My Dear Professor

This is not an ode or eulogy. This is just homage to a man without whom I wouldn’t be half of what I am today. Mr. B.S. Bisht, my economics teacher at my school, St. George’s College, passed away last week. I don’t write this with the regret that I never thanked him for all that he had done for me. I did that every single time I saw him. My only regret is that I never got to say goodbye to my beloved teacher, advisor and friend. So, I write this today to keep him alive in my memory and the memory of those who had the privilege and honour of knowing him.

I first met you when you were in your sixties and I was barely six,

Little had we known that our lives would one day come to mix.

The first conversation we ever had was while watching a game of football on the top flat,

You made a friendly bet, and my team lost.

It was years later in class of economics that you called my name,

Asked a question and played a game.

I wish I knew then; the game was the subject you taught.

I lost that too and somehow gained.

You were the first among all, who talked about life,

About politics, philosophy and beyond the textbook row,

You know you dint need to, but we needed to know.

You were the first to show that a knowledgeable man is not a teacher;

To teach is to inspire; to create a passion for learning.

You laughed at those who took notes blindly,

“If you understand what I am saying, why write it down? if not, what’s the point anyway?” you often said kindly.

Everyone in class would listen and learn, not because you threatened to throw us out or mark us absent,

But because learning had never been so much fun.

I almost failed my economics exam,

I know you passed me only because you believed in who I am.

I can never forget you handed me my paper and sarcastically said “Fellow, you have done wonderfully well”.

Ashamed, I had no excuses to sell.

You asked me about my preparation and result in everything else,

Then lightly patted my back and said “If you can achieve this working last minute, just imagine if you worked hard”.

From then till now, I never forget those words.

How could you know and motivate by a simple statement?

Change my life and without a long speech -  just reason.

You would walk down with me till the school gate,

To discuss and debate about love and hate.

I hope one day I am able to become a bit like you,

Make a young student feel so loved and special,

And just by that you made me believe in me;

I told myself, my father’s professor is fond of me.

You would ask questions and call students “useless”,

A right answer would earn you the phrase “You are a genius”.

We kept in touch even after school,

Some philosophy, some advice, some sarcasm often came,

But my dear sir, you taught me how to play life’s game.

Ages apart, we were friends first,

Of heartbreaks and friendship, you would hear all my tales,

Meet my friends and offer your experience.

Teach me how to teach and how to learn,

Tell me where my fingers would burn.

Of all I achieved, I came to share,

You looked at me with that age-old sarcastic glare,

And of all the compliments I will ever receive,

Your words are the best compliment I shall forever keep.

“Fellow, you aren’t so useless after all!” is all you said,

And those words made me feel what I had never felt,

The pride of a teacher, the faith repaid,

The prize I won with all the love you gave.

So this one is for my teacher, friend and guide,

To teach like him I will forever strive,

There will be no other just like you,

But by these words,

I will always remember you!

A Letter To Our Daughter

If we can tell you what fear is,

But not what to fear.

If we can buy open land for you to run,

Than build a house with luxury. 

If we can cancel meetings,

To make it for your dance in the rain.

If we can show you the good in the world,

But caution you of the bad,

And then let you experience both,

Trusting you to make the right choice.

If we can let you get hurt,

But be there when you are in pain.

If we can let you love and lose,

And then make you believe in love again.

If we can judge you and your choices,

But restrain ourselves from interfering.

If we can just let you be.

If we can not burden you with our own expectations,

But let you chase your own dreams.

If we can learn from your experiences,

And be friends with your friends.

If we can provide all the comfort,

But not let you take it for granted.

If we can give you a hundred reasons to be there for us when we grow old,

But not to expect you to be.

If we can show you the beauty of creating two homes,

And not just care about us when you are married.

If we can not bind you in traditions,

But make you understand their fragrance. 

If we can grieve with you at a loss,

But instill the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

If we can provide you with everything you want,

But remind you to earn it.

If we can buy you new shoes,

But remind you of a man with no feet.

If we can make you believe in your destiny

And the lines on your palms,

Yet show you that even those without hands have a future.

If we can be your friends,

Yet maintain the distance,

If we can earn your respect and affection,

Than demand it.

If we can be all of this and more,

We hope you will enjoy life,

And not just succeed.

We hope you will remember, we tried,

At being good parents, 

And may be you will be a proud daughter.

Why Was The Road Not Taken?

It was one of those late evenings,
When you are tired of the concrete around,
The hollowness of towering skylines.
When you sign out of electronic availability and go to the woods,
The same woods, which throughout childhood had remained lovely, dark and deep.

I wondered whether Dear Robert had thought it through,
Or felt, just as I do, about the road not taken.
Whether taking the one less travelled by was important because it was courageous?
Or because it made him successful?
Or because he just enjoyed being different?
Of all the picture he painted, I wondered if he had succeeded in being successful,
Yet lonely, because of the road he chose.
For only a few took it.

Then what of love? Of relationships? Of family?
The warmth of a conversation with a friend,
The comfort of a hug after a rough day.
Is it so important to take the road less travelled by?
Is it truly success, when all you can do is buy things you don't need, to impress people you don't like?
Are the promises really worth being kept, if there are none to care?
Why go miles before you can sleep, if a dance in the rain can bring you back to life?

May be the road less travelled by, was grassy and wanted wear for a reason.
May be the difference it made, wasn't enough for most people.
May be it isn't so important to be so different,
Fly high above all, achieve every season,
May be it is important to just see the woods,
Lovely, dark and deep,
Tread the road often travelled by,
Without the promises,
The need to succeed.

The Time of Your Life

One day we will find ourselves between the cross hair of sacred and sin,
Looking back on our lives full of joy, or just an empty din.
We would have walked miles, hand in hand, with our friends,
Wondering if it would have been different, if we would have trusted them.

Some will smile and some will weep,
Some will forever with regret sleep,
Asking themselves if they were really alive,
Or just died everyday hoping to live.

There will come a time, when the judgment will be passed,
With morality and culture, duly sentenced to be thrashed,
For there is no greater sin, than to just do what you feel,
If offends the Gods, because you don't want to kneel.

Days will pass when we question our love, our family, and innermost belief,
We drown in the ocean of betrayal, break the illusion as we hit the reef.
Then we will emerge, cleansed of expectations,
To build a new world, without the sorrow of generations.
We will watch the bird fly, and the apple fall again,
Start a new theory, build a new wishing well.

Such have been the days and such will be the days to come,
Where you give up all you were, pick up who you are, and smile at who you are to become!

Just to Play

I do not remember the day I was born,

Like most of you, I just remember being warm,

Next to my mother and her fur,

A new life and joy to her.

Then I think you hand a fantasy,

To have me with you, because it was fancy.

They took me away when I was just two months old,

Crying and scared, away from her fur,

I was sold to you, apparently, you were better than her.

I do not deny you pamper me well,

But only when you want to,

When the the clock of life is not ringing its bell,

When it is convenient in your knell.

I am supposed to comfort you when you get lonely,

Just the way I feel without my parents’ company,

And I just expect the same from you,

Foolish me! You only play with me when you want to.

All other times, I should just sit and admire,

Your undying thirst for a worldly desire.

It makes you lonelier, and the more you need me,

For I am your best friend, whether or not I want to be!

You chain and discipline me, I should behave the way you want,

A soldier in your army, obeying your command and what not.

Have you ever wondered if you were taken away;

From your mother – just to play!

Then never given back, because I enjoy being with you,

A toy, a status, a pseudo idea in protecting and loving you.

Have you ever thought when you come home;

I have been lonely,

Dying to be warm with my mom and dad,

But you are tired and I should understand,

Be happy with the left over food you had.

Do not pretend you love me,

It is an insult to love,

To take away a two-month old baby,

Someone’s new born,

Then treat them the way you wish; at your sole pleasure,

And leave them on the street, if you wanted something better.

I hope you don’t ever have to live without your parents,

But I am a dog and who cares about my feelings,

You are human and get to play with someone’s life,

I am a dog, and that ends the matter!

I Wonder...

When our lives are shaped, not by who we are, but should be.
When corporations make our dreams limitless,
And the means to achieve them limited.
When the meaning of conversation has just become a text,
I wonder if we have progressed.

When soldiers die in the name of patriotism; 
Victims of personal ambition, disguised as the political acts of a nation.
A little like Caesar for the people of Rome,
I wonder if have we given democracy or secured dictatorship at home.

When citizens are spied on in the interest of national security,
And killed in the name of religion.
Where history is modified to justify genocide,
And children are bombed to wipe out terror,
I wonder why God brought us here.

When relationships are calculated,
And business is about relationships.
I wonder what is success,
A true sense of achievement.
Where intelligence alone is not enough and we seek more,
A trip to Mars and space cars,
When we can't even put the real criminals behind bars,
We want life on a new planet; a new hell beyond the stars.

When a tragedy is just a statistic,
Our false sense of pride,
In a fake donation list.
When love is an emoticon,
Thrown away at a different song.
When our sadness is filtered by apps,
And happiness fails to relapse.
When we are so busy competing for a destination,
We forget the journey,
And just wait for the station.

Where the freedom to be yourself is so despised,
That we wear slave uniforms,
And celebrate adult franchise.
Where the oceans are wet with cries from within,
Stop spilling in the water, it's choking them thin.

When the media is just a pawn,
Bought and sold before each dawn.
I wonder what you hear is all the news,
Or just propaganda in their views.

Where trees are cut to make our homes,
Much like the women raped to satisfy hormones,
I wonder if this is all we got,
Humanity, thy name we forgot!

Freedom

It has been some time now,

Since it first flew,

White wings, spread out against the blue sky,

Freedom beyond, the chains broken.

It is difficult to understand,

Why one would take to a cage?

When it could fly free.

Roam the world none have ever seen,

Yet it chose four corners,

A sense of comfort?

Or the idea of a home?

But only humans like corners,

The birds care about the warmth,

Not the location or shape.

It chose chains every time the door was open,

Teaching me, that freedom too was not black and white,

That freedom too, was just another perspective.

Lying low, mute to its true calling,

It chose what others value little.

But then again, the others were human,

Caged in the idea of their freedom,

Slave to their religion, technology and wants.

They often wondered why it never flew,

Became what it was supposed to,

Did someone ruin its younger years?

Or did it realize what the world holds beyond?

It guarded within the spirit of free air,

The same free spirit the humans yearn for,

A spirit unconstrained by money and possessions,

A spirit wild and carefree.

Is it possible it knew why the air hurt?

And that the promise was just an illusion

Or did it know that flying to nowhere is not always a destination.

Yet now, it decided to fly.

What changed? The wisdom redefined,

Or the innocence finally lost?

It tried to become what humans thought it was,

A bird born to scale the sky,

But it did not think it couldn’t,

The day it needed to.

Could it really be, that it became human?

Climbing, when it could fly,

Walking, when it could glide,

Full of desires, yet in the same place.

The freedom hasn’t changed,

The cage still the same,

It wants to scale the sky once more,

Chase the human dreams,

But like they get to know,

The bird too has realized,

It has been years now, since it first flew,

May be for the last time.