my bit...
Smiling again

I wonder why. I smile sometimes for no reason,
I wonder why... fresh winds blows on my face?

Things appear beautifull... The same ones that made me sulk yesterday
Why is it like I've more air to breath? ..more of life to live?

Nothing has happened... not significant enough to make me happy
Not significant enough to make me laugh

And yet here I am singing in my heart...
Smiling again... for no reason.

Delete this post...

Pulled this out of my blog :)

Pondering once before I crave for Nirvana

In certain ways I sometimes try to pull back time
Desperately vying to grip all that is around me
The moments, the truth, the space which is so aptly called life
Though she with all her magic and grandeur entices me
She makes me cry, she makes me pour
All along staying utterly ingrate

Gyrating with all her enigma
Spinning all the way
Sending me into a frenzy state of incomprehensible emotions
Biting back with fears, nightmares
Devastating all through with her cruel might
An accomplice it has managed to whip along so well
An evil called bad luck
Thrashing me, splashing me into a distressed corner
Each wave being more ruthless than the one that receded by

What is it when I am forced to stand naked?
Blindfolded, facing an array of questions
Being doled out explanations and an equal measure of melancholic stints
What is it to stand before a friend?
Who renders me helpless with questions yet so simple?

The answers to which forces me to think, to sob
What is it that I am doing to render my selves true for the judgment day?
What if I am asked to lay down my life?
What if I am asked to stand all alone?
A barge of emotions ripping through my heart so strong
I feel I better die than face the agonizing pain

It is that moment of truth that I stare into
It is for that day that I live
Trying to cleanse my dirty mind of all the inane and impure thoughts
I hope I can do it for one last time
To have a clear conscience
To stand tall and claim the right
Rather than question - who was all but selfless?
I claim I can then lay down my life
To transcend into a different world
Where my mind is without any aspirations and earthly hopes
I would rather choose death than life
If I can find truth in the prevailing madness

Pebbles on the seashore
I've flowers blooming around me...
......
.......

It has to turn into pebbles to reach the seashore...

Awesome stuff....keep on writing...

ciao..

Copy pasting from my blog..
Simply because, it'll always be my favourite piece out of everything I ever wrote.

Pebbles on the seashore
I've flowers blooming around me
& birds flying high in the sky,
There's so much to be happy about
but still I find myself so dry..

As the world moves swiftly in front of me
I'm standing here all alone,
Thinking if it will lose its pace
When I will be dead & gone..

Will I be remembered with love
like the essence of a breeze,
Or will I be forgotten
the way leaves wither away from trees..

Will the winds stop blowing
Will the rainbow lose its charms,
Will the sky miss me standing below it
Opening wide my arms..

Will the sun reduce its intensity
Will it stop shining bright,
Will the stars & the moon miss me too
gazing at them at night..

Will the earth stop spinning for a moment
& notice my absence,
For all I did was to live a life
without making any difference..

For I lived like a stubborn tide
crashing at random places,
Trying to embrace anonymity
scared of my different faces..

Tried to suppress my individuality
wanted to get lost in the crowd,
Always trying to keep them happy
while my own soul cried out loud..

I always tried to become
what others wanted me to be,
In pursuit of their love
I stopped loving real me..

When the truth basked upon me
like a sudden blow,
I broke into a hundred pieces
Didn't know where to go..

But life's not meant for crying
for nurturing hurt & pain,
With a new sense of purpose & hope
My new journey began..

When bad times come to break you
It's only to strengthen your core,
Coz no matter how tall a rock stands
It has to turn into pebbles to reach the seashore...

an attempt to look at the life of a bipolar kid suffering from severe delusions of granduer, he is perhaps so lonely, its driving him to the boundaries of sanity. whats worse is that he's interested in philosophy.
he's been taking very strong drugs prescribed by some psychologist, that make his eyeballs sink deep into their sockets , and his inability to focus at anything at all doesnt let him sleep. he's incontinent.
need someone to tell me whats wrong in this, particularly since my company's editor rejected it saying it was "haywire". sad. . rants invited.



-------------

The Kid's Story ( title stolen from animatrix )

His eyes laugh as he waves his heart at her,
behind which a red storm brews,
an ocean he swallows each day,
for want of sense in insanity-now nausea,
his life is a second hand mechanical time bomb.
-insipid, bald, vapid.

with conditioned reality,unable to see,
incontinent and rusting,he stays on,
realising that he knows not,
knows that he can know not,
wired fences-trapped-wings cut off,
in rumi's field, beyond right doing and wrong doing,
runs skeltor, mythical, playful, wild
in his phantasmagoria-misunderstood, miserable, hapless
-joyful and stupid- juvenile-he knows.

and she's sweet too.
sharp and slender and sorrowful,
tender, wanting,
she opens her heart too,
she pretends.
-he knows, coz he does too.

coz he gawks and swims in her fantasy too
with the toys that make her joys,
then he returns to reality, to the emptiness,
in the world of failed giants-agape,
and keeps searching, alone, for respite,
from pointless ignorant brain-fart they call life.
-but sleeps peacefully alone and hangdog .

the illusion of thoughts, and the beauty in reality,
she doesnt want to know,
she's sunk in her own little world,
being the centre of the universe,
that she is not,
she's been playing for so long,
with a spherical sphere of clay.
-humming his dirge-he is now dead.

how sweet he sang too,
of an insane world lost in thoughts,
passively smoking reality,
between what is and what should be,
unaware of awareness,
of ludwig, plato, nihilism
and where cool green grass grew
and where he would lie
on a hill with voilets in blossom near him.

she laughs, not cry,on a love that never was hers,
he was the stuff dreams were made of,
she thought she was,
and now she sees through the gallimaufry-
he only showed her what she wanted to see
it was always her not he,
he was what she never could see.

and now when its all said and done,
she laughs more,
on a love that never was,
darn,
cig, weed, lsd, wine
And everything is fine.

------------

Whoa!
Having spent close to 3 years on PG now, i see this fabulous thread NOW!!?? Shame on me.

Anyways,
i had written this story for a short-story writing competition in our company. It has been forwarded a lot (even to other IT comps and some ppl have even mailed back to me. Hope u puys like it :)

The Stranger

She was getting engaged.
And all I could do was stand by and applaud along with all. I didnt dare open my mouth <<<<<<<.....................................>>>>>>>>
She responded by hugging me.
And I could not stop the tears any more.

Hey somname,
Good story dude!!
u anywyz kno wat a person wud think of while reading this story..
the sudden twist ws a good surprise tho!:)
Keeep writing

~Lass

Whoa!
Having spent close to 3 years on PG now, i see this fabulous thread NOW!!?? Shame on me.

Anyways,
i had written this story for a short-story writing competition in our company. It has been forwarded a lot (even to other IT comps and some ppl have even mailed back to me. Hope u puys like it :)



The Stranger

She was getting engaged.
And all I could do was stand by and applaud along with all. I didnt dare open my mouth for fear of saying something stupid.
Something like I love you.
I remembered the other day when she had come to me with red eyes. Her best friend was going away. It had never mattered to me that her best friend was a guy. I thought I was above such things. But her tears awoke the sin of jealousy in my heart. Fighting it, I had consoled her and given her chocoloates to eat. She proceeded to rest her head in the crook of my arm. And promptly fell asleep. I chuckled at her baby-like innocence.
But now, as I applauded, I felt something stabbing at my heart. Again.
She was getting married.
I saw her come down the stairs decked out in her bridal finery. Never before had I seen her looking this beautiful. I saw her taking the seven rounds around the sacred fire with the man I had come to hate, holding his hand. I saw her exchanging garlands with him.
She was a total stranger to me now.
I was standing near the car when they both came over to me. I wondered what they wanted. I wondered how to say farewell to the departed.
Nevertheless, as my daughter and son-in-law touched my feet, I blessed them. She was crying openly. I told her not to worry. That Ill always be here.
She responded by hugging me.
And I could not stop the tears any more.

@iIsildur: u were rite! I am sure it ran d contest n was quite ahead!

probably ages since i posted here.. i don't write for fun, i don't write for pleasure.. i write when i have to write.. check out the following metaphoric rhymes..

Rats


Get rich and die

That's your life

A rat you remain

For pennies you strive

Miss the moments

What'r they worth

Lift the goblets

Golden cups

Crappy people

Dumb psyche

Kiss their asses

Ladder high

Rat to mole

Step by step

Underground hole

Drowned in lice

Filthy gross

Pound wise

Shit lover

Full of vice

Cheater rogue

Masked crime

Moral-less material

Wingless flying

Soulless heart

Cluttered mind

Perfect mask

Toothy smile

Buried heads

Truth neigh

Neighbor's hole

Jealous prying

Fucking rat

Gutless creep

Die a rodent

Wealthy cheap


check out the older stuff at ~~--o N -- t H 3 -- E d G 3 --~~

when you think it has no meaning, it probably has a deeper meaning then you can comprehend at that moment..

a bit of hash n scotch mixed n u get this :neutral:

one single slash

The biggest gap can be bridged with one single slash
you can feel its all over when the blade and the vein clash
i dont blame you for confusing between love and a veil
coz you were also another puppet running in the mad materialistic dash

what today you are hearing may be my last voice,
my last touch of emotion, the last noise
i dont regret the actions, i dont regret my love
for i know that both of us had our own respective choice

you think you have the answers to all questions asked
you can cold shoulder your emotions but mine are not masked
void vows and promises, i incinerate them today
just look at the blade and slowly touch the vein that has been marked

The biggest gap can be bridged with one single slash
you can feel its all over when the blade and the vein clash
i dont blame you for confusing between love and a veil
coz you were also another puppet running in the mad materialistic dash

ciao..

Naive realism

Beneath the reality, there lies a reality,
A reality which thrives to be discovered,
"I am the one",it says quietly.
But the voice gets subdued by the loud apparent reality,
Its confusing! Its confusing even to the inner reality,
Probably she doesnt want the fame,
There is no other reason to be so quiet!
She knows she is the soul,
She tries to defend her position by being quiet,
This explains the unconditional love for the being.
Alas! Still no one is interested in her.
Not even the beholder!
After all, who has the time to go deep!
And the interested ones are also confused,
The world is moving very fast!
The reality is being ignored,
And so is the life!
Its a pity that the pretensions outsmart the purity,
And the truth has become a myth!

Dreams

Dreams never lie,
No, they never.
Inscribed with a certain sense of realization,
They rarely outsmart us.
Without saying a word they put up a challenge,
Then it depends.
Then you are awake,
And you become the God!

Oh the Fun That I Had!
Ive been there, and Ive done that
I danced to the soundtrack, and Ive hit dat
But theres something I saw in the dark of the night
That made my fingers a-dancing, and my pants real tight
She was beautiful and graceful, and full of aplomb
She was this months centerfold on Maxim.com
I knew in that moment that I had to have her
There was not a doubt in my mind, of this I was sure
So I wrote and email, and sent it in mass
Asking her to be my bonnie-wee-lass
But all I got was one single little letter
Ordering me to stay away, the farther the better
I couldnt believe this, I though to myself
So I consulted my friend, Barry the elf
Who no one could see, as far as I knew
But who always stuck with me, through and through
He told me, Youre crazy! Can you not see?
She can be yours, and yours she shall be!
So we planned all night and traveled all day
And made it to that city called L.A.
And laughed to ourselves, oh what a trap we shall lay!
Our plan worked, hallelujah, in one single day
And back to my house went on our merry way
She woke up later, tied to a chair
As I was sniffing her long blonde hair
She ranted and raved, she screamed and she cursed
And I couldnt understand this sudden outburst
Youre not my darling! I railed at the heavens
From her mouth came only sweetness, not such sour lemons!
I was sorely disappointed, to say the very least
But a new problem arose how to dispose of this beast?
Fire wouldnt work; I was all out of matches
And acid was costly, I would need to make batches!
Need help? said Barry, my trusted old friend
I know just the way for her to meet her end!
A whole month later, when the cement was dry
My neighbors came to ask me why
A concrete sculpture of a model I get
I told them it was all thanks to the internet!
- one of the entries in slate.com's bad poetry contest

School Days

My school,
as i remember,
was cool as a melon,
burnt like an ember.

Going to school,
a tedious task,
for morning is time,
to frolic and bask

Fashionably late,
as i always went,
to my image,
it dealt a dent,

........more to come

Sorry if this looks like yet another cheap marketing strategy...But I have posted a lot of original stuff (most of it are my real-life experiences anyways...so have to be original) on my blog... Those of you interested in reading really long musings are really welcome to check out my blog : Life is Peaceful..!!!

Good to see this creatice corner on PG. So lots of new forums hav come up. I will definitely recommend this to all my lit crazy friends

Echoes of the laughter are sounding accross the hall
photoframes of memories ae playing hide and seek on the wall
whispers of silence stands still as time crawls
i look into the sky see it open and feel the first raindrop fall

How i wish that time could stop now and freeze upon this moment
and drops of the falling rain can erase the scars of the past permanent
i just hope the photoframe of life will capture my present
and the halls will echo with the soothing silence of the moment

To be completed...

ciao..

Ok, sorry that my last post on this thread was a little cuckoo. I think this one will make more sense, especially to all those guys out there who are working in dead end jobs that they really loathe. This post also introduces the two characters C1 & C2 who over the years have become extensions of my personality.

Office (Part 1, numbers)
Three men and two women sitting on stools in an office. One (C2) is dressed in a jacket.
C1: (enters skating) Have you got the numbers. You forgot the numbers
didn't you. Shit where are the numbers? Have you got the numbers?
C2: F*ck. I have the numbers.
C1: F*ck. You have the numbers. I can't believe you have the numbers. Why
didn't you tell me that you have the numbers. F*ck. Where are the
numbers?
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
C1: Then pull the fucking numbers out of your ass prick.
E: What numbers sir? Who's ass sir?
C2: Are you messing with us prick?
E: No sir.
C2: Then get me those fucking numbers or your ass will be mine.

Ha ha ha
Good stuff man

cud have had a more conclusive end though..
where r the damn numbers..

Ok, sorry that my last post on this thread was a little cuckoo. I think this one will make more sense, especially to all those guys out there who are working in dead end jobs that they really loathe. This post also introduces the two characters C1 & C2 who over the years have become extensions of my personality.

Office (Part 1, numbers)
Three men and two women sitting on stools in an office. One (C2) is dressed in a jacket.
C1: (enters skating) Have you got the numbers. You forgot the numbers
didnt you. Shit where are the numbers? Have you got the numbers?
C2: F*ck. I have the numbers.
C1: F*ck. You have the numbers. I cant believe you have the numbers. Why
didnt you tell me that you have the numbers. F*ck. Where are the
numbers?
C2: Theyre shoved up my ass.
C1: What? (starts looking at C2s ass trying to get the numbers out.) Why
are they in your ass? Pull them the F*ck out of there.
C2: Will you stop pulling numbers out my ass. Get someone else to do it. Hey,
are there any useless pricks here who get paid piddly amounts of money
to do nothing better than pull stuff out of peoples asses.
(All four others look at C2)
C2: Idiots. Well just make do with you (points at one of them). The rest of
you, start pretending to work again. And dont mess it up.
Employee : Yes sir.
C2: You. Whats your name.
E: Naidu, sir.
C2: Naidu? Thats easy to remember. Why dont you have a more complicated
name.
E: Like what sir?
C1: Like Ronitunarananjee.
E: You can call me Ronitunarananjee if you want, sir.
C2: Why the F*ck should I call you Ronitunarananjee? I thought your name
was Naidu.
E: It is sir.
C2 : Fine prick. So get me the numbers.
C1: He knows where the fucking numbers are? Why the F*ck didnt you tell
me you knew were the numbers are, prick?
E : I didnt sir. I thought the numbers were in Sirs ass sir.
C1: Then get them the F*ck out.
(Naidu goes towards C2s ass)
C2: What the hell are you doing?
E: Getting the numbers sir.
C2: Pull them out your own ass you freak.
E: I thought they were in yours sir.
C1: They could be in anyones ass you moron. Now get them out fast before the deadline elapses. The future of the company depends on it.
E: You mean its all the same?
C2: Are you saying that your ass is as good as mine prick?
E: No sir, I mean, I dont know sir. I just want to get the numbers sir.
C1: What numbers prick?
E: The ones you want sir. The ones that the future of the company depends
on.
C1: What the F*ck is the prick talking about?
C2: Seems dodgy to me. Is there something your not telling us prick.
Because we have our ear to the ground. No funny stuff you hear.
E: Yes sir. I just want to help.
C1: Then pull the fucking numbers out of your ass prick.
E: What numbers sir? Whos ass sir?
C2: Are you messing with us prick?
E: No sir.
C2: Then get me those fucking numbers or your ass will be mine.

@man_friday just personal opinion nothing serious..Creatively egoistical..

Wrote this some time ago and am still trying to understand it. Can someone help me please?


The Ceiling
- Man Friday

Bliss was sitting under the pink, blue and green ceiling. He was smiling like a parsee vulture baring teeth that glistened like an agony aunts china set.
Confusion walked in to the place where the ceiling was.
Bliss whistled playfully, Which colour do you like best?"
Confusion started to cry. Depression looked at him with jealousy, feeling outdone and stabbed in the front of his back. Meanwhile, Cynicism came in and took a piss on the wall.
They sat for a while in a lying down position inhaling the aroma of the salty tears and unsalty urine.
Then Cynicism said something so profoundly abstract that the crow on the ledge stopped the crap he so badly wanted to take halfway through and flew into a neighbouring telephone pole. The pole was silver though slightly rusted.
Its all shit he said. (Cynicism, not the crow)
Depression quickly bawled before anyone else had the time to.
It cant be said Confusion. Nothing is really for sure.
Thats exactly what is shit, you moron Cynicism retorted and then he spat twice and once more for good measure.
Here we go again chirped Bliss in a voice that made Cynicism slap Confusion over the head and Depression cough up some more tears.
Enough of your happy stuff. Youre no different from the rest of us. said Cynicism.
Yes he is mumbled Depression through the waterfall. He smokes finer weed than we do.
Its not just that breezed Bliss, I roll a better joint too.
Teach me peeped Confusion with his back to them and sticking his head out from under his legs.
You cant learn anything, you stupid rib barked Cynicism, who was now trying to fasten an airtight bag on depressions head.
Dont talk to him like that cried Depression and his head suddenly exploded.
Yes. All you ever does is date women who smoke squeaked Confusion throwing two toes and one of his arms at cynicism.
May be he likes women who smoke Bliss proclaimed. He sidled up to Cynicism and crooned, Is that what it is?
No you jack ass. Its just a coincidence.
Depression mourned the loss of his head. He said that he had grown attached to it. Bliss slowly lifted his soul out of his body, Confusion chewed off his fingernails and Cynicism made a face.
I cant find my cheek wailed Confusion, at which Depression cried his best, just to prove a point.
How did you all get to be like this? mused Bliss as he moved the colours with his eyes.
Be like what? whimpered Confusion, picking at the floor.
It was because of Gray moaned Depression.
He was a bastard Cynicism chimed.
Be like what? said the hole that Confusion had made in the ground.
Gray was nobody Cynicism elongated the last syllable of his sentence.
Gray was everything said Depression in a clipped accent.
But he meant nothing spat Cynicism.
Then Confusion said something random which no one heard. Depression said that it didnt matter and they believed him.
We hate Gray shouted Cynicism and Depression together. And Bliss disappeared.
You two look very similar said Confusion in a voice that sounded like he wanted to do a jig and go to the bathroom at the same time.
No you prat. Im wearing a blue tie. Cynicism yelled as his hat grew four and a half inches taller.
He wore it just to confuse you said Bliss who wasnt there.
Why? pleaded Confusion and he got confused.
The ceiling changed colour from pink, blue and green to green, pink and blue and they were pleased with it. Indifference entered swaggering, but no one looked at him, so he walked back out.
Why was Gray?", mumbled Depression from under the silver triangle.
Who cares?, a portion of cracked skin on Cynicisms left leg peeled off.
They both looked sulky, as Confusion ogled at them frantically. Bliss was trying to remove the plaster of paris from the wall in which he was trapped.
You will never know, he whispered hurriedly and Confusion plucked out his eyelashes and Cynicism flicked a wandering fly off his knee.
After all this talk, I have to ask you something very important. Depression whispered back.. Do you think I need a haircut?
No it looks fine chorused Bliss and Cynicism and they all looked at the ceiling.

My theory of Sleep and Hunger
- Man FridaY


I have always had trouble understanding emotions. My Mother says this is because I am an aquarian. My ex-girlfriends say it is because I am a prick.
My opinion is that no one really understands emotions because most emotions are unquantifiable and unidentifiable. They are simply illusions that take us away from the ultimate state of being blah. There a lot of people who pretend to understand feelings and then behave like self proclaimed shrinks, analyzing you to the point where you actually believe they know more about you than yourself.

I remember one such masquerader telling me that the reason I was angry with him was because his face reminded me of someone from my past that I had bad feelings towards. I replied Frankly, my psychological analysis is that the reason why I am angry with you is because you have been hitting my toe with that sledgehammer for the last half an hour.
He told me that maybe he was hitting me to express his love for me since he was not given enough love as a child. I told him that maybe the sledgehammer would like to have a love affair with his head.

If you really think about it, when was the last time you were truly able to understand an emotion? There are some days you wake up happy without any explanation and some days when you wish that your bed would swallow you whole. Most of the time you cannot even understand why you are feeling what you are feeling. Then there are times when you should be feeling something but for some reason you are not. For eg. When my final exams got over, I should have been ecstatic. But in truth, I just really badly want to take a piss. With love comes doubt and insecurity, with hate comes a strange feeling of sadistic pleasure. It was all too confusing for a simple soul like myself.

Thats when I came up with My theory of Sleep and Hunger. I realized that the only two true feelings in life are Sleep and Hunger. The reasons are simple. When I am sleepy, that is all that is on my mind. I am not confused about what I am feeling or why I am feeling it. I just know that I really desperately want to sleep. It really wouldnt matter where I slept or how I slept, as long as I can sleep. It is the one emotion and want that I know exactly how to satisfy. Hunger comes a close second. The only decision that a bout of hunger proposes is what exactly one wants to eat. But, if the hunger is extreme enough, this too doesnt matter much.

I know the theory might seem a little vague, but you will get it once you think about it a little. Think about all your emotions and think about whether you know why you are feeling them and more importantly whether you know what to do about them. When you are happy, do you shout for joy or quietly enjoy it? When you are sad do you mope and weep or break glass windows with heavy machinery.

I used to think that horny was a pretty distinct and quantifiable emotion too. But I realized that has way too many complications. Too many fantasies. Plus theres always the problem of wanting to score with chicks who have lousy personalities and for some reason being completely unattracted to sweet and good natured girls.

I really wish I could go through my life feeling sleepy and hungry intermittently. That way I would always know what to do with myself and wouldnt waste time on writing crap like this.

Hi I have written this recently ..its mix of hindi and urdu..please give ur opinion
I have given the meanings of some of words also..

Manzar


Ek lahzah1 , Aur thame nazaare 1. Glance
Ek sifarish, aur kai ishaare

Chahato ki kashti saahil kinaare
Uthati hai mauje2, ret ke sahare 2.Lehar, Waves

Chumti dhadkano ko naseem3 ki saanse 3.Hawa, breeze
Thodi pyaasi koshish, kabhi boondein to kabhi zaare4. 4. behna ,flowing

Is aur se us aur, tarzumaan5 yeh dil 5.Anuvadak,Interpreter
Lafz nahi hai par nazme hai aahe

Kabhi mili thi rahe,kehte sunte yeh chaurahe
Ek ki thi manzil yahi,ek par huye faasle

Ruki rahi thi duyaaein,chali to bas lamho ke hawaayein
Aks bhi vahi tha, Dhale to bas shaam ke saaye

Nazdeek hai ab kuch nishaani, muhaajim6 raat ki kahani 6. Refugee
Paudiyon7 par rakhein hai manzar8, Zami par tike falak9 ke sahaare. 7.Stairs 8.Scene 9.Sky



For more logon to : Nishabd

Title: There are some...
Genre: Hard Metal


There are some...

There are some girls and there are some guys
And there are some eyes which never cry
There are some stories and some tales
And there are some songs which will never die

I dont know what the lines above signify
I just want to see that your smile magnify
I dont think all what i do will fructify
Its just the efforts that i put which makes me high

There are some fights and there are some words
And there are some wounds which will never heal
There are some sunrise and some downhills
And there are some endings which are not cinema reels


I dont know what the lines above signify
I just want to see that your smile magnify
I dont know which day i forgot to fly
I just think i was too scared of looking from the sky

There are some magic and there are some voodos
And there are people who forget the past who's
There are some dont's and there are some do's
And there are some limits for relationships too


I dont know what the lines above signify
I just want to see that your smile magnify
I just want to live like this till the day i die
I just want my songs to act as my goodbye

ciao..

Will this make me the most creative Puy around?







ChUcK

[Dreams

I saw them
Only after i closed my eyes

I felt them
Only after i felt nothing

I loved them
Only after i was loved by none

And I lived them
When i and God were one..!!

Diary

the torn pages of my diary lies scattered across the floor...
as a unknown face from my memory smiles at me from the open door
i wonder what that smile means, what does it signify...
is it just to prove, ascertain that memories never die...

i wade across to past, stare across the road once travelled
all those bylanes of childhood where all those mysteries unravelled
those faces which once were clear have faded down the time
the names which meant so much are forgotten like those rhymes

i see a kid running across the road,maybe it was me...
shouting,screaming,wrestling around,life was so damn free
i look up to the sky, see it turnng grey,
see those kids,waiting for the rain, see those eyes pray

its the same road..the same rain..but something does not feel the same
those faces..those names...everyone is now playing a new game
all those words written in my diary now looks like a fading dream
but the face at the door is still asking question, from which page is him

the torn pages of my diary lies scattered across the floor...
as a unknown face from my memory smiles at me from the open door
i wonder what that smile means, what does it signify...
is it just to prove, ascertain that memories never die...

Small Pain In My Chest
by Michael Mack

The soldier boy was sitting calmly underneath that tree.
As I approached it, I could see him beckoning to me.
The battle had been long and hard and lasted through the night
And scores of figures on the ground lay still by morning's light.

"I wonder if you'd help me, sir", he smiled as best he could.
"A sip of water on this morn would surely do me good.
We fought all day and fought all night with scarcely any rest -
A sip of water for I have a small pain in my chest."

As I looked at him, I could see the large stain on his shirt
All reddish-brown from his warm blood mixed in with Asian dirt.
"Not much", said he. "I count myself more lucky than the rest.
They're all gone while I just have a small pain in my chest."

"Must be fatigue", he weakly smiled. "I must be getting old.
I see the sun is shining bright and yet I'm feeling cold.
We climbed the hill, two hundred strong, but as we cleared the crest,
The night exploded and I felt this small pain in my chest."

"I looked around to get some aid - the only things I found
Were big, deep craters in the earth - bodies on the ground.
I kept on firing at them, sir. I tried to do my best,
But finally sat down with this small pain in my chest."

"I'm grateful, sir", he whispered, as I handed my canteen
And smiled a smile that was, I think, the brightest that I've seen.
"Seems silly that a man my size so full of vim and zest,
Could find himself defeated by a small pain in his chest."

"What would my wife be thinking of her man so strong and grown,
If she could see me sitting here, too weak to stand alone?
Could my mother have imagined, as she held me to her breast,
That I'd be sitting HERE one day with this pain in my chest?"

"Can it be getting dark so soon?" He winced up at the sun.
"It's growing dim and I thought that the day had just begun.
I think, before I travel on, I'll get a little rest ..........
And, quietly, the boy died from that small pain in his chest.

I don't recall what happened then. I think I must have cried;
I put my arms around him and I pulled him to my side
And, as I held him to me, I could feel our wounds were pressed
The large one in my heart against the small one in his chest.

Poems on Life - Small Pain In My Chest by Michael Mack

Wrote this long ago in the memory of a school friend who succumbed to Blood Cancer....


To A Friend


You were here and then you were gone,
I wanted to see you,
Tell you so many things,
How I need you in my life, How I love you so much.
I never got to say that.
I never even got to say goodbye.
I woke up to find that you were gone.
So I did the next best thing.
I told the air, I told the sky,
I cursed my loneliness
Don't know why i did it ,
What i would not have given for a reply.
You were taken away from us
You were also given back
I see your face in the clouds.
I feel your hugs in the wind.
I hear your laugh in the trees. I'll never say goodbye.

Ye Panktiyan main apni likhi ek bahut badi kavya se pesh kar raha hun ..Poora post karta to aap so jate ...:)

Its on the romantic side of life :)

kya hua jo tuu mujhse door hai
dil ke mere paas hai tuu
yeh veeran mehfil kuchch khas nahi to kya
is tanhayee mein kuchch khas hai tuu
Surya ki laaleema, chandaa ki chandni
jab bhi hain milti,
mujhse sarwada ye kehti
payaam ho koyee to hum pahunchan dein un tak
humse bhi aksar hai wo miltee
Hawaaein jo uski zulfon ko chchukar,
uski khusboo churakar mujh tak hain laati
akelepan ke dukh ko khusiyon se hai dhakti...
Kabhi khamoshi aur kabhi vaachaltaa ka saath
yaad dilatii hai mujhey wo nagmo bhari raat
tera machalna,meri bechaini,har
saans ki garmii
kaise tumhey chchedta...aur
reh jaati tum sehmi..
Raat ke sannate me kamre ka andheraa
Jismey baithi thi sehmi si ek apsara...
Uskey kar shabd ko apney dil me basata gaya..
uske har aawaj ko apne jehan me qaid kartaa gaya..
Nagme humne chcheda aur saath
usney bhi diyaa
Aisa laga ki hum do jism ek jaan
ho gaye hon..
Raat dhalee aur baat badhee
Uski chanchaltaa aur mera sharmana
Hum kho hi gaye aur banta
chala gaya fasana
Hum ek pal unhey apney palkon
se ab utarne nahi dete
koi bhi chchan me unko ojhal
ab honey nahi dete....
kaas hum tumse door nahi tumharey paass hote
fir hum tumhaare baahon me rakhkar sir ko rote
tere zulfon ki chchanv me din bhar sote
tere nasheeli aankhon ke chakravyu me har pal khotey..
Dukh to hai doori ka ,
par sawaal hi nahi majboori ka
dil se dil ka hai ye milan
yahi kamtaa hai dooriyon ki ghutan
Har saans ke saath zabaaan par ye bayaan aaye
tere aankhon se aansoo zameen par girne se pehle moti ban jaye
teri hansi ke phool kisi aur ki khushi ka karan ban jaye...

The one closest to my heart ....
Maa (mother)


Naa jaane kyu aaj dil ne kaha
"likho kuch maa ke baare main
samjho arth is adbudh shabd ka
jaan lo hain yeh daya ka matka
hain amrit phal chupa jiske kan - kan main
likho kuch maa ke baare main."

Maa kya hain ??
likhne main toh bas chandra bindu aur maatra hain yeh
par asal main ek prem mayee sindhu ki yaatra hain yeh.

Mamta ki moorat hain woh
saahas ki surat hain woh
sahi maane main khubsurat hain woh.

Hain kisi main saahas naun mahino ke tarpan sehne ka ?
hain koi aur layak jeevan ke darpan banne ka ??
Uske ek spandan se rongte khare ho jaye ...
uske ek ruudan se mann machlit ho jaye.
Hain aisi jeev jo khud pyaasi rahe par bacchon ko pilayein
hain aise baawli jo khud bhookhi rahe par doosro ko khilayein....
Bacchon ko khub yatn kar woh nehlayein
aur rone par aap hi sehlayein.

Aisi hain yeh maa
mamta ki murti hain jo
jeevan ki khoobsurti hain jo .... :-)

Batana chahta hu main sabko aaj
ki chaaro dishaayon main hain uska hi raaz
hain usi se geetha granth aur namaaz
Mujhko uspar hain poora naaz.

Har insan ke tarakki ke peeche hota hain isi maa ka haath
har mushkil ka samadhaan milta hain, bas chahiye maa ka saath.

Maa hain meri saans
main hu uska daas
aaj hain kitni door woh
par fir bhi kitni paas
kyoki aakhir main woh hain meri saans
aur main uska nirdhan naalayak daas

Maa hi toh sahi path dikhlaati hain
wahi toh jeevan ka arth batlaati hain
maa hi se toh ek aur maa aati hain,
maa hi to duniya chalaati hain ....

Mamta ki moorat hain woh
saahas ki surat hain woh
Poornta jeevan main woh hain laati
heenta, deenta ko woh hi toh mita ti .
Hain woh surya ki bhaati
daya kar humpar woh aati
jeevan ki bheekh de chali jaati

Maa shabd ko samjho aaj
usse door bhaagne se aao baaj...
apni maa par mujhko hain naaz
maa shabd ko samhjo aaj.


~~~Chango

memories of yesterday have meandered away in smoke
the roads of tomorrow are blindfolded with hope
you have just today to live life your way
so make sure you live it before its the end of the day....

crisscrossing of paths and mismatching of fates...
life is just a story of handful of dates
so live that story and carry it along....
live every moment as its your last song

conflicting emotions and moments of passion
its just another game of chasing an illusion
you just have you and your shadows to follow
if you lose today, there aint a tomorrow

memories of yesterday have meandered away in smoke
the roads of tomorrow are blindfolded with hope
you have just today to live life your way
so make sure you live it before its the end of the day....

wrote this song a few moments back...n after seeing zarine's query in the other thread regarding this ol' corner...thought of releasing it from our ages

ciao..

P.S - mods this is the orginal thread..so i dont think bumping will lead to locking

well wrote this blank verse for my blog...thought ...cud share it here as well...
Use Me
Use me
Make me a ladder
Climb you way to success.
Use me
As a stepping stone
And move on the road ahead.
Use me
Gimme your grief
Take away my happiness.
Use me
And I wont complain.
I am used to being used,
Used to being abused.
I feel best when alone,
When surrounded by people,
Everyone itches to extract a pound of flesh
Closest to my heart.
I have nothing to lose now though,
Lost everything long back.
Whatever is now left of me
Is Gods providence for thee.
Use me.


Neelabh :|

This one composed back while leaving college ... but how truly it reflects my present self in this very moment yet again and along with me many others ....

Dedicated To Pg Junta
----commence again----
Yet another chapter of life is near finish....

Yes ,it seemed long and tiring at start

But today i cant believe that these are the final pages
i am going to part..

Yet another bunch of memories to add and many lovely merits to cherish

Yet another boat to sail ahead..while the old one is going to perish..

Many old doubts got cleared, many new theories learnt...

Many contradictions surfaced , many conceptions burnt...

This lesson revealed the naked human so selfish and mean

Also it showed a few faces ...where veracity is clearly seen..

This period helped all sorts of experiences to acrue..

At least now there are lesser facts which might be painfully true..

Yet again i am in a strange mental state

These last moments are making my thoughts bifurcate...

The future is uncertain ..the present known

Its hard to smile at welcome , bidding farewell to something my very own...

I am afraid i haven't left anything behind hurriedly

The expected end really has come rather too unexpectedly..

This material world , however , has no room for feeling

Confined in past thoughts , one can never touch the ceiling..

Our sole duty is to move ahead the way,

things good or bad are always there to stay..

When we weep , it gives us smile

When we are decieved , it makes us agile

It's the time that teaches us how to move forward

U will be a loser if u look back even for a while !

----aashayen---

Jeevan ke kisi mod par...
Har prant me har chchor par
regards ,
Vineet

Vineet really gud to see a post frm u and that also on ths thread .... Welcome Back .....

Just thought of writing sumthng as a reply to ur post ......



Re: aashayen
jin baaton ko yaad kar hote ho tum niraash

jin yaadon ko yaad kar kehte ho tum "kaash...."

unhi baaton ko yaad kar dost, na ho tu is choti si haar se hataash

jin baaton ko yaad kar hote ho tum niraash



jeevan ke rang toh har pal hain chadte utarte

kya holi ke rango se nahi har saal ho tum khelte ?

rang toh bas swapn matra hain, kuch jamte aur kuch bikharte

ek sapna agar toot gaya toh kya nahi souge tum aaj raat dekhne naye sapne ??


dekho ye bikhre rango ne bhi chadaya hain ek naya rang....

utaawla ho raha hain khelne holi yeh naya rang aaj tumhare sang ...... :D



~~ Chango

With due regard to the air of inspiration and aspiration around... i woluld like to put one composition which was made when i was in my college final year ...

----aashayen---

Jeevan ke kisi mod par...

Har prant me har chchor par,

Ek balak ko padta hai sunna,

sun o chchotu sun o munna.

hum aur papa chahe jitna kasht uthaenge

tumhare upar fir bhi ek aanch na aane dengey...

Badle me bas itnaa karna,

kuchch apney jeevan me bannaa.

Jwaar ye aashaon ka baalak man me utsah jagaata

nadan dil fir aksar kal ke sundar sapney sanjota.

Kaal chakra ab baalak ko yuvak me badalti

laga yun ki jaise mandhar ho chali thi uski gatee..

saamna kartey hue is jeevan ki harek jung

utarta gaya dheere dheere sapno ka sunahraa rang...

Maa ki kahi wo baatein aaj fir yaad aati hain...

par is baar utsaah nahi...nirashaa ka bhav jagaati hain..

Par bhale ab jeevan ka har swarth churn ho.

koshish yahi hogi ki maa ki aashayen poorn ho......



regards ,
Vineet

Feeling down ?? .... grimacing in pain .... bouts of self-doubt ????
Go ahead and read one of the most inspirational poems ever written ...... will instill a stronger will and shall push you to Hold On !!!!
~~My personal Dedication to Consti~~
'if'
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

Here is one composed during my teen days (these days its mostly instant poems)

Deep thy words
Touching my heart
I wonder how you
Within seconds part

Neither meaningful
Nor meaningless
Should I?
But I confess

Its my fault
Forbid me not

posting the first one ...... let it flow ~!!



Hindu - Muslim -- Kasaai Kasaai

ya allah !! hey ishwar
kya tum dono bhi yu hi ladte ho upar ?
kya tumhare log bhi pyase hain khoon ke ?
ya bhai chara hain unme waha upar ??

Agar samay mile toh,
zara dekho prithvi ki aur
apni raas-leela aur begamo ke bandhan ko tod
zara dekho prithvi ki aur

Har taraf hahakar mach raha,
chaaro taraf khoon beh raha.
jangli kutto ki tareh sab lad rahe hain
neta laal rang ki holi khel rahe hain.

Dharm ke naam par naastik kaat rahe hain,
gali gali, shahar nagar khoon baat rahe hain.

Geeta ki izzat lut rahi,
kuran ke panne phat rahe,
manushya aadamkhor ho gaya hain
raajneeti ki gufaoon main kho gaya hain.

Kaun aayega yeh laal rang ko dhone ?
kya aayega koi is maar kaat ko rokne ?

Kapde phat rahe, khoon beh raha
ablaayein ro rahi, dusht has raha.

Baap unko kandha de rahe
jo dhoodh ka karz naa chuka sake.
Biwiyan vidhva ho gayee
pati - parmeshwar ke chitaayon pe so gayee.
Bachhe yateem ho gaye hain,
desh apaahiz ho gaya...
Hindu muslim lad rahe
sansaar humpar has raha .....

Arre buddhi heen , O ram aur rahim
ab bhi waqt hain, sambhal jao
in netaayon ki baaton main naa aao..
Yeh toh kursi ke bhookhe hain saale
lok shakti ke naam par dhabbe hain kaale ...

Agar tum dekh rahe ho
ae khuda, hey prabhu
toh mujhko batao
kab bhejoge tum maseeha ?
kab band hongi yeh ladayiaan
kya desh yuhi jalta rahega ?
kya yu hi khoon, gheen banta rahega ??

Ab toh hum par daya kar...
apne bacchon ko dono haatho se pakar
kar humpar ehsaan ek naya Bharat rach kar.

Kya bhool gaya tu ki hain hum Manu ki santanein
aakhir hain hum aman aur shaanti ke deewanein
maana ki baaton mein aakar beh jaate hein saare
par dil aur khayal saaf hain humare.

Bahut dekh li tune laal rang ki holi
dekh ganga bhi laal saari hain auri
ab toh humpar daya kar
jo hua uske liye maaf kar
mauka de basane ka fir se ek pyara sa ghar
ab toh humpar daya kar .

Kya nahi basa sakte hum ek pyara saa shahar
jaha bahe ek shaant lehar
jise paar kare roz Ram aur Rahim
ek duje ka haath pakad ???


~~~ Chango

Expectations kill the excitement of surprise
expectations reveals whats there in disguise
expectations are your own molded casts
expectation is a future when you overlook the present and past.

Expectation is a perception , how you see
expectation is what you want him to be
expectation is a reason which frames your mind
expectation is a question, the answer to which you cannot find.

Expectation is a way , off the reality
expectation is something vague and not clear
expectation puts you on a track , difficult to run and steer
expectation is what a cause of sorrow
It ruins your present and effects your tomorrow.

Wrote this during pharmacology lecture..which, btw, is an effective mass sedative my first-ever attempt at poetry-writing!

IN THE LOVING MEMORY OF.....ME!!

Antacids, antiemetics, purgatives,
Have now become my pet peeves.
She blabbers on....& I suffer in pain,
Any efforts to stop her, are now lost in vain.

"Chronic Hyperboredomania" is my case,
Counting my last days, before I leave this place.
A last-stage patient I'm, have some pity,
Cancel this lecture & take me to 'Starcity'

A dying person's last wish, fulfill!
Free me from bondage or own up my kill.
A martyr she died, you can later cite...
And on my tombstone, please do write...
"A kindred soul, who died waiting for the lecture to cease,
may her soul, now rest in peace".

After my demise, in my honour, friends,
Bunk a lecture, go for a movie in trends.
And remember thy friend without a scorn.
Shed a tear while munching popcorn.

Dragging my feet n walking on road
with lots of excitment and fun overload
looking for something which i cannot find
its now difficult to control my mind.

suddenly i saw a girl with lovely face
it made my mind to run in a new race
i lost the control of my feet
dragging was lost and i walked very fast
fear was there that she might get lost.

i was caught in her field of attraction
what magical power she had was all mistry
i never wanted her to be thought of my history
blindly i follow , was it love
nothing could stop me , even sun shining above
i felt that it was all dream
for me scream was quite and quite was scream
there was rush of blood n i could feel my beat
it was as, my life is walking ahead of me on that street .

indronildey Says

This is probably the most creative thing ever done on SB till date.Its a poem written lone.verse,Uptowngal and urs truly the pg chowkidar Neil

good job guys ... :thumbsup:

finally .... kisi ne to kiya Shoutbox ka good use !!!

This is probably the most creative thing ever done on SB till date.Its a poem written lone.verse,Uptowngal and urs truly the pg chowkidar Neil

MY RAY OF HOPE

Slow lonely night - every star reflects the shattered crystal ball in which i saw my future once ..
Slow slow night, if I could only meet my angel once...
If I could never meet her in life, I'd pray to die, and die so soon..
We'd dance to the song of the stars, we'd sway to the hum of the moon ...
We would be swift as the air; how I wish my angel was there!
Now its a dream once lived, shattered in reality,
Faith lost to truth, courage betrayed to adversary.
Bridges of hope crumbling to ashes far above the cries of helplesness...
But the hope in my heart says you will wait for me beyond it all, beyond nothingness
Drowning in the abyssmal waves of despondency, to you I call,
The nothingness envelops me as I try to make my way through it,I falter,I stumble,I fall.
I look for you but the mist of horrific thoughts makes me blind,
My gaurdian angel I need u to come down and hold my hand tonight
Through mists of smoke, through the dark red haze,
I find my angel, I see her face..
And on we go in life upon its endless roads having endless hopes..
Who is she? I know not now,
But this I know, we'll meet somewhere somehow...
And when she comes to my barren earth,
No more shadows, there shall again be joy and mirth.

ALONE

When you need someone, you are always left alone,
When you need to share, there is no one there to care,

You are all alone, alone in this crowded hall,
You are all alone, like a picture hanging in the wall.

When I stare back at time and try to dust the faded memories,
When I see all those smiles and try to cling on those memories,

I am all alone, alone in this crowded hall,
I am all alone, like a picture hanging in the wall.

When you miss someone and tears blind your eyes,
When you want to talk but on the other side coldness cries,

You are all alone, alone in this crowded hall,
You are all alone, like a picture hanging in the wall.

When I close my eyes and those moments freezes on me,
I just stare blankly and wonder whether those moments will come to me,

I am all alone, alone in this crowded hall,
I am all alone, like a picture hanging in the wall.

ciao..

jaismine Says

the above post is not my origianl work...and i dunno d source so dint write d name.

Its a gud one..It jus reminded me of Reba Mc Intyre's Song....Heres the lyrics
If I had only known
It was our last walk in the rain
I'd keep you out for hours in the storm
I would hold your hand
Like a lifeline to my heart
Underneath the thunder we'd be warm
If I had only known
It was our last walk in the rain

If I had only known
I'd never hear your voice again
I'd memorize each thing you ever said
And on those lonely nights
I could think of them once more
And keep your words alive inside my head
If I had only known
I'd never hear your voice again

You were the treasure in my hand
You were the one who always stood beside me
So unaware I foolishly believed
That you would always be there
And then there came a day when I
Turned my head, and you slipped away.

If I had only known
It was my last night by your side
I pray a miracle to stop the dawn
And when you smiled at me
I would look into your eyes
And my sure you know my love for you
Goes on and on...
If I had only known.
If I had only known.
The love I would have shown,
If I had only known.

the above post is not my origianl work...and i dunno d source so dint write d name.

If I knew...

If i knew it wud b d last time,dat i wud c u fall asleep,
I would tuck u in more tightyly,and pray d Lord,Ur soul to keep.

If i knew it uwd b d last time,dat i see u walk out dat door,
I wud give u a hus and a kiss,and call u back for one more.

If i knew it wud b d last time,i wud hear ur voice lifted up in praise.
I wud video tape each action and word,so i could play dem back day aftr day.

If i knew it would b d last time,I could spare an xtra minute,
to stop and say 'I love U',instead of assuming u would know i do.

If i knew it wud b d last time,I would b there to share ur day,
well m sure u'll have so many more,so i can let just dis one slip away.

For surely there's always tommorow to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance to make evrything just right.
There will always b another day to say 'I love U', and certainly
there's another chance to say "Anything i can do?"

But just in case i might be wrong,and Today is all i get,
I wud like to say how much I love u,and i hope we nevr forget.
Tomorrow isnt promised to anyone,young or old alike,
And today maybe d last chance u get to hold ur loved ones tight.
So if u r waiting for tommorow,y not do it today?
For if tommorow nevr comes,u'll surely regret d day.
That u dint take dat xtra time for a smile,a hug or a kiss.
and u were too busy to grant someone wat turned to b their one last wish.

So hold ur loved ones close today,and whisper in their ear.
Tell dem how much u love dem and u'll always hold dem dear.
Take time to say 'I am sorry' ...'Please forgive me'..'thank u' or 'its okay'
And if tomorrow nevr comes....u'll have no regrets abt TODAY.

DESIDERATA

written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Not "Found in Old St. Paul's Church"! -- see below

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.


With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy

Kabhi toh in ankhon se, mere dil ki baat padhlena
Kabhi toh is dhadkan ki fariyaad sunlena.
Mehsoos kabhi karlena, in saanson mei apni mehak,
Kabhi toh humko apna tum chunlena...

Kabhi in kaampte haath pe haath rakhdena,
Ke tadapte mann ko thoda sukoon miljaye.
Kabhi in baahon ko apni aahosh mei lelena,
Kaampti is jaan mei jaan aajaye...

Ladkhadate mere in kadmon ko,
Kabhi do kadmon ka saath dedena.
Adhuri si meri in neendon ko,
Kabhi toh sapnon ki raat dedena...

Sookhe mere in armaanon ko,
Kabhi toh apne jazbaat dedena.
Sooni is zindagi mei, reh gaye hai akele,
Hume zindagi bhar ka saath dedena...

Kabhi toh jaanlo dard is dil ka,
Jo honton tak aake aankhon se behte hai.
Kabhi toh maanlo tum sirf mohobbat nahi mere,
Khuda ki kasam,tumko apna Khuda kehte hai...

Part III
Tantriks consider the siddhi they call 'swallowing (internalizing) the universe' to be the summit of attainment: one has access to anything in the cosmos, on any planet, anywhere, simply by thinking about it. Thus all desires are fulfilled by the mind alone.

Yogis who know this mystic process can mentally move through the regions of the universe as easily as someone using an elevator can move from floor to floor in a building. The yogi's elevator shaft is his body's central psychic channel, which runs through the length of his spinal cord. By meditation he can link this channel to the shishumara-chakra, an astral tube coiling from the Pole Star down to the nether regions, and project his subtle mental body through it for an easy journey to other planets. He may even teleport the elements of his physical body through the channel, reassemble them in the place of his choice, and so seem to appear there out of nowhere.

Shortly before midnight, the tantrik gave me a battered tin box to carry and led me to a nearby burning ground, where the body of a pregnant woman had been saved from the fire for his use. I watched in growing horror as he stood on the corpse and recited mantras. Using a special instrument he took from the box, he removed the fetus from the womb of the dead woman. Examining the tiny limp form, he assured me it was still undead, though beyond hope of revival. He'd kept the soul within the body by a magic spell, he claimed. He pulled a razor-sharp knife and a large jar half-full of some solution from the box, and then, chanting more mantras, he began to butcher the baby, dropping the pieces of flesh into the jar. Aghast and trembling, I fled the scene.

I went to the watchman who had let us into the burning ground. "How can you permit this?" I raged. "That woman's family paid you people to consign her body to the flames, and you're allowing such evil things to be done to her and her baby!"

The watchman cautioned me in a frightened whisper. "Don't say anything more, please! That man knows what you're speaking to me now. Don't make him angry! You must be very careful with him - he even knows your thoughts. If you don't like what he's doing, why have you come here with him?"

Feeling ashamed of myself, I mumbled, "I only wanted to see the secrets of his power..."

The watchman shook his head in pity and said, "Your curiosity will ruin you. You're a young man, you look well-bred and intelligent, why are you getting mixed up in this? Just leave. Don't spoil your life." But I couldn't leave, as I didn't know where to go. One does not stumble around the Kerala countryside at night, for snakebite is a likely consequence. I settled down near the watchman's campfire and soon dozed off.

Some time later - it could have been one or two hours - the watchman roused me. The tantrik had come out of the burning ground carrying the jar under one arm. In the other hand he held the baby's skull. "Why did you leave?" he admonished me, not unkindly. "If you want to do things that other people cannot do, you have to do things that other people cannot do!" He laughed, and his easy manner stupefied me.

"Look at this!" he exulted, thrusting the jar under my nose. I thought he would unscrew the lid, and my gorge rose. But he only wanted to explain that by treating the baby's flesh in the solution he'd made a powerful ointment. He reproved me again for not having stayed and watched how he'd done it. In the darkness the jar looked empty to me.

"Go get the box," he ordered. "We'll go back to my place and tomorrow I'll show you what this preparation can do." He led me through the fields back to his house. Inside, he went to bed with two of his girls. I slept fitfully on the veranda.

The next morning he set the jar down on a small table between us. Now I could see that the bottom was covered by a pasty substance. With a hand caressing the shoulder of a girl on either side of him, he leaned back in his seat and probed my mind for a moment with a quiet stare. "I think you ought to test the power of this ointment," he said, raising his eyebrows allusively. "There's a problem at your factory that you can solve with it ... some missing cash?"

He was right. A considerable sum of cash funds had disappeared recently, and suspicion had fallen upon a Mr. Murthi, though no proof could be found against him. The tantrik smeared a bit of the ointment on my thumbnail and told me to look carefully at it. As I concentrated, I saw in the nail the image of the office from which the money had been taken. I found I could alter the view with directions given in my mind, just as a TV studio director changes the image on the video screen by telling the cameraman to pan, zoom in for a close-up, and so on. But my mystic thumbnail scope was incredibly more versatile, for it even showed the past.

I saw that it was not Mr. Murthi, but another man who had entered the office surreptitiously to take the briefcase of money and hide it in his car. I followed him after work; he drove to the place of an accomplice and stashed the briefcase with him. The accomplice spent the money on black-market gold so that the cash could not be traced. And I saw how the thief had his share of the gold made into doorknobs that he placed on the doors in his home, naturally without telling his family what they were really made of.

Later I tipped off a friend at work who wrote an anonymous note to the police. They verified that the doorknobs in the man's home were solid gold. He was arrested and convicted on charges of grand larceny.

From my further discussions with him that day, I learned that when people came to the tantrik for the recovery of stolen or lost property, for a fee he had one of his girls trace the missing goods with the mystic thumbnail scope. The existence of the ghastly ointment was kept secret, of course. The customers thought it was the power of the girls themselves.

The thumbnail scope had its limitations. Though it could penetrate any closed door or wall, it could not see above or below a specific height or depth, nor look into powerful holy places or temples and could be baffled by expert singers performing certain melodies. Certain kinds of smoke would likewise render it ineffective.

I asked him about his karma. "You have attained this siddhi by very obnoxious methods. What do you think lies in wait for you in future births?"

On this point he was surprisingly philosophical. "Those who would master this knowledge must be ready to face the consequences without flinching. I will surely have to suffer for all the black deeds I have done. But that's part of the game we play.

"We tantriks view all existence as an ebb and flow of Shakti. We connect with that power, and it sweeps us up to untold heights. Later on, the same power may plunge us into despair. But what else is there? Everything is but a manifestation of Shakti."

This man's question - 'But what else is there?' - for which the tantriks have no answer, bothered me. If there was really nothing else beyond the goddess and her power, then he, and the old witch on the veranda, and my master who poured liquor over women's bodies, and the brahmin who broke coconuts on his head, had attained all there is to attain. I couldn't accept that. There had to be something more.

I was now not interested in going any further with vamamarga. But I thought that the theoretical principles and the basic discipline I'd learnt from my master were of great use to me. I had no inkling that once the lid of the Pandora's box of occult mind power had been pried off, it was not so easy to close again.

Question: If they had attained everything, then why were they still striving for more by those processes mentioned?
After three and a half years in Kerala I was transferred back to Tamil Nadu, to work under the rather severe chief accountant of the Salem branch, Mr. S. Venkata Subrahmanian. As it is common usage for educated English-speaking Tamils to be addressed by the first initials of their names, he was known to one and all as SVS.

My two good "same-age" friends were co-workers Vaidyanathan, serious, bespectacled and a bit shy, and Shankara Subrahmania, a jolly, big-bodied chap. The first six months I lived alone in a small rented room; after that I shared a place with Shankara until the spring of 1974.

I returned to Tamil Nadu with more than just office experience. While in Kerala, my youthful interest in the opposite sex had continued to flourish, but with a difference. From left- and right-hand tantra, I'd learned a highly sophisticated way of interacting with the female psyche. The several close relationships I'd had with girls while in Kerala were experiments in the power of Shakti, by which the sexual drive is channeled not towards physical gratification but to heightened experiences of mind. I'd learned well from my vamamarga master that the physical act of sex spoils the opportunity to really exploit women for what they have to offer men. So on the surface at least, I'd remained a good brahmin boy. But the real fact was that my lust had assumed such cosmic proportions that I saw no point in trying to satisfy it by mere physical means.

I returned, too, with considerably reinforced faith in Hinduism. Thrice I'd taken part in the yearly pilgrimage to Ghandagiri, seeing the mysterious flame of Ayyappa each time. The one year I'd delved deeply into occult tantrism had satisfied me that there is more to existence than mechanical pushes and pulls. Now I felt enough confidence to openly dedicate myself to the mainstream Hindu ritualism I had formerly ridiculed.

In Salem I became an ardent devotee of Karttikeya, a deity quite popular among Tamils. He appeals to the mystical as well as material impulses of the common man, and that suited me just fine. Moreover, I'd never forgotten the childhood vision I'd had at his shrine.

Occult 'self-worship' (ahamgrahopasana) is very prominent among Karttikeya's devotees. During Thaipusam, a festival held each early spring year, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who flock to his temples in Tamil Nadu, Ceylon, Malaysia, Singapore, Mauritius - wherever South Indians have put down roots - are taken possession by the god and the horde of ghosts who serve him. In the trance of Karttikeya, some even thrust spears through their tongues or cheeks. Yet they feel no pain, nor do they even bleed; they prophesize and perform minor miracles, 'becoming' the god for a while.

In an interesting parallel to Christianity, South Indian Hindus believe Karttikeya to be the son of God (Shiva), born of miraculous conception. He is called Kumara, the child divine, and Mahasena, commander of the devas and militant foe of demons. His weapon is the Shakti Vel, 'the Spear of Power.'

Though he easily awards his worshipers the bounties of material enjoyment (bhoga), his intention is to instill tyaga (renunciation) in them later on, as he showed in his own life. Once he so lustfully pursued the lovely damsels of the heavenly world that the devas complained to his mother, Parvati. To teach him a lesson, she revealed that every female in the universe is a form of herself. Deeply ashamed that he had really been lusting after his own mother, he vowed to maintain brahmacharya (celibacy) from that moment on.

But I just wanted to be known as a basically normal but dedicated Hindu believer. I wasn't aware of his hidden agenda to push me to the brink of frustration so that I'd give up my materialistic life altogether.

As Coimbatore was only a few hours due southwest of Salem by train, I'd often visit home on the weekends. Overlooking Coimbatore is a large Karttikeya temple on the side of the Nilgiri hill range. One Sunday at Mum's request I went there accompanied by my brother's fiancee and her father and two sisters. The idea was to make a good impression on them of our family.

We'd walked halfway up the long stone stairway that brought pilgrims from the foot of the hill to the temple entrance, and had stopped for a rest at a shrine of Ganesh. All at once I splashed a startling remark into the gentle stream of pleasant conversation by turning to the girl and saying, "You know, before I was born, my mother had a daughter who died in infancy. You are her, born again. Welcome back to the family."

She blinked, reddened, and looked at her father for help. He winced and shook his head. "Now why do you tell such things?"

"Because I am the one you have come to see." As I answered him, it was clear that I wasn't answering him.

The four exchanged uncomfortable looks. Emboldened, I who was not I any longer wasted no words. "I am he with six faces - Shanmukha, Karttikeya himself!"

"Kannan," a sister blurted, "is your head full of rubbish? You'd be in enough trouble if you blamed the god for your one face only, because simply rubbish comes out of it."

I closed my eyes and clapped my hands thrice, then sat still while they murmured amongst themselves. Within a few moments a peacock appeared on the scene, announcing himself with a loud call. The peacock is Karttikeya's familiar.

Smiling slightly, I opened my eyes. With a discourteous grunt, the father got to his feet. "Let's go up now," he muttered to his daughters. I rose and joined them. "Right now there is a lady in the temple who is very devoted to me," I chatted amiably as we stepped out of the shrine's shadow onto the sunny stairway. "She is wearing a green sari and will soon come down the stairs." A group of women came out of the temple to begin their descent just as we reached the top. One wore a bright green sari. "Coincidence!" hissed the girls, their eyes flashing daggers of reproach my way. Their father walked ahead stiffly, acknowledging nothing.

Inside the temple, the priests were bathing the murti with various liquids. As they poured milk over Karttikeya's form, I felt the same substance coursing over my body. I rolled a shirtsleeve up to my elbow and told the father to look at my forearm. He frowned, then gasped as his eyes fell upon the white droplets condensing on my skin. His three daughters shrieked and clutched each other. The crowd pressed in around us, babbling excitedly. I was finally ushered outside by the priests, who didn't want their ceremony disturbed.

Though it didn't wreck my brother's engagement, this incident was the first noticable crack in my connection to the everyday world.


Contd...on Part IV