INCOMPLETE

The sky changes colour from the bright blue of dawn to the crimson of dusk as our tenure at Roorkee comes to an end. And with it, perhaps our love for sightseeing and excursions that have managed to draw our minds away from the nettlesome clutter of engineering chores and maintain our faith in the notion that college education is every bit as fun as it is enlightening.

My aspirations for life have been vacillating ever since I was a kid - from becoming a soldier or lawyer or scientist or pilot or famous athlete, to assuming the role of the country's Prime Minister. Now when my career goals are more definitive and less obscure, I fail to fulfill the smaller ambitions that have gradually sprung into existence, and have accumulated over time, often snubbed for some higher calling, but all the same, waiting patiently for that one opportunity to present itself so that they may be heeded. For as long as they aren't met, I will be incomplete.

It seems the approaching end has once again brought my attention back to these unattended little errands. All of a sudden, I'm brimming with energy. I want to jump off a bridge and hang upside down in mid air - more popular amongst adventure entusisasts as bungee jumping. I want to tie myself to the rear of a speedboat and fly over the ocean - parasail. I want to spend nights camping by the riverside, in the warmth of a cosy bonfire, with friends for company. I have always desired to dwell in a bivouac in the forest, in the lap of resplendent nature amongst its myriad exquisite endowments. I would love to set sail on a voyage across the sea. I want to explore, to discover, and enjoy life to the fullest, before it gets too late.

There is so much left to do, yet so many constraints.
Nevertheless, it is some some before the sky will acquire a blackish tinge - time enough to make a few amends.

As they say,

Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost !

THAHAKE

There are reasons I prefer a journey by train over a jaunt by air when I travel, even though the former might stretch over several hours, and sometimes face vexatious delays at the end of which one would feel completely enervated. It allows me to discover the varying landscape and diverse flora and fauna flourishing across different regions in the subcontinent, and to revel in the beauty of the path that would take me to my destination. But most importantly, it often results in serendipitous confluences that would perhaps occur in no other setting - pleasant encounters that leave an indelible mark in memory.

When I boarded the train to Delhi, I looked around to see the people I would share my compartment with - a habit I've developed over years of commuting. There was a sexagenarian, a stern-looking septuagenarian, a wannabe model and a rather sleepy coeval girl. Recalling I'm not really good at hitting a conversation with either the fairer sex or the elderly, I presumed this was going to be yet another journey where I would spend half the time sulking over a snoring co-passenger and the other half lying lethargically on the top bunk.

Mom and Dad weren't making it any easier by ranting out instructions about taking care of myself until I arrived in Roorkee. I can never really understand why parents fail to realize every journey is not the first time we travel on our own.
"Beta ! Don't take random victuals from lorries stationed at the platform." or "Remember the last time you nearly missed your train? Make sure it doesn't happen again."
Through the corner of my eye, I chanced a quick glance at the girl. She had now woken up, and was smiling at the scene presented before her. I felt as if I was back to age 10, listening impatiently to mom's characteristic words of advice and caution, and was definitely a little flushed.

The engine hooted and slowly pulled out of Vadodara station. I was climbing to the top berth when the sexagenarian intervened - "Itni jaldi so rahe ho? Abhi to bahut time hai. Chalo tumhara thoda manoranjan karta hun."
Only a fool would deny free entertainment, especially when there is no other means to amuse yourself. I gladly accepted and climbed back down.

It so turned out the old man was a hasya kavi. Soon, all the boredom had escaped my mind. I was thoroughly enjoying myself as one verse followed another, each inciting a tingling sensation in my belly. Some compositions portrayed typical human vices of greed, corruption, stinginess and temptation; others underlined the virtues of wisdom and altruism. Each composition carried forth a message to the audience, serving its purpose of delivering a moral at the end while keeping the listeners guessing for the next line. I had no idea how the hours passed by, because it seemed the journey had been ephemeral when I noticed 'New Delhi' displayed on the railway platform.

Of the various modes of self-expression, poetry stands out as being the most evocative. With satire and sarcasm as ingredients, it is capable of putting across abstruse philosophies and grave issues of concern through beautifully crafted lines and aptly depicted situations, at the same time, maintaining a comical tone to draw attention of the audience. A potent tool to spark a revolution and unite the masses to fight for a common cause. I'm certain Gurudev's free spirit would testify to the validity of my earlier statement.

If only more of us were poets, we could really make a big difference to the perception of the people around us, and contribute towards changing the world for the greater good.