I feel like a “David fighting against many Goliath s”. A perfect world seems far but nevertheless possible .I would like to see myself steering the boat of peace through troubled waters and enter into a world where humans aren’t scared of each other, where freedom and beauty find expression in each ones heart, where learning is freely promoted, where truth and non-violence form the basis of a free society, where each one awakens and acts to solve the problems of others and the community. A perfect state would mean a space where people live with dignity, freedom and develop into good humans.
There should be no human rights violation, bureaucracy be held accountable. People should encourage skill based education, dignity of labor and effective community participation. I want to channelize the positives of my community like the dignified status of women, cultural richness, stress on sports and love for nature to be the focus of an intrinsic development effort that shadows all our problems and also be an example for other states and countries. I will never be tired to make efforts in this regard and will be happy to see my efforts multiply and inspire many more.

This is an answer we gave to a question asked by an International organization I applied long time back. The emotions carrying with the words is fantastic. Still very touching and inspiring me after a long time also. Biney, i wont forget the these words and the time.

At the Junction... is just a brief dialogue of a big world...
And Vice Versa comprises the emotions and feelings of livings and non-livings, coming together to represent them in words at this junction.



Today,everything starts from today.
Your vision, like a frame of a close focused camera passes through the morning smog, touching the green leaves and the colourful flowers in the garden at the frontyard of a house. From a little distance you see him coming, out of the dark background, from the inside of his house with a mug and a paper in both the hands. He sits down on the sofa exhaling air full of relief.
While a piece of lemon is struggling to keep itself afloat, and not get drowned in the hot red tea, his fingers have already started turning the pages one by one. But, as usual, he starts reading with the last page. He takes a sip with the fear of burning his lips, but his eyes and concentration focused more into the pages. The lemonade taste has already started mixing thoroughly with the saliva, giving the whole body a new energy with a strong gingeric touch... And suddenly he saw Naonao Singh the best boxer in The Cuba World Boxing Championship.
“Damn, this is what I was looking for,” he exclaimed.
Everyday he expects to see some achievements of his hometown sportsperson. He believes, it is the only original fruit that has stayed the test of time without getting manipulated.
Suddenly, from nowhere he heard a soft high-pitched voice coming towards his drums...
“Can’t you hear your phone ringing, Wang?” said the voice.
And his ears instantly reacted to the once neglected tune of his phone.
“Sorry Ma,” he said, “I’m on it.”
We keep on waiting. Waiting on the world to change...
“Hello!”
And the surrounding is left, guessing the upcoming lyrics of the uncompleted song.
Today,everything starts from today.

At the junction...

Climbing up the hill so high.
Tired and restless had never been much.
Feels like the sky is about an inch.
I think, Wakhal myself, has never been more touched.
But, suddenly you drag me to a junction, again.
Not so simple, as the journey used to be.

What, hell is this brother, Thamoi?
Why crosses for me?

Like pumpkin plant that grows,
Knows clinging, climbing, aiming heights
But gives fruits to neighbnours only.
Calling strong strangers partners.
Forgotten, outcasted old friend
Now only bushes, roots lonely.

Running with unknown brothers who still neglect you.
Has become one of the round, sharp and sophisticated;
Hiden behind a thin line, look of innocence.

Why brother Wakhal;
Why this betryal of ignorance?

Globalization is the new air we need to breathe.
No more breeze, old patriotic.
No more me, belongs to a sincle race.
Time, it is for a marathon, multi-ethnic.
Germany, Britain joined hands.
Japan hugged America.
Jesus embrassed Allah.
Buddha has kissed Krishna.

Then why brother Thamoi why;
Still cling to an isolated persona?

Individual isolates the crowd or
The crowd isolate the individual?
Seek love and attention.
But what can an urban beggar give.
Gave only blood and destruction.
Dishonesty termed as marketting.
Prefer healthy artificial body and
A new air of chemicals.
But hate young death — eating old patriotic fruits
At the age ninety.
Don't like the mesmerising hums of birds.
More addicted to honks, gun shots and buzz.
Calling nature outdated, boring.
Accepting chemicals a new way of living.

Cant sing a real, own lullaby for a child.
But can play a record in apply.
Welcome, new marathon;
Runners of the new civilization.
Americanization!

Calling other's mother as your.
Accepting others father as well.
While the real had been crushed;
By the new generation like a curse.

Had your ears become too sensitive;
To hear the melancholic lullaby of our green mother mountain;
Protected with nine layers of love and care?
Had your skin become too vunerable to bear the warmth;
Of the plain lap, we were brought up?

Mother is longing and missing her children.
Shedding night after night,
Bearing pains of being torn apart.
Not just two pieces.
But in vain; now you want is all new.

Quote the courage;
The old culture showed to the new tecnologies.
Remember the nights, our grandfathers becoming heroes.
Read the marks left behind on the metal blades,
Trying to convey something.


Brother Wakhal,the new brain blaster,
The educated excuses that you live with,
To stay in a world of yourself.
Has become so powerful that you have forgotten;
Even your last name.

Live with prosperity Mr. Wakhal Singh,
But do remember your brother, Thamoi Khuman.