Different Shades of Colors!

Colors are feast for eyes and fire for soul. They are blessings of nature and source for rapture. God sprinkled color on every part of the Universe: be it earth or sky; be it leaf or reef. God created life out of this universe and painted it with different emotions.  But, despite the artistic endeavors of God, there are some aspects of life that still need gallons of colors to look colorful.

I will dwell upon those ‘some’ aspects that still need to be colored.

His parents got charred in the fire that broke out in the slums due to electrical short circuit 6 months ago. Now he is literally on roads, he has been rendered orphan due to that incident. He had wanted to become an army-man and wanted to serve the country, but today he is an almsman. He feels humiliated. He feels rejected. Sometimes, snatching and pick pocketing also flit through his mind.   The colors of sanity have deserted him. The prosperity around him makes him frantic and insane. He misses his share of color of prosperity, his share of color of justice that is not there for him. I want his dreams to take flight of colors. I want his life to take flights of colors.

She resides in the backwaters of India and is away from the cries of Reservation for Women in Capital.  She was 10 when she became widow and 14 when she was smuggled to one of the metro cities of India. Her father was given the greed that she will get good food, shelter, and education in the city and in turn she will have to do some small domestic works.  The shelter she got was of a brothel and in the name of education and food she received abuses. One NGO with the help of city police rescued her and other girls like her. She was deported to her parents safely. But now she lives in incessant fear of the face of cities. Her heart and mind bears scars of that noxious experience -- even today when she is eighteen.  Another marriage seems impossible and white Saari seems to have become her skin. I want that Saari to have colors of rainbow. I want her life to have colors of flowers.

He toils hard in his fields to decorate the exorbitant Chinese plates with stark white grains of rice. Right from five star hotels to palatial resorts, everywhere the droplets of a peasant’s sweat is devoured in the form of rice, bread and vegetable, but hardly the squeaky clean plates of these places care about the plight of the farmer who is creator of these marvelous things that douse fire of  hunger . It is an irony that the person who colors others’ dream by helping them provide strength for body, dies strength-less and almost in the form of a skeleton. His harvests bring moolah in galore to others but he dies under the burden of unpaid loans and utter penury. I want to see color of opulence in his life, so that he also enjoys his hard work that brings happiness to the lives of millions.

Even after so many years of civilization, we as humans have not been able to give them their due. They born genderless and we become heartless. We call them Eunuchs or Hijras. They become part of our joy and we become part of their derision. They bless us and we make fun of them. Where is the color of respect in our civilization that can give them equal opportunity in a society? After all how long will they keep on suffering for a reason that is entirely not in their control? And after all how long will we keep belittling humanity by being happy in their distress? I want color of equality for them that make the word humanity more complete and full of heart.

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Being Ordinary!

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Is it necessary for everyone to be famous? Is it necessary for everyone to be adored by a frantic legion of fans? Is it necessary for everyone to be a face in the crowd?

To be a part of the crowd also has its virtues. No one might recognize you as an Amithabh Bachchan or a Sachin Tendulkar but still the life of an ordinary man is worth living.

The happiness is not slave of imposing mansions or lengthy limousines. Innumerable hearts, every moment, aspire to become a star of their dreams and the same numbers of hearts get broken every moment as well.

The rejection and dejection seep in every pore of mind and soul in such situations that make a person frail and feeble. In moments of despair some take extreme steps.

The education system, that induces the madness for being a topper in the tender minds, makes a grave mistake by avoiding the average and ordinary minds that have tremendous spark smoldering in them.

When we avoid ordinary minds, we get devoid of extraordinary feats that the world could have witnessed.

Being ordinary has its charm. When the ordinary laughs it resonates life, when ordinary sobs it reflects concern. The ordinary is not cosmetic in its approach to the lives around it, its approach is genuine.

The ordinary is sensitive, the ordinary is emotional. The ordinary wipes tears and allays fear. The ordinary is always there, always near.

The slurping of tea at a roadside hotel (read shanty), the fragrance of perspiration in a stuffed compartment of a train, the din of haggling in a vegetable mart are part and parcel of an ordinary life, but these experiences create extra-ordinary moments.

And, it is moments that make a life more enjoyable and livable? So, be ordinary and enjoy extraordinary moments.

Being a Father!

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The moment a bundle of joy is entrusted to a man by a nurse; an utter transformation of personality takes place in his life. The feel of soft body and warmth of innocent eyes, cast a spell on a person with its enchanting enigma forever.

The cry of baby is a clarion call for a battle of responsibilities ahead. Being a father is about playing multiple roles under one name. Parent, friend, teacher, guide, mentor are names of some characters that dwell in the personality of a father.

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But at the same time being father is fun as well. Being father is about being a child again. Babbling with the baby to make her happy as if you really understand what she is saying is an exhilarating experience. Even if, age has taken its toll and you pant hugely after a short run, you keep running behind the bicycle of your daughter to save her from falling off when she is learning to run and ride it.

And, when your child doodles some unintelligible lines for the first time, you become his first fan and praise him as if he has displayed the skills of a Picasso or a Michael Angelo. And your praise gives him the very first taste of being recognized.

Be it losing in fake boxing or feigning that your son bowled a marvelous spell to bamboozle you are some small but sweet aspects of being a father.

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It is not that being a father is always about being nice. Sometimes a scold, a thrash, and a stare are needed as therapeutic measures to reform the anomalies of children’s behavior. True, it is tough to be a father because you need to know the art of balancing love and lessons.

Gradually, children grow and a father grows with them as well. He shares their anxiety for exams, anticipation for results and decisions for a career.

But the role refuses to end here.

The important day of an important aspect of life comes in the life of his children: the marriage day. On this day, he has a mixed feeling of happiness and sadness. It seems that he fulfilled the responsibility of being a father. He takes a sigh of relief.

But the sigh is cut short in a year or two when he is informed that he has become a grand- father and his expertise are needed. Again, he starts being a child with the prattle of his grand -child. So, being a father is a continuous experience without a period inserted.

Happy father’s day!!!!

A walk with you!





                                                        Image Courtesy: fotolia.com

I want to enjoy a walk with you.

Just one walk!

For this walk, I want all the fortitude of a tree and all the attitude of a sea. I want to remain as inseparable to you in this journey as rays are to the sun. I want to share with you every frustration and every fun.

I want to share with you valleys full of flowers and alleys full of thorns. I want to be with you in moments full of frolics and minutes full of concerns.

 I want to be with your every yard that is silent but strong; every pace that is right or wrong.

I want to be the sweat on your forehead and pant in your lungs. I want to be your silhouette on the earth head and strength for your rungs.

 I want to be the thirst of your soul and mirth of your goal. I want to be with your every part and every whole.

I want to be the mist of your eyes and grist of your whys. I want to be with you in your every reason and every season.

I want to walk along with you when it is sweet sun or hot moon, be they times of sheer bane or pure boon.



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I want to walk with you even when you have sagging cheeks and oblivious mind; tottering limbs and trembling lips.

I want a walk with you that is as surreal as a dream, as real as a stream, and as leal as a gleam.

Won’t you allow me this one walk with you?

Just one walk!

I Still Meet a Child in You!

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You might have grown up to become more intelligent and more refined in your thought process, but still I succeed to meet a child in you. Even if you understand the ways of the world better than before and the world treats you with more attention than before, still, I hear the noise of a child in your voice.

You have changed in some aspects and have remained unchanged in some. But you never changed to an extent where you became unreachable or went aloof.

Your care for everyone was always available even after the change had engulfed you. You still stopped by to listen, if somebody had something to say and you still stopped by to give attention, if somebody was unable to match up your pace.  With the change in your life, you tried to change the world of others.

Your smile was still as lucid as the shadow of moon on the water of a river. The scars of hubris and arrogance had failed to malign the emotions of your giggle. It was as balmy and beatific as ever.  

You were still attached to the life around you as the silhouette against the light. You refused to go away and clanged to everyone’s heart like a child clings to her mother’s arms. 

You moved ahead in life in a sense that you achieved a milestone; still you cared to come back the road and encouraged others to reach for their goals. The sincerity of your care had semblance of a child caring for her distressed sibling over a broken doll.

I know with the passage of time you will get busier and I will become more blurry for you, but still I will be able to imagine a child that you have been with me all along. A child that was there to wipe tears with her baby-soft fingers while still shedding tiny drops of diamonds from her own eyes.

I will always cherish childhood of your personality, even if I develop wrinkles on my face and crinkles in my bones.

They Sing & They Dance!

They adorn the night with the rhythms, notes, moves, and music. They are quintessential part of any wedding ceremony in India and they weave an enchanting mist that enwraps the whole of the evening. They sing, they dance, and they intoxicate the air with mirth. People sway to their tunes and get engrossed in the magic of moments.

They are not the part of the family, but you can hardly tell them apart from the family. Their zeal and energy is at par with the others closely associated with the marriage.  The whole night of a wedding function remains awake to the rhythm and ragas of these people.

They are no Kishore Kumars or Kareena Kapoors of Bollywood, but the charm that they conjure up in no less than them. Their movements of body and voice cast a spell on the audiences and they remain glued to their performances.

The exuberant smile and unremitting energy oozing out of them, compels even a devout pessimist to visit hope in life. How is it possible to be so happy and enthusiastic without any valid reason? You might argue that they get money for what they are doing and money is the ultimate inspirational source in the world. It can have any one sing or dance.

But I would like to differ here. I guess that it is their love for life that gets reflected in their performances. They could also have indulged themselves in the complaining that why didn’t life give them destiny of movie stars when they have more or less the same qualities. They are happy for what they have and who they are.

And they celebrate every moment of their existence with ecstasy and style. The fountainhead of their happiness lies in their heart, which doesn’t reason or argue about the quality of happiness. It treats happiness as only happiness sans any yardsticks of low quality of happiness or high quality of happiness.

Isn’t there a lesson hidden in their behavior for all of us, who are searching for happiness frantically, without, instead of within?

Scattered Death!

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Warning: This write up might leave you depressed!

Life has a clandestine relationship with death. Life has promised death to give space in its bag. Death is draconian, devastating, and drastic. The world seems to have a view that life is an antagonist of death but reticently life underpins the efforts of death to vanquish it. Death is scattered in every iota of life.

Why can’t life be an eternal process? The poignancy of death, however inevitable it may be, is heart –rending and outright ugly. Death dooms hope and shatters dreams.

Strangely, the very things that we rely on to germinate and sustain life play their part in snatching it. Air, Water, Earth, Sky, Fire: every part of essential energy is essentially responsible for termination of a life. Tornados, floods, earthquakes, cloudbursts, infernos have been devouring life for eons.

Whenever we move ahead in life we move ahead with death in terms of meeting newer styles of death. When we didn’t have electricity, we were not dying of it, when we didn’t have airplanes we were not dying of it. Sure, we have enjoyed the effects of inventions but we have died of them too. I wish we could only live of the inventions.

Death enters life surreptitiously. You never know when it has tightened its noose around you. And suddenly one day you get a call from death that it is coming for an appointment. What wrong did you do in choosing to live? You wonder!

If life was not there, death would not have an existence. Because we choose to live, we are destined to die. Going through bereavement of a loving mother, caring father, affectionate brothers and sisters, and darling sons and daughters is inhuman and ruthless. Why is it that a chirpy childhood or a bubbly adulthood has to become mute before a reasonable time? We don’t have any answer for any unreasonable and insensitive betrayal of life, despite that we continue to be enamored by life. I wonder how?

We choose life, we become sensitive and one day suddenly our sensitivity is tested by brutal aspect of life—death. We feel cheated to have chosen life. The pain of death seems multiple times more than the happiness of life we have had.

Though we feel deceived by life, yet we are helpless to live on…

P.S: I know this is no suitable end of this article but I don’t wish any death err… end for it either be it suitable or otherwise.

Yes, I can revolt!

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I might be tiny sand and you can blow me away with the full force of your lungs, but remember that if I fall in your eyes, I can bring cataclysm to your sight-power. So, never consider me trivial, for I can revolt.

I might be a fragile glass and you can break me with your minimum of efforts, but remember that when I am forced to turn into smithereens, I can lacerate body more easily and can make your life miserable. So, never consider me frail, for I can revolt.

I might be tranquil and translucent water and you can bind me in dams with your brain, but remember when you try to strangulate me, I can decimate you beyond recognition. So, never disrespect me, for I can revolt.

I might appear brittle soil that you can till and douse your hunger, but remember that when you dig my bosom beyond tolerance, I can spit venom and devour you all. So, never try my patience, for I can revolt.

I might be a serene sky for most of the times smiling with sparkles of the Sun and the Stars, but remember that if you try to make me angry, I can become livid! My wrath can raze you. So, never instigate me, for I can revolt.

I might appear a luscious flower with fragrance, but remember that if you want to trample me, then I have got a team of thorns as well that can prick you to death. So never consider me only delicate, for I can revolt.

I might appear life giving, innocuous air, but remember that if you try to play smart with me, I can devastate you by building up or shrinking up my strength. So, never underestimate me, for I can revolt.

Sometimes, I see a semblance of these elements in Indian population as well. Yes, Indian population can revolt!

The Waiting Game!

Waiting is integral part of our life.  We hardly find any aspect of life that is sans waiting. The human life in itself is the upshot of a patient waiting of 9 months. Waiting has different aspect -- sometimes lovely, sometimes lousy.

When a mother waits for her child to meet the world, the whole waiting process is adorned with expectations of how she will raise her, how she will call her, which school she will go, what kind of person she will marry and etc…

When the child is born, the waiting game starts again for her to take the first step, utter the first word, draw the first letter and etc…

Waiting has enigmatic charm. When a peasant waits for rain and when it waits for the time to reap harvest, the waiting period is rife with emotions of hope and a better future.

When we face calamity we wait for it to get over. And wait for good times to take over.

Waiting refuses to leave us. When we study, we take exams, we wait for results; when we get job offer, we wait for joining day; when we find love of life, we wait for him/her to come on time at a restaurant and etc…

Waiting is like a canvas of a painter, which we paint with our thoughts, aspirations, and expectations.

But, waiting is not always beautiful. A convict who waits to be executed, a terminally ill patient who waits to meet end of life can experience the worst attributes of waiting. Apprehension and dejection enwrap the psyche and soul.

Warts and all, waiting is inseparable facet of our way of life. We wait to be happy, we wait to cry, we wait to live, and we wait to die.

I Want To Take Your Leave

You are green, I am pale,

You are fresh, I am stale,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are loud, I am crowd,

You are evident, I am shroud,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are bloom, I am gloom,

You are boom, I am doom,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are present, I am past,

You are first, I am last,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are best, I am rest,

You are bright, I am night,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are thunder, I am blunder,

You are wonder, I am wanderer,

That’s why, I want to take your leave.

You are morning, I am mourning,

You are sailing, I am sinking,

That is why, I want to take your leave.

The Real Beauty Is Mind!

Image Coutesy: Google

The human mind has a unique ability and this inimitable ability is not only about thinking but also transmuting this thinking into palpable realities. It has mesmerizing qualities to question and answer. From the alleys of mind, several ideas have spawned that shaped and reshaped the ways of the world. And real beauty lies in these ideas.



Image Coutesy: Google



Through the use of several permutation and combination of alphabets, ample theorems have been proved in mathematics. The quadratic equations, Pi, Sine, Beta, Theta, Gamma, and Lambda have helped prove many things from distance between earth and sky to the proximity between speed and light. From the inanimate lines of geometry that have effected dreams that stand tall on the face of the earth in shape of sky-touching buildings to restless collection of calculus characters that have influenced a smooth flying of aircrafts in the extensive bosom of sky, everything is stunningly beautiful with Mathematics. Isn’t it real beauty that some Xs combine with some Ys and produce happiness that brighten our homes in shape of bulbs?  And minds that understand the reticent parlance of pluses (+) and minuses (-) are really beautiful that spread the beauty of their understanding to the whole human society.

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We all are familiar with computers; it has become an essential part of our life. But seldom have we dwelt upon the beauty that it encapsulates in itself. With the use of computers we write, we talk, we sing, we share. Isn’t it beauty that just by punching some numbers and alphabets we get to know information that we could never have known otherwise and we get to interact with people we wouldn’t have talked to otherwise. With the help of computers we control activities in space, with the help of computers we delve deeper into the activities of body cells, and with the help of computers we surmise the ways of weather. Aren’t all these things like sheer magic and beauty? And minds that helped make computers capable of doing these things are really beautiful: which understood the nature of binary numbers and gave us beautiful aspects of life to experience.

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Minds that thought about becoming sight of the blinds and voice of the mutes are really beautiful. To be able to speak a language with a combination of finger flicks when you can’t use your tongue to communicate and to be able to read with the help of embossed dots when you can’t see through your physical eyes, are real beauty without any adulteration. And minds that devised ways to communicate in the absence of natural methods of communication and that invented solutions to reception in the absence of natural methods of reception are really beautiful.

Image Coutesy: Google

Our body is made of precious organs that need to be repaired when fall out of order. The minds that understand the complexity of the neuron webs of the brain and talk to the throbbing motions of heart are stupendously beautiful. Every time, they make incision onto skin, they cure the brain of a tumor and the heart of a blockage.  The mind is beautiful that doesn’t tremble on the sight of a bare brain or an open heart and imbues a leash of life in them through immaculate discerning abilities.

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Sound is there in the nature but to fashion a rhythm by imprisoning the sound in different notes of music is real beauty. The dulcet notes of a Piano and cloying tunes of a Cello are designed through motions of fingers that are directed by minds – completely besotted by the trance of sounds. Truly, the mind is beautiful that creates ragas and symphonies, that sooth the soul.

The mind that creates hope, happiness, and hymn is beautiful. Yes, the mind is beautiful!

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The scoreboard of my life

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The scoreboard of my life is not a pleasant sight for me. Every time, I have a look at it, it remains unchanged. The stubborn zero refuses to leave my scoreboard.

I have often tried to tell the zero of my scoreboard that why buddy, why don’t you go and take a stroll? At least I will have some change. It replied: even if I go the change that you want might still be elusive to you and who knows some negatives occupy my seat while I am off for a stroll. 

Huh… I can’t beat it in arguments.

Every time I go to play a new match of my life, I try to cajole the zealot zero. But it says, it will decide on leaving or living only after watching my performance in the match. I am left with no choice to work hard and ensure that my performance doesn’t become a reason for zero to be livid to an extent where it gives way to negative integers.

But there is a fun in being with my zero as well. It always keeps me egging on to strive for more; it always pushes me for that extra effort. Sometimes, I feel that I love it more than I hate it.

After every game we both sit together and spend some time together. It tells about my mistakes and I argue with my defense. I would like to acknowledge that I cherish moments spent with it.

But still I would like it to leave me. I would like to miss it sometime in my life.

But till then I will keep trying to replace the zero with a positive number and would like to befriend that but it is a promise that I will not forget the zero which has been a source of learning for me.

No, I don’t want to fly!

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Sailing with you on the translucent face of river and floating with the desire of the current to an unknown destination is my dream. The unfettered wind directing fragrance of your hair on my face is what I pine for. The scene of fishes adorning the riverbed with their rhythmic somersaults to celebrate our rendezvous is what I long for.

I want to be with you when pieces of cloud tear away and drench the soil. I want to enjoy the drizzle with you and be soaked up with blessings of nature in the form of raindrops.

I want to experience nights with you at the top of a mountain that is bathed in the moonlight. At the acme of the mountain, I want to fall in your heart and remain there forever.

I want to be with you amid the cherubic chortles of children and innocent giggle of kids. I want to be with you amid the petals of blooms and leaves of trees.

I want to walk with you the craggy roads and thorny paths. With you beside me I can tame any adversity and defeat any challenges.

I want to be with you on days, when I see my world in your eyes and that is why I say that I don’t want to fly, because I want to drown in your eyes that has unfathomable love and unremitting care!

The Meaning of Real Beauty!

When we imagine about real beauty, we draw pictures of stunning sirens reigning Bollywood or Hollywood. Their spotless skin, neatly carved features, and velvety hair are paragons of beauty for us.

But this way, don’t we get parochial in our thinking of defining beauty, when we limit our version of beauty only to flick females?

Oh! Yes the ramp roaming models and television stars also vie, in our mind, for the coveted tag called, beauty.

Is the word beauty confined only to looks? Can we enlarge the possible meanings of this word beyond the boundaries of flesh?

The real beauty lies in the behavior of a person. The attributes of compassion and commiseration make anyone more wanted in a life than other persons who are indifferent to the needs of others.

Mother Teresa was never in the league of Miss Universe or Miss World, even then the crown of beauty pageants feel dwarf before the puckers on the forehead of the grand lady. No beauty pageants get complete without the mention of her deeds by the participants in order to prove their commitment to the society. She touched the oozing wounds of lepers and adorned the eyes of them with glint of hope. She made the beauty of life palpable and thus let the world experience the meaning of real beauty that resides beneath the endeavors of a common person.

Real beauty is not only about gorgeous girls and funky ladies, it goes beyond them.

She is one of the victims of landmine in terrorism- hit Kashmir. She might go by any name but that is not important. The thing that is important is that she was 14 when she lost her both limbs in a landmine blast in the decade of 90s. She and her family were devastated. She needed help of her family members in performing the tasks related from defecation to ablution. With the indefatigable effort of her family and immovable grit of hers applied for years, today, she walks without help of anyone(and of course with the help of artificial limbs) and defines the real beauty of being happy in covering yards with her sheer determination and spunk.

Real beauty is not related only to smooth skin and healthy pigments, it encompasses more than them.

He belongs to upper echelons of society where being fashionable is more important than being human. In that society physical beauty counts a great deal. And when Gautam Singhania of Raymonds was diagnosed with Vitiligo, even his close friends advised him to remain in the confines of his house. (Even if, India is in the race of becoming a superpower, to be a white skin in the country of brown skin is still considered a stigma.) But he defied the reeking notion of society about Vitiligo affected people and today is one of the respected business barons of the country. He compelled society to acknowledge that real beauty is not on the skin but beneath it where a valiant heart beats.

Real beauty is not only about drooling over somebody but it is about respecting somebody from the bottom of our hearts.

She resides in the tribal backwaters of India. Early in the morning she wakes up and goes to the jungle to collect wood to cook food. Even under the simmering Sun, she toils in the field to eke out a living for her family.  She doesn’t have luxury of any nutritious meals, she is emaciated and you don’t need an X-ray to count her bones. Even then, when her suckling child writhes and cries with hunger, she offers her bosom to her child even if there is no milk in it. She suffers the bites of the child but never drags her away from her bosom. She demonstrates the real beauty of being a mother, which is celestial and inimitable, even in the outright paucity of resources.

Real beauty is not slave of being blond or brunette. The real beauty emanates from being bold and brave.

Rani Lakshmi Bai was neither fair nor a flawless face, despite that there is hardly anyone on the face of the earth that can match the beauty of her personality. She was fearless and fearsome at the same time; she was motherly and macabre at the same time. She exhibited that real beauty is in being courageous and holding your ground, even if you are beleaguered by your enemies and you know that defeat is certain for you.

Real beauty is everywhere in this world and not restricted only to curvaceous bodies and silky skin. Real beauty is in the rough hands of a laborer that crushes stone with hammer to douse hunger, it is in the dexterous hands of a doctor who weaves rhythm of life in ailing bodies during every operation, it is in the parents’ dream, for their children, of a fabulous future, and it is in the smiles of innocent kids that know no discrimination of cast, creed, race, and gender.

Indeed, real beauty is really beautiful!

Explore real beauty here!

Because, you didn’t smile today

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Birds were missing rhythm in their chirpings, because you didn’t smile today,

Flowers were missing their fragrance, because you didn’t smile today,

Sun was feeling fatigued and frazzled, because you didn’t smile today.

Sea was ruffled and restless, because you didn’t smile today,

River was not eager to meet sea, because you didn’t smile today,

Pond was with withered lotus, because you didn’t smile today.

Air was missing its invisibility, because you didn’t smile today,

Water was missing its purity, because you didn’t smile today,

Sky was missing its serenity, because you didn’t smile today.

Time seemed tired, because you didn’t smile today,

Watch seemed stagnant, because you didn’t smile today,

Moments seemed mammoth, because you didn’t smile today.

See what harm you have done to the world by skipping to smile for a day,

Promise that from now on you will not forget to smile!