I tried to run and I did try but the light came by and by and your face would reappear..
then i thought maybe these clouds will someday clear, and with me my beliefs will adhere but you left when u decided to we became unstuck when u wanted to Was fate ever in my hands???
Ever gave it a thought, when we both become a memory will I finally be me?
Driving looking at my face I promised myself,i will never give up my pace..
'coz its you that made me see the garden past that big old tree. I still owe you that..
Maybe i should thank the mighty believer, for building the rear mirrors the light still shining in you left...and now I begin...:)
Someday we will know, where does an aviator goes When their work on earth is through. Where the air is clean, and the engines gleam, And the skies are always blue. They have flown alone, with the engine's moan, As they sweat the great beyond, And they take delight, at the awesome sight of the world spread far and yon.
Yet not alone, for above the moan, when the earth is out of sight, As they make their stand, He takes their hand, and guides them through the night. How near to God are these men of sod, Who step near death's last door? Oh, these men are real, not made of steel, But He knows who goes before,
And how they live, and love and are beloved, But their love is most for air. And with death about, they will still fly out, And leave their troubles there. He knows these things, of men with wings, And He knows they are surely true. And He will give a hand, to such a man 'Cause He's an aviator too.
P.S-Dedicated to Roomil...my bestest childhood buddy, a brother rather, an amazing prankster and an aviator with Indian Air Force..A true son of soil..he left us in a mishap while his paradiving training mission..Had a great love for flying...eventually he died doing what he loved the most....Flying. Champ!! its still hard to believe that one complete year has passed since you left us..at times when i am facing life's blue it feels that you wil just swoosh inside and cheer up everyone..Dunno where you are dude..bt I am sure you will be Rocking there too:)..roomu, the the girls n clement town are getting hotter re..missed you there a lot this time..Oye!! you still owe me that beer..remember....hope to see ya again someday...somewhere buddy..keep rockin!!mising ya!
It was a not so warm morning of the month of March. The sun was struggling hard to prove the arrival of summer, but he was still not able to prove his dominance to the world…few more months and world will swear by his strength.
I was waiting for VP at the bus stand. Like always the bastard was late again. This wasn’t my first trip to Chandigarh...but yeah…destiny had stored something to make this trip an unforgettable one for me.
Unknown by this fact I kept moving my head here and there…appreciating the masterpiece of Le Corbusier (the Swiss-French architect who designed Chandigarh). Wondering if someday I will too give my masterpiece.
Just then I saw a girl (rather she caught my attention) with a familiar face getting down from bus.It took a nanosecond for my mind to recognize her. Ya! It was SHE.
Slowly and cautiously she was moving towards me.
I was seeing her after a very long time (perhaps 3 and half year or 1345 days to be precise). Last time I saw her was when we came to school to collect our XII class-passing certificate. Somebody had told me about her moving to Chandigarh…but then I thought if things aren’t in your hand why care for them?
Anyway I again tried stealing a few glances of her, just to confirm my heart that it was SHE only..
She was wearing a light yellow colored salwar-kameez with a hell lot of embroidery work on it…with her hair let loose. A naughty tress of her hair was continuously trying to fall forward and touch her cheeks and she was carefully settling it behind her ears.Man!! How these girls make even a simple thing look so beautiful!! And in ear she wore golden round earrings that were large enough to become bangles.
God!! She was looking damn beautiful. And than,I realised, she has changed a lot too.
The regular short skirts and sleeveless tops were replaced by carefully dressed salwar kameez. The hairs once carefully tightened into rope like structure called "choti" were now let loose, to fall freely in any direction…and bangles whom once she once considered too girly …were making tinkling sound…only to make my heart go crazy.
My so cute TOMBOY, who used to fight guys for saving her lunchbox, had turned so girly…but then with this she had become even more desirable. Every time I stole stares at her she was becoming more and more desirable.
Her taste in guys might have changed…but there was something that hasn’t changed…she was cute then…and was cuter now too. She was beautiful then and was turning inevitable now too.
For a moment flashback of school days engulfed me…those basketballs trials when she would bring water for me in her bottle…the days when I used to teach her physics and impatiently shout when she was not able to carry out simple integration problems…the zillion sessions of watching TOP GUN together..the bus ride back to hope....and then the day when it all fell apart…when we turned our back to each other…when we broke up.
A loud honk shattered my dream.It was VP..Cricket or life this bastards timings have always been pathetic. He used to get me run out then..he gt me run out this time too..
She was a few feet far from me…I tried my best to turn my face away from her. Perhaps the ego problem still persisted in me..or maybe I do not wanted VP to see her & make an issue out of nothing.. Lossed somewhere in her thought (perhaps yar, they were not about me) she passed me. Around two feet far from me.
While passing her fragrance took me over…. only to realize that her taste in perfumes has also changed...
This was the first time in life we passed so closed to each other as complete strangers. No hi! No hello…nothing…we just passed away. It had never happened in two years of schooling that we did together. I repeat the word ”together” with double inverted commas. Yeah…from the moment we reached school to the moments we left for our home…we were all together…and today we have passed like strangers. Atleast ,I thot..Atleast I could have said a stupid Hi!!..bt no Iwasn't ...Time man… time…it can change everything.
“Rikshawale bhaiya”…somewhere from my back I heard the familiar voice (after 945 days) from the cutest creature on this earth. The voice not only made my eardrums but each and every cell of my body to vibrate…now I m not a medical student who can explain this phenomena…but this was something unusual…never happened to me before… All I can say is there was a RESSURECTION of a long forgotten desire that made me to rather my heart to……….
Sorry, The words ceased to flow like everytime whenever I think about her…
उड़ान , विचारों की मेरे, हैं ऊची.....बहुत ऊंची... आकाश जितनी॥
पर अक्सर .. उड़कर ऊचा, गिरता हूँ नीचे..बहुत नीचे॥ की पहुँच जाता हूँ कही पाताल की गहराइओ में, और फ़िर पड़े-पड़े वही, औंधे मुह... सोचता हु, की थी जब नियति गिरने की... तो की ही क्यूँ कोशिश उड़ने की॥ कोसता हूँ, कभी ख़ुद को... कभी फलक को।
और फ़िर सोचते सोचते ,बदलता हूँ करवट... फ़िर दीखता है वही धुला आसमान... और फ़िर दोबारा शुरू हो जाती है... एक नई उड़ान :)...
इसी प्रकार बार-बार दोहराती है "नियति", मेरा इतिहास ॥
Rahul Dravid once commented, "On the off-side, first there is God, then there is Ganguly”.
Now there will only be God, since dada would be retiring this Monday.A Tiger in true sense. He wore his heart on his sleeve, led his team passionately, ruffled feathers of one and many. All said and done, he did everything what a batsman needs to do to prove himself to be world-class.
Dada said farewell to cricket after 12 glorious years and at times controversial seasons in the highest level of the game. But for cricket, it`s not merely the loss of an icon, rather of a born fighter, who led his country with passion and shrewdness and would go down as one of the best captains in the annals of cricketing history.
My affection for dada takes me back to 6th class…I had recently discovered my love for the game…. Sahara Cup was on during those days and a guy called SauravGanguly, left handed batsman and right arm bowler, like me.(though I was a spinner) was ransacking the pakis bastard’s camp like hell in Toronto…and I knew who was my role model in cricket for now….the betest lefty..
I grew up imitating his every shot, his batting style, following up his each century, cheering each of his boundary …Most of you guys will laugh on it but believe me was so obsessed with him during the 1999 WC that every note book I bought in 9-10 class had a picture of Dada on it…
Still remember the Independence Cup match of January 99, as India did an impossible by chasing 315 by the pakis in Dhaka…man!! It was an impossible victory…300s were rare during those days…. chasing 315, was as mammoth as disintegrating Mt.Everest…Dada made his career best 124 despite of being getting hurt…Kanitkar’s four on second last ball and India won the match…the whole damn society was dancing on streets..haha!! Wonderful it was …
There was no looking back after that, his heroic 183 against the Sri Lanka in WC’99 …The Natwest Trophy final win in 2002 against England after heroic performances by Yuvraj Singh and Mohammad Kaif brought out the spontaneous passion ingrained in the man, who celebrated by taking off his shirt and fluffing it in the air from the Lords balcony…Yeah!!
In Australia in 2003-04 he knew that his struggling team needed him to lead the way in the critical hour with a captain's innings and he promptly produced a rousing, valorous hundred on a lively pitch against a rampant attack. It was this performance that confirmed, once and for all, that Ganguly was not as fragile as he seemed.
But for me the greatness Dadalay more in his approach to the game than mere statistical analysis. He was a fighter, a die-hard fighter…always refusing to give up..his immence belief on his brigade…the fearless spirit and his aggregation..
Dada did not mind directing the fire at himself. What could they do? Bowl bumpers? Already every fast bowler worth his salt had tried to knock off his head. He had no lordly lineage but he walked and talked as he pleased, not exactly trying to provoke opponents but unwilling to deny himself. He did not give much ground to the modern game, with its fitness and diving and running between wickets and morning training and all that rot. It was brave of him to remain apart, for it left him exposed to ridicule, forced him to justify himself. But Ganguly was not scared of the pressure. Perhaps he needed the extra pressure the way a veteran car needs a crank. And, just in case, he had the populist touch.
If Anil Kumble was the colossus, Sachin Tendulkar the champion, Rahul Dravid the craftsman, VVS Laxman the sorcerer, then Ganguly was the inspiration.
Throughout he has toyed with his fate, tempting it to turn its back on him so that once again he could surprise the world with a stunning restoration. Something in him rebelled against the mundane and the sensible. He needed his life to be full of disasters and rescues, and comebacks and mistakes and memorable moments. To hell with the prosaic. At heart he is a cavalier, albeit of mischievous persuasion.
With 85 on Friday,just falling 15 runs short to complete his fairytale endings…its just so ironic that his fate has once again has eluded him…still there is one more inning to go.. I hope we’ll get to see some real action…
