Young Flower

In this life
Memories from the past
Bizarre as they may seem
Forever they shall last

I may remember
A dream come true
My favorite book or song
Beneath the sky that looked blue

I may recall a few places
My favorite pub and whiskey traces
And my face, when I smile
After I had walked a thousand miles

But among these memories
There shall be a lonely hour
For I shall think,
Think of you,
As a young splendid flower

Tears

ये कविता
तेरे आँसुओं के लिये
जो तेरी मायूस आँखों से
टपकते है
मौम की तरहा
जिन्हे देख कर
जी करता है
फूक कर अँधियारा कर दूं
और तेरी मासूमियत को पिघलने ना दूं

Khamoshiyan

ये खामोशियाँ
इतना सब क्यूँ कह जाती है
आवाज़ जैसे देता है कोई
मुड़कर देखु
तो तेरी याद चली आती है 

Goa

Goa trip ended and I am sad. Being an official trip, could not engross into the real feel of Goa, however visit to the Baga beach was wonderful. I wanted to be alone for sometime but you cannot ditch your team members and walk away. Tried once, and they thought I was following the tall Russian Girl, which was partly true.

The sunset caught hold of my eyes. The magical changing colors - dominant dark orange sky slowly and slowly submerging into light pink with layers of sapphire playing hide and seek, the whole frame then turned into pale red. From far away, you could only see carefree shadows on the beach, lost in the beautiful silhouette where the ocean and sky kissed.

Har Ki Dun (Valley of the Gods)

कविताओ से पूरी ना होगी
तस्वीरो में क़ैद ना होगी
ये हिमालय की गोद से निकली
हर की दुन घाटी
यहाँ मिलते है ख्वाब अधूरे
अकेलेपन में लिपटी
इन वादियों को क्या महसूस होता होगा?
मेरी सांसो का कंपन?
जो पहले कभी ना था!
या मेरी धड़कने?
जो मानो आज धड़कना सीखी हो!
कदम जो ये थकते नही
और क़ैद करने इन नज़ारों को
ये आँखें झपकती नही
दिशायें ये रुकती नही
बस चली जाती हैं दूर कहीं
और इनसे मिलने की ख्वाहिश में
चला चलता हूँ में
गुनगुनाते हुए, तोड़ा मुस्कुराते हुए
जीने का सबब जैसे मिला हो
जन्नत का जैसे एक पल मिला हो
ये हिमालय की गोद से निकली
हर की दुन घाटी
यहाँ मिलते है ख्वाब अधूरे

Old Buildings

There is something extraordinary about the old buildings the appeals to me. A tall-old structure made of wood and concrete, covered with red rusty paint, broken windows, leaking water pipes, staircases running to the rooftop, old doors, untouched corridors and ignored appearance. The building calls me with an untold story.

The lifecycle of a building is so much similar to that of human life cycle. The to be born building well planned in advance after examining all the financial implications. The new born then fed well and looked after so that the foundation is strong. It blossoms like a young beautiful woman after it’s painted well. A bit of adjustments required, pinch of compromises on the interior – a clear comparison with life after marriage. And before you realize, it turn old. The new buildings appear around it . . . younger , taller and much stronger. The attention is taken away and it is either left alone or disposed off to give space for other projects. Some lucky ones are taken care of by their loved ones until they become quite and lose their human spirit.

F

My voice shall not touch you for long
Wonder not, my friend
For it will shatter with time
But what will remain
Is a Daisy
With heart full of wishes
That I have secretly plucked
From your lovely smile

2014

2013 ended with a beautiful trek in the Gharwal Himalayas – Har ki dun, known as the Valley of the Gods. Followed by, Lucky Ali’s live concert in Mussoorie! Resumed work just two days before the new years eve. My mind wondered and lost in the hills, searching for belonging-ness in the city life. My love affair with Mumbai, or with anyone for that matter, is at it’s low when I return back from the North. Probably, because a large piece of my heart stays back in the mountains and the valley.

New years eve at Geetika’s. A great host, who does most of the work by herself except cooking and I thank her for that (for not cooking!). Hard to imagine Mumbai without her. I have seen her flourish with time. She is now a CFA with big job (which she would disagree to). Where as she has acknowledged my highs and lows in these years. Although, life here has always been on the terms – each one for himself, I know she looks after me in all possible ways. I feel safe around her.

Fell from my bike while going back home from work on the 1st day of 2014 and landed safely on my helmet with minor bruises on my left leg. This left my only black shirt torn around the shoulder with no scope for alteration. Not a good start! But Raju Bhai says, “Jaan bachi toh lakho paye.” To which I carefully responded, “Jaan bachi par kapde phat gaye.” – which he obviously ignored but made me a great masala chai to cheer me up.

7th Jan: Ruskin Bond’s autographed book finally arrived after my failed attempted to meet him at his house in Mussoorie. He sends best wishes for 2014. Not a bad start after all!