ApNa pAta poOchTa hoOm mEin…

Koyi milta hai to apna pata poochta hoom mein
Mein teri khoj mein tujse bhi parejaan nikla..
Mein teri khoj mein, tujhse bhi parejan nikla...

Last week was blessed!
Listening to Gulam Ali is a fortune and I am fortunate last week.

The living legend of Gazals and myself, a journey of 3 hours through love, despair, longing, tranquility, loss and finally intoxicated!

Enthralling the audience for three hours . Wish, I could have never returned from it.

Do gazal ho jaye Gulam saheb ki,

Shayad, jaam ki zarurat na ho!..

That’s the sorcery he does with the lafz and gazal..

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghulam_Ali
http://www.geocities.com/technofundo/fun/music/ga/

It was spiced up with the fusion maestro Hariharan saying,

Gham ka nasha bhi sharab ki tarah hai…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hariharan_(singer)

and the singer across the border Humaira Chana…

Gulam Ali continues……

Dil mein ek lehar si uthi hai abhi

Koi taazaa hawa chali hai abhi

Shor barpa hai khana-e-dil mein
Koi deewaar si giri hai abhi

Kuchh to naazuk mizaaj hain hum bhi

Aur ye chot bhi nayi hai abhi

Yaad ke benishaan jazeeron se

Teri aawaaz aa rahi hai abhi

Shehar ki bechiraag galiyon mein

Zindagi tujh ko dhoondhti hai abhi...

Aur mein.....

Koyi milta hai to apna pata poochta hoom mein

Mein teri khoj mein tujse bhi parejaan nikla..

ScrAp rEsearcH aNd crAp cOmpaNies..

It is obvious that no Indian company will emerge with new drugs. Bcoz we do more research on politics and less on chemistry. We work on hired ideas, rather stolen ones or just kill time for the patent to expire (like street dogs waiting for leftovers). Its funny!...Here rules are unscientific, ignorance proportional to growth. The growth graph is vertical for the ass lickers. Damn it…Patents are in the name of those who have never worked (but who played dirty politics) and awards are for those who are the winners of the political games. Shameful and vicious indeed! In this nasty arena, some survive with the inherent talent to glorify the things. Others, to perish. Wish I would have taken a path less traveled, not to be in the middle of filth and dirt.

I failed….

The professional domain kept me dead. All the while I was searching for my spaces, long forgotten, helplessly digging to recreate myself….in vain…

Gulam Ali…His magical music could bring me back to my “lost being”. I would yearn for that miraculous voice, the mesmerizing verse and enchanting trail, which perhaps transcend you to perpetual dreams….He sings,

Hum ko kis ke gham ne mara, Yeh kahani phir sahi.

Dil ki choton ne kabi, chein se rehne na diya,
Jab chali sard hawa, mein ne tujhe yaad kiya
Is ka rona nahi, kyon tum ne kiya dil barbaad
Is ka gham hai ki bahut der mein barbaad kiya....
Hum ko kiske gham ne mara, yeh kahani phir sahi...

ThE fiNaL nAiL oN tHe cOffin...

It was nailed the other day…by my kith and kin. I am DEAD! with the final nail on my coffin! I see the merry around, and myself in a freezing stillness, entrapped….Hey..I just laugh and laugh and laugh…ha..ha…ha…..

I recalled Richard Bach…

Take your dying with some seriousness…
However,Laughing on the way to your execution
Is not generally understood by less advanced life forms,
And they will call you CRAZY!.......

LeT Us nOt be iN rEaL....

Today, I could grab some time from the professional domain for myself, to be with my own world of thoughts. It is, therefore obvious, to write few words on Intrusion, as I recently noticed such an act happened to my blog sphere. An anonymous friend did some grammatical corrections to my blog. I don’t believe it is something which claim ovation, for the reason that there was an option of sending the corrections to my mail inbox and asked me to do the corrections, rather than sending “WHAT I DID” kind of mail to my inbox. Is that fetched her more gratification?? It is more unfortunate that this has happened from a researcher, who works in a field where ownership ethics are highly valued. The “anonymity” still remains, in spite of options to extend honest revelations and friendships. But my friend, those writings are not the results of long rumination, so that the language and the theme gets more refined and vivid. Those are the words getting released out of spontaneity, and I believe that as the soul of any creation. A formulated creative exercise might eliminate errors and fine tune the concepts, but many times it fails to deliver the pain the author feels during his move through the situations. Probably, that’s the reason why I read the poems of Chullikkad and Kamala Das, which has the power to transfer the pain to the reader and make him walk through their bygone path. It is true, sometimes these type of creations wont take you through the constant “adjectives” of poetry and writing, rather seems raw to feel the life in it. Having said this, I don’t deny the beauty of a well organized creative expression, which too make the audience immersed. But for me, I enjoy “beauty” in the later and “feel” in the former.

I prefer to keep my scribbling as raw as they get released. Let all our creations be informal and stretch beyond the boundaries of language and real, so that it might strike the unusual. I propose an art of boundless imagination, which creates a plethora for the creator and the audience immense illusions. Or let us have abstracts which offers timeless journey with the appreciator so that one could identify oneself as the author in every situation. All these because, the real is too harsh to accept and it bangs on you all time.

Anyways, I do appreciate the frequent messages and previous mail she has send asking about my silence. It is also nice to know that some unknown person, sitting at the other end of the world is reading my “spontaneous nonsense”. The answer is, the official schedule didn’t allow to scribble anything.

NasHaA

I have the answer….
There should be always a “nasha” without which one cannot live life..

Ha…zindagi mein ek nasha chahiye…
Kabhi pyaar ka nasha...
Kabhi khel ka nasha..
Kabhi mehfil ka nasha..
Kabhi khamoshi ka nasha..
Kabhi shabab ka nasha..
Aur zindagi mein kuch bhi nahi hai to?
Kabhi sharab ka nasha…
Hey dost...hum to kangal hai....
to...akhari kyon na chun looommmm...

Har MuLLakKat kA aNjam jUdai kYoN hO?

A week of wonderful days!..thats what I experienced with some spice for the soul. I feel, every moment of it might have resonated with the inner being of all those who experienced it. Starting from Shubha Mudgal saying, “Is shahar ko shoharat na rahi” was situational with the stirs that took place during the week…She thoughtfully provoked the minds against the regional chauvinism that showed its ugly face recently. Much more touching was the exclamation by Talat Aziz-“har mullakkat ka anjam judai kyon ho??” - it does relate to me and probably many who listened to him…and then Pankaj Udhas took me to those touching lines “ Deewaron se milkar rona acha lagta hai..” -he reasoned the insanity and the pain unambiguously.
So do the journey with the “Heart Beats” ..when Shankar Mahadevan emphasised the first rhythm we all hear…the music of our own mother’s heart, when we were in the womb!…The Heart Beats created by these exponents were magnificent to confirm the first beats of all of us…reminiscent of those beats, which I feel every one of us will love to experience again and cherish. Who will not wish to go back to our mother’s womb?, to bask in that glory forever. The journey had a gratifying ending with the Mohiniattam performance by danseuse Miti Desai, when she performed the “Oomana thinkal kidavo” by her gracious movements with consummate ease…Yes, she herself transformed into an enchantress!...Thanks to all those wonderful moments of the past week…..and I felt I lived for a while!

AnAaMikA

Yeh cheez la jawab hai
Sach bolta hoom mein.
Phir haath mein sharab hai, sach bolta hoom mein!

Friends, behoshi ek sahara hai..
Phir bhi hum bahut kuch bol sakte hai, like Udas

Here is, Thank you FUEL for making it alive
And for the slumber in my heart
And thank you for this “senseless” dream


aNaaMika
------------------

You wrapped me in dreams
By your tender touch…

For a moment,
Loosing ourselves in each others’ eyes
I hear the hearts beating in rage?
I hear the sigh, tuned in high
You wrapped me in dreams
By your tender touch

I searched the other of mine
Now she’s mine

Still-
I’m away from her gracious virginity
For I don’t want
To wipe out that innocence
From her face
And thus, from her soul.

You wrapped me in dreams
By your tender touch…

Phir haath mein sharab hai, sach bolta hoom mein!
Sach bolta hoom mein......

TiMe-The mYsticaL PaUciTy

Time-I wish I could catch hold of it!
Something which bewilder, mystify and makes
The waiting the long
And, the long the waiting.

Which slips out of us, which never reach us
Otherwise, I would have caught it, caged it and threw it away to the infinity-
Infinity- did I speak about it again?

I wish I could stop it for a while, turn it back for a while and jump out of joy

Time- the nasty player.
Otherwise, I could have wrote this three months back.
Time- It didn't come my way

Again, when I wrote,
Time-It didn't come my way
Otherwise, these words would not have trapped in my hard disk for such long time
The net would have worked and not otherwise for five days!

Or Simply, Time-It didn't come my way??

Yes, Its now here, so before it leaves me, let me post this here
Otherwise, I might entrap in the paucity....and my words too...

Adieu Bangalore..

It has been a long time I scribbled on this page of nothingness. Probably, among the happenings, it didn’t happen!...That’s the way I would like to say. Of course, I do got intoxicated by thoughts which would have dripped through my writings, but, Mumbai kept me busy. No, the awful work and work place chained me and drained the ink out. And now, Oh!...I just kept that bloody demon out for a while to give life back to my pages…

Bangalore….I thank you.
You had given me a lot in the short span of time. As I wrote before, all short and small are beautiful. It is the essence without he fibers, mass and muscles. Though the city kept my nerves strained, she has give something to sooth my soul. Bangalore, I have gained some everlasting friends and ever rewarding knowledge from you for which I am grateful. Hey Guys, I want your friendship for my life time to serve as a call from the distance. Believe me, my friends, did you remember the lines I wrote in my farewell note?? “If is fortunate that the globe is round so that we can meet once again”. Bangalore- I don’t know when she will call me again?? and when your hearts will pull me again…I leave it to time…

Amchi Mumbai..
Its true she’s ravishing and freshly alive. You tempted me and will keep tempting. Is it these people’s gods and goddesses really do magic? Not for me I believe, as I keep those injustice far from me…
Mumbai- A city of optimism, options and opportunities…Is this charm or the never ending experiences it offers which one probably fail to comprehend in a life time? Options are open, but many times we stumble upon decisions (did I?)…And when you fall down, there is always one hand to pull you up, make you stand straight and say, you take your way and let me take mine. No one is anyone-s here and everyone is everyone-s here. There is life beyond the timelessness here…and that endless soul will tells you- Hey Guys, keep going endlessly..and my soul too tell you the same…

Oh this moment….Did it say anything ? something? Meaningless??

Acknowledgement: Thank you this moment, waiting to take off and the clouds didn't say yes.

CosMic jOurneY

Friends.....

This note comes in wake of my resignation from the present job. Tomorrow I need to leave this place, but without regrets. Bcoz, all these days has been part of my moments, which add up to give my life. So, it's all about the gains--gain of friends, moments and knowledge. And, LIFE!....it's all about growth through assimilation, which has happened through these years....

I did not look back from the door steps as I step out,....as my professional orbit is far from the personal domain, where one hesitates to step ahead to depart....

WalL and WalK, the inevitable....I remember the lines from the Tibeten poem I read few years ago...thats all about life..and on the way jOin and parT...

Before I leave this book, let me scribble a little more - some meaningful phrases of life.....

We are the Travellers of a cOsmic journEy, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whilpoOLs of infinity.....Life is eTerNaL, but expressions of Life is mOmentary!. We have stOpped for a mOment to encounter each other, to meet, to love and to share. This is a preciOus momEnt, but it is traNsient. It is a parEnthesis in eTernity......If we share with caring, lightheartedness and lOve, we will create abuNdance and jOy for each other..........aNd this mOment will have been wOrthwhiLe!....

Yes.....it has been worthwhile for mE......

JusT to AnnoY yOu

Recently, my friend had a complaint about my writing. She says my writings are instilled with more emotions. What would I say??? Friend, if I eliminate those emotions, what is the difference between the cadaver and my alphabets? These words are often spontaneous and cannot be devoid of emotions, if I did, it then ceases to be lifeless, and become synonymous to me. So, let me give life to those lines with spilling emotions….

While writing this I remembered those days, where we had wonderful times. It was just because; I found a poem between my diaries. That took me to the remembrance, where my friend Garima exploded reading this. Anyway, I did not write this. But, surely, by a wonderful poet…that his resentment still arouse anger in my female friends (I use this to annoy my literary female comrades). And the truth revealed by the lines, which the world could never conceal…

Friend, as I said, I cannot write dead lines here….therefore, let me take you to another emotion of life-“anger”…and I am sure, this will amuse you sometimes, but definitely annoy you!..

Let me tell you how I came across this. I got this while going through the preface of a famous poem of my language, written by a famous poet of 1940s (can be seen from the use of old english). The Malayalam poem had it origin from the suicide of the close friend of the poet, and therefore carries the agony, anger and remorse caused due to the early loss of his friend (he died in his early 20s) and also the intensity of the youthful towards any emotional deluge, especially love and its failure.…..Surprisingly, the preface was written in English by poet Nizami…

Here it is for you, to take you to another emotional rage….

Distant from her adorer's view,
One in thousand may be true
The pen, which writes as if it knew
A woman's promise splits in two

While in another's warm embrace,
No witness to thy own disgrace.
Faithless, she wastes no thought on thee.
Wrapped in her own felicity.

Woman's desire is more intense
Than man's-more exquisite her sense,
But never blinded by her flame,
Gain and fruition are her aim

A woman's love is selfish all
Possessions, wealth secure her fall
How many false and cruel prove,
And not one faithful in her love!

A contradiction is her life;
Without all peace, within all strife;
A dangerous friend, a fatal foe
Prime breeder of a world of woe

When we are joyous, she is sad
When deep in sorrow, she is glad,
Such is the life a woman leads,
And in her sorcery still succeeds.....