Tuesday, December 25, 2012

My curly emotions...

My emotions- Where had I left them long ago,
Don't even remember when I did let them go...

These emotions were like my hair,
the curls falling down my cheeks to snare.
And never did I realize they netted me so close,
But I was the one who made them deliberately go.

Life has brought them back,
As a gift for me,
A gift- I should have preserved throughout,
throughout the alchemy.

I had lost the feeling of love,
had lost the sense of oneness,
in the soreness of an abscess.
Now when they are back, I want them to stay,
whatever come it may.
Because they make me see the love I hold through these emotions,
Which were lost during those commotions.

May be, it’s someone who has come,
Come to fathom my emotions,
And led me to combat my own implosions.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

To my little adorable neice- Aarna

Little Aarna


Your deep eyes brighten my day,
You naughty smile take my worries away,
Your little intricate games wash my tears away.

I forget my tauts when I see you chuckling,
I get exhilarated to see you frolicking.
We dance, and we play,
You take from me, my years away.
You don't let me rest when I am there,
And I can't see you sleep while I am awake.
You are yet not 2, and I am far beyond 22.

But still we are always as excited as childhood friends,
Waiting to see each other every weekend.

Little sweetheart, you are still a toddler to understand what "Love" is,
But yet you express it in the most perfect way.
I love you.

Monday, November 28, 2011

My miserliness to my own life...

Pure, originally uploaded by me2myself(Vaishali).
My inner world is calling out

to evacuate the stinginess I hold for it.

Because I forgot it in the insanities of the out curls

My pleasures now driven by dampness of the futile small things.

Tasting the superficial jaggery, I forgot the taste of the pure dew.

I forgot the ambrosia which takes me to my evolution

from this rugged body to my immortal soul

to quench the thirst of love for my eternal lord.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Do not exploit, give yourself some rest...

From my cuticles to my toes,
They all tell me their woes
They ask me for some pamper,
but how selfish I am, I ignore.
I crucify them to so much pains,
But the prodigal me can't satisy them with the color paints.
There is something more than just exuberance that they need.
Rest and peace is what they want me them to feed.
I prostrate them from every dawn till the late dusk,
Till it pains underneath their husk.
From the epoch when the sparrows crook,
Till the time the bats shook.
I exploit them for longest hours,
But I forget that they are my own part.

One day when they give me back the same heck,
I will be underneath the most fervent wreck.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Take me back in Time...

There was a life full of energy, full of peace and also full of chaos, but still that time had been the best time of my life. Even today the life unfolds the excitement and the sadness as the same deck of cards, in the same unexpected way. Today also, there is a mystery with each new day, a new feeling - good or bad. But still I say that time had been the best time of my life.

If I ever ask myself -Why that time had been the best time of my life? I would resonate and tell the same thing "because that time had given me the people for my lifetime, with whom I want to re-live those moments again and again and tell myself - I want to go back in time". And believe me when I am with those lifetime friends, I actually re-live those memoirs. If I look out the same porch with them now where we have grown up together, the air becomes as lively as it was then, and I feel young again. For that moment I forget that it was a past because my today is what I enjoy as much as my past. And it seems that the numerical number of the years in my life had gone back in time, and I am younger again.

To be honest, whenever we friends meet, we wish to have a time machine which can let us go back in time (It may sound frivolous for oldies like us from early 80's to talk like that, but that's true. We still do that). But if I re-think, we have that time machine with us because we still re-live those memories now as well when we are together.

I don't know if I would have the opportunity in my future as well to enjoy this back in time mode, but one thing is for sure - whenever in time ahead I visit that porch alone, I will still miss those memoirs and would cry at my heart for not being able to re-live those memoirs with the friends who have made it so special for me so that I can say that time had been the best time of my life.

Friday, July 29, 2011

The words are fading...

The words are fading for me,
the power in them, the emotions husked in those,
the words of love, and the words of abhor.  

The words that I now say,
are not so buoyant, not so irate
, and nevertheless so grey.  
No longer they are poignant, no longer they so glee
, and just as bland as they can flee.

Have I lost an expression,
or do I comprehend silence?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Broken Wings...

Flight, originally uploaded by me2myself(Vaishali).

I am struggling to fly,

careworn by my broken wings.

But Thy said to me – Fly, fly as much as you can.

Fly, as if you feel is the last day today,

with the broken wings I gave you.

Fly, but not in a way I taught you, or somebody else did.

There is something new you can do with these.

Fly, and make it your supermacy, and your art,

And let every kind say - You are a master, a master of the broken pieces.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Save water!

Save water!, originally uploaded by me2myself(Vaishali).

जल - एक अमूल्य शक्ती जो जनजाति के जीने का आधार हैं

एक ऐसी शक्ती जो जनसमूह को हिलाने की शमता रखती हैं

इसके अभाव में, लोग अपना गाँव छोड़ देते है

और इसके अत्यधिक प्रवाह में, गाँव के गाँव ढेह जाते हैं

इसलिए इस प्राकृतिक संपत्ति के साथ खिलवाड़ ना कीजिये

इस आवश्यक तत्व को आने वाली पीड़ी के लिए बचा के रखिये

वर्ना हर पानी की बूँद आपसे कहेगी

जिसे आप आज तो सुन पा रहे हैं

पर शायद कल को यह बूँद आप की आवाज़ ना सुन पाए


एक धुआँ उठा

और अवशेष छोड़ गया मेरे अंदर

अंदर ही अंदर राख बनता गया यह मेरा शरीर

और यह राख कब बारूद बनी, महसूस ही नहीं  हुआ..

आज जीना चाहता हूँ

लेकिन जी ना पा रहा हूँ मैं

सिर्फ़ कुछ साँसे बाकी है

बस यही कह सकता हूँ - “जब मैं जला - तब पता चला”

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Standing against corruption and supporting Anna Hazare!

Anna Anna! you have raised a lamp towards the cacophony of corruption
A corruption that has been brewed
into the blood of few leaders who should be screwed
You are an old man with the voice of youth
A soul fighting with the nation’s uncouth
...You are not alone in this strife
The whole nation is supporting you in rife
We appreciate your heckle
And thank you for enlightening us before these baddies speckle.
Anna Hazare, 73, a retired army person and now a  social activist, has gone on fasting unto death, unless the govt. passes the Lokpal Bill. He is doing this for our generation, for our youth.

Let's spread the word and support him!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Nature's love...

Nature's love, originally uploaded by me2myself(Vaishali).

I was lying lazy,
during the late hours in the mazy.
Little light was juggling to enter my room,
to remove the darkness and the gloom.

Suddenly I heard some smacking on the door,
I was juggled by the rage of the roar,
And I rushed to explore.
Some heavy drops thrashed my cheeks,
and calmed down the bitter shrieks.
I felt solaced,
as the cool drops embraced.
It made me feel loved and fondled,
By the nature’s beauty that cuddled.

It was a beautiful rain,
a little clumsy over the lane.
A heavy pour that God had sent,
to awaken my sleeping soul,
And to fill the moment with freshness and content...

Monday, April 4, 2011

My Friend...

Let me try,
and leave me alone,
let me take a shower of tears
and be on my own.
Grab a corner,
watch me wordlessly,
just be a mute shadow,
but don't go away, please.
Want you to stay by me
forever, ever and ever.

Thanks for always being there...

Monday, March 14, 2011

When I stepped back...

Delhi traffic..., originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

Her growling made me thunderstruck
I tried to altercate
but could not voice up for longer
And my hands and legs started to quiver stronger.

Her face bulged out while she howled.
Her eyes were extra wide
with her eye buttons appearing almost out of her otherwise beautiful white face
And during this long she did not seem to be from the same human race
I thought to grow up my voice again
but my attempt went in vain.
Next moment I just sat down
My words were now blurred as I had lost the energy to reciprocate.

Soon I realized it had gone beyond the spheres
I stopped, stepped back and moved away with tears.

And this was end of some heinous unknown.

Friday, March 11, 2011

The Chisel of the Soul

Sculpture, originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

The day you know
You hold the chisel
the chisel for your soul
You can emboss, carve
, and embellish it with the kohl.

And so is how you can in-sculpt
the creature lying within you
And furbish a shapeless, texture less piece of stone
into a magnificent piece of paragon.

As a pure soul you emerge
an innocent, flawless art by Thee
which has now been carved
to be able to merge within the Almighty.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

These days...

Impediment, originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

These days, my mind is full of thoughts
and my heart is plethora of feelings
To let them flow out, I desire to put them on paper
but there is some friction, some impediment from within
which makes me keep them off to myself.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Seemed like an eternity...

train..., originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

Everyday every alternate train from my station
Leaves for my destination.
But today the epoch has stopped for me
Every two minutes I see one coming
But each of them to a destination
where I do not want to go.
I sit waiting and wondering
Does any train to my destination exist any longer?
Or is it me who is in illusion from long, seeing them come and go
And the clock has moved only a second during this what I felt as a lifetime.

Has anyone else felt the same,
and sensed this unknown duration as eternity?

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The Woman...

The Woman, originally clicked by Mohit Gupta.

Thou tell the woman
- the life is thine.
A tribute to the God,
a woman is shrine.
The most beautiful architecture by Thee..
The most delicate, honest and an idol of love is she.
Marvellous distinct roles she play,
as a mother, daughter or spouse, she portray.
Doesn't matter through what relation she touches your life,
her presence in your existence is more than rife.

Her smile dodges your loneliness,
Her touch blurs the fear,
Her delicacy amazes,
and her care brings you the peace.

Feel proud and fortunate,
and say thanks to the God
for giving you, the woman of your life...

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Looking out...

I am a window, a window to the world.

Through me, the light from the world out permeates in,
and the darkness from in flows out,
And nobody knows where they merge.

Some eyes stand by me to watch out.
Sometimes I see blues in those eyes.
To hide the tears from the people in,
they look through me to the world out,
to amalgamate those blues,
in the outside hues.

Looking out are some tiny smiles,
the gleam of the blush, eclipsed under the veil.
From the world in, the pinkness of the cheeks they conceal,
to brew these tiny smiles
in the cacophony of the world out.

The tragic yet beautiful world outside
is fast, galloping in its own pace.
And the mundane world in,
crawls when I want it to race.
How much these worlds contrast,
but somewhere they have to coalesce.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

I am lost in reminiscences...


Some old memories
clasp me deeper
and I want to live in those memoirs,
with the people I love and lost.
In such vast world
and so many acquaintances
I am wandering,
searching for ones I love and lost.
No phone calls, no emails
and no letters reach them.
But just the prayers, I hope.

I miss you papa...

Monday, November 29, 2010

What's wrong?

It hurts..., originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

Why can't you express
when someone thinks you are wrong,
but the other person does not know the truth
and you are too tired of explaining the throng.
Your gestures are now fake,
and you tell-
yes it might have been my mistake.
Just to avoid further repulsions,
you put a full stop to all the discussions.
It is a viscous maze you discover,
And you stop being the shover.

Does it happen with anyone else as well?

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

If I try...

A new tomorrow ahead..., originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

If I try
what not could be done.
With the determination I have
obstacles would be fun.

I tried my best in the past,
But that was not the best of my vast.
No matter I did not succeed,
in the pursuits I heed.
But I still have my today,
to fight my fray.

This time I don't want to back feet,
It is a new tomorrow I want to greet.
A hundred times I stepped back and forth,
Though I know, more wait is worth.

When I walk away,
shall you see the same sun's sheen
This is what every hour I whim.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Sit back and relax...

Sometimes life becomes so interesting when you let the world move ahead fast, while you decide to sit back on a resting chair, sip your tea and observe the people running around.  There is so much you can see and analyze which you really cannot when you are one of those in the crowd. Sitting back, you tend to observe every small thing, enjoy the small complicated yet beautiful world.

How does it work when you are in a complicated situation? Just take a sip of your tea and let your thinking bubbles say “Hey this guy! Why can’t he be chill and think over this matter once again”. And you would notice that you are so calm at this time instead of muddling over the situation like this other guy.  And believe me this situation looks a little funny too when you notice the whole complicated colorful drama from a black and white little corner when you feel no one is observing you but your are observing every little thing around.

But how does it happen? How can I live in my own world in a panicking situation? Does that mean I have to be absent minded in the present and be an analyst sitting on my “chair”? Actually you do “not” have to be absent minded. But yes your mind is now doing two things. Firstly, it is listening in the present. It does not necessarily mean that you have to listen to everything being said nor does it mean that you drop few of the things being said, off from your ear. It means that absorb whatever is required to know the situation and rest of the things which asks you to react in the panicking situation, just filter them for some time. So you have listened to everything but not absorbed all. Since when you start reacting to some situation, you senses are occupied more in reactions than in the resolution to your problem. So they tend to take away your thinking brain for some time, and your focus goes somewhere else. So save that much part of brain by sitting back calmly in your “chair” and be an analyst.

Also sitting back on “chair” does not literally mean that in a panic situation, you start looking for a chair and people call you an idiot and relentless. Sitting back on chair is a metaphor to let you relate to a calm situation which lets you feel that you are cool, relax and just observing with an open mind. You are, for that moment, not part of the panic situation. Just think that you have been hired as a consultant to study the situation and come up with a solution.

I tried this couple of times. It made me feel myself come out as a good observant and a quick thinker of the actual problem and come out with a solution. I think it would just need some practice to think of a cup of tea and a chair whenever you are in a such a perplexed topography.

Monday, October 18, 2010


after dark.., photo originally clicked and uploaded by Mihir Misra.

I was child
And still am I.
Playing games at twilight,
with a companion
who comes to see me at the fall of light.
My friend! it's there when I am alone amongst the trillion,
Yes it's my own shadow, my closest companion.

Seldom my mind goes into haze,
But my companion, who is clearer than me, 
brings me strength during the hours of dismays.

Seldom I feel lonely and go for a walk in the dusk,
where I do not see anyone of my own
but only this companion who holds my husk.

Seldom it happens when I am waiting for someone,
The one who never appears to wipe my tears
But this companion of mine, is the only one who hears.

I run and pause
And so it do,
Sometimes I looked bigger,
and sometimes it grew.

No matter how old are we,
we still play,
the games at twilight
chasing each others' footprints forth the way.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

If you were me and I were you...

Through your eyes..., originally clicked by Vaishali Ahuja.

If for a moment, you were me and I were you,
would you act as me or would you still echo your real true?
If put into my gloves,
would you wink at me or would you adore?
would you notice me as I do or just ignore?
would you love me or just abhor?

If for a moment, you were me and I were you,
you step into my shoes and I put on yours,
would we fathom more
or would we loathe these detours?
If for a moment, I forget myself as me and forget your true,
you looking closer at me and I look into deeper you,
would it make the present beautiful or make it more blue?

If for a moment, you were me and I were you,
you feel through my heart,
and see through my eye,
you would find an innocent pie
which is full of love so real and deeply true.

If for a moment, you were me and I were you...

Saturday, October 9, 2010

To our customers...

Can you lend me your shoes?
So that I can wear them and understand your woes?

I promise I will make you forget,
the reasons that made you fret.

You hold so special, so dear,
loosing your trust is something I fear.

I would do my best to make you feel happy and gay,
And thank you with all my heart, for my bread and butter you pay.

I wish I could dive into your mind,
What you like, what you don't - is I could find.

I wish you could lend me your shoes,
So that I could wear them and understand your woes...

This is a small poem that I wrote as part of an assignment in Usability Testing Training held in Bangalore. This assignment was to let us make use of right part of our brains. We were asked to write a poem on any random topic. I chose this topic as it was closer to the subject of our training.

Our left brain is our logical brain whereas the right part of brain handles all the creativity. The idea of poem writing was to cultivate the creativity in our minds, making use of our right brain. We use our logical brains when we create and test a software. The creative brain remains inactive at that time. However, the consumers of our product use both left and right brains as they are in learning phase. So is why they can think of new ideas instantly and suggest even while using software for the first time.

To understand Usability, we have to think from users' perspective and for that it is mandatory to use both left and right brains. And then only we can put ourselves in the user's shoes ad know what usability problems they could face when they use our product.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

The other side of moon...

Luna creciente, photo originally clicked and uploaded by FWHM.

I am the Moon.
They regard me for my sublimity,
and for the ambrosia of my serenity
The hard truth however is,
I do not have my own identity.

The light you see and cherish me what for, isn't mine,
Do you think I deserve -
the murmurs of my beauty in divine?
Or the sacred carols
enchanted for me in the shrine?

In one of each month's day
when I appear the brightest and complete,
And on the paramours' cruise, their love meets in feat
Holding hands they vow
to be together till the last morrow.
Do you think I deserve -
the honour of being the witness of their promises?
And the honour of being called the light of the love?

When I see myself,
I see just stones and gravel,
Nothing more than craters to unravel.
The light comes from Sun that makes me bright,
and make me the emperor of the night.

Do I really deserve what is not mine?

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Sand dunes of my life...

Curves, photo originally clicked by Mohit Gupta.

I walk through the dunes of sand,
leaving impressions of my feet,
which does not live longer than some petite hours,
wiped by the tempest or the scarcely showers.

It's a vast desert,
a desert of patterns and randomness - up and below,
I look up to the highest sky, counting the infinite stars,
and look down, counting the patterns of the randomness which are.

It's tough to walk bare feet,
for an endless journey,
in the heat of the sun or in the winter's fleet.

My alligatored sheath awaits the heavy pour,
to wipe the random patterns,
and lead me to the much awaited shore.