Dreams.

I dreamed of flying high.

High on snow covered mountains.

Just to feel the feeling of freedom.

But my wings were wounded.

My attempt did not succeed.

I was thrown back on ground.

Here I'm standing..

With my wounded wings.

Gazing and analyzing the

people who fly high,

of people with wounded wings,

and people who chose to

live on ground, penetrating their roots

deep under the soil.

Is it a way to hide from harsh reality?

I always asked myself, then flying is

like turning back on reality came the

Answer from my mind.

Its not, its my dream, said my heart,

May be my destiny.

May be I should fly to feel

These wings are just but illusion

and the flight too.

May be I should feel this to realize

I can penetrate deep inside earth,

and fly in the sky without wings,

and need not turn my back to this world.

May be I can stand here amidst the crowd

and feel the feeling of freedom,

freedom to fly high,

Across snow covered mountains...

We were strangers,
We met and
Started a journey together.
As the train covered miles,
We smiled and got closer,
Slowly the smiles turned
Out into loud laughter
And Oye Hoy......
We shouted on those steps,
Screamed in that canteen,
And played on those roads......

I may not get a chance again,
To scream with you,
To play with you,
To become a child
Once again with you...
But somewhere in between the game
You held my hand,
Somewhere in between the talks
You settled in my heart...
Hope our hands
will always be clasped...
Hope you always
Stay in my heart....

The journey might have ended, but I got new friends, am happier than before, got a new reason to smile.
Thanks to all you people who are the reason behind my smile. Dedicated to Shankar anna, Vikas, Prashanth, Bharathi, Pallavi, Vikram, Sunil, Soumya, Praveen and Alaka.......

Hey guys…this is my story…as the name itself says it’s a potpourri…

So don’t expect it to be like a formal story…it’s just a journey through my life in my eyes…

so let me begin….

The wait is never ending...

The path in front of me

Seems very clumsy...

Confused between

Right and wrong...

A feeling from

Deep inside arises

And questions me...

What does it ask?

I can’t make out...

The questions seem clumsy..

It asks me to decide..

Decide about my life..

But again it asks me to wait..

Wait till I find a clue

To solve my crisscross puzzle...

But the wait seems never ending...

The path in front of me

Seems very clumsy...

Even this scribbling seems clumsy to me after I wrote it…just wrote what came on my mind…So let me tell you my story some other day else you cannot understand my story too…

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!


--Rudyard Kipling

This is my most loved poem....even though it seems impossible to live like a person described above it fills me with strenth n hope whem i'm too low... it inspires me to take one more chance...one more try....coz i believe - whatever happens - never give up....

Searched endlessly

for a pure drop of love,

But all i got is deceit.

I tried to open up myself

in different ways...

But everybody made fun

of my feelings.

Here I stand with a

broken heart which still

survives with my

will to live...

Every failure is forgotten...

Every pain fades away...

Teardrops evaporate....

Making way to build up

my life again...

Happy Birthday mom!!!

If given a chance I am not able to pray for a mother better than you. You are a perfect blend of many gifted qualities.You are much more responsible for who am I today than others. You are the first inspiration i look up to....

You are very speial mom - not just to me - but to all your to students whom you love to teach, to all your friends who share a part of their life with you ( and stand beside you when needed), and to all your kith and kin whom you treat with great warmth and to dad who can not survive without you ( I mean it literally). You've that special ability ti move on in life. You are kind enough to forgive (eventhough I repeat some of my mistakes...).You are compassionate to people in trouble ( but the thing is they must be honest, am I right?) - A philanthropist is all i can say.....Love you mom.....