Rashmisut

People come into your life for a reason , a season or a lifetime . When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person. When someone is in your life for a REASON , it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there for the reason, you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on. Some people come into your life for a SEASON , because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring yo...

You will remember (me) when... You would want to share your past and you expect him to listen whole-heartedly and smile at your silly points when you say “I know both the sides of the coin” You want somebody with whom you can sing any duet/song that you think is one of your favourite songs You think of somebody with whom you feel homely and confident in friendship You need a book to read and you know he would be there to understand your need You need somebody to feel the feeling that you have You need help in making your CV/resume look good and you know he would help you out You need help in rephrasing your achievements in a year and you know he would help you out You think of somebody who reads your mind and asks many times “Are you OK?”, “Is everything all-right?”,etc You wear a good dress and think of somebody who would never say “Your dress is good” before you, but never forget to ping you to say so You think of one who would ask you about your lunch and dinner when you feel like...

Dear Love, The day when I first met you, when our eyes met, I had given you place in my heart. Really, like the real world, if dream world had some reality, then my rest of life would have been real. I would have spent all my nights in dreams… We can only see the distant moon, but can’t touch. You are also like that distant moon. How can I tell you my inner stories? You have gone, but your memories have become part of my life with which I am surviving. Without you, there is no memory, and there is no life… The day when I had seen you, I had made you my dream girl; not only in my dreams, but in my body, mind and soul too… I had dreamt of giving all worldly happiness to you… But what happened! The strings of guitar broke, all songs became lifeless, all the drawings that I had drawn using canvas got changed, and the petals of rose fell down…  I still remember those memories… I wanted to speak my heart, but could not… I still remember you, but how can I explain that to you? ...

Let’s have a small retrospective session. Ok I won’t stress your memory. Let’s talk about just a day back in time. So what did you really do on India’s 63rd Independence Day? Sat at home all day enjoying your holiday? Ok… made it for the function for the flag hoisting? Is it enough? Neways, even if you did that, I am glad. But I can bet most of you just, looked up to the flag in great pride may be for a few moments and then you were back onto your couch watching some latest pirated cd/dvd movie and enjoying the holiday. Your feelings need to extend from those few moments you looked up to the flag to your entire day, from this one day in the year to the entire year, and yes certainly for your lifetime. And remember you are not the first one to do this… Martyrs have lived, died and relived in our hearts being as true Indians. Just an Indian citizenship doesn’t really make you an Indian dear! The very fact that you are reading these lines now, is that I have got you interest...

“Love, Life and Dream on” is a beautiful fiction by Animesh Verma, 2nd year Chemistry student pursuing his Masters from IIT,Bombay. Perfect book to be read in a train journey, I bet, once you start this, you can easily finish the book in 5-6hours, such is the narration of Animesh. He says: The quintessence of Love, Life and Dream on is to make us believe in our dreams. It’s about the details of our lives that we really do not care about, but they turn out to be the faded dots on the canvas of our life, which are required to complete the picture. The story unfolds with few students who are in search of themselves which I must say is the beginning of a lifelong romance. They want to dream but the dreams fade away with the realization of the rationality life has taught them. Aniket falls in love at first sight and what followed was a romantic journey of a young lad trying to woo his lady. Will these friends win the game of life and dream? What will happen when dream meets fate, fate ...

हंबरून वासराले चाटती जवा गाय तवा मले तिच्यामंदी दिसती माझी माय आयाबाया सांगत व्हत्या व्हतो जवा तान्हा दुस्काळात मायेच्या माजे आटला व्हता पान्हा पिठामंदी पानी टाकून पाजत जाय तवा मले पिठामंदी दिसती माझी माय कन्या-काट्या येचायाला माय जाई रानी पायात नसे वहान तिच्या फिरे अनवानी काट्याकुट्यालाही तिचं नसे पाय तवा मले काट्यामंदी दिसती माझी माय बाप माझा रोज लावी मायच्या मागं टुमनं बास झालं शिक्षान आता घेऊ दे हाती काम शिकुनश्‍यानं कुठं मोठ्ठा मास्तर हुनार हायं तवा मले मास्तरमंदी दिसतो माझी माय दारु पिऊन मायेले मारी जवा माझा बाप थरथर कापे आन लागे तिले धाप कसायाच्या दावनीला बांधली जशी गाय तवा मले गायीमंदी दिसती माझी माय बोलता बोलता येकदा तिच्या डोळा आलं पानी सांग म्हने राजा तुझी कवा दिसंल रानी भरल्या डोल्यान कवा पाहील दुधावरची साय तवा मले सायीमंदी दिसती माझी माय म्हनून म्हंतो आनंदानं भरावी तुझी वटी पुना येकदा जलम घ्यावा तुजे पोटी तुझ्या चरनी ठेवून माया धरावं तुझं पाय तवा मले पायामंदी दिसती माझी माय - कवी- स. द. पाचपोळ, हिंगोली

“Where do you want to go?” “I don’t know… I feel like going anywhere and everywhere- but not turn back ever again.” “And what is it that you seek?” I hesitated. “Well… myself? Maybe yes, maybe not. Well... something deeper. I seek that which is not sought by anyone else. Can you tell me what that is?” “It is that which only you will want- something that no one can take from you. It is that which will make you far more powerful than anyone else if you happen to get it.” “But power isn’t that which I seek!” “Then it will make you far more profound, if that is what you seek. You have answered your question then.” “Yes… but then I come back to what I said. I seek my profound self.” “Precisely. But how are you going to get it?” “I don’t know. I don’t know anything in fact.” “You do. Everyone does. Those who realize don’t want to live it. And those who don’t just don’t want to seek it. Those who stumble by it fail to see it. And they all go around searching for it when it is all within them....

It was an early winter morning. I walked the way, headphones hanging across my neck; not plugged in as yet. It was all astonishingly silent about me. It was habitual for me to plug them in as soon as I started with my morning walk. But today, I didn’t feel the impulse to do so. I kept pacing ahead, my breath getting faster with each passing moment as they way to the hill became steeper. The minutes ticked by, the atmosphere grew foggier and the silence- deeper and vocal in its own way. It gave way to far more beautiful and unheard sounds- the wonderful cooing of the birds, the differing footsteps of the passer-bys, the sound of the motorcycle; which, I observed had a distinct pattern to it and of course the language of silence that was musical in its own special way. I finished my climb and reached the top to witness the sunrise. I looked at it fixedly, not wanting to miss a single moment of that magical phenomenon. The temple bell rung- heralding a new day- a new chapter in a never en...

I sit out there- gazing away at the magical sunset, mesmerized by its beauty, unaware of everything. The moment has gripped me, not letting me go of its beauty and sanctity. The hues change from purplish pink and saffron to a distant gray and black. My eyes scan the sky for a sign of sustenance in the form of the moon and the stars. None seems to appear. A feeling of apprehension overcomes me. The minutes tick by, and I still patiently wait, hopeful, that there will be a sign telling me that all is not over as yet, “Nay, this isn’t the end; The best is yet to come, Nay, everything isn’t yet lost, All still hasn’t been gained. Its only when the night comes that it is followed by the day, Its only when death comes that a new birth takes place. Its only when a syllable is uttered that words are formed, Its only when something is gone that everything comes your way.” I closed my eyes and sighed. When was I going to see the dawn of my hope? I opened my eyes. The sky was still dark. There wa...

After a whole year of waiting for you, here you come in all your abhorrent fashion. Ha! But the joy of having you here with me is incomparable. I join you today, with you showering all over me, the wind caressing my face, my eyelids all dabbed in water- but my heart- its melancholy. I know, you mean happiness, everything around me is a manifestation of joy divine, but I don’t understand the dampness of spirit that my mind is dewed in today. I’m walking in rhythm to your pitter patter but the symphony of my heart is sad, yet happy. Maybe you have understood that and so you shower harder, making me run and scream in shock and happiness. I halt and stand on the walkway, facing the sea. The surroundings are misty, fogged. The waves are splashing on the shore… why am I trying to smile, although I should have in fact, done so naturally? My true joy was you, and all that is there right now, but there is something missing. I know you all are there, but the essence and soul isn’t. I know it is ...

World Music, in the true sense of term incorporates the nuances of all cultures including Celtic, i.e. Western music. Most generally, it is all the music in the world and was initially described as Folk or Ethnic music. I had come across this intriguing term during my research on music and its genres and was determined to delve deeper into this branch. Needless to say, the music aficionados whom I knew did not have much knowledge of it sparing some much applauded Spanish, Latin and French artistes. I was tired of them- the sounds were not much different from that of what I had already heard owing to Enrique and Ricky Martin. Salsa was another reason why this did not hold me spellbound. The sounds were nothing more than a lot of Spanish guitar and the folk drums of Spain both clubbed together to give a foot tapping, but, not a genuine sound nevertheless. I came across Idan Raichel’s mention for the first time in a weekend supplement. “Lose yourself to Idan”- it said as the bottom-line. ...

In your internet explorer browser, try and type the name “Scarlett Keeling” in the search space. Just look at the 4th and 5th result. The 4th result is a report from the Daily Mail that quotes Scarlett’s mother to be an “aggressive tigress” rather than a “concerned mother”. And the 5th result is from The Telegraph that says that Scarlett had a drinking problem. Scarlett’s case has become a sensation ever since her body was discovered on the popular Anjuna Beach in Goa and the departed teenager’s mother has become a philanthropist of sorts. A mother who is fighting for her dead daughter’s justice- a mother who has persevered inspite of all odds against her (may I ask what are the odds for God’s sake?!) – A mother who is concerned about her daughter, sorry, dead daughter’s fate (why the hell did she then send her all alone in that place?) I came across Fiona’s picture in the widely read tabloid Mumbai Mirror with the caption, “Lone Fighter” on the top. A morose Fiona seated beneath the t...

Okay, here goes my hundredth poem/article/essay/story/critique. The big one will come soon for sure. And when it does, I might have a bigger grin on my face. The hundredth one- this is not deliberate- but I have something to say- in fact, I was going to pen down something and luckily it is happening to be the hundredth one. What I really am supposed to write is a poem for my friend- one of the many birthday poems that I write. Not really the hundredth kind of material that should really be, but, when I come to think about her, she is a celebration herself. And as I want to celebrate my century, let me celebrate it in the true sense of term by penning down a lovely poem for my friend who has made every celebration a gala occasion and who has breathed life into each gloomy day of my life. “Happiness- it means the smile on your face and the smile that you bring on everyone else’s face. Happiness- it means every wonderful raga that is rendered which makes my heart reverberate with joy. Hap...

They called me mad- I laughed- I was only intellectually insane. They called me rude and indifferent- I smirked- I was only unlike the crowd. They called me a loner- I sniggered- I was only among a selected few. They called me raw and a heart of stone- the fools didn’t see this stone melt at the sight of a child shivering in the cold. They called me foolish- I grinned- I was just innocent. They called me impulsive- I shook my head- I was only following my heart. They called me fickle- I sighed- I was only intrigued by everything. They called me emotional- I blinked- I was only sensitive to everyone’s feelings. They called me sophisticated- but they failed to notice the rowdiness in me which manifested itself when I was truly happy. They called me confusing- but they never made an attempt to understand me. They called me a dreamer- but they shut their mouths when they saw those dreams turning into a reality. They called me a rebel- I stayed quiet- I was only being adhering to that which...

It seems like the flowers have all withered. The one who had watered them, the gardener has stopped visiting. It seems as if the music is nothing but a bare strumming, plain sounds that are being emanated, because, there is no melody in it. It is as if the conductor of the orchestra is not there anymore to orchestrate the music. It seems as if the words have lost their power to create an impact, because the writer’s inspiration has been gone, as though the ink in the pen is over. It seems as if the road ahead cannot be seen, because the light in the eyes of the traveler is no more, he is blinded by darkness. It seems as if the devotee has become faithless, because his God has bereft him. It seems as though the world is an empty space, because the life in it is gone. It seems as though the spirit in this life is gone, because the soul is no more……

There is food but the appetite is insatiable. The judgment of appetite is not correct. The stomachs are too many to feed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ There are too many frustrated minds not knowing where the happiness can be sought giving rise to apathy and indifference. There are too many wannabes not knowing to be themselves giving rise to innumerable casting couches. There are too many aspiring souls seeking more than they can hold giving rise to an unending rat race and web of politics. There are too many lechers whose libido is too high multiplying the number of rapes and molestations. There are too many lazy and unchallenging people doubling the number of controversies and crimes. There are too many souls- lost and confused- having no idea of where the destiny points to- giving rise to a tribe of druggists and alcoholics. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------...

My dearest friend, You can only imagine how much I am longing for you- my throat is parched and only you can gratify my thirst with your shower of elixir. There is no one to play with- no one who appears out of no where to play hide and seek with me, no one who plays lovely pitter-patter music on the piano of my window pane and no one to draw curtains of mist in the air. There is no one to race with me and shower fiercely to blur my vision. The sea waves are simply a pot on a hearth of ignited fire. They are waiting too, for you to come and make them flow over the brim and have roller coaster rides with you. The roller coaster rides which I miss too- where they used to splash over me and drench me from head to foot. My mouth used to taste of salt and the horizon used to be a shade of purplish red. The easel of the sky is blank- the artist is absent. So, there are no shades of random grays, strokes of orange and red bursting from the clouds or purple patches in between. The wind is miss...

I looked at the board saying, “Towards western railway” and glanced at my friends. I smiled, “Bye- bye.” They smiled back, “Be careful while traveling. See you soon.” We waved to each other and turned on our respective ways- me, towards the western railway and them towards the central. I always felt a beat skip and a lump occurred in my throat when I saw that, “Towards Western Railway” board at Dadar station. It held a meaning- that my friends who had walked a long way, a span of two years of deeply rooted friendship were going to walk a different path now. It meant that now, we, who had traveled and been together in a common world of joy, happiness, jokes, fun were going to go away to a different space and world altogether. I used to sigh whenever I saw that board. Yes, we did belong to different worlds- me, a south mumbaitee, and used to fresh air of Chowpatty and the sophistication of the Mumbai culture and them- the Central railway from places like Kalwa of which I had never heard ...

Come, take my hand; There is a long way to go; a long long road lies ahead. Come, walk with me, Together, the distances are less it will seem. Come, let’s sing along, If I sing alone, it will be poetry, if you accompany me, it will be a song. Come, let’s lose ourselves, Alone, I will be scared, but otherwise, I might find a person I won’t have. Come, let’s climb on fogged mountain peaks and swim in the depths of the abyss, Adventure is a challenge alone, but together it is fun and fear becomes unknown. Come let’s laugh together, I had smiled earlier but there was no one to see, my laugh had died in the mist of the snow clad peaks. Come, there is a lot to see, Through each other’s eyes, the world will be an enchanting place maybe. Come, there is much to do, But with a helping hand, tasks will not be as grueling as they now seem to. Come, there is a lot to explore, With company, I will find much more. Come let’s make this our journey, Let’s be a world in ourselves, Let’s discover a world...

"Kalaghoda festival 2007- two events- an odissi dance by the Padma Bhushan Awardee Sonal Mansingh and a sizzling Salsa performance by the celebrity dancer Sandeep Soparkar. The odissi dance was to be earlier. Naturally, not more than 50 people had gathered to witness the elegant and veteran dancer giving a laudable performance. And there is no need to say that there was lack of space to watch Sandeep Soparkar’s performance. The ladies behind me were humming the tune of the Spanish song which was indecipherable to me. " "Ruia College’s annual festival Utsav- the Indian classical singing event had an alarmingly less number of students participating in it while there was a need for elimination rounds to be held for the western dance competition." "My school had an equal number of two divisions for both Marathi and English medium. I hear from my younger sister today that only one division is there for Marathi ...