Saturday, November 11, 2017

Ek bulbule ki kahani

Kabhi suno meri zaabani, ek bulbule ki kahani...
Boond boond mein chutki bara aasman,
Sapnoo ki duniya, jahaan ke us par,
Sameyte choti si hatheliyoon mein,
woh pura aasaman….

Giri ek Boond, kahin jo ansh par,
Bana bulbula , tyara woh Zameen par,
Kuch der khud nacha, woh Jooma , auron ko bi lubhaya, hasaya..
Upar wale ne usse , kuch nazuk tha banaya,
Dhor apne hath rakhi aur khoob usse nachaya,
Jaise hi dhor khichi, aankheen uski meenchi,
Pani hi tha, Paani mein ja milaya..

Har insaan hai bulbula, jo samjo to janoo,
Likha hai waqt har kissi ka, hai dhor ussi ke hath yeh mano..
Jitna bi hai waqt khushi se beetao..
khud bi haso aur auroon ko bi hasao.. :D

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Turn the page

Her train scheduled to depart at nine and it was already quarter past eight. Rushing towards the train and running to find her bogie no 25 amidst the commotion of other passengers who were trying to find theirs, she finally found hers. She saw someone lending her a helping hand and quickly adjusted her luggage. She sat, breathed deeply settling her nerves and that moment she saw the boy who helped her. Dusky, dark black hair, dark troubled beautiful eyes. Troubled, yes as if they were in search of something. And those eyes cogent revealing met hers. He looked my age or God knows younger or older but he couldn’t be much older, she thought. Nevertheless, she opened her book and couldn’t wait to finish one of her hopeless romantic novel.
While reading and smiling all by herself, she happened to look at him and saw him smiling back at her. His eyes warm, with a soft range of colors staring at her, and she thought yes she was right about his troubled dark eyes. She ignored and finished reading at about twelve at night. She kept the book on the small table between the two berths. With eyes closed, trying to enjoy the sound of the train, she heard him say ‘Can I read your book’? She looked and paused. He again asked in his warm comforting voice ‘I mean it’s okay if you’. Before he could complete she said okay. He smiled vaguely at eyes that slowly turned away and stared out of the window as the train swayed from side to side through the tunnel of lights and green. Neither of them said anything and she closed her eyes only to wake up in the morning when her station came .She rushed out and waved him good bye and noticed those troubled eyes were red. Looked like he didn’t catch any sleep. As the whistle blew for the train to leave, he helped her with the luggage and handed over the book to her. He watched her as the platform slipped away. And so did she. There was something about the last look that he gave, that she knew wouldn’t be the last.
After weeks, remembering and thinking about the train, she looked at the book, opened it and to her surprise, saw something written in red. A handwriting so neat, so striking that one would get jealous of and it read ‘Would you like to play a game J ‘? If yes, turn to page 10. There were sentences underlined from the romantic love story and some written in red ink. Red Ink, the color of love, she thought.
Anxiously turning to page 10: There is this girl I saw just now, whose smile reminds me of flowers and who wears that shyness on her face that one cannot help but fall in love with instantly. That innocence on her face that exudes simplicity. To know more turn to page 22.
With racing heart, she turned to page 22: ‘Her smile is something to die for, something I would never get rid of. Those dark smoldering eyes that I would remember for life.’
Want to know more, turn to page 50: ‘I wish this journey would never end. These moments would remain with me for lifetime. Turn to last page
Last page: ‘That boy you met in the train. Fell in love with you’….
And her heart skipped a beat. Down below on the last page it again said turn to page 75 and it had lines from novel underlined in red.
‘But how will I get in touch with you?’
Don’t you worry,’ I will find you’.
Her eyes glazed over that handwriting with a little ache settled in her heart and she was surprised by how much she hoped he would. She smiled, hoped and waited to turn the page of her life.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Does Love need Buttress of NUMBERS?

Once Bullah Shah was sitting on the bank of a river when he saw a lady selling carrots. He noticed that she only sold in volumes. However, upon being approached by a handsome man she changed her manner and herself picked the best carrots for him. Surprised, Bullah questioned her about the reason for making such a distinction. The lady replied that the man was her husband. And it moved him when she said, "There is no accounting between lovers." This made Baba Bullah forego his rosary. He wondered if he was insane to have counted its beads... This made Bullah Shah realize, what the point of carrying a rosary is. He put it away and asked himself, Bullah are you insane? Why are you doing counting with your beloved? Why count what Waheguru has given me? 

Love does not need the BUTTRESS of NUMBERS. Love grows in purity and simplicity. In stillness of heart one feels love in abundance. Accounting of how many times you pray, how many times you visit temple, which day you fast is being biased. One of the main principles on which Shaivism – Path to Enlightenment is based is to get rid of any bias that you have. To become spiritually enlightened one must not be biased. We can only reach path of enlightenment or spirituality by being impartial towards others. If we look around us, don’t we feel there is basically this one factor that is responsible for whatever is happening around us today- Bias? What if we all could grow beyond our biases?

Sunday, May 14, 2017

When Autumn Meets Winter


Poem by  Veena Pandita (my mother) on seeing my picture below. Mommy nothing seems more beautiful when my picture gives you inspiration to write. Just loved it :):)

When Autumn Meets Winter

Picture taken in Englisher Garten München

While I while away my time :)

Friday, March 20, 2015

The forever goodbye

"He dressed, sad to soon be seeing her off finally and this time may be forever. He could feel the unbearable bittersweet hold she had on his heart and that last look as if laying down your entire life in a heartbeat. And, how badly he wanted to stop her and that moment.... like how, when they die, it is as much as you can do for them to take another breath."

Thursday, December 18, 2014


I ache to see her sparkling eyes,
I imagine pinning her up her beautiful hair,
And smiling over my childish talks,
She smiles for she knows her every speck and bit belongs to me as it belongs to her own...
Now that I am far away from her,
I keep wondering...
Could she be smiling the same way ...without me?
Could she be breathing the same way ...without me?

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

"Tera Mera Khwaab"

हर श्याम मेरी रूह निकलती है, ढुंडती है  

जीने को वो पल जिन में छुपा है तेरा मेरा साथ...

हर श्याम मेरी रूह निकलती है, चलती है , दौडती है

जीने को जहां कही बसा है तेरा मेरा ख़्वाब……

चांदनी बिख़ेरती हुई तेरी निंगाहे, और चांद का गवाह होना

तेरे मजबूत हाथों में मेरे हाथ की पकड, और धडकनो का तेज़ होना

छोटी सी छत पे मुत्मईन बैठे हुए बचपन के किस्से सुनाना

और एक घर का दिख़ना....

कुछ देर कुछ दूर चलके बिछडना, और फिर मिलने की आस रखना..

 यह सब पल शायद चांद ने चुराये हों, या मंदिर की चौखट पे हम रखके आए हों ….

मेरी रूह हर श्याम फिर निकलती है, चलती है , कभी दौडती है

जीने की ख़्वाहिश में मचलती है...

जीने को वो पल जहां कही तो छुपा होगा तेरा मेरा साथ...

जहां कही तो बसा होगा तेरा मेरा ख़्वाब……

Tuesday, July 9, 2013


Us din ki subha hi kuch alag thi. Saniwar tha... bahut hi khubsurat din. Octuber ka mahina tha jiski baat hi kuch nirali hai. Mausam halki halki thand lapete firta hai. Peedon se patte tut ke hawa mein aise chale aate hain jaise panchii( birds) hawa ko cheerte huve apna rasta bana rahe ho. Ajeeb eetafaq hai kitne saal beet gaye lekin muje aaj bi yaad hai ki jab meine usse pehli baar dekha tha to usne neele rang ka salwar kameez pehen rakha tha. Woh mere bhai ki birthday party mein aayi thi. Usse dekhte hi muje ehsaas ho gaya muje mohabbat hone wali hai and mano barosa bi ho gaya background mein music bi mohabbat wala jo tha. Puri party mein main use dekh raha tha and soch raha tha “Kya yahi hai Love at first sight”. Sabhi friends gulmil gaye aur ek dusre se number aur email ID exchange kiye aur meine bi uska email sambala mano jaise sari daulat mil gayi ho. Agle din office gaya to kaam mein jaise mann hi nahi laga. Dus baar usse email likha aur delete kar diya aur phir akhir mein bahut koshish ke baad send kar diya. Us mail mein meine usse ek chai ke cup ke liye pucha tha. Yakin sa tha shayad woh aayegi aur pata nahi kya soch kar par woh aa gayi. Shayad meri nazroon ki eeltijah aur soch ki sachayi usse khich layi ya fir yeh soch ke ki tej raftar se chalti zindagi mein shayad sacha dost mil gaya. Intezaar ki gadiyan kaise beeti woh to pata nahi par shyam ko theek 4:30 jab woh thoda sa gabrayi huvi andar aayi to mein bahut khush tha. Woh aa to gayi par baat kya karein kuch samaj nahi aa raha tha. Mere har sawal ka jawab woh han ya na mein de rahi thi. Meine waiter to bula ke do cup chai mangwayi aur chai banate huve Waiter bola “shaker kitni??”. Meine waiter se kaha “ Shakar nahi Namak laaoo”. Woh dono muje dekhne lage aur woh heyrani se ankheen badi badi karke boli “NAMAK”? Meine kaha “ Hanji, Namak”. Aur phir baat badti gayi, yunhi chalti gayi. Kayi kisse kayi kahaniyan hum ek dusre ko sunate gaye. Us din char ghante kaise beet gaye pata hi nahi chala aur dekhte dekhte shadi ke bi dus saal pata nahi chale. Aisa lagta hai mano kal ki hi baat ho. Mein aaj bi roz office se aake chai mein namak dalke uske hath se peeta hun. Dus saal se mein uske is sawal ko taal raha tha. Woh hamesha mujse puchti “yeh hamesha namak dalke chai peete ho, kabhi shakar bi try kar lo. Vaise pehli baar namak kab liya tha chai ke sath?” Aur aaj dus saal baad meine muskurate huve usse kaha “jab tumse pehli baar mila tha , tumhe baat karne pe majbur jo karna tha. Issi baat ko lekar tumne pehli baar bolna jo shuru kiya tha aur issi namak se meri zindagi mein mithaas jo gola tha. Abhi bi namak daal ke lipton chai peeta hun to atut rishte ki mithas jeeta hun jaise abhi abhi naya pyaar shuru huva ho.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Because She Is.........

It's Beautiful to be home where my soul lives especially when she is around. ‘Beautiful’ she says, as she puts her delicate finger under my chin. She smiles and says ‘This nose you have, just like your father’s. Moments of clarity, and moments of sheer wonder written in the voice of my home's heart and it is so amazing to look out through my soul's window and to really see and feel how much I love her and how beautiful and lovelier she looks every time I see her..Yes my grandmother.
Her soft hands, her sweet smelling oil, her favourite word ‘beautiful’ , the sound of her voice singing songs especially her favourite lori’s for me( Meri gudiya kitni achhi, baatein karti sachhi sachhi,roz savere uthke nahati, haye re sabke mann ko bhati, halwa puri use khilaoon, dahi dudh main pilaoon), her lovely and genuine smile, all those small things make my gran the woman I love so dearly. While sleeping she runs her beautiful fingers through my hair and I sleep in peace thinking about all the things I learned from her “Love and believe”
She love me a lot.., there's no doubt about it. She bursts whenever I leave home. Her deep, brown eyes light up, and her full-bellied laugh fills the air when she sees me back. She'll pray to all the angels and saints especially during my exams to make sure I’m kept safe, warm and happy for then and forever.

Now that I’M thousands of miles away, there's nothing i want more than to sit on my grandma's lap, enveloped in her embrace. I simply love her because she is ...

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

A Big Thank You!

My final year of engineering and ahhh! what a great feeling of being senior. You come across many a new faces and encounter innocent minds , lazy brains ,naughty ones and oh, how can i forget the
hyperactive ones ….
I remember one of my juniors passing by me, wishing me just casually, not making me feel senior and i remember myself nodding in response just the usual way. She was never one of my favourites or for whom i had any special feelings. I had always thought she was indifferent kinds, or atleast to me she behaved like. Most of the times I had seen her alone which I thought she always preferred, adding some kind of arrogance to her personality.
Once for a change i wanted to concentrate on studies and chose to do so on the stairs outside my room. Suddenly this girl came and nudged me. She gave me her phone, kept it near my ears and her actions made me to understand that i was supposed to talk to some person on the phone. Being senior to her, i found it a little annoying, thinking that, “she could at least explain or ask me to do so.” But huh!Her indifferent attitude. Before I could give her a scolding, I saw her pleading eyes and at the same time I heard a voice on the other side of the phone saying, “hello, hello….kindly do me a favour. Can you just let me know if she is fine? Hello… she can neither hear nor speak properly. I am her mother and kindly help me to know her welfare.” Hearing this i was just shocked and at a loss of words. Finally controlling myself, I ventured to explain the other person on line everything what she was explaining me through actions. After i kept the phone i felt a sudden surge of emotions. I thought
what an image i had of her? I mean how could i even think she was indifferent and arrogant without actually knowing her. I wanted to hug her but couldn’t somehow as i felt too small. I felt sad but i learnt a lesson of lifetime. Now I know I cannot judge a person without actually knowing him or her.

After a few months, on the day of my farewell she came running to me and asked me to wait. She got with her a paper and a pen on which she wrote “u r beautiful”. Reading it i felt chocked so much so that i couldn’t even properly thank her. Through her I had learnt a lesson that, sometimes all that someone expects from you is a smile, or may b a gentle hand or extra time from your side…..
“U r beautiful.” was the best compliment I had ever got and perhaps will ever get.
A big Thank You..........again!

Thursday, April 14, 2011


Do we write our story or is it already written ? Does there exist a master plan that is already made for us?? This is hard one for me. This concept is very amazing and at times one fails to explain why we constantly try to change our destiny even if we believe it’s all written.The universe is His creation but it is far from being understood by us.

Maktub-It is written. This one word has a ring of magic attached to it and it actually rings my bells. No matter how horribly things go or they might not be the way you planned them , it is as said by Paulo “if you want something with all your heart and you believe it is your destiny, then the whole universe conspires in helping you achieve it, because it is written. And if it is written, it happens.”
I sometimes wonder about the hindi saying “"Waqt se pahle aur kismat se jyada na kisi ko mila hai na milega" which means we don't get more or less than what we deserve nor is it sooner or later than it should be....because it has been so designed by Him already.

This reminds me of a conversation with a friend of mine .One of these days i told my friend that i wanted to help a person who i believed was not very good to me. I thought may be a good gesture from my side would make him feel better and may be it changes things between us. My friend a strong believer of maktub advised me to leave the situation as it was and explained his point of view through a short story. So, he explained “ Once there was a gentleman who used to help people and cared for their suffering. Once while walking on the road he saw a dog running after a cat. He thought the dog might eat the cat ,so he ran after the cat , picked it and threw it away and while doing that he met with an accident and died. After his death he was sent to hell and there he asked God the reason for his being sent to hell .God replies “he had committed a blunder by interfering between the dog’s hunt for cat. He further explained that dog was hungry for several days and it was the time for the cat to die, which was destined.” He begs God to give him life once again and promises to correct his misdoing, and he is granted the wish. After some days he again sees a dog running after the cat and this time he throws the cat into dog’s mouth and dies again. He is again sent to hell and God tells him that he has repeated the mistake. He explains “ this time the dog was not hungry and the cat was rightly saving itself as it was not the time for the cat to die.”

My friend while narrating the story wanted me to believe that we have to let things happen as they are happening. Everything is already destined. One has to understand destiny, path of fate and the mysterious ways in which things work. Since God is beyond time, He knows all, and His knowing itself signifies everything is written.

But that brings me to a big question mark in my mind ------ Can one wait actually for the destiny to happen or can one wait for the time to make miracles. All i can say at last is what still remains in our hands is to continue trying, and let heart and head join to get something you want desperately and believe that its your destiny, then let the whole universe conspire in helping you achieve it and wait it to happen as if it is destined ,to be credited to the magical term "Maktub"......!!

Friday, August 6, 2010

Being Philanthropist…..

I knew my grandfather as a disciplined person. He would either be absorbed in newspapers or in listening to radio news. He would start his day early in the morning even before the sunrise to take a morning walk of about 7 to 8 kms daily. On his return he would take a full size jug of water.

You would find him listening to others very keenly and but you would very rarely find him talking. He in fact seemed to lack all communication skills. Sometimes one would really wonder whether he had any friends. Once I asked my Mom,
‘‘Does Nanu love anybody? He never expresses it. And I wonder has he ever scolded you?” Mom replied, “Yes he is very emotional. But he has his own ways of expressing it. At times he loses his temper if it comes to compromising to his principles.”

He had four daughters. I had hardly seen him showing any emotion for any of his daughters. I remember once he had come to visit us. My Mom was washing clothes at that time. By the time Mom finished, he was ready to leave. I along with my Mom followed him to see him off. While leaving he held both her hands in his own and gently stroked them with a strange expression in his eyes, which to me at that age was beyond understanding. If one can call it an expression of love, then that is all I had seen it in him.

I had enough of reasons not to like him. He would never get any chocolates or candies to eat. He would mostly talk about only studies. He would ask what new I had learnt and things like that.
Once we (he, mom and me) were walking in market and one child asked for money with a begging bowl in his hand. I wanted my mother to give this child some money and my Mom was about to open her purse when he almost yelled at her and stopped her from doing so. He scolded the poor child as well. From that day onwards I framed up an opinion that my Nanu was not a man who would help poor people. To my mind that was the greatest sin one could ever commit.

As the time had it, one day my Mom got a call informing about ill health of Nanu. She left to attend him. After 10 or 15 days we got another call informing about his sad demise. The next day I was also to leave to see my Mom. It was first time that I saw her upset. She didn’t cry as I expected but I saw continuous flow of tears silently rolling down her eyes. I felt very sad. Tears rolled down my cheecks too but that didn’t change my opinion about him.

Next day morning when we were all assembled in a hall, around 25 people, all strangers, entered and sat for mourning. Some of them were sobbing and some lamenting. None seemed to know them. After some time my Mom’s uncle asked them as who they were? They narrated that they lived in a near by basti belonging to a very poor class. Nanu had adopted 3 children to send to schools for studies. He would get those books and notebooks and would also deposit their fee etc. in the school. Not only that he would go to a near by park every evening to give free tuition to many children. He would assemble children in the park, teach them some exercises and would sort out their difficulties in studies as well. He had also worked hard to convince people, mostly of his age to adopt at least one child from the basti for studies.
While they narrated this, a long silence prevailed in the hall. I could see tears in the eyes of every one present.
This group of people along with those children would come every evening to be apart of the puja performed in his name. On 10th day one of the persons delivered a lecture highlighting the social and noble work he had undertaken during his stay in this place.

For me this was altogether a new dimension of his personality. He had never disclosed it before anyone, not even before his wife, my Nani-ma. But I had one question lurking in my mind, that’s if this was true then why did he scold that poor child that day?
After a year or so I asked this question to my mother.

She replied, “your Nanu would never encourage begging. He would always believe that we should not give any alms to the people who have the capacity to work, especially not to children, who easily can fall prey to art of beggary and get exploited. And one who is able to work should never beg. He believed that begging is wrong but encouraging it was a sin. He was of strong conviction that people should work, earn and eat. But my dear child it never means that he was not a philanthropist.”

And I first time learnt the meaning of being philanthropist….