To Tanuj. In Remembrance.

“ Ladki boli toh maan gaya. Bhai samjhaya toh nahi mana. Sahi hain’’.  That’s what he told one of the boys when we wanted a common mess for all the first year students.

Tanuj Gautam. It is the same CB-8 building, the same fourth floor and the same place where you spent some of the best days of your life. Today as your birthday is near, I look at your old room and think ‘How different it would have been if you were still here’.  Maybe if you were still there, we would have had your birthday party in the mess with a huge chocolate cake, balloons, gifts and all your friends. Maybe if you were still here, you would have finally given me the biryani that you once promised. But sigh. If only you were there.

It’s indeed another year. Another beginning. But we have not forgotten you especially when it’s your birthday. Maybe there are no balloons, no gifts, no chocolate cake. It has been three years since you left but all of us surely remember you and miss you in our own ways. It would have been different if you were still present with us be it in the B.A LL.B classes or the moot court competitions or the new campus. After all it is said that “Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us every day.
Unseen, unheard, but always near; still loved, still missed and very dear.”

Happy Birthday Tanuj. May you be happy wherever you are. We miss you. 

Some faith is all what the world needs.

There are times when we feel very far away from emotions. There is a constant resentment of what we have become right now. The same child, who used to be happy seeing those colourful balloons at the fair, might just be the unhappiest one now. It sometimes bugs me really bad. Who are we? What do we, as humans, want from life? What could we possibly to do make life better?

When we were kids, life was a lot easier than now. We had fewer problems and less complications. We knew what we liked and we knew what we wanted. If we were hungry, we ate. If we were thirsty, we drank some water. If we were angry about something, we would say it. I personally believe that the Pandora’s Box of troubles opens as soon as our childhood gets over. The time of our life when everything was perfect seems so impossible right now.

Now all we wish for is some time, some care and some genuine-ness from the people who we want so badly in our life. But in the process, we end up hurting ourselves so badly that at one point of time, it becomes difficult to repair what has been worn out. And sadly we end up losing our faith in all the good things that life had ever bestowed upon us. Nevertheless at the back of our minds, we always wish for that one person who would make us believe in love once again. (Yeah, the world functions in a dual manner). Anyway, this world is indeed full of weird people. Some value clothes, some value their career and some value the drugs they take.

But there is still another kind: Those who value love. 

Our black puppy.

 R.I.P dear friend. I am barely in the state to write anything myself. But the following poem will say it all. From  all the NLUO-ites who loved you and who will miss you very, very much, your mother who is frantically searching for you and your twin who is wondering where you have vanished.. 

To the naughtier and smarter puppy, 

"High up in the courts of heaven today
a little dog angel waits;
with the other angels he will not play,
but he sits alone at the gates.
"For I know my master will come" says he,
"and when he comes he will call for me."

The other angels pass him by
As they hurry toward the throne,
And he watches them with a wistful eye
as he sits at the gates alone.
"But I know if I just wait patiently
that someday my master will call for me."

And his master, down on earth below,
as he sits in his easy chair,
forgets sometimes, and whispers low
to the dog who is not there.
And the little dog angel cocks his ears
and dreams that his master's voice he hears.

And when at last his master waits
outside in the dark and cold,
for the hand of death to open the door,
that leads to those courts of gold,
he will hear a sound through the gathering dark,
a little dog angel's bark". (By Noah M. Holland)