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You throw away your usual cowardice, when emotions reach the ultimate precipice; you toil hard to make through the day, With a determined chin, that sparkling ray. You traverse a thousand rough terrain You battle a million thoughts,but in vain Yet, with a smiling face, you march on! Not a hint of remorse or regret, Ah! The ecstatic feel of a small win keeps you moving in this long race Highs and lows,you gratefully embrace Drop the chase, Love the the meanders and curves As you take in,life`s complex serves Learn to absorb and explore This is a life changing folklore That is the beauty of a worthy vision You enjoy pain as much as pleasure Ah!You understood,this moment is the real treasure.

He picked us up when were at zero Yet we fail to acknowledge our unseen hero Mothers have a visible, tender, sensitive affection Look closer, Fathers give you a special protection His love shines of different quality Silent, masked, and Simple at times We realize once we reach our primes He nurtures you, watch you grow in style If you haven’t recognized a father’s love Where were you? All this while From School admission to hourly classes to stressful bills He seldom buys a new shirt, while getting you fanciful thrills Sacrifice, Substance, and Patience Are as true for his remembrance At every hurdle, he was a constant presence He embraces you in every way In his heart, we forever stay As we encounter uncertainty in life His advice may seem boring but wise Let us all sense our Fatherly love The truest form is accepted in all colors. As his hair turns grey All he needs is your assurance, not go astray Let us all remember him every day

I woke up one day in a state of chaos. My heart was pumping at Bullet Speed and my nerves were practicing an impromptu salsa. I knew I had hit something familiar, yet new in intensity. The complexity of the Modern World engulfs the most intelligent species on Planet. Hurricane, Tornado, or Cyclone, whatever you may term it. This havoc is the chief cause of suffering. What matters is your mind. But do you know your mind? How a Thought can make or break your life? Let me recite a short poem to put you in the groove. Put on your Headphone or your evil self and hum with me. Oh mind, Oh mind Forever in agony, you viciously bind Ah! The pain, the suffering, the daily grind If only I could find a way To reset and rewind Oh mind, Oh mind What power do you hold within A creator and A destroyer Abyss and Infinity Sometimes, you seem so pretty But mostly, you make us lose our sanity By amplifying images as vanity. This wasn`t exactly Shakespeare's sonnet but I hope you get my point Let us dive deeper into this abyss of Truth. Chapter 2: End of All Suffering My Goal in life is to smile at Strangers. On most occasions, you meet kind reciprocation while at times, you do get a cold response. Life is a strange reverberation of undulating emotions and experiences that catch your neck. Some stay in your neck as an Albatross others vanish in the thick polluted air of the city. I walk past the familiar scenes of my neighborhood yet every day gives me new stories. People are funny but they don`t know it. You can only capture true humor when you observe from a curious eye. There is Saint Cobbler named Dayanand in our Town. Last night, a horrific hurricane destroyed his workplace. I must say, though it was only 3 feet by 3 feet in dimension the space was artistically aligned with an Idol, an incense stick, and a decorated cushion. Each morning, this graceful being used to bring one Vadapav and a flower to start his business. But Alas! Nature hits the poor, the hardest. Dayanand despite watching his workplace in ruins, still managed to ignite the ravenous ruin and make it graceful by his sheer will to survive another day with a smile and a heart. Such are real inspirations, I see on the road. So what exactly is suffering? Is it all in the mind or there is a real pain to endure? When do achieve eternal peace or is it just a socially constructed term like Democracy? As I glance further into the abyss. My imagination gets the better of me and I pen down my heart`s yearning into another poem. Stepping into the Unknown The Dichotomy of life Is vivid in every essence of existence The Sun and The Moon The Dry and The Storms The Black and The White Darkness and Light Yet with honest inquiry One Opens a majestic pathway Either be Dull and Stay The air feels exhausting, The Greens look lesser than a Green Slowly but surely losing its sheen You Wonder, where is the real beauty It is, in an exploration of the Unknown New discoveries …

“Beauty will save the world” – Drenched in satisfactory sweat, a harmless itch slowly turns into a monstrous mountain and my beautiful suffering begins. My story of dodging lesions on my beautiful skin goes a long way back. Like any obsessive online creator, this one keeps asking for constant attention. I first discovered this mysterious mud when I was 15 and naïve. After weeks of hopeless allopathy(suppression of systems that make you cry),I happen to meet homeopathy wizard, who magically made my allergy vanish with harmless sweet rounded white gems disguised as chocolates. They say, ”Homeopathy works on poison in nano form”. I was already consuming Chips and Bland Television, so I wasn`t missing the diet to be honest. I know, you are thinking this is crazy. Why am I bothered about allergy and how it can inspire you. Hold onto your already diminishing attention span for at least 3 minutes and you will discover secrets that can transform your life or ruin someone else`s. After a brief hiatus of 15 years, I was revisited by this naughty evil again when I took my second dose of vaccine. Welcome back, you Devil. Allergy feels like a spiritual out of body experience. I turned off my satire meter and immediately took an appointment to see a skin specialist. Dooms Day 2pm, Eerie silence, and familiar hospital smell. After an uncomfortable wait of 20 minutes. Doctor: Hi, what is the issue? Me: I have been having this allergy issue ever since I took the vaccine. Doctor :Don`t worry, I will write you 3 medicines, one for suppression of symptoms, other 2 to suppress symptoms of symptoms. Me(in my mind):I have been suppressed enough by my government, job and education. I can take no more Me(After waking up from delusion):Will this cure it? Are there any side-effects? Doctor: We can`t say for sure, we need to try and see. You are your own best doctor. I am not sure what that meant but I understood there is only suppression of truth in treatment of allergy. Me: Thanks doctor for you advice. I will meet you in 3 weeks and let you know. I haven`t taken any pill that takes away my right to express. I decided to experiment and explore. Be your own alchemist or whatever. Allergy is a funny disease, it is not understood by many but still exists. Just like ego or stupidity. For the next few weeks, I was eating Momos and meeting my naughty neo,having pista laden sweet and welcoming my uninvited friend.Everytime,it appeared,I laughed and tried my best to stay sane.With time,it withered away.Now,it only comes occasionally to say hello or remind me that Dostoevsky was wrong “Beauty can destroy the world” Real beauty lies in letting be and staying conscious to every moment. Enjoy your flaws and treat them as jokes and you will see it mingle with yourself. As my incompetent doctor says “You are your best Doctor” Until next time, Stay en-lightened and don`t be afraid if you have out of body experiences .Laugh it off and just go within because everything is funny. “Eat Nuts ,Eat Momos, Eat Pista and Enjoy the adventure”

“This is vibrating like Hell, we may fall off anytime”, I said with terror in my bewildered eyes. “Yeah, if it matches our resonant frequency,” said Abhinav with a cool callous demeanor. This idea stemmed from a shaky start, we both were stuck at a working platform vibrating at frequencies faster than our heartbeat. The idea that how we are instantly attracted to some people and hope others simply vanish in front of our eyes is worth examining. Is there any meaningful relationship between connection and frequencies? I wish there was a mathematical equation that defined who will get connected to whom. We live in a non-Hogwartian world and we know most folks we meet on the road fall out of frequency with us. Yet, there are few that instantly get connected. Can we increase the connection frequency or simply rule out out-of-zone personalities? Can we expand our personality so that we can connect with more than a few? These questions always put me in a perpetual dilemma about what is a true connection. Is getting a resonant frequency just coincidental or can this be achieved by directional effort? Yet, how can we connect with everyone with the same frequency? There are over 7 billion distinct maniacs unlike us, floating in this vast expanse of delusion and desire. I wish, I can create an App, that instantly tells your level of connection with a fellow being. Yet, in this seemingly ordered sane world, we find ourselves lost in this battle of finding perfect frequency people(pdf). I look outside and see a man teaching morse code to a dog. Maybe, that`s an interesting man I can connect with or maybe I am going out of range in terms of my sane frequency. I walk further and see a girl taking a short break from her cycling with a smile on her face rejoicing the moment with her fellow sapiens about how playing with children was refreshing. Another case of interesting being that I still can`t find a relevant frequency to connect. I look further and find a crazy man mumbling to himself, I look no further. I sit down in a nearby park and scribble down my dumb idea of connecting people with equations. I look for an equation that can be applied to everyone from The king to a beggar from the sane to insane from boring to super-boring. After hours of brainstorming and frustration, came my eureka moment. That golden equation connects people with numbers. Hold your breath, vodka or ego, or whatever you are clutching onto. Check if you have corona, laugh at your neighbor, and then scroll down the page. The mighty equation that will shake this world: Frequency of connect(Fc) =comfortable silence in minutes*mutual love and hatred*same sense of humor*curiosity in related subjects * honesty in conversation.*pure randomness Out of 7 tricky terms, honesty in conversation is the most important one. Look for this sign, whenever you are finding your resonance. If you find this, then look for the curiosity part then go for a sense of humor then…I hope you get it. The weightage of this mighty equation increases with each term. Except for the last one: pure randomness-It just happens. Good luck with finding perfect resonant matches in your life. Until then keep exploring muggles, maniacs, and jugheads, and do not forget to apply the Frequency of Connect equation next time, you say ‘Hi’ to someone.

At my Workplace: I feel like Greta: Angry, mysterious, an activist, and a time traveler ‘It was the best of times, It was the worst of times’ said Dickens in not-so-recent history . As I step outside my black bold archaic gate into this vociferous vulnerable vile environment. Every day is a battle, yet my longing heart hopelessly searches for another novel breeze but all I see are gloomy glorified mask-covered caricatures. I feel I am playing a video game just this time, Mario in me ain’t as brave as the Nintendo one nor I can jump in those crazy clergy bounds. I watch Lala as he gives a wry smile from his half-covered napkin-turned mask. Then as I approach a recently converted Covid hospital on my way, an uninterested watchman reads inevitably depressing news on his borrowed brown paper. Yet, he felt content to be alive. Maybe, we all are. Even this girl who just went past me in her Hercules cycle wearing a designer dock mask. Strange times call for better luck but I usually get any as I stumble upon 67 years old wrinkle-faced uncle on my way to the battleground. “Hello, Uncle”, I greet him in not so spontaneous manner “Can you give this medical bill in the office?” he asks in not a polite demeanor. Then, without giving any clear warnings, he went about complaining about how he doesn't approve of his son’s second marriage and how he cannot afford to waste a rupee on taking printouts. I listened with patience and at the same time prayed in silence that my bus driver shows up with his Schumacher skills and reaches my place in no time. Time is such a funny thing yet extremely painful at times.I looked at that tame figure and wondered what life he must have lived. They say “real character of a man is determined by how he behaves with older people”, but trust me or just face him. It hasn’t been easy at all and he usually meets me at this time to narrate his usual adventures of saving every penny and straightening up his gangster son. Beep, Beep. Oh, that sound felt like a symphony to my ears. My Bold Bus driver Rajkumar, arrived 2 minutes early today. I greet him with a sense of relief on my face like a prisoner who has been released on bail for a crime he has no clue of. As I make another unsuccessful attempt to take a peaceful nap, I hear a not-so-poignant poetic voice reverberating in my soul. Do employees don’t understand public behavior, the man behind seems to have lost his last cell of sanity and is mindlessly breaking my head with his virgin vain voice. He seems to be throwing a barrage of not-so-beautiful words at an unlucky one on the other side. I can’t even say anything to Bapu. I remember old times, when I tried to bring some sense to his madness, he almost ran a bus over and then threatened me with a stick. But still, as Brutus says, Bapu ji is an honorable man and me, an ignorant fool. After surviving his bullets of words, I managed to find some solace in my playlist. I inevitably reached the gate of Fortune's unfortunate company. Bewildered half-sleeping belly show stopper, my precious Security man makes an unsuccessful attempt to check my temperature from a device that always shows the same value. As I sense my storky surroundings filled with an air of ignorance, insanity, and intolerance, I bravely cross the border. Sappy: Hello sir, Today I saw a snake shed his skin and walk away. Me(in not so surprised tone): Was it in our LPG unit? After what has happened in my LPG unit over the past few weeks, a snake shedding his skin seemed like any other frivolous and funny event. I carefully walk to avoid alligators and snakes, but I know I will inevitably meet one, once I reach the office. Note: All reference to any creature does intend to hurt both man and the creature. I almost trip over a well-placed rusted grating on my way to my darling den. I see kaka bringing tea in his usual amicable demeanor. I smile, he smiles and we walk past each other. There are many smile relationships I have developed in my life and I totally love them as I need not speak and there is no conflict. Sometimes, I feel, language has created more problems than it has solved and man has created language. I sit on my half-broken chair and stare curiously at the pyramid of non-essential documents. I drink my super immune fluid and smile at the eternal idiosyncrasies of my space. I almost complete a breath to see Rocky waiting with half-torn white paper in his hand. Rocky: Sir, I have to get a sign for the work. Me: But We don’t have firemen today. Rocky(in shameless tone): We will do it with utmost safety, sir. Rocky shows no sign of remorse in uttering these syllables. Rocky’s Team specializes in creating glorious Diwali lights scenes whenever they undertake any welding job. To listen to safety from this innocent evil`s mouth was an insult to the man/woman or whoever created this term. As Rocky leaves, Prasad enters. There are more memes on Prasad than on Donald Trump. Dull Damaged Bathroom Slippers reflects his commitment to minimalism, mockery, and stupidity. Me: You Stay out, I will meet you in the field. Prasad: Sir, I need a sign This surely wasn’t a good sign. This work, these characters, and on top of that we have Prasad. A Proud Maratha who plays more with welding torch light than a mighty Sword. But then his work kills my Soul. I reminded him again after taking a few voluntary breaths. In an unabashed glittering suit, enters our Chhota Don: Chintu. I wish I could play some music or drums to welcome this infamous man. But then, his usual unabashed voice isn`t music to my sensitive ears. Chintu: I need a Crane Permit Me(in a suspicious tone): What did you do last time you had one? You remember right? I simply can't forget how poetically he broke the nozzle of an exchanger on a scorching Sunday Noon and vanished in polluted air when called to custody. Me(in an affirmative tone): I will talk to Transport and Wear an N95 the next time you enter. I get up to change my costume from mysterious casual attire to Communal Orange Boiler Dirt Suit. I skip a few breaths to check on my lungs, gulp my antibody shake, and raise my brow only to witness another imminent disaster. An Army of barely uncovered unmasked men waiting with permits in their filthy hands. I politely request them to assert themselves one by one towards the podium. This is a Race I do not want to see. Before this even begins,I get another call from Big Boss. Big Boss: Did the unit start? Coordinate and do it. I simply have the utmost honest hate towards this word: Coordinate. It is such an overused delusional concept just like efficiency or society or Democracy. Me(frivolous attempt to act serious): Yes sir, I will. Now, begins another circus of finding rare ravines in my workplace who may be willing to help me with this task. Or in other words: Coordinate. A journey of million idiosyncrasies begins with a harmless one. So it started: A Joke Called Job. Adios!!

Back in those Black and White Days of serene `79, When my mother was in innocent teen and father had just touched tough 20 There were no Smartphones, nor there was Internet or Selfie Journey was simple, beautiful and pure Soon, Father got involved in office and mother in household chore My mother was a teacher and my father ,a thinker in his prime I usually don’t write sentences unless they have meaning with rhyme Yet, this one is special,4 decades of Togetherness, in limited verse, defined My mother is Effervescent and Eloquent, father is fast on dribbling debates She learnt to multi task while we grew up fast He provided us the best education with honesty, honor and wisdom that forever last She is sensitive, kind and compassionate while he is practical, disciplinarian and minimalist 80s welcomed my elder sister, and with it more memories, madness and change in responsibilities My mother left teaching and did home classes while father toiled hard to bring us food and comfort It takes patience, persistence and effort to raise a child With 90s came the era of Computers. Still my mother was my best teacher Father was an occasionally Preacher like that Speaking Tree stories in newspaper What he lacked in words, he showed it in action Selfless unnoticed tasks he religiously performs While we children,never woke up without purpose or alarms Journey of ups and downs,pain and pleasure,success and failure All endeavored with a hopeful heroic Spirit Yes, my father is apprehensive, afraid and critical at times and mother a tad too emotional But together, they made us someone who is clear in conscience, values and science Another decade beckons you with smile and good health Staying, learning and growing together is an invaluable wealth May this journey continue with Color, Courage and Sunshine Everything is not left to chance, Destiny plays a magical part In that sweet surreal year of `79,Stars Aligned and it continues to Shine

Absorbs gusty blows of broken winds on this riveting rainy noon The dark desire of despair trickled down my face I meekly accept and embrace A simple wish to be one with the moon An Old Friend Calls up and brightens your day Suddenly Moonlight has a special soothing way As I lay down to count my syllables, rewind my mundane morbid routine I wish I had the energy of my Teen I yearn to flow and escape, lit up and spread It’s these familiar walls, these securities I dread Yet one day, I know I will be free Be one with the ocean or a tree Dance to the tune, timeless ravenous reverie I lie still and feel I am me!!! In this Glorious Sunset, I am finally free and there I see Her reflection on the rising moon.

Experiments are exciting, eerie, and unnerving at times. I mustered the courage to step out with a dream. Let the World not judge me by my identity but by the sensitivity of my heart. My temple was just a few miles apart. I stepped in and took a shallow breath as I met my Guru “Monu” Monu: What would you prefer? Me(nervous and excited): Blue with a tinge of green. Monu: Interesting choice. Do you have time? Me(lost in the calculation): Few hours So it begins, my utopian dream to transform my image. Everything about identity begins with this silky, rough, soft, hard, and attractive part of humans: Hair I won my bet and now it was time to turn blue. The start was slow, serene, and stupid, with magical “Monu” flirting magnanimously with my ever-delicate hair already turned half brown, half grey, and half unrecognizable due to stress or scenarios such as “now”. Monu was an able artist, carefully picking up every strand of my hazy hair, applying a paste of color on a shiny paper, and wrapping it around my saucy strands, minute by minute. An hour into this intense art and craft project, I could barely speak or understand. Meanwhile, Monu like every other sociopath was playing poker with my blacks and browns in an unemotional manner. As we reached 90, he offered me a cup of tea when I had almost lost my sanity. I reluctantly took one to relieve myself from misery. To color your hair in the most elegant form, you need to suffer. Oh Destiny, My Destiny!! I glanced through my mobile and completed half typed message to get the necessary dopamine. Monu was back with a Spaceship-styled machine. This beast was supposed to dry or fry my hair. My mind-boggling head was kept inside this capsule. Switch on and I was on “HEAT” mode. At these times in my life, I realize how making decisions based on instinct, can almost drown you in such a steamy affair. The affair lasted for another half an hour when I lost my patience and asked my Guru to make it fast. Me(losing the last ounces of perceptible patience): Can this be done in 3 hours? Monu{Cunningly): This will take at least take 4 as we need to wash your hair with a special shampoo before we apply blistering blue. Me{defeatist tone): But you promised 3, anyways do it as soon as possible. Monu offered me a Sandwich which I vehemently denied in a fit of rage or regret or both. Monu, as every artist does, went about painting my hair with his special palette-shaped hand and even took help from her seemingly lost receptionist. She held my hair on one side as Monu weaved magic on the other. The battle was nearing its climax. I chanted “Divine” mantras to see myself through this ordeal. Then came the final act. The Act of washing my head in the beagle basin. Monu, just as any sociopath would do, Lowered my head in the beagle basin with the slightest regard to the pain in my neck. I survived the Titanic and now my Guru was ready to unleash the final splash on my innocent strands. Finally!!!!! It took 4 hours of artistic, uncertain, thrilling, and painful phases to complete the marvelously painful masterpiece. I was ready to be crowned the blue streak of this town. As Dickens said, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.