Dear Sir

Dear Sir,

This is for you – you, who taught me to find joy in other people’s success and content in simplicity. That my mission is to make my home happy, and to give love and affection to my parents because happy homes are the foundations of a happy nation. That it is my privileged duty to contribute to the cleanliness of my home, my neighbourhood, my state, my nation, and to leave behind an unadulterated world to the generations that will come after me. That I must walk with my head held high but with both feet planted on the ground. That every man is my brother and not a sworn enemy. That I should not rejoice in winning against someone but, rather, rejoice if I should win them over. That I should try to save or better at least one life other than my own. That I should be blind to caste, creed, colour, language, in order to do so. That I need to keep learning so I can share my knowledge with the world – to burn like the sun if I should shine like one. That I should think and act upon my thoughts. That I should never rob anyone of the truth. That I must not only keep my word but perform it. That dreams are not to lull me back to sleep but to awaken me to reality. That, not my treasures, but my success will inspire a poor kid somewhere – for that child to find hope because of my life should be my humble propeller towards excellence. That greatness can only be truly defined by humble servitude.

You – who people adore and look up to as their mentor – have left a void that no words, no salute, no number of mourning days can fill. I rejoice, yet, in this place of sorrow for you did leave something behind; your vision of a better people and a better world, but you just didn’t stop there. You left for us hope and instructions to realise that dream. You were a child of the earth and a servant of humanity. You were a teacher through and through. And now, even in death, you continue to teach us.

RIP, Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, Sir. Thank you for your life.

Sincerely,

Your student.

A Break from Me

I need a break. And I don’t mean a weekend shopping spree or Sunday social nights of endless yet meaningless, hollow laughter. Nor am I referring to a fortnight at some sandy shore, staring at the celestial, starry spectacle above the horizon, blind to the neon lights behind me. I’m not talking about visiting the family and reliving the age-long memories of dinner around a tree-long table, the hearth alive with the sound of determined flames, disturbed only by the sounds of slurping and the occasional snort. Don’t get me wrong – I want all of that; but none of that is what I need.

What I need is a vacation from the hurt, a holiday from the pain, and, if it’s not too much, a lapse in my memory of all the bitter truth I have had to confront – a life-long break from the old me. All I want is to be able to look at the mirror and smile at myself. I want to go back in time and tell my younger self, “You’re beautiful in your own definition. Let the world tell you differently, but don’t you believe it.” I want to tell that old man in the street, “Hold on. It gets better.” I want to be able to laugh without hurting. I want to love without hurting anyone. I want to be the reason for someone’s smile as they lay down to sleep each night. I want to hide away so I can be found. I want to lay my burdens down and never have to carry them again. I want my sighs to be that of content and not of despair.

I want to travel to places whose names I can’t even pronounce. I want to meet people whose scars and laugh lines tell me a better story than what I hear from the world. I want to be able to fall to sleep before my head even hits the cold, hard ground and I want to wake up to the sound of children’s laughter, in beautiful sync with the birds’ chirping.  I want to drink from the gushing streams, leap through the woods with my furry friends, and fly over the clouds with the tiny winged ones. I don’t want to soar like an eagle; I want to be the eagle.