Thursday 19th March 2018

by Siddharth Soni

We all have, pretty usually created wonders, amazed admiration and marvels. And sometimes in search of the pathway that lead us till there. Till we create those deep, overwhelming moments of victories, it is too often that we forget the whimsical wooden boats that floated us over difficulties, and undersized pebbles on which we step on, in the hint of care to cross a pool of muddy water. While we travel over city buses, leading from country-side till sky-scraping buildings, first time in the search of a job, resplendent in reaching for interview. We tend to blank over those moments of struggle. It is the worst, most pitiable decree of life that when somebody reach great heights, he would not look below at the bird-eyed, crooked huts from where he first walked on the roads, and the old rickshaw puller who would daily drop him in his school, and take him back. But it is such decrees that bind us together with an element of variation. While the great businessmen would stand quite glamorously over great heights, only the so called Slumdogs would stare at him, and often talk among friends – about the super-luxurious life they possess.

This particular decree of life that my blog is imparting after a rather long period of time, I could just reminisce in this context, a very aloof, distant incident of my life. 2003, and I was for the first time attending an Art of Living course in Delhi Public School, Jalandhar while I studied in KV2. Just as I would enter the class, always late by a couple of minutes, the highbrow dipisites of Jalandhar would prefer to talk with me in English, when they talked in Hindi with their friends. The reason was a humiliating work toward to make me realize that I am different. I could not speak English. And then again, meanwhile I would just wonder inside my classroom that – one day, I would be efficient enough to board a DPS Bus.

Today, all due to that pitiable decree of life that when a DPS in Guwahati, would just be too small for my stage of achievement, I have rather forgotten about my friends in Jalandhar. Here, in the coming line, I put the name of my young friends, with whom too lowly would I play with mud and sand.

For Shiv Kumar, Surrendra Kakkad, Vishwas Vashisht, Rakesh (whom we would call Macchar) – That these non-contactable people somehow read these entries in my blog. Just somehow !!

In Nostalgia,
Siddharth R Soni

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9 Responses to “Old dreams”

  1. milo says:

    Its mindblowing! Your new blog is great sid. Things like this makes one stop and think. I love reading you blog.

  2. pradeep tayal says:


  3. Linda says:

    WOW, Guy…this is so romantic. I love this! Your writing is wonderful….see what love and happiness can do? Between the photography and now the poetry…its a win win situation! You sir, are great!
    keep up the good work!
    I’m LOVING this for you!

  4. Harsh says:

    Yo Man ! Your new blog rocks !!

  5. Shubham says:

    What a Blog man !! Your thoughts are perfect. The new one has a better appearance.

  6. Laxmi says:

    Your Ideas are very good. Bless you

  7. Rahul says:

    Your words rocks man !! You are excellent. But, just ask the support to fix the color switcher on the left.
    That is not working !!

  8. Nauman says:

    Perfect. Your Ideas like a daily dose for me

  9. Tom says:

    Your writings are as perfect as your thoughts. What Ideas !! You are just extraordinary. This one is the best spiritual blog that I have noticed !!

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