Friday, January 03, 2020
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
माँ सी ही होती है मासी
मायके में मैं जब भी जाती
जी भर के वो प्यार लुटाती
माँ सी ही होती है मासी....
माँ की तरह ही वो बतियाती
दुःख सुख में बन जाती साथी
माँ सी ही होती है मासी....
गलती पे वो डांट लगाती
रूठने पर फिर वो मनाती
माँ सी ही होती है मासी....
मेरी याद उसे भी आती
हर पल ये एहसास कराती
माँ सी ही होती है मासी...
याद मैं उसको जब भी करती
आँखें उसकी भी नम हो जाती
माँ सी ही होती है मासी....
काश मेरे भी पंख होते
उस से मैं मिल कर आ जाती
माँ सी ही होती है मासी....
Wednesday, February 06, 2019
But what happens when it's capacity is full ? A sponge does not explode so I suppose it just dries with time and the cycle of absorbing starts all over again..until the cracks appear and it slowly disintegrates.
The only words that come to my mind are Mehdi Hassan's :
Monday, January 14, 2019
Friday, January 11, 2019
Tuesday, January 08, 2019
When was the last time you gave a thought on putting the right amount of toothpaste on your tooth brush ? Have you ever been really worried that you may put more toothpaste than is needed or that you would get the amount all wrong ? well you need not worry any more ! It seems there is a “smart” gadget that can help you get just that "right" amount of toothpaste on your tooth brush !!
Yes, I'm talking about the toothpaste dispenser. Another piece of annoying technology that for me tops the list of useless gadgets.
I sit here and wonder, why would a company, any company, ask their employees to use their precious creativity and innovative talent to design a gadget that makes absolutely no sense ?
Maybe they felt that squeezing a toothpaste tube is, presumably, a lot of hard work and they wanted to do away with that task ? Or maybe the act of picking up the lid if/when it falls is very tiring ? Oh wait...now you don't have to worry about your spouse or child squeezing the tube at the center !! That way there will be less morning fights and divorce rates will go down and harmony amidst parents and children will be restored and life will be more peaceful !!
Really ? Do we really need a toothpaste dispenser ? This in my view is the new level of craziness and lazy.
Friday, September 28, 2018
I do not have a problem with people expressing their views, in fact I feel everyone should have the right to freely voice out what they think and feel.
The problem starts when the moment we express our views ( and that too in a very polite manner ) the other will reciprocate with unnecessary sarcasm, abusive language and ridicule. They make it their goal to either convince the other that THEIR view is the only right view or silence the other.
It's your right to disagree with another but that can be done in a graceful way too.
And silence should never be taken as submission.
And debates are all about speaking, expressing, and hearing the other.
They are not about shouting, suppressing the other's voice, not hearing another's view point and in general creating noise.
Social media gives us the freedom to express and interact. It saddens me when I see people becoming abusive on Twitter, Facebook and whatsapp.
I guess John Stuart Mill said it well:
"The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error."
- John Stuart Mill
Tuesday, August 07, 2018
Friday, July 27, 2018
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Friday, July 20, 2018
Saturday, July 14, 2018
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Sometimes in between our conversations
Deep inside, in those little pauses
Lies a whole new dimension
Where the silence speaks
A language of it's own
Whispering all that is left unsaid
You just need to stay quiet and listen
To the language of my heart
That only your heart can understand...
By Renu Vyas
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Sunday, May 13, 2018
It is raining in Pune today. A much needed relief after the hot spell we have had.
I have always loved rains. I know a lot of people who say they feel depressed when it rains. The grey clouds seem drab to them but to me they add an element of mystery. I absolutely love it when it rains. For me, rain means rainbows, long drives on deserted roads away from the chaos of the city, paper boats and the laughter on children’s faces as they jump and splash around in the puddles. It means hot “Pakoras” and some ginger tea as I sit by the window watching the water run down the window panes.
I love the sound it makes.. the constant rhythm that is regular only in its randomness fascinates me. After a while you cease to notice the noise that surrounds you and realize that rain has its own kind of silence, the kind where you can get lost in your own thoughts..the silence that invites your imagination to wander to all those places.. there is a privacy in rain..one just has to connect with it to feel it.
I love being out in the rain too. That soft satin touch on my skin invigorates me and I love the way it envelops me in itself, washing away the negativity and debris of daily life. The world seems so much more cleaner after the rain. The colours become more vibrant and alive, the landscapes get that surreal quality that is so appealing and the heavenly smell of wet earth.
For a person like me, who appreciates the beauty of nature, and all the blessings that comes with it..rain is life in all its varied forms. It is sheer poetry and the nostalgia of all that was or could have been.
I know it may sound weird to some but I love thunderstorms too. They give me this euphoric emotional release. They make me feel alive.
Yes, I love rains.
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Thursday, May 10, 2018
I have written about so many places and things here on my blog, but for some odd reason, I had put my memories of Papua New Guinea on hold. It was as if my mind had somehow blocked them.
Today I came across a few old photographs from my life in Port Moresby and it was as if a floodgate had opened. I felt like a fragile sand castle on the beach, that’s carefully built walls crashed and got carried away with the high tide of memories. My brain working overtime remembering all the lovely moments from that time back home..hold on..did I just say back home ? Yes, however much I might deny it, deep down the only place that ever felt like true home in my heart is and always will be Port Moresby.
I remember our house in Boroko. The houseboy Penny who defined the word loyalty, his wife Lucy who was a wonder at most things and a very gentle soul. I remember the Hibiscus, gorgeous bougainvillaea, stunning sunsets, moo moo parties, long dresses with bright big colourful floral prints, the bird of paradise , the women always carrying their little babies in slings with baskets on their heads, Pidgeon English, beetle nuts, red teeth and warm smiles..
I remember Skyline Drive In and seeing Clint Eastwood on the big screen for the first time and falling in love with him (that is until I saw John Travolta In Saturday Night Fever and Grease at Wards Cinema..sneaking off with my friends from school).
I remember Paga Hill and Koki Market. Shopping at Steamships and Burns Phillips, the long drives, the curves at Three Mile, Crystal Rapids, Brown River and Sunday outings to Ela beach..the heavenly smell of low tide..collecting shells on Taurama beach and putting the larger shells to my ears to hear the sound of the sea in them..
I studied at Port Moresby High School and made some great friends. I remember our Principal Mr. Terry Riles ( who I connected with once again after some 30+ years ). I remember how much I hated my French class though loved the English one with Mr. Jackson (and I had a secret crush on him too..haha), always looked forward to the school trips to Pari Village with my favourite teacher Mrs. Carol Kidu. I remember the lovely school dances, the plays, and the horrible detentions, and the awesome meat pies at the school canteen (and the tolly ice). I remember the 3 day school camps, the long hikes and being stung by Jellyfish.
Whenever I think of Port Moresby, the two songs that come to my mind are “Pearly Shells” by Nora Aunor and “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” by John Farnham. I would give anything to go back to that time in Port Moresby, but like everything else in life, times change..thank god I have these great memories that no one can take away from me..
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Monday, April 23, 2018
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Saturday, April 21, 2018
I log onto my Face book page and see a friend’s photographs that she has posted while on vacation to some place that looks great. My eyes stray to the comments section below.
“Such a beautiful couple…made for each other !” writes someone.
“Aww..adorable children..such a perfect family !” writes another.
"Gosh, you guys have such a perfect life !" comments another.
I sit here and wonder..is there really such a thing as a perfect person or family ?
No, let me clear this, I do not feel any kind of jealousy or inferiority towards that friend, but I would never want to be called perfect. To label me as perfect would be to burden me with expectations that I would have to live up to. It would be saying that I am flawless and without any fault whatsoever. I have no wish to be put on a pedestal.
I refuse to believe that any person can be perfect. Everyone has some flaw or another. I am certainly not perfect nor do I aspire to be that. I have my flaws and my scars. I have my share of skeletons from the past and issues in the present, and who knows what the future holds in store for me ?
I have come across people who will go to any lengths to show their beautifully decorated perfect homes. They will post pictures of their vacations at exotic destinations. Those awesomely edited perfect poses. An image of an impeccable, perfect family and life. And yet, I am well aware of the insecurities, the internal struggles, and the pressure of living up to social expectations that they hide behind their “perfectness”.
I am not a perfect woman. I do not have a perfect life, family, home or career.
Instead of a pristine wonderfully decorated house, I would rather have a home that makes me feel comfortable, where I can put up my feet and curl on the sofa with my favorite book in hand. A house with an orderly chaos. A family that would laugh and yet argue and cry together. A life that would be blissful, joyous, and yet beautifully messy.
I do love looking good, what woman doesn’t ? but I would want to look good for myself, wear the clothes that I feel compliment my personality rather than what the latest fashion or trend is.
I would prefer to share my insecurities and vulnerabilities rather than keep them all buried and hidden inside to keep up with that perfectly happy look. I am happy with my flaws, my scars, my differences and my imperfections because they make me who I am, and make me unique in my own way.
I am not perfect but I am perfectly imperfect and I would not want to be any other way. This is the me I love and this is the me I would want the world to see.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Thursday, January 25, 2018
Monday, December 11, 2017
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Hubby: Let us order some ice-cream after dinner.
Son: Sure, Mom..What flavour should I order for you ?
I am about to say “cassata ice-cream” but then I stop and wonder..where did that name come up from ? do they even serve the cassata anymore ? I grab the menu card and take a look and with a pang I realize that the cassata is not even on the list. There are so many flavours listed, an assorted array of bewildering yet glamorous sounding names that I do not even understand. And so I finally end up muttering feebly “Vanilla or mango”…
But as I eat my ice-cream, my mind is flooded with my childhood memories and the emotions attached to them. Back in the 70’s and 80’s, the cassata was the most expensive ice-cream on the list and it was every child’s dream. The mere thought that we would have a cassata after the dinner at a restaurant (which in itself was a rare treat) would be the highlight of the evening.
The cassata ice-cream moments are as clear as yesterday in my mind. It is a memory indelibly etched to remain forever. I remember the huge servings of the three layers of the tutti-frutti, strawberry and vanilla sprinkled with assorted nuts, the shutting of my eyes as I felt the sweetness melt in my mouth….
Those were the times of a less complicated era and the simpler pleasures of life. Nostalgia..how it hits us when we least expect it..
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Thursday, November 09, 2017
"Always find a reason to laugh. It may not add years to your life, but will surely add life to your years."
Please don’t be misled by the title of this post. I am not sad and neither have I lost my sense of humour. I still have my sense of humour intact, but I don't laugh out loud like I did years ago. There was a time when I laughed in pure unadulterated joy at the smallest of things but now I don't find things as funny as I once did.
In fact when I look around, I see that overall people don’t laugh so much anymore. It is not that we are depressed, well maybe sometimes we are, but most of the times it is just that we are so distracted and caught up in our chaotic everyday life trying to make ends meet, trying to beat deadlines, multitasking, and living up to expectations that we do not notice the funnier side of life. We are never fully present in the moment.
Most of my phone conversations with my family happen with me working at the same time doing this or that.
Another reason could be that for something to be funny there has to be a surprise or unusual angle attached to it. Sadly most things do not surprise me now as I get older. There is a sense of “been there, done that”. It is not that I am becoming blasé but I just don’t find things that funny anymore.
When was the last time you really laughed ? and by laughed I mean that loud belly aching laugh..it seems it is missing from life these days. It is as if we are living without truly being alive.
Tuesday, November 07, 2017
Sunday, November 05, 2017
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
कभी कभी दिल चाहता है, यूँ'ही कोई क़रीब आये... न कोई सवाल पूछे, न ज़वाब मांगे, बस बिना कोई वजह यूँही सर पर हाथ रख के कहे "सब ठीक हो जायेगा....."
Sometimes, all you want is for someone to be there. No questions asked, no judgments passed..to just put their hand on your head and say in that caring tone for no reason at all "everything will be alright.."
But do people even have the time to do that anymore ? "How are you?" has just become a sentence that has to be spoken when they meet or over the phone. People are not really interested in knowing how the other person really is. They do not have the time to hear of your problems if you have any, because they are far too busy talking of their own.
Mehdi Hasan's ghazal echoes in my mind...
Friday, September 15, 2017
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Wednesday, August 09, 2017
Tuesday, August 01, 2017
Friday, July 28, 2017
“Meine shayad tumhe pehle bhi kahin dekha hai…” croons Mohammed Rafi softly in his melodious voice on the radio. I stop and stare at the radio. Waves of inexplicable nostalgia wash over me. I haven’t heard this song in years and suddenly I am overcome with a torrent of memories. It is like a flashback of a different place and a different time.
Some songs when heard after a long, trigger such vivid memories that transport us back in time. They bring back emotions long buried beneath the debris of our everyday life. It is as if they are entwined with memories of certain people, places and seasons. Some songs bring a smile while others make us shed a tear quietly. Such is the power of songs and music.
What songs bring back emotions from your past ? Has a song ever caught you off guard and brought back a tidal wave of memories ?
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Sunday, May 28, 2017
वो गर्मीयों की छुट्टियाँ। वो पानी छिड़क कर ठण्डी की हुई गर्म छत की सौंधी खुशबू, घर के सारे लोग और तारों की छाँव, वो रात का खाना छत पे खाना, खाने में मोगर रोटी और कैर के आचार का होना... खाटें लाइन में लगाना फिर देर रात तक फुसफुसा कर बातें करना। रेडियो पर हवा महल, बिनाका गीतमाला सुनना ।
वो गली के नुक्कड़ से चवन्नी का बर्फ लाकर शरबत बना कर पीना,
कोट पीस/चौकड़ी खेलना...किराये की साइकल को बारी बारी चलाना और वो साइकल की चेन का बार बार उतर जाना...
वो माँ/दादी का स्वेटर बुनते वक़्त पास बुला के नाप लेना, और दिवाली पे नए कपड़ो का आना..वो बड़े बुज़ुर्गों का पटाखों के हिस्से करना और वो एक एक पटाखे के लिए लड़ना झगड़ना ...
माँ का नारियल तेल को धूप में रखना और फिर सर में लगा के दो चोटी बनाना, बुआ का उस चोटी के लिए रंगीन रिबन लाना..
कुछ सुन्दर यादें मेरे बचपन की ....