Saturday, December 22, 2012

Meri Skirt se Unchi Meri Awaaz hai – Letter to Mr. President

Disclaimer: The writer is not a believer of religion, economy and politics (in the same order).

Dear Mr. President,

No animals were killed while I was writing this. But a girl somewhere in my country might be facing molestation, rape or some eve teaser as I write or finish this piece of writing.

I am not going to reiterate the incident that happened in a city where you live and at the time when you were having your dinner. We all were out of our minds and sight by the incident and I along with some of my friends came to meet you today morning. As expected we were not allowed to meet you. We don't wish to hear condolence messages from you; rather we claim serious belief of reinforcement of my security on the very roads where the Army, the Navy and the Air force showcase their pride every year on the Republic Day.

Sir, I have not read the Constitution of India, but I am told that if you wish, with your interference you have all the powers to call the people who can amend the Constitution of India. I request you to amend and ensure stricter enforcement of laws pertaining to attacks on the dignity of women of this country.

I wish you to act before my sister admitted to Delhi Hospital walks out and breathe the air that led her succumb.

I am not writing this letter for apathy, sympathy or empathy, favor or soothing words of praise in my honor to strive pain. I am writing this to claim what is mine.

I don’t hope for a positive response. But yes, I am expecting a prompt action.

With Best Possible Regards,
The Women of India

I need not to teach you about the importance of women saying that they are the ones who brought Olympic Medals to the country.
Try sending water through the pipelines that your officials have laid through the city instead of smashing it in my face when I stand for my rights.
And finally, don’t let Google say ‘Do you mean rape?’ When I type India.

Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier


Thursday, November 8, 2012

Little Do I...

Little do I move ahead…
                On the ways I had wished…
As the seasons blink…
                Little do I grow on the sands I stood…
Little do the clouds move in the sky…
                When the Sun ponders over its daily plan…
Little do I sing these days…
                The Songs of Summer and Spring…
The keys of my piano remain silent…
                So do I; Often the clock kicks me awake…
Little do I follow…
                The footsteps of Destiny and Time…
Keeping and Falling things in place…
                Little do I follow my life and its pace…!

 Time has its own magical pace that plays an instrumental role in human life. Be it pacifying some emotions or altering one’s plans.  Everyone keeps speeding up day in and day out to match the so called inimical pace by garnering land or paper rockets and balls (Read: Degrees & Currency Notes). Let me take some time out, take a pause for some unknown cause and let me be oblivion of any such apocryphal pace and see what was left and what more could suffice…!!!

Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier


Saturday, July 21, 2012

'Calls' To The Dark Knight

I watched ‘The Dark Knight’ last year and waited for ‘The Dark Knight Rises’ as I heard of some news about Mr. Nolan creating the end of the trilogy. Trailing by Trailers, I waited with abated breath for ‘The Rise’. The only reason was: ‘In Nolan I believed’. Moreover, I was captivated with the soundtrack by Hans Zimmer and almost listened to it more than five times a day to get the feel of the end of the legend.
But as it goes with my life, something circus like thing happened on the day when the film rose to the theatres and I made a nasty run just to be in time. Story Time:

19th July 2012 (The Day before ‘The Rise’)

I wanted to make sure that I watch the movie in English as soon as I let myself out of my office. I thronged almost 4 multiplexes near to my office with one of my friends Nitin but in vain. Everywhere the movie was to be released in Hindi and I never wished to see the legend speaking some vernacular. I asked Nitin to book tickets online. We succeeded and got the best seats – third from the last row to watch the spectacle. Time: 6:20 pm.
20th July 2012 (The Day of ‘The Rise’)
5:15 pm.
I called Nitin and he said that he was stuck somewhere and I needed to go alone. I didn’t know the ways to the multiplex and I knew I needed someone as crazy as me for ‘The Rise’. There were gangs of friends around me not getting the tickets while I had one extra ticket with me – The Golden Ticket.
5 Minutes later…
I started making random calls to lots of people around in panic just to accompany me to the end of the trilogy and read along what happened:

Call 1: My Colleague – I approached my colleague and begged her to watch the movie with me. I failed. She had her own reasons and couldn’t be ignored though.

Suddenly, I started figuring out people in my phone book and their degrees of availability at the time.

Call2: My Ex-Room mate:  He had been living in his home since 9 months by now and had been ready for every party or gathering we planned for, even at the shortest notice. But the little mouse already had his cheese booked this time and that too late in the night.

Call3: My Old School friend: I knew she was engaged. But let me try and call her and ask whether she would be company. These were my thoughts when I banged her number. I knew she was all oblivious about the trilogy but she was a good friend though. She too had her own reasons of office and life.

My hairs were on fire now. I just started making some random calls again.

Call4: My Random Friend: We had just met out of coincidence. She wanted some ideas over some event and we had a discussion. I dialed her. She was in a hospital. Her father was going to be under the knife for some treatment. I was sorry. She was sorry. And then my patience spilled up.

25 Minutes Later…
5:45 pm.

I was now running nuts. I didn’t know the place and I was made to watch the movie alone. Holy Shit. My colleague shouted at me and asked me to start my ride to 15 km across the city to reach the theatre in time. It was excruciating to know that nobody wanted the golden ticket.

Call5: My Junior: I called one of my juniors and as the phone rang I made my mind to hit him hard in the face if he denied. No prizes for guessing here. He said he was stuck with his bike somewhere in the middle of the city and I am going to hit him in the face when I meet him.

Call6: My Facebook Friend: I called one of my ‘facebook’ friends. I met her online. She was far away from my age group but still managed to say ‘No’. I thought I could convince her but they say family and children make you more responsible than an empty bag with some books and dreams in it.

Call7: My Recent Friend: Now, this was the weirdest call of my life. I had never called her. We met recently.  And to the top of it, she lived around 30 km away from the theatre and it was exactly 30 minutes before ‘The Rise’. And to the least of my surprises in my life, she denied.

Call8: I now called to one of my best friends. I was positive. The other minute shattered my hopes. I heard a ‘beep’. She ‘rejected’ my call.

5:55 pm
It was now my colleague’s turn to go nuts when she saw me behaving like an answering machine and requesting others for the golden ticket. She just banged the head guard onto my hands and asked me to leave. Now, I never had the Batman bike that can cross the Gotham city in minutes. Still I rode at a speed of around 70 kmph and guess what. I crossed two more bridges i.e. around 3 more kms in extra to the place where I was supposed to reach.

6:15 pm
5 more minutes…
I was standing at the traffic signal and asked some one where the theatre was. He explained me and I rode the horse like my bum on fire. I reached the theatre at 6:25 pm. I hated it to start late. And to my surprise the show was 20 minutes late. I made my way to the screen and saw a great looking girl with one of her friends. I hoped she was sitting right to me. And every time you hope that you find a pop corn monger kid or a coke sipping aunt piercing your ears…! I bought some popcorn and made myself comfortable on the couch. I heard a voice hitting the left of my ear. She was around 43 requesting me to shift a row behind for her son to accommodate. I was happy to do that as that brought me to the second last row of the theatre.

3 Minutes Later…
The movie started and I heard a girl screaming. She was the one whom I saw in the room outside the screen, sitting next to me. I screamed too…! She asked me whether I was alone and I replied, “It’s a funny story and maybe I would weave a blog out of it…!”

P.S. Something about ‘The Rise’:
The story is about fear and hope, rise and revolt. The best scene in the movie was the one when the protagonist climbed out of the mercenary without the rope.
Joker, we shall all keep missing you all the time…!
Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier

Monday, July 9, 2012

The Parallel Lines

Recently I had a chance to spend most of my day’s time with some of the most energetic minds and souls of the country at some engineering college. My life was uncertain like a ship without the rudder left alone amidst sea storms in the middle of an ocean at the whim of the waves. But the energy showed by the people around me kept me driving.

After re-orienting my life to some other goal, I came across lots of people of my age making money, travelling around the world and getting everything I deemed of.  I at my own switched off the supply of money to my life and halved it with lots of uncertainty as an additive interest. There were moments which pierced me deep and hard; made me think to push the reverse button of my life. I revolted. It had been a couple of times I had been treading the same path and watching the power struggle between satisfaction and delight.
I think I have blown enough of my trumpet and thrown some personal metaphors around. Story Time…

The Parallel Lines: : Satisfaction and Delight:

I was passing through a road that was under construction. There was a group of workers pushing hard for their daily wages. They were in an abject state of poverty and working in a highly unsafe environment. I ordered tea and sat on the ‘tapri table’ near to them. Suddenly I heard a child’s cry, who was sleeping in a ‘make-shift’ arranged swing near the road roller. His mother threw the basket containing aggregates and cuddled him, but in vain.

10 Minutes later…

I saw one of the male workers rushing to the nearest ice-cream parlor and buying a chocolate bar worth Rs.10/- The child was over the moon. It was ‘Delight’ for him and his parents saw the scene dipped in ‘Satisfaction’. A ten rupee note bought delight and satisfaction and made the parallel lines intersect.
However these things are least evident or applicable in so called ‘corporate’ life we live in. Most of my friends working in some of the leading MNCs crib about money, job location, job profile, job culture and even loneliness.  I used to crib about my job profile and now I crib over money and uncertainty. Parallel Lines.
 But there are some moments when and where these parallel lines intersect. Rare though. Some of them are: a boy reciting his deceased father’s poetry, an old priest offering his first prayers, a young girl making some street child write ABC, a young boy giving his first salary to his mother and lots more around you, with you…!

Lastly, one of my life’s moments when the parallel lines meet is the time when I write something, share and ‘You’ smile at the end after reading it. We live in a weird and wonderful world. Isn’t it?

It’s about to rain. Now listening to a track from 21st Century Breakdown by GreenDay:

Hey Gloria, are you standing close to the edge?
Look out to the setting sun, the brink of your vision...
Eternal youth is a landscape of a lie
The cracks of my skin can prove, as the years will testify...

Amit Purohit 
The Lone Soldier


Sunday, June 3, 2012

The Lost Child

I always feel I am doing nothing on this planet except growing old whenever my birthday is around the corner. Every birthday I promise myself that I shall find the reason to live or the reason to write a book. The former never gets formulated and the latter keeps on dealing with the subject matter.

Carefree Childhood days
So I decided to travel to places to remember what I was made of and visited the people who crafted a man out of a toddler. This led me to Udaipur, my birth place. The city of lakes that taught me change is inevitable and it kills if you don’t accept it in life. The second stop was my kindergarten that taught me the faller is destined to succeed. The third was my college which once taught me love and success can go in hand.  And out of everything I grounded one fact: Needless to say, the fact bearer told me all life what I have spent was in vain as I had been running after things that my parents, teachers and some of my friends asked me to chase for.

I still remember the days of my childhood when jalebi was sweeter and reminded me of the advertisement wherein a boy is convinced to return to his home when he was promised ‘jalebi’. I was so care free and ready to tell people what I knew forgetting the fact how much they know or what they wished to know.
My favorite color was the one that my English teacher wore and it changed around four times in a week.
There were no paychecks but the two rupee note and a ‘Poppins’ in my hand made me felt like a king.
The time when Batman and Spiderman looked great on paper rather than making me wait for the sequels that come every season to bore.
There were no mobile phones and my parents knew wherever I would be in this world I would return in a ‘single piece’ with my bicycle by 7 pm in the evening.
There was no Google still I knew what to search for and where the answers were hidden.
I had smiling faces around me not a book of faces saying where they are spending their honeymoons or which college they are studying in…!!!
I had a pencil and a rubber that lasted for a week and now I never see my pencil’s final notch sharpened up or changing my roller pen’s refill.
There were sparrows and squirrels I used to run after and spent my time watching clouds changing their shapes from elephants to horses.
The crayons that colored my life and made it look vibrant not the blunt bank’s SMS in my smart phone saying about my purchases and meager bank balance.
 I had love and the only thing that broke my heart was the moment when she said to me that her frock is brighter than my pants.
I never had the feeling of losing somebody or something except my new compass that I got free with ‘Bournvita’.
The months when I waited for the school to reopen and wished to see her with a new water bottle rather than the appraisals that I now carve and crib for.
Let me tell you a true story. When I was in 4th grade we had a surprise drawing exam. And it really ‘surprised’ me. The teacher told us to draw a free hand sketch and the white sheets that looked like dinner table napkins came to my bench. I read the words ‘free’ and ‘hand’ and traced my hand on the sheet, colored it with the color of the skin and wrote in the centre ‘Free Hand’ and left the class room within 15 minutes. The teacher laughed and I got a ‘D’. But the lesson learnt was my shelling out what I knew.
I failed the Ph.D interview at some IIT last fortnight. After passing 3 rounds, I feared to express what I knew in the interview. And once again life placed me on the crossroads that say where to go with a lot of sign boards luring me to them.

Closing my eyes, remembering what ‘Into the Wild’ meant and now finding a reason to live because this life can’t be a reason to die.

Now Listening:

Wo Kagaaz Ki Kashti;  Wo Baarish Ka Paani…

The reason why my calendar days pass is a mystery and I am on the way to my answers…!!!
Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier


Monday, April 16, 2012

The Cuckoo Behind The Kolaveri...

12th Apr, 2012
3:35 pm, Somewhere On Earth.

Very few of my friends have heard the song ‘Guncha’ by Mohit Chauhan. Guncha means a young flower. The most fascinating lines of the song go like this:

“Subh ko teri Zulf ne sham kar dia,
Guncha koi mere naam kar dia…!’’

                And I dipped into my favorite arena where my pen did the talking. Pondering over the thought of writing a book woven with words around women, I felt I had now walked the talk with enough women in my life and their depiction of emotions. I was wrong, point blank.

                Allow me to tell you an open ended story of a girl I met and was startled.

                She was 26, MBA. She had a CAT percentile I could dream of and a persona I was jealous of. She landed and ditched one of the finest corporate jobs which people like me deem of. But things weren’t rosy as I thought of.
                She was working for nuts but for a cause by means of which she drove her life. And when inquired about why the ‘fish’ she worked for nuts; she smiled with an uncertainty at the back drop of her cerebellum. Being the ‘local’ Sherlock by nature, I was curious with some questions and the day occurred when the sun rose and her answers came searching my questions.
                And like any other Cindrella, the story stalked and sauntered around marriage – the lexis behind her uncertain smile she showcased, sitting near to the beautiful coffee cups she was fond of. Scores of questions rambled her mind about ‘the one’ and started driving her life. And I was surprised again…
                This time, I was surprised by the feminine psychology of considering ‘the one’ as the center of her earth. I watched her about and by now almost a 24-hour office day stamping documents with a smile incomplete in its own sense. The smile that carried pain of a broken song or the panicky of her parent’s toil of finding ‘the one’. For ‘the one’ and with the uncertainties tied to him she worked for nuts instead of diamonds.
                What was more! Adding more struggle to the smile was the debris of a musical dream that never shaped out of her parental pressure. As this ink flows on this paper and turns into blatant hieroglyphics; a day passes in the life of an individual getting the pangs of being alone and clearing the misty air of not so certain things tied with and for a stranger.
                A dream stifled like a soda bottle welded with the cork. Blueprints of a business, a career remains on paper in her minds; somewhere buried. I had never thought of weaving my life and its winged dreams for anyone. And she was living it, staking and sauntering her gold clad MBA for the unknown waiting, hoping to meet the next door.
When I see her I think of a flower vase with dried roses yet fresh leaves…!
When I see her I think of someone breathing for clouds that change shapes daily…!
I hear a sunken song that was never written; but a singer composed it for life…!

“Aankho ke jazeero ko tere naam kar dia,
Guncha koi mere naam kar dia…!’’

Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier


Friday, February 17, 2012

Clearance Ki Kahaani...Balls to 'Sayonara'


GET : X (Graduate Engineering Trainee Resigning as Senior Project Executive)
Manager Y (Eating, Doing Nothing and managing GET X)
HR Z (Helpless Rascal @ the Human Resource)
Note: Trying to avoid being harsh
Warning: No resemblance with real world. If you find any, have beer and chill because none gets to bother.

16 Jan 2012

It was the 89th day of the three month notice period at a company called Lallu & Tappu Ltd (La&Ta). My brain was bleeding as I was the only one around going home instead of going to some MNCs who pay like pigs. And adding pressure to the pumping blood was the Manager Y who was not clearing off my handover dues. Actually speaking, he didn’t know what I was handing over as he never worked till it came to brim.
The HR Z was any other person who was least bothered who was leaving; knowing the reasons might be his dream job that he used to actually do while snoring at 2 pm after the hefty lunch.
I was to leave at 17th Jan and it was already 4:30 pm. It was getting tougher to nail Manager Y.
He only had to tick on a clearance form in his mail and like any day he wasn’t bothered when it came to work.

10 minutes of Creative Planning by GET X passed by.

To Retaliate Is Human Nature...
Manager Y: So why are you exactly leaving?
GET X: Does it make sense on the 89th day of my 3 month notice period?
Manager Y (Stunned): What does it mean when you question a query?
GET X: It means I am not interested to entertain the query and the beholder.
Manager Y: Tell me which company are you joining?
GET X: I am getting out of this company business. It adds no value to my thoughts.
Manager Y: The world is small. We will be informed where you are heading.
GET X: Please clear off my dues, just by clicking a simple icon in your mail box.
Manager Y: No, I won’t till you let me know.

Nonsense heated argument follows.
GET X watches the clock. It was 4:50 pm. He knew Manager Y will run to the punching machine at 5:15 pm and drive home. At 5 pm all he wanted the subsidized tea offered at the labor canteen.
He wanted the tick as it was HR Z’s turn tomorrow.

Manager Y (provoking): He will be a Master (professor in derogatory sense) one day and then he thinks he can add value to his thoughts.
GET X (keeping his cool): Sir G, its 4:55 pm. (Actually the clock showed 5 pm). I am going for tea.
Manager Y: Oh! Where I have to tick for clearing your dues?
GET X (thinking prey had come to daddy): Here, over here sir…
Manager Y: Is there any provision for partial clearance?

Manager Y actually didn’t know what he was handling and still he wanted GET X to be trapped.

GET X: Sir G, its 5 pm (Clock actually showing 5:15 pm) we will miss the tea.
Manager Y: Here is the password of my mail box. Get it done.
GET X: (enters the password like a ninja): Click..! Bang you go…!!
Manager Y: Let’s go to tea.
GET X: Its 5:18pm.
Manager Y (Astonished): What?
GET X: So you finally come to know that is the way you get to work…! Good Bye.
Manager Y:  (Now knew the trick) If you wish you can share your personal contact details.
GET X: Good Bye.

17 Jan 2012.

HR Z: Have you ticked all departments in the form?
HR Z never knew what kind of intellectual capital the company had and the least he knew about the loss to company when most of them were leaving the company.
GET X: Yes
HR Z: Get your dues cleared by the Finance department know.
The official time to leave was 5 pm. But as I had received clearance from all departments I could have been relieved earlier. Every one applied Murphy’s Law.
I requested HR Z to relieve me by 3 pm. I asked him to at least hand over my documents against the I-card I had submitted. He said a cold NO.
He did every procedural works at 5 pm. I kicked the door.

17 Feb 2012

I am still waiting for my salary. Manager Y wants me back.
I got my clearance done over a Rs.3/- tea.
I left love and opened the doors of uncertainty in my life…!!!

 Amit Purohit The Lone Soldier

Monday, February 13, 2012

Don't Let My Love Die...

My skies; my seas
                Where the sun settled over her eyes
Holding her arms with fingers twined
                Those beautiful eyes setting in mine…
The lonely river and a long bridge
                That bridged the souls living apart
Looking at what she stared
            Blinking eyes when the rain dripped to fall…
The silence that sounded again
            Deafening the ears; melting the heart’s gain
O’ little girl,
            My feelings may fail…
Or my souls may feign…
            To rewind the times of love and pain
 Love shall neither fail nor feign
             I fear, the world and times might drain…!!!

Often I write something that inspired what made me write these verses. But I can’t figure what to write for this one. It is just the love making me unable of deem what I am made of and what will be left in me when you will not be there…!!!

I am sending all my love to you with the air I breathe in and with the clouds I see in the skies.
I am sending all my love to you with the stars I see and wish I could be one to be with you.
I am sending all my love to you with the flowers that never trailed our ways to soothe you.
I am sending all my love to you being in love with you.
I am sending all my love to love you…! ! !

Amit Purohit (The Lone Soldier's Sleepless Nights)


Saturday, January 28, 2012

Smeared By Swamp...

I was standing under the night lamp,     
                With quiet stars staring at me,
Almost failing to time…
                Were the huts and hearts to the swamp?
Blessed were the clouds
                That peeped when we kissed around
And the rest was all clutter…
                Feelings over the pan; all fetters
The smoke went above the airplane
                Yet smelt the same; insane
Dew drops and some molten chocolate,
                Over the grass; inside the oven
Rest what left failed to ruin
                The castles of love; the tears of rain
I was still standing under the night lamp               
         With the hearts and huts smeared by the swamp
नादान परिंदे, घर आजा...
Imaginations are weird. They come to you, rove into your brain and leave you with a thought. It was 4 in the morning with the zephyr about to unfold and the ‘Nothing Else Matters’ track echoing in my room I grew. There is a light post in front of my house. It was time, when I thought of myself standing by it and rewinding life by a frame or more. And then I thought of the poem I just wrote and you just read.

I always felt scores of surges and swamps in life. Joy and Sorrow. Love and Pangs. I was almost to the place that I left. The lights made me blind and the smoke made me restless.

With all sorts of uncertainties now open, the journey to finding the metal of what made me begins and you know what…
Nothing Else Mattered…! ! !

Amit Purohit (The Lone Soldier)


Monday, January 23, 2012

The So Called Planning Engineer (Sounds Itself Spooky Hah..!!!)

For All the Engineers who plan…
(To be read in a lighter mood)

Sad, but true...! ! !
When I was studying my Electronics textbook I used to deem myself of engineering some stuff which generates current or drives an LED. But they say that truth is stranger than fiction and so it goes. The strangest part of it was the job of a planning engineering I did for a living. I came across the planning part of engineering in one of the most gigantic engineering firms. An engineer who does engineering in the document part of it is what I can best and most fairly coin out of a planning engineer. Putting in this way, a guy who fuels in the flow of things on paper would be better. 

To make out something out of nothing and adding lot of logic part of it is what a planning engineer does. He rolls his stress in the reports and jets in the ever changing list of packing lists with some dubious codes he knows and feels would best fit in. The one who is supposed to know the process and seems to add value out of nothing into it with papers and files is the planning stream of engineering demands. 

The three vital components of this stream are Excel Sheets, Excel Sheets and Excel sheets. The size, gravity and the text keeps on changing like the components of a circuitry but the PCB remains the same: Excel Sheet.

The funnier part of it is the placement of a planning engineer in a firm. A fresh guy from college who neither knows the objective nor the functional part of papers is made to engineer the papyrus deluge. I find them everywhere around. When you hear a guy getting bullied by someone who seems to engineer the things which are actually to be planned by the one who knows only the neonate part of it is undisputedly the planning engineer of the project you are looking at. The best part is the mistakes he does often out of innocence and dodges more bullish behavior. And, when it comes to knowing what actually happened as per plan things would have gone the way they occur. He ropes in serious troubles when the plan fails which is destined to fail. But the fun of the game lies in the clientele’s attitude of sticking to the plan he submits. This in turn gives every one run of their lives as the carrot hung before the rabbit is not to eat but to make it run till he lives.

It may sound a little bit raunchy, but the regular kick he receives makes him reach to his ultimate goal: Resignation. We all know engineers are filled with lots of stuff they are bamboozled with in a more than 1000 day course. And all of the mixed crude actually shells out and leaves him nowhere. It actually kicks chucking out the crammed formulae and graphs. And the thing that kicks more is the process of chucking it out i.e via all the papers he rambles through and makes him more or less an administrative person what we proudly spell as a planning engineer.

One interesting thing that he turns out to be is a perfect answer telling cum excuse making machine. The questions can vary a lot. They swing from the progress part of the project to the profit part of it. Often the men and the material he works with come in the game but none bothers as it is the money and the glittering reports that count. Glittering reports come out of bargaining with the scope of work and money with the so called tactful negotiation with the one who drives the money wagon into it.

The planned death of an engineer in a guy is actually what planning engineer lefts with if he continues till the end of the execution of his so called engineered plan…

Amit Purohit
The Lone Soldier