Two Strangers

Faruq was getting ready for his daily morning walk, wearing his favorite grey t-shirt, he went downstairs. A single hoot woke up the roost. A coughing Muezzin was calling Allah. A distant temple bells were celebrating the morning. A sudden swoop of owl sent the playful rodents into the holes. A saras lorry whisked pass in hurry to supply the milk for the morning tea. All this and more medleys of sounds kept increasing. He was happy to wake up, witnessing a mysterious silence. Soon he was out, on the road and was enjoying the freshness in the air. Mornings were dear to him. Waking up early in the morning gave him a pleasure which is incomparable to any other pleasure. while walking, he found a small girl in school uniform who was crying silently. He went close to her and inquired “why are you crying, kid?”. She looked up, and to her amazement she found an angel like person standing and smiling at her. Hesitatingly, she slipped her tiny hand in his hand and replied “ I don’t want to go to school. I don’t like it. Can you take me with you.” He was dumbfounded, he said, “I can’t take you like this.” Hearing to this girl bowed down her face. Looking at the disappointed innocent face, he felt bad. He came close to the girl and whispered in her ear, “Would you like to go to Pushkar with me?”The reply was twinkling in her eyes as she smiled her world embracing smile to me,“Ok than, I am going to get my bike, till you wait here.” The girl saw him going and then coming back to her. She climbed beside him and held him tightly. Unique smell of Faruq’s perfume filled her nostrils. She felt extremely comforted and secured. “what is your name?” asked Faruq. “Razia.”she replied.
                                           The freshness of the atmosphere completely eased Pinky. She spread her arms and felt the force of the wind against her arms. The twisted roads and mystic faces on them, the Colorful turbans and dhotis of men with women robed in bright colored ghagras in the farms filled her little heart with amusement.  “Here is our Pushkar”, said Faruq while stopping near a tea stall.  “oh vow, look at the sky bhaiya”. There came big, black rumbling clouds. Exhibiting their lyrical quality, they broke into rain which was so dense and constant that the sky was a river and this part of the world was its waterfall. But there was no end to the fun of Faruq and Razia. They started dancing and playing in the rain. For Faruq this was all new and different, at the same time freaking exciting. The ice cold raindrops falling on their sweating skins released them from the boiling heat. After all the fun they went into the shade of  a tiny sweet stall. While eating the hot jalebis they settled themselves on a small bench to enjoy the rain which was slowing down, leaving the face of earth clear and cleansed and almost radiant.
                                 Faruq looked at his watch and saw it was half past two. “We should go now.” At that very moment, a grave expression passed crossed the little face of Razia like a cloud shadow sinking over smooth hills on a sunny day. She adjusted herself at the hind seat of bike. Soon they were on the way back to home. The farewell was bit awkward, both were unwilling to let go of each other. But this was unavoidable, without saying a word, they departed.
                              At home,Faruq put a teapot on the burner and while the water was boiling, he thought of little razia. The memories of past moments spent with her receded  and returned like waves moving on the great ocean of heart. With school bag and water bottle Razia was standing , looking down and waiting for the school bus. But instead of school bus, there stopped a bike in front of her and she saw Faruq’s smiling face,“would you like to go to Pushkar with me?”

India lifting the Cup

Sachin cherishes his finest moment.

 The cricket world cup is one of the most awaited tournament ended finally on a happy and joyous note for the main host India, considered as favorites propelled to glory by trouncing Sri Lanka in final played at the Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai.throughout the tournament the true efforts for improvisation were witnessed. every match dispelled new surprises as Yuvi, Zaheer and Munaf patel came as  remarkable bowlers and Gambhir, Kohli, Raina as classy batsmen. Sachin, as always working as the cement for our Indian cricket team was consistent and kept the inspiration alive till the end. the Maverick made 482 runs in the tournament.
                           The crowd in every match of india whether sitting in the stadiums or before the TV sets were on the very edge of their seats. the energy and the excitement were brimming the atmosphere in India. edging towards the victory, the players knew the importance of that moment and gave their best in the final match with Sri Lanka. the hurricane of India and the Indian Captain Dhoni scored 91 runs from 79 balls. working and inspiring each other, they marched towards their same goal and won the World Cup for India. Sachin, the maestro had waited for this glorious moment for 21 long years. there were tears of happiness in the eyes of every Indian. "these are happy tears so i dont mind crying". quoted by Sachin.
by-Devashish Juneja

Jaipurites in Summers

This time of the year summer has made a forced entry.winter was made to exit in a jiffy.jaipurites are experiencing the blast of sun unprecedented really the weather bird is left aghast with its forecastes as none of them seems to be true.however the bravado of the common folk on street is admirable.street urchins with tattered clothes or bereft of it are better off in summers ,as one can hear their squeal and laughter while running after each other.elders also seem not to worry much they seem to put up resignedly accepting the torrid heat as inevitable.under the scarce shade of a tree from a tea stall tea is being served to them.from now on flies in the day and mosquitoes in the night shall be their companions.

The Charmer Sun

Coming after the college, retiring to my room, I generally speculate on the surroundings. My room is a large room, having enough place for three people to live in comfortably. It’s a beautiful room, consisting of a big rectangular window. My bed is at a little distance from the window, but situated in front of it, I enjoy watching sun’s rays dancing in accord to time. Morning time is the most refreshing, the sun rays seem to be drenched in rain and entering to the room pats my sleepy cheeks and eyes. Its the sweetest and dearest thing; I just enjoy the feeling being the beloved of sun. At daytime, the heat is at its peak, but our room stays cool. our room is the other caretaker, who loves his inhabitants as much as they do. So, while sun is pouring his anger on all, we are lulled to sleep by our caring room. in dusk, the sun gets tired and becomes a bit mild, and bades us goodbye, by reaching us through the window. He caresses us by showing the picturesque scenes. He washes gently the trees and other elements of nature. I sit and watch the life taking different shades in the rays of our charmer, the sun. I marvel at the mystic powers of nature and its bodies.
                                    The most mesmerizing view that one can visualize of the majesty of sun is from the terrace of our hostel. Every morning, each and every speckle of nature seems to gather to welcome him. The neem tree, standing in pride of its beauty and height glitters with remarkable feature of its lush green leaves. The bells of nearby temple increase the purity of the atmosphere. The saras dairy whisked pass in a hurry to supply the milk for the morning tea. The clutter of tea cups and plates in the kitchen and the morning raga from the radio in the voice of Sehgel peppers the whole atmosphere with refreshment and bliss. In this soothing ambience I like to push a canoe of thoughts out into the uncharted realm of books and when they are novels of Ruskin bond than the delight reaches to its heights. The daily hassles of life for sometime seems to move away.

Don't mess with MESSI!!!

Lionel Andres Messi , 5ft. 7inches tall, popularly known as "little left footed wizard", plays for FC Barcelona is from Argentina. At the very young age of 23, he is one of the finest and richest footballers. He is a striker in his team and is responsible for the huge success of his club.
         He runs aggressively and its a treat to watch him dodging the players and moving among the players smoothly. till now with 178 goals for Barcelona he is a warning to the all the players of other teams as it is just the beginning!!!
by Devaditya Juneja

The Strange ME

Like a butterfly flies and sits in the womb of flower my mind too flutters and tries to find places of solace to settle itself. Right now sitting before the computer, inhaling paint and listening to regular doings of hammer i feel like running from here. but wherever i turn i see people, smoke, houses, narrow lanes and it gets suffocating. Even if i try to cool down and try to settle down with surroundings, i find the boiling heat piercing my skin and to top all my miseries is the useless talks of people. All i see is sadness, grumpiness and hopelessness. Traffic, merciless sun and the sweating earthen colored faces are the characteristics of Rajasthan's summers. the rescue from all this humdrum comes from the written world and from music. I immensely admire the writings of Ruskin Bond as his writings works as ice on my strained nerves. i feel very much related to him as he loves loneliness. He enjoys in the company of nature and is a voracious reader, loves music, movies, food and books. All his likings and dis likings goes with mine.
                      All my adventures and hideouts are in the world of books. i have developed my love of nature from the poems of Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats. in the cocoon of words i live peacefully. i end here, cant bear to sit here more and get myself boiled..

The Lost World of my Dreams

Divya is busy doing her chart work, looking focused and contented. I was also doing my analysis of a novel, trying hard to concentrate on the words but myriad thoughts about the varied problems didn’t allow me to go deep into the text. While thoughts kept me busy, I shifted the lens of my vision again towards divya and could feel the similarity. She was too perturbed by the thoughts that seemed to be controlling her. Same is the case with all, everyone look happy with their lives, but in reality they suffer from hollowness, crave for love, trust and security that they always remain devoid of. But there are some people among the millions, who really have discovered their true self and happiness. And it all happened with the realization that happiness and satisfaction is not outside, in the world, rather it dwells in oneself. We all are aware of this fact, but simply feels not doing it, as we believe in loving and depending on some or the other person, who unintentionally or intentionally becomes the cause of our pains. I am also one of them who see4ms to understand each and every moral or rule of life but flinches from the very thought of following it. There has been times when I go through the gamut of emotions, as I soon get attached with people. My life revolves around them and starts believing that they will stay with me forever. I start dwelling in my perfect fantasy world where there is nothing transitory, and at that very moment to puncture the airy and fairy dream of mine comes the “time” and in few moments snatches everything I love and leave me to live on the shattered pieces called memories. Relationships have their own glory, they create a cushion for the aching heart and help it to beat and thrive again. The only life saving from the major heart breaking is the “love” that we get in the varied relationships. I see human beings doing their best for their loved ones ignoring their own sorrows only to make them happy.
Nights becomes unbearable when the seeping realization of life glares at you. Standing alone amidst millions of smiling faces, there is a struggle to find that one face that will wipe all the unshed tears and will become the reason of your smile. This is the story of each and every heart that is being gnawed by the sharpened teeth of destiny. These unwanted elements in our lives- fate, destiny, time and circumstances are the demons which punishes us for loving others. We try to fight against it but when they had almighty with them, who is the only one who hath hatched this plan that is a reminder that we are doomed. Every soul is alone here and in possession of god who makes us dance on his tunes. We cry tears of blood and our souls smothers but he stays unaffected and untouched.

My Grand Slam

Oh my! What to say about the grand slam. Surely it’s a kind of sojourn, a drop of water on a barren land. Wimbledon has awakened all the energies in me. the hustle bustle on the soil of England, the cascading excitement on the grass courts can easily be felt bumping in the nerves. Truly said, “Tennis is a game of nerves”. The atmosphere is well created, peppered with the classic advertisements of rolex and IBX (don’t know what it is).the players, when they descends on the court, they don’t look less than the warriors. Serious faces with full concentration and determination. The best example is of our Federer and than comes Nadal.He is gonna be a real threat to our Federer…Don’t worry, I hv been watching their performances..Federer is still invincible. But my favorite is Leyton Hewitt. He is spectacular when he is on court!. On the other hand girls’ matches are also going great. Right now Top seeded Ivanovich is the possible threat to our sweetheart Sharapova. Our another sweetheart Serena Williams is also there fighting hard whereas our Indian sweetheart’s (sania mirza) performance is full of blunders. Papa’s observation is right, she has her limititations.
                        Now, I m shifting the focus of  my camera’s lens on the happenings of my home and neighborhood. Mum is busy racing around, doing multitasking whereas me and papa r tired of doing even single tasking and that is watching T.V. we both r having blast, watching Tennis, feeling their enthusiasm. We try and do a lot of things inspired by their awesome performances but that enthusiasm dies on our couches. But few sparks fly from the extinguished hearth and succeeds to inspire my mum, who gives a proper expression by finishing up all the work on time, while we stare our players and mum with awe like an obedient spectator.
                     One of my viewers or readers Mrs. Premlata Sharma is booing my work. According to her, I have exaggerated a lot abt her husband. So, I apologize, my father do a lot of work but the lens of my camera fails to catch him doing working as most of the time it is out of work (sleeping). Now let’s come to other updates. JHA’S PARIVAR. bulbul aunty is busy doing NOTHING. jha uncle like an obedient husband helping his wife doing nothing. minaxi, their daughter is now an another aunty and rahul, their son(let’s leave it)
                  The real charisma of my life is brought up by Poornima di. Her house is a blissful place and the people in her house are full of energy embedded with undying faith and confidence in them. The sweetest place is their kitchen. The room, where I learn music and the kitchen has a common window. So while practicing I get chances to taste the delicious Indian cuisines. The kitchen has the feel of RK Narayan’s picturisation. Its too much Indian. I love it.
                           Oh ah. now I m tired. The film roll is also finished. I have to leave, but u don’t forget to give your feedback here. this is Shweta sharma .Signing off. good bye n take care.

Break Up

This is something which is a very common occurrence happening to almost every second person in this world and most astonishing thing is that despite of the fact that it is a forbidden territory and anyone who enters into it never comes out in one piece instead they come in many pieces.  Still, just like eve was lured to eat the fruit of forbidden tree by Satan, our little foolish heart too falls into the trap of love time and again. We love, get betrayal, we love again and again gets the betrayal. Its like a cycle that goes on and on. It ends only when we have someone who is strong and has a deep understanding of love or we get “practical” as per the sayings of “practical” people and denies the existence of love. Most of the times our elders hops in between and calling themselves as experienced and what not, they sometimes comes up with immoral and inhuman advices just for the sake of saving their so called respect and name in the society. “leave her, you will have someone better, from our own caste, by your parents wish.” please, I don’t want any offense but for such  people there is only one thing important and I know you understand what it is. Break up is something that is understood by many but no one comes to help because temporarily they are in love, thinking that it will lasts for forever, so they continue to live in their fairy land, unaware of the fact that soon they will be standing in same shoes, tears in eyes and begging for help.

Gossips and Women

Gossiping is the favorite hobby of all the women in the world and particularly women of India. They can sit for hours discussing the style of living of their neighbors. Nowadays young girls who flaunt a tattoo on their back and lots of piercings here and there, thinking to be too much “fashionable” are seen talking about the decent girls in a very indecent way. Double chinned, pounds of flesh around their belly and thighs, wearing clothes that seems to burst anytime sits on a chair that creaks under their weight and talks hours together bitching about other girls. It’s utterly disappointing to see young minds engaged in such futile activities. Even an ant is intelligent than them.  This is the future of India who invests their time in talking rubbish, eating rubbish and thinking rubbish giving the country for all the luxury and comfort that they are rejoicing, high sounding and stinking farts. The only aim in their life is to get themselves photographed and paste them on facebook and only achievements are the acclamation from the low thinking boys.
                         Oh. The situation is of our country is pitiable. I can’t believe that this is the birth place of women like Sarojini naidu, Asha poorna devi, Mannu bhandari, Shobha dey,Anita desai and Gayatri devi .