Dynamic Alternations: cycle of life!

For those who breathe under the endless burden of life’s problems.

For them who crave for an existence without troubles.

For those who feel they have been singled out.

For those who are sick of their daily trifles and turbulence.

For all who dream of an immaculately peaceful and perfect life ahead!

A faint smile painted and I heave a sigh of relief,
The sun is up as I inhale the cool breeze.
Lock it now, whisper I. lock it till eternity.
Let none touch it now. Touch! for its perfect beauty.

I’d sat cross legged by the lake. I’d paced on the terrace.
I cried dry eyed. I craved to scream, scream out my face.
Sobbed sans noise, insulated was I, marooned all alone.
Gazed at the stars, wondered why, wondered what would atone.

Held my head, took a breath for I had heard-
Deep breaths help, don’t know if that worked.
Calmed I the inside of me, that wept like a baby;
Inside was the whirlpool that threw all astray.

One counted I, second followed; thought the third.
They were turmoil of my life, problems that stole my mirth.
One I could unravel, two was all His will as vanished the third.
Half tangible, and half were children of my wandering head.

Exhaled it out heavily, resolved a few remedies.
Wiped away I the unseen tear, and dusted the creases.
Down I went to bed with yet another, a prayer.
Prayer, to Him for all my soul’s axles to repair.

The sun is up as I inhale the cool breeze.
A faint smile painted and I heave a sigh of relief,
Lock it now, whisper I. lock it till eternity.
Let none touch it now. Touch! For it’s perfect beauty.

Chuckled I, as the world smiled and all fell into place,
Giggled I, for life I realized was nothing but a  race.
Those scars and scarlet wounds, those sighs of relief;
Alternate cycles form Life, untouched beauty is brief.


Concrete or figment of my head, troubles carry me ahead.
I can't lock the beauty forever, for static, they call it dead!

Wake up Raj!

While returning to the hostel yesterday, my friend exasperatedly narrated an incident from his class. “You know, how happy they were when they read that Karan Johar said sorry to Raj Thackeray… just because the movie said Bombay and not Mumbai.” Well his rage is justified, do the stars in the movie calling Mumbai, Bombay, anyhow lessen the city? Has somebody legally/constitutionally challenged the name, for which such brouhaha? It’s just a movie. Even the grammar of the languages has scope for formal writing and colloquial styles. Then Bombay remains the former name or shall we say a pet name now? Raj sahib we still refer to Mumbai everywhere official.

This didn’t come as a publicity stunt, for just a couple of days back did he propose a permit for non-Maharashtrians to visit the city. Just a sorry (if that comes), would it suffice for such unconstitutionally erratic behaviour? Well now some strong heads of the country (oh! I still include aamchi Mumbai), would parade to get him jailed for stirring up lingual differences in the jannlok. Does he run a parallel government or does Raj fancies him crowned for an autocracy? Dictator on the rise, rather! Where have the policing been? I don’t count the regular stoic State Police, but the high spirited moral police. A licence to move about in my country! Isn’t he being morally bad? Hey Raj (if this pleases your ears), these very people have made Bombay, Mumbai. Alas! Such ironies are just platitude to him. Expel the apologetic Johar and his ilk, and India loses the jewel, Mumbai.

What fears you Thackeray, the loss of original Mumbaikars? Have a panoramic view on the land beyond Mumbai. Sardars have been the fuel of laughter for all at the cost of the community, taking all sportingly. Any voracious eater is pointed out as the Bengal ka bhooka. My Bihari friends have given a wonderful Bhojpuri accent to make moments lighter. And here you keep a hisaab of a rupee, there comes the remark arre re Sindhi! How do I forget the Swami of the South? When I call all a Madrasi, these hilarious movie caricatures take all in the stride. Had all these regionally divided men taken umbrage to their references, or isolated themselves on the illusion of superiority, Raj bhau, India would have disintegrated into 28 odd pieces. So is Ranbir and Konkona’s reference to Mumbai as Bombay an insult; as hurting as those to Sardars or Bengalis? Is Johar visiting you, repentant for being colloquial, justified? It degrades the spirit of Mumbai, Raj bhaiya!

Anyways the movie was superb for all us aimless beings. Oh! Thackeray saab, did you relate yourself to it? I mean, all of us, my friends thought it was ‘just so me’. I suppose it could give you an aim. Look into your Mumbai. Arre forget who’s calling the city what! Look in what mess is that city. For the love of your Mumbai, do something of it’s now Oscar winning slums. Dilapidated infrastructure! That adjective too falls short to describe the status quo infrastructure. So how were the water logging this year? Thank God it didn’t rain hell this monsoon. And the honking traffic? The wonderful Taj graded security? The power? The filth and squalor? Raj bhai, our Mumbai lists in the top 52 dirtiest cities of the world. Shanghai, New York the financial capitals of the world stand as the quintessential cosmopolitan cities, cant India’s money capital be at least a true metropolis, showcasing the entire country?

Wake up Raj! Wake up!

for lust loses to love...

Keenly I stepped into the jungle,

The days were early my age being little.

Startled by many a fish and a mammal;

Stung by a scorpion, I hunted my animal.

I swam by years with a fish, even flew in the air,

Aries they laughed. For the sight of unicorns my eyes froze in pair.

I still kept on, charged with gusto;

Rode and raided till I stumbled on a Leo.

Ah! That lion, I sigh. My eyes went wild.

For its luxuriant and fair coat, my cravings were all but mild.

Devastatingly debonair, smashingly handsome,

That lion of mine was aptly the king of his kingdom.

My hunter’s gun loaded, now that was all I wanted.

A hunter’s prize, the trophy on the wall to be of vaunted.

Stripping his skin, making him mine was all I wished,

But for that single sight of the lion, this hunter fished.

He roared thunderously! His gait - most elegant.

My gun though was loaded, plans now were less cogent.

As I observed its pugs day in and day out,

He stole into my routine my life, my intensions turning couth.

Delayed I my scrupulous plans, lowered I my gun.

Keeping the animal alive, watching him was much more fun.

It got accustomed of me, as I got of him,

As days flew, I praised the work of Him.

I’d enjoyed a fish dance in the lake once, long ago;

And my arrows of desperation got it in a go.

For many apart from that fish I remember, my heart beat;

And my soul lost them forever, after the hunter’s feat.

I glare at this lion today; smile, and it smiles back.

I have it not on my wall today, but I’m in its heart’s rack.

My gun lies rusted, for it enjoys its love now;

For the love of the Leo, learnt I, lust needs to go.