Fellow travellers

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Pink Roses

Someone came along and said to me you are so beautiful and went off to lead a life oblivious to me, I revelled in happiness, floated high, looked the moon in the eye.
Till a day someone came along and said to me you are ugly and went off to lead a life oblivious to me, I fell down from the great height, felt miserable and couldn't see the mirror in the eyes.
Till a day I came across the one-who-had-said- I am beautiful and the one-who-had-said-I am ugly sitting together and arguing on the color of roses to be planted in their garden. The one-who-had-said-I am beautiful said yellow is beautiful and red is ugly. The one-who-had-said-I am ugly said red is beautiful and yellow is ugly. When I approached them with an anticipation of recognition in their eyes, they didn't seem to have any memory of me at all. I tried to use their logic to decide I am beautiful or ugly. I found out I liked Pink and never could focus on the beauty or ugliness of Red or Yellow.
I was happy again.
We spend life times trying to conform to people's opinions, only to discover if we are lucky enough, that it never mattered....those opinions, even to those who gave the opinions. All we need to try to find out and gather are our own pink roses.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

This pages refreshes every attosecond !!

The origin of my journey of life is this point here now from where I can not move a step back. I still can decide the direction to take, for each one of us always ends up on a path untrodden regardless of whether the intension had been to walk a trodden path or exactly the reverse. The grounds of the journey of life are ever changing. Even if you walk on the exact coordinates stepped by your ideal you, one cannot assure you the same shady trees, the same robbers of your riches of emotions, happiness, peace or wealth, in fact one cannot assure you the same riches even if you follow the exact routine of your idol to every single moment.

To each his own journey, own decisions, own revelations and own truths. So I am rest assured that I am not going to miss out on anything. Coz I am walking on my path where the truths are yet to be revealed. I am waiting with a wide eyed child's wonder and equal overwhelming excitement for what lies ahead. The scenery keeps changing.

So here I am off to walk towards my destiny and the origin has again changed to this moment for I cannot go back to the moment when I started writing this.

The page of life gets refreshed every attosecond or quicker than that. We have a new chance at a better life every moment.

Good luck !!

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Jane kya baat hai

Kya baat hai ki kahani ruk jaati hai bante bante
Lab khulte hain par lafz wapas sarak jaate hain aate aate
Kuchh dhundla sa yaad aata hai; nigahein uthake dekhta hai dil
Fir ek hasin gehri saans me badal jati hai karwat lete lete
Bahut roz hue khwabon se mulaqat na hui
Wo mujhse naaraz ya main unse kuchh samajh na aaya
Bas yeh suni shaamein baat aam ho gayin
Dil kehta hai kisi ummeed ki ungli pakad
Bhari aankhon ke dariya se bahar nikal
Jo dost hai tera safar me thaam use, udhaar le kuch khwab aur chal
Jaane kya baat hai ye aahein usika daaman jalaye jaati hain
Bejaan khwabon se bojhil aankhen, jab uthti hain uski taraf
Sulagte dil se nikli loo ke saath uske khwabon ko bhi thandi raakh banaye jaati hain

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Sacrifices... Unsubscribed

No sacrifices... It is a choice that we make....every single time....to live in our own eyes or in the eyes of others.

To have lived a life fully lived or a life that is regarded by other lives as "fully lived", who in turn are banking on some such certificate from others for their lives to be regarded as fully lived and the chain goes on.

It is a choice every time.....whether to hold requirements and wishes as sacred just for the fact that they are not ours. And whether to brand the steps to live our dreams as selfishness for the mere fact that they are ours....

Whether to be holier than thou or to be happy; and spill that happiness around when the cup runs over.

Be happier than I was and not secretly envy every person at peace with himself/herself.

It is a choice to live life or window shop life and make a recurring deposit of all the moments and actions hoping that there will come a day on which you will be able to get a huge sum of happiness with interest of goodwill in future life.

"Future life" is a misnomer. Life is now.
All we will end up doing with these recurring deposits is convert them into fixed deposits and life insurances; Maturing at a time when we are incapable of telling between living and breathing, between talking and speaking, between seeing and looking. Between a life fully lived and a life certified as fully lived by others who would have been in turn certified thus, between being happy and being holy,  between sleeping and closing your eyes and being partially unalert , between spilling over the overwhelming happiness and giving alms of sacrifice.

It is a choice we have made all our lives. When we did sacrifice it was actually our choice to do what we did and give up what we didn't.
When we were forced to make sacrifices it was our choice at work again whether to listen to the person who wants to make a sacrificial goat out of us for reasons perhaps unknown even to him or her or a as a complement or supplement to some such sacrifice he/she has made or has been making. Even for that person it was a choice.

It is a resultant of our choices that we live. Not with some glowing halo around us or white divine feathers as our locomotor but with clipped wings and tiers and tiers of wrinkles on forehead and tiers of ageing under the weight and tension of the eyes raised in the hope of some day we will.....it will....

The day is Today
Take control. Be gallant enough to save your soul; to save and help to grow that small sapling of white light given to us when we set foot on earth.
Each man to his sapling and the world would be spilling over with white light.

Not the chain of black spots where each dark spot is filling itself with someone else's white light via a suction pump named sacrifice and creating another black spot.
Each one sucking up the light out of the nearest glow via sacrifice, creating a chain of black moving spots that indicate the lives at unease, the lives miserable.

Contrary to this a life of choices, real choices not made to confirm to other people's estimates or expectations, will be an overflowing river of light.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

A story.... don't know what to name..



Sanchita was looking at the seats, at the snacks corner and seeping it all in.
This was the part of traveling she liked most.

The strange faces around, in front of whom you can just be an image, any image you want to show, the image of the of person you want to be. May be it is the kind of person you would be if you had your way and not the 100 strings and shackles  that bind you. But then those shackles root from your own elements.

Summary, this is the only time when you can live that "You" you always want to look back at you from the mirror.

So Sanchita was making the most of it. She was wearing a cotton brown full sleeved Kurta and black chudidaars with a black chunni. It was complementing her wheatish complexion and the brown kurta was doing well to show case her wavy hair, at the same giving the sober look of sophistication and intellectualism, that she wanted to put across.
Her soft yet full mouth and small but wide eyed gaze added a tinge of innocence to her face.
She was sitting very elegantly in one of the chairs waiting to board her flight to Bangalore.

She got up to buy a cup of coffee. She did not like the coffee as much as the act of buying it, standing beside perfectly strange families or at times an elderly man with a face that reflected years of experience of life and held a promise of giving answers to the questions in her turbulent heart, in a chance conversation struck with him, while waiting for their respective orders, taking in the warm, fresh scent of coffee.

The queue at times also had attractive men with not only looks, but look of intelligence and depth, offering to let her place her order before them, in a show of perfectly gentlemanly behaviour which was so becoming of them. Not that she cared for any of them, or thought this would be the beginning of a love story, but these gestures from them, made her confident about the fact that she deserved to be treated like all women in the world. This consoled her for a moment but started another string of questions within her.

She desperately wished he could be here and see, this is what she she deserved and by ignoring her, this is what he was missing out on. This elegant, good looking, desirable girl.. She had always felt that his series of temporary fancies had always been women who were more attractive, but that's what she was too. The things she liked in herself were invisible to him. She with him was like a Hi end handset in the hands of a Man who knew only how to make calls from a phone.

Today she had left all that behind, or at least this is what she believed. 48hrs ago she had been on a call with him, telling him that she will be going for good. She had half expected that at least this would make him want to see her atleast once. to say Good bye, and when he would see her, she had day dreamed, that he would ask her not to go. not to leave him. She had taken a big chance with her heart. She hoped with all the cells in her heart that he would ask her to meet and knew with every nerve in her brain that he would not.
Still she had played the gamble, one last time, if he wanted her in his life at all or not. She knew she would be shattered when he said no -there was no "if he said no" it was only "when he said NO" as she knew it would be a "NO".
Still the negative in her, that implored her to be the martyr, the good doer, at the cost of making other people guilty; not spelling out sentences on other people's lives, at the cost of making other people feel gnawed at from within, with hate for their own souls at having hurt her; that part of her that simply found more pleasure in sadness if she is able to make other's feel guilty, than she felt in happiness, this part of her prodded her on to place that gamble.

She got her "No" as was expected.

She had felt relived after that "No" though she had not expected that feeling. That was the time she realized again, that it is really liberating to let go. That feeling of lightness stayed with her for some time. Till Today morning, when she readied for the travel and got through the security checkpoints and was now seated with Da Vinci Code in hand and a cup of coffee beside her, enjoying all the attention she was getting from people around because of the image she was able to effect. That is when cognitive dissonance struck her.

The knowledge, that she had never let him see this part if her. If he had seen her thus then may be, who knows ...? Who knows may be she could also have just sat waiting at this very seat while he would have got the coffee for them both, and she would have extended her hands covered with Chudaa (red and white bangles, the sign of a newly married woman) and taken the coffee, while he would have made a statement about the coffee being good or bad, or the flight being on time or late, or some such sort of conversation that she was catching from a newly married couple sitting two or three seats away from her.

She unlocked the screen of her handset, checked, network, messages and checked for missed calls. Switched and switched off her phone, but nothing. There was no sign of his having missed her. of his having tried to contact her.

Next emotion to grip her was loneliness, even Robert Langdon could show some feeling for the lady in all the chasing around and signs and symbolism. Suddenly all she wanted was to walk beside a man, feeling protected or whatever that reassuring feeling is, some one who would look up at her and his eyes would light up. Some one who would know how to appreciate all the features of this advanced handset that she felt she was. Caught up in these thoughts she boarded the bus, that would take her to the flight.

She was.......

Will continue writing after this if you want to know the story of Sanchita further....
"he held out his Visiting Card, it had his name and designation, good enough to feel that he can run a family, but more than that ..."

Monday, May 26, 2014

Hold it with your eyes


My heart is out in the rain
Beating against the walls
on the footsteps of your heart


Just say something ..anything
It will open its eyes and breath
It is gasping left breathless from all the hurt.

Just hold my sight with your eyes if you can't hug
It will climb up with the string of your gaze
It is about to be lost in the dust and smoke of burning dreams

Sunday, April 27, 2014

A letter....
















Dear Dreamer,

How are you? Just thought of saying "Hi!!".

Nothing serious. Had just begun to feel like you have forgotten us... But then we saw you Today from our window through the hazy curtain of sky. You seemed to be looking in our direction. But as you know the distance is too far and there is so much noise between our two lands.

Hey! Ain't you missing us...coz we are.. !! We understand you have more important people around you now..but off the record.. don't you really miss the time when we used to meet in that third reality, where your land is out of reach and ours seems touchable . When we used to look forward to the time when you would finally make it to our land...our beautiful, bright Dreamland!!. We had also discussed about introducing you to more of our people, once you had met with us in person.

We are not sulking because it is not for us to sulk; but just to state a fact, you seem less interested and not at all excited about meeting us.
Are you still sure of embarking upon that journey to our land ? Or you are going to desert us like many before you?
If you intend thus, please let us know in advance so that we don't expect you. 

You look lost with your shoulders drooping. You want to play the poor, helpless, defeated. But remember !! it will be your own choice. You don't have anyone else to blame for your martyrdom but yourself.

As for us, we won't die. We never die. We only become distant. Your self denial being directly proportional to the separation between us. The weaker you grow in your determination, the longer you walk on Socially acceptable path conforming to everything but your heart, the more hard-to-get we are going to play. But the moment you gather the guts to break the inertia and turn around; we will be standing in front of you. Ready to show you the path to our land.

It has been too long a letter already. Got to write some more of this kind to some more of your kind. Your kind has been making us do overtime on these letters since the last couple of decades; since your men have moved from snail mails to WhatsApp.

Take care !!

P.S. We will never leave you. And we hope that you don't either :) We implore you !!


Tuesday, April 22, 2014

How does it feel


How does it feel; to play and not want to win
How does it feel;yet to feel guilty of not trying to win
How does it feel to know; when you realize it was something you never should have known
How does it feel to want to break in those arms and cry
when you know those arms don't want you to gather up into what you were
How does it feel to want to run away from life to have a breath.
How does it feel to have a storm of questions within and no will to ask lest you are met with the same disquieting quiet

Sunday, March 30, 2014


Winter descends on some hearts Just to get the right background The right ambience for a camp fire With poetry for company Memories for symphony And new resolves as the spirit that runs through the spine and warms us up to life anew

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Dil bachcha zid kare


Dil bachcha zid kare ki la do wahi purana mousam
Har subah sabz ho har raat taron ki mehfil
Dila do wahi suhana mousam
Dil izhar kare qwahish usse pahle koi khudai la de us yakeen ka mousam
Jo is dil ne duaon maanga wahi us dil ne khwabon me maanga
Wo duaon aur khwabon ka mousam
Aisi buri aadat si ban gayi hai khaas hona
Dil bachcha zid kare
La do wapas unhi aadaton se bigadne ka mousam