You

Question: Whom does a piece of art belong to? The creator or the person who admires the creation the most because he relates to it the most? If your answer to the second question is the latter, then I believe I have the right to put this up here. If your answer is the former, I've given the credits to the due person.

I often wonder how much you know about yourself। Whether you know what your eyes look like when you smile, the way you tilt your head when you laugh, the way you play with your hair when you get real nervous, how beautiful you look when you are angry। Sometimes I think you do, sometimes I think you haven’t the slightest idea. In my mind you shall forever be the mysterious, the tempting unknown.


You would sit in the front row of the class, hanging on to every word. Your forehead would be creased with attention, as you strived to understand those rambling Profs. I would sleep through most of the classes, waking up now and then to try and steal another glimpse of you. Oh how obvious I must have been, craning my neck here and there, for a glimpse of that face, that dimpled smile. The world for a chance to be next to you.

How often I would meticulously plan out our conversations; Conversations that, for some reason or the other, never materialized। Every possible topic would be covered, even the unpredictability which makes the fairer sex so appealing; Appealing and at times immensely frustrating। These conversations would be near perfect; you would be charmed by my wit and awed by my intelligence. We would walk out towards the sunset, hands held tight. Live happily ever after and all that.

Coming back to those meticulously crafted plans; well they never did see light of day. The courage to talk was never summoned. Reduced to a particularly quiet piece of stone, I refused to grab the opportunities, which would be offered to me once in a while. As the semester proceeded, I truly began to believe that somehow the courage-gene managed to skip my particular pool.

The blame however, cannot be solely placed on me. You see one of the crucial requirements for the plan to succeed was finding you alone. Your charm ensured that friends always surrounded you. Your friends. Not mine. They would tear me apart were I to come within speaking distance of you. “Who is that loser talking to our dear angel? Bad influence he will be. I heard the other day that he’s an alcoholic as well. Chee chee….”

Oh yes, I was quite sure of that. Deceptively gentle in their appearance, the wolves provided irrefutable proof to that saying about women’s fury. Pack of wolves, that’s what they were, baring their teeth at the slightest occasion. And even if I managed to avoid the wolves, what excuse could I possibly have to speak to you? What could I say?

You smiled at my obvious nervousness. You knew that the upcoming exams were just an excuse I used to talk to you. You answered my rather vague questions on the ethics of family law, well aware that I had no interest in either (family law or ethics). “Ah yes the pressing need of a uniform civil code. But there are so many complexities involved…”You waited patiently, your dark eyes pulling me in. I never did stand much of a chance against those eyes.

I tell you all I have to tell, a stream of rushed words. You look a little surprised (pleasantly so?) The question has been asked. “Would you?” I asked, knowing that I would only breathe once you had answered. You continued to hold the question in the air, stretching those instants to the length of generations. I began to look a bit like a fool, watching expectantly for a reply.

Complete silence for a minute, a minute that seems to drag on longer than one of the class lectures. And then you smile. Is it possible? Will I start believing in the one above all ever again? Shall life start working with me for once? You say nothing at all but your eyes seem to say so much. I still remember the way you smelt that day, gentle and warm. Tinged with a bit of icy mint.

“No” you said, a smile creeping across your face। You felt that sudden rush you always got at times like these। You watched as my face crumpled, as I tried to hide my thoughts behind a weak smile। And then you slowly walk away, but not before you got a good look at my crestfallen face.

And as you walk away, completely aware that I am watching your every move, you hum just loud enough for me to hear “In this game of trust and lust… another one bites the dust।”

Anuj Agrawal [4th year, nujs]

The Audi

We’ve a small road that connects the campus of our college with the main road. This is not the official road; it is rather a small by lane many college students use as a hide out cum hang out for extra curricular activities like smoking and smooching. I use this road normally when I’ve to photo copy papers, visit the internet café or make an STD telephone call. At one end of this lane is an imperial building facing the main road. It serves as an office to some well to do business man. Every time I pass from there I see one of dream cars. It’s a black Audi. Its number plate declares that the business man is very rich indeed as its number is 1-2-3-4. A number RTO in India charges a bomb for.

Exactly opposite this lane is our hang out called Sharvaree. It’s the place we have our breakfast, lunch and tea at.

The other day I was just coming out of Sharvaree when I noticed a huge crowd gathered on the main road. The black Audi stood in the centre as a diagonal to the road. A tempo stood near by. Its nose kissing the butt of Audi. There were two voices. One raised, angry and clear. The other blurred and distant as it was coming from inside the tempo. The first one was of a man in extremely good clothes. He was wearing a beautiful sky blue shirt. Black shining trousers. Polished leather shoes. An expensive cell phone was peeping out of its holder on the waist. The language being used wasn’t what any one would call the best though. Unprintable words were being shouted by him. One of his hands was busy pulling the tempo driver to the window. The other hand had taken the hammer position and it was being used to hit on the driver’s head.

The tempo driver was pulling himself away from the hand turned into hammer and pleading to be left alone before they could talk the matter out. Police arrived and separated them. The man sat back in the Audi and drove it straight to where I was standing. Curiosity got the better of me and I inspected the car as he parked it on my left before leaving to talk to the police. All the car had was a 2 inch minute scratch on the back bumper.

There’s a small colony of backward castes near my old house. Once as my ride was passing through that area my cell phone rang. I pulled the bike over and answered the phone. As I finished my call I saw a man turning right without indicating it in anyway. He did not put his hand out or put his indicator on. The rider behind him had already made a decision to over take him long back and as the first man turned right the rider ran straight into him. His mud guard cracked into pieces. As he skidded to the ground further his head light had scratches. When he got back on his feet and both of them had pulled over, the first one expecting a heated argument. He was right. The second rider was really angry. He looked the first rider in the eye and said “It was because you didn’t indicate you were going to turn that we both fell, my mud guard broke and headlight was scratched.” The second one, naturally, wanted to rebel. He said, “Yeah, yeah! So how much money do you want? How much will repairing that cost anyway?” On this the second rider showed disgust on his face and said this, “Just make sure you don’t ride like this from now on. That’s all I want!” No base words spoken, no money asked! This man was a mere milk man and his bike was just an M 80.

I have just one question: Who do you think is richer between the milkman and the man with that dream Audi?

The Happy Prince.

Importance...

We're on our bus back to the hostel after having done well at a Law Fest. I'm very happy happy with my performance before a lightening strikes. The lightening tells me the girl I've loved for the last three years has committed to someone else.

The first thought that comes to my mind?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I had expected myself to go hyper. To pull my hair out, to cry or to do something stupid. Instead, I just breath easy and for some reason my body starts sweating. Calm and composed for others, I just close my eyes and wait for us to reach the hostel. On reaching the hostel all I badly need is a strong cup of coffee. I tell my team mates I am going out for one. I have one and return home to concentrate on the finals on the next day. Nothing bothers me at all.

I don't know how I soaked such a huge shock in so easily. I had dreamed of her. I have loved her. Still do. I could have done anything for her in the madness of my love. As a person and a friend she had inspired me, changed me and changed me so much! Changing for her had never been a question. I could have changed anything if she'd wanted me to. How could I take such a shock in so easily?

It wasn't even that I had not told her about my feelings for her. I had on several occassions in several different ways and her answer had always been "Wait. We're too young still" and waiting I was.

Just watched this movie called "Dil Dosti etc." A character called Sanjay Mishra and his girlfriend (Forgot her name!) are madly in love before she betrays him. He can't believe the fact that she has betrayed and ultimately kills himself. Worst is the fact that he catches her red handed with one of his best friends. He dies and lives of both, his girlfriend and his friend just move on.

Once I had lost so many competitions so badly. Today I find myself on the verge of winning but there's so much difference in the way I wait for results. Earlier I wanted to WIN! and after putting in so many efforts I just couldnt take in that there could be any other result. Today when I'm waiting for results, frankly, I just dont care. The attitude is "I have done what I could. Have learnt alot in doing it, have enjoyed doing it so much. Anything else hardly matters."

The point I'm trying to make is just this. Sometimes we give too much importance to too many trifles in our lives. Trifles we could have done without, trifles we can do without. So whether she says a yes or no next time you ask her, whether you win or lose a competition after putting in nights of oil or whether the person you love the most dies, it's just a trifle we've been giving too much importance to. Do what you can do when you can do it and leave the rest upto Him because nothing is as important as you think it is.

The Happy Prince.

Will the Golden Days never return?
Or Will the returned days never be Golden?
Does Gold change with days?
Or do days change with Gold?

Emotions change and so do relations,
But does Gold change with seasons?
Year passes when a season returns
Why dont men wait then, till emotions reutrn?

I want to cry today, my heart has broken.
Why can't she even lend a hand? Just as a token?
Still love her for the pain she has given...

So what if i'm not there, I can at least dream of my heaven
She made me believe dreams come true...
I say "I believe it dear coz i still believe in you."

The Happy Prince

Gambler…

The very word 'Gambler' has so much of a negative connotation to it. He's a negative person in every way no matter what he gambles with or for. But I'm particularly interested in card gamblers. Look at the way the play their games.

First they let people know that they gamble but they never tell them their tricks of winning the games. They never show people their cards and they always guess, mostly on logic, what the cards of the opponent might be. Every time they're betting on winning.

I just have one question. What's the difference between a person who really wants to win and the gambler I described above?

Hardly any.

The Happy Prince

Nostalgia

An innocent running stream of fresh cold water,
The first silky ray of the tender morning sun,
Deep green waters of solitary seas,
The only line of golden lights shining in a dark cold night,
The sole long shadow that witnesses the orange setting sun,
The fallen eyelash of the most treasured eye,
The tears of sheer happiness after the much desired achievement
And a hand that runs through your hair caring the most….

Are all forms of a never ending and ever desired…nostalgia!

The Happy Prince

Think...

We’re all on a run, but for a moment wait!
Just think of your fate
Who are we? Where is our compound?
Where is our gate?

Where do we start?
Where do we end?
What do we borrow?
What can we lend?

We’re on a road
But where does it lead?
We hear many voices
But whom do we heed?

We have empty hands
But we have open minds
We’re young, we’re fast
We come in all kinds

Am I all alone?
Or am I amongst the gifted few?
Do I belong to a crowd?
Or am I unique like all of you?

We have our flaws
And we have our qualities
But trust me, we’re all equal
When it comes to life’s realities

If not now then when?
If not now then it wont be late then?
Think! Think! Think! This is the time
Years will pass just in a blink…


The Happy Prince