It's 12:49 in the morning and I have just wiped my eyes off the tears from the pain of laughing till the stomach hurts !!!!
Today Vikky has got married and we all cousin borther and sisters are enjoying the "post wedding" drinks.
God bless the couple!!!!
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Wish fulfilled AGAIN !!!!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Gyaan varsha !!!!
It's around 2 o'clock in night, I am sitting at the rear seat of the cab returning back home from office. The cab driver as always is in a hurry. I sometimes wonder why all the cab drivers are in hurry, or is it the way they drive? Wonder what they do in bed when with their wives.
With each turn the cab takes, my body sways from one end of the car to the other and I silently scream a BC in my heart. Finally when he jumped the car over a speed breaker, the silent scream was no longer silent, but the driver didn't mind.
After a while when we are about to reach my home and he enters the narrower roads, a dog starts running behind the car and barking at full capacity of his lungs (I am sure this is a familiar site for most indians living in metro cities). The driver looks at me in the rear view mirror and asks "sir ji, aapko pata hai ye kuttey aise kyon bhoonktey aur bhaagtey hain gaadiyo ke peechey"??.
I had no idea and I expected the cab driver a well-travelled guy, so I politely said "nahi.... kyon"??
And he continues...." sir ji ... iski naa girlfriend ko koi car wala maar ke chala gaya hoga, ab ye bechara har car ko wohi car samajh ke uske peechey ghussey se bhaagta hai" !!!
I once more silently scream a BC one again.....only this time a long one.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
How travelling helps !!!
Time heals all wounds ... true it may sound because you have heard it a little too much.
Time never heals any wound, it's what you do with the time that heals. The only logical explanation of this belief is that the further you get away from an event in time lesser the pain is felt that is associated with the event, this happens because in time, our brain covers up with other memories and events.
If you have a disturbed soul I highly recommend traveling, especially traveling solo, please note that I mentioned "travelling solo" and not "travelling alone"; because you possibly can never travel alone. A traveller is always in the company of strange people.
If you travel, You will meet fantastic people, come across spectacular sights, and learn much about yourself. You will return knowing a little more about the world, but most importantly, you will return enriched.
When you travel, you’re constantly sharing experiences and learning new things with all the new people you meet. From the people you share your seats in the buses and trains, from the people you meet in hotels, from the people you see in restraunts. From the Namastey, hello, ram-ram, julley, adaab, from the smiles of the children you can't help but feel happy. You unknowingly soak so much from the sites, sounds, tastes, and touches of cultures, that you want more to come your way and you keep moving from one place to other, from one people to other, from one food to other.
It’s nice to live life to its fullest and enjoy a stress free time with yourself. Travelling lets us recharge our “batteries” by disconnecting us from our regular life. When we come back we feel invigorated and we are happy to be back in our day to day routine. It’s a very good stress remover that has a lot more to give than most people are willing to accept. Travelling allows us to view different ways of living and it is fantastic for the mind. It gives us a new perspective about our life, it can help us change some of our habits or even create new ones.
When I travel I usually make it a point to try new food.
Here is another thing I read on the internet, With soaring oil prices the cheap travel era might be coming to an end. However there are still many budget airlines fighting for your money right now. With the internet and all the new technology, you can plan your trip exactly the way you want it. You can choose your budget, the duration of the trip and what you want to do.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
कहानी "छोटू" की ....
शायद रात के करीब 11 बज चुके थे। छोटू को अभी घड़ी देखनी आती नहीं थी, लेकिन मम्मी के बार बार "सो जाओ, टाइम हो गया है", कहने से छोटू अंदर वाले कमरे में सो गया था .... और सोये हुए काफी वक़्त गुज़र चुका था ... और फिर बाहर कुत्तों ने भौकना भी शुरू कर दिया था ..... इसका मतलब था की काफी देर हो गयी थी।
दोनों कमरों में अँधेरा था, सिर्फ बाहर की स्ट्रीट लाइट की थोड़ी सी रौशनी अंदर के कमरे में खिड़की से लगे बेड पर आ रही थी। मम्मी बाहर के कमरे मैं सो रही थे, मम्मी को नींद तो आई नहीं थी, बस करवटें बदल रही थी, और पुराने बेड पर हर करवट के साथ "कें ... कें" की आवाज़ आती थी। इस बेड की और पुराने सरकारी पंखे की आवाज़ के अलावा और कोई आवाज़ नहीं थी पूरे घर में। आखिर मम्मी को नींद आती भी कैसे, पापा घर जो नहीं आये थे अब तक ।
अचानक बाहर के कमरे में टी:वी के साथ रखा टेलीफोन बजा। रात के सन्नाटे में उसकी आवाज़ डरा देने वाली थी। टेलीफोन की आवाज़ से छोटू भी उठ गया, वह जानता था की इस टेलीफोन से शायद उसका सम्बन्ध है।
Campus के main gate पर एक गार्ड रूम था, फ़ोन वहीँ से आया था, ये बताने के लिए की तुम्हारे पापा ने बहुत ज्यादा पी ली है और उन्हें घर ले जाने वाला कोई चाहिए ।
मम्मी फ़ोन रख के पलटी तो देखा छोटू नींद से उठ कर पास ही खड़ा था। मम्मी ने छोटू की तरफ देखा और बोली "तू क्यों जाग गया, जा सो जा, मैं ले आउंगी"......
छोटू जानता था की इस वक़्त मम्मी बाहर जाती अच्छी नहीं लगेंगी, इस छोटी सी उम्र में उसने काफी देख और सीख लिया था। छोटू ने अपनी चप्पल पहनी और बोला, "आपके जाने लायक जगह नहीं है वोह, मैं जाता हूँ" ....... यह कहते हुए छोटू जानता था की वोह ये कह तो रहा है ......लेकिन बाहर जाते ही उसे बहुत डर लगेगा।
हिम्मत जुटा कर जैसे तैसे बाहर निकला ...... अंधेरे के डर से उसकी बुरी हालत थी। बाहर निकलते ही उसने 10-15 पत्थर उठाए और अपनी जेब में भरे, सोच रहा था की जेब इतनी छोटी क्यों होती है, अगर कुत्ते पीछे पड़े तो यह कुछ पत्थर ही उसको बचा पायेंगे। सर्दियों का मौसम था लेकिन डर के मारे छोटू के पसीने छूट रहे थे।
जहाँ कोई कुत्ता दूर नज़र भी आता, छोटू रास्ता बदल लेता, डर कहता की भाग ........ लेकिन वह जानता था की अगर वो भागा तो कुत्ता भी उसके पीछे भागेगा ....... दिल और दिमाग की लड़ाई इस छोटी उम्र में हे शुरू हो गयी थी। अंधरे का इतना डर था की हाथ में पत्थर को इतना जोर से पकड़ा था की उसका नुकीला कौना चुभता था लेकिन उसे दर्द महसूस भी नहीं हो रहा था। बार बार मन करता की वापस पलट जाऊं लेकिन फिर मम्मी का ख़याल आ जाता। अंधरे में वह डरता हुआ किसी तरह आगे बढ़ रहा था,......... न जानते हुए ......उस रात .... छोटू ने डर पर जीत पा ली थी।
जैसे तैसे छोटू उस जगह तक आया जहाँ पापा के होने की खबर गार्ड ने टेलीफोन पर दी थी। एक तो डर से सांस फूली हुई थी ........ और उप्पर से उस जगह से अजीब सी महक आ रही थी। छोटू को यह महक जानी पहचानी सी लग रही थी ......, हाँ ....... ये वही महक थी जो एक बार स्कूल बस में आई थी जब एक लड़की ने उलटी कर दी थी।
अजीब अजीब औरडरावने से दिखने वाले लोग थे हर तरफ ..... बहुत डर लग रहा था छोटू को, एक तरफ डर था और दूसरी तरफ हलकी सी ख़ुशी भी थी, की कम से कम अंधरे और कुत्तों के डर से तो बाहर निकला। छोटू का मन नहीं था अंदर जाने का, लेकिन फिर भी .. जाना तो था।
उस गंदी सी जगह में जो एक ठीक सा आदमी दिखा, छोटू ने रोते हुए उस से कहा " मेरे पापा को मेरे घर तक पहुंचा दो"..... डर के मारे छोटू के कब आंसू बहने लगे, उसे पता भी नहीं चला था।
किसी तरह पापा को रिक्शा में बिठा कर छोटू घर वापस आया। मम्मी ने बाहर के कमरे में फर्श पर एक चादर बिछाई और पापा को उस पर सुला दिया।
हर बार की तरह, छोटू दूसरे कमरे में गया और बिस्तर पर लेट गया। चाह के भी आंसू नहीं रुके ..... मम्मी को आवाज़ न आये इसलिए चादर का एक कोना मूह में दबा लिया। गीले तकिये की ठंडी ठंडी छुंन से कब नींद आ गए उसे पता भी नहीं चला।
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Ahhha .. The Morning Shift !!!
If you work for the IT or the BPO sector and slog your ass overnight you would understand what I mean here.
Morning shift is like a dream, and when you hear the word for the first time, a beautiful image conjures up your mind, Sunrise of the shades of orange, cool morning breeze, The fresh pollution-free air, kids on their way to school, morning joggers sweating it out, people standing randomly around tea stalls, pretty slim figure conscious girls on morning walk, dog owners strolling their dogs.... ahhha what a feeling it would be.... For a change I would be sitting in cab in daylight.
Ohhh.. hold on , did I tell you I live in Noida, Uttar Pradesh ??
All I can see in the morning shift is asses, big ones, small ones, white ones, brown ones, black ones, different colours and sizes, I see so many people doing their morning rituals that I have become immune to other sights.
I see different age groups, different races, different castes, the best example on "National Integrity" can be seen here. With each difference you see a difference in size and shape of the bottle in their hands, I can actually tell you what a person does for his living by one look at his bottle, a mechanic would be seen with a sturdy 'engine oil can' that lasts for years together, a factory worker would usually settle down for a Coke 2 litre bottle, a drunkard would prefer his last empty glass bottle of Bagpiper, However, the Coke bottle remains the favourite.
There is infact a proper system that has evolved for the morning rituals, the kids sit right on the corner of the road, male adults sit about 20 feet off the road and then there are female adults who sit about 35 feet off the road right where you find some bushes high enough to camouflage; just a few feet near that wall that says "namard mayush na ho, milein har ravivar, Hakeem Hashmi, nikat railway fatak, Lal Kuan", or the more frequently seen "Bawasir ek teeke me jad se khatam" ... as if the whole city is suffering from Impotency or bawasir(Piles). For gods sake, we are not impotent, haven't you heard about the so frequent rapes we do, Excuse me sir, we are oozing with 'mardangi'.
The kids even smile at you when you pass by them and if a known neighbor passes by, you can occasionally see him greet the guy with the usual "ram ram uncle jee". Of course the smile and tone depends on the amount left, if he is pushing, you would see the constipated grin and if he is done pushing and is just enjoying the last minute flushing, you would see that satisfactory smile.
Welcome to the morning shit .. oops.. shift.
Morning shift is like a dream, and when you hear the word for the first time, a beautiful image conjures up your mind, Sunrise of the shades of orange, cool morning breeze, The fresh pollution-free air, kids on their way to school, morning joggers sweating it out, people standing randomly around tea stalls, pretty slim figure conscious girls on morning walk, dog owners strolling their dogs.... ahhha what a feeling it would be.... For a change I would be sitting in cab in daylight.
Ohhh.. hold on , did I tell you I live in Noida, Uttar Pradesh ??
All I can see in the morning shift is asses, big ones, small ones, white ones, brown ones, black ones, different colours and sizes, I see so many people doing their morning rituals that I have become immune to other sights.
I see different age groups, different races, different castes, the best example on "National Integrity" can be seen here. With each difference you see a difference in size and shape of the bottle in their hands, I can actually tell you what a person does for his living by one look at his bottle, a mechanic would be seen with a sturdy 'engine oil can' that lasts for years together, a factory worker would usually settle down for a Coke 2 litre bottle, a drunkard would prefer his last empty glass bottle of Bagpiper, However, the Coke bottle remains the favourite.
There is infact a proper system that has evolved for the morning rituals, the kids sit right on the corner of the road, male adults sit about 20 feet off the road and then there are female adults who sit about 35 feet off the road right where you find some bushes high enough to camouflage; just a few feet near that wall that says "namard mayush na ho, milein har ravivar, Hakeem Hashmi, nikat railway fatak, Lal Kuan", or the more frequently seen "Bawasir ek teeke me jad se khatam" ... as if the whole city is suffering from Impotency or bawasir(Piles). For gods sake, we are not impotent, haven't you heard about the so frequent rapes we do, Excuse me sir, we are oozing with 'mardangi'.
The kids even smile at you when you pass by them and if a known neighbor passes by, you can occasionally see him greet the guy with the usual "ram ram uncle jee". Of course the smile and tone depends on the amount left, if he is pushing, you would see the constipated grin and if he is done pushing and is just enjoying the last minute flushing, you would see that satisfactory smile.
Welcome to the morning shit .. oops.. shift.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Kuch yaadein .. kuch baatein
ek bund mutthi mein ... kuch saath laya hoon ..
dekhogi ? dikhlaoun?
boojhogi ? batlaoun ?
woh jo dekha tha tumko
pehli baar ...
ek kaale 'top' me ...
Metro ke bahar ...
aur bhi kuch hai ... is bund mutthi mein ...
dekhogi ? dikhlaoun ?
boojhogi ? batlaoun ?
woh bus ka mera safar ...
tum thee saath... phone par ...
aur bhi kuch hai .. .
jo tum peechey chhod aayi thee ...
saath laaya hoon ...
dekhogi ? dikhlaoun ?
boojhogi ? batlaoun ?
woh tumhari bindi ...
mere kaandhey pe reh gayi thee ..
sambhal ke rakhi hai...
us din pehli bar, tum kuch keh gaye the....
meri aankhon mein, aur ek yaad bund hai...
dekhogi ? dikhlaoun ?
boojhogi ? batlaoun ?
woh raat ko dar ke sapney me..
kiya tha mujhey phone ...
sirf main he yaad aaya ..
itna pyaar karega kaun ...
aur bhee hain yaadein ... aur bhee hain baatein ..
poochogi ? sunaaon ?
muskaogi ? batlaoun ?
chalo jaaney do ...
milogi toh bataunga ...
tumhey sharmata dekh ...
main bhi muskaunga ....
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Khamoshi ....
Kal se dil parishan hai, chaayi hai aaj udaasi,
jo zubnan na bol payee, shayad kehti hai meri Khamoshi...
kabhi hai inkaar, kabhi hai ikraar khamoshi,
aaj teri nazar ki madhoshi, se hai chaaye, khamoshi...
ek jaam, teri muskaan aur ek tera ishaara khamoshi,
kal chod gayi, mere kaandhey pe ek teri zulf, teri khamoshi...
teri ada, teri haya aur tera husn khamoshi,
teri aankh se ek katra gira, aur chaayee khamoshi...
na tu bol kuch, na mein bolun kuch, bus thaam mera haath,
aur rehney de, pal do pal zara, mere yaar, khamoshi
mere chaley janey se na padega kuch fark,
yeh tera kehna.....aur yeh meri khamoshi...
kehna tha bohot kuch, par zuban ne na diya saath,
tu samajh mere dost, yeh meri khamoshi .......
jo zubnan na bol payee, shayad kehti hai meri Khamoshi...
kabhi hai inkaar, kabhi hai ikraar khamoshi,
aaj teri nazar ki madhoshi, se hai chaaye, khamoshi...
ek jaam, teri muskaan aur ek tera ishaara khamoshi,
kal chod gayi, mere kaandhey pe ek teri zulf, teri khamoshi...
teri ada, teri haya aur tera husn khamoshi,
teri aankh se ek katra gira, aur chaayee khamoshi...
na tu bol kuch, na mein bolun kuch, bus thaam mera haath,
aur rehney de, pal do pal zara, mere yaar, khamoshi
mere chaley janey se na padega kuch fark,
yeh tera kehna.....aur yeh meri khamoshi...
kehna tha bohot kuch, par zuban ne na diya saath,
tu samajh mere dost, yeh meri khamoshi .......
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Travel Tales - Surat, Gujrat
After the extremely slow train journey in the Janta Express, I get down at 1 in afternoon at the Surat railway station. I am welcomed by long forgotten gujrati script and uncountable Narendra Modi's posters (I have never been able to respect him for anything).
The city is as hot as it was in my childhood memories of Gujrat. I hop on a bus and reach my friend's house in Bardoli about 30 kms from Surat, I met him in November last year after 15 years and he hadn't changed a bit. I wanted to visit him again.
In evening I get to know he is doing his PhD on how people change by traveling ( though he is focusing on Nehru, Gandhi, Ambedkar and Khan) and I have already started loving him more.
We go out for a walk in late evening, mostly to experience local food and get a feel of the city and lifestyle. I see jhoola (cradle/swing) in front of almost every home here. Feels good to see the entire family sitting on it and enjoying the evening together.
Gujrat seems so happy and progressive after murdering a few thousand muslims, people praise Mr.Modi for the work he has done. Now there is nobody poor, there are no beggers, all the kids go to school, everybody has enough food, there are rivers of milk flowing and everybody has a smile across their face. And if there is something missing, I am sure it would come after killing Christians, and even after that if there is something missing, we can murder Sikhs and after that we can murder every ''non-hindu'' and what after that........ don't forget we have the scheduled castes and tribes left, their elimination would surely make this world a better place to live and worth loving.
We eat a dinner and end the night arguing how the people growing food are dying and how the people selling food are becoming rich.
At night I am still moving, inspite of being off-the-train for 10 hours. The train was horrible, I mean
स्टेशन की पहचान होती है ''चाय चाय .. चाय गरम चाय".... ये साली ऐसे स्टेशनस पर रूकती थी जहाँ चाय वाले भी नहीं होते थे....
Next day early in the morning we head to Dhule, 5 hours journey by bus, to meet Mausi and Sayali, old travel time friends. The reception was nice and filled with love. We see each others travel photos and share thoughts. Mausi is one of those who have done the mother of all treks, the kailash mansarovar and wants to do everest, hope we both do it together. Sayali was as bubbly as she was last time and it once again felt good to be near her. She is a lovely girl but I missed Anuja(mausi's daughter) she is the sweetest of all of them. I spent few hours with them talking about the old times when we trekked together. It felt nostalgic. I think one of the best feelings of love shows up on face when you meet old friends. I wish we meet again and do some travelling together. In evening we bid good bye and I traveled back to surat travelling 5 hours but dozing off most of the time.
Next day, a late start of the day, a typical gujrati breakfast, some gujrati snack shopping and I board the train back to delhi. What better way could there be to spend the long weekend.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Getting back to Job ...
Coming back to the corporate life has been eventful .... It's like a love-hate relationship ...
Pros -
- I am getting money to save for my Coffee Shop
- Travelling is easy because of the money coming in
- I have started Piano classes because of having a routine now
- I am making new friends and still catch up with old ones
- I get to socialize more
Cons -
- If there is one thing that I am missing ... It's Peace...
- I hate the feeling of going to office
- I terribly miss being a nomad
- I miss the 'bag-on-shoulders' life
- I miss my photography
- I miss my motorcycling soooooooooo much
- I feel like I am a loser now...........
- I miss the mighty Himalayaaaaaaasssssssssssssssss
- There are just not enough leaves to meet friends far away
- I am changing from within ... I am again tempted towards "show-offs" ...branded clothes, branded shoes, better car, expensive alcohol ...
- And the biggest ...... I am not content ... I always feel .. I want more ...
I so deperately wish to get 'done' with this stage of life and start with my sabbatical again ... and if there is one thing that keeps me going ... it's the feeling that today's suffering is going to get me my Coffee Shop tomorrow ...
Pros -
- I am getting money to save for my Coffee Shop
- Travelling is easy because of the money coming in
- I have started Piano classes because of having a routine now
- I am making new friends and still catch up with old ones
- I get to socialize more
Cons -
- If there is one thing that I am missing ... It's Peace...
- I hate the feeling of going to office
- I terribly miss being a nomad
- I miss the 'bag-on-shoulders' life
- I miss my photography
- I miss my motorcycling soooooooooo much
- I feel like I am a loser now...........
- I miss the mighty Himalayaaaaaaasssssssssssssssss
- There are just not enough leaves to meet friends far away
- I am changing from within ... I am again tempted towards "show-offs" ...branded clothes, branded shoes, better car, expensive alcohol ...
- And the biggest ...... I am not content ... I always feel .. I want more ...
I so deperately wish to get 'done' with this stage of life and start with my sabbatical again ... and if there is one thing that keeps me going ... it's the feeling that today's suffering is going to get me my Coffee Shop tomorrow ...
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The vicious circle ...
A bus fumes black smoke
A car behind him honks
The red light turns green
The girlfriend on the bike tightens her hug
The faces in the bus move past him
He is tired and bored and mad in the hot sun
The dusty road is full of holes
The traffic on the road is less today
But the passenger is in hurry again
His face is battered and swollen
He wipes his brows with his blue shirt
The blue of his shirt has faded like memories of his wife
He gets ten rupees and drinks water for 3 rupees
He watches you smoke
A ciggerette of the money
You bargained from him
And says nothing, just a darkness in eyes
He sleeps under a flyover
With his leg locked with a chain to one wheel
He cooks a meal of boiled rice and lentils
Sleeping is past his dreams
He thinks of a better morning everyday
but the sunlight is too far
he is, who carries people....
he is the Rickshaw Wala....
A car behind him honks
The red light turns green
The girlfriend on the bike tightens her hug
The faces in the bus move past him
He is tired and bored and mad in the hot sun
The dusty road is full of holes
The traffic on the road is less today
But the passenger is in hurry again
His face is battered and swollen
He wipes his brows with his blue shirt
The blue of his shirt has faded like memories of his wife
He gets ten rupees and drinks water for 3 rupees
He watches you smoke
A ciggerette of the money
You bargained from him
And says nothing, just a darkness in eyes
He sleeps under a flyover
With his leg locked with a chain to one wheel
He cooks a meal of boiled rice and lentils
Sleeping is past his dreams
He thinks of a better morning everyday
but the sunlight is too far
he is, who carries people....
he is the Rickshaw Wala....
Monday, February 28, 2011
The trek and the girl ....
"Had been on a trek and met a girl". How small can a sentence get sometimes. Well, I was on a trek for about 10 days and met this girl and we became good friends. After climbing for about 7 hours one day, we stopped at a really beautiful camp site. Had penned down a few lines for her at a camp site while we(the entire group) sat around a candle sharing thoughts and experiences.
After a few days I travelled again to the city where she lived and the last 2 lines were added then.
In dark I sit ... in this lovely night....
Next to you ... by this candle light ...
Day dreaming ......wondering about happiness....
feeling good ... with the warmth of your togetherness...
I am tired ....but sleep isn't near ....
Just want to be .... with you ... here...
Want to know why I found you ... always next ....
Whenever I stopped ... to breathe .. or rest ....
I have heard your story .. and so is mine...
don't know .... if that's a sign ...
I have got answers to many questions ....
but there is one ....destiny has to answer ...
and now I travel to see you again ....
Let's see ... this brings happiness.. or pain again ....
After a few days I travelled again to the city where she lived and the last 2 lines were added then.
In dark I sit ... in this lovely night....
Next to you ... by this candle light ...
Day dreaming ......wondering about happiness....
feeling good ... with the warmth of your togetherness...
I am tired ....but sleep isn't near ....
Just want to be .... with you ... here...
Want to know why I found you ... always next ....
Whenever I stopped ... to breathe .. or rest ....
I have heard your story .. and so is mine...
don't know .... if that's a sign ...
I have got answers to many questions ....
but there is one ....destiny has to answer ...
and now I travel to see you again ....
Let's see ... this brings happiness.. or pain again ....
Thursday, February 24, 2011
A little befuddled philosophy of existence
who am I ....
what is my existence...
what is my identity ...
and where does it lie within me???
If you cut my hand .. I would say .. me and my hand ... if you cut both my hands .. I would say me and my hands ..... If you cut my legs .. I would say ... me and my legs ...if you cut my head ... what would I say .. me and my head or me and my body ??
where is my existence? is it in my head or in my heart ?
what is my existence...
what is my identity ...
and where does it lie within me???
If you cut my hand .. I would say .. me and my hand ... if you cut both my hands .. I would say me and my hands ..... If you cut my legs .. I would say ... me and my legs ...if you cut my head ... what would I say .. me and my head or me and my body ??
where is my existence? is it in my head or in my heart ?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Rafting in Rishikesh
Wind in my hair ..
sunlight on my face..
without a care ..
we set our pace ...
as we drive the road
freedom is near
it's in the air ..
but only we can hear ..
The smiles come quick ..
the miles go slow...
yo baby ..yo baby .. Rafting we go .....
to splash and plunge and laugh and shout
Till my heart tells me to come out
sand on my face, sand on my clothes,
sand everywhere ...
it sings in my ears ... it's in my hair ....
oh the river ... so wild and so cold...
oh the cliff jump ... I didn't know I was so bold...
white water rapids... the river's kiss
heartbeat pounding ...muscles stiff ...
laughter echoes .... memories made .. pure bliss
sunlight on my face..
without a care ..
we set our pace ...
as we drive the road
freedom is near
it's in the air ..
but only we can hear ..
The smiles come quick ..
the miles go slow...
yo baby ..yo baby .. Rafting we go .....
to splash and plunge and laugh and shout
Till my heart tells me to come out
sand on my face, sand on my clothes,
sand everywhere ...
it sings in my ears ... it's in my hair ....
oh the river ... so wild and so cold...
oh the cliff jump ... I didn't know I was so bold...
white water rapids... the river's kiss
heartbeat pounding ...muscles stiff ...
laughter echoes .... memories made .. pure bliss
Saturday, November 13, 2010
A Coffee at Jaisalmer
A dusty, cob webbed, fan above me twirls languidly,
swaying from the ancient tin ceiling, from a century ago....
There is longing arising in my heart
Like an old song floating on AIR radio....
Eyelids are heavy, throat dry and head saturated
the draw of caffeine is calling out from every vein.....
rub drooping eyes, put on the jersey, pick that wallet
waverly walking, reach that corner coffee shop again....
Welcome sir, welcome again ....good morning
Let me wrap your mind in warmth, let your senses thrill .....
yes please, please, the essence of dark roast, the heating within
with lingering aroma, let my soul and that mug fill .....
The gloom of this cloudy, dreary morning of this old town
when will the spying eyes of sunrise find me on these barren lands....
wavering through the chairs, like a fine delicate lace
Enveloping my senses, melted velvet darkness...comes to my hands..
So much more than flavor, this reddish gold and caramel
is a slurp of clarity, from god and his innocence ....
With liquid gold, I am a dreamer, I become a bee,
rain begins, heart brews, aahh this soulful essence ....
between each sip, each burst of taste, I think I am blessed
my eyes take in the beauty of this desert, mile after mile....
a tear trickles down my cold, sunburnt cheek, my heart is joyful
I close my eyes, bend my head, later see, the waiter smile ....
swaying from the ancient tin ceiling, from a century ago....
There is longing arising in my heart
Like an old song floating on AIR radio....
Eyelids are heavy, throat dry and head saturated
the draw of caffeine is calling out from every vein.....
rub drooping eyes, put on the jersey, pick that wallet
waverly walking, reach that corner coffee shop again....
Welcome sir, welcome again ....good morning
Let me wrap your mind in warmth, let your senses thrill .....
yes please, please, the essence of dark roast, the heating within
with lingering aroma, let my soul and that mug fill .....
The gloom of this cloudy, dreary morning of this old town
when will the spying eyes of sunrise find me on these barren lands....
wavering through the chairs, like a fine delicate lace
Enveloping my senses, melted velvet darkness...comes to my hands..
So much more than flavor, this reddish gold and caramel
is a slurp of clarity, from god and his innocence ....
With liquid gold, I am a dreamer, I become a bee,
rain begins, heart brews, aahh this soulful essence ....
between each sip, each burst of taste, I think I am blessed
my eyes take in the beauty of this desert, mile after mile....
a tear trickles down my cold, sunburnt cheek, my heart is joyful
I close my eyes, bend my head, later see, the waiter smile ....
Friday, November 12, 2010
वो सवेरा ...और वह चाय की प्याली ...
उसके नाज़ुक हाथ...
ठंडी रेशम ....
नशीली आँखें ....
उसके वो गुनगुने ख़याल ....
वो खयालों की गहराइयां ....
वो एक आवारा लट ...
जो आँख का नशा और भी बढ़ा रही है ....
बीत चुके हैं ....
कई दशक ...
लेकिन वो नशीली आँख ...
आज भी कभी ...
डूब जाती हैं ...
यादों के समंदर में ...
और लौटती है एक आंसू के साथ ...
एक चांदी की चम्मच ....
चाँद को मिलाती ...
उसकी चाय की प्याली में ....
कुछ सफ़ेद चांदनी ...
डुबाती उस चाँद को ....
वो जानती है ...
की आज भी ...
वो उसे याद करता है ....
समेटती है ...
अपनी नाज़ुक उँगलियाँ ...
एक काले कप पे ...
अपने नाज़ुक होठ ...
सिकोड़ती हुई ...
आँखों में नशीली मुस्कान ...
फूंक मारती है ...
उस चाय की प्याली में ...
और चाय में से ..
भाप के रूप का ...
वह उसका दीवाना ....
नाचता हुआ ...झूमता हुआ ...
चूमता है उसके होठों को ....
और समा जाता है उसके होठों में .....
सदा के लिए ... सदा के लिए ....
ठंडी रेशम ....
नशीली आँखें ....
उसके वो गुनगुने ख़याल ....
वो खयालों की गहराइयां ....
वो एक आवारा लट ...
जो आँख का नशा और भी बढ़ा रही है ....
बीत चुके हैं ....
कई दशक ...
लेकिन वो नशीली आँख ...
आज भी कभी ...
डूब जाती हैं ...
यादों के समंदर में ...
और लौटती है एक आंसू के साथ ...
एक चांदी की चम्मच ....
चाँद को मिलाती ...
उसकी चाय की प्याली में ....
कुछ सफ़ेद चांदनी ...
डुबाती उस चाँद को ....
वो जानती है ...
की आज भी ...
वो उसे याद करता है ....
समेटती है ...
अपनी नाज़ुक उँगलियाँ ...
एक काले कप पे ...
अपने नाज़ुक होठ ...
सिकोड़ती हुई ...
आँखों में नशीली मुस्कान ...
फूंक मारती है ...
उस चाय की प्याली में ...
और चाय में से ..
भाप के रूप का ...
वह उसका दीवाना ....
नाचता हुआ ...झूमता हुआ ...
चूमता है उसके होठों को ....
और समा जाता है उसके होठों में .....
सदा के लिए ... सदा के लिए ....
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Black Tea ....Memories of Love ...& some French connection
13th Feb
Tring tring … tring tring; It’s my phone’s alarm. It’s dark outside; there is only a dim light of a street lamp entering the room through the tinted glass of my window. I switch on the light; the eyes take some time to adjust to the sudden burst of light. The empty whisky bottle is lying in a corner and the plastic glass as if drunk; is banging himself against the wall.
Smoking a cigarette also doesn’t make the "morning-ritual" easy, it’s too early for the stomach I guess.
Here I came to shit, but only farted.
Had come happy, but leave broken hearted.
I tie my bag on the rear seat of Chavi (my Bike) and start riding. It’s 5 AM now and I am headed to Pondicherry. I will be passing through Hosur, Krishnagiri, Thiruvanamalai, Gingee and Thindivanam. In total about 300 Kms.
Chavi is happy to be out at this time, she always is. She must be feeling cold for she coughs a few times, but only to remind me of the ‘off’ fuel tap.
There aren’t many people at this time on the road, only a few call-center cabs, sleepy looking car chasing dogs and a few joggers. It’s foggy this morning and I see my ghostly looking shadow in front of me in the air every time a car approaches from behind.
At 6:30, I am welcomed by the humble looking orange sun in Hosur. There is a small shop open and I drink a cup of tea boiled to sticky sweetness in an alluminium vessel. A dog standing next to me wags his tail and I share my bun with him. Chavi looks at me with an “I am hungry too” look and she is also given a tank full of petrol a few minutes later.
The sun glitters on the chrome of Chavi and she is happy for she knows it’s time I open her throttle. With increased visibility we speed up a little and reach Krishnagiri at 7:30. At a small shop I decide to eat something. A loaf of bread is gulped down with a bottle of local cola named “love one”. The air is filled with sweet smell of burning wood used in chullah, a farmer is going to his fields and another one returning, elderly women broom their courtyards, a few crows nibble at a dead rat and kids go to school on their bicycles (occasionally waving and smiling at me). I notice, all of them have green color bicycles. Must be some “go-green” concept.
With a few breaks, I continue riding further. Chavi isn’t too happy now as there are a lot of potholes here. Still, she doesn’t complain and continues.
Why am I going to Pondicherry? This is where I was last year when lot of things in life started getting worse. This city has a lot of memories buried under it’s sandy beaches, a lot of emotions drowned in the it’s waves. They have to be revisited.
Early morning, the breeze blows,
I, on the bike weep…..
Ride to forget the sorrows,
To heal the wounds so deep…..
Thanks Chavi, for being there,
Far, far away, take me somewhere…..
At 11 AM, having crossed paddy fields, coconut grooves, hay laden bullock carts, farmer’s bent on their waists in their fields, herds of goats, Luna’s driven by men wearing lungi and no slippers and lot of kids going to school on their “green bicycles”, I am now about 250 kms away in Thiruvanamalai.
I stop for a small break at a road side shop to rest my sleepy buttock and am told that the green bicycles are donated by Government to school kids.
Crossing Thindivanam in a hurry with a quick lunch, at 2 PM I reach Pondicherry and check in at a hotel on the way to Cuddalore and freshen up.
Evening is spent at Chunnambur beach and then at Kailash beach, both on the way to Cuddalore.
Chunnambar beach is also known as Paradise Beach and is reachable by a short ride on a boat. Kailash beach is not popular among tourists; it is basically a fishermen colony. I sit alone for a while and read “Khalil Gibran” until the visibility forces me to close the book.
At Kailash beach I meet a fishermen named Suresh, we talk about various things. He understands Hindi (which is rare in Tamil Nadu) because he has spent some time in Mumbai as a construction worker. I am invited for dinner and I humbly accept it. He says he leaves for fishing at 3 AM and returns at 6 AM, I promise him to meet tomorrow morning at the beach again. Dinner is a very delicious fish curry with rice on banana leaf. We eat sitting on the floor. The house smells pleasant with freshly burnt incense sticks. His family is poor but very generous. He has 2 kids and they both go to school. They don’t have green bicycles.
At night I go to ‘Le Café’ on the rock beach. I buy a cup of black tea with no sugar and sit on the rocks with a cigarette. I take every sip slowly; very slowly with closed eyes, humming the song “Lehron ki tarah yaadein, dil se takraati hain” (like waves, the memories crash against my heart). With every sip my face is sprayed by salty water from the waves crashing against the rocks.
It was the early morning mist in Shimla which was on our faces when I and Paree (my lost love) had gone to Shimla together.
The last one year has been painful. Oh, the heartache, those sleepless nights, the feeling of being lonely, the unsuccessful search for peace.
With time, I hope, the sharp painful edges of the rocks of memories will smoothen, like the waves have smoothed these rocks on this beach.
A little far, under the dim light of a street lamp a couple sits, lonely, without much talking, hand over shoulders, enjoying the breeze and togetherness. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
Buying a bottle of port-wine I go back to the room and sleep at about 2 AM. Chavi is parked outside. Thankfully this place is not very cold. She will be comfortable.
14th Feb.
With sleep deprived and wine rich red eyes I wake up at 5:30 and go to Kailash beach to meet Suresh again. The morning is so beautiful on the beach, the colors, the music of the waves, the smell, the feel of sand under the feet.
I watch the sunrise and click a few photographs and after a few minutes see Suresh return on his boat with a net-full of fish. It hasn’t been a good catch today. I share a cigarette with him and bid farewell to him. I give him 2 T-shirts which I had purchased yesterday evening for his kids. He refuses initially but later respects my feeling.
I walk on the streets of the fishermen colony for a while and am offered a cup of tea while taking photograph of a girl making Rangoli in front of her door. This kind of hospitality has died in big cities. How good are these people, how much love they have within.
I buy a lotus from a old lady and gift it to my beloved Chavi. She is happy. A tear trickles down her cheek. I kiss her gently on her belly.
Later in the Noon, I spend some time walking on the streets of the French colony (while Chavi enjoys sunshine at the hotel) going over lot of things in my mind, realizing a lot of things about life, love, money and happiness. How mad have we become running behind the worldly things. We have forgotten to live and to love. Most of us are dead already and waiting to die. How true is OSHO in saying “Everyone wants to be somebody … but no one wants to be nobody”.
I visit the Aurobindo ashram and am filled with a peaceful feeling. A little later, I eat Chicken Salad at ‘Le Café’ as lunch and enjoy the sea and the crowd again for some time. There are lot of couples here today with red roses in their hands. With moist and closed eyes I picture Paree with a red rose in her hand. She is smiling, she must be happy. I go over the last Valentine’s Day and let the tears roll down my cheeks until the waiter comes with the bill.
AT 4 PM I go back to the room to start back for Bangalore. Chavi is happy to see me and starts in half-kick.
I get lucky to see a “KA-03” Tempo Traveler in front of me just after coming out of the city. This becomes my ‘escort’ for the rest of the journey and with effortless driving and just 1 break, I am back in Bangalore at 12 midnight. I drink the leftover of yesterday’s wine and sleep. At 3, I am awakened by a dream. Paree has sent me a Valentine’s gift. I try to reenter the dream but it’s difficult now.
Tring tring … tring tring; It’s my phone’s alarm. It’s dark outside; there is only a dim light of a street lamp entering the room through the tinted glass of my window. I switch on the light; the eyes take some time to adjust to the sudden burst of light. The empty whisky bottle is lying in a corner and the plastic glass as if drunk; is banging himself against the wall.
Smoking a cigarette also doesn’t make the "morning-ritual" easy, it’s too early for the stomach I guess.
Here I came to shit, but only farted.
Had come happy, but leave broken hearted.
I tie my bag on the rear seat of Chavi (my Bike) and start riding. It’s 5 AM now and I am headed to Pondicherry. I will be passing through Hosur, Krishnagiri, Thiruvanamalai, Gingee and Thindivanam. In total about 300 Kms.
Chavi is happy to be out at this time, she always is. She must be feeling cold for she coughs a few times, but only to remind me of the ‘off’ fuel tap.
There aren’t many people at this time on the road, only a few call-center cabs, sleepy looking car chasing dogs and a few joggers. It’s foggy this morning and I see my ghostly looking shadow in front of me in the air every time a car approaches from behind.
At 6:30, I am welcomed by the humble looking orange sun in Hosur. There is a small shop open and I drink a cup of tea boiled to sticky sweetness in an alluminium vessel. A dog standing next to me wags his tail and I share my bun with him. Chavi looks at me with an “I am hungry too” look and she is also given a tank full of petrol a few minutes later.
The sun glitters on the chrome of Chavi and she is happy for she knows it’s time I open her throttle. With increased visibility we speed up a little and reach Krishnagiri at 7:30. At a small shop I decide to eat something. A loaf of bread is gulped down with a bottle of local cola named “love one”. The air is filled with sweet smell of burning wood used in chullah, a farmer is going to his fields and another one returning, elderly women broom their courtyards, a few crows nibble at a dead rat and kids go to school on their bicycles (occasionally waving and smiling at me). I notice, all of them have green color bicycles. Must be some “go-green” concept.
With a few breaks, I continue riding further. Chavi isn’t too happy now as there are a lot of potholes here. Still, she doesn’t complain and continues.
Why am I going to Pondicherry? This is where I was last year when lot of things in life started getting worse. This city has a lot of memories buried under it’s sandy beaches, a lot of emotions drowned in the it’s waves. They have to be revisited.
Early morning, the breeze blows,
I, on the bike weep…..
Ride to forget the sorrows,
To heal the wounds so deep…..
Thanks Chavi, for being there,
Far, far away, take me somewhere…..
At 11 AM, having crossed paddy fields, coconut grooves, hay laden bullock carts, farmer’s bent on their waists in their fields, herds of goats, Luna’s driven by men wearing lungi and no slippers and lot of kids going to school on their “green bicycles”, I am now about 250 kms away in Thiruvanamalai.
I stop for a small break at a road side shop to rest my sleepy buttock and am told that the green bicycles are donated by Government to school kids.
Crossing Thindivanam in a hurry with a quick lunch, at 2 PM I reach Pondicherry and check in at a hotel on the way to Cuddalore and freshen up.
Evening is spent at Chunnambur beach and then at Kailash beach, both on the way to Cuddalore.
Chunnambar beach is also known as Paradise Beach and is reachable by a short ride on a boat. Kailash beach is not popular among tourists; it is basically a fishermen colony. I sit alone for a while and read “Khalil Gibran” until the visibility forces me to close the book.
At Kailash beach I meet a fishermen named Suresh, we talk about various things. He understands Hindi (which is rare in Tamil Nadu) because he has spent some time in Mumbai as a construction worker. I am invited for dinner and I humbly accept it. He says he leaves for fishing at 3 AM and returns at 6 AM, I promise him to meet tomorrow morning at the beach again. Dinner is a very delicious fish curry with rice on banana leaf. We eat sitting on the floor. The house smells pleasant with freshly burnt incense sticks. His family is poor but very generous. He has 2 kids and they both go to school. They don’t have green bicycles.
At night I go to ‘Le Café’ on the rock beach. I buy a cup of black tea with no sugar and sit on the rocks with a cigarette. I take every sip slowly; very slowly with closed eyes, humming the song “Lehron ki tarah yaadein, dil se takraati hain” (like waves, the memories crash against my heart). With every sip my face is sprayed by salty water from the waves crashing against the rocks.
It was the early morning mist in Shimla which was on our faces when I and Paree (my lost love) had gone to Shimla together.
The last one year has been painful. Oh, the heartache, those sleepless nights, the feeling of being lonely, the unsuccessful search for peace.
With time, I hope, the sharp painful edges of the rocks of memories will smoothen, like the waves have smoothed these rocks on this beach.
A little far, under the dim light of a street lamp a couple sits, lonely, without much talking, hand over shoulders, enjoying the breeze and togetherness. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
Buying a bottle of port-wine I go back to the room and sleep at about 2 AM. Chavi is parked outside. Thankfully this place is not very cold. She will be comfortable.
14th Feb.
With sleep deprived and wine rich red eyes I wake up at 5:30 and go to Kailash beach to meet Suresh again. The morning is so beautiful on the beach, the colors, the music of the waves, the smell, the feel of sand under the feet.
I watch the sunrise and click a few photographs and after a few minutes see Suresh return on his boat with a net-full of fish. It hasn’t been a good catch today. I share a cigarette with him and bid farewell to him. I give him 2 T-shirts which I had purchased yesterday evening for his kids. He refuses initially but later respects my feeling.
I walk on the streets of the fishermen colony for a while and am offered a cup of tea while taking photograph of a girl making Rangoli in front of her door. This kind of hospitality has died in big cities. How good are these people, how much love they have within.
I buy a lotus from a old lady and gift it to my beloved Chavi. She is happy. A tear trickles down her cheek. I kiss her gently on her belly.
Later in the Noon, I spend some time walking on the streets of the French colony (while Chavi enjoys sunshine at the hotel) going over lot of things in my mind, realizing a lot of things about life, love, money and happiness. How mad have we become running behind the worldly things. We have forgotten to live and to love. Most of us are dead already and waiting to die. How true is OSHO in saying “Everyone wants to be somebody … but no one wants to be nobody”.
I visit the Aurobindo ashram and am filled with a peaceful feeling. A little later, I eat Chicken Salad at ‘Le Café’ as lunch and enjoy the sea and the crowd again for some time. There are lot of couples here today with red roses in their hands. With moist and closed eyes I picture Paree with a red rose in her hand. She is smiling, she must be happy. I go over the last Valentine’s Day and let the tears roll down my cheeks until the waiter comes with the bill.
AT 4 PM I go back to the room to start back for Bangalore. Chavi is happy to see me and starts in half-kick.
I get lucky to see a “KA-03” Tempo Traveler in front of me just after coming out of the city. This becomes my ‘escort’ for the rest of the journey and with effortless driving and just 1 break, I am back in Bangalore at 12 midnight. I drink the leftover of yesterday’s wine and sleep. At 3, I am awakened by a dream. Paree has sent me a Valentine’s gift. I try to reenter the dream but it’s difficult now.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The bucket list
The bucket list so far ....
1. Pluck an apple from a tree and eat.
2. Milk a yak.
3. Trek alone in the zanskar for a month.
4. Accompany a sadhu in his travel.
5. Follow a river from it's origin to the end.
6. Learn sign language.
7. Meet a person with donated eyes.
8. Teach computer to kids in a village school.
9. Go on a road movie vacation in rajasthan's villages with my projector.
10. Meet a terrorist and talk.
11. Meet Medha patkar and Arundhati roy.
12. Spend a night under open sky in jungle.
13. Go travelling with no money.
14. Work in a movie.
15. Gift someone a honeymoon.
16. Attempt the everest once atleast.
17. Master one music instrument.
18. Learn horse riding and ride in a meadow in hills.
19. Read a namaz inside a masjid.
20. See indian border from 4 sides.
21. Dance naked in moonlight.
22. Visit Baroda and sit in my old school's ground.
1. Pluck an apple from a tree and eat.
2. Milk a yak.
3. Trek alone in the zanskar for a month.
4. Accompany a sadhu in his travel.
5. Follow a river from it's origin to the end.
6. Learn sign language.
7. Meet a person with donated eyes.
8. Teach computer to kids in a village school.
9. Go on a road movie vacation in rajasthan's villages with my projector.
10. Meet a terrorist and talk.
11. Meet Medha patkar and Arundhati roy.
12. Spend a night under open sky in jungle.
13. Go travelling with no money.
14. Work in a movie.
15. Gift someone a honeymoon.
16. Attempt the everest once atleast.
17. Master one music instrument.
18. Learn horse riding and ride in a meadow in hills.
19. Read a namaz inside a masjid.
20. See indian border from 4 sides.
21. Dance naked in moonlight.
22. Visit Baroda and sit in my old school's ground.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Religion ... What's that? haven't they murdered god already ?
Could it be possible that god is dead ..
Yes ... Could be ..or may be he is dead ...
Oh yes ....he is infact ...didn't you hear ..the high-court told us he was born somewhere under a demolished mosque ... He ''was'' born ...and he ''is'' dead ...
God bless his soul ..may he Rest in Piece(of land) ...sorry..Peace...
Yes ... Could be ..or may be he is dead ...
Oh yes ....he is infact ...didn't you hear ..the high-court told us he was born somewhere under a demolished mosque ... He ''was'' born ...and he ''is'' dead ...
God bless his soul ..may he Rest in Piece(of land) ...sorry..Peace...
Friday, October 1, 2010
यूँ ही ज़िंदगी ज़ाया गयी ...
सुबह की ठंडी ओस अभी भी बालकनी की रेलिंग पे थी लेकिन किसी ने महसूस न की थी....
आज फिर हवा दरवाज़ों के बीच "पक्द्दम पक्द्दाइ" खेलेगी .. पर कोई न देखेगा....
आज फिर शाम को बारिश की बूँदें खिड़की के कांच की 'फिसलपट्टी' पे फिस्लेंगी ..पर कोई ध्यान न देगा ...
क्योंकि सब घिरे होंगे बेमानी फ़िज़ूल के काम करने में .....
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