The One Minute Manager - A Book Review

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यह प्रेम नहीं

(इस कविता में जो लिखा है उसका अर्थ तो समझिए ही साथ ही साथ उसके उलट जो आज के युग में होता है वह भी सोचिये)
(कविता को लयबद्ध पद्य की शैली में लिखा है, यदि उस लहजे से पढ़ा जाए तो अलग आनंद मिलेगा 🙂)

काल का चक्र जो चलता है,
किसी के लिए नहीं ये रुकता है,
किसी को ऊंचाई पर पहुंचाता है,
किसी को पैरों तले कुचलता है।


दुनिया में गलत बहुत सी रीति हैं,
क्यों समझते नहीं जीने का नाम युद्ध है, न कि प्रीति है,
संघर्ष की अग्नि में ध्यानमग्न जो होता है
सही समझता है - जीने का अर्थ संघर्ष है, अंधा प्रेम एक कुरीति है।
अब ठहरो! क्या इसका अर्थ जानना चाहोगे?
क्या इस कथन की गहराई को नापना तुम चाहोगे?
यदि हां तो सुनो, सोचो और आत्मदर्शन भी करते जाओ।
जो अब तक समझते थे उसको किनारे करते जाओ।


प्रेम एक शाश्वत विषय है,
तपते जीवन में आश्रय है,
मगर प्रेम का नाम जब लेते हो,
जीवन में क्या क्या कहते और करते हो।
इसकी व्याख्या तो अब धुल सी गयी है,
इस युग के अंधड़ से ज्योत तो इसकी बुझ सी गयी है।


वासना में बंधकर जीना प्रेम नहीं,
किसी को मुश्किलों की मझधार में छोड़ना प्रेम नहीं,
क्या सड़कों पर शाम को भूखे बच्चों को तुमने देखा है?
हाथों में हाथ डाल हंसते नज़रअंदाज़ करते उन सड़कों पर टहलना प्रेम नहीं।
नहीं है प्रेम अपनी शामों को व्यर्थ करना मदिरा अंकित जज्बातों पर,
अरे प्रेम तो है दुश्मन को ले कर मर मिटना भारत की इस माटी पर।
और जिसने सिखाये तुमको इस जमाने के अर्थ हैं उसको ठुकरा दो,
उनके पढ़ाये हुए उन खोखले आदर्शों को तुम दफना दो।
प्रेम नहीं बल्कि अपनापन साधारण मनुष्यों की अभिलाषा है,
प्रेम तो केवल कुछ वफादार जीवों की ही भाषा है।
इस आधुनिक युग का "प्रेम" बस एक ढोंग एक तमाशा है,
प्रेम का सत्य तो बस माता-पिता के कर्मों की परिभाषा है।
प्रेम नहीं समृद्धि में अग्रसर हो मूल्यों को भुलाते जाओ,
और प्रेम नहीं माता-पिता के परिश्रम से कमाए धन को लुटाते जाओ।


प्रेम है जो इस धरती के लिए ही बस जीते हैं,
प्रेम है वो जिनके दिन बस दूसरों के लिए ही बीते हैं,
प्रेम है जो समाज के उद्धार के लिए विष का प्याला पीते हैं।
प्रेम तो आपके सरलतम कार्यों में भी दिखता है,
प्रेम नहीं फेसबुक-इंस्टाग्राम की दुकानों पे बिकता है,
संघर्ष कर स्वयं को मजबूत करना प्रेम है एक,
अपने जीवनसाथी के त्यागों को मानना भर भी प्रेम है एक,
परिजनों की डांट को चुपचाप सुनना भी प्रेम है एक,
हर सुबह अपने-अपने कार्यालयों की तरफ निकलते हो
वृद्धों के लिए अपनी गाड़ी को रोकना भी प्रेम है एक,
सड़कों पर निकलते हुए वो वीर जवानों से भरी गाड़ियां देखी हैं?
नज़र उठाकर कुछ पलों के लिए सलाम करना भी प्रेम है एक।


रोज़ाना के जीवन से हताश जब हो जाते हो,
रात को कराह लेकर जब तुम सो जाते हो,
ऐसी दिनचर्या जीने में भी बलिदान है एक,
आपके कर के पैसों से देश चलता है, यह भी प्रेम है एक।

सब चुप क्यों हैं?

(कल्पना करिए आप 12-15 वर्ष पहले के भारत में हैं। जैसे जैसे मैं समय में आगे बढूंगा आप समझते जाएंगे)

रोज़ाना चलते जीवन के यापन में,

सब चुप क्यों हैं?

अंतर्द्वंद के स्थापन से भी,

सब चुप क्यों हैं?

 

सर उठा कर देखते हैं जब लोग,

पता लगता है कि रास्ते तो अब खाली है।

खुली आंख से देखते दुनिया को,

संसार की हालत भी निराली है।

आकाश में लोभ के पंछी दिखाई पड़ते हैं,

अपनों के परिवेश में पराये दिखाई पड़ते हैं,

चहुँ ओर स्वार्थ की धुंध का विस्तार है,

मंदिरों की जगह मैखाने दिखाई पड़ते हैं।

सत्य के वाक्यों में बहाने दिखाई पड़ते हैं,

झूठ की हवा भी क्या चली है,

मित्रों में अब अनजाने दिखाई पड़ते हैं।

कौन कहे सत्य और निष्ठा के लक्षण सुप्त क्यों हैं।

जानते हुए भी न जाने सब चुप क्यों हैं?

 

भारतवर्ष के भीतर भी दुश्मन हैं,

द्वेष और क्रोध से भरे ये जाते हैं,

क्षति पहुंचती है जब देश को,

मुख खोल ये गधे-सा मुस्कुराते हैं।

राष्ट्रहित की बात जब होती है,

झूठ फैला ये दंगे भड़काते हैं,

आतंकियों के मरने पर ये,

काली पट्टी बांध संसद में आते हैं,

जी भर के ये आंसू बहाते हैं,

और वर्षों तक बिरयानी उन्हें खिलाते हैं,

AFSPA और TADA जैसे कानून भी हटाते हैं।

तब, आतंकी इतने मुक्त क्यों थे?

ये देख उस समय सब चुप क्यों थे?

 

जब बढ़ा था अंधकार बहुत,

सरकार में आया था अहंकार बहुत,

जनता ने बाहुबल दिखाया था,

लोकतंत्र को सार्थक करवाया था।

उद्दंडता की जब पराकाष्ठा थी,

वंशवाद से मुक्ति की आकांक्षा थी,

विधान-पटल पर सर्द शीत छाई थी,

सरकार जब वामपंथ की अनुयायी थी,

भूमि आतंकित हो दहलाई थी,

पूरे देश की बात तो छोड़िए,

सिर्फ मुम्बई ही कई हमलों से थर्राई थी।

सेना को ज्यादातर निष्क्रियता के आदेश क्यों थे?

नेतृत्व करने वाले तब चुप क्यों थे?

 

संसार का यही नियम है मित्र,

बदलाव ही केवल स्थिरता है मित्र,

वर्षों की विचारधारा से जब अति हो जाती है,

उन्नति की राह में वह अनुपयुक्त हो जाती है।

बदलाव से वही लोग तो डरते हैं,

लूटपाट के स्थापित साधन जिनके हाथ से फिसलते हैं।

विकास के लिए बस इतनी बात ही काफी है,

सिर्फ सौ अपराध की माफी है,

नेतृत्व कोई भी हो -

जब सत्ता शिशुपाल बन जाएगी,

जनता से माफी नहीं वह पाएगी,

द्वेष में दुर्व्यवहार बढ़ेगा जिसका,

सुदर्शन से सर कटेगा उसका।

 

देखें, देखें असत्य के लिए वे कितनी आवाज़ उठाएंगे,

देखें उनके चेले कितनी गोली चलाएंगे,

देखें वे कब तक रक्षकों का लहू बहा पाएंगे,

देखें वे कितने जनों को गुमराह कर पाएंगे,

देखें अपने ढकोसलों से कब तक - "आज़ादी" के नारे लगाएंगे,

देखें वे कब तक पत्थर उठाएंगे,

देखें वे कब तक बसों को जलाएंगे,

देखें वे कितनी पुलिस चौकियों में आग लगाएंगे,

देखें भले लोग भी, आखिर कब तक शांति का पाठ पढ़ाएंगे,

देखें हम सब भी आखिर, कब तक चुप रह पाएंगे।

पार तो फिर भी करना होगा

Inspired from and Dedicated to Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee

हो राह में यदि आकाश,
सूर्य की तरफ उड़ना होगा,
बीच तड़ित से चमकते बादलों को
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

जब नदी में हो वेग गजब,
और नौका फंसी मझधारों में,
धैर्य तो फिर भी धरना होगा,
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

विपरीत दिशा की धारा में,
चप्पू चलाते रहना होगा,
प्रखर प्रवाह से टकराएगा पानी तब भी,
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

अवरोध बनी हो चट्टानें पथ पर,
उठ, पंख फैला कर उड़ना होगा,
चढ़ कर नहीं तो कूद कर ही सही,
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

जीवन नहीं होता किसी के लिए आसान,
जीने का अर्थ समझना होगा,
हाथ बढ़ाकर ही, छीन के अवसर लेना होगा,
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

परेशानी-तकलीफें तो आएंगी,
इनसे सीख जीने का आनंद लेना होगा,
हीरा बनने के लिए संघर्ष-अनल में जलना होगा,
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

जब भूमि जलते अंगारे हो,
दृष्टि में कहीं न ठंडे किनारे हों,
तब हृदय को पत्थर बना इस अग्निपथ से गुजरना होगा,
यह अग्निपरीक्षा तो देना होगा।

पार तो फिर भी करना होगा
पार तो फिर भी करना होगा।

The Millennial's Internet Crisis

It has been not so long ago that if you looked on the streets at evening time, you saw kids playing gully cricket or chatting up with what happened in the recent episode of shaktimaan or in their favourite cartoon. That was the time when kids learnt from the books or their elders or their peers in the society. They learnt through fat jokes, jibes, nicknames, etc. acts which weren’t glorified by or frowned upon but were simply done. There were no boundations of appearing to be very sophisticated among your friends and no need to show off what food you’re having, where you’re having and with whom you’re having.

But that all changed since the mid 2000’s, since the advent of the internet in the lives of the normal people. They were now exposed to the content that previously had been enabled only when you looked for them and not without atleast one person knowing about it. The lives changed. The most affected were the millennials who were at an age that marks a high curiosity rate on the learning curve. The millennials got introduced to the internet that connected them to the world, things like the social media such as Orkut, Facebook, etc. As they learned and grew, something terrible started happening.
They were being hooked to the internet, the attraction of having to express yourself to a person who is not only willing to listen to their silly notions but also shared them was too much to handle. They fell head over heels in love with the social media. Was this a good thing? I think not but that is still up for debate. Then something spectacular happened! The internet or the social media entered a new era where the governments realised how the misuse of internet can happen and how the internet is more prone to affecting the minds of the young population which are very impressionable. So they decided to restrict or regulate the content that was coming up on the internet. They started laying down cyber security laws as the use of computers and internet based OS and softwares found application in the government sector. As this progressed, internet usage boomed from dial up networks to cyber cafe’s to using internet services offered by Telecom companies to broadband connection, the behaviour of the millennials changed at an exponential rate.

But the impact this change had was not as pretty as it was appearing to be. While the cyber cafes were booming across the country, the youngsters were becoming more prone to problems and behavioural patters that were unheard of at that time in an average middle class household. This was a blow to the “Free internet/Liberal” brigade. The 'Generation X' parents were completely unequipped and unaware to even understand the issue, let alone address it or understand the root cause of this behaviour of their dependents. At that point of time, if you were to ask a parent who were undergoing this crisis that what was the most harrowing experience they have experienced in their lives, they will would have recounted the same without a second thought. Their kids, roughly between the age of 14-23 were lying, stealing and sneaking away to get a taste of the internet and social media. It became the new drug and the kids started giving up on books, comics and sports just to see that buffering sign on the screen which led to the message that xyz has become their new friend. This in turn led the way to online dating, pornography, cyber crimes, online stalking, obsession and whatnot. The constant exposure to

Men without Women

This isn't one of my stories. However I found it on the net while I was browsing upon the topics of human psyche and somehow got here. The story wasn't one of those cock-and-bull stories where the guy gets the girl in the end or where the focus is primarily upon women and their feelings (as if men don't have feelings, or just don't matter). But it showed a glimpse of the male psyche - of "the nice guys", the trials and tribulations they face going through life unloved though most deserving of it - yes they exist and in a bulk. The title is my own though.

He wasn’t very good with women.

Not that, you know, he had a problem. No. It was nothing like that.

Sometimes he would read articles about the kind of men that formed misogynist groups –men who had terrible body odor or perhaps a club foot, things like that — and feel a profound sense of thankfulness that he was different. No, he was a regular man, well-formed enough, just a little nervous in his interactions with women.

His first real crush had been on a girl in high school — grey eyes, he remembered, and a body that all the seniors talked about- and he’d suffered it quietly, not dreaming that he could do anything about it. Not in high school, when he’d had constellations of pimples and the hint of an overbite. He’d always been intelligent, he did exceptionally well in school, but that didn’t count for much with teenage girls. He resigned himself to being sexless in high school, but he had hope that things would change in adulthood: that the cliché of reinventing yourself could hold true.

It did, kind of. He grew a little taller — though he knew five feet nine inches didn’t really qualify him as tall — and he filled out some in the shoulders. The thought of going to the gym intimidated him: he couldn’t relate to the kind of men who lifted weights there and interrogated each other about their macros. There was a primitiveness to it, a kind of performativity that he found distasteful.

He could grow facial hair now: he thought that this added a quality of intensity to his face that women would appreciate. He’d never had a real girlfriend, though, and he wondered why. Once, a teacher had told him that he could come off abrasive, as if he was judging the students who didn’t do so well on assignments as him. He supposed this was true, but he secretly thought that people should be able to see past that façade: in truth he was not at all judgmental. Cerebral men, he knew, were often mistaken to be harsh.

There was Jane, in college. Jane was the closest he had come. They’d met in Greek Drama, a course he’d taken only because it fit into his weird schedule. (Much to his surprise, he had loved it: he thought that the Greeks had the right idea about the tragedy of existence.) She had dark hair, long dark hair, and she wasn’t good-looking, but she came very close to it if you paid attention.

He’d struck up a conversation after class one day, and she’d agreed to get coffee. Coffee turned into a drink, and he found himself wondering how to ask her back to his room. Though, of course, he wouldn’t. That was a reckless idea, just something to toy with; he wasn’t the sort of man who could convince a girl to go home with him on the first date.

As he remembered, it had taken three to get her into bed. When she’d finally hesitated and said, Okay, let’s go home, he’d felt a funny swooping sensation somewhere in his chest.

Jane had had a beautiful body, he remembered. Underneath the slightly conservative clothes she favored (an anomaly on a campus where every second girl was dressed sexily), her body had been lush, cold to the touch like a statue. She hadn’t had much sexual experience either, and this put him more at ease. For a while, they fumbled awkwardly in dorm rooms, and made plans to watch movies together. He enjoyed spending time with her: she was undemanding in a way that he wouldn’t have expected. He didn’t want to spend every waking moment together, and he wasn’t the particularly demonstrative type, but she didn’t ask for more.

He wasn’t sure why Jane changed her mind, but she did. She told him one day — shading her eyes as if she were pained- that she didn’t think this was going anywhere.

“Okay,” he said, caught off guard. He didn’t know what else to say: was he supposed to try and change her mind? She wanted more, she said, but this was a statement that confused him. He hadn’t thought about the future of their relationship, but he also wasn’t averse to the idea of a girlfriend. Maybe he’d been wrong about J. being undemanding, maybe she’d had some notion of romance that he couldn’t provide. At the time, it didn’t cut him too deeply. He’d shrugged and moved on, thinking that her expectations would likely lead to disappointment in the future.

After college, he had found it difficult to get dates. He had joined dating sites, in an effort to improve his chances. He read articles about what women thought were red flags: one of them was a meager dating bio.

Nobody could complain about him. Wasn’t that enough? He represented himself fairly accurately, he thought. His bio was about the shows he liked, the kind of music he listened to. He didn’t lie about his age and he didn’t use old photographs, as some women complained of men doing. And yet, when he sent women messages — which were unfailingly polite- they often went unanswered. The ones that did turn into conversations tended to flag (How was your day? How was yours? I’m doing well, how about you?), and then die.

He found this pattern exhausting, but he kept at it, knowing dating required effort. He set aside ten minutes each day to message women who he thought were attractive but also intelligent. (He had devised various conversational tests in order to weed out frivolous women, but he rarely had the chance to use these.) It was fine, he told himself, he didn’t need to have a lot of sex, he had his job, which kept him satisfied. Every time he felt the urge to have sex, he watched porn: video after video, until he had come two or three times and he felt a pleasant soreness steal over him.

There was one woman that seemed more promising than the others. The woman’s name was Sara, and she was very pretty, with bangs that fell severely across her pale forehead. She had two dogs — he liked that — and she said that she had zero expectations from dating sites, because she always had bad luck on them.

“What do you do, Sara?” he asked late one night, when he was tired from work and feeling a little lonely. He looked at her photographs for the tenth time, wondering if they would meet in real life.

“I’m an astrologer,” came the reply. He sent a laughing emoji, but it turned out she was serious.

“Really? Wow. I’ve never met an astrologer.”

He was confused about where she worked: he hadn’t thought that there were many job openings for astrologers these days. When he asked her about it, she replied rather brusquely, and he was confused by her sudden coolness toward him: he had only been trying to learn more about astrology. He hadn’t even said what he really thought, which was that astrology was fake science for sad people, and that it turned him off Sara slightly to know that she believed in it. More than believed in it, peddled it to other idiots for money. He could, he supposed, overlook it for now.

After a day or two of messaging, she resumed her old manner toward him, and he was pleased: she’d agreed to meet him for ice-cream at a new place. Waiting for her in a booth at the back, he began to feel slightly nervous. It didn’t help that the lights in the restaurant were garish: they contrasted poorly with the enforced cheeriness of the walls.

“Hi,” she sang as she came up, unwinding a too-large scarf from about her neck. “I’m sorry, traffic was terrible…”

He liked her voice, breathy as it was. She was just as pretty in person, prettier still, and he suddenly felt a pang of insecurity about his own looks. He wondered whether she thought he was attractive, whether other people thought they looked good together. Would they think she was his cousin, or his girlfriend?

“Nice restaurant,” he said.

“Isn’t it!”

“I’m being sarcastic,” he said, amazed that she hadn’t picked up on his tone of voice. He wondered if she was as intelligent as he’d thought. “It looks like the inside of a creepy clown van. There’s something so off-putting about kiddie décor when you’re an adult.”

“Oh,” she said, strangely. “Okay.”

The conversation dipped slightly after that — she hadn’t liked that clown remark. He felt wounded somehow: he’d just been trying to be witty. Anyway, they had the night to get through. He’d been hoping she would laugh at his jokes, at least.

“How’d you get into astrology?” He remembered to ask her about her work, and the conversation continued from there. They talked about their jobs while they ate large sundaes (his had been unexpectedly good; she couldn’t finish hers). It was a good conversation, but she was subdued, more subdued than she’d seemed online. He brought up a number of topics, and was happy to discover that she could keep up with him. She might have been an astrologer, but he found her to be intelligent, well-informed and passionately curious about the world.

“Have you been single long?” she asked him.

He wondered why she was asking, whether she suspected that he had trouble dating. He told her about Jane, realizing to his surprise that he missed her. (He left out the fact that he’d been with Jane in college.)

She seemed sympathetic, nodding her head and telling him that she could relate, that she always seemed to be the one getting broken up with. All her friends were married, she said, and she felt as though she had been left behind in the playground after school, that nobody was coming for her. He pictured her being lonely at home, with sad music in the background, crying. The image endeared her to him.

Afterward, she said, “Well, I’ve got to be going home.”

He was disappointed. 

“Do you — I mean, would you want to do this again? Maybe we could get drinks?”

“Sure,” she said, with a quick smile and a nod. “I’ll text you.”

He wondered whether that was a good sign. Was it better or worse than “Text me?” He had a feeling from her demeanor — so businesslike and brisk, in contrast with how she’d been at the beginning of the date- that it wasn’t a good sign.

The next day, he decided to go out for lunch by himself. He wanted a distraction. As he ate his way through a large plate of pasta, he listened to the conversation at the next table. They were a raucous group of young women: all drinking cocktails that made them rowdier. One of them was telling a story about a one-night stand.

“He wasn’t six feet, he’d lied about it… No, but I was wearing my heels, and you don’t understand, I was taller than him! No!”

He was getting a headache from their laughter.

“He was kind of audacious — he spilled a drink down my top, and said I’ll get that later…The nerve! I wanted to slap him by times, but he really was good in bed…”

A sort of madness came over him, and he turned around and said “So why did you sleep with him if he was annoying you?”

They stared at him as if he were a slug oozing on to their car window. “I’m sorry?” said the girl who had spoken. She had huge sunglasses on, and he felt at a disadvantage not being able to see her expression.

“It sounds like he was a real jerk. So why did you sleep with him? It doesn’t make sense.”

All of their faces were sour, pinched and disgusted. “I’m sorry,” said the girl in the sunglasses nastily. “I guess I missed the part where my sex life was your business.”

He mumbled something that sounded like Sorry and turned back to his plate. He wondered what on earth had gotten into him, why he’d said that to a complete stranger.

When he got home, he wondered if a girl like that — like the one at brunch — would ever be interested in a man like him. It was a pity, because despite her shallow, bitchy attitude, she had been pretty, in that tight dress that cut so low over her breasts…He was aroused now, and he masturbated thinking about her under him in bed.

When Sara called him two days later, he was faintly surprised. But she sounded perky, suggesting that they meet for a drink. He could pick the bar this time, she said, since he hadn’t liked her choice of ice-cream place.

He wondered whether he should apologize for that, but decided it was too inconsequential to acknowledge.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”

When she showed up, he felt underdressed — she was wearing a black dress with glimmering earrings, and her hair was swept neatly up off her face. She didn’t say anything about his hoodie, though, and soon they were sitting beside each other and chatting in familiar fashion.

They drank too much that night — much too much. First they killed a bottle of wine, and then drank shots of a pure tequila she’d wanted to try. He hadn’t been planning to drink that much, but every time the waiter came back and offered them another round, they’d agreed.

“There’s something so depressing,” she said, “about going home early on a Friday. You feel as if you’ve left a party for nothing.”

He said “Let’s go back to my place,” his heart hammering in his chest. He tossed off the last shot sitting on the table, scared to look her in the eye.

“Okay,” she said, with a tiny smile. “I guess we could do that.”

The whole way there, they laughed and held hands, his boldness increasing with every minute. When they got in, he was thankful he’d remembered to clean his bedroom, and he kissed her, uncertainly at first and then harder. She responded eagerly, wrapping her hands around his neck.

He lay her down on the bed and unzipped that black dress, almost tearing it off her in his hurry. She winced a little, but said nothing: he undid his own jeans and began kissing her, thrusting his tongue into her soft cool mouth that tasted of wine. Yes, his brain shouted, this was what he’d been waiting for, it had been so long, he’d forgotten how this felt…

He realized that there was a problem just before she did. She sat up, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t understand.

“It’s the wine,” he mumbled. “It just takes a minute…”

She said cautiously, “Can I do anything?”

He grabbed her head, desperate to overcome this humiliation, and thrust it down toward his crotch.

“Ah,” he moaned, “just like that…more, take it all in your mouth, keep going…”

But it wasn’t working, he knew, and no matter how much he willed the words to come true he was still soft. After a couple of minutes he pushed her off him.

“You drank too much, you’re not doing it properly…I can’t get hard like this.”

She seemed to understand — at least there was a gleam of understanding in her dark eyes. She got up and reached for her dress, which looked like a puddle by his bed. The sight of it irritated him beyond measure.

“You aren’t going to see me again, are you?” he said, wanting only to know the truth. He wanted to hear her admit that she would not give him another chance, that he had sabotaged their relationship with his failing anatomy.

“I-I don’t know,” she said, looking away.

“That means No. Be honest, for once.”

“Maybe not,” she said, the words sounding forced and artificial. “I don’t know if we’re compatible.”

“Fine,” he said bitterly, pulling on his pants, wanting nothing more than for her to be gone, for her to stop looking at him. “I’m going to the bathroom, you can see yourself out.”

When she had gone, and he was in his bed, he thought about the encounter, wondering what he could have done differently. There wasn’t anything, he concluded, she’d made up her mind…

At first he felt sorrow at the knowledge that the situation couldn’t be salvaged, but it turned just as quickly to anger and then a feeling of vindication. He was, as he had always suspected, unlovable, sarcastic and harsh in a way that women didn’t like, that they weren’t willing to put up with. It was, he thought, a fundamental failure in women: their need to swim in the shallow side of the water; their unwillingness to swim out deeper in order to comprehend him. His disposition had doomed him to a life of solitude, and he thought to himself that that was fine, that abandoning a game you couldn’t win was the mark of wisdom. He lay awake, staring into the hot night, congratulating himself on not being like other men.

Pune

Perched a little farther from,
the country's major city of dreams.
Snuggled lovingly amidst mountainous beasts,
cozily, is the - 'Oxford of the East'.

Where sun shines merrily about,
of, a traveler is bothered the least.
Where the scenes - most lovely, exists,
which for weary eyes is a delightful feast.

Where the hills full of trees,
stands majestic, still untouched by human greed.
Where the thirst of the blazing ground,
is quenched playfully by drizzly breeze.

Come where travelers from all around,
to live their enchanted dreams.
Where the act of wandering about,
is full of joy - merrier and most serene.

Where travelers tour without a haste,
a paradise for them of exquisite taste.
Where fatigue is swiftly lost,
when a cool drizzle washes the face.

Come lonely traveler & find abode,
a shade in the life's stinging blaze.
Come and live closer to the hills and sea alike,
here, in this 'city of more pleasant dreams'

A Fool still in Love

Every time and again you love me, you say,

I light up then, like a warm summer's day.

In the minutes that come,

I am like a kid,

so full of joy and having fun.

That fun is so much more than you think,

it is blissful, joyous, serene, cheery, sprightly, exuberant.

I pop a smile and I dream,

sitting alone of what the life with you could be.

I start weaving those memories of the future,

scenarios of love playing over and over.

Then I stop!

And suddenly the past comes back,

of what you had always done to me,

practically, stabbed me in the back.

I wonder! Will this time it will be different?

The next day comes and here we are again,

in the same place we always attain.

I lay fallen wretched, in despair,

while you find something else for you to entertain.

And then again, you put me to recycle, repair,

come when bored, to use me as a spare.

No more, I say!

And once again I leave,

with fresh wounds on my heart,

learning to forget, yearning to heal.

And you come again,

again the same cycle begins,

playing on my feelings,

so lovelorn in your dealings,

that me, a fool still in love, fall again.

What is and how to get out of the Social Media trap - My Facebook Theory of 3 strikes and the subtle art of not giving a f**k

(Have you ever felt a sudden urge to open social media and try to make a new friend? Or have you ever felt a sudden pang of loneliness even though you have people around you?)

Hi all,

So what I am about to tell you is my 'subtle art of not giving a fuck' using which you can find who's good for you and who's not (if you are adamant that you are going to use social media anyway) and how you can not let social media affect your well-being. This is applicable on facebook and other social media sites.

So, let's begin.

Okay, so we are all aware about the use of social media and its disadvantages. The so many researchers and psychologists have already pointed them out to us, and there are so many reasons! According to a report of the study conducted by the University of Pennsylvania in Nov 2018, use of social media increases depression and loneliness in individuals along with increasing anxiety and decreasing self-esteem. According to another report in early 2019, psychologists found that social media makes people's behavior to become apathetic towards others, making them self-centered. On introspection you will find this to be quite true. Even if this is not completely applicable to you because you are not a constant user of social media or you do not feel the compulsive urge to take a picture every hour or every day and post it to Instagram of yourself or what you are doing, on thinking about it you will find that this makes perfect sense for the people who do this i.e., you can see how this is applicable to them because the act of updating every little thing on social media marks the psyche of having a need to tell the world what they are doing which in turn shows the self-centeredness of that individual. This shows that slowly and steadily their nature of behavior changes to being selfish - not caring about anyone else but feeling a constant need to satisfy oneself in terms of social validation in social media and real life. This behavior is worrisome especially when the majority of the population on social media is between 12 to 22 years of age.

Try to imagine this, you like a girl so naturally you want to talk to her to get to know her, so you send her a friend request, she accepts. Now you send her a message - you say hello- and await for her reply. She sees your message but does not reply anything back. How do you feel? You feel neglected (I know I have felt that way), even abandoned in some cases. If you take a good look at your account, you will find that out of so many of your 'friends' spanning from hundreds to thousands, you actually know a very few of them, fewer in real life. And this is where my method come in. So, my theory is that the people in your friend list must justify that they are your 'friends' because what is the use of having people in your friend list with whom you have never even had a conversation or who will never come out to help you when you are really in need in real life. What use is keeping such people in your list? It is like doing 'Lean Management' of social media. What is the use of keeping people who cannot add value or contribute in any way to your growth in life (Getting likes on your pics or a mere display of number of the amount of friends in your friend list is Not adding value).

In order to achieve this what I do is I open my friend list and I check how many people do I know and with how many I had a conversation with. The rest I remove from my friend list. Simple, huh? Well, not for the type of people I mentioned in the beginning. It is like quitting alcohol for an alcoholic or like quitting cigarette for a chain smoker. They experience a satisfaction due to their approval seeking behavior and that is how they validate themselves by the amount of likes they get or the increasing numbers in their friend list.

Now this piece of advice is for guys only:
So guys, you remember when your request was approved by a very cute girl and you sent her a message but she never gave any response even after seeing your message? Let me break something to you, if you ever see a girl's account (Oh yes, I have seen) what you'll find is that just like you there are hundreds of other guys who behaved just like you did. So, what to do? What I do is when I see a girl whom I don't really know to be online, I say hello. If there is no response then just move on and the next time I see her online, I again say hello. I do this 3 times in total - 3 strikes! If after that there is no reply, I simply send her an additional message telling her that I am removing her (and not in the angry, egotistical way) and I remove her. What happened was that you tried getting to know a new person but since there was no response, it was like talking to a wall. So instead of sulking over it and enabling the social media to develop that same habit of seeking approval in you (which will gradually and silently metamorph into the psyche I mentioned above) and subsequently feeling sad about it, what you did was you nipped that habit in the bud by letting the attachment for that unknown person go. So in your subconscious mind, you simply didn't gave a f**k about it. Make sense?

So, what are your thought about this? Agree or disagree? Let me know in the comments below.

The Poet

Is a poet not a poet unless he is known?
Or unless his name, upon the carcass of a tree,
Blinding, in golden letters beautifully shone?
Is he not someone, to lead with might,
and raise a din of soundless voice,
to address every whim in the world's plight?
It is said, 'The pen is mightier than the sword'
Or sometimes it may be so true,
For a humble poet writes and stays,
to his intentions, sincere and in lieu.

Masculinity and how modern feminism is ruining the Indian Society - I

Living in the urban establishments in the ancient land of India where female deities are worshiped on such a large scale, day-in day-out we come across news pertaining to sexual exploitation of women. The sexual crimes committed against women is definitely worrisome and the actual nature of these crimes absolutely disgusting. This growing concern and the number of these incidents that are happening, growing simultaneously with as we move inch-by-inch closer to modernization and this raises a very dangerous question - "Do these crimes come as a byproduct or an added drawback of modernization?". How valid is this question really? The answer as it seems is that it is not valid because the same nature of crimes are committed against women even in the rural areas, which still to this day covers a large part of the country. The point of difference between urban and rural areas is how few of these crimes are actually reported in the two areas and the difference is big! The victim seldom comes forward. 

But to this day and age, can it be confidently said that all women are victims and can never be considered as perpetrators? This is even more doubtful. Now let's see the other side of the coin. Are all the crimes reported by women as victims, true? The answer to this is the data given by Police Department of New  Delhi which says that more than 45-50% of cases are found to be fake and untrue where false claims of rape was filed by women in order to either extort money or just to teach their partners a 'lesson' which earlier was a consensual relationship. Take a look for yourselves: here

Hence it could be very well said that the law intended for the protection of women is being misused. There are several cases registered where even the men were completely innocent, and the women were clearly guilty even in the eyes of the law, still the women were given a leeway in their treatment which if it was a man, he would have been severely punished. How fair is that? And the more important question - has the soft corner for women in people's heart due to sexual crimes against women has unhinged our capability to differentiate between right from wrong? The evidence certainly points that way. And this is worrisome. Scales have to be balanced for a good society and it leaning in either direction will only lead to injustice within the society. It will suppress one gender and glorify the other. Equality goes both ways!