I can sit at my PC, eat two hot vada pavs with spicy chilies, and drink a chilled cola at the same time.
Anybody feeling a bit jealous? Anybody from Bangalore, especially? :-)
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Seene mein jalan
Seene mein jalan aankhon mein tufaan saa kyon hain?
Is shahar mein har shaks pareshaan saa kyon hain?
Dil hain to, dhadakane kaa bahaanaa koi dhoondhe
Patthar kee tarah beheesa-o-bejaan saa kyon hain?
Seene mein jalan…
Tanahaee kee ye kaun si, manzil hain rafeekon
Taa-hadd-ye-nazar yek bayaabaan saa kyon hain?
Kya koi nayee baat nazar aatee hain hum me
Aaina hume dekh ke hairaan saa kyon hain?
This song from Gaman (1979) has been playing in my head today since morning.
I am reminded of my hardworking years in Mumbai:...
Of travelling to and fro in jam-packed trains. Of those soiled notes I received at the end of the month. Of the impulsive expenses I made. Of working late into the day-after-tomorrow.
Those uncertainties and dreams. Those opportunities I missed. Those statements I made. Those promises made to self unkept. Those walks in the rain.
That intense love fading into oblivion or some void. That longing becoming indifference.
Is shahar mein har shaks pareshaan saa kyon hain?
Dil hain to, dhadakane kaa bahaanaa koi dhoondhe
Patthar kee tarah beheesa-o-bejaan saa kyon hain?
Seene mein jalan…
Tanahaee kee ye kaun si, manzil hain rafeekon
Taa-hadd-ye-nazar yek bayaabaan saa kyon hain?
Kya koi nayee baat nazar aatee hain hum me
Aaina hume dekh ke hairaan saa kyon hain?
This song from Gaman (1979) has been playing in my head today since morning.
I am reminded of my hardworking years in Mumbai:...
Of travelling to and fro in jam-packed trains. Of those soiled notes I received at the end of the month. Of the impulsive expenses I made. Of working late into the day-after-tomorrow.
Those uncertainties and dreams. Those opportunities I missed. Those statements I made. Those promises made to self unkept. Those walks in the rain.
That intense love fading into oblivion or some void. That longing becoming indifference.
At least, I hope so...
Oh cloud, why don’t you just rain down?
Roar in thunder and rub in lightning?
At least for a moment, our existence will be noticed.
Ye wildflower on the country road, why don’t you bloom to your brightest in day?
Spread your petals and let us see the world inside you?
At least for a moment, our lives will be enriched.
My mundane life needs spectacular moments for me to feel alive… Clipping my grandmother’s nails made up for all those lost time that I could have spent with her… At least I hope so. After all she is the only living legacy my grandfather left behind when he passed away 12 years ago.
Footnote: On the morning of April 22, I wrote this piece; she passed away peacefully that afternoon.
Roar in thunder and rub in lightning?
At least for a moment, our existence will be noticed.
Ye wildflower on the country road, why don’t you bloom to your brightest in day?
Spread your petals and let us see the world inside you?
At least for a moment, our lives will be enriched.
My mundane life needs spectacular moments for me to feel alive… Clipping my grandmother’s nails made up for all those lost time that I could have spent with her… At least I hope so. After all she is the only living legacy my grandfather left behind when he passed away 12 years ago.
Footnote: On the morning of April 22, I wrote this piece; she passed away peacefully that afternoon.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Aarti
It was 4:30 pm.
A group of men had gathered in devotion. They were wearing uniforms: matching ties, shirts, and blazers. The huge wall-mounted speakers were blazing out “Sukh harta… dukh harta…” in full volume. The fragrance emanating from incense and dhoop sticks created a hazy and smoky hue in the dimly lit, air-conditioned environment.
All the uniforms were busy clapping their hands and playing the cymbals in tune with the aartis blaring out of the speakers. Some were singing along and singing aloud.
Jaydev jaydev…
Aarti Sai Baba…
Devotion amongst the waiters, the captain, and the hotel owner reached their crescendo with the DJ playing the last aarti fast and louder. The aarti ended around 5pm with distribution of prasad to all.
Now, it was time for Aartis, in their 20s and 30s, to come through the backdoor to please their Gods.
A group of men had gathered in devotion. They were wearing uniforms: matching ties, shirts, and blazers. The huge wall-mounted speakers were blazing out “Sukh harta… dukh harta…” in full volume. The fragrance emanating from incense and dhoop sticks created a hazy and smoky hue in the dimly lit, air-conditioned environment.
All the uniforms were busy clapping their hands and playing the cymbals in tune with the aartis blaring out of the speakers. Some were singing along and singing aloud.
Jaydev jaydev…
Aarti Sai Baba…
Devotion amongst the waiters, the captain, and the hotel owner reached their crescendo with the DJ playing the last aarti fast and louder. The aarti ended around 5pm with distribution of prasad to all.
Now, it was time for Aartis, in their 20s and 30s, to come through the backdoor to please their Gods.
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