Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Phoenix

The Phoenix – II
(Unfortunately a true incident)

23 September, 2007
8:00 pm.
I still wobble when I think of this peal of time. It was the day that marked the instigation of our ‘mid term vacation’. I was labeled as Shayar in the college. I talked about my book openly in the campus; every one was taken aback by my new incarnation. My blogs proved my worth. Some of my friends mocked my ideas, while some proffered me luck. I got a eulogy as well as malice in the talks of my friends. I was giving final touches to my master piece. And the computer system crashed… What devil opted this out!! My computer dangled and showed some nasty operations. I had an inkling that this might be due to the e-files of my seminar. I was no maestro in computers, so I rebooted the computer, but it showed signs of vacated caches of memory. I was collapsed. 15 minutes. My senses were paralyzed. I hadn’t formulated any back up. The talks of my book rocked the campus. My sister called the computer engineer. I must say that he was a real drongo. He rubbed the memories of my hard disk with a pirated bootable disk of Microsoft XP. 39 minutes. My computer showed no signs of ‘My Infatuation- Love Demystified’. I lost my senses. I felt as I was stabbed by the three scimitar hands of time.

I gazed at the clock hanging on the wall in front of me. I comforted myself, but in futile. I pondered that as it was mid term vacation, I would rewrite everything. The next day I switched on the computer with a plain mindset. I could not even pen nine lines of the set of 98 poems written by me. It was almost unworkable to live those feelings again It is impossible to evoke. But again the fighter in me never pronounced die. I roved the outskirts of the city for software that would get the formatted data back. My friends from I.T. and C.E. proudly pronounced their verdict in a negative tone. I again rocked the stores of various software shops. Everything was in futile. My family members expressed their grievances. They were happy deep in their hearts as I would not divert my reading hours penning my book. My friends demanded more blogs, but no body knew the ultimate source of the blogs was crashed out. My heart was in my mouth and the seas were in my eyes, making my petals wet and pinching it with the salts. I was powerless to extenuate the hour.

The confidence in me kissed its zenith in the descending direction. I thought I would not be able to pen anything again in this life time. I even thought that my book was the font of my success in the academic arena. A font, which could not be rewritten, could not be reworked again. I mislaid almost everything in life. Those seven days were the worst days of my life. I could not heal myself from the sores of time. The persona that I discovered in myself had strayed somewhere onto this gargantuan orb. I locked myself in the basement of my house for hours. My siblings were tensed. The only spunk in my life had been aired by the stormy winds of time. I zeroed that time was ominous for me, but then I evoked of an abstract of my book pronouncing hard work over time. Opprobrious thoughts were the crux of my cerebellum. Every elderly face from my cluster opined themselves over the issue, and I gave a deaf ear to all of them. One day, I was playing with my fountain pen and suddenly I penned that a thought. It said: Everything and anything done with an added emotion show cases your weakness towards the job. This thought again jolted my brains hard. I again began the unending expedition of getting my data recovered… The phoenix of a writer was in formation.

I sauntered to a shop behind the edifice of our college. I purchased some software to get the golden data back. But I didn’t count on the software as I had tried hell lot of software till date. I slipped the CD in my computer and began the process. To my surprise, I saw it recovering some of the files. I called my friend’s elder brother who was a Network Engineer. He helped me a lot in interpreting the software. 2 days… He shrieked his success and I thronged his house. Like a proud Hitler, he gave words to his triumph. I checked the files and hastily zeroed that the data was back… But, after killing 8 straight hours before the computer screen, I discovered that ‘The Timed Love Series’ and the short stories were corrupted by the data base. Moreover the articles on time, love and success were recovered in machine language i.e. 0 and 1. But this time I wasn’t feeling down, because I had evoked some of the rosy time of my life. The time of my life that was versified by me...

The mad notion of mine that connected my work with my feelings wiped out. I now set goals and get my works done. I have digested that emotion in execution of any work doesn’t fruit at all. And with this story I have again begun the eternal endless journey of mine, i.e. again rewriting my book and getting it launched by an established publishing house…Oh God! Don’t bestow barrels of fortune over me; rather shower some of the strengths over me so that I may recreate the magic again on the pages of dire love and inks of mammoth desires…!!!!

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