The microwave

My professor at IIIT had called me up for a little chat and dinner after a long time. Hurrying through homework as much as I could, I ran off mid way towards the bus stop and was off to college. There was something about the lab I had spent a long time in. It had become cold, almost inhuman. I remember the fun we had. Looks like it is gone, even for the others. Discussing about IT, robotics, alumni and friends, we had an entertaining dinner following which, professor dropped me back to college. With the help of Manav, I moved the microwave till the gate as I waited for a rickshawaala. After some discussion and a short wait, a sharing auto walla stopped by and I sat in. Being the only passenger, I tried a lame attempt at trivial conversation when the whiff of alcohol and a diagloue, "I know you, don't be scared", left me a little shaken. Nagati babu called a friend of his and asked if he was interested in another drink, all the while assuring me that this was normal and drunk driving was not such an issue. He eventually asked me if I knew telugu, when I wondered what language were we talking in. and then it struck me. Here was a guy, who could speak good english and was by some misfortune, left to drive an auto. He unrolled his copies of certificates, a bachelor in arts from khammam and proceeded to talk about lady who said she would try to help him out. Nagati Babu, I hope that people get more opportunities in a country/world that is burying most people who do not fit into a scheme of things planned by a few or perhaps just chance. Good Luck dear sir, while I walk back in deep thought over the petty issues that scare the wits out of me while people fight for survival. I leave my social life unattended, not because I do not want to, but because I cannot afford to. I am able to see light and I wish to follow it.

What cannot be undone

by sheer force of will, change it is said, can be achieved. The clay that can be moulded by will, however is not everything. At least not from where I perceive. An intense feeling of disbelief sets in when the mind attempts to reject it's own hypothesis of reality. I understand, I am but one of the people who feel the limits of life. There would be people who would give away anything to stretch the limit. And then come the ashes. The uncut edges from a node pulled away from the graph. These edges keep dangling and dangling edges, still lend support to the unrealistic broken mind. Akin to slow poison, slow numbing of thoughts also set in. The realisation of how big the world is, how small one's existence remains and how fast we hurtle into a different time. There are the obvious questions that one would ask, trying to put oneself in another's boots, trying to imagine. Imagine and believe, that imagination can be a way of believing and believing a way of living. I fight with myself everyday, fight away precious moments, dismissing them from my presence in the attempt to nab an elusive species of success whose identity I do not recollect. Yet, I persist. Amid the debris, I search for the building. One is never convinced of the limits of his powers. Willing to imagine but wanting to not. This powerful instrument of thought is what sets us apart, but I fear it often becomes the one to cause what cannot be told. I wish to look through the eyes of free men(as kwisatz says), look through their lives and through them I look back at me and see myself for what I am, for once without a preconceived notion.