:the noise of birds ,rushing together ,just before sunset.
:the small piece of burfi a rickshaw-puller keeps wrapped in his pocket,for his son.
:the odds and ends a pigeon collects at a window sill.
:the pride in the young soldier's eyes as he sends his mother some money.
:the fragrance of tea,and its warmth in a glass.
:the passport-size photo of a coy bride in a wallet.
:the last train one has to catch to be there.
:the small purse hidden on a kitchen shelve,to save for a birthday celeberation.
:the wrongly spelt words on a card coloured with old crayons.
:the old photos in an old cupboard.
:the clutter with sentimental value.
:the anticipation of a festival.
:the funny tales of friends and relatives.
:the longing for a familiar flavour.
:the shared sorrows and loss.
all of this and much more means HOME.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
FUTURE
In your shaky steps
is the assertion
of a confident life
In your weird sounds
a promise of
meaningful words
In your toothless smiles
the beginning of
enchanting laughter...
is the assertion
of a confident life
In your weird sounds
a promise of
meaningful words
In your toothless smiles
the beginning of
enchanting laughter...
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A letter ....from Moshe....
Hello Friend ,
We have never met,but your father met me once.I am sure you miss him as much as I miss my father and mother.
I remember it was a bright evening,and as almost always we had some guests over.There was some nice music playing in the background,my mother was cooking in the kitchen ,the conversations didn't make much meaning to my two years old mind,so I was busy engaging Sandra to play with me.Sandra is my caretaker,and I like her a lot.
As long as I can stretch my memory,my home had always been like that - my loving parents welcoming guests with a warm smile and hugs.Ever since they moved here to Mumbai it has been like that.
I like it here,the sun ,the sea and the people.There are festivals all year round.People play drums and dance on the streets,they distribute sweets and burst crackers.It is lot of fun.
That evening too,it seemed like some festival.There were loud crackers being burst but suddenly something went wrong.Every one panicked as a man walked into our room with a big toy - it looked like a gun.
I looked around,all guests were lying down,so were mamma and papa.Sandra was not there.The huge man with the gun had gone up the stairs.There was a lot of red liquid thing on the floor.It scared me and that is when I started crying.
There were footsteps on the staircase,coming down towards me and the loud noise of crackers.It was your dad on the stairs ,I guess.
Suddenly Sandra rushed from the store room,picked me up in a flash and ran towards the main door.Outside also people were firing crackers.
Three days later,Sandra dressed me in my favourite bright green T-shirt and carried me to the synagogue.I cried for mamma,I had not seen her after that evening.She didn't come.
The next day we sat in a plane and came to this place,my granparents' home.They tell me that my parents and your dad and all of the people there went to meet god.I believe them.I thought I should tell you too,in case you don't know.
When I grow up I'll go back to Mumbai .Hope to see you there as a friend and a guest.Till then take care.
Your friend,
Moshe
(This is just an imaginary reproduction of the events of 26/11 Mumbai terror strike.)
We have never met,but your father met me once.I am sure you miss him as much as I miss my father and mother.
I remember it was a bright evening,and as almost always we had some guests over.There was some nice music playing in the background,my mother was cooking in the kitchen ,the conversations didn't make much meaning to my two years old mind,so I was busy engaging Sandra to play with me.Sandra is my caretaker,and I like her a lot.
As long as I can stretch my memory,my home had always been like that - my loving parents welcoming guests with a warm smile and hugs.Ever since they moved here to Mumbai it has been like that.
I like it here,the sun ,the sea and the people.There are festivals all year round.People play drums and dance on the streets,they distribute sweets and burst crackers.It is lot of fun.
That evening too,it seemed like some festival.There were loud crackers being burst but suddenly something went wrong.Every one panicked as a man walked into our room with a big toy - it looked like a gun.
I looked around,all guests were lying down,so were mamma and papa.Sandra was not there.The huge man with the gun had gone up the stairs.There was a lot of red liquid thing on the floor.It scared me and that is when I started crying.
There were footsteps on the staircase,coming down towards me and the loud noise of crackers.It was your dad on the stairs ,I guess.
Suddenly Sandra rushed from the store room,picked me up in a flash and ran towards the main door.Outside also people were firing crackers.
Three days later,Sandra dressed me in my favourite bright green T-shirt and carried me to the synagogue.I cried for mamma,I had not seen her after that evening.She didn't come.
The next day we sat in a plane and came to this place,my granparents' home.They tell me that my parents and your dad and all of the people there went to meet god.I believe them.I thought I should tell you too,in case you don't know.
When I grow up I'll go back to Mumbai .Hope to see you there as a friend and a guest.Till then take care.
Your friend,
Moshe
(This is just an imaginary reproduction of the events of 26/11 Mumbai terror strike.)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
MY NAME IS KHAN.............KHANNA......KHURANA,KURIEN,KURESHI...
It is the Valentine weekend and there is so much to talk about other than love.If you are in Delhi it is about terrorism,naxalism,what the government is doing and expensive parties ,which have to happen valentines day or otherwise.If you are in Bombay or Mumbai(as they would want everyone to call it)it is about the Sena which is mad about a comment made by a film star.He the Roman God of Indian cinema and his closest friend have ended up laughing to the bank ,courtesy partly to all the slogan-shouting and poster-tearing, and partly to the iconic declaration "My name is khan and I am not a terrorist."
So what is the common man? A mere spectator to all this happening around us.At the recieving end always,the faceless ,the nameless,the stakeless.Is it?
No,I am important because Sena - I can vote,Rizwan Khan - I watch your movies,and news channels - I rule TRP.My name is .....it doesn't matter,but Please all of you stars,leaders,parties,movies,channels ,don't presume I'll take everything you send my way lying down.
My name is....khan,khanna,kharbanda.....whatever ,but I am not stupid.I can understand all the dynamics and most importantly on all of you I have the final word.
So what is the common man? A mere spectator to all this happening around us.At the recieving end always,the faceless ,the nameless,the stakeless.Is it?
No,I am important because Sena - I can vote,Rizwan Khan - I watch your movies,and news channels - I rule TRP.My name is .....it doesn't matter,but Please all of you stars,leaders,parties,movies,channels ,don't presume I'll take everything you send my way lying down.
My name is....khan,khanna,kharbanda.....whatever ,but I am not stupid.I can understand all the dynamics and most importantly on all of you I have the final word.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Ibn Battuta ....
Ibn Battuta
Pehen ke joota
Nikal pade toofan mein
Thodi hawa naak mein ghus gayi
Thodi ghus gayi kaan mein
Kabhi naak ko
Kabhi kaan ko
Malte Ibn Battuta
Isi beech mein nikal pada
Unke pairon ka joota
Udte udte unka joota
Pahunch gaya Japan mein
Ibn Battuta khade reh gaye
Mochi ki dukan mein
- Sarveshwar dayal saxena
Pehen ke joota
Nikal pade toofan mein
Thodi hawa naak mein ghus gayi
Thodi ghus gayi kaan mein
Kabhi naak ko
Kabhi kaan ko
Malte Ibn Battuta
Isi beech mein nikal pada
Unke pairon ka joota
Udte udte unka joota
Pahunch gaya Japan mein
Ibn Battuta khade reh gaye
Mochi ki dukan mein
- Sarveshwar dayal saxena
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Love is in the air....
It is that time of the year again.Come February,markets,malls,coffee shops,homes and now social networking all is abuzz with the words love and valentines day.
So what is it about really?is it about following an ancient tradition which has a variety of versions or is it about the Americans making the rest of the world buy cards ,candies ,gifts ,and flowers?Is it just a matter of a heated debate every year on a popular show on tv,or is it the day some senas wait for the year around to harrass some lovers and grab their i5 minutes of prime time?
In the past few years a lot has changed in the world around us and I believe so has love.
It is no longer the old world letters-fixed line phones-photos hidden in books- type love for a lifetime.It is the hallmarked-fbooked-orkuted love which may last only as long as it is safe and convenient.
But thankfully all is not lost ,LOVE remains only forms change,and then there are a few of us who still have kept the once in a lifetime kind of love alive too.
So if it is actually so layered and complex, what does the word valentine mean?Wikipedia says ,valentine is an expression of affection usually in the form of greeting card, gift, or message given to a person the object of affection, especially on February 14th.
We all know that,but do you know,(I didn't) that there are four places named valentine in US and one in Australia,and that there are rock bands ,pop songs ,resturants and even a race course by that name.
Wow good going Valentine!
But where was he love lost?
As it is love is unusually difficult to consistently define ,so let us let it remain the only international language,and lets celebrate it in whatever form it is in our lives
So what is it about really?is it about following an ancient tradition which has a variety of versions or is it about the Americans making the rest of the world buy cards ,candies ,gifts ,and flowers?Is it just a matter of a heated debate every year on a popular show on tv,or is it the day some senas wait for the year around to harrass some lovers and grab their i5 minutes of prime time?
In the past few years a lot has changed in the world around us and I believe so has love.
It is no longer the old world letters-fixed line phones-photos hidden in books- type love for a lifetime.It is the hallmarked-fbooked-orkuted love which may last only as long as it is safe and convenient.
But thankfully all is not lost ,LOVE remains only forms change,and then there are a few of us who still have kept the once in a lifetime kind of love alive too.
So if it is actually so layered and complex, what does the word valentine mean?Wikipedia says ,valentine is an expression of affection usually in the form of greeting card, gift, or message given to a person the object of affection, especially on February 14th.
We all know that,but do you know,(I didn't) that there are four places named valentine in US and one in Australia,and that there are rock bands ,pop songs ,resturants and even a race course by that name.
Wow good going Valentine!
But where was he love lost?
As it is love is unusually difficult to consistently define ,so let us let it remain the only international language,and lets celebrate it in whatever form it is in our lives
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