Basket Case

Stolen Moments  I almost skipped this one. In fact I went on the trip because the tickets had already been bought and I was not very keen on going and getting them cancelled. Now in the retrospect I think even procrastination has its own virtues. The best part about the trip was our excellent host, Colonel Rajiv Kumar. Due to his busy schedule during our visits, he was not able to accompany us on our excursions but he made sure that we had a well planned and satisfying itinerary for the 3 days. Alas he will be moving to another place in a short while and so we will have to be on our own when we visit next. It was due to him that we got to stay in the DSSC guest house in Wellington, away from the maddening crowd in Ooty in this peak season. And staying in Wellington, which incidentally is the center of Madras Regiment also, gave us the chance to explore more in the Kunoor Valley and beyond. Dear Rajiv, if you are reading this, thanks a lot indeed :) And how can it end without a litt...

With two aching calfs, few scratches on my hand and a heart full of memories, I am back from the Nilgiris (Ooty for the uninformed). It was a nice trip to a nice place in nice company and a nice host and there are quite a few nice experiences that I would like to write about but right now I am too tired to write anything worth reading. I'll be back !!

Although he is undoubtedly the master of this genre of posts, bringing back to my attention some of the wonderful old songs that I have love and lost over the years, let me also try to contribute a little. Today I came across this song and boy ! am I hooked to it now !! The poetry, the music and the rendition, everything is so addictive. And it is not only the powerful lyrics but the way Rafi has rendered them, every nuance of meaning hidden in those lines comes out. As the poet goes from the self defending to encouraging and finally blaming mood, Rafi's voice makes it difficult to not appreciate the changing shades of mood. The pain and that wish to get back what has been lost just gets to you. The music provides full support to the inherent flow and rythme of the lyrics. May be it is the mood or the mausam, I just can't stop humming these lines. Incidently they come from the kalam of Shaqeel Bandayuni, somebody who is rising quickly in my list of favourites. Music is by O. ...

उस दिल मे जो है छिपा, जान ना पाया हूं । जो स्वपन देखती हैं मेरे संग वो आंखें, मुझसे पहले भी ख्वाब बुना करती होंगी ? जो रातें अब मेरी यादों मे कटती हैं, मुझसे पहले क्या सोच कटा करती होंगी ? अंजान स्वपन रत्नों से भरे हुए उसके मन आगारों मे अभी झांक ना पाया हूं । उस दिल मे जो है छिपा, जान ना पाया हूं । अब तान छेडता हूं मैं उसके हाथों पर, कल तक क्या जीवन राग हुआ करता होगा ? अब गीत है अपने प्यार, मिलन, विरह का तो , मुझसे पहले क्या गीत हुआ करता होगा ? जो सांझ सवेरे मन गुंजन गाता होगा, वो स्वरलहरी मैं अभी कहां सुन पाया हूं ? उस दिल मे जो है छिपा, जान ना पाया हूं । इस बार नही फ़ूला है बस वन उपवन मे, इस बार बसंती रंग चढा मन पर मेरे । और उन जाने अंजाने रंगों से प्रियतम, मैंने अपने जीवन के कितने चित्र उकेरे । पर तेरे मन की शाखों पर जो फ़ूल खिले, उनके रंग अब तक देख कहां मैं पाया हूं ? उस दिल मे जो है छिपा, जान ना पाया हूं ।

There have been complaints that my last post about my vacations was too out of the box and that a little more earthly account of the same would be much more appreciated. So now, when I am more into my senses, I thought of writing a Guide to Life . No, I don't plan to write a guide to life, if you ever lay your hands on one, tear it apart, burn it, bury it deep into ground but don't read it but rather a brief guide to Life . The first line can be approximately translated to : "The amount of time spent on deciding the title of a post and amount of time spent in actually writing the post sum upto a undetermined but positive and finite constant, within the limits of experimental errors. This assumes that the time you spent in writing the post and the time that you spend in deciding the title are directly proportional to the final gravity (depth of meaning) of the result." And since there is hardly anything graver then Life , the post losses out on any chances of having a...

Ab samay milan ka door nahi. Main ghoom raha tha vyathit akela, raat shahar ki galiyon me, jyon pagal bhanwara dar dar bhatke band kamal ki kaliyon pe, man ki aakulta pag me bhar, main chalta jata idhar udhar, lagta tha jisko dhoondh raha, voh paas hi hai, kahin door nahi. Ab samay milan ka door nahi. pighli chaandi si chandra kiran girti patton se chan chan ke, tim tim nartan karte taare, man bahlaate the ban ban ke. rukna kintu na bhagya mera, man ko tha duvidha ne ghera, "manzil meri aane vaali aur, main ab tak thak ker choor nahi?" Ab samay milan ka door nahi. Chali pawan fir door desh se ye sandesha le aayi, us virhani ki vyakulta apne antar me bhar laayi, "Tum udwigna hawaaon me, mere antar me jwala hai. Itne din yajna chala ye ab, antim aahuti door nahi !!" Ab samay milan ka door nahi.

The total sum of gravity of the title of a post and post itself is more or less constant. As usual, I am trying to be witty after a long hiatus from this blog but the reason for that is not at all usual. I was on a journey, one like I never went on before, one I would hardly ever go on again. Those who cared to keep track, saw me travelling to City of Nawabs from City of Gardens and back. Those who cared to travel with me, travelled from as far as Deccan Queen and NCR and for next 15 days, City of Nawabs turned into a Never Never Land. Unfortunately I cannot tell you what Never Never land is, You will have to see it for yourself, someday ! For now, its spring time, both inside me and outside me. I guess I should start bracing up for summers !