My Pug Marks

It is just past 5 am on 15th August, 2011. Heaven and Hell both know I am not an early riser. And no, I haven't risen up to listen to Mr. Manmohan Singh speak from the Red Fort on the 64th Independence Day of India. I also don't work for an organization which would want to see me working on a National Holiday. Like most Indians, I would rather skip our soft spoken PM's speech and enjoy the extended weekend, but I clearly am not doing so. It is a simple question and a profound one that bugs me and takes my sleep away. Jinhe Naaz Hai Hind Par Woh Kahaan Hain? It means - Where are those people who are proud of India? A beautiful song from singer Rabbi Shergill  asks the same question, many a times. Where are those people? Are they the ones like me who enjoy sleeping on their nation's Independence Day which, just to remind myself and them - was won after a hard fought battle of about a 100 years? I don't think so. They definitely don't fit. Are they the ones who a...

as you walked by a few thoughts sprung in mind of my should i just hold your hand to induce in your mind a thought band or should i come in front of you from your eyes i get questions too but as it passed the thought last you had already walked past as you sit i feel like a misfit your presence pristine is all you need but i aught to be there on your aura i feed you look at me with smiling eyes my world becomes virtue without vice and then you call me for something i get pulled by the unknown string as you quietly sleep into another world my mind takes a leap a face of calm meadows and airy sunshine they begin to dimmer on the forehead those lines a quiet peaceful slumber shrouds the room even with the world outside going crazy towards doom you fit cosily into my chest the feeling of a saint in his himalayan rest

'So, how does it feel?' 'Oye hoye, shaadi shuda insaan!' 'You're married, waaaaaaoh!' 'Congrats! Your prison term begins now!' 'It must be bliss now... but wait for it my friend' No amount of italics or bold fonts can justify the knowledge, the pleasure, the displeasure and many such feelings to which I am innocent to that people express when they come to know that I am the newly married guy. I am partly to blame for that. I couldn't resist expressing my happiness and excitement to everyone and anyone I have known for 20 minutes or more. But it did not take long for me to realize that it was a grave mistake to do so in a 'connected everywhere all the time' world. You say the M word and people have all the gyaan to share with you. Like they have been married forever to know everything or if it is a kind of a cheap course that everyone has a doctorate in magna summa laude. Surprisingly, I did not know there was such a study optio...

However much that I may loathe all the crap that is dished out by Colors Channel, I must commend them for their brilliant idea in starting a new soap without actually getting down to starting one. Here's how. A very famous serial goes by the name Na Aana Iss Des Laado   (can't believe they have a wikipedia page dedicated to it!). This serial was actually going nowhere - tonnes of violence, bandits on loose after a family of equally corrupt people. Strange this family was a reputed one still but that is another story. Kids being given birth in all sorts of places (they could give Jesus Christ a run for his money in terms of his place of birth). And, the last you see is 2 little girls coming to this world amongst gunfire, their parents dead.  Next Episode. 18 years later. Those 2 little girls are now hot, young and college going. The family is no longer chased by bandits. They have moved to a great locality in New Delhi. Hell, the matriarch even goes for morning walks to Lo...

It was a great idea to head for the Delhi IndiBlogger Meet. Finally, after many weekends spent just like that, a Saturday when I ventured out. The meet was scheduled at The Religare Art Gallery at the K.G. Marg in Connaught Place. Apart from having met some great bloggers (hopefully, will get to receive some pics and comments back here!), it was great to win some rocking treats from www.mydala.com  (I thought it wouldn't be fair if I enjoy the treats and not mention the sponsors!) Here is a pic of what was in the goody bag, entirely to evoke some envy! Connaught Place never fails to bring that 'Ah, I love this about Delhi!' feeling. Same old buildings though shiny now with restoration, great shops, winter days with amazing thelas selling everything from groundnuts to the piping hot tea - Ah, I love Delhi! Connaught Place is truly a 'Why Not Place?!' as the Religare Art Gallery would say...

When the birds take off to sky Clear wet round mirrors on leaves Reflect some light I'd say its time to write When the glory of sea Meets the slipping brown sand And paints it frothy white I'd say its time to write When the fisherman throws His net far wide Serene lake caged in ripples slight I'd say its time to write When the child closes his eyes For his first prayer ever  Folding his hands tight I'd say its time to write When that bullet kills And the one who reached The revolver first sighs I'd say its time to write When feelings erupt With lines taking shape Of ideas bright I won't say - I'd just write.

Image Courtesy:  http://blacknright.wordpress.com A valedictorian he may be But before his address his legs ached to flee Clocking sub ten seconds many a times But 100m in an Olympics is no child's rhyme That move practised an entire year But muscles can twitch on stage my dear Expectation is like a fine diamond cutting tool Chiseling for others to drool A cut more and it corrodes Fine values it erodes