Archive for July, 2010


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12; the twelfth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The man had the loveliest wife on earth, four loving and caring daughters and a naughty but doting son. The man toiled in the Indian summers, shivered in the Terai cold but never failed to earn bread for the family and led a simple life. He couldn’t educate his children much for the want of bread and shelter. The man of yesteryear India couldn’t have given every comfort to his children but he did his best and to his last breath.  The girls got married into families the man thought he had chosen good enough. The son wanted to become a photographer but you don’t just wish and you become a thing. Days passed quickly. The man had lovely grandchildren who loved their nana (granddad) a lot. The wife later died of kidney failure and the man broke like hell. The son got married and brought a beautiful wife that would put Venus to shame. The daughters used to come once in a while from far off cities they lived in but the son changed. Venus was enchanting after all. He stopped giving his dad the attention he required in his old age. The man needed someone to talk to but hoping was all he could do. The graying hairs had seen many rough days but nothing compared to the grief his own son gave.

The man knew his grandchildren would become big men and had understood their talents early. He used to love their poems, drawings, and every little thing they did. He used to dote on his grandchildren but never spoke of his agony. He wished he had someone to care for him, to spend quality time. He knew it was too much an asking. The grandchildren were kids then. They had no idea their nana (granddad) was in deep pain. Of want of love the old man died (much before his grandkids would grow up and realize that they had a wonderful nana). The doctors said jaundice but everybody knew it was neglect and loneliness that killed him.

The eldest grandson became a successful poet and won numerous awards but he missed his nana a lot.

On one such occasion were he went to receive the Poet of the Year award he said at the podium (holding his trophy) just these few words with tears in his eyes and amidst a thundering applause from the audience, “I am a poet because of my nana’s faith in me. IF i were his son i wouldn’t have let him die without seeing this. I know he would be smiling out there.”

This is my humble request to everyone. Please give all the respect, care and attention the elders of our family need. They don’t need the comforts of the world. They need US.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


setting me free

richard who writes at artswebshow had posted a challenge to write a free flow poetry that comes to mind listening to a piece of music (the electronic single ‘time is the enemy’ from quantic’s debut album the 5th exotic)

here goes my attempt but considering am new to poetry and its nuances plus this one essentially being a rudiment of my mind captured and held by music, i guess its pretty much ok

friends, do read n give ur honest opinions:

music, music, music!!!
the flow is smooth
the beats so pure
the tingle in my brain
the path i follow
the days i see
the love i want for myself
waiting, waiting, waiting!!!
life is long
weary, teary
music is soft in my ears
its medicine
for my soul
weary, teary
soft as the petals, loud as the gun
hard on the heart, kills my burn
the dreams are blank
soothing, scintillating
music i follow with the keys
lovely notes indeed
its passion, its life
and its setting me free
ideas, peace, a life ordinary
cool, dark, loosing memory
i go and go and go
hope this never stops
my dream

poetry is basically a redolent form of art which is suggestive and aromatic. hope the aroma of this one leaves u with a good felling. anyone game enough to take the above challenge can happily oblige. i bet the experience would be pleasant

poetry is aromatic

the twilight

i had been to my mausi’s (maternal aunt) home yesterday and while experimenting with my camera took some pictures of twilight.

it looked lovely but every frame i tried, the obscure chimney just wouldn’t go and it irritated me no end, plus the question a little boy asked me, “bhaiya, ye badal ko kala kaun karta hai, chimney ka dhuan?” (brother, who colors the cloud black, the chimney smoke?”)

i was left blank by the child’s curiosity but i had no answer to give, i would have answered him in a negative, but i guessed that is indeed what is happening, and as such i didnt get my perfect twilight picture!!

a poem to go by this, hope u all like it:

The setting sun gives us hope,

It will rise again with all its might

Orange, Azure, and Golden rays

The sun has set, but still it’s bright

God has created beauty everywhere around

You just need to turn and behold

The dawn, the dusk and passing days

The colors of twilight, oh so bold!

The passing clouds thick and dark

Flowing lazily in the setting sun sheen

It’s the monsoon cloud that brings anticipation

Of rain, of joy and endless green

The monstrous chimney emitting smoke

“Did that color the cloud?” asked a bloke

I had no answer to the lad’s unknown

Oh boy! This is a city, run by coke!

I want my skies, my clouds, and sun pristine

My greens, my water, my air unsoiled

I want a beautiful twilight picture

Without the chimney and the questions coiled!

the imperfect twilight:

tales of agony

Paris Hilton decided to give India a visit to satiate her spiritual quest. She Googled (fancy she knows about Google) and zeroed on the great Jejuz bhakt Rakhi Sawant. The media went into a frenzy when they got to know of this mela and an interview was fixed. Paris, initially reluctant about it, went ahead with the idea when Rakhi told her, “You would become famous.” Yeah, Rakhi must be knowing that better!!

Finally at the interview centre.

Reporter: Paris, why are u named Paris?

Paris: Well, you see!! Ahem!! Uh!! My dad and mom, u know, uh!! My parents!! Uh!!! Argh!! Smiles!!! Giggles!! More Uhs!!! They loved going around cites, u see we have so many hotels in every CITY, London, Africa, New York, Canada and now even India. You guys, Uh!! Emmm!! are becoming rich!! Giggles!! Smiles!! Uh!!!

Reporter: Oh! I see, but why they called u Paris and not, for instance, London?

Paris: Because that’s my name, obviously they will call me by that name, why London??

Reporter: Uh!! Argh!! (effects clearly showing :P)

Rakhi thinking that Paris is hogging all the limelight says in between, “Main, the aaj ki bharatiya nari, hads the wishes of going to the space!! You know like, whats his name, lota gagri (she probably meant Yuri Gagarin) and that indian Rakhi Sharma (she meant Rakesh Sharma maybe). I the love space”

Reporter: (ignoring her perfect GK and English) So why did not you go?

Rakhi: You see, NASA tolds me (fancy she knows of NASA) that you will feels light in the space but u see I have such heavy…

Reporter: Rakhiji, we understand but this is a family channel..

Rakhi: Jejuz, I wants to have said heavy schedule, dirty minds!!! Smiles!! Giggles!!!

Now the reporters again shift to Paris.

Reporter: Paris, have u heard of Bush?

Paris: Giggles!! Uh!!! I have been to this country, Ammmm!! Hmmm!! Yeah!! California! You see, bushes grow wild there!! I have visited all the fifty countries in America but nowhere it grows as wild as in California, not even Texas!!

Reporter: Countries in America! But..

Sunny paji suddenly appears in the scene and sensing the embarrassment Paris must be suffering says in the middle, “no iff, no butt, only jatt!!”

The reporters were shocked and replied back, “Paji, aapka interview ka tareek to kal tha!!”

Sunny paji, “tareek pe tareek, tareek pe tareek!!! Ye jo adhai kilo ka haath hai na…”

Seeing the interview going haywire, Rakhi echoes in between, “I ams the abla bharatiya nari, ams the dukhiyari, u are the atyachari! Jejuz!!! I haves to struggled so much in life ands I never a kiss-and-tells my problems!! But ams the strong women, ams the bharatiya nari of the naya zamana!!!”

The reporters feeling threatened decide to leave but not before asking Paris another question, “there are so many jokes on blondes, don’t you feel bothered, are u proud of being ONE”

Paris: Uh!! Am I a blonde? You see I never read dictionaries, they are boring!! Smiles!! And am not one.. emmmm… am two, people say uh!!! I have a sister who looks exactly like me!! Everybody is proud of me, hmmm!!! why just me!!

The reporters felt suicidal so they ran amuck out of the gate with Paris still giggling (she has just discovered she is a blonde and she is ONE), Sunny paji wondering why all this years his haath is still adhai kilo ka and Rakhi chasing the reporters shouting, “am the abla bharatiya nari! Jejuz, comes the back!! Oh, I cannots the run, they are so heavy (schedule dirty minds!!)”