Who's the Grumpiest of them All?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall; 

Who’s the grumpiest of them all? 

If it’s me, then hear me pray, 

Do not keep the assessment test today! 



And if it is the corporate you see; 

In your depths of grumpy mystery, 

Just remind them of their career goals, 

And do not make them intern-haunting assholes. 



But if it is Anuraag you are claiming; 

His grumpiness is centered around ONM training! 

So just remind him of his GF back home, 

That he can then chuck his internship notes over the B-dome. 



It might be Syal, you might say; 

Him and his troubles, of not being gay. 

To him I have no words of praise or rot, 

Coz the one straight gf is all I got. 



To Ojas, you might turn your attention to; 

Hez never grumpy, though you might expect him to. 

Hez alwez in some or the other gym; 

You’d expect a stench even in the mails sent by him. 



Kosa, o mirror, is one of the worst; 

To hear him talk abt anything apart from anime is a first. 

Hez grumpy abt the project, the people and all; 

Has to handle Kolkata and the Rest of Bengal. 



And mirror, I know you cant check on KRK ob; 

Hez never there, yet hez the one who gets the job. 

I think his corporate project work is nil, 

Yet the dude is never in office, alwez seems to be ill. 



Ashish and Sabin, are two of a kind; 

Though as ghazi and mallu, they are of different mind. 

What with puzzles, and CAT, and Preeti, between them; 

It is a mystery how they have survived an entire sem! 



And mirror, o mirror, what about Rajiv, in Hyd? 

The perennial silent, and the reporter, of the tide. 

And Varun, in Pune, seems to know all; 

He knows, secretly, that in the test he ll stand tall. 



And what, I ask, of Shubham Banerjee; 

Without two front teeth, you can hardly expect glee. 

Though in Blore for a year, hez raided a few bars, 

With is daily Good Morning mails, you wouldn’t guess this guy saw black and blue stars! 



But the grumpiest of them all, I think is Nihar Sreeramshetty, 

The bloke shares a room with Gowda, whoz a tharkee to the t! 

But 6 months, of silent suffering; 

Might have turned Nihar into a God-Fearing human being. 



All in all, this was IDEA Cellular, 

My home away from home, for half a year, 

And if not for you guys, my days would have been spent, 

In Indore bars prolly, rubbing my own eyes with some ointment. 



ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: TO ALL MY PS MATES, MENTIONED AND UNMENTIONED IN THE POEM, THANKS FOR A ROCKING TIME! JUST BCOS I DINT MENTION SAHITHYA, ANKEET, SAYANI….DONT FEEL BAD! MEANS EITHER U DON’T SEND MANY MAILS, OR ARE NORMAL!!!! :D 



P.S I KNOW LAST STANZA IS LAME. DEAL WITH IT! 

Invictus

Just came across this short poem, while looking for the film description with the same name. I had already head a lot about this poem, but never really looked it up.

'Invictus' was written by William Earnest Henley in 1875.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Awe-Inspiring.

Poem to Ponder - Not self composed

I don't remember where I came across this one.... might have been DC as usual, but I certainly saved it.... a pretty cool piece I can read twice without thinking.

I was shocked, confused, bewildered

As I entered Heaven's door,

Not by the beauty of it all,

Nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven

Who made me sputter and gasp--

The thieves, the liars, the sinners,

The alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade

Who swiped my lunch money twice.

Next to him was my old neighbor

Who never said anything nice.

Herb, who I always thought

Was rotting away in hell,

Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,

Looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus , 'What's the deal?

I would love to hear Your take.

How'd all these sinners get up here?

God must've made a mistake.

'And why's everyone so quiet,

So somber - give me a clue.'

'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock.

No one thought they'd be seeing you.'

JUDGE NOT.

Remember....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian Any more than standing in your garage makes you a car ..

Every saint has a PAST.... Every sinner has a FUTURE.

Left Behind

All of a sudden, the wind feels so cold
My heart starts beating harder,
Turning back, as I watch you go
The memories remain, my breath stops short.

For all the whispers of sweet nothings
And the shy smiles you couldn't hide,
For all the promises of everlong
In this dark alley, alone, I remain.

Where did the ride stop thrilling you?
When did the lies take over?
How was it that you took so long
And decide to leave me behind?

In this dusk, the shadows engulf me
My pulse starts racing, in fear,
Of loneliness, and betrayal
The injustice of it all, my vision clouded.

For all the miles you promised to walk
Beside me, on this journey,
For all the stars you deciphered
You couldn't read these black wings of Fate.

Where did the path stop inspiring you?
When did the smiles turn fake?
How was it that it that you took so long
And decide to leave me behind?

-Varun

The Path of the Seeker

Through the mists of time, towers his shadow,
As the stench of the myths settle, he looms through the haze.
As he passes by, our broken spirits bow deep,
Those among us looking for a way out of this maze.
The defeated rise out from the depths of hell,
To wash their sins away, and say a silent prayer.
The fallen dust their sleeves, to relive their past,
His eyes pierce through the gloom, they're the eyes of a Seeker.

The flame he lights, chases the dark from us,
The path he follows is barren, but we follow him still.
His passion is dark, and yet we cling to it with broken fingers,
The secrets of his past, will lead him beyond the hills.
Silent as the night the army marches on, in his wake,
As his cloak rustles on, among the graves of our brethen.
His vision is blurred, yet his step is firm,
His mind unwavering, he strides along the path of the Seeker.

We know not what he sees, or what he is looking for,
But we know he will lead us, and we are prepared to follow.
To the ends of the earth, if that is what it will take,
To redeem our pride, and rebuild our egoes.
The horizon spreads endless, as the sun glows through,
Our sights are lifted, by the sight of our redemption.
As our souls revive themselves, he waits for us,
For the journey, is not yet over for the Seeker.

With verve on our lips, and strength in our hearts,
We climb the final barrier, and face the endless plains.
The sun bright behind us, the dust settling down,
Our sins have been cleansed, our hands are now steady.
Vigour back in our steps, we wait for his command,
And his cold smile, which has so inspired us.
For he has found his answers, beyond that silent hill,
The deeds left to be done, are waiting for the Seeker.

-Varun

The Dusk of the Ambitious

I remember
There was a time when he played the hardest.
I remember
Him working on through the night, as everybody slept.
I remember
His ever-alert eyes, looking for the next chance to prove himself.
I remember
His never-say-die attitude, even after he stumbled.

Day after night, he dreamt of glory,
The greatest victory, the perfect win.
Covering all corners, always hungry for more,
Give him an inch, and he would take the whole mile.
Never gave a damn about criticism,
Made it a point to come back stronger.
Every bout he fought, every round he lost,
Steeled his grit further, hardened his desire.

I remember
The fire that drove him on, even if if it burnt him.
I remember
His desire to win every battle, even if he took more blows.
I remember
The glint in his eyes, and the clarity in his vision.
I remember
His amazing determination, and yet his unparalleled modesty.

A long time has passed, since then,
And yet his passion drives him still, forever more.
His muscles worn out, his hands unsteady,
Yet the same razor focus, and the very same grit.
The aims he had set, he kept raising,
We didn't know his final destination.
Probably, neither did he, but it didn't matter anymore,
When the curtains fall, I'm sure, he'll be smiling.

-Varun