The Road Ahead or the Road Behind

This is an inspirational poem I have taken from the TED talk "The Difference between Winning and Succeeding" by John Wooden. One of my favorite.

John Wooden: the difference between winning and succeeding

I think the fates must grin

as we denounce them and insist,

The only reason we can’t win

is the fates themselves have missed.

Yet, there lives on the ancient claim-

We win or lose within ourselves,

The shining trophies on our shelves can

Never win tomorrow’s game.

So you and I know deeper down

There is a chance to win the crown,

But when we fail to give our best,

We simply haven’t met the test

Of giving all and saving none

Until the game is really won.

Of showing what is meant by grit,

Of playing through not letting up,

It’s bearing down that wins the cup.

Of taking it and taking more

Until we gain the winning score

Of dreaming there’s a goal ahead,

Of hoping when our dreams are dead,

Of praying when our hopes have fled.

Yet, losing, not afraid to fall,

If bravely we have given all,

For who can ask more of a man

Than giving all within his span.

That giving all, it seems to me,

Is not so far from VICTORY.

And so the fates are seldom wrong,

No matter how they twist and wind;

It’s you and I who make our fates,

We open up or close the gates

On the Road Ahead or the Road Behind.

To be blown out

[Probably, it's an urban poetry]


What am I thinking?

I've messed up last project evaluation as bad as one can't imagine.

I have to give a demo presentation in two hours.

I have slept 4 hours yesterday.

I feel sleepy... and probably take a nap for one hour after listening some of Pink Floyd's depressants.

Am I afraid?

betcha! I am.

failure has become too frequent to refrain myself thinking about it.

Frustration?

... is a state of mind I, currently, am in.

You have things to do, you know you can do it, you have drive (drive to finish it so that I can go Home -> as my elder sister says.)

But you don't do. It is not lethargy, laziness or sloth.

It is SATURATION.

I AM SATURATED WITH FAILURES
LEFT WITH NO EXPECTATION FROM THIS PLACE (IIT KHARAGPUR)
I NEED A FRESH START.
I Want to end IIT Kharagpur chapter asap.

... let time to end it, I won't.


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Stanzas written in dejection near temple.
May 9, 2007. 2:00 PM. IIT Kharagpur. India

Craps, Art and Life

Craps, Art and Life

[I don’t know much about literature; never read big books. I am not a person who likes written things very much. I read things when I have to and all other time I love thinking – wandering in my own dreams, getting amazed by my own thoughts and being happy; and then sleeping.

Lately, I thought – just in search of fancy articulation – let’s try something like Art. I started gawking on paintings, listening music, reading articles, stories, novels and poems. I have to say, I used to think that by not touching these things I am not loosing anything vital. Believe me I was correct until October 2006. Then life changed miserably and every fraction of life turned upside down and turned into something like a homogeneous mixture of bad luck and rows of my timetable – each single event is sandwiched by a pair of bad luck.

Someone had once suggested me that reading/ watching very sad stories/ images/ movies elevates you temporarily from your depression. I started that. I was astonished by the realization that how stories/ Images/ Movies/ Poems which you used to yawn at can seem so close to you when you are completely shaken from inside.

The best thing about *ANY* art form is its interpretation totally dependents on person and varies from person to person. And for a person, an art piece is a function of time and space.

I know most of what I said is like a confused confession to you but it is not, you will understand it someday…, because it is a function of time and space.]

Emily Dickinson’s this poem when I read two years ago (mid 2005) I thought, “Whoa! Another sad poem! Who the hell reads these craps?” Last month (Dec 2006) it had changed meaning to me. Here is the poem:

'Success is counted sweetest'

Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host

Who took the Flag to-day

Can tell the definition,

So clear, of Victory,

As he, defeated, dying,

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Break, agonized and clear.

-- Emily Dickinson (1864)

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1. The image is "Bailleul_Edmond_Paysage_Mediterranean" by MichaelAngelo.

2. The Poem "Success is Counted Sweetest" is by Emily Dickinson

The Dog

Once an Avant-Garde painter, while sketching its portrait said, “"This dog is going to be a Noveau Riche in near future and will soon be joining community of Haut Monde Humans". This comment aroused brouhaha among The Humans of the Earth and eventually The Dog subjected to Bete Noire had become cause celebre . Where, on one hand many had accepted the fact of a dog being joining The Elite Community of Humans, Mr. Brush -– the president of Organization for Dogs' Right (ODR) -– on the other, found it hard to swallow. But Mr. Brush was sensible enough not to take any Coup d'’etat and at the same time he could not get The Dog out of his mind.

Mr. Ohsama - one of the finest friends of Mr. Brush - who used to live in Haute Couture and had enjoyed many Haute Cuisine with Mr. Brush, was the carte Blanche of a group known as The Anti-doggy alliance. The group's esprit de corps was to "‘remove dogs vis-a-vis remove faux pas" ’ and it had par excellent skill in doing so.

Since very few knew about Brush and Ohsama friendship, it was ideal to eliminate The Dog through Ohsama. In a tete-a-tete, Brush told the whole idea of eliminating The Dog and assured Ohsama about laissez faire in order to bring coup de grace to The Dog whenever it enters in any of his organization's three branches.

According, to the plan The Dog was invited to ODR on Dog'’s Day Festival as chief-guest, instead of its busy schedule The Dog could not deny the request because of noblesse oblige but The Dog had told ODR that it could visit to one or none of the offices of ODR due to his busy schedule but he would try to maintain savoir faire.

Ohsama, an Enfant terrible - having known the plan, devised a sharp and genuine plot to hijack three buses occupied by sheep, routed to the three ODR buildings and bump one into each of the three buildings, ruining them down and so The Dog. Brush had no idea of the process; he assumed it would be an assassination not a mass murder.

On D-Day , Brush realized the plan after first building had been knocked down. Brush lost his sang froid and ordered Ohsama to call off the plan. Ohsama reminded Brush about laissez faire and forced Brush to realize that getting rid of The Dog is de rigueur.

Now Brush could not do anything but praying lord to save ODR offices anyhow. Luckily, one of building could not be destroyed because the third bus ran out of fuel and the gasoline distributors were on the strike.

En passant, the result was extremely shocking through out the world. Two of three highly guarded ODR buildings were destroyed and The Dog was still alive and currently staying out of lime-light. Brush condemned the act as fait accompli and promised to get the conspirator arrested within one year.

Ohsama, however, bitten hard by Brush'’s comments and failure of mission,– made the Dog'’s elimination his raison d'etre.

One year has passed long ago. All the effort of Brush ended futile. Ohsama is working hard to achieve his aim.
And sheep, dogs and Humans of the Earth are engaged in spreading rumors, disinformation and half truths about The Dog. Everyone talks about The Dog everywhere - in colleges, in prayer houses, on beaches, in restaurants, everywhere -– some says The Dog had deja vu and escaped death, some says The Dog had died in the blow. But the dog; The Dog who knew the savoir vivre, is eating French Fries; may be alone or in a group, on the next table to gossipers -– silently and placidly in disguise. He has gone through a volte face of his personality.


Avant-Garde Unorthodox writer or artist

Noveau Riche Ostentatious Person

Haut Monde The elite

brouhaha Furor, Uproar

Bete Noire Person / subject hated

cause celebre Case arousing attention and discussion

Coup d'etat An unexpected action

Haute Couture High fashion

Haute Cuisine Excellent cooking

carte Blanche Complete authority

esprit de corps Morale

vis-Ã -vis In regard to

faux pas A social error

par excellent Highest degree

tete-a-tete Close conversation between two people

laissez faire Policy of non-interference

coup de grace Blow that brings death

noblesse oblige Obligations imposed on high positions

savoir faire Instinctive ability to act appropriately

Enfant terrible Unconventional person

sang froid Self control

de rigueur Absolutely required

En passant By the way

fait accompli Irreversible act done without warning

raison d'etre Reason for existence

deja vu Feeling of having undergone, premonition

savoir vivre The Art of knowing how to live elegantly

volte face Complete reversal, up side down

Genre: Comedy, Drama

Category: For all age group.

Type: Writing, Education, Language

Language: English, French

Place and Time: IIT Kharagpur, 8:00 PM. August 6, 2006

Of Butterflies and Lights

Of Butterflies and Lights

Of eyes and of heart.

Of clouds over grassland

- black and sad.

Of cold breeze of Eastern wind.

Of clay sculpture and

of tear running down its left cheek.

Of values and of dreams.

Of lust and of need.

Of trees and of seed.

Of survival of self-consuming anima.

I’m talking of

Butterflies and Lights.

- Naishe (April 16, 2006)

Authorship has never been my cup of tea. Yet, I dared to scribble my thoughts on paper and to my foolhardiness; I tried to put it in form of poetry. No matter how ugly or non-poetic you think it is, let me know what you think about it. (Use Shout-box in side-bar or click on ‘Post a Comment’ link at the end of this post.)

Although, any form of art is left to observer to interpret its meaning. Generally people bent the idea of artist in their own context, but – in case you are not able to do this – let me help you out.

This poem was written when I was not able to sleep the whole day after two hours sleep on previous night. I was lying on the bed and was re-reading myself in retrospect.

First stanza describes all the things that I visualized in the retrospection.
In second stanza, I tried to search parallels of each visualization described in stanza one with symbolic explanation of whole poem in the final lines.

►►Your comments, hate mails and/or frustration are always welcomed in my comment box. To submit a comment, please click on ‘POST A COMMENT’ link provided in the end of this post.

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Genre: Art, Poetry

Type: Writing, literary

Time and Place: April 16, 2006; IIT Kharagpur

Composed On: April 16, 2006 at 12:30 Noon

tangled web we weave*

Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let The LI(E)ght Guide Your Path

It always happens to you. When you speak truth, you think you should have spoken a lie and when you spit out an honest lie, you regret for not uttering a the reality. To me, it is like guessing the face when a coin is tossed. My brain thinks both – head and tail – at the same time. If my logic says Head; for sure, my instinct will suggest Tail and just after mouthing one option (say the one that is Logically correct.) I think ‘god! I should have chosen the other one (One that my instinct says.).’

Let me share a story of a lie which could have dragged me into deep trouble and to unknown consequences.

It was a fierce April afternoon. And after two warnings (Second one was a terminal notice saying ‘Do or Die.’) to submit a letter stating project name and guide’s name with his signature on it, I went to my new guide Prof. New. Prof. New had already made me swear on my honor that I would take the project as a challenge, meet him every week and WOULD GET CLARIFICATION FROM MY PREVIOUS PROJECT GUIDE saying he has no objection in working me under Prof. New[1] . When I met prof. New requesting him to kindly put his million dollar signature and save a lost soul from being kicked off from IIT in its final year, he asked me whether I have taken the permission from my previous guide? I, obviously, had not taken yet.

I always find my self in a situation of coin tossing with truth and lie when I am pulled apart from two equal and opposite forces. Here the notice was terminal but I had enough time, on other hand I could speak the truth no big deal. Both were light pressure. But I decided to take a chance.

I answered, “Yes, sir! Sure I did.” And as soon as I articulated my beautifully crafted confident white lie, I started bewailing on the cheapness of lie. I mean, in case one in a million chances, if this lie opens up I am screwed up.

Prof. New started dialing. ‘Holy mother of the God! He is ringing the previous guide up. Shit! Mr. Naishe, Now you are gone. May god provide peace to your poor soul.’ I thought.
But luck was sitting on the next chair to me (At least I felt that.). No one picked the receiver up at other end. ‘[Big sigh!]’. But what is this, the evil brain had started dialing his home number and alas! Someone picked up the phone. ‘Hello! Mr. Previous guide is there?’ [Pause] ‘Okay, Thank you for the information.’ The phone conversation ended.
“Okay, I will talk to him later he is not at home.” Prof. New said to me.
He put his signature and again ordered me to take the three promises mentioned earlier.

_______
Now I was out of his room thanking God and thinking what to do next. I decided to come to department at two in noon again and wait for the previous guide to come and provide me permission. I came to room.
There was no relief in room. The thought of Prof. New contacting previous guide before I do was haunting me and fear was multiplying itself as seconds were passing. I, finally, left the room at one thirty.
The previous guide’s room was locked. I determined to wait. So I sat down on the ground resting my back on the door. It was high temperature there and there was nothing to do, nothing to read and nothing to eat (I was on fasting.) and to think I had all the negative stuffs. I waited until 4:30 PM and left to my hostel.

Next day, I arrived at department in morning. Bad luck, He was not in his room – waited again for half an hour and left.
I came again in the afternoon – No hope.
I gave it another shot in evening. Haha he was there.
The nice guy gave me no pain and told me that he had no objection and would tell the same whenever Prof. New contacts him.

So, moral of the story is save your ass when you must because lovely lady Luck is not a bitch.


Genre: Real Story, Drama, Comedy
Type: Personal
Time and Place: April 02, 2007 to April 03, 2006, IIT Kharagpur
Composed On: April 7, 2006 at 03.07 AM
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* The title is snapped from Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 17. by Sir Walter Scott
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!

[1] . In our department we can change our project guide every year after project presentation. It does not matter your guide is ready or not, if you have passed the project credits you can switch to any other professor.