Thats it...

I've quit writing poetry, though not for good, but for the time being, yes.

I guess life demands a lot more than occassional musings.


Here I go, my friend
But I'll be back, I swear I will
The world beckons my services
And I must leave you in my stead.

But fear not, my friend
For I shall soon get back to thee
And then we shall muse upon
The cattle, the men and the broken tree.


Nay, I can't say goodbye, O friend
For I shall never mean my words
But do not wait for me, I pray of you
For my heart still belongs to you.

[Curtains]

Bismillah's dead!!!

That was a sad news.... but raises a quite a relevant question in my 
mind now...

Now that another celebrity has died, so who's going to play shehnai 
on Doordarshan? 

Blogthings Sucks!!

it does.

Aasmaan toot para....

It has been a really sad day for me, more so for my sister. A really good friend or ours died last night in a car accident in Delhi. Dhupar was a graduate from IIT Delhi n was doing a great job at Halcrow until last night. Still remember all those funny meetings with him in Delhi. In fact, my sister chatted with him yesterday, so its really unbearable for her.
Can't talk much now. I'm in a real shock at the moment.
May God rest his soul in peace.

Release me...

Release me…. From the pale sun.
From the dying moon that heads for the clouds
From time, that would kill us soon.
The death that poses an obvious stare, from him.

Release me…. From the green pastures
That would soon grow barren, and wait for spring again.
From gravity, that holds me down to the earth.
Would I never get to fly again?
From the high rocks up the cliffs
That would give way to angry winds.
From the colossal ice caps, the white islands,
That would melt down to mankind’s greed.

Release me…. from the personality within
The bias, passion, the emotion, the lust.
The romantic tangle, the circle of love,
The commitment, the web of my heart.
The surge of laughter, the pain of despair
The feelings that do not last forever.
From the ties, the lasting bonds,
The excuses of love that keep me down.

Release me…. from the beauty, the charm
The looks that do not last either.
The garb that sheaths the heart, the soul.
Release me… oh yes, release me for good.

Living for the company...

To my best friends.... Sriram, Amit, Vivek, Chandrika, Tarun, Neha, Mahesh (sadly out of town at the moment), Sumit, Rahul bhai, Sharad, Arunava, Yogi, Shaveta, Apoorva, Doel, Ayush.... thanks for making me feel so great and needed in this world. Thanks for the laughter, the fun and the frolic, the occassional treks, the arguments, the few bad moments, and the profound company I always had.

Having a dozed really close friends, apart from having a hundred lighter ones, who care to meet up with me at least once every day is so enigmatic.... makes me feel so good every time I have visitors in my room.... filling it up with their smiles and the love in their hearts... the world feels so goos for a change.

The dinner that Tarun hosted for us last night, the visit to Sriram's room, n meeting Rahul bhai too in the process, and not to forget, the few childish pranks in Arunava's room, where we literally wrestled for possession of a toy gun (lol) and the really funny auto journey with TJ, Dubey, Pathak and Anuradha amid heavy rains last night are experiences I could hardly afford to forget.

Thanks!!! Again.

The Old Man’s Diary (Contd…)

Contrary to my expectations, the day was very exhaustive and stressful. I did reach the pension office on time, but there were already a lot of people queuing up for their salaries. Sunil was getting late for his office, so he gave me some money so I could visit Vaidhji and my old friend from Bareli on my way home after collecting my pension. The process was very long and painful, as the crowd kept growing at the office as time went by, and I had to stand in a long line, being squeezed from all sides until I finally made it to the counter.

After collecting my pension, I went straight to visit my old friend Ghanshyam at Bandra. He had written to me from Bareli earlier this month, and had given me the new address where he will spend the rest of his life. The bus journey was a little comforting, as I was promptly given a seat, being old and frail, and because the traffic was light, I made it to his house by 12. Ghanshyam has grown quite old, so I gathered, and Bhabhiji also used a walking stick. They are really nice people, and forced me to take lunch at their place. Ghanshyam lost his brother recently, and since his brother and his son-in-law used to do all the farming, their lands had to be sold and so they shifted to Bombay. His son works in an insurance company now, and has two children. The daughter-in- law is teaching in a nearby school. So we concluded that our stories were nearly the same, collecting monthly pensions and living alone with our dreams all day in the ghostly house. I saw Bhabhiji talking to Ghanshyam all the time, comforting him and giving him medicines, and I just wished if Sunil’s mother had been with me now in my hour of need. My son has no time for me, and his wife stays out of town half of the time attending to her parents in Pune.

Vaidhji was furious today when I told him about my exertions. He did admonish me for having traveled so much today, but also sympathized with me for my lack of support. He has given me a few pills to be taken after every meal for the next three days, and has advised me a complete rest for a week. He said the pain of traveling will soon cripple my body, and I will have to guard against further exertions until I feel fully fit again. Having worked in the police for over thirty years, I have a natural appetite for traveling and exertions, and the same mindset still prevails today. The ten- kilometer walk every evening has still kept me somewhat fit, but I believe my body has started yielding a bit. For a eighty- four year old, this sure is food for thought.

As had been advised by Vaidhji, I cooked some rice for myself and had it with plain daal and some achar. It felt good to have steamy rice after a long week, as somebody had advised me not to have much rice, as it caused digestion problems sometimes. The afternoon siesta was very relaxing, more so as I had to rest after the early morning rush. I do sound like a hypochondriac, but it would be better if I take care of myself rather than leaving it to Sunil, who kept me admitted to the local Civil hospital for five days after I suffered from a chronic indigestion last summer. The hospital was crowded and dirty, and the food was appalling, which aggravated my ailment. Finally, it was at my brother’s home in Vasai that I could recuperate and had a month’s rest before I traveled back home. I won’t blame it on Sunil, though. The poor boy has to work for twelve hours a day and then picks up his son from school, and does all the shopping everyday. Even when he is forced to take leaves for social obligations, he has to work overtime during the rest of the week to cover up the time lost. Same is the case with Ghanshyam’s son. These days the working people do not have time for anything. I remember how traumatic it was for Sunil in March when he had to go to office everyday amid high fever.

It was around 4, when my grandson returned from school. Sunil dropped him home before leaving for office again.

‘Hi Dadu.’
‘Kaisa hai beta?’
‘Theek hu’ he said, resigned to the fact that he had to answer the same question everyday. He took his late lunch, got dressed in half pant and a tee shirt, and rushed out to play football in the nearby school ground.

Kavita, my daughter-in-law returned home at 6, after participating in the Colony’s ladies club meet. She looked terribly tired, and since I had nothing to do, I boiled a cup of tea for her. Apart from teaching in a school, she takes tuitions and also acts as a member to some clubs. A maid comes in every evening who cooks the dinner and the next morning’s breakfast before stuffing them in the fridge. When I was newly married, I remember I got posted the very next year to Bilaspur, which was far away. But I had to leave alone with my belongings, as my wife had to stay back to cook and to take care of my parents. Those three years in Bilaspur were quite lonely and painful, but at least my parents were being taken care of was a consolation. I expect a lot from my son and the rest of the family in those lines. Sunil says the fact that he is able to buy a place for himself in Bombay and to afford to run his family and father is a big achievement in itself. He must be right. The new flat where we are staying currently in cost him some fifteen lakhs two years back. He says the price has gone up to 22 lakhs these days. All these high prices scare me a lot, as we knew how to manage an entire month with salaries no more than two hundred rupees in the 1950s. My walking stick cost me Rs. 250 in the market, and nearly too away a quarter of my pension allowance for the month. I never intended to buy it, but my grandson said I looked good with it. He also suggested that I should buy the new designer sunglasses that would look ‘really cool’ on my face. I am not much used to wearing glasses, but in this month of June, it’s getting warmer every day. Maybe I might buy it next month or so.

My grandson says I can type diary accounts in the computer. He says he can ‘save’ whatever is written there, and that it will never get lost or damaged. He says I need not spend on pens and new diaries every month, as the computer can easily store thousands of pages in itself without the risks of the pages being torn or lost in the process. He says it is very easy and he could teach me the same in a very short time. I wonder if what he says is correct, because the computer hardly covers his study table, and I don’t see any paper being put in it, like in a typewriter. So where does the whole thing get typed out is still a puzzle for me. I think I am really comfortable with my ball pen and diary, but will soon clear my curiosity about the computer. The other day, my grandson was playing a game in his computer in which I saw there was a big gun which was shooting at approaching people. When I protested, Kavita and Pranay, my grandson, roared with laughter. I wonder what kind of a monster the computer is. I think I should better stay away unless these people force me to shoot people just like that some day.

I think its time for dinner now. The smell of the chapattis here is so different from our chakki atta in village. The rotis are very thin, and ghee is really expensive, so I have lost interest in eating these days. Anyways, I don’t have much of a choice right now.

Jai Shankar baba ki.

Life's Like That!!!

I haven't had a more eventful Sunday in a long time. This of course doesn't mean that I worked hard, and eventful could be described herein as a series of processes that did not involve burning of calories.

The events did take some time to surface, though. I woke up late, say around 10. This because of a weird article I tried to pen late into Saturday night, trying to describe some old guy's thoughts. Literally, that article has been my only achievement in the last two days of toil. Not quite an achievement though, but yes, it was the only thing I could finish in time.

So getting back to Sunday, the first thing that I realized, to my horror, was that I had slept over half a dozen calls from Ma, who generally calls up early every Sunday morning to make sure her son was napping again. ( I sure have some explaining to do.) Breakfast didn't follow, as brushing happened at 11. Bathing didn't follow too, but two of my oldest friends did. Bissa and Sumit visited me around noon to discuss some odd poetry I had posted in my blog. I love it when I see fans barging into my room. And guess what? Thay offered doing my assignments for me while I went at my poems. I was genuinely flattered, but no pact was entered into, owing to my stand of not entering into a contract when still under the grasp of sleep. Once I was done with the duo, in came Rahul. The 'bas zindagi guzar rahi hai' guy, the storehouse of shers and quotes of 'bewafai'.

What followed was a splendid lunch at SDL with Sriram. He sponsored it , for a change. Though it was vegetarian menu again, I loved the food. Paneer Hyderabadi and Aloo koftas were a real treat on a day when I was expecting myself to hog over worthless hot dogs from Jaideep's tuck shop.

Then came in Apoorv, with whom I went out in the evening for a Sunday chitochat coupled with beer and some snacks . We were done by 7, after which we decided to look for some hot stuff to follow up the beer. In came Kalinga, the ordinary NLUites delight, where we feasted on amazing vegetarian thalis again. The subsequent meetings with more friends at Kalinga, and the long long auto trip back to hostel ended at around 9.

I was just wondering how to celebrate my post- beer 'high'ness, when two young freshers staying in my same floor appeared with a moot problem. Law of torts. One was my new neighbour and the other a tall lanky guy named Digvijay. Apparently the respondent, whom they were representing was driving a Santro car within the speed limits when an fast incoming car forced him to swerve to his left, thereby smashing into a shop, which later caved in. The shop-owner and his rescuer, who also was trapped in the debris, sued. After two hours of lawyergiri, we concluded the only logical argument would be that the shopowner was guilty of contributory negligence as he didn't fortify his shop well enough to avoid damage in an 'accident- prone' area. The fact sheet did state it was accident prone, so I believed the guy could survive the verbal assault from the Judge long enough to last the required ten minutes.

Just after I finished with the young guys, I found an amazing movie in LAN. 'Ek ruka hua faisla' where a jury of 12 guys are to decide upon a case where a son allegedly killed his father. The movie was awesome, and very well directed, the only irony being that jury system does not exist in India. heh. Probably bollywood's passion for copying scripts does not take these minor hiccups into consideration.

What else? Well, I believe that 'was' an eventful day for me, without having to burn many calories. Have two classes to attend today, after which will celebrate another 'hopefully eventful' independence day tomorrow. The weekend has been fun, even though Saturday saw a mass exodus from our campus owing to the three days of holidays coming up.

Well, Life's Like That!!!

A page out of a wretched old fellow’s diary…

It has been a while since I last ate. Of late my tummy has been feeling a little low, which I suspect is not because of the rapid senile decay, which had deliberately been branded as the sole cause of every ailment of mine over the past decade. I have experienced more troublesome stomach upsets in my younger years, which invariably rose out of infrequent meals, given I had to man deserted check posts with no hygienic dhabas around. Those were the days when trekking across thirty mile mud roads weren’t considered big achievements. I knew some fellow constables who had to travel on foot when posted to some chowki in the neighboring provinces. Anyway, the past is past. I have been accused of blabbering about the ‘useless’ old times quite a few times by acquaintances many years younger to me, and the constant shunning has led me to be more constrained with my thoughts, even when talking to myself.

Today isn’t much of an eventful day, though I believe there must be something new happening to the town. I woke up at 5 in the morning as usual, only to find my grandson sitting besides my khaat, waiting expectantly for me to rise. I went through my initial prayers and the measly provision of dahlias and some bread pieces before I could get back to him and inquire if he really had anything to ask from me, speaking of which, he didn’t for the past few years if I could remember clearly.

‘Dadu, how did you meet Dadiji for the first time?’

It wasn’t a question that hadn’t been asked before, and I had perfectly mastered the art of replying to the same, having done that ever since I took my retirement from the constabulary. I have noticed certain amazement about the romantic inclinations of us older men, and how we went about the seducing process during ‘those times’, as if we were being referred to in the same breath as the ancient civilizations who went down to natural calamities without having enough opportunities of leaving a list of their daily activities behind. So I went ahead.

‘Beta, I never knew your Dadi until I was twenty four years old. I was already a constable, and partition had just taken place….’

‘Offo Dadu…. I don’t want all those details. Tell me how you met her.’

‘I met her only after our marriage had been fixed. My father had visited their town, and saw the girl. Incidentally, there was just one family in entire Khatipur that matched our caste, and your Dadiji’s father was fortunately an erstwhile talukdar. So the marriage had been fixed in just a couple of weeks after I gave the nod.’

‘How unromantic. Did you meet her in private?’

My reply, to my grandson’s disappointment, was obviously in the negative. I realized that every subsequent answer I gave frustrated him even more. I knew I solved no purpose of mine or his by answering in such details, but it did feel reassuring that my grandson had come to me and was, so I believe, genuinely interested in my life. I remember once when I was a child, I had to take dictation from my grandfather about a lesson in Hindi on Shivaji, solely because none of my parents were at home, and I had to fill the slate before it grew dark. Dadaji was a perfectionist, and I had lost count on how many times my right ear was pulled sore because of unintended spelling errors. I had been subjected to even more accusations later in the day because I had annoyed Dadaji, a profound crime in those days. Holy me, even I am falling into the trap of these young men of calling my youthful days as ‘those’. I wish the passage of time hadn’t been taken so seriously. I still fail to understand how I was primitive when I did not know what mobile phones or computers were. In fact, I am still clueless as to how the new TV- like machines helps one to survive. I am still confident our printing press at Dholpur helped us more than these very expensive sets. This reminds me of a Sunday in the previous month when my grandson took great delight in playing some old songs for me from his computer. So far, in my view, that has been the only constructive purpose the new computer has solved.

So getting back to my grandfather, he was the only Munim in our village during his younger days. His work frequently took him to the Courts, because of which he possessed unrivalled knowledge about the Sahibs. He knew them very well, and had been gifted several furniture items that we treasured for several generations until my son had to sell them off because of incessant transfers in his job and accommodations in Bambai. After his retirement, Dadaji never stayed idle, and acted as negotiator in possibly all major disputes in the village, that raised his stature a lot and made him a member of the local Panchayat. He was very serious, and I dreaded the prospect of being taught by him. And today my grandson comes running to me requesting to be informed of my ‘supposedly’ pre marital flings with his Dadi! We grandfathers have surely undergone a change in our profiles over the generations, probably to the extent of currently being ‘cool’, as my grandson says.

Well, I completely forgot about my tummy. The grandson episode early in the morning was too absorbing to think about mere stomachaches. The breakfast consisting of Dahlias and bread was all I had during the day. I did walk a few streets across to the Vaidhji whom I have known for quite a few years, and he told me the ache was contributed to by longer than usual walks that I took yesterday, coupled with some anti- allergen being fed to me by my daughter- in- law just because I had coughed a couple of times late into the previous night. I think I should be more careful of the medicines I take from now on, considering my advancing years.

It is about 5PM now I believe, and Sunil, my son, should be home in around half an hour. I will have to talk to him about talking me to the office tomorrow morning to collect my pension, and then to meet an old colleague whose son has recently shifted in to the city. I wish my legs could carry me to the local station, but the Vaidhji was quite stern with his advice this morning. I think I should go and rest now, considering the strenuous traveling I will have to do tomorrow.

Jai Shankar Baba ki.

it's been a while....

Am on a high
my toes two feet off the ground
the world floating before my view
staring down at trudging mortals
I revel in newfound excitement.

Down below I see, empty concrete street
I do not step, but yet it moves
It takes me where I want to go
Nay, I never touched it
Yet its being a perfect slave.

I am the master
the struggling soul, looking out
For things I own, and possess
I do not hear the words,
Of the pure, the neat.
I know none.

The wanderer that I am
The lanes brush past my arms
The mute faces, the dumb stares
The rude words of scorn,
Are but dead and past.

Am on a high
I see the glitter, the warmth,
The passion, delirious charm,
Speak out I did, insane ramblings
Of voices, shrimps, the sadists and you
Though numb my limbs are
The feeling never goes.