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Sorry Neighbor.

I,

If I may,

Apologize.

I have been,

A devil in disguise.

 

Oh what ‘Aman ki Asha’?

What peace,

If I may ask?

My fellow countrymen,

A fallacy in which they bask..

 

I have killed love,

Harmony,

and every beautiful feeling.

I know hate,

Jealousy,

And why would I even conceal it?

 

Forget about a country,

Forget about a state.

The street that I live in,

There are many people I hate.

 

I may,

If I want to,

Wear a mask of love.

But really I’m a villain,

Benevolence, I don’t speak of!

 

And why,

Why on earth will I be ashamed?

And critical of myself?

Aren’t we all in this together?

How well we repel!

 

And teaching hatred,

To our kids.

Doesn’t sound so filthy.

“He did first, then I did”,

We find it healthy!

 

And isn’t this,

What’s going on?

From the past 70 years?

Blaming each other and all of the rest,

“Uh! The mistake is THEIRS!”. (always)

 

There are widows on both sides,

Childless parents,

And also orphans.

But who cares to budge, my dear,

We are totally okay with coffins!

 

Well,

We do shed a tear or two,

Whenever a soldier dies.

But the martyr can’t be yours,

‘Cause otherwise we will rejoice!

 

A fake motherland,

I like to worship,

With all my heart.

But only for a day or two,

Rest of the days I’m a total pervert!

 

Bring on,

The next 70 years now,

Shall we?

The nations we both so love,

Let’s turn ’em into a debris!

 

XOXO,

H

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Pakistan Kills 2, India Kills 2…

I was going about with my morning routine; tea, breakfast and reading newspaper. Then I came across this picture which moved me to tears….

An innocent kid weeping incessantly over the mutiliated body of his father. The question isn’t here who did it. The question here is why? And for how long????!!! 
Pakistan kills 2, India kills 2. 
Children from both sides become orphans. Women from both sides become widows. Hostility grows. And for what? Only to satiate the egos of a few politicians? What personal enmity you and I have with Pakistan? Or what personal enmity does a kid or even an adult in Pakistan has with us? Nothing! 
But this killing is unstoppable. Blood is shed over and over again. We discuss this over and over again. But who listens? 
Hate has made us hopeless maniacs. We follow the herd and join the ‘I Hate Pakistan’ club. Without even knowing why it came into being. Without even knowing our follies. 
But how does that matter to this little kid now? He has lost his father forever. A father, for god’s sake! I can’t imagine in my dreams living without my father. I commit mistakes. I prance around proudly. Why? Because I know my father is there to protect me always. 
But this kid’s father was there to protect to us all. And he died. Mercilessly. 
We weep when an Indian soldier dies. But rejoice when a Pakistani soldiers dies. Why? Wasn’t he a father? Or a son? Didn’t he have any family that will mourn just like this little kid?  
How can we be so negligent towards the emotions of their families? Why can’t we all come together and stand firm on the face of the governments of both the countries that we don’t want violence. If you guys have a problem, then just stop talking. Why kill innocent people from both sides??? 
My heart pains… 
Love and respect,

H💔

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Agony Of A Chopped Tree

I was planted,

Then I was watered.

I was taken care of,

With undying love.

 

The world was a sanctuary,

Full of nothing but merry,

Where I could rejoice,

And have my own voice.

 

Then I started to spring,

And heard a bell ring.

They are on their way!

But I can’t even run away!

 

“Who would come for my help?”

I couldn’t resist but yell.

The thumping of their feet,

Echoing a drumbeat.

 

Chop! Chop!

The first of my branches dropped..

Ruthless maneuvering I could see,

Nobody to help a feeble tree.

 

This went on,

For long.

I was in utter pain,

Alas! It was their reign.

 

I was told to serve others,

And in the process self-smother.

Their faces had grins,

While I was dying from within..

 

Who do I tell that I want to grow?

And not to become an art of Michelangelo.

Their craftsmanship would cut me into dices.

And they would all call me priceless!

 

My agony was their ecstasy,

And it was my only legacy.

To serve, I was nurtured,

In the end, brutally murdered..

 

XOXO,

H ❤️

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My Journal: The Unconditional Love In My Life

What is unconditional love? Let me give you a perfect example. Perfect, because there can be no love as unconditional as this one.  

My mother gets up in the morning, and goes to the kitchen for two hours straight to prepare breakfast, lunch and snacks for me. 
My life has been pretty hectic these days. I stay at my workplace for a good 10 hours. And she makes sure that I’m doing fine. From cutting fruits for me to lunch and then my evening tea and snacks, she makes me wonder how she does it all. Instead of the fact that she, too, works as much as me (life of a banker). 

And to top it all, I was diagnosed with wheat allergy. But she hasn’t budged at all. Now she does double the work she was doing earlier. From making separate breakfast and lunch for me, she has given me a thousand reasons not to worry about my health condition. Ever since I’ve been diagnosed with this pathetic wheat allergy, she’s been hooked to YouTube to find about the dos and donts and the perfect diet.

 

Is there any love as unconditional as this? 
I don’t think so. 


XOXO,

H ❤️ 

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My Journal- Day 2

Today I came home early so I paid a visit to my nanaji. He was ecstatic to see me. And what really touched my heart was when he literally requested me to spend at least one hour with him on weekends.

 

Here I was, thinking, that nobody really needs me or feels happy around me and here I have, one of the most important persons in my life, begging me to come see him more often.

 

Life is, well, simple. Sometimes.

 

My co-workers detest me, to say the least. Every day I spend a good amount of time anticipating the reason why I am the most hated person at my workplace. And then there are some who brighten my day up and vice versa.

 

One thing struck my mind today. While ‘dealing’ with our fellow humans, we totally forget that they are humans! That they have complicated lives like us. That they go back to their deep, dark secrets and feel guilty. That they’ve been used. That they’ve been lied to. That they’ve been mistreated. That they’ve things they can’t really tell anybody.

And yet, we somehow, very easily indeed, blurt out harsh and mean words. And forget about being guilty about it afterwards.

 

Imagine a world, with clean air. Clean air. With no hate. No lies. A world that is painted in soft hues of pink and blue. With a tinge of greens and whites. Pastels all around. Happy people. Smiling at strangers. Youth helping the old. Clean air. Clean atmosphere.

 

Well, the chances are really bleak. But fantasies never hurt. Humans never hurt if treated properly.

 

What have we all become?

 

XOXO,

H

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My Journal- Day 1

Life is what you make it. And we make it step by step, day by day.

 

Today was also a stepping stone towards something great. Yes, I’m a believer. I like to believe that something great is waiting for me. And if I don’t work for it today, I might miss on the opportunity.

 

My banker life is sort of an assignment. It is not what work I do. It is how I do it. And I choose to do it with integrity. Work is worship. That is going on in my mind right now. I’m serving the public. It is their money that we have deposited in our bank. And they have an absolute right to ask a hell lot questions. There shouldn’t be any chance for me to feel irritated. Instead, I should be more convincing.

 

And the battle to be convincing is eternal.

 

And then, there is team work. It is not what I expect it to be. Some of my co-workers inspire me, while some teach me valuable lessons.

 

But there is this voice that keeps telling me that I am an employee of the bank and I have the power to bring the CHANGE that I want!

 

Peace.

 

XOXO,

H

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Demonetization- The Story Of An Indian Banker

Disclaimer: BEWARE! Bhakts will find it offensive (A LOT!!)

 

Okay. I apologize for being so late in putting forth my views on this whole ‘demonetization saga’. But I had to get hold of all the niche details of this drama that is costing an array of problems to the aam aadmi (pun intended).

 

First of all, it started on 8th of November when I was happily scrolling through my Instagram feeds and it has taken a toll on me ever since. So, I’m gonna jot down some of the (many!) obvious loopholes in this so-called ‘bravest ever step taken’ by a ’56-inch chest guy’.

 

  1. The Black Money Loophole: Duh! Bundles of cash lying in peoples mattresses and tijoris is now a piece of sh*t. And, I’m not the one boasting of this achievement. The writers of the demonetization saga claim so. As an Indian banker, I’ve had first hand experience of most, if not all, black money holders using their servants and their wives and their kids to put their sh*t together. And I’m not even kidding, mitron. We, the bankers (slash puppets) are helpless. Also, I was very little when I heard of the phrase that goes like this- All that glitters is not GOLD. And on 8th of November, I got a solid proof. All that glitters is not GOLD, it is BLACK! Black money, white money, gold money. It’s all equal now.
  2. The Black Money Loophole-2: I mean since November the 8th I’ve heard so much of this black money ragas that I can’t just put forth the facts in one point now, do I? So, it is not a banker secret that people are hiring daily wage workers at near about 450-500 bucks per day to get their black money exchanged. Now, how many of these poor workers will the 56-inch chest get hold of? 0.1%? Okay, I’m underrating him. 0.2%. I can’t rise the stakes more than this, please.
  3. The V.V.I.P. Loophole: So, my brother is currently pursuing his grad and still got some 10,000 bucks of old notes. But, the Adanis and Ambanis and Tatas and Birlas own something the size of Lesotho (it’s a country, in case the Bhakts don’t know) and still I spot Rajus and Ramus and Sonus and Monus in the long queues. Hmm. Guess these corporate people only use Bitcoins or maybe they are the face of PayTM! Right.
  4. The Aam Aadmi Loophole: On 10th of November I entered my branch and a middle-aged man came running to me saying that his daughter is sick and he needs to get medicines for her. He even showed me the prescription in case you Bhakts cry a foul. It was early in the morning and we managed to help him. But after that we’ve heard a lot of sad tales and even the newspapers are filled with the stories of the poor and the not-so-poor that they are suffering the most in this money crisis. I read news of how elderly people die standing in long queues. Once, I tried to help an octogenarian by depositing his money from the backside and the customers started shouting. It took me a while to explain them that it isn’t my money and that the elderly man had some kind of knee problem. Only after looking at him they cooled down. But what kind of a ruthless PM sends his 90 year old mother to stand in a queue? I’m amazed that people chant his name and nobody came forward to even stand in the queue for his mother. Thank god for photo-ops 😉
  5. The 2,000 Note Loophole: I mean what a breakthrough, man! What a breakthrough! Printing a 2,000 bucks note for a nation that majorly constitutes of lower middle class people. That deserves a slow clap. Okay, so next time when I go to buy cheeni and daal and some chai-patti, I should give a 2,000 rupee note for some 200-250 rupees bill. Okay. And I should enlighten you all that people are reluctant to take 2,000 rupee note but they have to because of point number 6.
  6. The Management Loophole: So, yeah. Point number 6. The currency-crunch. From the stroke of midnight, all 500 and 1000 rupee notes will become blah blah blah. And we’ll have new currency. But where the hell is new currency? Every single day we are telling customers that we don’t have cash. Yes, banks, where you get your money deposited and where you should get your withdrawals, are out of cash. Common sight, is it?
  7. The Banker Loophole: They wanna kill us. Literally. I don’t know what it was but on 10th of November itself I came home with 102 degree fever. We have worked overtime. We work on the Sundays. We are still working overtime, even though the working hours are from 10-4. We are working late. But we are not getting anything, I mean of course with the exception of abusive hurls and in some cases manhandling by the customers.
  8. The Miracle Loophole: I know this government came into being just because of its promises of miracles and it is keeping up with its promises in its own cute,childish ways, but it should learn how to take criticism from two of the most learned economists of our times- Dr Manmohan Singh Ji and Raghuram Rockstar Rajan. Raghuram Rajan objected to demonetization even before it was being looked into as a possibility. He clearly told the loopholes that I explained to you in detail. And I’m amazed how each one of his apprehensions or rather arguments are coming true one after the other. And what can I say about Dr Manmohan Singh Ji. In his very own humble way, he showed the lost government the path to make good the damage it has already done, to the country, to the banking system and most importantly to the common man whose sufferings don’t seem to end.

Well, people are hailing the decision of their PM. But only those who own smartphones and who voice their opinion on social media through memes and tweets. But, I urge you all to reach out to those who really got effected by this money crunch. They don’t own smartphones to buy groceries online through their credit cards. All they want is simple life, and that my mitron, is a distant dream.

 

P.S.- You can go ahead and have a good debate of how I don’t love my country 😉

 

XOXO,

H

 

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I Am My Own Prison

They are on my lips,

But they fail to come out.

My thoughts have no way out.

 

They rise and fall,

Like the mighty waves.

But then a sudden halt.

 

My wings were not chained.

I flew above the sky.

But now I feel tamed.

 

I am in my own prison.

I wanna rise.

But it seems to be a distant vision..

 

They say they all love me.

But their sounds are pain in my ears.

I’ve lost my glee.

With my ashen face,

I roam around.

I am my own enemy.

 

Been a while,

Since I enjoyed.

And had a real smile.

 

Nobody can save me.

I am imprisoned.

No one to hear my desperate pleas.

 

I wanna do what I like.

Not to please them all.

I wanna live my life.

 

With clipped wings I try to fly,

But fail miserably every time.

My hope is now dying.

 

My cries die before they come out.

I lie wailing from the inside.

Let me live before I’m completely washed-out!!

 

XOXO

H

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Chronicles Of My Nana- 2

A day after my birthday, on September 17, he took me and my brother to a stationery shop to buy me gifts. I was a nerd and hence bought a cool Harry Potter exam cardboard and a few gel pens. I was in the seventh grade back then.

 

A year later, he took me to another stationery shop to buy me pens. We spent some half an hour there and in the end I bought an 8 rupees pen. He laughed at me saying that 8 rupees weren’t enough for the amount of hard work the shopkeeper put in to show me all kinds of pens.

 

He has the most childlike laugh. My nana, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. He has got a hearing problem, but that isn’t an obstacle to us having fun. He cracks the funniest of jokes and laughs loudly. Oh! How I miss seeing him laugh.

 

Now, all he does is, ask me whether he will ever be able to go on shopping with me. And he’s waiting most eagerly for our Diwali shopping ritual. We would go to Jawahar nagar camp and buy packs and packs of dry fruits, biscuit packing, diyas, candles and what not!! We would also go to Ghumar Mandi and scan the whole market for some good Diwali gifts. Today, he told  me that he’s gonna miss all those fun moments this time.

 

I remember the time I had to leave for Bangalore. During my last moments in Ludhiana, he was so anxious, sad and what not that he was moving swiftly, here and there, began making tea for all of us and spilled it all over the kitchen!! It was all haywire for him. It was like, two best friends are separating. The feeling was, well, devastating…

 

He has had two operations when I wasn’t with him. He’s been sick for almost three months now. Totally drained of his energy. But still, sometimes, when he smiles, it’s like everything is back to normal.

 

This Sunday, he was telling me the stories of Jawaharlal Nehru and Dr. Manmohan Singh. It feels good to listen to him when he talks with great enthusiasm. Though he has been sick for a really long time, he still knows about what Modi and his government is doing in Kashmir. He was comparing the policies of Nehru and Modi. I love having these short and meaningful discussions with him.

 

For almost two years, I would take him to the bank every month to withdraw his pension. He would walk into my room exactly at 9:30 a.m. and we would reach the bank by 9:45 a.m. irrespective of the fact that it opened at 10 a.m.

 

In 2015 when I was hospitalized, he would visit me everyday in the morning. He’s someone I love looking at. You know, how sometimes you’re at absolute peace, you feel tranquilized. That’s the exact feeling I get when I look at him. He emanates optimism, his face has a soothing effect. I have put my feelings into a lot of words, but I don’t think I can ever do justice to how he makes me feel.

 

I love sitting beside him. It takes away all the tiredness of the day. He’s my strength and my weakness. I have spent all my life with him. And I want to live my life the same way. He would come at 4 in the evening and I would make coffee for both of us. He would drink it and then say, “Coffee is more beneficial than tea.”. And he wouldn’t say it one time or two times. Each time we have had a cup of coffee, he would say the same sentence!!! And then we both would laugh.

 

People say they get bored at home. They’ve got nothing to do. Well, I feel the most entertained at home because of my crazy little family. My grandparents (nana-nani) are the world’s best entertainers. Each day I would go to their place and we three would chat for hours.

 

My life is complete. Because I have the love which people yearn for. I have my nana. I have my nani.

 

P.S.- Click here to read some more amazing stories about my nana 🙂

 

XOXO,

H ❤️

Posted in blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogging 101, blogs, childhood, dreams, hate, hatred, inspiration, leibster award, Life, peace, personal, poetry, self-help, story, writing

A Jaded Bird

Dusted feathers,

But a burning heart.

Life is yearning,

For a restart. 


They Dictate,

And I hear.

Oh! How I wish,

To burst in tears.


It ain’t a debacle,

That’s for sure.

Then why do I feel,

My spirit’s tore


Had my eureka moment,

Embraced it warmly.  

Sitting in a cubicle,

Waiting calmly. 


Doing my bit, 

But the door is nowhere. 

That will fulfill,

My longstanding prayer. 


One day, 

I will brush my feathers. 

Reach for heavens,

And live in a mellow weather. 


Xoxo, 

H ❤