A new page will be turned at 12 tonight, or should I say a new volume of our life.A few pages were written, rest were crumbled and thrown into the bin, those that were written taught us a lot, but those that had to be crumbled were far better teachers, they taught us to accept defeat , to realise that our goal lies a bit far off but it isn't impossible to reach it. There were times when success was near , we leaped but fell . Now we can see it hopping across to the other side , passing through the door of 2009, we are yet to catch hold of it . So lets gear up to confront a brand new challenge in the brand new year the awaits at our doorstep.
"Theres nothing new in the new year , something new is yet to be created,a new dream, a new road , a new strength and a new self that has forgotten to look back"

The regular visitor

As I stepped outside in the early winter morning, I saw someone standing,right at the door , its been years now since hes been a regular visitor, every winter with the same smile and the same attitude of reducing visibility, acting as a speed reducer he followed me untill I reached my office, see you could'nt irritate me much I said, and with the familiar smile I left him at the doorstep, with a promise of an early morning visit.....like it has been till date.
Yes, Mr. Fog has been a part of our lives, reminding us again and again that winter is here.Well we know that don't we?But theres something about the fog that brings a stream of emotions , all lined up and appearing one by one , objects appear one after another as we get closer to them..its as if the fog has innumerable things hidden in its folds , and we play hide and seek making our way through the fog.
Our goals, our aims , our desires are all placed right in front of us , its our determination to cut through the fog of life , that makes us achieve them. When our steps lack the kind of determination we need to make our way through, we get lost in the mist and remain clogged up for the rest of our lives.
Its important to cut through the fog of darkness and to be able to encounter the light of knowledge .... knowledge that nothing is unattainable, its our trust, hope and determination that gets us going.

A slice of history

There is a slice of history in every page that you turn, in every day that you live and yes especially in the place where you reside . Jamia has a history smeared on every part of it, which gets revealed when someone who has seen it taking birth narrates the lost memoirs of a place which has a special part in history.The unique history retold by a living history, my grand father, Mr. Abdul Sattar, a unique personality , though he never managed to write a lot about his experiences, the bits and pieces narrated to me , give me an interesting picture of the past of Jamia. Mujeeb Sahab(Prof.Mujeeb), Zakir Sahab(Dr. Zakir Hussain) were among his teachers, the people who he says have taught him a lot in life..to be a human being first and anything else later. Jamia started from a small school in carol bagh to what it is today in Okhla , Jamia Millia Islamia, a distinct university. Though I've never been a student of Jamia, still theres something about it that gives me a sense of belonging, maybe because I have grown playing in its corridors .As nana narrates his stories the pictures just keep appearing like a moving reel in my mind. The area that comprises of the popular Mass Communication of Delhi used to be the fields where farming took place , it belonged to nana, he still gets lost in the memories of the days when he used to sit on his comfortable charpoi , looking over the fields and yes taking part in the work aswell . Jamia was a different place at that time , surrounded with fields and fruit yards, a small community comprising of a few families , but very close knit area.With utmost pride he still remembers the plays that he used to write sitting on a bunch of hay, with a small transistor playing in the background, I really enjoyed listening to the fact that cows and buffaloes were tied on the stage to give it a real feel. His plays were an intant hit!
The talimi taraqqui dept has a special part in my grandpas memories, it was a department for Adult Education. Jamia at that time had an educational system which is being adopted in private schools today, a far developed educational system ,much ahead of its time..hats off to the excellent faculty that it had..Theres so much that I want to write about it and I wish to unfold the lost history of Jamia through the memories of my grandfather....hope I am able to put it together someday. Theres a lot that needs to be explored.
"Words become history when written down on paper,
and memories become a legecy when they seep down through ancestors ".

Today wrapped up in the winter chill and snugged in the warmth of my shawl, my memories took me to the by gone days , the days when I first stepped into "Junior and Tiny Tots", which was then a whole new experience of my life . Not too big , not too small, just a compact world for a toddler who had just taken a step forward in life ...days passed and slowly it became a precious part of my life ..my school..my world. 25 th of Dec, I can swear on it that Christmas can never be celebrated with such fervour as it was at Tiny Tots.All of us used to line up classwise near the gate in long rows , doing what? well waiting for Santa to appear in his open geep , making his way through the gate and right through our hearts . He was the real Santa as we used to call him, big, fat, chubby, dressed in his famous red , with loads of gifts loaded in his geep.The geep was driven by someone else..may be santa's assistant, and he used to stand at the back waving at us and throwing all kinds of goodies at us .His geep was full of balloons of all sizes , big, small and some as huge as our dreams . With wide open eyes we used to gaze at Santa and greet him, our dearest Sanat Claus:) As soon as the geep entered the whole school used to sing jingle bells and many other christmas songs that aunty Eclairs has taught us , she was our singing teacher, as sweet as her name suggests. This was not it, after singing and dancing with Santa , we used to get loads of sweets and it was a free day for all of us ..no padai at all..what fun! My school has given me warm memories which will reside within me forever. I still remember the song.."Sharing, if we all keep sharing..sharing all the things we have .Oh what joy, peace and contentment, if we would be sharing all we have, there'll be so many hearts contented , there'll be so many less in pain, so many would be less affected , what joy and love would ring....so lets keep sharing......."So lets share love and happiness and make each day a happy day for everyone around.Merry Christmas!!!:)

Danger is a good teacher??!!!??""

Danger is a good teacher, it surely is , it teaches us the surival tactics that we never thought would come to our mind .What do we do when we get to know that someone who is dear to us is caught in the cluches of danger, we dont think ...we just act.This is what life wants from us ...do the things that you think are right without thinking about them twice, coz if you just think you wont be able to act , this very decision will become the deciding factor of the rest of your life ..the fact that you'd just follow the herd or be someone you always wanted to be ....the true you.May be words are not enough but actions work wonders.It dosen't have to be something that hurts someone , but something that would do you a lot of good, but not at someone elses cost!!!!When in doubt think about the danger of living a life that you never wanted..............and the sense of danger would tell you what you really want.When you're not happy with life you tend to spread unhappiness..others don't deserve to be unhappy at your cost ...so there lies a danger of making others unhappy by not being your true self and wearing a make believe mask all the time.
Danger indeed, is a good teacher..isn't it?

mirror image

life is full of change, every day you find a different you looking into the mirror, gazing at yourself with a confused yet familiar look..is that me ?or isn't it? its like a picture which tells different stories at different points of time in our lives, for instance say there is a picture of a forest with wild flowers , a stream running by and a narrow mud lane , when you are sad the picture makes you feel as if the world is a lonely place full of turmoil, lonely where we have been left to sought out the conflict within ourselves but when we are at peace with ourselves , the picture makes us feel in confirmity with nature , life seems full of tranquility and the lonely road in the picture seems as if it is showing us the way towards our true destination .
There are some pictures that give us the same feeling in whatever mood we might be , a feeling of calm , a feeling of care , of warmth that is hidden within. We should try to be like this picture , in confirmity with ourselves all the time, however hard the situations might be, one should never be bogged down by their weight.Life is the second name from struggle , a struggle where you have to dive into the deep sea to get the pearls.

The first day of the rest of my life

Yeasterday I went to someones place, a person who has been a significant part of the old memories that I cherish till date. I used to go to her place with my grandmother, in a rickety rikshaw with the rickshaw puller who used to pull his rikshaw in such a way that both of us felt as if we are on a roller coaster ride, with nani shouting at him, but in vain, coz he was busy enjoying his adventure through then not so crowded roads of our neighbourhood. It would be a difficult task to sit next to nani and listen to all the conversations that went between her friend and her(btw with most of the talking done by her friend), it was like a tennis match being played with the ball going right over my head ....did not understand a word of what they talked about. But yesterday it was altogether a very different experience, the same old road but with an air that was new to me , maybe the memories are intact in my minds eye, I want them to be there coz theres no other treasure like the priceless, soulful memories.
As I entered her house my eyes fell on a small rectangular showpiece with a quote written on it , placed inside the familiar almirah that had been touched up with the colours of the new world. It said , "today is the first day of the rest of your life", the quote felt like an advise from a person who I thought had left me long ago...my nani. It was as if she was telling me that there is the best to look forward to , never give up , keep going on.
Sometimes when we reach a point in our lives where we are confused as to what is in store for us , an invisible strength gives us the power to move on and guides us through the untrodden path of life.
This is what love is all about , in whatever form it might be it provides the strength to embrace life with open arms....for me love just happened to pour out through an old show piece , leaving a smile on my face to last me a life time .