As the rain drops fall,
The gentle pit-pat,
The slow drenching,
I go for the run.

As my curls dance,
Skin tickles and
Face being caressed,
Turn away.

When the rays ,
Warms, revives and
Thaws me;
Pull out the shades.

Walk on the grass;
Feel the verve,
Pulsate and throb.
Step onto the tiles.

As i behold the scene,
The splendour of it;
As it drugs n mesmerises,
Glance away.

Tentative,
Have always been.
Darting movements
As befits, a fish; I am.

As the bud yearns for the rays,
As the earth for the drops,
To bloom and thrive
So do I.

Few words from Tagore’s, which i guess would make some sense, somewhere...
“ He who can open the bud does it so simply.
He gives it a glance, and the life-sap stirs through its veins.
At his breath the flower spreads its wings and flutters in the wind.
Colours flush out like heart-longings, the perfume betrays a sweet secret.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.”

Softly...

The soft ball came thudding,
Hit me gently;
But the waves
Resounded, through the day.

The moment
The thud;
The memory
It revived.

The fuzzy cloud
Stayed, but for a while.
The moment(s) though
Etched, for an infinite time.
Realized.

Motley again!!

Although had planned to type away on topics totally unrelated, all that stays impringed on the mind are the scenes of horror and tragedy that seems to have struck the unfortunate few/many, simply because they chose to, happen to be there at that moment of time. What background, what influence, what drilling and what drive, that singular drive could make them spray bullets, as they did, puncturing the bodies of their fellowmen, at will, at ease as if they were mere flies??? The strain of thoughts that would run through their minds, and what led their mind to turn all so twisted, is a heavy question, one that would for sure, yeild some real contorted, answers.

Had the opportunity to go through Kahlil Gibran's writings recently. And it was a revelation. Was touched, moved and inspired. Moved visibly. A writing that goes a long way in reacing out to you, and staying with you for quite some time. Especially so his 'Prophet'. Yes, many find it too prophetical, i found it refreshingly enlightening, though put it that way it does seem all heavy. Well, each to his own, personally, absolutely loved his thoughts and thirst for more!


So cricket has been on a high! On a roll! Left me wondering, how long it would be before the magic and the mantras of the cricketdom, would cease to have its effect on me, being 'physically' away from it all. How many millions more or still hanging on to the few strings that keep them connected to this enigmatic sport, phenomenon, only for the inexplicable surge of joy that it happens to bestow on its ardent, faithful followers! Vive La Cricketo!!

Had been meaning to write about this serious topic of religion, in an off-tangent sense, for some time now, but not been able to do it. (So here goes a fresh attempt again, and more so as there has been some headline news with regard to this!) Nothing to do with the core topic, but how it changes people, or rather how or why people change religions!! Have had few personal experiences where ive seen people shifting towards another faith, close friends; and other experiences where friends again, who have made attempts to make me follow suit!! Now again these individuals are sane, sensible, very practical down to earth people, and people whom ive known for years. And when you see them being chaged, morphed, into entities totally strange to you, it has an eerie effect, to put it lightly. No, im not against people changing thier faiths, beliefs, it is absolutely personal. But its just that, when i try to put myself in their shoes, it just doesnt seem to fit! Left with questions like, would i, will i ever, is it not losing an essential part of your very identity/self? maybe not. Well too many questions and too many answers i would think. Well comfort myself with the thought that, what makes them happy,strong, fulfilled and grateful and hopeful with respect to 'their' life, is a very valid factor, for the path they have chosen, in combating, confronting and embracing life.

Throw into the cauldron....

The vagaries of human mind -
the ecletic strategies employed
the multitudinous masks worn and flung
the uncanny swiftness mood can swing.
A smile an instant, a sneer the next
A warm remark,
A snide jeer.
Few hugs,
few blows,
Few tears,
few lows.
Few laughs
few growls.
A close knit unit
Frayed at times.
Fight n bitch
cringe n twitch
cheer n dare
glow and glare.
Tossed in a sea of
vacilating pandemonium of
emotions, high strung.
You like it you hate it
you love it you bear it
you make it you break it
it stays the huge cauldron
of brewing bubbling
fuming steaming
medley of sentiments,
and much more...

not a very good concoction of words, not able to string them as i would want to..but just had to put it down, so more of a poor effort.


¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.¬.

A slammed door
A wiped slate
A muted song
A Cold stance.

Brings but a smile
know not why!

Elusive wafts...

When the echoes bellow,
stillness, does grow.
seems to sneer at my whims;
longs, but for a glimpse.
of things spelt, things dreamt;
things felt, things meant.

Amidst the whirlwind of thoughts
and even when caught up in knots;
there seems to exist a page,
where i need to rest my gaze.
where i need to stop awhile or more,
to seek, to replenish, or implore.

Hibernation Thoughts

Been away from the world at large, partly abstinence and partly other factors. And whatever be the reason, it always works. In kicking up some dust, inside. Reminded of those ancient sages who withdrew into the forests, to do their share of tapasyas, of self denial, self restricted procedures to attain penance, atonement??? Well, all the same, was blessed with some ‘sense’ and not sure if it was enlightment, but some insights definitely. Was caught in some situations, instances which did seem to reinforce or reinstate the fact that there is a Force acting upon us, whose modus operandi is way beyond our comprehension. And when we begin to see each hurdle or blockade as an implant, which makes us aware of a veering point, to steer us onto something more relevant or more promising, things become easier and clearer. As age creeps in, such spiritual stuff stealthily trickles in i guess! Not that i mind, when the awareness of self becomes more lucid, there is so much more peace; and ofcourse Nirvana is not what I'm in search of, but still, when some answers are revealed, you cannot be but grateful, amidst your reigning perennial internal chaos!

Other pearls of wisdom, acknowledged were, that ties and bonds made, held close and cherished once, will remain. Your attempts at flaming or dousing them, is not going to yield remarkable results. They are like diamonds, though take their time in forming, will be around alright, for some eons to come. It remains, a diamond to one, and sadly comes across as a carbon structure to another. But it remains, no denying, etched. AND once the structure if formed, there is absolutely no point in trying to mould it, roll it, or play around with, at will. Its worth is, for what it is, not what it can be. Saddens to realise, that it fails to be accredited, and the sparkle being lost somewhere along.

Lots more churning thoughts, but its getting too stuffy i guess, so shall stop for now....

Depth

How deep are your thoughts? How deep is your knowledge? How deep is your commitment? How deep are your feelings? How deep is your insight?

Have a feeling that I have been slowly, but surely growing shallower by the day. Have been one, to always stress upon this ‘depth’ factor. Would always like to adhere fast to it, and have to an extent. But then there are times when you can sense your shallowness, cockiness, frivolity mocking at you from afar, or maybe not so far. When you tend to waddle and wobble in ‘shallow waters’ for reasons beyond my realms of comprehension. When you refuse to, or there is this reluctance to leave the play-pen, while being totally aware of the futility of the whole exercise or play or foolery.

Depth would equate to entrenchment. Firmness. Strength. What I am – pliable, not rigid. Solid, not stiff. Rooted, not immovable!! So, based on this self-analysis I see myself, as a swaying grass, touched by the breeze, scorched by the sun and drenched by the rains, and still hold on fast to my ground, held by my strong roots which run deep!


(who said writing is not a cathartic tool!)

Impetuous

Impetuous wanna be;
spell it out?
wild rush of adrenaline
screeches to a halt.

clenched fists
lips drawn thin;
puckered brows
silent screams.

tumultuous moments
comes to naught.
rage at self
and at, what.

sense
blame
swear
stay.

Dil hai tho phir dard hoga….
Goes the lyrics;
Dil.
where is it?
See no trace….


When does it rise from its slumber,
When does it take form, in a flash
When does it dance in merriment,
When does it turn fragile, as glass?

When does it wilt and swoon,
When does the pain seep in,
When does the hollow echoes boom,
When does the aching silence fill in?

Comfortably numb.

No signs of discomfort or pain
No alarming variations.
No blocks or 'chokes' detected.
Normal ECG.
Diagnosis - Condition of the heart, perfect.
(or so it seems...)

Motley thoughts

Geometrical precision, in folding napkins, laying the table, slicing the fish, rolling out the rotis, or be it the everyday dosa!!! Phew had my share, and gasp for some loads of imperfection! Led me to think, how the 'quirk' in me always tend to be drawn by the slightly askew blade of grass, the slightly offshade leaf, the slanting or irregular writing, what always draws my attention or rather interest has been something not precise, not definite, not what you would expect something to be. And this line of thought further led me to come to terms with the fact, as to why the groove in which I am expected to stay put, becomes a rut, soon! Maybe, mebe, the 'creative', 'artistic' streak in me screams for more shades, more hues, more muddle, more swirls, more zing!!! God save me!! :)

Not in my DNA definitely......
But,
as i pluck at the strings,
eyes sting,
blurs for a while,
an ache,
that seems to stay
deep down,
and as i pluck at the strings,
seems to surface
afresh,
memories washing ashore,
words
in mid air,
said and unsaid,
as i pluck at the strings,
of my leaden heart....

Power of words...

" I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim
distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am
bound in this spot evermore.

I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not
the winged horse.

I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine
takes shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in
the house where I dwell alone!"

Tagore (The Gardener)

If it can be so soul stirring in English, cannot but imagine, how it would be in Bengali, the original!

Misty Drops

The lovely, shy coconut palms dripping wet, appear to huddle together, even as their fronds seem to tremble and quiver in the cold. They looked beautiful, as did the whole misty damp scene. Led me to think, how different they are from the stark, stiff, bulky counterparts found here, maybe coz they have never been touched and caressed by the gentle rain drops from above? Or been swayed and drenched by the gentle and sometimes brutal wet draughts of wind? Or had the gurgling muddy water lap at their feet, maybe tickling them, for days together? Reminded me of a bevy of young maidens, beautiful and laden with tales untold!

The long, winding muddy ropes as seen from above was a surprise, to say the least. Almost looked like the amazons, huge and feisty. And loved the muddy, red earthy colour of the soil, looking all squelchy and mushy, with tiny pools, almost made me want to dip my fingers in, to get the feel of it!

Whizzing by lands, homeland and new found ones, wondered how the heart gets tugged and pulled by infinite strings, and each tug is a pleasure!

Glimpse of Heaven

The angular metal sheet, mars my view.
Not my delight.
As I gaze, in a daze,
The vision, the awesome sight.

‘Heaven above’ conjured up eons ago;
This is it; this truly is.
If so,
Where are the Gods?
The St.Peter’s Gate, or
Our own Tridevs?

White, soft, fluffy, clumps…
When touched though, retorts
with quite a few bumps!

Some seated, all sedate,
As if, for posterity.
While, the wispy ones,
Seemed all in a hurry.

Some not as curvaceous,
As streaks, or waves,
Lapping the shores,
But in silent ways.

And thus I descend,
On to earth.
Having been, to heaven
And back.

It’s there, for me to soar,
In my dreams;
When I would need,
Some quiet and peace.

The cracked sods
Watch the clouds drift by;
Thirsts for the drench,
And then it pours.

Are they the passing clouds,
Shifting clouds,
Transient clouds,
Grey clouds.

When it falls pitter-patter,
The earth heaves
And trembles.
Bursts and blooms,
Blushes and glows.

The summer shower
Paints the scape
In iridescent hues.
But comes with
The blues.

Veil

The glazed eyes
Startle.
What, oh what doth
lies beyond
Those kohl lined,
Shaded lids?

Searing pain,
Of quelled dreams;
A misty desire,
for untread realms;
A search futile
for the lost soul;

As the trails sweep
the marbled floors,
she seems to carry along;
An air laden with,
frozen senses, greyed horizon,
doused fire, a stilled heart.

Maybe
Shes happy,
the reigning queen
in her castle.
Maybe not.

Maybe one is.
And the other
Not.

For
They don’t always come
in shades of black,
Or in visible forms,
The veil.

S I G H !

Sigh! Do miss these matches!! what would i not give to be there, in the midst of all the fun, revelry, excitement, the drama, the roller coaster ride of emotions. Can almost sense the magic, almost feel the palpitations, almost hear the roaring crowd...sigh...almost! When you guys seemed to be dolled out an excessive overdose day in and day out....all am left is an empty platter, echoing with memories.

Cricket has always been a wonderful leveller for me. Works/worked every time. Everything else is wiped aside, preferably pushed under the carpet. And then on it reigns supreme. Everything else becomes a distant hazy apparition, to be countered later. As the saying goes, Happiness is having something to do...settling yourself to be engulfed by the match, something to love....the very sight of the coin doing its flip in the air, and thereon what follows, something to hope for....the upcoming series!!

The sweet sound of the willow, the sweet sight of the run-up, the heart-wrenching finish, the glorious sweep, the awesome line, the breath-taking catch, the terrific stop, the cheeky run, the pathetic drop, the horrendous throw, the victory dance, the silent glare, the pumping fist, the cheering crowd, the blinding lights, the fiesty ball, the cracking shot.....sigh! sigh! sigh!

At times

At times
It leaps out from its slumber
Snarls at my face,
Seems to smile, even as it’s
Vicious fangs seem to sting.
Chilling eyes boring into my very soul;
And then it slithers back, stays coiled,
Until
It strikes again.

At times
Sidles in,
Through the crevices;
Feel it, as I would -
A breeze playing with my curls
An exquisite fragrance playing with my senses
Mesmerising music playing with the strings of my heart.
Quixotic it’s made me.

At times
Wakes up, with me,
Breathes with me,
Moves with me.
Clings to me.
Naah..not today, won’t leave my side;
So close, so near,so dear;
Stays with me;
And as my lids droop, bids me farewell.


What is, that
Haunts me, taunts me?
Besieges me, beseeches me?
Girdles me, cradles me?
What is, that
Makes my days sweeter,
My spirits lighter?

Have the answer.
‘Illusion’.
That, which does not exist,
Except that
It does.
Deep within,
Safe and sound.
Will hold on.
Will stay on.

puzzling

Somewhere, somehow, find myself
Ambling, plodding, trudging;
Have I lost my way?
Have I lost something else?
Left with pieces,
Pieces of the puzzle,
Muted, jagged reminders,
Lying asunder,
Inert and wanton.

comes to rescue

Chanced upon a great classic, or would rather say, rummaged, and poked around until I could salvage some decent reading material, amongst the few rows of books lined up; with either pitiable stuff or weird unfamiliar paperbacks in a total alien (but now becoming a familiar) script. Was rather suffused with remorse, that, in a place hoarded and stashed up with ceiling high racks of consumable stuff and what not, stretching for miles, the space designed or designated for books, was a meager skimpy diminutive rack, almost hidden out of sight, of say some three shelves in all.
Ye books becoming obsolete, or rather in this part of the world, a land not steeped in much history or heritage of any remarkable note, where there is this drive, rush to merge with the west, while still holding on to the minimal but staunch beliefs and mores, which I would think, seem to somehow waver and tremble and well on its way to extinction, even if not now, the day isn’t long off.

And yes the book is great, huge one so can get back to it anytime, gives you comfort and refuge as none, leads you through hills and dales, where you wander ‘as lonely as a cloud’, ponder, smile, grieve, relish, concur, comprehend, and ofcourse turnover and go to sleep!

mirages in the sand

Allusions.

Illusions.

Delusions.

how

How do you
Detangle …
The entangled … entwined…
Presence?

How do you
Break…
The cemented…alloyed
Presence

How do you
wash away…
the ingrained…specks of grains
Rip up…
the warp and weft ….the fabric

How do you tear apart…
snuff…
clobber…
shred to pieces…
the pervading…
Presence.

Permeates….,
Scenes
Tunes
Tremors
You feel,
Air u breathe….

Can sigh
Try n try…
Will slay …
the damn fuzzy feelings
One Day.

grounded..reality check..(chopped wings)...

Yes, have made this ‘decision’ of going no more in circles, (it’ll be in squares, can hear a voice quip), and am not going to allow any voice have its say, in the long run. Trying to exercise, some auto suggestion techniques, here. Now on its going to be one straight fast lane, no turns, no detours, no stopovers (what a dreary path). Its going to be fine, stick to your lane, look ahead, and keep moving. Sticking to the lane has been the toughest call and will be, but guess shall make it. And yes the reality part. Curtain calls for all hazy mazey blurry imaginations, visualizations. They’re all just what they are – imaginations, nothing more nothing less. Yes a part of me is being asked to squash up, give up ‘things’; but the clearing up stuff, annual spring cleaning, does good! (it better)

Having said all of that, some musings on my innate tie, communion with music; (which again is never going to allow me to cruise along ‘straight’) . On top of the list was Somebody’s me. From the moment he starts with you…the world would stop. This guy has it to stop a million worlds I guess, anyhow, was telling myself if you fail to react, respond(strongly), to this one, irrespective of age, place, sex(am not sure about that one), one need to better check up their hormonal levels. Convinced myself that, it’s this guy, who has the entire, supposedly weaker section of the population at his feet, who is casting this magic. And then bang on this song had to land from out of nowhere, and...keeps me rooted too. Bubbly its called, though its got absolutely nothing bubbly about it. So maybe when they sing cry their souls out, with minimal music (banging), it gets to me.

And the worst part, this soul stirring music helps me least, in this not-so-simple, not-so-easy (arduous) journey of keeping my feet well rooted to the ground. But then without these ‘minor distractions’, am never going to make it anywhere, anyways, so as well take them.

Hoping, no, am sure that this AST (Autosuggestiontherapy) thing is going to work out, straighten me out, or rather just my grey cells a bit, on second thoughts, hope I am left with few curves though!!

BD blues!

Birthdays tend to have this sobering effect. Jeez..people do love you, people do remember you, people do care enough to send across their wishes.

Strikes you as how, in this roulette wheel of life, the great wheel comes to a slow grinding halt for a day and, people who do think, you are special, are there right before you! And then life rolls on, all over again!

So still hanging on to the upbeat mood, still savouring the last few crumbs of the special day, still reluctant to slip into the maddening ‘goinincircles’ mode. State of bliss is fine, even if (i allow it) for jus a day, and love this Tagore’s quote ‘pleasure is like a frail dewdrop, while it laughs it dies.’

some experimenting....

Play dumb
Try staying numb
What is, to construe
Can’t glean a clue
Safe and sound
Tumults abound
Jee le
ya..

Main aisa hi hoon….!

We are - what we are?
what we do?
who we are?
why we are??

Complex questions raising its hood at regular instances, off late.

Who am I? Am I, what I think I am, or I am not? Realise there are so many layers, or rather avatars, which one is ordained to slip into, and go through the ritual before the real self is revealed. Sometimes its like switching roles with so much ease, switching masks, senses, moods, wants, all racing and going clickety clak in the blessed brain, before it comes to a standby mode, when you get to reflect; or sometimes just too exhausted with this swirling trips that you just get on into the next oncoming train, of thought.

Reminded of this basic Hindu philosophy wherein the layers of self, peel like the layers of an onion only to reveal the nothingness, which again is THE existential being…or whatever! And yes maybe I m going through this process!! Wow, that’s a revelation!

Coming back to my initial question, are we what we are, because of what we do or what we think? A single action or thought cannot catalogue us or comparmentalise us into rigid slots. Agreed, maybe it’s a cluster of thoughts pertaining to a particular subject, which in some amoebic form stays in the mind, suspended, feeling its way, ruminating as to, has it come to stay or its just a passing visit, before being evicted out, or taken into the folds with open arms. Am not sure at all, if I am making any sense here.

The bottom line being what you perceive your self to be, over the years, is not as heartening as you would want it to be; I mean what you see, the end product! Some people sort of mould or shape themselves, right from their early years, you know, chipping, polishing, as they would a piece of art; that is what one is supposed to do I guess. As for me, and I tell myself that there are others out there too, who just let the evolution do its part!! I mean allow ourselves to evolve. The application part, has always been very spasmodic, not a sustained religious one. And the real downside to this entire thought process has been that, when I see a glimpse of my ‘ laidback’ shades in my progeny there is this huge load of guilt and remorse which seems to stifle and throttle me with questions, answers for which I have none.


Had been listening to the local FM for the past couple of days last week, which seemed to slowly cast a sort of mesmerizing spell, and weekend, got myself drenched, sodden with some long forgotten old time favourite numbers. How you get sucked into this soulful music, especially so when its those which had been part of your growing up years, seems so much etched, part of you. ‘Yesterday, The winner takes it all, look away, …and lots more. Was suffused with a sense of absolution, a great way to start the week I presume.

These word puzzles have always been my weakness. Love spending hours over them, online scrabble was a huge temptress some time back. Love the play of words, though dont profess to be very good at them, have always liked and enjoyed rising up to any challenge dealing with words, letters, and the likes. The ticking of the brain cells in this quarter is a refresher any time any day. Puzzles with numbers and the likes have been daunting right from school, not that im too bad at them. But they never kindled a surge of thrill or excitement as these dancing prancing alphabets do! this small exercise sort, spelling game on this page, is a recent discovery while browsing, and it never fails to sort of unnerve me. Keeps you edging on to delve into this ocean of language and swim your way through these new fangled, unheard of, mysterious sounding words. A harsh reminder at times of your complete ignorance of your so called favourite subject, and at times a small diminutive comfort that things arent that bad, and at times a simple and pure form of total distraction!!

" Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence. "

Came across these lovely quotes.They do capture it all.

” A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence. “

and one closest to my strain of thought

” Music is what feelings sound like. “!!


Music is such an overwhelming universal language, crosses ALL barriers and boundaries. It is a medium which reaches out and touches people in a way nothing else can. It can be broken down into symbols and notes and chords and keys and learnt and taught in different levels. But to a layman music is simple, sweet and pure. “Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life”.

Be it a tinkling of a bell, clattering of a train, stomping of hooves, rustling of leaves, ofcourse prattle of a toddler, or the pitter patter of raindrops, boiling of your stew, twitter of the birds;they are all music in its varied assorted forms. It is music, if you want it to be, if you deem it to be; music is ubiquitous when your soul is at peace, with your self. Music transcends the normal, the ordinary state of mind and brings you closest to your self, where everything else freezes up.

When you are besieged with a surge of intense, multifarious, nameless emotions…music comes to your rescue; suffuses you, washes over you, fills you with a serene feeling, a familiar feeling. in touch with reality, normalcy, the beautiful sides…and ofcourse the best way is, to just let it flow over you, flit and trip and skip and hop and maybe glide over you, and be wary not to lose yourself in it…for then you get drenched with pathos, love, ambiguity, glee bordering on insanity, whichever is your pick, for the moment!

If Music be the food of 'life', play on...!

Bear with me, s’il vous plait!!

Realize, maybe a tad late, that writing isn’t a piece of cake. Writing (if u can call it that) I ve been doing, is those spasmodic bursts of bringing out stuff from inside, literally punctuated with dots and more dots, and some strokes of incomplete phrases and dollops of truncated expressions one fine mish-mash. When a friend of mine, asked to give his comments on my pathetic dished out bits n pieces stuff, was like …’ahem…very expressive..and…hmmm..’, and the saddest thing is yet to hear his full version of comments!!!  So, decided to try my hand at writing some ‘serious’ stuff, you know where you talk, write sense!! The ability to write a few sentences about something normal, sedate, prosaic!! (n ofcourse laboriously boring, my attempt here, n was constantly reminded of my high school grammar books!!) A diminutive start, have miles to go though…the last section is my own usual swashbuckling stuff ofcourse, on more or less the same subject.


Communication, Language, Words

Reaching out and conveying; that would sum up Communication. When there is a need to share a thought with another person, communication comes into play. This ‘sharing a thought’ could be at many levels - seeking information required for your ongoing thought processes, dispensing information in order to get work done, seeking help to get out of situations, which are not manageable by self, and of course simple sharing or exchanging of thoughts or knowledge, be it with close ones or the world at large.

Language – ‘system of communication’ quotes the Encarta dictionary. A mode, format that effectively aids communication or rather communicates. There are some set rules, syntax, which are prerequisites for an excellent and correct usage of the language. And then again there are relaxations, and liberties which can be taken as long as the ultimate result, which happens to be the message being communicated successfully, is achieved. And in accordance to the situation one finds himself, the language can be formal, flowery, long winding, casual or plain curt.

Words – ‘meaningful unit of language sounds’ as simple as it can get! Words are indeed the building blocks of the edifice –language. And aren’t we the dexterous masons, who go about setting them in our own inimitable style and flair. Words are for some, just black and white squiggles filling up a page or screen, entities to be plowed through, because it has to be done, on the command of another, or to be scanned for basic data. And alas for some it’s a whole world of magic; filled with imageries, brimming with innumerable connotations, a great maze where you lose your way, or find oneself; enroute this journey of incredible amazing discoveries. Words make us; break us; awake us and take us to planes, glimpsed only by a honored few… !



Damned are we….
…are we, who fall for, swoon and croon and sway to the magic of words…drugs us, makes us see things which wed like to see…feel things which wed like to feel….takes us to places wed love to be…lifts us takes us in a sonic speed elevator and places u in a hazy misty cloud where u revel in your dreams…all is bliss…and then ofcourse the descend…
And then when the words ring hollow…words become script, alphabets, communicating tools…when they hurt with its flatness…when they sting with its coldness…let them be what they are…just words…if it is, at all possible

winter musings...

As the steel bird gently lowers me down .....theres a lurch, a catch, a tightening.....'foreign land' takes on a whole new dimension....hits u , screams at u...hush it up.

cocoon...ur family...cuddles u..warms u..smothers u with demands....the world out there remains..a landscape...a sketchy one from my windows...tall cold structures, whizzing droaning cars...stray human figures...open stretches...

miss my home town...yeah i do..the huge looming trees abound....the chirping of seven sisters...twittering of the hustling squirrels...thunderous bark of our german shepherd...the clang of the gate...the cry of the postman...the blaring honking cars/busses(ye i do miss them!!), the incessant phone ring...the feel of grass on ur feet, the gentle caressing cool evening breeze...(not bone chilling or flaming hot), ye the list is going to be endless as the days roll by...(sigh!)

but yes, my home is here, my world....what i make of it...well, set to find out along with my dear ones...whats out there in this land of sand and malls...heat and wealth...dates and kaboos...handsome men and cloistered ravishing women....black gold and mini keralas...mansions and bahkhalas...a/cs and heaters...mcdonalds and ikeas...robes and burkhas...seclusion and adhoora...family and friends....and ....make the most of it...find out more of this place which weve chosen to call home...for now...no major complaints...just few cribbings!! ;)