Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Poem: For Kohl's Sake

For the painter,
who created this abstract so aesthetic;
For the musician,
who composed this song so sympathetic;
For the poet,
who penned down this poem so rhyming;
For the illusionist,
whose incantations made it so mesmerizing;
And for the kohl’s sake,
I’ll never let your tears congregate,
into a salty lake. 

For your Eyes,
so affable and yet so enigmatic;
For your Voice,
that I listen to everyday, so acoustic;
For your shoulders,
which divide my burden, so agile;
For your lips,
which smile to make me smile;
And for the Kohl’s sake,
I’ll not let that smile fade,
to silly reasons of heart-break.

For the blues,
that I played in your dearth;
For the disparagement,
which brought me down to earth; 
For the malefaction,
which pricked to make me anaesthetic;
For the lies,
to treasure our bond was so plastic;
And for the kohl’s sake,
I forgive you for being equivocal 
and pretending like a fake. 

For the fairy tales,
that we imagined, so melodramatic;
For the nocturnal talks,
when we shared our notions, so telepathic;
For the embracing hugs,
when you were overjoyed, so euphoric; 
For the hilarious gags,
when we laughed out loud, so sarcastic;
And for the kohl’s sake,
I’d never want to share you
even for the biggest piece of cake,
never for the kohl’s sake. 

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Poem: A disciple's tribute

Hello Reader,

This poem is dedicated to all the teachers of my life.

I was like clay,
unshaped and useless.
On my first birthday,
I cursed the lord,
"Why no God gifts for me, Oh! God."
and He replied,
"Parents are your first teachers
and teachers are your second parents".
What else do you want?

And soon I realized what he meant
when in shaping me,
all their time my teachers spent.
In making a better Me
and a world free of rust,
teachers inhaled less of oxygen
and more of chalk dust.

Even if I tried to fail
they kissed my palms
but with a wooden scale.
And loaded me with lots of love
in form of assignments and surprise test
but only to bring out my very best.
Also in the most boring lectures
I learnt so many lessons
not the subject but a lot about patience.

From ABCD the alphabets
to ABCD the parameters
they taught me all.
They held my hand throughout
and never let me fall.

I was like clay
unshaped and useless
and they molded me into a creature
For your hard work and time
Thank you, Teacher.


Friday, August 17, 2012

Poem: We are hungry

Hello Reader

1. Politician says...
We are not hungry,
but who denies the desserts?
Vote for our party,
you'll love our efforts.
We are all like a family,
helping our deceased, aged mother.
All we need is your blessings,
Big Brother,
pocket-full of currency
and a black leather blazer.
Forget our records,
why to dig the graves of the past?
We fell in the politics of blame game,
all the allegations were simply lame.
We follow the Mahatma,
we believe in patience.
We'll soon be better
than all other nations.
There will be smile, in every next door,
there will be no distress.
just be  with us till the end,
your work is in progress.

2. Common Man says...
We are hungry
but too lazy to cook.
For that we voted some faithful workers,
they all turned out to be crook.
We are resilient and helpless,
just like our deceased, aged mother.
You decide our fate,
we are like those amphibians,
we can sustain in any habitat,
First it were the outsiders,
Now it is you, leaders of our own race,
left us in a mode called disable.
All we can do
is discuss the nation's doom, at the tea table.
We wait for a hero to bring the change,
as doing such a task
is out of our range.
We follow the Mahatma,
we see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
We don't want our hands to be dirty,
or bring any kind of stain on our clean and white veil.

3. Activist says...
And we are hungry 
but for a national cause.
In a hope to change things
though they don’t care about our loss.
We’ll keep fighting
for our deceased, aged mother.
Instead of enduring your cruelty,
we’d die, rather.
We follow the Mahatma, 
we believe in truth.
If you greedy gluttons disagree, 
we’d enlighten the youth.
Every time we try; 
you make sure, we fail.
And before we could scratch, 
you don’t let us grow our nail.
Enough is enough.
It’s time to revisit the August revolution,
nobody can stop our flight to take off.
It is the only path, only solution,
to never let the lantern turn off.


You might also like: Poem: A walk through the future | Rags and Riches

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Parvaaz: Takes you on a high

Two years ago, they performed at our college's fest 'Anaadyanta' as one of the participants in the event called 'battle of bands'. They won and it was not a surprise as all the rest of the bands sounded similar. But, Parvaaz stood out ‘coz of their unique compositions and genre. The psychedelic Sufi Rock Band performed once again at our college fest two years later when they were full-fledged artists. And today, they are launching their first Album ‘Behosh’.

It really feels good to witness and follow such artists from their very beginning. And as the lead-singer, Khalid Ahmed said at our college gig, “we started our journey from this college, on this stage.”

In their first performance at our college, two years back, they had performed two of their songs ‘Azaadi’ and ‘Balma’. The songs had a viral effect on the audience. Later, after the event the song somehow got circulated via phone to phone. God bless the person who recorded it. People were humming the songs as if they have been hearing those songs from ages.

I was lucky to meet them this year at our college gig and I was also given the job to take them to the lunch before their highly-awaited performance and to have such people in my facebook friend list.

And the same night, finally, we once again, witnessed their gig. As soon as they finished their sound check, nobody could stop themselves from running towards the stage and banging their heads as we went high on their celestial music. Apart from the accoustic guitar (Khalid Ahmed), electric guitar (Kashif Iqbal), Bass guitar (Fidel D’souza) and Drums (Sachin Banandur), they also used some very rarely used instruments whose name even I don’t know.

But, all I know is that those instruments were very classy and gave a very extraordinary feel to their music and also reflected the unique touch which is required. The lyrics were as penetrating as the music. It grows on you slowly and even before you notice, you would be singing along with the band. That’s the magic they create.

So, this is the one band which you should certainly not miss. I am very much looking forward for ‘Behosh’ and I am sure this band, in next two years, more or less, will be one of the leading Indian Rock bands. Just like Swarathma, Indian Ocean, Parikrama, this band has its own uniqueness which will take their flight into the cloud number nine and beyond.  

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Your television is crying

Hello Reader

Are all the good writers dead? Are all the good actors dead?
What has happened to the realistic shows such as Malgudi days, Office-Office etc?

Switch on your TV and tune into any Indian channel on a weekday, the first thing you observe is a heavily loaded (with makeup, flashy jewelry and weight) women excreting waterfalls from their eyes and drum beats with temple-bells buzzing in the background. As if God is being cruel to them lifelong and as if they have been seeing only downs and facing hurdles all their life. Oh! please, shut that plastic emotions up. I seriously want to belt the writers of these daily operas. Broadcasting at national level, do they have no sense of writing a real story? If there were a law, these writers would have been given death sentence for writing those senseless, baseless dramas garnished with overacting by the people who try to act. Just to bring a new twist and spice in the tale, the complete theme of the story gets converted into a melodrama even though the show's actual purpose was to meet social issues. If there are 10 shows being broadcast ed on an entertainment channel, 8 of them have the same taste of family drama...containing a huge family living a larger-than-life life. There would be family living a lavish life in a palace or if they have to tell the story of a middle class people, the family would be living in a Mumbai based chaal or slum.

Oh! naive art directors, have you never lived a normal life?  Due to lack of creativity, even the titles are lifted from the old retro songs. And why do they keep on crying? IS there nothing that makes them happy.. or do they cry because of low pay they get. There is too much of negativity in these shows. Why can't they showcase a story that brings smile? And why isn't there no end to a TV show? it keeps on going...decades of crying. Uh! it does make a huge impact on the viewer's life too. A huge percentage of population watches these shows, not because they like it.

Now coming to music channels, MTv and Vtv used to be music channels some years ago. Following the trend, even these so-called youthful channels have been running these dramas.  The real music is lost.
Reality in these shows is hard to find. Reality in reality shows is even hard to find. To attract audience by creating unwanted drama, the real life stories of people are narrated in a filmy way... to gain cheap T.R.P.
Not only reality shows does that but even news channels. God save those news channels who create stupidest news you can ever imagine and actually dare to broadcast it. The range of their creativity is high though...they have been telling us the news of Aliens kidnapping farmer's cows. So it includes kidnapping, aliens, cow and drama. Now do I put that channel under news, entertainment, science, spiritual or just grabage.
Oh yes, how can i forget the spiritual channels. They are the ones who have been making fool out of television watchers. Recently, fortunately, the frauds such has Nirmal Baba have been unveiled who have been talking shit all day in these channels. Now here's the question Who the hell allows them and gives them space to do that on a national TV? It's like promoting con-men in open. Making fool out of people, telling lies publicly is stealing one's right to know the truth. 

I don't know about others but I am certainly fed up of these TV shows. Apart from some, rest all are simply lame.

We really require a lot better and creative story writers.
Indian television should grow up. Really, ASAP!

The 'endangered' Indian Sports

Ask them to name the players of the Indian cricket team and you won't be dissapointed as they'll have your answer in a blink.  The challenge begins when you ask them to name at least half of the players of the hockey team. By the way, hockey is supposed to be the national sport. Indian hockey team has won the highest number of Gold medals in the Olympic history and yet they have not been given much of the importance they deserve. People are so much indulged in spending time and money on cricket that they have almost forgotten that there are other sports to be looked upon. The amount and profit gained over cricket is more than all other sports taken together in India. May be this is the reason why sports are called sports and Cricket is considered as a religion. Taking advantage of this madness, the concerned authorities collaborating with business tycoons are making more money since the inception of county cricket leagues like IPL and ICL. They want to squeeze out every drop of what can be taken out of the this game like a child who sips out every drop of a fruit juice of a tetra pack till it gets completely squeezed and unshaped. Once known a gentleman's game, cricket, now is just a source of entertainment and gaining money, with no fair play and spirit. Joining the party are the evils like betting and ultimately, match fixings.
With a population so large, India could stand no where in other sports such as athletics. Football in India has never been taken seriously. The kind of comfort and attention that the cricketers get is never enjoyed by the other sportsmen.
SO far, out of 25 Olympic games, India could win only 20 medals taking all the games together.
The only reason I see is the bad facility and lack of sponsors in these 'endangered' sports.
If the national level players are treated so badly that they have to sell their medals for living, nothing can be worse. And seeing all this, even if someone is interested in joining a sport would be so demoralized that he would rather join his family business. That is like killing a sportsman.
The enormous amount of money spent on cricket, even if half of it is spent on building a proper sports facility in every state of India, giving proper fitness and physical training, the face of Indian sports will be completely different in coming ages. The youth could be motivated to join the sports they are interested in and get proper training in that particular sport. Auditions can be taken just like those talent hunt shows and the winners could be selected for higher level sport competitions.
But No, what will someone gain from winning a stupid medal? We the people are more practical. What will we do by gaining respect in the world level? We are poor people and all we want is money. Can't help.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Poem: Back into Harmony

She was always around me,
but anonymous was she,
under the hood,
a locked treasure.
I wish, I snatched her then
and left no regrets remain.
If only, I had found the right key,
had I written the right note on the staff,
up had been my life’s graph.

Love was always in my kit,
but masquerading was it,
behind the veil,
bag full of gold.
I wish, I played together, black and white,
Had I made all pieces fall in the place right.
Those were omens, the singing birds
and the old Radio, my friend.
If only, I listened.

Music was always there,
lost somewhere in the air.
All I had to do is knit the harmony,
to turn monotony into euphony.
The strings are now attached
and my heart now skips a beat
in melodious rhythm and retreat.
It sounds like percussion,
a bell rings
and pushes me on my way, to conquer my Passion.


You Might Also Like: Zero Mile

Friday, March 2, 2012

Poem: A walk through the future

Hello Reader

This evening I was in my hostel and near a washroom I heard the sound of water flowing out of a tap. Someone might have left it open. So, I just went and closed it. Then I realized that there would be so many taps in different corners of this world which would be leaking, left open or even tap-less wasting a huge amount of usable water.
And one day this will lead to a huge water crisis.
Then we also have, to make the scene more uglier and intense, air pollution, deforestation, CFC gases killing ozone, etc

So here is a small poem on the same.
My recent researches on Time Travelling have helped tell you the tale from a sci-fi angle. :)
here it goes...

When it began,
it certainly was a dream,
but now he knew, it wasn't.
He was witnessing the tomorrow, today.
Travelled to the future,
where everyday was a doomsday.
No rain since ages and impotent soil,
all he could see was chaos and turmoil.
The world war three was about to trigger,
and nations debated over the last drop of water.
To peep into his future, he was so keen.
'Is this what I wished to see?', he thought.
What a waste of a Time Machine.

When it began,
it certainly was a dream,
but now he knew, it wasn't.
He saw a fish in the pond,
too much stoned to respond.
He explored, but negative.
There was no butterfly.
Everything was blue, except the sky.
Nothing was green, expect the Battleships and Military.
On the positive note, smokers stopped taking tobacco puff,
the corrupted air was poisoned enough.
The count of holes on the ozone were now umpteen.
'Is this what I wished to see?', he thought.
What a waste of a Time Machine.

When it ended,
he knew, it was a nightmare.
But now he is wide awake and well aware.
It is time to save water, petroleum,
and the endangered ones.
Unless they are to be kept at a museum,
for the generations to learn about their heir.
World should unite for it's longevity,
as fighting over nuclear issues, isn't fair.
The Mayan's prophecy can still be jinxed.
The holes on the ozone can still be fixed.
The forests on the earth can still be green.
"Not my past, but I can write my future!', he thought.
For showing me my future, Thankyou, Time Machine.


Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Poem : Rags and Riches

Hello Reader,

Few days ago, I was watching an Old bollywood classic called 'Boot Polish'.
This movie is basically about poverty in India which revolves around two orphaned kids who rely on begging and later decide to earn by polishing the shoes of the people.
It was in 1950s this movie was made and the children in the movie dream of a future India with no Beggars and poverty.
But, sad to say, today in India, more than 75% people earn less than average income. (100 rs.)

Reasons : Corruption and Illiteracy. The same old.

Some have no food to eat at all and some are unhappy about the dis-satisfactory garnishing on their food.

So here is a small poem dedicated to the same topic and to the children who are unfortunate to born poor and remain uneducated and poor. I wish, People, who are capable of earning enough to live a daily routine, spend a little on the Poor too instead of spending all on self comforts.

Here it goes...

He looked,
through his naive eyes,
at the Creamy people on the Earth.
The minority crowd,
enjoying the handsome lifestyle,
from the day of their Birth.
He knew he was the majority,
deprived of the primal Needs.
He did anything but beg,
wiped tables, earned a little,
but through his Deeds.

He looked,
through his naive eyes,
at the fortunate, driving cars, walking into malls,
and coming out with shopping bags.
But all he hoped was to get upscaled,
a bit more than Rags.
To kill his hunger, sleep under a roof,
dress in a school uniform,
is all wants in his share.
building a thousand castles in the air.

He looked,
through his naive eyes,
at the trees, walking backwards,
on his way to the orphanage.
He soon had friends, food and fosterage.
Then the day breezed in,
when he met an angel.
The seraph advanced his hands
and claimed,
"I promise you a life without agony,
I am your new father, little Johnny."

* * *
He looked,
through his merciful eyes,
out of the rolled down mirror of his car,
at the pitiful, skinny boy,
wiping the table.
The scene he witnessed,
was a mirror of his own tale.
Teardrop flew down his cheek,
when his own past gave out a shriek.
The little dreams he saw as a kid,
were still like the unfertilized seeds in an orchid.

He looked,
through his merciful eyes,
with handful of shopping bags,
at his deprived childhood,
which still, unstoppably, nags.
Today, He had every felicity.
But, yesterday gave him insecurity.
To build the bridge to his withered dreams,
he had to find a bandage.
His salvation lied in fostering his past,
which lied in the Orphanage.
He found the same little, skinny boy,
sitting at one corner.
"What is your name?"
And the reply came in agony,
in his jittery voice,
"I- I am Johnny."


Thursday, February 9, 2012

Poem: Zero Mile

Hello Reader,

Valentines Day is near and to contribute to this season, here is a small poem. Hope you like.

"At every dawn,
she came, with anguish,
she couldn't hide
and sat on the riverside.
Opening her diary,
she penned down her blues,
to win versus her sorrows and woes.
Once done with her storytelling,
she would leave with a convincing Smile.

Me, from the other side of the stream,
would adore her innocence, her charm.
Every sunset, I would wait for her
and try to give a sign, an alarm.
The sun sat, and so did the hope,
everytime she got up to elope.
For once, I thought,
"Would she ever notice me?"
as the distance was that of a Mile.

Then the calender turned,
to the blessed day,
when we met, eye to eye.
Trust me, it was as whimsical as a lullaby.
I waved to her, she waved back,
a moment that nobody could hack.
From then on, every dusk was salvation,
WE would play, chat and translate in gesticulation.
The days were pacific for me, for her,
that she came, with a cheerful cast,
and return back with a Smile.

This splendid connection,
of shore to shore,
survived only for days of four.
She was standing on her bank,
showing off her engagement ring,
glittering, just like the teardrop in her eye,
narrating me the story of the mousetrap,
of ordeals, forced by her family and ally.
She gestured me to meet her in the deep.
She stepped in and so did I,
as we had no time to weep.
The earth didn't, but the water homed our love,
where the distance, between the banks,
was zero Mile."

Ashish :)

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Pani Puris of Life

Hello Reader

If you have never enjoyed the high class luxuries like owning a penthouse with all high class facilities, rich bright colored, white shaded walls with famous paintings hanging on them, having bath in a jacuzzi, cuddling with your chihuahua, a rich wardrobe, having lunch at the most 'Englishly' civilized restaurant with the most lavish ambience, going to shop at Varsace and Louise Vuitton showrooms in your Audi, don't be deluded because you have encountered better events in your life. This sophisticated, well-bred lifestyle may really look good from the outside but trust me, real fun is in living down to earth.

It is just incomparable.

Eating your meal at a place with only noise coming out of the forks and spoons touching the plate, people silently swallowing in food with turkish napkins rigged to their collars or laps and the dining hall too shining with the perfect decor and the mannered and educated waiters can't be compared to the pani puri and other junk stalls on the roadside where you are served on wet, unhygienic plates and spoons with oily, unhealthy eatables mixed with a little bit of sweat, dust and automobile exhaust.

Ordering your well-dressed driver to the destination sitting back comfortably with all updated magazines and daily newspapers in the back door panel of your stylish sedan, with perfect inside atmosphere and temperature maintained by the air conditioner, just right amount of silence or music adjusted on your mood and tinted glasses to prevent you from the sunlight can't be compared to your struggle and fight to get the seat in a public bus, crowded so much that there is not even a little space to rest your foot, then hanging inside the bus with all varieties of people surrounding you, stinking with sweat, drunkards and in between the conductor whistling and fighting with you asking for the change.

Certainly the former is more humane, correct and cultured. But the real bliss is in the fight for the seat, the spice in the junk. One feels complete only after going through all that annoyance and discomfort. The value of water can only be felt after a long day of tedious hard work. Similarly, pleasure lies in such small things.
A smile from an unknown person, waving out to the crowd through the window, dancing in the rain, spending time with your loved ones rather than your new iPad and all other 'Me Gusta' jobs.
The spicy taste of Pani Puri!

Friday, January 20, 2012

In the name of God?

Hello Reader

Salman Rushdie, the famous booker-prize winner author had to leave an important literature festival at Jaipur as he was threatened to be killed by some Muslim groups. All this started when Salman's book 'the Satanic Verses' was released and got controversial because of its content. And it was said that it had hurt the sentiments of the Muslims. Salman had to face a fatwa branded on him by Darul Uloom Deoband.
A few weeks ago the Hindu Holy Scripture, the religious book 'Bhagvad Gita' was banned in Russia as Russians had a say that it contained certain inappropriate verses. Which lead o some discomfort in Indo-Russian relations and lead to lot of debates.
Many years ago, number of scientists were killed by the roman catholic church because the work of scientists, as per the church, was against the god. They said that the world, the universe, created by God cannot be simplified using silly scientific, mathematical equations.

So basically, from all these years, people have been killing one another for their Gods, to show their devotion to their religion. Their faith in God and their religious protocols win over their faith in the other fellow humans. They kill someone of their kind for someone whom they have never seen. And then same kind of people say God is everywhere. Oh yeah? Then you just killed your God, buddy.

Or I would say it is just a way to cover up the real reason behind the killings.
It is not what God wants you to do, its what your inner evil wants you to do.

So many sacrifices, women, children have died in the religious riots. They are countless.
Instead of praising the literary work or scientific achievements, people watch out for how something can be converted into a controversy on the basis of religion and call it 'against our rules'. Why do they call themselves secular then? and what about freedom of speech?

Young Muslim guys are trained and taught about the old fatwas and about the Jihad. Kasab is a snake, who has sprouted out of such a laid egg. They make terrorists in the name of god.

If there really is any God, he would be crying looking at how his name is being used to carry out the work of Satan.

Love, Humanity, Peace, Music are the religions to be followed which are unbiased. There can be walls between two territories but not in the hearts of people. I don't think any other religion teaches the Lesson of equality. If it did, The World would have been a better place to live.


Engineering: public transport

Every year, in India, almost 35000 students aspiring to be engineers get selected into IITs or NITs. Actually, more than 10 lakh people try to get into these prestigious institutes every year. But, only 3.5 to 4 % of the massive crowd gets this opportunity. Here, I will talk about the rest 95 % of the students because I, myself fall in that category. These people either join other good, bad, average, government, private institutes or take drop for a year.

Now, every private institute claims to give the best. Best faculty, best laboratory facilities, best hostel and best placements. When you go for the counselling, you find every college has its own stall, like that you find in fun fairs, boasting their pros and previous achievements. It is almost like a sabzi mandi with representatives at the stall screaming “le lo le lo admission le lo, humara college best”. After you get brainwashed through these advertisements, you go into the main counselling room where you wait for your turn, as per you rank, to select the college you want. When you reach at the final table, you get about 2 minutes time to decide which college you wish to get belted in for the next four years. Just 2 minutes to decide your future. Even if you had decided to opt for which branch in which college, there is no surety of that seat to remain unfilled. Once you lock your choice of college and branch, you are kicked out of the main hall to make you realize your place in the crowd.

On the first day at college, you start attending lectures, you meet your new classmates and you are also introduced with the giant syllabus to be crossed in one semester. But you may feel good about the new college, new friends and a new start. This goes on for a while, the ‘feel-good’ moment. Soon it disappears as you find it is just repeating. You keep on reading and reading about the concepts of different theories of how things work and a few mathematical problems related to it. There really is no practical approach. They teach a concept and formulae related to it but never tell you where exactly it can useful in the daily life. You somehow learn the concept, understand it and clear the exam. Is that all? What they tell us certainly helps us score marks and clear the exams but what is the application of it? Where do you apply it? It is hardly taught anywhere.

At a point in your engineering, you find that it is just a formality to sit in the class, to listen to lectures and write exams, by hook or crook. After four years of so called struggle, you have a degree but not much of technical knowledge. For the four years, all that you do is read and read and do nothing that can be called practical.

Where is it taking you to?
What does one do after getting the degree?
Now, you stand in the middle of crossroads where you have umpteen options.
Even after finishing engineering, except for few, most of them those who get a job end up at an IT company regardless of their branch. Until and unless one has a technical job relative to his field of study, all that he studied for the last four years seems a waste.
All that you studied helps you clear your job interview but never after that.
Instead of just loading up the student’s minds with only stories and facts, there should be more about tackling the problems in real time.

Today, anybody can get engineering degree. There is no value of an engineer as much as it should be. An engineer is one who makes other people's life easy and keeps them happy. They are creators. But, now if there is nothing else to do and someone wants to be a graduate, first option he think for is to be an engineer...even if he has to sit in his daddy's grocery shop for the rest of his life.

It is like a Public transport bus which every one wants to board whether there is any seat or not. And public transport buses are always full. It has 50 seats, but takes in 80 people. Rest travel pulling, pushing and hanging through out the journey. But anyways everybody reaches the destination.

But it is true that, in the four years of engineering, an engineer, if interested, can learn a lot more than engineering. It is a lifetime in itself and teaches one to live life and how to manage things even in the last minute, how to adjust even if there is a cast away kind of situation. It all depends on the learner.