, though his friends fantasized that it was due to the death of the youngest of the family, and Abhimanyu would be haunted by the spirit of the dead child. His parents had assured him that there were no dead children of the previous family, going as far as making Abhimanyu meet the family and their only child. Abhimanyu had pinched him to make sure he was real !

"ABHI! PACK YOUR BACKPACK AND MAKE SURE YOU'RE READY FOR SCHOOL TOMORROW", his mom bellowed from her room.

School started the next day, and Abhimanyu reluctantly got to his closet to dig up his books and put them in his backpack. As he rummaged about his closet trying to find his school books, in the midst of his story books, novels etc, he found a small piece of paper wedged between his copy of  "The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe" by Douglas Adams.

He didn't remember ever making any notes while reading this classic, and he removed the piece of paper to see his name scrawled across one of the folded sides, in a familiar handwriting.

"Is this mom? What have I done this time? Seems to be a new form of imparting discipline", he thought to himself absent minded as he sat on his chair and opened up the letter. It said :

Dear Abhimanyu,

How are you buddy? How old are you? I'm not sure when you will find this letter, and I hope that you find it as early as possible. I'm having a great time here. I can't reveal where I am, as it will break one of the most important principles of my work. For now, know that I am a well wisher.

Great things will happen buddy. You're a smart kid, full of intelligent ideas and simplistic thinking. You know what problem we adults have? We make things too complicated. Children have the ability to think of things in the simplest possible way, and this is how their mind works. They are not daunted by the enormity of the task at hand, they are not daunted by the amount of work, or the time taken to do it. When you're a child, you don't know death. You're immortal. Nothing has a time period. You must have heard us adults saying "I want to be rich by 40, and retire". This is because we know death, we fear it, and hence we keep time lines. Don't be pulled into that trap. 

I know what you're thinking. If adults know their mortality, why do they bother with timelines? Hell, they may die even before they are 40. I think like a child too, whenever it is necessary and that's why I can measure your response. As for your question, well, that's the weirdal ways of us adults. 

As you grow older, you'll also be bogged down an imaginary thing called "Fear". It will enter your system in the form of doubt, and slowly, if left unchecked, it will cripple your system and leave you a shadow of yourself. Remember how you feel you can get to Jupiter, or The Restaurant At End Of The Universe by jumping from the apogee of your swing set? Adults will never be able to feel that. Adults will fear mocking from others and never let themselves go.

Fear will make you believe, that you own something in this world. It will make you believe that you have something to lose. Truth be told, you have nothing. Nothing is ever truly yours. Just like The Conservation of Energy, worldly things too are only transferred from one person to another. Whether you want it or not, whether it be during your life time or your death, you will be separated from your worldly possessions. And at that time, all you will have are your experiences, your thoughts, your memories. Your soul.

This letter might seem like a sermon. I won't be modest and say it's not. Treat it like a sermon, never forget what is written in this letter, and you will live your life to the fullest and successfully. However, you will have to promise me to destroy this letter as soon as you're done with it. You can memorize it, write it down for yourself, but you will have to destroy this original copy. Make sure no one reads this. I can't stress this point enough.

Do not be afraid of what I say next. I know you're smart enough to figure out what I'm saying.
Take care.
                                                                                                                                              

                                                                                                                                       Yours truly,

                                                                                                                                       Abhimanyu

Papa's Scooter...

It was a time when not everyone could afford cars. It was a time when helmets were not compulsory. When there were only two to three brands of two wheeler's available. The time when a whole family of four would sit on the same two wheeler. Dad at the front, mom at the back, the smaller kid standing ahead of dad, and the older one squeezed between mom and dad. It was this time, when I was a proud scooter owner (at least in part).

Scooters in the 90s were the 'it' thing. Bikes were considered to be a little on the dangerous side (at least that's what I was told when I asked my dad why we didn't have a bike), whereas scooters were considered to be friendly. It was a family vehicle.

I would assume the position of the younger kid, standing in front of my dad, excited to be the first one who got the view of the road ahead, warning my dad about every speed breaker ahead, by shouting "Speed Breaker" whenever I saw one. Dad would slow down and pass the speed breaker. It gave me the impression that it was because of me that Dad noticed speed breakers. Made me feel like the owner of the scooter. It meant the world to me.

That obsession about being an integral part of the driving process, also saw me blaming myself for an accident in which our scooter slipped and we all hurt ourselves pretty badly! (even though the slip was due to oil, and had nothing whatsoever to do with a speed breaker!)

That place in the scooter, in front of my father, hair blowing up from the blowing wind, enjoying the scenery, milliseconds before my mom and sister would see it, was my place in the family.That little cramped space was the den of all my adventures.

I would take my army fighter planes with me on the scooter, pretending to fly them at super sonic speed, killing all the enemies ahead of us. It would be a pretty engaging battle, stretched from home to Juhu beach, every weekend.

My earliest memory though is of me falling down from the scooter while attempting to get down when it was moving, trying to emulate those who get down from a moving scooter, not noticing that they also started to run when they got down from the scooter! Who knew a scooter could give lessons in momentum and relative motion !

I would still always be standing in the leg space for the driver, feeling a tad bit jealous that I was the only one not being given a seat. Mom dad and my sister all sat comfortably while I had to stand all the way through Mumbai's polluted roads and hostile drivers. After months of stubborn insistence, I finally got a small seat in front of the driver's seat that could be opened and closed in a way and was just enough for me to feel complete!

I lost so many of my toys, made so many temporary passing through friends in that little seat that was only mine. I started outgrowing it soon enough and the joy didn't last long. After 16 long years, the Bajaj gave way and it became too expensive to keep it moving. Combine that with a 2 stroke engine and it was slowly becoming useless.

We finally couldn't even sell the scooter (no one wanted to buy one) and we had to dismantle it and sell it to the scrap dealer. Today I travel in a car, hell I even drive around in a car, but those 2 wheels carried so many memories.

Sometimes I wonder if we, in the quest for bigger and better things, forget the things which actually give us happiness.

Or do we just over think every thing? :P

P.S : This isn't me or my family. But pretty representative of what that scooter stood for :)

The Reflection Point...

I walked on, staring at the ground, not concerned about running into anyone. In this place, it was common. With as much light as a small lamp in a big house, no one cared anymore about running into anyone.
No one apologized and no one looked back to give irritated looks. When you're living a hundred feet below the ground, the weight of the world is literally on your shoulders and common niceties are quickly forgotten.
I live with roughly two hundred other people, common folks. No war prisoners, no nothing. Truth be told, no one recollects when we were brought here. Why we were brought here. It just felt right. The kind of feeling you get when you're in a dream. You know it's not what is normal, but it feels right. You blend in.
My biggest hope was, that this indeed WAS a dream. However, I let go of that hope several years ago.
We were all given our own separate houses. Everyone got their own ration, equal for everyone. There was no money. In a weird way, we were all equal, but it didn't feel like justice. Every thing was shared. And that is something that no one likes.
I remember those sunny days, and they were literally sunny because there's no sun in this darn place,  when I would preach the lyrics of Imagine. Thinking of this Utopian world were every thing would be shared, every person would be equal. It's only when I was put down here, that I realized the fickle nature of humans. Turns out, we don't like to share, we like inequality as long as we're on the good side of the threshold and we certainly don't like being told to do the above things especially when we don't want to. It's cute how much we like to think of Utopia without ever realizing what an illusion it is. Of course, the hint is in the meaning of the word, but we are persistent.
There was every thing down there, beautiful gardens and lakes but it all seemed dull. I walked on to the place they called 'Reflection Point'. Or that was what it was referred to by the people in here.
Reflection Point was at the far right of this underground hole we lived in. It traversed the entire length of our abode and was a portal to a different world. Not literally, but figuratively. It was a humongous window, looking out to blue skies. They somehow gave us sunlight from there. It was the kind of sunlight you would get on a cloudy day. No direct rays of the sun, but light enough to make you feel upbeat. But there were no clouds, just seemingly endless blue skies. Sometimes we wondered whether we were down below the ground or up above the clouds. This light was what helped us live physically and mentally. People would come up here, reminisce for hours on end, looking into the endless blue abyss wondering what lay on the other side.
Many had lost their minds over it. There had been numerous attempts to break the glass, but none successful. In a weird way, the Reflection Point was a portal to keep us alive and sane as well as to make us insane.
One had to be careful around Reflection Point. It would be healthy to reminisce about our old life, about the sunny days, thinking and making up days that we spent in the sun, appreciating its warmth and its splendour. But there was a fine line between reminiscing about those days and becoming obsessed with them. A claustrophobic's greatest relief is seeing the light of the day. But the claustrophobic quickly turns into a schizophrenic when he realizes that there is no escape and that this hole is just an illusion.
I would often go up to Reflection Point to seek inspiration to write and sing and to rid myself of my frustrations. There would be no literal writing or singing. It was all in the mind. I would often 'write' about travelling around in a car, with the sun roof down, taking in the smells of grass and soil. I would often 'sing' about riding around in fields driving tractors and tending to crops. I would do those things, but never ever would I detach myself from reality. It sucked, but I was brave enough to accept that. But that day, I crossed the line between sanity and insanity.
As I sat there that day, something snapped. I was delightfully happy in that instant for no reason at all and cared no more. I stood up and ran towards the humongous window and smashed into it. Nothing happened. I didn't expect anything to happen. I got up, and with a mad insanity and a wide smile, I went back to repeat my action. I didn't feel any pain. With every collision with the wall, my elation increased even though my physical injuries increased. With every collision, I could feel my soul gradually coming out from this metaphorical hole that had become so small because of my frustration and this hole of a place. I could have stopped that day, but I knew that the hole would close forever if I didn't do this. With every collision I also felt my body giving way. I knew that I only needed one more push and then I would be free. As I summoned up all my courage and strength I smashed into the window one last time and collapsed into a heap.

It was blue every where. 

Night With The Stars...

It was still 4pm. The sun was shining, but in a tired and soft way, waiting like us humans, to retire for the day and get up the next morning to do it's job over again. 
I got down on a deserted platform of a place I didn't know. Yes I didn't know. I avoided looking at the yellow sign boards at the start and end of every platform, which tell the location of the place. 
The deal was to not know where I was. 
I had boarded the train from Mumbai, choosing a train at random, bought a passenger ticket, and with my back pack, spare clothes, sleeping bag and other useful equipment I started my unknown journey. 
It was a sticky journey, I had to stand most of the time near the doors, which are also near the bathrooms. Only when the train is in motion, do you get a sense of relief (in terms of breathing non-stinky air) as the open door poured in enough air for me to survive.
The country side was beautiful. The varying landscapes, the people, the rivers, the rock structures that reminded me of real world objects, the slow transition from building and bridges to huts and farms was beautiful. In some ways, it reminded me of life itself. How nothing seemed to change, but suddenly everything was different. 
Once I decided that I had come far enough from the city (the reasons for which will be later mentioned) , I took a step inside to avoid seeing the station I came in and decided to get down once the train came to a halt. I didn't look around and headed straight to the exit. 
Why was it so necessary to not know my destination? Because it's pretty futile for us to have a sense of location and reference. We may well be dots in front of the world but when you compare yourself to the Universe, you will know that there is no point in knowing where you are in it's reference. It will only make you feel small and make you realize that you are a very small, yet significant (I like to think so) part of it. 
I had about two hours to get away as far as I could from any kind of civilization. As you can guess by now, I was going hiking to the remotest place I could find. A night alone. By myself. In solace. With nature as my company. Away from all the noise pollution, light pollution, air pollution. 
I hiked for around an hour and a half, passing by many interested on lookers from the villages who were surprised to see me there. It helped that I didn't know their dialect and they didn't seem to mind as I walked away. The sun was halfway to it's journey back home, and I would soon have to find a place to settle. I decided to take a risk and walked another half hour and it turned out to be a good bet as I found a beautiful, isolated lake. 
It was surrounded by trees on all sides, almost like an oasis in the middle of a desert. There were a few birds, bathing and drinking water. Birds that I had never seen. 
I settled down my belongings. As the place was full of trees, I had no problem in finding dry twigs for my fire. I spread out my sleeping bag, made the fireplace ready, all in time to witness the sun going out in all its splendour, lighting up the sky in beautiful shades of orange and pink. With the sun settings, most of the birds made their way up to their nests in the neighbouring trees. The place was mostly barren with the exception of the oasis-like place that I had made my abode and I wasn't very worried about the danger of wild animals. 
I finished my early dinner as the night turned black, and I light my fire and the mosquito repellent. I was on an adventure but I didn't want to kill myself. As I looked into the tepid waters of the lake, I noticed the reflection of the moon and the stars, as clear as daylight. Beautiful stars which lit up the night much more than my fire could. I extinguished my fire and the result was astonishing. With the only source of light pollution gone, I could see millions of stars inundating the skies. It seemed that they were overshadowing the moon on that night! 
I cuddled into my sleeping bag, as the cold wind complemented the beautiful imagery I was witnessing. I comprehended the enormity of the Universe that we lived in and it brought into perspective a lot of things. That our problems were so small compared to the Universe. We worry about the smallest of things, which you will never remember about a year from now, forget ten years. Sometimes, in complying with the petty nature of us humans, we forget that we are not the center of the Universe. We are just one minuscule part of it and are problems are just another minuscule part of that minuscule. Taking that into perspective can solve and ease so many of our fears. 
Many of the worries that we get are just like the stars in the skies. They're from the past. Long gone and dead. It's their mere aura that we feel, but it doesn't really exist. To know that many of our worries are just memories of the past, that do not really exist anymore, and that do not hold relevance anymore, lessens our burden.
Just like that day when I took this camping trip and changed my perspective, sometimes all it needs is to change one's perspective at looking at your problems. Physically changing your stance, getting up on the chair, rotating yourself 180 degrees and thinking changes stuff! I know it sounds crazy but it works!
It gave me a lot of clarity in thought, that night with the stars. I spent rest of the night counting stars, and fell asleep. I got up next morning packed my stuff and headed home. As I boarded the train back to Mumbai, I was tempted to look back and read the yellow sign board to see the name of this beautiful place ! But I reminded myself that avoiding it would mean the opportunity to explore even better places!

Sometimes the fun is in not knowing!

An Abstract Dream

Images Whizzed Past Me,
Looking around in confusion.
Everything was a blur,
I looked for absolution.

Then walked up,
A savage and crazy man.
And with him he brought,
A cold and unnerving wind

"I'm truth", he said,
"I know you like me not".
"I'm cold and bitter to take"
"But I'll set you free for sure".

And then entered a bright young man,
With suave looks
And a charismatic smile.

"I'm lies" , he said
"I sustain the world".
"Without my existence"
"You would have friends no more".

It was all still a blur,
As both of them smiled at me.
Which one would I choose,
Coz this would make my destiny.

In a world of liars,
Would I go for truth?
Risk living alone,
With nothing but solitude.

Or would I choose,
The warm blanket of lies.
Ignore my conscience,
Be surrounded by liars.

Its upto the choice I make,
The path I take.
And I wish I'd known this fact,
Before my last breath.

I Wonder

You wonder what is wrong with this world, 

So much hate and spite,

A section of us live in abundance,

The rest, on the edge of our life.

Because we're taught wrong things,

We're told to be cunning,

The world doesn't have a place,

For the kind and the loving.

We get tensed about the wrong stuff,

"What's my result going to be?"

If only we thought more,

About the life we're going to lead.

For if we have come into this world,

Lets do something for it.

Like the tree in its prime,

Giving shadow , despite people cutting it.

Be a little less selfish, think about the world.

There's abundance in this world for one and all .

If only we all thought about 'we' rather than 'me',

The world would be a much better place.

P.S - First attempt at writing and publishing (if you can call this publishing) poems! Spare the amateur.

P.P.S - Would love for some feedback