I am strong.

Pain is the best teacher in life. He is merciless, and very harsh. No lenity. No escape. You run and run, but you will never escape from His claws. He clings to you. He will mend into your shadow. And there is nothing you can do about it.

It is not the pain, but it is helplessness . . .

You are the diamond to your loved one's. You are the angel to your parents. You are the laugh on the face of your friends. You are the heaven to the ones who are yours. You are the touch for the one. Of course, you are the one, for whom your parents will do anything for that single smile of yours. You are the one who is life for some one. Your sorrow is others tears. You are delicate and unbreakable one that the others, who ever it is, want to see you always smiling.

But . . . Pain spares none, it comes to you. Nothing matters. Teaches you the reality of the life. You do not ask for it, nonetheless He does what He is meant to do. Life lessons are very bitter and Pain makes sure that you learn it. Pass with 100%. Even a percent less, it will torment you again.You will be complied to put up with all of the syllabus from the scratch rerunning it in your life again making you experience the same. Your vallecula dries out but He does not halt. All the heck starts from the seedling.

Pain hacks into your life, He takes complete control of your life. You are not a life any more. You do not matter to Him. You are nothing to Him. It's certain that there is nothing you can do to stop it; that your life can be thrown away in an instant by Him. He doesn’t care. He’ll beat you down until you stay down because he doesn’t even think of you as alive.

You have to put up with it. And when you emerge alive from His empire you will have success in your hands. The ones who cannot make out are buried into dust.

The fact that I am standing here, even after the paranoia of His showers, proves I am strong. I am the strong one. I am the champion. I am the one who raised from the kingdom of Pain. I am here to fight, and win. I fought, and still exist. I will be fighting and shall not stop to surrender. I survived the living hell, nothing can stop me.

Well, what you did to me was unbelievable, my pain. But then, I got stuck in a hell dimension one time, so a few months under the ocean of pain actually gave me perspective. Kind of a M. C. Esher perspective. But I did get time to think... about us... about the world. Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh, and cruel. But that's why there's us - champions. Doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world is as it should be, to show it what it can be. I was not a part of that yet, not at least until now. Now I am.

Yesterday

Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead, yesterday is the promise broken. Yesterday is the end of one Journey . . .

Daily we walk in a difficult and unpredictable path making different choices. And yesterday is not the fence to sit on, sitting on that fence is over. Whether you like it or not, yesterday is an history we made it for ourselves. Accept it or not yesterday is gone, and there is nothing can be done about that. The Genie will not go back into the bottle, I know it is tempting to think that we can hold on to the yesterday, where everything is safe and hazy. But we cannot, and the safe and hazy are what set us on the path of disaster.  The chains of comforts are what keep us from reaching the path of the success. Break it and make yourself free from the safe and hazy yesterday.

Yesterday is vanished, now the time for greatness is there, if you make a choice.We all are scared of future, but only thing we do not have is luxury of quitting, no matter how impossible you think not to choose.

End of one journey is always a beginning of another. Change is painful, and always comes with a cost. It hurts to bare those costs but we cannot allow that to sway us. Tomorrow is a mystery only thing we can do is to face it with resolve. We move forward always forward, and into what's next. We make a choice, we act on that choice, and all its left is to live in hope.

It's a fifty - fifty chance, perhaps then we get to watch it happen. You have to understand what you are about to do. There are no guarantees, there never are.

All of you out there, gotta ask yourself only one thing, are you ready?

Strangers

Strangers . . . !

We meet Strangers in every walk of our life, there goes no day in asphalt road of life you do not come across the one, and we get exposed to unlimited possibilities to meet the only one, Stranger. Strangers are the ones whom we do not know, they are totally novel persons with no clue of what they are capable of doing to you. Good or bad, the worst or the best. Not even a smidgen of idea of their abilities that can either rip you apart from your very own life mercilessly right in front of you without even feeling a tiny amount of guilt in their minds or they can make your life stronger and more beautiful. Some of those strangers have ability to gift you love. They can be your life saviors or your worst nightmares.

My story is not that different. I met a number of strangers in my walk of life, some of them are saints, angels, wingless angels on earth, messengers, helpers, massayas, God fathers. But . . . some of them are egomaniac, lust driven, brutally selfish, hypocritically insane, psychopaths who have done an unimaginable evil to me, to make my life hell and tried to disparage my name, and tried even harder to expunge me. Some of them were worse they wore disguised as friends, and gained my trust then without even a soupcon of humanity or compassion they stabbed me right behind my back, the worst part is they hurt me so bad just with their imagination and creativity. They created all sorts of weird stories and gossips and then spread it like a virus of plague.

Well, I do not find any fault in these strangers, they are simply psychopaths, sons of Lucifer, what else can we expect from the children of Lucifer, the father of Satan. It is my bad choice to befriend them, I was innocent, so innocent that I never believed their existence, did not even had a pinch of clue that evil exists in the human heart, I never even thought that a human heart is capable of committing so horrible and unforgivable crime towards their own friends, me, or say a girl who shown compassion to them, a girl who tried to see only good in them, a girl who tried to forgive the bad in them, a girl who choose to befriend them thinking they have to be given a chance to let their goodness come out of their heart.

But . . . instead of thanking me they hurt me, hurt me very hard and deep, they simply exploited me or say tried to exploit me, they used my name and my fears, they used me, my work and my talent. They are indeed devils. I got scared, I got frightened, and after all I am a girl, a weak, simple, and innocent, with no capability to hurt others, but endure their evilness. I discerned one thing the pain I had to go through did not go in vain. Not gone with wind. I learnt that evil exists in this our own world, disguised as good friends, or colleagues personified as humans, fellow mates who act each and every time you meet them daily as good, but indeed they are opposite. The most scaring part is they hurting merely with their words, their imagination and ability to create a story out of thin air, just like that without any kind of association and correlation to any of the facts. Their incapability to see things straight and their minds incapability to fathom the alibis are the reasons behind this kind of narration. Well, it is God’s gift that I was not that badly hurt. In deed God does not want an innocent girl to suffer. His ways of work are totally different.

I forgot one simple equation, If there wasn't evil in every single one out there you see they wouldn't be people; they would all be angels.

This is just an one side of my story. On the contrary I met some strangers who turned to be the messengers of God’s to help me survive, fight the war without any hesitation. This part of strangers are my angels, they are wingless angels who saved me from my problems. This is the best part of my life. These strangers are the God’s boon to me. Each and every time when I got into trouble, or was disabled to fight my life’s fight, I prayed to be rescued and even prayed to give me strength to bear the failure. God not only listened to my prayers but also he reacted to those, and He immediately sent people to rescue me. He gave unimaginable power to with stand the worse, and courage to fight back, He always squelch the fear in me. Sometimes He takes over the control from me, makes it right and gives it back to me.

After all this I would not have a single memory of what actually happened. I did that, no He did that for me. I am damn sure, He did those impossible things that I would never have done, not with my kid like mind. He makes it do with me, by making me meet Strangers, strangers who are sent to give me the emotional strength and schooling, teaching me life lessons with their words. Once they are done with their job, they leave and go towards their destination. I am still a baby. Learning to be a soldier in this battlefield called life. I wanna triumph this land of life with flying colors. Other wise I wanna die a hero death fighting it.

There are strangers who gave me beautiful memories to hold on. Some of them gave me the best thing in any one’s life love, selfless, innocent love, which used to startle me. I keep wondering what I have done to deserve their love. There are few strangers, who just loved me for what I am, they were scared in the starting but latter, they just loved me. There are ones who taught me how to survive, their role was just a hour in my life. Strange but that one hour always turned out to be my best learning, I never even thought that this one hour talk would turn into my only way to pass my exam. This one hour used to turn my life into most amazing garden of success. The best part is I never gave any stranger permission to talk, they themselves interfere into my work and say, you need to learn this. I used to open my mouth in startle, because, the previous day I was seeking God for the solution to my very existing predicament..

If it is not called as miracle, what is called? No reason, just like that I not only earned love but also sometimes hatred from these strangers. Nonetheleass I am still scared of strangers. I cannot avoid meeting them . . . no option to choose out. Or say not my choice to make.

. . . Strangers, they are ineffable, or hellacious or abominable or total incredible people, with a ability to either make you or break you.

This is my story; what's your story?

My Journey

I was a girl, just a girl in a colony with bunch of people, nothing special, nothing great, just an anonymous girl. My only identification was that I am a girl and nothing other than that. Well, during those days it did not even bother me, I was so happy and without any kind of fears, or any sort of ambitions, totally contented with my life, unaware of future struggle.  My daily activities used to be, going to school, reading, doing homework, and playing. So much of free time, used to literally waste my time. Cartoons were still my favourite pass time. I used to read many books, my favourite  place was library, because there were so many new books filled with totally new concepts, everything to anything used to fascinate me in those days. I was like a book worm. I did not know what is future, in fact I did not even know there is something called future. I was only familiar with present, no fears and no tears. I was not even sure why I need to go to school. But I always used to go to school. I was like almost a favourite student to my teachers. Always used to be first in participating in extra curriculum activities, wining first, second and third prizes accordingly for school in both intra and inter competitions. And the best part is I never used to feel proud in winning a prize, all it used to matter me was my participation. 

Those were days where I got neither a single responsibility nor sense of responsible, all I am supposed to do is study well, and get good marks. These were my schooling days . . . one day my school premeditated for an scientific excursion to CCMB, Center of Cellular and Molecular Biology. I was so thrilled to know that we are going to see a Research Center, this center is not usually opened for public. That day, it is opened for public because it was its anniversary. Honestly I was not knowing any place other than my home and my school. Therefore, this experience is totally novel and exciting. We all went to that center. And we were acquainted with what experiment were conducted for what purposes, well everything was so obscure and occult. For little minds like us it was too much to take into our brain. Out host was Dr. Susheel Chanda, he is so fair and tall, in his late 30’s and got unforgettable, extremely blunt obtuse nose. I noticed he is not from our city, it is apparent from his looks. Well he claims to be from Delhi. He is an interesting man. He is also very intelligent. Well, he had been explaining every experiment that had been conducting in that building, indubitably I had to presume he is shrewd. 

The few experiments that I savvied startled me, some of those even perplexed me. Well, I only assumed heat is the only thing that burns us, I never knew until that day, that even the icy pieces can burn us. Weird ha! It’s was not only scientific excursion but also a interesting day to me. I will tell you, why? He was sharing his experience about Delhi, he had a very bad opinion of Delhi, do not know the reason, but based on his words I discern that he is more lenient towards Hyderabad rather than Delhi. He confessed that streets of Delhi were so horribly filled with pollution and dust that they elicited tears. I tried to imagine what it is to be in Delhi, the words that he was pronouncing, disappeared, streets of Delhi appeared in front of me in a blur, well, abruptly it vanished into thin air due to the interruptions by my mind. I just knew, I will never go to Delhi. Innocent, however it is very true that I felt I will never grow and I will always be a mama’s darling baby, always being pampered. I could not even dare to imagine the Delhi in my mind. It perspicuously depicts my certitude about me being in city of pearls. No way I could digest the fact of leaving that place and going anywhere else. That day it was an impossible.

Present day, I am in Delhi. Impudently roaming in the streets of Delhi each day and every day. Daily I use DTC to commute and its roads. I walk every day in the streets of Delhi, memorizing each day this phrase, “never even anticipated that this would ever happen in my life, not even a smidgen of it before”. This is my journey from a innocent mama’s baby girl to a independent, strong, impudent girl. If you don’t call it a miracle, well, what do you call?

Dr. Susheel Chanda, never disappeared from my memories, I bet I might have forgotten few of them or say few of the moments but not him and his words. It is indeed astonishing to me. His words, still ringing In my ears, “Delhi is a place where there is lot of pollution”, “we cry when you go out in streets of Delhi”, “tears just pour out” besides my own thoughts, “me, ha, going to Delhi, baby you are not even permitted to think that way. ”. “It will never happen”, “impossible”, “next to impossible”, “you will never leave Hyderabad.” These words daily  ring in my mind when I am walking in the streets of Delhi.

Leader!

The one who borns from the ashes of blood and desperation to win is the Leader ! ! !

Risk is great. But so are the rewards. From here there is no turning back. You are the leader and you need to be ready . . .

Stay tunned to read more about it. Leader . ..  ! Thank you for your patience.

My first date with Java

Who says love at first site is not possible, well my love on Java was of course love at first sight. And I still feel that same magic on me by Him.

In order to tell you the story, we have to travel back in time. Those were my collage days . . . I met him for the first time in a boring, typical class. I was seldom attentive in classes, the intro sucked. Well, as usually I was disappointed that this class is as lackluster as others. I was looking outside from the window. It is clear, sunny day. It was almost 3 o clock in the evening, probably everyone are napping. Me stuck in a deadly numb class. As usual I was trying to act as if I am listening, as much disappointed I was that much attentive I became when I heard a sweet voice, a sweet song of Java flowing through my ears. Startling it was! It was for the first time I ever concentrated in computers class. I was listening and listening, and nothing is making me mad, on contrary it’s so soothing to my heart. Ever in my life that any class gave me such a relief. All it said was, “Hello world”.  That’s it, all it did was Hello, and I was totally flat at him, nothing he did ever changed my mind on him, fallen deeply into abyss of his concepts. Tangled in the web Object oriented programming. Well, until now there was no turning back.

Well, it is not the first time that I was so fed up with my classes, the worst part is the practices, nonetheless in the starting year of my college I was a first bencher. Used to sit in the first place and first bench, latter upon making few friends, I shifted to last. My friends are such a fun and so cool; they gave me the best part of my life. Specially my gang, gang that identifies itself for its menace. We are so tough in the whole college, never used to read, never used to write exams, never even used to pass the exams, of course the internal exams. Everyone were so good at one day batsmen-ship, that they used to play it with such a violence, and aggression, that they used to always pass, exception with me is that my passion on studies always fetched me a topper in my finals with just a single day championship.  Always, we are very jolly. They are so hostile to reading. Any studious girl / boy used to antagonize them. We used to compete on who gets the less marks. The one who gets the one digit mark is the idol, hero for the gang. And how we make boring class into our playground is total awesome. Our lecturers and professors are so fed up with us. We were the most fun, and naughtiest gang in the whole college. There are no embellishments to my college days, they are exactly what I say here.  lovable, I am not exaggerating on any.  They are that good, utterly standalones. Our professors used to hold grudges on us. Well during these days, when I was totally free bird with no kind of disciple and no aim in my life other than having fun . .  . inexplicable reckless days, with none to worry of, none to take care of, totally a free bird in a flock of other birds,  in my final year, I met him.

My friends left me, leaving me alone with Java, They gave up on me, they thought no one can ever bring me back to their world. I used to see nothing but Java. I was so happy that it was in my curriculum, the sweetness of the first programs . . . it is so perspicuous that I was in love with him, totally drenched in its lines of codes. It’s a absurd, and abstruse relation. He did had a strong poise of spell on me, with his charms and his implicit constructors, that are encapsulated in a class. His inheritance was mesmerizing, I am like totally blended into him for his polymorphic nature. His masculine  implicit constructors and parameterized constructors is all I used to see and here. His new instances, cool. I was in total trance. I was deeply in love with him. Oh! My dream Language.

I used to wake up from my nightmares saying implement this method of the interface in the class to achieve that functionality. Make him full, fill him in with ever functionality to make him powerful. This is all I used to dream. Well, in my lab, it was for first time I had a date with him. Finally, 2 hours of lab and guess what I get splendid time I ever had with him. Implemented all his concepts, so he could be happy. Javac / .java / Java are three dialogues that were keep coming out of my mouth. We in deed had a very good time that very first day in my lab. He always used to ask what he wanted without shouting at me. He used print it on the console just for me. Indeed it was so outstanding date that we choose to stay together all our life, he promised not to leave me and I promised not to leave him.

Well, in the end we both are happy in each other solace. The story ends and we go back to our homes.  Happily ever after . . .

Identity!

 It's not money, it's not wealth, it's not fame that I am back of, it's identity what I am back of . . . starving for, craving for.

A psychological identity relates to self-image (a person's mental model of him or herself), self-esteem, and individuality. An important part of identity in psychology is gender identity, as this dictates to a significant degree how an individual views him or herself both as a person and in relation to other people, ideas and nature. In cognitive psychology, the term "identity" refers to the capacity for self-reflection and the awareness of self (Leary & Tangney 2003, p. 3).
Sociology places some explanatory weight on the concept of role-behavior. The notion of identity negotiation may arise from the learning of social roles through personal experience. Identity negotiation is a process in which a person negotiates with society at large regarding the meaning of his or her identity.
Psychologists most commonly use the term "identity" to describe personal identity, or the idiosyncratic things that make a person unique. Meanwhile, sociologists often use the term to describe social identity, or the collection of group memberships that define the individual. However, these uses are not proprietary, and each discipline may use either concept and each discipline may combine both concepts when considering a person's identity.
The story starts way around two decades ago . . .

I loved cricket a lot, it’s filled with so much of energy. I used to run, miles and miles, and catch the ball that is heading towards me with a speed of 80 kmph. I love this game partly because it gave me a chance to play with my little brother. Those days I was his the best friend. My brother gave me another nickname ‘Reserve bank of India’. I got this name because I used to always sponsor him. He loved me a lot, I was the only person in his life that never used to scold him for his errs.

He used to do a lot of mistakes, always made wrong choices. His mistake is to be reckless. He never cares for anything or anyone. In fact he is not even mature enough to know the difference between good and bad. He knows only one thing to play and to play. No matter what he never abide to parents law. Every parent force laws upon their kids. They forget the basic thing is that without experiencing any thing in life they won’t grow. It’s a horrible experience for a kid to be controlled. They lose their basic confidence level. I know the feeling, my parents did the same thing to me. But I never imposed such ridiculous and baseless laws on my brother. I let him grow, I gave him the experiences he needed to learn what’s good he had to adapt and what’s the bad he had to expunge from his life. I always showed him the way and all he had to do is to make a choice. It’s his right. I taught him to decide at that age only.

I promised myself not to scold my brother no matter he comes to me with any truth. This is not only the love on my little brother but also my pain which was induced by my own parents. What I did not get from my parents, and what I wanted the mostly from my parents, I wanted to give my brother those. I did not wanted him to suffer the way I did. I never wanted him to give the feeling of loneliness, the feeling of being all alone in this whole world none to support. I am trying to save him from this feeling.

Even when he did any perpetration, at his age, 11; what a boy’s perpetration would be or say can be? At most he steals something and gets caught. And it’s bad to me and you, but what is bad for a 11 year old boy who does not even know what he is talking? All he knows is to play and then get what all needed in order to play with his friends. He does not even have an age of understanding the value of money or even managing the money. Money is a token for him to exchange better things that would make him play. Well, I always supported him, he is after all my brother, I covered his tracks. And helped him to escape the mom’s harsh treatments or dad’s punishments. We were the best friends.

For any mess he did he had that privilege to come to me without any fear or abandonment. He always admitted truth, I used to forgive him for his first mistakes, second never used be the same. He learned all the lessons he got from his troubles and he made right choices all the time not to repeat those again. I used to be very happy for him. One day he and his friend got into a fight which turned very ugly. What happened that is unforgiveable, but he was sure I would be helping him, he came to me first. Thank God! The other boy was not seriously injured. He was alive, but with very deep injuries, which are of course curable. He never left from my side, he held my hand every time, slept with me and there beside me all the time. Did not even talk to his parents, he knows they would harm him.

Two weeks passed, situation came into control, there was no police case, his friends parents were very compassionate people. They forgave my little brother. He was no more the same boy, who played and played. He changed, this incident changed him. He became studious and very good in his curriculum. He learnt that his lesson by himself. He promised me that he won’t fight again. And said he would make me very proud with his actions. Tears were pouring out of my eyes. Lessons that are untold got into his mind, I forgave him. I never let his parents torture him for this innocent and honest mistake. He is now a Fellow Researcher in a Top University, in USA.

But the day he chose to come to me rather than his parents changed my thoughts. I gave him such an impression that I would not hurt him and love him, and let him live his life with all the mistakes made. That was my identity to him. I made it myself. Now I wanna make my own identity in this life. Something unique. Something that will adhere to me under any circumstances. And revert to back to me with the kind of assurance and guarantee that I would be the only person who could be capable of handling such things.

An identity that is so hard to make,
but very easy to break.