Blue's World

The Real Bond :)

2011-08-03T05:09:00.001-05:00

A Short Biographical sketch of my favourite writer.

(As published in "Ruskin Bond." Contemporary Authors Online. Detroit: Gale, 2011. Literature Resource Center. Web. 3 Aug. 2011.)

Born in India to British parents, author Ruskin Bond paints sensitive, colorful portraits of life in his native country to capture the imagination of his young readers. One of India's most noted children's authors, he depicts the many facets of India's natural and social landscape through his simple stories--from a temple near a quiet, rural village or a bazaar in a small provincial town to a narrow city street brimming with buses, bicycles, and the clamor of people. As Bond notes in his Rain in the Mountains: Notes from the Himalayas, "I have been writing in order to sustain the sort of life I like to lead--unhurried, even-paced, sensual, in step with the natural world, most at home with humble people."

A natural storyteller, Bond found that his talent enabled him to make a living away from the more highly industrialized, congested areas of India. Following the philosophy he outlined in "What's Your Dream?," an autobiographical essay from 1982's A Garland of Memories, Bond has found "a room of his own" at Ivy Cottage, a house in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains, and has pursued his single dream by dedicating his life to being a storyteller.

Bond had his first success as a writer very early in his career. In fact, he was not even twenty when he published The Room on the Roof, a novel that dealt with growing up in a changing India. When Rusty, the tale's orphaned protagonist, discovers that he is of mixed Indian-English heritage, he decides to strike out on his own and work as a tutor in the town of Dehra Dun. His naive romantic relationship with the mother of his young charge leads to discovery by her alcoholic husband. Rusty is forced to leave the life he has made for himself and move to another city to find a new place in society. Although Helen W. Coonley senses the author's youth--Bond was seventeen when he wrote the novel--and notes in Kliatt that The Room on the Roof incorporates a somewhat immature outlook, she concludes that "though awkward in parts, the book is still fresh and likable." The Room on the Roof was the winner of the John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial Prize in 1957, an annual award given to a quality work of fiction written by a resident of the British Commonwealth (which then included India) under the age of thirty.

The Room on the Roof made its author something of a celebrity in India, not only because of his young age but because he was able to capture the spirit of the land and its people so sensitively through his fiction. Throughout his twenties Bond continued to write adult novels about his childhood, not turning to writing for children until he had reached his thirties. Since then, he has written numerous stories and poems that capture his nostalgia for the days of his boyhood: the natural beauty and tranquility of his grandparent's home and the close, secure, loving relationships that he experienced with friends and family.

"Bond illustrates his vision of childhood as a carefree age of mischief and joy where the only worries are associated with cricket matches, beetle races, and parental anger at bad report cards," explains Meena Khorana in Twentieth-Century Children's Writers. "In this comfortable and familiar world, there is a sense of security in friendship and the love and guidance of adults." In books such as The Cherry Tree, The Adventures of Rusty, and Getting Granny's Glasses, relationships among friends and family are warmly illustrated through incidents in the lives of each of Bond's youthful characters. The Cherry Tree, for example, is Bond's heartwarming story of six-year-old Rakhi's attempt to grow a cherry tree from a seed. A Publishers Weekly reviewer praises the book as "abound[ing] with quiet wisdom and love of life."

Drama and suspense are often found in Bond's fiction for children. In Flames in the Forest, young Romi finds himself caught in a forest fire. He and another boy must help each other race to the river--along with frightened birds and animals and even an elephant herd--to escape the smoke and flames. The determined Romi and his partner manage to survive the tragedy in a story that Ellen D. Warwick describes in School Library Journal as full of "action, suspense, local color, even a bit of humor."

Angry River is another of Bond's dramatic adventures. The novel features a young girl who has been left alone on her island home while her grandfather takes his dying wife to the hospital. As the river surrounding her island rises, Sita climbs a tree to safety; after the tree is washed downriver by the raging water, she is rescued by the providential appearance of a boy in a boat. "The power and size of the river, the fear and the danger are all present," states a Times Literary Supplement reviewer, "as is the sense of smallness in a vast world. . . . This really is India you feel."

"At the heart of [Bond's] writings is the value placed on simplicity and a selfless attitude toward life," explains Khorana. "Although the stories deal with the pleasures of humble people, their lives are enriched by meaningful experiences and a profound insight into life." Bond himself gains much of his inspiration from his surroundings and develops many of his ideas for children's books on the long walks he takes on the mountains near his home. "My interests (mountains, animals, trees, wild flowers) are embodied in these and other writings," Bond once explained. "I live in the foothills of the Himalayas and my window opens out on the forest and the distant snow-peaks--the highest mountains in the world. . . . I sit here and, inspired by the life of the hill people and the presence of birds and trees, write my stories and poems." Of his preoccupation with the landscape that features so prominently in his work, Bond once explained, "Once you have lived in the mountains, you belong to them and must come back again and again. There is no escape."

http://go.galegroup.com.bib157.bibbaser.dk/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1000010226&v=2.1&u=45gentkomm&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w

कभी कभी

2011-08-02T15:00:00.004-05:00

कभी रात हमको सतायेगी, कभी हम उनको सताते हैं

वो अलसायी गरमी सा झुंझलाते हैं, हम आहें भर रह जाते हैं

कभी वो ख़ामोशी में आवाज़ हैं, खतो का इंतज़ार हैं

यूं तो उनके बहाने हज़ार हैं, कुछ डूब गए कुछ पार हैं

कभी कलियों की चटख रुखसार पर ले हँसी बहाते हैं

लालिमा सूरज की लेकर गुस्से में सब पिघलाते हैं

कभी वो जुल्फों में उलझाते हैं, कभी यूंही बातें बनाते हैं

कभी बिन सावन बरसात सा बस यूँही बरस जाते हैं

कभी धुप से नाराजगी, कभी भीड़ से घबराते हैं

कभी बेवजह के नखरों पर मेरी हामी चाहते हैं

कभी मैं भी उनसा बनता हूँ, हाँ में हाँ भर देता हूँ

वैसे तो करता नहीं पर उनकी खातिर कर लेता हूँ

आँखों में भरकर रातें, सपनो में दिन भर लेता हूँ

वो प्यार लड़कपन वाला अब भी, कभी कभी कर लेता हूँ

NEWs - 1

2011-05-04T14:06:00.006-05:00

NEW MUSIC

Of late I have been listening quite a bit of classical stuff, both Western and Hindustani classical. It seemingly started with a list of greatest classical composers of all times published in some magazine of repute (I forgot the name but I think it was NY Times), that ranked top ten western classical greats, including the likes of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and others. What intrigued me was the presence of certain artists who I had no idea about. Barring the usual suspects like Mozart, Bach etc, there were fewer names that I knew. Guys like Wagner, Schubert, Handel and others, who are very well renowned but are not so famous amongst average Indian fellows like me whose knowledge about Western Classical is limited to that gained through high school textbooks which often limit themselves to Mozart and Beethoven.
Aided by Grooveshark I have so far embarked on my little journey towards understanding and appreciating the work of these great masters. Needless to say that my enthusiasm and excitement is purely that of a listener seeking musical euphoria and ecstasy through these masterpieces and not of someone who is trying to build his knowledge in western classical. I guess so far I have been able to develop a bit of taste for this kind of music and I am glad for taking this small positive step.
Similar is my journey to the Indian Classical. Indian classical music reminds me of few things; Doordarshan's Shastriya Sangeet ka Karyakram, which sounded so bore during childhood and 'Call of the Valley' a Hariprasad Chaurasia and Shivkumar Sharma cassette that my father had bought. My father was never a keen music lover, I wonder why he ended up buying that partiular album but I remember him being very enthusiastic. It was perhaps the only album he ever bought. Sadly though, I ended up dubbing some regular bollywood stuff on top it, cos nobody used to listen to it anyway. Little did I know at that time that this is one legendary album. My father never scolded me for that but as I look at it now, I feel bad about it. The only saving grace is that I still have that cassette, of course sans the songs that were originally recorded on it.
My taste in Indian Classical is limited mostly to flute and santoor but I often enjoy other instruments like shahnai and saarangi as well. My favorite though, remian the thumris. Not classical in the true sense, more of semi-classical but there are times when Shobha Gurtu or Girija Devi is what constantly plays on my music player.
This recent activity has also resulted me in reading MUSIC, a monthly magazine published by BBC dedicated to classical music. What I like about this magazine is that even though I dont understand a whole lot about Western classical, the magazine is still quite an enjoyable experience :)

WebTrotting Today

2011-03-15T04:44:00.009-05:00

Two articles on education.

Spare Yourself The Nightmare

Out Before They Are In

Are we taking away the childhood of our kids? Are we too fascinated with English? Is a English Medium education from an esteemed and costly school necessary for professional success? All valid questions raised and discussed; but the bottom line is more staggering, do we know the answer or cure?

Is our education system equipped enough to deal with these growing demand of quality schools and teachers? Are government measures like doing away with Interview process for admission sufficient?

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/magazine/article1531783.ece

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/magazine/article1531519.ece

RoseBowl Channel on YouTube

A channel aimed at youth. Though it has varied stuff, what interested me most was some amazing Indi-Jazz studio concert recordings from not so well known but amazingly talented budding Indian singers and musicians.

http://www.youtube.com/user/RosebowlChannel#p/u/9/iSrGJ6BC4mQ

Pran and Chacha Chaudhary

One of my favorite cartoon character is Chacha Chaudhary. I still remember reading second digest in the Raka series, my earliest Chacha Chaudhary memory dating back to mid Eighties. So its good to read a bit about Chacha's creator and glad that he is still going strong.

http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/metroplus/article1540242.ece

चलो अब सोते हैं

2011-02-20T11:00:00.005-06:00

वो क्या है की यूं तो हादसे होते ही रहते हैं
चलो अब सोते हैं

ये रात भी यूंही बेपरवाह निकल जायेगी
इस बात का क्या है
सुबह तक तो टल ही जायेगी

फिर चुस्की ले चाय की, अखबार में बाकी टटोल लेंगे
लाइनों के बीच भी मतलब कई होते हैं
चलो अब सोते हैं

ये बातें खाली तलवारों के मायन सी हैं
चुभती तो हैं बहुत लेकिन
बिन तीरों के नाकारा कमान सी हैं

इन पर भी कर लेंगे गौर कभी
फिलहाल के लम्हों को क्यों इन पर खोते हैं
चलो अब सोते हैं

जैसा हर बार करते हैं इस बार नहीं क्यों
टालना, बहलाना, गफलतों के चलते उलझना,
मुगालतों का हुनर भी अब आ गया हमको

जो पड गयीं सो पड गयीं
क्यों बनी हुई आदतें ख़राब करते हैं
चलो अब सोते हैं

यूं उठकर भी कब किसने क्या पाया है
आना जाना, खोना पाना
तो यूं भी मोह माया है

फिर दोस्तों की महफ़िल में बैठ फलसफे बयां करेंगे
ऐसे भी ये लम्हे अफ्सुर्दगी में गुज़रते हैं
चलो अब सोते हैं।

Some thoughts

2010-11-17T11:20:00.002-06:00

Just read that Govt has decided to shift and restrict the telecast of two crappy reality TV shows. I have not myself watched these shows but I guess there's no need to watch these shows to form an opinion. I wonder why government just restricted itself to these two shows, I guess there are all these crap shows on MTV (Roadies, Ghodies, SplitKhopdies, and so on) which should be treated the same way.
With all the hype created over 'Sheila Ki Jawani' it was no wonder that it turns out to be another bummer, as expected the music is nothing to talk about and so is the case with the way it is filmed.
News of Ashish Kumar and Virdhawal Khade's achievement filled my heart with great pleasure. Great going lads, we are proud of you.
Each and everyone should watch the trailer of 'Khuda Kasam', its funny in a unique way.
Looking forward to release of Notion Ink's ADAM 'a tablet thats more than a tablet' :)

Death of a Poem

2010-08-05T12:46:00.003-05:00

Lost before conception,
she knew
it was time's fault;
and her creator's,
for he kept thinking
of those dreamy lands,
of magic moments
and love fountains.
In his mind
he was by the ocean
passing night in seclusion
in someone else's arms;
she was then a mere illusion.
He thought and thought
and kept on thinking,
she fought
but for a lost cause
cos' it was never upto her.
It was he, with whom rested
every authority and reason
power to take a decision.
The irony was,
it wasn't she
who started it all,
it was entirely his call.
And now
here she is
dying in neglect
her creator
is her perpetrator
leaving her
to a sad death.

Pic Courtesy: http://www.carltonhobbs.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/vestal-reale-1024x688.jpg

Drawing Conclusions

2010-07-28T11:36:00.004-05:00

Who was to know better
what's in my heart
than me.
Distances apart
and connected by a wire
how were you to see
what colors I paint my emotions in;
harsh and judgmental,
it was ought to be
for there's only this much
that one can see,
when one feels
and knows
only this much
about the other.
So its easy to draw conclusions
paint your own way
others emotions.

It takes time to understand the other;
perhaps one never achieves it
and
we didn't even spend days
beyond those
that can be counted on fingers
to conclude
what I was
and
what
I was not.

Pic Courtesy: http://www.chuckgumpert.com/IntimateConclusion.jpg

New Kid on The Block

2010-06-19T02:49:00.003-05:00

Flowers in The Window

2010-06-16T12:51:00.010-05:00

Both me and Richa are fond of flowers. We have an unwritten rule of buying a new plant every month and we have been following this rule in some sense, ever since Richa moved to Denmark. Flowers add a lot of colour to the house and the life of its inhabitants. At times, as I watch Richa watering them and caring for their needs of light and air, they appear to me as children who bring immense joy and pleasure to ones life. Amongst various other feelings, I always derive a lot of peace and happiness from the flowers in our house. A sense of contentment prevails over me when I watch a new flower blooming or a new leave developing. It was always my plan to have some plants and flowers in the home, but they never materialized till I got married. Its good to see that my wife shares the same passion for flowers, although that was an easy guess to make; you wont find many girls who do not like flowers. Richa is much more vocal in showing her happiness and joy and her appreciation and love for the flowers is more obvious than mine. It makes me even more glad when she talks enthusiastically about the new developments in our plants which are often brought to my notice by her. And every time she is doing that, a Ruskin Bond line rings through my head.

There's a Begonia in her cheeks,
pink as the flush of early dawn,
on Sikkim's peaks.

Here's to the flowers in the house; for making us happy and cheerful, and strengthening further our belief in life and all that's good and god.

Cala Lily Black

Yellow Rose

Anthurium

Tilly

Pink Begonia

Cala Lily Yellow

Musings of a Vagrant Mind

2010-05-13T04:51:00.004-05:00

Leisure

खिड़की के एक कोने से, ढलते सूरजों को आँखों में उतारना
फिर रातों में अकेले चलते, सपनों सा बहा देना

Persevering Futility

सोच के सायों के पर, गिर गिरके फडफडआते हैं
जो बात नहीं उस बात को ही, बस दोहराते जाते हैं

Familiarizing Unfamiliar

जानी पहचानी गलियों में, ठहरे आके मौसम अनजान
हाथ बढाकर हाथ मिलाएं, बिन चेहरों के कुछ इंसान

Reflections

सुई चुभाकर, फव्वारों सा, हर दिल हाल हवा करते हैं
बहते पानी में खींच लकीरें, तस्वीरों में पल भरते हैं

Oblivion

क्या मलाल दिल को, किस सूरज की आरज़ू
किन ख्वाबों की ये चुभन, ये खलिश, ये जुस्तजू

Relationships

चले गए जो सपने थे
साथ रहे, वो अपने थे

Mons Klint (On Yet Another Saturday)

2010-04-21T14:09:00.025-05:00

Easter vacations provided us a chance to visit the beautiful limestone cliffs at Mons called Mons Klint in Danish. I would say the trip was possible thanks to Raghavendra having Vestas car on rental, else its not that easy to reach this place. We also picked up Murli and Poonam for this trip and six of us had great time in Mons which was also due to brilliant weather on that particular day. With Mons Klint trip, I guess my share of Sjaelland sightseeing is over; high time to explore other parts of the country :)

More info on Mons can be obtained at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B8ns_Klint
http://www.moensklint.dk/default.asp?sprog=uk

तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है (Tu Apne Dil Ko Kyon Thaamta Hai)

2010-04-12T14:09:00.008-05:00

किसी के दिल की कौन जानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

तेरा दिल बना है आसमा के लिए
आसमा से भी ऊंचे जहां के लिए

उड़ानों की मंजिल कौन जानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

तेरी भी सुन लेंगे कभी यह लोग
जो न भी सुनें तो क्या है सोग

हर्फो के आशय नहीं हर कोई जानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

हर बुलंदी से ऊंची है आवाज़ तेरी
फलक चीर देगी परवाज़ तेरी

क्यों काबिलियत को अपनी गुनाह मानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

कभी वो भी मंज़र आँखों से चार होगा
कभी रूबरू कोई जांनिसार होगा

इंतज़ार का अंजाम यूँ भी कौन जानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

जो हाथ नहीं तेरे, है नहीं वो किस्मत
जो तुझको नहीं हासिल, ख़ाक है वोह जन्नत

किस्मत के दम पर जीने में क्या महानता है
तू अपने दिल को क्यों थामता है

_________________________________________________

Transliteration

Kisi ke dil ki kaun jaanta hai
Tu apne dil ko kyun thaamta hai

Tera dil bana hai aasmaa ke liye
Aasmaa se bhi oonche jahaan ke liye

Udaano ki manzil kaun jaanta hain
Tu apne dil ko kyon thaamta hai

Teri bhi sun lenge kabhi yeh log
Jo na bhi sune to kya hai shog

Harfo ke aashay nahi har koi jaanta hai
Tu apne dil ko kyon thaamta hai

Har bulundi se oonchi hai aawaaz teri
Falak cheer degi parwaaz teri

Kyon kaabiliyat ko gunaah maanta hai
Tu apne dil ko kyon thaamta hai

Kabhi woh bhi manjar aankhon se char hoga
Kabhi rubaru koi jaannissar hoga

Intezaar ka anjaam yun bhi kaun jaanta hai,
Tu apne Dil ko kyon thaamta hai

Jo haath nahi tere, hai nahi woh kismat

Jo tujhko nahi haasil, khaak hai woh jannat

Kismat ke dum par jeene mein kya mahanta hai
Tu apne dil ko kyon thaamta hai

Around the Marble Church (On a fine Saturday)

2010-03-27T13:10:00.012-05:00

The Mendak

Round Tower

Marble Church

Opera House

Nyhavn

Atop the Marble Church

View of Amalienborg (Queen's Palace) and Opera House from the top of Marble Church

Dome of Russian Church from top of Marble Church

View from the dome of Marble Church

Spiral Staircase of Church of Our Saviour

One more view from the top

Oresund Bridge

Amalienborg

Statue of Frederick V

Yet Another View

Kobenhavn (I mean Copenhagen) City View from the Marble Church

Inside the Marble Church

The dome from Inside

The Beautiful Chapel of the Marble Church

These pictures are from our last week trip in the town. It was, I suppose, the first sunny day of the spring (I mean first sunny day on a March weekend with plus temperatures) and I took Richa around for some local sightseeing. We went around Nyhavn and then all the way to the Marble Church, where we found out that they have guided tours to the dome of the church on Weekends at 1:00 PM and 3:00 PM. Since we were there right in time and since it wasn't very costly (DKK 25 or around USD 5), we took the tour and it indeed turned out to be good fun. It was bit scary in parts as almost the whole climb was through a narrow and steep passage, with just enough space for one person to move at a time. Those afraid of confined spaces (like Richa) will probably find it bit spooky :) Once atop though, you are presented with a fabulous view of the city of Copenhagen and far off (to Sweeden and Malmo). Several of city's important buildings can be seen from the top. This of course provides one with a chance to impress one's better half with one's general know how about the city (that's no way saying that your better half will be impressed; its just that you have a chance of impressing her). All in all, a really nice local attraction. The church in itself is very beautiful and its one of my favorites in Copenhagen. The last picture in this entry is my favorite :)

The Lake at Brede

2010-03-15T15:26:00.003-05:00

There's a lake
on the way to home.
When the winters
are in full swing
this lake
sometimes freezes;
perfect white,
a visual treat,
a sight
to behold
and cherish.
I have thought
on quite many occasions
while viewing the lake
through the train window
as I pass it
on my way home,
to stop by,
get off the train,
walk up to the lake
and
spend some time
mesmerized
in its pristine whiteness,
eternal yet momentary
calm.
I have thought this often,
that one day
I will stop by
at this station
and take a picture
or two.
Now the winters
are waning down
and
I have not been able to
get off the train
at this station
to soak in
the beauty of this lake,
to be lost
for a while
in its charm.
Every time I pass this station
I say to myself,
"Tomorrow"
for I am always eager/rushing
to reach back home,
well aware
that you must be waiting
for me.

A Valentine Day

2010-03-05T01:50:00.001-06:00

I read somewhere, 'Each day is a valentine, if you want it to'. In simpler terms this perhaps meant; each day can be a valentine, if you think it that way. Today's morning, its nice sunshine, no wind and temperature's on the plus side; surely a day you wont hesitate in calling a 'Valentine Day' :)

By Sticks N Sushi on Strandvejen

2010-02-27T12:59:00.004-06:00

After spending Saturday afternoon in Ikea, we went grocery shopping to Dogn Netto. Took this while waiting for the bus to the way back home.

Photo430

2010-01-29T23:01:00.001-06:00

Shoe Shopping for Missus

2010-01-29T23:00:00.006-06:00

New Year New Life and a New Post

2010-01-15T11:51:00.004-06:00

On borrowed time as a bachelor (I am currently leading a life of a pseudo-bachelor since Richa still awaits her Visa), I am not sure what I should be writing. I thought of writing something sensational or perhaps a welcome note to the married life or even a dirge on the gone for good days of bachelorhood, but I guess I will end up writing something lame.

Its the start of yet another cold weekend here. Currently I listen to some Kumaoni songs, it's called 'Meri Mayadara'. Not sure what it means, perhaps 'My Lover' or something like that.

Few minutes back, I finished reading Billoo's 'Raavan ke Sir'. Amongst all other things, what I found interesting was that just before Diwali, Billoo's parents are away to Dibrugarh. I mean they have been to Dibrugarh of all places (rolling my eyes). I wonder what makes them travel all the way to Assam. Or may be Billoo's story takes place in Assam only, just that Pran Sir forgot to mention that in any of Billoo's comics. On a different note, what if Billoo's parents turn out to be some high profile secret agents serving in IB (again rolling my eyes). I would have liked to linger some more on this brilliant idea just that it wont be good to be labeled 'crazy' now that I am a married man. On the other hand, isn't a man who is married already crazy??

Lets move on to the impending African Nations Cup match between Ivory Coast and Ghana. It will be interesting to see Michael Essien and Didier Drogba rough it out against each other. I have no favorites here but I do look forward to watching this match.

My weekend will probably pass amidst preparations for upcoming trip to Cincinnati and then IMAC. Perhaps I will head out for a dinner on Sunday to some Restaurant with Ranko and Murli. BTW isnt Ranko sounding like Rancho (from 3 Idiots). I think I need to let Ranko know about this. Ranko is my colleague from work and is a Bollywood buff. I think he will like this connection since he likes Aamir Khan. I guess even Aamir will like this connection given that Ranko is originally from Bosnia and might be Aamir's one and only fan from the country :)

Tomorrow Chelsea plays Sunderland in EPL. After last few matches falling prey to bad weather in England, it will be good to get rolling again. Hopefully, Chelsea will win this one to start the year on a winning note.

On a sad note, Asheem Chakravarty of Indian Ocean breathed his last on Christmas eve. Words can't describe the sorrow that I felt on hearing this news. Certain dreams are never to be fulfilled, I guess witnessing IO perform live is one of them.

Sant Kabeer wrote,

Jab Hum Paida Hue Jag Hansa Hum Roye,
Aisi Karni Kar Chalo, Hum Hanse Jag Roye

May Asheem's soul rest in peace and may his music continues to enthrall our senses forever.

Last Song of a Bachelor

2009-12-03T01:02:00.002-06:00

Dear Friends
As I embark on this new journey,
new phase
of my life,
with all your well wishes
and blessings
in my heart;
I think
I'll be a different person
when I return,
married
and no longer bachelor;
a changed man
I'll be
when I return;
and I am sure
this change
will be for better
but for the fact
that
I wont be a bachelor
anymore
nor
will I be alone;
few more days to go
before
I have a companion of my own.

:)

मैं (एक अलग अंदाज़)

2009-11-29T03:39:00.004-06:00

सच बोल सकें हम, इतनी हिम्मत ही कहाँ थी
इसीलिए तो छुपाए फिरते हैं हम शख्सियत अपनी

यूं तो फरेब था नही फितरत में हमारी
वो बात और है, नियत ही कम्बख्त थी अपनी

अब कैसे करें सलाम, लगें बढ़ के गले हम
कुछ बढ़प्पन है आपका, कुछ शरमिंदगी अपनी

तुम तो हो नूर-ऐ-खुदाई, हम स्याह के कायल
हो दिन तुम्हे मुबारक मगर रात है अपनी

हम को था इल्म इस खेल में किसकी होगी जीत
अच्छे तो तुम थे ही फखत किस्मत भी बुरी थी अपनी

तुमने जब माफ़ कर ही दिया खता को हमारी
फ़िर क्यों लें इलज़ाम और कहें की खता थी अपनी

हम तो जाएंगे जहन्नम में ऐ सनम
तुमको हो मुबारक वो जन्नत जो नसीब थी अपनी

बेमुरव्वत है यह ज़िन्दगी की अब भी जिए जा रहे हैं
हाँ इतना जरूर है, है जीना शौक़ और मजबूरी अपनी

ऐसा तो कुछ ख़ास नही है हम में मगर
न जाने क्यों सदा चलती आई है अपनी

मैं नही कहता ये तो फरमाया है 'दाग' ने
सबसे तुम अच्छे हो, तुमसे भी मगर अच्छी है किस्मत अपनी

:)

Hide and Seek

2009-11-27T16:15:00.002-06:00

Dear Moon,
let's play a game tonight,
you
hiding behind
these clouds
that accompany you
in the sky
and I,
looking for you
all through the night.

Picture Courtesy: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2204/2508296421_f0313fea7b_o.jpg

On the Eve of a New Tomorrow

2009-11-24T15:49:00.008-06:00

As we walk into a new tomorrow
with a hope for a better future,
I stand for a while
to look at the past
that still cast shadows
but perhaps wont last
forever;
as there's a sun
that's shining bright
and there's plenty more
to the life
than being near the window sill
and drowning in the moonlit night.

Following lines from Jose Saramago's 'The Stone Raft' form the inspiration of this poem.

Priorities of past should not be allowed to hinder the future.

While there’s life, there’s hope, so do not despair.

And though the above mentioned lines form the core of this poem, I still leave the question open; "Is it really possible to wipe off the past"?

:)

Image Courtesy : http://fineartamerica.com/images-medium/moonlight-window-chris-spuglio.jpg

My Favorite Mithun Dance Numbers

2009-11-19T15:08:00.008-06:00

Well, I wanted to write about something else but I guess its time for the long delayed Mithun Da tribute :) Here are some of my favourite Mithun Da numbers in no particular order. I have included only one number from one movie so lots of obvious and glaring exclusions, but I guess that leaves something for discussion through the comments ;)

Gunmaster G9 (Suraksha)

OK, I said that I wont include two songs of a movie but I will start with an exception, two songs of this iconic movie, one for its sheer Mithunness and the other for the fact that it remains one of my favourite Mithun Da dance number. This one is the first, brilliant opening credits for the movie that started it all for Mithun Da.

Ae O Aa (Disco Dancer)

Every song in Disco Dancer was fabulous but this one remains my fav, a perfect launch song for a budding disco star and sets the tone of the movie nicely.

Tum Jo Bhi Ho (Suraksha)

Second song from the movie that started it all. Though earlier 'Gunmaster G9' opening credit song, with its Bond-like style, is more famous; this one showcases Mithun Da's dancing abilities better :)

Title Song (Taqdeer Ka Baadshah)

Great Intro to this disco funk number crooned in his typical voice by Bappi Da. Watch out for Mithun Da's iconic moves, which I think were the only good thing in this otherwise ordinary movie.

Tonite (Dilwala)

This song typifies Mithun Da's dancing. Silly lyrics but nice tune; Bappi Da must have copied it from somewhere ;)

Yaee Yaee Yahaa Or Whatever it is called :)(Pyar Ka Mandir)

Crap song, I mean really crap song but Mithun Da's dance is awesome although his costumes aren't :)

Vaada Hai Kya(Taxi Chor)

Not a disco number or dance number as such, in fact this one is a really nice romantic number. Mithun Da's steps make it even better :)

Ek Hasina ki Nigahon Ka (Yaadon Ki Kasam)

Again not a Disco number, yet a nice number; kinda sounds like those Altaf Raza numbers ;) On a serious note, Mithun Da shows that he is just too good when it comes to shaking a few legs, give him beats and he wont fail you :)

Julie Julie (Jeete Hain Shaan Se)

One of the bigger hits of its times. Mithun songs had a formula to them, catchy tune, crappy lyrics, crappy singer and typical Mithun moves. BTW this one has Anu Malik giving music and also doubling up for crooning. I think this must be one of his original numbers ;)

Kabootarbaaz(Turki ba Turki) (Waqt Ki Awaaz)

Mithun Da with Queen of Dance, Sridevi, in villain's den; Hmmmm I guess thats a good enough reason to watch the song. BTW, this movie had some nice songs, 'Ladka akela' with Mithun and Sri doing robot dance and Mithun Da's angry dancing in 'I wanna hit somebody' hmmmmmmm :)

Jeena Bhi Kya Hai Jeena (Kasam Paida Karne Wale Ki)

Well its a take on MJ's legendary 'Billie Jean' and I guess choreography is inspired from 'Thriller' (though not completely), but still a Mithun classic.

Tu Mujhe Jaan Se Bhi Pyara Hai (Wardaat)

Mithun Da's Classic, Ultimate song, funky sensual tune. This time he takes on John Travolta's Saturday Night Fever, in his own characteristic style :)

Banno Re (Mere Sajna Saath Nibhana)

Mithun in a desi avtaar with Shakti 'Aaaoo Lolita' Kapoor for company, need I say more :)

Mujhe Kar Gayi Hai Kangaal (Cheetah)

Iconic Mithun Da movie, nothing special about the song but just wanted to include it for the sake of the great Mithun Da movie ;)

Jeele Aha Jeele (Avinash)

Mithun Da doing Michael Jackson and Bappi Da doing 'Beat It', No Moonwalk but Mithun Da compensates for that with his own brand of Moonwalk ;)

Mera Naam Doom Doom (Commando)

Not the most popular of Commando's song, but best in terms of Mithun Da dance. Well you can also check 'Maine maine tujhe tujhe' from the same movie, which has a more catchy tune and was a big hit in late 80s.

Title Song (Karate)

Hmmmmm, this one is kinda weird song, actually pretty crappy one but for Mithun Da's great energy, just look at him, he seems to be a man possessed.

Manzil

2009-11-05T03:49:00.002-06:00

Just came across this article in Rediff and I thought I should post it here, for these efforts need to lauded and highlighted.

This one sentence sums up Manzil very well; 'Manzil has two aims which it tries to fulfill with every student. One is to help the students earn a livelihood and the other is to help them see that whatever they choose to do should have a positive effect on society'.

Here's a link to the article and the link to the NPO itself

http://news.rediff.com/slide-show/2009/nov/05/slide-show-1-extraordinary-indians-ravi-gulati.htm

http://manzil.in/

Mixed Emotions

2009-10-31T04:32:00.006-05:00

In a sea of mixed emotions
I swam
and memories kept floating
for a long,
long time
till
even the time thought of
flying for a while,
leaving me aside
amidst the sea of mixed emotions.

Pic Courtesy: http://images-2.redbubble.net/img/art/size:large/view:main/3457612-2-sea-of-emotions.jpg

Explanation

As the title suggests, this poem is about having mixed emotions, in fact considerable mixed emotions. These mixed emotions are picture of one's confused state of mind, when one is not sure of one's emotions, feelings or mental state; in fact this can even be extended to behavior.

If one could peep inside the head of the protagonist, perhaps one would see a sad tumult, hear a clamorous pandemonium. The extent of this state is enormous (hence the usage of sea), so huge that even time knows nothing about its boundaries. The act of swimming indicates that the protagonist is not to be freed from this state soon, there's no immediate escape for him/her and that he/she is struggling with these mixed emotions. What's giving rise to these mixed emotions are memories which refuse to fade away and thus continue to float irrespective of time passing by.

Last few lines are indicative of the fact that how sometimes things (including one's state of mind, one's feelings and emotions) just stand still, even though physically, time continues to pass and move on.

A Winter Noon Amongst Flowers

2009-10-22T15:21:00.005-05:00

In her hat
she put a few
and then she asked
if I want them too;
In the warmth of the sun
we passed the winter noon,
she with her flowers,
I with moments that went too soon.

Pic Courtesy: http://www.africanbulbs.com/Freesia%20laxa.jpg

Diwali Dishes

2009-10-21T11:34:00.004-05:00

Kheer that took two hours

Matar Paneer that took 4 hours.

Cooked Bhai: Urs Truly
Recipe: Arpan Chauhan
Moral Support, Extra Instructions and Constant Niggling Over Phone: Richa Singh

Date: 17th Oct, 2009

A Cafe for Docs

2009-10-21T11:19:00.004-05:00

That's what it seems, although not sure for I never stepped in. Wonder what kinda syrups they must be serving there (with capsules and tablets as appetizers).

This is near the ISKCON temple in Copenhagen; so do sip a tonic or two on your way to the temple.

Date: 18th Oct, 2009

Music Review - Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani

2009-10-14T13:40:00.009-05:00

Went through the whole APKGK (that's Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani in a supposedly hep way), till the last song 'Tu Jaane Na' which was perhaps the only decent song of the album. They have four versions of the song, main one being sung by Atif 'There's-something-struck-in-my-throat' Aslam, who kinda spoils the otherwise awesome start to the song. There are quite a few one hit wonders, more I listen to Atif 'See-previous-line-for-this-space' Aslam, more I feel he qualifies as one.
Kailash Kher sings the unplugged version of the same song, does a decent job but somehow the song never attains the heights of ecstasy which you otherwise feel with most Kailash Kher songs. Perhaps, Pritam 'Chor' Da helming the music arrangements has something to do with that.
Other versions of this song and other songs of the album are not worth wasting time, space and effort.

Another ordinary album that will perhaps do well to remain in heart of listeners for a month or so, thanks to constant airplay on radio/TV (as a part of advertising and marketing campaign), before fading into obscurity.

PS. Please, let me know why 'Gajab' is spelt as 'Ghazab'? Were they trying not to make the listener remember that gem of a movie that had Tusssshar (Sorry if missed a few S'es there) Kapoor movie.

Pic Courtesy: http://www.pitaara.in/wp-content/uploads/Ajab-Prem-Ki-Gajab-Kahani.jpg

EDITED :) Just figured that Tussssshar starred in 'Gayab' not 'Gajab', so apologies to readers of this entry, who thought I am crazy (which I am anyways, but still).

Nightful of Songs

2009-10-09T14:30:00.003-05:00

Some nights are like this, when you have nothing else to do, or lets say that even if you have plenty to do, nothing beats passing it listening to sweet and soulful songs. Here's how I passed this night of mine.

My Abstract Poem(s)

2009-10-09T13:06:00.003-05:00

Well,
this is what I do
everytime
I write some lines
of indifferent kinds
that have no rhythm,
have no rhyme,
of course no meaning
and no sense at all;
but to escape
away from it all,
I give it a label
of being abstract
laying criticism
to perfect rest.

Gandhi Jayanti

2009-10-02T14:23:00.004-05:00

I am not sure if I should say 'Happy Gandhi Jayanti' or 'Gandhi Jayanti ki haardik shubhkaamnaye', for firstly, I don't know if that's the right greeting and secondly, I dont know if this even applies in current times.

There are people who worship this great man, considering him a saint, without possessing any of the values the great man stood for. It's like knowing him has become a fad. Ironic, that with each passing year, Gandhi ji continues to attain more and more popularity where as at the same time, the values and philosophies he suggested continue to become more and more obscure.

There's another bunch of people, who hate Gandhi ji. Without any understanding of the times in which he lived and anchored India's quest for freedom, they hold him responsible for all right and wrong things forgetting that its much easy to look back at history and criticize.

What Gandhi ji deserves is not sainthood or worship, but perhaps respect for what he had done for the nation. 'Mahatma', 'Rashtrapita' are salutations that people like us created, it was not him who took those titles. He would better be a human than a saint or god, for he knew he wasn't one.

Here's one song from Kavi Pradip, summarizing very well the current state we live in, and how Gandhi ji would have felt seeing his children living in such a state.

Leave

2009-09-26T06:15:00.004-05:00

Leave
when the time is right,
not tonight
or during this day,
which may be shining
so bright
but the dark clouds hide
behind the blues of the sky.
It will be difficult
when the lightening flashes
and the thunder rages loud
winds howl
trees shout.

Leave
as you must
and so you will
but let
tonight be mine,
you might
find it odd
for everything
seems fine
but beyond
the faces of patent
lies a sad melancholy
soundless lament.

Leave
like everyone did,
like everyone does;
pardon me
for making a fuss.
Don't read
into the blankness
of my eyes
and don't see any further;
Leave
for you can't be here
forever.

कुछ देर खेलो और (For Your Babies)

2009-08-30T06:19:00.007-05:00

कुछ देर खेलो और
इतनी जल्दी क्या है
उमर पड़ी

वो लंगडी वो लंगड़
वो स्टापू की चाल
वो कंचो की छन छन
बुढ़िया के बाल

कटती पतंगों के गिरने का मलाल
फ़िर उन पतंगों को लूटने का बवाल
डंडे से गिल्ली को देना उछाल
लट्टू की फिरकी का दिखाना कमाल

अभी तो शादी को हैं बाकी
न जाने कितने गुड्डे गुडियों की जोड़ी

कुछ देर खेलो और
इतनी जल्दी क्या है
उमर पड़ी

अटकन बटकन तोड़ कटोरी
दही कहीं चटकाते हैं
दस्ता पिंजर खार कबूतर
चिडियां कहीं उडाते हैं

घोडे बेचारे मुड़कर पीछे
मार बेवजह खाते हैं
व्यापार के बहाने यूँहीं अक्सर
दोपहारियां कई बिताते हैं

फ़िर शाम बिता देंगे यूँहीं बोलते हुए 'खो'
या एक साँस में कहते हुए 'कबड्डी-कबड्डी'

कुछ देर खेलो और
इतनी जल्दी क्या है
उमर पड़ी

विष और अमृत में आया
ऊँच नीच का फ़ासला
आइस पाइस की धप्पी मारे
घड़ी चुरा के पोसम्पा

फिसल सीडियों से गिरना
और सांपो में फस जाना
लूडो के पासो पर
नीली हरी गोटियाँ पिटवाना

जामुन का वो पेड़
वो शहतूत की ड़ाल
होली में कर देना सबको
टेसू के रंगों से निहाल

कितनी भी कर लो, फिर भी
बचपन की मस्ती होती है थोडी

कुछ देर खेलो और
इतनी जल्दी क्या है
उमर पड़ी

बालपन कुछ देर का
सफर है ज़रा सा
जल्द ही उठ जायेगी
इस बचपन की डोली

कुछ देर खेलो और
इतनी जल्दी क्या है
उमर पड़ी

Transliteration

Kuch der khelo aur
itni jaldi kya hai
umar padi

woh langdi woh langad
woh staapoo ki chaal
woh kancho ki chann chann
woh budhiya ke baal

Kat ti patango ke girne ka malaal
fir un patango ko lootne ka bawaal
dande se gilli ko dena uchaal
lattoo ki firki ka dikhana kamaal

Abhi to shaadi ko hain baanki
na jaane kitne gudde-gudiyon ki jodi

Kuch der khelo aur
itni jaldi kya hai
umar padi

atkan batkan tod katori
dahi kahin chatkate hain
dasta pinzar khaar kabutar
Chidiya kahin udate hain

Ghode bechare mud kar peeche
maar bewajah khaate hain
Vyapaar ke bahane yun hi aksar
dopahariyaan kayi bitate hain

fir shaam bita denge yun hi bolte hue 'kho'
ya ek saans kehte hue kabaddi-kabaddi

Kuch der khelo aur
itni jaldi kya hai
umar padi

vish aur amrut mein aaya
oonch neech ka faasla
aais paais ki dhappi maare
ghadi chura ke posampa

fisal seediyon se girna
aur saanpo mein fas jaana
ludo ke paaso par
neeli hari gotiyan pitwana

Jamun ka woh ped,
woh sahtoot ki daal
Holi mein kar dena sabko
tesu ke rangon se nihaal

kitni bhi kar lo, phir bhi
bachpan ki masti hoti hai thodi

kuch der khelo aur
itni jaldi kya hai
umar padi

Balpan kuch der ka
safar hai zara sa
jald hi uth jaayegi
is bachpan ki doli

kuch der khelo aur
itni jaldi kya hai
umar padi

Photo Courtesy: http://www.personaltao.com/tao/images%5Czen_childhood.jpg

Quick Review (or say Opinions)

2009-08-10T15:55:00.007-05:00

As I sat waiting for one more night to start, I listened to three new Hindi albums; Wanted, Toss and Fox. Amazingly, all three of them had English titles :)

This isn't a review, mere opinion based on one quick listening.

Fox is a drab album with nothing working for it (at least for me). Wonder how Monty Sharma was able to give that fabulous music in Saawariya (the only good thing about that otherwise forgetful movie). Looks like MS is Uttam Singh of current times; in fact Uttam Singh gave quite decent music in a few other movies apart from Dil To Pagal Hai; Gadar and Dushman being the ones I recall instantly.

Toss has music by Sandesh Shadnilya and some new bloke Siddharth Suhaas whom I have never heard before. I will skip the remixes as they are seldom good and often fillers. Sandesh Shandilya has come up with great music every once in a while. His 'Suraj hua Madhyam' was as per me the only good thing about the drab K3G; I still recall the beautiful melodies of Rules: Pyar ka Superhit Formula; Socha Na Tha had some decent tracks and 'Aaoge jab tum' from Jab We Met was not bad either.
Toss starts with two good chill out lounge tracks composed by Sandesh and then three crappy numbers by the other guy. The punjabi number is crap or say there's nothing worth remembering about it. Then there are two numbers with pop-rock sound to it, which is something that has no novelty in it anymore. Lyrics are forgetful, making sure that there's nothing hummable in the album :)

Wanted has music by Sajid-Wajid, another bunch of those not so talented guys who have been flocking the Bollywood music scene off late (Amar Mohile, Pritam Chor, Monty Sharma, Salim Sulaiman and so on and so forth). Anyways, Wanted is one album where one knows what to expect, given Sajid-Wajid's past record. The album has a few dance numbers (Love Me, Ishq Vishq, Jalwa) (that is songs with some beats and lots of oh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh kinda sound and then some dholak sholak and punjabi thrown in between). It also has typical Sajid-Wajid puppy-pop number which tries to be too sugary, too rhythmic, too romantic, too much lovey-dovey, except that it fails on all account as these kinda Sajid-Wajid numbers often do ('Mitwa Re' from Hello, 'Rab Kare' and Duppatta song from Mujhse Shaadi Karogi, etc etc etc). Then there is a song with arabic sound to it, lesser said (or heard) of it the better. BTW, Jalwa song is pathetic (although there's no real need to state that). There's a Wanted theme song, which is again nothing new (except that you get to hear Salman delivering some lines meant for front benchers and some other chaman singer singing something) and the album ends with a desi sounding song with jabardasti ki tweeter beats to it. This song tries too hard to come across as a no tension vension, full of fun song, but it achieves only this much. I guess a bit less of beats/electronica and 'ooh aah, hai hai, chom chom, hurrrrrr' would have probably resulted in a better song with listeners (some of them) perhaps finding the lyrics fancy.

Of the three albums, I would say the only song that I remember and will probably listen again is 'Ishq Vishq'; nothing great about it, just that one still needs to survive mediocrity.

Moral: Nights can be wasted in a better manner :)

भरे जहन में ज़हर जो कभी

2009-08-02T03:17:00.004-05:00

भरे जहन में जब ज़हर जो कभी
फूल से लगने वाले भी कांटे बन जाते हैं
ज़िन्दगी में यारों ऐसे भी मुकाम आते हैं

उम्रभर संभाल रखे यादों के गुलदस्ते
एक पल में गिरके तमाम हो जाते हैं
ज़िन्दगी में यारों ऐसे भी मुकाम आते हैं

पड़ती है दिल-ओ-दिमाग पर ठोकर कुछ इस कदर
भीड़ में वीराने, वीरानो में शोर के मंज़र हो जाते हैं
ज़िन्दगी में यारों ऐसे भी मुकाम आते हैं

यह भी मैंने देख लिया नजदीकियों का हश्र
समझने से पहले नजदीकियों में फांसले आ जाते हैं
ज़िन्दगी में यारों ऐसे भी मुकाम आते हैं

चलते हैं अचानक ही जब इल्ज़ामात के अंधड़
कुछ पल में ही 'आप' 'तू' में बदल जाते हैं
ज़िन्दगी में यारों ऐसे भी मुकाम आते हैं।

एक सितारा तारा सिंह (Ek Sitara Tara Singh)

2009-07-18T11:54:00.007-05:00

खूब झकझोरा इन हाथों से
तारों वाली उन रातों को
तब कहीं जाके एक गिरा है।
कस के मुट्ठी में भींच लिया
अब सुबह पर ही खोलुंगा,
न जाने कैसा लगता होगा तब;
उड जाएगा शायद ढीली पड़ती हथेलियों से,
ओझल न हो जाए कहीं
ढलती आंखों की पंखडियों से।
सुबह की दस्तक से डर तो नही जाएगा
बसते में रख देता हूँ
आख़िर भाग के कहाँ जाएगा।

क्यों न एक पहचान दे दूँ इसको,
सोचता हूँ
एक नाम दे दूँ इसको।
एक सितारा तारा सिंह,
अब बसते में छटपटा रहा है
खामोश रहकर भी शोर मचा रहा है,
अपनी ही चमक में है अब गूम
उदास है शायद
घर की यादों में गुमसुम।
मैं छोड़ तो दूँ इसको पर
ये तो यूं ही टूटा है
और टूटा हुआ कब कौन जुडा है?

एक सितारा तारा सिंह
शायद किस्मत था किसी की
डूबा जाने क्यों कर
गर मन्नत थी किसी की।
सोचता होगा
क्या कोई टूट जाता यूं ही
बेवजह इसकी भी खातिर;
टूटना पर हर किसी का हुनर नही
कुछ तकसीर किसी की किस्मत की ,
किसी के ख्वाबों की ताबीर;
या किसी का अंजाम शायद आख़िर।

.....................................

आकाश के घरों में जलने वाली
लालटेनों में अब एक कम थी
किस्मत की आंधियों ने फूंकमार
उसे रात की स्याह में
बेपरवाही से
यूँही मिला दिया था,
बिना नाम पहचान दिए.

Transliteration

Khoob jhakjhora in haathon se
taaron wali un raaton ko,
tab kahin jaake ek gira hai.
Kas ke moothi mein bheech liya
ab subah par hi kholunga,
na jaane kaisa lagta hoga tab;
ud jaayega shayad dheeli padti hatheliyon se,
ojhal na ho jaaye kahin dhalti aankhon ki pankhadiyon se.
Subah ki dastak se darr to nahi jaayega
baste mein rakh deta hoon
aakhir bhag ke kahan jaayega.

Kyon na ek pehchaan de doon isko,
sochta hoon ek naam de doon isko.
Ek sitara Tara Singh,
ab baste mein chatpata raha hai
khamosh rehkar shor macha raha hai;
apni hi chamak mein hai ab gum
udaas hain shayad
ghar ki yaadon mein gumsum.
Main chod to doon isko par
yeh to yun hi toota hai
aur toota hua kab kaun juda hai?

Ek sitara tara singh
shayad kismat tha kisiki
dooba jaane kyon kar
gar mannat thi kisiki.
Sochta hoga
kya koi toot jaata yunhi
bewajah iski bhi khaatir;
tootna par har kisi ka hoonar nahi
kuch takseer kisi ki kismat ki,
kisi ke khwabon ki taabeer;
ya sirf anjaam iska aakhir.

.....................................

Aakash ke gharo mein jalne wali
lalteno mein ab ek kam thi
kismat ki aandhiyon ne fookmaar
use raat ki syaah mein
beparawahi se
yun hi mila diya tha,
bina naam pehchan diye.

Image courtesy : http://i269.photobucket.com/albums/jj41/rafaelkwe/shooting_star.jpg

Songs for the day

2009-07-18T06:04:00.007-05:00

Rains, Monsoon and a heart with sweet melancholy. You dont get to hear Koyal's song here in Denmark, but then imagining doesn't cost you anything :) One shouldn't be surprised if one feels like singing of love.

Here's to a beautiful rainy day and the divine feeling of love. I have included my fav Mithun Da's song which captures the essence even though its not a monsoon song :)

The Sound That Came

2009-07-05T16:29:00.005-05:00

There's a sound somewhere
but I am going to sleep
I will try my best
not to get disturbed
by this beep.
So I close my eyes
and switch off the lights,
paving way
for a sleep of anonymous kind
to engulf me
in its agitated sojourn.

Woke up
after all these years
with a wound in my head
that scratches me,
and a pain in my heart
that perturbs me, more and more;
I wish
I had listened
to the sound that day.

Pic courtesy: http://hacknmod.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/sound_wave.jpg

Verse and a Song (Krishna Navmi Ashaad, Vikram Samvat 2066)

2009-06-17T12:27:00.012-05:00

In today's entry, the first in this hopefully regular series, I quote a verse from Kamayani, the epic poem by great Jaishankar Prasad. These are the opening lines from part 1 of 'Asha'.

ऊषा सुनहले तीर बरसती

जयलक्ष्मी-सी उदित हुई,

उधर पराजित काल रात्रि भी

जल में अतंर्निहित हुई।

As for the song, today I have picked the studio version of Khamaj, illustrating the vocal brilliance of Shafqat Amanat Ali.

Why still read poetry? - KARTHIKA NAIR

2009-06-12T05:09:00.002-05:00

(First published in The Hindu Literary Review on June 7, 2009)

I shouldn’t be able to remember it with such exactitude. After all, as John Steinbeck remarked in Sweet Thursday, “Change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfum e of wildflowers in the grass.” But poetry was neither discreet nor gentle with me: it did not ruffle the curtains; it tore them down and the house alongside, in three distinct gusts.
The first came at 14, through an unlikely source: “Bhoole Bisre Geet” on All India Radio, a bedtime ritual in the midst of the darkness ushered by a mandatory load shedding. Perhaps it had to do with the total focus induced by night but the lines exploded in my head: humne dekhi hein un ankhon ki mehekti khushboo/haath se chooke ise rishton ka ilzaam na do/sirf ehsaas hein ye,/rooh se mehzooz karo/pyar ko pyar hi rehene do, ise rishton ka ilzaam na do.
This opening quatrain from an old Hindi film song displaced poetry from a clinical study of assonance, alliteration, metre and metaphor in the works of immortals alphabetically arranged in an I.S.C.E curriculum. “I have seen the wafting fragrance of your eyes,” wrote Gulzaar and synesthesia became tangible. Poetry could bend, stretch, torque and detonate the senses. Sounds had smell, sights took on texture and everything in the world turned fluid, interchangeable. Cosmic laws got rewritten. Poetry became a magic mirror; one that saw, not darkly as in the Bible, but tangentially; not removed from reality, but up close, much closer than usual lenses allowed.
New direction

The second came quite close at heel, a double second as it were. Vikram Seth’s The Golden Gate arrived like some great mythical bird, maybe the griffin, showing off the sheer wingspan of poetry, giving new sense and direction to elements often considered old-fashioned and irrelevant: rhyme and rhythm, cadence and structure. Written in 663 sonnets, the book captured — almost literally — everything short of the kitchen sink: a treatise on nuclear warfare, metaphysical questions of death and love, advise on pruning grapes, to my favourite below — a pungent tirade on the presumed irresistibility of babies: How ugly babies are! How heedless/Of all else than their bulging selves –/Like sumo wrestlers, plush with needless/Kneadable flesh – like mutant elves,/Plump and vindictively nocturnal,/With lungs determined and infernal/(A pity that the blubbering blobs/Come unequipped with volume knobs),/And so intrinsically conservative,/A change of breast will make them squall/With no restraint or qualm at all./Some think them cuddly, cute and curvative./Keep them, I say. Good luck to you;/No doubt you used to be one too.
Poetry, I discovered, could tell a tale — or multiple tales, as The Golden Gate had demonstrated — just as prose or drama; tell it with verve and wit, passion and power. Formal poetry, with its musicality, its intentness and attention to detail became a portal towards a ‘parallel universe’, as a friend calls it, one peopled with acrobats and contortionists, dancers and lion-tamers that went by the names like sestina, terza rima, ghazal, rub’ai, pantoum and more.
Vital components

The other half of this double gust, T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, not only reinforced the impression left by its companion but unveiled another vital component: compression.
Do I dare/Disturb the universe?/In a minute there is time/For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Crispness, lack of indulgence for elaboration, restraint … they entered my lexicon here, proving how impactful verse could be in its spareness, its telegraphic quality of summing up and implying emotion, fact or state of being.
It took a few more years for “Lady Lazarus” to sweep in. Sylvia Plath’s poem did not just blow away the house, it snagged inside my eardrums, seared mind and tongue, left scratches on language and labels:
Dying/Is an art, like everything else./I do it exceptionally well.
Jeanette Winterson says is all when she calls language a finding place, not a hiding place. This then is what draws me inevitably to poetry: the truth. Not factual, lyrical or narrative truth, but truth of expression and of emotion. The ability to pin down and identify the source and delimit its contours. Pain, love, fear, hate, even restlessness…. They become bearable when given a voice, they get reduced to manageable proportions and they become shareable.
I never felt it voyeuristic to read Plath’s work; it felt like signing a covenant with someone who had perhaps suffered from the loneliness of not having her words reach far enough, and would be as empowered as I, the reader, by my act of appropriation.
Still reading poetry? Yes, still. Just as I am still breathing, still working, still thinking, still – hopefully – learning: human actions that are not circumscribed by any era or erudition, technology or trend.

We Don't Need No Education (On Global Warming)

2009-06-01T12:30:00.007-05:00

We will perhaps
realize one day,
but
then we dont care,
for we know
we wont live
to see that day;
and so,
why should we care.
You can always tell us
of generations
that are yet to come,
their future and hardships;
but then
we ain't intelligent enough
to see that all;
or better,
we are too indulgent
in self.
We are too busy
always short on time
and we have better reasons
to be worried
to be fearful
than the times
which are oh so far away,
to be bothered
of children
who are yet to be conceived;
and when we are unable
to think about them
do you think
we'll have care/time
for
what you fondly call
'Mother Nature'.

So let us drive
our cars in number,
lets us cut
our share of timber,
and don't raise your voice
when you see empty offices
illuminated at night
we can give our reasons
of safety and fright,
and above all its our money;
you can label us 'Capitalistic Snob'
but don't be jealous just cos' we can afford.
You can shout your heart aloud
and you can kick in disgust
when no one heeds your call
but let us remind you,
once and for all,
Global warming is a great fad
to talk at scientific gatherings my friend
in day to day life no one cares
for the world isn't coming to an immediate end.

Pics Courtesy:
http://www.surfrider.org/blogger/uploaded_images/global_warming_5_dre-792612.jpg
http://i.treehugger.com/images/2007/5/24/timemagazine.jpg

Some Days

2009-05-27T12:04:00.006-05:00

Some days are like that,
Some days like this;
Some days are insane
filled with
agony and pain.
Some days,
I am with you
and I speak of
all things true;
Some days,
my lies prevail
I tell all lies
nothing else.

Some days rush by my side,
Some days hard to pass by;
Some days lie lazily around
for eternity
without a sound.
Some days,
we make it to each other
holding hands
enjoying life, being together;
Some days,
you are near, yet so far
from the corner of your eyes
I depart.

Some days end before they start,
Some days have no nights to worry;
Some days everything seems alright
even darkness of sad
gloom and plight.
Some days,
you get things your way
I may disagree
but then its your day;
Some days,
you might sound so sensible
yet there's no sense in what you say
for its my day.

Some days die young,
Some days are never born;
Some days gradually old
like the stories
often told.
Some days,
You and I
feel the divinity
lying beside;
Some days,
lost in the self
we just
let them pass by.

Some days are some days,
Some days are more than that;
Some days sing songs of melancholy
of times and faces
cute and jolly.
Some days,
entangled in your maze
I wander aimlessly
under your gaze;
Some days,
just wonder
why don't you let me be
lost forever.

Some days don't listen to you,
some days don't listen to me either;
some days carry on with their songs
with no bother or care
for our grouses and mourns.
Some days,
they never come back
not much you can do
except sit back and relax;
Some days,
haunt forever
thought I had shrugged them off
and yet they still hover.

Some days
still echo
their laughter in the corridor
effervescent, lively,
gentle and soft;
Some days
cast their shadow
long after the sun has set
pale and feeble,
sad, entrapped.
Some days,
are some days
others are you and I,
some days
we passed together
and others that never came by;
Some days
of yours
got intermingled with mine,
some days
of ours
are now buried with time.

I am wondering...

Who are we
but a name and a face
or perhaps
just a figment of some days.

Picture Courtesy : http://rumi.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8354c915569e201053707e838970b-800wi

The MPP (Mango, Pineapple, Papaya) Shake

2009-05-10T04:59:00.004-05:00

Well, for those who are interested, this is MPP shake, that's Mango, Pineapple, Papaya Shake.

Recipe is simple, with emphasis on making the same quickly :)

- Mango, Papaya and Pineapple in equal proportions.
- 3/5th glass of milk.
- Rest 2/5th with fruits.
- Sugar as per taste.
- Whip Cream (Optional Decoration).

MPP Shake can be tried with a bit of Vanila IceCream, if you like it :)

Have Fun.

Missing You (Thoughts after Reconciliation)

2009-04-23T12:15:00.005-05:00

"I missed you last night.
Did you miss me too?"

No, I didn't;
I missed you the night
you lay awake crying
on your bed
with frowned face
amid mixed emotions,
anger and misery.
Remember,
how many times
I had called you then
but
you replied to none.

You lay beside the phone
thinking not of me
but of
rights and wrong,
imagining
things that never were,
words never said,
meanings never intended.

I had tried,
in vain,
that night
not to let you
miss me
and miss you
either;
I had tried my best,
my dear,
but 'missing you'
is what you had
left me with.

I did not miss you, my dear,
last night;
I had missed you
that other night,
a lot.

Picture Courtesy: http://www.lauriezagon.com/paintings_gallery/1990s/images/1995---Reconciliation.jpg

Photo078

2009-03-25T17:50:00.002-05:00

Feb Snow early morning around Rishi's house (in Cincinnati).

Photo126

2009-03-25T17:33:00.002-05:00

One of those Chill Out joints along the Delhi-Agra highway.

Midnight Gupshup

2009-02-28T18:31:00.007-06:00

Midnight Gupshup; hmmmmm.....

Guess, I should have written something sensuous, perhaps having shades of erotica. But then, my midnights are just like my days; I wont label them boring, but I'll be surprised if anyone else finds them enterprising.

Over dinner at Kebabish, I decided to pass the night in the night-out mode. I keep doing this from time to time, sometime night forcing itself on me, at other times, such as this, I forcing myself on the night. I guess this ends up being symmetric anyways, irrespective of who forces oneself on the other.
Anyways, I watched Tahaan and liked it. Somehow I bias my mind to movies. I very much know even before watching a movie, if I am going to like it or not. I like watching fable kinda movies, especially the ones with kids playing central roles (Blue Umbrella, Makdee).
I also wasted my hours shuffling between numerous routines of Hearts, Solitaire and Free Cell. Often I have noticed that if I indulge too much in these card games, my dreams start to appear green; talk about subconscious :)
Oh, by the way, philosophy. Its an important aspect of any conversation that has to be deemed meaningful. Though you need not necessarily talk meaningfully, quite a lot of people still fall trap to this pseudo intellectualism which more often than not is nothing but gibberish. Well, the above sentence is one such example; but let me quote the one that we (Me and Murli) invented during dinner. This one was based on another famous philosophy; 'Take Life as it comes'. We devised our own version, 'One need not worry too much about life, it anyways ends up taking you whether you want to come or leave'.

On parting notes, here's the thought of the night:

There are thousand many ways of screwing your life; sooner or later you'll figure them out ;)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Watch Gulaal when it releases, watch Dev D if you haven't done that, listen to Death Metal with lights off.

or

Drink Camomile Tea for better sleep, do Yoga for relaxation, frequent cafes in the town, you might see a face or two that're indeed better than yours.

:)

The Rainbow Bridge over Nothingness (The One of Turquoise Eyes - 4)

2009-02-23T17:08:00.002-06:00

It was morning when he woke up. Lazy eyes, swollen and red due to lack of sleep and tired of holding eternity, caught the first glimpse of the rainbow bridge. The wind was soft and soothing, bit cold but that was due to the night which never left before leaving its mark on the morn of the following day(s). There was light mist around and the bridge hung in the thin veil of the fog. He could see the peak, way beyond the green valley on the other side of the bridge. The rainbow bridge would soon be without its colors, all draining one after another as Sun would raise high up in the azure. The skies were already reddish orange, and the Sun, a baby pink reminiscent of glories, whose presence had become so commonplace now.
‘Now’. What was now? Not the bridge, not its colors; not even its name. It faded slowly, from the view, from the landscape, from his eyes. The day was clear and sun no longer pink. The bridge was away from its colors and what remained of it was what always existed, carefully placed stones, tied and hung in that space by who knew whom. Chiseled stones welcomed his slow and unsure steps. “Are you comfortable”, they asked. He should have replied but he didn’t. No one knew the significance of these steps of his, not the stones, not the bridge or the peak. The sun and the faded colors didn’t knew it either.
He continued his slow walk, seldom looking around or paying attention to the talks of the stones who continued with their questions; “Are you comfortable”, “What took it so long for you to come”, “Are you heading to the valley and the peak beyond”.
The sun was now on the other side of the bridge, watching him as patiently as ever. He had passed the middle of the bridge when he noticed that nothing existed beneath the bridge. This was a bridge over nothingness; dark, ever growing and encompassing nothingness. A nothingness way beyond the Sun and its golden hue, nothingness where even night was afraid to go. Where did then the Night slept?
Was it this vast nothingness in which melted the colors of the rainbow bridge?
As his turquoise eyes met the nothingness from far above the bridge, the air became melancholic. The stone voices grew thin and then finally died down on their own, assimilating perhaps in the nothing. Sun once again shifted it stance and now hung close to his head, right above him.
His turquoise eyes saw his shadows cast over the surface of the nothingness, some even piercing deep inside it. His eyes had seen a lot and held even more. All that; the cave, those yellows, that ember and all else was a part of him, his eyes and this nothingness.
He lifted his eyes, away from his shadows, away from the nothingness beneath him. Over his shoulder hung the sun, who was to die soon one more of his eternal silent deaths. Far away in the distance was the peak and in between lay the valley. All of them were silent, listening to the melancholy which was his, looking at his somber turquoise eyes and his face on which had arrived the shades of rainbow,

An Indigo sad in the company of a Violet
A Yellow and A Red, part of his nothingness, adopted and parted with
An Orange of the dying evening Sun
A Green of that jungle, that lied buried in the Blue
A Blue that was eternal.

His turquoise eyes looked around, casting themselves on the Sun, the valley and the peak beyond, the bridge; his eyes looked at them all. And then they looked down again at the nothingness smeared with his shadows.

From above the rainbow bridge, he opened his arms and jumped to the embrace of nothingness.

The Dream (The One of Turquoise Eyes - 3)

2009-02-04T13:39:00.002-06:00

They passed through the skin
as they marched towards the cave
with their sharpened teeth
cluttering vociferously.

The voices within
and around
have long been dead,
silence resided there
with fellows no one knew;
but they were not the explorers
inquisitors.

Hungry shadows lurked around
shadows without sun
shadows that knew no moon.

They might have been singing a song
out of tune
and soon they were
in front of the cave.

He saw them go inside
one by one
cluttering their teeth
singing their song,
he saw them go inside
with his Turquoise eyes,
Those eyes of his
that shed green tears,
He saw them
disappear,
one by one;
hunger ,
shadows,
song;
All were for his Turquoise eyes
to behold.

There’s a cloud
Somewhere,
a sun and a moon as well,
day and night
and
the Cave;
dark and silent it was,
dark and silent it might be.

He moves away
slow and staggering
crushing his shadows repeatedly
eyes open to himself
but closed to vision.

Do watch him go
Do keep an eye
Warn him

“Run”.
“But I have no fear”.
“Run”.
“From whom”?
“Run”.
“Why”?
“Run”.
“I won’t”?

“Then, perish”.
“……………”.

“I will”.

The One of Turquoise Eyes (2)

2009-01-26T15:10:00.002-06:00

Far away in the distance, where the mountain took a dip in the blues, he sits staring at the cave. His eyes burned ember. He hasn’t slept for a while. Nights don’t remember if they have seen him sleeping. What is he doing there?
From inside the cave, he could hear the voices patting the corridors of his mind. His head is heavy with the lightness of these sounds. How many? He looks endlessly, his infinite gaze fixed on the cave. Perhaps he is waiting patiently for someone, that’s what this night sang. This night, tonight, dark, dim and lazy, like every night, a messenger of the day, a careless, casual messenger of the day.
There’s a cloud floating by. It stops as its drowsy eyes catch a glimpse of him. Who sent this cloud? A grey cloud, whose grey is prominent against the blue of the heavens. There have been no clouds since, no one knows since when. There have been no tears either. But this cloud saw him and stopped, and for a while everything stopped, everything. His eyes were still active though in their never ending, relentless gaze. They realized that there were no voices anymore and yet they didn’t bat the eyelids. They continued like before, persistent as always and still active in those moments of eternal inactivity. How much was eternal? For how long did the cloud stopped?
Inside of the cave burned bright, as if that yellow moon had taken refuge there. His eyes had noticed this change, for they now reflected the yellow. And as yellow started filling the spaces of his eyes, out came the ember that has been gracing them all this while. Ember flowed out of yellow eyes and the cave burned yellow without those voices that existed till that moment when everything stood still.
The cloud was no where to be seen, it had disappeared. Nights continued with their boring routine, passing without any cause or concern. They bothered for neither his eyes emptied of ember nor for the bright yellow that now occupied the same. But his eyes remained intent on gazing through the cave. They didn’t knew the reasons, they weren’t aware of the purposes, his purposes that is. Someone had asked, some time, “What’s your purpose”? “Seeing”.

How much?
How long?
What?
Why?

He got up and walked, away from the cave; Eyes closed, Yellow enslaved, Ember abandoned.

Short Movies 2

2009-01-17T07:57:00.004-06:00

I'll Wait For The Next One

The Ball

Movies By Ted Chung

2009-01-17T03:30:00.004-06:00

On Time

Adblock

A Thousand Words

Adblock

The List : Movies 2008

2009-01-11T04:38:00.005-06:00

In my opinion, 2008 was a good year for Indian Cinema. Hit/Flop aside, there were a lot of good, meaningful movies that came out this year. Here's a list of my favs from the year that went by (in no particular order)

A Wednesday

Aamir

Mumbai Meri Jaan

Tahaan

Dasvidaniya

Mithya

Jannat

Welcome To Sajjanpur

Oye Lucky Lucky Oye

Rock On

There were some other good movies, which missed the list. Here's a quick list for them without posters

Sorry Bhai
Last Lear
Khuda Ke Liye
Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na
Ramchand Pakistani
Hulla
Shoot on Sight
SarkarRaj
Dil Kabaddi

2008: The Year That Was (In Life of S for Me and C for Crazy)

2009-01-11T02:31:00.005-06:00

2008 was an interesting year; I guess a year of changes; personal, professional and spatial changes. Here's a quick recap.

January

Celebrated New Year at Kika's and spent most of January in nomadic style with days (starting at 3:00 AM) in lab and nights at Vasant's place (as Altra was in India those days). Busy writing dissertation, sipping coffee and yes with no actual address of my own. By the end of Januray, I has shifted my temporary base from Vasant's place to Shrikant's SC 903 apt, where I sort of remained till I finally moved out of Cinci.

February

Feb started and ended on fabulous notes. Annual IMAC trip involved driving the 10 seater Chevy all the way from Cinci to Orlando, enjoying Jacksonville beach and Daytona beach on the way. IMAC was, as usual, fun and then we rounded it off by visiting Key West. Snorkeling, para sailing and cruise in Key West were followed by an afternoon on Miami beach during the return dash to Cinci. Forgot to mention the evening in Cocoa beach spent right after IMAC concluded. By the way, we were six in total, Wanchang, Ryota and his Japanese Friend, Bala, Batman and myself.
28th of Feb was when it finally ended, I mean my doctoral studies reached satisfactory conclusions. 45 min talk, few questions and photographs, round of hand shakes, congratulations; that is what four years of work/studies culminated into :)

March

March was a busy month; lot of people to meet and treat, finalizing stuff in Denmark and the memorable farewell at Myrtle Beach. PF Chang, Teak Thai, The Thai place near Sippy's house, Amma's Kitchen, Party at Morgens, The Chinese Place in Downtown and the usual suspects, Krishna, Chipotle, Cilantro, King Wok, hmmmmmm March was the month of Restaurants and Parties.
I made a quick trip to Copenhagen and finalized the apartment where I currently reside. Myrtle beach trip followed soon after. Four memorable days, spent amongst friends, My Cinci family. We celebrated Daksh's b'day and time was spent gossiping, dozing around the oceanfront house; and of course there was holi on the beach :)

April

No tears shed this farewell and I moved from one part of the world to another. April passed figuring out the new surroundings and lifestyle; getting used to the fact that reliance on public transport is the way to be, shops closing down around 6:00 in the evening, paying for water you drink at the restaurants, paying for the carry bags at grocery stores, cola refills don't come free, etc. etc.

May was the month of spring and thus traveling and exploring Sjaelland part of the country. This has started in April itself, but almost all the weekends in May were devoted to this activity. Helsingor Castle, Hillerod Castle, Rosenborg, Fredensberg, Radhuspladsen, Walking Street, Roskilde and many others. I guess I finished my Denmark darshan in May itself :)

June

June started with a cruise to Oslo, Norway with Sumit who took a Detour to Denmark during his trip to Germany. We came back from Oslo and headed straight to USA for my graduation ceremony. It was sort of reuniting with Cinci family and other friends at University of Cincinnati. Even got to meet Anshul who drove all the way from Maryland and also Utkarsh. Met Goutham and Ananta, met Bala bros, met folks from AID, met Srikant and Sushant, met my Profs, met ........

July

July was more about moving around Copenhagen, enjoying the summer and 20 hrs of daylight. There was one particular weekend a 16 Km trek to Stevn's Klint proposed/forced by me which obviously wasn't liked by most. It was indeed tiring but still quite enjoyable, especially the limestone cliffs.

August

Short trip to India for business purposes. Raghavendra coming to Denmark for his interview with Vestas at Aarhus but could not take him around as I was down with flu. That's pretty much it. It was good for a change that there wasn't much worth mentioning in August.

September

Trip to Belgium for ISMA. Ate crazy sea food, took a pic and sent it to my parents. As I look at that picture now, my mother's shock on seeing me eat not so friendly looking creatures seems very justified.

October

Copenhagen Culture Night, My Day of Birth and sad news right before Diwali (My Grandmother expired).

November

November wasn't a friendly month. I made a quick trip to India for attending my Grandmother's tehrawi. What happened on 26/11 in Mumbai is known to all. November started and ended on sad note.

December

Trip to Frankfurt, Germany to meet Sumit alongwith Raghavendra. Plenty of vacations starting 21st. We discovered a cinema hall in CPH that exclusively shows Bollwood movies and ended up watching RNBDT and Ghajini. Christmas eve was spent in Malmo, Sweden and New Year witnessing one of the best celebrations of the day, fire crackers bursting all around the lake on the clear night. It was like witnessing Diwali, just that it was -2 deg outside and yes almost everyone was drunk, except me ;)
December went down nicely, except that I lost my S5 IS Camera
:(
par chalta hai, as they say 'Everything need not be perfect'
:)

Wishing all a very happy 2009, I hope it unfolds all things nice and fine for everyone, including me.

The One of Turquoise Eyes (1)

2008-12-27T07:01:00.002-06:00

When they see him they will realize that he has not changed much, pretty much same eyes, same nose and same curly hairs. How much time has passed, hmm; no one knows. They wonder, how much time. A lot is what they can think of, precisely how much, no one knows. They had given up the concept of tracking time long ago, ages ago will probably be the right word. That was their way of defeating time. Time was anyway a concept, defeating a concept seems so abstract now. Time was an absurd concept anyways.

His eyes were blue, actually turquoise. They say he was son of the green jungle that lay buried in the depth of the blues. On a certain night, he would just wander alone near the shore and his eyes, those turquoise eyes, will shed tears, green tears. They will all cry then, for no reasons known. Nobody ever asked him the reasons; and he, he never bothered about them. But that was all a long while ago. One fine day, or was it the afternoon; no one recalls the exactitude of that moment, but they recall that one fine moment (time, they sometime wonder if they really defeated it), ages ago, he was gone, just like that, without any premonition, perhaps without reasons as well, he just left.

They had not sent any search parties, they didn’t even worried, those were not the sentiments they shared/felt anyways. The only thing they missed, were the green tears which made them cry, for reasons they never knew. And although they missed crying, it was not that they knew that they missed it. They would go to the shore on the nights when the moon would be yellow and dimly lit and they will keep looking at the ocean, its blueness, its vastness. In the morning, when last of the stars took a holy dip in the blue ocean, they will return, feeling uneasy, incomplete and unsure of what is it that they were searching for, looking for.

All this was long ago; very, very long ago, for now it was a ritual, to wait for the moon to be yellow, stars to take a dip in the blueness and return engulfed with uneasiness, incoherency. Nobody had realized that all this while, their own eyes haven’t watered, that they have not cried, wailed and mourned. Those were emotions of past, emotions that lied buried away from the present (Time, they had thought they had defeated it), emotions they were unaware of, untouched from. Amongst those nights of yellow moon, were the days of golden hue and crimson shadows that filled them with life. It was a set routine, a day soaked with crimson, followed by a moon of varying shades and colors. There were intermittent days of violet as well, but that was when they wanted it to be that way, and those days were too less and limited. On days like that, there will be clouds in the sky, veiling the moon and its blueness. Actually these clouds will engulf the moon in the night itself and no matter how hard the moon tries, it will not be able to make itself free after being entangled amongst these clouds (unless they wanted to set it free). And then, the crimson shadows arrived, bathing the blueness of the moon; the moon will cry and threw tantrums but the clouds wont let him go; till the day becomes violet.

Those days were few and far between, but those were the occasions when they recalled faintly that there was once someone amongst them whose eyes were turquoise. They didn’t remember those green tears, but they had faint remembrances of him, he who had left long ago.

Losing

2008-12-24T11:37:00.005-06:00

So many times I lost my heart and I felt sad, for there were no takers. I always ended up getting it back.

I lost three cameras and I felt sad; nobody returned them.

Ensuing Fall

2008-12-22T13:40:00.003-06:00

When it falls
will let you have a taste of it,
till then
you need to try
and continue doing so;
for I am still
able to bear the pain.
I am crazy,
calling me insane
wont get you anywhere,
for I know this well
and I dont deny
so harder you got to try.
Harder,
more painful
scathing, full of hurt and harm;
that's how you need to hit me
and it will surely fall.
It's not a promise,
mere destiny
just that it will take a while,
for I am thick skinned
more than strong willed,
as wrongly perceived.
But then
I am human
and humans fall,
so do tears;
So have no fears,
I will let you win in the end
till then let me fight my tears
and defend :)

Photo courtesy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/27235917@N02/3080314161/sizes/l/

Rhyme with a lil' Slime and some Grime :)

2008-12-14T14:02:00.005-06:00

I need to write something; first the reasons WHY

I need to get over 'Rab Ne Paka Di Thodi'.
I need to get over another home draw by Chelsea.
I need to keep up with Baba Sehgal; 'Pump Up Your Style'.

....................................

Rhyme of the Day

Mere Nahane Ka Style hai
Mere Gaane ka Style hai
Khaana Banane ka style hai

Mere Aane ka style hai
Mere Jaane ka style hai
Ladki Ghoomane ka style hai

Mere Naam mein style hai
Mere Kaam mein style hai
Subah Shaam mein style hai

Slime of The Day

Yaad hai mujhe woh din
Jab jalaye the baal
aur giraye the chawal apni pant par
Jab Tuesday ko dekhi thi 'A Wednesday'
2:40 par pakdi thi '1:40 ki last local'
khaye the kisi ne Flowers ke petal
Main chahta tha kehna
ban gaye tum April Fool
tha woh mahina lekin December
jab giraye the chawal apni pant par
Yaad hai mujhe ....
Yaad hai mujhe ....

Grime of The Day

Ek sharif aadmi ki Frankfurt mein hui jam ke dhunai,
in do badmasho ko mujh par zara bhi daya nahi aayi,
You may ask me 'who the hell were they',
Ab kya kahoon ki yeh the Aparajita aur Samyukta ke bhai :)

....................................

.Order Reversed In, Rest The For Pointers (<- Read )

Aparajita and Samyukta are fictional, their brothers aren't.
I can croon 'Yaad Hai Mujhe' just like a certain Atif Aslam.
Call me StyleGuru, I hate being called a Bhai, no matter if its style related :0

It's a Beautiful Day

2008-12-09T10:40:00.004-06:00

Its dark, gloomy
dull and cloudy,
windy as well
and bit chilly;
Sun probably
wont shine today
and skies will throughout
remain Grey.
As I open my umbrella
and walk leisurely
to my office
I realize,
Nice and Beautiful
were never
about day and weather.
There's a smile on my face
as I go along my way
I whistle,
'Its indeed a beautiful day'.

A day in the life of S for Me and C for Crazy

2008-12-04T14:02:00.006-06:00

These will be written in bulleted format (Ask 'Why').

Getting up an hour before the alarm rings and enjoy the feeling of being ahead of the time.
Office is nicely decorated and all set for tomorrow's Christmas Party.
Listen to Jazz with lights switched off.
Laziness leads to fried rice in dinner (Recipe : Prepare rice in MW, cut onions, fry the cooked rice with onion and cumin seeds in oil, add chili and salt).
Say 'crap' as 'keeraaaap'; its not fun but still worth trying.
Spend half hour to zero on the word that will be mispronounced tomorrow.
Take bathroom singing seriously, it motivates one for taking a bath.
Equating girls to evil leads to horrific results.

Ok 8 points down the line, boredom prevails; so here's finishing off with the thought of the Night.

To know everything is neither possible nor necessary.

In Times Like This, My Friend

2008-11-28T13:28:00.008-06:00

In times likes this
I see you my friend,
helpless and stranded,
frightened, hopeless.
You cry my tears, my friend
you bleed my blood;
my pain, my agony,
you go through this all.

There's a story of your nightmare
I heard;
I experienced
the horror on your face;
terrified eyes, yours
sorrow in mine.

We are shaken as of now,
sad will follow soon;
perhaps anger as well
but from now we know
we'll never talk of hell.
I have seen one
the one you went through
the one we never knew
existed
right next to where we dwell
My, your, Our Hell.

We are orphaned my friend
both you and me,
you on that other side
I, alone on mine
few paces, few screens away.
I see you,
my friend;
I know not
your religion,
caste, creed or nation
I only see you bleed
a red, that I know and recognize.

I am sorry my friend
for I can do nothing more
I can grief
I can mourn
go through this feeling unknown.
Is this enough
I doubt my friend,
and I have no one to ask
for we all sail in the same boat
that is struggling to stay afloat.

I hope
and I know we all do;
we know not
how it might have all started
I just pray with my eyes closed
and hands folded
that this is indeed the end
for I can't bear the times like these
as I mourn you, my unknown friend.