Sunday, October 07, 2007

अशांत सांझ

सांझ है धुंधली, दिल में हैं कल्पनाएं अनेक,

दिल के वाद थे कितने, मगर पडी एक अहम अनेक,

स्नेह निर्झर बह गया, अर्थ जीवन का ढह गया,

दिल उस घात पर टीक गया, जहाँ जमाना हंसती थी मैं रो गया

दर्द नही कोई सी पाया, ठहाके नही

गाता रह गया बैठा वहाँ, अवागा प्राणी एक,
यहीं दिलों के हाट में, जुटे मनचले यार,
कोल्हाहल, उन्सुनी कर सारा संसार

वो हंसी आज भी गूंजती है, कहती थी,
फिर भी अपने में रहती थी,
सबकी सुनती थी, सबको सुनाती थी,
साये के परिचय बिना सूक्ष्म अंतर स्तगित थी

Friday, September 28, 2007


Well, I had been lazy. I own it. But hardly ‘sleep all day’ is attributed to lethargy. There had been innumerable quotes on how sleep could mend things, boost spirits.

In hindsight, life is really a funny game,

And for a deserved break, sleep's the name.”

Yet, I have been troubled by it. Not by the lack of it, the excess of it. I had always believed dawn is the time when men of reason take to bed. Yet, infallibly these days (read after Kanpur), I am unable to resist the look of my bed. Neither have I been dumped nor have I been onto pills. Yet the sweet magic crawls into me, propelling me to close my eyes for as long as I could do. Even 11 hours (Excludes the short naps) at a stretch at night sees a tired me in morning. Well it is not what I am complaining about. It is just that I am curious. I heard sleeping habits are a true indicator to ones personality. Am I through a personality make-over?

Sleep is not merely “down time” between episodes of me being alive. Within the constitution we spend almost one third of our life in the necessary evil sleep. Is it a frameless mechanism? Metabolism, Anabolism and we might have another “Beddobolism” as a beacon. What really transpires? Some wake animated, whilst some look to finish the unfinished job. Then there are some who look worse for the sleep. It’s like quenching a thirsty with a drop – leaving him panting for more. Seems a devils day advocate is on duty. While some enjoy it ignorantly I wait my verdict with soporific and heavy eye lids.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Football or foOtbAlL?

What do you crave more football or football or football? Hard choice don’t you say? The more you think about it the more you feel it seeping through your porous skin. With so many different sports, why as a religion do we love the pig skin so much? Is it really explicable?

It gives hopes, plenty of it, to square up with anyone. From a little known peddler you can stir up into the popularity ratings. But it sort of applies to people outside to this country. Still, the passion runs deep and never dries.

Football is as much about the beauty as much it is about pain. Maybe that propels us. With an injured ankle, few tablets and Relispray you take up the field for the sake of your little whim. The whim which promises exaltation! Maybe the hope of scoring a goal steers me or is it the acknowledgment of the team mates I crave for? “Sexy hai yaar…” that’s the quote you fumble across every now and then. Genuine appreciation whether be it your team mate or opposition. One game which makes me acknowledges the greatness of the other player almost unknowingly.

Is it for the real joy of running around with the pigskin? The grass, the emptiness of field, visage of the goalie? It certainly is not the only outlet of emotions. Even then it turns out to be the best proposition. The tackle, the cross over, step over runs wild in mind…. Is it the psychology which is running wild or am I longing for football? Football as a game comes first to me, even when I am not good at it by any stretch. Nor is it the only game which I tried hand in. I understand that I play other games a little better. Running around the ball, making up for lost opportunities is what I yearn for.

P.S. Still I can’t fathom why do I still prefer football ground to others? Pour in suggestions to make my life a little simpler.

Friday, July 27, 2007


Well, nothing compares to the internet facility in our rooms (however slow it may be). Finally, stepping the usual profanities aside managed to gather energy to clean up my blog.

Setting: Padagaon , Khantapara

Well the locale might not arise many brows. The aforementioned place does deserve a place for the similes involving simplicity. Well, morons if you still haven’t got the place, it’s my village. The simplicity doesn’t come from the ignorance or being technologically ridden, it’s somehow inherent to the place. Well, the occasion this time was a marriage of a distant relative (Could not find other word to explain the tardiness of the complex relation). The atmosphere electric and the environ chattery. This was the moment the skies decided to open up, not to bless the lucky couple but to rain their vivaah into delay.

Most of you might be aware of the floods due to excessive rains in those parts of the country. Skipping through the merciless drops of thunder let me get into the real backdrop the narrative. Water gushed in left right left and in no time the ground floor was half immersed in water. It meant days of idle sitting, maybe weeks. But we kids choose to disagree. With the help of one of the servant we clamped a knot to the rod and went for the long wait. Yeah, you guessed it right our fishing net was on and shhhh…. Fishes do hear the vibrations.

Awn it went, the fishing expedition! The first catch was a prize “catla” about one and half kilos. The years of sitting in stealth seemed to wear off with that single catch. The kind of feeling surpassed any other (Believe me for I have been through a gamut of emotions). This marked the beginning of romance with nets and waiting silently. The flour was arranged for they were the best bait after earthworms. This followed two more prize catches, local species. The good water kept decent level for four more days and we had fun unlimited. The fishing then gave way to relentless feast on the guava trees. The big melons were quite sumptuous. Moving through the crevices breaking fences and chupke se eating made for a memorable week. Alas! Memories will serve me till destiny makes the next trip.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007


Sometimes words fail you in spite of your urge to write something. Words have never been anyone’s slave, but my inability of picking a topic to write on made matters worse. Left with no choice, I commence.

Outside there was the usual hustle and bustle, inside was stirringly quite.

Outside there were the four directions whereas the inside was looking at the fifth direction.

It was dark and someone came around and sat besides me. In similar situations I would have been asked for a dance in the rain yet this time it was all different. Judging the gravity if it, it was decided to let the cries afloat once without the mask of rain.

Then, I staggered to look up and mumbled “I dunno…. Maybe….What if….” A series of incomprehensible nothings.

“You are no good”.

“Don’t let your brain and heart wreck”

“But something has to be done, can’t live on the shore of deserted island forever”

“Possibly the morrow has some better marks on the cards to free my brain”

“What about your heart?”

“Dunno, I am alright….”

“Lets keep arguing, maybe it will yield a result”

“How can talking possibly help in mending the wall?”

“Did that not let you in the hole?”

“But it was necessary….”

“It is necessary that you talk”

Suddenly a piece of crumpled paper in form of paper rocket blocked the vision.

“Even when crumpled to the last degree, this rocket never ceases to leak the joys while it traverses from one point to another. This worthless piece still finds no remembrance, the irony of fate!!!”

P.S It is the most incoherent a read as it ever gets to top it someone was pointing at the vocab prowess I presumably possess.

Sunday, April 15, 2007


Un raaho mein paaya maine apne aap ko

Chiraag bhi kam they jahan roshni ke liye

Lau mili thi dil ke deeye se

Phir bhi anjaan thi nigaahein sacchai se

Siskiyon ne nirjeev kiya marm se,

Zindagi nammin hui geele kaagaz mein

koi jalata bhi nahin koi bahata bhi nahin,

is qadar hain akele rahaon mein dil ki,

koi bulata bhi nahi koi batlata bhi nahin

Auron ne toh kya Rangon ne bhi bewaafai ka saath diya !!!!


The pic says it all.. Doesnt it??

Friday, April 06, 2007


Ever been in a situation where you curse and bless your present existence in same breath? Been in a position where you acquired a hell lot more than what you bargained for? I yearned for a little free time and I end up with the ocean of nothingness. Perhaps the only flaw in doing nothing is one doesn’t get to know when he is finished!

Nobody grudges earning a little “own-time”. Does this represent a reasoned judgement or merely foolishness, I wonder. Yet my mind reasons that “We may not be aware of the passing instants, but as we go on ceaselessly spending them, suddenly the term of life is on us”. Whereas my heart is adamant on the point that moments aren’t anymore passing they seem to have frozen. Well then am I to stare into oblivion with nothingness or completeness? Yes, I am reduced to a bundle of contradictions. Period.

I blink for umpteen number of times and frown at my helplessness. Claiming I miss football and badminton would be an understatement. Even the football videos have lost the sheen and I can’t possibly grasp why. The consoles of “GET WELL SOON” sound so acrimoniously acidic that I am prompted to retort as “It gives me immense pleasure in being crooked (physically)”. To couple up worries everyone suddenly seems all bustled up in daily chores that a neat dossier of chat is hard to come by. Yeah I am left to enjoy my vigil of loneliness!!!

Sunday, April 01, 2007


The tackle, the roll over, the twisted finger and the day seemed to stop. Rushed forth was I to the doctor, the pain reaching unbearable limits. Alas! Some hopes are best hope hopen. I tottered to my feet, trying to mask up a cheery benignity but to see a queue of ‘patient-friends’ called for appalling empathy. To top it all the ‘doctor-saab’ was busy with someone else (non-patients). I concluded I can be the master of all situations, until I feel helpless at the hands of the irony. Then with the silhouette of a hound he pounced upon the injured finger. Perhaps I was too casual in thinking that I commanded tender caressing; but hounds can only be blood hounds. Bearing the initial damage I was left at the hands of a merciless assistant. Led me to the X ray room and asked me to lie down on a stretcher hardly 4 feet long. As if this didn’t go down as irksome, he too let his medical hand do some checking. If it weren’t for the friends by the side I had every suspicion of my foot being demolished instead of getting polished!!!! At least the timelyPJs of theirs were keeping date with history and a respite from the brutal all side attack.

Round one confirmed I had dislocated my finger and it needed to be straightened up. Dislocated seems to be a very qualitative term. Curving of finger by right angles might sound more quantitative. The doc in pretence of getting my attention got on and awn with his gibberish without any effect. Then some sarcastic comment relating DAIICT and NIFT attracted some chuckles. I then realised some people are better off being strung up by thumbs. To add to the all the crap, he banded (at least tried to link) my moaning in pain with the loss of Indian cricket team in world cup!!!!!

Round three saw me again cuddled up (read lying) in the stretcher, and vacuous light emitting machine pin pointing the various angles of the my cursed fingers. As if solacing the wounded soldier I got another x ray and this time without a slight glitch. God Bless!!

Well I staggered to my feet thinking it’s done for good when he sentenced me to thoughts claiming me to visit him after a week. God Bless me!!!

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


After a lot of dilly-dallying the mind reconciled to the fact that the efforts did not deserve enough. Clarion call for New Year resolutions stems up from the veins and the eyes portray the burning desire to catapult back to normalcy. The dry leaf of hope this time around is buoyed by reason of mind. Marks had never been the litmus test for talent- I was a staunch disciple of the above statement. But when things go wrong when they are least expected to be more often than not, one really is bent to hope against hope. May be what I have been following was a utopia. Alas! Not all lovers live to romance in utopia.

Like the ripples in a pond the mind waves brought the leaf (reason) to the shore. If not the indicator it is probably the outlet to channel all the positive outbursts. Exams are perhaps the system to regulate sporadic nature to regular jinx. But then is it worth it??? Once in a blue moon cliché loses charm and life becomes the same old drab and mundane. Basically I am being a bundle of contradictions right now. After all sifting an equation to my favour is what I am trying when exams knock at the door a week away. This paradox may beat the Bertrand’s Paradox after all. Easy it may seem, but difficult to solve…Guys help!!!!!


A collective sort of amnesia grips the whole of mankind together when a few colossi take field to redraw the lines of imagination. To an aesthete the milestones left as prints seem insignificant when compared to the ageless beauty, breathtaking conception and dazzling lyricism of art. These are far too few rare moments when sports relegate over the earthly pastures to the celestial realm. When these sportsmen decide to call it a day the whole of mankind is united in celebration of their achievements but tears are bound to flow uncontrolled.

The past year had seen many giants of their respective sports hanging their boots in the twilight of their career. Michael Schumacher,Martina Navaritilova, Andre Aggasi, Shane Warne, Zinedine Zidane, Glen Mcgrath would virtually flat the globe and mesmerise every spectator with the baffling range of geniuses and perfection. Like aging culture restorer, all of the aforementioned players revitalized the game with the inputs of their own and breathed life in the seemingly monotonous walk. Not that their skills are too alien to us but every time they conjured magic we were left spell bound with the timing of the magic wand.

A very few modern sportsmen may have found as much inspiration in the face of adversity, as much light when surrounded by darkness, as has Shane Warne. The man had seemingly inexhaustible source to surprise and belie his critics (if there were any). The only bowler in Wisden's Top Five cricketers of the 20th century speaks volumes. Bowling with pin point precision from the back of the hand was perhaps a lost art had it not been for Warne. Mental toughness, superlative skills and one pointed drive drove him past the lesser mortals to the pedestal of great. The “Gatting Ball” will be treasured and adored world wide till someone of Warne’s calibre doesn’t come by and stretch imagination. Despite being a ‘bit of lad’ he perennially took the centre stage in field for 13 long and demanding years. His geniuses were summoned for the semi finales and the finals where he wrecked havoc to the South Africans and Pakistanis. Yet there he left smiling and cunning at the same time.

Schumacher! These days when another Michael (Scofield) is taking to the heart of people this Mike is quietly enjoying his personal drive. But it hasn’t been long when the chequered flags awaited the whistle of his engine. The improbable vision of a cut through, the mental toughness of steel he had in him all the abilities to rise the world. As to prove Sherlock right, (the hereditary genes are more pronounced in elder sibling than in younger) he just took the bastion and kept moving without the fear of looking back as to who is following or not. Such has been his predominance. The world has certainly seen the best driver over the years to have adorned the tracks.

Martina and Aggasi!!! Like undying spirit these extra ordinary sportsmen kept reminding age can’t precede the love. They kept coming and bewilder us. Simple reason being the things we expect from the game played by youngsters is gracefully warded off by them with a tick of never say die attitude. At the twilight of career one can hardly put their money on them to chase each ball down. But these were people above average, even above good. They carved a niche for themselves in the heart of fans and the tennis court.

The stories of extra ordinary battle on field of these two protagonists will long be etched in memory.

Zinedine Zidane!! Head butt?? Is that what he will be remembered for??? May be I am hearing some emphatic no’s already. If someone’s game is termed parallel to the poets imagery it would be a sheer insult if he goes down in the annals of history as a tempestuous guy. With a ballerina’s shift the ruses of Zizou along with the cleverly chipped pass and duck of shimmy will go down as one of the best things to have happened to world football the last decade. His presence was not all about individualistic, he commanded respect and inspired players to shed indifferent form and come up with best. The law-breaking, convention-shattering instinct in superstars such as Zidane makes us admire his guile even at the sub conscious level.

Glen Mcgrath!! Perhaps a word has been coined to mean same as much as pin point accuracy. Talent!! Even talent as special as that possessed by Mcgrath — is a rather fragile thing. Hard work, Overs come and go by but the ball finds no other place to land on except where directed by ‘the PIGEON’.Yet, there he is, atop Mount Mcgrath, breathing in the rarefied air as if born to do it, and looking good to scale another big summit. As democratic as sport is at one level, at another it gloriously magnifies inequality. Just compare Mcgrath -clean, disciplined, hard working with the wayward, impetuous pace bowlers of his era…Well, forget it, there is no comparison.