Calvin and Hobbes – on growing up

Calvin and Hobbes - Sense

*20 years later*

C: Here we are. Wait.. Wha..? this does not.. How?..

H: Uh.

C: What if we are only to believe that it all should make sense until the day we are on our deathbed and then find out that we were supposed to give meaning to it?

H: That would be a bummer.

Journey Within

Journey Within

I was searching for that beam,
That bright bundle of light,
Which can eliminate the night,
They say it has powers,
Some glorious ones,
I was looking for it with a motive in mind,
And I think that the deed was kind,
It finds it’s way to you they say,
And so I patiently waited a whole day,
It was not hard as I had company,
Men with different dreams, different destinies,
I waited for days to come,
Till the company reduced from many to some,
And then I waited for some more,
Then I was left all alone,
I still waited till I lost the count,
Days went by and so did nights,
But the famous light was nowhere in sight,
Then I heard something in silence,
The sky thundered and the water mumbled,
“So you’re the one who’s left,
From the geniuses and the deft,
For what you seek is not hard to find,
It’s just that you have the wrong idea in mind!
You’re finding it beyond the limits of man’s reach,
But it is in vain, you’re not looking where it is found,
If you want that ray of hope; that beam,
Start your search from within”

Rural Sun

Rural Sun

Why so?

Her mother wiped a tear off with a dirt-ridden sari, as the girl glued her eyes towards her waiting for a reply.

Why so? She asked again. Why don’t we get to have a house big enough for us to live? Why don’t I get to have a cycle? Or or you a new sari? Why do you have to burn your hands… always on that stupid “choohla”?  Why Why??

Her mother again looked at her, looping the end of sari with a finger, as her lap constantly moved up and down, to make her infant son sleep. She bit her lower lip and shook her head, as she heard the same unanswered questions, she avoids every morning, every night.

Just as the little 9-year-old was about to shoot another round of WHYs which pierced like shards of glasses to her mother, a train passed. They didn’t have the luxury enough to afford a home with electricity, hence a house near the railway track. Free light at least (street-lamp).

As the train whooshed, her mother heaved a sigh of relief, at least, a momentary time to think. But, not for long. For that train was soon going to pass, somehow she felt that distinctly annoying shuttering sound of a train a lot comforting than the utter silence that was going to follow.

The girl again looked at her mother.  Now silent. Just looking at her infant brother. That hurt her mother even more, as she helplessly looked to her daughter.

“It will change”, that’s all she said. The child cried no more, silently it slept.

It will change she said. The girl glanced at her mother, looking for an explanation.

You see, most of the people get to see the sun only during the day, not even the richest of rich can have the sun for a night. Yes, they have got the mighty moon, but what is more, as compared to the SUN?

Right or not? asked the mother. The girl half-nodded, still trying to figure it out. The only thing the “Sun” reminded her was of the yellow figure she was taught to draw, on the corner of the paper , in her school. So much to call it a school, though. Learning from teachers who only make them realise.Realise each single day that nothing is going to make a difference. That how high they dream and how much they study, their past will always catch up. Making her face darkness in bright sun. Making her feel lonely in the whole lot. Making her realize each day that she would never be like the other half of INDIA. she would always be the tainted half.

I don’t understand, pleaded the child.

“Look up”. The mother said.

“I see nothing”. snapped the child, now turning a little impatient.

Are you sure? Don’t you see the light?  All yellow?

God, gave us the sun for ourselves. All for us. said the mother, as she caressed her hand on her daughter’s head and kissed her on the forehead.

The child blinked. Just blinked. Looking at the “sun of night”. She looked at it, as she went into a deep sleep.

This was an attempt of mine to depict the story of various rural families of India.

I would like to add something.

The talk of the sun, of an otherwise helpless mother, gave assurance to the child. Sometimes assurance leads to content. And content to happiness. It is not always so. But that’s the point,  one CANNOT be always happy.

Asking for more is Human’s nature.Striving for more is again, Human’s nature. Wanting Happiness is Human’s nature.

The child found something in that yellow light. It was not happiness, NO. It was the absence of sadness.

As I say,

One can only be happy when one understands the fact that one cannot be always happy.



I grew up staying away from fire,

From falling in water and from being a liar,

Some things turned out to be good for me,

But not the fire and not the sea,

There’s one thing that life has taught me,

The farther you run the closer you’ll be,

Yes it’s scary; yes it will hurt,

Yes, it will feel like a punch that thrashes you in dirt,

But trust me beyond that there’s a point,

A point where it will all make sense,

That, why you made all that fuss and were always tense.

What’s the point if you live but aren’t alive?

Where would it take you if the path is all mushy and plain?

Try to take a leap,

Even if you can’t see,

feel vulnerable,

Let it rip your heart out,

Because maybe that’s the risk that you have to take,

That’s a mistake you must make.

The Story

The Story

I was reading a book today, and then suddenly a guy in it dies. Like turn the chapter and it says “Darkness”, and I instantly knew, something bad is going to happen and I just stopped reading.

Yeah, I do that.  I like reading. But I won’t term myself as a voracious reader. I stopped reading for a while, guess why?!

ENGINEERING. no no, I don’t hate it like most of the writers do. I think its kind of cool, not everyone can do it. Its just that the books are so boring that, it never made me feel like reading anything else again.

Yeah, so bottom line, I kind of lost my love for reading.

Until Today,

Okay, so I will let you in on a secret,  (my fellow Indian students; no surprise for you !)

Our exams are waaaaaaay too boring. Like literally. I get tired of writing. Now tomorrow is our management paper and I am least bothered to study. So me and my friends decided to make exams a little fun, and after lots of stupid ideas, we came up with the stupidest one..

“Lets make new words and shit and write them in exams”

I was like, praise the lord to give you a mind capable of having such awesome ideas +Divyaraj Jhala

Anyway, so for THAT, I thought why not read!? (I can always have some inspiration for my discovery that will change the course of exams for us students)

So, I started reading.

Now let me jump to the chapter.  “DARKNESS”

A character dies. DIES. I placed that book aside. Like a reflex. I was too afraid to read what happens next. Its like Joey, like he puts the book in refrigerator.

How easy for him to die. How simple for the writer to make him die. Like, gone. No more inverted commas ending with his name. No more his character description now and then. How sad.  But that’s the story right??



Now the crazy thing is, I have a habit of relating myself to at least one character of what I am reading. And it was I who died.

Now that triggered a way irrelevant, baseless and stupid thought.

As much as I say,

There’s only one person watching, it’s not god, its “YOU”

I am not an atheist, no. But I feel we humans have greater powers than what we think we have. We can create magic. Best proof? BOOKS.

So my point being,

What if I am character.  Nothing more, nothing less. Its just that I have been spoiled with thinking power.What if I am a character of some story, some great one or some very poorly written one. Some story with a fairy-tale ending or maybe it doesn’t have much of a happy ending.

What if I am the protagonist?

What if I am the “bad guy”?

Crazy right?

Yeaaah. So I thought,

A character, has a purpose. Something it is supposed to do.Something the universe conspires for. Otherwise the story won’t get where its supposed to. Right?

What if ALL of US are some part of a story, or stories. Such that each character plays an immaculate role in other story. Affect it, terribly, surprisingly. A story with innumerable possibilities,  a story so complicated, but so well written.

The best part?  It is not completed.

The writer maybe hasn’t come on terms with the term END. So? Its doesn’t end. Its his/her wish.

Now as it is not written completely, there’s an uncertainty, uncertainty of what’s going to happen next.

But then, there’s one thing certain, each of us characters have a purpose.

And as much as we are hung up by those strings tied to us, once in a while our writer, our creator takes a long nap and lets the characters decide the path, the flow of the story,  and that’s when we work wonders. We give it a whole new direction, a new perspective, because, that’s where those emotions pop in.

He let’s us decide a path for ourselves.

But we.. hahahahahahaha.. we are so naive, aren’t we now?

Sometimes we believe, let HIM handle, and we sit back and relax.

But most of the time we do things, and we reach a point where we are destined to.

Yes, destiny comes into the picture when our bestseller is sleeping and this is when we are serving our purpose, in OUR way.

Just look around you. Silently. Each and every person is character in the story you are the Protagonist of, and vice versa.

And as in the story, you might not know but he/she can change the direction in a drastic way. Because the writer knows, and you might not. not just now.

So when I tell you, when those catchy posters tell you,

“If you don’t like your story, change it”

They mean it. And I believe in it.

Because you have every right to .Because you have all the power to.

We don’t know in which chapter, we might vanish.We might die, or the writer forgets us. So enjoy your part. Truly, sincerely.

For come what may, you know.  YOU were, are the reason for some great ending to a story, or maybe it never ended. 🙂

I would like to quote something from a movie.

“Babumoshai,Zindagi aur maut uparwale ke hath hai jahapana, jise na aap badalsakte hai na mein. hum sab to rangmanch ki katputlia hai, jiski door uparwale ke haath bandhi hai kab kaun kaise uthega ye koi nahi janta”

But what you do between that, is what matters.

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