It started in 2011.
I was in second year of college during my engineering and I had realized that computer science engineering wasn’t meant for me. While my friends focused on data structures and algorithms , I got attracted to studying diverse topics to improve myself.

One of the websites I stumbled upon was http://www.shahidbhagatsingh.org/ .
I read everything on the site.
For the first time in my life , I found an idol to look up to. I read his jail notebook and even copied a few phrases in my own personal collection which I revisit even now. I bought books and read in depth about Bhagat Singh.
It was not the violence that attracted me, it was his way of thinking.

Example , when he murdered a British officer to avenge the death of Lala Lajpat Rai , he wrote
“Sorry for the bloodshed of a human being; but the sacrifice of individuals at the altar of the Revolution that will bring freedom to all and make the exploitation of man by man impossible, is inevitable.”

He used violence but he did not love it , it was just a means to achieve an aim.
He never romanticized violence.
I quote , “Revolution did not necessarily involve sanguinary strife. It was not a cult of bomb and pistol. They may sometimes be mere means for its achievement. No doubt they play a prominent part in some movements, but they do not — for that very reason — become one and the same thing. A rebellion is not a revolution.”
Long story short , Bhagat Singh was a great guy who believed violence was okay in some situations and he died at the age of 24 after being hanged by the British.

Fast forward to 2016.
I am at a post graduate college studying management and with each new day , I feel challenged by the circumstances. Each day I fight, sometimes I overcome and succeed. Other days I make peace with my failures and meditate.
My first term ended and I needed some inspiration in the term break.
I decided to go to my idol’s hometown. I don’t know what was I looking for. I had a romanticized idea that maybe roaming in the same streets that he did as an adolescent might inculcate a sense of strength in me.
Khatkar Kalan  , Bhagat Singh’s village has two major attractions – his ancestral house and a museum made in his memory.
I went to Bhagat Singh’s ancestral house and found nothing special there. The authorities have converted it to a touristy place by clubbing a park with a fountain along with the house to attract visitors though it remained deserted.

I went to the museum and my hopes were met. Not only did I get to see his personal belongings but also the pages of his diary with his neat handwriting on them.

Beneath the glass piece was a laminated leaf from Bhagat Singh’s diary which I had read hundreds of times.
It was the second page of his jail notebook. Though I had read it so many times , in his handwriting his words conveyed a whole new meaning.

The quote read

“Lovers, Lunatics and poets are made of same stuff.”

Maybe I was all three.
And I found the inspiration to write and be myself again.

Updated in 2018
As I graduated from MICA, I wished to leave a part of myself on the red brick walls.

Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago :

Bhagat Singh was a great man,
who rose against the fiercest force.
I don’t know if I ever can,
match his guts or even come close.

He went against the norm,
in a time when everyone was afraid.
He didn’t live in the world of .com,
where you could anonymously post opinions and tirade.

He stood for what was right,
what was noble, what was just.
He got into a legitimate fight,
Free the country- he knew he must.

Maybe we think too highly of him,
Maybe he was just another young guy,
who got swayed by fancies and whims,
and decided that it’s noble to die.

Bhagat Singh was violent and killed people, But still we revere him in the fact-
that he helped the countrymen and countless people
who were too afraid to revolt or act.

I wonder if violence was justified-
even in the time when we were crushed,
and were forced by the laws to abide,
free speech was ridiculed and we were hushed.

Didn’t his conscience bother him at night, when at the age of 21 he killed a guy.
Did he feel heavy or did he feel light,
when he shot someone and left him to die.

I don’t know if I’m asking the right questions,
I don’t know if the time to ask them is right, 100 years have passed and now we have moved on,
All we remember now is the glorious fight.

Maybe killing was wrong,
maybe the violence was unjustified,
Maybe the “Rang de Basanti” song,
isn’t as glorious as contrived.

I don’t know all the details,
I can’t comment on the moral aspects.
All I can tell is that my heart ails,
when I broadly look at all facets.

I wish I had the slightest of courage,
to speak against what is unjust.
I wish my heart didn’t fill up with rage,
and weaken me like iron is weakened by rust.

I wish I could speak when the time is right,
I wish I could do what I wished to do.
I wish I could fight a legitimate fight,
And then feel noble like Bhagat Singh would do.

I don’t wish to be like Bhagat Singh,
I can never match his spirit and bravery.
I don’t wish to be revered like a king,
I don’t wish to do things that are unsavoury.

I just wish I had an iota of strength, a miniscule of Bhagat Singh’s passion.
A code that guides me in this labyrinth,
that fuses Bhagat Singh’s valour and Gandhi’s compassion.