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(This was my first middle which was published in The Indian Express way back in 1991/92. Was rummaging through some old memories when I chanced upon the cutting.) Even though some would prefer to use such dismissive terms as adolescent infatuation and calf love I still call itlove. And it is not at all difficult
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This is not a Hitchcockian murder mystery. Although it does involve a bathroom and a washbasin, there isn’t any blood dripping suddenly and all that macabre cinematic effects. But, does the destruction of ego fall in the category of murder.? Maybe. Anyway, to continue, all the action happened thanks to an offending faucet fixed in
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A small droplet fell, The eyes peered heavenwards, The scorched heart woke, with hope, Desired more, even more, The dormant thirst, rekindled, Yearnings swelled, Desires and yearnings, Are they the same? Seeking, searching, pleading for more, But the heavens mocked, And nothing happened, The unsatiated body resigned, Decided to wait further, Just then, Another drop
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I am now seeing the brighter side to things these days. It isn’t so much as a philosophical outlook, but a physical one. You see, I have had my cataract removed in both my eyes.These days when such surgeries are over in a blink of an eye this statement may not raise much eyebrows. But
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Thirty years back to the date, I landed in Chennai (then Madras) from Ahmedabad, to be a part of the ‘legendary’ Sports desk at The Hindu. I wouldn’t describe myself as a road-mappish guy, The where-do-you-see-yourself-so much years- down-the-line questions always have me stumped. I would rather take a road and see where it leads.
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OF late, I cannot write anything without getting into trouble. My construed insensitivity and my supposed chauvinism fails to clear the ‘politically right’ angle. It is almost impossible to get my random ramblings through the politically-correct sieve. It would take some amount of bravery to publish what I write. Having said that, I must admit
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आज अचानक मुझे सूझा मैं कवि बन जाऊं कुछ पंक्तियां कह लूंगा कुछ बातें सुना दूंगा भाषा का भले ही सही ज्ञान न हो और ना ही व्याकरण में निपुणता शब्दकोश भी बस सिर्फ चंद पन्नों का बस लेकर सहारा लय का मैंने भी कविता सुना दी अपने अमूल्य ज्ञान का पिटारा खोल डाला ऐसा
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The eyes, frozen, stared Alone, amidst the crowd, The eyes gazed, a vacant gaze Hiding behind it, the turmoil Hoping time delays the moment Wait for the heart to decide The little tug at the heart, Was it the pain ? Of the inevitable goodbye? The moment, however, sped past Time heals, eventually The gaze
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कहा तो था हमने बहुत कुछ, अलंकारों का सौम्य आवरण ओढ़कर,माला पिरोह के शब्दों की,शब्दों का असीमित ज्ञान जो था,अलंकृत, सुशोभित, विभूषित, हार, फिर भी रहा निर्जीव व निर्बल,न छोड़ पाया छाप अपनी,रह गया सतह में ही बिखरकर ।अलंकृत शब्दों का क्या तुलना,एहसासों के उमड़ते सैलाब सेएहसास कभी अधीन नहीं होतेशब्दों के मोहजाल के ।
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डर समय का नहीं होता, तोमुड़ जाता,और चल पड़ता उस पगडंडी परजो लुप्त थी, न जाने कितने रहस्य खुलते?पर जिज्ञासा को रोक कर,चल पड़ा मैं वही पुरानी राह।आज फिर वही पगडंडी है सामने,अब डर नहीं, कौतुहल है, असमंजस भीऔर एक विचित्र एहसास ।समय को खोने का नहीं,पर यह किकहीं वही बीता समय फिर मिल गया
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This Women’s day, I have decided to start a tradition. And why not. Every celebration, and Women’s day is certainly one, has to have a bit of ritual, an observance, something which highlights the significance of the day. Given that the origins of the Day had women’s empowerment in its core, the marketeers ( you
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It is one of those days. The days when I sit doing Nothing. Nothing isn’t actually Nothing, because, while I sit seemingly idle, my mind is whirling trying to fathom the Universe, my place in it and even more importantly my role in it and whether my doing Nothing is more efficacious than doing something?
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Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger 