Immortal

What is it to be immortal. Well, I don't really know, maybe a reminder of your existance at every breath even after you've gone away, away to a world from where you can never come back, leaving behind a bundle of deeds, deeds that resound in someones heart, that carve out a niche in someones soul, that flow in someones tears, that beat in someones heart....deeds that carve out a space, filling it with gratefulness and making one follow the traces left behind, which inspire us to be like the one if not at par.
Our deeds make us immortal, deeds that we silently shower for the betterment of the other, which then seep down reaching their soul and stay there forever. Such is the power of our deeds, that they make us immortal.
Being elder than someone is not a big deal, but when you are at a higher pedestal, you should always remember, that there are people standing below, who have their gaze on you, its your duty to set the right example, and it would be your deeds that would make you live forever.
A department to cater to the people suffering from tuberculosis had opened in Jamia, grandpa was a part of the department. Being a part of something only helps, when one actively participates in it and takes it towards the goal it has intended to achieve. Whoever suffered from TB got a quick ride on grandpas heavy bike, who then took them to the center to be cured. Many shared the seat, and many lives were cured, no one got to know, coz it just seeped in the heart of those who then made him live forever.
He is still alive, alive in the words of the people I meet, Alive in the twinkle of someones eyes as he/she takes his name, Alive as Mr. Abdul Sattar, A name people would never forget, a name that is smeared on every wall of the village called Okhla, in the memories of a University called Jamia, in the hearts of the people who loved him, and in the innumerable deeds concealed in every heart...be it known or unknown.......

The Oath that left an imprint....

Today, when I was posting a poem at musings (the other blog that I have), my eyes filled with tears. Once nana had told me, that ones country is ones home, its our duty to look after it. Let people say what they want to, let them criticise it and leave their duties for others to fulfill, simply by playing the blame game, but you as an Indian don't ever forget, that your country is your duty, always be there for it, go ahead and be the change that you want to see, don't ever let those down who have given you the freedom to express yourself, to live with dignity in your own land, don't let those down who gave you the freedom to decide...who blessed you with the words...for, by and of the people...its in your hands...your land...its your responsibility...take it towards the path of progress, you owe it to your motherland...you owe it to India..your home... your world!
I remember your words nana, I remember how unwell you were on the day of the election and still you went to the booth to cast your vote...I know how important it was for you...
You were a good son, you did realise your duties towards your motherland.
As Independence Day is fast approaching, I can smell the fragrance of my land in the air,
I am delighted at the innocent eyes and the little hands holding on to the flags at the red light,
I can feel the enthusiasm in the march past at the India Gate, all set and energised to celebrate the special day!I can feel the Amar Jawan Jyoti's rising flames, the young blood that did not think for a second before giving their life for their motherland!I am proud to belong to such a country, where the Saffron, White and Green coexist in wonderous harmony
..this is my country...my world..my land!May the fragrance of joy forever mesmerise my motherland :)

A Festive Delight!

Raksha Bandhan, a beautiful Indian festival, when Sisters tie rakhi on their brothers hand . Rakhi is a sacred thread of protection embellished with the love and affection of a sister for her brother. Its beautiful how relationships blossom with time, leaving a fragrance of love and affection for us to trace whereever we may be. Once my teacher told me, that in her days, sisters used to get up early in the morning, had a bath and sat down to make a beautiful rakhi out of colourful threads, at that time people did not prefer buying one from the market, it used to be a sacred affair. I believe its still sacred, whatever might have changed with time, the feelings, the promises, the belief and love is just the same, ever growing with the joy of human bonds:)
I feel the best thing about being an Indian, is the fact that whatever community, religion or region you may belong to, each and every festival celebrated by the people of our nation is relished by one and all. Its like different members of a family, with different habits, customs and beliefs, coming together to celebrate the festive spirit that colours life, with its ever refreshing glory!That's my country and I am in love with it :)
I remember how my siblings and I, used to gather at nanis place to tie rakhis to each other, it was a treat to get a chocolate in return to every rakhi that was tied. Time passed, we grew up and got busy, but today, when I messaged my cousins , to wish them a very happy rakhi, the fragrance of the bygone days smeared my mind....time passes but certain feelings remain intact forever.
Thank you Rush for encouraging me to write a new post today as you always do , you took me to the days that linger on like fresh dew, which works like a healing balm :)
A very happy Rakshi to all my friends out there!May God bless each relationship in your life with an enriching beauty that gets better with time :)