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Thursday, March 31, 2011

Sunday Realizations

Sundays are days for realizations it seems.

I think there is causality for it too namely…….availability of time to dwell………..on small,tiny actions that add meaning to life. These tiny actions are like the seams on your pant, invisible but do a big job of protection ( in the literal as well as the colloquial sense)

Woke at 10 only.

Once nature’s activities are all done, it is hunger time. It is too late for breakfast and slightly early for lunch. So, I decided to have some coconut water, healthy and cholesterol driven(aha there seems a duality of opposition here as well)

I walked out and immediately I spot a vendor. I ask for one and a couple of deft swings of the machete he hands me one. I jump over the nearby wall, seating my butt while sipping the brew contently.

No sooner, I had done so a female walks in. Must be around 8- 10 years old, the typical street urchin, beggar kind of specimen.

I paid no heed, and went to sip through the straw.

She continued staring at me. Her eyes glowed.

Disheveled countenance, but her eyes completely black….. Glowed. She looked like a gypsy kid, for she had some emblems and knick knacks dangling through her neck and arms.

She was tiny, but her eyes radiated power. I was for a moment reminded of the Shakti swaroop of feminism as described in Hinduism.

I handed out the un-sipped coconut to the female. She looks at me sternly, as though hurt by the gesture.

Must be elevation, so I jumped down the wall and repeated the act. She took it and clutched it to her bosom.

I asked the vendor for another one and he handed me one at the same time speaking something to the girl.

Kannada not very strong, I could understand that he was asking her to drink it quickly so that he could cut it pen and give her the coconut.

The girl, shook her head resolutely, clutching the coconut even more firmly to her bosom.

I meanwhile finished one, and another. As I motioned to pay, I could see 2 kids approaching the girl. All were in the same size and age and all were girls.

Seeing the approach the girl loosened her hold on the coconut.

Chapad chapad in kannada and then the kids…….. the three of them , shared on coconut.


This is the second time(Click here for first time) I am seeing a sense of unity among the depraved. I see when the datum is low, any improvement is perceived to be huge and hence it is shared. A sense of collective good dominates over individual excellence at the level where means are limited.

Also, I see that this collective good sentiment even in the downtrodden is more pronounced among the females. Had it been a boy to whom I had handed over the drink, I doubt if he would have shared.(must be the testosterone, mine is bigger than yours)

I was pleased, to see this sentiment. I decided to buy one more for them, but then the above thoughts came to my head. If if did get them another coconut, it would diminish the utility of the first one and also dilute the sentiment of sharing which was so naturally forthcoming.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Rainy Night In Bangalore


These days it is getting too tiring. And, I have started the funny habit of cooking for one or two days in a week, so time is really not there. 

I hit the bed and I am dead, literally.

Crack............. thunder............. and the howl of dogs woke me up.

It wasn’t the slight disturbance of sleep, rather the Masai warrior tribe kind of sleep wake................... to complete wakefulness from deep slumber.

The steady drip of rain water was ..........visible and in the night.

It was 2:54 AM

Somehow I could not go to sleep, the sound ..........and feel of rain............ was seductive.

I stood up and went to the main room, window. It was chilly, and as it is in Bangalore, we require a thin blanket in the night.

I got my keys from my bag, opened and locked the door from outside and made it to the balcony. I swung it open and walked out.

A billion cells in the soles of feet screamed the temperature difference. The uncut garden at my head provided me some protection but in some more seconds I could feel water droplets trickling on my face.

I took of my shirt, and then my shorts, and did a slow walk around the place in my Boxer trunks. 

I could see the moon throwing its pale light. It was weird; although the rain was pouring in medium pace the moon was still visible................. very clearly.

It was secret well worth pondering over, and what better time than...............3 in the night,.........semi naked......when the sane world is asleep?

I lay down comatose............... on the top of the top, near the overhead tank. Staring at the moon and shivering continuously.

Slowly the shivers subsided, and I could feel a slight warm rush in my body. I lay down in makrsana, and the stretch at my leg muscle funnily warmed my lower ear lobes.

It was magical, a female presence could have been the coup de grace, but can’t hang on to Noorie always can I?

I made my way to the room, dripping with water, toweled myself dry, and applied some warm coconut oil all over. I then wrapped myself in a full t-shirt and pajama, and crashed on the bed with the blanket stretched tight.

It was 4:22 AM.

The shrill tones of Suprabahatam woke me up. It was my roommates alarm tone meaning it was well beyond my usual wake up time. I stretched up gingerly fully expecting some opposition from my body,.........cough, cold.............a  bit of sneezing.............. or at least some fever.

There was none. In fact I felt normal, neither elevated nor tired, just about right.

Must be magic indeed!!

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Mirror…….. Mirror......... Tell me......... Who is the dearest of them all?


This post was sparked off while reading a news article on how many of our technical gems, are gravitating towards a life of serving god.

AOL and ISKCON are leading the roost in offering burnt out techies, a route to salvation and Moksha.

When I read this, I was reminded of this short narration which I had read a long time back.

“Everyone knows Narad muni in Indian mythology. For the slight memory re-jig, he is the cymbal clanking, fruitcake representation of masculinity (all I remember from various Ramanad Sagar serials pardon if it is wrong!) touring the three worlds, singling praises of Lord Vishnu/Narayana.

Now one day Narad muni had this wonderful doubt creeping in his mind” I should ask Lord who is his favorite devotee of them all?”

So he did exactly that. And then he just stood there, waiting to hear praises about himself, about his devotion towards the power of lord.

Alas !!!  for our dear Narad Muni, the lord answered some name who was a mere farmer.

Now this hurt him, and hurt him bad. However as a god, he did not show his hurt as anger and rage, rather as a genuine doubt to know his shortcomings.

To which dear Lord Vishnu, replied in a pun. Again, it is my observation after quite a bit of various read, that Lords never love straight answers, it is always the demonstration or the learning/realizing by doing route for them.

“I will answer this query of yours, but first you will have to do a small task for me. Here is an urn of oil, filled to the brim. Please take this and tour the three worlds. Bear in mind, that not a single drop of oil should be spilt. Once you are done, come back and I will resolve any of your lingering doubts.

Narad Muni takes off.

Cut to the chase.

He returns soon after completing the prescribed tour. Handing over the urn, to the lord he waits for his reaction.

The lord looks at the urn, and it is intact not a single drop spilled.

He smiles and asks,” So you did the task, was it difficult?”

Narad muni replies “Yes a bit, for I had to carefully watch the urn to avoid any spillage, the three world tour is not exactly German auto engineering ride.”

Lord Vishnu, smiles and replies” How many times you remember me during this work?”

“Remember you, I was doing your work only, then why should I remember you?”Asks Narad muni a trifle surprised.

Lord Vishnu replies, ”Exactly. You don’t have time to remember the lord during your work. That is why is said my favorite devote is the farmer, for her remembers me thrice during the day all along the course of his work. And he has been doing this without fail".

“Don’t make it your life to chant my praises. But do make it your life to chant my name, within your life, within your daily work, and chant it with conviction, with belief, for then you would be bestowed upon my grace”.

Narad Muni nodded understanding the implication of the oil urn three world tours.

I hope my characteristic cynicism is demonstrated well here : )

Saturday, March 19, 2011

It is a Diploma... :)

The hall was packed as Chadda and I entered. 

I could not believe my eyes, there were nearly 60 students in the auditorium. Chadda was scanning for a place to sit and saw the middle row was unoccupied, started navigating towards it. The seat was bang in front of the elevated podium. 

Chadda as usual was silent and just sat with a calm look on his face waiting for the session to begin. 

My mind however was unsettled seeing the humongous space.

We were here in an introductory session of “achievers workshop “organized by IMS India Private limited. IMS was one of the leading institutes that provided coaching for cracking CAT - the most respected aptitude exams for anyone aspiring to enter into the realms of management. Of course managerial aptitude was the last in anybody’s mind when they decided to go in for CAT. 

Almost all (including me) just saw the media splashing news about the skyrocketing pay to many at IIMS and saw it as a nice way to grow up in scale. Almost all get sick of engineering when they enter the final year and MBA offered an attractive escape route for many to get a respectable life in an economy where engineers were dime a dozen. And the nice ratio of 70% of the intake being engineers further made it the logical choice for many techies.

I was of course one among the crowd. 

Chadda however was from the topmost colleges in the country. We had both gone in for CAT and he had ended up with a top score, I on the other hand had cemented my mediocrity with an average score, but nowhere near to getting into the IIMS. 

Strictly speaking this session was only for the high scorers who where enrolled at IMS .I just classified on the second count! But still Chadda insisted that we both attend the introductory session as our knowledge of management was just limited to fancy terms we had both gobbled up at some point in our graduation.

The session was supposed to educate us on various aspects of management and the road ahead that is what to expect in the second round of selection, the group discussions and the personal interview. The session would be handled by some Paresh, an MBA himself majoring in Human Resource management.

I glanced at my watch and, it was still 15 minutes for the lecture to begin. 

People were still trickling down in ones and twos. A girl dressed in the traditional salwaar kameez and a beaded jhola bag made it to our row and asked,” Is this seat taken? “

I shook my head and she slid into the seat adjacent to me, undid her bag took out a register and pen and stared ahead with a serious expression.

Bored I said,”Srikant”, “Varsha ‘she replied back.

“So what’s your expected score?” I asked.” I might just about get a call from one the IIMs maybe Indore .I did well in verbal section but messed up the quantitative section.” , she replied.”

 “What about you? “ Just ok in all the sections did slightly well in verbal.” 

This elicited a smile from her, we were companions she thought .

So what is your background “mechanical engineering”, I replied. The smile died away replaced by a frosty “I see “.I was nonplussed at the sudden change in her demeanor. And what about you “literature honors, DU.” “Oh that’s nice” I said, being an avid bibliophile I looked up at anything related to them.

” Must be nice reading up for a specialization, “I added. She stared back and replied,” What so nice?  Nobody gives a damm about literature and I did not have mathematics like you guys. And I had to work very hard to get myself up for CAT, thanks to the tough competition given by you guys.” 

Oho this madam is all messed up. And I wasn’t exactly an ideal mascot for the engineering tribe. I was about to correct her when there was a sudden silence

Shifting focus I looked up and saw a squat short bespectacled man dressed in slippers and a faded shirt a size too large for him .He was avidly gazing at the crowd, with a large smile on his face. 

I caught his eye and his smile widened. Puzzled, I nodded my head .Why is he so happy I thought and nudged Chadda .

Chadda, as usual knew what I was thinking and being the cynic he said , ” If you were there giving gyaan for a couple of hours, for a nice pay wouldn’t you be happy? “He mouthed turning to me.

“Good Morning to all “boomed Paresh’s voice .All noises ceased. “ First of all I would like to congratulate you all for doing well in the first round “.

I slid away from focus feeling slightly guilty. “However the road ahead is even tougher “continued Paresh. “And through this session I would just like to highlight some of the important aspects with respect to a management education.”

Paresh launched into an introduction of himself. He had passed out from XLRI more than 10 years back, been a HR guy for Maruti for about 5 years and then quit. He skimmed on the part of being out of Maruti. But the gist seemed that he had messed up something out there and predictably he turned the tables on Maruti for the incident. Then he fished out an article dealing with the life of corporate, the business managers of large MNCs.

“It is not about money, “he droned on.” If you are good at something don’t chase money keep doing it and money will chase you “.Aha this gyaan now seems interesting. What I am good at, I thought inwardly. Well am good at reading and public speaking, debating and all. 

Then I though about playing tabla I am good at that too. 

So then do I spend my life debating and playing tabla? 

The mental picture of beating a tabla and shouting vehemently did not look very good. I shook my head, it’s no good .These culture specific activities are for the financially well off. Middle incomes like us had to find a way to get regular food on the table .Maybe later I though once in a good job and good money I can do all that. But something told me that it would never happen.

Snapping out of the internal though process I focused on the session again. Paresh was reading from a piece of paper, what he called the typical life a big shot manager.” Armed with a two year diploma in hand, techno-mangers brace themselves to enter the realms of management. Most venture into the domain of investment banks where the big bucks are. They put in demanding 13-15 hour workdays and no holidays. For money they forget their family .In the relentless pursuit to reach the top they upset the delicate balance of work and life. After a couple of years they realize that they have nothing in life save a pot of money and fancy material comforts.” Paresh paused and looked up. 

The entire class was staring at him with utmost seriousness. I glanced around all too mindful of the effect Paresh had created. For a minute even I felt the futility of all education. A quick look around I noticed a burly Delhite, scribbling furiously.

I nudged Chadda again and he replied “, that’s Gurdeep, he is from my college, pretty serious most of the times and always taking notes.” Meanwhile Paresh returned the piece to his packet with a satisfied smile.

“So, what do all you budding managers think about this article. I personally think it has a very valid point. I urge you all to consider very carefully before taking any career decision. And with that I would like to conclude the session. Are there any questions? , said Paresh. 

All looked around expectantly, I involuntarily turned to the sardar who still looked lost in what he had just written. Then with a determined expression he raise his hand .Paresh said yes , the sardar stood up all 6 foot and some inches’ of him , took the mike as it was passed to him and said “ Sir, myself Gurdeep,in light of what you have just said, I would like to know if IIMs offer a degree or a diploma.”

There was pin drop silence after this statement.

Paresh looked like he had been handed a hot pan and did not know whether to hold it or drop it.

Suddenly there was a snort of laughter from someplace, a giggle broke out another place and a full blow laugh escaped me. That was it; the entire group started laughing uncontrollably. Even Paresh‘s lips went up a bit, in what seemed to be a hint of a smile.

 I looked at Varsha even she was laughing, the serious expression gone from her face. 

She leaned toward me and whispered, “Now I know all engineers are not alike,”.I added,

”You may never know some may be even good at literature,” and gave her a wink.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Super Commando Dhruv !!

Now this one is from the time............ when consumerism was not quite as rampant as it was today.

Met D yesterday, poor guy is pulling off 18 hrs a day and has friends (sorry acquaintances!!), across globe. Bugger starts at Japanese standard time (Good Morning san!) and ends after bidding “Good night mate”, to his American colleagues............... while living in India.

I suddenly felt a little blessed................ am not that burdened.

He had incidentally bought a new mahogany bookshelf, and I was staring at the books lines neatly across rows. Seeing me stare he indicated, that a box above needed some help moving with and my length could be appreciated.

The boxes it seems were a minimum of 4 years old. I had plenty of experience moving stuff, and immediately tore the brown tape.

I was greeted with the sight of a super commando Dhruv comic book. I radically revised my estimate of the time frame of the boxes.

D shrugs sheepishly.

“My friends, I popped it in before moving the boxes out”, he says.

He took the dog eared books, and turned the pages, absently, saying” You know I used to rent these comics at a princely amount of Rs 2 per week and a deposit of 10 bucks”

“That is about the cost of 1 tea now”, I rounded off with a smile.

“This guy now is in States, he would be happy to hear about his Dhruv books”, he says flipping the pages.

Tring!! D’s phone rang, and I am not kidding here, it was the guy from states.

D dunks off all preliminaries and says” Super commando Dhruv, at your service", then there is laughter.

D walks out to the balcony to take the call.

It was a good forty minutes later he walks in all beaming” You know this seems to be the substance of your next blog entry”.

"Shoot away", I said looking for some munchies while I listened to his tale. it goes.

This guy is one of the rags to riches kind of story. He has a sister, and both of them are high performers.

For some funny reason this comic book sparked off an incident of a birthday party.Apparently this book was a bribe by his sister to him, when he was about 70% of his current stature physically and otherwise.

The reason for this bribe was a birthday party. A party that was of his sister’s best friend and ...........................pre teenage girls do not really like boisterous pre teenage boys at the occasion of a dainty party.

Consider it the kid’s equivalent of a girls pajama party.

“Yes, tell me about it”, I added wryly.

Now at the time of bribe my friend happily conceded. However he did not factor in the increasing utility of time on ..................a forbidden event or .....................the decreasing utility of the comic book with time
Now the day before the event, this guy stealthily drops in word to his mother about the impending birthday party and his desire to go with his sister.

Seems, that this information was a surprise to mom as well. Apparently dear sister was waiting to announce at the last minute.

It is just a birthday party!! , I interjected

Remember they are not financially well off, and in their culture, show off is rampant. The birthday was by a family which banked a little bit too much on ostentation and that was evident from the place of this event.

Now his mother was kind of unhappy with her daughter’s secretive ways. However, she conceded to the participation of her daughter in the celebration of birth canal expulsion event. In a mother’s way of getting revenge at the purported defiance of her daughter, she insisted that she take her brother.

Raves,rants and mean looks at her brother accompanied this dikat of her mother.

Mother however was firm, either both go or nobody.

Realizing the futility of arguing against discipline, sister dear agrees. However she stipulates the following,

“No fighting, no stealing balloons, and ……..”, waggling a mean finger she says …. “No gorging at the party”.

“You will say “no thanks” three times before accepting anything be it a gift or food”.

Mother dear agrees…………. brother looks victorious………… sister a bit morose
D-day dawns.

2 kids are dropped at the happening place. Sister dear, goes hysterical at the sight of her friends, however manages a mean look at her brother before going to join them.

“Remember, say no, thank you three times, for anything you are offered”

Brother nods, slightly intimidated.

Well cut to the chase. 

Poor brother here has a humongous appetite, and it is not everyday ................he can hog on exotics like cakes pastries, samosas.

Sitting morosely in the corner allotted sternly to him by his sister, he looked wistfully at the trays of food being passed around; hoping some soon comes his way.

His prayers were answered, as on girl (he told me it was the elder sister of the birthday girl), recognized him and came towards him with a tray of all exotics.

“Do you want to have something”, the sweet query.

Chubby hands itched, to grab out the delicacies. 

However the “no thank you” drill of his sister came to his mind. He was scared of his sister, but he loved food, ................what if the food was taken away after he said “no thank you” twice?

In a fix, he sought a logical way out, and his investment baking brain, in its formative stages, came to aid.

Eyes shining, Chubby says” no thank you, no thank you, no thank you”, in a speedy sing song way and then quickly takes some stuff.

The elder sister was surprised at this outburst and burst out laughing.She did suspect something was amiss so she left the tray at the nearby table, (much to the brother’s delight) and found his sister.

Now sister dear, happened to glance at her brother hogging, and gave him a dirty look. Seeing someone approach her…………added filth…… dirtiness.

Chubby brother was mollified.

Sister dear hears the recount and without warning bursts into laughter!

Seeing the smile, brother dear decides all is well and munches on.

Indeed , it is funny what Super Commando Dhruv can bring about ! 

Friday, March 11, 2011

Naadi Jyotsam

It has been a long time since I wrote something

That is possibly because I am getting caught up in worldly work of earning my sustenance. However today, I took a break..............a break apart from the ritual weekend one… also helped that I was not in the pink of my health…..

So the day was spent alone in my new abode.

And my new abode......... this time …………seems to be a good place. It is in a secluded area but in the midst of a marketplace. It has a kitchen, a fridge a TV and a sofa set too.

Some hot chocolate in front of a TV on a sofa, I almost felt at home ………
It is funny what you intend to look forward to when you have nothing ....when the datum is low any improvement shows.

Solitude is charming, and also inspiring. And, today’s “ Good morning “, call, to Amma fired this thought , so here I go after quite a long time.

This is true, very true.

Just now I was reminded about my visit to some village in middle of Thanjavur .The reason I am reminded of this another such visit by Amma, which again lends credulity to the earlier visit.(Ok Amma I am not writing  about it, nary you worry !)

Now this Thanjavur “naadi jythosa” is commercial, but he has a good track record. Amma insisted that I go there. It was before my B-School tenure when I was in the business of hustling for direct personal gain, and was not really adhering to a socially accepted role for an educated madrasis family offspring.

Anyways I had to be in Chennai for sorting out some house and non house issues, and I saw no harm in going for a visit.

The place was doing justice to a mystical Indian sages abode. It was quite cut off from the city, and had thatched roofs. Men with gleaming coconut oil laced hair and in spotless white clothes were in some cubicles collecting the thumb impression samples. The thatched house had the top floor with some partitions for one on one session with the astrologers.

I am neither a cynic nor a skeptic; it takes time for me to get used to an idea that it.

I gave my thumb impression along with brothers and sisters. We waited before being summoned to one of the thatched rooms. It was Spartan, two plastic chairs and one table. “Neelkamal” stickers showed clean and slightly contemporary as opposed to the surrounding we were in.

There were some rectangular blocks, about an inch thick. They had some strips of parchment, which were tied up with some sort of sting, and smelled faintly of wood.

I was intrigued, did that parchment block really tell me about my life?

The astrologer started reciting in a singsong voice. I could fathom bits and pieces of what he was saying. It seemed like a Tamil song, but more classical in recitation. However, it was unlike any I had heard till now. Chittapa could understand perfectly, and he kept shaking his head negative to all what he was saying.

The astrologer closed the block, and picked up another. The same sequence was repeated, the singsong recitation………. And the negative head shakes from Chittapa.

Another and another, till it was five blocks down and no success. I was funnily reminded of Harry Potter selecting his wand. 

The astrologer was also it seemed inspired from Ollivanders, he wasn’t going to give up. He excused and went down.

I took advantage of his absence and asked Chittapa, “What is the language he is speaking, it does sound like Tamil”.

“It is Tamil, you wouldn’t understand “, was the condescending remark.

I deserve it, as I shrugged the barb away, I cannot read or write my mother tongue, simply because I had never bothered to learn.

It was half an hour before the pundit returned with 2 scrolls.

The first he opened was akin to the previous 5, it was making no sense at all, however after a couple of minute I heard the following and I remember it vividly and quote it here verbatim

Your name is Srikant…………father’s name…….. Rajanarayanan……..mother’s name……..Radha……….you have 2 siblings…….. Deepa and Navneeth……….your education deals with, with oil or metal…… are living with parents……. family, born on October 8th, 1984.

And with that my Chittapa gave a satisfied nod. The astrologer then proceeded to draw the ritual lagna chart. He finished in a couple of seconds and handed it over to my Chittapa and it was an exact match to what had been created by our family pundit.

I was astounded………..with only my thumb he could give my entire background, right to my family history!!Now that is amazing.

The same fate of information and history revelation was repeated with my sister and brother and it all cross tallied. I was then told about my past life and some of the sins I had committed which it seems to be impacting my life in some way. He added some more tit bits of very sensitive information which I dare not disclose on a blog

I paid him; a bit extra than I was instructed by Amma, for I was truly amazed by his work. As a parting shot, when we were leaving, he told

“The scroll on you, was hidden, I had not used it till now”………….slightly lowering his tenor, he said, “not in the past thirty years ………that is………..I hope you do good”.

Aha…that was not in any way going to reduce the obnoxious attitude I was believed to be carrying with me, anyways I smiled and thanked him.

Friday, March 4, 2011

ऊंचाई - श्री अटल बिहारी वाजपेयी

This one is a poem, a recommended read by a friend.It is composed by Shri Atal Bihari Vajpyee ,if you like can read more......... Here

ऊँचे पहाड़ पर, ............पेड़ नहीं लगते, ...........पौधे नहीं उगते, .........न घास ही जमती है। 

जमती है सिर्फ बर्फ, ......जो, कफ़न की तरह सफ़ेद और, 
मौत की तरह ठंडी होती है। 
खेलती, खिलखिलाती नदी, .......जिसका रूप धारण कर, 
अपने भाग्य पर बूंद-बूंद रोती है।

ऐसी ऊँचाई, ......जिसका परस .......पानी को पत्थर कर दे,
ऐसी ऊँचाई .........जिसका दरस हीन भाव भर दे, .........अभिनंदन की अधिकारी है,
आरोहियों के लिये आमंत्रण है, ........उस पर झंडे गाड़े जा सकते हैं

किन्तु कोई गौरैया, .........वहाँ नीड़ नहीं बना सकती, 
ना कोई थका-मांदा बटोही, .........उसकी छाँव में पलभर पलक ही झपका सकता है। 

सच्चाई यह है कि .......केवल ऊँचाई ही काफ़ी नहीं होती,
सबसे अलग-थलग, .......परिवेश से पृथक,
अपनों से कटा-बँटा, .........शून्य में अकेला खड़ा होना,
पहाड़ की महानता नहीं,..........मजबूरी है।
ऊँचाई और गहराई में...............आकाश-पाताल की दूरी है।

जो जितना ऊँचा, ............उतना एकाकी होता है, 
हर भार को स्वयं ढोता है..........चेहरे पर मुस्कानें चिपका, 
मन ही मन रोता है।  

ज़रूरी यह है कि .............ऊँचाई के साथ विस्तार भी हो, 
जिससे मनुष्य...........ठूँठ सा खड़ा न रहे, 
औरों से घुले-मिले,........किसी को साथ ले........किसी के संग चले। 
भीड़ में खो जाना,.......यादों में डूब जाना, 
स्वयं को भूल जाना, ..........अस्तित्व को अर्थ, ..........जीवन को सुगंध देता है। 

धरती को बौनों की नहीं,.......ऊँचे कद के इंसानों की जरूरत है
इतने ऊँचे कि आसमान छू लें, ............नये नक्षत्रों में प्रतिभा की बीज बो लें, 
किन्तु इतने ऊँचे भी नहीं, .........कि पाँव तले दूब ही न जमे, 
कोई काँटा न चुभे....... कोई कली न खिले। 
न वसंत हो, न पतझड़, हो सिर्फ ऊँचाई का अंधड़........मात्र अकेलेपन का सन्नाटा।  
मेरे प्रभु! 
मुझे इतनी ऊँचाई कभी मत देना.........ग़ैरों को गले न लगा सकूँ.......इतनी रुखाई कभी मत देना।