Book Review - The White Tiger - by Arvind Adiga

Rating - 9/10

I have had a feeling right from the childhood days that only those make it to become a great writer, who have got an uncommon, enigmatic and somewhat unique name. The kind of name that has the power to stay in your mind for quite a long time. My strange feeling, owing its origin to the examples from real life, be it Salman Rushdie, Roald Dahl, Ruskin Bond or Jhumpa Lahiri, has assimilated great examples with every passing day. Arvind Adiga, the Booker 2008 winner for his debut novel ‘The White Tiger’, is the one who came into my uncommon-name-list, of-late.

His first book, The White Tiger, has indeed proved itself to be the white tiger amongst all other contemporary books. Choosing a refreshingly new style of story-telling, Adiga made his novel one of the most engrossing reads of the decade. The novel narrates the story of a poor, uneducated and ‘half-baked’ village-lad who is unconsciously entangled in the vicious circle of slavery and exploitation by the high-class, the so-called affluent society and how he carries on his education by listening and watching people and that determines his subsequent actions which in turn liberates him from the chains of subordination, chains of slavery. Adiga’s writing style is lucid, simple-yet-appealing and captivating. The story runs with a great pace provoking the imagination and what-happened-nextism in readers’ mind to the zenith, with intelligent sarcasm embellishing the whole of the plot rendering a breathtaking ironical humour running throughout his narration.

The book is in-fact a long letter addressed to Mr. Jiabao, the Premier of the China; written over a period of seven days in eight different chapters; who is to visit India in a week to meet the entrepreneurs of India – often regarded as the masterminds behind India’s sharp economic development. The narrator is the one who’s writing the letter to Mr.Jiabao and he describes what’s there at the grass-root level of India’s progress. He brings it out by relating his own story and relates how he rose from the poverty by his insolence intertwined with hook or crook, by the mere play of foresightedness, deceit and ruthlessness, by having the necessary grit to break free from the shackles of slavery; and then moving to Bangalore to become one of the prominent entrepreneurs of the mega-city. It is an enthralling journey of how the corrupt and amoral society takes its toll on a gentle, meek and servile soul and instigates him to break the master-slave barrier that has been running since the ages in the roots of Indian society; and make his presence felt in the society, by measures that are inconceivable but vehement.

It brings out the real India, the actual picture of corruption and deceit behind the concept of ‘India Shining’ and what all lustre is this ‘shining’ taking away from the already-dark India. Adiga deserves all the accolades he has got for the book. The book is a mirror to Adiga’s intelligence as a writer.

This book is the author’s take on reality of the nation with marvelous story-telling and deep, insightful and well-researched description of what constitutes the base of India – the poor exploited souls – the society that has been ruled by the rich since history, the society that’s unknown to the world, the society that has been kept away from being described in literature.

This is the story of a not-so-common common man. This is the story of the White Tiger. And take me seriously when I say that this story is a must read.

P.S. This is the first book review I've written and I loved writing it.

On Spontaneity and Creativity

The word 'creativity' holds prime importance in my life. For several reasons. The first being my upbringing. I've been brought up in an environment where nuggets of creativity were scattered all across my senses. From writers to painters, from musicians to shayars, from thinkers to readers; they all seemed to be linked to my life through my father in some way or the other.

Exposure, that's what I've got, despite hailing from a small city of a small state. All of these little reverberations left an irreplaceable impression in my mind. The impression that 'creativity lies in spontaneity'. The memories of jugalbandi, where my Dad used to sing and the instrumentalists played music that came straight through their hearts rendering a captivating symphony, whirls my soul every time I think about it. My father didn't instruct them what to play and when to play. Everything that happened was spontaneous and melodious. Coordination seemed to be in their veins. I, sitting with my little legs crossed, enjoyed everything with rapt attention. I didn't realize that listening music can gift you with a sense of music, which I realized much later when it came to the instruments. I found a sudden connection with them.

But then I came to Delhi. Here, the multitudinous of creative souls appealed to my heart. I found great number of them. But later I found that half of them were machine-like. They lacked spontaneity. They could do great things with great many things, but their motivation for doing that thing was not the joy of doing that thing, but rather the joy in anticipation of getting the result out of what they did. It was not something that I knew.

I accepted it. I tried to emulate them, imitating their ideologies and work-motive but found out that it was not being me. I consider myself a creative person, despite being a beginner in the vast arena of creativity. But, I can't be creative when forced. I can't carry on the creative work to the best of my ability if there's some result-oriented motive behind it. If you ask me to write a story to win a competition, I can assure you that I would miserably suck at the work, precisely because it's not my spontaneous self doing the work. But, if I write a story because I want to write, because my self feels for the theme of the story, it's the same me who will assure you that it will be outstanding. For me, spontaneity is the key to creativity.

I worked with other people in music and though I learnt a lot, but I found spontaneity missing. Thereafter, I secluded myself, into a creative domain which was one man's play, where it's only me and my imagination that plays the key-role. Writing, photography and composition. It was fun, since spontaneity came bubbling forward and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Though with time, I've learnt how to make myself deliver an optimum performance for some creative job assigned to me, the result might not be outstanding, but nevertheless, it would be satisfactory. Satisfactory enough to be called good.

P.S. Synergy is when my heart and soul connects with what I'm doing. And for me, spontaneity is what brings synergy.

Arbit

There was no image result available for my book. So, I'm uploading my novel's front cover here, so that google automatically extracts it out of here in its results.

Besides this, life is running great. I have joined an MBA coaching class which I am relishing to my best, have got great interest in entrepreneurship off-late and writing work of my next book is going on track. How are you all?

Tomorrow, I'm going on a date with this city of ours, where my camera meets the pride of Delhi. Will cya there.

The Toilet Awakening

From the day I realized that I liked writing for entertaining others, I have lost a vital part of me. It is called my self. The sheer connection with the self.

Earlier I used to contemplate, introspect and think; without any particular motive, rather just to listen to what my heart had to say sometimes. Now, as I notice, I have started thinking with a hope to come out with something funny or witty or extraordinary so that people 'like' it or appreciate it. The mere way of my thinking is now being governed by how others respond to it, which is what is disconnecting it from my self. Contemplation and introspection had taken a vow of silence since many days, rather many months, and this lull continued to exist till my present state, until two days ago.

Day before yesterday, as per my habit goes, I took an old newspaper out of the heap and went into the loo. Reading while attending to nature's sacred call had been a habit that had got into my nerves since my school days, after once listening to Derek O' Brien in BQC, who shared that the secret to his excellent English was that his father made it compulsory for all his brothers to read newspapers aloud while in the toilet. Fearful that my Dad would not quite appreciate me carrying things to read in the toilet, I took them stealthily and preferred to read them silently. This way I used to escape from studies during my pre-JEE days, by letting the hollow pot bite my bums and the barbarous mosquitoes do the same everywhere else, for hours, while I kept skimming through the Page-3's of several newspapers in one go.

Anyway, coming back to the point, day before yesterday, there was this old newspaper that I carried to the loo as a silent spectator of my live performance and it contained a small interview of the legendary lyricist, Gulzar. One of his lines during the interview stirred my soul from within, only to realize later that it was my stomach making noises, but still it was one of the most profound sentences one could read in the toilet ever. He said, 'I am at such a stage of my life where awards are more but achievements are less.'

I was stunned. As I saw within me, rather introspected after such a long time, I realized, 'Apparently, I am now running after awards, because awards are something which is conferred upon us by someone else while achievements are something that is conferred by our self upon ourselves. And achievements are the real gold that I should strive for!'

I've realized what has went wrong. In the race of winning the hearts of others, I had lost touch with my own heart. I had almost forgotten it. And, neither did I win too many hearts, you see, life is quite unfair if you lose contact with your life-line. Thanks to the toilet awakening, I am enlightened and back on track.

So the bottom-line is, if you're ever in doubt - any kind of dilemma it may be, your solution is just a few steps away - 'Do the loo.'

I have lost touch with my own heart.
Despite being together, something sets us apart.

The heart ...
# which taught me the difference between right and wrong
# which assured me that for a definite purpose, I was born
# which made me stand alone when no-one had faith in me
# which inspired me to face adversities with utmost glee
# which told me that perseverance always triumphs
# which remained my guide, through all jerks and bumps
# which gave me the belief to pursue my passion
# which offered me the courage to dream beyond imagination

... And it's never too late,
To reopen that closed gate!

P.S. Quoting the inimitable Gulzar saheb, 'Dil to bachcha hai ji.' :)
P.S. From now on, I am noting down my thoughts not on facebook but in a notebook. :) :)

Being an author - an experience

It has been almost 4 months since my book - my creation came into existence. This has been a really new experience for me, since being just 20, I've been blessed not only to realize the thing that I loved to do the most(writing!) but also, take a big step of going a step beyond just writing for pleasure, to writing to entertain others. Here, I present some of the realizations that are born out of my experience as an author:

1. The real friends show enormous faith in you! They are the ones who share your happiness.

2. Fans are friends, for they fuel your ambitions.

3. You start seeing a story in every situation of not only your life, but of anybody's life who happens to cross your eyes. The whole world seems to be a big story, with each event having a tale to tell of its own.

4. All you need as a writer is a friend who has some time to listen to your thoughts, ideas for stories and tales sprouting in your mind and suggest to make it more real, better and touching. I thank God for giving me such friends - Rajiv, Ravi, Aman, Aishy, Saumya, Ankit, Keshav, Avinav, Pallavi, Supriya and Apoorv.

5. You come to know the difference between the real criticism and the biased ones. The real criticism is the one which suggests you how to improve.

6. You get to know how to handle appreciation as well as criticism with an open mind. You tend to respect the genuine criticism and ignore the biased ones.

7. You like to appreciate aspiring writers more, since once you too were at their place and you see yourself in them.

8. You don't encounter any hitch about whether you'll be able to write another book or not. Confidence in writing touches the acme.

9. You don't need to worry about getting published! Once published, relieved forever.

10. There are just two kinds of 'readers' - those who like you as a writer and those who don't!

11. However, you often encounter the third kind of 'people' (not readers) - they are those who hate you, without any reasons and you feel sorry for them because they need help. My Dad, who happens to be my only mentor, said to me just before I was going to get published, 'If somebody dislikes your work, then there is something wrong with you. But, if somebody hates you/your work, then there is something wrong with him/her.'

12. Each small accomplishment seems to be just a beginning in the never-ending road of life. You realize the BIG-ness of the word called 'life'.

13. You find it really funny when you encounter sudden hostility from strangers - those who don't even know you. It brings a strange kind of pleasure, more so because this kind of hostility owes its origin to envy.

14. In the end, it's just you and the flight of your imagination that plays the melody - it's the flight of your lifetime and you just wish that it never ends.

P.S. This is completely personal recount. Any similarity is purely co-incidental.

Helloz fellows!

It's quite interesting to note that the word 'news' owes its etymological root not to any archaic language like latin or hebrew, but it was just an acronym for 'North, East, West, South'. Nowadays, the so-called news channels do everything like showing highlights of comedy shows or TV serials, rather than bringing in information from all the four directions.

Anyway, it's also quite intriguing to note that even common people like us have news - and that too can be classified into good news, bad news, weird news, shocking news, kickass news and freaking awesome news or freaking awful news. So here, I present some news from my side and I choose to classify them into just two categories - good and bad, since I'm freaking awful at classification.

Starting with the bad ones first :

• I am suffering from typhoid from the last 8 days and still it's on. I was bored lying on the bed whole day with 104 fever so I am writing this, despite the fact that my head is about to burst.
• This means that my plan of writing my next novel in this vacation has been evil-eyed. Though I keep thinking about the story-line and nuances in the plot all the time, but I don't have enough energy to sit and write. Hope I get well soon and do my job with utmost passion.
  
• Well, that was all for the bad news. See, God is not that ruthless!

Now it's time for some good news :

• Third print of my novel has almost sold and the fourth print is going to come soon with all the earlier typo-errors rectified. The big news associated with the fourth print is that it will carry a tag called 'A National Bestseller' on it.
• Secondly, my semester, yes, the semester witnessed my best performance so far. I got an SGPA of 8.38 with an A grade in the Creative Writing course under the guidance of Prof. R.B.Nair, one of the leading contemporary poets of India. This has really been a confidence-booster since this was the busiest semester for me and still things worked out fine. All thanks to God.
• What else, yeah the title of my next novel has been decided. It will be called 'The Book'. And you'll be astonished to notice how much I've matured as a writer in the last one year, after writing my first novel. Quoting few lines from my just-started seven-page manuscript -
  
  
  1. A book is a journey into another world.
  A world that is unknown, unpredictable and captivating.
  
  2. I’ll write for the rest of my life but I failed to write my own life.
  
  
  

P.S. To all the Delhites and the college-going people, please note - there is no word as 'anyways' in the english language, it's anyway. So better watch your tongue the next time you add your 'asS' after it. (http://www.ltn.lv/~markir/writersguide/Pages/UsAnyway.html)

Encounter

Encounter

With a torch throwing light
I searched across the streets
Hoping to find a ghost of fright
Waiting to give me a mistreat

My eyes were wide open
In search of someone strange
Suddenly a young boy appeared
Whose face looked somewhat deranged

‘How dare you spy’
He thundered, ‘In my territory?
Here only death is permanent
And your life – temporary!’

Instead of getting scared
I almost jumped in glee
For I’d found the ghost
Who would set me free

‘At last, I’ve found you
Now you’ll help my spirit redeem
Oh ghost brother!’ I ask,
‘Why so frightened do you seem?’

He took my torch
And threw the light on my face
He could find nothing there
But just an empty space

He threw the torch
And ran back apace
After-all, the fake ghost saw
A real ghost without a face…

Hope

Every time I begin my day
I peep into my heart and say
‘I know many times I’d been wrong
Many times, I’ve made her wait for long’

It hears all my sayings
With utmost patience
Then it replies calmly interrupting my whine,
‘Trust me, everything is gonna be fine’

I’ve no other option
So I trust it blindly
My heart which was throbbing fast
Now throbs mildly

I look into my eyes
Where only a drop of tear lies
It sparkles and shines until I blink –
When it runs down, way faster than what I think

My eyes look serene and happy
Filled with faith that’s steady
I begin another day, with a great hope
That no act of mine will make her mope

Limericks

Quoting wikipedia, a limerick is a five-line poem with a strict form (AABBA), which intends to be witty or humorous, and is sometimes obscene with humorous intent. It was popularized in English by Edward Lear in the 19th century.

Here is my first try - a witty one -

There always comes a time
When I find it too difficult to rhyme
Be it a couplet, poem or limerick
I fail to create them without any trick
After all, there ain't a lemonade without any lime!

This one is for people like me, who are god-gifted at thinking dirty -

I am sitting in a class
Holding a pen made of glass
Thinking about you
With feelings which are pure and true
Girl! I just wish you had a sexy arse...

Yet another one, for the emotional people -

If there is a God
Who doesn't consider me odd
Because of my crippled-leg.
Then, with all my heart, I beg
Please help me get rid of this iron-rod

A story-like limerick -

There was a five-year old clever boy
Each and every stranger, he used to annoy

By saying, ''My Dad is an alcoholic
While my mom is melancholic.
Uncle, will you buy this poor kid a toy?"

P.S. Try it out, it's sheer fun!

Sorry

The law has given us freedom of expression, so it really is not an issue if one expresses his/her opinion about whatever thing he or she wants. But, there comes a thin line in between being critical and being bad. Irritation at something brings in a free gift with itself which is called 'meanness'.

Yesterday, after getting peeved from someone's idea, I played with his innocent dreams by mocking it here in my blog and I felt like being one of those creep-hangers that I detest the most. I don't want to be a hypocrite but I had become one. Thanks to my blog-friends Supriya and Dhanya, I realized that I was on the wrong side.

I hereby, in front of everyone, sincerely apologize for belittling someone's dreams in public. I am ashamed of myself and this is the biggest lesson that life has given to me.

I want to share a thought - the greatest learning of life is:

Never deprive anyone of hope.
It may be all they have.

P.S. I am sorry, to all of you and even to me.

My Life Plan

I just now got a brief idea of how I want my life to be.

The reason for this is the sudden flood in the readers' response about my novel through mails and scraps and asking me to write a sequel to my book. I had no plans for a sequel to it, because it ended at a point where all my college-life stories were finished. I had plans of writing a serious novel about AIDS lately, with its plot being completely final, but the overwhelming readers response is meandering my way. I just realized that life does not really go according to what one has planned. Still, it provokes me to sketch a plan for my life so that I can really find how destiny comes in between.

My so-called Life-Plan :

• Write a book every year - throughout my life - I want to be known as the most versatile author of India. I started with the genre of romantic humour and I intend to touch upon many more genres like thriller, suspense, mystery, fantasy and philosophical. Writing is such a thing that will stick to my life forever, just because I love it.

• Study more - up till 2013/15 - I don't want to get into a job after under-graduation. Frankly speaking, I don't like working for someone else's passion. The thing should be of direct benefit to me, in some way or another, then only this 'self-centered and self-obsessed' jerk would do something outstanding. So, I want to study until I find a topic which arouses my curiosity to such an extent that it becomes my passion.

• Teach - later in my life(late 30s) - Teaching is the only line which attracts me. I find that there are very few teachers who are cool. No, I am not intending that I am cool or anything of that sort. But, I am intending that I can make a student interested in the subject that I teach, because I am a story-teller and I will teach everything through stories. I will make the classes so interesting with anecdotes, instances and stories that the students will be mesmerized.

• Study music - (mid 30s) - I have a deep heartfelt desire to study music. Both Indian Classical and Western. I want to be a virtuoso in music and only proper knowledge can help me achieve that level.

• To be very rich - (up till late 20s) - Yes, much like every other dreamer of the confident-world, I want to be rich. But, the reason behind it is very childish. I want to have just one car, just one house and even just one wife, so why do I want to be too rich? It's because I want to have my one house to be my own museum. I want to collect musical instruments - all kinds from all the worlds and that is a thing that only a 'rich and opulent' man could afford!

• To be an ascetic - (in my late 50s) - I had made this strange promise to myself that once I acquire everything I desire and enjoy its fruits for quite sometime, I will renounce everything and will seek my salvage in the nature. I am born as a writer, I want to die as a poet.

That's the life plan, I don't know what more I want, or what more this life wants to give me. People say just wait and watch, but I say wait and make it happen. Let us see what happens in this journey, the journey called life...

P.S. I am philosophical by nature and I am glad that the readers of my novel didn't get even a hint of this part of my character. Versatility in any creative front requires the ability to hide one's true-self in his work.

Back...

Synergy has been lacking energy from my end, courtesy to my great passion for laziness and recently discovered talent at idleness. It's so cool to be lazy, after all. In the last one month, I've got plenty of developments at my end which I would like people to get updated with. Here are some of them :

• I experienced constipation in my life for the first time. It was an awesome experience, I must say. Even the fundamental phrase 'shit happens' ceased to exist in my life for almost two days. Yes, two days! God only knows why he chose me out of so many bad people like you around for this divine experience. After surviving the dread, I must admit - it really feels suffocating 'there' when you're 'blocked'.

• The second news is more disgusting than the first one - yes, I've not seen 'Wake Up Sid!' yet. I have got good reviews from almost everyone I know, be it from mess workers to rickshaw-walas and even my expert friends who sit idle and blog day and night for more useless hours than me.

• The third news is a bit on the light side - after just one month of its release, my novel has sold around 3000 copies till now and the third print is coming in about two weeks. Regular mails from the readers keep me satisfied and elated all time. Now, I can proudly say that I've got 'fans', with no blades.

• One of my stories from Graffiti, titled, 'Will you die for me?' has been selected in the soon-to-be-releasing famous book - 'Chicken Soup for the Indian Romantic Soul'. That's a good enough achievement to boost the morale for a budding writer like me.

• I am having exams from today - just 12 hours ahead and I am quite relishing the fact that I am in synergy with my long forgotten blog.

Hope to have a good time in the days to come and all the best wishes to you for Diwali and coming holidays(if there are any!) from my side. Good night and take care.

P.S. You've reached the end of this post. And now you realize that in the end, it does not even matter.

When Dreams Come True

The day dreams come true
It seems you’ve got a reason to live
The day dreams come true
It seems you've found a new reason to give

The day dreams come true
It seems that the Almighty is your best friend
The day dreams come true
It seems that the road to success is never going to end

Confidence climbs the charts
And self-belief smashes all the barriers
You tend to trust your heart
And lose all those intimidating fears

You have an option
To be humble or to be proud
But, your conscience tells you the secret diction
That – ‘Only humility can make you revered amidst the crowd’

The day dreams come true
You feel immense gratitude
The day dreams come true
You see a beautiful change in your attitude

The day dreams come true
You feel that you're going to prosper
The day dreams come true
You see many more dreams to conquer

Today, a dream has come true
Which happens to be mine.
That’s why I see in the mirror
Two eyes with a supernatural shine!

Oops! 'I' fell in love!

The book is out.
See it
Get it,
And read it too!
Let me know if you like it,
And let nobody know if you don't like it.
Keep it as a secret in your underwear pocket!

I'll be waiting to hear from you...
Anything you want to say...
Bouquets and brickbats accepted with 'almost' equal glee!
;)

P.S. It's my birthday tomorrow! Yay! =))

A Simple Wish

I've a simple wish
To begin each of my morning
Seeing your smile

I've a simple wish
To breathe your fragrance
From thousand miles

I can see your eyes
With my eyes closed.
I can feel your breath
When the wind flows.

I can hear your voice
In my every dream.
I can see your face
Far but still full of gleam.

I've a simple wish
To make you my music
With every passing moment

I've a simple wish
To make you laugh a thousand times
For each of the tears that went

You're the reason
For me and for everything.
You're in all the seasons
Be it winter or spring.

You're the words
That come out of my mind.
You are that little bird
Who is one of a kind

I've a simple wish
To touch the sky and the moon
With you by my side.

I've a simple wish
To live that fulfilling life soon
Which only you could provide.

Just look at me once.
And feel my love for you.
For, I've just a simple wish -
To make you joyous - with me too!

P.S. I love you.

A Human without an 'e'

I am a human.
Imperfect but not immortal.
I make mistakes.
And don't ever feel the guilt.

I am a human.
Mean but not bad.
I hurt her.
And didn't ever feel her pain.

I am a human.
A cruel murderer.
For I killed her faith.
And I don't even feel sad.

Why?
Why am I not sorry?
Is it because I don't love her
Or is it because - I am a human.

She is also a human.
Why is she so perfect?
Is it because she loves me more than
Anything else - that makes her so humane?

I always told her,
"You're gifted in love."
And continued, "While I am quite ordinary
- being just a human."

I am still not feeling the guilt
Though, I desperately want to feel it
But I am unable to.
After all, I am just a human.

Human - an excuse to make mistakes.
Human - an excuse to hurt your emotions.
Human - an excuse to play with your heart.
Human - an excuse for all my faults.

Forgive me, though still
I am not feeling sorry.
But someday, I'm sure that I will -
Since I am just a human.

Gratitude

I am in love.
In love with all His creations.
From birds to animals,
From language to music,
From dust to the rain-drops,
From your eyes to my smile,
Everything is just so perfect.
As if we all are a part of -
The Master's masterpiece.

Since I am in love
I want to make you feel the same
I want to ask you something -
Something very subtle.
Just close your eyes
And thank God
For each of these beautiful things.
Feel the gratitude,
And feel the bliss.

Don't stare.
Just do it.
Thank HIM.
And then I'll disclose a secret to you.

Did you realize that -
You've just thanked yourself?

P.S. God is in all the beautiful things. One of the most beautiful things of this world are your eyes - which channel your soul towards all the beautiful things in this universe and make their beauty realized. Thank yourself because you've that eye where God resides and helps you to appreciate his creations.

My first honest post

I have always been vocal in speaking about my country - calling it 'mine' in some way or another every now and then. But, I came to know yesterday that I'm also a hypocrite. I don't really care about it.

Yesterday, I saw a crumpled Indian tricolor lying down on the footpath of IIT with the stains of foot-steps on it, and I sat down to take its photograph. I got the photograph I desired and I was happy that I could send it to some newspaper. I came back to my hostel with the speed of a tortoise-on-Concorde and I published that photo on Orkut, facebook and eyefetch(photography website). I sent that photo to the Hindustan Times to which there has been no reply till now.

Upon seeing the photo, many of my friends commented about we being momentary Indians - but just one friend - Ankit - wrote to me that 'I hope that you picked it up. I mean you must have.'

I was astonished to realize that I didn't. I completely forgot to pick it up, being lost in the ecstasy of snapping a journalistic photograph. As I feel now, I am really ashamed of myself and I don't deserve to call myself a patriot.

P.S. This is the first time that the story-teller inside me(the exaggeration expert) is having a deep slumber and my conscience is speaking up. I am sorry to all of you, even to me.

An Introduction

Hi. I've taken this course in creative writing and what I'm assigned right now is to write something about me. I didn't know that it was such a difficult task. But, difficulty sparks creativity. So, here is my try...

An Introduction

Two shiny little eyes stared at me out of the darkness -
Piercing my vision with its effortless force. The force,
Which was mighty enough to read my trapped emotions,
Break the shackles of pain and unravel its hidden source.

Those eyes had a tongue, which spoke directly to my heart. And for the first time,
Did I listen not with my head but just with my heart. The heart,
Which channelled its response through my eyes, amidst
The darkness that could not keep that shine apart.

Innocently, I asked those shiny little eyes -
"What is it that keeps your shine alive? Alive -
Despite the pain on the Earth and the turmoil in the dark skies.
And why - towards supreme joy, does it seem to strive?"

The eyes kept staring at me for a minute or two
Whilst, I thought that it had no answer to give
Suddenly, the ears in my heart heard, "I am the fire within you.
I am that shine which enables you to live."

"Only in this stark darkness, will you be able to see.
But don't just see rather value, for very few
Know the secret that, 'I am alive within those who value me.’
You just need to respect me and I promise that everything will be anew."

The words echoed in my heart over a thousand times and
The subtle promise instilled my self-belief.
Soon, the darkness faded and I noticed a familiar face
Gazing at me from the mirror, making me surprised in disbelief.

I could see the eyes shining more than ever before
I inwardly thanked the darkness for letting me see that shimmer
Which made me realize that I am neither a person nor a sophomore.
Rather, I am just the fire within - which will always glimmer.

Oops!

See it
Get it,
And read it too!
Let me know if you like it,
And let nobody know if you don't like it.
Keep it as a secret in your underwear pocket!

I'll be waiting to hear from you...
Anything you want to say...
Bouquets and brickbats accepted with 'almost' equal glee!
;)

P.S. Please, please and please makes three-times please. Now that you've been imparted the divine knowledge, I think it's the time to say - 'Good night!' =))