Motivation

Imperfect Realities

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With imperfect realities,

don’t scream your cries.

Power is captured,

in your hands, heart, and mind.

Make things work,

if you want them to be.

Thinking big is not enough,

for the future, you desire to see.

You have the ultimate power to change your life, you are your boss. Despite the obstacles, endeavor for the thing you want the most.

Some days back, I read a very inspiring story. I would love to share it with you all. Some of you may have heard or read it before.

A man was very inspired by his guru (teacher). He wanted to be like him. One day while walking along the beach he met the Guru.  Apparently, this guru is the wisest and most thoughtful person in the world, but usually inaccessible. Knowing how to interpret fate, the young man asks the guru a question:

“What must I do to be successful?”

The guru glances at him in that zen, guru-like way and says he’ll share with him how to be successful tomorrow morning at 4 a.m. at this same beach.

The next day, the man shows up, nicely dressed and finds the guru near the shoreline. He asks the guru the same question. The guru responds by asking the young man to follow him out into the water. The man is confused at first, but figures the guru must know what he’s doing, so the two wade into the ocean together.

The guru turns and says, “Let’s keep going.” So, they walk in until the water is up to their knees, then their waists, then their chests. The man, suit soaked, now asks, “Guru! What does this have to do with success?”

“Do you want to be successful?” the guru asks.

“Yes! Of course I do,” the man replies.

Just then, the guru dunks him under the water. The young man fights to get back above water, but in addition to being wise, the guru is also strong. After about 15 seconds, the guru lets him back up. Confused and infuriated, the young man rails, “What was that?! What are you doing?!” Immediately, the guru pushes him under and holds him down again. After about 15 seconds, he lets him up.

The man is irate now. “What are you doing?! I asked you how to be successul and you’re trying to drown me!”

The guru calmly replies, “Do you want to be successful?”

Frustrated, the man looks at him and says, “Yes, I want to -”

Before he can finish, the guru dunks him a third down, holding him down longer than before. He finally lets him up. The man is gasping for air now, trying to regain his bearings.

The guru asks what did he wanted the most when he was under the water and suggested some air to breathe obviously. He asked if he wanted anything else than the air to breathe. The man was silent. Guru questioned if he thought to delay breathing and rather do some fun activities. Probably no.

The guru states, “Until you want success as badly as you wanted air just now, you will never achieve it.

This story never fails to motivate! Print it out and stick it on the wall you encounter every day. Work harder every day. You’re a winner and undoubtedly you’ll win but only if you won’t lose the hope to win before your victory.  You can get motivated by everything if you wish to and can make your goal look tough to achieve if you intend to. It’s up to you to decide what motivates you and what does the opposite. Never blame the others for the failure of yours and never praise only yourself for your accomplishments. Pampering doesn’t make you stronger, harshness would do the job.

In the end, I would wish you not all the luck because I don’t believe in the luck but I believe in you. I hope you would give your 100%. Bring the change you wish to experience.

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See you there!

 

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poem, Social Awareness

#JusticeForAsifa

In what world do we live?
Is it the hell that we reside in?
What did we do? What were our sins?
That we are surrounded by demons,
As in our people, our kith, and kin.

I wonder what a kid would have done.
A young life with dreams within,
She must be had hopes to change the world,
But how in seconds, her existence got changed by the evil.

My mother held my wrist,
Right before opening the main door,
Handled me my weapons,
Didn’t let me go without my armor,
The fear of her killed our freedom,
Hindranced our ways,
Chained our hearts; the fear of demon.

Life is not unfair,
It’s those monsters that ruin it,
How incredible our smile was,
Because the darkness had faded in.

How would we live,
How would we laugh,
With the pain and fear etched in
Our dishearten hearts.

Clenched our nerves,
Wounded our hearts,
In the masks of brutality,
It’s humanity I couldn’t found apart.

I thought to give up,
Lose in front of the dark,
Before surrendering,
My soul shouted out loud,
It’s not just you losing,
It’s you with the good human crowd.
I restrained to lose,
I stood up with shoulders broad,
Not just me, we would win,
Against the wicked, clear and loud.

Gaurvi Sharma

You can write a letter to our Prime Minister regarding the issue-

https://pmopg.gov.in/pmocitizen/Grievancepmo.aspx

Hope things will get better.

 

Thank you for reading!

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Motivation, Poem

The Dream Road

Hey everyone!

This one is about a girl who has two options in front of her. One is wanted by her, other by her kith and kin. Let’s see what she chooses.

 

In front of her,

There were options two.
One to shine in the eyes of the known,
Other to make her hero of her own.

Less traveled the path another was,
And hectic the road not of her dreams was.
The path she wanted to choose,
Did nothing but stare,
Against to which she was,
People pushed her into its sphere.

The push was in the path unwanted,
The other was as free as air.
Oh, how stupid of she-
To look for a push around!
Just look within dear,
It is there, it always was loud.

The beginning may be sour but
The journey would be sweet,
Unless she chooses the road
Less preferred by her
imagined realities.

With eyes closed, she stepped
Into the dream doors,
Trod the leaves which
Dried waiting for the foot of known,
Tears moistened the deserted road,
Within no time, from the noise of happiness,
Prolonged silence amazingly broke.

 

We all have a dream. Only some of us pursue it. Before making others proud, make yourself proud. Do what you love, it may be difficult but can’t you fight tough for your love?

 

Thank you for reading!

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poetry

Victims of Inhumanity

The poem is dedicated to people who are suffering the crisis in Syria. The speaker of these lines is a child who was killed in the war. The poem is written in the form of an address to his mother who died too.

Agar khul jaaye neend tumhari,
Toh mujhe bhi jaga dena maa,
Kaafi chhote khaai hai maine,
Zara marham unn par laga dena maa,

Sehma mera mann hai maa,
Thoda, thapthapa dena,
Zakhm nahi par, dard jaega,
Tumhare sparsh se,
Shayad mera dard kam ho jaega maa.

Garam swadishth khaana,
Apne haatho se bana dena maa.
Bhook lagi hai bahut,
Tum pyaar se khila dena maa.

Pehle ki tarah yuh hi,
Tum phir se muskura dena maa,

Vaise hi haste hue rehna ka mann hai,
Halka sa gudguda dena maa.

Shor hai bohot ird-gird,
Mujhe gale se laga lena maa,
Aasoon joh beh rahe hai mere,
Aahista ponch dena maa.

Papa, kahin dikhte nahi,
Unke paas le chalo na maa,
Bacha lenge harr khatre se,
Papa ne kiya yeh vaada tha maa.

Zara late hoo, school ke liye,
Basta mera jama dena maa,
Magar kaise jaau bahut hai dard,
Tum sehla kar phir se sula dena maa.

Thank you for reading!

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अमानवीयता के शिकार

अगर खुल जाए नींद तुम्हारी,

तो मुझे भी जगा देना मां,

काफी चोटे खाई है मैंने,

ज़रा मरहम उन पर लगा देना मां।

सहमा मेरा मन है मां,

थोड़ा थपथपा देना मां,

ज़ख्म नहीं, पर दर्द जाएगा,

शायद तुम्हारे स्पर्श से मेरा दर्द कम हो जाएगा मां।

गरम स्वादिष्ठ खाना,

अपने हाथों से बना देना मां,

भूख लगी है बहुत,

तुम प्यार से खिला देना मां।

पहले की तरह यूहीं,

तुम फिर से मुस्कुरा देना मां,

वैसे ही हसंते हुए रहने का मन है,

तुम थोड़ा गुदगुदा देना मां।

शोर बहुत है इर्द-गिर्द,

मुझे गले से लगा लेना मां,

आसूं जो बह रहे है मेरे,

आहिस्ता पोंछ देना मां।

पापा, कहीं दिखते नहीं,

उनके पास ले चलो ना मां,

बचा लेंगे हर खतरे से,

पापा ने किया यह वादा था मां।

ज़रा लेट हूं स्कूल के लिए,

मेरा बस्ता जमा दे ना मां,

मगर कैसे जाऊ बहुत है दर्द,

तुम सहला कर फिर से सुला दे ना मां।


poetry

Words Of An Unborn Child

In the womb of the mother,
Inside my first home,
I feel so loved,
I feel so secured.

Contented with the love
Showered by my loving ones,
I kick a little harder,
Look, how happy they have become!
Says dad, he will be a football-er.

I wonder how my father knows I am he?
My identity is even unknown to me.
I may be a boy they adore or a girl of whom they never thought.

Every now and then there’s
a hand to caress my shield,
to show love to; to bless,
my little body in the building process.

They care, and love me a lot,
wish, I reach great heights,
excel in the desired field,
win difficult fights.
How lucky I am to have a family-
So lovely, so nice!

I hear the drops of nature,
The anger of the almighty!
Melodies of the bluebird,
Noises of the steaming pot.
I envisage to experience
The beautiful world,
I am about to step on.

“T’s a girl you will beget”
Said the doctor in a normal tone.
Unwillingly, I could hear the noise of shattering hearts of my darling souls.

“A boy was wanted, the girl has to be thrown.”
“Boys are better, girls are a trouble!
“Oh lord, what have you done?
We wanted to get blessed with a boy and you cursed with a girl.”,

My happiness was killed upon hearing the words!
Wrecked my dreams, those pungent words.

A day more I lived with my heavy heart,
just to hear a sentence so harsh,
“Terminate the pregnancy, doc., ” said my own mother.
“Maybe I can get a boy in gestation another.”

Awhile later, again I got to see,
faces of callous people shine,
how relieved their lives are,
after killing a life.

It deepened my agony,
broke my dead heart,
right when I needed,
no one carressed my broken parts.

Victim, I became
of a cold-blooded murder,

I was gifted a life,
that was taken away by consent of my dear mother.

-Gaurvi Sharma

Inspired by Sujata Bhatt’s The Unwanted Girl.

I apologize for posting late. Actually, I am stuck between exams. I’ll be regular after May.

Thanks for reading, people. ♥

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India

Everyone has got an English fever.

Let me start with an incident that happened some days back. I was with my friend (Let’s call her ‘A’) and A’s friend (Let’s call her Mandodra) in a cafe. The table was embellished with half-filled coffee cups, devouringly eaten food. We were casually chit-chatting in Hindi. Mandodra notices her ex-classmate entering the cafe. She waves a hello and beckons him to come. He came near us. All of a sudden, she started talking in English- in a fake accent.

Mandodra- Hey! Long time no see.

Ex-Classmate(Smiles)- Hello, Yes.

M- Howz you? What’s going on in your life?

The boy took time in replying. He was hesitant to reply in English.

M- Ok, samajh nahi aaya kya bola? Aati nahi kya itni bhi English?”

(You didn’t understand what I said? Don’t you understand English? )

She made faces. Then, she turned and asked for the translation.

M- Arey, yaar yeh Life ko Hindi me kya bolte hai? Yaad nahi aa raha meko.

( Translation- What do we say Life in Hindi? I can’t remember.)

I was startled. If she doesn’t even know what life is called in Hindi what was she doing all these years? She doesn’t know the basic of her mother tongue. She did. She obviously knew the translation. Actually, if you failed to comprehend her next level smart mind, according to her, Knowing English is cool but not knowing Hindi is much cooler. Her ex-classmate was ashamed. I felt pity for the guy for about 2 seconds but then I realized he too considered English as a class that’s why he was ashamed, he could’ve confidently answered the question in Hindi. But he also wanted to broaden his shoulders by flaunting the perfect English.  I still could not think of any way to escape so I gave a missed call to my mother. This trick always works. 😉

So, kids, that is how I met Mandodra for the first and the last time. 🙂

The English language is considered much rich, royal, classy than our own languages by our own people. A kid who has just started speaking is taught the English sentences before Hindi. Every parent wishes to admit their kid in an English medium school, Scoring bad in Hindi is fine, getting a low grade in English is shameful. Every one of us knows Alphabets and numbers in English and what about the same in Hindi? A few of us may know it. You’re considered educated if you are good at English and if you know everything in the world except for English,  then you know nothing, Jon Snow. The young generation has become so much fascinated by the Western language they barely speak Hindi. They mock the person who prefers speaking Hindi. For them, even Hinglish is ok but Hindi is not. Every young person you see would be found listening to the English songs, watching the English movies. There’s nothing bad in doing that but it’s a shame when without even trying you rate Hindi songs, movies- lame. It’s not praiseworthy when they proudly say- “Yaar, Mai Hindi gaane nahi sunta/sunti.” just for the sake of looking cool. Then they are missing a lot! Some Bollywood movies are really not watchable, I agree but there are a lot of fine works which are never watched just because most people say Bollywood is lame, Bollywood is lame. There is nothing to be proud of if you’re a watcher of outside cinema. The English songs you dance on, if you translate some of them, they will sound as meaningless as some Bollywood songs you irk on. Translate Closer, Shape of you, Despacito and more songs you groove on. Doesn’t they sound like some party songs of our Indian Rapstars? But they are considered cool just because they think English is a classy language. It’s not our generation’s fault, by the way, this admiration for Western language was born a long time back. Some people just get influenced by the environment, they don’t build their own surroundings.

I have friends from over 25 countries. One day, we were talking about the languages. They all have their native languages which they very much respect. Yes, many of them belong to the countries that were once ruled by Britishers like ours. Some of them were not fluent in English. They were telling me how beautiful their language is. They even offered to teach me their language. Their captions, statuses, live videos were all in their native language. Knowing and being fluent in another language is a great thing, very much appreciable. But, it’s wrong to grade someone’s intelligence on the basis of their fluency in English. There are many Grammar Nazis in India. Some of you are maybe reading this now, and some may have been a prey of a Grammar Nazi some time. Why is there no Grammar Nazi for our Hindi Language? If “Terko”, “merko”, is allowed then why English has to be perfect? No one commits mistake intentionally if someone is wrong, try telling them in a nicer way. Insulting them, judging them won’t take you anywhere. This environment makes people ashamed of using The Hindi language. If people suffering from this malady of Anti-Hindi won’t get cured, Hindi will become a history someday and English will be given the status of our National Language. I am not in the antagonism of the English language, I am of course not. I am typing this in English. I watch English movies, TV series and I read English Novels. But I also am an ardent fan of Hindi. Like said by someone, English is a crush but Hindi is love. India is a country with beautiful and diverse culture. Every state has its local language. Speaking foreign language connects you with the world but isolates you from your culture, your language. Speaking any language is your whim. Insulting and judging people on the basis of what language they speak is not complimentary. You are free to leave the nation if you don’t respect the culture of our country.

Random

Random

Hello, Everyone!

Have you ever wondered why don’t we all look same? Don’t bring in Science. Would there be beauty if all did look same? No. Diversity is beautiful, its unique, it’s amazing. Would not it be mundane to look same faces, sizes, colors around? Respect diversity. Different flaws are making us differently beautiful. Do not try to hide them or kill them, flaunt them. ♥

Have a great day, beautiful people! 🙂

Poem

An Older Childhood

1
Source- Shutterstock

 

 

At an age of 80,
My boyhood is back,
Unleashed from duties,
Divorced with stress.

Heart craves for junk,
Playing with kids seems fun,
Mind innocently thinks,
And I often forget my things.

I weep a lot,
Sometimes without a rhyme, or on a random thought.
I laugh intensely,
Even try to interpret serious things humorously.

I love being surrounded,
Suddenly an extrovert I have become,
Loneliness scares me,
The more, the merri-er.

I want my mother every second,
Just I can’t have her,
But on every dear diary moment,
I wish I was with her.

I get sick easily,
I need utmost care,
I wish to rise up,
Even with a body in despair.

But instead of ground, Words leave me wounded.
Running is a tough job,
Relaxing is fun,
The end is near, a beginning isn’t.

Traits match,
The body doesn’t.
I guess I am too old
to be young.

 

poem

From One Sibling To Another

You made me believe I was an adoptee,
Who was found in between the litter,
Scavenging food with unknown three,
But you loved me like a real brother.

I loathed you for being annoying,
You hated me for the same,
I could never found a reason to love
But you taught me there is love in hate.

You never moved when I needed a favour,
You never promised me the sky,
But you were there when I was about to die.

I never heard a praise from you,
I am ugly, lazy, crazy according to you.
But proudly, bragging about me I have seen you.

Yes, you annoy.
Yes, my things you destroy.
At times, I don’t even want to be with you.
But you are my dear sibling and I love you.

Share with your sibling if you can relate! 🙂

Mother, Poem, Short story, Uncategorized

The Undelivered Letter

This is a fictional letter from an adult son who lives in a different city, to a mother.

Haan hai fikar mujhe,
Bohot kam nahi zyada hai,
Kaise batau khone ke khyaal se bhi,
Phoot-phoot ke rona aa jaata hai.

Mann karta hai ki har waqt saath rahoon,
Ek pal bhi zindagi kaa jaane naa doo, Rahoon saath, mehsoos karoon, isi waqt ka aanand loon.
Par jakad kar rakh rakhaa hai kuch zimmedariyon ne mujhe.

Yaad hai mujhe bachpan ka har ek kissa.
Dil me basa hai sab mere,
Haan Karta hai mann ki jee paau vaise hi.
Saath hou tumhare, mamta ki chaav mein,
Bina kisi chinta, kisi tanaav ke.

Har pal, har gadi
Saath naa ho kar bhi khone ka darr lagta hai,
Bina ek jhalak dekhe tumhari, bina gale se lagae.
Sone me aaj bhi darr lagta hai.

Lo phir se likh diya khat,
Dukh se bara hua, dard me dooba hua,
Aur phir se tumse isey padhne ka haq cheen raha hoon,
Agle khat me bhi mai bohot accha hoon likh ke tumhari ek muskan paa loonga,
Bas kaafi hai itna, apne dukh ko mai idhar hi daba doonga.

Share with your mother if you feel the same. 🙂