Whispering Shadow

We all have a dream - one you believe in, a one you see becoming a reality, a dream you know nothing about but you know it exists taking shape somewhere in the many years to come, a dream that defines the purpose of your life. It is yours and you know it. It is the guiding light for every decision you take. But how do you make others see the light? Do they need to see the light? As it turns out, yes, they do sometimes, to know you as a person. You try giving them a glimpse. The brightness of the vision is blinding. They shut their eyes. And then it's gone. But when you shut your eyes, it is clearer than ever. And the moment you open them, it is blurry. All you can recollect is you saw a dream. All you are left with is the lingering sensation. It is this sensation that makes you a believer. It is the belief that translates into a vision which in turn can be shared. Though appreciated for its beauty in the long run, many find it hard to understand the choices you are going to make t...

Satisfaction manifests itself in different ways. Satisfaction could come from the sense of achievement, peace, joy or relaxation derived from any one of the many activities one could possibly do. But the beauty lies in the fact that its effect leave an imprint on your head, a scar one wants to see over and over again to relive those times that have been. Again scar may not be the perfect word to use in a positive connotation but I simply use it as a last symbol of an event that led to strong emotions. I was scarred twice in the last fortnight. Two very different reasons led to two very different results but gave me the same amount of satisfaction. The first event I am talking of was my rafting trip to Kolad. The dense forests, the pristine waters, the unpredictable skies and the beautiful flora and fauna looked even prettier when observed from the quiet and fast moving rafts. There was no way I could have seen and absorbed so much natural grandeur in so little time. When added to the a...

Swines passed it on to humans. Humans passed it on to other humans. Some of the other humans came to my campus. Some of those living on the campus caught it by the virtue of ill fate but survived the scare. Some are lucky to have not got it still. Some have escaped it right in time. Those in the latter two categories may still not be completely out of its danger. The clock is ticking. Panic is increasing. People are leaving. Sounds like a typically d-day scenario of a movie. But it's true! I never thought I would have the opportunity to witness the panic of being stricken by the most hyped illness in the world. I shouldn't be sounding excited about it, but I can't deny the fact I am as excited as I am worried. In an otherwise extremely planned schedule for the next 3 months, most would have thought nothing could go wrong. But it did, and how, and how soon. If I could analogize the H1N1 virus with the Joker in the Dark Knight, it perfectly represents his ''agent of c...

Though the Time Machine in the H.G.Wells' novella may still be a distant reality, I have managed to discover its not-so-close substitute in the form of a b-school. It seems just yesterday that I landed at MDI, fresh and full of apprehensions about what the coming few months are going to throw on me. I have become one-sixth of an MBA since then, I have given 14 exams and 28 quizzes in the process, submitted around half a dozen projects and haven't quite realized where was it that the learning has happened, though I am certain it has. It is as if all the actions were involuntarily performed by a unknown side of me. What has happened more consciously is that I have been promoted from the nocturnal creatures to a qualified insomniac. Seniors say if you are sleeping too much, you are not making the most of your time in a b-school, which I partly agree with. Say for instance the last week from Monday to Friday, I slept for 4,5,3,4,2 hours per day respectively everyday. And sometimes ...

The search is on For another treasure Not the glory of achievement Nor wealth beyond measure The path is hidden The journey is long The silence and sounds of the woods Accompany me all along "Make your own path If you can't find the right ways Learn from me, oh traveller" Advices the river as it sways Gazing through the scarlett sky The Sun sinks at the distant end Spreading darkness as it takes my leave To brighten up another land The sights and sounds and smells Look with me into the starry night Overtaking me with a sense of joy Making me wonder if my goal was right The serenity and the beauty alike Make nature my wonder cure My journey was my destination Of that, I am completely sure.

I don't know why I am writing this on my blog. It was 10:15 AM. I was in such deep sleep that only a canon shot could have awakened me. Or so I thought, until I was awakened by the ringtone of my cell-phone. I cursed the caller. Someone would have to be cruel to awaken a harmless soul from his sweet slumber. I heard a familiar voice. Once my brain had finished its daily booting routine, I managed to identify the owner of the voice. It was MS, my classmate and friend. I don't remember which language he spoke in but what he said vaguely translated to "Are you not coming for the lecture?" I told him that I was. I reiterated that the lecture was only at 10:15. That's when he broke the news to me "It's already 10:15." I went like "Oh F***, not again." Had it been any other phase of my education, I would have bunked with pleasure. My philosophy used to be "Why put in an effort in waking up for a boring lecture which again puts you to sle...

Life’s biggest gifts often come in the most inconspicuous fashion. Their worth is realized only through the change they spark off. The change makes its presence felt gradually, through an experience of joy and suffering, grief and hope, which in turn force one to look within. For cyclist Lance Armstrong, life’s biggest gift was cancer. In his autobiography "It's not about the bike" written with Sally Jenkins, Armstrong beautifully weaves the story of his self-actualization. The book is a narrative touching every aspect of his life right since his childhood to his rebirth. In the beginning, he greatly talks about the influence of his mother, his turbulent relation with his fathers and more importantly, his own discovery of the athlete in him. His career as a triathlete and cyclist is like a fairytale of successes and victories till reality strikes in the form of a fourth stage testicular cancer. His prognosis looks bleak with the cancer having spread to his brain, lungs ...