Thursday, August 23, 2007

An accolade to the lost love.....

Choice Is Yours

Near or far
Wherever you are
I will stay there
In the corner of your heart
Smile or tear
Whatever be the expression
Fear no Fear
I will back every relation
Friendship or love
Be with me like a dove
Fly in the skies of my heart
And rest in the shadows of my art
Water or fire
Whatever be the desire
Hit the highest peak
Making feel everybody weak
Death or life
Petals or edges of knife
Whatever be the choice
Be with me like my vivid voice

Amit Purohit
(V I.C.)
The above is an epitome of my unpublished book ‘My Infatuation-Love Demystified’.

Missing School...


Gone are the days of
Stealing chalks from school
As we are on the edge
Of the gate of our college
Gone are the heroic days
That passed in the schools
Here are the egoist days
In the race of making fools
Gone are the days of chatting
And playing with the duster
Here are the days of chuckling
And polarizing our cluster
Gone are the days of school bags
And uniforms with glow tags
Here are the days of movies
And the nasty canteen coffees
Gone are the days of innocence
And the days of fancy dresses
Here are the days of remembrance
And the time full of repentance

Amit Purohit
(V I.C.)
The above is an epitome of my unpublished book ‘My Infatuation-Love Demystified’.

This one is from my heart


Friend was she of mine
For me she was at cloud nine...
Merry mornings at nine
We used to meet at the dine...
Naughty noons and sorrow sunset
We departed to meet again...
Her smile and the attitude so set
For me it was every second a gain...
Sunny Sundays passed at the beach
Writing her name on the sand...
Thoughts of her dipped in sea to reach
But could not find the watery land...
Again I went at the dine
She came with an old friend of mine...
For her he was at cloud nine
She was the love, he was the lover...
Again I became the loser
She remained just a lovely 'friend' of mine...

Amit Purohit
(V I.C.)
The above is an epitome of my unpublished book ‘My Infatuation-Love Demystified’.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Life-A Closer Look

(Based on true incidences of life…)

"Today is your lucky day. Your imagination is at its best. Your initiatives will be appreciated. Even the things abhorred by you will generate interest. Your love life will take a positive turn tonight."
The above lines were written on the ‘AstroSpeak’ dashboard of famous English newspaper-counted upon by the Gujarati medium mongers. I think you guessed it right. I was overjoyed after reading all that astrological stuff. The other crux of the printed papyrus was about the rains forecasted by the weather dept. in the late hours of the twilight. I mocked over that news and overlooked my mother’s proposal of carrying a skimpy raincoat. Nobody knows what lies in store for us, but everybody wants to be the storekeeper. And I was no different persona. I was getting ready for my college. My college-LDCE was about 17 kilometers away from my dwellings. I had to amend the bus from Subhash Bridge terminals. I began my cruise at 9:15 am. At the backdrop of my cerebellum was evening MBA coaching classes and the ‘positive turn in my love life.’

I had to saunter for 0.4 kilometers to reach the bus stand. I promenaded half the way and suddenly… I heard a car horn. I looked back and smirked. My spirits were as high as the ball that was hit for a six by Dhoni. The old ailing Mathematics professor signaled me to get in his car. He used to confront our college gates once in three months. I reckoned that today was my lucky day. Faster than the tsunami, I slipped in. But I was oblivious of the fact that he was a twerp. One can say a practical twerp. Moreover the old odd ‘Eastman Color’ era songs at high volume in the car made the site worse. He was partially deaf and treated me as the same. I got a headache. When I looked at my colleagues at the bus stand, I managed to reckon the fact that today is my lucky day. The language used by the professor was out of this world. I nodded at his every comment on politics and sports. He baffled me with his babble talk and snail driving. At last, we reached the college and I was freed from that nasty cab. I felt like what Gandhi felt on 15th of August…
I entered the college gate and gave a bird’s view to our ‘gorgeous’ girls’ parking. I saw my dream girl inflowing the college with his classmate and that too in romantic poses. My love life took a turn where it was a dead end. I brooded over the superficial knowledge of the astrologer. I in flew the college with a tooth breaking smile. I gazed at the sky like a tail ender batsman who missed his first may be his only century. I went straight away to the lunatic lecture room. To my astonishment, I discovered the lecture room vacated with only one bench-the first bench. Unluckily, I managed a seat that confronted the professor’s desk. I was caught thrice unaware and was put in juxtaposition every time. She questioned me, some core things about the topic. I guessed. But I was failed by her hand written papyrus perspective. I was coveted to litter that trash newspaper.
After attending the tenacious lecture, I marched towards the canteen with my only friend in my college. The cluster from my class rushed in. They demanded a treat for my new Multimedia phone. I found it as a junk at that time. I frittered 60 bucks over them. While doing this, I felt what Ashoka felt while confronting the Kalinga’s army. At the end of my show, I went with my friend to the mind boggling hive in Ahmedabad. It was the MBA classes’ edifice. I faced the building like the ‘The Adams Palace’ with the Adams’ family residing in. We entered the building and underwent 90 minutes of tenancy. I felt every time the tutor made us feel that our knowledge is as shallow as the Sabarmati in summers. At the backdrop of our minds were the fears of our grades and the world’s view towards us after our divulged grades appeared in...

The fear of our grades was evaporated as we stepped out of the haunted aisles of the building. It was raining heavily. The sky looked like a worn out tube light without starter. The other 30 minutes were filled with terror. Every one began to apply their premature managerial mind in taking decision regarding their escape from the institute. 30 minutes. At last we fled from the empowering edifice. It took 20 odd minutes to reach his (my friend’s) home. I sipped a hot coffee there and then his father offered me to drop me at the bus stand. I nodded. We headed towards the bus stand. We saw dozens of citizens standing and waiting there for the bus. His father offered me to drop me at Subhash bridge terminals. I was also offered to spend a night at his abode. But I selected the first option. I was plunged at Subhash Bridge by his father. I waved my friend with a feeling of gratitude in my eyes. Suddenly…

I saw those sparkling feminine eyes at the corner of the bus stand. Communication network jammed and conveyance options were paralyzed. She was shivering in a feminize manner. 15 minutes later. I offered her my Denim jacket. Her touch was warm and divine. Two hours passes like a passé as I listened to the track list of my Multimedia phone. All of a sudden she started crying. I was startled. It was 11 in the clock with the red eyed clouds in the sky pouring waters in full swing. I asked the reason behind her snuffles. She told that she wished to see her ailing sibling in the city hospital, but she now refrained to go there as it was almost midnight with rains in the sky and insecurity on the roads. I wore my Denim jacket and remembered what Bill Gates said at one of his press conferences. He said that life is not fair to you, be used to the fact. I pondered on the idea to sleep in the premises of the church at the back drop of the bus stand. But I was desisted by the spooky ghost stories that I heard when I was 10. I slept on the bus stand.


I was startled again. I saw the same scintillating eyes. It was 1 in the morning. She offered me tea and a sandwich to eat. I was real hungry but how come she reckoned the fact? I ate all of them in a minute. She offered me to nap in her house which was at the backdrop of the bus stand. I was taken aback. I thought how could a girl offer this to a stranger? I thought I was dreaming. I looked back. There was a residential flat. Where was the church? I was frightened. She held my hand. I felt like I was hypnotized by those gleaming eyes. I went to her house with my watch showing me two o’clock in the morning. We chatted for half an hour and then I went to sleep. I woke at 6 a.m. I took out a thousand rupee note and kept it on the center table. It was for his ailing brother. I reached the bus stand. I found a biker there. He asked me some address. It was the house next to mine. I accompanied him. When I sat on the bike I saw the church again, exactly where the residential building stood.

I zeroed the fact that I had been dreaming all the way. I was dropped by the biker at my house. Coincidentally, his eyes matched her eyes too. Finally, I reached home. While waving bye to the biker, I noticed something around my neck. It was a gold chain with a gold cross at the centre. I was taken aback. Later in the day, I found the thousand rupee note in my wallet. I checked my bag in the evening. I found the Bible. I unlocked the gold chain and locked it around my Sai’s neck. My mobile gave me a nasty shiver. I picked it up and heard a digit 540. It was my grand total out of 750. I was a seven pointer now…………………………

My Grades...

(Based on true incidences of life…)

Success isn’t sexy. It is not a fantasy. Rather it is a tempting process that makes you work like an ass for day and night to get your dazzling dream come factual. When our grades appeared in, my classmates asked me about my secret sauce to success. If I knew it I would be the university ranker. Still I managed to say that if you possess a true heart and a noble helping hand, you won’t fail any day. My feat was no larger than life. I mock some of the guys around us who go on bluffing that they are the best. I have pity on those guys. When I wake up in the morning, I slowly hiss to myself that ‘there is no one better than you out there. Those who drink never taste. So go grab the world. Be a guided missile to your target and blast every thing around’. I just want to share a heart rendering incident with my readers. Here it goes…

I was with my old school group. We were two boys and two girls comprising the ‘Fantastic Four’. I christened this to our cluster as it suited the guys and gals involved in. We were at the Subhash bridge terminals, Amul Parlor. Every one of them unanimously said ‘Party!’ I ordered two extra large pizzas without knowing their consent. They grumbled and said that they had their lunch an hour ago. The pizzas pinched my pocket hard. I wished I could do some damage to Italy from where this crap came. The pizzas appeared within 15 minutes. They were buffered with 9 pieces out of twelve. One of my friends was going to throw them in the dust bin. I snatched it from him and stepped out of the parlor. Every one was bewildered. I gave away the left pieces to the street children. They were three. Everyone was selling something or the other. Some one was selling rakhis; the other one was offering tri colors. There was a smile on their faces that made me felt how turbulent my feat was! Our group stepped out. We commenced towards the bus stop. Seeing this every college gofer at the bus stand began to buy some sort of things from them. They bought those pirated novels and tricolors in a bulk. We were seeing the sight.


All of the three street vendors came to us. There was a sense of gratitude in their eyes. They gave each of us a tricolor. One of them said,’’Shukr guzari’’. I hastily zeroed the fact that he was a Kashmiri Muslim. The other said,"Dhanyabaad’’. My Bengali friend shrieked,’’ He is a Bengali.’’ The third one said,’’Nannii’’. It was out of our world of languages. Later it came to my wits that the lexis was Malayalam. We found there children from three different directions of our country and we all met in the fourth direction i.e. the west (Gujarat). We all steeped in the bus with a tricolor in our hands and a simulating sense of patriotism in our hearts. In the bus, we pledged that every one of us would do something for our mother land…

The new avtar of Inspiration

(Based on true incidences of life…)
The above phrase contains a competence of generating great smoothness among our social cluster. If life is an engine then inspiration is the lubricating oil. Appreciation is a form of inspiration but better of the same criteria. It is better to pump up the spirits of a human via appreciation instead of blunt inspiration. I reckon the fact that this philosophy of mine would be a nasty bludgeon on the reader’s head, but I shall inflate these thoughts via couple of examples. And believe me there is no slightest pinch of fiction in these examples. One of them happened in the very class of mine, at students’ section and at our own parking. Let us check them out.

Let us begin our campaign with our own college parking. We always sit in a group i.e. me and my four other friends. We are better known as ‘The Powerful Pandavas’. One of our friend cracks new joke every minute. He attempts to crack joke on whatever, whoever passes by his eyes. Some times he falters, but I never fail to laugh on his joke. Today he succeeds in laughing any person around him. His sense of hilarity is now at its peak. And today we are one of the best comrades in our college. If you laugh at your friend’s joke then it will generate a sense of smoothness between you and him. This can only be felt, not expressed by my lexis. The second incident occurred at the students’ section. There was a bee hive of students trying to deposit their fees. There were only two clerks machining for some 300 odd students. The third clerk sipped tea but was not in a mood to do his job. When it was my turn, the working clerk did his tedious job. I peeped in his eyes and said "Thank You Sir’’. I don’t know how these words affect the heart of the third lazy clerk. He began functioning and the students were freed in lesser time. He just smiled at me before he took his first application form with a sense of sparkle in his eyes…

The third incidence took place in my own class. Our deputy H.O.D. Mr. N.N. Bhuptani is a man with live spirits. He knows everything about me and my writings. He always targets me whenever he asks the class something weird roving around Microprocessors or Microcontrollers. He even knows that I have penned a book which is not able to make its way to the publication house. As per his habit, he caught me unaware one day in the class. I write at least one of my original thoughts during the ongoing lecture. He caught me red handed while doing this. He signaled me to stand up from my seat. He peeped in my eyes and kept his hand on my feeble bony shoulder. He said, "Amit, these days I don’t find your columns in The Times Of India". I said," Sir, I am a bit busy writing blogs these days". Actually I had met a couple of publishers but I was bitterly failed. I had lost my spirits and I was coveted to delete the e-copy of my book stored in my computer. He said," So Mr. Blogger, What about your book?’’ I said in a low voice, ‘Sir, No one gives chance to a young writer’. He retorted, ’’Amit, if your book gets printed then I would be the first one to buy it. And remember it won’t be a complimentary one". My molten spirits became rock solid and again I have begun the un ending expedition of making my book to reach its only destination-a publication house…

How penning a poem feels?

Writing a poem is no gain
It is all about rhyming your pain
Living life in the lane so last
Rewriting again the pain so fast
Smelling roses on paper
And sorrows in Napier
Ending every time in pain
Every longing in vain
Is this a hobby in the end?
Or a love failure’s set trend?
As barren as desert’s sand
They depart always…
Who walked someday pinkish ways?
With hands in beloved’s hand
So shall I die?
But never shall I lie
That I was in love sometime
And lived in my lover’s every chime

This is Shayar’s one of the finest odes. It depicts the state of being of Shayar when he sits back, rolls the cavalcade of time and pens an elegy straight from the red door of the red castle. This ode is all about writing a limerick. It is all about rhyming the agony of hisses of his verve that was some day on a merry hieroglyphic. The papyrus begins smelling rose and its thorns smitten Shayar in its own sense. Shayar ponders over the fact that is this penning of verses a leisure pursuit or his first love’s merry memories? The Shayar in me would perhaps die but the substantial feelings towards her are immortal and are not bounded by the pangs of time. Moreover the aim of living loving and lifting the sore idea of love will always remain transcendental.

Old School Memories

There lies my old school where
I learnt my ABCs
There lies my class where
I learnt those tongue tizzies
My teacher taught me
To subtract and to add
To read and to write
To face problems with glad
Those cozy class rooms
That became the place to gloom
When the exams surround
With the chilled supervision around
There lie my school steps
That taught me never to regret
Even when you fall in a bet
As the faller is destined to get
There lies the ringing bell
That we use to bell
Always a minute before the recess
To get that extra minute in excess
Finally we come across the row
Where I met my first lady love
We used to rhyme this bow:
To be together in any flaw

We all love our alma mater. Isn’t it? And even some one who is left and lost in our alma mater. It may/can be our first love/infatuation. This ode is all about those mesmerizing thoughts of my old school. The blurred memories of the first day of my school are still in this engineering mind. Every one of my porpoises wept, but it was I who confronted the school gate with a smile on my face. I was fervent to learn the ABCs. The origin of the arduous feeling was to read those fancy advertising boards all round. I still remember the hand that kindled me with the knowledge of English and Mathematics. I was weak in performing subtraction, but my Mathematics teacher was no naïveté. She tried hard to imbibe her knowledge in me. The steps of my old school were not leveled properly. We always slipped to one or two of them and ended with a bruise on our knees. Still our peon personified that the faller is the real winner as he/she learnt a lesson every time he/she falls. There was a boy in our class who once rang the school bell exactly 5 minutes before the lunch break. It was the time of our academic era when we were neophytes in looking at watches. Lastly, I only miss the angel seated on the second bench of the girls’ row. Whenever I roll the cavalcade of time I always end it with this rosy chapter of my verve. We were good friends and I used to guide her in Algebra and Geometry. However I was a novice in the calculative crusade still I managed to challenge the tide. I am still in juxtaposition rendering the fact that was it my love or infatuation…?!?

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Life-A Full Circle. (True Story)

(Based on true incidences of life…)
This is the tale of a boy who used to abhor his family. He had a brother as his sibling. His accountant father and house hold cored mother. God could not be everywhere, so He created parents. But this seems to a babble talk to the juvenile technocrat. He overlooked his brother because he used a Multimedia mobile phone. And he was made to zero with a baffled battery mobile phone what he called-an electronic junk. All these became worse when he was made to run on his 80 cc moped to garner medicines for his ailing mother.

His parents always dominated on him. He was not allowed to go on any of the school picnics with his scholiast porpoises. Even he cinched long to call his scholiast friends especially girls. When he was bestowed with a mobile phone his life even became worse. His father used to check his calling logs every day and viewed every unknown number with an eye of Sherlock’s suspicion. He used to be around him whenever he talked on the phone. He used to on the speaker if he used the landline telephone. The verve of the poor juvenile lad became abstruse and annoying. All these sequence of events became hell bound when he faced academic nemesis. He began living in the cellar of his house and locked himself brooding over his luck He always used to ponder that he would flee from his family when he would be dominating his social cluster. But one day, his life, his ponderings, his broodings changed and he felt like he was the luckiest mascot onto this orb to have a wonderful family like this…

The day marked the commencement of the 3rd Semester exams of the boy. And he was stripped with high fever. He toiled hard throughout the semester to do something great in the grades arena of his academic life. But all of this seems to shatter when he was gripped with high fever the day before the D-day. He puffed his pillow hard as he was an hour late from his schedule. He had to revise those weird electronic circuits for the exam. But he had no time left for that electronic junk. The gripping mercury level made his life full of tenancy. He was depressed mentally and his élan was deeply struck. He swallowed a pain killer and prepared himself for the calculative crusade. But he lost himself to the hands of the viral attack. His mother noticed this and took him in her lap like a year old kid. She hugged and cuddled her to make his spirits lively for the exam. She made her eat the bread even her Parkinson struck arm shook like an old clock’s pendulum.

He went for the exam with his mother’s face dominating his mind. He fired the questions with his regained élan and wrote answer to every question with double vim and vigor. The analgesic tablet began losing its effect on the viral infection. Haplessly, he went to the bus stand like a feeble old man to go home. To his surprise, he found his elder brother smiling and provoking him to get seated on his motorbike. Later, it came to his wits that he had rescinded his plan of watching movie with his lady love. After visiting the doctor, he returned home with his father. His father prepared hot soup for him and made him drink it with his own hands. The fever had gripped his legs and back with soaring pain. His father applied balm on his feet and his back and gave him a body massage. His heart cruised to its melting point.

Later in the night, his brother collected all his technical notes and started reading aloud before him. He was from management backdrop; still he managed to read the technical notes. All this was dine to revive his spirits for the exam. Everybody in the house reckoned the fact that he had burnt the midnight oil to get his grades right. His exam and viral infection lasted for a fortnight. The fortnight of his life that changed his stance, his attitude and his gargantuan decision towards his parents, his future and the pinnace of his life. His academic crusade ended but his intellectual crusade was still on. His outlook towards life and time underwent a sea change. He never thought an inkling of his past broodings over his life, luck and family cluster.

There was a poignant war going in his mind and heart. The day had arrived when the grades were to be divulged on the Internet. The poor lad was horrified. When he confronted the screen that asked him to enter his exam seat number, he was almost paralyzed. The faces of his parents serving him and his sibling supporting him rocked his cerebellum. He entered his exam seat number and discovered that he had scored 65%. He assumed that he was somewhere in the 15-20 rank slot. The next day he went to the college and his lass of dreams hugged him shrieking that he has done it. He was perplexed. Shortly, he found that he had secured the second spot in his cluster…!

Tears rolled down his eyes and the faces of his family members began to reflect in the sparkling shield. The silver shield that was a souvenir to his performance in the examination of his life…
Shayar 4u 4ever

Thursday, August 2, 2007

The Agony Of A Tele Caller

The Agony Of A Tele Caller
(This is an article that shows agony of being a telex caller as observed by Shayar.)
“Sir, your loan worth 50,000 rupees is sanctioned”. Hearing this lexis the call attendee would bash me or disconnect the electronic gadget. But I will keep on trying. Sometimes people truss the call without hearing my pleadings. Yes, you guessed me right I am a telephone caller. I may belong to Credit Card Company, a mobile company, a customer service care or an insurance industry. The real crux is the conviction I try to do from the leads I get from the data dept. I convince people and keep trying to do the same after hearing their scalding. I rejuvenate with every new call. I forget those bitter experiences of a failed call. This is my job. Sometimes I hear lassitude ness in the caller’s voice. Yet I go ahead living those unturned stones. The smile on my face is worth witnessed when I strike a call i.e. I trap a guy or a gal in my scheme. I softly cut the pockets of a common man to fill my pockets. This is my job and I do doting without being emotionally killed. Sometimes sipping an evening coffee with my clandestine holder makes me weep or lose my heart throb. Yet I rebuild myself with every day, every call I suppose. All these thorny jobs did leave me with me an odd salary of 4000 bugs. It is not easy to convince an officer on phone yet I do the deceiving cold bloodily. I find life livelier when I travel in a bus seeing my alma mater goers sitting with their valentines or those golden hands around an ivory neck. May be I cannot enjoy till this vertex, but still I am blissful with my part time job of a telephone caller. Let me go for a new call…
Shayar 4u 4ever

The Lesser God.

The Lesser God
How many of us ponder of the lesser god or His angels on earth? Do you wish to witness one of His angels? If yes, then meet Mr. Kailash Jha a science graduate with chemistry as the main subject from J.D. College of Science, Bachhwara, Bihar. Decades have passed since he got his degree. Can you imagine where or what his job is? He stands tall at the L.D. Engineering College gate saluting every body that arrives in. Shocked and shattered. He is a true victim of what we proudly pronounce the corruption. Even when he fails to salute some one who is new in the college then he gets a bashful dose over the uncertainty of his job. His duties at a hotel near Vastrapur commences in the night. This entire tedious job for a total salary of Rs. 3700. You will discover thousands of His little angels at the busiest cross roads or cafeterias of our owned city. We can not craft them to become skilled at ABC, but if we conjure we can help them. Just buy those tricolors or Santa caps or pirated versions of comic books they sell. A smile on their faces is your reward and their golden bread earned for the day.
Shayar 4u 4ever