For once,
lets give life a chance,
How about giving the future a glance?
Is it so bad,
That it is not worth looking at,
Is it so far gone,
That it cannot be changed back?
When has man travelled beyond time!
How did he,
who cant even record the present,
Find talent to see the future,
And decide its all futile,and decadent!
forgetting excuses of not wanting to die,
For once start finding reasons to live
For the next moment which will change our life.
The moment we decide that we will survive..
We are not dumb animals,
held by a tight rope,
This is our world,
And we are its last hope,
Its time to claim our due,
Life is calling
Where are you...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
the centurian
Have you ever wondered ?
By the time you have counted hundred,
your eyelids have drooped down,
your face has lost it's frown
your sorrows have fallen short,
your seething anger-- long lost.
your life gets a second breath
and your tension has died its death.
Have you ever wondered..
When you have reached hundred?
That life will seem unending,
the world will seem so old
The people will look so familiar,
There will be nothing new to behold.
Your anger will be so tired,
your heart will be so wired,
That you wont know its you, who is breathing,
That its your own heart that is beating.
Life will have no attractions.
Death will play hide and seek,
Love will be beyond memories
Happiness a mere treat...
Have you ever wondered
If you don't reach a hundred?
That there is so little time to be happy,
And you are spending it in tears,
There is so much to explore in life,
You don't have so many years,
You have loved less and hated more,
You have healed less and made others sore,
That you deserve to be happy
And there is so little time
And until everybody else is in joy,
Your Lifesong will never rhyme.
How many hearts you leave sundered,
Have you ever wondered!
By the time you have counted hundred,
your eyelids have drooped down,
your face has lost it's frown
your sorrows have fallen short,
your seething anger-- long lost.
your life gets a second breath
and your tension has died its death.
Have you ever wondered..
When you have reached hundred?
That life will seem unending,
the world will seem so old
The people will look so familiar,
There will be nothing new to behold.
Your anger will be so tired,
your heart will be so wired,
That you wont know its you, who is breathing,
That its your own heart that is beating.
Life will have no attractions.
Death will play hide and seek,
Love will be beyond memories
Happiness a mere treat...
Have you ever wondered
If you don't reach a hundred?
That there is so little time to be happy,
And you are spending it in tears,
There is so much to explore in life,
You don't have so many years,
You have loved less and hated more,
You have healed less and made others sore,
That you deserve to be happy
And there is so little time
And until everybody else is in joy,
Your Lifesong will never rhyme.
How many hearts you leave sundered,
Have you ever wondered!
Friday, October 8, 2010
mahalaya
every year,since i can remember,this day my mom is up at 4.00 am and my dad at around the same time,and i am woken up and my room ,which has always been the largest one,is rearranged,so that the purohit can perform the tarpan ceremony.
meanwhile,i am shifted to the other bed,and i always sleep off again,and then i am reawakened at around 6.15,and wrapped around in a blanket(when in Delhi)and bed sheet(in Calcutta),for the shaanti jaal to be sprinkled on my head,and just so that it doesn't touch my feet.
and this is when i know its puja time
when i was in school,i knew,holidays (though a short one of only 10 days)were around the corner, and my new dresses one each for saptami, ashtami and navami were ready.i knew the menu for ashtami always,it is still the same today,luchi in morning just after the pushpanjali,afternoon khichudi with beguni,or fulkopir pakoda,and night if we still have stomach for it,pulao or paratha,usually the latter sharing from my mothers plate
puja over the years has lost that charm for me,i hardly get excited at the thought -i think of the traffic jams,the noise,the hopelessly large crowds,and the ever competing pandalware;but mahalaya remains special as it did yesterday
forever i have seen my father performing this tarpan,not only as a duty,but because he believes that his parents and forefathers deserve this .he has never ever complained about there faults,or mistakes,he has never judged them.
he believes what they did was right,what they taught was right....
i used to think he was blindly following rituals just for the sake of doing it, but no,he believes
it is his conscious will,
that is why he is a great man,
unlike me who will always complain and blame him for all my shortcomings
puja is here,its time to chose the gods whom we want to worship.....
meanwhile,i am shifted to the other bed,and i always sleep off again,and then i am reawakened at around 6.15,and wrapped around in a blanket(when in Delhi)and bed sheet(in Calcutta),for the shaanti jaal to be sprinkled on my head,and just so that it doesn't touch my feet.
and this is when i know its puja time
when i was in school,i knew,holidays (though a short one of only 10 days)were around the corner, and my new dresses one each for saptami, ashtami and navami were ready.i knew the menu for ashtami always,it is still the same today,luchi in morning just after the pushpanjali,afternoon khichudi with beguni,or fulkopir pakoda,and night if we still have stomach for it,pulao or paratha,usually the latter sharing from my mothers plate
puja over the years has lost that charm for me,i hardly get excited at the thought -i think of the traffic jams,the noise,the hopelessly large crowds,and the ever competing pandalware;but mahalaya remains special as it did yesterday
forever i have seen my father performing this tarpan,not only as a duty,but because he believes that his parents and forefathers deserve this .he has never ever complained about there faults,or mistakes,he has never judged them.
he believes what they did was right,what they taught was right....
i used to think he was blindly following rituals just for the sake of doing it, but no,he believes
it is his conscious will,
that is why he is a great man,
unlike me who will always complain and blame him for all my shortcomings
puja is here,its time to chose the gods whom we want to worship.....
Saturday, October 2, 2010
a waste
this moment will not last forever
it will last for this one moment
and then be lost in the mists of past
one moment in future will be wasted
in regretting this one moment
two moments of happiness lost for ever.
it will last for this one moment
and then be lost in the mists of past
one moment in future will be wasted
in regretting this one moment
two moments of happiness lost for ever.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
rainbow
What can i write
about a rainbow!
A rhyme,a prose,
a sonnet,an ode...
A beauty so rare,
flawless,alive...
Without it would we know
that violet and yellow jive?
That life has more shades
than grey.
That black is actually colors-
revealed only in the day
That once you break it down,
Life will burst through-
in all its pinks,reds , brown
greens,yellow and blue!
Can i write about the rain
making way
for the day end sun,
leaving a memory so exquisite
the riot of colours
and the bow unstrung
For only Ram could string it
across the three worlds
joining them all
in his quest for love
a love unfulfilled
unmentioned , unrecognized
the tragedy of errors
unforgivably politicized
Sita believed
and that sufficed
always waited
always sacrificed
At the end of the rainbow-
she lingered forever
where Ram would reach,
humans, never
Where the raindrops float.
and the sunrays bend
Where colours begin,
and eventually end
about a rainbow!
A rhyme,a prose,
a sonnet,an ode...
A beauty so rare,
flawless,alive...
Without it would we know
that violet and yellow jive?
That life has more shades
than grey.
That black is actually colors-
revealed only in the day
That once you break it down,
Life will burst through-
in all its pinks,reds , brown
greens,yellow and blue!
Can i write about the rain
making way
for the day end sun,
leaving a memory so exquisite
the riot of colours
and the bow unstrung
For only Ram could string it
across the three worlds
joining them all
in his quest for love
a love unfulfilled
unmentioned , unrecognized
the tragedy of errors
unforgivably politicized
Sita believed
and that sufficed
always waited
always sacrificed
At the end of the rainbow-
she lingered forever
where Ram would reach,
humans, never
Where the raindrops float.
and the sunrays bend
Where colours begin,
and eventually end
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