Muck And Brass

So another of my poem is here.....Again a serious stuff. So if you guys are in a lighter version of mood, please avoid reading the stuff or indigestion is guaranteed. I must have thrown a disclaimer at the start but that is something where all the controversy emanates from. But just to disown any fallouts that my poem may have I must tell that the pronouns used here are not targeted at any particular section of society. Let them just be ‘PRO-no-NOUNS’. Also don’t just even think that I had a great social cause in my mind while I was writing this. It is just that I was thinking about a very general phenomenon observed in the society and just wrote all that on a piece of paper and unfortunately it was ‘a good morning’ for the poet in my mind so he gifted me this.

MUCK & BRASS

To a higher rank you belong
And claim to have come way long
A culture from Zion you follow
And you boast of a history strong

Having read some tomes you take pride
And say animal in you has died
You the Beauty, they the Beast
Those lives bucolic you always deride

Your mark, your mind, your money-all talk
All theirs are mum- a silent walk
They are belowest all is bought
But they are the roots- the building block

Manners they don’t know
But something else that in your heart must grow -politeness

Letters they can’t read
But something else that you all must heed -nature

Argots they can’t utter
But something else that you can never do better -greetings

Dreams they don’t have
But something else that you can only crave -contentment

Here wit comes easy , easy goes hence
But they are the ones who know the essence
Their rights are always wronged alas!
And their bliss you have named ignorance.

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One of the comments that I got for my earlier posts -which I after a great amount of brainstorming found out to be the strongest factor in making my poems appreciable- was ‘the difficulty in understanding them’. Well one plausible explanation for this is that these are modern poems (like modern arts) not the classical poems and their meaning is sure a bit incomprehensible (for both the writer and the reader..he..he..I am being so candid!). The higher the difficulty level, the more appreciation they are destined to get.
But this time I am sparing you guys to go through so much travails even at the cost of the praises that I may have got for this post. I am exposing the tricks used here in this poem. The explanation for some of the terms and phrases are as under:

*Title= a popular saying goes like this ‘ where there is muck there is brass’ meaning a business can be profitable by being engaged in some wrongs or something like this (Oh please someone tell this proverb to our Ethics/CSR teacher. They will probably sue Oxford/Cambridge/Webster’s.....for including this saying in their Dictionaries.) I borrowed the title from the same. Muck here represent...Oh sorry I have disclaimed something above and I must follow that.

*Culture from Zion= Zion means heaven. Culture from Zion here means a culture that is thought to be very superior.

*Lives Bucolic=Rural folk

*'Wit Comes Easy, Easy Goes Hence'= it better holds true for money but we have seen how in today’s world even the most qualified and so called literate persons engage themselves in meanest of tasks.

*'And Their Bliss You ve Named Ignorance'= Well you are very much aware of the saying 'Ignorance is bliss'. I have not only played with the order of words but with meaning of the saying as well. It means that their simplicity is said to be gaucheness, their contentment to be their submissiveness, their modesty to be their penury......

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Glory

About Poem: I consider this poem to be the best of all that I have written so far. I have also got maximum applause for this. Though it is very difficult to say this poem reflects my story, I would dedicate it to all my MBA aspirant friends who couldn’t make it to good b-schools like mine. I saw them labouring like anything and at the d day everything went wrong with them. I had seen their gloomy faces at the day when results came. And I know how it felt to fail despite doing everything that you could.

GLORY

Glory! How mean thou art!

Those who for a noble cause
Giveth their life and heart
Are neither rewarded nor made up
Nor often taken their part

Not once their name recalled
Not once for them bell rung
Why are they so often forgot
Why they remain heroes unsung

Glory! How mean thou art!

Those who rest sitting away
And give orders to mar and make
Are often imposed so much of You
They neither wish nor can take

O Lord! Let just once
Justice mingled with glory
History will change itself then
There will be some other story.

Friends Forever

About the Poem: This poem is dedicated to my childhood friend Devendra whom I consider to be one of a few in this world who know me better than I myself. Take note of the fact that before coming to NMIMS both of us were always together (from Kindergarten to Graduation and my preparation days). Now he is in Lucknow and I m here in Mumbai. I had promised him while filling his slam book that I will write a poem on our friendship and I was very proud when I wrote this one. God Bless You Devendra.

THE TWO

Hand in hand, hand in glove
When they had nothing but run and rove
Unknown to world, the unknown worlds
No dreams of own yet dreaming birds

Play all day with fun on run
Who cared for rain who cared for sun
Ally in wrongs and joined for rights
Such were the lives of two sprites

The growing time and passing age
Changed the ties in fine vintage
With tough time to add a flavour
This way Gods put them together

In easy splitting world of ours
Full of spite, filled with wars
The two are here, the two together
Not for the time, but forever-forever.

Search for Love

About the Poem: Well this poem is a true depiction of what I long for in my love. I know I am asking too much but what does it take to ask? I wrote it probably in some very light moments. But I think it is sweet. Hope you people dont differ much.

SEARCH FOR LOVE

Beautiful those eyes

Not which matches deer's

But prudent vision bears

Charming those cheeks

Not with rosy veneer

But with hopeful cheer

Enthralling lips are

Not with a ruby style

But carrying a modest smile

Lovely that voice

Not which cuckoo like sings

But tells you the honest things

Not are there so much

Gifted with traits as such

If one is there in your lot

Search, search and search

till got.

ASSIGNMENT

About Poem: I wrote this poem when I was in Delhi preparing for CAT and all those stuff. Being so far from the home for the very first time, I many times felt very low. During one of such lean period, I wrote this poem just to rejuvenate myself. You guys know writing poems is my ‘In-House-Built-Stress-Buster’ technique. So I wrote one and here it goes.

ASSIGNMENT

For what are thou here?

Not for such viles to serve
You are something great to deserve
To carry thy kins’ dream through
You have to give thyself nerve

What for your lovers rely
You cannot in a wink defy
And having all milk spilt
You can’t grudge, you can’t cry

This world is not for those
Who think it to be a bed of rose
This lets them die a slow death
Who ask for a recline, ask for a repose

Not to stop or bend low
You have to finish in one go
In such a fashion your task is to be done
Then shall say Divine, ‘I’m proud of my son.’

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OK so enough of preaching. Isn't it? But what to do bhai logo. Poets are supposed to be like that. So how is it?? Please write.

My First Poem

I remember it was one weekend that I got this weird idea of writing a poem in English. Now you will ask what is weird in it. Well precisely it isn't. But once the same idea come to the mind of a person who was born and brought up in an atmosphere where there is very little oxygen for English to breathe, where it is as fancied a language as French, Greek or even Russian is here in Mumbai where I am today; you might out and out reject any probability of having a good or even a readable poem. Of course even in a Hindi medium schooling you get English as your subject. But in a small place like mine the school books make you only as good in English as an English medium convent school makes you in Hindi despite the fact that you get ample chance to speak Hindi in India. But still I gave it a try.

A dictionary, my English Poetry book as well as my Hindi one (Kavyanjali) beside me. OK so here I went. 1 hour, 2..3.. and my dear Mom suddenly revolted "Mai kab se pagalo ke tareh chilla rahi hu, khana kha lo, khana kha lo aur ye ladka hai ki sunta tak nahi (I have been shouting like anything for so long and this guy isn't even listening)." And then I realized Oh it was 9 pm and time to dine. Till now I had scribbled some lines on the paper.

I went for dinner and resumed only after an hour or so. Some more brain storming and it was done. Well only problem that I faced in writing was that related to my poor English and not the ideas which were in abundance in my mind. (Well they generally are even now. That may be one reason of my being so absent-minded.) OK so the poem is here may be worse than I think it to be. But please while posting your comments please bear in mind that I was just in 11th std and I had given it quite an effort beside all what I mentioned above.

ABOUT THE POEM: First thing I wrote this poem just because I wanted to write one. The topic I chose was just spontaneous and it had nothing to do with my state of mind. You may at first sight find it to be a romantic one. But I wasn't at all into that ishq-wishq thing. This poem is basically inspired by Hindi literature particularly poets like Surdas and Bihari. Here a devotee's soul is depicted as a female lover while the God is his love. (sorry for being so 'typical a poet' but I had to get a cue from somewhere and I got it that way.) They are separated and she longs for his presence. (Serious Stuff!!!!!? Hmmmm...)

THE SEPARATED SOULS

Her eyes pinning to the way
Walking on which He went away
And thinking of the yore, He
Teased, pleased, caught, released
His joyful idol heart cherished
That giveth her boundless glee

Tired of wiping the current of tears
How much grief her heart bears!
Writhing like the little bird
That lost its both the wings
Giving her incurable sufferings
The prettiest things of world

The chirp that sweetened her before
Today deafenth her like a roar
And the flowers that enchanted her
Now make her bitterly weep
Her innocent heart so tender
Is given the wounds deadly deep

With gloomy face and slack limbs
Willing to have His only glimpse
In the separation of her beloved
Sitting under the banyan tree
Uttered the heart of that living dead
‘When will He come and mine be?’

Another Day

Hellooooo everyone I m back this time with my recent poem.

Well here is summer placement week being held at NMIMS and almost half of our batchmates are partying harder this weekend. They are placed. .......hmmmmmmm....but I am still a member of NOTPLACEDCOM singing our anthem (Ek chhoti si naukari.....) every evening. Well do you think that I am a jackass then let me make one thing clear to you guys that till now I ve been tanking GDs (by saying what I could) and CV shortlisting process (by writing truth on them).

OK OK stop laughing I admit I am a dope.

Now something serious friends. Everyone gets dejected when rejected and I am no exception. I too became quite disappointed each time I couldn't make it to any stage of the selection process. But yeah my in-house built stress buster techniques and 'difficult-to-find-even-with-a-lantern' friends saved me every now and then from going into a trough. Well after being kicked out from one of the very few GDs which I could make it to, I resorted to one of my stress busters i.e. poems and came with this:

ANOTHER DAY

The die is cast and no one to blame
I still stand at the place very same
Many a man has made their run
But I am yet far from done
’M losing sight of them but of goal
Behind me is not a single soul

But the game is on and I can see
It is not exactly where I will be
‘M running and running fast
Who said I will be the last??
It’s not my time but time will change
‘Tis simple, truth is not always strange
‘Never say die’ they fondly say
And I am living to fight Another Day.

I hope you people dont dislike it very much. However you have your rights reserved to kick my a** by posting your comments hereon.

EVERY BLOG HAS ITS DAY

“Archit any question that you want to ask us?”

And the ball was in my court. After being queried for full 20 minutes I got the chance to turn the tables on the interview panel of IMI*. But what should I ask?
“Nothing Sir. I just want to know how my interview was though I am not at all willing to join your institute.”.....Wait I was not supposed to sound that silly. And just then a question popped up in my mind. I had been in the interview process of IMT Gzb* the previous day and in the presentation by their students they told that average placement figure as mentioned in their brochure was arrived at after a certain process and calculations. That left an impression on me that they had somehow manipulated it. And without citing IMT’s name I explained the incident to my interviewer and asked my question, “ Sir, don’t you think there is a need of transparency in the system?” After some explanations the person who I later found out while going through the IMI brochure once again, was the director (or Dean whatever is the highest post of a faculty in IMI) suggested me this solution which I really doubt any MBA aspirant would pursue once he is in a B-school, “You students should stand up against such things. File PIL against such institutes (the term has become clichéd these days!!!! No??). Organize yourself. Start your BLOGS..............” And my ears stopped hearing whatever he said after that word-BLOG.

What is this surreal thing which everyone is talking about nowadays?
How everyone except me is aware of this gobbledegook??
Where has this alien come from?
When has this avatar been made in e-World??
Why is so much fuss being created about these four letters??
Who has made this new tool to magnetize PCs ??
What...Why...When...Where...Who...How...?...?...?...?...?????
These questions kept on boggling my mind. After all we all sapient beings are prone to that very common “inquisitiveness syndrome”. And if you are one of those 1.463 billion internet users, this worm of curiosity is most likely to affect your CPUs (read brains) more than those plebeian folk without access to this digital world. I remember I was once reading an article on the pattern of internet usage in our very own TOI. As usual the article was highly spiced up nevertheless I am referring to the same to spice up my own blog. It discussed the intent to which the curiosity of a netizen can go by giving the example of an 8 year old boy who typed this question on Google

“why do a boy and a girl marry”

A weirder example of a girl in her teen age followed. She typed

“why does breast swell” (any answer??!!)

What answers they got was not mentioned in the article. If you are ‘curious’ enough you yourself type it on any of Search engines available on the Net.
OK I must tell I didn’t ask Uncle Google such Qs. One reason is – then I couldn’t. I am quite a new learner of the Wor(l)ds ‘e’ & ‘i’. (Though I felt like a veteran when I came to know that some of our NMytes* hadn’t had even their email ids till they were required to have one to fill online application forms for these b-schools. But still you may call me a novice in this field.) Another reason was that my high school biology teacher was too good to have left me inquiring about such things.
But that day I typed something which was as intriguing for me as those questions for those teens:

“blog”

Google Uncle gave me a list of sources from where I could get my answer. First of them brightened my eyes. Oh it is Wiki Aunt again! You are so sweet! From my entering the e-world or inception of this site (whichever was later---one of those phrases which we accountants find very handy to use- whichever is more/less, whichever is earlier and so on) this site has been my favourite. So the answer was there:
“A blog (a contraction of the term "Web log") is a Web site, usually maintained by an individual, with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video.”
Types of blogs, its history, popularity, references.....blah blah blah.
Eureka! I found out. Thanks Wiki Aunt. Thank You very much. When the whole world was mocking me You again came to my rescue. Now I know what a blog is.
But......it’s not yet over. Everyone has his/her blog these days, they all maintain it, popularize it and most importantly talk to others like me about it. (why not if you have it flaunt it) I don’t.
So the next step was to create a blog. Again a How and a Where. I went to the previous page and to my joy another link shown read

“Blogger: Create your free blog”

I clicked on it with such a hurry as that link was going to disappear in a moment. And came before me was a webpage blue, grey and orange coloured. So colourful a monster! Create an account-Name your blog-Choose a template..I did all that.
Photograph??? I didn’t have my pic on the cafe's PC. So this time I went to Uncle ImageGoogle for help. But I knew Archit Chaurasiya is yet to be that much famous to have a photograph in the archives of Uncle ImageGoogle. So I raised my head and began thinking when I saw something pasted on the walls of the Cybercafe- an Indian tiger. Being an animal (especially chicken & fish) lover, I searched for Indian tiger’s image and put it in the photo box (which I soon replaced with another animal’s called Archit).
Now publishing Blog-My blog-My first blog. Again a What. Oh what do you generally write in a logbook? I used to maintain a personal diary those days which I painstakingly kept hidden from my roommates. But one posts blogs because one wants to show it off (at least I was of this mind that time). So what to write...hmmmmmmmmm..Let’s do it tomorrow. Nope. Today right now.....Tomorrow.....Today..... Oops a When again. I was caught between the two like an American then was caught between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton to choose their Democratic candidate from. Oh got it, Barack Obama. I wrote a whole page about my opinion on what Obama means to India (which I had formed after reading a number of articles on the same). But I am sorry I deleted that post soon after coming to NMIMS* taking the privilege to go through a hilarious piece of work away from you. To compensate for the same I will soon post my first poem here. Just wait for the time being.
So now I too can flaunt and prattle about something which will make someone else to go through the same pain that I once suffered and being boggled by all those whats, whys, hows, whens and wheres. But all my Ws and H have been answered as of now. I created my blog that day.

FINALLY MY BLOG HAD ITS DAY. (Bow Bow)

*NMIMS: Narsee Monjee Institure of Management Studies (My college)

*NMytes: We ppl @ NMIMS

*IMT: Institute of Management Technology (a b-school in Ghaziabad)

*IMI: International Management Institute (b-school in Delhi)

[OK so how was it?? Too long? Too boring? Bad English (Oh I was advised to write in Hindi. I don't know whether the guy was too impressed by my Hindi or distressed by my English).......C'mon Hit it Hit Out! Please Post your comments because that is the answer of my 'Why'.]