Christmas wishlist !

The christmas bells toll far away,
Santa approaches on his sleigh,
I hope his gifts bring us great joy,
And happiness, one cannot weigh !!

A Christmas wish

Seasons come and seasons go,
Some just pass by, some make you grow,
I hope this season brings for us,
Eternal moments of bliss for sure!!!

Happy Holidays !

Brighter days and starry nights,
Crimson hues, silver delights,
Now "Angels" tread upon this earth,
To fill your path with love and light............

Ouch.....

We only get hurt as much as we allow ourselves to be...not more, not less...Then why is it that we still feel the pangs of pain now and then?...If it was all so easy..if it was really a matter of us not letting the pain seep in..., how come it hurts so much every now and then...

Now and again.....

I sit on the park bench doing absolutely nothing. Just trying to be in the present moment, here, now. But i can feel the inner anguish, the eternal struggle to race ahead or to relive the past. Why is it so difficult to just be without having to do anything at all ? Fear of the future, the hauntings of the past, thoughts zip zapping to and fro, an eternal chaos...Intermittently the struggle to feel the placidness, a stillness in time, an absolute void. Longing for a serene moment and nothing else.......

And...

All shall be well,
And all shall be well,
And all manner of things shall be well..............

Under the weather !!

There are moments in your life when you feel completely bogged down..not by work or by stress or by the tough demands on you..but just like that...its as if you have been running for long and have drained yourself of all the energy and cant go on anymore...you feel exhausted..like a toy balloon which has been sucked out of all air...well almost...you feel the need, to just be..like wanting to do 'Nothing' for a while...just be...yesterday was one of my such days..and possibly today is a continuation...At times like these you feel the need for someone who can tell you that everything will be fine...to remind you that you are not what you feel now..you are what you were before you felt this 'nothingness'...someone to give you a little ray of hope that well, this will pass soon...and you will be back to your self again in no time...and sometimes you yourself need to be this ray of hope for yourself..its something like playing a dual role..like being there for yourself...it needs to be done..for you cannot expect someone else to be always there for you..isnt it ?

A change of times!!

The journey from the "chronos" moments to the serenity of "kairos" awaits beginning...Its just a matter of taking the first step towards the destination !

दौड़......

दुनिया की इस भीड़ में भी,
जाने कितनी तनहाई है
इन्सां तो नज़र आते हैँ पर,
लगते जैसे परछाई हैं

कोई आवाजें देता हे,
कोई कोमल मुस्काता हैँ
इस मन बहलाती कोशिश में,
जाने कितनी सच्चाई हैँ

हर कोई चलता जाता हैँ,
अपनी धुन, अपनी मस्ती में
जाने किस मंज़िल को पाना,
हर इक दिल की चाहत हैँ

YOU and I

Sometimes i feel i was so wrong,
In feeling that i did belong,
In these dark woods of blissful life..

I did believe in fairies then,
In flying horses and wishing wells,
and i thought they were ever as true,
As the sun shining in the sky so blue

Sometimes the sun shone truly bright,
And brought into my life, a ray of light,
Sometimes the darkest clouds dread near,
and made my heart go limp with fear

I thought of you in the wilderness,
You were that beat my heart would not miss,
Thinking of you made me want to live,
A best shot at life i did want to give..

In days that passed i have come to see,
that all that was just a fantasy,
You chose our path shud never meet,
your efforts at this though i tried to beat...

They say, you can never lose something which you never had at all,
But i guess i did lose you afterall....

मी.......

रंगात जीवनाच्या मिसळून वाहिले मी,
कळले मला न काही का धुंध जाहले मी

गंधात त्या फुलांच्या, स्पर्शात त्या कळ्यांच्या,
आकाश तारकांच्या संगतीत राहिले मी

ऐकून गूज गाणी, हळुवार हासले मी,
समजून शब्द सारे हरपून राहिले मी

स्मरुनी कधी तुला मी, रचिली नवी कहाणी,
विसरून भान सारे, जणू स्वप्न पाहिले मी

हस्ता कधीच रुसले, रुस्ता कधीच हसले,
ऊन पावसाचा खेळ पाहिला मी

डोळे भरून येता, मिटले हळूच डोळे,
भानावर येता कळले, आसवानी चिम्ब गेले भिजून मी.......

Soulful or tummyfull ;-)

" How good one feels when one is full - how satisfied with ourselves and with the world! People who have tried it, tell me that a clear conscience makes you very happy and contented; but a full stomach does the business quite as well, and is cheaper, and more easily obtained. One feels so forgiving and generous after a substantial and well-digested meal - so noble-minded, so kindly-hearted.

It is very strange, this domination of our intellect by our digestive organs. We cannot work, we cannot think, unless our stomach wills so. It dictates to us our emotions, our passions. After eggs and bacon, it says, "Work!" After beefsteak and porter, it says, "Sleep!" After a cup of tea (two spoonsful for each cup, and don't let it stand more than three minutes), it says to the brain, "Now, rise, and show your strength. Be eloquent, and deep, and tender; see, with a clear eye, into Nature and into life; spread your white wings of quivering thought, and soar, a god-like spirit, over the whirling world beneath you, up through long lanes of flaming stars to the gates of eternity!"

After hot muffins, it says, "Be dull and soulless, like a beast of the field - a brainless animal, with listless eye, unlit by any ray of fancy, or of hope, or fear, or love, or life." And after brandy, taken in sufficient quantity, it says, "Now, come, fool, grin and tumble, that your fellow-men may laugh - drivel in folly, and splutter in senseless sounds, and show what a helpless ninny is poor man whose wit and will are drowned, like kittens, side by side, in half an inch of alcohol."
We are but the veriest, sorriest slaves of our stomach. Reach not after morality and righteousness, my friends; watch vigilantly your stomach, and diet it with care and judgment. Then virtue and contentment will come and reign within your heart, unsought by any effort of your own; and you will be a good citizen, a loving husband, and a tender father - a noble, pious man. "

-Three men in a boat (Jerome K Jerome)

A writer's block !

For the last one month, there have been no posts. I have been experiencing what people term as a writer's block. Not exactly, that is. There have been thoughts zooming in and out of my head, yes they have. But then the only thing that has prevented them from being presented here, has been my utter laziness in giving them any form whatsoever. And now that a whole month has gone by without any constructive thinking for that matter, it has been decided (by me and only me, under no pressure from the world, that is) to resume my writing and put an end to the chaos within me, that seems to have found existence in the absence of a channeled outlet. So watch out world, here i come again !

Oblivion

as morning comes and the day begins,
i feel a certain emptiness
the moments pass, the hours unfold,
my heart, it feels a heaviness

the voices all around me fade,
drown me in my solitude,
the faces stare me in my eyes,
my gaze, it wanders past them too

my brain, it thinks, my hand, it works,
my feet, they walk, my eyes, they see,
oblivious to everything,
the chores get done, the day is gone

the night, it seeps in like a thief,
engulfs me in its deepest voids,
i hold its hands and like a child,
i close my eyes and fall away.....

Just another day...

A post after a long time..havent written for quite some time now..so thought i'd give my brain cells some fodder to chew upon. So whats on my mind today? Well lots of things or maybe not. Its some kind of a garbled expression that forms up when i try to put things in perspective or analyse them. So let me not bother myself (or anybody for that matter) about setting things right ! Will leave that for eternity ( herez where i snigger !!)

अयुश्याचा दिवा......

एका चोठ्याश्या गवत नदी पलिकडे एक जुने मंदिर. गावातल्या एका मुलीचा रोजनियम कि संध्याकाळी पेटविलेला दिवा हातात घेऊन नदिपार करून तो मंदिरात ठेवणे। माहिती नाही आयुश्याची किती वर्षे प्राणा पलीकडे जप्लेला। एक विचित्र संध्याकाळ। दुपारी पासूनच ढ़ग दाटून आलेले। जोराचा वारा सुटलेला। झाडाचे पान फान्दीवर थाम्बेल तर शपथ। विजांचा नाच चाल्लेला। नदिने तर समुद्राचे रौद्र रुप धारण केलेले। एकुणच सारे काही सैरभीर। बिचारी मुलगी गोंधळून जाते । पण पेटविलेला दिवा नदिपार मंदिरापर्यंत कसा घेऊन जायचा? मध्येच दिवा शांत झाला तर प्राणच संपले सारे। याच एका जिद्दीने प्रयत्नांची पराकाष्ठा करत मुलगी नदी पार करायला सुरुवात करते। निसर्गाला अजुनच चेव चढ़तो। नादीत्ल्या लाटांचे तुषार दिव्याच्या ज्योतीशी स्पर्धा करायला लागतात। बेफान वारा झाक्लेल्या हाताच्या पोकळीतून आत शिराय्ला बघ्तो। सगळेच शत्रू बनून समोर ठक्तात। पण जिद्द मात्र मोठी। मदिरात दिवा ठेव्ण्याची। शेवटी उम्बर्ठा ओलांडून आत येते। "जिंकलो एक्दाचे। किती अडचणी पार करून 'मी' हां दिवा इथ्वर आणला। चला माझ्या कर्तुत्वाचा आनंद व्यक्त करुयात"। एक इव्लासा सुस्कारा.........................................दिवा शान्त होतो !
एक, फक्त एक मोहाचा क्षण आणि सर्व काही सम्पून जाते। त्या मोहाच्या क्षणावर विजय मिळ्वून जर आपण पुढे गेलो तर ह्याही पेक्षा सुन्दर , आश्वासित आणि अमर्याद आयुष्य आपण उपभोगु शकतो। आवश्यकता आहे ती त्या मोहाच्या क्षणाला बळी ना पडण्याची।

अन्यथा शिल्लक राहील फक्त भोगणे
---Courtesy : A Long Lost Friend

A blooming bunch!

A Gulmohar bloom..

A bunch of Gulmohar in full bloom...Captured on the way to Mumbai from Shirdi...

Music...

music fills my heart with love,
     as i hear my favourite song
the words take me to a different world,
     to a place where i belong

one moment i am flying high,
     like a bird, i soar the sky
next moment i just drift along,
     afloat the ocean's rythmic stride

the gentle wind brushes my cheek,
     a drop of tear then fills my eye
i watch the world through the hazy mist,
     hum to the tune of a melodious bliss

with gentle swaying steps so light,
     i tread the path in solitude
my soul now drenched with peace and calm,
     is brimming full of gratitude

the closing words, the parting tune,
     bring me back from my reverie
my heart profuse with melody,
     sings the words then back to me !

Twilight

The fading day embraces the oncoming night with a subdued eagerness. The sun has begun its gradual descent across the horizon. The faint sunlight struggles to seep in through the engulfing darkness. Once in a while, a gentle breeze breaks the monotony of the otherwise creeping silence. The trees cast their dark shadows on the tranquil waters. The occasional whiff of breeze causes the leaves to flutter and stirs the still waters creating ripples which take a new form before they merge with the stillness once again. The dim light from the street lights seem to brighten up the waters with their reflection.

She sits at the bank soaking in the solitude, hoping to drown the clammer of thoughts in her head with the surrounding silence. At a distance, she spots an elderly couple engrossed in deep conversation. The sound of an occasional soft laughter coming from their direction fills the air. Her fingers aridly trace a pattern on the sand. She is completely unaware of the depiction that is forming. She stares disconnectedly at it, as if the fingers creating them were not her own. A shrill calling of a bird awakens her from her dreariness and she struggles to comprehend the outline on the sand. Unable to fathom her own thoughts, she erases the pattern with a quick effort. All that is visible across the horizon now, is a crimson hue of the faded day. There are not many people on the bank. The elderly couple has left. Caught between conflicting possibilities of staying a little longer and a quick retreat home, she wonders what she ought to do. There is not much to do at home. To linger a few moments more would not do much harm. Having quietened her inner conflict momentarily, she decides to take a walk across the bank to soar her dampened spirits. Her agile steps which sink into the sand displacing it, the feel of the coarse sand against her soft feet, seem to dissolve her agonies with every step. She can feel a lightness filling her heart. Her footprints on sand now weigh with the heaviness once borne by her heart. These too will fade away soon. Just like her dispensed gloom, the footprints will be washed away in time. Tomorrow's twilight will probably have a different tale, a different pattern and new footprints...

If.....

what is it that makes me laugh,
     what is it that makes me cry
what is it that makes me live,
     through the days and nights alike?

if today was my only day,
     what would i really care to do?
go on living as yesterday or
     would i squander it all on you?

would i stop to smell the flowers,
     would i stop to feel the rain?
or would i dread the time thats passing
     and fear this will be never again?

if i were to speak my mind,
     what is it that i would say?
would i speak of this and that,
     or would i pour my heart away?

if i knew what makes me happy,
     fills my heart with laughter and play,
would i care to sing and frolic,
     and do just as my heart would say?

if i knew there was an angel,
     watching over me all the way,
would i care to share my fears,
     the ones that bring me down to tears?

if there really were no such questions,
     how different would my life be then?
if i really knew the answers,
     would i live differently then?

this again is just a question,
     that flutters through my wandrous mind,
never mind the questions or the answers,
     could i just start afresh again?

A White Rose

by: John Boyle O'Reilly (1844-1890)

The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
Oh, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rose bud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

Little treats...

a drop of water stirs the pond,
as a thought would stir the mind

a ray of sunlight dispels gloom,
as hope in a weary heart should bloom

a drop of dew glitters in light,
as a diamond sparkling bright

a whiff of fragrance lifts the soul,
as a joyous moment in life should unfold

a drop of oil kindles the flame,
as a faded memory brings back a name

a careless whisper lightens the air,
as a drift of sea breeze through one's hair

a drop of tear fills the eye,
as the moon and stars fill up the sky

little meanings in all these deeds,
for us to savour life's little treats!

Footprints on sand....

Probably its time to let the footprints on the sand to be washed away by the tide...She has held it from being swept away for too long. Now even the shore seems to be complaining. And morover inspite of her efforts, the footprints have started fading away. They are no longer the familiar ones which she seemed to know some time ago. With time, they have changed too. And changed to an extent where she can hardly see any signs of having known them or being related to them in any way. She had believed all along that these would never change. For her, these footprints were the very roots to the existence of the many cherishable moments and companionships that came her way. But alas! They no longer seem to be the ones. How alienated they have become. How strange they make her feel...

Frozen

You only see what your eyes want to see,
How can life be what you want it to be?

I love this song by Madonna. I could never quite figure out, what exactly i like about this song. But somehow, it appeals to me. I like it all the more, everytime i hear it. These two verses of the song tell a true tale. We as humans, in reality, tend to see only the picture we wish to, what we choose to. The rest, we conveniently try to overlook, almost. Most of the times, even the opinions we form of individuals or the feelings we have towards them, is nothing more than the mere reflection of what is conspiring in our minds about them. We try to overlap the image we have conjured over the existing reality. But in doing so, we drift away from the fact that we are actually forcing ourselves away from the true picture and what appears before us, is just a mirage!

इक चेहरा

तमन्नाओं कि इक गली है,
ख्वाहिशों का इक आशियाना है,
सपनों की इस दुनिया में,
मेरा अक्सर आना जाना है

सितारों कि झिलमिलाहट है,
हवाओं का गुदगुदाना है,
खुशबुओं में लिपटी हुई,
वादियों का एक घराना है

दूर कहीँ इक झरने पर,
बहते पानी कि सरगम है,
पत्ते पत्ते डाली डाली,
महक रहा गुल गुलशन है

इस मन बहलाती वादी में,
छोटा सा एक घरौंदा है,
सूरज किरणों से सजा हुआ,
इस घर का हर दामन है

वोह एक इशारा सच्चा सा,
एक चेहरा कच्चा पक्का सा,
पास आते ही आंखों से ओझल,
वोह खेले आंख मिचोली है

ना जाने कब गुम हो जाये वोह,
यह सोचके दिल घबराता है,
उससे मिलने कि चाहत में,
रोज़ यहीं ले आता है

इक रोज़ नज़र आयेगा वोह,
यही सोचके अब तो दिल मेरा,
सपनों की इस नगरी में,
अक्सर आता जाता है.........

Just another day

Its just another day for him. He hasnt planned anything specific for the day. But he is sure that it is going to be as good as yesterday, maybe even better. Now that he is on his break, all he wishes to do is enjoy the days free from the monotony of his daily routine. A routine which has a fixed pattern, from which he hardly deviates. This is going to be different, he promises himself. With this thought he feels a sudden adrenaline rush of excitement. With an unknown vigour, he slips out of his bed and heads for a bath. Suddenly this seems to be the brightest day filled with a lot of promises. He makes a mental note to make the most of this day.

His first halt will be to the coffee shop to pick up his favourite Latte and some cookies, he decides. The thought of cookies, suddenly makes him hungry. He dresses up hastily and glances at his reflection in the mirror. Not bad for the day, he mumbles to himself and picking up his sun glasses and bike keys, he is about to rush out of the house, when a few envelopes on the mirror stand catch his eye. He is suddenly reminded of the pending tasks from the previous day (in fact previous days). He needs to write back to his parents. He hasnt done that in so many days. His mother, tired of waiting for his letters, which had become infrequent with the passing time, had begged him to write back. The tone of the letter, brings a little melancholy to his otherwise cheerful frame of mind. The other envelope is a card from his friend. She has written to tell him that she would be in the city for a few days. She wants to know if he can spare some time to get together. After he shifted to a new city, with time, they seemed to have drifted apart, inspite of her many efforts to bridge the distance. He is aware of the rigid conversations he has had with her over the past few months and his heart is filled with guilt. But now is not the time, he tells himself and walks out of the house with harried steps.

He glances at his watch and realizes that he has been sitting at the coffee shop for over an hour. He traces a pattern with his finger over the crumbs of cookies on the table and lets his eyes wander aimlessly. With nothing to rest his mind on for more than a moment, he heads for the counter, pays the bill and leaves. The sun is blazing hot and the signal is still red. He can feel the sweat dripping off his back. His shirt is literally soaked. The occassional whisper of the breeze brings a momentary relief, but that too doesnt last. He is unaware of his next plan for the day. Should he take a right and stopover at the library to pick up some movies or should he go straight to his usual hangout where he knows his gang would already be there. In this moment of confusion as the signal light changes, he fumbles, takes a wrong turn and collides into an oncoming truck. He can feel himself being thrown over a couple of metres. For a fleeting moment, he can feel himself floating in the air and then the thud with which he has landed on the side of the pavement. As he lies in the pool of his own blood, he can still smell his sweat now mixed with blood. Every passing moment now feels like an eternity and he is aware of the tiniest of signals his body seems to be sending. He knows what he wants to write in the letter to his mom. He knows what he needs to say to his friend. Nothing has been more clear to him ever in his life as this moment. He knows exactly what he needs to do next. Its not like his unplanned days anymore. But this moment of clarity is then blurred with the possibility of the oncoming death which he smells at the distance. He can already picture his mother over his corpse weeping hysterically. He wants to hold out his hand, to console her. He can see all his friends gathered around with solemn faces. But his eyes search for her. Why is she not here? Does she not know of my death? And then he sees her, hiding her face in her palms, crying her heart out. He wants to reach out to her, to hold her close. But the moment is gone. The times when he could do all this has passed. Now what awaits his fate is the door that will culminate his journey and take him to a different world. He wants to hold on a little longer. He wants to make amends. He wants another chance. He can feel the piercing pain in his heart, caused not by the wounds but by his reckelessness which took things for granted. A sudden shrill sound pierces the air and he is sure that this is it. The end has come. With a heavy heart, he prepares to resign himself to his fate when his phone rings and the shrill sound repeats itself to say "It is 6:15 in the morning. Time to wake up".

"I got a second chance", with this realisation, he fumbles for his phone, puts the alarm on snooze , shifts over to the other side and drifts back to sleep with a cheerful smile.....

:-)

I am what i am, and what i am is wonderful !!

A liitle bit....

a little bit of this, a little bit of that
a little bit of everything, what life is all about

a little bit of yellow, to make you smile,
to take away, all your cares for a while

a little bit of white, to bring you peace,
which in moments of pain, is all you seek

a little bit of blue, to make you calm,
when the storm in you, could do much harm

a little bit of red, to fill you with love,
to set your heart serenading, to the music of love

a little bit of green, to give you hope that will last,
today will be better, no matter how the past

a little bit of black, to shield you from evil,
to let you know its ok, to shed a tear or two

a little bit of joy, a little bit of pain,
a sprinkle of sunshine, a sprinkle of rain

a little bit of everything, to kindle your dreams,
a lot of hugs to make your day, send good spirits in your realm

The kingdom of dreams - part 1

It was a chilly night. The weather was getting worse since the past few weeks. The local papers were filled with warnings of an oncoming snowstorm. But oblivious to all such matters, he was busy packing his bag for the school next day. But while his hands performed the mechanical action of clearing his table and stuffing his bag with books for the lessons next day, his mind had started wandering. By the time the last book went into his bag, he was already miles away in the territory he found himself very frequently. The kingdom of dreams, which seemed to attract him like a bee towards honey, was as if alluring him.

As he lifted his bag, his elbow accidentally hit the pencil stand at the edge of the table. The metallic clink of the tin pencil stand as it fell on the floor, brought him back to reality and he was suddenly aware of his mother's voice calling him for supper. He hurriedly scampered out of the room and seated himself at the table before anybody had a chance of screaming at him. He wasnt very hungry but he was afraid of his dad's violent temper which would fare up if he refused to have his food and so he decided to stuff whatever it was for supper, into his little mouth as much as possible, without evoking any unpleasantries.

All he wanted was to gobble up his food and head back to his room. The children's story hour would soon be aired on the radio and he did not want to miss it for anything. It was his sole escape from the dreary reality of this world. He had found this broken radio on his way back home from school one day. He hadnt spoken about it to anybody else. After fiddling with it for a few days, he had got that working. Though it didnt give the best quality sound, it was nevertheless a relief to hear it rumbling in the background. It was his sole companion in times, when woken up by the intermittent sounds of quarrel between his parents, he wished to blank out the voices.

With one eye fixed on the clock over the mantelpiece, he waited expectantly for food to be served on his plate. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could head back to his solitary abode. He also wished that his mother had not prepared a capsicum dish. He hated capsicum and knew that it would be all the more a dreadful task to gobble up the food when he was not even hungry. He secretly hoped that his mother had coooked something else. He wished they could have chocolates and icecream and cookies for lunch and dinner just as the characters in the story he had listened to a few days ago. But then he also knew, his parents couldnt afford that lavishness anymore.His father's unemployment and their poverty which seemed to increase by the passing day was not unknown to him. But he did not want to think of all this now. Later, he told himself.

Humming a tune

anand ya jeevanacha,
sugandhapari darwalaava
paavyatla soor jaisa,
onthantuni oglaava

jhijuni swataha chandanane,
dusryaas madhugandh dyaava
he jaanta jeevanacha,
praarabdh ha olkhaava

Dont know who wrote it. It has been the title track of some marathi serial which was aired a lot many years ago. I fell in love with the words, the moment i heard them !

Never mind

Today morning as i sat down to pen my thoughts [pen my thoughts? how funny it sounds, oh never mind, who am i kidding!], i seemed to realise that my mind was blank. It was devoid of any thoughts [Constructive and something which i can write about to be precise. I call that a blog thought]. I couldnt believe myself. I mean, i havent felt this tranquil blankness [no blog thoughts] for quite some time and its sudden unwarranted appearance baffled me all the same. As i strained myself to think of something, i could hear a thought knocking [Yes, there is supposedly a door in there somewhere that lets thoughts in!].

Wondering what it could be, i opened the door [Hypothetically of course]. It popped its head in and said "Hello there. I am a thought messenger [henceforth referred to as, TM] and i seem to have a message for you."

A TM? What in the world was that supposed to mean? All this was a strange experience and blank as i was, without much ado, i let the TM in.

"You seem to be having a little problem, as i see. No more blog thoughts eh?. Well i know whats happened to all of them. They have all gone on a vacation.", it said.

"Vacation? What an absolutely absurd statement! Thoughts cannot go on a vacation. I mean they do not go on a vacation", said i, hesitantly.

"Oh no, they very well can. They have a life of their own, you know. And afterall, dont they deserve a break from all the hard work they do for you", said the TM.

"A break? Hard work? hello? am i missing something here? Am i actually hearing you say all this or have i lost my mind?", i could feel that this conversation was steering towards something totally devoid of any logic. But nevertheless, i could not but help being carried away.

"I dont believe you at all" i said.

"Well, then think of something, any blog thought would do" said the TM [Well actually it was more of a snigger].

"Of course i will, in due course of time, i mean" said i. [I must be going crazy. This is not happening. Its a dream]

I closed my eyes and strained myself harder to concentrate on some thought [Hoping all the while that a darn thought would be back from its vacation! I had actually started to believe all this thoughts going on a vacation thing]. But i must say, it didnt work [Maybe the thoughts had gone to a far away land. Distances do matter, you know].

Not a single blog thought. As i opened my eyes slowly, i could see the sneering and triumphant look i got from the TM [Maybe it was thinking, you wanted proof, you got one, missy. And then another thought , more of a question, popped in saying, can a TM have thoughts? but then i wasnt impressed with its appearance as i was hoping for something better.]

"Where to?" i asked a little more baffled than i already was.

"Where to?" repeated the TM.

Now this was getting on my nerves. "Where have they all gone to for a vacation?" i questioned.

"Oh, that's confidential information, you see", said the TM jeeringly.

And then all the same, it got up, opened the door and left [Not fair, you owe me a good bye and i still have questions!].

But there i was, all alone, nothing to write about and nothing to think about. But i know this will pass soon.[As soon as my blog thoughts return, from their vacation, that is]

And yes, thoughts do need a break ! So if i dont make a post for a few days, its all coz my thoughts have decided to abandon me for an italian sojourn or some funfilled abode or maybe they have headed right for the cricket world cup! [Cant think of any darn good places too!! Not my fault in the least.]

Pitter Patter

pitter patter pitter patter
little drops of rain,
here a drop, there a drop,
on the window pane

the blades of grass glisten with joy,
as touched upon with love,
the gentle breeze whispers a song,
as it passes by

the flower spreads its rosy charm,
as it spots a bumble bee,
the raindrops on its petals,
fills its heart with glee

the air is fresh and it is filled
with fragrance that is sweet,
the birds, the bees, the animals,
make haste to find retreat

the clouds that hid the sun, depart,
brightness fills the sky,
far away, a rainbow forms,
and life begins again !

Once upon a time...

I remember when i was 5 years old, i had this habit of asking my dad to tell me a story every night before i went to sleep. I would refuse to go to sleep, until i had my daily dose of a bed time story. And funnily enough, my dad used to recite me the same story every night. The story about the monkey and the crocodile. How they were friends and how the crocodile one day decided to decieve the monkey and eat it but was outwitted by the monkey. Though the story was the same, he had this magical gift of spinning a beautiful yarn around it to make it interesting every time i heard it. I also have a faint memory of one night, when i was throwing up my usual tantrums, complaining to him how he fooled me with the same story every night and told him that i wanted to hear a different story. He gently patted me on my forehead, moved the strand of hair from my face that was tickling me and in his usual soothing voice, said, "Once upon a time, in a jungle far away, there lived a monkey". And i forgot all i had wanted. I once again drifted in to the magical world he had created for me and eventually dozed off. With time as i have grown older, there are no more bed time stories. The mystical land of stories seems to have been lost or maybe i have drifted too far from it. But the memories have stayed with me. And so has this one story which never failed to enchant me with its simplicity !

A queer observation

I have noticed that when i am very upset and try to pen down my thoughts, they just seem to pour down and i just go on writing. All the gloomy words in the dictionary find their way in and it makes perfect sense to 'me'[The word in quotes to be read as upper case, large font and bold and preceded by 'Only']. So much so that it seems to me as a masterpiece of some eternal philosophical writing [herez where i snigger], which, i am proud of having attempted. There is also this faint glitter of boastful hope in me which pretends that i will cherish this so called creative attempt for the rest of my life [Herez where my eyes well up with tears, tears of joy at having finally found the creative streak in me]. Well, if not for so long then mayb atleast for a long time to come. But the moment i am out of the gloom and try reading my thoughts again, i am lost [This is where i have the bewildered look of a puppy which suddenly finds itself lost and out of its territory]. There is nothing i can relate to. I tend to dig into it to analyse what that so called masterpiece was all about? [This is where i look worried and scratch my head hoping to find an answer] whatever i was going through, was it really that bad or was it just my imagination playing me a fool? [This is where i strain myself to remember what it was..yes i think it was this..or maybe that..oh bugger, i lost the thought again. That was so very close !!] Everything was supposed to make sense, but then how come it sounds so much like the melodramatic version of some heartwrenching play? [herez where i sneer and think, a play eh? Wait till you go through this again] But then come again gloom and it all fits in perfectly. [See, i told ya, my creative streak pops its head again] I try relating to it once again with the same intensity. I find this all, a bit too funny at times...[He he he]

Minglish..a marathi poem in english

Bebhaan dhundh waara
karto asa ishaara
Bedhundh naach re mana
phulwoon tu pisaara

ka waat paahshi tu
swapne kharepanaas yenya
kshan ek haach aahe
maanoon chaal re tu

swapnaatlya khuna tya
janun jeeva dole
jag he tujhyachsaathi
marooni haak bole

The yellow spot called sun

Picasso once said...

There will be artists who will make the sun appear as a yellow spot. But there will also be artists, who will make the yellow spot appear as a sun.
The ultimate goal of life is to make sun out of the yellow spot. Arent we, the artists of our life ?

Hmm....

I see her on my way to work. She is there everyday. Walking aimlessly. Dressed in complete rags. Her hair, unkempt and disheveled. She walks two steps forward then stops, turns back and walks the other way. Repeating this for quite some time. This is a daily ritual. All of a sudden, she mumbles something to herself and nods her head irritatingly, as if in an attempt to disapprove any thoughts that must have crossed her mind that instant. Then the very next second she smiles. The most innocent of smiles. Some beautiful and happy thought seems to have found its way into her life, if atleast momentarily. The sight of her kindles many a question in my mind, to which probably i will never know the answers. These questions make me sad. Who knows, the answers could have been even worse. There is a strong gust of wind which sweeps the dried leaves on the path and dust into the air. A tiny particle of dust enters my eye. I close my eyes and dab it with my fingers thinking, damn the wind. I open my eyes. But she is not in sight anymore. She is gone , as if the wind swept her away. But the questions have made up their mind to stay. I say a little prayer for her and walk away. But i can already feel a gloom settling over me. I try to force out the unpleasant feelings, i try to think happy thoughts. It is awfully quiet on the roads. or maybe the clutter of thoughts in my mind has shut down the external voices from reaching me. As i walk further, i see a squirrel scampering about near the roadside bushes. I see a thicket of the wild Datura, the colour lavender catches my eye. It has always been a colour of my liking. The thoughts seem to have subsided just like the gush of the wind. I take a deep breath, smile and move on to face another day !

A wishing well

In a country far far away, lies the bend of a road. The road is beautifully surrounded by a little pond on one side and a dense row of daffodils on the other. The daffodils sway to the rythm of the breeze. A butterfly flutters through this dense thicket hopping from one flower to the next. An occassional drift in the direction of the wind seems to confuse it, for it hops back and forth so as to match its own pace with the rythm of the swaying daffodils. The soft streaming sunlight glistens as it touches the surface of the water in the pond. It appears as if the sunlight has brought down the stars with it to the earth. And just where the road bends, hiding in the deepest of thickets is the "wishing well". It is called so from the ancient times, though no one seems to recall why exactly it is called so. Maybe there is some tale behind it for being called so or maybe not. I would never know. I have passed this well on my way once a couple of years ago. Back then, i had this urge to drop a coin into it and make a wish. But somehow i never got around to doing it. I simply walked past it. Many a times when i feel i can no longer go on, when my heart is filled with despair, i just close my eyes, picture this wishing well and i find myself in the thicket of the daffodils. I just drop a coin and make a wish. It makes me feel better, my heart a little lighter. My heart is once again filled with hope and warmth that the glistening sunshine has to offer, the serenity at the sight of the rythmically swaying daffodils and the colours of joy that the fluttering butterfly seems to dispense. I certainly seem to have found my wishing well.
Do you care to make a wish?

A chilling encounter

It is a chilly day. The kinds when you want to head for the smallest patch of sunshine to gather as much warmth as you can. The wind blows intermittently with avid gusto sending shivers down my spine. I try to walk fast, at the same time trying to avoid the gush of the wind which seems to enter from the tiniest of the openings of my overcoat. There arent many people on the road. It isnt the pleasantest of days for anybody to be out. I long to get home, to the warmth of the heater. But home is still a long way to go. The stretch of road seems unending. And through the corner of my eye, i see him. He is walking on the other side of the road. He has some shade of orange on him which i catch a glimpse of. I cant say or be sure what it is. But i am not interested in that. I see him match his pace with mine. Occasionally when i glance to the side he is walking on, i can see his eyes fixed on me. I try to walk faster. And so does he. An unknown fear grips me, i panic and start to look for an easy exit on to the highway. But where do i go, all the roads are the same. And he seems to be watching my every step.I need to cross over to the side where he is walking and then i need to turn left where the road bends. But this mere act is now filling me with dread. But i have to do it. I cross over. He waits till i cross over and then resumes walking behind me. I am panic stricken now, for i can feel him closing in on me. And then....he stops right ahead, facing me and says.."Would you care for a flower, miss? Its two a Pound." And then he smiles and hands me two bright orange, fresh flowers. And i see what that something orange was, which had caught my eye.. I grab the flowers from him, fumble for a pound in my overcoat, hand it over to him smilingly and walk away....

Silence.....Hush !!

Have you heard the sound of silence?
It speaks to you, if you lend a ear!
It speaks to you of bliss and peace,
It speaks of us, of you and me.

It speaks to you of the streaming sunlight,
Through the deepest darkest woods,
It speaks to you of the crowning glory,
of the dawn and dusk, if you care to see!

The stories change each time you hear them,
It speaks of things you never knew,
Sometimes it is the mundane moments,
that creep in and become anew!

Sometimes it is the winds and wallows,
Sometimes it is the hail and snow,
Sometimes a purest heartfelt laughter,
finds its way into the tales that flow.

It speaks of life, it speaks of death,
It speaks of every breath you take,
I am always in awe of all its stories,
as it weaves the moments into eternity!

A fond memory

I remember that as a child, i loved puppies. Maybe i still do. But i am also scared of them. But back then, in my childhood that is, i had an imaginary puppy. This sweet, cute little dog was my best friend then. It had no name, or rather i preferred to call it by a new name everyday and it would respond as diligently as ever, as if it knew its name for the day, even before i had thought of it. Somedays it was as white as a fluffy cloud, somedays it was that light shade of brown glistening in the sun and somedays it was as black as the shining night. It could look like anything that i wanted it to, but it was the sweetest thing on earth for me. I also remember running around the neighbourhood, climbing trees and racing against it. Though now when i actually think about it, i am sure that the onlookers must have found it very wierd. To them it would have appeared as a little girl running around all alone, racing against herself, talking aloud. But even if they did find it wierd, they never let that out, maybe they just didnt want to spoil the little fun i was having. I would even play the traditional game "teacher teacher" as it was called in the bygone days. The puppy was my student. I wonder if little girls still play this game? Anyways, i dont know if all this "imaginary friend" thing is way too wierd, but i really care two hoots even if it is. To me, it has been a fond memory which brings a little smile on my face whenever i think of it. And thats all that matters. I dont know what triggered this memory , but i am thankful to whatever it was. It has made my day :-)

Nostalgia..

"I always knew that when i will look back at my cries .. i will smile. Never knew that lookin back at my smiles will make me cry."
I dont recollect where i read this, but the words have been with me ever since i read it....

Perfection...naah

Perfection is boring..yes indeed...this has been my realization of the day..To come to think of it, if we all had perfect lives, we wouldnt have any need to experience varied emotions at all...we wouldnt feel pain nor would we have the feeling of longing for a loved one..there wouldnt be a need to feel so..perfection would essentially breed in a monotonous epilogue..things are interesting or they rather intrigue us, compel us to have perceptions, only because they are not the way we want them to be..if everything was exactly the way we wanted, would we even care to spare a moment of thought for anything at all? I used to think of myself as a perfectionist..now i know y i was soooo boring..maybe i still am..but now atleast i have the option of changing it! Imperfection is not bad..in fact, it is not bad at all..i believe, it is all the imperfections that make life interesting and worth living. After all, perfection is not our business..lets leave it to the masters and enjoy the imperfections as they are meant to be...
But then, again, its just me, my point of view and everybody else can happily disagree !!!!!

To come to think of it, there seems to be a lot of "would"'s and "wouldnt"'s in my so called above realization..so that makes it two realizations in a day..how very profound [:)]

Just like that !

I seem to be experiencing a kind of 'Deja Vu' moment

Random musings....

random thoughts,just this and that,

fluttering through my mind,

to dwell upon a thing or two,
patience it does not find !

i look outside the window sill,
hoping for a sign,
the trees sway to the gentle breeze,
upon the mountain land.

the fading day will bring with it,
the hues of dusk alight,
the rising moon, the twinkling stars,
will creep into the night

once again this weary soul,
will take the path back home,
to gather strength for another battle,
to lose some, to conquer some !