My Dear Blog
You know that I love you and you know that I know how neglected you must be feeling nowadays as I have not been visiting your adobe frequently like I used to.
You and I have a relationship where there are no compulsions on explaining things or standards to be followed. You have always given me whatever I longed for and in return, never asked for anything. This makes you more and more special everyday.
No, I have not found a new love. Life has happened. Daughters are growing and their sweet little talks keep me spellbound for most of the day. After a long time and hardwork, opportunity has finally come calling for my dear wife and I need to support her throughout this.
You are and will remain the reflection of my conscience and inner strength. Just remember – I am being with myself and would return as soon as I can.
Happy Blogging !
He was hardly breathing when we reached our medical aid post. Youngest in our team, Sepoy Rajender volunteered to be the Scout number two of our leading platoon that night.
No matter how hard you train, the very instance it happens, you can never predetermine how your body and emotions would react. Everything happened so fast that night. It started with the initiation of a trip flare and ended up with us overwhelming and bringing down two insurgents. Sepoy Rajender received a bullet wound that grazed his neck opening a big gash. The nursing assistant did whatever he could and we carried Rajender’s body five miles across the jungle to reach the nearest helipad. It was a long night.
I woke up in the middle of night with an excruciating amount of pain slashing inside my left wrist. I felt as if I dreamt of the bleeding body of Rajender and that it woke me up. But no, it was not the reality or the guilt. It was plain and simple pain. It started the night we got ambushed. While taking cover, I fell hard on my left hand. It was numb when I lifted Rajender for five miles. It was numb every now and then after that incident. Perhaps, it was the curse which I had to live with. Perhaps, it was my sacrifice.
But for me – this pain had a name. My condition of numbness in my fingers and lingering pain in the wrist was diagnosed as “Carpal Tunnel Syndrome”. What had really caused it was never a reason for me to find. A decorated soldier with nothing more to prove, I had the option to call it a day and go for a table job at staff headquarters. But I had a debt – a debt I can only pay in the field.
When I checked in at the Apollo Hospital, Delhi I was told that the reason for the numbness, sometimes burning sensation and pain was due to the median nerve getting compressed at the wrist.
The doctor had the Durkan test and the Phalen’s maneuver performed in the next two days. On a scale of ten my condition was kissing seven. I was oriented with my condition in a detailed sitting and politely informed that due to the quantifiable confirmation of median nerve de-nervation an early surgery was recommended.
Surgeries and the poignant pessimism of the human mind !
It was my call. The carpal tunnel surgery was performed under local anesthesia by a team of three doctors. I was awake throughout the procedure and it took exactly twenty five minutes before I was rolled out of the operation theatre. Wide awake.
After eight weeks of physiotherapy and a couple of visits back at the Apollo, I went back to my battalion in the field area. The very first person to come and greet me was Sepoy Rajender of my platoon.
Whatever happens in life, it always encourages making you stronger. But there would always be instances where you would look back and thank a couple of hardworking people who made the difference.
I am a soldier…and I owe a lot to an institution known as Apollo Hospitals.
(This story is my entry for “How does Modern Healthcare touch lives?” contest.
Click http://www.apollohospitals.com/cutting-edge.php for more info)
As the cold winter night approached, the gruesome battle between the two armies came to an end. Battered bodies of hundreds of soldiers lying everywhere. Some still breathing and some long dead.
A young soldier – badly wounded and profusely bleeding was searching for something in his torn pockets with his broken hand. He took out a small silver bracelet with two little hearts – one blue and one pink – from his bullet ridden uniform.
The bracelet was given to him by his wife whom he had married just three months back before the war broke up. The young soldier kissed the bracelet and remembered her beautiful face. He was sad that perhaps he would never see her again.
Just then an angel appeared in front of him. The angel asked the young soldier, “You fought bravely as you had sworn. But you promised someone to come back too. How are you going to keep your promise now?”
The young soldier had no answer.
“I will give you a new life. You can go back to your wife and have a life you had promised her. But I need to take your soul with me. Your body and life would be spared. Do you want this, O! young soldier.”
“What would I do with a life without the only thing that completes my love, “replied the soldier. “I have loved my wife with my soul only.”
….and the young soldier closed his eyes…in peace…and still in love.
As you walk out of my dreams
Glowing like a new life, every time
I feel like the morning dew kissing your feet
You – my heartbeats’ twinkling shine
Walking on the aisle of my immortality
Draped in the aura of a sanctimonious chant
The love we make completes our prayers
One “forever” the Gods will surely grant
Tamanna had always found solace and a purpose in writing. It was not a mere hobby anymore. More than the art of writing it was the want of writing which used to motivate and guide her urge and skill to weave a subtle, bright and meaningful ensemble of words and thoughts.
Her blog was much appreciated as well. Her strenuous efforts of presenting the smallest of emotions in the most sincere and realistic manner had her readers falling in love with her every post.
Today, Tamanna felt weird and disappointed like never before. She had put her heart and soul in writing her first book – a delicacy of selected short stories which had already been highly appreciated and reviewed by on her blog. But inspite of all this and six months of knocking at the doors of many publishing houses, there was hardly any chance she was getting published.
Everything she had done for the past five years felt meaningless. Undesired. Unappreciated. All her writings felt of no use.
At that very moment, she saw a small butterfly flying effortlessly against the wind. That fragile creature had so much might in her gutsy wings that she was able to challenge the strong breeze that flew head on.
Tamanna had a smile on her face. She realized that it won’t matter how strong a hit you get, but if you know where you belong to and what lays inside your soul, nothing is impossible, nothing is the end and nothing would ever be against you.
Life has its own way to keep you hooked onto its blog !
I woke up in front a white painted wooden window. The bright white light filtering into the glazed verandah had a sudden but soothing effect.
In a while…I realized that it was time and I started walking.
It felt as if my consciousness knew where to take me. Slowly opening the door, I let myself in.
There she was – gracefully calm, glowing with élan and so beautiful – just the way she always had been.
I caressed her hair like the way I used to. She knew it was me.
She greeted me with a smile but didn’t open her eyes. She knew it was me.
“I always believed that you would come for me. I always believed it when you said that before leaving,” she said.
“I’m sorry but I couldn’t think of a better line!”
She smiled again….and I knew this was her peace.
When Jai died ten years ago, he promised Aparna that he would come back for her.
…and he did come back for his love of fifty blissful married years.
Here they are,
my gutless fellow humans.
Floating in un-confessed misery.
At some corner I see
a homeless old man dying.
So what ? People die.
But excuse me,
this phone call is too important for me.
I curse the system
and the society
when women get raped.
but I never reported
those eve teasers down the road.
Small children begging,
a pathetic site I hate.
Never out of concern, though.
Their faces disgust me.
Don’t tell anyone,
my maid is just thirteen.
I turn the pages of newspaper,
same old stories
of women getting beaten up.
I am a man and my wife
must bloody well oblige me,
Here they are,
my gutless fellow humans.
With my soul in my arms
walking miles to taste some fire
I don’t kill someone’s dreams
I just pray and aspire
Can’t be no remorse, no way
Avid love made together
Allies don’t stab on the back
Foes and demons stay closer
No numbness in being dead
I labour day and night
No angels to guide me
No sins – I’m all just right
Here in my prison
Feels better than the heaven
This post is an effort to speak the mind of “a special child with autism”.
…and a salute to all those hardworking parents and people working towards spreading awareness about this condition.
AUTISM IS NOT A DISORDER OR DISEASE
Staring at blank spaces in between
I draw stars that twinkle with the sun
Filtering your piteous and wounding gaze
I smile and patiently wait for my turn
Yes, I don’t understand your simple ways
For me it’s not about the answer to find
Uncomplicated stories of being pure
I’m different from you – that too you mind
Don’t feed me a shame or uncommon sense
My importance is for me to carry and know
I walk with desires that don’t hurt anyone
Understanding me – is a skill for you to show
Also read :
I would love you till the end
…an end with no beginning
Your voice hums and passes by my soul
awakening my heart with your heartbeats.
I sleep with a dream caressing my nights
and see in your eyes how the heaven greets.
All those songs I wrote for you to find,
when your moonlit face glows besides me.
Sing them for us, for no one else to hear.
In your prayers, one day, I shall be free.
Let me just hold you for another night,
and ask this life for its meaning.
Call it madness or just the way I love.
A lot of mad love you would be seeing
I would love you till the end
…an end with no beginning