Thursday, October 22, 2009

There are so many things I just don't understand, neither have a clue on how to tackle them. They swarm my eyes in light, in darkness. Making me wonder if all my intellectual ambitions will end up with my bone's ashes, mocking the days and nights walking alone. Yet I go on walking, knowing nothing else to do with all my cowardice...

(c) hp.

Monday, October 12, 2009

BaaLak maara mann nu, jhapti ariso jove,
Thaake toy aas raakhe, kyaarek to peeth dekhase...

BaaLak maara mann nu, aabh taraf haath felave,
Khenchaay toy aas raakhe, kyaarek to taarlo haath ma aavse...

BaaLak maara mann nu, paankh felavi daud lagaave,
Haanfe toy aas raakhe, kyaarek to oonchu udaase...

BaaLak maara mann nu, aas raakhe bhoinye,
Ghasdai ne melu thaay toy aas raakhe, kyaarek to swapna hakikat thaase...

BaaLak maara mann nu...

-bhuriyo.

(c)hp.

Have kehvu pade 'aas raakhtu' 'daud lagaavtu'...

Will put up in Guj Script later.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Handcrafted dreamy universe,
With delicately carved intricacies,
And chiselled dear faces,
Seldom cracks but often shatters like a glass wine in hand.

(c) hp.

Friday, October 09, 2009

Ateet na aanand ni mithaas,
Ke pachhi hoy suka aansuo nu mithu.
Hoy faatela sambandho ni chhaas,
Ke junu chatpat sapnu hoy dithu...

Aaj ni rasoi ma bhabhravi lo,
Je bhaave te masaliya ma,
Ne baaki bhandukiya ma raakhi lo.

- bhuriyo

(c) hp.

Later in Guj Script
तितलिया भी नाचती है आगे पिछे अब तो,
सोचती है गुलाबी महेक कैसे इस गेंदे के फूल में |
पर उन्हें क्या मालूम के हम एक सुस्त कली हुआ करते थे,
जब तक आपका हुस्न ना बसा था इस ज़हेन में |

- हर्षल पंडया .

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

વર્સાદ વિતી ગયો તોય મન મારુ વરસે,
તુ પયમાનો પીવડાવી ગઈ તોય મોંહ તરસે.

-હર્ષલ પંડ્યા.

बारीश बीत गई फिर भी मन मेरा बरसे,
तु पेयमाना पीला गई फिर भी मुँह तरसे |

-हर्षल पंडया.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

અથાક પ્રયાસો કર્યા

દુનિયા ના સ્મિત પર છે રંગો ની ભરમાર,
તાર્લાઓ ચમકી ઉઠ્યા ને ધર્તી જીવન-ભાર.
અથાક પ્રયાસો કર્યા તોય જળ્યે ન જળ્યો,
એક પણ ખુણો વિના ઉમંગ અપાર.

દરેક નવી પળે નવા જીવન નો હાહાકાર,
વેદનાઓ સમેટીયે તો બને ચિત્રહાર.
અથાક પ્રયાસો કર્યા તોય જળ્યે ન જળી,
એક પણ પળ વિના કોઇ સાર.

ચોક્કસ લાગે છે છુપાઈ છે ક્યાંક,
ઇશ્વર ના બદ્લે માયાઓ હજાર.

-હર્ષલ પંડયા.

Monday, September 28, 2009

खुदा किसी और को बनाओ

ज़ालीम है तनहाई जो,
थोड़ा कुछ तो गुनगुनाओ|

बेराज़ है ज़िन्दगी जो,
ना-मालूम का ज़ीक्र ले आओ|

वारदात है कायनात जो,
वजह किसी और से जताओ|

मुझे भी ईमान चाहिए,
खुदा किसी और को बनाओ|

-हर्षल पंड्या.
Pl excuse me for spelling errors while typing in hindi.


Zaalim hai tanhayee jo,
Thoda kuch toh gungunao.

Beraaz hai zindagi jo,
Na-maloom ka zikr le aao.

Waardaat hai kaainaat jo,
Wajaah kisi aur se jatao.

Mujhe bhi imaan chaahiye,
Khuda kisi aur ko banao.

-Hershal Pandya.

28/9/09.



Thanks to Max Babi for tearing off my immature(relatively) lines. I hope he likes this. Thanks to Ashika Vyas and Shilpa Bhatt/Desai too.

First Urdu Creation

बडी शीद्दत से याद किया है आपको,
जब आपके लफ्ज़ उभर आए ज़बान पर|

बड़ी मशक्कत से भुलाया है आपको,
जब आपकी खामोशी छा गई ज़हेन पर|

अब जो भी गुल खिलाए हक़ीकत का कारवाँ,
जो आँखों में ना देखा आपने,
होठों पर ला बताएँगे, हम बहाया|

-हर्षल पंड्या.


Pl excuse me for spelling errors while typing in hindi.

Badi shiddat se yaad kiya hai aapko,
Jab aapke labz ubhar aaye jabaan par.

Badi mashakkat se bhoolaya hai aapko,
Jab aapki khamoshi chha gayi zehen par.

Ab jo bhi gul khilaayein hakikat ka kaarvaan,
Jo aankhon mein na dekha aapne,
Hotho par la bataayenge, hum behaya.

-Hershal Pandya.


I will like to thank my friends Max Babi, Shilpa Bhatt and Shishir Sankhyayan for helping me perfect this little poem and learn Urdu. And Ashika Vyas and Parul Jain for inspiring me.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

वक़्त से लड़ना ही तो ज़िंदगी है

सदीयो से बहता आ रहा है,

सदीयो तक बहता रहेगा.

वक़्त न जाने अपनी बेकारी में,

हम जैसे कितनो को सताते रहेगा.



मर्ज़ी से जीने में मज़ा भी क्या है,

बह गया वक़्त के साथ तो

जीने में अपना क्या है,

यह ज़ालिम है तभी तो जीना नमकीन है,

वक़्त से लड़ना ही तो ज़िंदगी है.

-hp.

Written on

Monday, September 07, 2009

ખબર કોને છે

સાંજ પછી સવાર છે,
લાખ પછી કંગાળ.
નિદ્રા પછી જાગ્રત્તા છે,
આંસુ ની ધારે મુસ્કાન.

ખીલે છે કળી પણ
રસ તેનો મૂળમાં છે.
ભલે ખીલી કળી પણ
બળ તેનુ તાપમાં છે,
આત્મા તેનો પાન માં.

સમુદ્ર નો નિરંતર અવાજ,
બાળપણ નું હાસ્ય છે,
વ્રુદ્ધપણા ની કથા,
કે સ્રુષ્ટી નું સંગીત...

કહ્યા કરે વિધ્વાનો પણ,
હકિકત નું અદભુત સત્ય,
તેની ખબર કોને છે?

-હર્ષલ.

Friday, September 04, 2009

થયા કરે.
હ્રદય કેટલુ ખુશ રહે,
એને પણ પેટ દુખે હસી-હસી ને.
ક્યારેક તો બિચારુ એ પણ રોવે,
વિના કારણ તો ભલે,
એ પણ આંસુ મા ભાર ઉતારે.

થયા કરે,
રોજ નવી સવાર,
થયા કરે.

-હર્ષલ

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Nothing.

Nothing can convince me,
Of a better sight than
Green forest carpet after rains,
Sparkling million droplets.

Nothing can rob me,
Of my heart better than
Her eyes gleaming after a joke,
Joy bouncing in her laugher.

Nothing can pause me,
Ere destination better than
A lemon butterfly across hedge,
Flapping in a broad smile.

Nothing can take me,
On a flight better than
Kites swirling in skies azure,
Whirling a spiral lullaby.

Nothing...Absolutely nothing.

(c) HP.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Excerpt from 'Lust For Life' by Irving Stone - Vincent Van Gogh's Biography


"At this, Gaugin. The fields that push up the corn, and the water that rushes down the ravine, the juice of the grape, and the life of a man as it flows past him, are all one and the same thing. The sole unity of life is in the unity of rhythm. A rhythm to which we all dance: men, apples, ravines, ploughed fields, carts among the corn, houses, horses, and the sun. The stuff that is in you, Gaugin, will pound through a grape tomorrow, because you and a grape are one. When I paint a peasant labouring in the field, I want people to feel the peasant flowing into the soil, just as the corn does and the soil flowing up into the peasant. I want them to feel the sun pouring into the peasant, into the field, into corn, the plough, and the horses, just as they all pour back into the sun. When you begin to feel the universal rhythm in which everything on earth moves, you begin to understand life. That alone is God."

Sunday, July 12, 2009

When...

When skies call you horizon,
When seas call you shore.
When birds sing for you,
When wolves wag for you.
When eyes search for you,
When atheists pray for you.
When cupids call you bow,
When potters call you wheel.
When nights dream of you,
When days gasp for you.
When wind blows for you,
When water flows for you.
When planets wander for you,
When novae burst for you.
When painters call you muse,
When poets write for you.
When lands crack for you,
When forests rustle for you.
Who am I to tell?
That I do need you.

- hp.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

ખબર કોને છે

સાંજ પછી સવાર છે,
લાખ પછી કંગાળ.
નિદ્રા પછી જાગ્રત્તા છે,
આંસુ ની ધારે મુસ્કાન.

ખીલે છે કળી પણ
રસ તેનો મૂળમાં છે.
ભલે ખીલી કળી પણ
બળ તેનુ તાપમાં છે,
આત્મા તેનો પાન માં.

સમુદ્ર નો નિરંતર અવાજ,
બાળપણ નું હાસ્ય છે,
વ્રુદ્ધપણા ની કથા,
કે સ્રુષ્ટી નું સંગીત...

કહ્યા કરે વિધ્વાનો પણ,
હકિકત નું અદભુત સત્ય,
તેની ખબર કોને છે?

-હર્ષલ.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

જે જાગ્યો નથી તેને શુ કિમ્મત છે રાતની,
જે જાગ્યો નથી તેને શુ કિમ્મત સવારની,
જાગ્રણ છે તો છે સજાગ્તા,
દિવો ચમકે અંધારે પ્રટક્તા.

-હર્ષલ.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

When I watch films, it takes me to a wonder land. A place where everything is plausible, a fresh perspective to many things, where something non conventional blooms.

I love films. The last film that has made a big impression on me is Notting Hill. Nothing is very extra ordinary about it. It is simple story and it is that simplicity that attracts me. Away from subtlety with infatuating simple face and suffocating complexity.

I have always wondered why do I not live a life common as everyone else, out of the want to be accepted respectfully by the society. Now that I have seen the society for the wise years of my life, I don't want to be a part of it. A role of guest in a society would suit me perfectly. Because with a society, comes notions which are pre-conceived and meant to be adhered to. It is basically a coming together of people with similar ideals and ideals mean conventions. No, I am better off without conventions and norms.

Notting Hill also has a nice simple romance. It is sweet. And Julia Roberts is beautiful as ever. Hugh Grant looks lost like ever.

And its soundtracks are melodious. Especially 'She' performed by Elvis Costello. And ofcourse, it has the evergreen 'When you say nothing at all' by Ronan Keating.

-------------------------
Soundtrack: Notting Hill
Title: She - Elvis Costello

She
may be the face I can't forget
a trace of pleasure I regret
may be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
may be the song that Solomon sings
may be the chill that autumn brings
my be a hundred tearful things
within the measure of the day.

She
may be the beauty or the beast
may be the famine or the feast
may turn each day into heaven or a hell

She
may be the mirror of my dreams
a smile reflected in a stream
she may not be what she may seem
inside as shell

She
who always seems so happy 'n proud
who's eyes can be so private and so proud
no one's allowed to see them when they cry
She
may be the love that cannot hope to last
may come to me from shadows of the past
that I remember till the day I die

She
may be the reason I survive
the why and where for I'm alive
the one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years
Me
I'll take her laughter and her tears
and make them all my souvenirs
for where she goes I got to be
the meaning of my life is

She

She, oh.. She...

Saturday, June 13, 2009

La, la, la, la...

Sitting before my computer and the television, I wonder where have these all years gone since I used to write unexpectant of a critic. In a race to excel in pre-conceived forms and norms, do I lose myself? I did. Or did I not?

I watched a lovely movie today, 'Once'. Music is good.

'Take this sinking boat,
And point it home,
We've still got time.

Raise your hopeful voice,
You have a choice
You've made it now'

La, la , la , la...

Saturday, June 06, 2009

Haunted Cities


Every leaf's glitter flashes beauty,
A beauty only seen in children.
Naked lady of the forest shines,
Shines like a rare muse in urban.
Crocodiles lie on banks lazy,
Lazy unlike monday mornings.
Leopard makes the monkeys hoot,
Hoot like parliament made to music.
Brooks and wind decorate silence,
Silence murdered by machines.

To soul, each forest element soothes,
Soothes like lullaby sung by mother.
And the city seems a haunted place,
A place unfortunately called home.

(c) HP.
--------------------------------------

Micheline: cities.. cities.. I'm lucky to live in the mountains despite all the curiosity of the people, the loneliness..and the cold winters..

me: You are extremely fortunate. May you be blessed forever.

jon: hmm that's true, but i like the vibrant city life.

jan: excellent! but awww, city life isn't tht bad. the twinkling lights, the hustle and bustle, the smoothly flowing traffic (disregarding the traffic jams. lol)... it has a beautiful rhythm of its own.

jill: useless..city life is amazing..even for you trust me..you can sit at a cafe on the main road all day long..sipping coffee and observing people..writing poems or painting!

lilly: Nice poem....but really cities are not so bad. Both the city and countryside can bring loneliness and peace if u want. In the city there is too much happening but u can find peace their within urself if u truly want to...it all depends on the details u want and don't want to observe and hear...and in the countryside where there is much less happening to truly find peace the beautiful environment can only do so much..in the end u have to look inside urself to get peace and quiet...
--------------------------------------
me:

my dear,

i do not know in which city do you stay. i cannot stop hearing motor or vacuum cleaner or drill or hammering throughout or air conditioning. and i haven't yet found an inspiring person in city who knows things other than making money in an inspiring way.

city people, isha & chirag know about ahmedabad, are totally hostile and banging door on your face kinds -unless! they have not very long back come from some town. and same applies to people of pune. i am yet to explore other cities. pune is way down the drain than a'bad.


no one even gives a ride in cities. just do this experiment, go and raise a thumb on a city lane. and do the same in some rural place. see where you get a lift more often.

forest is soothing. not filled with hypocrites and societies that make laws and declare outlaws without having a need to advertise. parliaments are run for a record no. of less days where corrupt politicians tag a rope saving their own ass. forgetting about the people.

have you ever been to a forest? a real forest? not with your earplugs in? where you saw herds of deer running? saw birds hopping around - not the usual crows but various birds...

heard the river flow? did you experience that silence? drank the water from brook like a cat - thinking scores of animals must be doing so up or down the lane? hygiene will come to your mind - it is corruption. you are distanced from nature - the source of everything. the soul of universe. running behind vanity causes of making a house and working for a good pay or some good company. dignity, esteem, ego.

my dear,


go out and explore more world. explore and not remain a silly tourist with tonnes of sunscreen on. feel it. absorb it.

Cities are not bad by definition. They become eventually - for a free soul. One cannot fly. There is no nature around. Its all concrete and steel. Cineplexes, malls, bowling alleys.

The truth is, man finds amusement in whatever circumstances. There is certainly not an absolute truth, but I do not deny existence of a higher one.

Sitting in a cafetaria, sipping coffee made aromatic using some artificial flavours tingling your toungue. Ask your senses if they remember the fragrance of frangipani, parijat, wet moss on stones around lake, rotting fish near sea front, birds feathers;if they remember the taste of raw potato, gulmohar flowers, tulsi, ajmaein leaves.


The aesthetic value of colourful clothes keeps importance in a grey and glassed city. In natural surrounding, it is of least concern. Camouflage is more important, the 'humanly' clothing makes the wildlife alert - as if they are aware of 'humanly' diseases.

It is an infected, contagious world of society that man is carrying forward in time today. It was a survival tool for the initial days in the wild and now only a pretence for all the evil to hide behind.

Man would not show his real self. And hence addiction to a platform like facebook. Show what you wish and pretend what you will.

Yes, cities
metaphor the human - crowd psychology wherein an individual loses his individuality and remains as a pretentious loser waving to the precious time he lost in complying with societal norms and gleaming like a politician's smile.

These are Not aimed at anybody. Ideas are not up for selling, I do not mind if you buy them.

I may not sound complete - I am not, here. Does not imply that the projection is not of reality.

I do not deny enjoying the city values. Do not deny that I once thought of entering fashion design. And the art still fascinates me. I watch ftv with intentions different than most men, if that implies something.

But it is freedom, joy and liberty to be yourself. You can dance like crazy with music buzzing your mind and not care who thinks what
about you. Some will say one can do that in city as well but the same some cannot disagree that the society will look at you like some crazy nut.

When I say that city smothers, it is not about the place as much is about the people who inhabit it. It is smothering. Laws are passed over one's sexuality, transsexuals have suffered since ages and now that homosexuals have come out, they are being oppressed. Children from my neighbourhood come and whisper 'sexy' 'kiss' in each other's ears. Where have they lost their childhood and innocence? Whom will you call responsible? I do not see them cherish fantasies about being kings or princesses or or wonder how children come to this world?

It is love that goes missing when parents work all day and return late evenings. Then take children to see unsuitable movies to compensate.

Home in apartments and multistoreyed buildings, do they provide same amount of warmth? The studio apartments, so artificial - good to dine in but to live in them gives nausea.


There is just so much that the human civilization is losing, values, culture, diversity, love, in the race to become metropolitan.

But who is Hershal to pass a judgement on the kind of lives that people prefer to live? Everyone is capable of themselves and chooses their lives. Are they not? They are. Krishna would not have been same if Devki would have reared him. Isha, we talked about altruism. And is it in blood or the environment a person grows up in? I stressed it then and even now, it is the surrounding.

And moreover the world is losing its balance. I always thought I knew how bad all this climate change is.

I started working on a small problem of Ozone concentration increase in urban regions and believe me, its worse than any one here can guess - in a non fictitious way.

Enough of blabbering. I wonder if anyone will read this thing through.

The truth is, we are an integral part of nature. The more we distance from it, more we start getting addicted to faclities and technologies of the modern world, worse it is going to be. Most live an ant life. Not knowing where they come from and where they are headed. And those who think they belong to the intellectuals class of people should understand the reality.


My words may have fallen on deaf ears or I may be blind to realize the world in its true urbanity. But things will never be clearer unless one discovers things for himself.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Soft Spoken

The rhythmic coppersmith barbet,
And crawlers in the leafy carpet.
The bending branches creak,
As wind sweeps the dense teak.
The faraway calls of deer,
Glistening the pebbles flows water, clear.

Like the forest, my dear muse,
I clear my thoughts to listen to you.

(c) HP.

Monday, March 30, 2009

I like it

When the fragment of imagination,
When it brings on a face, an animation,
The lifeless enlivened. I like it.

When it feels lonely,scared,
When I look at people close, closed,
The pillow hug. I like it.

When wanting to be wished,
When no one does, can't be obliged,
The bird calls. I like it.

When overthrown by joy, feeling blessed,
When I cannot share it, though obsessed,
The walls listen. I like it.

Mind is a beautiful thing of matter,
Yet of substance and soul.

- hp.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Longing

Silence ruled the moment
We were close.
Glitter in your eyes,
Told me you were mine,
Least for then.

You were the creature,
Me the wet soil.
That ephemeral episode,
Left an eternal trail
Of affectionate feelings.

You walk free, but
It hasn't rained for me,
Perhaps never will.

I long to see your eyes
Again glitter as they did.
I am waiting at the threshold.

(c) HP.

Written on behalf of a one-of-a-kind friend.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Siesta

As the winter wore away,
Spring thought it was time
To sow some Chrys,
Petunias and Salvias.

The merry sowing time,
The dreams of bloom,
The everyday stare,
At the soil for a sprout.

Sprouts brought festive
Moods to the mind.
Hopes took a form
As buds were born.

The summer uninvited,
Rose the scorching sun.
Siesta swept the noons
While buds borne the burns.

The zest to till the soil,
To dream of bloom,
Sherbet in wine glass
Has intoxicated it off.

And the buds scream,
Painting their plight.
A pending feeling says,
Ice would taste better.

(c) HP.

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Spiritly

Disconnected,
Aimless,
At times, I am anxious.
Baffled by my form.
(c) HP.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

From the Other Side

Unusually plain day it was, with no euphoria, no boredom and no depression either. In the evening, I went to buy milk and as I was walking out of the society lane I heard some peppy not-so-sophisticated music being played really loud. As I took a turn to be on the main street, I saw two gigantic blue lights roaring at me from a distance along with many tiny yellow ones. Curious to know what it was, I wondered if it was a marriage party. Though it was a regular sight back in ahmedabad but quite uncommon in pune.

The music was terribly loud and I saw it was being played on a truck groomed for the occassion in many a lights and headlights were cellophaned blue. The songs they played were peppy and quite the ones that masses would rejoice. Now, its me, a huge opponent of noise pollution and having rather sober choice in music. I was certainly baffled to be not disturbed by the party. Kept walking. Saw two boys one of them,although could not compete with the truck's volume, was very loudly mimicking the lyrics. An old bald man, standing by a scooter - perhaps waiting for someone, was coo-ing his neck like a pigeon blissfully enjoying summer noons on my window sill.

By the time I reached the store and finished my little shopping, the truck and the dancing caravan in front almost reached that building. Yes, indeed it was a marraige party with a truck head pulling something that was made to look like a chariot with two golden thrones in it. When I started walking back to my society, I had this insane urge to jump in that turbanned crowd of men and dance like crazy. It was then that I ideated this blog entry but its three hours later that I am actually writing it.

I came back to my room, feeling happy about having observed something new to chew upon. Sat on my couch cum bed and picked up a book. And zoom! I'm back to myself. The party must have reached the gate of my society and now it felt cacophonous herd of mad people dancing to some cheap and exaggeratingly called vulgar songs. I put on my headphone and started watching some F.R.I.E.N.D.S. to cheer up and let the herd pass. Perhaps its now that I can look at the episode in its entirety that I have the ability, peace and mind to pen it down. While walking, the whole time, I had this weird feeling that everyone around was enjoying the music and some dignified literates were frowning at it. Was nice to be on the other side and not be a dignified frown face for once. :-)

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Oblivious

Close my eyes...

Polished mahagony table,
Cream on a cup cake,
Grassy rug,
The chee of a robin,
An orchard siesta,
Poppy in my veins,
A slow sway,
Collapse in the bed.

I cherish.

- hp.