An Article from "Warrior of The Light"

The good fight

“I have fought a good fight, I have kept the faith,” says Paul in one of his Epistles. And it seems appropriate to remember the theme now that a new year is stretching out before us.
Men can never stop dreaming. Dreams are the food of the soul, just as food is to the body. In our existence we often see our dreams come undone, yet it is necessary to go on dreaming, otherwise our soul dies and Agape does not penetrate it. Agape is universal love, the love which is greater and more important than “liking” someone. In his famous sermon on dreams, Martin Luther King reminds us of the fact that Jesus asked us to love our enemies, not to like them. This greater love is what drives us to go on fighting in spite of everything, to keep faith and joy, and to fight the Good Fight.
The Good Fight is the one we wage because our heart asks for it. In heroic times, when the apostles went out into the world to preach the Gospel, or in the days of the knights errant, things were easier: there was a lot of territory to travel, and a lot of things to do. Nowadays, however, the world has changed and the Good Fight has been moved from the battle fields to within us.
The Good Fight is the one we wage on behalf of our dreams. When they explode in us with all their might – in our youth – we have a great deal of courage, but we still have not learned to fight. After much effort we eventually learn to fight, and then we no longer have the same courage to fight. This makes us turn against ourselves and we start fighting and becoming our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams were childish, difficult to make come true, or the fruit of our ignorance of the realities of life. We kill our dreams because we are afraid of fighting the Good Fight.
The first symptom that we are killing our dreams is lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life had time for everything. Those who did nothing were always tired and could hardly cope with the little work they had to do, always complaining that the day was too short. In fact, they were afraid of fighting the Good Fight.
The second symptom of the death of our dreams are our certainties. Because we do not want to see life as a great adventure to be lived, we begin to feel that we are wise, fair and correct in what little we ask of our existence. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day life and hear the noise of spears clashing, feel the smell of sweat and gun-powder, see the great defeats and the faces of warriors thirsty for victory. But we never perceive the joy, the immense joy in the heart of those who are fighting, because for them it does not matter who wins or loses, what matters only is to fight the Good Fight.
Finally, the third symptom of the death of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon, not asking too much of us and not asking more than what we want to give. So we feel that we are “mature”, leave aside the “fantasies of childhood” and guarantee our personal and professional success. We are surprised when someone our age says they still want this or that out of life. But deep in our heart we know that what has happened is that we gave up fighting for our dreams, fighting the Good Fight.
When we give up our dreams and find peace, we enjoy a period of tranquility. But our dead dreams begin to rot inside us and infest the whole atmosphere we live in. We start acting cruel towards those around us, and eventually begin to direct this cruelty towards ourselves. Sickness and psychoses appear. What we wanted to avoid in fighting – disappointment and defeat – becomes the only legacy of our cowardice. And one fine day the dead and rotten dreams make the air difficult to breathe and then we want to die, we want death to free us from our certainties, from our worries, and from that terrible Sunday-afternoon peace.
So, to avoid all that, let’s face 2007 with the reverence of mystery and the joy of adventure.

Chapter 4

The Journey to Varden
Rowran was falling, falling off a cliff into the deep ocean and then time froze. He saw a huge claret eye darting at him and he couldn’t move. His body was rendered numb as if he had no control. He knew not of the creature but the golden wedge surrounded by the maroon fire seem to engulf him from all side and finding it to him. There were goblins battling on the cliff. A bolt of darted towards him and everything went blank. A fair song buzzed his ear and his heart stopped pounding and he relaxed.
He woke up to climbing noon sun and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Shaflon was preparing food in an earthen pot, kept on fire and humming a song that Rowran woke up with.
“Greetings, so finally you are awake. It has stopped raining as you can see. We will be able to start in the evening as the sun descends.” said Shaflon, handing Rowran a drink in a coconut shell.
Rowran nodded in agreement, and accepted the drink. It was warm, but he didn’t know what it was. It felt good.
“It is Cerlamin, prepared from an herb found in the forest. It will keep tiredness at bay and thirst at minimal. For hunger I am preparing some roots. I guess you would like it once prepared.” said Shaflon, taking a sip of Cerlamin and steering the earthen pot with stick.
Rowran got ready for the day as the roots were being prepared. It didn’t taste anything like Rowran expected and surely not as good as the feast of Shrine, but it was good for his hungry stomach and he felt good after having it.
After waiting for Shaflon to finish packing few roots in impromptu bag weaved out of big leaves and soft stems. The two started on their journey to Waza-lier.

Chapter 3

Battle of Allies
Darkness and rain grew heavier. Fire retreated in the cover of coal and ash. Shattering of rain drops were the only sound to be heard, but none could sleep.
Occasional thunder cracked through the forest and spoke of evil omens. After many minutes passed Rowran asked- “Have you ever been to Somanor?”
“Somanor” repeated Shaflon, as Rowran’s inquisitive gaze rested on Shaflon. “It used to be a wonderful city. Home to most virtues men, rock solid warriors, and amazing craftsmen. I visited it when Rune was proclaimed king after demise of his father Samaner. He invited a council for unification of armies of Men. Five of the seven heeded the call, but rest descended under the command of Shadows. It was silence before the storm.
I was in Somanor when allied forces bowed to unite against the rising darkness of Arzamanor.
I was there when the preparation began and swords were forged. The dark attacked the fort of Lamaranier. We had warning and were prepared as an army of tens of thousands of goblins and wolverines drummed and marched to the fort.
I stood next to the king on the tallest tower. They stormed the fort like water on rock. Many goblins were killed and victory seemed imminent. The howl of wolverines filled the night and blood drained down the river Nior.
Then came the shudder that shook the mighty fort and gigantic figures appeared at the horizon. There was dust in the air and a pungent smell that fumed the air and did not wash away for days to come.
Maroth, dark creatures feed by Dark Shadows. Giant teeth stuck out behind their trunks. Feet made for stammering the force, Trunk made for thrashing, and ramming the gates. Nothing could bring them down. They moved through force as thunderbolt through forest. It broke through seven gates, till it reached Dara’hanu, gate to the keep.
Then, something happened that no one expected. Something that changed the history forever.
An army of Elves marched down the forest of Vardac. Surrounded nasty goblins, fierce wolverines and rampage Manroth from all sides and slew all that stood and brought down the gigantic creatures to ground. Each crashed with a giant thug and earth shook beneath our legs. Black blood burnt the ground. No one retreated, no one survived. The defeat sent Dark Forces back to where they belong, but now once again they are coming, more than ever, and are more power which cannot be ignored.
The silent bond of friendship that once existed among men and elves is now poisoned by disbelief, that never grow weak and Dark Lord is taking advantage of it once more.”
Since the ‘Battle of Allies’ Dark Forces have not engaged in open warfare, but the power across the Stream of Mogard has grown stronger. Every night humans and elves are being slain, no place is safe.”
There was silence after the words that both feared to break. The rain grew harder and tiredness forced Rowran in a deep slumber.”

Chapter 2

The Run
In the dimly lit shrine hut on the bank of river Sarenal, rested Rowran. The sky was getting dark, storm approached from west as grey curtains covered the moon and shimmering river lose its glowing lustre. Occasional thunder lit up the room and the window curtain fluttered with great shudder.
“Rowran, wake up!” shouted Shaflon, shaking Rowran in bed. “We have to leave now.”
Rowran wakes up to find deep blue eyes of Shaflon darting right at him. Part scared, part surprised, he grabbed Shaflon’s hand and rushed out of the shire to see a stream of blood flowing down the river. Body of few elves pierced by dark arrows came with blood and there were explosions in the forest behind the shrine.
Both crossed the river in a hurry and Shaflon untied the hanging bridge that helped them cross and said- “Goblins, wicked creatures they are. Can never let us live in peace.”
An ugly dark creature, with huge eyes and cutting canine fangs came out of the bush and shoot an arrow towards them. Shaflon raised his Shaft and shot a red blot towards the arrow and it exploded in mid air.
“Run there are many of them.” said Shaflon, running towards the forest.
Before they could disappear behind the trees they heard a huge explosion that lit up the sky. They turned around in despair to find Shrine shattered to pieces.
Sadness engulfed them as they moved deeper in the woods and soon enough it started to rain. Once the view of river was out of sight, they rested under an opening in the black rocks that symbolised the start of rocky terrain ahead.
Stars faded into darkness and the world was rendered in total darkness. Nothing other than the faint outline of trees and the peeking rocks could be seen. Occasionally, a pair of glowing eyes looked at them but disappeared as soon as they were noticed.
It started to rain heavily and the temperature dropped fast. Shaflon lit up a fire to keep them warm and Rowran sat shivering next to it. When his clothes dried and he felt warm again he asked Shaflon about the goblins.
“Wicked servant of Dark Lord they are. Three days back they attacked Somanor and destroyed every human that ever lived. I presume you would be one of the lucky survivors to survive their rage of hatred. Our riders returned the previous evening with three survivors and were taken to Sumdel Temple, hidden deep in the forest. You were to be taken too, but I wonder if it would be possible now, with goblins guarding the river crossing in such a large number.” answered Shaflon
“Where would we go then, we can’t hide in the forest forever.” questioned Rowran.
Shaflon waited for a few moments, wondering if he should speak or not, at last he said, “From Sumdel, we were planning to take you to visit Mare’lime, to retrieve your memories, but now i wonder if we can take the journey on our own. The attack by goblins has proved that they wanted you, but reason still unclear. I need to get you to a safe place.”
Rowran looked away from cracking fire and faced Shaflon with a questioned look. “Can she really retrieve my memories?” he asked.
Shaflon nodded in answer. “If there is anyone who can help you, it is she. If your heart is pure and you come of no evil.” he paused. “Journey is long and with goblins on our trail, it is dangerous. Home of Mare’lime is the answer to every question we have and safest in the dark hours as of now.”
“I am ready for it. I feel worthless, lonely and uncertain with no identity. When should we start.” Rowran’s eyes glittered with certainty. Nothing could have been better then a hope to gain everything back that he has lost.
“Remember journey is not easy, when we have no food and can afford no rest. The way travels through the high pass of Oblivious to the high valley. Darker forest and rushing rivers; crude marsh and the land of dead; into the wild and in the dark.” explained Shaflon. “Are you ready for it all?”
“Yes, I am. I fear no death, but the thought of being lost within kills me. I need to know myself.” he said. The innocence of Rowran spoke of bravery, but Shaflon knew for certain that Rowran kept a secret, purpose of being sent to Sumdel.
“We shall start soon, as soon as rain stop and sun is on rise. In the cover of woods, we heed east the trail to Waza-Lier, the wax palace of Mare’lime” announced Shaflon, and gave Rowran a silent smile of affirmation.

Chapter 1

New Beginning
The piercing dark eyes peered through the darkness of night in search of something that look familiar. He could make out the faint outline of the walls and sloping roofs made up of wood. The filtered moon light shone through the small window behind the curtains. The sound of flowing river seemed reassuring but he could not remember where he was.
He tried to get up from the bed, but his weariness has taken its toll. His legs hurt and hands cramp. He realized he was hungry.
How long have I not eaten? He wondered.
His mind failed to answer.
It appeared as if a bolder has risen between him and his mind.
He looked at his bandaged hand and wonder what he had gone through. No answer.
The darkness outside seem to filled him within and he blankly looked at the window.
“Lamaner” said a voice and the room were lit by shimmering blue light. It came from a tall shaft, held by a wise steady hand. Before late a bearded old face appeared from darkness, revealing wise old eyes and long flooding white beards reaching his waist line. He was dressed in white cloak. Boy looked at the wizard and backed off in surprise.
“Who are you?” he demanded, more out of fear then anger.
“Ask me not” commanded the wizard. “Do you know who you are?”
Everything seemed dark. More he tried to remember, thicker the wall grew in his mind. He don’t remember his own name, a cold sweat ran down his spine, shivering him from head to toe.
“You are in a shrine, in the kingdom of Sumdel on the bank of river Sarenal.” said the wizard. “The last surviving temple of knowledge and I am Shaflon.” He bent down in a slight bow. Boy catches glimpses of an Amulet dangling around his neck behind the long beard and wonders if he is a friend or foe.
“We found you in a barrel, washed down the river two days back.” continued Shaflon. “I presume you are hungry, your food will be here in a moment.”
Food sounded good and he realized how hungry he was. Feeling more confident this time he asked- “Do you know what happened to me?”
“I am sorry, I don’t. The scratches on your arms speak of an attack by goblins and injuries on hand of a possible dragon. As soon as we found you, we sent messengers due north for information, they will be back soon. Till then you shall rest and heal your injuries. You are safe here.” reassured the wizard.
Two fair tall men with knotted golden hairs entered the room. Their eyes were of blue gems and clean silver robes shimmered like flowing river. The boy noted the splendid long figures, softness and delicacy of touch when they served him with food, fit for a grand feast.
He ate with charm as Shaflon seated himself on a wooden stool, resting his enquiring gaze on the boy. Everything boy ate tasted good. He asked Shaflon about the food and he told him that the food was prepared in Elvin kitchen, with Elves trained for many years and recipes of splendid taste, which are held secret.
When boy finished eating, he turned to Shaflon and asked- “Am I dreaming.”
“Nay! You are not dreaming.” replied Shaflon.
“Everything seems so dark. I can’t live with the fact that I have no identity and a past that I don’t remember. I am so afraid within.” he starts to cry. Shaflon rose from his stool and approached the boy.
“Don’t let misery of past become your misery. Start a new life, free from melancholy and sorrow of past. Make new memories, leaving behind the memories that are locked. Answers are coming, my boy. There is a reason for all this and it must be for good.” He gently touch the boy on his forehead and said-“From today you would be known as Rowran, from the River.”
A sense of peace descended on Rowran, his sobs faded into silence and before his tears could dry, he was swept away in the world of dreams and his course to rebirth began.

Beginning of the end.

Dear Leslie,

At last, I am talking to you. Leslie life has really confused me and I seem to go nowhere. Nothing seems to be in order and I am running out of time. How much I try to catch it; I am left far behind.

After I got sinus problem, I am not at all able to recover in my studies. I feel as if someone has dragged me down my staircase of success.

On one side when I was having sinus, what Somaan did with me, intensified my problem to the greatest heights.

I fear, but it is true that I expected her to be with me, after such long cease fire, but this expectation proved too heavy for me.

With continuous increase in my problems and lose of my last hope for things being right. I was totally broken up. Rather then recovering, t was totally confined to bed. My thirst to play basketball was killing me, day and night I used to dream only of basketball and I remember there were times I played Age of Empires hours together at night without sleeping and read Harry Potter for nights together.

But nothing helped.

I no longer felt like staying in the school, each and every small thing reminded of how weak I have become. How much I have lost and what I have made of myself.

I thought it will be better to change my school to prevent myself from this nostalgia, but it was a half- hearted attempt of mine, or may be I just wanted to tell Kamala Ma’am about how I am feeling and I wanted her to help me.

Principal Sir and my relationship were getting spoiled, my relationship with my class-mates was getting neglected and I was loosing my respect for self.

Whenever I used to sit for studies, I just used to feel “how will you recover the time you have lost Maverick.”

May be, it was the period when I wanted to finish all the portions to do good in boards but my illness spoiled my plans such that I went nowhere.

But I can not disagree with the fact that during this time I really wanted to talk to Somaan after a span of three months or I think when I realized that things can not be made right all wanted to regret all that I considered wrong as it was now or never.

After that I was too much disturbed about her for a week or two and then started forgetting her.

But you know there was one more thing that happened strangely during the time, around the time of Children’s Day. Principal Sir said a lot of things to me and I was really heart broken by it and more then that by the fact that I don’t have another opportunity to prove myself.

It was even the time I started hating Somaan and wanted to get rid of every thought of hers.

I told my mom about everything that happened between me and Principal, about my nostalgia and that I am not talking to Somaan for last four months.

She told me to go and talk to Somaan for the last time and that then she will talk my matter to Kamala ma'am.

I talked to Somaan and nothing turned right, only hatred for her intensified, but even then I hoped things would be fine.

Then my mom talked to Kamala ma’am and Principal Sir said a lot of nice things to me- that inspired me to do well.

Kamala ma’am called me and Somaan’s relationship as attraction and told me “it is not wrong to be attracted toward someone but beware that they are not taking you on a ride.” At that stage I was really shocked and I couldn’t realize that I was talking to a teacher. She was really more then that, and all that I could tell her was that there is no such thing between me and Somaan and we are just good friends and there is nothing, no misunderstanding between us.

Somewhere I liked Kamala ma’am say that. After that there were lots of people who told me a lot of things and inspired me to do well.

I remember one of my fathers friend telling me’ “The time that has gone can not be used, at least make use of the time that is available.”

This line was soul of my pre-boards and I was luckily able to do well in it.

But that is not the end of the story. After pre-boards I was sufficiently strong for never to see Somaan’s face again. Then one day I came to know that Loyola House has named its magazine L’ Avenir. I felt as if I am cheated, someone stole my poems .As Somaan was the only person who could do this. I thought may be she still has some friendship left for me and tried to make things right when whole of my life was coming back to normal.

But she was adamant to make things right. After that I just decided to pay her back double the pain that she has given me.

With my firm faith in god and knowing what I have to do, I released my “Book of Poems- L’ Avenir” along with those magazines on the Foundation day.

I just wanted to see her in tears and her ego burning her from inside.

When she came to know about the release, she was down to ground (not earth) and literally in tears and frankly speaking, with a crying heart I celebrated my victory over Somaan with Diva and Sortie who supported me in this task.

But there was a harder side to this success, most of my poems in L’ Avenir were about my friendship with Somaan and it really hurts…

After two days of drama and tears. I thought end this chapter and let Somaan get lost from my life forever. I even didn’t want to keep a relationship of pain or hatred with her.

That very day Somaan met with an accident. When I cam to know about it, I was deeply hurt.
I remember once Somaan told me that her horoscope says she is destined to meet with an accident in Senior Year.

And I remember it very well that I told myself- “If Somaan meets with an accident, it would be because I would have hurt her and that the conditions will be so bad that I even won’t be able to call her.” I wonder how such flash backs come from nowhere in mind.

This is what happened Surds was the only one who used to inform me about Somaan’s health, even worst I didn’t want to see Somaan’s face.

Then Raji forced me a lot to call her up but I literally killed all my feelings for Somaan and was sure not to call her.

Then on last day of Senior Year Raji and Surds forced me to talk to Somaan and what happened after that was a bit too much. Something that I was afraid of and I didn’t want to have happened.

More Later. Bye.

This is how it all started.

I always dreamt of writing a novel but I could never precede more then a few pages. I have an idea now, part fiction and a part non- fiction. This is how it goes.

The next article I am about to post is an incident from Senior Year, a diary entry. It is a tale of how a small misunderstanding could become a big one, boys are not emotionless- girls need to rethink on that, all the things that ladies do with a thought of helping there boyfriends especially x are more of a burden, and hurting then help, the ever charming and most happening person in the high school are not always the happiest, sometimes many be they are longing for happiness.

So here it goes.

**************************************************

Dear Leslie,

This year changed my life forever and I don’t know why but I was thinking about this horrible part of my life all day long today, and when I came across my diary of that year; I found it all, crystal clear.

But I guess you need some reference to start from as without it article would make no sense.

Characters: Me (Prim, nickname):- I was the head boy. Captain of the basketball team that had some potential after 20 years or so. Anchor for all the important functions in High School. One of the two students who went to the top most universities after senior year.

Somaan: The head girl, every teacher’s favorite, an angel in every boy’s eyes, a television actress, my best friends till the things went horribly wrong.

L’ Avenir: Name of my Poem book, that I was very secretive about, boys are not supposed to be emotional, you know. I surely didn’t seem poem type in my school days.

Kamala Ma’am: one of the teachers, open minded, frank and always ready to help anyone, my favorite teacher.

Diva and Sortie (Nicknames): My friend, who held grudge against Somaan.

Raji and Surds (Nicknames): My and Somaan’s common friends. Surds was a very close friend of mine as well as hers.

Principal: A very strict person, a visionary, scary to students but regarded me and we had a relationship of respect.

Children’s Day: A day of celebration in school. Last function taken care by Head Boy and Girl after that they get busy with Exams.

Foundation Day: Day to reward the students and teachers with exceptional performances. Foundation day of the School

Me:

Somaan:

Diva:

Sortie:

Raji:

Surds:

Max Payne 1 & 2

I am not too good with Mafia stories, so I have noting to comment on the story line. As all Mafia storyline there are lot of characters to take care of, lot of background things happening, conspiracies and everything. Never got a hold of it!

Coming to the game, it’s quite slow; get tired of running with his jacket shuffling from right to left. The bullet time does add its own taste and add a quirk to the game. Not much to think about strategies and puzzles (except in dreams), shoot, shoot and shoot. The comic type narrations give a feeling of rushing through the colored pages as we did in our childhood to anticipate the suspense yet to come; it gets us really involved.


It’s obvious that part II is better one of the two. The characterization, story line, buildup, controls and difficulty level are better. Even Max Payne’s dreams are less complex, I kind of got lost in his very first dream of Part I.


Mona Sax. She is hot and adds the glamour to the play. Her snipping, her residence in the FUN House and mysterious disappearance has set a unique tone to the game. Wonder how many of you tried playing the games with her clothes turned off.


Betrayal of Mona Sax and ending was quite clichéd as per me, but I enjoyed both the games.But I still have my opinions about third person shooters.

Freedom Fighters

Story as in the Game

It is set in an alternate reality in which Soviet Union would never collapse and is all prepared to invade America. We played the role of “Chris” Christopher Stone; he is a plumber unlike most of the games in which we play role of a assassin, army personal, mafia or someone with an action background.

Very soon the state of this alternate world becomes clear as Red Soviet Army under the leadership of Gen. Tatarin march into Manhattan, bust into the house where Stone was working and arrests his brother Troy assuming him to be boy-friend of Isabella Angelina (Leader of the “Barning Against Reds” movement). Christopher manages to escape and gang up with other members of the Resistance.

Resistance have there base in underground sewer system. The place is quite roomy, but I have reasons to believe smelly too. Our Stone reach his new base on raft.

In the city Red Army has taken control over the New York City and all this information is transferred to us in form of a NEWS Telecast by Tatiana Kempinsky (SAFN Studio). I like it when she says- “Newscasters and other undesirables are sent to Alaska for "reeducation".”

This is where all the action starts now, Christopher Stone is included in the Resistance and his first mission is to rescue his brother from the Reds. After the success of his mission and many others he becomes a very prominent leader of the resistance and people start calling him “Freedom Phantom”.

Troy is relocated by the Red Army and force him to give a speech on television asking his brother surrender, but as he is being marched off, he regrabs the mike and ask Chris to continue his struggle. Troy is later executed by Tatarin in person.

To avenge Troy’s death and hurt Reds, resistance plans a mission to assassin Tatarin. Once again the Freedom Phantom is given this Mission Impossible: killing lion in his Den. Chris assasins Tatarin in the cover of darkness on Governer’s Island and escapes from the Reds who come down to island with re-enforcements.

When Chris returns to base he finds freedom fighters captured along with Isabella. The attack was carried under the leadership of Colonel Bulba (Tatarin's second-in-command) who was disguised as information provider for the Resistance as Mr. Jones, he reveals his identity by commenting on Americans and reveling his “Mr. Jones” tone- “… That’s what I love about Americans- one fingure up the nose and other on remote control...”

Stone manages to escape from the sewage and regroup with other escaped members of the resistance- Bagzton and the Kid.

Resistance goes in hibernation for months, till Kid finds out a SAFN floor map in, captured computer. Chris launches an assault on Studio and goes live and rallies people in the Soviet occupied America.

So, here is the last battle. Freedom Phantom launches an organized attack on Governor’s Island for the second time, but this time in much larger scale. There are helicopters, ships, rocket launchers and everything coming into picture. He captures the fort and frees Isabella.

In the end Isabella invites Chris to celebrate the victory, but he is upset and says that reds will come back with bigger guns. They both fall in love and a HAPPY ENDING.

Three Days Three Games

Spent my weekend playing games, games and more games.
Well! It is another of my hobby which I guess all boys of my generation have. I nice way to get rid of violent instincts.

I love first person shooting, flight simulators and racing games. If you asked me three days back- I hated third person shooter. Guess! This has changed over the weekend. I got Freedom Fighter, Max Payne I & II from one of my friends and I kind of really liked them.
They appear to be slow-moving and very boring at times, but they were well compensated by other effects and it is a nice break from mono-tones First Person at times.

What does Society really want...?????

I was reading a blog entry by a lady from the opposite side of the globe. It showed her anguish, anger, frustration, loneliness and the void in her. I wonder is it the same with everyone. I could relate to every sentiment and emotion of hers. The society a product of human evolution has become so powerful today that it has started to manipulate us, mould us into what it want and not in what we are.

Trust me! It sometimes seems like we are afraid of ourselves. People call it teen-age rebellion, immaturity, but tell me- getting cloned into something, let me say a clerk for the society is that what we are. I am right clerk- working on well-defined instructions set by society, people we walk and talk with.

We can’t show our emotions, “Oh! You are so emotional”. We can’t shout at the people, who have hurt us, “You know dammit! That was insane to shout at him in public”. You burn your heart out for someone and they say- “Move off! Give me some room to live my own life, what do you want from Me.”; get too far- “I have never met a person as sensitive as you.”

Loving someone unconditionally is a crime, hating someone is insane. Live your life your way-“You are such a loner.” Meet people and socialize with them- “Get a life dammit!”

I no longer know what is right and what is wrong. I have decided to live the life that I want, do what I feel is right and take it in my own direction.

No matter if I walk my path of life- unheard-unknown. But I know even if I walk the path that society laid in front of me, I go nowhere; live a life in some corner of street, get monthly wages to sustain and that’s what I will have to do till the end of my life. Is that life, actually it is what we call- “Having no life”, and we hear of loss of creativity all around the world.

I don’t know, but all the people who I have ever considered role models realized this too, they were different. They knew it and never let the society suppress or take away this gift from them.

You know what is the way to live in this society- Have a Mona Lisa face to show to the society, the fitly rat society (if you didn’t know, rats live in society and if they are out-cast by there society they die. It’s a true fact.) And one that you save from society till it has matured enough to not get rotten by its stink- the true you, the unique you, the one that society worships.

It’s a vicious circle, it is but this is how we live and we are. With a thought of making better human-beings.

Kind of liked this new Stuff...

The Part of You That No One Sees

You are passionate, romantic, and emotional. You put love first in your life, even though you have often been disappointed by it. You expect to be swept of your feet, and you never expect infatuation to die out. Underneath it all, you are scared that you aren't lovable. Your insecurity has ruined many relationships, as you are unable to see the love that's really there. You are secretly afraid of being alone. Confronting your insecurities is incredibly painful.

What's the Part of You That No One Sees?

Mythology comes to life.

Dear Leslie,

In year 2001, ‘a set of possible ruins’ were found in India, in the Gulf of Cambay off the cost of Gujrat. This disputed civilization was supposed to be much ancient then any civilization known to man. Due to the under water conditions and poor visibility due to turbidity the excavation process was slow and took sometime to retrieve the artifacts for dating. When the artifacts were finally dated, it took the age of human civilization back up to 9,500 BP (Before Present, as dated from 1950 A.D.), where as Mesopotamian Civilization the oldest known is datable to 5500 BP.

But, what fascinates me the most is the fact that- somewhere we all knew about these civilization.

Below is an extract from Wikipedia describing sinking of Dwaraka (the mythical city from Hindu Mythology) into the ocean.

“Dwaraka Island sank into the ocean, during the epic age. Mahabharata had an entire volume (Book 16) dedicated to this phenomenal geographical change witnessed by many inhabitants of the region

Day by day strong winds blew. Earthen pots showed cracks or broke from no apparent cause. Society became corrupt….

…Arjuna arrived at Dwaraka and addressed the chief officers, to prepare to leave Dwaraka within 7 days, as Dwaraka is going to sink in the ocean. Krishna's grandson Vajra was chosen as their king to be ruled at Indraprastha. Arjuna then proceeded to the place where the Vrishnis (citizens of Dwaraka) were slaughtered… On the seventh day, Arjuna evacuated Dwaraka Island. After all the people had set out, the ocean flooded Dvaraka, which still teemed with wealth of every kind, with its waters. Whatever portion of the ground was passed over, ocean immediately flooded over with his waters. Beholding this wonderful sight, the inhabitants of Dvaraka walked faster and faster.”

In an article called- “The Scientific Dating of the Mahabharata War” by Dr. P. V. Vartak mentions the year of Mascara of Yadavas to be 5525 B.C., which happened during the ongoing process of flooding ( Arjuna then proceeded to the place where the Vrishnis (citizens of Dwaraka) were slaughtered…).

Geographically also the place is just apt for where the city could have existed as:

The territory of Dwaraka includes the Dwaraka Island, many neighbouring islands like the Antar Dwipa and the mainland area and also a desert (Thar Desert, at present) is mentioned to be present on the way from Indraprastha (supposed to be near New Delhi) to Dwaraka
Now, what if the mythology that we Hindus were praying all this time was true, what if the seemingly impossible things that we thought happened, the Mahabharata War, the Bridge to Ceylon and everything. I could be just an exaggerated history of the facts that were as true as you and me today.

If one mythological city could have existed so can others, if one legend could have existed so could have others. A world with legendry island of Atlantis and the vessel built on God’s command Noah’s Ark could have existed and are buried deep down in the turmoil of sand and water and resting in piece just to re-tell the legend that we have failed. What if the great flood of Mythology and prehistoric studies were same and there were eye witnesses to the catastrophe.

For detailed article on the ruins found in Gulf of Cambay visit “Gulf of Cambay Cradle of Ancient Civilization” by Badrinaryan Badrinaryan

What fascinates me the most?

Dear Leslie,

I am bugged up of writing about the random things, and the conversation that seems to go nowhere; but my imagination, thoughts and hobbies are so diverse that sometimes I wonder; Is that me who is talking? The thinks that fascinates me are the one that fascinates a few, the other thing that fascinates me are the one that fascinates other few. Thorough my childhood and still at present I have had multiple pear groups, I can never live with one.

Mythology to latest development in Nanotechnology, Harappa to the modern day marvels, Flying Dragons to Flying Machine, Jules Vern’s Nautilus to the latest nuclear powered Submarine; everything seems so fascinating, everything is such a master piece of god. The missing links, the wizards of modern day science, marvels that defies limitations. I wonder is there anything that is impossible in this world, or does this world even exists.

Oh Boy! I don’t know, in what mess we are in, but trust me when we find it out it would be one heck of a thing; to discover a world that we thought never existed or thought could exist.

Come with me on a fascinating journey, to have a look at the things that I care about and what fascinates me the most.

Catching up all lost years- 1

Dear Leslie,
Wonder we have lot of catching up to do?
Let me introduce myself. I call myself Maverick on net, which has kind of become a pen name now. It comes from my fascination from Fighter Aircrafts. I dream of serving in Air force and if I am luck I really want to explore the unknown territories out of earth’s gravitational field by being an Astronaut. Speed is what turns me on, it is as if there is nothing ahead of you and nothing can beat you now. I want to experience how it feels to sit in the ball of fire on reentry.
On the contrary, I love peace. I love spending time with nature. There can be nothing better then to lie in long grass and watch sun go down or get up early morning and see the rising red sun from White snow peaked mountains.
I love reading book, especially friction, say stories with magic, sense of joy, victory of good over evil and symbolism which tells a completely different tale. I love writers who have created a whole new world in there imagination and share there legend with the world where imagination seems dead. I hearty thank them for that.
I even read futuristic novels, space fiction and with have science with a twist. The idea of life on other planets has always fascinated me and I too wish to write my novel on my expedition in the dark unknown someday.
I live in a city far far away in the eastern hemisphere of the earth, where time rules people’s lives and everyone runs a race that they can’t win against time. The crowd seems high, rush seems indispensable and emotions of happiness and joy are buried in there graves. I call it city of Loneliness.
A place where friendship seems a profession and relationships a burden, birds of happiness fly high afraid to be caught in the cage of rush.
I am one of the many here, who dream of fulfilling there dreams in this city, as it can be only here and nowhere else and at last fly away to be free forever.
I am a student of Engineering, doing Aeronautics. My college seems like ultimate bliss on the planet with never ending rave of hypocrites.
It was the place I always dreamt of to study the subject I loved the most and so far everything as turned so fine, I hope to carry on this for all four years of my stay here.
Got to go now,
See you soon.

Bridge to Terabithia

My Sketch of a still from the movie "Bridge to Terabithia"

Bride to Terabithia is not a new book but I came across it from one of the movies that I
borrowed from my friend with the same name.

It’s a children’s book, but I can hardly portray myself reading it at an age of ten or so. Perhaps the simple sentence and the fact that two main characters of the story are ten years old found its way in the kid’s section.

It was silly to rush through the children’s section to get a copy of the lost book that even the shopkeeper didn’t hear of but found its record on the computer. At last when I found it, it was as if a kid has achieved his imaginary feat of finding a staircase to moon or something like that.

Reading it as an adult, I most likely see much deeper then what the book said and read more between the lines or perhaps my experience made it a masterpiece. The author, Katherine Paterson eloquently portray the feeling of a ten year farm-boy Jess and his struggle for being difference and coming terms with life, and its counter part death.

The book mainly deals with sweetness of innocent childhood friendship and vivid imagination that Jess discovers through the friendship of his new friend Leslie Burk. A beautiful
person from deep within, who entails to save the whales and support Jess’ Drawings. Together they create an imaginary world, where they play King and Queen of an enchanted land and fight off the intruders of their peaceful land.

The simple friendship between two ‘weird’ people, as there class-mates say, is so sweet
that it do carry us in their enchanted land and make us cross the bridge from what we try to be and what we really are- the true us.

To reach their land they must swing over a ditch, in spring it fill up with torrent of muddy
water and threatens to destroy the peace of Terabithia by taking life of Leslie, and Jess must face the tragedy.

The way Jess faces it is remarkable, it did put its enchanted spell on me and I wept. I wept out of sorry, but also out of profound respect for Jess.

I am enlightened enough to know that it was a work of fiction, but the book is so well rendered that it makes me believe that sometimes fiction is more true then the reality itself.

This short novel; friendship of two kids who are almost ten years younger to me have made a great impart on my life. Made me look back on my own childhood, indeed I was also one of the unfortunate ‘weird kids’ who find no one of his genre in class and live on with the flow and accept the direction in which it carries it. Suppressed by everyone who know, special synonyms curse… and being different seems to be an out-cast.

Well! That’s a different story, but how nicely is it all portrayed in the book seems mind-blowing to me. A must read. The movie is equally good, it does focus a little more on the imaginary world and out of the book content, but do produce an enchanted hex, that keeps us spellbound.

Why Leslie?

I always felt that I had missed something in childhood; I never knew what it was… After seeing Bridge to Terabithia I realize that I never had a friend with whom I could share the imaginary world I lived in. My thoughts on which whole class had unison tone calling me weird.

I paid a big price for it. I was never confident about myself; I fear how people would react, I could never get intimate with any of the people I met in my walk of life. I never shared my success at school. I got many poems and sketches selected for publications and competitions but never once did I mention it in school or to any of my friends.

I became a loner, I was there physically, but emotionally I was barred behind the curtain reality. I had dual personality, ‘me’ at home and ‘what people wanted me to be’ at school.

I compromised with myself. I became popular at high-school (Head Boy, Captain of the Basketball Team, Anchor for school functions), but somewhere deep down I knew that it was not me. I was liked for the things that I never cared much for, and people who thought to be friends, knew nothing about me. You cannot show your sorrow, you cannot share your pain, because this is not what they think you are.

It was strange and I was astonished to see how weird the world was. For the first time I realized that it was not me who was weird all this time, but the mirror in which society looks at people is
weird. I cheated my self to appear successful on the stage of reality, but I wonder how many were nailed for being themselves.

I always maintained a diary to share my thought and I always wondered how this imaginary friend of mine would look like, what relationship I will share with him? I portrayed him as Caption of a ship (submarine), one who explored deep in the seas, in a world were fragrance of reality is inexistent and it’s just you and Mother Nature; a place where you can be you. Guess what I was really looking for was not him, but her, a person like Leslie.

This gave rise to Letters to Leslie. My only link with the friend from unknown, who I know will understand me. My imagination finally got a name.

The sketch in my previous post is what I drew after a gap of eight years, out of respect and joy for Bridge to Terabithia.

And I still wonder today Am I what I am or What world thinks I am.

This is why I need to rediscover myself.

“All that you know is at an end.”

NOTE: This Post ws added later (15th July, 2007)

Went to see Silver Surfer today.

Well! It is not “Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer” for me as the movie title goes but, I went to see the Surfer, who roam around the universe on what a spaceship? Na!!! On a surf board.
I have seen the complete animated series of Silver Surfer when I was kid. Believe me it was great to see him back. Bringing Surfer back to life was a great job, but putting so much life into him was incredible. Laurence Fishburne did a great job as voice-over for Silver and Doug Jones- he is just apt for the role. The charm and simplicity with which Laurence Fishburne delivered the dialogue- “All that you know is at an end.” was mind-boggling.

I haven’t seen the previous movie and even didn’t hear much good about it. I was a bit nosey about the team work of the Fours, how the hell on earth can four super-heroes fit in a team like this, but it was great.

I remember episode of the animated series, it was a bit different from this, though it gave a felling of how gigantic the amount of destruction would be, but the action scenes round the globe did the trick.

Last but not the least- Galactus “The force of nature”. I remember seeing his face in almost all the episodes and hating him and feeling pity for the poor guy (Silver Surfer) who wanted to do so much good, but the newer version, I meant the movie version was far more superior, I almost felt as if earth was half consumed by him, he was a real monster in movie and I still hate him; more then ever.

The last scene when Silver Surfer heals Susan and retaliates, the way he surfs through the debris really let me awestruck.

But it ends as it has always ended, Silver surfer is doomed to server his master for eternity to come. How sad!!!On a whole the movie was great. I give it 9/10.