Compensatory sleep!!

Staying in the 'singlet'- a single room( considered very special in hostel) as you are living independently, without a room mate is something I recently experienced. Well, with or without a 'roomie', I've got used to being surrounded by friends most of the time. With the chit-chat extending to eternity, time just flies and what's more..we don't feel sleep deprived!! Even the beginning of a 'healthy routine' with a morning run did not stop us from catching up on a 30 minute snooze before bath-breakfast and big tiring day!

What happens to me and most of us, the moment we come back home? Its as if I've not slept for ages and I hit the bed once and get up after a century!! Puffed up -reddened eyes, dreams and sequel to those dreams running on my mind as I'm in dreamland and at the end of the day I realise I'm not doin much other than sleeping, eating and shopping; oh yeah endlessly surfing the net too!! So, the question is what happens to our body clock when we get to 'home sweet home'? All's well, but I get petrified thinking that excess sleep makes you grow plump, because your body fat keeps accumulating in the real world while you're holidaying at dreamland!! Babies grow in their sleep, I've heard and so do we!!!

I've promised myself to go for an evening run with my dad today. I think I'll accomplish it i.e. if I wake up by 5pm instead of 7pm after lunch!!

"God! wish me luck! I wanna finish off with my compensatory sleep"

KOSI CALAMITY

The river banks which once would have been, for lovers-a safe haven
The river which would have been a business blossom for the fishermen,

The plunges into the river bed, the little naked boys enjoyed probably,
The gushing of the water as the oars scrape through, rowing the boats lightly.

But often the water wished differently,
It did not remain a safe haven and it ruined the fishermen..

The little boys pined to rejoice in the water with giant leaps,
But their mothers clutched them close and all they did was weep..

The river of sorrow, the story of pain,
millions marooned, many maimed..

Just an embankment could have stopped from hell breaking loose,
You will shudder and you will wail, if you're in the victim's shoes..

Destruction done is done,tears rolling over cheeks , dropped in the flood.
Its time to lend a helping hand, its time to stop talking and start doing...

emotional upheaval..

Silence isn't golden anymore,
old wounds once again are sore.
Tears are too less for the sea of grief within,
just wish my feeble heart reaches ashore..

What wrong did I do,
that I pay such a heavy price?
A heavy heart, a heavy soul,
times aren't all sugar and spice..

Hoping that prayers work,
hope that trust does not shirk love..
hope friendship stays alive,
hope this storm,this hurricane,this fatal blow
I survive...

'Freedom'-then and now

15th August 2008..Its been 61 years since our nation became independent, became free from the colonial shackles. Much has changed and much has not. As a 21 year old free Indian, the meaning of being free, I'm sure would be considerably different from the 21 year olds of the year 1947.

As I sit to think..I imagine how it would be to be a 21 year old in the historic year of 1947. On the verge of being independent, how would it be? As a woman of that era I guess I would have already been engaged to be married to a 'government servant' or a 'barrister'(8-10 years my senior)..or I can't think of the other categories of 'eligible bachelors' of the 1940s. Maybe I would have decided not to walk the aisle that early and decided to pursue studies,teach in a school or do some social work. For pastimes me and my girl friends would go to a nearby fair near the house or just 'hang out' on the terrace of a 3 storeyed ancestral house! And there would be this favorite time of the day when there would be kites in the sky,dotting the firmament with innumerable colours late in the evenings.My favorite beverage would have been elaichi chai (cardamom tea) and I would sip it reading the Statesman, in my starched cotton saree, while the baritone of Pankaj Mallik on the gramophone would fill up my soul.'Piya milan ko jana'..the song that magnificently brings about the magic of love, of hidden subtle love. Where the lovers are away from each other and a meeting of the two is meticulously, stealthily planned by them..But the romantic melody would fade away in a few moments with the groups of khadi clad men and women protesting against the British. And I would lunge over the terrace to see, admire and soon join the protest. How great that feeling must be, the moments with the people of India, who were struggling for the future generations; what a rush one could feel by just shouting out the slogans of "Vande Mataram"..

And now, year 2008..as a 21 year old, I'm waiting for my graduation degree and further a degree in law by 2010, no husband fixed up formally, and favorite hang out place is 'Cafe Coffee Day'. I would prefer mocha chino and Cafe Late` instead of elaichi chai, but ya I don't have an aversion to the latter.The girl friends outing is more of a shopping spree to catch up with our favorite brands offering sale. And the music is Mp3, I'm thumping my feet to the music of 'Rock On'..The late evenings don't have kites in the sky dotting it colourfully because, maybe the kids are on their video games, social networking sites or at tuition classes. I'm not on the terrace of an ancestral house, but in my little balcony of my hostel room. I read the Hindustan Times and sometimes when I'm running short of time, I check out the headlines in an e-newspaper! Well, there are protests even now, but it does not give me that feeling of greatness, it does not give a rush. It also does not bring about the feeling of unity..because it is for land that belongs to the nation. But, its not land being demanded by any alien, it is our own motherland getting fragmented by her own sons.. Whether Amarnath or Hajj why can't people accept each other's choices, each other's faiths.. The ramification of the clashes is just bloodshed. And the worst form of it is..that there is bloodshed without reaching martyrdom..The free citizens are not realising what they are doing to freedom. The politicians are far from resolving their own ideological differences..

What will become of our nation, with greater divisions being demanded by the naxalites and separatists? Is this what the youth and the wise men of the year 1947 thought India would face? I wish I could go back in time and change a few things,a few dates, a few decisions, and ultimately fate..

Happy Independence Day!!
Jai Hind!

Gazes of a lonely soul...

Gazes of a lonely soul, into the pages of life,

straying into an unknown world, stranded roads and surreal nights..

The walks for eternity,the satiety for food,

Just me, next to you, and all is good..

The season cold and bleak, turning cosy as we speak,

those moments of love, today I seek..

To have you beside me, to watch my steps,

to hold me close, when I needed you best...

The rickety table, where we dined,

the ambience, the aura coz you were near, felt so fine...

But I'm on the page of this moment,

I see you're not near,

you're not beside me,you're not dining at the rickety table with me,

you're not there to catch my tear..

Its a change, so unfavourable..I'm facing alone this unguarded fear..

All I need now until you're there,

is wait, hope, patience, as I await sheer love of my share...

I'll be there for you my friend..

When you would be in midst of happy times,
and you wish to rejoice,
I shall celebrate..
I shall be there for you my friend

When you're worked up and there's trouble all around
and when you wish to cry,
I'll lend you a shoulder,
I shall be there for you ,my friend.

When you're in the mood..
you wanna shop,walk or gorge on food
I'll be your accomplice,
I shall be there for you my friend.

When everyone seems so alien,
relationships seem in a haze,
your mind is a maze,
I shall be there for you, my friend.

Promises are to keep,
Ive tried my best to keep these,
Unknowingly I must have been hurtful,
Unruly our lives must have become,
But I shall still take you through the maddening phase..
I stick to my words..
I'll always be there for you, my friend...

Just another face in the crowd

A step out of serene surroundings,
Another day at work,
"Go on girl...", a voice inside me motivates,
..Step out of that door".

Crossroads, turning points,
bus stops and more,
Its as if busy life is claiming
from silence; its foreclosure.

An occasional blast of hot air,
not to forget -its black smoke,
Nevertheless a baby's smile,
immunes me of what happened seconds ago.

I stare out of the window, no open space,
just vehicles small and large.
the blowing horns, the screeching brakes,
in the entire crowd I'm forlorn..

What I notice, is worth so,
the millions of faces around,
From the smiling baby in her mother's lap,
to the skinny rickshaw puller,-pulled down.

I saw intently some faces full of angst,
some were curious about the day,
Many were haggling for a rupee,
few were cursing the jam on the way.

In the mumble-murmurs ,shriek-screech jumble,
about more than an hour passed,
nearer my destination was I,
and so were my thoughts..

I was not alone, not travelling alone,
not a stranger to those around,
We're all bound by life and labour,
I realised--I'm just another face in the crowd..

Appreciation for the performer

Its filling inside me, its churning..

Like an inferno inside the soul, its burning..

Its moving out like a river into the sea, its hurling..

Its in my veins, on my mind, running...

The rythym, the beat,

in an auditorium, or on the street..

The notes high and low,

Songs peppy and slow..

Personifying emotions myriad,

re-living moments bygone,

Hoping for future miracles,

Waiting for chasms to fill..

Breathless-the one who breathes music,

Speechless-the ones who hear..

BUT-

What is music to a musician's ear?

"Voila!! Encore..oh dear..!!"

High on love

The morning dew on a new green leaf,

The tree bough dancing along with the breeze,

The song on my lips,at the happiest time of the day,

The thought of the memories in my heart that always stay...

A smile, a bit silly, unnecessary ,but it's there,

A gaze, a phrase, unknowingly I see, in thin air..

The beauty of stars, I realise as I look up at night,

Mighty Orion hunting for love; a wondrous sight..

My love is like crystal, it shines with your light,

Your love beams through mine, everything seems so right..

Come away far from the frenzy of the world,

Come away to my arms, let our emotions unfurl..

Forget the worries life created,

shut your eyes to troubles we ourselves did beget...

Love like its never gonna end,

love as if its god-sent...

A matter of Luck

A walk with friends to our favorite cafe nearby gives us all a sense of euphoria...the unending chatter, the cautious crossing of the main road(I'm am very indecisive about one thing in life-crossing roads!!), finding out short cuts to reach the market soon, or just ambling our way to notice the tribal women from parts of Rajasthan working at construction sites( We really are in admiration for their white metal jewellery exquisitely designed!!)
On one of such days, we noticed a little stray pup and I could guess it was around a month or two old. I muttered some affectionate lines in appreciation of its sheer innocence. It hopped around on the road aimlessly,I smiled and turned around. A moment later we were startled by the screeching of brakes!!! And I heard a Sikh truck driver giggling-"Abey main bacchey ki jaan loonga kya?Parey hatt" (Will I kill you,oh poor kid? Move aside!!") The pup was oblivious of the huge vehicle looming over its little body. The driver had a hearty laugh and I could see his hands move on the steering wheel, steering the vehicle on the side to avoid the tiny creature leisurely squatting on the road. I spoke to myself, thanked the stranger for appreciating life, for being careful and alert. My friends joined me in our discussion about the humane touch,that touched all of us..our hearts,and our walk towards our destination continued.

The next day, again around the same time, 5'o'clock in the evening, we tread the same road,walked past the same tribal women, walked on the dusty side of the same road and found a carcass lying.It did not take us more than a second to recognise yesterday's playful pup.My heart ached for it.
What I realised that nobody can stop death, if its destined to be, so be it.

Life is a game...

When you hit a yellow dot ball continously on the squash court wall for about 2- 4mins(warm up) , the hollow rubber sphere bounces with life!! Gets hit umpteen number of times,yet bounces back and forth.. It brings a zeal into the game and the players begin" love- all"..

Love and friendship, I've noticed work like the dynamics of the game of squash!
I've seen it closely..the misunderstandings are like hitting against a wall...and the outcome of it is more warmth, greater energy nad zeal in the relationship! I've experienced it-first hand!

Life is a game..truly..do u agree?

Once upon a Deal...

"1..2.....3 GO!!"
-
says BIG Bro Bush,
"Wow!! what a race;" makes Manmohan खुश ।

It a deal!! yep a deal,
Oh पाजी , A New- clear deal!!

Its special, its cool,
agree on it, don't be a fool!

Chit and chat;
but don't put it off the rack!

We're friends, we'll be so forever,
Just this one condition; c'mon brother!

"OK, I'll ask, I'll discuss the deal..
I need to keep people at home happy, you see?"

There's Mr. Karat, and Pranab Da,
Several others..I gotta go real far!

We'll set the deal ablaze,
vow for creating energy..

We'll turn it out,
into a great synergy!!

........objections.....! there are many,
only time will tell, after withstanding all political zany!!

"Crime" and punishment????

The first line I read this morning moved me-6-yr-old Delhi girl shamed in class.
This year itself there were cases of little children beaten-'beaten to death'!
Physical or mental the pain is unbearable. To be stripped off ones clothing, and hearing the echoes of "shame shame"would damage one's mental balance. It is horrifying, that how a girl/woman of 19(the kindergarten teacher) could be so monstrous!

LAW is inherent in human beings. The idea of command rests in each individual who has power. But I ask where does human reason go, when one exercises power? What can drive a woman to punish a child by bringing her to shame, for a mere incomplete homework?
Where does the rule of natural justice go? Who gets a fair hearing? Are these concepts only to be found in books, kept in the shroud of ignorance?

The liable school maybe under scrutiny for letting just a 12th grade pass student be a teacher for kindergarten..but its not an excuse! It disgusts me that the woman was released on bail!
Whether 12th pass or BA,BEd, more so a double M.A-The monster is taking over souls...

A teacher, who is thought to be a beacon for a student in the darkness is fading into oblivion..the 'barbaric and savage being' is coming alive.
We need to get over it, sooner than it gets late!

Here I write some random lines for the teacher who I wish remains a teacher..

Could be anything,dear teacher,
she/he must be sleepy,
must be watching his/her favorite cartoon on t.v,

must be busy playing with his/her toys and dolls,
or climbing the berry tree in the garden which stands tall.

Just another chance to do his/her homework you 'must' give,
I urge you to live and let live..

Where the mind is without fear, the head is held high,
Do these lines remind you 'only' of the school assembly?( I Sigh...)

Remember yourself as a child,
and search yourself in the ones you teach,

Ask yourself a question-
Are you indulging in a breach?

A breach of childhood, a breach of love and care,
A breach of trust and a breach of being fair..

Think dear teacher, please do,
the only person who can make a difference is you!

Charmed

Evening 7PM, 5th September 2007- I'm in a rush..Two hours to go. Pack!!! Pack up, no not for a weekend get away, a competition!!

deAd TiRed!!!

I realise I need to put cash in my bag.OK done.

Now what?! Oh yes 'change', the oh so important "chhuttta", for my cuppa tea and coffee in the train journey~!!

I lay my hands on any purse I can see in the almirah, shove my hand into pockets and pouches..and discover a few memories, a few blessings and tears roll down my eyes...

I discovered a few 'cardamom pods'.Those cardamom pods which my mum invariably slips into her purse before leaving for work...And this little purse I lent her last vacation, was lucky to keep some..

A long journey was awaiting me and my team, and here I was missing home with the pungent taste of "chotie elaichi" on my tongue..

Evening 10 PM 9th September 2007- I'm glad with the team's performance.

My team mate won the best advocate..She says I'm lucky for her, I think Mamma's "chotie elaichi blessings" worked..

It is funny isn't it, how little things in life carry memories? How small gestures and habits build a bond and touch your soul..

Reaching out to eves...

A whistle, something which could soothe your nerves,

could actually get on the same!

A song, a love song, for a deeply loved one,

could turn you pale!

A touch, something so pure and intimate,

could tear your self esteem to shreds!

A shadow, following you in a laybrinthine lane,

could not be a beautiful stranger, but a horrid one!

Stay cautious,beware.

Be alert, and dare...

And to all the eve teasers- "Ghar mein maa behen nahin hai kya???!!"

'Pamper Sunday'

Eyes not ready to wake.

Heartbeats for my dreams,still at stake.

I gather my spirit to amble around,

Oh is there something special I found?

A look from the porch, I need not take,

Its drizzle, I know its pleasing smell..

A fine morning, with music so fine to fill my ears,

pitter patter, droplets, bring heaven near...

The mirror looks at me, and I stand still,

"Its sunday morning, pamper yourself !"

I indulge, I pamper, I dandle.

I care, nothing to spare.

A week of scurry, hurry, worry,

is to a close,

But every end, begins a new show..

My leisure Sunday, My pamper Sunday..

Is slowly passing by..

But I'll wait a hundred and forty four hours,

to meet it again!

Misfortune

Often I've come across certain e-mails, forwarded by friends and acquiantances.
The subject reads-'Please Please spare 5minutes,do not delete.read it,fwd it'...and I read on..
The mail talks of a loving dad who lost his teenage daughter because some person ran over a car her. The driver was drunk.
There was a plea in the end,asking people to spread awareness about drunken driving,and its fatal consequences.
I am a teetotaler...so it never affected me as much as a mishap has affected me today.

Can't call him a friend, can't say he was an acquantaince. A senior is all I can think of, to describe my association with him.
Never had a conversation with him, or maybe yes if you consider "Goodmorning sir" and the other pleasantries one has to convey in the first year of college as conversation.

He was just another guy,hanging out near the cafe, or playing 'Age of Empires' (the most loved LAN game in college).
I could gauge that he is a caring and loyal friend, as he brought a smile on a friend's face,when her life was in shambles. A person adored by many and no denying,loved too.

'Alcohol' coupled with a 'mean machine' snatched him away. A light hearted, high night,became dreadful.
He moved away from his aspirations and achievements, from his loved ones and friends.
Why? Why does anybody take life for granted? Why does one never realise the worth of being in this world? Why does one have to be thrilled by speed? What experiment is it to be inebriated, and drive ? Who is to be blamed? fate? Alcohol? Motorbike? Or one's own conscience? Or each of these?
I have a million questions,unanswered.

I can only pray for him, and all who loved him..
I can only plead for people to handle life with care.

'Akash sir,May your soul rest in peace'

????~~~????

Are you thinking, what I'm thinking?
Are you carving a niche in the void of your lonely heart?
Are you missing me?

Is silence,whispering my name into your ears?
Are little things, colouring your memories?
Are you missing me?

Wondering won't wait any more..
I'm missing you, is all that of which I'm sure..

I'm elated:)

A morning, that I looked forward too,
Did not see the rising sun, but knew it will shine for me.
A goal, a desire, a hope..
all three wrapped into a bundle of thoughts,
a string of words, a fervour to achieve..

Yes!! I'm elated!! I have an opportunity right in front of me..
This is to lady luck, to shine on me..
and to the almighty to bless me...

(This post is dedicated to elation- I'm elated today, because I've achieved an opportunity, yes nothin but an opportunity...to prove my worth, the real test is now!!
also..I've finally got an opportunity to blog!!courtesy my college computer laboratory administrator..no blocking of my adorable blog!

not much to write.. opportunity has knocked once..i gotta go!!
I'm elated..can't stop smiling!

The poetess in me in 1999…

Today morning, my father discovered a pile of old memories, while settling his huge box of books and documents.
And in a file kept meticulously, by my perfectionist dad, I found two scraps of newspaper cuttings…The content, made me giggle. Please read on..

Flower
Flower, oh dear flower
You are nature’s power
You attract everyone, every hour.

You are fixed at a place,
You can’t win a race
Yet, you’re the garden’s grace.

It may be plain or hilly,
There’s rose, lotus and lily
All this cannot be done
By a magician’s ‘gilly gilly’!!

-Snigdha Ghosal
Std 6th, Army School Damana, Jammu
(from, ‘Bratline’-Poet’s corner’ the Indian Express, Jammu)

“Gilly gilly” made me giggle!! I wonder how unequivocally I expressed my admiration for a flower, and how much I must have pondered to get the right word to rhyme with ‘lily’!! Alas, I had to stick to my imagination as a kid, and venture out into fairy land, and think of a sorcerer!

Here’s another poem written in the same year, when ‘The Infanteer’s Daughter’ in me rose to pen down my feelings about The war of Kargil. I tried my best to put in all that, what I learnt from my father and felt from my mother in the few lines I was writing ..
So here’s it..


On The Kargil Hill

On the Kargil hill,
The soldiers are fighting still
They fought at the beginning,
And they still will

When the night is just falling,
They start their patrolling
Facing the harsh shelling..
On the Kargil hill,
the soldiers are fighting still.
They climb great heights,
During the chilly nights,
Without any torch lights
For that can’t be missed by
The enemy’s sight..
On the Kargil hill,
The soldiers are fighting still.

Their fingers running on the trigger,
To kill the militants sitting in the bunker
Which makes the enemy quiver..
On the Kargil hill,
The soldiers are fighting still…

~SNIGDHA GHOSAL
Army School Damana
(from, ‘Bratline’-Poet’s corner’ the Indian Express, Jammu)