Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Random Rant

Frolicking froth fizzles away but the salty taste lingers. Sun will rise and blaze all day before it sets again. The vastness overwhelms then swallows your finiteness into infinite depth. If you can fathom it, you ought to be marine and not terrestrial.

Friday, July 16, 2010

I look into her eyes,
And I'm devoid of pain.
I'm a poet no more,
Sorry, I'm a poet no more

Melting cake smells to be sliced,
Hot cappuccino froths to be sipped,

There's a mirage-less sparkle in your eyes,
And your considerations nosedive in the frozen sea of my time.

A crowd of words elbow out of you,
And mine dangle, wanting to be cobbled on this path together.

Words not uttered,
Sentences left midway,
Watching you walk,
Nodding at your exclaimations,
Wondering all that could be,
Absorbing all that is,
Emotions that baffle,
Questions that mute,
Replies that sigh,
Thoughts that blurr,
Longings that elude,
Glances that express,
Feelings that linger,
And you.


Monday, July 12, 2010

Some Question Answers in Urdu/Hindi

Pehele utari zehen me fir talab me raat ,
yun katra katra utari mere ghar me raat.
pehele bhigi os me fir aansuo me raat ,
yun boond boond nahayee meri nazar me raat.
pehele hasi palako par fir rukhsaar me raat,
yun lamha lamha muskurayi mere laboo pe raat.
-ashika 'tanha' vyas.

chhoti chhoti khushiyaan lekar aayi hansti raat,
pehle aankho mei muskurayi, fir dil mein utari raat...
banke kangan khanak gayi, haathon mein ye raat...
ghunghru banke naachi bahut, paagal banke raat...
-amitabh dasgupta

mere deen ki khushiyon se jali, kali hui raat...
sula ke aasmaan ko aayi, mujhe sulaane raat...
har subah rokta tha, roke na ruki raat...
aaj na jaane kyun aayi, bina bulaaye yeh raat...
- besabr (hp).

Chal pada kis raah pe mai,
Kaha mera thikana hai??..
Aaya to tha khushiyon k sagar me mai,
Ab kis or kis raah pe jaana hai??..
Sochta hun kya khoya kya paaya maine,
Jindagi jine ka kya ab bhi koi bahana hai??..
hamdard ab tu hi bata de mujhko..
Kya ab bhi in saanso ka koi thikana hai??..
kahte hai vo muskurana tum hamehsa meri jaan,
Mai hans k bola meri ruh, mere aks..
Muskurana to ab bas ek bahana hai..
Apni saanso, dhadkanon ko maut k waqt tak rulana hai,
Muskurana to ab bas ek bahana hai..
Muskurana to ab bas ek bahana hai..
-gaurav singh gaur

jitna bhi mana kar lo, ek din muskurana hai...
kisi wajeh se nahi to be-wajahi pe hi muskurana hai.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

When I sit on my terrace, facing the sun setting behind the buildings, spreading the golden glow till it turns elvish white on the zenith and fades into the blue of the sky darkening towards east... The grandeur of looking from horizon to horizon... It absorbs me for a moment obscuring the whirling thoughts of my mind and putting it in a lovable hypnotized state... the idea of clouds lined golden from their western ends floating graciously high, very high above me... remembering the famous lines 'earth is like an apple, whirling silently in space'...

I can't keep but from condemning myself and a sea of pity gobbles me up - for all the petty matters of ambition, relationships, money that eat my days after days when all I need is to watch the grandeur that is earth & space till I cannot remain from eating or pooping and then get back to watching the sky and the earth.

Thursday, July 01, 2010

sapne reh gaye hain tasawwur ban kar,
neend beh gayi mrugjal ban kar.
iss tishnagi mein pehchaan kho chuke,
ab bhatak rahe hain 'besabr' ret ban kar.

- besabr (hp).

Literal translation from Hindi:

Dreams ended up being imagination,
Sleep flowed away like water seen in mirage.
Having lost identity in this desert,
I roam directionless like a grain of sand.
(c) hp.

Monday, June 28, 2010

baadal garje aur baat ansooni reh gayi,
barsaat hamaare aansuon ko paani keh gayi.
kaaynaat ki saazish thi - poori ho gayi,
un do palo mein ek 'besabr' zindagani kho gayi.

-besabr (hp).

Clouds thundered and words remained unheard,
Rain made my tears also look like water.
It was a conspiracy by the universe that got fulfilled,
In those two moments, I lost one life.
(c) hp.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

વર્સાદ કેમ નથી આવતો?

બોલાવ દિલ ખોલી ને, હું ધમધમતો આવીશ,
બોલાવ યાદ કરી ને, હું વરસ્તો આવીશ.
મારો અનુભવ એક જ વચન માંગે છે,
હૈય્યુ મૂકી ને વર્સુ ત્યારે ફરીયાદ ના લાવીશ.

(c) hp.

Literal translation from Gujarati:

Call me heartily, I will come thundering;
Call me with nostalgia, I will come raining.
My experience asks for only one promise,
When I pour with all my heart, don't bring any complains.
(c) hp.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

નથી ઠેકાણુ, ફક્ત રસ્તો છે.
નથી ઈચ્છા, ફક્ત જરૂરત છે.
ગમતા અણગમતા માં શું ફરક?
જ્યારે સમય પસાર કરવો જ નથી.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Give it a go, man!

Time and again, in the complexities of social protocols and mannerism, we often forget what it is to be our true self. The evolution of human race has progressed to today’s prosperity as compared to the Apes who negligibly evolve socially once their morphological evolution reaches an equilibrium. The principle of evolution works strongly on the basis of ‘survival of the fittest’. And we humans, along with a number of other mammals, reptiles, birds and fishes have survived not singly but in groups.

When there is a group, a social structure arises and hence the stratification within. It is nothing but natural that a strong and capable individual leads the group to a secure future and election of such a candidate happens on the basis of how cleverly and how fast an individual can climb up the social staircase. That would involve display of his/hers social capabilities, survival capacity and the courage to take responsibility of other individuals than himself/herself.

Coming back to the mankind, it is an important question to ask whether in today’s world we need social stratification or not. Anyone’s true reflexive answer would be yes – for the reasons I have myself provided above. But why can’t we look at the feasibility of the other alternative? Why do we need a discriminating social structure today when we have more intelligent ways like democracy and intellectual ways like debates to run our organization of human race efficiently? In a social structure, the minority is first suppressed of its rights and then pitied if they are rendered incapable or condemned if they form a sub-community for their own survival.

Most of us derive only pleasure from watching wildlife documentaries on television and it is indeed very amusing and entertaining to know about the most wonderful ways in which the natural world works. What I have seen people fail to achieve, is to observe and not just see. In nature too, there are individuals in groups of blackbucks, cranes and lions which have a way of their own, different than most members of the group. As shown by Mendel by his landmark experiment with pea plants in 1850s, every kind of permutation and combination of genes is possible, leading to very different kinds of individuals – that is the same reason why no two individuals have same finger prints (a very rare phenomenon indeed!). And it is…a very clever mechanism of the nature to introduce adaptability in the population for its survival.

Tracing back my own retrogressive path to human society, when I see many people claim that some kind of human behaviour is unnatural, I feel it’s all there before their own eyes and still they can’t see. They can’t understand that anything can be natural but not common. There are plants which aren’t green and birds that cannot fly. How do you define unnatural or natural? Is social discrimination of the minorities necessary? Cannot intellect prevail over basic instincts, now that we have evolved beyond a threshold… Perhaps this is necessary for further evolution of mankind in its present form.

While we continue debating in ultra ambitious UN meets on maneuvering the course of earth’s natural history in mankind’s favour, we might as well give the Copernican principle a small thought and to the fact that we still have to learn a lot from the ways of nature and progress towards being in harmony with it rather than compete with it.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Mud Brick Wall

Flute from the horizon,
Seeps thru' my mud brick wall.
Early morning rays,
Peep from my mud brick wall.

The evening tide breeze,
Whistles thru' my mud brick wall.
Garden jasmine bloom,
Permeates my mud brick wall.

Thank you for your gift, darling,
I still have the mud brick wall.

- hp.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Too many poems/lines not up here.. Phew... Uploaded some today... rest sometime later....

Ek Nazm

Karobar nahi yeh dil ka,
dagabaazi hai.

Kabhi gair be-imaan nikla ishq mein,
to kabhi khud ne ki jaldbaazi hai.

Zindagi yunhi jalti rehti hai,
dhokebaazi mein.

Na jaane kya mazhab chhupa hai,
waqt ki nakaashi mein.

(c) hp.

Will put up in hindi script later.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Your exclamations...

I'm just gliding on rising thermals of intuition and character. Do I deserve your exclamations?

- hp.

*Thermals are blobs of hot air rising in the atmosphere on which the heavy birds like kites, eagles and vultures glide or as we say, fly.

Desire pacifier

The turmoil that bursts bubbles in flowing lava,
Churns my mind like the great 'samundra-manthan' by gods,
Spewing out vials of immortality and gallons of venom.
But all I desire is a tranquil shore looking onto horizon,
And to loose the count of days.

My mind is an untamable wild stallion,
I desire you, my pacifier.

- hp.

Friday, April 02, 2010

ચોખ્વટ / Clarification


ફૂલ ને તો માત્ર ખીલ્વુ છે,
સુંદર્તા તમારે માંડવી છે.

દિવા ને તો માત્ર ટમટમ્વુ છે,
અંધારુ તમારે ભગાડવુ છે.

અને મારે તો માત્ર જીવ્વુ છે,
જીવનસાર તમારે કાઢવો છે.




A flower just wants to bloom,
It is you, who wants to enjoy the beauty.

A candle just wants to flickr,
It is you, who wants to shoo away the darkness.

And I just want to live,
It is you, who wants to draw conclusions.

(c) hp.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Once More

Dear Hershal,
Here's an ode to your steenth screw up of a relationship, a consequence of my latest armageddon. . . Congrats!
Once more . . .
The hunter becomes the hunted,
The victim is announced guilty,
The coin flips
And its tails, once more.
- hp. 10/3/10 .

Monday, March 08, 2010

Mann मन्न

Neend ooD jaati hai ek hawaa ke jhonke se,
Mausam palaT jaata hai do nazron ke dhoke se.
Bewakuf, aalsi kahika, nikkamma hai,
Is ek pal ke chashme se poori zindagi naap leta hai.
- hp.


नींद ऊड जाती है एक हवा के झोंके से,
मौसम पलट जाता है दो नज़रों के धोके से.
बेवकूफ़, आलसी कहिका, निक्कममा है,
इस एक पल के चश्मे से पूरी ज़िंदगी नाप लेता है.

(c) hp. 8/3/2010.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

बादलों ने ना समझा बताना मुनासीब,
बरसे बग़ैर ही चल दिए |
ज़मीन उनके हाल-ए-दिल से नावाकीफ,
रीश्ते को दफ़न ही कर दिए |

अब कब्र पर सिर टिक के रोता है,
ज़िंदा को दफ़ना के ईमान,
और आसमान पे टिकाए बैठी है,
बंजर उम्मीद, दो अखियाँ |

एक दफ़ा इशारा तो कर देते,
हम एक और साल इंतेज़ार कर लेते |


Friday, February 12, 2010


Tiny gravel rolled over,
Continuously trodden over by feet and wheels.
Fossilizing human blood, sweat and bounce imprint,
Catalyzing human advancement.

- hp.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

नैनन का जाने असुअन का स्वाद,
उह तो बहा के सो लिए
लब ही तो चखत है नमकीन नदियाँ,
और फिर भी बेवजह मुस्कुरा लिए

What do eyes know of the taste of tears?
They sleep after setting them aflow.
It is lips that taste this salty river,
And still smile in vain.
(c) hp.

Friday, January 29, 2010

For my readers...

The words are pale
Sans a reader.

The notes are ghostly
Sans a listener.

The silence speaks
For a soul.

The air sweetens
For a flower.

(c) hp.

Monday, January 25, 2010


I wrote this long back around 25 Jan 2010. Feeling too lazy to type it in hindi in my snail pace internet so here it is in english script.

Rehte hain hum khaamosh
Ke yeh mehsoos kar paaye,
Jo jazbaat the chhupe nigaahon mein,
Unhe jataa paaye, nahi paaye.

Rehte hain hum khaamosh
Ke yeh tay ho jaaye,
Jo kaante the chubhe dil mein,
Unhe seh paaye, nahi paaye.

Tarika ban gayi hai adaa-ae-khaamoshi,
Dard mein hi jeete hai; ashk aaye, nahi aaye.

(c) hp.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Surrenders to Violin of the Master

It was an era of Mughal emperors, she curled her hair unconsciously while waiting on a river side for her lover - who is escaping the orthodoxes of village rebuking his love for a non-islamic girl.

The far away sounds gain intensity with each thud-applause of the horses' hooves. She takes a refuge behind thick woods, and stares into the sandy clearing with river flowing behind her and the crows fleeing above. Two veiled men are following her man, both on dusty stallions while he rode a black mare.

In a sweeping move, that brought an 'aahh!' on her face, that fanned his robe, he turns around, whips his sword and a bleeding head rolls behind as the stallion races ahead with the torso still hanging on saddle. While the other villain still carries on with ferocity, red eyes, coarse scream, following her man and she's shedding tear brooks without a sob, without a blink in her eyes. Her feeble feminine mind absorbed the scene like the unwilling clouds glowing with sun behind them. Her heart had hardly clotted the blood from the first visual wound and another bloody head topples off the dusty stallions running in opposite directions with hanging bodies drawing a bloody trail behind.

The scene remained paused for a while, for the while it took for the dust to settle down, for the while it took for her to succumb to ground with silent stomach retractions, for the while he took to breathe out fire in roars and tears. The scene remained paused till sun descended from zenith to horizon, till birds settled back on trees, till crows and dogs made a ruckus over scavenging supper. The scene remained paused.

Recently, I have taken to jumping into unknown waters after a long period of lame,
uninspiring and adventure free decisions. One such jump I took today was to go for the Violin Concert by
Prof. T. N. Krishnan due to my friend Chaithra's insistence. The institute which hosted the concert, National Chemical Laboratory, Pune was an old building given a fresh spring touch with so many flowering plants arranged in and out of building. Somewhere I could 'dream' of my Care4Nature office with clay walls and flowers spreading a fire of colours. The step back into the arena of dreams made the visit a bliss to me even before I actually experienced the enthralling Violin.

I was to loose all the sense of chemical smells emanating from laboratories soon with growth of thick woods around me, canopies eclipsing the glowing Sun, a river flowing with rhythm of 'Mrudangam' and giggling over rocks with trebles of 'Ghatam' . I was to receive a gift of another medium of expression, another medium of empathizing expressions. When T. N. Krishna started playing, the sound of violin overwhelmed me so much that my senses floated above the notes. The music spilled stories inside my closed eyelids, spilled emotions, induced contemplation, induced aroma. The piece of fiction I have written above, I witnessed it with vigour that almost splashed the blood-spill on my face.

Hats off to the master of Violin & thanks to Chaithra. Though I doubt she will accept this violent foreground to Carnatic Raaga of Hamswadhvani's background.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Alice Richman

I have gone to the Pune University Garden many a times in daytime but did not see this spot somehow - though I knew about it. The garden is known as 'Alice Garden'. I took this photo from someone else's blog and its taken in the day time. If its this shady in daytime, imagine at night! :) It is a nicely wooded place.

Today before an hour at 1.30 am of 12th of January, me and my roommate Abhijit went to Alice's grave. It was a cool experience to go to a place of where I have heard spooky stories. I had heard that Alice's ghost is seen riding a white horse, wearing a white gown in the morning at 5.00 from my old place's roommate Prakash Ratan to whom it was told by a lady in English Dept.

Quotes from my mail to Aanchal: We jumped over the garden gate... saved our sight from the watchmen and went to the alice's grave...we once felt scared that something was coming from the bushes, the branches creaked and owls squeaked... there was a brook right behind the bushes which made all sort of noises..
Though I did not see any ghost but I felt spooky because of the place being dark and branches creaking at the middle of night. And we were not supposed to be seen as well so hiding behind bushes whenever a vehicle would pass. May be some fool would see us roaming in night in white light of the lamp and pee in his pants or the watchman would catch us and thrash :) .

The grave had this written on it:
It was a unique experience to chronicle in my life at Pune. I am feeling sad that its coming to an end in a few months now.

Here's an extract from an Indian Express article I found online. Enjoy:

At day time it is the most frequented place by students, but come nightfall, no one wants to be around this solitary grave. With no street lamps, the tall tamarind and neem trees seem more daunting than ever.

It is a story that has its origins in the days of the Raj. One version has it that Alice Richman, daughter of a prominent British official, committed suicide post an unfulfilled love story, and now roams the graves at night in a translucent white fabric. According to the PRO of the university, Gangadhar Jangamwal, who rubbishes all the rumours, the story traces back to Jan 14, 1882. He says, “26-year-old Alice, daughter of former British governor Richman was horse riding in the garden, when she fell down and died.”

But the inscription on the grave tells another story — Born at Melrose, 14 January 1856 , South Australia, Died here of cholera - 13 November, 1882.

“I have been studying here for four years but I have never seen or heard anything. Though I will not deny the fact that I have heard tales from people about the place being haunted,” says Sudhakar Jadhav, a PhD student.

I tried looking online for names of Governors but did not do extensive research. Will buy Pune Uni History booklet from the publication dept soon. Its for 150 bucks but I guess a nice souvenir. Then may be add to this blog entry in a comment or something. :)