Musing

We know that life, at the end of the day, isn't about how we live it; it's about how we don't give up despite our unwillingness to continue. That single thread of hope amidst the will to give up and stand tall, is what life is all about. We believe certain things won't go, no matter how bad situations are. But what we don't realize is that one tiny little overconfidence works as a silent blow to the sandcastle. We, at some point of time, have that feeling and when we realize that, certainly it's too late to build it up again. Like the castle, some people make us believe in magic. And fortunately that magic happens only with them. But not when we try to find it elsewhere. May be that charismatic feeling of belongingness is what we call magic, unknowingly.  Like the Autumn never knows that it's preciously more breathtaking than the blossoms of Spring. That one person doesn't know what it beholds, until and unless the winter comes with spooky wind and froze...

The vacuum that is left inside my mind every time he leaves, somehow gathers those tiny little moments of togetherness and builds a snowy castle on the lush green surface of heart. Everything freezes as they touch it. Soothing, peaceful and alluring lullaby plays across the mind, like someone's trying to put the heart into sleep for a while, as it's been thumping for too long. That Summer, it felt like Autumn. The usual heat melted before drooling on earth and the crisp cool air prevailed from morning to night. The mellow green was rejuvenated with life like never before. The chirpy green seemed painted in the hues of Autumn. The melancholic hum of nightingale was overpowered by the merry song of cuckoo. The sky was no more bare to the ruthless sun. The cottony clouds were spread unevenly across the sky. I looked at him as he sipped the tea and crooked his brows in amazement. I giggled and he continued. I am never in a hurry when he's around like if the moment will pass I ...

It was never easy for the trees to hold on to its root when the storm was furious that winter night. It was not easy for the bees to survive as the hive fell down or someone like us burnt it just like that. I remember the weary winter nights when the wind was sharp and there was one last flower on that bushy plant whose name I still don't know. That night when I closed the window pane, I didn't know I will see it the other day, but I did. I looked at it and it told me how amazing the morning's warmth was; I never got to know how stormy the night was which it survived. It never reflected that.  By that time I was always attracted by the cracks in the soil. I never understood what was I looking for all this while. But every day when I found the crack amusing, I knew I would found nothing. That monsoon I found a plant growing from that gap and my happiness knew no bound. Though I believed the crack was all I was looking for, all this while I had a hidden hope inside. That m...

My city has always been a betrayer whenever it came to hide the memories. In every lane and street, the memories lay bare and fresh. Like the scorching heat of summer, at times those memories burn the peace, while at times brought shower to the drought land of the bereaved heart. In my city, the lanes are like that pal of yours who embraces you with open arms years after and rejuvenate you with the moments that you have lived once. My usual visits are limited. I don't know much of it, yet in that boundary I have lived the best of my life so far. As I took a walk from one part of the city to another, while covering few curvy and dusty lanes, I saw two people walking side by side with their hands colliding every time they take a step together. The monsoon has just arrived and the trees which I left behind were gleaming with freshly fallen droplets. The sudden rain entangled with the dust and transformed into tiny puddles. There's that one tree where my eyes stuck as I saw th...

“You call it Army, we call it life!” The line around which my entire childhood evolved, turned out to be true at each moment these days. Life was never this much fascinating ever before. While the heart always belonged to the camouflaged uniform, somehow my mind led me to the college life. But as it is said, if it’s meant to be, it will surely happen. After those rigorous rib breaking training sessions, it seems like a dream now. Starting from the first day of enthusiasm to the midway of the course, all exhausted yet full of zeal, to the most cherished ‘Antim Pag’; every single moment started flashing in front of my eyes as I was about to take a step ahead. It was my first posting; to the land where nature beholds petty secrets within, Assam. The first always has something which the rest can’t provide. One has truly said, it’s the beauty which kills and the beauty of Assam is worth dying for. The entire troop was ready to march. With a heart full of enthusiasm and a mind equippe...

My journey, right from my school days to NDA, IMA and then to this prestigious institution, has never been a pre-planned one. One fine morning I decided to opt for the exam and with god's grace and my mom's complete faith, here I am... walking amidst the densest forest, climbing the rigid rocks, crossing the mighty rivers and holding my head high; serving the nation. Now, as I pass by the unknown faces in some unknown land I realize what life has gifted to me in these years. Arunachal Pradesh is a beauty in disguise. The rocky mountains behold the pristine views underneath. Away from the city, the remoteness will haunt you long after you visit the place. Such is the extent of its charm. Being a travelling soul, I thrive on wanderlust. My profession offers me a plethora of excitement, thrill, adventure and a pinch of risk at every step. Cool, ain't that? Imagine a day when you suddenly wake up to a blast and find the front view blurred with smoke and all you could utte...