Merci

As I wake up today with weary eyes and no fervor to face another day, I try to balance the scales, and measure in time, what have I lost? The feeling of home. The presence of a soul mate. The warmth of a known hand. The words of an understanding soul. The selfless love of an unrelated being. The dynamics of a city. The stealth of the foot. The sharpness of the brain. The unfinished desires. The steadfastness. A peaceful soul. Myself. The scales seem to be broken. How does one repair? -Merci.

Today I woke up to a sunny morning, a landscape of blossoming trees, and the blue blue sky. Today my heart woke to a blurry warning, an impressionist sunset, painted with a violet lie. ********************* P.S: Can poems have preludes? I would like to believe so.  This one is prelude to my earlier published piece  Tango .

It is during the empty moments of lazy afternoons or busy evenings, that I think of your pain, and the cause of it. The atrocity of time or the cruelty caused on my behest. Who knew life would alter? But it did. Who thought I would falter? But I did. As your despair heightens, it reaches to me. As my misery rises, I cease to see. It's a funny little tango, with tormenting dancers. I am the criminal and also the victim. Of a questionable tale, with no answers. -Merci.

Boulders, stones and pebbles. They seemed to block my way.  I treaded precariously, as I slowly overcame each one of them. Yet I failed. Each time.  I did not understand why.  I cried, frayed and distraught.  Until I realized the biggest hurdle, I needed to overcome. Was myself. 

The turtle was nearing the summit. It had been quite an exhausting journey. Yet, he was so close to winning this race. Five years on the road, struggling to make it to the end. The turtle had taken quite a many bends. Crossed forests and narrow roads. Strived through shorter days and longer nights. Endless dreams. The hare had fallen asleep somewhere at a turn, far behind. Did he wake up soon after and take a detour? Who knew. The turtle did not care anymore. He did move really slowly, the turtle had realized. So many years had passed. But for now the race for the turtle wasn't against another but against himself. And after all these odds, against all the obstacles and many beautiful pathways, here he stood very close to the finish line. Walking on the narrow ridge of the mountain range he found himself at a cliff with a narrow pit between himself and the victory flag. He would certainly have to leap over this to the other side. Or perhaps, learn to fly. Could he do th...

She dreamt of a wooden study desk with a small table lamp. Reading in the soft glow of light. Listening to her favourite music? The night falls slowly, and the trees whisper in silence. The stars peep out and watch her as she sits on her desk by the window. Writing in her diary perhaps? Sometimes glancing outside the window, staring into the sky. She dreamt of that one world of her own. Of uninterrupted silence. So simple. So pristine. It took her several years. And one ordinary moment of epiphany, to realize that the dream did come true. -Merci.

Last one week has been a whirlwind journey. So many lows and so many highs. Let's just say I couldn't catch hold of the minutes or the hours or the days. Time just flew by. Can I say that I still have control? I don't think so. Not yet. But one does tune into their favourite songs, to lose a sense of time and in this pursuit I discovered a beautiful ghazal sung by the very famous Mehdi Hassan and written by Ahemad Faraaz that goes as below:- रंजिश ही सही दिल ही दुखाने के लिये आ Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaane ke liye aa (le t it be anguish, come still at least to torment my heart) आ फिर से मुझे छोड़ के जाने के लिये आ aa phir se mujhe chhod ke jaane ke liye aa (come, even if to leave me again) If you are in the mood for soulful music that holds the universe together for you in those few minutes, click play on either of the two that you prefer. Thank me later. Original Sung by Mehdi Hassan Recreated by Papon ...

I've binge-watched a lot of television series this year. If you do follow my posts, you'd notice I occasionally write about it too. In fact, a trend with all of these shows is that I end up falling head over heels in love with every show I choose. Yeah and it's suddenly the ' bestest ' show I have ever. seen. So talking about the last show that I watched and went completely crazy about is "That 70's Show." So much, that I am dedicating a post to it. This show is certainly not like any other sitcom out there. I don't really know what caught my attention throughout 8 seasons but I liked the period set up( 70's era) and the imperfect lives of the quirky characters who lived through the series. None of the characters are perfect and that in many ways makes the show so real. I think problems youth face while growing up remains the same irrespective of the era you talk about. But the 70's definitely seemed like a trend setting era. The s...

"Shyaam : Tu Kehna kya chahta hain? Raju : Main ye kehna chahta hun ki ye sab humaare saath hi kyun hua? Baburao : Kyun Hua? Raju : Kyunki ye Ishwar ki chaal hain. Baburao : Kaun Ishwar? Woh Ration ki dukaan wala halkat baniya? Raju :  Woh baniya jo upar ki dukaan mein baithta hain. Jo apne taraazu mein sukh-dukh sabko tol-tol ke deta hain. Agar woh chahta hain ki hum road pati se crorepati ban jaaye tu ismein problem kya hain? " P.S: Hera Pheri is without any doubt my favourite movie. And this is not only because it is an insanely funny movie, but also because it is a story about 3 ordinary men trying to make life's ends meet, struggling with their existing problems, not failing to dream big or keeping hope alive and most importantly never losing their sense of humour. 

This is the story of a room Buzzing with activity each day. Mails flew in, Mails flew out. Others – stacked like hay! Some mails were good, others bad. And when there was a conflict, the room went sad. The mean ones were plenty- found everywhere. Overpowered the good ones-caused despair! Mailboxes lined the door ‘Today’ overflowed,’ Past’ was overburdened. ‘Future’ held the dreams; some undelivered many left unopened. ‘Hope’ though kept asking for more This made it a healthy room for sure! And then the Storm arrived in town The mails fluttered in grief; The Door shut, the Windows vanished No sign of hope or relief! No helping hand, no place to go, No long lost love, no one they know. However, the season changed soon Happy mails buzzed in the room! The sun shone, the flowers bloomed. Music sailed, the angels danced. Rainbows smiled, reindeers pranced. Every mail was stamped with a smile An extra letter, takes you the ...

Wow. Time does fly. My blog has turned 3 years old. 3 years since I have been filling this blank space on the internet with my thoughts, poems and perspective. Technically, my blog turned 3 on 22nd January and I am late in celebrating my humble feat. However, I have been very busy off late. The past one year has been super fantastic and I'm hoping 2017 follows the same or an even more awesome rhythm for me. The resolution for the year remains to be excited and challenged with new things in life. It is what creates momentum and excitement.The year has been off to a decent start but there are many new changes that need to  be embraced or rather created. What's new? I've been watching a lot of televisions shows in the past one year. Many American and English dramas and sitcoms but I really want to mention about a bunch of shows I ended up watching from different geographies of the world. There is a channel on Indian television, named Zee Zindagi , that is premiering fa...

Husn-e-Jaana Ki Tareef Mumkin Nahi... What a beautiful rendition of the original. Coke Studio is brilliant as always.

Dreaming relentlessly. Then doing. Failing.  Stuttering.  Falling. Then rising. Exploring. Achieving. Unaccustomed. Then adapting. Horror. Misery. Gaining control. Ploughing. Then victory. Peace. Clarity.  New decisions. Then confusion. Crossroads. Which way do I go?  -Merci.

When I'm alone, When I've thrown off the weight of this crazy stone, When I've lost all care for the things I own, That's when I miss you. That's when I miss you,you who are my home. (From the song Orange Sky, Alexi Murdoch )

Recently, when I was listening to this( titled) pink floyd song, I decided to google what the term, 'another brick in the wall' means. I have this firm belief that poetry can be interpreted in many ways and there is never a right answer. Which is what makes poems even more beautiful.  Most articles, on the internet claimed, that the term meant this : "each time the poet was hurt he built a wall around him and that object/person of hate was another brick on his wall." This surprised me a little. Because, I always thought it meant that institutionalization killed creativity and growth( over here the writer is taking a dig at teachers and school ) and we all end up chiseled the same way ' ike another brick on the wall'. I thought conformity made us just like any other another brick(person) in the wall(world) with nothing to differentiate  P.S:I think I like my version better. 

I've been wanting to write about my trip to the United States for quite a long time now. My earlier intention was to pen down a detailed travelogue, but a lot of time has passed and the details have blurred. So let me just pick the pieces.  **************** I was staying with a dear, childhood friend in San Francisco (SF). She lives in Mountain view. When I landed in SF, it had just rained and the entire terrain had changed. It was green and vibrant. Taller buildings and a bustling city life. We drove to her place from the airport in an Uber. Uber is so important in the States. People who do not have cars,take the Uber. Yeah, the public transport over there,really sucks. Which is definitely a flaw. What do you do when you are out on the road in the US? How do you reach from point A to B? Keep wondering. Be lost. Or call an Uber. However, in my 3 days over there, Uber rides really grew on me. Mostly because of the chatty drivers. They are really pleasant (I presume, a pa...

For all we know the rickshaw drivers aren't the most accepting lot we have in Mumbai. They have their own rules and will easily own a record of rejecting more people and crushing hopes, than that popular girl/guy in your college would have. Stereotyping compels me to tarnish an entire community but obviously not all of them are the same. Yet, we rant away in our glory and when the next rickshawallah tells us, "Nahi, Andheri nahi jayega"[ Will not go to Andheri ] , we mutter under our breath,"America jayega kya?"[ Oh, so will you go to America? ] However, very recently I had a pleasant encounter with a nice rickshaw driver that completely reset my mood for that day. It was just another day for me when I went down to the auto stand to take a ride to work. As usual the first two rick drivers refused to go. The third one said yes (to my relief) and welcomed me with a smile. He was an old man, cleaning his rickshaw and I was probably amongst his first few custom...

I'm back with a blog post after a short hiatus. Work kept me occupied or maybe it did not. But this place has been barren for a long time now. We have been waiting for the rains for quite sometime in Mumbai. The summer which was welcomed with open arms soon became a menace due to the scorching heat and high humidity leading the government to take alarming steps towards curbing usage of water, adding to our "sticky" woes. Rains usually arrive in Mumbai by June 1. This time the calendar turned to 18th June and yet there was no rainfall in sight. Until the 19th Of course. When the clouds gathered above and the skies poured down. The hills turned green and everything cooled down. I did get wet in the first rains It's customary,isn't it? It's beautiful. It's enriching and delightful. Water pouring down your window sill. The smell of the earth in the first rains. Everything washes down- the roads, the trees, the birds. It's almost purifying. A cup of ho...

This.

It is so easy to lose inspiration when you're caught up doing mundane stuff day by day. You forget there is more to this world. You  tend to forget the reason you started in the very first place. And maybe lost your way. Or maybe found your path but are distracted so. Or maybe are giving up because nothing is working out. But then comes a dash of genius. One person. Or an incident. Or one moment. It reminds you what you want to be. What you should be doing. Why nothing you are doing is wrong. Why success will follow struggle.  I had a tough week. And then I saw this today.