“For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.” -T.S.Eliot

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The IIT story...

I wrote this when I was utterly bored, during one phase of the 3 hour IIT exams couple of years ago, much to the amusement of the invigilator. I found the question paper on which this was written yesterday while scouring through my cupboard. Its a work of fiction, first and foremost(please don't sue me) and its a tad longish. Bear with me. The moonlight crept through the thin wisps of cloud, casting a pale hue on the sea below. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks, deafening, majestic. But all this was lost to Vaibhav as he stood there on the 5 th floor attic of the main building. His body numbed by the shock and horror of his realisation. “This can’t be” he thought, “How..”. A muffled scream, a soft thud, and a huge splash. It was over. The dining hall had never before been this quiet. Shocked eyes, excited murmurings and the sound of newspapers crumbling as everyone hurriedly turned over the pages to get the full story. “Another suicide at the IIT’s”, the headlines r
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I wish the world was a smaller place, The poles, not so distant, Boundaries, undefined. I wish the world was a smaller place, The peaks, not so unassailable, Depths, less frightful. I wish the world was a smaller place, The places, not so asunder, Distances, surmountable. I wish the world was a smaller place, The people, not so lost, Desires, realizable. I wish the world was a smaller place, for its magnitude frightens me now. Its fickle nature, haunts me. Far removed from comfort, into the concrete wilderness that we roam, stuck in a cycle of everyday grind, instilled with flickering hope and ever dwindling courage to carry on, further and further, till there is nothing left to fight for, into the darkness, where not a morsel of courage remains, but only the dying embers of the long forgotten hope, that one day, it will all be worth it. Was it worth it, is it ever worth it? Our lives, etched with sacrifice, for a glorious higher purpose, that we never realize. Mayb
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Courage in unlikely places...

If you're reading this, then congratulations are in order, because we all made it through another year. A feather in our cap/hat/toupee wherever you'd like it. Do I reminisce on the year gone by, or do I put forth my set of new year resolutions for the year to come ( I know, I know, those never work, but one can always hope). Maybe wander off in a whole new trajectory of abstractness? That could be fun. So here goes, If you're ever passing by the park next to the 17th and B, look up the tall maple tree. High up in the branches, you will find a story of hope. Sitting atop the branches, cradled in her nest, is little Boo. A tiny beak, a sleek coat of blue feathers with a dash of purple, and the brightest little eyes you'll ever see. Every morning, Boo awakes to the sound of music. The songs of the birds, soaring high above in the sky, gliding with the wind, singing out in joy as the morning sun erupts over the horizon. Boo gazes up through the gap in the maple lea
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