days inside the dark room

Inside the four walls with tv, laptop alone, Talking for 20 hours over the phone, Heads come out only to check the arrival of the lunch, Checking for home dlivery online with lts of mouse punch Yes, This is the situation of innumerous techees and MNC employees over all metros especially in PGs and hostels, those sleep under the dosage of weekend on saturdays and sundays. Half of the dozen millions spend their time in over crouded mallas, multiplex and country clubs just to spend their money and to show their royal standard. other half directly leave the cities for their home without any second thought. This category always thins about weekends in the week and about the week in the weekend. They simply live in metro cities for nominal sake. But their minds will be always roaming at their home thinking about their families. But, the reality is that, they can't een spend their weekend time happily with their families, as they think of their work over the weekends. Apart all these people, there is another uniqe class, that never likes to spend money over either entertainment or traveling. it spends its complete time inside the PG room by shuting the doors all the time without talking to anyone, just peering into a boring show over tv with a laptop on the bed having cell phone at the ears. All the three things will be symultaneous and mnotonous. I usually never prefer tobe shut inside, though ii won't spend out or i won't go to home, i always prefer to goout at least for sometime during my holidays just to get the heat of sun and delight of air. But, this was the first time, that i spent at my PG. PG! No! a self prison... Self home arrest... Colourful friday evening, smile among all faces depicting a burst of happiness awaitin... sleepless friday night, with the fantasy of sleeping for the entire saturday tight. The room is four wall cabin, where the sun and wind should dare to enter. Closed door with a tv shouting all the time, peeping inside laptop with falsified erfig online. Phone of friends again and againjust to irritate by asking about weekend plans. the question is formal and the answer should come always in an ignorent smile. Mere food again and again, food is the only cause, that can bring the person into the social line. But, do these people are really social? having an ear phone over the ears, clearly depicting to mind the business and yours is yurs. Human voices and faces are better over TV and social medias, people are happy to talk to the strangers than to the neighbours. I remembered my school days again and again in grief, How we used to drag everyone to talk with us with simple friendly belief, Those days were made for human communication and relief, Now also we are living in the name of social but as a mere unutilized individuals in the name of mechanical life. Hope all of us are facing this unsocial problems one or the other day because of our busy schedule. But, we all forget them just with the attack of monday, the working day, which again makes us to wait for another weekend...

THE SOURCE OF INSPIRATION IS NO MORE

That was the day on the bank of the river Ganga in the twilight of of the occasion of Deepaarathi (offering to the river goddess with light)! Baby sitting alone over the bank piercing at the light unknwoing about the dark world! The lion which can't be seen by everyone came to the baby with self persuation to just bless it to become a writer and that lion is none other than the Journalist, Columnist, Editor, Writer, Author, Novelist, Notion evoker... How shall i discribe him? Yes, it is none other than the Padma Vibhushan award winner, the author of great novel "train to Pakisthan" Mr. Kushwanth Singh, the inspiration for my writing. It is my greatest delight that, i was that baby, in the story which i told u, which happened almost 20 years ago. I challenge that, no other situation in my life time can give me such happiness though i didn't know the meaning of happiness and sadness at that time. How a baby can understand the meaning of a personality!!! But, now i am a matured adult and can understand and feel the implication of sadness and happiness. Since the heartrending news of my inspiration's death hit my ears..... no! my heart, I am feeling that, i should be a child till today, so that, i wouldn't have understood what is death. Now i know everything! the meaning of death, its inevitability and its act as a provider of freedom to every soul. Thousands of poems glorifying death echoes in my heart. But still it is tough to take an indigestable food into the heart. Stomach can digest, but heart can't. The baricade of emotions never allow to digest. But the reality is that, my inspiration is not there physically over the earth. But, it is in my heart till i live and leave and the output of this great personality through the means of writing will be immortal though lakhs of fans and followers like me pass away. My polight and mournful condolence to the immortal soul, who spent his complete 99 years of age to cultivate the culture and brought rich harwest in Indian Journalism with his brilliant spade of pen..........