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boundless heaven, through the warm rays of the sun, kisses the earth deep blue desires, enfold the oozing green ecstasies |
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and in her sweet submission, the lips of the earth part, and flowers bloom... Photo credits: My Canon SX40 |
the communion
staring reflection
it stares right in my eyes
from every damn glossy surface
and with a hint of disgust
declares that i've strangled the innocence
hatred oozing out of every gaze
as if trying to expose me to myself
slashing me out of the my soul
with an assortment of preaching parlance
but hey! i know what i am
so i don't need you to moral policing me
coz you only know the dark side of moon
and i know i have got a crystal clear conscience
Wordcycle of Love
turn
bump
tumble
cuss
get up
apology
look
glimpse
mesmerized
smile
beat
thud
lost
dreams
loiter
glance
behold
smile
jump
leap
fly
plan
dress up
rose
gift
mirror
rehearsal
tense
nervous
call up
meet
try
dare
propose
decline
struggle
retry
pursue
wait
call
message
reply
yes
joy
run
meet
hug
promises
together
kiss
gaze
making love
calls
messages
happiness
more promises
decide
live in
adjust
dislike
clash
ego
misunderstandings
argument
row
fight
incompatible
fall out
split
break up
leave
new turn
together forever
your hand in mine
our souls entwine
the warmth of breaths
makes us feel so fine
let's sit on a beach
under the dazzling moonshine
we will stare the stars
in each others eyes
there will be the rhythm of
the waves crushing on the coastline
the songs of my heart
and the music of the divine
lost in the calm beauty of the night
i wish to make you all mine
holding you close to my pulsating beats
i want to spend a lifetime
let me live
in the calmness of your love
let me not go away
from you ever
i love you and i need you
and we shall now be
together forever
खबर चली
उमंग की छलांग है
हर्षावेश हर उछाल है
सूचित सिन्धु भी
हुआ है शायद
तभी तो यूँ मचल रहा
झूम के छलक रहा
जश्न में मसरूफ़ सा
दिख रहा हर हिलकोरा
सब कुचे नुक्कड़ गलियारे
रौशनी में भीगे, तर-बतर से
दूज के चाँद सी मुस्कान लिए
मीठी मीठी कुछ बातें लिए
ताक़ रहें हैं शहर के
खुलते, बंद होते दरवाज़ों को
और ये भँवरे बाँवरे
छोड़ कमल को
चले खिलाने धुन की कली
लगता है तेरे आने की
मेरे मोहल्ले में खबर चली
हर्षावेश हर उछाल है
सूचित सिन्धु भी
हुआ है शायद
तभी तो यूँ मचल रहा
झूम के छलक रहा
जश्न में मसरूफ़ सा
दिख रहा हर हिलकोरा
सब कुचे नुक्कड़ गलियारे
रौशनी में भीगे, तर-बतर से
दूज के चाँद सी मुस्कान लिए
मीठी मीठी कुछ बातें लिए
ताक़ रहें हैं शहर के
खुलते, बंद होते दरवाज़ों को
और ये भँवरे बाँवरे
छोड़ कमल को
चले खिलाने धुन की कली
लगता है तेरे आने की
मेरे मोहल्ले में खबर चली
heart talk
as the twilight wraps the city
and muffled zephyr sweeps across
something appears and seizes my soul
draws me into a quiet terrain
inside me.
quiet.
i see the mute lips moving
not even my shallow breaths are humming
silence.
stillness.
and then, a thud of beats
my heart ascents to talk to me
to pose questions to my soul
to inquire about the reasons of my being
to remind me the face of the beggar
i saw on my way back
to prompt me about the endless misery
grief and sorrow, around
to challenge my ability to be a healer
to rip my conscious apart
to wake me up
and then
there are noises
राधा तू, मैं किसना बन जाऊं
राधा तू
मैं किसना बन जाऊं
कंधे मेरे सर रेख दे
मैं मगन प्रेम मैं बंसी बजाऊं
जुग जुग से
जो जग दोहराए
तोहे प्रीत की ऐसी
कथा सुनाऊं
जैसे कजरा
नैनो को चाहे
तुझ संग ऐसी
लगन लगाऊं
समर्पण प्रीत के
प्राण है सजनी
इन प्राणों की मैं
कंधे मेरे सर रेख दे
मैं मगन प्रेम मैं बंसी बजाऊं
जुग जुग से
जो जग दोहराए
तोहे प्रीत की ऐसी
कथा सुनाऊं
जैसे कजरा
नैनो को चाहे
तुझ संग ऐसी
लगन लगाऊं
समर्पण प्रीत के
प्राण है सजनी
इन प्राणों की मैं
सांस बन जाऊं
राधा किसना के प्रेम के जैसे
राधा किसना के प्रेम के जैसे
अपने प्रेम को अमर बनाऊं
सजनी,राधा तू
मैं किसना बन जाऊं
सजनी,राधा तू
मैं किसना बन जाऊं
Psychedelic Elapse
(clicked this pic during a journey from Mumbai to Pune... One of the many tunnels on way)
sepia taking over
love's crimson tone
flaked waning words
drifting away in cyclone
memories of you
blurring
paints of past
smearing
that one obsession
called you
is disappearing
into mysterious milieu
like
brush strokes of light
when you zoom past
trail bright
what a prismatic annihilation
of our romance
a psychedelic elapse
a slip out of trance
खोजना तेरे शहर में
खोजना तेरे शहर में
मैं कुछ खोकर आया हूँ
नींद की डिबिया लापता है
और मन भी गंवाकर आया हूँ
भला भला सा चला था घर से
सब कुछ ठीक ठिकाने था
पैरों से मैं चलता था और
सर से सोंचा करता था
तेरे शहर के जानिब चला जैसे ही
मौसम ने भी बदला चेहरा
धुप थोड़ी सी नरमाई और
मेघों ने मुझको आ घेरा
फिर मंद पवन के सहज इशारे से
कुछ बूंदे पेशानी पे टपकी
मानो मुझको शुचित करने को
मुझपे गंगाजल हो छिड़का
लेकर चोखा रोम रोम मैं
पंहुचा तेरे शहर के द्वार
कुछ ने मेरे दिल को थामा
कुछ ने लफ्जों से तेरे नक्श रचे
तुझसे मिला तो ऐसा उलझा
तेरे नैनों के भरम में
खोया सबकुछ पर पाया वो जो
ना मिलता किसी दैर-ओ-हरम में
यूँ तो नियति मेरी ठीक ही थी मगर
कितनी ठीक ये तब मालूम हुआ
जब मेरे नसीब में तू आई और
मेरा नसीब लोगों की मुराद बन गया
Magical Love Sprinkle
There were drops falling
all over
When we both fell
for each other
And you beautifully named
that drizzle
Magical Love Sprinkle
जल ऋतू और प्रेम
तोरी प्रीत में पगली
सगरी नगरी
तू लौटी तो पीछे पीछे
आई दौड़ी
श्यामा बदरी
आनंद में झूमी ऐसी देखो
छलकी उसकी
मटमैली गगरी
हुई सराबोर सब राहें, ऐसी
लहरा लहरा के
बरखा बरसी
तू लौटी तो संग में लाइ
प्रेम कथाओं
की गठरी
उस गठरी की सबसे प्रियकर
एक जोड़ी की
देख अठखेली
प्रणय को दर्शाने को दोनों
बोलते अनोखी
नृत्य की बोली
ये झूमता धरनी पर
जो वो अम्बर पे
आकर थिरकती
कहता जगत देख के इनको
प्रेम की परिभाषा
हैं ये दो प्रेमी
एक है मेघा एक मयूर है
एक है अनोखी
प्रेम कहानी
सगरी नगरी
तू लौटी तो पीछे पीछे
आई दौड़ी
श्यामा बदरी
आनंद में झूमी ऐसी देखो
छलकी उसकी
मटमैली गगरी
हुई सराबोर सब राहें, ऐसी
लहरा लहरा के
बरखा बरसी
तू लौटी तो संग में लाइ
प्रेम कथाओं
की गठरी
उस गठरी की सबसे प्रियकर
एक जोड़ी की
देख अठखेली
प्रणय को दर्शाने को दोनों
बोलते अनोखी
नृत्य की बोली
ये झूमता धरनी पर
जो वो अम्बर पे
आकर थिरकती
कहता जगत देख के इनको
प्रेम की परिभाषा
हैं ये दो प्रेमी
एक है मेघा एक मयूर है
एक है अनोखी
Mountain Pearl
She got the eyes that are kindling with,
the flame of love and glow of faith.
I see them every night in my dreams,
and keep getting lost in their abysmal depth.
She lives with those high hills in the east,
and plays hide-n-seek, with the Sun and the rays.
The pine trees hug her and conceal her,
until she is found by those psychedelic butterflies.
She paints the sky blue with the sleight of hands,
and she know all the tricks of enchantment.
Rocks spread their wings, with her tender touch,
and water comes gushing down into a crescent.
She scribbles the poem of love on my soul,
with her wholesome, genuine, divine smile.
And she may not be the prettiest girl in the world,
but my world lies in her sweet, pretty smile.
I tried to answer this so many times before,
but its hard to explain why I love this girl.
And the way she shines on my heart's zenith,
I simply love to call her "Mountain Pearl"
the flame of love and glow of faith.
I see them every night in my dreams,
and keep getting lost in their abysmal depth.
She lives with those high hills in the east,
and plays hide-n-seek, with the Sun and the rays.
The pine trees hug her and conceal her,
until she is found by those psychedelic butterflies.
She paints the sky blue with the sleight of hands,
and she know all the tricks of enchantment.
Rocks spread their wings, with her tender touch,
and water comes gushing down into a crescent.
She scribbles the poem of love on my soul,
with her wholesome, genuine, divine smile.
And she may not be the prettiest girl in the world,
but my world lies in her sweet, pretty smile.
I tried to answer this so many times before,
but its hard to explain why I love this girl.
And the way she shines on my heart's zenith,
I simply love to call her "Mountain Pearl"
The Rain Story
My umbrella got tired of waiting for the rains...
...and one day water, came with the splash...
...and one day water, came with the splash...
...and vanished in a flash, leaving behind a lone drop... a very very lone drop :-(
हृदयाश्रम
(Dedicated to my new home which I have fondly named "Hridayasharam")
बदरी के कंधों पे बैठा,
वायु पंखों को सहलाता |
तारक दल से करता गठबंधन,
जब उतर के आता रात अँधेरा ||
अम्बर के जब पट खुलते तब,
सुनाती कोयल प्रेम का कीर्तन |
भक्ति भाव से भरी गगरिया,
लेकर आता यहाँ सवेरा ||
फ़िर ठुमक ठुमक के आती किरणे,
और सजाती कुदरत का मेला |
कभी गिलहरी उधम मचाती,
कभी पंछियों का लगता डेरा ||
पुष्प सजा के अपने आनन पे,
तितलियों को लुभाता ललचाता |
कुछ प्रणय है जुगनुओं से भी,
जो नित निशा लगते अविरत फेरा ||
हेम सा शाही अंतर इसका,
अन्दर जिसके करुणा का सागर |
स्नेह के मधुरस में लथपथ,
ऐसा अनूठा हृदयाश्रम मेरा ||
बदरी के कंधों पे बैठा,
वायु पंखों को सहलाता |
तारक दल से करता गठबंधन,
जब उतर के आता रात अँधेरा ||
अम्बर के जब पट खुलते तब,
सुनाती कोयल प्रेम का कीर्तन |
भक्ति भाव से भरी गगरिया,
लेकर आता यहाँ सवेरा ||
फ़िर ठुमक ठुमक के आती किरणे,
और सजाती कुदरत का मेला |
कभी गिलहरी उधम मचाती,
कभी पंछियों का लगता डेरा ||
पुष्प सजा के अपने आनन पे,
तितलियों को लुभाता ललचाता |
कुछ प्रणय है जुगनुओं से भी,
जो नित निशा लगते अविरत फेरा ||
हेम सा शाही अंतर इसका,
अन्दर जिसके करुणा का सागर |
स्नेह के मधुरस में लथपथ,
ऐसा अनूठा हृदयाश्रम मेरा ||
Mystic on the bridge
Thoughts were getting intense as the daylight ducked under the mountains and darkness reigned. A face beautifully wrapped in wrinkles started cropping up on the walls of my skull. A face having long swinging beard which could be home to Crested Oropendolas. It appears to be a Buddha figure with beard.
A city where commuting by any other means of transport is a nightmare, I am one of those rare breed of blessed residents of Mumbai who "walk to work". On my way, I have to cross a railway over bridge, generally having very few strollers, a feature very uncommon in Mumbai. The broken side railings, fractured stairs and iron rods peeping out of ripped cement, surfaces the age of the bridge.
It's been quite sometime I am using the bridge. Although there are some other alternate roads which I can use to reach office but there is some strange attraction which pulls me towards the bridge. The steps are frequent in morning, there is hardly anytime to look around, but in the evening the lazy steps give eyeballs a chance to gaze at the details. It's the time when I sense some kind of tranquility unfolding on the bridge. And as I draw near to the North West end of the bridge, the same Buddha figure with beard which was cropping up in my mind while I was leaving from the office comes alive. An old man, perhaps ages old, with just skin on the bones sitting in a posture similar to that of an enlightened Buddha, humming something which is hardly decipherable. He seems to be a nomad. I see him daily.
Whenever I get closer to the flights of steps of the mystic's bridge, few questions arise in my mind. Daily, I resolute to ask him but as I come nearer to him, it becomes difficult for me to muster up the courage and propound my queries to the vagabond , I simply walk past him.
What is he singing? Why he always sits on exactly the same place daily? Does he know how many years are passed since he first sat here? How many ages he has seen? IS HE THE BUDDHA?
Well, in the meantime, my fascination for mystics is ever-growing.
A city where commuting by any other means of transport is a nightmare, I am one of those rare breed of blessed residents of Mumbai who "walk to work". On my way, I have to cross a railway over bridge, generally having very few strollers, a feature very uncommon in Mumbai. The broken side railings, fractured stairs and iron rods peeping out of ripped cement, surfaces the age of the bridge.
It's been quite sometime I am using the bridge. Although there are some other alternate roads which I can use to reach office but there is some strange attraction which pulls me towards the bridge. The steps are frequent in morning, there is hardly anytime to look around, but in the evening the lazy steps give eyeballs a chance to gaze at the details. It's the time when I sense some kind of tranquility unfolding on the bridge. And as I draw near to the North West end of the bridge, the same Buddha figure with beard which was cropping up in my mind while I was leaving from the office comes alive. An old man, perhaps ages old, with just skin on the bones sitting in a posture similar to that of an enlightened Buddha, humming something which is hardly decipherable. He seems to be a nomad. I see him daily.
Whenever I get closer to the flights of steps of the mystic's bridge, few questions arise in my mind. Daily, I resolute to ask him but as I come nearer to him, it becomes difficult for me to muster up the courage and propound my queries to the vagabond , I simply walk past him.
What is he singing? Why he always sits on exactly the same place daily? Does he know how many years are passed since he first sat here? How many ages he has seen? IS HE THE BUDDHA?
Well, in the meantime, my fascination for mystics is ever-growing.
The Unthoughtful Art
You see, sitting idle and scribbling with no clear purpose can be rewarding and pleasing too... These are two pieces of art which came into existence while I was trying to kill time on Coral Draw.
Star plucking:
Well, this stick guy is a passionate lover who literally went up the stairs into the sky and plucked the stars for his beloved. Although not a great piece of art as I am not a trained artist but loved the outcome of this purposeless doodling...
Rainbow Sucker:
What will happen when a cloud will suck a rainbow? Probably this!
What will happen when a cloud will suck a rainbow? Probably this!
जनता का जूता (जूते की अभिलाषा)
चाह नही मैं कैटरिना के
तलवों से लिपट के बलखाऊँ
चाह नही मैं धोनी के
कदमों को सरपट दौडाऊँ
चाह नही की सुरबाला के
पैरों को चूमुं, इतराऊँ
चाह नही बुढे काका को
बाग़-बगीचे दिखलाऊँ
मुझे निकाल पग से हे जनता
उसके सर पर तुम देना फेंक
जो नेता नही किसी काम का
बस झूठे वादे करे अनेक
(माखनलाल चतुर्वेदी की कविता "पुष्प की अभिलाषा" की पंक्तियों से प्रेरित)
तलवों से लिपट के बलखाऊँ
चाह नही मैं धोनी के
कदमों को सरपट दौडाऊँ
चाह नही की सुरबाला के
पैरों को चूमुं, इतराऊँ
चाह नही बुढे काका को
बाग़-बगीचे दिखलाऊँ
मुझे निकाल पग से हे जनता
उसके सर पर तुम देना फेंक
जो नेता नही किसी काम का
बस झूठे वादे करे अनेक
(माखनलाल चतुर्वेदी की कविता "पुष्प की अभिलाषा" की पंक्तियों से प्रेरित)
"Shoe-Hurling Era" - Future Trends
Boy! it took a lot of pondering and scribbling to decide the title of this post. A few heads I was considering were - "Shoe Hurling Saga", "Common Man's Weapon", "New found democratic cult", "Future of shoe hurling age" and finally I zeroed in on this one.
To redefine "Shoe-Hurling", it refers to flinging a Juta (Shoe) to vent frustration by a common aadmi on some useless person generally belonging to politics clan.
What might have started as an impulsive reaction by some distressed being has now become a cult. I am here trying to figure out, if this trend kept flourishing at the same pace, what is it that we can expect in future?
10 Future Trends:
To redefine "Shoe-Hurling", it refers to flinging a Juta (Shoe) to vent frustration by a common aadmi on some useless person generally belonging to politics clan.
What might have started as an impulsive reaction by some distressed being has now become a cult. I am here trying to figure out, if this trend kept flourishing at the same pace, what is it that we can expect in future?
10 Future Trends:
- In coming Olympics, we will see an official "Shoe-Hurling Competition"
- Kids will hurl shoes to get fruits off the trees
- Shoe-Hurling fad will evolve into juggling. Will see a few circus jokers expertise the skill
- Shoes will come in triplets, two to wear, one to fling
- The movement will worm its way to Schools, Colleges and Offices
- Teachers and bosses will also start inhabiting in net shields
- Shoe and Hurling will become costliest key words with Google Adwords
- "Indian Shoe-Hurling League" will replace "Indian Premier League (IPL)"
- We may also see a few academies making junta dexterous at this new art
- Celebrating "Shoe-Hurling Day" ahead of Valentines Day
Voyage - Back to Soul
One day I thought
sitting in a trunk,
what fun it must be
living life on the brink.
Next trice blood started
hurtling down the veins,
eyes stared uncharted
territories beyond the fence.
I locked my all fears
into steel cage,
heart is pounding
I am running off the edge.
Trailing the call of unknown
breathing away from prudence,
I am on an odyssey
discovering my essence.
I have opened my wings
I am ready to fly,
for a voyage with dreams
beyond the clear new sky.
Life has become a celebration
its raining rapture
I have touched my soul
and danced with nature.
sitting in a trunk,
what fun it must be
living life on the brink.
Next trice blood started
hurtling down the veins,
eyes stared uncharted
territories beyond the fence.
I locked my all fears
into steel cage,
heart is pounding
I am running off the edge.
Trailing the call of unknown
breathing away from prudence,
I am on an odyssey
discovering my essence.
I have opened my wings
I am ready to fly,
for a voyage with dreams
beyond the clear new sky.
Life has become a celebration
its raining rapture
I have touched my soul
and danced with nature.
Philosophy at tea time
My blog was into a deep meditative mood for last one month and hence there is no post.
Well, to be honest, wasn't actually having the time to weave the words, New year started on quite a busy note.
But last week I was lazing at a tea stall. The most wisdom endowed people in India can either be located at a "Paan Ki Dukaan" or at a "Tea Stall". I have always wondered how people become so intelligent and full of insights while they guzzle down hot tea or munch a Paan. Folks here discuss some of the world's most head scratching problems and decipher them as they shoot reddish jets from their chops.
Phew... getting back to the incident, I was having my evening cup of tea with my left ankle on right knee, and suddenly a few words from surrounding wormed their way into my ears. "IF YOU KEEP ON SCREWING OTHER'S LIVES, ALL YOU WILL BE LEFT WITH IN YOUR HAND IS AN SCREW DRIVER."
Well said, worth atleast a post...
Well, to be honest, wasn't actually having the time to weave the words, New year started on quite a busy note.
But last week I was lazing at a tea stall. The most wisdom endowed people in India can either be located at a "Paan Ki Dukaan" or at a "Tea Stall". I have always wondered how people become so intelligent and full of insights while they guzzle down hot tea or munch a Paan. Folks here discuss some of the world's most head scratching problems and decipher them as they shoot reddish jets from their chops.
Phew... getting back to the incident, I was having my evening cup of tea with my left ankle on right knee, and suddenly a few words from surrounding wormed their way into my ears. "IF YOU KEEP ON SCREWING OTHER'S LIVES, ALL YOU WILL BE LEFT WITH IN YOUR HAND IS AN SCREW DRIVER."
Well said, worth atleast a post...
New Year's knocking
When you hear, the murmur of people,
speaking of quitting smoke,
and coming out of debt's yoke.
when you see, more joggers in park,
moving hands over belly,
eyes adoring Arnold and Jolie.
When you realize, its time to look back,
learning from the past dismay,
and knitting new dreams for the new day.
Then you know, its coming new year,
occasion of fresh resolutions,
occasion of joy, happiness and celebrations.
speaking of quitting smoke,
and coming out of debt's yoke.
when you see, more joggers in park,
moving hands over belly,
eyes adoring Arnold and Jolie.
When you realize, its time to look back,
learning from the past dismay,
and knitting new dreams for the new day.
Then you know, its coming new year,
occasion of fresh resolutions,
occasion of joy, happiness and celebrations.
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