Straight from the Heart

आओ फिर से ढूँढ निकले. जवानी के उन मीठे पल. बेचैन जब रहता था दिल. तरसते थे, की कब पायेंगे मिल. दिल में बसी थी तस्वीर यार की. ढूँढता तुमको बेताब यह नयन. जाने कहाँ गए व्हो दिन जब, सोचते, मिलन की घरी फिर आएगी कब? पास आने को जब ढूँढ़ते बहाने. और याद सताती रातों में. एक पल में कट जाता लम्बा समय. जब एक दूजे में रहते थे तन्मय. हर व्हो लम्हा हसीं लगता था. जब रहते थे बंधे आगोश में. घरी-घरी हम खो जाते थे भविष्य के रंगीन सपनो में. सुन्दर लगता था सारा संसार. जब होता था हांथो में हाथ. मिलने से दिल हो जाता बाग़-बाग़. और, झुलसती थी जुदाई की आग. आयो मिल के कोशिश करें. बीते दिनों को ढूँढ निकाले. प्यार मोहब्बत की हमारी कहानी. को कभी न होने दे पुराणी.

Red-eyed, sleepy, early in the morning, The sun calls out to me As I greet it from my rooftop. “Help”, it pleads. “The South City towers grow alarmingly And soon will block my path.” Helpless, I try to explain. “Man’s desire to rise from the squalor on the ground Gives shape to the towering sky-scrapers. For nearness to GOD today is Much in Demand.”

The word terrorism indicates an ideology, a belief that aims to achieve its objective by spreading terror amongst the society. People who follow and practise this ideology are terrorists. The present day world has witnessed so many acts in recent times, which have shaken the belief of the civilisation in safety and security of their lives. Indeed, starting from acts of terror in India to the mother of all acts of terror, the blasting of twin towers in USA, numerous acts have made terrorism a very popular word in the vocabulary of the people world-over. Ever so frequently the word used to stare at you from the pages of the newspapers and from the television news channels that these words have become etched in the subconscious minds of the human population of today. As a result, we use this word loosely, many times to denote anything that is of suspicious nature and attracts our curiosity. The other day, I was hearing a jingle on the radio, in which someone describes a suspicious lookin...

The green grass and the cheering crowd. The waving fans chanting out loud. Players in coloured shirts run around. Giving rise to euphoria all around the ground. The defender kicks the ball high in the air. The midfielder rises for a header. He is challenged by the opposing medio. Trying to snatch and pass on to his co-fellow. The referee blows the whistle for a foul. The defender has obviously broken the rule. The man in blue falls and writes in pain. A freekick for team in yellow, advantage gained! The medio looks for the striker to deliver. The striker dodges and ducks the defender. Here’s the ball, flying and swinging like a top Beats the goalkeeper, who cannot put a stop. The crowd rises to their feet with a deafening roar. The striker pumps his fist, happy to finally score. Made famous by Pele, who played this game. This is soccer, excitement is its middle name!

Real Fun , You will miss, at a Funeral. Evil Fast is broken at Festival Dirty Room is not found in a Dormitory . Happiest inscriptions in Epitaphs of cemetery. Nice Love may end in Violence . Woman Hitler is Mother-in-Law in a sense (in essence)! No more stars can influence Astronomers . Bad credit is incurred by Debit Card users . Evil’s agent masquerades Evangelist Direct I pay cash for purchases not availing Credit . Pinched from the column of Khuswant Singh appearing in The Telegraph

This morning, I began to count, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.. As many as seven trees lay uprooted In a small stretch of 100 meters. The black road had assumed a shade of green Covered by torn leaves from the trees. While a few had been uprooted in one single piece, Some had their thick stem twisted and broken. Like a destructive child twists the limbs off a toy! Such was the fury of the gale That it claimed human lives too- A son killed in her mother’s presence. A bread-earner snatched away in a sudden twist of fate. A poor rickshaw puller relieved of the burden of lugging people around. Yet, in the midst of it all, I saw the crows hard at work this morning. Picking up the broken twigs scattered around, They renew their effort to re-build their nest among the stronger, stouter trees left behind!

Its back to that wet feeling! The wet roads with puddles on the sides. The coloured umbrellas under which the maidens hide. The car windows, spotted and in a haze. Shields the romancing couple from the city’s curious gaze. The trees look fresh, free of dust and grime. The air is rid of polluted particles too-coarse or fine! Messy staircases and wet elevator floors. A shiver down the spine, at the touch of the lady-wet and cold. The birds are drenched, looking for a place to hide. They sit below the window sill, lamenting on their plight. The monsoon is here, the summer heat bids adieu. Time to switch off the air-conditioners, their rest was long over-due. Monsoon, Calcutta 2009