You think
yours is gravest
but have a look around,
how many of us
silently bear
in our own corner
and wouldn't let
the world know. 

Why do I take exams?
What do you check in the answers?
How much potential do I have?
Potential to cram for the exams
and forget all about it when I come out of the exam hall.
Well, I love this.
Only preparing a night before.
Where do I use what I have mugged up?
Do I use it later in life ?
at my work place?
I don't even think of that distant space.
Life makes me learn a lot already. 

The Warrior

Winds so strong
push me back,
Brutal rains
drench me all,
The waves too high
want me to drown
Fireballs they send
all along my way,
I laugh at their schemes,
countless they seem,
And yet I stand
strong and powerful,
not set to be ever their prey.

The last consonant

When I stand leading others,
they applaud me,
my prominence is unparalleled.
What happens then when
I get relegated to the end?
Am I not the same?
What has changed?
A victim of ignorance,
no one wants to take my name.
I have been doomed to be
the last consonant.
.

The train journey

So I have a train to board fom Borivali. The train has a stop of only two minutes. The crowd is huge. Anxiety rises. I am reminded of the time when in Renukoot we used to board the train. From a distance, the train's light from being faint becomes clearer and nearer. It's time for action. My mum has a back problem. She shouldn't be pulling up heavy luggage. My cousin is here to help us board. Train has stopped. Everyone is in a hurry for the fear of missing the train, yet there is an optimism. Some of the passengers do not know that it doesnt stop for 10 minutes and that is where hope has bloomed. Well, my mum gets in first. A little later, me too i find myself inside. What a relief! While i move inside the coach with one of the bags, my mum is blocked by a group of heavy luggage bags right next to the door. A little later, as the clouds disappear after it has rained, people clear the bags and i get my mum and the bag inside the compartment.
While one travels in a train, it gets extremely important who your co-passengers are. If they are nice people, the journey becomes mor enjoyable. So we are lucky this time. A family  from Bombay is going to Jaipur or holidays. They create no hassles for exchanging one of our upper berths with the lower that they have. We start talking. I tell them with whatever scant knowledge I have, about places they can visit. They are informed travelers. They have a list of to do things, which is great.
Then, I just open my facebook account. The first post I get is the breking news which appears to be as a hoax in the beginning.
One of my facebook.friends' has been the first on my page to break the news of extinction of a not ao rare species of Indian currency that too strting midnight. I do notay much heed. A little while later, another friend, facebook friend, whom I consider to have saner voice puts up the same status. A bell rings in my head. I go to google to look for the news post. And indeed it is true. The compartment, I must say has become as lively and engaging as my facebook wall. Everyone's checking the  news and discussing a enlightening others on what exactly has just happened and going to happen from midnight. It seems like one adventure that all of us are going through. But wait, some element of surprise waits for us. The discussions have been put to rest until tomorrow morning. We have Made our beds. It's time to relax. We reach th next station i.e. Surat. There are people who hv boarded the train. A family of eight have got inside. I assume with all teir luggge and the henna on the women's hands, they must have attended a marriage ceremony. So this one lady who is in the forefront of the family wagon, with her naturally loud voice asks an confirms whether this is so and so seat number. Well, our tickets have already been verified by the ticket checker and thus we ask them which Bogey they hav their seats in. They tell the same numers as ours. In this frenzy, amongst themselves they ask th person who has the ticket to verify. And here comes the grand revelation. They have the same bogey and seat number but in that of another train. Oops! Woow. This is my first of its kind incident. So with all their luggage, we ask them to hasten  little lest the train starts moving. And in this state of dilemma, as their reflexes slow down a little, the train begins to move slowly and then gains its speed. There is nothing that can be done now. So, they stay back. And somewhere with the TTE's help must have got a place to sit.
Train journeys can be so much fun but only if you have the right company around. I generally dread having kids in the compartment. But i do not get lucky most of the times. This time too their ar two young boys in the compartment but I amazed to see that they still make such kinds. Even though they are having their fun but they do not get on to my nerves. I am glad.
Now its almost the end of our journey but it did not feel like we had undertaken a 17 hours train journey.
Well, i always love the train journey. 

Bombay Local's etiquette

I get into the ladies' coach.
My mum who stays back at my aunt's must have been anxious. That is how she is. I always increase her anxiety quotient. The coach is full, nowhere a place to sit. A little later, comes a woman and asks to all who have been sitting about their destinations. And then come others doing the same. She doesnt ask through words but a sound like "chtchchth' They have booked their places. The train is in motion. It arrives at the next stop. And I see, a sea of females getting pushed inside the coach. A thought crosses my mind. " Life is a struggle". And this stands true for all of us, whoever we are, wherever we are. We all are struggling in life. But this extra struggle that forms part of Bombay life adds to my charm for the city and for the residents, they have no choice but to internalize it. I have a smile on my face because I am in the lifeline of Bombay i.e. the local train. In the meanwhile, the lady sitting in front of me gets up. The train is approaching her stop. The lady sitting next to her offers me to sit. But I have no right to take that seat as I had not told her that beforehand but someone else had. So i tell her that it is not for me but for her. And I still remain standing. But this girl had asked a few more and had allotted multiple places. So she informs me that I can take the seat when this other woman gets up. So, this other woman gets up and I am all set to take that one. This lady had been sitting in the middle, so I assume that I need to sit exactly where she had been. But before I can even think, the lady of the corner shifts inside and gives me her corner instead, which I take.
It is just the edge of the bench. Not very comfortable it is for me. I sit there for a while. I see some other women doing the same. The moment somebody gets up, all of them shift one place and by default one has to start from the edge.
So I am now equipped with one of the etiquettes required to take a seat in Bombay local. Great!

कार्तिक मास की पहली रात। बादलों ने पूरी तरह तुम्हे घेर रखा था।  तुम्हारे प्रकाश ने उन बादलों को लाल रंग की चादर ओढा दी थी.एक हवाई जहाज़ कहीं उन बादलों को चीरता हुआ, शायद तुम्हारे पास से गुज़रता हुआ आगे बढ़ रहा था. कुछ ही पल बाद इस पहाड़ी के पीछे से जिन बादलों ने तुम्हे छिपाने की कोशिश की थे, वे धीरे धीरे, अनचाहे मन से, पीछे हटने लगे. तुम्हारी लालिमा में सराबोर अब यह पहाड़ी भी जगमगा रही थी. लाल से सफ़ेद में तुम कब बदले, बस कुछ ही पलकों का झपकना था शायद. अब मैं यहाँ बैठी हूँ की शायद कुछ शब्द मेरे कलम से इस कागज़ पर भी उतर आएं. 

Voices clamoured, doors shut with a thud, the nearby road had vehicles passing by, honking without a reason, glasses fell one after another and the cacophony reached the sky blazing heat!!

Rain had decided not to take a break from letting itself fall towards the Earth. Wind had also connived and brought along its might, disturbing the balance of the trees. Under the old banyan tree stayed put that little boy who had so badly wished it to rain.

I am Life

I am Life,

I will chase you

till your Death,

Believe it or not,

I am more powerful 

than Death,

which occurs once

and sets you free,

but not with me.

You got to be strong

to face me,

I love playing games,

throwing challenges,

pushing you to the limits,

and when you saturate

and give it all up,

comes your end as abrupt,

but for those, who fight along,

and show their might,

I come alive, and yes,

this is also me,

this is your Life.

Reflections

While talking to my sister yesterday, she referred to an incident that had happened in a University. The case was of harassment or molestation by a professor of a foreign student. My sister had met somebody who happened to be the girl's friend. As far as we knew and I think that is public knowledge now, that there was no case against the professor. This guy whom my sister met also told about  some female students who had been to the foreign student's room to dissuade her to complain against the professor. Well, the case was also not pursued because the student went back to her country as I am told.

Well, we did not know the facts. What we were talking about was completely based on other people's versions. But even in other people's versions, there is a prominent point that stood out for both of us. There are so many cases of violence, rape, molestation where we do not take action or we deter the person who had been at the receiving end of the traumatic incident to not report or not pursue the legal course of action against the one who perpetrated the crime. Why? because it is a family member? it is someone who is renowned? someone who is known to the person?

Today in the newspaper, there was an incident reported . The news is from Delhi. The girl in question was discouraged by the PG owners even the police saying that he was a baccha. It seems the guy was known to PG owners as well as the cops. But does it undermine the nature of the act committed only because the person is known?

It struck me in the morning that we had a discussion on a related issue yesterday evening and in the morning the newspaper had an article. The article also mentioned people telling the girl not to report because what if he gets back and take a revenge.

Why are we telling the girl not to report? Why aren't we telling the other people , the relatives, the family members to report?

Reflections

I grew up cherishing humbleness and modesty as one of the highest virtues of life. Those who have achieved higher goals in their lives need not put forth in their own words their achievements in front of others as the world would already know about their feats. This is what I used to think and for the most part of it, I still believe in it. But taking a look around, I feel modesty and humbleness have become a rare treasure found only in a few who shine without the embellishments of their own words about their greatness.

This reminds me of an incident which I think was quite amusing for me. (I do not know whether the person whom I found hilarious thought it to be so, well if she had put in so much of thoughts she would not have uttered the words) This was about an year ago. I would go to play tennis in my campus every evening. I never saw this woman playing herself but it seems she had noticed me playing. One day as I was on my way back, chance had made me come across her. We exchanged the regular hello and she complimented me on my game. Well she said , "Your technique is very good" I had a confused expression on my face to which she responded "Oh, don't worry, I won't come to play". My expressions were confused because I know my shortcomings while I play. Did she read my expressions as I were afraid to confront one of the greatest players. Well, I think now I sound a little condescending but a person who has never been seen on the court, how can she comment on the technique? If she were so much into the techniques, never ever did she want to show them on the court? Well, I am really amused about how people brag about their skills which they do not even possess. (Now that I have written about this incident, I have two more related to my tennis skills) Another person commented, "oh you have learnt now how to play!" I amuse myself by thinking within my head as if he had seen me start learning how to play and now I have reached a certain passable limit of the game. Well, generally I ignore and do not correct the perceptions people want to make about me. I feel even if I do mention that I had learnt playing tennis a long time ago so, would that really change his perception. Again, on some other occasion, he will make his own ideas about, not just me but about any other person.

Here I may be wrong, but I only care about the perceptions that my near and dear ones have about me.

Coming back to modesty and humbleness, they do not remain virtues for the majority and have become a sign of weakness and flaw. These days if you do not fall on the majority side, you certainly belong to the wrong side. 

Modesty and Humbleness also invokes in me the idea of speaking with respect to anyone. What I have witnessed in this one year is something not really surprising but the fact that it gets prominent with each passing day in my life with the people around has become a fact pretty indigestible. The trend is not only for those who are in the position of authority, who deem themselves as the only masters but at each level of the hierarchy, one faces such a behaviour. 

I do not say that I am the perfect person born in this world. No, I am not. No one is. What I try to do is to reflect upon my shortcomings. Some attributes I would love to inculcate in me, I put effort to imbibe. I just wonder whether reflections are being done on individual level. I am sure there are innumerable others who give hope, who have virtues, who inspire others to be a better person. I have met many in my life. Yet somehow where I am today, brings forth a grim picture. 

  

A world
where one fences
self with high walls,
where no one touches
another soul,
where emotions
bear no imprint
on others' hearts
and rationale resides
in an oblivion,
where all voices
yell simultaneously
to an audience unknown,
is this the world
we are living in today?

Death is the Ultimate Truth
and yet we all live but in resignation
How dreadful a moment that would be
when a dear one has been taken away
never to return in the physical form
but alive always in memories,
why do we have to endure and undergo
the cycle of life? Why to be born at all when
one day we all leave for a place unknown?
I refuse to part ways from my loved ones,
But Who cares when you are doomed
in this maze of Life and Death!

सब कुछ जैसे थमा हुआ था
और अचानक
वह पहाड़ों के पीछे से
उड़ते हुए घने काले बादलों की टोली
और उनकी सवारी करते हुए
बूंदें।
बालकॉनी की रेलिंग पर
ठहरे हुए पैरों के ऊपर
उस एक बूँद का गिरना
जैसे किसी ने दस्तक दी हो आने की ,
और फिर एक साथ
बूंदों के गुट का ज़मीन पर आ धमकना ,
यह पहाड़ तो अभी भी रुका  हुआ है,
उसके पीछे से चमकती हुई बिजली,
कुछ पुरानी बातों को अपने तेज से
नहलाकर ताज़ा करती हुई,
सब कुछ तो थमा हुआ था ,
मगर अब शायद कोई हलचल हुई.  

Romantic spanish songs play
as we step inside the place,
dim lights enhance the ambience
while we choose carefully where to sit,
lights pink and green
adorn the plants of the courtyard,
strong whiff of wind
caresses once in a while,
and we order a pizza
Quattro stragioni,
that comes some time later
reminds me of Milan,
Still left with the last bite
when a drop falls
on my left arm,
we find shelter in time
and it starts pouring.
I wish time freezes.
And it remained so
in that moment.

A Magical World

It is sheer Magic,
how the clouds voyage
disguising themselves
as a cluster of water droplets
behind the snowy white
or sometimes dark grey colour.
And, when you yearn for those droplets
to fall on you,
you could be parched
but no, they wouldn't
they wouldnt open up.
But when you expect the least,
they unleash their playfulness
with aplomb
that takes you by surprise,
and let themselves dissolve,
their whole existence
going to be diminished
the next instant,
only to give you your
magical moments.

Unacquainted Voices
Knock at my door
Cluttered outside,
seeking refuge indoor
I stay frozen
behind that door
amidst a cacophony
of voices.
Yet one honeyed voice
mutters a thing
that sounds familiar,
Do I thus open the door?

Selenophile

I came across a word today. A newly coined word it ought to be because the entries that i got while i googled the term, not a single option was from the dictionaries we check. Well, while I am writing this, I went on Oxford Dictionaries' website to find out whether the word exists . And I am not surprised by no trace of the word. It may end up one day who knows. 

Tonight the sky is garbed in clouds. Wherever the eyes move, not a single star can be traced. I read somewhere that today is the Summer solstice, the longest day of the year. But I think here in India, since we are in different time zones, it falls tomorrow. Why do I mention the solstice at all. It seems it was in 1967 when the summer solstice and full moon day clashed and fell on the same day. 

Tonight is the Full Moon night. However, the clouds have decided to hide the Moon from innumerable admirers of his . It would have been a beautiful sight, it has been so long that i saw a full moon night, almost 30 days to be precise

. Well, for sure, I think I am a SELENOPHILE.

As I stopped over to my sister's place while returning from home (my parents' place), I had but one night before heading back to my own place. All of my books/diaries, almost everything is there in my sister's house when I had shifted, I should rather use "finally shifted from my University campus" after having spent a decade there. I was searching for a book, I knew I had bought but couldn't find it earlier. The book 1984 I finally managed to catch hold of from one of the cartons. My sister had been gravely looking for it to read. With that I also chanced upon a beautiful diary I had gifted myself some years ago. And there were a few poems which I had written. I guess that was before I created this blog. But I have always had an inclination for ink and paper. So I carried it along with me. And now here is one of the poems that has adorned the diary.

Droplets of rain
touch my feet,
Grey clouds spread out in the sky
and our eyes meet.

Wind blows away these clouds
Rainbow colours have come about
The sky is of a lightish hue
As I go along with you.

Rain has washed away all our doubts
Bright green leaves smile at us
The sky blushes red with evening Sun
As our souls come together and become one.

So after having heard so many times from friends, after having been asked by some others, been recommended by the rest and after having searched it online on all the wrong places, I finally managed to watch the movie "Queen". Well, I heard so many rave reviews about the movie which certainly raises the bar of expectations. But when it started to play, I told myself that "you know what it is about, you have heard it so many times, so do not expect something extraordinary and then get disappointed in the end". Well I cannot be disappointed at all. But I certainly do not jump on the wagon of zeal and enthusiasm that had been created by the movie when it had released. 

One of my friends (a guy), when he had watched the film, he somehow got reminded of me and had told me about it, maybe because I went to France for a 7 months trip as an English language Assistant, so definitely he saw the Paris connection. Secondly, he might have thought about my Couchsurfing experience which I did while I would travel in France. Well, that's another story. When I would travel in France, I would couchsurf with a friend at strangers' places , and whenever my parents would ask me, I would tell them that I was going to stay with friends.. Well this could have been quite a surprise for them , they must have found it bizarre for a girl whose friends were limited to one or two beyond her sisters, how would she manage to find friends in new cities? When I came back I told them about couchsurfing. It was about meeting nice and kind people offering their places to stay, any kind of help if required. It was like sharing a little part of their lives and they stay with you forever., 

As I have just finished watching it, I can understand how it would have struck a chord with every female in India (and the insistent recommendations from my female friends confirm it). Even my Supervisor had advised me to watch this film. The way Rani puts it in one sentence "This is not allowed in India" sums it up pretty much for so many girls out here. 

But Who is stopping you? There you go girls!! There I go too :)

Winged visitors in my balcony

Some scorching days ago,
my thoughts had flown,

towards the upward sky,
and its winged inhabitants that fly,

from here to there,
and go about everywhere.

Long distances some cover,
above my campus some hover

For those who keep close to us
 I thought about thus

"How hungry they must feel!
finding food, is it an ordeal?"

I sprinkled some grains of rice
and thought the sparrows would find 'em nice.

Grains of grounded wheat would be better,
suggested a friend a few days later.

Sprinkling some grains, I had sworn,
without a miss every evening and morn.

A couple of days as passed by,
more frequently the travelers came from the sky.

Every morning while I would be asleep,
they would chirp and awake me from my slumber deep.

I would then get up to feed,
as much as they would need.

Gone away for work during the day,
I wouldn't know how many would have come my balcony's way

As I would return to my place,
I would be curious to check the case.

To my great delight, the grains would be gone
Would have to sprinkle some more thereupon.

Today as I stayed in the house throughout,
I got a chance to check them out.

Pigeons came and they pecked
and some water they necked.

Later joined some sparrows to eat
and drank some water to beat the heat.

I love my visitors who come daily
I would always feed them so gaily.

And I reach the city ...

Never ever I imagine or dream of where I will stay. Yes, I do dream of visiting different cities or places but of the ones where I will settle for long or for a shorter while, I never think of it. 

When anyone asks me where do I stay, I tell the city's name and if the conversation goes on for a little longer , I have this habit of being precise and telling that I live on the Highway.

It has almost been an year living on the Highway. It takes around 40 minutes to reach the city. How does one reach city? So, there are Rajasthan Roadways regular buses that start from Shahpura and go till the city. There are other Roadways buses too which come from Delhi to Jaipur, only these buses often do not stop if you want to go towards Jaipur. Then, mini buses can be an option too. And the most interesting means of transport is the "Jhonga" as they call it here. I have asked so many times to my friends to specify which one is the Jhonga but what they tell, and what I have in mind might be two different means. For me the Jhonga is the prolonged version of a Jeep. Yes, there are Jeeps too.

So many ways to reach city. 

Today I needed to go to the city. I started at 7 30. Let me rephrase it. I reached outside campus at 7 30. I was not sure if I would get a bus or not. I waited on the Highway for about 5 to 10 minutes and there it was, my means of transport for today: a Mini Bus. Generally, if I were not in a hurry, I would have waited for the Roadways bus to come. Why? Because the Roadways bus doesn't stop wherever it finds passengers. It most often stops on the designated places. But I could not have been a chooser. I had no option. So I boarded the bus. As opposed to my previous experience of travelling in a Mini Bus, today I felt the speed was much improved. The last time I had sit in the Mini bus was when my sister had come to visit me. I made her and my niece travel by the mini bus whose speed was as slow as a snail. Anyhow, I was pretty much impressed with the speed today and thought it might not stop everywhere. Well, I was not completely right neither completely wrong. After a while began playing the long lost music of 80s and 90s of Bollywood , which you(only those who grew up around taht time) might have heard while growing up and later on would have locked them in a box and would have never wanted to open it by choice, or maybe they would have, who knows?

While the music was on, everybody was getting into the bus with their wares as they had to be there in the city for business. A milkman boarded the bus and along with him came seven to eight heavy milk cans. They seemed to be so heavy. I sat wondering how he must have been carrying them. There were people who helped keep the cans inside the bus. While the bus moved ahead, on another stop a young boy, a teenager it seemed jumped in the bus with a heavy bundle. The bundle was wrapped in a colourful cloth so I could not see what was inside. But the way he put it down from his head, it surely felt gravely heavy. Then joined the wagon, another lady with a different coloured bundle, but it had some plants or a sort of bush. I really got curious when she entered with her green companions, but I did not get to ask what it was. And with getting in and descending from the bus of the passengers, we arrived in the city. I imagine every morning they get up early and go about their grueling businesses.

So, this is how I reach the city. And to add a little flavour of what it is really like, here goes one of the songs...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvS7hj6FE24

PS : I never knew what was the video like until I looked for the link to post it here .:)

I am going to keep this post very short. I feel a little feverish so i won't get into the description which i would have otherwise expressed. So coming straight to the point. I am attending BELC regionale which is a training and workshop program for teachers of French. In the training the second module that I have chosen is using literary texts for teaching French language. I must say my formateur M. Pierre Yves Roux is enriching us in every session. During today' session he asked to write our own quatrain a la Paul Eluard.  And here it goes , le mien :

Sur les vagues de mer,
sur les etoiles du ciel,
sur les perles chers,
j'ecris ton nom.

May be i should add more stanzas and make my own poem.

well, i will do it some other time. I just came back from the Opera concert organized at Alliance francaise by Neemrana Music foundation. It was my first Opera and it was wonderful even though it is not the genre of music I would listen to.

okay, it seems i shouldnt fatigue myself more. I hope i get better by tomorrow. I really hope. 

On an ornate chariot,
visits the Sun.

Widely opened wings
of the Wind, flutter.

The Earth disgorges fire,
a furnace it has become.

Brings a little respite
the Night, when it creeps in,
and we enter the Caliphate of the Moon.

Apprendre !!

" To speak another language is to have another soul." - Charlemagne

So I came across this beautiful french song by Yves Duteuil which I used in my French class as well. I used it with the beginners. Though the problem here with the majority of students is that they are least bothered. Since French is a 2 credit value added course, who cares? But that doesn't deter me to not introduce them to the marvels of learning a foreign language.

Learning a foreign language is not only about the language and its various manifestations in the form of literature, cinema, songs, etc . In fact, language is an indispensable part of our being. All these words that we know in any language float around freely until we feel the need to express ourselves and then we weave them into phrases. Some are endowed with innate ability to make use of the language as beautifully as possible. However, one can cultivate the language by reading, listening to songs, watching movies, in short practicing the language.

When I had registered myself as a student of French, in the very first classes, our teachers would tell us to think in this language that we had begun to learn. They would also ask us to dream in the same language. I remember once, when I was so obsessed with this idea of dreaming in French that I actually in my sleep was uttering words in French. As I was in 1st year that time, I must have used some of the very initial words or expressions like Bonjour, je m'appelle..., je viens de ...

Another instance that I remember very vividly is one of my professors introducing us to the pleasure of using the language. He taught us Oral Expressions in First year. He dared us to talk in French for 5 minutes in the beginning on any random topic. As any beginner would feel, we also assumed that it was almost an impossible task. But with sheer practice at the end of the whole year we could speak on any topic for 15 minutes of course a little time to prepare we needed. Our professor would ask us to let our imagination run as far as it could. And his topics did require a little bit of imagination. One of the topics he had asked in the very first classes was  "Un rat dans mot ventre" (A rat in my stomach). No wonder at the end of the year we had started feeling confident about speaking.

Well, it is a beautiful journey when you learn a new language or for that matter anything novel. So let us just hit the link below and listen to the song whose title is "Apprendre" - To learn. Below the link is also the lyrics of the song in French. Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWdQkWvzrYM


Sous le soleil la terre se fend 
Pour cet homme et pour son enfant, 
Après le puits qu'il faut creuser 
Il reste un sillon à tracer... 
Sans attendre... 

Apprendre ... 
À lire, à écrire, à compter 
Ouvrir les portes encore fermées 
Sur ce savoir accumulé 
Qu'on lui en donne un jour la clé 
Il a le monde à sa portée... 

Lire... Apprendre à lire entre les lignes 
Découvrir la magie des signes 
Et les trésors inépuisables 
Qu'on emporte dans son cartable 

Comprendre... 
C'est comme un mur que l'on traverse 
C'est la brume qui se disperse 
Une promesse encore plus belle 
La connaissance universelle 

Compter... 

Apprendre à compter sur soi-même

À compter pour ceux qui vous aiment 
Pour faire aussi partie du nombre 
Pouvoir enfin sortir de l'ombre 

Comprendre... 
Combien la vie peut être belle 
Et se mettre à compter pour elle 
Faire la somme de sa différence 
Et se soustraire à l'ignorance 

Ècrire... 
Apprendre à écrire son histoire 
À la plume et au crayon noir 
En appliquant son écriture 
Raconter sa propre aventure... 

Surprendre... 
Cueillir ses mots comme des fleurs 
Semer des graines au long des cœurs 
Confier son âme et sa mémoire 
A celui qui viendra plus tard 

Pour cet enfant à son pupitre 
Tirer la langue sur le titre 
Ècrire son nom sur son cahier 
C'est plonger vers sa liberté.

The voice chimes,
a melody divine
seeps the sphere,
of a conscience clear...

The Optimist within

In the dark confines, where dwells the pessimist that I am, a small ray of light finds its way too, scattered here and there. That is where remains a little bit of optimism. It is a game of power everywhere. Sometimes the pessimist overpowers and bashes the optimist. On some other occasions, the optimist is in its full glory giving very few inches to the pessimist to stay. 

 We all will go away one day to some place we do not even have an iota of inkling. We do not take with ourselves the world that we have created. We will be all alone in our journey. In fact, even while we are living our lives, we have undertaken our own single journey. 

To make this journey pleasant, we have created a world around. There are our families, friends, acquaintances, and others who form a part of this world. But while we remain around, we foster some relations, while some relations get soured due to reasons which appear important only for some time. If we look back in retrospect, these reasons lose some ground, I feel. But the grudges continue to remain intact and get even hardened in some cases. 

We know we have limited time, though a little uncertain about how much do we have, why don't we make it a pleasant experience with as many people as possible.

(Well, it is better said than done, however, there is no harm in taking small steps towards a more enjoyable and meaningful life) 

The pessimist that I am...

I wake up early today. Not at 5 a.m. or 6. I wake up a bit early than I usually do. I am upbeat about the day, I cook my lunch, pack my tiffin for office. Generally, I am a bit lazy in this regard. I am bubbling with some ideas. The day has a great start. Isn't it. The time to leave for office approaches. I get a knock on the door. It is my neighbour who stays right in front of me. We go to office together. Ten minutes are still left to leave, but I feel that it is a casual knock . I open the door and she announces that some Professor in our University is no more. The name doesn't ring a bell in the beginning. But after a while, the mails in my office inbox flash in front of my eyes. I have received mails from him but have never met  him.

There is also another event in the University today. Tiger Shroff and Shraddha Kapoor are going to come today to promote their upcoming film. I am wondering if it will still be on. A member of the University has left all of us. But the fact remains, nothing stops even if someone leaves.

While on my way to department, I keep on thinking. And what is it that goes on in my head? We are born into family. We get associated with our family members. We make friends. They also become an integral part of our lives. We comes across so many others and create bonds. And one day, someone or the other leaves your world. A vacuum appears. The pain is unbearable for some. For others, life comes to a standstill. Some brave ones come to terms and make grave efforts to move on. The fact again remains : one has to move on.

My head comes to the conclusion : Why to make associations, why to create bonds, why to get into chains of affection, love. why to be burdened at all ? 

But again, if we are born humans, we are cursed in every single moment of happiness, sorrow, anxiety ...And we remain cursed until the day when an angel comes to take us away to some other world to experiences of that other cursed life.

Clear blue skies,

lush green trees,

crystal clean lakes,

beautiful butterflies,

colourful flowers,

snow capped mountains,

twinkling stars,

where I can spend hours,

I am already in Heaven.

"Waste me!",
Water tells Us,
And it has the last laugh.

Golden Moon,
Silver Sun
Magic happened.

The door opens.

Plants are still
The hill never moves
But not today.

Night is dead
Sky is dark
But not today,

Pierces right
through its heart
The Moon,
spreads
its silvery sheet
all over.

A stream of music
flows from a distance
smashing the silence

A dancing soul
over the hill
breaks the monotony

The door still remains open.

My spirit takes me forward
in the dreary desert
But my steps resist.

The thorny bushes push upwards
against the yellow sand
the colour green somehow persists.

The wind begins to blow
bringing a haze
yet some clarity exists.

My steps, they resist,
The questions, they persist,
And I, I still do exist.

I am the weirdest person in the world.

Maybe I am one of them.

Maybe everyone is weird in their own way.

Maybe it's tough to live with the weirdness

Maybe the weirdness is the strength

Maybe I think too much

Maybe I do not want to think at all

Maybe...

Sky remains bright and clear,

The Sun's too hot to bear,

a little wind comes as respite,

but sometimes it conquers with all its might,

the arid land still sustains life,

though one of trouble and strife,

Yet the trees grow,

how? only they know,

And here she is,

she goes into abyss,

all dried up to the fore

persevere, she has to some more.

कुछ कह रहा है बादलों में छिपता हुआ एक तारा वहां ,
गर आती हों समझ में बातें अनकही , मुझे भी समझाना ज़रा । 

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... and I wait.

The road it seems is unending. Most of the weekend I spent on the road. But that doesn't really bother me. Sitting on the front seat of the car, i see the road clearly and right above is the Moon. At this point in time, I feel I could be on the road all my life travelling as long asthe Moon is watching over me, or let's say as long as I get to be in his company.

It is just amazing. There is not much traffic. We are being passed by a few vehicles intermittently and rest of the time, all this landscape is just mine. On both sides of the road is nothing but a few trees on.the sandy terrain.

The road is well maintained only for that little stretch between Jaisalmer et Bikaner due to construction of another lane, we   faced a little hitch. But when that's finished,I am sire the ride will be so smooth.

Right now we are coming back. But when on Friday we had started towards Jaisalmer, it was wonderful. In the dead of night, the car cruised ahead and once the mist blurred the vision ahead. Some deers ran from the sides of the road to the interiors just by spotting our car. It was so peaceful and calm.

I am not going to describe what it was like in.Jaisalmer in this post, but would like to mention one wish that I could not fulfill this time.

I would love to be in the desert when the Moon would accompany me. Lying on the cold sand in a moonlit night...That is to be done next time. 

A lone car,
In the dead of night,
finds company,
of the road with slight bends,
Cruising ahead
in the womb of darkness,
the Moon sheds a little light.
A stray camel traverses the road
and goes to the desert land,
that runs along.
Some scattered trees,
some wild bushes
have pushed themselves up
from sandy terrain.
The faraway light
of another lone vehicle
from.the horizon
gets closer gradually,
assures the car
that it is not alone
in its ventures
by the night.

What meets the eyes,

Is that the truth?

What reaches the ears

That appears not brute

I rely on my experience

so that is my truth.

But how do I ignore

what's happening around?

Others' truth is what

they see and hear.

Apparently that differs

a great deal than mine

That also forms

a part of the truth.

Do I choose now to revel

only in what my eyes see

Or do I pay heed to

that those others feel? 

What happens 

to those

who, as kith and kin

have no one?

When they die

does anyone cry?

While walking on the highway today, I came across two bodies lying on the sides. Crushed by probably speeding vehicles, the bodies had no claimants. And why would there be any? The bodies were not that of humans but of animals, a dog and a cow. 

Whenever I travel on the highway, I don't know why, the thought often comes to my mind. It is not only about animals but even humans. Who cares for those who have no one to go to? What happens to those lives which struggle alone and one day leave the world without anyone remembering them?

Do we then consider ourselves lucky that at least we have a support system of people around us, who do think about us and care? But how does it matter when the reality is everyone leaves the world alone.   

A little boy
stood on the ground
holding a kite
with great delight.
With a friend
by his side
he managed to
give wings to his kite.
In the first attempt,
the kite rose,
going higher on the rungs
of wind's ladder.
Soon it flew to
great distance
floating above
buildings and houses.
The joyful boy
held his head high
in sync with the kite
overwhelmed with its height.
A little later,
a voice surfaced
and the boy realized
it was addressed to
the owner of the kite.
A voice that dwindled itself
with coughs and sneezes
but a gush of arrogance,
it complained to the boy
how could he fly the kite
without getting territorial rights
A bit perplexed,
He thought of birds,
and their freedom to fly
never got questioned.
the boy kept quiet.
but not for long
and answered with all his might.
If you have boundaries
I am unaware of,
kindly draw it in the sky.
I promise once drawn,
I would take back my kite
and fly it only
within what you called
my territorial rights.
The voice faded,
but left the boy
brooding over freedom,
later in the darkness
of that night.

What your absence

brings to me,

O' Moon,

you are oblivious

of my plight.

Inspirations dry,

anxieties rise,

a vacuum appears,

my creativity takes a plunge

and is left to die.

You create only

an illusion for me

that 

everything is alright.

Today the land

sizzles

in your 

shimmering light.

A few days of being

and then

you recede,

to come back

again in a fortnight,

with a promise

that you will

be shining on me

ever bright.

Highway

Swish Swoosh

cars rush,

trucks loaded to the brim

roar slowly,

bikes with bikers

sans helmets

riding ahead,

sole cyclist 

keeping to the left,

women walking

with woods balancing

on their heads,

Buses carrying

passengers on their way,

from dawn to dusk,

night and day,

the Highway,

it seems 

seldom 

takes rest.

In the morning,
I wake up.
Remnants of  yesterday
haunt me still.
Which thoughts are they?
A little vague
in the distance
they lurk.
And have descended
completely over me,
I strive
to break
the morbid net
I am caught in.
I do not see
black and white.
This intermediate
vision prolongs
obscurity.
I drown in
the quagmire,
For how long?
This too remains
Obscure.

Walk down the street
you have never known
and only guess
what awaits to appear.

As you tread ahead
haze will get clearer
with each taken step,
the mist will disappear.

Darkness of fear
might envelope you
but dawn of hope
believe me, is very near.

Walk that extra mile
and you will soak yourself
in the fruits that
your efforts bear.

Waking up on a winter morning

"Well, this is Winter. Isn't it?" he said. "WELL, I am not so sure" she replied. "Come out in the balcony and have a look for yourself."

And there it was. First time in the season. After having waited through out for white blanket that used to cover everything in winter mornings, today the elusive and evasive came back with panache, lending some authenticity to the season. What is Winter without having a single day of foggy envelope, the smell of the mist and homogeneity of the colour white in the morning , that it seems ages ago sometimes used to stretch till afternoon.

Winter is the season. But here it doesn't feel in the plenitude of sunshine during the day. The sun as warm as could be on any other season's day , perhaps as in spring. That's also because I have lived in different geographical locations than this one before but most importantly, it is about the global change in the weather due to the heating up of the atmosphere caused due to our human actions. Our idea to excel at a meteoric rate, neglecting the consequences has started showing its effects and this is what we have done to us, the seasons do not feel as they used to before. 

And therefore, when the season's first fog greeted me, I welcomed it with a huge smile on my face. The sheer sight of chalky mist enthused my complete being. I started thinking of titles of my next posts. I only wish you don't go away so soon. 

A special rendez-vous

So, tomorrow my niece is turning two. We have come to Ranthambore to celebrate her birthday by spotting tiger at the National Park.

We reached our hotel around 12 noon. And my sister had already booked the safari for 2 p.m. We enquired about the time we would leave, the receptionist told us that the gypsy would arrie anywhere between 2 and 3 p.m. Our patience test had only begun.

The groups around us who we had also seen at the restaurant started boarding one by one the gypsies. Another gypsy arrived and we thought it was ours. Our excitement level shot up. There was a group of uncles and aunties soaking in.the sun but obviously they had also been waiting for their turn. So when this gypsy arrived, these elderly people took.their seats and went away, leaving us alone.

And finally, our gypsy came. And we were again full of zeal and enthusiasm. Our driver and guide took us towards the National park, where an Australian elderly couple were going to join us.

We all now were ready for.our adventure. We took trail no 5. The open gypsy was taking us ahead on the uneven terrain. The first to come across were the langoors. A little ahead were the deers, antelopes and sambar deer. While the deers were all fine and good bit we were there for the majestic being of the animal kingdom. After every now and then, deers could be spotted.

A gypsy carrying tourists were coming back. Our driver stopped. It seemed a habitual thing to do. He aske the other driver whether they ad spotted the big Cat. The answer was a big No. We came across another gypsy, they confirmed the absence of the tiger on our trail. They said people.had viewed the Tiger on trail number 4,

And thus, our excitement that had risen to a sky high level dropped . And then , i thought of those people who had spotted the tiger at some time or the other. And i asked my sister, " What do the fortunate bunch of people look like?" After a good laugh, we stopped near a Pond . We got down for a while . The guide explaining.the history and the facts to the Australian couple, and the driver answering our queries by telling us we might not spot the tiger. In the meanwhile, tjere was a gypsy that came to where we were and they turned back from there itself.

A little later, we sat in the gypsy again and wen t ahead. While we were moving forward, a gypsy was coming back. The driver told our driver what our ears had been desperately waiting to hear, that a tiger had been spotted. As soon as he uttere the words, our driver geared up and took us a little faster on the trail, so as not to miss what we had come.there for at the first place.

 A little later we approached a few mor gypsies and a canter who had stationed themselves. And automatically, our eyes turned left to search for the Cat. And, there it was, Her majesty of the animal kingdom, sitting quietly and making itself a feast fir all the eyes present. We watched transfixed. It yawned once. And then.stood up. And started walking towards us. As ours was the last gypsy in the queue, the tigress, named Leila as the guide told us, walked very close by from us and went on the other side.

All this show confirmed that the fortunate people who.had earlier spotted the tiger/tigress, whom i was asking about during the trail, looked certainly like.us

Happy birthday Chiku. :)

Birds make way
back to their nests,
buzzing of crickets
get louder gradually,
the reluctant moves
of the leaves,
unwilling, but slaves
to the breeze,
Dabbed in orange,
the western horizon
surrenders, slowly
but completely
to the mighty
kingdom of night,
Insubordinate, however,
to the rules of dark,
remain the silver Moon
and the congregation of Stars.