||Khamakha||

2011-02-26T10:24:00.000-08:00

Futile Wishes

2011-02-26T06:13:00.000-08:00

Created this of these days...

2011-02-18T03:10:00.000-08:00

Brush strokes...

Each word of his was like this special stroke of brush that wildly painted with joy and madness...

He tried painting her out of the grey and black..the shades of griefs...
It was as if every word he spoke evoked an emotion that nurtured her, moulded her into a new body of life and hope...
With every smile, story, wish..countless nights spent in soul-stirring conversations...her soul seemed to be absorbing light a little more...like a desert finally drenched in rain.. like the mirage of happiness finally shaping into a real-life tangible structure...
An era that was but a phase that unfolded into a life-time of tale.. a short journey with trillions of steps ..highs and lows...smiles and tears..endless tears.. endless laughters..

The red rose finally seems so red...

(lot to scribble..an attempt to revive the passion of writing again...but somehow words fail me as usual...)

when memories but just memories

2010-11-24T22:50:00.000-08:00

And then sometimes the silence screams at you, darkness screams at you, memories scream at you piercing through these screams wishes scream back at you… wistful..wistful wishes…

The night, when the palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was a part of nothing… thin air hanging above her body while she pretended to sleep that night , she tried snatching that something so desperately, only to find her hands empty…as if the still air in the room reacted back in reflex, with a soft push….whispering a promise of nothingess…
Prayers…that were desparate…full of hopes…sacred..innocent…strong …bold…ambitious…
returned behind more of absolute eternal emptiness

Tears finally learnt how to trickle down silently from the corner of the eye…making no noise…so hushed..no one would know… when the heart can contain no more…numbed but somewhere deeply slit..wounds bleed indeed..and they bleed so hard.. anger fails..sadness fails.. normalcy fails…

Eyes left with a lifetime of longing expression..speaking a language of eternal void…
When presence is but a memory….when memories but just memories…
When there is no court left to give a verdict…help the helplessness…

When eyes deliberately sink into nightmarish sounds in midway slumber and search for the nothing ..search for the gone..craving one glimpse..even if its false….even if its not meant…because it is so meant deep insde…so wanted…so precious…

Memories fly back to the moment of that stil nothing lying on the ground…that flooded the air with millions of screams… when even that stillness felt like a presence…it felt…it whispered…of all that could have been…

The world lies at those feet…that went so cold…lied at those still clenched palms that once desperately tried escaping the fate of nothingness…
while the other set of siamese palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was so brutally cruely declared as no more..

2010-09-05T08:25:00.000-07:00

ro ro kar aakhein sooj gayee..
Wo dil ka tukda wapas nahi aata..

2009-09-22T00:51:00.000-07:00

Need some peace of mind. Urgently!

This song was kinda solace... Do listen..(From Wake up Sid)
Can't write...aaarghhhh.Just can't.

_________________________________________________
O re manwa tu to bawra hai
Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai
Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai
Baware

Kyun dikhaye sapne tu sote jaagte
Jo barsein sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Nainon ko moond moond
Jo barsein sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond

Kaise main chaloon
Dekh na sakoon
Anjaane raaste

Goonja sa hai koi ektara iktara
Goonja sa hai koi ektara

Sun rahi hoon sudhbudh kho ke
Koi main kahani
Puri kahani hai kya kisi hai pata
Main to kisiki ho ke yeh bhi na jaani
Ruth hai yeh do pal ki ya rahegi sada
Kise hai pata
kise hai pata
Lyricsmasti.com

Jo barsein sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Nainon ko moond moond
Jo barsein sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond

-Wake up Sid

random muse

2009-08-27T05:34:00.000-07:00

It's sad how easy it becomes to discard things once they are old and irrelevant to the present. Say, those old documents at my desk. I rummaged through the pile of files, folders, A4 sheets, colour prints, checklists... neatly put back the selected ones and rejected others.
Rejection becomes such an easy job when time has passed.
What point am I trying to make here? Nothing just an observation and attempt at understanding this typical behaviour.
These rejected ones were so precious few weeks ago. I thought I would sit at peace and go through them, absorb each element, understand and preserve each bit.

There are times when you know you wouldn't let go of something. But you never know, the future might see you indifferently get rid of the same, suppressing few wishes deep down, mechanically surrendering to situations or the idea of "moving on with times".

Those envelopes or gift wraps you had lovingly unravelled to find your gift by a special or not so special one, tucked the torn pieces safe into your shelf, looked at them time and again to relive the same warmth.. With time, you keep some reject few...why?because you can't keep them all na... Just like you need to sell off old newspapers..the same newspaper that had helped you explore the most surprising facts around the world..articles that had prompted you to discuss and debate and gift you the world in mere 2 to three bucks.

It gets so difficult to preserve all the memories that you had once vouched for.
Your first best friend at school, when you didnt even know what a best friend meant..who helped you learn your concepts by-heart by reading them aloud again and again , pestered her mother to pack your favourite food for lunch, voted for you as the class prefect! Today,years after, one scrap on orkut might just bring in memories of you and her, but what I find sad is how mute feelings can become with time which once screamed with promises of eternal bliss.

Yeah, you can give a new name to this rejection. Call it Priority. Time. Change. Plain Indifference?

Things take a backseat, life takes a back-seat...people change.. you adjust according to your convenience...at times let time and life take over than you taking over it...

Like I said..random muse! Never mind.

come. let's explore.

2009-08-23T03:12:00.000-07:00

Imagine, colouring a blank canvas the way you like it. With no one to dictate, or judge. The world and you are at sync...peace..and harmony...
Imagine, spraying the shades and hues all over the blankness and colouring your world crazily...just the way you like it..randomly, tangently, not adhereing to set patterns or rules...
Because, to have your own story you need to go that extra mile and spray the colours of emotions on to the blank sheet of your life just the way you like it..just the way your heart demands..
The colours may turn dark once in a while..or indecipherable..but that's no reason to stop believing.. or is it?

a walk to remember...

2009-07-27T06:56:00.000-07:00

So well, they walked..and walked...and walked...
Like memories tugging on to them like a little kid, like moments dripping down the timeless togetherness, like words melting into the thin air with fond blushes.
The laughter echoed into the woods and pearls of sweet nothings waved into the foreverness ...
Fingers entwined, thoughts aligned, oh! at times not so aligned, but drenched in the essence of randomness..the beauty of dreams realized itself through that walk..
Time teased them, destiny chased with a wild vigour for answers.
But who cared, when all that mattered was..the power of freezing time. Standing still like a deep ripple-free ocean sleeping cozily without being disturbed.
The trees stood tall and the branches formed themselves into a bouquet..covering them..protecting them like a mother tenderly holding its child. The twinkle of the stars shone on their bright faces while they ran..like running against the rushing waves in a sea, holding each other like never letting go. Futility turned pale, shyed away, and visions of eternal moments danced to the tunes of triumph.

Moist eyes and warm hearts, shivering steps in the dreamy envelope of fog and mist.. the night growing silent ..intimidating but challenging..haunting in a beautiful way...
They paced down, and started walking again....like they had all the time in the world, like beauty stood for them with open arms as they trodded the streets with no names......like the never-ending roads stretched futrther to move away from their destinations. For they seeked no destination....no answer.....no deadline...they looked for nothingness in that moment of everything..they just wanted to melt like silhouettes before a sun, like elegance before fearless love, like lovers in the rain....

saazish hai boondon ki...

2009-07-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

Here comes the the season of floaters, and capris and hot cappuccinos. The season of splashes and 'coming late to work' with loads of excuses, blaming poor rains for the delay.

The season of swimming across water-clogged roads (eww!) and watching people on the streets a little more intently. Smelling the samosas, the tapri wali chai and hurriedly relishing the moments.

The season of wishing you could stay back home and wishing of the cliched wish-- "oh-I-wish- i could cuddle in my room cozily with a book"...ofcourse, wishing you have with you a cuppa hot beverage as a perfect companion :P

The season of working while listening to the beats of the drizzle hit the glass panes...falling on your senses with utter boisterousness..like an impact.. work no more functional but garnished with pleasure and hopes.

The season of wet memories..fulfilled and unfulfilled ..drenched moments.."fond and mesmerizing"..crucial forgiveness ..kind and by the by

The season of long conversations.. and random smses to long-lost friends..heartfelt conversations with family and beloved ones...reading stories like the gift of magi and erich segal's 'love story'..and feel like feeling like a crazy mushy fool;)

Like people melting into the same essence with the smell of wet earth, indifferent expressions but hearts brimming with emotions...deep within craving and desiring of things muted with passing time.

the shower drenches you till the soul...the cold breeze engulfs your heart...the colours blur with a haze...but droplets trickle no more...

The season of happiness and beauty and all the things lovely.

So, what are rains...just a change in climatic conditions or a state of mind?
The latter indeed:)

2009-07-07T06:30:00.000-07:00

And there are days when you are choked with emotions..but the numbness is so overpowering it refutes all reasons of letting thoughts breathe without fear of consequences.

Like stray memories demanding a decision to forgive or forget, let go or supress...
life sometimes poses questions framed in a format that is hardly decipherable by the mind and the heart... A phase comes I guess when an individual has no clue of what is happening around him/her but keeps operating...functioning..surviving...and sustaining... awaiting with bated breath for moments that would reaffirm his faith in the very word faith itself...

Crossroads are a dangerous juncture... you have to take you pick..
you may go backwards, go ahead..but freezing or going still is the worst form of surrender!

But life, time and again with its favourite game of hide and seek has splashed reasons on me to keep functioing...and at times cherishing and reveling in the ecstasy.

So what are we ultimately, zombies?? aliens to the other wordly creatures (if any) who emote, cry, smile, demand, whine, pester and ultimately mould into the rationalities with the emotions getting emoted like machines, where even a decision from the hearth is as functional as a device that flashes reminder or to-do note as set by its owner. The only difference here is we ourselves are the owner here running our lives like a puppet show. The heart is scared to feel,changes boggle and amuse it... and the most that the owner can do is probably try and tenderly hold the heart with utmost care by protecting it from the harshness outside. A scratch and you are damaged for a lifetime. How weak;) I guess whoever says he is strong says so with all the scratches and wounds having gone numb in the heart and well! ignorance is bliss right, you just need to be prepared to shut the sudden pangs and desires that heart cries out for at times.

By the way I inteneded to start this post on an entirely note, but never mind..
Life is beautiful:) more later...

random

2009-05-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

sorry...deleting this post.

Let the precious comments be here though...:)

Let there be light....

2009-04-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

The music of farewell trance from Kabhi alvida na kehna kept repeating itself, the heat outside tried desperately and arrogantly to enter through the glass pane, friends asking her to go out for a movie or go shopping for cute chappals and junk from street bazaar in the city , Smses dropping in once in a while, chat windows popping up with heys and hiiiis….

It was a packed moment now.. and then the next just goes so blank she ends up sitting under the shower shaken and shivering not knowing what to do next.

Life wasn’t sad, life can never be sad. It’s just that intense sense of … existence..or non-existence that baffles you at times.
There is so much happening, all the tamasha, the very phenomenon of something defines hope for what is to come.

Lines from the movie The curious case of Benjamin Button kept playing in her head…

“For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, start whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again”

She sometimes felt blessed to be able to watch the sun set in its best hues and aura every evening, while sipping a cuppa chai, and let the breeze calmly fondle her face and hair…

She gets restless so easily, it almost scares her at times…the anxiety, the dreams drive her crazy. The sudden jolts from her sleep, and coaxing herself back to sleep, she was learning to love herself…
She learnt and she unlearnt..and she is learning again..
She dreamt and she stepped upon pieces of shattered piercing hopes every moment…
She smiled and felt the tears brewing up in her heart eager to trickle down ….every moment.

A trance indeed. So many people go through these undulating waves of emotions day in and day out…. But they carry on…something inside them dies at times..but there are newer things that come alive…

God becomes your best friend, and sometimes you are scared to trust the almighty even. He never promises you happiness in the way we want to see it. Everyday is called a gift for reasons…reasons she seeked everyday…debates in her mind that had no answer,,,

She wonders, the answers we get..are they the truth…or it’s just another fabricated philosophy to go on….. oh what were those words that the Fasttrack giant hoardings scream…Move on…

She laughs everytime she hears the words Move on…What an easy way to escape the answers…

It was all a clutter, a chaos, interwoven thoughts of past, present and the future…
As noisy and deafening as the bedlam of crazy confusions that seeped into her mind everytime she manages to fall asleep. Perks of growing up..eh! Well goodluck to her.

Luck by Chance

2009-03-03T13:01:00.000-08:00

Ik Raasta Kaanto Ka Hai
Ik Rasta Phool Ka
Tujhpe Hai Kaunse
Tu Raaste Ko Chune

Ik Raasta Hai Soch Ka
Ik Rasta bhool Ka..
Tujhpe Hai Tera Dil
Ab Kya Kahe Kya Sune
Hoga Tera Yeh Faisla
Hai Sochna Ya Bhool Na

Hey!
I loved Luck By Chance (Yeah, may be more for personal reasons, keep guessing;))
But whatever, few scenes and dialougues were so well done and yes! matured too.
Life and People. Excitement and Guilt. Hope and despair. and...harsh realities.. The movie had it all. Amazing effort I must say.

Konkaka did it again.
And Farhan is cute. Really really so;) His character has been etched out beautifully...
I enjoyed the movie....do watch it atleast once.

Fiction Figments

2009-01-05T22:45:00.000-08:00

She looked at them after the important presentation, indifferently but feigned a look of anticipation, a skill she had mastered over years.
Her colleague gave her a cheerful look and whispered how ‘cool’ the pitch went, the brand new campaign for a new variant of the leading brand specially designed for the rural counterparts of the country. The CEO patted her back and congratulated for the efforts she had put in. She thought to herself, what efforts! it’s a daily routine, preparing for meetings like these, that she so thoroughly enjoyed… not so much the end as the process…

Work was hectic, as hectic as the rush in the local railway stations and daily struggle to get into the jam-packed rusted compartment of the local trains. The chaos, the fight through the clumsiness gave her a sense of order, a purpose. Parallel to this, her real purpose existed in the angel back home.

The disorder, expectations hurled at her in the office muted at home with a warm hug, not so much the hug as the very phenomena .. arms flung open at her, energetically, willingly, desperately, inviting to erase the pressure and tensions that filled her ambience around at work. And the giggles that followed and the never ending yap! Back home, she would mesmerize into the feeling, they would lie side by side looking out of the window, staring at the moon and the clouds, and watching the fresh dew drops smile at them early in the morning. The rest of the world ceased to exist then, and all that lay spread before them were opportunities to live life to the hilt. Every achievement made sense, every competition seemed challenging, and every new day felt meaningful.

Yes, it was the angel , her sweet little angel who had suddenly filled her senses with contentment. Happiness? She had stopped bothering about happiness long back,
when promises of happiness shattered like rubbles of a fragile building, fragments that could never be the same again, in its entirety , having lost its essence, helplessly.

She had felt the pangs so bad, the emptiness..the anxiety, the empty hopes… the forced nightmares, emptiness again, dreams that choked, like an impact ! emptiness again, despair and a naked dance of those situations. …The cellphone she had wished to throw away, guilty of her fingers that automatically dialed numbers she shouldn’t, she needn’t, she fell prey to the little device, the machine that ruled her days then. That let her hear voices that gave her hope…and then the emptiness again.

Her convictions had brought her trouble. She had decided to preserve the love that made her heart swell with pride. She didn’t care who else cared, when the person who should have cared the most let go! Reasons flew in air, discussions and possibilities mentioned….and then the same emptiness.. Futility and more of it!! Killing the love didn’t seem to solve the problem… she decided to hold on. She would handle the pangs, alone! Burning photographs or curses only aggravated the problem. Emotions felt void of purpose…

Years went by, she went on, life went on, successfully. Sometimes she gaily liked to call herself a successful living corpse, a zombie. Such clichéd darkness, she would laugh aloud!

Fast forward - - > The day she went to this adoption center , a fear filled her heart. The familiar fear, of her dreams shattering the moment she saw hope… and expected them to last.

It all happened like a blurred piece of fiction, the initial formalities, talks, elaborate details of her background…. And then the angel in her arms, it had looked into her eyes with a twinkle so innocent she fell in love with the little bundle then and there.
The bright eyes spoke volumes about the days to come. Responsibilities, she didn’t run away from them. She liked to fulfill them at the right time, and when she decided the world couldn’t stop her.
She named her Simran. In her she saw an extension of her love. She made her dreams come true. She preserved the delight when situations had given up and made them come true in her own way. If something has to live forever, who could ever kill it. Not shallow surrenders of all the things!

The black and white photographs turned coloured again… she looked at the old snaps, the genuine smiles , the twinkle in the eyes and the firm beliefs…she remembered her dreams of a home, the brightly-lit drawing room , low sofas, dimly-lit bedroom inviting moon’s gaze, full of photo-frames of candid shots, the lively discussions. .. Mesmerizing into the feeling, they would lie side by side looking out of the window, staring at the moon and the clouds, and watching the fresh dew drops smile at them early in the morning. The world would cease existing then, and all that would lay spread before them would be opportunities to live life to the hilt. Every achievement would make sense, every competition challenging, and every new day meaningful… and she remembered their dreams of a kid running around the house , hopping with those mischievous giggles , her curls flying with the breeze , her pink lips turning rosy with each word she uttered…

2008-12-22T03:17:00.000-08:00

"It doesn't hurt, Ollie, really," she said. "It's like falling off a cliff in slow motion, you know?"
- Love story

2008-12-15T22:12:00.000-08:00

In the movie dil kabbadi, character played by Soha Ali Khan goes something like this...
She can't hold her mind still, even when she should. She imagines wild, weird, obscure things when she should be focussing on more important things!
Thus goes my life.. if my life was a person, he would be this adventure freak, amused at the simplest of things and surprised at all the ironies and dark humour that sketches his being. And that affects me. Balance is the need of the hour.
No extra emotions and no irrelevant tears. Just plain acceptance and trust.
Wait, I even forgot why I started writing this post.

My friend told me the other day really firmly, and how I love her for that, that we need to survive and live no matter what! We have to take care of ourselves, eat in time, (force food down the throat if needed), sleep in time, work and carry on! Rest will follow. And even if it doesn't YOU HAVE to carry on. SO I said hell, yeah, how true.

K, i need some inspiration to write..and believe why must I write.. I d just finish reading a book and convince myself how important it is to let your imagination go wild and delve in the joy/sadness.Or may be this is JUST not the right time.

A thought: Is it your constant worry that makes the worry come true , or was it bound to happen..May be the worrying part was just preparing you to face the reality to come?
If the latter holds true, everything falls in system and logic!

And do have a look at this beautiful post on the myth of timeless art: LORADO TAFT'S FOUNTAIN OF TIME and go the post named -->LORADO TAFT'S FOUNTAIN OF TIME-->Wednesday, November 26, 2008

inspiration

2008-12-04T23:48:00.000-08:00

Bits on Advertising

Great Moments in Advertising: Leo Burnett's Speech
This speech was delivered by Leo Burnett at a meeting of the entire Chicago Burnett office on December 1, 1967.

Watch the Video Here

'When to take my name off the door'

"Somewhere along the line, after I’m finally off the premises, you – or your successors – may want to take my name off the premises, too.

You may want to call yourselves " Twain, Rogers, Sawyer and Finn, Inc."….. or "Ajax Advertising" or something.

That will certainly be OK with me – if it’s good for you.

But let me tell you when I might demand that you take my name off the door.

That will be the day when you spend more time trying to make money and less time making advertising – our kind of advertising.

When you forget that the sheer fun of ad making and the lift you get out of it – the creative climate of the place – should be as important as money to the very special breed of writers and artists and business professionals who compose this company of ours – and make it tick.

When you lose that restless feeling that nothing you do is ever quite good enough.

When you lose your itch to the job well for it’s sake – regardless of the client, or money, or the effort it takes.

When you lose your passion for thoroughness…you hatred of loose ends.

When you stop reaching the manner, the overtones, the marriage of words and pictures that produce the fresh, the memorable and the believable effect.

When you stop rededicating yourselves every day to the idea that better advertising is what the Leo Burnett Company is about.

When you are no longer what Thoreau called "a corporation with a conscience" – which means to me, a corporation of conscientious men and women.

When you begin to compromise your integrity – which has always been the heart’s blood – the very guts of this agency.

When you stoop to convenient expediency and rationalize yourselves into acts of opportunism – for the sake of a fast buck.

When you show the slightest sign of crudeness, inappropriateness or smart –aleckness – and you lose that subtle sense of the fitness of things.

When your main interest becomes a matter of size just to be big - rather that good, hard, wonderful work.

When your outlook narrows down to the number of windows – from zero to five – in the walls of your office.

When you lose your humility and become big-short wisenheimers…. a little bit too big for your boots.

When the apples come down to being just apples for eating (or for polishing) – no longer part of our tone or personality.

When you disprove of something, and start tearing the hell out of the man who did it rather than the work itself.

When you stop building on strong and vital ideas, and start a routine production line.

When you start believing that, in the interest of efficiency, a creative spirit and the urge to create can be delegated and administrated, and forget that they can only be nurtured, stimulated, and inspired.

When you start giving lip service to this being a "creative agency" and stop really being one.

Finally, when you lose your respect for the lonely man – the man at his typewriter or his drawing board or behind his camera or just scribbling notes with one of our big pencils – or working all night on a media plan. When you forget that the lonely man – and thank God for him – has made the agency we now have – possible. When you forget he’s the man who, because he is reaching harder, sometimes actually gets hold of for a moment - one of those hot, unreachable stars.

THAT, boys and girls, is when I shall insist you take my name off the door. And by golly, it will be taken off the door. Even if have to materialize long enough some night to rub it out myself - on every one of our floors. And before I DE-materialize again, I will paint out that star-reaching symbol too. And burn all the stationary. Perhaps tear up a few ads in passing.

And throw every god-damned apple down the elevator shafts.

You just won’t know the place, the next morning. You’ll have to find another name."

2008-11-26T09:00:00.000-08:00

May be it is not as bad yet... but
for all the sadistic pleasure luck derives
by snatching away what is held precious
for the brutal separation from the umbilical cord
I'd ****ing continue smiling!

best friends

2008-11-20T23:53:00.001-08:00

the problem with best friends is
they make you feel better
even when you want to feel bitter

!!

Nobody's Home

2008-11-20T07:19:00.001-08:00

Nobody's Home - Avril Lavigne

I couldn't tell you why she felt that way,
She felt it everyday.
And I couldn't help her,
I just watched her make the same mistakes again.

What's wrong, what's wrong now?
Too many, too many problems.
Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs.

She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
That's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.

Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons why.
You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left behind.

Be strong, be strong now.
Too many, too many problems.
Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs.

She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
That's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.

Her feelings she hides.
Her dreams she can't find.
She's losing her mind.
She's fallen behind.
She can't find her place.
She's losing her faith.
She's fallen from grace.
She's all over the place.
Yeah,oh

She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
That's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.

She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh...
She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh...

Questions

2008-11-15T12:57:00.000-08:00

Zindagi zindagi Listen to it here

Zindagi zindagi,
Kya kami reh gayi,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Kyu nami reh gayi..

Zindagi zindagi,
Kya kami reh gayi,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Kyu nami reh gayi..
Tu kahan kho gayi,
Tu kahan kho gayi,
Koi aaya nahi,
Dopahar ho gayi,
Koi aaya nahi,
Zindagi zindagi..

Din aaye din jaaye,
Sadiyaan bhi gin aaye,
Sadiyaan re..
Tanhayi lipti hai,
Lipti hai saasaon ki,
Rasiya re..

Tere bina badi pyaasi hai,
Tere bina hai pyaasi re,
Naino ki do sakhiyan re,
Tanha re, mein tanha re..

Zindagi zindagi,
Kya kami reh gayi,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Kyu nami reh gayi..
Zindagi zindagi..

Subah ka kohra hai,
Shaam ki dhool hai,
Tanhai hai,
Raat bhi zard hai,
Dard hi dard hai,
Ruswai hai,
Kaise kate saansein uljhi hai,
Raaten badi jhulsi jhulsi hai,
Naina kori sadiyaan re,
Tanha re, mein tanha re..

[Zindagi zindagi,
Kya kami reh gayi,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Kyu nami reh gayi
Tu kahan kho gayi,
Koi aaya nahi,
Dopahar ho gayi,
Koi aaya nahi..

Zindagi zindagi,
Kya kami reh gayi,
Aankh ki kor mein,
Kyu nami reh gayi..
________

Movie : Yuvraaj (2008)
Music Director: A R Rahman
Director: Subhash Ghai
Producer: Subhash Ghai
Lyricist: Gulzar
Song Title: Zindagi
_________________

Just a thought:
Have you ever noticed, how at times, when nothing works, it's despair that gives you that much craved hope...

black hole

2008-11-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

"Have you heard of the black hole?

You are getting into a black hole,
you are becoming the black hole,

a vicious circle of your own thoughts,

Get out of it before it's too late"

Blackhole: A black hole is a theoretical region of space in which the gravitational field is so powerful that nothing, not even electromagnetic radiation (e.g. visible light), can escape its pull after having fallen past its event horizon.

2008-11-08T12:19:00.000-08:00

and, at times you do wish you could just erase few memories off...

Dreams and Nightmares

2008-11-06T22:33:00.000-08:00

And time around me whispers when its cold
The changes somehow frighten me
Still I have to smile

And what about tomorrow
And what about our dreams
And all the memories we share...John Denver

_______________

Dreams and Nightmares:

What are my dreams like...and my nightmares?

Have you ever felt this way

You are stuck somwhere, you wouldn't want to
an uncanny, eerie atmoshphere engulfed in elements of dark humour
so not where you would like to be
people around behaving awkwardly
someone dear dead
or waving a goodbye

Visuals of a whirlpool heading to devour all the characters
with you in the center extending your arms for help

Or...
a narrow warped lane, like its been distorted on photoshop
not knowing where it leads to

or
the most delicious food served on a platter
you feel the hunger pangs, actually! in your dreams
but just can't reach them

or
you tucked somewhere, suddenly realizing
you are at a height
a scary height....
you look down and your heart skips a beat,
and the moment the thoughts you try avoiding strikes your mind,
like the thought of not falling down...
it happens.
you fall off
in mid-air
and the heart beats faster, so fast...like you can't take it any more, like you have stopped breathing,
full of fear and trepidation

You know its just a nightmare
and yet you can't open your eyes

You tell yourself, its just a dream
and that you are actually lying on your bed
under your quilt
probably you stuffed your face too much into your pillow, so you can't breathe
and if you try hard enough you can get back to earth...
you can get back to your room
with people existing
just a call away

You tell that to yourself numourous times
and force your eyes to open
so hard
and there! the moment you think its over
you hear vague voices from a distance
like people and souls talking to you
you see visuals of you lying on a bed

you tell yourself
its still a nightmare
and you need to try harder

and then your eyes actually open
you realize it somehow... I can't explain that.
you just have to trust you are back
your eyes heavy
craving for sleep
but you don't let your eyes shut
cuz you don't want to be back to the weird place
and the scary elements of that other worldy atmosphere
Instead you lay wide awake
helplessl in absolute comatoseness
watching your insomnia celebrating its victory...

_____________
I was surprised to watch clips so similar in the movie eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and tv show grey's anatomy,
something I have experienced so many times before
and the best thing being
I have always fought it
even in my dreams and nightmares and am proud of it
I can communicate whats essential and get out of my..my..misery
though the pangs remain.
But somewhere the pangs can go take a hike and let me live!!
________
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind:

I loved the movie most for the concept. Imagine trying to erase memories?????of your loved ones? Damn! erasing memories of all the times spent together and any fond thought that has some relevance to the relationship . As for me, even if I have/had someone special in my life, and I have to forgo it for whatever reason(life is like that you know), I would with pride claim all the memories that where once ours, and so I have a stake in the joint venture too;) I hate the idea of returning gifts when people break up, its like insulting all the memories you have earned so far.Its painful, but you gotto respect the past somehow. Easier said than done though... am just blabbering about what would be ideal, like everything ideal actually happens!

back to the movie....

The protagonist trying to gather memories back that he volunatarily is wiling to let go off.
He is put to sleep by doctors and his brrain is being fiddled with to erase memories of him and his love...
Before he is turned unconscious, he is made to share each memory so that its easier for the doctors to systematically get rid of them, from his mind.
He is made to describe each object that has a memory attached to him and her.

One by one, moments get erased
Moments of their first meet, fights, quarrels, the way they gazed at the evening sky while lying on the snow....
till a point comes
when the forward button
brings him a beautiful memory..
of both under a quilt
whispering sweet nothings
where she shares her worst fear with him
and her childhood tales
and he assures her lovingly...

its then that he prays for the memory to stay...
and let them not snatch it away from him..
its then that he struggles to stop the process
He is put to sleep you see, and can't scream out right now...
But finally succeeds..
actually, he does it together with her
in his dreams
and both of them fight it together
and reverse the memories-erasing process

They realize all the bitter venom they had given away about the other
when they decided its better to get rid of the memories
and realize, they wanted to get rid of momories cuz they were too special to handle if the person they loved is not around..
and they make peace
confessing that its okay not be perfectly okay in a relationship
what matters at the end is the "togetherness" which lucky few get...

Remembrance:The ability to recall past occurrences
Memory:Something that is remembered

For memories are nurtured in the heart, the brain is just a device to contain and remember them
You can erase remembrances you know....but never the memories..they come back, and haunt you...they thrive....

________

Grey's anatomy

The other day he watches her sinking into the bathtub
and lying their lifeless for couple of seconds
untill he pulls her out of the water

And again
he pulls her out of
the ocean
where she got drowned accidentaly.
He knew, she must have given up even then
and let herself sink deep into devouring water
cuz the confusions around her life were too much to handle may be.

Bright, intellignet, funny and an aspiring surgeon, Meredith goes into coma..
cuz she gave up just for couple of seconds.
She travels through a journey of after-death experience
still unwilling to get back to earth
but finally fights it and returns to life....

____________

Who can ever explain all the abstraction floating around us day in and day out..
Things beyond our comprehension..
Beyond the power of science and logic
all I know is they are!...and not acknowledging them is not me...
so lemmebeme...
I can land into a sociably accepted job, marriage, family life
and yet regret not having sunk in deep for a while when I could
regret for giving into the accepted
my smile taken for my happiness
and my longing gaze taken as fleeting worry....

Bulbul pakhi

2008-11-01T19:41:00.000-07:00

Those who love me will tune into this song ;)
Bulbul Pakhi by Antara
Yes, its a bengali nursery song and you will still listen to it okay!

I can write a thesis on my childhood and spray them with nostalgia keeping these songs in my mind, but am on a disadvantage when it comes to time these days:(
So give me some of it, I d be back.Hopefully.

State of Mind:
Amazingly positive and negative at the same time. I really wonder if I am one of those people who have both +ve and -ve blood group at the same time;) No, no such specie has been found so far :P

See ya.

Some spontaneous lines as a comment by me on a thought provoking post. Post about? Life what else!!!

they r words... all tht u just blurted out, and they mean a lot...
we get trapped probably when we start thinking they make sense to whom exactly? and then starts flowing the thoughts of this unbearble burden turning us numb day after day...

i guess, we make a choice, to continue living with it and feeling more n more every moment or give up moulding into the rationalities around..

cuz if u gotto feel it u gotto feel it hard, its painful, n unfortunately tht's how it is..

n bout u...wht i feel is..Despite everything, u go on...exploring more, learning more, atleast wanting to know more, n u are aware of your lost and found oppurtunities as well..and that means something now...

-khamakha

And I smile...

2008-10-18T03:38:00.001-07:00

Somtimes its okay to let some "doesn't make any sense!" thoughts just be...
let them just breathe
so that tommorow you know they existed
at some phase of your life
and its okay

but sometimes I can't write when the feeling of others reading it bothers me
so have decided, i d just write without any obligation of posting them(dun worry it's more of a self imposed obligation!)
On a lighter note, now that exams approach, the rational side of life, the urge to discover the other side doesn't stay calm
So herz another of my random scribbles- khamakha...n not so khamakha....

And I smile
___________________________________

You look for me
In the coldness engulfing the icy thirsty souls
You look for me…
You look for me now, when I am already gone
In the pitch dark planet of the bittered hearts
You seek the warmth of a wintry moment
Now that…
Winters have gone numb, summer has frozen, spring shattered into a slow death bit by bit
It was then that
words played around us
Oh! I could hold each word on my palm
Like a dew
Stare deep into its soul, for eternity
Unfold each emotion
And kiss its being
Until they would melt away into my lips
Drench my heart and drug me top to toe, inside out

It was then that
thoughts reclined under the sun
resting their arms on us
seeping into us at ease
through each pore
stir us
mould into violent waves
of dreams of tomorrow
of eternal giggles to be..

And now
Look at that sparkle dust
At a distance
I walk ten steps to be there
Each step growing heavier
Failing, crinkling with the roughness beneath and inside ….
Blurring my vision
with dusty misty past
oh! The angles mock too, leaves wither with the touch of my existence
Looking away, my eyelashes shift heavy with soul drops
To tenderly pick a blue shimmery piece of glass
Wrapped in the sparkle dust
What seems like once part of a royal window
Through which the princess must have awaited her lover’s steps
Must have looked so adorable that moment, chin resting on her right dry palm, barren blue eyes gazing out, her careless, lifeless, long wavy hair, touching the floor, while she waited with an hourglass and dreamt of days to come
The window must have broken
Blue pieces shattered to ground
Sands of the hour glass blown away by the angry wind
Smearing the fallen glasses into a rosy sad glitter
There goes
Another round of hope and despair
Another shot of filthy wrath

And then,
The blue glass pierced my finger tip
To wake me out of my muse
And out spilled red exotic drops
That they call blood
And dripped down with them
Uninvited, long forgotten
crystal pearls from my eyes
that they call tears

I let them flow and flow
Let them breathe, finally
Out of the stifling bittered zone of my heart
Let them trickle and drench the air, the thoughts, the words, and memories….
Let them drench the burning anger
Like the soothing touch of a mother on her feverish child’s forehead
Like the balmy breeze of the ocean mildly slapping the faces of the crestfallen souls

Tenderly, carefully, like a newborn baby,
I held the crystal drop on my palm
Watching it melt into the redness
And held it there
For hours
Stared deep into its soul
Like staring at the words on my palm
Remember?

They froze
They don’t move anymore
Icybrutal, ditched, and black
They have turned numb
Tears and words alike…

Emotions
Like whirlpool
Dance around
Hitting each vein
Teasing each thought
Chasing each desire
Desires… like molten iron scarring the soul
Pushing me to face my worst nightmares
Building illusions
Weaving collage out of hidden photographs, lost words dripping down the flying papers in the fierce wind, abandoned and never to be revealed
Mocking aloud
Celebrating the defeat
Dancing a wild dance of fake empathy and brutal sympathy

I stared hard and cold
And then
Laughed along
I raised a toast too
To another lesson learnt, another page flipped, in the book of life
And I smile…..

2008-10-13T13:00:00.000-07:00

Too often the thing you want most is the one thing you can’t have.
Desire leaves us heart broken. It wears us out.
Desire can wreck your life.
But as tough as wanting something can be
The people who suffer the most
Are those who don’t know what they want…- Grey’s anatomy

untitled

2008-08-25T19:44:00.000-07:00

She felt sick, ill, nauseated and miserable. Perfect, goes with the mood, she thought.
One of those migraine like headaches. Didn’t know what caused them. Too much of sun, lack of a cup of tea in the morning, or disturbing thoughts. Today was a mix of all of them, so the headache was pretty inevitable. Not an issue, but she wanted to avoid the way she felt then . She had hurriedly returned to her room in the evening after the classes, and made her fav flavoured tulsi and ginger chai. What a soothing sensation. But the ache had already started spreading and the treat did little to shoo it away. So that means she couldn’t delve into movies or tv shows that would help her stay sane cuz tht woud strain her eyes, forget about trying to read a book.

The evening remided her of a recent summer evening, when too much of heat had done the same to her, drained her of all energy and successfully got her bed-ridden. How she had mumbled incoherently about the sun outside when it was evening and her friend assured her on phone everything was alright and that she could go to sleep.

And today, she tucked herself into the bed, saw her roomie enter. She had requested her to give her a 10-min head massage which she so direly needed. She hated asking for favours. She wondered, how her mom or sister wouldn’t like anyone to come near them when they had a headache. She so unlike them always looked for the touch therapy:) Her roommate forgot about the massage altogether, poor thing, not her fault, she has been too engrossed in one of her projects, that’s what a professional course does to you.
She craved for some one like her mother, her best friend Anita or …
She could always act unabashedly around Anita who would always sense she was ill and sweetly ask her if she needed a head massage or her food into the room or wanted the lights off and some silence!
Some faded images of her childhood filled her senses too. Whenever she fell ill, her father would make her lie on the bed with her head on the edge, take a bucket full of water and let some water run through her head for some time. She with her eyes shut like a baby would forget all about the pain letting the water drip down her hair like a cool pleasant cascade. Funny, but she somehow couldn’t help the memories. Seems like succha distant thing now. Those unique methods that only the elderly know of. And now…she often wondered, suddenly the so powerful ever youthful elderly ones had begun to grow old. They all only speak of anecdotes that surround their children’s lives, how they have grown, their achievements , marriage , their kids. With such ease they slip into the world of their kids away from individualistic seeks , dedicating all of their life…for the little ones.
But she still found her father so handsome and young , her mom still the most beautiful.
She popped in a paracetamol, played with her teddy, coaxing herself to sleep, delving into some of those fine fond memories…

wrath

2008-08-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

Whatz my fault if certain things don't find their right places in my life
Am I doing this intentionally? You may at your sweet ease attach tags like mean, irresponsible, shouldn't-do, cuz you can afford do. If I could afford I wouldn't have cared a damn too. Whatz my fault if I can't ..whatz my fault if there are things that I know are should be some way but they JUST ARE NOT.
What do I do if the darkness actually engulfs me...
What do I do if some songs remind me of things I shouldn't.
What else do I do but to accept it as a part of my destiny to be victim to all that's happening to me
What do I do if I don't want to be like others want me to be
If I want my time by myself when the whole world out there is celebrating, and yet if I feel the pangs
What do I do if I can;t find solutions after seeking them and trying them out seems like widening horizons of confusions
If even after desperately trying to tie and untie few knots they cease to listen to me and refuse to get the bloody hell away from my way
What do I do when I feel angry like this
and I don't know what to do with all these anger
What else but to talk of detachment.
Period.

Back to life please!

2008-07-13T03:26:00.000-07:00

Breathtaking view .. soft clouds of cotton, breeze swaying to the tunes of dreams, roads cozily cuddled up amongst the care of mountains, and droplets drenched in the magic....

A week, 10 days, two weeks...
Enough! After a point, I need to be back to civilization and bounce back to reality !
I need to see the roads,honking cars and the expressions indicating a hectic day lived ....

and I feel so lonely with too much of coziness around for a long time.
Space and time are not conditions in which we live, they are simply modes in which we think

Random thoughts of a dull moment

2008-07-10T01:01:00.000-07:00

She lay on her bed, crouched in to the typical position when she felt that way… like she wanted to escape the reality… a baby in a womb craving for some protection, unwilling to be a part of the world.
How she hated the word hate, but it never ceased to love her. Hatred loved her.
It is on afternoons like this that thoughts she never wanted to come to terms with creeps in ruthlessly. Thoughts which were irrelevant, silly and slightly pushed to some corner of the subconscious, as they say.
She hated afternoons like this, when she felt depressed in such a typical way.
Even a light movie like Jaane tu ya jaane na managed to do this to her. Ideas that bubbled with concepts of relationships, love, friendship, confusions, decisions blah blah boggled her.
She shut her eyes slightly, praying for a nap, resisting work and conversations.
She hated every bit of communication at such moments, be it reading people’s thoughts on blogs, or facing questions at chats, cuz she hated to lie, and what would she anyway convey the truth as?
She found it really funny, such dull moments, she would rather feel numb. NUMB!
She hate the care that she felt for all her people, she hated the craving for some wishful moments. Like the actor in Serendipity, why did she believe so much in destiny…like things would happen if they are meant to be. She hated to express the most deeply felt thoughts, but why, why couldn’t she be just like so many others. Why the hell did she care so much at times. Not that they care as much. Then why should she, why does it come so inevitably to her. Why does let herself be taken for granted?
Why cant she be like Jay in Jaane Tu, forget the whole world on finding the so called love, be selfish and bask in the glory of the feeling itself. Why did she have to relate to Aditi, the darker side, and her confusions and pretence of being all happy…? Bloody, it wasn’t a movie that she was living in! She hated dull moments like this that brought such scary thoughts to her….

Never mind, like I said these are just irrelevant momentary thoughts and kindly do not let it hamper your peace of mind

katra katra

2008-06-23T01:11:00.000-07:00

If you ve already heard this song, am sure you wouldn't mind melting into the memories that this song brings along all over again...
I haven't watched the movie yet and it has my fav Naseeruddin Shah:(

LYRICS

Damn embarrassing!

2008-06-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

When frustration comes out in form of tears... and you do not find a space to bloody hide your face anywhere

immortal words

2008-06-16T07:08:00.000-07:00

unke dekhe se jo aa jaatii hai muuh par raunaq
vo samajhte hain ki bimaar kaa haal achchhaa hai

hamko maaluum hai jannat kii haqiiqat lekin
dil ke Khush rakhne ko 'Ghalib' ye Khayaal achchhaa hai

U gotto move on

2008-06-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

I have got so used to this chair
the open cabin
Manikchand Oxyrich mineral water duly placed to the corner everyday
Post-it notes with the to-do scribbles (btw, u must read its story here--> http://www.mmm.com/us/office/postit/pastpresent/history_ws.html)
n the timely tea cups
Boss coming to supervise my 'doings' now and then
the chik-chik around
Genuine hugs when you just need them
Healthy competition
The privacy when I need it
A balcony to go and laze around when I need to clear my mind while watching ppl around enjoy their ciggi-suttas
and the enjoyable walk back home in the rains --> chai-chappa-chai..chappak..chai
...the beaches to go and chill-out after work...wish I could just sit there whole night

and **** like they say....U gotto move on!!! and so will I
Whether you believe it or not..I truely feel life is weird! Just when you start getting used to something, u gotto bid it good-bye. A feeling that's got so ingrained in my system I can speak about it almost dispassionately

Moments of truth

2008-06-10T03:39:00.001-07:00

She sat quietly in the vast space amidst a crowd of people chattering between each other.
As she gazed at nothing (the mode she often gets into) moments rushed past her, smiling, mocking and questioning her like naughty, innocent kids on the streets pulling your kurti for a penny with that captivating twinkle in their eyes.
Gently and tenderly she shut her eyes, ready to be back home.
It’s been a long time she had been home. Her home. Her heart. Where she felt belonged and special.
She felt music hitting her veins like a razor.. sharp razor…so strong was the impact of the soulful tunes that played in her mind, ruthlessly, again and again with slight pauses in between. She choked with pain but wouldn’t let go of the moment.
The calming darkness soothed her senses, the tranquility of the moment engulfed her existence in absoluteness.
Before she realized, tears rolled down her cheeks silently, yeah those saline, watery fluid, much against her will to give into her weaknesses.
Instinctively, her hands reached the centre of her heart and placed themselves comfortably there. She felt her heart. Right there, the beats, each beat…. She felt surprised at the discovery, the tangible discovery!
She felt as if her heart was craving to open up, it pleaded for help, it needed some nourishment against all the rationality that the harsh ways of living mercilessly ask it to cope up with.
Moments floated in air.
Hit her like powerful waves.
Images of a girl curving into herself , head buried in the knees , for solace, some protection….in her balcony, under the stars in the pitch darkness.
Days when she would fall asleep weeping with only the breeze acting as a balm for the open gaping wounds.
Of the little girl wandering off to unknown lands to chase the sun, just to be the first one to feel its warmth.
Her family
Friends
Fleeting images of some forgotten souls who never ceased to care for her, and whom she successfully managed to push in to the ‘forgotten list’

It all rushed hurriedly, as if someone had hurled bundle of things at her all at once, or like passengers at a local compartment pushing, tearing each other apart to find their ways.
She felt boggled, bothered and uncomfortable. Very very uncomfortable.
Gradually….
She drifted into an entirely different zone…like a soul floating and swaying in the smokes of the ashes of its deceased body. Free. Liberated. Yeah..almost.
Was it really happening? The phenomena…?
She reveled in the absolute cluelessness.
Her heart that she held on to so dearly, felt so exhausted… it really did.
It sought no sympathy. Just empathy. It sought a home. A dwelling.
It sought the tenderness, away from the dos and donts of the world…away from the fears of losing its near and dear ones, away from the truth of futility of life…
Whirlpool of illustrations that symbolized love, life, lust, relationships, insecurities and sacred secrets screamed aloud…tearing her heart apart….pleading to ‘let go’, pleading for some care.

Deep rooted gaps in life they say.
Unfulfilled, sacred wishes that would put Freud to shame and defy all logic of psychological findings.
The music was still playing, cutting her apart, but kinder and gentler than before…
like an asthma patient finally finding his lost breath again after a fatal attack.

Her left hand lovingly covered her forehead to let the thoughts out….confront them and breath in the air to feel the cool breeze..the kind that only embraces you by a sea shore.

A white light splashed and bathed her in the rays.
There appeared a tree out of no where in the far stretched fairyland.
She saw her sitting under it lovingly and carefree. There were angels flying all around, so close, like she could extend her hands and touch them .The rays from the halo touched her and kissed her being. She giggled..
Just then an angel sat on her shoulder and whispered a message into her left ear while she carefully listened to it. Her eyes lit up….
And she continued basking in the joy of being… amidst the angels, and the vibrant air, each atom breathing life , love and care meant just for her….
Her palms opened up to receive…She felt the tranquility engulfing her again.
The unconditional surrender helped her receive far more than she had expected.
After a long time, what seems like ages, she felt at sync with things around her..not in the absolute sense.. but only she knew how much she needed this.

She didn’t want to get back to earth….but as she softly opened her eyes, the lights around didn’t pierce her vision. She felt like being okay…
She still felt the bliss in every pore of her body, she still felt her heart….that tangibly…
yes it existed and she is alive..:)

That was the most intense form of meditation that she underwent after a long long time, for all she knew she truly deserved the treat.
Life keeps happening to us , now and then…but then such moments of truth just help you get a little closer to life and reaffirm you faith in the miracles around.

quick nice read:)

2008-06-05T01:18:00.000-07:00

IT'S NOT HOW

GOOD YOU ARE,

IT'S HOW GOOD

YOU WANT TO BE.

__________

-Paul Arden

chat

2008-06-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

She sub-consciously performs her daily ritual.Types her Gtalk Status message first thing in the morning:
..selective memory....does it help? if atall
A message instantly pops up
a: It helps.
Who does it help is the question?
b: hmm
yeah..who does it help?
doesnt help me..cuz i can brush away memories i dun wanna rem
i mean cant *
a: which is not such a bad thing.
if you can do it , that is.
selective memory is not necessarily by design.
b: then?
a: by default too.
one's mental make up may be such so as to remember a certain set of things.
b: thts wht am sayin...
there r things i d better off put aside
a: so that can help , no?
b: but doesnt happen thtw ay..
hits me like a wave now n then
a: hmmm!
anything in particular that you wanna talk about?
b: hmm..nt reely...
just random thots
4get it..ve just lost it:p
how are you....?
a: Good!
Losing it is the best gift you can give to yourself.
b: :)
ah..now tht makes me feel good:P
__________________________________________________-
(hope 'a' doesnt mind for me having dared to extract the conversation into my quiet dark dwelling here)

destinations

2008-06-02T08:17:00.001-07:00

My first and best boss/collegue ever quit today.
I was kinda sad... for all she taught/gave me in these few weeks is incomparable to anything else. Like a mentor and true friend.
For all the lessons on thinking big and implementation of plans and on rising above mediocrity..
For teaching me that romance between professionalism and spirituality can co-exist...
For the memories..

thankyou:)

Just brings to my notice that the last time I was sad of this kind was when my dance trainer had to leave us for better destinations waiting for her. I was in 8th then. Just that the eyes could afford to get moist then . and now. people come. they leave. All I can afford to do is smile with the 'that's life afterall' look in my eyes and a slight pang in the heart.
After she is gone,
I come to my desk and read an unusual status message on my gtalk..
probably someone else has logged in from my system..
no.wait. Its my id only.
and the status message reads 'pyasi padosan'
another prank by some wellwisher!
My eyes go wide...and I burst into a laughter few seconds after..
lol
That's life afterall..
kabhi khushi kabhi gum

2008-05-29T02:20:00.000-07:00

phases wher even a ':P' seems forced
n ':-/' becomes a state of mind
the soul craving for rains of '>:D<' s
n a genuine ':D' from within oh! so distant

ummm...
neva mind..:P

Silent screams (blank noise)

2008-05-22T05:20:00.000-07:00

The futility of few practices.
How beautifully we acclimatize to ‘certain ways of living’ to the extent of almost taking it for granted.
You know what I mean right?
Umm..say..like those on and off one para reports on women getting gang raped and the incidents of molestation ..candles..mob fury..blah blah blah…Wait there is more ..how could I forget the ‘talk shows’. Feminists clutching their teeth tight, blaming patriarchy, abusing the whole male fraternity..with those exclusive token of thanks to the lecherous Indian men . And why shouldn’t they? As intangible as an ‘issue-to-be-solved’ it probably is, your deepest wounds do come alive once in a while when few disturbing scenes flash right in front of your eyes, ruthlessly. The helplessness, the humiliation..the ongoing injustice that almost seem like a norm.
It is anything but ‘normal’ unless you are bold enough to accept the ruthless as a pattern of normalcy.

For me it was Calcutta. Years back….
My memory fails me to trace incidents that can hint at how old I must have been then. It was after watching a movie in the popular city theatre ‘Nandan’. I was at my best mood having got the opportunity to have a family outing, go out, eat and watch a movie. Lol. It used to be a big deal convincing parents, mamajis and bade mamajis to let us watch a movie in the theatres then. Anyway, I was with my elder sister, maashi and few others I don’t seem to recall. All I recall is the ‘weirdness’ of those moments. As we were walking in the beautiful Kolkata street filled with people from all facets after the noon show, I stopped all of a sudden. I wish I was exaggerating..but it actually was that numbing an experience!
Someone had groped me skillfully and managed to rush past like a usual street side fellow rushing to catch his bus in hurry!
Instinctively I turned back..mumbling something like that guy..that guy…
Nobody paid attention , unless an elderly man calmly declared, oh yes, that guy, he misbehaved I know, I saw. He declared the statement with that look of ‘aisa hota hai lil kid, get used to that entire bonus that comes with you being a female’ expression.
LIKE HELL he saw….
That’s when I realized that the passer-by had 'misbehaved’. I felt like…Like what?..umm, it’s funny! ..wish I could explain.

I stood still, my fingers pointed at the guy rushing/running away(am sure there must have been a slight tension but greater smirk @ the bastard’s innocent face), until that oldie confirmed something went wrong.Um..did I feel like crying. What the hell would I know at that tender age when wearing a tight top was such an excitement, when I could get out of my frocks and pick the latest trends of jeans and tshirts that came in my size as well.
My sister, the angel she is.. immediately calmed me down sensing ‘it was my first experience’. That’s when I realized all the control I have on my body! The sense of calm was soon overpowered with a deep rage to the letter e…
How dare him..how dare anyone. Okay.. so it means any damn guy on street can fiddle and tamper with my body without my permission? So, what’s this big fuss they make about sex being sacred, preaching the divinity of chastity, and all..I mean ..all those whispers and secrecy revolving around baser truths of the relationship between a man and a woman? I am as curious even today…

LIKE HELL that old man saw. Like hell his wisdom served any purpose..oh yes, it did for sure teach me the most ugly lesson of life as a woman, a teenager, a girl, a baby girl..
Could he not just try clutching him by his collar and slap him hard? Fine..am expecting too much? Could he not atleast raise his voice loud enough to gather some crowd..Kolkata of all the cities I knew brews a lot of heat if you want to make an issue out of things. All he did was patiently acknowledge the look in my confused..almost hypnotized eyes.

Leaving you humiliated, helpless and hypnotized..they all manage to strip you off your dignity with such amazing ease. The most unfortunate fact being it’s not those lecherous lot who would be going through these posts on the online project of protest against such practice, they in their circle of peers continue having the last laugh and heck, even if they read through the ocean of plight it’s not going to matter to them even a bit.

Vivid images of those few boys in their early teens--urchins should I say-- in the slum-like galis near my hostel in Calcutta are still fresh where they dared to pass filthy comments at my friend in a sleeveless top..umm..what was it like…'dekho dekho sleeveless pehen ke kaise khule sadak chal rahee hai’ once, twice and third reiteration of the nonsensical statement made me turn back and yell “bahut sleeveless ka shauk hai tujhe?ek thappad padega toh kapde pehnna bhul jayega” Startled he ran away with his peers. They seemed novice, new to the trade and hopefully would think twice before experimenting with eve teasing after that incident.

It was safe to do that because we were in a group, in the daylight and the street was full of people (remember the hot-tempered kol walahs!) ..but what about those faceless figures in the pitch dark corners of the streets..that jobless lot in lungis, chaat walas, frustrated job-seekers, or educated entertainment seekers…the ogles reflecting in the front seat mirrors of the auto you are traveling by? Those invisible hands you feel pouncing on you to grope you any minute ..rape you without a single touch..the conscious feeling so heavy even an innocent stranger belonging to the male fraternity seems like ‘the one’ looking for an opportunity to quench his lust..
The dilemma is with what frequency do you continue yelling back ”kaam dhandha nahi hai kya” and reacting? Or the sad part being how long do you keep wearing on the “I know what you are doing, but am bold enough to ignore you” expression.. I mean kitni baar?kab tak?
I would hate to stop to slap them because I would need to touch them for that.. so deep is the feeling of this endless hatred.

Don’t’ I have a life to call my own? my space..other than keeping an eye on who is lecherously eyeing me..?

Seek company every time? Not go out in the dark? Be in full clothes? Not go too far?

As if gang rapes don’t happen? Numerous daylight molestations are unheard of? Women in burkhas are spared? Abuses at homes are rare incidents?

Those kids with their stint at eve-tease I mentioned..they were the age of my younger brother. Sometimes I feel pity for them as well…when they should be constructively struggling to make a living or get some education ..they indulge in such momentary pleasures and go on setting an example of their power over helplessness of women in general, kyuki koi unke muh nahi lagna chahta and they continue... Ah! The never ending cycle…
Probably it runs deep down into the Indian psyche ..the patriarchy..the very form of year after year women’s day celebrations. Indian households where a man entering the kitchen is a sweet gesture against women in kitchen all day long ‘who can always do better’.

Of course when my mother objects at me getting under those so called provocative outfits (mind you provocative is anything that the people around are not used to..even if it’s just a pretty long wrap-around), she isn’t at fault..because the rage doest help when you actually step out of the four secure walls. With no choice left, you are forced to put on the sheets of adherence ..play it safe you see..
I understand protection..
I understand the importance of carrying an umbrella when it’s cloudy
I understand the funda of playing it safe in bed
But which brand of pepper spray do you use to protect yourself against the unwanted glares and ogles in every nook and corner?
How do you pepper-spray-off someone against the piercing verbal flood of filthy remarks..or those non-verbal signs of attempts at communicating with the sexy but weaker sex. Technology! Right!

Like the whole street turning into floating images of pornographic realm..like a nightmare lived everyday on your way to work, nearby grocery, a café , an emergency…the ugliest part is we have to live with it every single moment even when it’s non-existent ..like polluted air..all pervasive and shattering to the core. A trepidation despite all the expertise you might have on martial arts..like the world was already any less of a hell.

The spurts of anger are sudden. At my diner table once, I spontaneously told my mother “If that uncle ever comes home am probably going to slap him hard..or that guy in the neighbourhood or this cousin who is married with a kid now”
She went.."What… why?”
Because they tried molesting a girl I know.
And then I drifted into the thoughts…those flashbacks..those snippets..
Did it really happen..
Her stubbornness to go to her mama’s place with this uncle ..the tantrums..and the one night train journey…no extra seats available…8 years old her with this fleshy grey haired uncle…and the uncomfortableness. She was sleeping..may be she was dreaming? No concrete proof. Just the instinct..like my sister says..always always trust your instinct!!!

Or

This cousin who would get up to drink water midnight in jam-packed homes during weddings…her eyes would intuitively open.. wide and awake..and ..his attempts..

Or

This neighbour who would try calling her on his terrace to display his affection..

Nothing happened because she would usually smartly escape..and yet the pangs..

Mumma at dinner table made that helpless face(trying to be indifferent but deeply hurt) and went “Oh! Don’t be silly. Its history I guess..stop acting silly”
Right!silly!just because its history just like every second guy on street manages to turn the seemingly insignificant act into a trivial incident not worth being taken up after the act is done with.

Something wrong with no solution, still is wrong at the end of the day, because somewhere in your subconscious the marks are etched..even today..like the fear / inability to walk straight on streets (back upright, shoulders pulled back)..the ‘conscious self’ trying to handle the hunch even on a chair..
Often the truth of the hindi essay, “Nakhoon kyu badhte hai”(y do nails grow?) rings in my ear. Say when am sitting by a beach..the overwhelming vastness bringing all those buried anger with the undulating waves. The author points out at the marks of uncivilization still existent within the society in the forms of our growing nails..which grow as soon as we cut them off..and keep growing…reminding us of the futility of our trials at faking a civilized society with sane individuals.

Source of inspiration for this post: One evening the crush of bodies was worse than usual, and I felt a clammy hand first on my arm, next on my waist (two bare inches of it, where the sari and blouse don’t meet), next the hand had moved further south. I whirled around and saw this most disgusting expression in the man’s eyes, my hands flew to his face as I delivered a stinging slap, before swinging my heavy hand bag across his chest. He looked startle…but only momentarily. Then …he laughed! Yes – he laughed! At what? My powerlessness to stop him from doing it again and again? I saw that mocking leer and lashed out at him once more(the crowd pushed past us in a couldn’t care-less way, two steps back and was gone within seconds leaving me standing there feeling utterly violated and very foolish. I had tears of rage stinging my cheeks as I walked home. Should I tell mother. What was the point.? My mother had never ever walked by any street by herself in her entire life. Come to think of it, she had never left her home unescorted. Ever. What would she know of the brutality right outside her home and hearth? What purpose would it serve to tell her? – Shobha De (Superstar INDIA)

2008-05-14T00:28:00.000-07:00

What do u Mean when you say you Can’t take it anymore?
Like you wanna die or something? end it all?
Or just change…go numb…
Or carry on with the deceptive expressions, shielding the real you beneath the ocean of suicidal thots
Carry on like the rest of the world, the feeling killing you deep within tht u gotta carry on like this for the rest of your life..?
Revel in few moments of ecstasy not knowing if it’s even meant to be?
Let the piercing razor cut your heart every time you let a movie or book bring out the deepest fears and emotions in u? Make you vulnerable to the big bad world out there?
Or go take sanyas in the Himalayas…wht do they call it.. Seek peace?!!
no really… WHOT?
I wonder What do I mean when I say tht I Can’t take it anymore.
Funny to the core!

happy? sad?

2008-04-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

who cares.
Just feel like staring blankly like that for hours.

In silence.

Happy Holi

2008-03-21T06:32:00.000-07:00

its a lonely err..lovely weather here today.

I whiled away the whole day...sleeping...getting up...sleeping again...

Heavy. very heavy..what? My mood, my heart... Afterall poor little thing wants to feel free.

Finally a refreshing shower and moments at my balcony...and the cold soothing evening breeze relieved me a bit...

I welcomed summer..

Sometimes when nothing else works you look for solace in the harshest of things.

Its holi tommorow...Colours...lots of them. Extreme joy of togetherness when everyone drenches in the hues equally...

I'd be running away from them, cuz I dun wanna pretend...get drenched when I don't want to.

These days I enjoy celebrations only when they are subtle and true....

Wish you all a Holi thats filled with colours of fondest thoughts..its a beautiful festival..may it be truely beautiful for you:)

oos ki boondein

2008-01-03T03:23:00.001-08:00

Category-Personal and hardly articulated!

There are songs that touch your soul, n there are songs that stir your soul-Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin,Par Andhere Se Darta Hoon Main Maa-Taare Zameen Par

How much ever I try running away from them, in some way or other it all comes back,
Like an unexpected flood drowning the whole village, like stars and moons pouring down on you trying to wipe the pearly tears..

Nostalgia.
Pain.
Memories.
Flash Back.
Mirror.
Dream.
Happiness.
Tears.
Fire.
Innocence

The movie defined all these and so much more for me.
I don’t even feel like discussing it, because its become so much a part of me.
Some movies are a journey, and this one was surely one such experience.
Ishaan is probably present in each one of us, a part of us am sure can relate to him somewhere deep within..

I was just jobless, introspecting, and I realized I was so different in my childhood.

For instance, those evenings where I would take my cycle out, clean it, get its tyres checked, and then venture out contented..
Eat pakodas in the chai ki tapri all alone. I wouldn’t need a company ,all I cared about was tasting those crisp snacks with freshly prepared coriander chutney while people around kept gazing.I didn’t know why. I truly didn’t bother.
I can still smell the pakodas.
I can still smell my childhood like a waft of air passing by..nostalgic smell, sweet salty smell, and sometimes nauseating.

A child.Yes just a child . All he asks for at a tender age is some genuine love and care.
And it’s a shame if they don’t even find a healthy upbringing.

There was something mentioned in this post-Friday, September 29, 2006(http://titzbitz.rediffblogs.com/)
This movie just gave shape to my thoughts, Oh So beautifully.
Sparing a thought so beautifully for an issue like this is simply commendable.
Kids..arent they the one who sprinkle colours of faith and hope in this huge big world…where sometimes one tends to get lost in the rat race..disillusioned..facaded..

Actually its not just about kids…its about the kid in all of us..its about innocence..
Its about finding your true self… not bothering about how the world would perceive you
as.

By the end of the movie I truely wanted to thank my parents for all they have given me so unconditionally.. I remember my father having rejected numerous offers where in he could grow his business, because he valued his family the most.. before anything..anyone else. Maa and Baba having always comforted me whenever I felt left out..whenever the world would turn upside down. Glowing with pride with each of my achievement.. letting me have a taste of the bigger world outside my small town… not always giving in to my whims..
Lol..its stupid actually..impossible to remember all those moments that has nurtured my life so far.

I took classes, painting, dancing, kept myself busy creatively, chalking out ways to overcome my shortcomings. Probably, I was an introvert then, but I was leading a quality life. I would search for places where I could go, study, read at peace, write my diary…

And now.. a part of me has turned into a curious kid looking around helplessly, evaluating my existence day in day out.. my self esteem having gone for a toss..

And you don’t remember a thing about this post the moment you close down this page :P

thots in a caravan

2007-10-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

Rush of thoughts..some silly, some life-changing; running visually stimulating sights.. some thrilling and some blurry n nostalgic enough to throw u back to your cocoon..
Cuddled in my blanket, and lying down cozily in my own seat..I see a man who looks rather Buddhist, up at 4 in morning.. he goes freshens up and here ..he is back again adoring the sights pensively out of the misty window pane. The darkness, quietness n the smooth swings like a mother gently putting its baby off to slumber with a cradle-lullaby, is so comforting.. .

Sitting in the train amidst a crowd of different people mostly young n ‘couples’;), I finally comfort myself on getting a reward of few hours of peace …all by myself…n wid thots of my people..smsing endlessly...people-watching.. staring outside blankly while sipping my favorite beverage (oh I miss the hot piping chaa in earthern pots avaible in sonar bangla.. n those soft hot roshogolaas)…

Hectic exam schedule has made me realize I can get up pretty early in the morning.. (my poor alarm tone –big big world- usually fades to the turn off mode after ceaselessly trying to wake me out of my fantasy world..lol..).
Train journeys have always been special in some way or the other for me, usually when its all by myself.
It’s helped me take decisions after long reflective mindboggling shifts of thoughts, it’s helped me forgive, not be jealous of certain things thereby feeling miserable, help me love a little more, grow some more..and be a little more of who I am.

Home…hmm.. what about it..something that I have noticed is tht my family’s attitude has changed so much in these few months..umm I don’t know.. That they miss me..has become so much more evident in their voices now.. that- when I would be able to be with them is all they care about (even if they know I would have to come back early) that I wont be attending a cousin’s wedding is okay with them (something I remember I used to have huge arguments about during my grads days in Kolkata, because I would want to utilize that time for something else)

Why do we have to evaluate what we are doing every single moment…specially by comparing it with what others are doing! Should not that either be “none of my business” or simply be a source to derive some inspiration and give the best of my efforts! Damn..i mean its succha short time.. things change drastically…
living in the moment is so true..so damn true!

The other day I spoke to an old friend, she told me how few friends still hold the grudge that others haven’t kept in touch with them , they behaved rudely with her when she went to meet them up :-/ I found it so childish.. cant they just come out of their hostel bitchy political issues..be matured enough to accept each other unconditionally .. now! that everyone is actually separated! I just asked her not to rack her brains with things she cant help n by continuously bothering bout people who cant see through the tough time she is facing ..

Here in train, I wonder why am I not initializing a conversation with anyone around..I can..but lol.. don’t want anyone to disturb my thoughts when I need ‘that’ time wrapped in silky dreamy titbits of life..
Isnt socializing the rule of surviving.. but I hate to socialize, just to impress, when I want to be quiet.. specially when its amongst people you know.. I mean, chicy talks alone don’t make you chic, acting cool is nt enough to make you actually cool.. it takes time to know someone..n if you don’t care to take that extra effort n see thru who I actually am… u rather be spending your time somewhere else n leave me on my own n form whatever opinion u want to with your perpetual judgmental attitude. I know am being kind of cynical.. but its important to set ur priorities sometimes..n hence plz let me do tht :P….!!!Blogging has been therapeutic when it comes to venting out n feeling light n amazingly healed! and I don’t know why I havent ever tried n organized my thoughts while writing something rather personal, yeah coherent thoughts do make for a good read but more that that…even professionally I would like to believe that the message that raw unaltered views convey is pretty satisfactory in its own way, of course its gotto be REGULAR (oki I confess my mistakes too) :P!!

N before the battery of the laptop exhausts, wish me a good journey back home. Its going to hectic even now:-/ will publish this piece after I reach.-15th oct,07

update frm the hoemtown:Here.let me share few pics i clicked today in the morning...Deja vu!...last yr..i did somethings similar..woke up early in the morning to shoot things around my home..

these r the recent ones on flickr -http://www.flickr.com/photos/51928396@N00/
till the title "balcony moments"
the ones that follow had been taken last yr :)

2007-09-03T08:31:00.000-07:00

ummm....
just not feeling good...

bits on Shobha De- Frank Capra...(no relation there:P)

2007-08-02T02:07:00.000-07:00

I feel like being indulgent today..
Indulging myself in writing incessantly-unbothered and just khamakha. (Okay..i like the feel of the post after having published it, otherwise it looks like succha tedious task penning down thoughts these days,lol):P)
All thanks to this new book I started reading by Shobha De-her autobiography- Selective Memory. This is the first book am reading written by her and strange enough I have a feeling that she is going to be one of my favourite authors in the times to come. Bought this book to gift my senior date( I gotta girl as my date :-/) Its just a tradition in our college to allot a junior a senior date who has to be gifted something he/she loves. Fortunately or unfortunately she wanted to read another book and I ended up reading this one:D
Just the other day I was discussing with a friend how I cant seem to be able to write anymore .How much ever I try writing on serious and more imp topics –end up scribbling about random thoughts and thts what can do with sincere dedication.
Coming back to her autobiography- its disturbing, its all nostalgia..and bitterly sweet(am only on the 32nd page)

Brought up in a typical Bengali family ambience. Surrounded by people who are affectionate, restricted, and of so-called conservative mindset, she fondly recalls many moments from her humble modest beginnings. From the long summer and acrid aftertaste of ripe ,juicy ,glossy jamuns-to her memories of stretching her body over her mother who was relaxing and simultaneously looking for (as the author recalls -)“obstinate remnants of grime that hadn’t been scrubbed away during bathtime” from the little girl’s nostrils and ears, to the day of her glory when she won accolades as an athlete in her school days. I could sense a deep bonding with her baba whose dos n donts shaped her life in different shades and marked turning points in her life.

Her simple narrative n descriptive style of jotting down fragments of her childhood is just so honest, sincere and straight from the heart.
Bits from the book- (while writing this I tried to recreate those heady years when I’d hear one section of the stadium chanting Sho-bha, Sho-bha, as I laced my spikes, crouched at the starting blocks and waited to take off at the sharp sound of the starters pistol shot.I can visualize it all with complete detachment like an old movie starring someone familiar.Its hard to think of that person as a young me. I am unable to get under her skin or identify with her glory. Ironically enough, my entire collection (an impressive one) of silver cups was stolen sometimes in the seventies. Nobody knows what happned to the steel trunk in which they had been stored…”) well.seems would make for a godo reading overallJ

Okay…There also is a screwball comedy movie I watched recently. “It Happened One Night”(1934)
The orginal version of bolly Dil Hai ki manta nahi.(I have’t watched the latter yet)

Elements of romance, adolescent rebelliousness, adventure, comedy… in one word the movie was absolutely charming.
Made in the black and white movie making era, it starred the pretty “Claudette Colbert” and some Jameson Thomas (man with the soothing onscreen presence). Must mention that the movie directed by Frank Capra won the top five Academy Awards.

The girl who was the daughter of the millionaire trying to break away from the shackles of a royal pampered upbringing.. elopes to meet her husband from Miami( marriage just for the heck of I as we understand) to New York and eventually on her way falls in love with this reporter whom she meets in a bus journey, who followed her to write a story on the interesting aspect of her life at the moment.
She unknowlingly..reluctantly falls in love with this charming, slightly bossy, caring young man (a script repeated so often these days) The romance unfolds as they spend days together, the girl cherishing her new found freedom , staying alone under a roof for the first time with a man- “stranger but trustworthy”, the boy taking care of her like she was a child to him, reprimanding her for her spoilt –bratish attitude, covering her with his jacket as she went off to sleep under the open night sky on a bed of straws , giving her his clothes, preparing breakfast for her…small little things that urged the simple girl in her to be with him for a lifetime, be with him on the imaginative dream Island he had built..

The story ends after a series of misunderstandings and realizations that eventually bring the two of them together, teasing me wanting to see them together on screen after they both realize their love for the other one- instead the movie ends by showing a curtain
falling on ground (that had all this while marked a separation between the two in one single hotel room where they had to put up) with sound of the trumpet in the background hailing the triumph of the crazy mad love!

Something...

2007-05-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

The breeze feels rather dull.. clouds motionless, and those chirping of the birds lifeless..
When its an emptiness you find in you most of the times..
Probably that’s bound to happen with time….days wont be rosy each day u wake up from your bed, things around to haunt you and illusions to clutter your world…. At a point like this..its great to fall back upon those simple joys of life that keep you preoccupied, keep the haunting feeling aside … like.. a quality time with family, unwinding with a longtalk with a friend, or embarking upon a new journey..like closing a chapter of life and opening another. You don’t know if its good or bad..but its different, its new and fresh and that’s the charm of it all I guess…
It happens with me everytime…. a fear, a trepidation, an uncertainity …with the change of time. But this time its greater somehow..probably growing up and few harsh reality checks in the past have resulted in this clueless growing uncomfort.
For all I know, I ll be a little aloof for a while, a little lost.. angry and cribbing may be…
I miss the times I spent for my undergraduate studies in hostel…and now when its time to enter the postgraduate phase of my life, I fondly reminisce those … late night chais, banging each others doors at any point of time,friends coaxing you to try one sutta of cigarette, sharing the innocent fears of the future to be, PNPCs (poro ninda poro chorcha aka bitching), waiting for our Mr rights and often discarding the very idea of falling for any relationship atall…
Always having rushed to look forward to something little more worthwhile ahead, it’s a little late I realized the joy was in those simple pleasures…

I Welcome myself to the real world anyways..!!!

Current Song humming- Jaane kitne dino kebaad gali mein aaj chaand nikla...

The movie am craving to watch- Cheeni Kum..

Thing am craving to do- Shoppingggg

spot blog blog spot post

2007-05-17T23:55:00.000-07:00

Some passions need conscious efforts॥for them to continue and live..like writing...
Considering the fact that blogger.com as a webblog is much more user (read "blogger") friendly, here I am, with a new blog URL..shifted from http://titzbitz.rediffblogs.com/ (do i hear change is the rule of nature:P)
Random thoughts, cribbings...it will be the same ofcourse added with instances of my life I would love to share whenever time and mood allows... Collection from online image resources gave way to the the header picture in this blog processed in Adobe..thanks to Pranshu too who helped the tech challenged me in giving the final touches ;)..just wanted this to be a normal interface enough for posting n checkin comments actually.

Writer's block...a stupid term..wish i had never learnt that phrase in the first place and continued blogging...and preserving memories and snapshots from my life..Thanks to each and everyone of you who never failed to view my blog no matter updated or not , that was the sweetest gesture i received from my people:)Sorry for the long delay:)
In the next post am just updating few lines I had jotted down around a month ago..and yeah its in devnagri script..guess i would never again update anything in devnagri script considering the fact that i wasnt happy editing it...it was a tedious task soemhow n consumed a lot of time:-S but k..if am pretty vella..wil think about it;)
There r a lot of spelling errors ,some i was lazy enough not to edit..kindly excuse :) Also I couldn't think of a title, what would you name it..?

The poem am talkin about is right below...plz do scroll downn..

2007-04-10T10:04:00.000-07:00

किताबो में सिमटी हुई थी
जब अचानक हलके से कंधो को थपथपाया किसीने
पीछे मुड़ के देखा तो
देखा वक़्त मुस्कुरा रहा था
दस्तक सा देकर ज़रा कुछ देर के लिए पीछे बुला रहा था

उंगलिया पकड़ के थमा दी माँ की उगलियों में मेरी
छुडा के जिसे दौड़ रही थी घर के आंगन में हमारी
माँ के एक हाथ मे लंबी छड़ी थी,
दुसरे मे खाने का निवाला जिसे छोड़
निडर बावरी जैसी भागे जा रही थी

वक़्त ने फिर खीच लिया
उस कमरे मे मुझे
जहां हाथों मे अखबार लिए पापा चाय की sip ले रहे थे
जब लिपट कर चहरे से उनके, खिलखिला रही थी महसूस कर रूखे रूखे दाढ़ी को उनकी

नन्ही सी जान के साथ अपनी वे भी मुस्कुरा रहे थे

समेट ही रही थी उन लम्हों को

कि वक़्त ने ले गिराया रेतों मे मुझे
जहां सहेलियों के साथ पुरे बदन में मिटटी सनाये रेतों के घर बना रही थी

घुप अंधेरो में टिमटिमाते तारों को निहार रही थी उन्ही रेतों मे लेटे ठुड्डी को हाथों मे दबाये

वक़्त ने फिर ले बिठाया तेज़ सूरज के किरणों के नीचे
जब सर पर किसी कि मार से
अचानक लगा बालों को कस के पकड़े हुए था कोई
जाड़ों कि धुप मे दीदी
तेल कि बोतल लिए हुए हाथों में
शायद डांट सी रही थी
चोटी बनाते हुए दिल्लागियों पे मेरे ताने सुना रही थी

दोनो चोटियों को उड़ाते हुए हवाओं में
गुनगुनाते हुए साइकिल को खूब तेज़ चला रही थी
मुहल्ले में जाने कहा कहा रूक कर कर जंगली फूलों के रस चूस रही थी

फिर जाने क्या हुआ

नज़र धुंधला सी गयी मेरी
धुल समझ के जिसे आखों से निकाल रही थी
तो पाया गालों में ओस कि बूंदों कि तरह भीगे
लम्हे डबडबाती आखों से छलक रहे थे

खोजती आंखों ने खबर लेनी चाहि जब वक़्त कि
जो अब तक यु मुझे भगा रह था
तो देखा कि वक़्त बीत चूका था ...
आधे अधूरे सपनो के बीच छुपे दूर खड़े अब भी मुस्कुरा रहा था

दीवार पर सर टिकाए हुए
पलकों को झुकाया ज्यो ही
माँ कि छड़ी ,पापा कि दाढ़ी , डांट दीदी की
सर को मेरे अब भी तो सहला ही रही थी

check

2007-04-10T00:23:00.000-07:00

test 1