Sepulchre Of High Hopes

Mending Fences

2010-07-21T23:27:00.001+05:30

As the Office Communicator dazzled on his desktop taskbar, signifying a new instant message, Owais had a glance @ d taskbar clock which told him the time to be 9:55 pm.

Sarkar, Snigdha : Aur kitni der tak tumhare naam k side pe green light jalegi:P

Haider, Owais : Kya karen.....work, has been postulated, by sum frigging assholes, 2 b worship:(

She always marveled @ his having a cheeky remark for almost every moment.....it was one of the reasons which had drawn her so steadfastly to him, one of the reasons why she missed their regular conversations so much, why she missed him, so much.

Sarkar, Snigdha : Now, isn't that rich coming from a workaholic like you:P

Haider, Owais : Duh....ye ilzaam to mat lagao:(

And instantly he regretted typing that.....it sort of alluded that there were other accusations labeled @ him by her which was true of course, but he did not want her to think that he was bitter about that. He did not want her to think that those bygones were still haunting every moment of his existence.

Haider, Owais : But then, I remember, you had a home here, didn't u? Go grace the place with ur presence na:P

Sarkar, Snigdha : jaa hi rahi hoon, am almost dun for the day

Sarkar, Snigdha : then u can have ur sweet office all 4 urself:P

Haider, Owais : Am callin it quits too....wanna have sum company on d way back?

Sarkar, Snigdha : Hmm.....yeah ok, y not, I mean?

Haider, Owais : k, coming by your cube shortly!

Both of them knew it was a very bad idea, both had been so unwilling to take d risk, both had taken pains to avoid being alone together for more than a minute since the recent past but both succumbed for the moment.

Owais gave in to his concern about her traveling so late all alone and Snigdha, to her longing of just being able to talk to him again.

Snigdha blamed herself for everything that went wrong between them, for good measure too. She had known everything all along, what was happening, how it would all end, she had known that she would not ever reciprocate the feelings that were taking home in his heart. Hell, she had actually fanned those feelings knowing all along that there were no answers blowing in the wind to the inevitable questions which were forming....yes, she knew everything perfectly well yet she had let everything happen. Not that she had a choice, she thought. She just could not help it, she did not have the will to fight the moment which was sucking her in, she had been just hoping against hope that he would somehow manage to not give in but that was not to be......somewhere she had actually helped him in falling into the chasm and then refused to take the plunge.

Taking a bus was the safer option, it offers less of intimacy but practicalities and reasoning dictated it be a cab. And thus, 20 minutess later, dreading every action of his, Owais hailed a cab and the two settled in, both hoping in their heart of hearts, that silence would make their company a crowd.

But silence is torturous. It engulfs you, suffocating your senses and points you to the unsaid words which you do not want to hear. They were dreading each other's non-speech, each wondering when the other would launch into some words.....words which would be akin to knives slashing their hearts and souls. And pre-empting that inevitable deluge of emotions, they suddenly started talking. Chattering along, talking about anything and everything under the sun except the one thing which they both did not want to even think of, lest the other read their mind somehow.

For a fleeting moment as their eyes got locked together, seemingly for eternity, Owais could not help but wonder how perfectly she embodied her name. Graceful would have been the first word which he would have used to describe her and incidentally, that was exactly what her name meant. It was after very many moons, that he was seeing her so up close and just, for a moment, he allowed himself to drink in her beauty and the endless depth of her eyes. A moment, was all, that he could trust himself with. Just a bit more and the cloud of memories would perpetuate a downpour of feelings.

It is amazing, though and highly amusing too, how people can talk about all sorts of inane things when they just want to avoid talking about some specifics.

In that one hour, they talked and talked.....from the latest movies to office politics, music, food, gossip.....abusing the Project Manager and remembering the fun they had during their training days, they discussed whether Obama's popularity ratings decreasing were really indicative of anything and whether the Fedex era was finally over, he brought up how amazingly beautiful Sonam Kapoor looked in her new flick and she drooled over her latest celeb crush, David Villa.....seeing a Merc at a traffic signal the suddenly dwindling conversation reignited into a debate over the most classy car and a sudden welcome bout of breeze turned the chatter towards Calcutta's non-amazing weather....every possible topic which could be broached was attacked with fervor as silence was not given any chance.

And then finally, Snigdha got down as the cab pulled over near her house, tried to pay unsuccessfully and then bid Owais goodnight and goodbye. Ascending the stairs up to her flat, there was an initial curl of a smile on her lips and a hope that someday, very soon, they would also be able to talk about the thing they avoided talking tonight. And perhaps, just perhaps, she would be able to exempt her faults and get things back on the friendship track.

Justifying a Bandh - Almost

2010-07-05T18:18:00.001+05:30

Sitting in the corner of his shanty, Manohar kept dreading the onset of evening.....the time when his children, sleeping on a half starved stomach, would wake up and inevitably ask for some food. It was a wish he could not fulfill this evening. A question he could not answer this evening. Of course, his children would understand his silence soon enough and would not say another single word but that would only heighten his sense of despair.

All this of course because unlike other days he had not been able to go to work today.....work, which to him, was to sell tea in a kettle roaming around the central business hub of Calcutta, the place of his living. No, he was not sick today...at least not as sick that it would hamper his daily labor. The reason for this uncalled for day @ home was much more far reaching...it was in fact, because of the sickness of some members of the higher echelons of society, a sickness which was ingrained in the minds of the people in the seat of power. The high and mighty had decided that today would be a day of protest. A protest which would manifest itself in people not going to work. So, it was a holiday for the people of the city. No one ventured out because most of the population actually welcomed a holiday from the tediousness of everyday work and those very few, who wanted to work were not brave enough to take on the proposed vandalism of the supporters of the shutdown.

So with the city in a 'Total Shutdown' mode, there was no point in Manohar venturing out with his kettle of lemon tea and that meant that today his family would not even have the bare essentials in the name of food that they managed everyday. To Manohar's simple mind, it was unfathomable how everyone not working would help in alleviating the rising prices. Yes, price rise was the issue cited for this latest cherished holiday. In fact, his thinking told him that everyone not working for a full day would actually be pretty heavy on an already failing economy along with of course, many other families like his own, going without food for the day. But then he banished the thought from his mind thinking that the country's administrators were much wiser than he ever could hope to be. And if they said that a day without work would help, then it surely would help in some way or the other. How did it matter if some people did not have food for the whole. Wasn't it a trivial price to pay for the betterment of the nation.

With these final thoughts, Manohar moved towards his now awake children who were playing around outside the shanty. Seemingly, they had already been convinced about the betterment of the lack of food today by their mother. He did not know what logic and reason she had cited, perhaps it was the same that he had used to convince himself.

And then he smiled ruefully @ the irony of it all.

Fragile Faith

2010-06-06T17:27:00.002+05:30

The world, seemingly, is divided into two types of people ~~~ there are the normal souls who swear by this entity called love, the ones who tend to go into a swoon @ the mere mention of the second most famous four letter word in the English vocabulary:P These are the ones who will jump to claw @ your throat if u even so as make a mere mention of love in a less than exalted breath. For them, love is what the world thrives on...in fact, it's only coz of love that there is life.

But this article does not concern these normal, beautiful souls.

The world works on the principles of balance. For a right there must be a wrong, for every spooky dark corner, there must be a halo of luminance.....every religion must have it's fair share of blasphemous souls, and love is no different.

To counter the believers, we have the cynics....these are the ones who do not fall for the charms of the most zealously followed religion in the world, these r the ones who snigger and belt out sarcasm laden tit bits if they find people proclaiming their love for love, to them it is the most over hyped feeling in this world.

There are various variations of these cynics.....some are converts to blasphemy coz their beliefs were betrayed, some just think that the tenets of this religion are too dogmatic, some are blasphemous just for the wicked sense of satisfaction in riling up the believers and some are just pure atheists who think that love is actually just an excuse to indulge in the only other four letter word in this world which is more famous...different mindsets they all have yet they remain steadfast to their agenda of not allowing the world to be gobbled up by this all conquering faith.

Yet for all their devotion to sacrilege, the attrition rate is alarmingly high. Every other moment another one of their faction bites the dust. An atheist to believer, the shift is smooth and swift. Soon, he is lost in the teeming millions of the swooning crowd...devoid of his non-beliefs, of his nonchalance, of his identity.

What, you may wonder, is the reason for this...How is it that such staunch beliefs dwindle away in seconds...How come that people who one moment carry the baton of non-belief, let it slip away from their hands without even as much as a mild struggle.

Religion, is said to be the opium of the masses. And it, unfortunately, holds truest for the religion of love. It is, of course, addictive to the hilt but the worst part is how one does not know when it strikes. Unlike other known addictions like drugs, alcohol et all you do not even need to try this opium.

In fact, it is the drug that tries you and we, innocent and nubile beings, fall all hook, line and sinker for it's allure. Unknowingly, unbeknownst to the self, it creeps up to you and engulfs the being in it's sickeningly sweet embrace. It's devices are countless ~~~ be it a seemingly harmless smile which suddenly lights up your world and darkens your non-faith or perhaps some random gesture which blots your non-belief, the cynics of this world have a harrowing time maintaining their faith or rather, the lack of it.

It is ultimately a delicate line that these non believing, blasphemous souls walk.....a fragile faith that they possess, not because they are frail in their steadfastness, rather because they are battling an enemy which is too powerful. How can these proudly stubborn beings guard their non-faith when their own senses betray them.

P.S Inspired from the title of the most rocking movie on the horizon "I Hate Luv Storys" which should probably have been titled "I'll Hate Luv Storys Till I Can":P

P.P.S People reading this, are requested humbly not to make any assumptions in regards that this post may, even remotely, have anything whatever to do with the writer's own life:D

Eid Mubarak

2009-09-21T11:42:00.011+05:30

On this day of festivities and joy, I extend wholehearted greetings to all my fellow bloggers, let this day be the harbinger of love and laughter...May the festival of joy and peace bring cheer and gladness to our hearts...Aameen!!!

Eid Aap Sabko Bahut Bahut Mubarak Ho:)

Much Ado About A Tuft Of Hair

2009-09-14T01:42:00.002+05:30

Four and a half months ago, I wrote " Me Taliban " post in a state of absolute disgust. I could not fathom how such mindless religious profiling could be demonstrated from the highest echelons of justice in the country.

To his credit, Justice Markandey Katju later apologized for his ill-informed remarks and then a week ago, a modicum of justice and sense finally prevailed and the Supreme Court advocated Nirmala Convent to reinstate the student, Md. Salim, back to school. Shooting down the conduct of the school the Supreme Court termed it "ridiculous" and thereby upheld Salim's plea of being allowed to sport a beard in school.

However, this is just a moral victory against the abysmal racial and religious profiling taking place on a daily basis in this nation. Yes, Salim may have been allowed to sport his beard in school but there are many who face similar issues and are subjected to idiotic rulings stemming from deep rooted bias.

I can recount many similar stories without even striving to remember, yes...they are that common.

### A friend's cousin sister went to this convent school to undergo a course in teacher training. 2 days in to the course, and she was summoned by the Headmistress to her cabin and told in no uncertain terms that she would either have to leave the course or give up her usual dress. What was unusual about her dress, she was wearing a hijab. The fact that the headmistress herself was a nun, wearing an almost similar dress raises disturbing questions about whether the school discipline was at stake or was it something entirely different.

### An MBA graduate filed an application for a passport. He had all his documents in absolute order. Yet three times in succession, his application form was rejected. Despaired yet undaunted, he filed a fourth time on which, some days later he got a call from the Passport issuing authority of the state himself to meet him in his office. there the man told him, "Son, just shave off your beard and your passport will be issued within a month. You see, the world is not afraid of mullahs and moulvis, it is afraid of young minds like yourselves who could turn to terror." Obviously, for the Passport issuing authority a bearded young boy with a certain name is evidence enough to considering him as a potential terrorist.

### An acquaintance working in a reputed international organization started keeping a beard for some reasons. Less than a week later, he was asked a series of questions by his manager ranging from "what prompted you to keep a beard?" to "are you undergoing some religious/philosophic education?". And finally, in no uncertain terms was told to shave off his beard as it was breeding a "sense of uncomfortability" among the rest of the staff.

These are not mere exceptional incidences but are rather the norm which occur with disturbing regularity. Swept under the carpet mostly or usually labeled under "actions done to maintain the discipline" of the organization, such occurrences highlight the growing sense of intolerance with respect to symbols of a certain section of the nation.

There was this debate on NDTV moderated by Barkha Dutt where this ex army general kept on harping about how some institutions were above the rule of the constitution and should be allowed to formulate their own set of rules. He was of course referring to the army's explicit denial of anyone being allowed to sport a beard except if you are a Sikh. Now, the first question which arises is what's different between a Sikh's beard and a Muslim's beard. Why these different yardsticks. The second question which comes to mind is how the bloody hell does a tuft of hair on one's chin in any way affect his gun toting displays for the army. How can a beard be of any consequence in a profession which requires bravery, spirit, nationalism and professionalism. Hard to fathom.

Another growing belief is that of equating the beard to religious fundamentalism and terrorism in that order. For this belief I have just a couple of disdainful lines.

How many of the 9/11 bombers were bearded. Go check.
How many of the 26/11 terrorists were bearded. Again, go check.

I end this post with a sense of hope still in ,my heart that such blatant religious profiling can be exterminated from the very roots in this nation. The Supreme Court's verdict on the Md. Salim case gives me that hope and I would like to congratulate the Supreme court for it's logical and very needed observations.

I do wonder though, why so much ado about a fistful of hair:(

Life No More

2009-09-03T12:45:00.003+05:30

Shrouded in a mist

Clouded by fate

The sky of my dreams

is beyond the gate

Amidst the transparent hue

It gives me a view

Of the canvas I painted

Which somehow got tainted

I wonder what that is

Those black lines across the art

Are they tears mixed with pain

Or did I use black paint

Where are the colors

Those strokes of valor

The outline and the shimmer

Alas, there is no glimmer

Nonchalantly it tells me

" You will now see

The canvas get ruptured

The dream get butchered "

At the altar of life

Hope is forfeited

No longer a dream

Is left to be greeted

Amidst this ritual

Where life tore the fabric

The killing is mutual

Life too is vanquished

As I fall into the abyss

Perhaps never to return

On my lips is a final wish

To once more see the sun

Can I wipe off the stains

Can I gather the remains

Washing away the guilt

Can I unfracture what I built

Karoge Yaad To...

2009-08-27T19:29:00.004+05:30

Prescript:-

This is a follow up from Amit aka Hopeless Romantic's When Love Signed On A Blank Cheque ... Please give it a read before reading this...it definitely is worth your time.

For the lazy ones, here's a summary..... Garima and Nitin were to be married but on the night before the marriage Nitin was struck by a celebratory bullet which killed him. Garima is left to ponder on her cruel fate.

Garima stood in her balcony gazing into nothingness. The night which was to be the witness of their togetherness had chosen a different path. A twisted fate had come and drowned her into numbness, leaving nothing in it's wake but memories. Memories of a time much better, of a love eternally pure and of a bond seemingly unbreakable. Memories which refused to leave her, almost overpowering her and making her relive all of them, one by one, piece by piece almost as if she were rearranging the whole picture into a jigsaw puzzle.

Karoge yaad to har baat yaad aayegi

Guzarte waqt ki har mauj theher jaayegi

As the skies opened up to share her grief, she finally gave in. The tears finally broke through, the grief was final, the fate certain. Gazing at her mehndi adorned hands, she wondered who to blame...Was it the person who fired that gun when he could barely stand on his feet ..... was it Nitin himself for coming in the way of that shot which was not meant for him or perhaps it was that bullet which struck her love, tearing some flesh from his body and shredding their togetherness. "Mehndi ka rang jitna gehra ho rishta utna hi lamba hota hai"...as these lines came back to her she could not help but laugh a hysterical laugh at the smug slap that fate had landed on the face of traditions and hearsay.

Barasta bheegta mausam dhuan dhuan hoga

Pighalti shammon pe dil ka mere gumaan hoga

Hatheliyon ki hina yaad kuch dilaayegi

The good or perhaps bad thing about life is that it never ceases. Whatever happens, however one wishes but one wish that is never granted is for life to stop. It is always there and you have to live it. The question remained for Garima...how to live it? The answer for once was not difficult, rather it stared her in the eye...ever so bright even in the darkness of that gloomy night. Maybe it was the shimmering moonlight or Nitin's conviction which shone so brightly. What better way to live than to strive for Nitin's dream. Yes, she would build the orphanage and fulfill his most cherished wish. She would walk the path he had chosen and bring the road to it's destination. And perhaps it would help her to live.

Ye chand beete zamaanon ka aaina hoga

Bhatakte abr mein chehra koi bana hoga

Udaas raah koi daastaan sunayegi

2 years later...

The darkness of that night has somewhat receded now. Her life is now the children who live in the orphanage. Spending time with those children of misfortune, she has learnt how to live with her fate. Life is a wonderful thing nonetheless, inspite of all it's shortcomings and uncertainties...the smile on their faces and their eternal struggle to find happiness in every difficulty makes her proud. It's not that she has forgotten Nitin or the cruelty of fate...she often remembers it even now and always it still brings a moistness in the corners. Running around and playing with the children, sometimes inadvertently when her glance falls on the pathway...there still rises a momentary hope that Nitin may walk through the door, that the hand of fate may just have been a joke. These reveries are soon broken though, what with everyone pulling her from all sides and filling her ears with a cacophony of laughter.

Gali ke mod pe soona sa koi darwaza

Tarasti aankhon se rasta kisi ka dekhega

Nigaah door talak jaake laut aayegi

P.S. Yours truly has been nominated for IndiBlogger of the Month August 2009 under "Original Literature - Short Stories ... To everyone who visits here,please someone just go and give me one vote. I do not under any circumstances want to start and end the voting at zilch (0).

Visit here to oblige.

Greetings, Awards, Birthday and Randomness

2009-08-24T01:05:00.002+05:30

God, it's been ages since I wrote something @ Sepulchre...am sure the dude's feeling neglected n et all being the equivalent of a drama queen that it is:P

Where have I been this past week...no posts here, no comments on any of your blogs though i have read some of your posts...well, I've been a bit busy and a bit nonchalant about this space. busy in designing and creating another blog which is solely dedicated to the greatest club in the world Manchester United. The blog is now up and running and my personal opinion is that it has come out pretty well for starters. You could have a look at Mancunian Mavericks ... yes that's what it's named "Mancunian Mavericks":)

About the nonchalance part, well was not really feeling up to writing anything, dunno but this is a feeling which is gripping me too often for my liking...am I falling out of love with this space, I hope not coz I really love it here....contradictions, bloody contradictions complicating dear old life:(

Back to the blogosphere, I need to thank and acknowledge the wonderful souls that Stephen of The Solitary Writer and Princess Nuchu of Angel Of Darkness are....these guys have awarded me and for me awards are always "the more, the merrier":)

Ste of course celebrated his 150th post and doled out awards and I consider myself very lucky to be part of his awardee list. He's a great guy, full of humor and fun...writes well especially good fiction.

Princess Nuchu aka Nusrath reached the milestone of 100 posts and celebrated it with awards galore and yours truly was lucky again:) Nusrath is someone I have just started following and as far as I can conclude far from being an Angel of Darkness, she's actually a sweet fairy...writes nice and new styles of poems...and btw, I just love her nickname Nuchu, it's cho cute n all:)

Heartfelt thanks to both of them... *cheers*

Btw...folks Blogger has turned 10 and celebrating this milestone it's going to launch some new added features. A big thank you to Google for this amazing initiative which has given all of us a platform to share our thoughts.

Happy Birthday Blogger:)

The holy month of Ramzan has come visiting and greetings to everyone!!!

Till the next time, c ya fellas:)

P.S. Hopping on to some of your pages, may not be able to read all the pending posts so forgive me for those I miss:(

(I)...(I)ndia...(I)ndependent

2009-08-15T00:49:00.009+05:30

The clock has struck 00:00 hrs and the date on the calendar has changed to 15th of August...a special day for everyone out there called an Indian. The very date on which this identity was forged is here again...it's been 62 years now since that fateful night when Indianness became a word in the consciousness of the people of this country and it's been a ride, for sure.

I remember that last year I had written a post on this very day which was so like in character to India itself...in that post I had highlighted the issues we face as well as commented on the progress that we had achieved as a nation. It was a grey post in the sense that the glass was both half full and half empty depending on how you look at it. I had ended that post holding the shining beacon of hope in my hand and I have absolutely no intention of repeating my words with a little bit of shuffling.

So today I am just going to list out a few points which remind me everyday of being independent and of not being the same

When I can write here whatever I feel like, without even a whiff of a thought for the world and it's opinion I am reminded of being independent.
When I can, with a switch of my remote, mute the voice of hate and blind the sight of perverseness, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can walking on the road, look a girl in the eye and make her feel beautiful, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can look someone thrice my age and experience and knowledge in the eye and tell him that I disagree with his thinking, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can offer my prayers in a congregation with a poor tea seller on one side and a business tycoon on the other, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can feel the moistness in the corner of the eyes on hearing Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon, I am reminded of being independent.
When I have a look at the beaming faces of the students that I teach on successfully solving a sum, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can swoon to Comfortably Numb one moment and croon Hoshwalon Ko Khabar Kya the other, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can stand in front of anyone and speak exactly what I want to, I am reminded of being independent.
When I cheer a six off the bat of Yuvi one moment and leap in joy at Manchester United scoring against anyone:D, I am reminded of being independent.
When I can still see that black ink mark on the index finger of my left hand, I am reminded of being independent.
When I know what am writing now will be read by people wh I may probably never meet, I am reminded of being independent.

These are just some of the reasons/incidents/actions which keep reminding me every moment of being independent, of living life as a free individual and of knowing that I have an opinion which I can put forth.

I am sure all of you have many such reasons...do share them with all of us.

So this Independence Day, think not of the issues and problems that we as a nation face...there are 364 and 1/4th other days to do that, rather today think of the privilege and pleasure of being independent and soak in this independent air we breathe.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY

P.S. Happy Independence Day to all the people of Pakistan, our midnight brothers and sisters.

P.P.S. Please go and watch KAMINEY...it's a treat if there ever was:)

Shades Of Rain~~~Angst

2009-08-11T16:59:00.004+05:30

There is something magnetically attractive between a heavy drizzle and a longing heart...they almost tend to coincide magically...some call it destiny while others call it nature's way of compassion. It will possibly be never ascertained whether the despair inside a throbbing fist sized organ has any remote connection with the encompassing sky giving vent to it's share of load but forever unto eternity the tale of a despairing heart will never be complete without a major mention of the skies tears.

As the rain drops kiss the face and rummage the hair, the self involuntarily goes in a reverie.....while the soothing drops are the harbinger of reliving moments long forgotten, of emotions long buried and of words unspoken.....the ferocity of the same brings back the harshness of life to the fore. A passage of time is relived, a person who was more than self is remembered and a bond which seemed destined is thought of.

The puddles on the road act as a mirror...you can see your whole life in those liquid crystals, they show you those times and the mistakes which you made, but more than anything it shows you that face which was once your mirror and which will always be your life. It reminds you of what could have been, tells you in no uncertain terms what is now and gives you an insight of what it should actually be like. The puddle...it acts as the reflection of your heart, telling you your dreams and your fears.

When the wet hands feel clammy, you start to miss those palms which would once hold your hands, when you fell your wet face you can make out the moist tears which you shed, when the chill sets in you remember the warmth of her embrace and there is not one single thing you can do about it all.

As the water seeps into your very soul the heart weeps out louder than ever, crying out for it's beloved and calling it's soul...the only one who can ever complete him. It sings a song, one of despair and gloom, of angst and remorse, of love and life...and hopes that the wind may carry his voice to her, the rain may carry his tears and time could once again be turned back.

Tera naam maine liya hai yahan
Mujhe yaad tune kiya hai wahan
Bade zor ki aaj barsaat hai
Nahin saamne yeh alag baat hai
Mere paas hai tu, mere paas hai
Mere saath hai, mere saath hai

Untitled

2009-08-09T01:05:00.004+05:30

~~~A year less to live...wonder whether it's a good or a bad thing~~~

Shades Of Rain---Curse

2009-08-06T22:30:00.002+05:30

There was no letting up today...it had been three hours of incessant rain, it was pouring in buckets from the sky and being collected in buckets in Mira's shanty...but her buckets were too trivial compared to the omnipotence of the clouds, fresh holes were appearing by the minute on the tarpaulin covering which served as the ceiling...the periodic gusts of wind threatened to blow them away and end the ordeal at once but they had been just threats thus far.

And thus sat Mira in the corner beside the wall of the municipal school praying for the rains to end, every gust of wind heightening her sense of dread and every appearing hole bringing forth more tears from her eyes. Surprisingly, the toddler in her lap lay quiet, perhaps absorbed in the rhythmic sound of the rains. It was new experience for him and it seemed that he was enjoying nature's spectacle albeit ignorant of how close he was on the verge of facing her wrath too.

Every year this time Mira would be praying for this season to pass without them getting displaced, willing her Gods to bide away the terror for one last time, next year they would have a pukka ceiling above their heads...always backing herself to save enough from her meager earnings and always failing.....after all, there's only so much hard work and conviction can pay you. And thus it was that every time the clouds wanted to shed their load she was faced with this terrifying vigil of prayers and fear...the rains, a curse for her.

Comfortably Numb

2009-08-04T18:01:00.002+05:30

Come to me, come give me pain
Of dreams unfulfilled and things not gained
Make me relive this agony of a life
Find me a place where I can feel it
Over and again, clamp me so I cannot
Run away from it, bind me please
To unbearable and lasting pain
Alas, the senses have left me though
Bound to memories I may still be
Lilting pain and anguish I see
Yet it does not hit me at all, and

Nothing do I feel, do me a favor whoever is near
Unsheathe this cloak and shred it
My friend, I no more want to
Be comfortably numb

Abhi Na Jao Chod Kar

2009-08-01T11:27:00.007+05:30

Originally published on PFC...check it out here

"Abhi na jao chod kar ke dil abhi bhara nahin"

And yet he did go away...on that fateful day dated 31st July, 1980 the world lost it's greatest singer ever. Leaving behind a legacy of humility and gentleness Md. Rafi passed away to other shores but definitely not oblivion. He left behind a body of work which is as gloriously mesmerizing as it is deliciously varied. There is not a known genre of songs in Indian cinema which Rafi did not perfect...be it the trademark soft romanticos to the high octane dance numbers, the melancholic sad tunes to the pulsating qawwalis, the traditional ghazals and bhajans to the comic styled songs designed for laughs...he did it all and how!!!

Starting his career in 1944 with a Punjabi number in "Gul Baloch", Rafi established himself as a leading playback singer in just a few years with songs like "Hue hum jinke liye barbaad", "Suhani raat dhal chuki hai" and "Meri kahani bhoolne wale". But it was with Naushad composed Baiju Baawra in 1952 that Rafi finally became the undisputed leading singer of the industry, a stronghold which he maintained for 19 years till 1971 unchallenged. "Tu ganga ki mauj", "O duniya ke rakhwaale" and "Man tarpat hari darshan ko" were the three tracks which catapulted Rafi into a league of his own.

The next few years were followed by one chartbuster after another..... "O door ke musafir", "Aye dil mushkil hai jeena yahan", "Aankhon hi aankhon mein", "Jaane kahan mera jigar gaya" and "Tumsa nahin dekha"...all of them gem after gem.

The year 1957 saw Rafi breaking new ground with O.P.Nayyar's Naya Daur and S.D.Burman's Pyaasa. While on one hand were the romantic "Ude jab jab zulfein teri" and "Maang ke saath tumhara", on the other were the brooding "Jinhe naaz hai hind par" and that sad lament "Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye". Backing these came the delightful "Sar jo tera chakraaye" and playback singing was being redefined over and over again.

The year 1960 gave Rafi his first Filmfare for the utterly romantic "Chaudhvin ka chand" but that was just one of the petals which formed the complete flower that year. "Madhuban mein radhika", "Do sitaaron ka zameen par hai milan", "Khoya khoya chand", "Mili khaaq mein mohabbat","Aye mohabat zindabad" and "Zindagi bhar nahin bhulenge" were the others which constituted this yet another golden year.

The next year he gave the city youth a new chant in "Yaahoo" and the village folk were gifted the brilliant "Nain lad jaywe". The lovelorns got a new ode in "Ehsaan tera hoga" while the depressed were taught a new way of life with "Main zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya".

1963 saw another flourish of jewels. While S.D's Tere Ghar ke Saamne had soothers like "Dil ka bhanwar" and "Dekho rootha na karo", Roshan's Taj Mahal had romanticos like "Jo baat tujh mein hai" and "Jo wada kiya woh". " But of course the greatest pearl was that title track from Naushad's Mere Mehboob which made a country go weak in the knees.

1964 saw Rafi winning his 3rd Filmfare for "Chahunga main tujhe" in LP's Dosti. This was another feather with tracks like "Raahi mannwa" and "Jaanewalon zara". O.P. Nayyar's Kashmir Ki Kali saw Rafi form a delightful combo with Asha Bhonsle as they churned out gems like "Ishaaron ishaaron mein", "Deewana hua badal" and "Hai duniya usi ki". This same year saw Rafi making every eye moist in the country with the soul stirring "Ab tumhare hawale watan saathiyon".

1965 saw one of Hindi cinema's best soundtracls ever come to life in SD's Guide.....with tracks like "Tere mere sapne" and "Din dhal jaaye" Rafi was at the forefront of this magnum opus. The same year also saw "Waqt se din aur raat", "Pardesiyon se na ankhiyaan milana", "Yahan main ajnabi hoon" and "Mujhe dard-e-dil ka pata na tha".

The magic continued unabated with the likes of "Bhari duniya mein", "Aap ke haseen rukh", "Woh khushi mili", "Baharon phool barsao" and "Chalkaaye jaam"

1971 saw the rise of Kishore who acted as the first challenge for Rafi in almost 20 years. 3 golden years for Kishore saw Rafi losing some ground but even this seemingly lull period saw classics like "Chalo Dildar chalo", "Yeh duniya yeh mehfil", "Teri Bindiya re", "Aaj mausam bada beimaan" and "Na tu zameen".

But he came back with much more elan winning awards again with "Teri galiyon mein" from Hawas. Laila Majnu, Hum Kissi se Kum Nahin and Sargam followed, with "Kya hua tera waada" the comeback was well and truly complete....Md. Rafi was back on top again and that is where he will always be.

The amazing thing about Rafi was that not only did he modulate his voice according to the notes and scale but what he miraculously achieved was sounding different for different actors. In fact a lot of credit goes to him for launching and creating many a stars of yesteryears. As comfortable in the lowest of scales as in the extreme highs, it was Rafi who introduced "Yeowdling" which was later perfected by Kishore Kumar. The talent of Rafi is also amply on view in songs like "Jo unki tamanna hai", "Din dhal jaaye" and "Choo lene do nazuk honthon ko" where he manages to sound completely intoxicated without consuming a single drop of liquor.

However, the greatest trait of Rafi was that being the great singer that he was, he was a greater person. Good natured, affectionate and often called "The Gentle Giant" by the industrywallahs Rafi did not have any ill feeling towards anyone. He once charged a token Re. 1 from Nisar Bazmi when he came to know that his finances were badly hit. Not for nothing did Kishore Kumar rush to his defense when Anil Biswas targeted him saying "Rafi is no singer". Kishore was visibly disgusted with the remark from one of his loyalists and said "I myself am a Rafi fan...if you insult him, you insult me".

It's been 29 years since that genial soul departed but the magic continues, the voice still echoes in the valleys and mountains and everywhere in between, it lingers in every memory that has been privileged to hear it, the ears still can't have enough of Rafi and the search is still on.....perhaps the feeling cannot be better expressed than in Md. Rafi's own voice when he prophetically sang the following lines.....

Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondhega
Teer nigaahe naaz nishaana dhoondhega
Waqt mere geeton ka khazana dhoondhega
Mujhko mere baad zamaana dhoondhega

P.S. Yesterday was the 29th death anniversary of Rafi Sahab and the world over, his legion of fans were on a reminiscence trip remembering the genius through anecdotes and songs. This is a small tribute to the voice which will forever be echoing unto eternity!!!

Zindagi---Kya ho tum

2009-07-30T08:22:00.004+05:30

Itna batade mujhe ae zindagi
Ke tu kis shay ka naam hai
Hai tu ek bala jo madhosh karti hai
Ya koi aanchal jo aaghosh mein bharti hai

Kya nasha tera saza ka ek aks hai
Ya khushnami ka tu chahekta raks hai
Kya guzar tera dilkashi ka mausam hai
Ya patjhad ki tu shabnam hai
Khwabon ke haqeeqat ki aarzoo hai
Ya sach se roz marrah ki justajoo hai
Ishq o izzat ki taabeer hai
Ya ranj o nafrat ki tasweer hai
Qehqahon ke tahhaqon ki sada hai
Ya sannaton ki posheeda ada hai
Insaan ke urooj ki zinda misaal hai
Ya kissa aadmiyat ke dhalte zawaal ki hai
In sawaalon mein chupi koi jawab hai
Ya jawabon mein shamil khud ek sawaal

Troughing Crest

2009-07-25T10:11:00.006+05:30

It's been a so not good two days for me.....things have been bad, no things have been pure hellish. There is a problem which affects you and others, you have a solution too but you cannot implement it, it's not in your hands and the ones who can do not want to. They want to harp on the past, chisel the wounds over and again and give a new definition to life's trials.

This was my status message over the period @ Twitter "I finally understand how they feel who end life...it's still cowardice n I would never do it, yes but I understand"...yes, I was that disgusted with anything remotely called life.

But then, last night I had a talk with 3 friends~~~one an old childhood friend who helped in defining friendship for me and two others being virtual friends I've been fortunate to befriend. Lost touch with those two virtual friends for some time and it was so pleasant to finally get to talk to them...of course, the fact that they are happy and safe and hale and hearty provides the icing and the cherries and the confetti:)

Meanwhile, the oldest friend, it seems, has discovered love [truly, madly, deeply types] and was defining "over the moon" all over again:D...to see the happiness dripping from his words was thrilling and amazing... I am of course overjoyed for him, may the force be with him and may this turn out forever and for always *wishes*

Also, one of the virtual friends is on a new road trip to happiness, she is treading new paths and finding new bends...she says "the raindrops are an excuse to smile now" and am I glad or what *wishes*

They say "Happiness begets happiness"...now I don't know about that but it sure is infectious...yes, my troubles are still the same they were the last two days but this brimming over cup of joy from friends brought a smile and more...and I let the troubles be as I immersed myself in their happiness for a moment, I smiled and shared their feelings and enjoyed this existence!!!

Thank you so much guys...all my wishes with you:)

Honestly Yours...

2009-07-21T11:16:00.008+05:30

Heena awarded me the "Honest Scrap" award some days back.....so sweet of her:)

The award comes with a rider, you have to list 10 truths about yourself before you can accept the award.....so not sweet of her:P

Did an extended version of this tag long back but as Heena says this makes for a "free fokat ka blog post" and considering my ineptitude with words these days, this is too good a chance to pass by:D
And the icing is of course that I get to tag 10 of you after I finish this:P

So, without further ado, I fill the honesty tumbler and let the truths flow...

I don't like myself much, yes of course there are lot of facets which are okayish in nature but the complete package does not appeal to me, it's riddled with too many unlikeable things.
I am in love, yes the truly, madly, deeply kind of love.The object of my affections.....a certain blond haired Russian named Maria:P
I so wanted to graduate in English.....this desire was partly kicked in because of the love for the language and partly because of a ridiculously biased Bengal (bloody) board rule which only allowed Bengali students to take English as their 1st language in class IX-X... yes,in the champions of equality Communist ruled West Bengal this blatant racism is still prevalent.
I am a very self introspective person...even the trivial decisions that I make or the off the cuff remarks in presence of friends are heavily pondered upon later.....the fact that it hardly makes a difference in my spontaneous rushes of idiocy and sarcasm does not matter to me.
I am the biggest Manchester United fan that there is, at least according to me:D
I am the laziest soul on the planet and this is according to everyone who knows me...if you want something not done just hand the job to me and rest assured, it won't be done:D
I am a plans and schedule person, purely theoretically though. The plans and schedules never get worked upon and everything I do is randomness personified or is under the 11th hour syndrome.
I get tongue tied when talking to girls but no one believes this fact except me...perhaps I gloss over it pretty well:)
I am very argumentative, some of my friends say too much actually. I just can't let a seemingly illogical/incorrect thing to be spoken, inherently I have to jump in with a retort!!!
I am ashamed of my lack of religiosity.....the fact that I do not offer my prayers as they should be irks me a lot and shames me a great deal. Hopefully, I can soon correct this.

There, it's done and dusted...I have tried not to repeat the truth from that earlier post though a couple may have overlapped as I don't remember all of the ones which I listed earlier.

Now for the fun part....I pass on this award and tag to the following people

Shadan
Arun
Ekta
Hitesha
Nupur
Ria
Diya
Vyzz
Aayushi
Anamika

Unclean Slate

2009-07-16T01:16:00.002+05:30

And all this while I thought I was numb...how effing blind was I?
I am feeling-less, nothing affects me, I don't feel hurt, am a sponge ball who absorbs everything and never goes out of shape...huh...one upright middle finger to all those thoughts!!!

It pains, it hurts, it pierces the very shreds of the soul...It is my very existence. I breathe to hurt myself for every breath strikes a nail in the heart...I long to stand in front of the mirror and look myself in the eye.

Why can one not forget oneself...I so want to do it
Why is there no strength of will which can conquer self-knowledge
Why can't I wipe away myself from my memories...it would ease the passing

So Spake Saim---IV

2009-07-12T10:55:00.005+05:30

~~~ Happiness is not the state of one's mind ..... rather it's the state of one's life ~~~

Sepulchre's Threat

2009-07-09T15:00:00.007+05:30

And so I return to Blogosphere after Sepulchre threatened to block my entry forever if I did not revert the permission thingy back to normal.

Those of you who visited this link last week would know what am talking about.

For those who didn't the story goes like this...I was looking to make a couple of changes to the tempy of this page and so I temporarily made the blog permission driven, now that was fine coz I had only intended to take about a couple of hours at max to get the changes in the tempy done. What I had not bargained for though was that I would get embroiled in some other work which needed attention urgently and a new project which needed some time...So as a result Sepulchre got neglected and horrifyingly remained permission driven for almost a week without anyone being able to access the page.

Now Sepulchre being Sepulchre can handle my absence but what it cannot handle is the absence of you amazing fellas of the blogosphere and thus in desperation it gave me a threatening call asking me to revert the permisiion settings back to normal at the earliest which basically meant a deadline of about an hour or so:D

Well, anyways the changes have been done to the tempy, the settings have been returned to normalcy and a new post adorns this page now:)

And Sepulchre is a bit mellow now:D

Now I know I have been absent from all your pages too and they must be equally dejected and agitated as Sepulchre is...so without much ado I'll try n turn to mellowing them down now:)

C ya fellas!!!

P.S. If you have not yet listened to the title track of the movie "Kaminey" seriously suggest you plug in the earphones quickly and get a life:P

If you have listened to it, then I congratulate you on getting a life:D

Sample this:-

Mere Aarzoo Kaminey
Meri Zindagi Kaminey
Ek Dil Se Dosti Thi
Yeh Huzoor Bhi Kaminey

The Last Laugh

2009-07-01T14:50:00.005+05:30

I abused the skies, insulted them and gestured rudely...they tried ignoring me and did so for quite some time but I finally broke through their defenses.....they opened their mouth and hurled the choicest of abuses back at me, which of course were in the form of rains.

I'd got what I wanted, had tricked the skies into giving me this gift, had that smug looking grin on my face.

It poured and roared and brimming with joy I got drenched, conversed with the rain drops, played with the wind, the troubles wiped off momentarily, felt clean and pure again, felt happy, found bliss.

And then.... I fell sick, running fever and headache:(

The skies had had their revenge.....it was me who was tricked:P

And yet I don't mind at all, it's a price I gladly pay...and so the skies may think they had the last laugh but you just can't wipe off this contented smile from my face anytime soon:)

So Spake Saim-III

2009-06-30T03:41:00.003+05:30

Rule:-

Life is all about the struggles, it's about existing amidst the gloom, it's about knowing the flaps which we can open and the ones which we can't, it's about being nonchalant at despair, it's about accepting that life's just like that.

Exception:-

Happiness!!!

The magic shall always be

2009-06-24T00:32:00.006+05:30

Today was the last time The Famous Five painted the town red probably for a long time...day after tomorrow we split officially with one member leaving for Delhi and another leaving for Chennai the next day. Time will surely bring us together again or it may choose not to but even time cannot deny that it's been one amazing journey...a journey which lasted for five glorious years and which was filled with fun, frolic and and a lot of joy, with a dash of trivial fights and heated arguments.

It's been a ride at breakneck speed...where did the five bloody years rush by no one knows but it left memories and moments, fragments and pieces of time well spent.
As I hammer the keyboard now, I reminisce all of them.....the mind weaves a picture, one which is filled with color and music, I remember...

the classes we attended
the ones we bunked
and the ones which we attended just physically
the food we ate
the drinks we shared
the lighthearted banter
the mind numbing jokes:D
the seriously heinous sort of pranks
the movies we watched
the songs we sang
the games we played
the bets we placed
the birds we watched:P
the dogs we were:D
the studies we did
and the studies which we didn't
the exams that we gave
and the ones which we didn't:D
the fiery discussions
the bus rides
the laughter, the smiles and the tears
the outings, the rides and the cheers
the days of lazy dozing
the nights which kept us awake
I remember all of them
and so do you, am sure

Of course, the fellowship will continue.....what with voice chats on Skype, comments and re comments on status messages, with phone calls and smses, with the mind harking back to the good old days and the songs once again getting hummed:) May the season continue, let the magic always be!!!

P.S. Wishes and prayers for all of us to achieve what we must, what we want and what we deserve:)

So Spake Saim-II

2009-06-19T01:45:00.002+05:30

"Art is unknowingly more scientific than science itself"

So Spake Saim

2009-06-17T02:46:00.003+05:30

The rising heat levels is directly proportional to the soaring lethargicity and no, I don't care one hoot whether lethargicity is a word or not.