How Old is this Art

I am reading "A River Sutra", by Gita Mehta. It is tales within a tale, on the ways of human heart, the narrator being on a pilgrimage in the mountains of Satpuda and Vindhyachal, at the banks of Narmada. One of the stories is about a blind child, a Music Teacher and Amir Rumi, a Sufi saint who lived some seven hundred years ago.
So I was searching for Amir Rumi's Poetry, and discovered Amir Khusrau's. An interesting "Paheli" a small riddle, made me think about the tradition of cracking PJs. Here it is (and here's more)

Jab woh moray mandir aaway, sotay mujhko aan jagaway;
Padhat phirat woh birah ke achchar, Aye sakhi sajan? Na sakhi machchar!
(Whenever he visits my place, wakes me up from the sleep,
he sings the song of separation; is it the beloved, oh friend? No, its mosquito.)

I think at times, PJs are way to laugh off something that is on your mind. Giving a twist to thoughts in humorous direction, relieves you from the weight of the prevailing thoughts. May be it's a therapy. Who knows !
(By the way, don't take this junk from my mind to heart. It is just a silly muse, only meant to amuse, not to wonder, because if you wonder, there will be thunder. Ah. I suck at rhyming)

Lets Zazzle !

Zazzle lets you explore your creativity, dabble with simple creations.
Check it out. Little clumsy at first. Lots of steps to do. But kinda fun.
Here's my first creation
(The prices I must say, are ridiculously high)

The Moon is With Me

Last night the moon looked particularly beautiful.
Illuminated clouds. Faint moonlight. A symphony in white and grey. An unending drapery, with charming, everchanging shades.
You know, it is a wonderful retreat to take a walk in a moonlit night, alongside running waters. Watching the intermittent shimmers, listening to the sound of waters.
The silhouettes of trees, the silence of grass.
Bachpan main, Chandni raaton mein, main aur papa safed kurta pajama pahan kar kheton main tahalne ke liye jaaya karte the. Aur main papa ko apne school ke kahaniyan sunata tha. Papa aaj miss ne bola ki will ka matlab "Iccha-Shakti" hota hai. Par papa will to I will wala will hai. Phir yeh Iccha-Shakti kaise hua ? We would follow a Paggandi, in the wheat fields. Sometimes I would wave my hand over them, feeling their touch. Sometimes they would be taller than me.
When possible, I would stretch my eyes far and wide, to look at the moonlit fields.
I remember the times, when we had moved to the city, when I would run to the terrace to find out if the moon had come out, so that mummy could do her "Chand ko Urk(U as in fur) Dena".
And spending the night on the terrace, talking useless talks with a friend, or a cousin.
In my last days in clemson, I occassionaly used to go lie down in the Bowman Field, watching the moon, perhaps humming a hindi oldie.
I guess the moon has always been with me. It brings me a sense of peace. A feeling of beauty. A peace, that perhaps is a part of me.

Let's Go Out Tonight

Two fleas are courting
Flea 1: Lets go out Tonight.
Flea 2: No, I am too tired. I can't fly.
Flea 1: No problem sweetiee. We'll do a DOG
(Courtesy, a friend in Clemson)

Good Afternoon

Down there in the plush green, an old bunny lies stretched in it's favorite abode, the shade of the little pine.
And beside it, sits a restless little one, who rests to catch some breath, before it sprints again.

"Young and old see differently through same eyes" ~ Victor Hugo.

Not Much To Say

Today I have not much to say
My words are falling asleep
Tomorrow when they wake up
It will be a new day
And Perhaps they will say
Today I have much to say

Am listening

Jis Mahfil Main Shama Ho, Parawana Jaayega, from Sangam. Don't ask why.

Managing Techies

From Linux Documentation:

Everybody thinks managers make decisions, and that decision-making is important. The bigger and more painful the decision, the bigger the manager must be to make it. That's very deep and obvious, but it's not actually true.

The name of the game is to _avoid_ having to make a decision. In particular, if somebody tells you "choose (a) or (b), we really need you to decide on this", you're in trouble as a manager. The people you manage had better know the details better than you, so if they come to you for a technical decision, you're screwed. You're clearly not competent to make that decision for them.

(Corollary:if the people you manage don't know the details better than you, you're also screwed, although for a totally different reason. Namely that you are in the wrong job, and that _they_ should be managing your brilliance instead).

.
.
.

However, in order to prepare yourself as a kernel manager, it's best to remember not to burn any bridges, bomb any innocent villagers, or alienate too many kernel developers. It turns out that alienating people is fairly easy, and un-alienating them is hard. Thus "alienating" immediately falls under the heading of "not reversible", and becomes a no-no according to Chapter 1.

There's just a few simple rules here:
(1) don't call people d*ckheads (at least not in public)
(2) learn how to apologize when you forgot rule (1)

You can Read the full thing here

Name Games

A new day. Fresh Air. And some more sillyness.

Scene 1:

Three of us are walking towards the artist's point on the flagstaff summit. We will disappear into a thick brush of alpines, and appear on a cliff, which bequeaths a spectacular view of the snow covered mountains. I tell the visitor, to notto run if she spots a mountain lion. They are mildly concerned as to where am I taking them. My friend tells the visitor, "We should not trust him, he likes to walk, and if we don't stop, he'll take us God knows where !"
I say "Yeh, Right"
My friend says, "No. I am Serious"
Silence. Ruffle of clothes against the pines.
And I reply, "No, you are not Sirius. You are Vicky."

Scene 2:

Masala Restaurant. Four of us, hungry, sitting, waiting, talking nonsense. My friend is hyper, has unconciously picked up fork and spoon, perhaps to eat the table cloth. He yells "I am readddy. Where's the FOOD".
"No. You are not Reddy."
"Yes sucker. I know I am Muduliyar. And not Reddy"

Maali Aur Mein

Maali Kahta Hai "Shabdon Ki Maala Bun-na Band Kar, Aur Podhon Kon Paani De"
Main Maali Se Kahta Hoon "Tu Aapni Jindagi Ji, Mujhe Aapni De"
Bus Yehi Meri Kahani Hai,
Kabhi Maali Ka Kaha Maana
Toh Kabhi Apni Thani Hai

Aks

Aadhi Kalikh hai, Aadhi Parchhai
Tani Hui Bhrukuti hai, Aur Shikan-ranjit Aabha
Wahi Prashna baar-baar Dohrati Hai
Main Kuch aur Sun-ne ki koshish main laga hoon
Par Parchhai hai ki wahi prashna baar-baar Dohrati hai
Yeh Bhrukuti Kyun Taani Hai, Aur maathe par kyun Shikan hai
Tere Chehre Par Jhalakti Jaani-Pahcchaani Un-Bun Hai
Ke Kahan se Aaya hai, Kahan Ja Raha hai
Itni Kyun Ashanti Hai, Itna Kyun Khalipan hai

O parchhai, Tujhse Kya Kahoon, Uttar nahin hai mere paas
Keval Kalikh hai Aur Prashna hain
Keval Kalikh hai
Aur Prashna Hain
Aur Na Tu Peecha Chodti Hai, Na Yeh Prashna hain
Na Yeh Prashna Hain

Aadhi Kalikh Hai, Aur Prashna Hain

Mera Gaanv. Mera Desh.

People, pliss take no offense. I am as patriotic as your next door donkey. Just received these in forwarded mail. Can't read the artiste's name that correctly, though it seems to be "Morparia". And since we are in patriotic mood here, here's another author-missing-copyrighted joke that I heard recently. So this desi goes into a cloth-store and asks for "Desh Ka Jhanda". The shopowner brings the national flag. Desi looks at it. Examines the texture of the cloth. And Holds it up high in the air, carefully looking for holes, stray threads. After haggling about the price for a while, he looks satisfied, but gives a disinterested look and says, "Bhai-Sahab. Ismain Aur Color Dikhaiyye Na !!" (Yeh. I know. That's how desi women purchase saaris. "Bhaiya is main aur variety dikhao na. Yeh toh maine pichle mahine hi kharidi thi. Old fashion hai. Kuch naya dikhaiyye." Ah. that makes for another post some day. Saari Shopping)

Modern

Cosmetic of smartness usually leaves my face powdered with stupidity. But I am a modern human. Prisoner to self-vanity.

Bhagvan's Unhappiness

Top Ten Things God(Bhagvan) is VERY Unhappy about:
(This post is courtesy Navin.
He told me the first two. Rest are from my chaos)

1. When (in desi movies) daughter gets pregnant and the mother goes
"Hey Bhagvan, Yeh tune kya kiya"!
2. When (in desi movies) the heroine pleads to the villain
"Bhagvan ke liye mujhe chor do" !
Well, first of all, Bhagvan is not a human, forget male.
And secondly even if Bhagvan is a male, Bhagvan cannot bear 10 Thousand hindi-movie heroines.
3. When someone does a favor to someone-else and this someone-else says
"Bhagvan tera bhala karega" !
Now this, Bhagvan finds utterly ridiculous. Why should Bhagvan pay-back for some-one else !!
4. When the fodder-scam-rich official, tries to be humble
"Sab Bhagvan ki Kripa hai" !
Now Bhagvan categorically denies any involvement with fodder, fodder eating officials, and their fodder-humble richness.
5. When people say
"Bhagvan uski aatma ko shaanti de"
Now, first of all, Bhagvan doesn't know shaanti. And even if Bhagvan knew,
Bhagvan doesn't like that business.
6. When people ask
"Bhagvan ke liye Kshama/Daya karo"
Now, this is unfair trade. People expect/accept everything in Gods' name,
but then totally forget about Bhagvan. I mean if you are using the Brand
Name, you gotta pay royalty. Correct ?
7. When people prophesize
"Bhagvan tumhari Rakhsa Karega"
Ridiculous. Bhagvan ne Theka nahin liye rakhsha karne ka. Apne body-guards khud hire karne ko mangta.
8. When someone driving at 120 gets killed in an accident and people say
"Bhagvan/Allah ki marzi ke aage kiski chalti hai"
Ok. Now this Bhagvan finds laughable. Did Bhagvan tell you to drive at
120 ?
9. When the semi-naked yogis claim
"Bhagvan ki sharan main aao"
Now this is extreme infringement of personal space, private property.
Bhagvan doesn't like this at all. How would you feel if all the people
in the city came into your house. Haan. Haan! ?
10.When we go into religious custody, and ask the right to remain violent.
Now this, bhagvan doesn't like at all. At all meaning at all. Haan.

Jai Ram Ji ki.

Update: Ok. It has just come to my notice this other peculiar trait of humans to depend on bhagvan for water-travel. "Bhagvan teri naiyya par lageyaga". Now, out of goodness only, bhagvan has been navigating your boat for free. But when every second person on earth who doesn't know swimming, is afraid of water, and want's bhagvan to navigate the boat for free, bhagvan gets irritably tired. And so bhagvan pleads
People, thora taras khao
Apni naiyya khud paar lagaao !
Aur agar nahin hota
toh Paani main na jao !!

Weekend Bliss

Yay ! Finally a Holiday !!
This weekend I will wander in the streets of New York,
Take a ferry to the monument of freedom,
Meet old friends.

And for sillyness's sake here are some old pjs which I learnt anew

Q: B and D, always jog together, long and fast. D always sweats heavily, B never does. Why ?
A: Well, there is AC around B. mwhahahahaha.

Q: B and F are both critically injured. F will be saved, B might be not.
Why ?
A: There is GH (general hospital) near F.

Q: Why is Bombay Dying ?
A: Because Gwalior Sooting !

Q: What is the height of an average Indian
A: Duh.. Twice his half.

And for Star Wars fans Here is a cheap one
In the climaxes of climax, Master Jedi Obi-Van-Kanobi shouts to Aniken
"But You Were the Chosen One !", with a painful expression.
Q: What should have Aniken said ?
A: But you were Obi-One !

You can Scream

Hemangini Gupta of This is Mangs writes about a harassment experience and how she dealt with it. Years ago, twice in my life, I have encountered pedophiles, both in buses. First time, I didn't quite understand what was going on and was too shy to complain. Second time, I folded my sleeves up. Yet, now I wish I had complained, or done something, and hadn't let them go scot-free.

Love Marriage or Arranged

Somone recently asked me whether I would prefer love marriage or arranged.
I unfolded, "See, to me, there isn't much difference between love marriage and arranged, except for the risk factor. It is very analogous to investing in the share market. There are two ways you can invest in the share market. One is, do thorough research, explore different companies, their background, their market-fame, their family-name(read wealth, venture capitalist), invest somewhat for a while in a few, and then invest majorly in a couple for long-term. The other way is of the adventurer, who likes to trust the two sec instinct, and gets rest of the background-check grunt work by his agents (or the agents manipulate him, almost same), and then invests for long-term. Now where the risk factor is more, has always been a mystery because of the varied sample-space. The end goal you must understand, in both cases, is to get more and get good returns."

(To Be Continued, people take no-offense, this was in fun-faith )

Why not teach History like this ?

Excerpt from an essay on India's past, by Amartya Sen.
Discovered the link at MiddleStage.

One of the tests of the presence of a united perspective in calendrical terms, already discussed, is the identification of a principal meridian and a reference location (like Greenwich in Britain). It is remarkable how durable has been the position of the ancient city of Ujjayini (now known as Ujjain), the capital of several Hindu dynasties of India (and the home of many literary and cultural activities through the first millennium AD), as the reference location for many of the main Indian calendars. The Vikram Samvat calendar (with a zero point in 57 BC) apparently originated in this ancient capital city. But it is also the locational base of the Saka system (zero point in 78 AD) and a great many other Indian calendars. Indeed, even today, Ujjain’s location is used to fix the anchor point of the Indian clock (serving, in this respect, as the Indian Greenwich). The Indian Standard Time that governs our lives still remains a close approximation of Ujjayini time — five hours and 30 minutes ahead of GMT.

This makes me wonder, why don't we have such extra-curricular activities in our schools, where we are asked to explore the history and culture of our surroundings, write essays on it. Doesn't it make a much more interesting and inspiring history lesson, to go find what the state of learning was in my town, rather than memorize the date of Boston Tea Party ? Yes, it is important to know what went on in other parts of the world, but then, it should be equally important to know what transpired in and around the very place you live. In my schools, history lessons used to be a fixed number of chapters, and a fixed set of question answers. You miss a line and loose five marks. No one in my school ever taught me about the state of science, religion, politics, learning in my city in ancient times. Our history lessons used to be a bore, a period where you catch up on sleep, where the teacher made you stand up for half an hour to read the chapters aloud. And ofcourse it only gave us a sense of rote, and not learning !

Separately, We were only made to memorize that "India is a unity in diversity", but we never even learnt a percent of how that came about to be.

A Succesful Man's View

How Easy it all Sounds

Their Work

A better noon outside. Some clouds, mild sun.
A bunny family is at some serious work.
Their mouths nibble furiously at the grass;
and some food that a generous soul has sprinkled,
for them and the birds.
Two younglings look the most busy.
Sometimes they stop, hop and then their mouths disappear
in the grass again. So tiny.
I wonder what they talk when they take a break.
Perhaps something like "Phew, bro, lot of work
today. So much to eat. We'll play race in the
evening!"
A few birds fly in to join the merry eating.
All is harmony in their little space.
And the Sun smiles sweetly at them.

My Search

I shall not go looking for good men
I know they are rare to find
But I shall look for goodness in men
And I shall reflect it in kind

Pic Time

Discovered Circle of Death through Indian blog-mela hosted by POV. Also checkout other pictures and Mohib's Photo Blog

Silly Syndrome

Once my Mamaji were scolding my younger cousin.
He was in great anger, and he yelled "Kameen Ke Bacche",
My cousin replied "Aap hee Ka toh baccha hoon".

One day, dad scolds Simbu "Gadhe ki Aulaad !"
Couple of days later, Simbu has again been mischievous.
Dad goes "Sooar Ke Bacche !"
Simbu innocently asks, "Papa aapne animal kaise change kiya".

Simbu's mother "Shaitaan, aaj tujhe khana nahin milega !"
Simbu goes to Papa and says "Papa, aap pados wali aunty se shaadi kar loh. Main jab bhi jaata hoon unke yaahan, mujhe hamesha aacha khana khilateen hain"

Slave to Morality

I have a few vague rules for myself, for this life.
One of them is, never leave someone in the middle. Majhdhar main nahin chodna.
And here I am, at 8:45am on a bright Saturday Morning, in my office, fullfilling the precept.
Life I tell you, is hard if you are on the drug of morality.
My advice to you: never fall in love with your higher self.
And if you do Do, pray that there is after-life or karma and rebirth, otherwise, reason tells me, we are wasting our lives chasing useless morals, when we could be joyously committing sins, conceits and deceits

Human-like

Today for the first time in my life, I met a PhD in Computer Science from UC Berkeley. And I must say, he was pretty human-like.

Nothing For Him

Shantilal Kaka came today. His grandson must have come, I thought. I remembered, how excited he was on his last visit for checkup.

"Kem cho Doctor Saheb, Ben kevi che, ane tamaro dikro ?"
"Kaka vaddha maja-ma. Tame beso"
(How are you Doctor Saheb, how's your wife and your son ?)
(Kaka, everyone fine. You have a seat)

I didn't have any patients waiting upon me, so I called the peon to get some tea. I liked listening to him. He reminded me of grandpa. Today he looked a different self. Visibly silent."Kaka, has your grandson come yet ?"

"Yes. He has come"
"So everyone must be happy at home"
"Yes. Very happy"

"Doctor Saheb, Everyone has come to meet him. My daughters and their husbands from baroda and ahmedabad. My two sons and their families from halol. Everyone is very happy to meet him"

Tea had come. He continued "He has brought a lot of things. Toys. Lots of them. Choclates. Jwellery. Clothes"

I imagined everyone gathering around him, in anticipation. Cheering as the items emerged from the boxes.

"Yesterday night, after dinner everyone gathered around him. One by one, he distributed the gifts. They all laughed and cheered". He looked into the distance. Somewhere into the walls. Or the window may-be.

"Par Doctor Saheb, Mhara mate kachu nathi layo (He didn't bring anything for me) ". Lines on his forehead had deepened. Tea was cold now. He stared at the tea with moist eyes. I called for the peon, to get the tea warmed. He got up "Saheb, Aaje naahin. Have Hoon chaalish. Ghare Waat thase". (Saheb, not today. I will go now. People will be waiting at home)

He wouldn't have gone home. He would take the trail into the Khets. He would only return when the tears had dried up. I knew no-one awaited him at home.

Once Again

It has been a long day at work, mildly succesful. The day breathes its last and the mind has suddenly remembered the old addiction. Much to the chagrin of the tired soul, it conjures up a sad story, a mournful song. The little happiness is being killed, piece by piece, moment by moment, by the bemoaning of something lost. A character. A life. A love.

Misery never ends.

Just so that you know

Manu has an informative post on pirated songs in Indian music industry Here. Though (personally) it doesn't make Illayaraja or Pancham Da any less great.
I know a lot of people will jump uppp and dowwnnn when they first hear this (who pirated what), but I would gently like to remind, that "pahle pat-thar woh mare, jisne koi paap na kiya ho".
(But yeah, Anu Mallick does suck usually)

Past Glory

Forwarded mails like these, irk me a lot.

"I am from India. India invented 0"
(Controversial. Wrong may-be. Please read "The Nothing That is: A Natural History of Zero", by Robert Kaplan)
"You know India invented the decimal"
"You know India is a 5000 year old civilisation"
"The world's largest diamond kohinoor is from India"
(OK that is False! Kohinoor isn't largest by far. And even if it is, so what?)
"I am from India"
"You know Yoga is the invetion of Indians"
(Yeh tell me, how many Indians do yoga today ? Do you, who forwarded me this mail)
"You know we've had teachers like Krishna, Buddha, Mahavira"
(Yeh tell me, how many Indians today follow their teachings!)

Do you ever say "I ate such delicious food yesterday. So I am full today and will not eat today".
Then why say "My ancestors did something great. So I am great"

You get the point of what I am talking about.
I must remember that my past glory is for me to feel good about it and not to boast it as my achievement on my life-resume.

Irony

I like watching tv. Listening to music. Going outdoors and enjoying the quiet. Because then, I am doing nothing.

Doing nothing unnerves me. I cannot sit without noise. So I turn on the tv. Or the music. Or go outdoors. Or just do something.

I am listening to

Aaj ki raat Charagon ki lau Ooncheen kar lo
Aaj ki raat Charagon ki lau Ooncheen kar lo
Ho sake toh, dil ki aag aanchal main bhar lo
Apni aag main jalna hoga, Aaj akele chalna hoga
Andhere main chalna hoga, Aaj akele chalna hoga

~ singer Arti Mukherjee, lyrics Gulzar, movie Khamoshi, music Hemant Kumar

you can find it here Khamoshi

Ideology and Men

When a lot of men get together under the umbrella of an ideology, they usually create violence. A lot of it.

Confused mind, I think is better than the firmly believing. In confused mind, atleast, there are possiblities. The firmly believing one is a closed cellar, where light rarely reaches. You'll say what about belief in God ? Well, tell me if belief in God is different than belief in God for myself, for my dreams, for my pain, for sorrow ? Give it a thought. Belief in God, I think, is a way of life. Belief in God for myself, is like any other belief.

The Spin

(With imagination, the quality will be bearable)

(A morning one and a half years ago)
It is 7:13am and I walk out of my apartment complex towards the bus stop. I find the sun has come out. The mountains are still covered with snow. A few steps and I see the stream. The sun rays glisten and gleam and glide on the flowing water. The water has become golden. It is less dirty then yesterday. The cold is mild and there a gentle breeze coming from the mountains. It feels good when it touches my ears. The surrounding is full of trees. There is a sagely tree on my left. It is white in color and there is slight golden tinge on it of the morning sun rays. Its branches are spread and is quite tall. The branches tenderly wave with the wind. A few birds are chattering sweetly. They make all kinds of sounds. I look up to see the birds. I am captivated by the lake gulls. They are flying low today. Two geese swiftly pass by. My eyes follow the geese for a while and back to watching the gulls. The breeze has grown in strength and I find a gull flipping. It spins three-sixty once. twice. thrice. four and five times. This is the second time I am seeing a bird do the vertical spin. It fills me with delight. I find have reached the lights and I am walking with my head up. I wait for the signal still looking up. The gulls are doing all sorts of flight manoeuvres. There is a delicate quietness around me. And my eyes are on the split tree. From distance it is pure black against the sunlight. From this angle I see two halfs, the split starting from a few inches from the ground to very high in the sky. The branches on both these halfs are spread in opposite direction parallel to my eye. A bird is singing sweetly. She is of the size of my little finger. Her throat is orange. She sings and pecks the branch and sings again. I look at her and I look back at the split tree. It has become one now. It is nature's masterpiece. From this angle it looks a whole spread tree. And I have reached the stop. A guy is smoking and shivering. I look around. The shops, the shrubs, the trees, the cars passing by all are being caressed by the wind. I feel life. I want to share my joy. I want to describe this lovely morning to somebody. I come and write to you. Oh yes. My lonely companion is perched outside my window. I should get back to work now.

Intelligence

I can talk intelligently. But that doesn't necessarily mean I am intelligent. It just means you aren't that well read, or trained in the art of discourse.

Conversely, I shouldn't mistake your apparent dumbness for stupidity. It might just be my knowledge's arrogance blinding my eye.

Innocent Conspirators

It was the hot summer of gujarat, mum-dad were out for shopping, and bhaiya and I were free to play as we willed. (We must have been very little, for all four of us easily used to fit on dad's bajaj ). We settled upon flying paper-planes. Bhaiya was good at making paper-planes. This time the paper-plane turned out to be world-class, if I may say so. We cheered the silly heights, smooth glides and erratic turns our paper-plane took.

But destiny can never see us happy, can she ?

As we were enjoying our little play oblivious of the sithering outdoors, tragedy struck. One of us (presumably I, for I was good at spoiling things) launched the plane with such perfection, that it rose 20 feet high (yes, the hall was quite big and spacious, government quarters you see, or may be it was just our littleness that exaggerated the heights) and landed perfectly on-to the tube-light. Now what ? How coulde we let our precious go ! So we decided upon a pencil sharpener (remember those steel ones) for our rescue mission. Now what happens when you throw a sharpener at a tube-light ( I think it was I who convinced bhaiya that it will work). The inevitable happened after two or three rescue missions. In one perfect dash, the sharpener struck the tube-light; the tube-light broke with a thundering sound, creating giant fears in our little hearts. Tube-light shocked, we quickly recovered. There was quite some time before mum-dad would be back from their excursion. We put our innocent minds at work, to come up with a believable reason for the disaster. And after a while, Eureka !
"Mummy ko bolenge, ki chidiya apna ghonsla bana rahi thi, aur usne tuble-light todi"
"Teri mummy nahin manegi"
"Arre manegi. Bus chidiya ne tuble-light todi. Theek hai"
"Theek hai"
Mum-dad came and ofcourse, mum asked about the tube-light.
"Kya hua, kisne kiya yeh, jaroor anshul ne kiya hoga" (She asked lightly. She must have been in a good mood, may be because she got to empty dad's pocket that day).

Tense moments.

"Nahin mummy, maine nahin kiya. Chidiya ne kiya. Bhaiya se poocho"
Bhaiya meekly nodded, a yes.
(Ofcourse we had cleared away our sharpener, got our plane back, and removed any traces of mis-doings that might have caused suspicion)Mummy laughed "Chidiya ne kaise kiya !"
"Mummy such main chidiya ne todi tube-light"
"Accha theek hai, tum log dusre kamre main khelo, yahan kaanch hai"
So mission impossible was successfully accomplished. We had got our plane back, and blames away from our backs. We gleefully (and thank-heartedly) retired to another room, enjoying our conspiracy to the fullest.

That was when bhaiya became one of my best friends, a memorable time.

Post for Post's sake

I am chokingly disillusioned with fame fancy and fondness.
But I am a competitive person born and brought up in a competitive world, unfit for simplicity.
So I go on with my daily life, filled with obnoxious complexity.
What a tragedy !

Unrelated, I visited the ruins of Pueblo People in Mesa-Verde, Colorado.
I brought home the Kiva with me. And the Sipapu.

Illusion

I close my eyes and ask
Where then, is my center ?
Where is the seat, where I reside ?
Who asks ?

Overflow

The pot has overflowed. The more I drank, the more it filled. The more it filled, the thirstier I became. Now my house is flooded. And the housekeeper is miserable.

Error: Page doesn't Exist, File not Found

Where is the world, when I am asleep ?
And am I a file in Gods system, so that when dead, God's query will return an Error: Page doesn't exist. File not Found.

Tigers Agony

And the Tiger said to man "God, what have you done !"

A pleasant evening

I had finished reading my book. The sun had set but it wasn't dark yet. There were clouds in the western sky, with varied greys. The weather outside seemed too pleasant, to sit inside. Too lazy to go for a walk, I thought.
I took a couple of chairs outside, stretched myself, and sat looking at distant clouds and trees.
Cool winds were flowing gently.
I realized, I hadn't done that in quite some time now. Sitting in verandah, or the backyard, in silence, feeling the winds.
The trees were as enchanting as the clouds. I listened to the sound of distant cars whizz past by.
It was a pleasant evening.

Order

Consider the lilies of the field,
how they grow;
They toil not, neither do they spin;
And yet I say unto you,
that even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.
-Bible

E-Goddess needed

I need E-Gods. Wouldn't it be cool, if there existed an E-God whom you could pray to ? Nah. I want an E-Goddess. A benevolent E-Goddess. So that when my code crashed, I would pray "O E-Goddess, fix this problem of mine, and I promise, I will offer twenty E-mails to you".

Alas, there's no E-Goddess. Reality is so hopeless.
What the heck. I will invent my own. My E-goddess will be E-one. She will be the one. And she will be even to all. And her E-ternal message would be

" YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND "

(And don't even ask if E-one is the one, how could she be even. Only you, and no-one else, can answer this question. And for that you'll have to be OUT of your mind)

Unrelated, my friend mrsgollum has a post which links to a wonderful lecture by Isaac Asimov. Do visit.

A song from Gitanjali

On the slope of the desolate river among tall grasses I asked her, `Maiden, where do you go shading your lamp with your mantle? My house is all dark and lonesome---lend me your light!' she raised her dark eyes for a moment and looked at my face through the dusk. `I have come to the river,' she said, `to float my lamp on the stream when the daylight wanes in the west.' I stood alone among tall grasses and watched the timid flame of her lamp uselessly drifting in the tide.

In the silence of gathering night I asked her, `Maiden, your lights are all lit---then where do you go with your lamp? My house is all dark and lonesome---lend me your light.' She raised her dark eyes on my face and stood for a moment doubtful. `I have come,' she said at last, `to dedicate my lamp to the sky.' I stood and watched her light uselessly burning in the void.

In the moonless gloom of midnight I ask her, `Maiden, what is your quest, holding the lamp near your heart? My house is all dark and lonesome---lend me your light.' She stopped for a minute and thought and gazed at my face in the dark. `I have brought my light,' she said, `to join the carnival of lamps.' I stood and watched her little lamp uselessly lost among lights.

-RabindraNath Tagore

I didn't understand. Yet it is melodious.

Morning Conversations

"Hey there."
"How are you today ?"
"Doing Well ?"
"Aha ! I see new leaves. How green they are ! You look lovely today. So alive"
"My Bus has come. See you tomorrow."
"Have a nice day"

The tree listens carefully, never interrupting, never replying.

"Hey sweet-heart"
"Yeh, I hear your song"
"Doing well ? Alright, be nice. Bye"

The bird is charming and gracious. Breathing melodies with poise.

"Hey Dude, Stay clear of the roads"
"These cars have no mercy, no compassion"
"They are dead you know"
"Stay in the fields. Cross at night. It's safer."

The prairie-dogs and the bunnies look, stop, hurry and scurry.
These are nothing. These are morning conversations.

Resting Buddha

It's mid-afternoon and I take a break from frantic typing,
to peek outside my glass cage. There, under the shade of a planted pine,
rests a bunny, engulfed cosily in the softness of grass.
It's eyes are the most lively eyes I have seen today.
Not the drowsy eyes. Not the dull eyes.
Not the "yeah another day" eyes.
It is silent, unmoving. Like the light that surrounds the shade.
Once in a while it flicks its ears.
Its meditative repose brings a sudden smile to my face.

ADDS

I just realized, I suffer from ADDS when the internet cable is connected to my computer. I wonder whether there is a software engineer in this world who can resist the temptation of surfing web, the sin of checking emails.

Revolution

The greatest revolution must be the one which will impart each human with the seed to think for self. But there is so much fear and unknown in that path, that I suspect all humanity will ever see it.

When will man learn to not follow an ideal just because he has nothing else to follow ?

On Emptiness

Not even an ocean of happiness can fill a bowl that is empty of love.

On Silence

One has to go into the whole nature of silence. There is silence between two noises. There is silence between two thoughts. There is silence between two notes in music. There is silence after noise. There is silence when thought says, "I must be silent," and creates artificial silence, thinking it is real silence. There is silence when you sit quietly and force your mind to be silent. All those are artificial silences; they are not real, deep, uncultivated, unpremeditated silence. Silence can only come psychologically when there is no registration whatsoever. Then the mind, the brain itself, is utterly without movement. In that great depth of silence that is not induced, not cultivated, not practiced, there may come that extraordinary sense of something immeasurable, nameless.

-Krishnamurti

Meditation is not Premeditation.

Freedom

"Freedom, is not outside. It is inside. And this, no one can make you understand. But do not worry. One day you will" once said an Old man, to me.
Reasoned I have, his saying, but understood I have not.

I have seen the flight of the eagle. And the quiet of the valley.
I have heard the song of the trees. And the buzz of the bees.
I have felt the warmth of the grass. And smelt the fragrance of the mud.

(Incomplete: you are invited to add to it)

Bull-facts

Q: If some humans are bull-headed, what about bulls ?
A: Bulls are still bull-headed. They don't like human heads.

Q: If some humans say bull-shit, what do bulls say ?
A: Waaaannnnnnnn

Q: Why do bulls like bulldozers ?
A: Because it puts them to sleep (Bull dozer)

Q: If bully is bull-like quality in humans, what are those in bulls ?
A: Many!

Q: What is a Bull-Market ?
A: When humans get crazily excited seeing "Green" all-over in the stock Market, that's called a Bull-Market.

A walk in the dunes

That's me.


"How insignificant" !

love and die

Guy: I love U
Girl: What ??? How dare you !
Guy: And I love x, y, z. Infact I love all the alphabets from a to z.

(This one not mine)
Guy: If you don't become mine, I will die.
Girl: Ok, here's 10 rupees. Get Black-Chaap Kali Mehndi and dye well !

Mistrust

(A,B and C have know each other for years)
A: So, do you have girlfriend ?
B: No.
A: I don't believe you. There must be someone.
A: Common, tell me.
B: Ok. I have two. One in India, Another here, in US.
A: No way, I don't believe you.
A: I have heard from my "sources", you do a lot of smoking and boozing. Smoking toh I do, par no beer or wine. I went to this party once and my aunt tried to force it down my throat, I said no. No alcohol.
B: Accha!
A: So how often do you smoke and drink ?
B: I don't.
A: No way, I don't believe you.
Few banalities later conversation ends

A: You know B has two girlfriends. And B was telling me B pukes pretty often, because of heavy drinking.
C: Accha ! Yeh, I talk to B every week, B never mentioned.
A: Arre I have my sources. Pakki Khabar hai !

some days later
A: You never call me.
B: That doesn't mean I have forgotten you.
A: But C said you talk to C every week.
B: No, I haven't talked to C in months.
A: Pata nahin Bhaiya. I talked to C and C said you talk every week.

(Insecurity has a secure home in the heart of the one who has the illusion of possession)

Silent Psyche

Why does Psyche never suggest anything ?
Because listening, is a good therapy.

(And the more Pysche listens, the more patient will speak, and that's always good, cause the Psyche charges by hours)

To do. Not to Do.

Psyche: So you suffer from over-anxiety ?
Patient: Yes. I have so many things to do. Anxiety is killing me. I wish I had
nothing to do.

Some days later

Psyche: How are you. Finished everything you had to ?
Patient: Yes.
Psyche: Why then, the visit ?
Patient: I am so bored. Boredom is killing me. I have nothing to do.

Chronic Illness

Pysche: Why are you depressed ?
Patient: I have nothing left to be depressed about. It is so depressing.

This my friend, is called Innovation

Apparently, UP sports minister has found a novel technique to make India win more medals in Olympics. Indian Express Reports:

‘‘Nats (roadside entertainers) have basic talent for gymnastics, while Mallahs, Kewats, Vindhyas, Nishads and Kashyaps are natural swimmers and divers. Similarly, Ahirs, Ghosis and Gaddis are natural wrestlers while Bahelias, Adivasis and Aherias have inherent talent for archery,’’ says Chowdhary.

:
:

‘‘So far, we train the cream of society and succeed in shaping hardly one sportsperson (of international calibre). But if we start training on caste and community lines, we can shape hundreds of sportspersons every year,’’ says the Minister.

I am sure honorable minister's findings will be exploited at national level. So here's a glimpse into next Olympics. Announcer for Swimming event: "First Event. Indian candidate. And what is this new technique. Why is he yelling and splashing water", and the Indian candidate drowns.

Mantriji, who is graciously accompanying the Indian Olympic team inspite of his busy schedule, is summoned. Everyone is looking at mantriji while he wrings his hands in air "But he bhas a kashyap, he is a naturaal sweammer. It is not phassible".

Shock and dis-belief in the Indian camp. Mantriji summons his research team and orders them to find out why a kashyap couldn't swim. Team researches web, and book on aadim jaatis and concludes that Kashyapas and not Kashyaps are natural born swimmers. Mantriji is very angry. He sets up a committee on how this mistake could have happened.

Meanwhile, there's unrest, fear and panic in the Indian camp. They have unanimously agreed to withdraw participation from Olympics, because they are afraid they have been wrongly classified, and fear disastrous consequences. It is a rumour that the Indian swim candidate died because Gods were displeased with him.

Mantriji, whole-heartedly agrees with Indian team, spends the rest of days vacating in Olympic city, while awaiting the results of the committee.

India has returned without participation from Olympics. A committee is working on correcting caste based classifications. Hopefully, by next Olympics we'll be able to participate. All is now in hands of God (Well, the committee is awaiting the descent of Lord Krishna himself, to explicitly state the Varna Vyavastha).

Parineeta

The music of Parineeta is gentle on the ears. Lyrics are mostly, hollow, but music doesn't shred. (To listen, linux users can use a combo of real-player and www.hindifm.com)

Death Of Philosopher

One fine day, thought began trying to understand the thought that was trying to understand the thoughts. We don't know what happened next, because the philosopher died.

Since then, it is advised that philosophers don't think on fine days ! Why die when you can enjoy another fine day.

Killing Dead

(Cautionary Warning: Those of weak heart, do not try. Some memories might be corrupted ir-revocably)

No. You were wrong. It is not about digging graves to kill the dead again. Cheer up! It's a simple thought experiment. If you like it (in all possibilities you won't) kudos to me, and if you do not, curses to me. Here:

Next time when you are nostalgic about a some-one (example, a potential companion in lost times), visualizing what had been, fantasizing what could have been, replace the some-one with a grotesque human form that you've most recently seen. Now return to your past and re-play.

What happens ?

If you did try this and are now cursing me, here's a medicine. Laugh at yourself, for being stupid! (It will certainly help)

And if you liked this insanity, try this too. Instead of replacing others, replace yourself, in your past. And re-play. Does it break a cycle ?

Nayi Hawa

(This is without much thought)

poorab ki kis hawa ne mera darawaza khatkhataya hai
Yeh konsi bayar hai jo mujhe baagiche main bula rahi hai
Yeh kiski awaaz hai jo mere kaano tak aa rahi hai
Main toh apni tanhai ke andhiyaare main gumsum baitha tha
Yeh konsa ujiyara mere aangan main aaya hai
poorab ki kis hawa ne mera darwaza khatkhataya hai

Is dastak ka jawab toh mujhe dena hi padega
Is baar toh poorvai ko andar aane dena hi padega
Yeh main hi toh tha, jisne deewaron ka mahal banaya
Yeh main hi toh tha, jisne darwaazon ko band karwaya
Maine hi layi thi tanhai, Aur maine hi kiya tha andhera
Ab darwaze ko khol kar, roshni ko andar aane dena hi padega

Change

When I was a child, my parents tell me, I had limitless zeal. For everything. They had made me memorize our then address, "Doctol M Te Dupta, Mophichal-Offichal, Khakhalia Dujalaat" (Doctor M K Gupta, Medical-Officer, Khakharia Gujarat). So that in-case I slipped through their fingers, for a fantasy toy-world or an animal-jungle, some-one would return the lost property. I used to eat sand, hide in mogra-bushes and run after squirrels. And throw my biscuits to crows and play with water. And climb windows. Once I ran towards a labalub-talaab (an overflowing pond). Death then, was unknown to me. This was a different me. Twenty-five years of life, and not a trace of that childhood remains. And the infinite zeal, has been reduced to an integral limit.

ek subah

chhan(from chalni, filter)
auns(dew)

badalon se chhan kar dhoop mere aangan main aai hai
Wahan door mere aangan ki dhalano se dhoop ke rekhayen haule se mil rahin hain
aur yahan mere aangan ki hariyali ne auns ki muskan chadhai hai
badalon se chhan kar dhoop, mere aangan main aayi hai

Udhar rekhaon ke bandalon ne aakash ko bhavya banaya hai
aur idhar mere aangan ke phoolon ne mahak ka rang chadhaya hai
Badalon se chhan kar dhoop, mere aangan main aayi hai

ab mere aangan ke panchiyon ne aasman main chalang lagayi hai
ab maine aangan main apni kursi lagayi hai
aur Subah ki dhoop ab mere mun main utar aayi hai

badalon se chhan kar dhoop, mere aangan main aayi hai

Siphar

mandir ki ghanti ki har awaaz ke beech main hai siphar

aasman ki gahrai main hai siphar,
waadiyon ki tanhai main hai siphar
jindagi ka agaz hai siphar
jindagi ka anjam hai siphar
yeh main nahin kahta, yeh kahta hai siphar

yehi hai palon ko samay main pirone wala
yehi hai sanson ke risthon ko jodne wala
Risthon ke bandhan main hai siphar
Aur Insaan ke mun main hai siphar
Yeh main nahin kahta, yeh kahta hai siphar

Pahle kuch nahin tha, sirf tha siphar
Phir huyi roshni aur phir huya andhera
Ab andhere main hai siphar
Aur roshni main bhi siphar
Yeh main nahin kahta, yeh kahta hai sihpar

Imagine

Taking my weekly dosage of scientific america (www.sciam.com), I found A Transparent Enigma. Read with patience, if you will.

No Oxygen Up there

In life, I do not want to rise high, because there's no oxygen up there, and people wear silly masks !

Fear, Faith and Reason

Fear and Faith can make a stone out of a man. It is not that the liberal man is not insecure and has all the answers. But he faces his fears and questions his beliefs. Both are ways of life, yet to choose, I need to reason. And it takes more courage to question myself than to question others.

Eliminated P

A Poster in my bus says "The wrong pass could take you right to jail". Someone eliminated the P. The message now looks like:

"The wrong ass could take your right to jail. Using a fraudulent ass is illegal and is a punishable crime. Buy your ass legally. Don't take a chance. Don't even think about buying it from someone on the street. The RTD makes it available in select stores, King Soopers and Safeway. Make sure you get your ass from one of these. You can also get your ass online at www.rtd-denver.com"

(Not my idea. Some innovative ass-enger did that)

Rest Today

"Rest a little my friend,
come here, sit with me
We'll trace the clouds in the sky
and watch the birds fly

What is it that whispers the wind ?
Look now, the leaves speak in a murmur
What secret do they reveal ?

Rest a little my friend,
come here, sit with me
We'll watch the running stream
and remember a childhood dream

What is it at that laughs the water ?
Look now, the stones have joined its merriment
What unknown game do they play ?

Tomorrow, when the sun rises, you can go
But be with me tonight, we'll lie in the grass
and talk of the starry night
Rest a little my friend,
Tomorrow you can go,
But today, come here, sit with me"

Show of Life

There's a tiny bird under the tree
and she hops and hops and hops
On the grass under the shadow cast
by the tree,
she hops and hops and hops
briskly, breezily under the shadow
cast by the tree,
she hops and hops and hops
some grains she pecks, surveys the view ahead
and hops and hops and hops
Now she gathers her wings and flies away,
away from this land
and lights the sky with brown and black and brown
She flies my Friend, to another tree,
where she'll put a show for another me,
a show of life, for another me.

Torn Jeans

"This jeans of yours is torn all over. Leave it here. I'll give it to the RaddiWala", said mother, on my last visit home, two years ago.
"No. I like it. I still wear it". Threads had come out here and there, hanging loose, lifeless, awaiting final tear. Tapered blue hollow stared from inside.
"Tu toh pagal ho gaaya hai. You've gone mad. So many clothes you have, and if not, buy new ones. I will not let you wear that", she hid the jeans somewhere.
She wouldn't have found it. I brought it back with me. How could I let go of the jeans I loved so much ? So what if some threads were broke. I brought it back, with me.

Fate

Outside my window, three hares indulge in a reckless chase, whilst the clouds conjure a thunderous storm. Soon, the hares will be soaked by merciless rain, their burrows flooded with filthy water. But then, I guess, they are accustomed to the whims of nature. Tomorrow will be a new sunlit day again. Tomorrow they will build their homes again.

Nemesis

Weakness of Character is my nemesis. Morality in me, lives like a widow, passive, half-dead, sometimes faintly mournful, usually silent.

Love is in the Air

Some-one said that. People, protect your-self with a face-mask ! Now we know love is an air-borne disease.

Self-Love

Some days, I am in love with myself, others, I am just selfish.

Pathetetic Jokes

Geek humor sometimes make some sense, at other times is non-sense. Welcome to the world of pathetetic jokes. Some geeks, I must say, are expert at this art. Samples:

Papa tomato, mom tomato and baby tomato, are on their way to meet someone. Baby tomato is mischievious, naughtily lagging behind, doing zig-zags. Mom tomato turns back, mildly scolds baby tomato for walking on the road. Papa tomato, who's worried about being late, gets angry-red, turns with red fury, comes back with quick-steps, squeezes the baby-tomato hard and says
'Ketchup' ! (Catchup, you see)

Playful banter amidst two friends
Girl: You are so mean !
Geek says: " Which mean, arthimetic, geometric or harmonic !" And flees with Gigabit speed, since the friend is a mainframe with large (b)hand-width

Recently, we were talking while "Dance with Me" played (bad bad bad habit, to chatter during emotional scenes). I went "Why does everyone get hurt in love ?", My friend goes "Dude, it's a part and parcel of living, Everyone.." I interrupted "Nah re, it's because everyone falls in love, and in gravity".

Here are some more Geek Jokes (I found on net) if you have appetite for more.

And if you like geek jokes much-much, visit sagnik's site.
Satisfaction Guaranteed.

(Voluntary disclosure: The first pj was pirated and improvised. Half the title of this post was flicked from movie "Step Mom")

Talaash

ek aur saanjh ho chali hai, aur mere ghar main roshni nahin hai
diye ki khoj main bhatakta phirta hoon mara-mara
din ka khel ab khatm ho chuka hai
din-bhar maine badi atkheliyaan ki hain
ab saanjh ho chali hai, aur mere ghar main roshni nahi hai
raat gahra rahi hai, diya nahin mila hai, na jaane kitni khoj aur baki hai,
na jaane kitna chalna aur baki hai
ab rukte rukte se kadam hain, shareer main itna hi dum hai, ki peepal tale so loon
par mere ghar main roshni nahin hain, diye ki khoj abhi puri nahin hai
ab raat ho chali hai, aur mere ghar main roshni nahin hai
mere ghar main roshni nahin hai
mere ghar main roshni nahin hai
~

What do you do ?

This young man is having a drink in a dance-bar (A dancing geek is a rarity, unless, the whole crowd belongs to the same species and is either doped-or-dead-drunk). A femme-fatale comes and occupies the next seat. As it usually happens, it happens here too. Dilated eyes meet, conversation begins. One thing leads to another and the female asks, "So, What do you Do ?" Young man, inexperienced that he is, proudly goes "I am a software engg. Currently, I am working on block-level asynchronous replication for remote-mirroring". The lady goes "Uh-huh, Interesting". And then "I gotta check-out this friend of mine. Excuse me".

Since then, whenever the young man is asked "What do you do ?", He replies that he works with the computer. Or a better one, is a hitch-hiker.

Spring Sunday

The idyllic charm of boulder spring has arrived. The grass is green again. There's a mild scent in the air. The little hyacinths are bravely brandishing their colors against the bright sunshine. A promiscous bee bamboozles the flowers in mad delight, carefully kissing one after another. Families are out bicycling along the boulder-creek; Moms daughters sons and Dads in pinks and yellows and whites, wearing enthusiasm and smiles. Young are out playing, cuddling, sun-bathing. Once in a while, I spot a grandma or a grandpa, sitting on a bench under the shade, reading a book, or perhaps, staring at a passerby.

I sit by the creek for a while. Protected by the trees, the creek runs carefree, gushing forth with a loud din. My mind slips away, just for a little while, imagining an unknown song, humming with the uproarious waters, caressing the the stones, and the grass, and the trees, and the sky.

More on geeks, continued from day before.

Geek coders, have this peculiar habit of dissappearing in labryinths of codes. So if your geek boyfriend, has been missing, donot worry, he is not screwing around, he surely will be in dungeon(lab), breaking his head on the computer.

A gorgeous geek female and a handsome geek male, were working late night on a project. The male asks "Where shall we sleep ?" The answer was "Between lines 16 and 17". You see, sleep is a function used to make programs sleep (technically, relinquishing the cpu). They were talking of where to put that, in the lines of code.

Geek coders, like to code in the silence of the nights, when the only humane sound is themselves munching vending machine trifles, or sipping caffeine or a carbonated drink.

Geek Week

Begining Today, we will celebrate Geek-Week. We'll provide you with undercover details, which a geek guards ferociously, secretly encoded in cryptographic patterns in h(is)er geeky-brain.

A geek fantasizes about einstein, turing and bill-gates brains as ordinary people do about catherine-zeta-zones and brad-pitt and aishwarya-rai and shah-rukh-khan.

Every geek laughs at the idea of online-sex, but secretly believes and wishes, it were-will-be possible, in future.

True-Story: If a geek has Medical-Urgency(example acute chest-pain), (he) will Google up chest-pain, to find information about the problem.

A geek checks the gmail/hotmail/yahoo (oh yes, maintains all three atleast like an athlete maintains h(er) body), each twenty times a day. Plus the geek also explores the yahoogroups/google-groups/online-community accounts everyday and still manages to work/study !

If a geek says s(he) loves you like the comp, marry the geek, s(he) means it, s(he) can't live without a comp.

A geek contemplates about naming his(er) first baby, as Version 1.0, or Some-name.com.

A geek's idea of a romantic gift is a e-greeting, a bouqet developed in photo-shop, and a .com domain and
if the geek is more naughty, add porn-site addresses, logins and videos (ok, this is fiction)

If you think Geeks are foolish stupid nerdy geeky , welcome to the company, you are reading a Web Log.

And if you think Geeks are Cool, Well, if you are a girl, I am single and not dating :) (more serendipitous signs, single, not dating, and uses a blog to approach women. Though not all geek males do that; they never approach women !)

More Geekiness Tomorrow. Enjoy.

(Cautionary Warning: Some insights here might be pirated)

Unsaid Words (Ankahe Shabd)

The burden of unsaid words is as heavy as the unreciprocated ones.

Today, we wish:

That Websites sold Dreams. May be we could log on to Dreambay.com and bid for some. Dreambay would sell suitable Dreams for all purposes and prices. Affordable prices. So that when life is pallid, we would shop rebated Dreams on Dreambay.

( If you dislike the idea, the blame is mine. But if you like it, the credit is to bridalbeer and her this post )

Today, we like:

Women's boots. leather boots. velvet boots. pointed boots. thick heeled. high heeled. chappals. sublime grey boots. robust brown. neat black. flat-soled. kids-blue. sixteen-pinks. We like them all today. Men's boot are boring. Monotonous sport shoes. Women's are varied and beautiful. Selected tastefully. Worn with pride and passion. Today we like Women's boots.

Stuck Poet

"Jahan na pahunche Ravi, Wahan Pahunche Kavi"
The Poet reaches where the sun does not, said a Hindi Poet
Yet, when the land of relationships is barren, old burnt, existing stale, and incapable of new, the Poet gets Stuck. In a black-hole. In gravity.
How we wish there were a God, an Angel, who would dispel the darkness, with the swish of a wand.
Alas, they are only a necessary fantasy.
But then, even a Black-hole doesn't last forever. So there's Hope, that light will emerge from the Black-hole
Until then we let the Poet lie fallow.

Downhill-FullSpeed

In life, Going DownHill can be fun sometimes. For example, like a KamiKazi, going downhill on a snowboard, full-speed, crashing hard and fast, only to get up everytime, for another descent. So went this blogger, on the bunny-green slopes at BreckAndRidge Resort in the Mountains of Colorado (Yeah, along with five year olds who were certainly doing better than him. One umpteenth fall this blogger fell on face, at the feet of a five year old. The little girl asked "Are you OK ?". Blogger: DumbStruck Grin. Thanks heaven, God made compassionate children).

Aside, The resigned helplessness that descends upon you, when the body has been battered with falls on butt and on face, is another fun experience. After a certain fall, this blogger laid face upwards on the slope surrounded by the alpines; watching the wind whistle snow away from the mountains. And up in Sky, thin unshapely clouds sailed swiftly by her side.

(Reader Discretion Advised on this Post. If snowboarding for the first time, please take training lessons, and begin on bunny slopes as I did)

Freedom Fighter

Jinki Tasveerain Ab sirf kitabon main baki hain. Aur jinki Awaz 15 august ke loud speaker ke tale dab gaayi hai. Unki Yaad Main.

EKLA CHALO

Walk alone.

If they answer not to thy call, walk alone;

If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,

Open thy mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away and desert you when crossing the wilderness,

Trample the thorns under thy tread,

And along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,

With the thunder-flame of pain ignite thine own heart,

And let it burn alone.

RabindraNath Tagore

(This post was inspired by Bose-The Forgotten Hero, Music A R Rahman, Director: Shyam Benegal )

Prinpical, Profit and Interest

Life is the Principal we borrow, Pain is the Interest we Pay, Joy the Profit we earn. It So seems to me, that Interest is always high and the Profit always low, howsoever judiciously the Principal be invested. Yet Bound by the laws(of nature), never do we default on interest, always hoping if the profit were more, all whilst clinging dearly to the Principal

I hope one day my debt will be forgiven.

Aside, I never knew Assalam alaykum meant "Peace be Unto You".

Assalam Alaykum My Friend.

Untitled

Uncertain Sky thunders today, as if to set the Sun with it's arrogant might.
The Sun will set, but not before it has colored every cloud in this Sky, in it's light.

Bachpan

"Beta Saanjh ho Chali hai, itna hi Khel kafi hai"
"Bus maan, thori der aur", balak itna kah phir
khel main magan ho jaata hai.

"Beta Diya-Batti ka samay ho gaaya hai, itna hi
Khel kafi hai"
"Bus maan, thori der aur", balak andhere main
khoi gaind dhoodhne main vyast hai

"Accha pahle bhagwan ke hath jod, phir thori
der aur khel le"
Beta bhag kar aata hai, jaldi se hath jod kar
phir aangan main chala jaata hai.

Maan ab bahar aa gaayi hai, ab khel band nahin
kiya toh pitai hogi.
"Bus, do minute aur maan, do minute aur,
Bus do minute aur" kahkar shaitan muskarata hai,
minnat karta hai

Maan ab nahin sunegi, khel ab khatm, Kal phir naya
khel hoga.

Hope

"Everyone hopes for something" Once a man asked "What do you hope for ?"
"I hope to get rid of my hopes" said I
The man laughed "You are insane"
"Who is not" said I
"How can one live without hope" said the man, with squinted brows
"One cannot" said I
"So you want to die"
"No. I want to live without hope"
"You are insane"
"Yes, you are, totally insane"
"INSANE YOU ARE"

Sunrise Mountains Tea and Happiness

6'o'clock. Wakeup, peek outside the window. No colors yet; horizon is cloudy, hope for colors, guess there will be colors. Brush Teeth, examine tooth-decay. Contemplate about going to a dentist, conclude teeth aren't bad, drop the idea. To the kitchen, Look West. The Flatirons peak is glowing red. Run to the bedroom window. Look East. Bride Red color with folds of clouds. Look West. Can barely See the mountains. Some Birds are awake now. Listen to them for a while. Back to the big glass window in the hall. The color is slowly flowing down the peaks. Put tea in microwave. In a while the mountains will be all glowing red. Tea is ready. The mountains are entirely clothed in red now; clouded-murky sky in the background. Good contrast. Uplifting scenery. Red Clad Sadhu. Bride wearing Red. Momentary Colors. Tea and colors dissappear quickly; thoughts continue. Happiness is like this. With every sip, the color diminishes. And it dissappears quickly, over before you even know. And then only the taste remains. It's all blue now. The murky blue reigns. Some snow still on the mountains. Thus begins another cloudy day.

Dad and Daughter

Every morning they wait for the 205 bus at 28th and Iris. Dad and Daughter. Together, along with his bicycle. She is about six and he must be in his early thirties. They don't talk much. Usually they are dressed in blue. Dad in blue jacket and jeans. Daughter in a blue coat with light brown fur. He always waits (holding his bike) until the bus comes, daughter gets in, and bus is out of sight.

Today he must have had some work, he left on the bike as soon as the bus left. Bus crawled ahead, bike gained speed, away from each other. He turned back to look at the bus. Once, twice and again, balancing awkwardly on his bike, he kept turning back. Daughter didn't see him, seated from where she was.

And he kept turning back until the bus was out of sight.

Buried Deep

Old building. Dilapidated. Broken pillars, half-standing walls. An unprotected well somewhere inside, with creepers surrounding its darkness. Love once bloomed in this building's garden. Now weeds are on a rampage. So many stories are buried here, waiting.

Waiting that someday someone will unearth them.
Someone will listen for the long dead, someone will read the writings on the walls. Someday someone will dig deep.

Until then, there is lifeless peace.

Sundry Romances

Those inconsequential moments, when the eye-meets-an-eye or a mutual presence is felt. Sometimes they terminate abruptly, sometimes they fade in time.

Like a middle-way monk (madhyamargi), we don't crave for them, but we are not averse to enjoying them, as and when the Sundry Romances present themselves.

But then, we must be careful; Sundry Romances deceptively contribute to false ego. Other than that, no harm in enjoying a flower or a fall-leaf.

Why write ?

Early morning, gulls in boulder are already up. Gliding lazily, they swoop down once in a while, to gather food crumbs. Some are busy manoeuvering in the morning breeze.

Oh such a lovely day today. The little sparrow begins practicing her flight lessons. She flits back and forth to a few trees, rests for a while, pecks at something and lesson time again.

As the eagle soars high in the colorado noon-sky, I follow it's ascent. Slowly, steadily, with each flap it rises, higher and higher. There is a strong current from the mountains. Now the eagle is mighty high, wading peacefully in the current.

The evening is already sleepy. The geese are returning to the sun in a victory formation. They have flown long and wide today.

Night has set in, the stars are out playing poetry, and I am still wondering why birds fly ?

traveller

Chourahe par aaya Raahgir anjaani raah pakad chala. Logon ne rok kar poocha "Bhai kuch pata bhi hai kahan ja rahe ho ?" Raahgir ne kuch na kaha, muskaaraya, aur phir se chal pada. Manzil ki talash use nahin, poochne waloon ko thi.

The traveller at the crossroads took an unknown road. Some people stopped the traveller and asked "Man, do you even know where you are headed ?". Traveller, said nothing, smiled and moved on. Destination was on the minds of the others, not the traveller.

fragrance

I am on my way to work. Morning sun greets me.
There is quite some activity amongst the leafless trees. The birds are chirping loudly, as if to wake up the trees, from a long sleep. There is a certain freshness in the air.
A sudden fragrance hits my nose; Familiar. A ride on the wings of memory, back to a home far away in Ujjain, India, where it's early morning. I enter the kitchen, mother is preparing breakfast. She has opened one of the four windows to let the morning air in.
Rest of the windows remain closed; to maintain a certain privacy.
"Maa, dekho Dargaah se kitni acchi khusboo aa rahi hai".
Mother see, such a good fragrance comes from the Dargaah (A fakir is buried here).
"Haan, Kabhi kabhi aati hai. Tu yahan baith kar padh".
"Yes, Sometimes it comes. You sit here and study".
Mother becomes busy again in the kitchen; in a while we will have poha and chai.
I look outside, brown and green trees fill my vision; not far away is the Dargaah, surrounded in greenery.
Bound. Back. The Bound has come. It will take me to the Bolt stop. Bound, Bolt, Jump, Skip, Hop are bus names here.
I take a deep breath, and step in.

living

It is difficult. It is difficult to live as if there was no tomorrow. Or no next. It is equally difficult to live as there was no yesterday. No past. Such are the tastebuds of mind. Sweet and sour and spicy thoughts, it likes them all.

Aside, I eagerly await the spring flowers that will bloom in boulder; the tulips, the wild flowers, the cherry blossoms and the roses.

I long for the buzz of the spring, when bees and birds will be busy alike, the trees and grass will be green again, and together, the stream and I, will hum a song of joy.