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

The Rain Story

My umbrella got tired of waiting for the rains...



...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 ||

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!

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

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)

"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:

1. In coming Olympics, we will see an official "Shoe-Hurling Competition"
2. Kids will hurl shoes to get fruits off the trees
3. Shoe-Hurling fad will evolve into juggling. Will see a few circus jokers expertise the skill
4. Shoes will come in triplets, two to wear, one to fling
5. The movement will worm its way to Schools, Colleges and Offices
6. Teachers and bosses will also start inhabiting in net shields
7. Shoe and Hurling will become costliest key words with Google Adwords
8. "Indian Shoe-Hurling League" will replace "Indian Premier League (IPL)"
9. We may also see a few academies making junta dexterous at this new art
10. Celebrating "Shoe-Hurling Day" ahead of Valentines Day

Well, telling future is anybody's guess, what present teaches is, netas need to be cautious while making promises and need to remember what they promised last time they came on the roads, otherwise few agitated people will make their heads swinging.

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.

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...

Touch of butterfly (Haiku)

Like butterfly wings patting air
you touch my soul
so tender

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.

Revisiting Past

Sitting idle on terrace,
crunching chips and puffing serious butt,
looking out into the sky,
which is unusually starry today,
George Michael singing "Last Christmas"
as Christmas approaches,
a perfect evening to break free,
and travel back in time,
to revisit jobless times,
I fondly call them college days...

Mosque across the bridge

It was beautifully enveloped in moss green lights, shining gracefully amidst the hustle bustle of running wheels, standing robust across the flyover. Its aura compelled me to click a pic. Although, I am not a photographer but the picture is trying to convince me that probably I have got some serious photography skills. hmmm...

Wink of time

During college times, management jargon sounded very attractive...
A year on job and I am learning, those jargon looked better in books

DIE HARD on Mumbai Streets

It was like watching live shoot of some Hollywood action flick, where there are futuristic terrorists with sophisticated weapons entering the financial capital of world's biggest democracy with storm, opened fire at various public places, seize two five star hotels and hold high profile guests at ransom. Than arrive cops, commandos, military and in a span of few hours a glittering and lively town turns into an urban battlefield.

Well, this would have looked appreciating if this was a movie, but it happened on the streets of Mumbai, and still happening as I write. Terrorism, which was never gone is back with a bang and this time it is looking more organized, better equipped, more powerful and less fearful. Welcome to the age of urban combat zone terrorism.

And while all these incidents are happening, Mr. Shivraj Patil is still clueless about the vulnerability of security system in India, which is crippled and dead, which cannot sense what is about to happen next and which has proved its incompetence over and over again in last 8 months. Mr. Home Minister, kindly stop being so numb, citizens of India are living their lives on gunpoint, and we would feel relived if you can formally withdraw yourself from your responsibilities because you are not able to shoulder them.

And this goes with all the politicians who will turn up after normalcy returns and repeat the same scripts which they have played on every such occasion. Meanwhile, I was just wondering where on earth can I find the so called saviour of marathi manoos Mr. Raj Thackray? Untraceable

Back to Tinsel Town

When I started my PC today, I realized its been 30 days anything got flashed on its screen. Well, last complete month I was away for an event called "Karaoke Festival" which was organized by my organization . The complete event turned out to be a huge success and I got a chance to see various parts of the country. The entire tour was awesome and a grand learning experience as it gave me a chance to have a glance on various nuggets that are required to put together to make an event successful. Hmmm..., now I seem to be more resourceful and skilled when it comes to event management.

I also got a chance to catch a glimpse of three beautiful cities of Gujarat which I had never seen earlier. They looked very calm, at peace, very serene, but only to me. You tell this to a localite and he will be quick to respond "Everybody has gone mad, everybody is running and this appears to you a serenity?"

Now, when I am back to my beloved tinsel town " Mumbai", I felt like "Yes! for a Mumbaikar, tranquility and calmness does mean that."

Scent (Haiku)

The wind,
carried along,
your scent which I left back

I Grew

I grew

Stories contracted and words lost, days contracted and hours lost, smiles contracted and giggles lost, roads contracted and steps lost, celebrations contracted and dances lost, friends contracted and love lost...

I grew but I lost a lot, like everyone. And this is a soothing consolation, "EVERYONE", what's the big deal, every damn person looses its childhood, so have I. Why am I making fuss about such natural phenomenon?

But when we loose something priceless, certain moments which we can never get back even after spending a fortune, we do create ado, don't we?

Well, I can sense the contradiction of life...

Navratri wishes to all...

"या देवी सर्व भूतेषु, शांति रूपेण संस्थिता
या देवी सर्व भूतेषु, शक्ति रूपेण संस्थिता
या देवी सर्व भूतेषु, मात्र रूपेण संस्थिता
नमस्तस्यै, नमस्तस्यै, नमस्तस्यै, नमो नमः"

Dance, sing, pray, enjoy, live, cherish, relish, savor and put everything else out of your mind for next nine days. The world's longest and biggest dance extravaganza is back...

The festival of dance and worship "Navratri" is here.

Hartley wishes to everyone, may the nine forms of Shakti
शैलपुत्री, ब्रह्म्चारिणी, चंद्रघंटा, कुष्मांडा, स्कंदमाता, कात्यायनी, कालरात्रि, महागौरी, सिद्धिदात्री
deluge everyone with love, success and happiness...

A revelation

What a lovely surprise,
to discover that
leaving college can put
as many tears in our eyes,
as much we cry
on our first day of school...

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.

New age news channels

From Fly You Fools.com

The secret of few posts and good thoughts

I was pondering very hard, why there are so few posts in my blog? And I realized, thoughts always approach me when I am least resourced to write them down. Whenever I walk down to my home from office I submerge into the most beautiful of the thoughts. They just disembark on my mind from some unknown source.

I sail through the seas to find some lovely island but all in vein and as I drop all the thinking patterns, I suddenly come ashore to a place I was seeking desperately.

My work demands continuous generation of ideas, and whenever I need to come up with some so called path-breaking idea, I stare at my monitor, reach out for my mouse, browse through various resources available and TRY to generate something and in this TRAIL the beauty of the thought, the magnificence of the idea gets lost.

Exhausted, I sit down quietly, close my eyes, empty my mind, clear all pre existent notional, not thinking anything and yet, some beautiful thought flying like a colourful butterfly sits on the flower of my innermost soul and I feel connected to something supreme, lost from the world my body is seating in and get coupled with something superlative, and this communion with the soul sprouts a thought, unparalleled, an idea with divine beauty in it.

And somehow, I comprehend that; a thought can be beautiful only if it has touched supreme soul, get connected with divine and born out of the spiritual union of mind and heart.

Atleast, I feel so.

मन: सवॅंम

मन का जगत,
मन की श्रष्टी,
मन की दुनिया ,
बसाई रे|

ढोल ताशे,
मृदंग साजे,
मन की बिसात,
बिछाई रे|

चंपा चमेली,
चंदन लाया,
मूरत मन की,
सजाई रे|

सागरा मनवा,
भया दीवाना,
प्रीत की वो झरण,
बहाई रे|

अब पर्व मनाऊँ,
नाचूं गाऊँ,
हाथ ऊछालूँ,
कदम थीरकाऊँ|

प्रेम के कीरतन,
में जग भुला,
ऐसी रास,
रचाई रे|

Just like that

Waiting to leave office for the day but its raining heavily outside.

Sipping coffee and trying to count the rain-drops, I was just wondering how many drops of rain will be enough to drench whole Mumbai? Silly? I know.

Another silly question stuck to my dumb-brain, "Why rains always make you nostalgic and throw you in the past?"