An ode to my ill-wishers.

Another birthday, another year and this year I want to take a moment out of my super busy schedule and thank some people I have never acknowledged.
All those who hurt me intentionally or unintentionally I thank thee all for you made me resilient and resistant to hurt .
All those who made such fake and hollow promises that put a silver bell to shame I thank thee all for you made me stronger.
All those who pushed me and watched me fall hard I thank thee for you made me want to stand taller.
All those who took pleasure in my failures and my pain I thank thee for you made me strive for success harder.

The transformation in my life has always been dramatic, from a shy, reserved and introvert doctor I have become strong,confident and a dedicated soldier and I have all these people to thank for that. I would have never achieved what I have today without a push from all of them so a genuine thanks to all of them.

Finding of my stars

                          

                  

Lets stay awake till we listen the

Whispers of the dawn,

Lets keep taking wrong turns

Till we reach right.

Coz you are the path in my heart

And a finding of my stars

The dream of my wishes

The strength of my power,

Lets walk till the end of the earth

And find a butterfly in lullaby

Lets fill each other with our souls

Coz you are the painting of my stories

And etching on my sighs

The watermark on my courage

The pinnacle of my highs

Banjaara | Hindi Poem by Gaurav Arora

Post by GvSparx.

Ik rahi puchhta hai manzil ka pata
Dooja jaata hai bus chalta chala

Ik darrta hai ho jaaye na khata
Dooja nakaarta hai sahi galat ka kaayeda

Awaargi sa nahi koi nasha
Myekasho ko kya pata

Hatheli pe liye jaan, banjaara chalaa
Dene khuda ko uski muhabbat ka silaa

People on the same road travel different ways. You observe two ways, a crowded one, and an attractive one. An ideal weekend for the crowd of my office is just drinking and releasing, while some like to travel to mountains in SUVs, book a hotel and then drink there. A bad accident including alcoholism with a colleague caused my then manager to say "if your only source of entertainment revolves around alcohol, then you really need to make amends and look beyond". So I wish to say that there are much more fun and adventurous ways to kill yourself. Dying in a drink and drive case is just so effing mainstream. You would barely manage a tiny spot on page ten of the newspaper, which won't even mention if you passed out on Rs. 50 desi or Macallan 1946. I would like to use the opportunity of this guest post on the alcoholic blog of nasheeli Ratika Chauhan, to inspire her readers to take her out on adventurous trips or Jain dinners and drinking only from her eyes.

Written by

Gaurav Arora

Spoken Word Poet| Comic | Host

Gaurav performs poetry loaded with psychology, biology, romance, and a thick layer of humor. He has been writing poems for ten years and performing for the last three with 300+ appearances in cafes, fests, and corporates. He has staged multiple ticketed poetry shows in Delhi, all sellouts. He is the founder of Poet's Mic, a platform for poets to showcase impacting and entertaining poetry.

 

Lost Hues.

The silhoutes and shapes were speaking to me from below. Each one whispering a different tale. I was straining to find my own tale hidden between those layers of stories. I was flying, soaring among clouds looking for my feathers hidden between those cotton wisps. I met my story all in pastels unlike those vibrant, sprkly fables I saw earlier. Where were my colours?

King Khan spoiled it all!

I hate shahrukh khan,!! even I am unable to believe this blasphemy I uttered, but to be true he has ruined romance for me (and 10000000 other girls). He came and he changed the definition of love for million of years to come. Such a pretty picture was painted that every girl morphed into Simran waiting for her Raj to come and save her, who never really existed and is as mythical as harry potter(oh please!! dont tell me you were waiting to enlist at Hogwarts, and wipe the tears.)

1.DDLJ- I really shouldnt be explaining why I picked this to be the first glorifying example. When I saw this one I was literally in love with him,ultimate bad boy transformed into a dedicated lover. If only some guy did half of the things he did to win Amrish puri, he would get double the love Raj got.
I mean who travels all the way from London to Punjab just because of a whimsical cow bell and that too for a girl whose marriage is fixed to a hatta katta punjaabi munda. In real life if you ask your guy to pick you up from airport, all you are getting is a 1000 word explanation as to how important a meeting is for his career which is taking precisely at the same time same day, and how his absence will crumble the foundation of his billion dollar company (and no, your guy isnt Mark Zuckerberg!!)
Who dons a dhoti and feeds pigeons to impress your dad, and god for bid if you ask him to leave non-veg for one day or visit FRENDLICOES, all hell will break loose.
No, Raj doesnt exist in real life, ofcourse if I had known this earlier, I would have put a halt to all my stupid, idiotic baseless imaginations. But no, SRK had to play Raj, he had to play mandolin, and he had to say in his chocolate rich voice "Bade bade shehron me aisi choti choti baatein hoti rehti hain senorita." sigh!!!!

2.KKHH-UFF!!! this movie came when we were kids edging towards puberty, talk about crucial timing. the movie changed a lot of perceptions about friendship, love. every tom boyish girl believed she had a chance with the stud of the class (overlooking the fact that for this to happen the glamorous diva of the batch had to die)
In real life studs/playboys/casanovas dont even give a second glance to the tomboy/geeky topper of the class let alone fall in love.
 Rahul and Anjali became teen icons, not to forget the huge economical profit gift shops made out of selling friendship bands. Then again Rahul was the doting father, loving son and faithful husband surviving on the memories of his dead wife. In India 90% of the guys remarry sooner than later if their wife expires that young. The cherry on the cake was his love for Kajol.
Yahan 1 se saccha pyaar kar nai paate, kaha do se karenge..huh.

3. Jab tak hai jaan- Aah, this film invited a lot of criticism but me being a loyal fan thinks he gave competition to a lot of actors who are half his age. Anyway, coming to the hate factor, none of the waiters I have come across in my life have ever been so charming or so handsome that I feel like sharing my past with him.Then Im yet to come across a guy in real life who sings with such panache and looks so hot while doing so. The most disappointing fact was this that no guy willl ever choose diffusing bombs willingly if he is dumped by a girl, on the contrary he will start his search for another one soon. I mean I would  literally kill to have a guy like that who would go to that extreme for me, sigh!!
On top of that sexy damsel like Anoushka Sharma throwing herself at him and all he does is a puny kiss on the forehead. Haah! in your dreams, the moment a guy finds a window to cheat, he flies out that window leaving caution behind.

4.Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi--Oh! Surinder Sahani had me eating out of his hands when he wrestles with the sumo wrestler. Yeah he wasnt SRK'ish in that role sans the rugged looks and with that horrible handlebar Moustache. Credits, goes to him for being sweet , loving caring husband who wouldnt even consider touching his wife without her permission. Whereas most of the guys sit patiently throughout the wedding ceremony just because they know they will pounce upon their unsuspecting wife on their first night, what about her permission...well what about it?? The other character Raj, comes learning dance totally contrary to his otheriwse simple nature just to make his wife happy..most of the guys dont know about that concept..the wife's happiness...
Aah, if only men like that existed...!!

5. K3G- OHO..the powder blue suit, coiffed hair, the dimpled smile the suave attitude..I could go on for lengths without taking a breather. Black is meant only for 3 people--Shahrukh, SRK, and King Khan. He was a fathers delight, all disciplined and ready to take over the multi million empire (ofcourse I could never understand where exactly in Delhi are such luscious hills located where stood amitabh bacchans grand palace and how did Kajol run all the way to his palace from chandni chowk to deliver sweets) .
then comes the BAMMM , he falls in love with the middle class simpleton Anjali and leaves his multi million corporation. Lemme clear the air, first biggies like those never ever visit their maids house, no matter how nice they are. Second love stories like these only exist in our imagination with a happy ever after ending. Although he looked absolutely edible in those transparent shirts which could have spelled fashion disaster for any one else..

I can rant incessantly for hours pointing out the shortcoming of guys we ladies have to face in real life but that would be inconsequential as it would have no effect on their thick as leather skin.
Whom am I kidding? Shahrukh Khan will always be my first ever love no matter he keeps playing these larger than life, impossible to find characters.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Rebirth

The words, deep meaningful words
fell out of my pocket,
the pretty pearls of my emotions,
clanging on floor, escaping into oblivion
before my thoughts could grasp and chain them back
to my imagination.


The words, sewn carefully through the strings of your love
gleaming with unabashed zeal,
reflecting the charm and your grace
adorning my lips and soul
since eternity.


The stolid, adamant earth hid my words
to write her own poetry,
mocking my helpless stares and glances
her poetry ran from hedge to hill
spanning a summer and an autumn


I stood transfixed
blinking away the tears of shame
of losing my precious to a limbless earth
when a lazy vine crept on me
embracing me in its warmth
I lost myself, melting with the foliage
fusing with the greens
exuding uninhibited courage and unknown peace.
The prevalent chaos was dying inside.

courage changes us.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss.
                                    -Rudyard Kipling.


Courage has many forms and shapes, it exists in fighting the sytem, it stares at us from the faces of the orphan kids cleaning our cars, you can dig the courage when you talk to the mother whose only son has been declared a martyr.
We dont need to look for courage, it breathes in us.
We exude courage when we let go...when we let go of our past.
We become braver on a daily basis when we let go of the grudges we hold, when we let go of the wrong done to us.
But we become most courageous when we let go of our loved ones, knowing well that may be they were the ones who loved us the most, consoling ourselves that may be its for the best that they left us.
Courage has many forms and shapes. We think we are done when the tragedy befalls, the sympathetic stares, the encouraging nod and we feel nothing convicting ourselves and throwing our depraved souls in the gallows of woes. The courage comes to us when we start healing, and it might not be immediately or there after but when we pick our selves and start from nada. 
Things always happen for a reason, sometimes we get to know the reason and others it might remain obscure for a lifetime. Things change, people change, circumstances change, feelings change but everything transpires because of a reason. Its a myth that we are weak, coz we are not, God made us strong enough to endure anything and thats how he loves us. Its a myth that we give up coz we never do. We fall, we fail , we flounder but we get up again, we succeed, we rectify our mistakes but in reality we never give up. We think we will not survive another catastrophe but when the time comes we do, day after day, tragedy after tragedy without ever realizing our true strength. Ofcourse we get help, we get support but nobody can live your life for you. Its always upto us to decide how much is too much and we have an uninhibited option of saying nothing is too much and i will never give up.

The dream!

100th post finally!! I know its not a unique, out of the world, first ever achieved kind of a thing but if you look closely, this is a first for me and hence a reason to clink champagne glasses n jump mad with joy. 3 years ago when I started my blog I was damn sure I would quit on pretext of hectic schedule(i still use Im-a-busy-doctor excuse for not reading blogs.) But here I am, penning down my 100th post, proud as a parent.
I have ranted on my blog, shared not-so-fictional stories, etched esotric poems absolutely about nothing(sometimes even I did not understand what I was writing), but I was losing sleep over what to share for my centurian post. Till date very few of my readers(not that I have millions) know that I am a doctor by profession and the dream Im about to share with everyone is one whose seeds were sown by one of my close colleague while working in Fortis hospital as an RMO 3 years ago.
MRCOG, trust me its not as brusque as it sounds. Member of royal college of obstetricians and gynecologists, NOW do I have your attention ladies and gentleman?
This is one of the highest accolades in our line of profession one could reach, and a much coveted "royal" added to your educational qualification serves as a cherry that too on a royal cake.
RCOG was founded in 1929 by William Blair Bell and Sir William Fletcher Shaw, and since then it has left no stones unturned to improve the reproductive health scenario both for women and children.
It is relentlessly labouring to dispel myths in reproductive health through a multi pronged approach of researches, experiments, surveys and publications.
A plethora of successful publication already exists on its name and the number is steeping up on a daily basis, thus proving a successful tool for widening our knowledge base.
To be honest and absolutely candid its the thought of becoming a member of royal college of obstetricians and gynecologists which can make one go through several sleepless and unrelenting nights of hard work. Its a dream, as poignant and vivid as a ballet performance. This also becomes important because of the fact that 3 years ago I missed a crucial opportunity to gain commonwealth sholarship due to a personal loss, this seems like my chance at redemption.
Though I cant classify as a well travelled person,still Im a traveller at heart. United Kingdom is rich when it comes to culture and history and experiencing and exploring it will be an experience worth getting chronicled. The thought of being in a different country, melting in a different culture is mesmerizing. Who knows I might get Sher-locked and bump into him on 221 baker street, sigh! The fact that UK doubles up as a doorway to Europe is an added advantage. I have already taken few small steps towards that dream. When you combine all in all , all you can say is Knowledge is not just great, but greatest.

This post has been written in association with indibloggers contest Knowledge is great. 

Hair woes!!

Whenever Indiblogger introduces a new contest related to hair, my heart literally skips a beat and my eyes get glazed (no, not the drug affected glaze). My eternal optimistic heart thinks, finally there is a hair product which can be my knight in shining bottle (oops!! armor), but every time despondent result awaits me.
First, let me introduce you to my hair which apparently has its own personality, and that too a split one (no pun intended). You can understand it better when I tell you it has an attitude which can put a punk ass teen rebel to shame. I have straight hair (I know most of you who know me by face will race an eyebrow as most of the times its ugly curly, you know bending-in-any-damn-direction-it-prefers) and its not even celebrity like poker straight. Its more of a pigtail straight (I dont have an exact idea what does a pigtail look like, but im sure its not good). I was happy till it looked like this, you know long straight and silky.

 The cliched "all good things come to an end" came true and my beautiful, long hair got cursed. I suffered a horrible disease called alopecia and within a month I was getting clumps of my hair in my hand (no tears please, I dont have a concept about how much info is too much info). The sad incident forced me to snip my hair short and each time my hairdresser snipped, my heart crunched a little under the damned scissors.
The unfortunate incident occured near my board exams and considering the kind of status symbol it is for our percentage-hungry parents, I was not given time to mourn. So I wiped my tears and took bits and peices of my leftover pride in the quality of my hair. Little did I know that there was about to be an added insult to injury. The hairfall continued and the quality deteriorated so much so that I had to resort to a bob, envious of long hair of my batchmates.
The worst realization dawned on me in fairwell when my bob cut stuck out as a sore thumb on my traditional saree. Till date I cringe whenever I flip through those old photographs.
Time flew with speed and I compensated my inferiority complex due to my hair by excelling in every co-curricular activity (In a way I thank those days as this was the time I became enthusiastic about writing.)
Though lack of my original shiny , long raven hair haunted me every now and then. School changed to medical college and things did not get easier for me only I resorted to philosophical attitude that physical appearance is just a superficial trait and its inner beauty which defines a person. The cracks in the philosophy used to occur on occasions like fresher party, farewell where I had no choice in hairstyle but to pull them back and clamp.
After every photo session I got asked "Why have you put oil?" and I had to restrain my self from screaming. To avoid getting clicked I used to play photographer and hence Im missing from most of my college pics.
My obsession with bad hair days was so intense that I never left home without a comb in my handbag, and god for bid if I forgot I never stepped inside a trial room for the fear of ruining my hair.
I cringe everytime I read poetries and verses written by the smitten lovers praising the lustrous locks of their beloved. Im never getting a poem written about my hair and the eternal romantic in me sighs at that thought.
I remove the photo tags from FB and social media as in most of the pics my hair decides to play the villain.
The height of obsession can be judged from the fact that while In a rafting trip, I was so much focused on my hair not getting wet that I missed the whole fun.
The only positive thing that comes out of all this hair-hulla is the fact whenever I clean my room, the amount of hair i sweep out makes me feel im living with a bunch of girl friends. but whats the use of hair if the comb and floor has more than on your head.
I miss the feel of wind in my hair while riding my two wheeler, as most of the times my hair is tied up. I hate wedding functions since I do not know what to do with my hair. Recently I bought a woollen cap for rs 2500/- on pretext of cold wave only because it made my hair look good (I know, mea culpa!!! )
Only God knows how many time I had to force stop myself from walking up to random girls and guys in metro asking them the secret to their quiffs and manes.
The tirade is a never ending one , not till I find a permanent solution to my hair till then the sad story will continue.
I want my long, shiny manageable hair back at any cost. I want recharged hair back. Is it too much to ask for?
So far , so Good.

This post is written for Indiblogger's Recharge Your hair, Recharge your life contest in association with Sunsilk.

Desert (ed)

The sun-kissed sand witnessed the knights' never ending search. The thorns scarred his hands, the sun blazed his parched soul. Winds would whisper at night to stop his madness. He couldnt stop digging feverishly, not now , not today , when he could smell her smile beneath the sand. Today the mad knight would find his love he lost years ago in sandstorm, buried beneath the golden sand.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

clap

they clap in awe
at her flawless performance
oblivious of her wounds.

The post is written for for haiku heights and the prompt is clap.