Its Dusk, Its time to go

I sit on my chair, I see the kids.
They enjoy the ball as the wind blow
Soon they end their game and return
Its dusk, its time to go

I play with my friends, I see my father
He comes from his office, tired and low
I wrap my game, I ask my friends
Its dusk, its time to go

I drive to home, after a long tiring day
I see a farmer, walking the road slow
I stopped the car as he crossed the road
Its dusk its time to go

It rained last night, my crop dripping water
And today the sun shone with usual glow
As the day rolled, the sun went west
Its dusk, its time to go

I see a boy, sitting on his chair
Listening to songs, sweet and mellow
But the horizon is near, i cant watch him anymore
Its dusk, its time to go

The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho

Finally, the book I heard a lot of. And it thrilled me more than the first book of his I read, the Zahir. I started this book with not much amusement. With very simple elements, a boy and some sheeps, the story started but ended with a style that comes naturally to Paulo Coelho and a reading delight for me.
And it offers some of the greatest words of spirituality and philosophy that you are bound to think about the happenings again and again. I am used to such philosophical talks but these books really help me giving words to my own personal findings. I was so amused by the sentences that I finally decided to update my status in social networking with them. I sometimes think that Paulo Coelho should have been a spiritual leader. But he has decided to send his messages in novels rather than in journals or boring speeches. A medium most will understand and enjoy. No doubt I will read the remaining novels by him also.

Somewhere She Is

There is a stream
that comes in my dream
The water flows
the time slows

I look up the other end
where the stream slowly bend
there within a mile
i saw you smile

joined you by your side
Talked and laughed like i never did
You were happy, smiling too
I realised this is what i need

Then a droplet touched my palm
wondered as the sky was composed and calm
Closely, i looked in your eyes
Drenched, they were reduced in size

I asked, what bothers you,makes you cry
You said tomorrow, its time to say goodbye

My sleep broke, my eyes woke
and the dream vanished , with a sigh

The dream never reapproached
Still miss that night worthwhile

But miracle do happen, i got you back
Not in my dreams, in reality with a smile....

Digital Fortress - Dan Brown

Although I am new in reading novels and still fighting to make it a habit, ther are some writers of whom I have read novels one after another, so it is evident I have learnt the styles of these writers. For example, Mario Puzo is a underworld writer. He gives life to the least respectable people of the world. Chetan Bhagat is a fiction writer who tries to make them as real as possible, relating them to true incidents of his life. Dan Brown is writer who does a lot of research before writing a novel and hence, his novel may or may not has some useful information about the secret societies existing in our land.

Digital Fortress, is a software. A software ready to make the Translator of the National Security Agency, NSA, a agency many have unheard of. Translator is everyday decoding many crypto, foiling the plans of many threats. Some people within it are upset by the very method of decrypting anyone’s private messages. So, one of them come out with a solution with the Digital Fortress, and hence threatening the existence of the Scientist’s Marvel.

When you read a Dan Brown, get ready to know some out of the world possible facts. I never found out how many of them are exactly true, but the commitment with which he describes the story that you can’t ignore and hence, start believing the facts. Still, I would say that The Da Vinci Code is the best.

The Family - Mario Puzo

The Godfather. A huge hit of all times. Marlon Brando and Al Pacino, not to forget Robert Di Niro, it is one of the classics of Hollywood. My brother bought me a DVD of the movie and asked me to watch it. But I couldn’t. Because it was a little tough English spoken in an unusual accent of Marlon Brando. But I watched it after I got some subtitles and enjoyed every part of it.
Many may not be aware that the creator of the Godfather was also a novelist and has depicted the life on many dons. I have read his novel, The Last Don and liked it a lot. But the recent novel I read of Mario Puzo, left me speechless. It was the Last novel written by him before he expired. And as his friend Carol Gina, who was responsible to complete the final parts of the novel told that it was his novel he wanted to write for almost thirty years. He started writing its parts before The Godfather but nothing materialized.

The Family, a book based on Rome during the Renaissance Period. Pope Alexander VI, or Rodrigo Borgia was a Spanish who was made the Pope of the country. He had three sons, Caesar, Juan, Jofre and a daughter Lucrezia. Rodrigo wanted to unite the Rome as well as the other states and provinces. He gave his sons important positions in the church, and dealt with the non-surrendering states with different tactics. But during all these years making a united kingdom, he made many enemies, some of whom were distressed by him made the Pope, while some were dissatisfied with his ways of governing.

But what really amazed me is that he made a tyrant ruler look a good human being. I searched the internet when I got to know that these characters are not fictions and got to know that they are depicted as the worst rulers of those times. For all those who know about these and have a perception as the same as the web, I would tell them to read this novel. Although, Rodrigo Borgia made some strict and inhuman decisions, you won’t find his life cruel or insensitive.

The Blank "Face" (Part III - Last)

“The Bar is closed, Sir. You can come tomorrow.” As I saw, the bouncer was dealing with two thin men wearing absurd cloth.
“Move your ass, dude. You don’t mess with the junkies. Do we look like we are taking a permit?”
“Vanish, you bloody bastards.” The bouncer pushed them as they fell to the ground.
“What the…”
The messy guy took out a sharp tiny object and pricked it on the bouncer’s eye. The fat guy went down in a second. But the messy guy didn’t stop pricking his needle in the bouncer’s body. In a minute the bouncer was on the ground crying in pain. Both of Junkies paced away hurriedly.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
It has been seven days I am in this cell. It stinks like rotten egg. Light touching the walls from a small opening of the top of the right wall. Every day when the light shimmers on the walls, they enter, tie me like dogs and take me to the torcher cell. I don’t know for how long it continues, because after few minutes, I lose my conscious and the pain overtakes my body and mind. Why? I don’t know exactly.

“Accept. Accept that you are responsible for the murder.”
“I …… I told you officer….. that I didn’t do any such act. I am innocent”
“Listen guy, I know you did it. I have got enough evidences and witnesses to prove you guilty in court. Now it will be intelligent for you to accept it to save you from further torture.”
“What are your profits in this whole process?”
“Whaaaaatttt????”
“I asked…… What are your profits in this process? I am sure they have given you a hefty amount to prove my guilt?”
The police officer didn’t say anything for few moments. Then he took out a sharp needle from his pockets and jammed it in the open wound on my neck.
“Listen you smart kid, Aevinas Maelhottra. I have worked for twenty fucking years within these corridors. And I know some pretty nice ways to prove what I am supposed to. And I will make it sure you don’t leave these walls for the next coming years.” Saying this the officer walked away through the door. I was taken back to my enclosure.
For three days, I was beaten. Hanged naked from a roof, baseball bats and sticks were thumped on me for hours. Then they packed me naked in my enclosure with salt all over the floor. I don’t even remember the last days of my torture. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sleep properly in my cell. My body laid there like a lifeless zombie.

“Sign it here.”
“Don’t you know his fingers are broken you fool? Take a thumb impression of his right hand.”
I was already in my subconscious mind. My brain went through some series of shock treatments just before the signing.
“Here sir, please give a thumb impression.”
“You foolish chaps. Who gave you an entry in this Department?”
The officer straight came towards me and lifted my right hand. Then took a thumb impression on the paper. I couldn’t resist because my body already stopped responding to the nervous system many days before. They threw me back in my chamber, with my clothes on. Maybe their job was done. There was no court case afterwards. The case was closed. Next mornings, I was taken from my cell and cleaned with a hose pipe. Food was given twice a day. And there was no other sound in that big cell, no movement, just the high walls and light striking the roof for few hours. I used to think, what happened that day and why did it happen. What went wrong between me and my cousin. I remembered my mother, my sweet mother and my father. I missed the days I was free and talked with my friends. I missed the sunlight and the dark chocolates. I missed everything. But as time passed, the thinking was ceased too.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Violent, that what came in my mind when I saw this act. I couldn’t watch the whole incident and started walking on the other side of the road. The people were screaming and crying out loud nearby. But I saw something which astonished me completely.
A guy was standing below the street lamp in a brown overcoat. He was wearing his hat but still a light was illuminating his face. He was not looking a native European but his complexion was too whit to deny that. What stunned me was his immovable face. He was completely lifeless, his expressions completely blank. He was witnessing this incident with absolutely no emotions.
The screams continued but this guy walked after few moments, as if the show of the night was over.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
I entered today with a tired look in my eyes but ready to rock and free my body from all the tiredness of the week. I went straight to the bartender and took my favourite drink as a starter. A mix of vodka and breezer with a tinge of lemon juice. Refreshing it was, when I saw the same figure of that night sitting beside me.
“Hi! Aren’t you the same guy outside this club last Friday?”
The guy gave me a stern look convincing me that he is not ready to talk with strangers. But still, I continued as my eagerness was increasing for this person.
“Hi, I am Sandeep. You can call me Sandy. I am here for a project assigned by my company.”
“You an Indian?”
“Yes. Of Course.”
I don’t know whether my origin helped him to demystify the distance between our communication. But that night, I actually saw his blank face opening up showing some expressions I suspected of. I don’t know how much time passed talking to this guy, but when we completed, it was six in the morning and the guy took a leave from me.

“Excuse me. I actually didn’t ask your name.”
“Avinash Malhotra.”