Close your I, Open your Eye.

At the outset, let me clearly state that this is not a success story. This is a journey. If you are here to look for guidelines, motivational quotes or any sort of encouragement regarding UPSC preparation, I would, in all probability, be disappointing you. And yet I feel the need to narrate my experience. Not because I want others to take lessons from it. But because I want others to avoid what I didn't avoid and pursue what I couldn't pursue. This is merely a story of hope, of patience, of isolation and at the most, of perseverance. It all began in the summer of 2002. I'd just come back from the boarding school after having finished my matriculation. The days of disciplined life were thankfully over. No more 6'o clock rousers or 9'o clock preps. Home was heaven. Or at least it felt so, until my father dropped the bombshell, "What now?". Frankly, I had no clue. I'd been so engrossed in my everyday routine, board examinations and declamation contest

The constant clutter surrounding Mr.Modi and his inevitable ascendance to 'The Chair', is only getting louder. The sounds which previously pleased the ears, are gradually turning into a desperate noise. Turn on the Television, Log on to the Internet or Read a Newspaper- everybody seems to be espousing the cause of Mr.Modi's Prime Ministership. Or so it seems. In the hullabaloo, voices of dissent and varying opinion are consistently being overlooked, stifled and suppressed. While India stands on a precipice- choosing its side amongst a Communist Left, a Socialist Center and an Anarchist Right- its citizens are left to deal with massive corruption scandals, the resultant political bickering and frequent parliamentary disruptions. Amidst the chaos, Narendra Modi appears to be the only sane choice! He is a strong man. His oratorical skills are polished. He has made Gujarat prosper. Yes. He can indeed lead us towards a new Revolution, can't he? This line of thinking has assu

As I begin to write this, I wonder how much and how far would I be able to do justice to what actually happened. There was so much to digest, so much to understand and so much to decipher, that a word-by-word recall becomes improbable. However, I will try to reproduce the interview to the best of my ability so that those, who reach this stage at some point in their lives, can read, derive their own conclusions and thus, benefit. At the outset, let me do away with the details of how we were directed into the waiting hall and asked to produce our certificates for verification. Let me also not talk about how anxious everyone else looked and how most pretended to either read a newspaper or indulge in light talk. Within, we were all jittery. We just didn't want it to show on our faces. I was 23rd in line to be interviewed. The wait for my turn to come was more ethereal than eternal. Finally, the time came. The clock struck 4 and I was ushered into the board room. Quite unlike my expec

Disclaimer : This article has been written in the wake of the tragic Hyderabad blasts. It does not intend to hurt the feelings of any person or organization. I do not intentionally mention 'caste' or 'community' because I do not believe in them. This post merely seeks to convey and register a voice of protest against consistent terror strikes, in a manner that functions somewhere between satire and sarcasm. Dear Terrorists Many Congratulations!!! You have once again conducted a brilliant strike against all odds and have successfully executed your designs. As of now, about 15 people have been killed and around a hundred others injured. The number of those who are slowly succumbing to their injuries is gradually rising and despite India's state-of-the-art hospital-care, they are giving up on their cherished, satisfied lives. The time and place of your strike was commendable too- it aided in inflicting the maximum damage by putting in, the minimum effort. Howeve

When HE was born, HE spread happiness all around. " Ladka hua hai ", (Its a boy!) the nurse screamed. The joy of HIS parents knew no bounds. Sweets were distributed in the entire colony. Relatives, from regions far and wide, graced the occasion with their presence. After all, HE was born after the couple had had a string of daughters. Daughters- who were nothing more than failed attempts at having a son. Very soon, HE became the apple of everybody's eyes. As a toddler, HE would jump about, pull hair, bite, screech and be adored for each of HIS actions. HE played with toys and broke them. HIS parents chose to get new ones for HIM. When HIS sisters did the same, they were severely reprimanded. HE hit his sisters with all his might. HIS parents chose to scold the daughters for provoking HIM. HE was praised for HIS boyishness instead. School didn't change much for HIM either. Every other day HE would be sent home with a note in HIS dairy. Sometimes it was about HIS d