The Choice...

Sweet pleasure do i derive?
Or is this the pricking pang of repentance?
On he goes and on do i
But the aims are nowhere common in sense.

While he delves into vectors and forces
My mind runs free in fields and valleys
While he glares around from above his pince-nez
I gaze dreamily into space

In my mind is the image of that utopia
of fun and frolic, of creative and innovative pursuit
Of feelings brimming over, of emotions unchained
While he is lost in the relativity of frames....

I look forward to love and to dream the sweet sensations of that pure bliss
I look towards a new world, a new insight, a better way
He has a hearth to light, a home to hold
He has no time for shit

Once he too was an innocent angel
A free bird, an unchained soldier
And chased his dreams did he with vengeance
Achieved glory-of what i dream- somewhat same in sense

He brought a bride, she carried his child
He lived his dreams, people dreamt his life
He professed his profession and awe he struck
But then she came... and then she struck.

The glory was short lived, the awe died infant
And harsh practicality pulled him down
The bride brewed, he had to manage the brood
And his castle was raised to the ground

His teachings they respected but respected him not
His services they wanted but they served him not
They both thought they were being cheated
Though nowhere same in sense

For a brief break immersed he in his work
And restarted the search for love and longing
but love is pure, longing is sure
And in both he was lacking

Today he looked over his pince nez
He saw him going the same way
He flayed him and punished him for his heart reached out
Please oh please... Rules don't you flout

But the feelings are strong, stronger their pleasure
So what if one day it has to end
The end is there and always bitter so what harm
if i make the journey sweet for myself

For time well spent is a treasure earnt
It serves you well even when it is spent
And twinkle can it bring back to the worn out dry eye
which has for long been tear bedimmed.

And so Oh friends go on run free
Be yourself what you want to be
Hold yourself not back for you might just lose
the best time of this death.





I wrote this one in my AML(One of the toughest courses in IIT!) 110 Tutorial class(IITians will know what i am talking about). I was gazing out of the window when my partner nudged me and i saw the prof looking at me. The look he gave me then almost spoke these words out to me(I was probably helped by my own innate desire of becomng a professor and teaching) and I immediately started writing the poem(He must have been surprised by this sudden burst of sincerity for he obviously couldn't see exactly what i was writing!!!).

I firmly believe that teaching is the most noble profession in the world(well maybe second to Medicine!). But the money and respect that the Indian society gives to them is nowhere near what they deserve...

A young Ph.D student hardly cares for money as at that time he is too busy in his work and research. But later when he is ready to settle down, when teaching the same drab material over and over again has him tired out, when he can no longer innovate like he did as a young student, when he(Girls i mean no disrespect to your prowess to teach. After all majority of the school teachers are females. But unfortunately I haven't seeen many girls around in IIT Delhi. So really tend to think in the masculine form) feels his pocket pinch in trying to give his family a decent life is when he becomes the stereotypical irritated sadist prof that we are so familliar with.

Still I feel it is much better to chase your dreams and be depressed when you wake up, rather than not dreaming at all!