Dil Maange More..

We all forget or cease to think..and keep wanting more..Like ‘Dil Maange more’ is so right a campaign. We want endlessly for that one or two. For which we even roll in the mud and even do a cross country trek. It evidently shows how much we value the existing achievements, if it is there then it is diminishing today and more tomorrow. So much so that we even commit a Nafisa.

No human being is rational. I bet we all can shock each other anytime depending on the soul mechanism at that particular time multiplied by absence of mind. And the outcome is mostly ugly. I strongly believe there are always jolts which shudders all of us time to time.

I always remember a very uplifting story from my seventh standard text book by Christian Bernard titled “In Celebration of Being Alive,” which was out of his biography. In it he tells of an incident involving two physically disabled/handicapped kids at a hospital who were really sick and the doctors weren’t even sure of how long they would live, merrily raced through the corridors of the hospital with a cart. Bernard goes on to say that we should celebrate being alive because even that is not a bad state to be in. Not because I see it is as, “at least I’m doing better than that” but because I like to believe that things will get better some day… and till then I am..

Like Cadbury’s punchline ‘Celebrating Life’.

Written on Saturday, October 23, 2004


Last week was an action packed one for me. I got a promotion from being a Design Head to Team Head (Online Operations). And the most touching mail that I got I need to put it up here cos it deserves to be here.

Wanted to wish you a luck for your new avtaar
It is pleasant to have you as a team leader
The one who is not a boss but a leader
Every business needs someone like you
Someone who has high standards, someone who is always on top of things
Someone who always has a smile for you and most of all,
Someone who won’t take any BS.

We are lucky to have you, and there’s not a soul here who isn’t happy to see you in command.
You really know your work, and I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll prove one of the secrets of modern management.

Again wish you a luck, and may god bless you.
Pradeep Rattan

My sincere thanks to you Rattan, I shall put in my very best to live it up always.

Written on Thursday, November 04, 2004


Like that sculpture from the recluse cave
Holding onto the flitting rays of a lone candle
Steps on the cold ripples over the singing stream
Hearing a whisper that sounded like a promise
Takes a deep breath, in the reflection
Gazes at her first expression.

Written on Thursday, November 04, 2004


I was deeply shocked to read about Shama Futehally Chowdhury’s passing away today, in the newspaper. She had been my neighbour some years back and i always remember her to be so very pleasant whenever she met me and can never forget how she once made my day by saying ‘you look so beautiful like a rose and a lotus in one’. It has been till date the best compliment I have ever recieved. I wonder what had happened to her, how she died. She must have been just 50 something.
She was theatre scholar, faculty member of National School of Drama and a well known writer.

May her soul always rest in peace.

Written on Friday, December 03, 2004


Cross-examining a misguess of a vast audience to have heard, understood loud and unclear and interpreted in the manner as I would have forced them to believe along the echoes of my ruminations but then I found that the thoughts innumerable are always allowed and each question need not be answered.

Written on Thursday, December 09, 2004

For Amma & Achan

Early morning breeze created ripples on the silent estranged distributary of Ganges,
Met me when I walked over the rocks on the shore covered by the shining dew drops,
When I heard a bhajan from the distant temple over the mountain,
I bowed down, chose to meditate and pray not to Gods this time,
But to those who love me the most.

Written on Saturday, December 11, 2004

Khajuraho 2005

The air had so many tales to say,
Some heard, some imagined, some interpreted.
As much as one sees the life in its glory
Child and the mother, a king and the warrior, a beast or the beauty
The song of desires appears as though one turned page by page
and unravelled those illustrations; sometimes here and sometimes there.
Even the mighty tree with its own branches entwined
With the lush bougainvillea in the background, pink and green
Singing the same song and then temple bells ring
And when they breeze past the ones who lay over the pruned grass
Even the rays of sun takes a stolen peek
The creator was God himself, commands a thousand salutations
For the canvass with the right amount for the correct effect,
Alternated with worldly-wises for perfect education.
For thou who seek more is completely misplaced.
To appreciate would require somewhat half the intention or the skill.
Or just why don’t we let be
Anything said less or more will still be anyhow understatements

PS:My heart bleeds to see the poor restoration attempts which in the next fifty years, world will get to see nothing but a combination of dilapidated original and a grieving fake trying-to-be-old new.

Written on Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Lost and found

Rummaging through the shroud of mystery on the other side of the mind
When the souls are out on a rejuvenation trip to an unknown island this time
Was when i discovered a carcass of some latent desire buried in a time frame
Which seems like just that day from the past.
When I blew the dust off it.. I found
the pulse rate, the music, the smell of open sesame in the air, mist over that window,
the rocking chair, the inkpot, the broken tile were still the same.

All that changed is the time,
You and me

Written on Tuesday, January 11, 2005


Of the becoming of a fake artist,
performing a street play,
painting a smile over that pain,
touching up those patches of fate,
on that mammoth canvass,
perched on that wheel chair,
behind the curtains,
waiting for it to dry,

Written on Monday, February 07, 2005

Like thats

Like that sweet music of flute playing behind that mountain
Like that village which still exists with an open door concept
Like that grand procession of a beautiful princess
Like that shepherd lying in the middle of the green field
Like that spinner who decides to buy bangles for his wife
Like that postman who is writing a letter for that villager
Like that teacher teaching under a banyan tree
Like that sculptor who is on a long vacation
Like that farmer who pays back his entire loan
Like that mother who watches her first baby steps
Like that child who gets an extra candy
Like that dhabawala boy who gets five rupees as a tip
Like that dreamer who is still sleeping over that haystack
Like that lover who is silent and saying a thousand words
Like that cuckoo who is waiting for a cheerful moment to sing
Like that bee who is naughtier than before
Like that God who is happy today!

Written on Tuesday, March 08, 2005