The Flaming Shot

Famous words

“Those who say haven’t committed a mistake, haven’t done anything in life”. So true yet circumstantial. Making mistakes is good, in fact that is one automatic way of evolution. Yet it could be fatal sometimes.

It is more acidic when it affects not you but the ones around you. I have done many mistakes in life, ( who hasn’t then :P ) and learnt from a lot and didn’t from many.

I have done mistakes that could devastate me or others around me. Sometimes they successfully do the latter. I don’t exactly understand my stand on those. Should I feel guilty that some one around me was devastated / affected and I was untouched / unmoved OR should I pass the phase by saying it to myself don’t be so harsh …..it was a mistake.

I guess it always is a combination of both and that is what I do. As a human, rectification and re-building is what strikes the mind first and when the wound is fresh. But half of it is filled by your guilt and apologies and rest half ….with time.

From the time I remember I could understand the words right and wrong, and the time I could understand a punishment is for a mistake…. I have tried to be fair to other instead myself.

Being a person that I am, I would stand mute even if a stranger lynches me for a mistake I confess to have committed. Being a person I am, I would beat the hell out of the person pointing a finger at me when I am spotless. and no one is spared from that… No one.

I once almost hit my mother coz she slapped me when I knew it wasn’t my mistake.

Confession and apology however are never enough. Repentance is obsolete. Perhaps being driven by heart makes me do more mistakes. But that is what makes me ..what I am……. a stimulus to life. Reacting on life and its moments. Sometimes you can never correct your actions and can’t help repenting over and over.

And the scar will always remind you the …….. wound

In all my life, I have failed as much as I have succeeded… But I still love it. It is like a Flaming shot…. it gives you that scintillate yet leaves you with a burnt mouth….but Hey …you love it.

an Year that Passed..

My fiancé just mentioned that its been an year since I placed my name on the blogging world.

Nothing came to my mind, just a mere comparison ........
This is how I looked an year ago in Japan.....



and this is me now :)

Dad....I finally grew up :)

I have lived 1/3^rd of my life and recently had something that I thought was my life’s biggest achievement. As a kid, or right from childhood humans tend to show to their connected ones what they think is an achievement by them. Be it a small win when you are 5 year old in a street football game or may be a small airplane made out of paper.

I don’t remember but am sure would have definitely run to my mom and dad to show something that I achieved. I showed them my first trophy, showed them my name in the newspaper, showed them my medals, showed my paintings…jubilated that they would acclaim my achievements and that they would be the only one on this planet to be more happy than I was.

But couple of days back I did something that at this age I would rate as my biggest achievement.

I grew old. Old enough to carry my father on the backseat of my bike. Bike, that I had bought from my first job.

This might sound funny, but I sensed the feeling of being grown up right then and never before it.

All these 25 years I was towed by my father to whichever place I had to go, my school when I was studying, parent teacher’s meeting. When I missed my bus, a cricket session at friend’s place ( dad would drop me ), to the relatives’ house, to almost anywhere that I needed to go, he would carry me on the old scooter that we have and I would always be need to towed.

Living in Pune from past 2.5 years now, I recently bought a house. Did something big and wanted dad to be here at the time I was doing something big in my life. Went there to pick him up from the station ( got his tickets booked ). He was a bit hesitant thinking he need to sit behind me, grabbing the rear support tightly he agreed ……. I can start the bike.

First few minutes were shaky for both. It was very different for me. Someone who held me, supported me while I learned that bi-cycle was now sitting behind me on a two wheeler. It was indeed very different.

I never drove over 35 Km / h, as he never let me do that. After three days, I was easily riding on 50 and he would not hold the rear of the bike tight anymore.

Those 3 days I carried my father to everyplace that we went, talked to the contractor, builder myself, worked everything right in front of him and he was mutely watching, his son grow up.

Handling the labor, carpenter, painter everyone who was involved in construction of my house all alone. He was there but he never intervened. and the reason ……he wanted me to do things. He wanted me to know the world. He wanted to see his son tackle the world as he did when I came to Delhi from a small village that still doesn't have the electricity when he was nineteen. Got this brother and sister married, bought a house of his own and got himself married. Raised my brother and me and gave us the best education though it was proving very costly.

Right now, in front of me....he was standing.....mutely.....wet eyes...... looking at me....

I could muster nothing but a smile to see his head up high. I knew I grew up today.

( just a flashy me in my new house ) :)