Thursday, December 27, 2012

Malabar Monsoon on a Cold Winter Evening in Delhi

From the other side of the glass window
The city looked at her with indifference
Her hands had carried the cold from outside
 numb to the welcoming warmth
Gloves were meant to be forgotten
Her solitude was quickly forgiven
By the generous occupants of the room
As they returned to their cups and conversations

The walls were sketched by a wondering hand
Little slips in the lines, his only signatures
In a corner, Ghalib confessed his love for Dilli
Beside his musings, she took her seat
The calligraphy, done a little over enthusiastically
Made the words difficult to read
Ornamentation beneath its tedious cloaks
Buried the simplicity of things

“Have a look at our menu ma’am,
We have the best coffee from around
the World.”
So for her simple cup of brew
She flew over Jamaica, Brazil, Austria,
Norway, Cuba and Canada
Before coming back and resting on her own shores
“Malabar Monsoon!”
“Our very own.. excellent coastal flavours ”

The world was constantly escaping
Into another
Snatching away little moments
To spend with themselves
Tasting a different life
She was waiting for monsoons
In the midst of a haughty winter
Reading a novel set in Tehran             
While breathing the fogs of Delhi

A polite interruption of the French pot
Dived headlong into her pensive state
She poured in her cup
The blissful refuge
In its bitterness, she dissolved her scars
Poisoned all her lies
But some truth died as well
Because she couldn't always tell
One from another.

After the warmth returned to her palms
And the cup returned to the kitchen
After the smile returned to her lips
And she returned home to herself
Her soul’s bare feet still wet
Kissed by Malabar monsoons
While she has walked on its rainbow shores
Leaving no footprints behind.


Sunday, December 16, 2012

Just Once

Let me make a song of every breath
Weave a little light into my soul
Braid happiness into the whims of my hair
Allow myself a smile
The one that I thought I could never afford
Search for a pair of warm hands
To bless my coldness away
Make a coat of ivory clouds
To wear on my way to the heavens
Let me dance to the harps of a cherub
Or to the flute of Gokul's prince
Let the rains kiss my forehead
And whisper little sonnets
Laugh with me till we can love no more
And wash my tears away
Tell no one
It would be our secret to keep
Let me wash the mirrors
and learn to look in them again
To know that I and she that I look at 
were never the strangers we thought 
each other to be
Let her eyes say just once
You're beautiful
and let mine smile and accept it.
Just once.

Monday, December 10, 2012


No verse to touch, No prose to hold
My part succumbs in the play
No days to feel, no nights to hurt
Whisk all my prayers away

On a black square I stand
With a white beside me
The truth I will push away
And the lie will hide me

Drowned to death and still awake
To keep one promise forlorn
Rise to hold the morning's throne
A million times reborn

When enough cold will seep through
The warmth will return
And smoldering hopes burst into flames
To breathe again and burn

Today the song is beautiful
Tomorrow it would sleep
To gift a smiling moment
Your's forever to keep

One verse to touch, One Prose to hold
To all the parts I play
Unwritten still the author's work
And moulded in wet clay.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Letter from the Sea


Seep through these cracks
And flood my day
Kill all the truth
Push the dreams away

Kiss this night
Let the moon suggest
How all our fears
Can be laid to rest

Dance through the tides
And laugh again
Till pain makes way
For no more pain

Let my blood sink
In this lonely sand
On some unknown shore
Let my grave stand

Live this hour
With no breath planned
Come sing to the world
Come hold my hand…

Monday, June 11, 2012


"Kickass Vikas", a great buddy and an even better human being shares a unique experience....

2006 was a special year for me. That being the final year of graduation, career was of utmost importance. And I had chalked out two viable options for myself (considering the limited potential I possessed). By February, both of them were just a step away from fulfilment. And I, much closer to redemption. For once, everything seemed to go my way. J

With an interview call from Symbiosis Institute of Mass Communication (SIMC) Pune, and a Service Selection Board (SSB) summon to the Air Force selection centre at Mysore, I couldn’t have asked for anything more. But, both of them were scheduled for the same week. If that wasn’t enough to add on to the confusion, my University (Nagpur) decided to hold the final year Laboratory practicals around the same time. So, the second week of the second month of that year, ensured, that I commemorate it as the one, where my decision-making skills were to be put to the stringiest of all tests in my lifetime. To think of it now, I think I did a commendable job.

Hectic lobbying ensured that I was allowed to sit for the Laboratory Practicals in a week’s time from the original schedule, along with another batch of students. Well, it did come with riders. My Head of the Department (HOD) yielded out a promise from me that I would take her shopping on my Canteen Services Department (CSD) card, once I became an officer in the armed forces! That taken care of, I shot off a request letter to the SSB centre (Mysore) requesting them to postpone my SSB to the next available date. (As per the SSB rules you can, but once, ask for a rescheduled date).  So, Pune it was, for the coming weekend.
The SIMC interview went well. And I had to rush back to Nagpur the same evening to set the laboratory on fire. No, seriously, we did manage to do that.
The practicals were a disaster as usual. A few accidents here and there ensured a complete lockdown of the entire laboratory, with we being chased out of there with an assurance that we had achieved the minimum marks, just enough for a safe passage out of the course.

All set and done, I packed my bags and set off for Mysore in the first week of March. “Uniformed” dreams were taking shape all through the journey. SSB is a strenuous selection procedure spread across a duration of five days in which the candidates are put through Psychological tests, Group Discussions, leadership assessment, group planning and an Interview. Happened to be one of the four candidates to be shortlisted or “recommended”, as they say in SSB terms. Recommended candidates are subsequently put through various medical tests to ascertain that they qualify for the rigorous physical standards of the armed forces. For this our batch of four, were directed to the Air Force Command Hospital (CH) in Bengaluru. Arrangements were made for our stay at the Cubbon Road SSB centre in the city.

“Recommended” candidates are subject to much envy and curiosity by the rest. Your every move and mannerism are keenly observed and aped. After all you were amongst the chosen few who had almost made it. (A candidate has to pass the medical tests and also make it to the final merit list compiled on an All-India basis to finally earn a call from the respective training academies. So we were just about there). Evenings would see us doling out serious “Do’s” and “Don’ts” to the hopefuls, who on their part were greedily latching on to the words of wisdom from the wise men. To be honest, I was enjoying my share of stardom.
Then the medical tests started and we were asked to board an early morning bus to CH, Bengaluru. The tests were supposed to be conducted over a period of 5-8 days depending upon the availability of the specialists. With nothing to do the entire day, except for the trip to CH every day, I was enjoying the stay.  But, the medical tests had its share of embarrassments too. From stripping down completely to your birthday suit to watching the dentist frown at your chocolate-stained dentition, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. I managed to come out unscathed. Though, the one assistant who weighed me on the scale wasn’t entirely impressed by the resultant Body Mass Index (BMI). And he made me undergo the process once again. It was I who emerged victorious as I managed to dodge the underweight bracket by a good 350 gms! J 
Then the Ear-Nose-Throat(ENT) followed. We were put through weird tests, which involved a person whispering words to us from one corner of a sound proof room and we were expected to write them down. The Eye Tests thereafter stated that I was a “Colour Perception-1”, i.e my eyesight was damn good. Then came the shocker.

It was the 4th day of the tests and our batch was supposed to undergo a few cardio-vascular tests. It was to be followed by a 3-day break  due to string of Government holidays in that week.  As i walked into the diagnosis room, a mechanical pumping heart greeted me with the customary “lubs” and “dubs”. The doctor, a Squadron Leader , made me sit on a stool near him. He asked what I planned to do the next day, for Holi? I replied “what I do best on that day, keep myself indoors”. He laughed and pulled out his stethoscope from the side wings of his apron and asked me to do the usual, the breath-in and breath out. I think he looked at me straight into the eyes for a second, then again went about repeating the whole procedure. Convinced about something , he laid the stethoscope to rest and went for his notepad. “I think you have a cardiac murmur” were his exact words.

I nodded, without realising that i was doing so. “You know, what it means” he asked. “Yes. I had biology as one of my subjects” I replied. He wrote it on his official pad that bore his name and designation that I was to be referred to a senior cardiologist and undergo an “Echo”test. The “urgent” written in bold, on top of his scribbled lines is still imprinted on my mind. I walked out of the room saying nothing. As the words of the doctor finally started sinking in, i started feeling uneasy. The next 3 days were going to be the most turbulent in my life.

Here, i was on the verge of achieving something which was a childhood dream and now it all seemed futile. I went back to the SSB centre and started pondering about my future course of action. Should it to be my elder brother to whom i break the news first, or my parents? Was the question. I even calculated the time I will have at disposal after wrapping up my final year exams. After all I had worked hard all these years and if death comes i atleast want to die a graduate. The day passed, but the night wasn’t going to do so easily. Compulsory lights off in the dorm meant  I was grappling with the sudden darkness on a larger scale. The next two nights too, were similar. It was only during the day I lost track of the “murmur” within, as I had made many a pals over there and was having a gala good time with them. Monday was to be the day of the Echo test. And Sunday night my restlessness made me withdrawn from my group of friends there. I pulled out a white A4 sheet. It was thus decided that I would call up my brother first. On the white sheet i wrote a letter to my parents. Telling them , how much i loved them and how things should be after i am gone. The P.S section i had written, “The guitar would go to Tushar. No questions asked”. (Tushar, happened to be a friend of mine, whose guitar i had unknowingly broken while landing on it after pulling off a stunner during a game of in-bedroom cricket. He was a lucky dog. Was getting a brand new Gibson in place of an old bent-back Hobner. All just because my heart valves were an undisciplined lot) The letter also had many “I love you’s” strewn all across. I wasn’t writing them, they just kept flowing on their own. I also asked them to plan a family trip every two months from now on.

Monday, finally came. I boarded the bus at 6 sharp and reached CH. Was then guided to a senior cardiologist, of the rank of a Wing Commander. He could sense my nervousness as i walked into my room. He made me comfortable and offered me a can of Pepsi. “Darn! He too thinks i am not gonna make it” was my first thought at his noble gesture. I politely turned it down. He then asked me take off my shirt and lie down. I was ready for the “Echo” test. He applied some medicinal lubricant/gel on my chest and then attached a few plugs to it. Then he made himself comfortable on the monitor nearby, all the while moving up a diagnostic joystick kind of instrument all over the problem area. After a few run downs he asked me to get up and helped me with the tissues to clean of the lubricant. 
“Who sent you, here??” was his question. I prompltly told him the Squadron Leader’s name. He nodded his head. This, made me more anxious. 

"You have a perfectly fine heart, kid. Nothing to worry.” He said. I thought he’s being sympathetic and didn't want me to panic right there, therefore the words. He sensed my disbelief and said “ The Echo tests shows no signs of a cardiac murmur. You were wrongly diagnosed at the first stage.”


I didn’t smile, as I still couldn’t believe this.

Then he said  “I think, it was the chest hair which gave the doctor a false impression of your cardiac valves malfunctioning”.

Embarrassing, but nonetheless relieving. I sprang to my feet, collected the reports, said a quick ‘thank you’ and vanished into the corridor. Life wasn’t that unfair, I thought.

 Back in the dorm, I tore up the letter. Pulled out a fresh sheet and wrote “Tushar, agreed you are my friend. But honestly, you don’t deserve my Gibson. After all it was your mistake that you placed your Hobner there.”

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Go Slow Part 2

 Sunset at Dalhousie

What wars fought, what battles cry?
What prizes won, what soldiers die?

He stands alone from dawn till dusk
A few hours smile, a few days brusk

What heavens behold, what winds obey
What waters run to, in cloaks of grey

The eve brings a beginning to the end of this story
The warrior sleeps in all his glory....

Sunday, June 03, 2012

Go Slow Part 1

The four part series is related to a breathtaking trip to Dalhousie.


A wall in this room has surrendered and made way for a sheet of glass, and when the curtains hiding it are drawn aside, what you behold will probably sketch itself in immortal ink on the walls of your musing heart. The room overlooks a quiet and breathtaking valley and beyond that, some umpteen rows of hills that finally reach the snow clad Pir Panjal range.

The mornings are almost warm, but the afternoons will take you in their cool and gentle embrace. The memories of this afternoon I will place in my crystal jar of priceless memories, as of yesterday and the day before. The clouds came unannounced and danced all over the valley, each took charge of a separate hill and caressed the eager deodars with wet loving palms. They painted the entire landscape in profound shades of blue. So profound, that it could seep into your heart, run through your veins and appear as little drops from the corners of your enchanted eyes. So blue, that you’d cease to associate any gloom with blue in future, so blue, that you’d feel that it’s the color of your soul.

Stand on this terrace alone, feel this rain on your skin, hear the breeze convince your hair to follow their whims, hear the thunder laugh at your awestruck face, see the valley smile at  your ecstasy, realize what I really mean by Solitude Sublime and wonder, if this could really happen in absence of a divine plan…
The coffee tastes like the Gods have made it for you, and your bare feet feel like they have just uncovered the secret of existence from the wraps of this wet earth. You are breathing a divine shade of life, you can almost hear angels sing, you are finally falling in love with yourself, and your reflection no longer seems distorted, its just you, smiling.

The clouds decide to bid adieu, awe inspire another set of souls, the rains kiss me goodbye, the shadows shift and the silver dragons glide away. A little one remains behind, but then hurries after its mother. The hues change. The earth is still in the euphoria of what had just passed, and so am I.
And Davies gently whispers “What is this life, if full of care. We have no time to stand and stare”. And I wonder that if we could really snatch away some time to stare, this life probably would not be so full of care. There is aridity, there is disenchantment, but once in a while, look closer, its still a beautiful world. Once in awhile , my beloved reader, fall in love with yourself again. Just once in a while…..

Go Slow….

Saturday, June 02, 2012

The Quixotic Space

Here comes my first guest blog  :-)
And I  couldn't be more honored as the Quixotic Knight has generously agreed to share his ninja awesomeness here in this "space". 
Thank you Kunal... :)


It’s not everyday that one gets asked to be a guest author by somebody as awesome as Rohini Singh. So today when she did ask me, I said I’d be glad and I went to bed.
It’s 3:32 AM and I can’t sleep. I can’t wait. I have to write. J

I have this thing for words starting with “S”. Solitude Sublime are such beautiful two words. They amaze me. On the brutal journey of what to write and the herculean task of converting coucntless thoughts into words, I come upon one of the favourite words of mine, this one starting with “S” yet again. It’s not solitude, It’s not sublime.

It’s space.

And now that one dares to scribble in this epic
How about scribbling a little about something awesome on solitude sublime
The word is “Space” ,about which I’ve written Before
But isn’t it never enough to write on something so divine?

Verses form the DNA of this blog,
And thus the prose shall give in to verse’s fight
Today’s author, ladies and gentlemen
Is the quixotic knight

The existence of this concept space around us,
It’s dichotomy with object is mystical.
What you perceive as space can be a collection of a million objects
This verse is already so whimsical

What you perceive as empty space,
Is a crowd of molecules and atoms packing up leaving no space
What you perceive as a solid object
Can be an empty space for trillions of objects within

Gets hard to explain the concept,
So consider the room where you sit,
It’s a solid object for a person standing outside
Yet for you a space where you fit.

Life is nothing but but an empty space,
It’s all empty space, you and I.
Starts with an empty space in the womb,
Space remains when you die.

It’s surprising why its not yet a religion,
Space’s existence remains without a doubt!
There are so many questions about existence of God
Where’s he? I hear, So many broken soul’s shout.

Take away everything,
destroy all that exists,
Do the dance of Shiva,
And yet an empty pure space persists.

One which can cannot be created
One which cannot be destroyed.
Gods can fall , sedated
Space stands, like a numb soldier deployed.

We exist not in time, We exist not in this world.
In space, exists everything. Everything which ever was.
It can be an object, or maybe even a thought,
Nothing escapes the mighty space’s claws

There is physical space,
and then there’s  the mental domain.
One might disappear from physical world
But in mental space they always remain.

You’re born , you live, you love.
You laugh you play and you die in your tomb.
Even though physically you’re now an empty space
Like your origin, the empty womb.

 So while the physical space is constant
And creation leads always to destruction here.
Is there no boundary
To the mental space’s sphere?

An objects needs space to exist
Space exists if there is an object.
What was present when there was absolute purity of space?
Finding this answer, is the prophet’s project.

Space is deeper in solitude,
And in solitude its more sublime.
It’s best to perhaps hide space’s mystery
And in ignorance grace its shine!

Saturday, May 26, 2012

a Mother's day gift

Mother's day gift for Ma. We had been banned from buying gifts for her. So it had to be handmade.
Didn't come out very well but it made her real happy.. :D

Yeah yeah.. I am big time obsessed with Peacocks.. :D

Thursday, May 24, 2012

No Pain...

She had touched his heart. He gasped, barely able to breathe. The warmth of his blood surged through. It was like he had been cut open, but he felt no pain. It was like being pinned to the stillness. He lay there motionless, drowning into oblivion, into darkness, slowly....
Then she said....
"Mam, please come and see my dissection!! I think my frog is dead."

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Her Morning Elegance / Oren Lavie

This is from my list of Beloved Songs
There's something about it that never ceases to make me smile.
And a very fine stop motion.
I hope it makes you smile as well!
Do watch! :)

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in its case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And She goes...
Nobody knows

Sunday, May 06, 2012


हसरतों  की  कब्र  में , एक  रूह  दफन  हो  गयी ..
वोह  आग  को  लगा  गले , एक  आह  ओढ़े  सो  गयी ...
आंसुओं  से  आसमान  के , धुल  गयी  ज़मीन  तेरी ..
कि बादलों की  साजिशों  में , घुल  गयी  ज़मीन  तेरी ...

किस  फ़कीर  कि  मज़ार  पे , अब  चादरें  चधाऊँ  मैं ?
किस  शौख के  बाज़ार  में , दिलचस्पियाँ  जताऊँ  मैं ?
पुछा  जो  कल  कि रात  से , वोह  बोली  क्या  बताऊँ  मैं ?
क्यूँ  इस  सवेरे  के  आगे , फिर  आज  सर  झुकाऊँ  मैं ?

क्यूँ  आज  जलती  लौ  से  लड़  पड़ी  हैं  यह  हवाएं  फिर ?
क्यूँ  अब  दुआ   की  राह  देखती  हैं  यह  दवाएं  फिर ?
 भूले  हुए  गुनाहों  की , क्यूँ  मिल  रहीं  सजाएं  फिर ?
क्यूँ  हंस  रहीं  हैं  आज  रेगिस्तान  की  फिज़ाएं फिर ?

एक  आस  मेरी  थी  कभी , तनहाइयों  में  खो  गयी ,
एक  सांस  मेरी  थी  कभी , गवाहियों  में  खो  गयी ,
एक  रात  कि जो  बात  थी , कहानियों  में  खो  गयी ,
एक  अक्स  है , छुपाने  को , परछाइयों में  खो  गयी .

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Happy Singh

YO YO!! What a lovely day! Just when my dog is about to drive me to commit suicide with her "Why were you even born woman?" look, God sends a message.. "Dont lose heart darling. There is still some reason to smile and continue." The messenger was Navin ! If you are an Indiblogger, then there is a fair chance that you already know what awesomeness I am talking about. He has very very deservedly received the "The Most Versatile Blogger Award" for which I convey to him my heartiest congratulations! And I am overwhelmed, humbled and truly grateful that he has considered me worth the award as well. Thanks a million tons Navin! Its amazingly generous of you to recognize my humble attempt this warmly. Such little moments of joy make it easier waiting for Godot. God Bless You!!

I hardly deserve this. I still haven't been able to figure out as to why I attempt writing at all! And every comment of appreciation evokes in me a sense of disbelief. :D Nevertheless this has made me truly happy! And I want to double it by sharing it with you my beloved readers. 

When you are nominated for this award, you are required to:
1. Create a new post.
2. Thank the lovely person who nominated you for the award. 
3. Pass it on to your fellow bloggers. 
4. State 7 random facts about you.

I too believe I must pass on this award to people who really deserve it ASAP! But I am so not capable of judging. When my own work is pretty mediocre, then who am I to judge if your work is worth it or not. Nevertheless, there are blogs that I really like and appreciate and I'll pass it on to them as a token of my appreciation.

1. ~Nil.... The freshness of her blog is absolutely delightful! Very original, very beautiful and very enlightening!

2. Valady Views: I am not qualified enough to comment on his creativity and talent or judge it. Most of the times, its absolute awe. I just learn alot from him.

3.Confessions of an Agoraphobic: His writing has such a profound connection established with his heart that it always makes it a beautiful experience to go through his works.

4.Cranium Bolts.. You've got to see it to find out!

5. Passion for Movies.. Even though I am not a movie buff but his infectious passion and his classy reviews certainly make me curious!

6. The Little Princess.. She is by all means a true princess! And versatile is what describes her best. Be it her wonderful writing or her creativity. Dont forget to check out her other blogs! The unbelievably beautiful rangolis deserve a special mention.

There are many many more of you who would be seeing their name in this post eventually!! :))
Give me some time...

And now!! Woohoo.. The seven deadly things.. Lets see..

Uno _ While driving, I keep chasing pedestrians and then complain that they are coming in my way.

Dos _ My drawer looks like the nest of a beaver high on weed.

Tres _ I am an ambidextrous, which implies that both sides of my brain (or whatever is left of it) are active. This arms with an awe-inspiring capacity to irritate.

Cuatro _ My father gifted me a "Dora, the explorer" pink sparkling toothpaste for three year olds on my 22nd birthday. I was ecstatic.

Cinco_ I loathe borrowing. I am so absolutely incapable of it! Ask my maths teachers.. :D

Seis _ I always face my fears to get rid of them. But talking to spiders really doesn't help. The exaggerated creatures with an unusual amount of legs, start taking an unusual amount of interest. 

Siete _ I want to see a perfect cherry blossom before I die.

Thank a ton again. And congratulations to all of you. 
Have a great great day!!!! :))))