Straight from the Heart

  On the road After ages, Would be a few good men. Disregarding the aches, The apprehensions, Nervousness and tensions, They would let the wind whistle into their ears and spear through their inners to reach the core of the heart Hoping to clean the debris Of ages long gone past!   Under Capt Bala We shall smoothly sail along Greeted by sunrises and sunsets for our lullaby song!

It had been a delightful dinner, A hearty meal topped with some interesting conversations Leaving one satiated. After all isn’t that what friends are for? You spend time with them To be left with happiness, lingering like an aftertaste for many days thereafter.   It was time for desserts. We had just returned back From the buffet counter with our choice of desserts, When my cell phone beeped and attracted my attention. The message received, left me shocked. “Friends,” I said addressing the other two. “Shraman has had a sudden cardiac arrest And is battling for his life in the hospital.” Our dear old friend, barely in his forties, Had been hospitalised and battling for survival Was news that was difficult to digest. It left us with a sense of helplessness! Far away from the hospital, The three of us On the spur of the moment decided, To pray for our friend In our own special way.   So we lit a candle and stuck it on the cup cake That we had picked up from the buffet coun...

Colour?  It's turned a madcap today.  Following my footsteps all the way. Jumps on to someone's shoulder. Like a woman's veil, in the breeze aflutter. Colour floats up  aiming for the sky.  The wind is it's chariot,  driving it high.  At the bend of the lane or below the flats,  Colour is a boy with his youthful burst.  Colours,  that lie inside a maiden's heart,  Bursts forth on her face  in a joyous splash.  The little girl's joy knows no bounds.  On her frock today  an array of colours abound.  The spring is eager to break into a dance. Melody is born today  out of the flowers' blossom. 

Zomato The place has everything that can  fool you for an instant to believe that you are not in Kolkata but have stepped into some place in South East Asia. The lady at the entrance, her appearance right down to the length of slit of her Oriental dress, the flight of stairs going up with the dining room  situated in steps along the length of the staircase gives an impression of an oriental eating house in the land of the orient! Fungshway has been really successful in doing a makeover that is near perfect! The erstwhile China Bowl, which used to be a dimly lit, depressing place has been converted into a bright, colourful place that's certain to lift one's spirit a notch or two as soon as one enters and climbs the steps. Those coming to Fungshway should better come with a fixed notion of which type of cuisine they wish to savour. Such is the range and variety offered by the restaurant that unless one is very sure, one would probably take a lot of time to go through the menu...

A stray cloud, Youthful, brash, bold, Impetuous, Adventurous, Laden with energy, Separates from his breathen and sets forth! The hillock on the horizon, Rising high above the ground, It's head, firm and jutting out As if in defiance, Was the stray cloud's target. It's abode to rest. Like the foster mother's nest. Amongst the crevices And the ledges, The hillock's flat grassy patches And the trees, There the cloud stayed And played, All day long!

307. Fariyas The signboard to Fariyas can be seen from the highway itself but the last mile approach road is a little tricky, making its way over a tiny stream that seems to start from the clump of trees on the right and then losing itself into the clump of trees on the left. This stream and the narrow bridge evokes an immediate sense of peace and makes me want to let go of my muscles, taut from  passing through a congested Mumbai-Pune highway! A few twists and turns of the road following the sign boards and then you are there at your destination! There's something about Fariyas, the resort, that seems to grip you the moment you step into the spacious lobby. The spacious lobby appears even more spacious because it steps down into the main eating area, the buffet hall. The aroma of the food and the hustle bustle of people moving around in that area, chatting and laughing while they tuck into their food should definitely bring a sense of happiness into hearts of even the staunches...

C'mon! Everyone is entitled to a bad day. A day when nothing goes right and try as you might,    everything seems to be like it had just come under the impact of a tornado. Saturday probably was one such day for Abar Baithak and that was the day we decided to pay a visit to this place. Ever seen a marriage hall reserved for the bridegroom's kins to stay? The bridegroom's party is always larger than estimated, making any place reserved by the bride's parents look cramped. Abar Baithak looked, to us, just like such a place. There were people outside the house, young ones mainly, as if they had gathered outside for a smoke, away from the prying eyes of elders  ensconced inside the house. At an arm's length away from the band of these youngsters and sitting on chairs lining the walkway, were a few people, just like the workmen of decorators or lighting contractor who happen to sit down for an unscheduled break from decoration work, their feet stretched out and bodies...

One step at a time. Creeping up by inches, Like ants, They ascend. The mute hill cannot but stand Watching, As they rise Treading on its body. First the belly and moving up Towards its chest, Aiming for its jugular, In a lethal progress.

Choitre r jaala dhora roddur. Kalboishakhi r bhaangeni ekhuno ghum. Gariahaat er sale er season. Aar kichu khawa daoa chaaye mon, Chhoto boro Sokol restaurant tai byasto, korte aayojon. Er maajhe aashe notun Borsho! Calendar er paatay Tero parbon ke abar khunje paoar anondo. Ekta mishti onubhuti, Ektu bhalo laaga, Chhuti r aamej er resh dhore Notun ke ghore tola. Shubho hok shokoler Notun Borsho!

The bougainvillea is the star, falling like Rapunzel's locks from the top, trying to catch   attention as we walked in through the gates. Used as we are to stay confined in flats measuring in barely hundreds of Sq ft, a zamindar's mansion standing over 20 Acres of land inspired an awe and prompted us to plan a visit to this place. The zamindars of Itachuna built this place way back in 1700 after having probably had enough of the marauding lifestyle and intending to settle down to a life of regulated income flowing from agricultural taxes imposed on villagers. The mansion has all that is associated with houses of rich zamindars and Kings of yore; an imposing structure with the inner living areas  separated from the outer areas, the naach ghar and the offices, the stables and the kitchens and the mandir with the courtyard that was the stage for many a performance in times of festivals. The palace itself is set on sprawling acres of land replete with ponds, used by the Ze...

The other day i got a message on facebook, Someone had sent me a friend request! The name seemed unfamiliar But his picture, though a little altered, By the receding hairline, Or the mark left by the passage of time On his countenance, Left me in no doubt that Here was my long lost friend of yester-years!   Twenty years had flown by, Leaving us separated by miles! He had settled on the west coast while I had set up shop on the eastern frontiers of India.   The phone rang and both of us, Delighted at having found each other Impatiently Kept interrupting   and cutting into the other’s words!   We filled each other up With what had kept us occupied   in the last twenty years. And then we both agreed to one thing, That life had not been as interesting As it was twenty years back!   Twenty years had failed to yield moments, That match those we had in our childhood! Those e...

Wee was the space, A yard or two arm’s length at most, A space created between the bumpers Of the Corolla and that of the Mahindra; Two amongst the many that stood at the traffic intersection waiting for the light to turn green. Suddenly like a flash, The girl in red and baby in green made a dash. Weaving their way through, The cars standing in serpentine queue, they swooped down on this empty space. Then began a race, To grab attention of as many eyeballs Before the lights turned green! To the rhythmic beats of drum, The baby’s head stirred, slowly picking momentum, Till the nut attached to his fez swirled in a smooth circular motion. Then he bent back Till his body was flat and rested on his fours. Summersaults and twists were next, Displayed in grace and perfectness. Till they realised that it was time, To beg the onlookers for a few dime! So the drum beats ceased, And tapping the car w...

 फेसबुक पर देखा था उस दिन  एक दोस्त के जन्मदिन की सूचना। याद आ गया तीस साल पहले के वोह दिन, बचपन के दिन, जब किसी दोस्त के जन्मदिन पे बहुत ख़ुश होते थे हम। स्कूल में खाने को मिलते थे टोफ्फी , और शाम को एक तोहफा लिए पहुच जाते थे दोस्त के घर। आंटी जी के हाथ का बना केक, मिठाई और पूरी-छोले खाना और दोस्तों से कुछ देर खेलने के बाद जब घर वापस जाते थे तो नन्हा सा मेरा दिल हो जाता था बाग़-बाग़। आज दोस्त से बात करने की फुर्सत भी नहीं। किसी तेज़ रफ़्तार से दौरती हुई रेल - गारी की तरह मुझे सिर्फ भागना है, किसी के इशारे पे चलना है। जो जाने पहचाने थे, वोह पीछे रह गए! सुना है की आंटी जी की तबियत भी आजकल ठीक नहीं रहती। दोस्त का  जन्मदिन अब सिर्फ फसबूक पर ही मनता है!  

It was tucked in between others. Unimpressive compared to those that stood out because of their eye-catching colour combinations or the thickness. It lay on the shelf, thin, like a withered mal-nourished child. I found it and plucked it, from between a hard-bound book and a colourful traveller’s guide! In my hands the book felt so light. As if it was devoid of the knowledge that provides gravity and....weight? A book of poetry, the written contents on the pages were few, But each word sparkled against the white background, As if they were invaluable gems and other precious stones! I opened the book and discovered, its worth in weight of gold. Be it the poem on the desire of the longing heart for days and nights of solitude. Or the poet's expressed inability to pen a few lines in praise of his beloved! From the comparision of the frolicking rain-water to the hordes of children back from a cricket match, To the lament of the poet in his inabilit...

Her eyes lit up with a spark but before Raju could notice it, the spark had been replaced by uncertainty and doubt. “What’s the matter,” snapped Gunjan as she took the stem of roses from Raju’s hand. “Why did you have to bring flowers?” “I didn’t bring them. I had to, sort of, buy it!” “I knew it! It’s certainly not your nature to bring flowers back home! The days of gifting flowers are long gone! These things only happen in movies! Anyway, you can throw these flowers away!” Gunjan was trying to continue the fight that had been left incomplete because of Raju storming out of the house in frustration. Although he could sense his tempers rising, Raju was too tired and in no mood to pick up the fight from where he had left. It was sultry and the humidity made him sweat profusely from every pore of his body. Frustrated and tired of fighting, he had gone out for an evening stroll thinking it would cool him down. Midway, he had stopped at a shop to buy some items for their daily r...

सुबह की धूप की गर्माहट में है आज कोई बात . हर पेड की डाली पे है कैसा फूलों का बहार . लाल , पीला , नारंगी , हरा , हर रंग का है विस्तार . ख़ुशी मनाओ , नाचो - गाओ आया बसंत बहार ! हवा की लहरों में है आज , मन क्यूँ जाता डूब ? चार दीवारों का बंधन तोड़ , नाच उत्ता है खूब . छोटे - बढे , नर - नारी , हर चेहरे पे ख़ुशी का सार . ख़ुशी मनाओ , नाचो - गाओ आया बसन्त बहार ! पिचकारी से निकले रंग , भर देता है किसी का दामन . पीले हो गए हाथ किसी का , रंग गया किसी का आँगन . हवा में लहराती चुनरिया , गोरी का रंग गया है निखार . ख़ुशी मनाओ , नाचो - गाओ , आया बसंत बहार ! होली - है , होली है , नारों से गूँज रही हर गली . झूमते , गाते , मौज मानते हर गली मस्त मौजों की टोली. और अमवा की झार पे बैठ कोयल कहें पुकार ख़ुशी मनाओ , नाचो गाँव , आया बसंत बहार !