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Saturday, December 28, 2013

That Soul to Soul Connect

At a loss of words
For a feeling so special
That tingles your insides
Yet cannot be explained
It’s warm, like an oozing chocolate cake
And glowing, like that ray of light
Which breaches through the tall trees
Mischievous, like bunking classes to go and watch your favourite movie
Joyful, like the smile on the face of the one you love
Exciting, like taking that first plunge into deep waters
Satisfying, like reading a book at a stretch
From cover to cover, on your bed –
With a cup of piping hot coffee in the other hand
You want this feeling to last forever
You want it to leave you right now
Just to see if it comes back
And yet, all of these things that make you feel so good
Cannot compare to this one feeling
The feeling of knowing
That someone knows you
That you know someone as much as you know yourself
Or even more…
A feeling that makes everything complete
And is yet more incomplete
Than anything else in the world
Leaving a desire burning inside
One that’ll never be satiated

Monday, November 11, 2013

This too shall tide!

Lurch. Swing. Side to side.
Back to front. To back. To front.
That queasy feeling,
Yeah, that’s what you're feeling –
Sometimes sickly,
Sometimes snide.

It’s a rollercoaster ride
This high-low-high life
Jerks –
The ones which are,
And the ones who are.
But keep telling yourself,
This too shall tide!

You want to get off,
You want to hold on tight.
But you’ll probably just hang on,
By the tips of your fingers.
Cold and sweaty grip, using all your might.

When it began,
You felt it too!
The rush, the joy, the excitement?
But now that you’re on the crest,
Sloping towards the trough –
And you KNOW that it’s going to get rough…

Just breathe and close your eyes,
The moment is here
Hold yourself together, dear.
Coz when all goes awry
When you’ve hit the lowest low…
And there’s nowhere lower left to go…
You’ll probably just bounce back,
Like on a trampoline!

And the ride will be over,
You’ll have accomplished this feat,
The tremors shall subside…
And you and Success and Warmth shall meet.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Searching for method in madness

Family, estranged,
Strangers, a family...
Dreams, full of hope
Hope, to get some sleep!
A place - full of scenic beauty,
And yet to be seen.
For a dazzling future,
The present - in a daze.
Captured in life's momentum,
Capturing, life's moments.
In a rush to achieve it all...
Feeling that one achievement's rush.
Waking up to the light of the Moon,
Sleeping, under the warmth of the Sun.

Ek Pehel Panah Ki

दो राह है सामने, पनाह चाहू इन राहो से
गुमराह  करने की साजीश है,
वजह से अब तक नहीं वाकिफ है
तनहा, रहने से है डरता
चाह की राह पे नहीं उतरता
दोहरा मन, आज यही दोहराएगा
गुमराह अब नहीं होंना चाहैगा
फनाह आज हो जाने दे
पनाह खुदा की पाने दे !

वक़्त बेवक्त उस राहत की तलाश थी
तन्हाई के बावजूद जल रही कहीं आग थी
जरा रुक उस आग को एक जलती मशाल बन जाने दे
इन मशालो की रौशनी में पनाह आज पाने दे !!

तेज बह रही इस अश्रुधार को थम जाने दे
पलकों पे कुछ बूँद आंसू ठहर जाने दे
इन आंसुओं मैं ही तो खवाहिशों का समंदर झिलमिलायेगा,
सपनो के मिल जाने पे ही तो ये दिल सुकून पायेगा
हर रोज जज्बातों के सजदे में ये सर झुकाने दे!
पनाह खुदा की पाने दे...
पनाह खुदा की पाने दे...

The Name Poem

Each line starts with the initials of my name...
(for a competition)

Accouter yourself for the challenges life may throw,
Your endurance with every such situation should grow,
Unbridled, should your spirits forever be,
Spunk and fervor in your walk one must see,
Hire inventiveness,
Impair fear!

Rouse charm,
Obviate harm…
Highs and lows are just a part of life,
In which lie the beauty of joy and strife…
Rummage through your heart for the key,
Always, you’ll find, that success will agree!

Want not, vex not!

Not the silt on the side of a hilly terrain,
That will flow with the gush of the persuasive river...
But the sand that has stood the test of time,
Choosing to let go into the arms of the waves when she wants
Yet holding her own on the silver beaches!
Letting you mould her into houses & sandcastles
Yet crumbling back to nothingness when she wills.

Not the water from your tap running at home,
That you can collect in your palms to quench your thirst...
But the free-flowing stream with a mind of her own,
That, try as you may, you cannot contain!

Not the flame that you strike to light up your ciggie,
Nor the one that satiates your hunger,
But the fire that you tried to play with
- Despite being warned -
And deservingly so, got burnt.

Not the air that you so thanklessly inhale & exhale,
Nor the wind that blows through the tangles of your tresses...
But the turbulent whirlwind, the storm, the gust...
That'll uproot your very existence,
If you dare so much as to challenge it...

Not the Great Wall so visited and appreciated, even from the world that lies yonder - beyond the stars,
Nor the one that you so rebelliously drew graffiti on,
But the fortress that guards those feelings within,
One that is not for you to intrude upon!

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Spoiling versus creating our own spoils

We may be one of the most hard-working employees in the world, but when it comes to being ‘independent’ in the true sense of the term, Indians fare quite poorly. Due credit ought to be given to the age-old culture of living with our parents, and the undying “maa ka pyaar” that we feel are our birthrights and by harping on which, everything else is taken for granted by us.

At 24, I feel highly underprivileged for having lived such a cushioned life – where my parents provided many pillows of comfort, the best of education and lifestyle and even sacrificed their happiness at many an occasion at the cost of my well-being. Would I have turned out any better if my mother hadn’t toiled away those numerous mornings tutoring soggy-eyed 6-year olds (guys, tuitions in Class 1, seriously what is the world coming to?) so that she could forward her earnings as fees for my Math classes? May be. May be not. When I look back at all that my mother has done for my brother and I, with the great sense of reverence and appreciation, comes the realization that I will never be like her.

When I become a mother, I probably won’t spoil my kids the way she has pampered us. It’s a ravenous world out there, and I’ll box up my motherly instincts to make my children realize the true drain that this world is – and show them why they need to stand on their own feet, however little they may be. Yes, love them I will, but I’ll let them stand on their own – to walk on their own, towards their dreams, step-by-step and I’ll be there when they’re about to fall.

Thank you, dear Mom, for all the ‘ghar ka khana’, the handsome amounts of badam that you stuffed into my mouth – to make me ‘smarter’, for that extra buck to spend at the movies, for buying me my favourite dress, for being my never-failing alarm clock, for being my doctor, my friend, my guide. But I may not be as good as you. Ever. Not because I can’t, but because I shan’t. I’d hate to see my child feel helpless, like me. To feel sorely lonely, to miss comforting bedtime stories, to fumble hymns at festivals (that resound in my ears in your voice), to depend on the mobile phone’s alarm, to crib about early mornings and to wish there wasn’t so much work to do all the time. 

My child and I will be partners. I’ll tie one shoelace, she’ll tie the other on her own. One plait of her hair will be perfectly braided, the other – she’ll struggle to tighten on her own. She’ll miss school, and then some important tests – and may be a best friend’s birthday or an early morning show at the movies. But she’ll wake up ONCE – and forever after that, to waking up on her own. He’ll save up his own money, my son, to buy his sister a paltry box of Cadbury Celebrations on Raksha Bandhan, instead of that pretty, expensive pink handbag she will have been eyeing. But that’s how they’ll learn not to not measure love by give-n-take, not to put a price on their relationship, to cherish its pricelessness instead.


And someday, somewhere, my children shall be 24. And they’ll write. Or post or tweet – to thank me, their mother. For teaching them how to thank themselves and for not being spoilt, but for being able to bear the fruit of their own spoils.