THE MESSAGE

                          Walking by a lonely road, I once happened to listen to a whisper “the road will not move, you have to walk your steps yourself”. I never happened to see a face then, so I took it to be as the wood’s whisper. But it made me think was that voice trying to convey a message to me? Did I just overheard someone else’s conversation, or was it a secret truth, enlightening me? I never paid much attention then, because I was a kid, and the long road made me tired, and the awkward silence of the road was a bit scary too.

                                 But now when I think about that day sometimes, I wonder. Everything we see, we come across, don’t they all have something to say, something to deliver, something to speak about? The words were simple, and for most of us they won’t mean anything. But those words hold a hidden truth. All our lives, we search for a road that will direct us towards our destiny. Little do we realize that somewhere in the midst of that exhausting search, we seem to forget its main purpose? The search was always meant to take us to our destiny, not to the road. The road had always been the medium, the main source, the only path to where we want to reach. But all the same, even the journey through that very road is a part of our achievement. All of us have sometime or the other misunderstood the road to be as what we strive for. When we wonder why we lost coming so close to what we aspire to win, we blame all the criteria and situations but never think of the small aspect, our misunderstanding.

                                      The surrounding we live in, its supporting nature has restricted us on the basic understanding that there is no space in our life for “almost”. We either have it or we don’t. “Fortune favors the brave” they say. But we have always thought the adamant to be brave. Scared you may be, for the journey through the road will never be easy. Weary you will be, for that walk is never meant to be smooth. But the last thing we mean to do and still we do most often is to celebrate the moment when we find the road and wish to take a break.

                               Reluctance is a silent assassin of enthusiasm. The moment we let ourselves lose, our spirit dies the spirit which had pulled us all these way. We excuse ourselves as giving it our best and still missing it, hiding the flaws in our efforts. The achievers and the visionaries beg to differ. They have always known where they stand and where they aim to stand, and that always had created the difference. “There’s no shortcut to a place worth going” we read. And when we divide the path into bits of achievements, we had done it wrong.

                                                So today, I will walk. Walk through the path I never dared to. The paths I left for I wasn't sure what lies ahead. For today, I have realized that I can never be in a position to predict the upcoming, if I haven’t been through it.

                      And before I do that, I will quote a famous man’s word “Arise, Awake, and stop not till your goal is reached”.

                                                                           - DAICHI

                                                                            18th NOV., 2012

                   THE INCOMPLETE STORY

                                    Where did you go? Who will watch over you, now that the reason is missing? Did you knock on heaven’s door, walking all the way through stairway to heaven? I lived my life for you, but now all hope is gone. The love thing was there, always with me, always with you. I never tried to lock you up, when you glided like a blackbird in the blue sky. But now you are gone forever, and the memories have become blurry. I ask thee Dear god, please send her back.

                      

                                                                               

                                                                    The moment I saw you, I knew the pain behind blue eyes. I remember you, the walk, us getting drenched in the November rain. I always knew that on the other side of the gates of tomorrow stood fear of the dark. But I had high hopes, because you my lady matter to me more than any other desire. Heaven or hell, all I wanted was to be with you. To walk those 500 miles, just me and you, all the way into the fields of gold. You were a fallen angel with broken wings, aspiring to fly higher. I was insane, but still I wore the mask of sanity, for I knew that you will bring me back to life.

                                                      

                                                   

                                                                    But those hollow years passed by. The memories, now they seem like a nightmare in elm street. My patience is lost, and I feel pathetic. You promised me “You will never walk alone”, and to me they were much more than words. But time is a she-wolf, she snatched you from me. I wanted to believe that it was a dream, that somebody will wake me up when September ends. I forgot that every rose has its thorn; I should have listened to my heart when it asked me to take it easy. You were like smoke in the water, somewhere deep inside I knew you will fade to black someday. All I asked for was a love for lifetime, but you left me from life to lifeless in a bed of razors.

                                                    Yesterday I saw a white dove flying with the wind. And I promised myself, I will not bow. Even if I have to travel the highway to hell, someday we will meet, may be with one last breath to spare. Pray for me brother, for I am about to begin my journey and I will settle for nothing less than what I what I want. There will be the end of heartache, for someday we will be safe home. Turn the page I will, may be today I am engulfed by tornado of souls but you should know that I am here, here for you. So, wait for me wherever you are, it’s never too late and soon you will see yourself in your perfect world.

-          CHINMOY DEY(DAICHI)

                                                                                                           21^ST SEP. 2012

                                        

MIST

                        MIST

                                                                     With just few moments left for appearing the paper and refusing to store any information about the same, I and my mind made a pact. We decided to move out for a small walk, in the street under the lights, with stray dogs as our only companions. It was 4:30 am in the morning then. Little did I notice that it’s not only the answer sheets that announce the semester to be autumn, but actually the winter has silently announced its arrival. With just a t-shirt and tracks on, as I walked down the stairs, I shivered. Strangely, I was perplexed whether it was because of the cold or for the awkward silence trough the darkness.

 

                                              

                                                               But I moved out of the hostel in the street. Fog was already blocking our way. September end brought with it the demon of winter, the mist. Not only the weather was chill, hardly anything could be seen after a certain distance. I could listen to the dogs howling, but I just assumed that they will not be very close to us. Other hostels looked haunted, with only few hostel lights switched on in the corridor, and the fog surrounding them, giving them a ghostly look. It even formed dense patterns around the trees, and as the breeze blew, the movements of leaves felt like they were creatures from dead. The street light pole stood still, the dense fog encircling it like a serpent, but the light coming out of the light bulb seemed hazy. The scenery pictured confusion.

                                                                       

                                                             But then I thought, isn't this what we have been struggling with all our lives? Just because we cannot visualize our final destination, we back up. The obstacles may sound scary, but it’s our confidence they try to break. Our supporters may get hazy, but we should trust that their presence will always be there.  And most important of all, the winter comforts you, makes you stay inside your blanket, and makes you lazy and ignorant. You fail to realize that the great start only needs you to get down your bed and walk towards it.

                          All of a sudden, there was warmth felt. Early in the morning, I learnt that all this time it was me who had delayed my walk to my aim. A winter morning made me realize that mistake was not around me but within me, and it can be corrected by none other than me.

                                              And then out of nowhere the line passed through my mind:

“If winter has come, can spring be far behind”.

                                            Ok then, I will take leave for now.

 

                                                                                       

                                                                                        -CHINMOY DEY (DAICHI)

                                                                                                   27^TH SEP. 2012

                   THE MORNING VIEW

                                         The early morning fog, the mist touching the green and the smoke fuming from that far-east chimney. I sat on a corner, watching the scenery, staring at its beauty. The breeze blowing with a silent whisper, may be trying to convey something to me that I found hard to comprehend. Those clouds, white with a shade of grey, sailing in the sky, not caring at all about human boundaries made my heart feel jealous. Birds, flying out of the nest to announce that morning mean a new start, and flying high to begin the journey with new heights. Even the seeds in the air, searching for a place to settle and grow into a plant, kept moving till my eyes could locate. But me of all things just sat there and watched. Not because I am paralyzed, not that I don’t want to move. But the chains of dependency had bound me with her shackles. Her subordinate, time, is a magician. It can manipulate minds. And it had put into me a false realization that being stagnant is being merry. But did I really want to be stagnant? Was I not the one who of all people would put a step forward to take chances? Wasn’t that the same me who could inspire others not to play safe, whose believed in “no risk, no gain”. Then what has changed? The person, the feeling? They say time has changed, my son. So what! Man is master of his own. Is it acceptable that an immaterial existence can change his entire identity? The question was simple, but the answer…..was far from being found. People say, the old disappears to make space for the new. But my past is clinched to me, and I cherish it. But running for the present has made my past drift away from me. And the present never welcomed me, with her arms open, with that smiling face. Ever since then, I have been living in a void. But whom should I blame? They say, you are responsible for your life. But was it me taking all my decisions back then? Or was I being silently manipulated? I was a free jungle bird, but the cage has its own comfort, and it made the taste of freedom fade away somewhere in the dark. I have tried to break free, but my efforts were not honest. And now when I see everything around me living their freedom, I choke. I choke with pain, with fear. The fear that like my past, I will fade away, someday. There will be no existence of mine, just a name, or maybe even not that. When I think about people boasting on their incredible achievements, I still ask myself “Do I know who I am?” I don’t find an answer. May be the search will urn into a lifelong expedition. They say, keep moving, for change is the eternal truth of life. But my life just moved from my mother’s lap to a single bed with no comfort, no pamper. From surrounded by friends to an alien environment, where no one knows me, my true self. Is that the change they talk about? For if this is what change means, I fear every smile I once appreciated will actually turn out to be fake. They say, after dark comes light. But is light that important? Isn’t shining in the dark the real attribute? Or we have all been taken hostages by the mixed blessing called hope from the house of effort. I try to compare myself with something, someone, but I find I am incapable of being compared with anybody. For everything, everyone has a motive. What about me? Beating around the bush, bragging now and them is all I have ever done. They say, people remember you for your substantial contribution. All my life I kept searching for what substantial means. Now I find myself entangled within thousands of unanswered questions. I have to begin the search, the quest. They say, what better time than now.

                                            

                                                           The sun is rising, but its shining light had already blown the trumpet of its rising. May be before I rise, I have to shine so that the brightness within me can enlighten me for rest of my journey. For now, I will sit and gaze a bit more, ironically mocking at my own situation.

                                       

                                                  I will be taking your leave.

                                                                                         

                                                                                           -DAICHI (CHINMOY DEY)

                                                                                                     20^TH SEP. 2012 

THE TRUTH OF LIFE

The sun was shooting flames that day, with clouds at one corner of the sky. The city people had morbid faces, the officials trying to get rid of their office work, the couples searching for shade and the housewives too lazy to do their housework. Out of nowhere, a soothing music catches their ears. a "Baul" was singing in the street, unaware of the agitation in people's mind. He was walking barefooted, challenging the scorching heat. He was so indulged in his music that nothing seemed to affect him. More than his skills in music, people were jealous of his carefree nature, which seemed to cross all barriers of physical world. Music was not only his passion but also his only source of income. But the city people were too unmindful to realize it. He kept on walking with his "Ektara", least bothered about whether the people intend to provide him a penny.

                                                   
                                                             It was almost evening now. The sun gave up its grudge on earth, but was still red in anger. It submerged itself into the river, trying to cool down. Far from the city, there was a hut supported by bamboos and mud under the shade of jack fruit tree. The Baul can be seen entering the hut, for it was his sole property, except his Ektara. He took a bath in the river and thanked God for the wonderful life they bestowed upon him. The gods must have felt ashamed of his irony. He wore the same tattered cloth after the bath, for it was the only dress he had. The stale rice was there in his hut, floating in water. He ate it and slept in comfort on the hard ground.

                                                                        A drop of water in his face woke him up. It was night and rain was pouring from heavens. He woke up, brought his iron bucket and put it under his leaked roof, thanking god that they had reduced his labour of going down to well to fetch water. Enjoying the pleasant weather, he went to sleep again.

                                               The city people were still complaining, about the rain not letting them sleep in comfort.........

SHATTERED EMOTIONS

I sat at a corner, watching the red sky. The sun was in a dilemma, whether to bid farewell or not, and was half drowned in the nearby river. the birds were returning home with food in their beaks for dinner. That long tree on the west was waving its leaves, a gesture to convey "adieu". There was a mild, decent, chill wind passing by. Everything was perfect about the environment, but me. I choked, and my heart cried like a baby, but my stubborn eyes never supported my feelings. No more did I want to be a man, I wanted to be a boy who can laugh and cry and get angry and still excuse him  to be insensitive. But I couldn't. The sense of responsibility restricted me from being myself what i wanted to be. I kept on staring at the limitless sky, with my mind running the longest race of its life. As it started becoming dark, I realized that its the hope that keeps you alive. Its the dawn because of which the sun resists a dusk. But are all hopes relevant? Do they all have a chance to come true. No, they don't. And as this feeling ran through my mind, I felt helpless, alone. But a darker realization stuck me then. There was no one to console me at times when I get too weak to be alone, no one to hold me and say "It's gonna be OK". A single moment explained me the most bitter truth of my life, and I sat there in dark with my shattered emotions, waiting for nothing but still waiting forever.