The untended garden

It was long since i did the kinda things that i used to do earlier. like listen to music, write to friends, change the look of my room, spend time on the terrace and so on. one of these undone things was to tend my garden. Earlier i used to take time off in the evenings to watch the sun set as i watered the plants on my terrace garden , sing to the flowers and just while the leisure away but lately i was busy... busy doing nothing actually just stuck with mundane rituals of daily classes, bike rides, traffic, books, agony aunt phases or in simple words just sickening routine after routines... in an unplanned life, i was kinda just flowing with the currents. i hated it but i was a part of it, in all this hustle bustle i had left my garden (read as a few potted plants a small set of flowering pots and a a few roadside shrubs) untended. Weeds had grown, some plants had died of neglect, some were dying, some were ok and some other new plants had sprouted form nowhere. this state of neglect had sort of caused my entire house to look gloomy n dull. I didnt quite take notice until one morning that i had this rare early rising i was in a bad mood, less sleep or whatever it was, i felt the need to stretch and get out of the inner suffocation through treading into space outside for myself, i thought of my garden as an option and i walked out for some fresh air that i noticed my once beautiful garden in virtual ruins!! i was taken aback at the sight, i had not had the time to stop and staere let alone tend the plants.
I rushed in to find a few tools and set it right , it was difficult, not so motivating, worse still i had too many onlookers passing their worthy criticisms on how i must go about the tending. after 4 long hours of clearing the place looked at peace, i had to do away with some plants that had begun causing more harm than good and bring in a few new ones - i also knew this was going to take time to look normal again but i did it nevertheless. Once i was done with it, i stood back to take one last look at the scene - better! much better!!
I came back in to remove the hand spray from my cupboard and suddenly took note of myself in the mirror " Look at me" i thought to myself "how much me n my life resembled that untended garden, how much clutter how much neglect had they gone through , there definitely were weeds that had grown within, definitely old plants that needed to be done away with and replaced by new ones, and most of all - despite what passers by might say about how my life's garden must be tended ultimately it was me who had to do it..." it sure hurt my ego to accept the analogy at the first instance but i did , this garden definitely needs tending and there is no better time to get started than now. I told myself i would smile more frown lesser, be industrious laze lesser, be patient and give way to anger lesser, i would conciously uproot the weeds and replant the inner garden!! and who knows it might just inspire a lousy neghbour garden to blossom again or cause a rose to bloom for a lover in waiting!! :-)

im sure you know

all it would take for my grief to displace is to hug your feet and cry my infant heart out , those days of spring those times of joy will forever remain though death plays the leveller, what you were to me might not have been told but im sure you know. Things would surely be different if you were around, but i rest in your memory that you live in a better place i'm sure you know and like you always said we joyfully part ways only to reach where we belong. but can i still say i miss you? I'm sure you know, what i learnt from your childhood stories were more than just words, what i learnt at the uncomfortable yet warm shade of your feet will remain with me though the world may call me names, can i get just one moment with you and just tell you once how much you meant but knowing you the way i do im sure you will say you are already here and here to stay. you can never be replaced not even your memory or taht one rupee coin you would gladly give every new year at every festive blessing i'm sure you know. If ever i have a daughter of my own and she asks me a story to put her to sleep i would tell her of a young lad who gave all that he had to see a smile in his kindred's face i would tell of that man who grew up to work more than all his comrades would do, i would tell her of a tall dark man burnt by years and experiences new and when i tell her of the day he held me and taught me this language i write in - i would stop and bid her to sleep for... i dont know what and why i write but im sure you know.

where are my words?? and my muse?

Its been ages since i wrote. Wrote stuff that really mattered to me, my words have lost their muse - that was long back, over three years now, but i never believed i would reach a time when id write this - i just cant seem to write what i feel. why do words fail a person who lives by them and with them? literally? there was a time when words would flow uninhibited like they always lived within and just had to be written, but not anymore "where is all your writing" they ask me and i have nothing to say, i have the time the resources the inspiration but not the words! my muse walked out of me a long while ago and ever since i have dreamt of my muse every night, asked myself what went wrong, i helplessly attempt and associate myself with the shadows and roots of the muse hoping I'd catch a few glimpses of it. i walk through old roads hoping the street corner might be the place, get drenched in an obscure rain hoping a drop would be familiar, I helplessly browse through old letters, mails, posts, hoping somewhere there i would find a point of ignition, but no! oblivion is all that comes from the vain exercise. I miss my words, i miss my muse, At the end of it all i do is chant a hymn of borrowed words from a distant past spent with my muse and heave a sigh and go to bed, only to be haunted by words and the lack of them. in the background i can almost hear an old poet welcoming words just come to his mindscape, i'm awed, i'm jealous, i'm tired, but i wait.

Have u seen Men Blush?!!

OK to start of with... I'm employed. damn i love it! , my work involves a lot of creative growth and interaction with people of different streams, which is in turn happy... !!

in fact it is this aspect of my work that got me reflecting on this one... "have u ever seen men blush?" - its so cute!! god!!

blush as in not in the "god i m shy" blush... but the blush that is combined with some random thought at the back of the head suddenly stimulated by some discovery or thought or whatever... getting to the point... an example

for instance 'K' who shares a few training classes with me at work is this "I'm the cool n funky guy, the macho the man" type of a formal guy, looks good and all that but cant be bothered about senti stuff about the simple and the like... teaches Physics! we were discussing the colour 'Black' and its associations . Me with my literature gyaan, poetry, semantic inclinations and all that jazz was rattling away what i thought of black, i suddenly said "black also is the beginning and end of everything" and 'K' in an unusual introspective said, "yeah death! birth" . "hmm birth!!" said I. Suddenly he jerked from the sofa like some heavy dosage of goosebumps had hit him and said "tell me, when the child is in the mother's womb which is dark can it sense light like daybreak or a candle... ?" Now how would me know... "I don't know about light but sounds yes! Even minute little sounds apparently reaches the fetus after a few months... Miracle this creation is!" i said "so can he hear me if i say his mother looks so much more beautiful cos is in there?? " i nodded and god the man blushed his face turning as red as...

I had goosebumps too :-)

and i just had to write about it!!

Of Memories...

Of late i have been dwelling on the concept of memories a lot. Strange things they are, memories, of the good times and the bad. I was thinking how much memories shape folks, old and young alike, how much they cause us to do and not do things and how they cause us to cry and laugh and sigh and sing. All this without any incident occurring in our 'here and now' . Although new memories take the place of the old, although the people and places associated with those memories are no more our own... they still cause nostalgia, they still cause us to emote.

Memories of the first crush first love - Memories shared with soul mates turned strangers, memory of those rains and summer afternoons shared with friends who are not on the radar anymore, memories of weddings and get togethers where a stranger meets the eye for a fleeting second and you are left wondering who it was for the rest of your life .

It amazes me how i can smile when i recall a poem or tune sung by the lost soul mate or the compliment paid by the estranged friend!!

Whoever said memories fade with passing time was probably not all that right i think... i mean how can we oversee the way the smell of wet mud and the first rain remind us of the first rain walk we took, or the fragrance of the lily of the valley that reminds us of a random party hall? how can we oversee the way we can never forget the games we played during childhood summers or the history of each rose petal hidden between the pages of abandoned notebooks. It wearies me sometimes to have so many memories but the times that memories lift me up and make me smile weigh more than those that do otherwise!!

"Life is calling where are you?"

I know this really nice guy who thinks he's not nice

a guy who can talk absolute nonsense for hours and still keep u listening

a guy who writes from the actual words that occured in his head at the trigger of a thought without a single punctuation changed!

a guy who demands a treat for everything from a new bag u got to the wedding of your fourth cousin

a guy who eats like food is god (even when not hungry)

a guy who can be twins if he were any happier at each joy in your life

a guy whose shoulder is both the strongest and the 'prickiest'

a guy who is more concerned about a small bruise u got while driving than a huge bandage on his leg

a guy who treasures a little knot on his wrist from within and fakes that he doesnt (n does a bad job of the faking)

a guy whom a lot of us love and have failed over and over again getting him to believe we do

a guy without whom there is a lot of dullness in the air

a guy who loves but expresses it by arguing, ignoring, letting u wait and keeping quite

a guy whose single call makes your day, week, month!!

a guy whom u want to hate but cant

A GUY WHO SAYS EVERYTHING OF WHAT IS REALLY NOTHING AND NOTHING OF WHAT IS REALLY EVERYTHING

but all of a sudden now this guy... no more talks nonsense, no more talks actually, is no more happy, no more is silent when in emotion, is no more the way he used to be, a guy who has fallen silent in a way that is uncomfortable ; doesnt suit him; not one bit... each night as i go to bed i remember this sudden season change and in a silent hym to god i ask for that lost spring to return or reveal itself and dude if u r reading this... i want u to know that home awaits u ; you only have to believe it does!!

दुनिया से बहुत मिल चुके ,

खुद से मिलने कि चाहत है

अजनबियों से प्यार बहुत कर चुके
अब खुद से मोहब्बत कि चाहत है

बुलंदियों से नाता कुछ ज्यादा ही जुड़ गया
अब खुद से एक रिश्ते कि चाहत है

इन्सान और ईमान को जी जान से परख लिया

अब खुद को परखने कि चाहत

दूसरों के इच्छाओं के बंधी बन

अब बहुत वक़्त गवा चुके

अपने ही सरहदों से आजाद होकर

अब खुद के साथ वक़्त बिताने कि चाहत है

बाहरी आशा निराशाओं में बहुत गहरे डूब चुके

अब खुद के आशाओं में डूब उभरने कि चाहत है

अलग अलग लोगों के उम्मीदों को कायम कर बहुत जी चुके

अब खूद से खुद के उम्मीदों को सच्चाई में बदलने कि चाहत है

खोद खोद के असतित्व को बहुत इनाम पा चुके

तराश्कर अपने आप को अब खुद के खोज कि चाहत है

इंसानों के महानों के भगवान् को बहुत जान लिया

नाम और धर्म रहित खुद में बसे उस भगवान् को पाने की चाहत है

अंत के निश्चित सत्य से डर डर कर बहुत जी चुके

अंत से परे खुद में छिपे उस अनंत को पाने कि अब चाहत है!!