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Showing posts from 2010

flute and peacock feathers

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now these give an asthetic appeal....serenity in the surroundings..
Flute is for peaceful, soothing music...that triggers the emotional corner of ur heart..,makes you nostalgic ..and takes you back to those old days of the past...which you most lovingly cherish as a memory....

And peacock feathers relate to Him, lord Krishna...(infact flute too does)...










Passing Away

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Shimmering lights


Will fade up soon,




This brightness shall not

Be there, in the noon.



I won’t be there

To see the morn.



You enjoy the days

The stars, the moon and the sun.



I’ll come back sure, just

After a brief sojourn.



Parting is difficult

Don’t say goodbye…



Hold my hands

I’m not going that far away.



Don’t bade me farewell

With so tearful eyes.



Let it be a happy one

Smile! Stop those cries.







I’ll be leaving behind

All bonds, relations, all ties.



Thousands of emotions shall be left unexpressed

Thousands of words, unspoken…..



Works undone, moments inexperienced

As life fades and hopes shrunken.



As life’s cradle heads to the grave

And the beating heart retards..



Senses get numb, vision starts blurring out,

I ponder over life and the unspoken words.



I can’t bear the poignancy of parting and separation

The tearing sorrow and unbearable pain.



I don’t want to grieve more,

Lie here and ask when….?



Memories crop up, as moments slip by

Into the lap of eternity.



I stand on the fringes now

Tomo…
THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER




by: Robert Browning (1812-1889)



SAID--Then, dearest, since 'tis so,

Since now at length my fate I know,

Since nothing all my love avails,

Since all, my life seem'd meant for, fails,

Since this was written and needs must be--

My whole heart rises up to bless

Your name in pride and thankfulness!

Take back the hope you gave,--I claim

Only a memory of the same,

--And this beside, if you will not blame;

Your leave for one more last ride with me.



My mistress bent that brow of hers,

Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs

When pity would be softening through,

Fix'd me a breathing-while or two

With life or death in the balance: right!

The blood replenish'd me again;

My last thought was at least not vain:

I and my mistress, side by side

Shall be together, breathe and ride,

So, one day more am I deified.

Who knows but the world may end to-night?



Hush! if you saw some western cloud

All billowy-bosom'd, over-bow'd

By many bene…

A letter

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Hope this letter finds you


In good health and heart

Words to share are few

Yet I write, before I depart.



Amazing was the journey

Excellent was the run

All days were bright and sunny

Memorable was the fun.



It’s just two years

Still feels like a decade

Of friendship, love and cares

Of the bond so delicately made.



For never had I thought

So intimate would be that bond-friendship.

Of course, I would miss them a lot

And promises I would surely keep.



Now, the farewell has come

Time has just flied…..

All were sad, kept mum

“These days have ended,” we sighed.



Life would make itself busy again

Hope we don’t lose contacts

And here I remain…

Your friend----Prats…

Senses

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How would life be..
Without
The pleasing fragnance of the earth
After the first downpour, the first shower.
A rose's sweet perfume...
And the scent of wild flowers.
The aroma of mummy's homemade delicious dishes
And all other pleasant odours all around.



The sight of
 Nature's numerous manifestations
The aesthetic beauty...the godly illusions and illustrations..
The river, the dark night, the twilight
The sunset over the lake
The view of the world heritage sites
The ancient and antique treasures of history
The varied cultures, traditions..the festivals
The pomp and show..the enjoyment
The glimpse of a thing of beauty
A painting, a flower..a miniature representation
Of His creation.........
Or just ...an emotion..an expression of love.

Hearken...
The music of Nature
The thunderstorm..the whirling,whistling wind.
The outburst of Nature's inlaid anger
The rhythmic flow of the river
The beat of the heart..
The breeze whistling through the trees..
The chirrupings..the tune…

A Short Journal

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I love palaces- beautiful palaces; old sprawling traditional buildings; old monuments and castles; those that speak of the bygone days. They have an essence of ancience and antiquity in their walls, in the art and artistries in their buildings; in the architectures and tapestries that they are adorned with. They are a witness to a history. They make a mark on the sands of time. I feel as if I am a part of their surroundings. I feel a sense of belonging and strong affinity for these places. They awe me, mesmerize me, intrigue me, mystify and even soothe me. These ancient towers are an ambassador of dignity, elegance, beauty, loyalty, and tradition. They speak of a whole dynasty, its success, achievements and its failings; its influence on eternity; its principles and ideologies and its inevitable end.




Even old monasteries, forts, churches, tombs, and bungalows, attracts me, especially those long corridors and spacious courtyards. Dan Brown’s ‘The Da Vinci Code’ and ‘Angels and Demons’ …

A tragic End..

Come; listen to a tale of a tragic end
With no true witness
No one to pray for the departed
And no remains of the mistress.


A grey towered castle against grey slab rocks
Stood in an abandoned island,amidst the sea.
Neither fauna, nor village folks
Did dare explore the island, so strange and eerie.


But the glittering sea concealed tales untold
The castle walls bore witness to the unknown history
The solitary call for liberation; yet so bold
And the surrounding held an air of great mystery.


The remote place had a world of its own
The walls were bars for someone beautiful
With withered fate, and scathed fortune
As no mortal did respond to her desperate call.


Grown immune at last had she, to prison life
Its pains; away from the essence of the world
Had stopped every hope, strife
A hapless victim, as they called.


Yet one day the magnificent bells tolled
Announced of freedom, unrestricted mortality
But no one came, no voice called
No Rapunzel is she nor sleeping beauty.


Twenty years passed

Through the looking glass

Morbid thoughts and terrifying speculations

Filled the mind till the far horizons.

The mundane world whispered to me

That life, lying embedded in dark silhouette.



Painful thoughts of leaving home

Fear of the far-off place, so unknown

Some eerie enigma

Hovered over the kingdom of my mind.



Pensive mood thrust with piercing melancholy

Light wings of hope, of ambition

Helped me fly to the extreme pinnacle

And shimmering lights brought excitement.



Sober reflections of the bygone days

Deep quite contemplations of life’s alleyways

I left behind sweet home, all joy and mirth

For the soaring heights and that glory.



Yards and yards did I leave behind

With a strong will but stressful mind….

Destination’s still yards afar…

But I would return soon, sure

With success, achievement and fulfilled desires

Through the same door

That I left ajar.

My homeland

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A place alive with the song of birds

Where prevails, tales of miracles—

And enchanting music of nature dear.

Where,

In the hazy blue of early morning

Come those heart warming sounds—

The chirruping of thousands of birds

The flapping of their wings

Speeding through the gossamer mists

And those arising, divine babblings.

The date palms, the monkeys and the temples,

Where sit subtly coloured songbirds

Singing their hearts out…….



Nature here, connects sense with sensibility

Melds shapes and colours….

Its amplified, echoing silence

The reverberating music

The call of the night

The phenomenal tranquility….

Gives me profound joy.



The urge of the world of practicality

The suffocating confines of hostel life

Nostalgia for sights, sounds, and tastes of native land,

Lays bare a part of my own yearnings.



Those secret cravings….

For traditional food…..

For the presence

Of the kith and kins...

And for having those flights of fancies…

The wafting fragrance of thy eyes.



Somewhere within the depths o…
In this world full of contrasts and paradoxes, one easily gets to smell the sweet fragrance of flowers along with the awful smell of petrol. Imagine the rich aroma of fresh coffee in chilly winters, at the coffee stalls, with an equal proportion of stink from the drains nearby. The scent of wild flowers and the nasty odors from the garbage dumped their. The delicious smell of food in a room full of musty old books and acrid smoke.




And who has not seen lotus—the elegant, pure, divine flower with the most beautiful tinge of pink—that grows in filthy waters!!! It is a mystery indeed that a thing of beauty, and dirt, combine in such unwelcome proportions. Well it’s His way of creation….with the most unmatching and weird combinations.
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{inspired by a cellphone SMS}


How heavy I feel,

When you look at me….O dear!

With tearful eyes

And I can smile at you Not. How heavy I feel, When you greet me goodbye, With that shaking, trembling voice And I can greet you Not.
How heavy I feel,
When tears roll down your cheeks…
Those dew drops I had treasured
And I can console you Not.

How heavy I feel,
When you give a heart-rending cry—
Calling out my name
And I can come back Not.

It is then,
That I realize…..
You are sitting,
Beside my grave…

Bouts of Emotion

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Bouts of Emotion

Deep within, the rhythm goes on
The solitary heart beats for the soul forlorn.
The vibrant emotions overflow, o hold!
As the insane night creeps on the world.

How it tries, to escape through the haze of pain
The guardian angels leave, their comrades all slain.
Eyes swollen, but tears, not even a drop,
All sucked in by the thirsty hope.

Weeping again on the graveyard sight
Happiness, Love, Peace—all buried underneath.
“Come to me,” the wailing emotions urge,
Only, into the blank air does it merge.
As deep within, the rhythm goes onThe solitary heart beats for the soul forlorn

The Spell

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The Spell

Here he comes
Formally dressed
A violin in the hand
And a smile on the face.

Seats himself, as he does;
Amidst the loud applauses—
People cheer him up
He hears, smiles but replies not.

As the show begins
The violin is played
Spirits are lifted, solaced
And silence abides the place.

Tunes, played one by one
A note comes after the other
Three hours pass thus,
But the enchanted lot
Know it not.

Hypnotized, as if they were
Lost in a deep trance,
Listened to the soulful music
Peacefully; disturbed neither—
By the time that passed.

He stopped at the end,
Woke up from his seat
Bowed his head
But no claps heard
The unknown magic
Had killed them all.