the times of our lives, the ages that our breaths fog,
the arriving here is not of our choosing, and if we did (have a choice that is)...would we have any other?

borrowed from a fellow blogger (credited to the poet Jagadish)

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!

Sangharsh se hat kar jiye to kya jiye hum ya ki tum,

Jo nat hua wo mrit hua jyon vrind se jhar kar kusum,

Jo lakshya bhool ruka nahin,

Jo haar dekh jhukha nahin,

Jisne pranaya paatheya maana hai jeet usi ki hui,

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!

Aisa karo ke praanon me na kahin jadta rahen,

Jo hai jaha chupchaap apne aap se ladta rahen,

Jo bhi paristhithiyan milein,

kaante chube kaliya khilein,

Haaren na insaan kabhi, hai sandesh jeevan ka yahin,

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!

Humne racha aao humhi abb tod de iss pyaar ko,

Ye kya milan, milana vahi jo mod de majhdaar ko,

Jo saath phoolon ke chale,

Jo dhaal paate hi dhale,

Yeh jindgi kya, jo jindgi sirf paani si bahi,

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!

Sansaar saara aadmi ki chaal dekh hua chakit,

Par jhaankkar dekhon drigon me sabhi hai pyaase thakit,

Jab tak bandhi hai chetna,

Jab tak hriday dukh se ghana,

Tab tak na maanoonga kabhi iss raah ko hi mai sahi,

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!

Apne hridya ka satya humne aap humko khojna,

Apne nayan ka neer humne aap humko poochhna,

Aakaash sukh dega nahin,

Dharti paseeji hai kahin?

Jis se hriday ko bal milein, Hai dhyay apna to wahi,

Sach hum nahin, sach tum nahin, Sach hai mahaj sangarsh hi!!

the night is my own

it gives back what the day has taken from me

there's a bit of craziness lurking in all of us...and its cyclic...you know, comes and goes. we go from madness to madness, not quite knowing when we are in it...not quite knowing when we are not

there is a part of me that is not me. that has been with me since i was born...but which has been, long before me. that which likes some of what i like and is wary of some of what i'm wary of. that adds a hundred exquisite layers of pleasure...innumerably subtle shades of meaning, empathy...to things i am distantly aware of and yet brought closer to instantly. that which makes me a mote of dust on this land...as i was before...as i will be in my time

and all else will be forever foreign

i'm a person of hurried prayers...muttered somethings...particularly in moments of dire needs. my sojourns to temples are few by far but i've felt awe and reverence...now the question is, is that because of conditioning or does it have to do with the shared experiences one grows up with?
here's an epiphany i had...that the faith, the reverence one feels in such an environ...maybe thats not got so much to do with the godly idols in front of you, as it has with the millions of prayers, long and short, from around you, from before you, long before you. Imagine, if prayer was a physical quantity and you could map concentrations, what would such concentrations be in a long worshipped temple, church or mosque?! maybe its the senses you know, the devotees you see, the incense and soot you smell, the whispered paens you hear but i just somehow feel that if i could, if i were able to, block out all of this, i would still feel no...sense the colossal weight of faith gathered over the ages. it has been palpable to me when i have touched pews in the notre dame or the door sill at puri...a resonation of faith, of shared reverence...a bounding of feeling, a sense of i am here...to atone...to whisper my fears...and my hope to be free of them...to be at peace

and the idols and symbols, just punctuation marks so that i step in tune in the grammar of faith with my fellow men (which of course then alters the need state to one of identity as most after-the-fact defining attempts do...and which is yet another story)

if IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING and i'm doing nothing, then am i doing the impossible?

i should JUST DO IT then!

aaj jaane ki zid na karo...

strange but i have not a person in mind...a set of feelings perhaps...remembered emotions...mine and of others...of a time when it used to be we

there was a time of constancy...when things around you were things you knew...people too...what is this time when you are a stranger...and speak to me in this strange tongue...look at me in that strange eye...can i not hear you...or have i forgotten what it is to understand...what is this grasping at winds...this momentary clarity in a haze...am i leaving time behind or is time putting me in my place...teaching me lessons that wear me out...

o stranger...take me with you...talk to me...sing to me...make me feel part of something...teach me to be friends...walk with me...jump with me...weave into the music with me...i want to become you...i know i'll want to be me before long...i'll be me before long...incorrigible...unblendable...i can only be me in the end...just as in the beginning...laugh with me...laugh at me...laugh but

my average readership is about 0.36 (that is actually a matter for conjecture...0.1 might be more accurate but i didn't have the heart for it)

raj sagely comments that i need to be reader friendly in the first place...not write a diary in code for myself

the crossroads one has passed through do not always fade away...the mind moves on...the heart not quite. even the memories stumble in confusion...remembering things not quite one way and even then spectres of what really was. do i hurt for what i cannot figure...or do i give house to my past in whats conveniently comfortable to my present.

tell me what would you do...if you were to do anything at all

p.s. i shudder in the realization that tendulkar and rehman...those gods who chose to walk this earth in our lifetimes, will move on someday...oh dear

i just had a epiphany/hypothesis (depending on who's reading)...i think the state of our economy, specifically as reflected in the stock markets is highly correlated to the creative health of our film industry...the late eighties through early nineties when our country had to ship out our gold reserves to gain a loan is probably also the period (in my memories at least) when hindi movie creativity had filed for chapter 11...the bleakest cheapest period of creative bankruptcy that i've seen
so am basically happy right now...global tough times notwithstanding...दिल गिरा कहीं...दफ्फतन

rehman...you beauty...keep 'em coming

i was driving home and i heard this song

तुमरे भवन में, जोत जागे जोत जागे मेरे पाप भागे आनंद मंगल हूँ मेरी अम्बा ब्रह्म जी वेड जप्पा, है तेरी द्वारे मैया भाह्मा जी वे अम्बा, हे माता द्वारे जावा ब्रह्म जी वेड जप्पा, हैं तेरे द्वारे शंकर ध्यान लगाये, मैया के द्वारे शंकर ध्यान लगाये, मैया के द्वारे. शंकर ध्यान लगाये अम्बा तुमरे भवन में, जोत जागे जोत जागे मेरे पाप भागे आनंद मंगल हूँ मेरी अम्बा नारद गिरधर खड़े तेरे द्वारे माया नारद हे मेरी अम्बा, नारद द्वारे जावा नारद गिरधर खड़े तेरे द्वारे कानूर बिन बजावे मैय्या के द्वारे कानूर बिन बजावे मेरे माँ के द्वारे कानूर बिन बजावे अम्बा, तुमरे भवन में

it made me unbelievably nostalgic about something that probably does not come from my memories and yet does...so basically i don't know what or why...but hazing into a picture where i can see palloo clad ladies...see silent love meeting silent fears...in a present that is alternatively comfortably unexciting and despairingly sedentary...in a dostoevsky meets kamal talkies moment that is refusing to go away

ठहराव
...one of my favorite-est words ever in any language...a word that takes a hold of eternal humanity and holds it in place...affixes it...in one infinitesimal man...in one ephemeral moment

weigh me not in the fruit of my deeds

or in the spine of my convictions

look for me but in the detritus of my dreams

and you will walk the path of my soul yet