2008: Something to forget....

All the things that you did, or wished to do.
All the things that you remembered, or remembered to forget.
All the things that changed, or changed to change.

I wish I was just a mere drop in the rivulet that fell from high above into the eternity below. To be with you again is my wish and so couldn't I in that year.

In the hope of meeting you starts a new year and year after year I cherish the same new year resolution : to be with you, to walk on our breezy beach, to see the sunset once again.

Melancholy night asked me not to dream, because dreams, she says, are for the ones who has lost hope. But here i am, waiting to see you again as ever as last year and may be the next .......until that day.

Paradox it may be but moment after moment I remember you lest I forget you. And when I meet you I will have stories to tell you.

Oh 2009 , I look forward for you.

My inspiration: a lovely piece of music

Once again...

Sand walls with its air of misty musk welcomed him again.

The gharana hadn’t changed a bit, but there was no resounding voice of khansahib to greet him this time, instead his old mellowed tampura was there. Besides it was a lamp that sometimes flickered by the unannounced gentle breeze that came through the veranda. “Have some chai” tai said in her usual caring tone from behind. She made the best chai he ever had, after every hour khansahib used to call tai for a chai and she, like an obedient wife, would get him one within minutes, whether it be dawn or midnight. Sometime he too used to get a cup. He missed those days…dearly.

Bhoop, Bihagda ,Bhairavi …..khayals, taans ….whatever khansahib taught him flashed like it was yesterday. He missed them, and khansahib loss was something irreparable to him.He didnt know what , but there was void, Just like as if furniture had been taken away from your home. He remembered the first time when his mother forcefully carried him all the way from cricket ground to this courtyard. He detested it and in fact had cursed his mother and khansahib endless time in his mind.

But that was long ago, somewhere in between there was a time when he would even bunk school to be with Khansahib. He still vividly remembered his first live performance, behind khansahib on tempura after his splendid discourse, it was his turn. He started off in purvi raga although there was flattening at the first he thought it went well, until after coming from the concert, when khansahib made him sing the raga for more than 4 hours at a stretch. Somewhere in between, with all those thousand compromises he made with life, Music was also unconditionally left out.

After spending another one hour there he prepared to leave, when tai gave him a present. It was small dilapidated note book. “He wanted you to have it” tai said. It was his music notes, some composition, drupads from his master. He eyes swelled with tears, without saying a goodbye to tai he walked away.It was already getting dark, and from behind, he thought he heard a faint sound of a tampura. He stopped and turned back. Tai waved him good bye.

Reference: Namita Devidayal ,The music room

I will retaliate

This is my country. It is my duty to protect her and yet again I failed. I don’t blame anybody, I don’t blame the politicians, I don’t blame the intelligence and I don’t blame the system. I blame myself. It was my failure to protect her, it was my inability rather it was my complacency that gave away her this time.

But let me assure you, if you are reading this, let the message be clear. I don’t want to see anymore blood stained roads, I don’t want to see anymore charred bodies, I don’t want to see anymore wailing of my mothers and sisters. I don’t want to see all this anymore.
Time for being laid back and switching the channels and consoling myself that it’s not me out there who lost his life is over.

Remember we too are human, the limit of patience that I have is same as yours and its same adrenaline that pumps my temper. Deep down there is something even I don’t like to see. Now, time for you to choose is over and it’s my turn. And If choose, god forbid, that ugly face over diplomacy there won’t be no tomorrow for you.

I promise that.

So stop messing with my nation and get the bloody FUCK out of my country.

Jai Hind!