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Showing posts from 2014

If You Clean Your Ass, Clean Your Surrounding Too

"Keep your surroundings clean"- was just the lesson number 5 in science text books of primary school, till the 56" wide chest Prime Minister of India awakened the sleeping India to wake up from the dirty slumber and clean our surroundings in actual!

This is India. Now it is safe to toss your trash on the supposedly called roads. It is safe to pee or poop in those bushes for the germs to survive and thrive. India has huge human population so do the germs. It's liberating and freedom. It is also safe to clear your throat and cough out the residual on the street. We are at our disposal to clean our car and flush the stagnant water in public for the mosquitoes to flourish. And we are named bloody Indians for this. Let's remember!
What a marvel nation we have turned. After the perfect independence decades ago, we turned completely independent and free enough to puke, pee and dirty our own surrounding. While the school teacher yells at the top of her voice on value ed…

Share A Drop - Of Love And Life

A class room space is all I need One hearty meal is all you feed
Hungry tummy & hungry mind
Share a drop of love, be kind
Food with love, I ask not much
Milestone to reach inch by inch
For a life, I want to learn
Morsel of food I yearn......



India has reached Mars. No doubt. But perhaps one peek from Mars and what is seen is the poor hungry children often deprived of food, school, proper sanitation/toilets. They are the future of India, that is the youth, the children and we know the ground reality. At the ground level, the children constituting 35% of population, yet their various issues are yet to be acknowledged at giant scale so as to take that leap in solving the crisis. It could be sanitary issues, illiteracy and importantly undernourishment. According to UNICEF one third of world's malnourished children hail in India.  While, India has 440 million children, home to largest number of children in the world. 

In our India, we are very busy celebrating a socially lesser relevant &qu…

PEE-KABOO

"Enough is enough, will you pee now or you chose not to travel with us further"- was my mother shouting at me. Lush green grass, silence and abandoned place, just right to pee when you were travelling 24X7 on a marathon tour with the popular tour operators. More than 2 decades ago, peeing in public was an art. The older ladies educated me how they could cover my butt with their hanging pieces of sari and I could pee in peace. Peace? Hell. I peed in piece. Playing peekaboo with few pairs of eyes that pretended not to see me and few mosquitoes that buzzed around. I am that bloody Indian with 5 rooms 4 toilets in my home today, yet dreads those memory lane journeys of pee-kaboo, where my bladder often yelled for it's respectful urinal rights, at me. Those, night bus journeys were a nightmare. Jungles as open toilets, singing loudly was only option if the bladder shouted the hell out of holding the pee for long hours. Using a public toilet was a bane. The very spell of the f…

Water, A Male?

His-High-ness

Maid Goes Wi-Fi

Not before long it was, when, in India, that lady with wet sari wandered around tiding up my kitchen and the grubby kneed son of hers, cleaned weeds in my garden. Maid was the key word. The job outsourced. Unending domestic chores were to be unearthed  by the maiden of the house, hence often outsourced part of job to the maid. The luxury was face to face talks, unlike today, where my most conversations with my maid are on whattsapp and few calls.

The flash backs pose ghostly appearances in my thoughts, when I run my marathon in my "foreign" house from room to kitchen and back to another room. What! I wanted to faint on discovering longish formalities in filling up several forms, study the labour law just to have a house help. Life of an NRI was more about papers. Visas and the likes. 
The India house almost made my sweet dreams at times. Each time I clean my finger nails off the vegetable remain, reminds me of those happy moments when, I once was young and free enough to fi…

Rush

Quiet

Says The Sun

Crack-Less And Not Cracker-less Deepawali

I dislike this new app called "NO to Deepawali crackers"discovered by liberals . Close the App and open the "I love my Culture; I shall abide by rules and limits to enjoy it" app. We smart people like smart phones have scrounged in too many apps in life. Trash them. Refresh memory, recharge self and add in beautiful apps.

I am a true bloody Indian! When it comes to festivals, I am even truly traditional Hindu. And when it's Deepawali, I loved doing hopscotch on roads midst red coloured crackers scattered all over. Some half burnt that might just buzz right on you! Yet, loved standing along the road along with other neighbours and few street dogs, watch the men throw the crackers as if they went spinning the cricket ball like Kumble or if they just planned to bomb the neighbourhood, light a rocket and flee as if for life. It was little of pest control too in our mosquito filled native. I miss all these fun!

Now, to calculate why  crack the C called CONFUSION. T…

You Specky

For most parents including me, it's such a glorious deed to persistently run a homework as to what is good and what could be bad to your child. I was, at one point such an hyper, who had to even peep right inside the diaper if a ant had wriggled in, troubling my baby. I would wash an unpeeled orange over and over  till someone laughed at me, before beginning to squeeze juice out of it for my child. But it does not end there. If I was over doing it is your idea, no, you get a wrong message. At least when it came to her food and immunity.

With both we parents gifted with short sight and having to wear spectacles, I forever ran my homework as to how I shall strengthen my child's retinal nerves, apart from eating carrots. Reminds me of my three year old back from play school told me -"Ms Kitty says carrots are good for eyes, but please give me two of them, as I have two eyes na". It was during those days, that I hogged on lots of study on herbal medication. From age 3, …

Going Gets Going

Noise Of The Silence

My Pal - Manipal

You ought to savour  this extra dosage of "Manipal" from my every cell of memoir. Evidently, a very  wink before a sleep, connects my nerve cells to those photographic memory of a Manipal street that brought me up for years. Unending noise on that street seemed music to ears, an unpleasant odour, specially the open road side fish market was part of the routine. A typical scenario of the late 90's. A stretch of a kilo metre that exclusively presented odours of the- hospital stuff, masala dosa, fish curry, or the dust swayed by zooming local buses.  A Bus and a bus stop:- Roads, full of bikes, autos and those road runner busses. A shrill whistle  by that nasty bus conductor as the bus pulled off the station happened every other second. The bus-stops predominantly share a intricate history, meant for the  stray dogs and cows for gods sake. "Who would ever wait in there?" was the fashion. What a shame it was if guys scattered not on road for a bus but in the bus st…

Colours Of Flow

State Of Mind

Reaching Heights

Woman

Name Game - It's All In A Name - From The "Shy Girl Of Manipal"

That book you write, not read. That road, with return none, only lead. That lane you walk, not run. Life with pain, still is fun. Life with no name, Sounds dull & lame. Fancy naming a new born after a popular Bollywood or Hollywood star? Please do so. What's in a name? Bang onto "What's not in a name?". Remember you might hit a jackpot sometime when bizarre airways offer concessions to selected popular Bollywood character names. Recently the Virgin Atlantic Airways that threw away exciting offers to "filmi named" people. Behold- now say what's in a name? Whether of much use or not, I did muse upon the options on, what if I was named after some "Simran- sanorita"; the popular "pooja beti" the Yash Chopra's Madhuri Dixit; Priya or the bubbly Rani Mukharjee as Tina in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Aargh, well I love my name. not the airlines! There was a time, my introduction would compulsorily include "shy girl from Manipal!". If that m…

My Mud Toed Princess

The decision was mine! I had paid two hoots to those monstrous mocking  eyes of neighbours tracking me, as my little 22 months plus girl splashed her legs in the muddy rain water flowing across the street of the residential area of Manipal. If, being clean clothed, running around best smelling cosmos garden chasing a butterfly was "nice", fancying the nature's beauty in "ugly form" wasn't a crime. That toddler, today, growing into pre-adolescent times has been maintaining her crown, being "grubby legged". Rains are just one form, that cant withhold her massive love to one the beautiful forms of nature.

One day long ago it was, with heavy down pour, as I stuck to the windows of our house with the little girl, there was an enchanting resonance of melodious mixture of sounds. Aura engulfed by occasional mixing of the sounds of the little one gurgling in thrill and that of water drop off coconut leaves. She had grown talking to the birds in the air, a…

Petals Of Love

Wafting petals of love, Abhors the horrendous wind. She, is a beautiful bloom, Held high & cosy in delicate palm, Now withered, from  glory to gloom. Fret, shall be no mercy, Time lost is irreversible, The new bloom on -looked. Shaky petals of love, Abandoned with time, Marred by the wind, Tackling the destiny. She, is a beautiful "life"!

Love it's divine essence! An ultimate comparison of life with the rain, clouds, or bloom, and so on.... finds never ending prose & poetry.

What's Aging?

What's aging? An wandering soul, Manipulated mind set, Creaking bones, On a marathon to an, heavenly existence, Ultimately reching hell, Or the other way!
Why would I age? A life that's... A linear progressive discipline, An army of blood cells, Marching onto, Not a, perpetual existence, Feeding the mind and the body, Only till the bones grow weak!
I am not aging. Why should I after all?
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My "Key Prayer"

O Lord I hold a prayer Can you please CUT me Or try to COPY me And PASTE me into past
No OPTION? Is a CONTROL there? Or a SHIFT option?
There is no RETURN, from where I reached
SHIFT me as least Give me a ALTernative CLEAR my way, thoughts
Bring me BACK Show me HOME AND shower on me your blessings There is no RETURN from where I reached
CTRL+ALT+DEL is possible? CUT / COPY + PASTE ? If not press back HOME O Lord I hold a prayer
Times when the thoughts flow into words, times when my thoughts run into "keypad" and are stuck !!
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Old Voice

Collision a formation
The brawl of thoughts in cacophony
Like beating drums on heavy toll From the inside of the mind
The mind's factory function hindered Malfunction could be wrong word Demon of a noise, gobbling up thoughts Jumbled up and lost track
Clock faking a move Two sticks pointing  sad joke of loneliness The vicinity of thoughts die a plonk Mind all blank....
Standing stiff around, hands on forehead Eyebrows, those curious, strained
Stare gaze switch clock to ceiling  to window
The walls laugh aloud
Bones old, hair gold Age that's old
For a human that's bold
A tale not never told
In life once, stood tall Yet melting with time, inside wall Life's memory lane, like sank
With a mind that went "Blank"....

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A blank mind was a fusion of big brawl of the long list of memories, thoughts, untold talks in mind. The above poetry has been an attempt, a trial reflection of stepping into the shoes of an old lonely feeling human. Staying overboard old people's…