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| While it bleeds.. I salute the HEROES |
| Friday, November 28, 2008 |
Mumbai, Wednesday, 11/26/2008
It all feels like a nightmare and I dearly, along with millions "sane" minds across the country want to wake up and hope to realize may it all be just a dream. I want to wake up and wake up relieved.
Mumbai, as they tout as "ultimate comeback kid" doesn't want to be decorated with any cliches now. Tired , brought down to knees, it beckons succor.
It always moved on. It never had time to rue and cry for those who are left behind in the frivolous race. Like an enthusiastic kid fallen over, she always stood up, shrugged the dust off and started the chase again. Never, looking behind to see who and what it hit on the way.
Not now, not again, never again. She wants the aggressor this time to be eliminated once for all. Take that obstacle off the playing ground. Make it fair and square.
What a shame! As I write this, my heart skips beats, I swallow my missing breath with concentrated energy to calm my anxiety and anguish, trying to stop prevent my emotions to overcome me- I feel being missed out.
I wish I was there, in uniform, weeding out the elements of animosity, saving lives.
My heart bleeds for the losses several families had suffered and the heroes who died in the fight for humanity. Everytime i see the death toll rising, the anguish mounts. Everytime, another brave young soldier shed his blood and loses its life- I wish I were there.
And here I am , on the foreign soil, cribbing about my promotions and thinking of shifting company loyalties over another thousand bucks issue- i feel ashamed and belittled, a dead stone- a nobody.
What led to the situation is a different story which i just hate to go into or involve into a discussion.
The lump in the throat gets bigger and buoyant.
The country is indebted to the martyrs , and all those little known souls- the bar tenders, doormen, hotel staffs, fire men, marcos, NSG commandos, Maharashtra police, defence forces who showed brazing courage to put other lives above their own.
Could some of them been saved? Could NSG have arrived and handed control faster to leverage their specialized skills rather than throwing police in for rescue operation? Could their be faster reactions? I aint no expert but the thing i know is their sacrifice had filled our heart and the country is indebted. Nothing to settle the account.
RAW may not be aWARe, Intelligene may have failed, politicians may be hand cuffed with diplomacy- who suffers and why? Blame game can continue- but it's high time for every citizen to realize their role , rise over Raj Thackrey's "Mumbaikars Vs bhaiyas", stop talking about "Human rights". Don't miss the polling because weather is inclimant, don't turn blind eye to potential threats just because you or you loved ones are not involved. Educate kids humanity, not religion. There are so many things to do, just elevate the thoughts and see through the smoke in the air- you may find the sun behind the dark clouds.
Tolerance hadbeen stretched enough to be translated into aggression and despise. Let the best brains and experts take control of the situation. Take no prisoners, take no shit. It's a reverberant echo of milions of true Indians who stand united at these hours of crisis.
While the uniform is fighting the black sabbaths, nation is waiting for the ordeal to get over, world waiting to see an end to the bruishing,scarring battle- it's time to rethink what we, as individuals are doing or can do to help make the world a place to live like civilized humans. I shed a tear for the victims , while it bleeds.
Saluting the heroes.........
 - Vande Mataram! Dheeraj Mumbai, Saturday , 11/29/2008 60 HOURS........conquered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Labels: India-the nation, pensive |
posted by Dheeraj @ 11:00 AM   |
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| Netiphillia- The Malady of Netizens |
| Monday, June 23, 2008 |
Pete4u: Hey dr?
Pete With this id, Everyone thinks you are "4-them" oh so sweet!
Coolsexygal84malina: Hola, who'z dis?
Oh Malina- don’t you have more endearing attributes that you can fit into the email id.howzz dat "Coolsexydarkeyedbrunettesuavestraightgalwaitingforsomeone84malina??"
Pete4u: Pete,m,NY
A long pause of inactivityPete4u: Buzzzzzz!!
Coolsexygal84malina: Ye, temme
Pete4u: wat do ya do?
Coolsexygal84malina is typing a message
No new msg……
Pete4u: R u dr?
Pete4u: knk knk..
Pete4u: Hey listen..
Coolsexygal84malina is offline.
Pete4u: Okay, seems like bz, catch ya lateh, ciao.
Hmmm. Pete, great conclusion.
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dk_compi(Me): Hey Pete, hw r u?
Pete4u: hey , amma gud
If making it short were the rule," I‘m " would have qualified by miles.
Me:Long time, mate.
Pete4u:Ye,been stk 'p off lt.
Me: Oh, well.. wotva, So heard u in Toronto,hw Km?
Pete4u:WDUTIMDH
Me: :-
Pete4u: ?
Me: googled "WDUTIMDH" , no result :-(
Me: Wats that acronym?
Pete4u: "What do u think I'm doin here.".. same as u do- client location-Job.
Me: Oh, I dint know that lingo..
Before I could start repenting about my ignorance, here he goes
Pete4u: "vry lngo strts smwhr, alrity?"
ye, of course….Almighty!! Almighty !! Almighty- Gods- deities of English- Vowels are going to be obsolete soon. Sorry!
dk_compi(Me) is offline.
Where do you think Pete is from? He is not an American citizen, No English, no Canadian, nope indian.. He has acquired his own citizenship- He is a Netizen.
Pete is a character, a subject; I prefer to call him geek and he takes a lot of pride in hearing that.
Pete’s hobbies are making friends, watching movie, playing games, role-plays, reading, writing, talking, dating, socializing, collecting pictures, writing and current awareness.
He feels he has no time to pursue all his passions. 10-12 hrs in/about office, 3 hours cleaning and arranging daily routines,6-7 hours sleep,2 hours cooking,1 hour phone/tv.
Yeah, I am convinced. Ain't you, same goes with all of us-No time, huh?
So he made a way out and resorted to internet.
The above excerpt is when he was trying to socialize. He believes socializing and dating are like path and the destination,in that order. I understand completely.
He happened to be the talk of the town once. Tall, athletic, lean, dark and ever so effervescent till he discovered loneliness comes with its own qualms and prizes. I hate internet now, though I'm as much addict as he is. He has though reached critical stages of the disease, No cure possible.
Well he is still tall, there isn't any reverse-osmosis else he would have been short by now. But his height is winnowed by his diametrical blessings off late. His darkness has given way to patchy complexion.
We have not met for years. We don't feel the need to meet.
It feels that our relationship had reached metaphysical heights , we convert ourselves into indistinguishable particles traveling through wire full networks meeting somewhere in universe, embracing , indulging and departing as if we have been one with each other.
I was his roommate for a couple of months. First thing he used to do before opening his eyes was to put on the music. Now he keeps his system on standby and opens his eyes to see 100 mails, invitations, offline messages,
The subject lines are in all possible scary fonts size,text,codes. Samples( check your spam folder, you've got them too) :
# Luckiest person. REGISTER FREE
# Sweethoney waiting for you.
# 2 new crushes in Philadelphia.Meet them now.
# Blast your blog http://Pete-haveabreak / across the web
# **EARN MONEY UPTO 10000$ sitting at home**
# Travel free 2 nites+3days
# Movie forumz-premier members- Free movie online
# ** FREE COMMERCIAL AVIATION MAGAZINE**
# Pols and Pills
Oh shoot!
Pete understands the effort the sender/spammer/system has taken and appreciates it by opening each of the mails and replying to what he believes is fit.
We performed a series of tests to diagnosis the criticality of the disease "netiphilia" against his hobbies and see if he manages to pursue something and here are the findings.
1. Sports:
He has scored more than Theiry Henry in FIFA video games. Pass
2. Outdoor touring:
He has seen the Saharas,Pampas-Prairies, rainforest, Niagra, Barabados, Hiroshima-Nagasaki, black sea, red sea, Antarctic-Arctic everything over the net. Pass
3. We remembered his art of making faces :
He can make all the YM smileys even on Notepad. Pass
4. A lady-hunter.
He has been dating around 2 dozen girls from around the world, meeting up is never his priority.That will mean, leaving the laptop alone. Pass
5. According to his super ex-GF , he was a great kisser.
He still has great kissing techniques from smileys ( :-*) to syllables comprising mostly of the alliterations made up of a , m , u and h. Pass
He is 35 now- time to marry and shoulder the responsibility to carry forward his family lineage. He still not harbouring his ship. I think he is waiting for the time when the technology can make him a father through internet.
IMSTD about myself, Any counselors?
Wots dat IMSTD :-?? Ask me ;-)- I will tell ya.
-DLabels: Funny Sides of Events, Humor, pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 1:40 PM |
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| Talking Kishore-The Lunatic way |
| Thursday, October 11, 2007 |
 August 4, 1929-October 13, 1987 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM- AS You talked..
BEWARE OF KISHORE- AS You put on the ...
Kishore Kumar is said to have been paranoid about not being paid. During recordings, he would begin singing only after his secretary confirmed that the producer had made the payment. Once, when he discovered that his dues hadn't been fully paid, he landed up for shooting with make-up on only one side of his face. When the director questioned him, he replied "Aadha paisa to aadha make-up." (Half make-up for half payment). On the sets of Bhai Bhai, Kishore Kumar refused to act because the director M V Raman owed him five thousand rupees. His brother Ashok Kumar persuaded him to do the scene. But, when the shooting started, he walked across the floor and, each time he walked a few places, he said, "Paanch Hazzar Rupaiya," (five thousand rupees) and did a summersault. After he reached the end of the floor, he went out of the studio, jumped into his car, and ordered his driver Abdul to drive away.
On another occasion, when the producer R. C. Talwar did not pay his dues in spite of repeated reminders, Kishore Kumar turned up at Talwar's residence one morning and started shouting "Hey Talwar, de de mere aath hazaar" ("Hey Talwar, give me my eight thousand"). He did this every morning for a few days, until Talwar paid him.
The film Anand (1971) was originally supposed to star Kishore Kumar and Mehmood in the lead roles. One of the producers of the film, N.C. Sippy, had earlier served as Mehmood's production manager. Hrishikesh Mukherjee, the director of the film, was asked to meet Kishore Kumar to discuss the project. However, when he went to Kishore Kumar's house, he was driven away by the gatekeeper due to a misunderstanding. Kishore Kumar (himself a Bengali) had done a stage show organized by another Bengali man, and he was involved in a fight with this man over money matters. He had instructed his gatekeeper to drive away this "Bengali", if he ever visited the house. When Hrishikesh Mukherjee (another Bengali) went to Kishore Kumar's house, the gatekeeper drove him away, mistaking him for the "Bengali" that Kishore Kumar had asked him to drive away. The incident hurt Hrishikesh Mukherjee so much, that he decided not to work with Kishore Kumar. Consequently, Mehmood had to leave the film as well, and new actors (Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachchan) were signed up for the film.
In spite of his "no money, no work" principle, sometimes Kishore Kumar recorded for free even when the producers were willing to pay. He recorded for free, for some films produced by Rajesh Khanna and Danny Denzongpa. On one occasion, Kishore Kumar helped actor-turned-producer Bipin Gupta, by giving him Rs. 20,000 for the film Dal Mein Kala (1964). When the little-known actor Arun Kumar Mukherjee died, Kishore Kumar regularly sent money to his family in Bhagalpur. Mukherjee was one of the first persons to appreciate Kishore's singing talent.
Many journalists and writers have written about Kishore Kumar's seemingly eccentric behavior. Kishore Kumar had put a "Beware of Kishore" sign at the door of his Warden Road flat, where he stayed for some time while his bungalow was being done up. Once, the producer-director H. S. Rawail, who owed him some money, visited his flat to pay the dues. Kishore Kumar took the money, and when Rawail offered to shake hands with him, he reportedly put Rawail's hand in his mouth, bit it, and asked "Didn’t you see the sign?". Rawail laughed off the incident and left quickly. Once, when a reporter made a comment about how lonely he must be, Kishore Kumar took her to his garden. He then named some of the trees in his garden, and introduced them to the reporter as his closest friends.
According to another reported incident, once Kishore Kumar was to record a song for the producer-director G. P. Sippy. As Sippy approached his bungalow, he saw Kishore going out in his car. Sippy pleaded him to stop his car, but Kishore only increased the speed of his car. Sippy chased him to Madh Island, where Kishore Kumar finally stopped his car near the ruined Madh Fort. When Sippy questioned his strange behavior, Kishore Kumar refused to recognize or talk to him and threatened to call police. Sipppy had to return. Next morning, Kishore Kumar reported for the recording. An angry Sippy questioned him about his behavior on the previous day. However, Kishore Kumar insisted that Sippy must have seen a dream, and claimed that he was in Khandwa on the previous day.
Kishore Kumar was also noted for defying producers and directors. Once, a producer went to court to get a decree that Kishore Kumar must follow the director's orders. As a consequence, Kishore Kumar obeyed the director to the letter. He refused to alight from his car until the director ordered him to do so. Once, after a car scene in Mumbai, he drove on till Khandala because the director forgot to say "Cut". In the 1960s, a financier called Kalidas Batvabbal, patently disgusted with Kishore Kumar's alleged lack of cooperation during the shooting of Half Ticket, gave him away to the income tax authorities. Kishore had to face a raid at his house. Later, Kishore invited Batvabbal home, tricked him by asking him to enter a cupboard for a "chat" and locked him inside. He unlocked Batvabbal after two hours and told him "Don’t ever come to my house again."
Source- wikipedia.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kishore_KumarLabels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 7:36 PM |
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| Match is On |
| Sunday, September 23, 2007 |
A Match, at first go, sounds like a noun to someone who sits, relaxes and enjoys the proceedings. For an executioner, mind you, match is a verb, an encore, a challenge thrown at face asking a daunting question "Match the opponent".
A bunch of handpicked guys from a population of over a billion are more than often expected to match their opponents but ironically its been more of exception than norm as far as Indian cricket is concerned. And when success does embrace Indian cricket, euphoria takes over. I am sure if we have those surveys of most optimistic people or the happiest people around globe during these few days, Indians will top the charts with whopping margins.
It’s quite mesmerizing as how a game of cricket can lift the spirit of nation to such heights. If the same trend could be juxtaposed on Russians or say Chinese during Olympic Games, bagging a dozen of golds per day, guess what ...
We, sentimentalists, as much we are, are likely to reach emotions in extremes when these things happen. There could be an endless debate on whether there is over importance been rendered to Cricket and the step-motherly treatment to the other games, one thing could stand unanimously sacred "Cricket -the game” and it is not to be blamed for its popularity.
Coming to the match that we have today, feeling the electric stillness in our drawing rooms( still drawing rooms for some people), buzz around tapris/chaiwalas, overtly repetitive discussions in food courts/cafeterias, growing excitement of the whole nation- it remains no surprise that nation is licensed and sentenced to a "STATUE" verdict.
The young,fast, fearless, puffed up, focused bunch of "go-doers", "just-do-it", "forget-yesterday", “care a damn" souls have done more than a few goods for India, cricket, and Indian cricket.
I could see people uttering those mature words now "Jo hota hai hone do par ladko ne dil jeet lia". These kinds of transformations are refreshing to know- and need to be spread.
Let’s be vocal about it- just the way we are so vocal about our polity system- about the squalor spread around, about pathetic conditions of roads. In those cases, cribbing wont make a difference but deflate morale, but in this game of cricket by uttering and appreciating mature thoughts -we will make difference.
A pat on the shoulder is enough for a player to know that he is doing great- no need to lift them on shoulders and make them gods if we go and sabotage his house when they fail to perform. A standing ovation is enough to know that he has contributed significantly, if we can’t swallow a defeat with grace.
These can come and grow within us when we actually see our players going there, playing for the team, winning for country. And that’s where I believe, these young enthusiasts have been extremely successful. Kudos.
You give us a fine performance, show us the commitment and we promise all the love and support you need. Who the hell cares about ICL- IPL dug out, Sunny -Kapil fight or Pawar-Dalmiya clashes when the cricketers are playing and playing their heart out.
Under the mature thinking of captain Dhoni, exceptionally gifted Yuvi, “fire-in belly” Bhajji,
“fire in belly and mouth” Shree (You have all apologies in world from us if you can repeat Aussies act again) , determined Irfan, flamboyant Gambhir, re-emerging Sehwag, dashing Uthappa(my younger bro Utha-patak as he believes in hitting and hitting hard :) ),elegant Rohit, ever-improving RP, agile Karthik I am sure we will witness commitment even if the trophy stays illusive.
Lets not behead them on loss but keep those crackers ready for optimistic we are and should be. Lets keep balance on in our cells to call up friends and family, bottles ready to open up, sweets ready to face scarcity in markets.
Mind you, Match is on.
Best wishes
~An ardent India lover and another cricket fan.Labels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 9:31 PM |
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| When I felt heart warmed! |
| Monday, June 11, 2007 |
“AROGYADAAN”-the name may be exaggeration of the impact that it supposed to create or it may be a superlative rhetoric for the effort that had been put in but by no stretch of imaginations belittles the sincerity of the thread members and the enormity of the cause behind it.
8th of June 2007-The day carries no special memoirs that a non-historian can probably recall. But it does for me and several other practitioners of Deloitte who spent the day with strangers who suffer from the Thalassemia disease.
Great times always send omens first up. Getting up before 6 o' clock in the morning is a rare occasion in itself and many of us did actually see the sun rising over the horizon.-Pun intended by all means.
After garnering the scintillating Blue T-shirt and the white wrist band, we all looked as one community with one aim wrapped up in the philanthropic cause. The task was not Herculean and impact was not supposed to be majestic. Ordinary people with ordinary abilities- we had set ourselves easy goals. To sketch a few more strokes of color in the canvas of lives of Thalassemic patients.
We are not “Gods” nor do we have the divine touch to heal the patients but we all came forward willingly to donate the bloods for the Thalassemia patients which is ,in all senses anodyne for them.
Blood Donation drive was a runaway success. Thanks to every individual and thanks to the goodness of blood in everybody’s veins that nurses compassion and care for fellow human beings. Taking time from our prototyped lives and putting hands up for help is an achievement we can always feel proud of. Just to quantify it-107 bottles of blood from a floor of office and then cap had to be finally put in due to lack of resources.
If the Blood donation drive was a success- The Impact day was time to celebrate the success which culminated to its full glory when the smiles were shared with the patients.
There are kids who are probably unaware what lies beyond coming to the hospital every fortnight for blood transfusion and getting those needles into their supple skin periodically. There are young ones, adolescents who have subtly accepted the truth of their daily lives and treatments as one of their task in routine life- Never complaining and morose over ruthlessness of God’s verdict.
Many of the patients are exceptional talents-singers, dancers, artists, painters, professionals and why not? They have never considered their disease as anomaly and never looked for sympathy. All they looked out for is love, affection and treatment no different than others and “Arogyadaaanis” were there at St George Hospital, Churchgate for exactly that reason.
Day was theirs. We had one motto-“Give them a day of love, frolic and sweet memories”
We performed songs, dance, skits, and poems, quizzes, played with them without any bias and with gay abandon. The kids were up, parents engrossed, hospital authorities overwhelmed and our hearts infused with satisfaction.
The Deloitte Cap was grossly oversized for the small heads of the patients but they all loved it because of the love that it epitomized.
No activity was done without getting everyone involved be it lunching together or dancing together. Patients were part and parcel of everything that we performed there.
Learning also made a foray in the whole day exercise. Thalassemia is a disease where the patient has to undergo blood transfusion every 15-20 day. The disease is not fully curable but it is definitely preventable. The disease can be prevented out from the unborn baby by a minor screening in pregnancy period. This is one in a lifetime test that needs to be carried out. If none of the parents are a Thalassemic minor- the disease can be forgotten by them else it could be prevented from occurring into the infant.
The day ended by distributing chocolates, caps and goodies to the kids and indelible memories that became "Resident Good" in everybody’s heart. The kids were jovial and we could see little hands waving even when we had boarded the bus and ready to depart.
Those little hands need no sympathy –they need our care and affection and their elixir of life-Blood.
Good job done guys and keep the good work going perpetually.
Please donate blood. Yes, we can’t create life but we can sustain a life.
DheerajLabels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 12:00 AM |
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| Mumbai Meri Jaan... |
| Sunday, April 22, 2007 |
So, After a sequence of ill-feeling,sniffing around,conflicting notions coupled with generic urge for change, I couldn't resist but to migrate to Mumbai.
With a sigh of relief, solemn-silent promise to myself, a visible resurrection of my bruished career, I embarked for 150 km journey.
From the face and a few onenight stands with the city of opportunities, I knew it won't be particularly something that I can cherish.
Cramped traffics, overloaded trains, humid heat all made it a challenge for free soul like me to survive.
First day journey towards the office started at 6.30 am.And I know where East is,hence. Catching a train is only way I can reach to London from Rome. So i braved it.
Such an irony of this entity, the most harrowing of journeys is the most sought for and indispensable mode of movement.
For a first time onlooker, the crowd in a bogie will seem to be impossible to adjust even a straw of a broom but for those whose lives are controlled by it, know Mumbai local never reaches the saturation. You can keep adding more sugar in the water but never the water gonna spill out of the glass nor the sugar is going to sediment.
After, my well-pressed white shirt and well-polished black camel leather shoe went through real jaggernaut, I stepped out of the chamber which reminded me of Hitlers concentration camps.
I can now tell you about all kind of body and mouth odours.Worst was yet to come .I was going to have a taste of road traffic.
For 1.30 hours no rick driver was ready to drop me to a place hardly 1 .5 km away. Luckily got hold of one, the gentle soul rickshawwallah charged me 85 rs taking me through the labyrinth of traffic making my beautiful face swallow all kind of exhaust gases of all kind of vehilcles found in Mumbai.
Reached office and the jolt came right away when i scanned the office in one go after all the hassles that HRs are known to give for 3 hours. And believe me , she was trying to make me home all the while and I was almost dozing , courtesy a hectic alcohol packed night and tension of reaching office through almost impregnable Mumbai Traffic.
Much to my chagrin, I see no pretty girl, add woman no probs. Easiest part of the day long exercise was to catch the sparsely habitated Bus and reach somewhere near the Guest house.
Comparing these buses with the dreaded Infy Buses is a sin simply because of the sheer head counts the road ravisher transport.
While you can always eagerly and optimistically pray the beautiful girl will take the vacant adjacent seat, however never ever she sits, in Infy, you can safely assume no one going to occupy it out here.
And to me thats better than sitting with a smelling techno guy.
Gods always conspire against me and trap me with attractively packaged garbage, the truth remains that despite premonitions I always opened them with eagerness of a child. So, all my lisp was gone when I found it hard to differentiate the girls from women or better put by a colleague here, "There are no girl,no woman-Only non-male.:) No offence meant as usual, One of the things I have learnt from Infy.
The age is tormentous and there is very little I think apart from girls whenever I am free or otherwise. Let's find out some pretty lass from the call centres surroundimng my office .Because they carry an attitude of some kind of state of art personalities. I bet you get a look at their dress pattern and you will agree with me. it takes heart of rock courageous man to approach them. I am not one of them, I rejected the thought.
Time up.
Usually, getting back from office and sleeping immediately is a sign of average,low ambitioned, IT techno geek who just fights his way out for a solution in office. While refuting this self inflicted blame, I slept because I didnt know what better can I do.
Dheeraj
P.S: I couldnt find humor in the situation i am in so, sorry for readers who actually looked for my non-sense of humor.Labels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 9:36 PM |
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| Bidding adieu |
| Monday, April 16, 2007 |
I loved your presence around me,
The fragrance still surrounds me
Now, I have to put everything behind me
Your love and hatred, both, fine with me
The reminiscence pulls back me
Do you too, mull over me?
I have changed, your courtesy, amor--
I can recall the zeal of your first dine with me
Now, I have to put everything behind me
Your love and hatred, both, fine with me
The mélange was exciting
Relationship taxing, the depart vexing
The memoirs, though, are ever lasting
I saw, your visage getting malign with me
Now, I have to put everything behind me
Your love and hatred, both, fine with me
Accepted, Measures of love may vary
So, here I go, to a distant territory
Prostrated with the expectation that you carry
Wish you all the conquests and glory
Perplexed, I bowed or you resigned with me??
Now, I have to put everything behind me
Your love and hatred, both, fine with me.
My last post @ Infy BB
DheerajLabels: pensive, Poems |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 10:20 PM |
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| Silent sore |
| Wednesday, April 4, 2007 |
God’s wrath or Ruth, I had to decide
I was only 16 then, I confide
Some called it puppy love,
Some hailed as another philanderer in the town
I took it something that was my own,
A relation that was my child
Soft, sensitive, turbulent and wild
Relation not of blood, not bestowed by god
This was mine, my own-self--thanks lord
Hairs that hanged lose down to the supple chin
The silken growths reigning free from that little pin
Marring her vision every sixth second
When she raised her looks from behind ---
I bent my knees, unable to defend
Eyelids fighting for space for their swings
I saw all similes in there, and my imaginations get its wings..
Heart sags, beat sores
Can you hear? I pleaded in silence
My cries, my encores??
One fine day, I gathered it all
I decided to speak it out and stand tall
Heart threatened to fail, face --stale pale
That fine day, it was all, but not over
I will be happy to have the feeling, forever!!
Lost someone, who never was mine
Grudge stays that way, but life runs fine
I treasure the marvels in wilderness and in solitude,
It till persists-- silent, mute
I sing with heart zeroed on you
I osculate; I talk --when I remember you
I crave for you, my benign love,
But all the way I know, I can’t get you.
~DheerLabels: pensive, Poems |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 12:26 AM |
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| Mama is waiting... |
| Sunday, April 1, 2007 |
Knock- Knock- Knock
Mama opens the door,
Feels pleased to see you –
Standing Tall of her
Every festive, every jamboree
She waits for you
She is living on your hopes
Hopes -- that you blew.
She had prepared few breads more
She dreamt of you last night..
And here go you
Will never appear in her sight
So badly I need
Your tickle on head, scalp so eager
To sit over mothers lap on the rooftop
Again in the morning sun of December
Press 10 mps more on the car…,
Delve 10 feets deeper in sea
To satisfy my appetite
for cheap glee
10 gms more of hash
10 feets more over mountain
She is thinking nice of you
But, All in vain
Reminiscing what have I Left barren
I want to relive
I want to laugh again,
I want to weep
Have fun, but strings are attached,
Your life drives other lives too--
Think once more -- before you do
And leaves everyone with no clue!!
~DheerajLabels: pensive, Poems |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 10:23 PM |
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| One Life, One Love |
| Friday, March 30, 2007 |
I could just feel the milieu of soft hairs above my lips, sign that the innocence is on a downhill. Adam’s Apple was still due though.
I had just seen “Dil”. I remember all the half dozen movies I have seen in theatre before my Engineering college.” Ram Teri ganaga maili, Saheb,Dalaal,Ajooba,Gulam-e-mustafa,Jurrasic Park” in that order specifically.
I saw “Dil” on rented VCP(courtesy my tenant). Well, now the “Dil” impact. I instantly fell in love with that beautiful lasso—Madhuri Dixit. But, better rationale prevailed and I started to look on for substitution that fits in well with my stature. I have been compromising and pragmatic since childhood. You will know why.
Swati was my classmate. She was not fair, not pretty but after Dil I found her resembling with Madhuri. Someone very generous (which I grew then)could not find her charming. I made it a point to think about her long eyelids which reminds of the cartoon character “Wabby” of Duck tales. I started enjoying the attention of other guys, their jeers when they used to tease me with her name.
I am now amused but then, jealous to know that lots of other guys were also going through this traumatic phase of whispering adolescence and that girl was almost a princess in the group. They didn’t but every other guy wanted to impress her with loud jokes, getting highest scores in spelling tests. I went a step ahead and learnt quite a number of words ending with “y” and starting with
“y”. Wondering why?? We used to have word debates every weekend (even in weekdays when attendance is low in the school due to rains).Didn’t I love to be amongst seniors and juniors. Even in my engineering college, girls in senior and junior batches always looked prettier.
And I always threw them in jeopardy by ending my words with “y” and they pondered with peevish smile Why “Y” again. Everything is fair in debate and love.
My school was small and Guru-shishya Parampara was the fundamental motto. It was almost mandatory to be present on all the occasions viz. Independence Day, Diwali, Saraswati Puja,etc. We guys were very happy that Raksha bandhan has been a Holiday .But the next Day when I deliberately didn’t remove my sis’s Rakhi from my wrist, I was making a point that I am happy with my sisters and have no intentions to discover more. But that callous girl didn’t bestow any ruth and on that cruel Lunch period we were christened Sis and Bro.
I had just seen promos of “DDLJ”(movie responsible for lot of contemporary guys to fall in love).And I have started liking her maturity. She is so emotional, understanding, elderly, caring and at the same time so endearing. Yes, Kajol was my new love. Hey, cm’n I have grown quite big now, so I needed mature girl. As usual search
started for a correct substitute.
Rakhi was my senior. Not old ok! Just one year senior and I started schooling late, you see .So, there was never an issue. Being Kishore Da’s Songs fan I knew Age does not matter. Even if it does, there is not much difference.
She was to appear at Boards and I was in 9th. I made it a point to let her know that the school’s most eligible guy(Now, that’s what I call as self-appraisal) is fond of her. To get this guy, the Parampara can be staked. Hey guys, wasn’t she impressed and blushed to know it. But, cruel fate was never going to see my face smiling. She passed 10th and went away to Muzzafarpur.(Town you can reach crossing Ganga from Patna).Inspired by DDLJ I tried my Best to catch the bus to Muzzafarpur and bring her back to my life. But, My father is in no weird way DDLJ’s Anupam kher. I grew sad and I could do nothing.
Now, now, I dint see any movie, ok!. But I saw thunderbolt.
Coaching for IIT is mandatory in my part of world. My days were screwed up by the itinerary of coaching classes. I abhorred coz I knew I can’t. But , That coaching made it possible for me to have experience of my lifetime. My classes started at 3.30p.m and I always got out from home at 1.15.I wanted to see her, I wanted to feel that heavy load of emotional rush when I saw her first time. I wanted that gulp of dry air which I swallowed first time when my eyes met hers.
1.30pm : Time Notre dame Academy’s final bell rings.
I always waited with baited breath to see those buses and Red skirted girls and with every passing moment died with the premonition of her flash. At times I succeeded, sometimes failed. Well, I won’t stretch on that part of the story because I simply don’t want. I came to get confirmed about her name only recently, some 6 years after the first encounter. She was “Priya”(fake,fake,fake!!!!). Fine, agreed, I don’t have courage to write her name.
Life moves on. We didn’t have any connection whatsoever and I was too shy. I thought to take this in stride and hoped I will fall in love with next generations of actresses-- Karishmas, karenas, tabus”… Not to be…
I wont admit that the story ended .But ,I can admit we are not together, we were never together, we never had any dialogues, Hey, wait …I had twice ---
Once over phone… (Was I speaking ,?nopes,, she was speaking(I said I am geneous ? ,she was blasting to be honest)
Next time for 10 seconds,, and it was like Man proposes and God disposes. ?
How can I forget, we had a few mail exchanged too…!!! (Stop this non sense..Dont get carried away Dheeraj.Enough..!!!)
Hey, she also had called me thrice.. Once ,night before 1st semester exams… (stop!!!!Will you??)
Ok.
This love is journey and man, I believe I enjoy the moments still, I still …(hopeless)
One life, one love. Rest all other are manipulated to be love..crafted into love,,or compromised love…
--- By DheerajLabels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 1:49 AM |
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| Autobiography| Window Seat |
| Tuesday, March 27, 2007 |
I am the favorite, sweetheart of everyone.
The lonely passengers cherish my lap, providing them the window of a world large company. Children fight for my possession, gotta catch the Bhoot tonight running along the track and showing the torch. Old ones like the support of the adjacent wall of the trains, support that is unconditional and rare. Young folks find me very sporting. They can shout over to the by passers, can find people in some really interesting activities. They can wave hands to the damsels driving on the along side highway, even whistle to the working women on the fields. Children feel elated to see me and my owner.
I can showcase the real country from the sideline. I provide the platform to see culture without a fuss. You can see it so close, real close.
But truly said, good things don’t come easily .Let me narrate one day’s story. However this is my life on almost all days.
The day I took birth ….. I was born robust and responsible. I was given birth for a mission of goodwill, making it possible for souls to meet, bringing exultations from the longings of friends, keeping alive the warmth of relations, Making new relations and stand testimony to the enriching diversity and ironic integration.
I am born half color blind. I have been accustomed to acknowledge a very few colors. Red and green and yellow…Life is colorful with these only.
Oh, I always get drowned in my reminiscence. I was pretty once.
To my story now, so, it was my first journey. I thought it’s a festival or something, or are people celebrating the birth of their messiah? Expectations amplify disappointment.
There was so much rush that day. I was enthralled to find out I have such a big fan following. It must be some festival I reassured. I was ready to take up anything that day. It really is a pleasure to make dreams possible. I was there ready to caress the iron beneath my claws. Green, I always knew what it meant. I shrieked excitedly --- and embarked on my journey. Response was overwhelming. I am considered the best. It was a lean, high chinned, hollow -eyed young man in traditional belbotts and long collared shirt, dirty on the wrist and on the back. It was a sign of chivalry, he had fought for me. I need to serve him well now. He deserved me.
I am passenger train. seat No 41 and I am the vantage point in this cube. The wrist got dirty in the pushes and hullabaloo occurred during catching the train and more importantly grabbing me. I loved him. As I went faster, the boiling and ebullient atmosphere slowly descended into a calm pregnant one.
At the embark, when people started to ambush me I thought I wont be able to accommodate them all, But strangely enough everyone was comfortably placed within an hour’s journey .My owner was real garrulous. After the engine and whistle, it was him who was heard by everyone .He spread the local newspaper he was just devouring a little while ago. The pulp quality was pathetic but it had served its purpose and rady for its other utility to contain Puri bhujia.
It had already equipped my owner with abundance of knowledge making sure the co-passengers don’t doze out of boredom. He had found some supporters mumbling sweet exhortations, encouragerers like,, ”Acha” “Ha ha –bilkula sahi”….”mee pan aikala aahe”(I have heard too).
Few who preferred to sleep in the rhythmic harmonic of the engine went on top of me grabbing 43 number who was already suffocating with garbage filled sacks, stinking kerosene tanks and rodent infected Toshaks .
My excitement was short-lived. I saw RED.—Stop! It was a small station with more vendors than the passengers. I provided a lucid way of entrance and exit ,a bicapsular pathway specially when the usual path is like negotiating a military training drill-Perfect execution and No causality.
I saw samoshas, idlis, bananas,tea, coffee inflowing from the window and spreading far fetched nook of the cabin. Well, thanks for a green and red chatni ,Master.!!! Now a little warm bath too,,,Tea time—splash!!!! Before the argument whether it was vendor’s or passenger’s fault escalated, I saw Green and was in no mood to bear more atrocities. Thanks goodness, not much harm done.
It was all my owner till the next incident happened. In the meantime, my owner, I was unsure what his name was ”Boss” Bhaiya””sir””Aye””Ustad””Miya”..whatever , I and neighbours were all ears for his eloquence. He seemed to be scholar of sociology, economics, politics,- a perfect treat for little brain people.
He was criticizing the government and showering flakes of mungfali on me as if showering flowers on a wedding couple. No, signore I don’t really love you now. More now, when he was spitting tobacco on my newly led window. Sob sob!!
The worse was yet to come. I was jolted by a thunderbolt. THUD THUD…The adolescents on the road side pelted stone on me. I got hurt badly .But I saved my owner. He was no longer interested in seeing the nature’s wonder now.
Engine didn’t stop, we are born dumb, learnt only a few things, ready, start and hault. No matter, if Its day, night, over crowded, empty.
My destination was near. I was again the old turbulent cube ready to burst open. The déjà vu engrossed me, the way I started—ya, exactly the same. People started getting down before engine stopped. I was confused if had over-ran. But no intelligence please, it’s still yellow. I will stop on Red that is what been hard coded into me. I was left tattered, disheveled, ambushed. Now, looking at myself, I tried to believe that I am pretty. There was lull inside cube now, futile though. I have to run again without respite. Whistle broke my siesta, telling me to forget the pain and get ready for the service again.
I am seat no.41 ,,I got to know again. This time an old man, dhoti kurta, untidy, even he had fought for me..
Everyone loves me but no one cares.
Oh please no sentiment, no intelligence, only selfless diligence.
Green is on I shall leave.
SEE YA
A Window passenger himself
DheerajLabels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 2:55 AM |
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| I quit |
| Monday, March 26, 2007 |
“I quit”- A foolish fan
Fans who never stop being stupid time and again, fans who believe more on pattern matching from year 1981 and 20005 and making analogies to show world how India can win. Fans who start Havaans,Pujas, astrologies to think that its there time now. Concocting already concocted Nostradamus and believing Daruwala just to make sure they remain happy with the utopian imagery of India bringing back the world cup.
Fans who vandalize their till-last-night- hero home after one poor dismissal. Fans who treat the same player like a out of world superhero, batsman with Batman like prowess. Fans who are known to be most religious fraternity starts worshipping a normal human being with more failures than success as a GOD.
I dare to say we can’t see, realize and most importantly accept stark naked reality on grounds.
A team doesn’t win because it has a God, a batman,a Wall,Turbanotor,Jumbo – a team wins because of 11 players on the field who are good enough and majority of them achieve their goodness on the field most of the days.
Wake up and stop treating the game a way to satiate your emotional ebullience. Stop stopping your lives for cricket. Stop breaking TV screens, stop taking false leave on cricket days, stop discussing about it, cribbing about it.
Time and again we start treating the game larger than life. It is not. A nation’s pride is not trivial to be tagged with a bunch of players who are no more than ‘Quite Good’.
Expectations have always been set incorrectly. Particulary when it comes to Indian cricket team.
I am disappointed, hurt, dejected like millions of Indian cricket fans around the globe and the defeat should be lesson to all of us not to allow the game to impact our lifestyle.
Being an avid Indian cricket fan and a “typically one of those” kind I know there are still hopes lurking around that Bermuda beats Bangladesh and Indian sneaks through the falling shutter.
After all, didn’t we always believe in doing things the other way?? Honing the art of optimism at heart and garroting rationalism in actions.
They don’t have hunger , poor body language, wrong batting order , Irfan in place of Agarkar.
C’mon guys give it a break now. Indian cricket team is a group of overtly over rated team and met its fate.Simple and straight, no other reason-
neither commercials, nor hairs, neither what they ate last night ,nor coz they didn’t have proper bathrooms to relax, neither it’s true that they didn’t want to win, or they experimented too much.
Shal we now allow speculations and discussions to end.huh?
~DheerajLabels: pensive |
| posted by Dheeraj @ 2:05 AM |
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