A SINCERE POET VS A SMART SPEAKER

FROM THE PEN APN
21ST SEPTEMBER,2014

In college he was famed as a gifted poet and I, as a gifted speaker. He was the gentlest and soft-spoken boy in the college and I was a vibrant flashing character.
The election time neared. All the college convulsed with election fever. Pushing cards, banners, posters and such election materials dovetailed with vigorous campaigning of aspiring student leaders and the voters were lured by all possible means. That year the hustle and bustle of the college in that pre-election time was unprecedented.

I was made to stand as an opponent to that gentle but talented guy. While on a campaigning move on the corridors of 1st floor of the college I was introduced to him. In a few minutes I could feel that he is a better candidate than me. His abnormally normal and greatly simple personality made a profound impression in my heart. I was conquered by his genuinely modest behaviour and sincere friendly smiles.

I learnt from him the quality of sincerity in one’s approach. He was endowed with a poetic heart and that made him glide with effortless ease into the minds of his fellow students. He used to speak from the heart.

He was contesting for the post of LITERARY SECRETARY and so was I. I campaigned with smart, quirk, witty and pleasing remarks like the smart TV anchors. But he moved like a stream of poetic sensibility with definite rhythm and beautiful bends. He was like an ART FILM and I was like a full entertainment comedy film. He had enormous depth but I had a flashing surface. He was real gold but I was a shining piece of imitation. I had a brilliantly shining surface but he had a deeply matured inner faculty. He had depth but I had outward show. Te whole college was agog for the results.

The election was over. Then the counting was also over and an authoritative voice announced on the loud speaker which declared that I was the winner. I felt “REAL GOLD WAS ONCE AGAIN OVERSHADOWED BY GLITTERING IMITATION.” The majority of students stood by my side being lured by an empty flash of charisma but they missed who really deserved the post..............

14 years after, in the social networking site one day I discovered that same old face with the same sincere eyes and the same all-conquering smile receiving the “Best Young Poet’s Award of the state” from the hands of the honorable C.M of the state. I looked at the piece of news and commented below..... REAL GOLD HAS LASTING VALUE.

When a teacher took a pause....

DEDICATED TO THE TEACHING FRATERNITY

FROM THE PEN APN

The whole class was silent. All the 128 students were silent because the teacher who was supposed to deliver his lessons was seen to be lost in a prayerful posture with his eyes closed, heads down and hands resting on the table. The silence continued........In the depth of silence the teacher tried his best to come out of the state of absorption but it was impossible on his part. The more he tried, the deeper he sank into his thoughts.

 A quote, which he came across, while teaching a text had struck a chord in his heart. The quote said, “Teaching is not a lost art but the regard for teaching is a lost tradition.”

He was a teacher in an institution but today in the class while reading the quote he experienced a flashback of his numerous teachers starting from the one who had taught him the alphabet to the professor of his last attended institution. All of them appeared in a circle as if they were playing marry-go-round keeping him at the centre. The teacher felt himself like a student and was lost in intense feelings of gratefulness for those persons who had taught him the ABC’s of life.

The silence was broken by a front bencher’s question, “What happened, Sir? Are you alright?” The teacher replied from a state of heightened emotion, “Yes boy, I am always alright in life because a few teachers had flawlessly shaped it. And you may take another 20 years to realize why I went speechless today.” The students could not understand what happened to their beloved teacher.

With a smile the teacher turned to the white board and wrote a sentence in capital letters to eliminate his students’ wide mouthed expressions. The white board was glistening with the words:

“A TEACHER AFFECTS ETERNITY; HE CAN NEVER TELL WHERE HIS INFLUENCE STOPS.”

Monologue of a flower

FROM THE PEN APN

I am a flower and in my short life-time I gather the beauty of creation and bloom with pleasant colours and fragrances so that men can see the beauty of creator through me. 

I am born to spread beauty. 

I speak subtly in the language of fragrance. I soothe the eyes and cheer both heart and mind. That is why I am plucked and given to your sweet heart as a token of your love. I am happy that I symbolize love and best wishes. 

The greatest time in my life comes when a lover offers me in the hand of his beloved and the beloved blushingly receives me. And accepting me the beloved accepts in her a chain of new creation that is love-marriage-children and so on.

But in some occasions I may fall also in the hands of a person who has a calculative mind and a stony heart and who may throw me on the table carelessly and will demand for a GOLD RING because for him/her I have no lasting value as compared to the yellow metal.

I do not know what hate is. That is why 20 years after when a ditched lover opens a book and discovers my dried corpse from the folds of the book, he places his hands on me, closes his eyes and draws a long breath. And from the corner of his closed eyes drops of shining tear come out. I am a witness of his love and he has preserved me carefully although his love-life was unsuccessful. 

What makes me live exclusively to myself

From the pen APN

Interacting with ideas and the laptop seems safer than communicating with other people around me. When I start positively with gestures of friendship, I find the responses of people around me to be too raw and bitter to put up with. And what I feel is that I have a very little patience. So I burst with fire and sound like a filament of an electric bulb whose fuse now blows out. Such violent outbursts cause momentary glare but in the succeeding calmness there is darkness or a dead stop. 

This is what makes me live exclusively to myself.

MEDITATION WITH/WITHOUT EYES CLOSED

From the pen APN

Closing my eyes I tried my utmost to silence many incoherent thought-waves that were appearing in my mind. I reclined on a revolving chair in the lecturer’s common room and slowly sank into the deeper realms of my being. I journeyed deeper and deeper into my being and became oblivious of time and my surroundings.

Breathing deeply I collected myself and consoled myself for being alive.Now I thanked the providence because I was not dead and above all I had some more time to live my life and follow my dreams. I slowly opened my eyes. The wall clock hanging above the world map in the common room told that it was mid-day.I saw the college peon, a man in his forties, dusting the office files and papers. He was completely absorbed in his own job. He had no time to read my mental reactions. Moreover, he did not know that I was observing him. I saw him and found that there was a rare level of satisfaction surrounding his face. He was lost in his wok and his satisfaction was nothing but the mark of his complete absorption in his job. He was truly meditating while on duty-the true karma yogi.

I told myself that I shut my eyes and need silence to experience meditation. However, he makes meditation happen in his normal activities by showing single-minded dedication to his duty.

Means differ but the goal is same.