dur desh se aaya panchi

dur desh se aaya panchi ..
apna geet sunaye ...
mithi madhur awaaz se apni ..
sabka mann vo bhave ...
iss daal se uss paat ..
phur phur udta jaye ...
bol sunehre sunkar uske ..
sabka dil yeh gaye ...
dur desh se aaya panchi ..
apna geet sunane ...

Tu surya hai

anand hai , anand bhog ...

zindagi mein, befikr ho ...

tu surya hai .. hai surya tu ...

ujjwalit kartii roshni ...

tujh se badh kar kuch nahin ...

tujh se aagey koi nahin ...


jo bhagwaan hai ,hai insaan wahi ..

hai jeevan ka ras yahi ...

phir aaj peekar isse magna ho ...

madhu yeh , hai som yahi ...

tu surya hai .. hai surya tu ...


phir bhay ki kaali chaya kya ...

phir dukh se ghira andhera kya...

tu surya hai .. hai surya tu

ujjwalit karti roshni ...

tujh se badh kar kuch nahin ...


kabhi jaat jaat , hai dharma karma ..

kabhi paat paat , hai karma dharma ..

hai kaun galat , aur kaun sahi ..

jo tu karey wahi sahi ..

tu surya hai ... hai surya tu ...


anand hai .. anand bhog ...

masti mein phir magna ho ..

tu jeevat hai ... tu jeevan bhi ...

tu sakriya hai ... bhara hua ...

tu surya hai ... hai surya tu ...

tu surya hai .. hai surya tu ...

the boy , the desert , the rain and the rose ...

The first few drops of rain that fell on the arid sand of the desert went almost unnoticed. Perhaps the reason was that the rain wasn't accompanied by any thunder and the clouds too were not noticed because they had disappointed too many too often. So it seemed highly unlikely that these clouds would bring any rain. The reason could also be attributed to scorching heat which had made the drops vaporize the moment they touched the ground; or it could be attributed to the absence of anyone who would've noticed it. For anyone who could have, was looking at what he thought would be his last meal.



"Me yes that's right me, a single flower of rose, a fine young specimen too as someone had praised my beauty when i was still a bud. And I'm going to be eaten by a boy. For what, a few more moments of agony in starvation with a hope of surviving on me." That was all the rose was thinking when the boy first held him and looked with those desperate eyes that had flames of undying hunger billowing behind them. " I had been proud of my color which was rich and my smooth petals eloquent, all proof of my royal lineage. I had been cut carefully and I had ordained a shelf. Met similar flowers on the way. We were all bought together and gifted to a beautiful lady. I had been even spend some time in a vase and all the other flowers were jealous when I was chosen to be kept in a book. It was an honour only few got and that's how i thought it would always be. Me being remembered as a symbol of love for the years to come. But of all the things I had imagined, I never had thought even once that my end would be as the last meal of a boy."



The boy's skin was dry and wrinkled with all the suffering that he had to endure for the past few days. There was nothing in his mind. He was not thinking of life or death. He had come to terms with the harsh reality long time back. Now it was just the long wait. He had seen many a clouds fly across him without a single downpour. And now he held the rose in his hand, a memory got refreshed. Of how he had come across it.

And just when the rose thought it would be the end of it, it sensed it. The air had become moist to its liking. The rose thought to itself, "Maybe this is not how it ends. Maybe me n the boy, we both survive." The rose thought wrong.

The boy opened his mouth to devour his last meal. A few drops of rain landed on his parched tongue which was as dry as the desert itself. The moisture made it easier for the boy to chew.

Khushi - the feeling of joy

ek nayi subah , ek nayi shuruat ...

dukh ke jaalon ko bhedti yeh roshini ...

mehtva-kaang-shaaon ke bina pankhon waley ghodey se kahin dur ...

jahan sirf tum aur tumhrey yeh avyakul kadam .

dharti ka prashant purit sparsh ...

maa ke pyar ki bhaanti ...

tumhare sabhi dukhon ko nigalta hua ...

mastishk ki rekhaon ko dheel deta yeh ehsaas ...

kitna sukhad hai yeh ehsaas ...

tumhe theek ussi taraf le jatey hue ...

jis disha mein tum jana chahte ho ...

umeed ka sagar tumharey maathey ko chumta ...

tumhe apni ore pukarta hua ...

uski namkeen hawa taazgi se bharpur ...

zakhmon par aise marham laga rahi ho ...

jaise tapte hue registan par ...

baarish ki boondon ki pehli puhar ...

aur ab sirf jeevat laga ra hai ...

to bus yeh sukhad sa ehsaas ...

aur yeh pratiphala suraj chamkta hua ...

neele khuley aasamaan mein ...

muskarata hua jaise keh raha ho...

sab acha hoga ...





reasons for happiness are many ... all one needs ter do is just find one ... ;)

Genius

Genius should not be envied. Genius shouldn't be followed as well. Genius just needs to be respected

the Indian Dressing Room

Sehwag : bhai main toh pehle ki kat lunga ... shopping jana hai wife ko lekar ...

Gambhir : koi nah bhai main hoon nah ... maine toh pehle match ke time hi kar li thi shopping ...

Dravid : this is not fair ... even in england i was busy cudnt take my wife for shopping ...

Zaheer : hum bowlers ka kabhi no hi ni aata ... saara din field mein chala jata hai ... lagta hai phir injury karwani padegi ...

Umesh : hum bhi jayein ... virat tu ja ra hai kahin...

Virat : (showing the finger)

Ishaan : umesh beta tu aur ashwin toh agale tour par bhi karna ... mere saath bhi pehli baar aisa hi hua tha ...

Ashwin : agle tour par bhajji na aa jaye ... thodi batting karni padegi ...

V.V.S : yaar iss baar mere ko bhi shopping jana hai wife ke saath ... dont expect me ter stay in the field ... this time i ve ter take her..humesha bolta hoon next time ...

Sachin : tum logon ko shopping ki padi hai ... meri yahan par century ki century ni ban ri ...

Ganguly : abey kitni century maarega .. aaaja saath baith kar commentary karte hain .. ac bhi hai laga hai.. dravid tu bhi aaja..teri toh english bhi achi hai ...

Dhoni : dont worry guys ... match humne 4 din mein khatam kar dena hai ... one day reserved for shopping ... ash karo ... ;)

an ode to a coffee table

there two lovers were,
hand inter-weaved,
around a coffee cup;
the perfume
bonding them in breath;
with their eyes,
they smiled ;
silence carried their words,
the clock struck time
n they left ;
a little more rich,
a little less poor.

the stain of
coffee spilt,
is a story the table
carries,
of lovers lost in time ...