Sunday, November 21, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
चलो अपने मन के अँधेरे कोने में सबसे पहला दिया जलाएं -Let's light the first lamp of Diwali within our selves
चलो अपने मन के अँधेरे कोने में सबसे पहला दिया जलाएं
तमस वहां का विदा करें ;
जब अन्दर होगा प्रकाश,
तो वो शक्ति होगी हमारी मुस्कान में, वाणी में
के जब भी कोई जीवन छुएं हम
बस वो जीवन महकाएं
चलो अपने मन के अँधेरे कोने में सबसे पहला दिया जलाएं
For friends who are not comfortable with the Hindi Script:
Chalo apne man ke andhere kone me sabse pahla diya jalayein
tamas wahan ka vida karein;
jab andar hoga prakash;
to wo shakti hogi hamari muskaan me, vaani me,
ke jab bhi koi jeevan chhuein hum,
bas wo jeevan mehkayein.
Chalo apne man ke andhere kone me sabse pahla diya jalayein :)
Note : Translation- Let's light the first lamp of Diwali within our selves. Let's throw out the darkness from within. When there will be light within us, there would be so much power in our smile and words, that we can fill with fragrance all the lives that we touch
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Lover - the kite
Love as it stands today, seems to be like some affair which calls for the skills of kite flying. You use your brains, to let the thread loose at the right time and pull it tight at some other. Neither loose enough to let it fly away and slip through your fingers, nor too tight lest it snaps.
Can't we do without the threads and the maneuvering.
It is not the love I know; or had dreamt of as a growing teenager.
Is it worth it?
I would rather let the thread snap or slip through my fingers, if there has to be a thread at all
Can't we do without the threads and the maneuvering.
It is not the love I know; or had dreamt of as a growing teenager.
Is it worth it?
I would rather let the thread snap or slip through my fingers, if there has to be a thread at all
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The sea
Standing at the sea shore, facing it I wonder, it is so much similar to living... this standing at the shore.
Only the person who stands through small and big waves, breezes and wild, strong winds; getting his feet buried deeper in the sand all the while, can see the hopes in the optimistic, wonderful morning... okay may be a hard sun but nonetheless a bright sun, the romantic evening, the intelligent evening, the dark night, the cold night, the starry night, the night full of dreams, the inspiring, hinting, promising moon.
The one who walks away misses out on all of these.
Note: This is something I had written in 2004. Pardon the dreamyness.
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Moves
He tried to push into her heart a false sense of possession; so as to make her have something to loose. He was afraid of her strength. She was strong as she had nothing to loose.
No ! She did not take the bait.
No ! She did not take the bait.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Waiting for deliverance
She keeps laughing, creating waves, like the blinding lightening lest someone should see see her misty eyes n ask the reason.........."why?"
She keeps chatting, throwing words like the cover firearms, so that the sounds of her sobbing heart could pass lest someone should intercept her soul and ask the reason............"why?"
No, she is not afraid.
She can answer all "why's".
But she won't lest all her answers, her misty eyes, her sobbing heart should fall in the swamp of counter accusations, soiled, sink deeper, pulled by the dirt within, lost......
She chooses to strain her muscles to create the perfect, natural sounding laughter.
She chooses to strain her brains to think of words to say.
So that,
In that cocoon her eyes n heart can live to see a day when she can drop her guard and let her eyes be seen shining, and her heart be heard laughing, in a world, on a day, where and when it would be possible.
Till then her lips would laugh
Till then her mouth will talk.
Don't complain why both sound strained...she can't help it.
But one day you will hear a softer laugh, may be a quite sob and muffled whispers, but they would be lighter, brighter, freer. They would sheathe deliverance :)
She keeps chatting, throwing words like the cover firearms, so that the sounds of her sobbing heart could pass lest someone should intercept her soul and ask the reason............"why?"
No, she is not afraid.
She can answer all "why's".
But she won't lest all her answers, her misty eyes, her sobbing heart should fall in the swamp of counter accusations, soiled, sink deeper, pulled by the dirt within, lost......
She chooses to strain her muscles to create the perfect, natural sounding laughter.
She chooses to strain her brains to think of words to say.
So that,
In that cocoon her eyes n heart can live to see a day when she can drop her guard and let her eyes be seen shining, and her heart be heard laughing, in a world, on a day, where and when it would be possible.
Till then her lips would laugh
Till then her mouth will talk.
Don't complain why both sound strained...she can't help it.
But one day you will hear a softer laugh, may be a quite sob and muffled whispers, but they would be lighter, brighter, freer. They would sheathe deliverance :)
Monday, September 6, 2010
Something lingers on
Something lingers on twixt you n me. You came to my life as the first rain on parched earth. You seeped within and lent me that intoxicating aroma.That's something that lingers on twixt you n me. I called you the wind. By no ties could you be held. You touched me with the winters of my life and I stood frozen in the moment, in which your vision my eyes still held. That's something that lingers on twixt you n me
I said you are mine if to me you come back of your own accord. N to me did you come for the record. But like the breath of wine, our dialogues remind me of the past intoxicating. When reality stares with an empty gape. That's something that lingers on twixt you n me.
I said you are mine if to me you come back of your own accord. N to me did you come for the record. But like the breath of wine, our dialogues remind me of the past intoxicating. When reality stares with an empty gape. That's something that lingers on twixt you n me.
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