FUNKY PEN

First term was an executive summary of painful GD sessions, non stop introductions, more so to the mosquitoes and insects of the badminton court .Getting up for eight thirty classes and for most of us, the first introduction to CAM, with a gifted teacher, whose gift to most of us, I can safely say was a B minus. The only thing I learnt was how to decode the language of the Sir, to English, but alas, I got the same gift as the rest of the multitude. Second term, was a flurry of mathematical based subjects, of which, I genuinely know very little. Specially OR, where I seriously learnt how to cheat, with the help of the nicest partners on my opposite desks. Could not draw any transportation diagram, and all the transportation I wanted to do, was of mine outside the hall. Third term, Passions, was on our mind and in our hearts, couldn’t think of anything else .And when we were finished with it, we got up like Rip van vinkles and suddenly realized the next

Success is the ability to respect pepper hair... even when you earn many times of what they do, the ability to spend some time with those who truly care for you, the energy to catch up with that colleague long lost, the fervor to support a cause close to your heart, and not just talk bout it, true success is being able to justify your existence as a human being, who makes a difference,, and not just another piece of man.. Whose sole aim is to strive for his existence... So ask yourself today...Are you successful??? And if you are, then rejoice in this success … because it’s everlasting …

I have never felt so tender before … I have never felt touched to the core... I have never counted the petals of a rose... I have never filled my pages with prose … I never could appreciate silent music … Until this day... when I stand to loose it … Rivulets of tears stream down my soul…. The fury of sorrow consumes me whole... When will my spirit drown in desire???When will you come and douse this fire??

Redundant …a sight without vision... Extinct … a goal without a mission... Lost …. A desert without mirages.... Worthless … a history that repeats... Mistake …. Friendship without sacrifice. Glory ….. Power that unseats... Love … lost in lonely eyes … Resolve... touch the amber skies … Piety … changes for the better…. Ego ….. “I” is my most favorite letter … Help me so that I might use the paper of my life... To pen down these lines... Gratitude... The ink, with which I write...

I feel let down by your eyes I feel consumed by your lies I feel you have broken my soul Like a plastic toy without its spring I am a mynah that can no longer sing Why did you feel I could change you? When you knew you could never change yourself Why did you want to give this more time? When you just weren’t sure of yourself? How could this have continued …??When you eschewed my love every living moment When day light wanted to seep inside you You took to the cover of the night Today when I look inside you I see an ugly sight Bereft of human emotions Your heart has turned to stone I bleed sorrow, when I remember the days gone... Never again will I willingly... Let some one inside my soul For that someone is the devils child... That has consumed me whole.

I slither slowly... Until I reach the haven ive been looking for... When night shine illuminates my very senses... And the zypher chants softly … Of candle light and glory … I crave for yet another story … Like the jingle, of the shingle on the silent shore... Conches whisper my destiny...is it folk lore ??? He leads me to an alcove … A shower of love ensues ….. My form melts in him … For more, he pursues …. Building castles that shatter in our very hands … A future before us never stands … Living through his unfaithful eyes … In his love, I will rise ….

Never again will i willingly ... let someone inside my soul ..... For that someone is the devils child that has consumed me whole .... the quest to find someone who supports you ,, is a journey that sholud be aborted .. because in life ,you need someone who walks with you and not behind you ........... the funky pen is an effort to talk to you about my feelings , and use the most powerful medium of expression ........... the pen that inks the human soul ......!