Rashmisut

A: Art, Abstract, Adventure B: Books, Beauty, Badminton C: Coffee, Chocolates, Cycling D: Daddy, DJing, Dogs. E: Eagerness, Enthusiasm, Einstein F: Food, Friendship, Freud. G: Goa, Ganeshotsav, Guitar. H: Happiness, Humour, Horses. I: Inventing, Ice cream, Independence. J: Jumping, Jogging, Jigging K: Keyboard, Kite flying, Kaleidoscope. L: Learning, Life, Long drives. M: Music, Movies, Mumbai. N: Nature, Nursery Rhymes, Nonsense. O: Omlette, O’Henry, Origami. P: Painting, Puzzles, Physics. Q: Questions, Quality, Quotes. R: Rain, Ragas, Revelry. S: Style, Sophistication, Scrabble. T: Thinking, Tigers, Travel. U: Universe, Unpredictability, Uniqueness. V: Violin, Variety, Victorian. W: Writing, Wind, Watches. X: Xtra! (Of everything) Y: Youth, Yedegiri, Yahoo (The sound of it) Z: Zirad, Zeal, Zest

The women competed with each other to make themselves heard- bargaining, arguing- trying to strike the best and most profitable deal- they had to, after all make profit, that was what dealing was all about- getting the best at the lowest possible price. They were all a part of that game-the game of give and take. This was a marketplace- and everything out here was for sale. Everything here worked by way of economics- commodities were in demand and so they were to be bought, at a price though, which had to be paid. And after using the commodity, it was to be thrown away. After all, in the world of economics, nothing was permanent, everything had a shelf life. It was a world of practicality. But then, this small world of the market was a part of a much bigger world, where people were commodities, in demand. There were many consumers, and the supply too was aplenty. There was a dearth of economics going on in the world- trade of people, trade of emotions, and trade of skill. Emotions too

The lady, decked in jewellery, with lipstick smashed on her lips, better put as across her lips, with talcum powder dabbed on her face, with mascara slashed across her eyelids, and wearing a rugged sari stared at me as I invaded her territory. That territory of hers was reserved for those who wanted a favor from her for which she was making all that effort to put on that appearance of being pleasing to their eye. She least expected a female like me to come there, least of all, to look at her and observe her. Her expression was that of surprise and annoyance. I was nonchalant. There were many others like her, standing everywhere. I respected them. They were not different from us. There were just like us. Their purpose too, was the same as us. They were women after all. And all women had, practically, the same purpose- to have men looking at them, to seduce them. I saw nothing different about what they did and what we do. It was just that we did it in a more “dignified” way; they did it

There was something about that wonderful place- it just could not hold me back from coming towards it- the shimmering darkness made it seem as if this place was located in the outer space itself- it was empty and deserted, but I could sense the whole world being out there- the landscape composed of the sapphire blue sky, the deep ocean, the moist earth and the fiercely gentle wind- it was silent but all the sounds in the universe resonated in my ears- and an unseen force held me and brought me there. I stood there, taking in everything- the beauty of what was there around, above, below me. “What about the inside of you?” “I don’t understand what you want to say.” “You look at that which is around, above, below and everything that you can see and perceive. Have you ever looked inside of you?” I thought over it- what was there inside of me? My thoughts were echoed as everything before me blurred and the sounds became so loud that I was almost deafened. “That which is inside of you is wha

The surface of the sand was smooth and undulating- very much unlike life- which was undulating too but not smooth always. I lay on it and closed my eyes. My head ached due to the vision that surfaced beneath my closed eyes. It was ambiguous and unstable, incomprehensible. There was darkness. I lay still and calm. The sand on which I lay was tread upon by a thousand feet everyday. But it remained unchanged. It lay true to its nature and allowed itself to be subject to the feel of a million that tread upon it everyday. It did not think about whom it would encounter tomorrow or what would happen to in the next few moments. It just lay there, waiting for the next moment to draw upon it. It allowed itself to be washed upon by the experience of those who came its way. And it gave what it had to them- a surface to stay upon, and at times, inspiration of its being. I opened by eyes. I took the grains of sand in my hands and allowed them to escape from my fingers. It gave a feel of itself and t

What is it that is never told? Everything What is it that is never seen? Yourself What is it that is never done? That which can be done What is it that is left untouched? Your soul What is it that is left unvisited? Your true destiny What is it that is never experienced? The feeling of being one with the universe What is it that is never heard? The language of the world What is it that is never felt? Mental rape or nakedness What is it that is never found? The place where you live What is it that never happens? Death

The bell rung loudly, in a uniform rhythm, and the people were chanting the hymn in perfect notes. There was an abrupt silence. I walked on. A man passed by me, talking on the phone. He paused. He resumed talking after a while. I kept walking. The cars whisked past me, there were horns blowing, the wind was whistling through the trees- there was silence in all of them. The day ended. I went home and brought out my guitar. I observed a moment of silence. I played a composition. I did falter in the process, but when I stopped, there was silence- just as before, and though a bit different, it was perfect. There was nothing imperfect about it. I played again. And I stopped. There was silence before I had started and it was there when I had ended now. It was the origin of my music and it was also where my music ended. Silence was music in the true sense of term- the birth, death and essence of all the music in the world.

She looked up at the sky and sighed. There was still a long way to go. The difficulties were innumerable. But that was why she had taken up this journey. The birds harkened to her. She perched them on her arm. She knew they would come to her. She stopped on the side of the path and plucked the chrysanthemum that grew in the earth. She knew she was being observed. But she did not pay attention. It was not in her nature to pay attention to anyone. She was the one who had to be paid attention to. The mountain air was fresh. It blew across her face. She sang gaily, her voice clear, resonant. Someone sang back. She smiled, acknowledging her accompanist. But she was not one to accept. She had been alone all this time and this had been her entourage. No one could be like her and choose the same way as her. But, it seemed, this time, she would have to accept or be defeated. As she trudged along, her mind wandered. She was disturbed, shaken. She had been challenged for the first time. She was b

Well, this is a poem penned down especially for my very good friend who was gifted to us by God on the 5th of October. This poem ain't fictious, it's true and very much resembling to the person to whom it is addressd. I must say, she is the essence of every verse scribed out here. So, my dearest friend, here I present to you the sentiments that God must have been through when he created you: I must have been very happy, For she has a radiant smile on her face always. I must have been in a dream, For you are entranced by her eyes. I must have feared a fall, For she nurses everyone with care. I must have not known anger, For she is divinely forgiving. I must have not known hurt, For she only gives joy. I must have not known sin, For she is admiringly innocent. I must have not known dark pain, For she is the embodiment of radiant bliss. I must have not known mistrust, For she is the reflection of the truth divine. I must have not known hatred, For she is the blessing of love. I mu

Once, a person sat in the world and thought. He thought, “The sky is there above me.” He looked at it. He did not know what to think about it further. He saw the sea and thought, “The sea extends ahead of me.” He did not know what else could be thought of it. He saw a person going on the road and thought, “I am walking on the road.” He didn’t know what to think about him. The person went into a chapel and looked at God and thought, “God is there everywhere around me.” He did not dare to think further and bowed his head. The next day the person did not survive to think about anything. He sat on a stool and saw, “The sky is below me today.” God came to him and said, “You are above the sky today. Because yesterday you admitted that the sky is above you.” He smiled and said, “The sky is always above us, God. We cannot think of going higher than it. The day we do go above it, we will be God.” God asked, “Don’t you want to be God, then?” He replied, “No.” God was surprised. He asked, “Why?”

The house on the lane- I know its there- I don’t want to know its there. The closed door- its open- I don’t want to know it is. The flying curtains- they are still- I don’t want to know they are. The blooming, white flower- it’s wilted- I don’t want to know it is. The blank papers- they are filled- I don’t want to know they are. The happy song- it speaks of a sweet pain- I don’t want to know it is. The figure at the window- I know who it is- I don’t want to know who it is. The tears in the eyes- they are flowing- I want to know they are being held back. The face- it’s shadowed with grief- I want to know its smiling. The hands- they are trembling- I want to know they are stiff. The heart- it is bleeding in pain- I want to know it is escalated in joy. The eyes- they are closed in a deep sorrow- I want to know they are shining in excitement. The mind- it has drowned in a tyranny of grief- I want to know it is soaring in happiness. The world- it’s frowning on me- I want to know it is grinn

Love is not about talking for hours over a cup of coffee. Love is all about not saying anything yet everything in a dark shanty. Love isn't about seeing each other often to know each other well. Love is all about seeing each other just once and knowing all that is to be known. Love is not the intermingling of arms in the burning fires of passion. It’s the intermingling of souls in the sanctity of nature. Love is not about telling how much you mean to each other. Love is all about feeling no need to say how much you mean to each other. Love isn't cozying up in a mushy corner in the rains. Love is all about giving shelter to the rain soaked kid in the street, hand in hand. Love isn't passion. Love is an emotional connection. Love isn't the need for touch. Love is the need for a soul. Love does not give rise to a seed of physical fantasies. Love gives rise to a revolution of world changing ideas. Love isn't what it seems to be. Love is what it does not seem to be. Love

I looked around and saw someone familiar to me, Standing, with the same look on his face. I was too stubborn to go and speak. And so was she, But that is what connected us you see! We finally spoke- About nothing really, But that was the very conversation, That we always wanted to have. I met her the other day- She knew I was terrified, And so she calmed me by saying what I really needed to hear. The next day, I was exalted, And she got me a glass to say, “Cheers!” I never said anything to her, She never said anything to me, But I saw in her, The true friend I was waiting to see.

The clouds gathered in the sky, Showering the elixir of life; Thundering and clattering, The sun seemed nowhere in sight. What seemed to others like a dull day, Wasn’t so for me; It was the call of my mother, To me to come out free. I adhered to it and came, Calling out loud to her; “I’m here mother, I’m here”, “Happy and at last free.” She danced in joy galore, Swaying to and fro, Shining on the world with pride, The darkness was no more. I smiled to see her beauty at last, The beauty beyond compare…. The day I was born, Was not a day different, It was a day I live time and again; It’s a day I live everyday.

One can never ignore it; however hard one tries to- it’s outstanding. It burns, compelling you to notice it. It epitomizes fieriness. It makes you realize what you are when you see yourself reflected in its flames- you see your true self. It is the embodiment of purity, sanctity. It embellishes the dark- the clouds of doubt- giving way to clarity of thought. It stands for the undying spirit, hope and activity. It kindles passion and rejuvenates the dead flames of love by its blaze. It’s the truth contained in the matter that’s in the universe. It’s the ultimate truth itself. You cannot question its testimony because its purity is untainted and it leaves nothing to be said. Such is the fierce sanctity of fire..

“Now, who drew the curtains of mist in the air?” I asked, mockingly. He laughed and ran away, leaving a trail of drops in his wake and blinding me in fog. He had come as usual, a bit early this year. But he did come as he had promised to. He never broke his promises. After all, he was my friend. “How can you play such lovely music?” “I don’t play it; I just retrieve what is already there. I just give sound to that which is already there, but is yet unheard.” He said, rustling the leaves of the tree nearby, a rare to hear sound which could not even be created on the synthesizer how ever heard you tried. “And how can you be so generous when we do nothing for you?” “You say you do nothing for me?” “Well, yes.” “Then you are wrong. You want me, which is the best thing you do. You love me, you hate me, and you despise me. But you acknowledge me as a part of your life. I cannot ask you for anything more than that. Had you not done so, tell me, would I have done anything for you? Would there

I was asked, “Why only one?” I said, “Its only one song that you never tire of hearing repeatedly. Its only one book that you may not tire of reading again. Its only one place that you never tire of visiting again. Its only one foodstuff that you never tire of eating again. Its only one name that you never tire of chanting. Its only one God that you worship. Its only one name that you keep chanting…. Its only one person that you keep loving… And never tire of … All your life… Unto death...

It’s only rare for me to see you, And when I do, I become blind to everything else. It’s only rare for me to feel your presence, And when I do, I feel immense happiness. It’s only rare for me to hear you speak, And when I do, I become mute. It’s only rare for you to laugh with me, And when you do, I cry out of happiness. It’s only rare for me to be with you, And when I am, I am with eternity. It’s only rare for me to live for you, And when I do, I become immortal. It’s only rare for me to hate you, And when I do, I cannot love anyone else.

Close your eyes…. Concentrate only on the rhythm, the feel of the song, try to go into the depth of its meaning, even if you don’t understand the words…. Try to understand the feel of the song… try to FEEL the music… Look…. Into the depth of the sea…. At the vastness of the desert… At the denseness of the forest…. At the impregnability of the mountains…. At the beauty of the snow clad peaks…. At the limitless nature of the sky…. At the sparkle of the stars… Feel the emptiness of the space… Feel its equity with you…. Feel its unification with you…. The music of the universe is your heart beat… The music of the universe of the call of the wild…. The music of the universe is the prayer of the God…. The music of the universe is the rustle of the leaves… The music of the universe is the breath you draw…. The rhythm of the universe beats in your pulse…. Music is embedded in the rays of divine light coming to you…. Music is the light- constituting of all the colors in the world… The light whi

Its when the light fades away, And the sparkle in the eyes becomes dimmer; Its when words don’t find a way to speech, That I know you have turned away from me. Its when the eyebrows furrow, And fists clench, losing their gentleness; Its when you don’t say anything, That I know you have nothing to say to me. Its when the head falls down grimly, Its when the eyes avoid each other; And the laughter all becomes mute, That tears come streaming down from my cheeks, And the doors of the heart close to every emotion. Its when your fury crashes on me, To show how meek and foolish I am; To hold a mirror in front of me, That I realize my folly. Its when realization takes place of ego, And humility gives way to pride; That words tumble out, For me to slyly say- “I’m sorry.”

Can you see how the wind blows to you? Carrying the message of my love? Can you see how the leaves fall over you? Showering you with my affection? Can you see how the birds call to you? Do you realize it’s my music? Can you see how the clouds rain over you? Giving to you my sweet elixir? Can you see how the sun shines over you? Giving you my strength? Can you see the moon shying from you? Can you see my face in its tarnished beauty? Can you see how the stars shine in the night sky? Do you realize my evading hope in them? Can you see the flowers fall at your feet? Paying my homage to you? Can you see the solemn face at that window? Waiting a million light years for you….. Can you see the longing in her eyes? They reflect your divine face…. Can you see that she isn’t lusting for you? Oh how can she! Because she loves you….. And her love isn’t passionate…. It’s divine…

I sit peacefully, the music emanating form the speakers, soothing my nerves. The unending arrays of thoughts in my head stop spinning as Beethoven’s 9th symphony starts to work its magic. The curtain behind me is blown by you and it veils my face, your hand closes upon my eyes. Surprised, I turn around and smile to see your orchestra at work. Here you are, belting out some of the most melodious music in the world I had ever heard. Shyly, I look away. But no! You come again and defy all my resistance to have me as your audience. “That’s not all”, you seem to say. I turn back- to see the most beautiful sight of my life. Your run away from me, only to show how much you love me. With those pretty white flowers and dried leaves being showered on me, I indeed feel like the queen of the world. You rush back. The drums blare, announcing your return. You wrap your arms around me. I smile tears of happiness in my eyes. You smile back- the smile that I treasure the most in the world. The drums bl

I ask you, For nothing more than your hatred…. It’s better than a false display of affection…. I ask you, For nothing more than you looking at me…. Because to me it means the mellowness of your eyes… Though they may be expressing anger…. I ask you, For nothing more than your smile… Though it may not come from your heart… To me it means the sunshine of my day…. I ask you, For nothing more than the sound of your voice…. Though you may be shouting at me…. I ask you, To just stand by me… To me, it means having God by my side…. I ask you, To call my name…. Because to me it is the most melodious music in the world…. I ask you, For nothing more than just you…. To me it means the world…. To me it means life…. Though I may die in the pursuit of having this happen….

I call upon you, To come with me, Come with me, To the nothingness- The nothingness form which springs the one single form that made you and me. Come with me, To the empty space- The space where dwell you and me an from where we came. Come with me, To the sands- The sands which know of my waiting, the waiting I had to endure until this moment. Come with me, With the tenacity of the wind- the wind that brought you to me. Come with me, Not because I call you- but because you want to come. Come with me, To the stem of creation, from where you, I and every feeling that governs us came to be, because- That very destruction Gave rise to Love.

A gentle breeze blew; there was a rustling among the stalks of wheat. My ears were picking up every sound, which was usually rare to hear- right from the gurgling of water to the calls of birds. I looked up at the sky where the moon was playing hide and seek with the clouds, half expecting to see a shooting star. The silence was speaking to me. “What makes everything so beautiful”, I asked no one. “Naturality. Absence of pretence is something one should imbibe. The branches sway as they should, the wind blows as it must. It is this what makes them seem so beautiful.” “Why isn’t everyone not able to perceive what I can?” “Because you are what you are and they are what they are. They see everything as they want to see it and you see everything as you want to.” “Why is it that we are harmed when God loves us so?” “Your father loves you?” “Yes.” “When you first rode your cycle, why did he leave you on your own when he knew that you were going to fall?” “He wanted me to know my mistake and

Here goes my blog on love for those who have been waiting for a long to hear something of love from me... Sorry.. it's bit late as was busy with lot of other stuffs... And, for those, who had asked the question "Do you believe in [title]?" to me directly/indirectly, here the whole story (my thought...) goes... To start with, there are three words, that come to my mind, when I think over the [title]; Attraction, Crush and Love... First let me clarify, this is not only applicable only for 'him'/'her', it could also be 'it'; I mean, falling in love with her/him/it. Love at first sight? Well, why not! First impression always counts. But, the word is wrong here.. It cannot be LOVE, it is merely Attraction/Crush... One can probably or never judge the chemistry involved in love. There are no chemical or mathematical equations proving love at first sight. One fine morning/evening, you see her/him/it, and some feeling come to you. How can we explain that ti

Last week, an IITian committed suicide. People who commit suicide do it when they feel there's no future. But wait, isn't IIT the one place where a bright and shining future is a foregone conclusion? It just doesn't add up, does it? Why would a young, hardworking, bright student who has the world ahead of him do something like this? But the answer is this-in our constant reverence for the great institution (and I do believe IITs are great), we forget the dark side. And the dark side is that the IITs are afflicted by the quintessential Indian phenomenon of academic pressure, probably the highest in the world. I can rant about the educational system and how it requires seriousfixing, or I can address the immediate-try my best to prevent such suicides. For this column I have chosen the latter, and I do so with a personal story. News of a suicide always brings back one particular childhood memory. I was 14 years old when I first seriously contemplated suicide. I had done badly

It’s a relationship that we have shared for a really long time. For a very long time, I have been very close to my mother, Mother Nature. It’s been a bond that had been strengthened with time. But it was not until now that it got elevated to a new level altogether. It was not until I was in peril, almost about to cry my heart out and not having any idea about what to do that I felt her extending her arms to me, telling me that she is there to support me if the need arises. It was not until I was in the jaws of death, hanging onto nothing except the hope to live that I heard her telling me that I won’t die because she will catch me in her arms if I do fall. It was only in these times that the whole relationship underwent a drastic change. Earlier, I looked up to her in awe and admiration; I was intimidated by her vastness, her strength. There was submissiveness. Now, there was tenderness, an intimacy. There was an equivalency as I realized that I was hers and she was mine. It was a bond

Feel it, feel the beats throbbing in each cell of your body. Sense; sense the rhythm in everything around you. Notice, notice how each movement of yours is rhythmatic- your talk, your walk, and the way your eyelids throb…… Did you see, how even the leaf on the tree dances to the music of the wind. Ah! Even the wind blows in a certain cadence! Every atom around you, every iota that exists is subjected to the magic of the divine sorcerer; music. There is no escapism and even if there is, there is nothing that you will feel except deep regret. There is an exhilaration that cannot be found anywhere else but here; here in the world of blissful harmony. There is an elevation, an elevation to a level way above the strata that you and I can think of. There is a world that is there, but is to be experienced; a world that has to be heard to be lived.

I stood there- tears in my eyes, trembling from head to foot. “I don’t know dad, I don’t know why or how, but I am scared…” “Scared of what? Specters?” “Well, yes” “Why?” “They seem to lurk there, you know.” He laughed. I was annoyed, and embarrassed, at the same time. I was born timid. Fear, it seemed, was an innate emotion in me. And there was nothing I didn’t fear- right from bald men to non existent witches. And this fear hampered my very existence. Ghosts, to me, were omnipresent. Even in broad daylight, I was scared of venturing alone anywhere. The shadows, the dark corners were their retreats. As the darkness fell, I pedaled the cycle faster in the compound- the lady draped in the white saree was smiling wickedly at me revealing her grotesque teeth with her disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes- my heart pounding, and my brow beaded with sweat I sped away. “What confirms your fear? What makes you think that ghosts do exist?” “Nothing…. Do they really exist?” “Even I don’t know. No

A Bond Of A Lifetime You being here, You being with me, You coming at my call, Can do wonders to me. No medicine in the first aid, No surgery of the heart, Can cure my ailment, Compared to your wonderful company. Words fail to describe, The magic you weave, By just being there, Oh! Please don’t leave ! You mean a lot to me, My dear, dear friend, And- I’ll be there for you, Coz you are there for me too

Sitting on the sea shore, I seemed to be at peace with myself, one with nature, one with eternity. But yet, it was a disturbing peace. The myriad expression on my face kept on weaving, seamlessly. And the mind never stopped thinking- it went on- the race of thoughts- randomly. They surprised me. Each was more profound and clearer than the pervious one. And though some were vague, their vagueness wore off giving way to clarity with each surpassing moment. Just like the sea waves in front of me which got bigger and more rhythmatic as they broke upon the shore. And yes, each thought left an impression on the mind. Just like the waves which soaked the shore, leaving behind their mark. A breeze blew across my face- calm at first, and then fiercer. It brought to my mind the fickle and ever-changing human nature. I marveled at the uncanny resemblance between the way in which nature and we operated. A smile surfaced on my face. I was one with nature, at peace- and this time, it was quaintness

Its hard to define, but keeping that particular aspect in mind, let me pen down what love REALLY means. Its is nothing more or anything less than all the emotions- care, comfort, trust, respect blended into one sentiment- the sentiment of love. A sentiment shared between any two souls in the world. It was just another lonely evening with the wind blowing hard and I was feeling blue. I called one of my friends for a walk on the seashore. While conversing I expressed my contentment about my life. "Well, you see, life is JUST PERFECT !! I've the most wonderful friends, supportive parents, a goal in life and so much to do and look forward to... I feel blessed and could'nt ask fot anything more." "There is something lacking Divya." she replied, giggling. "What?" I said, surprised. "A special someone." "Really?" I said a hint of sneer in my voice. "Yes. What are all those romantic poems for? Brand name Divya, there is a flood of

You really mean it, do you? When you say that you exist there? When you say you are everywhere? When I am crestfallen, Is it you? Who comes to rekindle, The put out fieryness? When I am in agony, Is it your hand? That wipes the tears, Which moisten my eyes? When I am bereft and alone, Is it your shadow? That follows my steps, As I walk the untrodden path? And if it is so, Then why don't I think, That it is you, Who is me too?

Pahat zali, Pahile Kiran ale, Pahila vichar hota tuza, Pahila abhaas tuza. Zuluk haveche vahile, Vahun khelun gele, Vatle ase manala, Sparsh hota to tuza. Kinaryavar lahari yei, Yeun parat jai, Manat matra majhya, Athvan keval tuzi. Fulanvar sakali, Davabindu umalati, Pahuni tayanna, Mishkil hasya ka bare yei? Ka bare kadhi mala, Vatat aste ase, Tu navhe door, Tu ahe yethech, Tu ahe majhya mani.

Look at the birds up there in the sky going in a single file. Look at the flowers blooming in the garden, with the morning dew moistening their petals. Look at the various hues that paint the sky. Look at the wind that cradles the branches of the tree. Look at the mystique of the waves that break upon the dappled shores. Look around you for sometime. Raise your eyes, my friend, and give a thought to the beauty that surrounds you. Your heart will be filled with wonder to see that there are not seven, but a million wonders in the world.

Disclaimer: This essay is not the ennumeration about the infatuation of a young boy but its written with the objective of the portrayal of true beauty , to show what beauty truly means... The full moon shone mysticall, occasionally playing hide and seek with the wispy clouds. The air carried a scent with it- a perfume of mystique, a scent of beauty undiscovered, And it also carried with it a voice- a voice that was luring, and so be it, I was lured. And I saw a sight that I swear, I will never see again in my entire lifetime. As gaity as the swans that swam in the lake, her every step, every movement was gaitful. Her ebony dark hair fell to her hips and blew across her face with the wind. She stroked it apart with her tipped off fingers. Her lips were poised between a laughter and a smile, but it was the eyes that caught my attention. Olive green and shrouded in mystery, with well defined eyebrows, they seemed to conceal an inexplicable story behind them. Fair and fresh as the lilies i

The human mind fascinates me. I'm very much astonished by the way in which it functions. because I've never seen a better maverick than it till date. The thing which marvels me the most is the way in which it plots destructions, the way in which it curses, and the way in which it hurts its fellow beings. It does it Oh-so-perfectly, that its objective is unmistakebly achieved. And it thinks so illogically and baselessly, that you cannot imagine any other mechanism in the world which could come up with such surprisingly hollowed facts!!! The answer as to why I am enraptured by its foulness is that it does it with a surprising ease. And to think of great things, it needs a lifetime.....

I live in a quaint world. A world with nowhere to go. A world with no beginning. A place where dreams are just wisps of smoke and last no longer than a second because they are far fron being fulfilled. A world thats meaningless. A world where no one lives. But yet there is no loneliness because there is something more than just organisms with mere physical existence. A world where there is no day and no night. No space and no time. A world that consists of a billion- yes- a billion unfulfilled desires.

I love her. Love her with all my heart and soul. I love her. Love her more than anyone. Love him more than anything. I love her. Love the scent of her perfume. Love the dreamy eyes that enrapture me. I love her. Love her desire provoking lips. Love her firm grip on my hands. I love her. Love her tinkiling laughter. Love her gaity walk. I love her. Love her intelligent talks. Love her mischievous flirting. I love her. Love her ambitions. Love her respectfulness. I love her. Love her assertiveness. Love her friendliness. I love her. Love her maturity. Love her frankness. I love her. Love her truthfulness. Love her belifs. I love her. Love the fact that he loves me. Love all about her. Love that he makes me love her. Loves that he added the word "love" in my vocabulary........

" I wanna say something to you." "What?" "Not here... come with me." "Where are you taking me?? Where are we heading to??" But he just smiled and started off. We were driving in a ghat, thick jungles surrounding us. "Look, I wanna know what you are upto, what all this is about.." But he just smiled. We were right on the top, the wind was hooting. He caught me by the hand and pulled me out of the car. I instantly knew what was on his mind. And I smiled too. Smiled, and looked at him intently. There was nervousness coupled with excitement on his face. He looked more handsome than ever to me. He looked at me through the corner of his eyes, his lips parted and my heart beat faster. I knew what was coming next. "I know what you are about to say." He faced me, "And I know that you knw it." He looked down, coyloy. We both burst out laughing !! - one of those rare times when we felt a warm friendship and an understanding. He

Shhh...... Listen to the wind, as it whistles through the woods... Listen to the grunts and grumbles of the creatures magnanimous to us.... Listen to the twittering and chirping that emanates with the rising sun.... Listen to the gushing of the river as it wavers through the lofty mountains... Listen.... to the silence that whispers to you...

You came, unknowingly, without any prior intimation, yes without any intimation.. You came, as you always do, as you do, when you remember me, when you suddenly think of me and you want to speak to me- speak of what you think, your thoughts about me, those coveted special words.. You came, and I was elated, to hear you, to feel you, to speak to you,.. You came, and said it, that you are there, you are there always..... You came, and told me too see, see you, because you are there around me, always. You came with the wind as I sat there, and played with my hair.... The wind, it means your coming to me.......

Dark and deep, are the limits of the sky. Looking at it, my mind takes a flight, Far and limitless, are the depths of the ocean. Staring at it, my eyes light with hope. Mysterious and alive, are the paths in the forest. Walking them, my feet tread carefully. Unknown and cruel, are the ways of life. Living them, my heart skips a beat, Each day....

We are all loved so much- our parents, friends, God- all love us so much. They are ready to sacrifice, denounce, and share all with us. Yet, don’t you think, that the love they give us is, “incomplete”? Don’t you think, that there’s something lacking? Yes, they definitely give you all that you want, they will stand up for you when you need them, they’ll keep all your secrets- but there’s something that’s still lacking- that even you don’t know even you don’t give a thought to. There’s something about them, which even you disagree with. In the journey of life, there are many things that happen, which we keep to ourselves. Although thinking about those occurrences may hurt us, or, elate us, we don’t tell it to anyone. Every moment, there are a thousand thoughts in our head, but we ignore them. We have best friends, parents, siblings, confidantes- but do we “really” and “completely” confide in them? There is so much that we keep to ourselves, that we keep out of their reach- our deepest t

I don't know what to begin with- how should I address to you, what I can call you... basically because I don't know your identity and how many of you are there. I wish I did. Not to hand you over to the police or something of that sort, but just because I am curious. Because I want to know you better. Because I want to know "WHY?" you did this.Ok, let me put this straight- People do things because they gain a profit from it, or, bcause they love to do it. But tell me- What have you gained by blasting bombs? A lump sum of money I guess... but are you really happy with that money? Don't you think earning this money costed the lives of so many innocent people. Secomdly, I am certain that you may have never loved to do this. You have'nt even gained fame from it. After all, you are too scared to reveal your identity. And even if you do, what you will gain is controversial fame. And such fame is condemned.What have you achieved? Nothing. And if its lakhs of rupees,

All My dear friends, I'm any teenager like you- happy - go lucky, fun - loving... this was the first time I had read any chicken soup book. And it accidently happened to be Chicken Soup for the teenage soul. I know there are many Chicken Soup readers out there. And I also know that they must've loved it- its romantic, has tender emotions, makes you dream and feel the longing that every girl feels. But what I saw was something very instigating- that every heartbreak was of a girl and that girls were abused in love, that all the GIRLS were infatuated with guys and that its the guys who ridicule the girls who get emotionally involved with them. What does all this mean girls?? Does it mean that we are emotional fools, that we can't control our emotions, that we are easily swayed by just good looks and blue eyes, that we are romantic fools?... its all bad and seems to be very insulting but as a matter of fact- WE ARE. My dad told me something, which I think is meant for every gi

I looked at myself in it- and found myself to be, what I never could have been- beautiful, with spotless and fair skin, dark haired, dimpled smile, eyes that reflected immense happiness- I as a very beautiful person with an enchanting appearance. The mirror in the bathroom always reflected you to be a person without any anomalies. It always did. As you come out of the bathroom, there’s another mirror- Don’t you look at your reflection there. You will be deceived and disappointed. All those features, which were conceived by the other mirror, will come to light there. And you don’t want to see it; because you can’t bear to see it- you can’t bear to see your own reflection. Because it isn’t pleasing. The truth always hurts and it’s always hurtful to know it. Yes, we all are like that. All of us can’t bear to digest the truth about who we really are. Because although we know it, we tend to ignore it- we convince ourselves that we are not what we actually are. We are not liars, cheats or ma

All seems to be so different. You and this beautiful music..... So far from here. I'm being taken away far from this world. Somewhere else... Where I have always wanted to be. Where I've been before. Something I've yearned for all these days. This is where "I" live. With my thoughts, my feelings, music...and a thought so inexpressible. It’s divine. You can actually see this beautiful world around you. The greenery, the rain, the music.... you can't help being overwhelmed. I've always been here before. The thing is, I am always here. It's as if I was never born. This is so different..... I don't feel like letting go of this. I always want to be here and never go away. I wish the time stops. Tomorrow never comes.... and this just goes on....... This is what true happiness means to me. It does mean a number of other things, but this is the time when I am the happiest. When I am "ME". When I forget everything.... though I am not meant to, but

Look up at the sky- dark, with a streak of orange and yellow in it. Its limits- infinite, unknown. Look at the tree in front of the window- its branches, arching out creating a window for you. Feel- the breeze whistling through the leaves of the tree, emanating a rustle. The leaves dance in the wind. Look, at the clouds as they drift apart, revealing the mystical beauty of the serene moon. The moon whose entrancing beauty shadows your thoughts as you gaze at it. Whose beauty transcends all words which may be used to describe it. Unknowingly, such occurrences give rise to emotions in our heart which we cease to realize. But rare are such moments when even you do not know what you think and feel. And looking at the night sky is one of them…

This is an experience which is very much unforgettable and was just a year ago during the monsoons. But some things are such that they are treasured all your life. I usually get swept off my feet whenever I get to see any form of natural beauty, but I developed an affinity for the beautiful Champa tree in front of the science laboratory in our school. You just look beyond the four walls, and you can’t help looking back. I and my friend composed a beautiful poem on it. We used to sing blues or classicals just looking at that tree. As the rain heavily fell, the tree formed a penchant canopy in front of my eyes. The glossy leaves, used to be moistened, the tree spread its branches in such elegance, the sunrays used to get reflected and create such radiance … it was a sight for the sore eyes. I used to feel special and a quaint feeling used to surface my race of thoughts. The beautiful flowers that adorned the tree!! Ah! All that was a contentment for those who seeked it, a feeling of happ

What will one feel to be standing amidst the blinding mist in front of you, blurring, not only your view, but also your thoughts. Your eyes, watching, an incomplete, pleasant, unmentionable dream, something you can’t see, yet understand. The lush greenery spread out around you, its vibrant and varying shades, give you an idea of its expansiveness, nature’s vastness, how it spreads out its arms to you, in a gesture of welcome. And then, a tinge of darkness can be seen, something you had been expecting, longing for. The elixir of life has come to you. The wait is over . The change around you is evident. But your heart craves for something more. The season brings out those wonderful emotions in you, which have been kept, locked away in your mind for a very long time. This is the time when they manifest themselves. The time has come for quenching the thirst of all minds.

It all starts from the eight octaves and where it ends, nobody knows. Its limits are as infinite as the universe, its joy is like a never-exploding balloon, and its passion has an overwhelming six billion followers around the globe. Even animals respond to music, that's what they say. Music is for every occasion-from partying to rock and roll, from everyday life to a wedding anniversary and even to a somber funeral, everything has music embedded in it. It is magic, alright, though we never realize, every beat has our vocal cords vibrating; it causes our adrenaline to pump throughout the body and every muscle aching to jump to the dance floor. So, what is music? Well in every sense, every sound produced from clapping our hands to slapping a person is music. The more recognized pundits define it as an arrangement of sounds in a pleasing sequence. Well, who cares about music in the prolonged sense- music is something universal, something unique, and something which is soothing to

I do not remember since when my association with the Black Horse started. Was it love at first sight or was it a fascination which I didn’t realize had happened all of a sudden? Whatever and however it was, it was an association which I love and hate myself and the Black Horse for. To me the Black Horse is a not a place in the city. It is not just a forgotten and forlorn piece of land. Nor is it just an art- lover’s paradise. The Black Horse stands for the world as a whole. It is the manifestation of all human nature magnificently embodied into a place which houses every aspect that defines man. Ambiguous to some as it may be, it is a sheer delight to anyone who comes there. The Black Horse which originally stood in the art district of the city (Kalaghoda) is not there in its physical form as of now- it right now stands at Jijamata Udyan. One can just find a mural depicting a black horse out there. Stretching from the old Mumbai University building to Regal Cinema, Kalaghoda is a grand

Man is intrigued by the simplest of things as a child- he solves puzzles, wants to know how the leaf on the stays there is called and how birds sit on railway wires yet not get a shock. He grows up to ask more and more questions and as he reaches adulthood, is faced with the biggest question of all- “WHO AM I?” The “I” in the sentence holds for him a very significant value. The “I” means the world to him. He goes about the world in a meaning to that “I”- he mingles with kinds in whom he sees it reflected, he does things which give him the feeling of having fulfilled the need to give a substance to it. He also refutes all that can stop him from being, “ME”. And he goes round and round in circles coming back to where he started from. “WHERE AM I?” he wonders. In a jungle comprising sixty animals, what is it that differentiates each one of them? They are all, in the end, animals, isn’t it? What is it that brings them all in the same jungle? -The need to survive and to learn, a common purp

When I was a very young man, just beginning to make my way, I was invited to dine at the home of a distinguished New York philanthropist. After dinner our hostess led us to an enormous drawing room. Other guests were pouring in, and my eyes beheld two unnerving sights: servants were arranging small gilt chairs in long, neat rows; and up front, leaning against the wall, were musical instruments. Apparently I was in for an evening of chamber music. I use the phrase “in for” because music meant nothing to me. I am almost tone deaf- only with great effort I can carry the simplest tune, and serious music to me was no more than an arrangement of noises. So I did what I always did when trapped: I sat down and fixed my face in what I hoped was an expression of intelligent appreciation, closed my ears from the inside and submerged myself in my own completely irrelevant thoughts. After a while, becoming aware that the people around me were applauding, I concluded it was safe for me to unplug my

“Oh is it?” “Well… yes…” We gazed into each others eyes. He smiled, causing me to frown and grin. It was this one thing that caused me to fall defenseless- his scrutinizing eyes and smile. “Tell me, why can’t we fly?” I looked at him. “We don’t want to.” He nodded, “Have you ever flied?” I looked up and said, “Yes…” “Feels elevating, doesn’t it?” I laughed, “Of course!” We both smiled and walked on the sands. I stopped in my tracks. He went on walking, like there had never been anyone walking beside him and staring far across the sea. “I knew there never was anyone, And there won’t ever be. I know that I can be, And that maybe I am. I know that there is someone, But I don’t want it to be; And if it really is, for it to come to me.” He looked back at me, interrupting my thoughts. I went to him. He just continued to stare at the sea. I did the same. “What is …” but I stopped and went away from him, in the opposite direction. I looked back. He was smiling to himself. I was left in a daze.

-By Shri Achyut Godbole Published in “Lokarang” 28th December 2008 This is a translated version of the original article published by Shri. Achyut Godbole in his column, “Arthat” which is based on economics in the supplement, “Lokarang” in the Marathi daily “Lokasatta” on the 28th of December 2008. Translated with due permissions of the author. "Now a days, economics implies applying/exercising the principles and rules of the market. This meaning has been accepted as a norm as though it has been there since the conception of the subject. People keep on studying about the functioning of the market, its intricacies, its loopholes, the ways to improvise upon them and then formulate complicated equations about it. But very few ask the most important of all the questions- which is the question of the common people, of poverty, of unemployment and which in fact, should have been the chief aim of economic study. There is a great puzzle in the economics of the market. Production happens as