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Some Sunday Poems

As I sat, Contemplating on the porch
It had a sun-drenched part and a shadowed portion
Like my heart with its bright anticipation and dark revelation!


Euphoria like the tide in the sea
Rises high in my heart

I desperately, leap to embrace, hold it, but like the tide, it recedes
leaving a thousand abandoned memories and a pile of dirt

Ab yaad ki baari ayi hai..

aandhi aur barshaat ke baad ab dhup shunehri ayi hai
Bechain dino main viraam ke baad ab yaad ki baari ayi hai

Dekhto lun jee bharke, amavash ke baad aaj chaandi fir se ayi hai
Hans lene do mann bhar ye adheri raat ke baad subah roshan ayi hai

bachpan to beet gaya par bachpanaa hi sahee jo adhi adhuri ayi hai
Mashgul zindagi main tajjurvon ke baad ab yaad ki baari ayi hai

Few poems on Life and Experiences - written in leisure

THOUGHTS

Thoughts occur to me
   Like, I am slave to their will
   When did this happen to me
    that, I don't control what I feel.

MADE TO LAST

Weak, hot, hammered in furnace
    Like an iron cast
    Time and again life battered me
    Until finally, I was made to last

Stronger, better, in the fight of life
     not the warrior swinging the sword
     but the horse carrying the weigh abord
     I am not the foot that walks
     I am the shoe that takes bruises, is made to last.

WHO WE ARE 
Hiding our bruises, our scar
    Constantly longing
    to be loved for who we are
Scared of our dreams and failures
    We trust more than self, in a shooting star
     Embrace, retry, believe and you will be everything at par

LIFE AFTER

How do I find the aftermath of life
not where we go or how we die
but the way we live in memories
the slow progression from being the smile to tear in the eye

How do I make up for everything I missed
the smiles and the sorrows, we forget to share
living in the cocoon of fallacies
heretofore we spent everything in convalescence and despair

How do I go back and relearn everything
that you care for people and use things
listen to the eyes and see beyond the sound
enough being timid, let's be profound


Truly
Abinash


   
   
    

Dosti, mohabbat aur shaadi main tafdeel hui mohabbat pe do panktiyaan

Kya dost banke chalna gawara nahin tha ki humsafar banne ki dushmani modd li..
harwaqt tumhare saath ko taraste the zaalim, ab tumhare saath ne jaan leli..

aapke aur humare dost hone main fark bas itna hai
ki aap jashna main sareek hote ho.. aur humare sareeki main jashna hota hai

Doston ka mizaaj kuch aisa tha, har ek din kuch naya kissa tha

Kahaniyan to banti hai aaj bhi bahut sari, bas pehle main bhi kisson ka hissa tha..

What is my history, where is my past

What is my history, where is my past
 Where would I end, where did I start

Where did I get these dreams in my eyes
Where do all go, when they bid good byes

Why am I lost, where am I heading
for the cost of my life, what am I treading

What could it have been and what would it be?
I hear its a lovely world, but why can't I see?

Where is the sun, why is it dark?
I hope there is light, but I see no spark.

That I can be more, Can I realize?
And can I just live, and do no compromise?

And How do I go, behold my destiny?
My heart revolts and mind starts a mutiny

Enough of questions, lets start again and retry
Lets make this work, there will be light and land forever won't be dry.

Truly
Abinash

Reciprocate, love and care

Many things are taken for granted, in life. Above all is the love and the warmth of togetherness. We get used to contentment induced by love. It excites no more. We get deceived into the ensemble that life follows the pace of our expectations. Deliberately oblivious to the need of reciprocation we reduce ourselves to just being consumer and not producer of love. We rationalize our act. And build excuses. But can there be an excuse for not loving back? Dancing to the tune of self centered thoughts we narrow our vision. All we see in the mirror is our reflection, not the desires hidden in the eyes. Engrossed with self we drift away from life, life as we knew it. And we only know, when it hurts, when its too late. We must wake up now and take the reign. Reciprocate, love back and care.

Truly
Abinash

The Birthday gift in college - A walk in the memory lane story #2

Birthdays are special. Always. Everyone treats you well. You feel delighted and nice food awaits. For most. Most also means, "not all". Today I am humbled and thankful to have the privilege to be surrounded by lovely people, having the economic affordability to go out and celebrate my birthday and buy things I like. Above all I am thankful for being cared and reminded how much my friends and family love me. There are so many people who either have no love or have no means to celebrate, with each day struggling to not sleep either hungry or with tears. And sometimes both! My prayers and love for  each of them and my gratitude to all my friends and family and life for everything I have.
                                           Celebration awaits today. It wasn't always so, that I would celebrate my birthday or get cakes! growing up we did not celebrate birthdays at home. Never. When I was in school birthday would mean some allowance to spend for lunch and a sense that parents seems to comply by your reasonable demands. There was no difference in love. I was fortunate to grow up in a family abundant in love and respect. While in high school it would so happen that no one really even remembers your birthday. Even family! And we all kids were used to it. I would get jealous of some of my friends who would wear new clothes for their birthdays and arrange a small party at their places. I got invited to many and we would buy some gifts for the birthday boy (yes no girls, I studied in a boys only school). I used to imagine myself receiving those gifts and feel happy with my fantasies. One such gift I received was a geometry box when I was in middle school. Probably the only gift I ever got for a birthday in my entire school life.
                                    Soon I was in my college pursuing my engineering and birthdays were a totally different affair. People would arrange dinner parties and loud music. And sometimes beer. Most friends would join in the frenzy and it was fun. For my birthday I didn't really had the money for throwing a dinner party, so for me (and many like me) it would mean cooking chicken and having dinner with the very few lovely friends. I never had a lot of friends. Yes, acquaintance many! When I was a sophomore I was living in a rented room shared with a couple of friends. While living with them my birthday came. This was a special on as I got some presents from my friends for my birthday, for the first time in my life! And when I was asked what do I need, I was too naive then to have asked for an underwear and a book: The C programming Language. And the true friends they are, they got me an underwear and the book for my birthday! I was delighted. The book helped me really well. I rushed through it in next few weeks. I still have it with me. Alas! I couldn't preserve the underwear. Which of course served me well too. fast forward today I am going have a fancy dinner at a fancy place with my lovely wife, in the lovely weather of Seattle.

Truly
Abinash

A walk in the memory lane: my school

This story is about an ordinary day in the life of an ordinary man back in the childhood. Its about the fun of being a child, the joy of a day in the school. In spite of a flock of challenges and difficulties (I won't call them adversity) we had to fight each day, the vivid memories of the school are only sweet.
                                                              The school had five rooms, no furniture, except for a chair meant for the teacher. The chairs usually dilapidated. Always like they are carrying the weights of the bulky bottoms of the overgrown teachers for one last time. The plastic stretching beyond the elasticity it could afford to. Besides the chair there was a blackboard, it was of course, black, I don't know where the board was. It was but a two dimensional flattened section of the wall painted black. Right below it deposited the white chalk dust. Forming a thick heap of all the letters, all the languages, all shapes ever drawn on the board. Like a glorious past buried in the ruins. We the students occupied most of the classroom, of course. The rough floor was for us. Few would carry a mat everyday. But most didn't. We never cared. The cement floor had some smooth parts,marking what it was supposed to be and had  numerous tiny ditches revealing its reality. When we went to school, each morning, the cyclic ritual of brooming the floor was the duty, students would dispersed that in an ever changing responsibility. Followed by the assembly for prayers and the classes. More than often we found broken beer bottles, strewn food and broken bricks lying around the floors. They silently spoke of the "civic" acts executed by the 'grown ups' after school hours. Yes, there was no such thing as security guard or a fence for that matter. It was just an array of five rooms and a porch stretching along those rooms. Many windows and doors broken, giving access to anyone who seek darkness to commit darker acts in the night. Oh, the classroom had no lights or fans. Sun was our source and the breeze our comfort. We absolutely loved rain. For the most part rain would mean a holiday. The roof was made with red clay, placed one over another in rows. Many of them broken exposing holes. You get to see the holes on a sunny day as the sun rays stream through making the dust busy in their Brownian motion visible to the naked eyes. So when it rained, we would see water pouring through those holes and to exponentiate it, we would run on the floor with muddy feet making sure it looks convincingly unsuitable. The open field was our toilet, as well the playground. The uniform comprised of a crimson half pant and a white half shirt. The shirts were rarely white. Often carrying marks of your games from yesterday and ink from you pen, letting everyone know what ink the friend behind you uses. Each class was a torture for the most part. We would be asked to keep quite and teachers would assemble to gossip. Some female teaches would use the time to sew sweaters for their kids. And us? We are left to either boredom of silence or the joy of playing funny games among us. A day would pass as the clock rushes past 4PM. The long bell would be sounded and we leap throw the doors racing, like water from a dam. Happy, unassuming, innocent. Clinging to the dangling piece of hand sewed cloth, we called bag, we ran, barefoot brimming with energy, teeming with joy. Towards our home, restless for the evening games of cricket on the streets.
                                                           The school was a unifier. A leveler of sort for the society. Kids from all classes of economy were there. Well almost all classes. I had friends who would help their fathers sell Idlys on the thela outside our school. One who helped her father in the butcher shop. And many who came from a family of daily wage laborers. Many from lower middle classes. All castes, every religion. And we would eat, play, read together. It was a great occasion where you learn to love, everyone. Eventually all of us made it. Few followed the suit of their fathers, few became migrants, like me. Few managed to get a promotion over what their father did. For many of them their kids are having a better childhood and education than what they had. We all have come a long way. The school has come a long way, the red clay roof has since then been replaced with concrete. It has got fence and electricity in the classes. For the standard of education, is the only thing that's stuck in the past. Couldn't get anywhere. Someday, may be someday!

Truly
Abinash

Can we be more? again.

With the Olympics coming to an  closure tomorrow, what is your take away from it? The few hours of entertainment? The joy of watching your favorite athlete win? The pride of your nation taking  some medals? Or in some cases may be, the disappointment of not doing so. Is that it? Is that what these thousands of athletes push the limits everyday for, driving for excellence? I believe the greatest take away is inspiration. If you leave the room more inspired, determined to not give up, try harder, push yourself a little more. Everyday. That's when you can say you had a successful Olympic games!
                                             
                                                    We all have been more before, at some point in our lives. More than one occasion. we have been more than what we thought we could be. The Olympics is a reminder of that, a wake up call. We have to show up every single day. Sweat, bleed, repeat. Its only through pain that we rise. The currency is simple. To buy your success, you pay with your sweat. There is no smart work, there is no smart man. Its bullshit. There is only one thing, hardwork-faith-perseverance. On every leg of the race, you will have someone telling you, you are done. Pulling you down. That you lack the skills, you can't. Laugh at you. write you off. Every leg of the race, the race called life. These people are the fuel you need. Burn those words, those laughs and those dismal stares to fuel your speed. Don't let anyone sympathize you, tell you not to lose hope. you left hope in the stands on day one. You now believe. You don't take sympathy no more. You take challenges. Believe, don't hope.

                                                     Michael Phelps gives me a goal but Eric Moussambani gives me the drive to show up and never give up. Time is not favorable? You don't have opportunities? Poverty? People are cunning, demanding, unfair? So is life. Every single soul in the world has a unique problem. Rise above the petty excuses. Defeat the head starters with sheer determination. Life is a marathon not a sprint. Don't make stops, push through that dry throat, the burning skin and the soar legs. You can achieve everything, you put your mind to. When I have excuses in my head I look to  Abebe Bikila. You don't need shoes to run. You need will.

                                                      You are a 3rd world, hard to find on map, you din't go to the best university, you don't have a coach, you live on food stamps, you sleep under the moon, you get bullied at work, you don't have clothes. Bullshit! Go out there before someone else, come back after everyone else, in between sweat more than anyone else. Glory will be yours. you win half the race when you refuse to give up. You do this first half, the rest half takes care of itself. We are going to be the difference between "could have been" and "it is".  Lets stop hoping and start believing.
If I go down, I go down knowing I was winning not fearing I was losing. Don't give up. Yet! Finish line is still out there, waiting to embrace you. Run the victory lap, like you truly need it and the victory will come chasing you like it truly belongs to you. Let's do it!

Truly
Abinash

                                                     

Zindagi..

Har zidagi ki yehi kahani hai

adha bachpan aur adhuri jawani hai..

Kya rakhha hai yaadon ko batorne main

Tum gujaardo zindagi aadhi ruthne main

aur main aadha manane main..

Har roz subah hoti hai, shaam aati hai

Bas har khyan ek vedna ban ke reh jati hai

Hum to is rang bhumi main kuch pal, khyan ke avtaar hain

Socho un nadiyo, pahaadon ka jo shadiyon se nirankaar hai

Kya har cheez main hona hai sidhh, galti mera adhikaar nahin?

Apurn sahi, bas hona tumhe sweekaar nahin?

Jo achha tha wo beet gaya hai

Jo achha hai wo beet raha hai

Vartamaan ko dekho yehi bhavishya ko seech raha hai

Sab rakha hai bas ehsaason ko sametne main

Tum gujaardo zindagi aadhi hasne main

aur main aadha hansane main..

Truly

Abinash

Aadha...

Sach ho ya jhoot kuch bhi maine aadhe hriday se nahin bola
Na kara prayaas aadhe mann se, na chhodi kosish aadhe hriday se

Na adhure sapno se karaa aankhon ko trupt, na aadhe ummedon se bhari udaan
aadhe iraade se lakshya nahin saadha, na addhe mann se maanga aasmaan

Na aadhi samajh se nishkarsh nikalaa kabhi, na nishkarsh adhaa samjhaya hai
na addhi jeet ka jashn kiya kabhi, na aadhi haar ka maatam manaya hai.

Adhura ek sach aur sampurntaa ek bhram hai
isi ehsaash se jeevan ko addha gale lagaaya hai..

Truly
Abinash

What will be left of us?

As the sun hides, the blue sky turns red
bringing a veil of darkness
The sly night ushers the dread

Unfazed, elated the rejuvenating souls
admire the night; beloveds by their sides
soon they perish into memory, remains deafening howls

Air reverberates with screams
Is this the tread of the darkest hour?
The vicious laughs pleased on a million shattered dreams

Its a city of shadow and dust
just a hounding void remains
Innocence with gleam stares hopes for what is already lost

The world is breathing its last
all mortals have been murdered
Is there a ray of light, can there be a new start?

The gods have long left this chaos
we are but at our own
If we don't stop, I ask what will be left of us?

Truly
Abinash

Safalta

galti sabse hoti hai
blunder sabhi karte hain
par aage wohi jaate hain
jo seekh lekar chalte hain

darr bhi sabko lagta hai
dukh bhi sabhiko hota hai
par jeet unhiki hoti hai
jo darrse bi nahin darte hain

Sapne sabke rehte hai
khudko inse parakhte hai
par saakaar uske sapne hote hain
jo aaveg se badhte jaate hain

aalash main harkoi rehta hai
bas baatein badi badi karta hai
par safal wohi ho pata hai
jo siddatt se mehnat karta hai

waise to sabhi jeete hain
haar ki darse, jokheem nahin uthate hain
Jo jeevan nauka kinare par hi rehta hai
Aisa jeena bhi koi jeena hai?

Truly

Abinash

Mera anuvav

Mera anuvav kuch aisa hai
pal pal main  badalta
par jeevan ka abhinna hissa hai

khyan khyan main jeeta marta
pag pag main girta sambhalta
jeevan ke vyay main jeevan ko rachta

Yakeen nahi tha sapno main
na apni aankhon se sachai parkhi maine
ye meri anuvuthiyan banai kisne?

wohi bhram tha aur vaastavta bhi wohi
Bas apekhyaon ki abhipurti main leen tha
mujhe iske pare lechalta kya aisa hosakta tha koi

sambhav hai main satya se parichit kabhi na ho paun
par apni aankhon se jo jeevan ko dekhne ki kosish karithi
kya wo prayaas mera tha?

Truly
Abinash

Resolutions

I have been spending a lot of time on facebok post marriage and have grown relatively lazy..
I need to buck up and get things done!

1. Keep FB deactivated for 2 weeks minimum.
2. Spend 1 hour every day for data science courses
3. Finish Javascript and CSS course in next 3 weeks
4. Over weekends spend 2 hours for Statistics and R programming.
5. During work give 30 mins everyday to learn cosmos scripting starting tomorrow.

Change in attitude:

1. Do not leave something in middle just cause it seems hard to follow or a lot to read be it anything (e.g. a course material or a notice that you receive over post / email)
2. Do not think you can wake up early and get it done. Rather sleep late wind it up and wake up late.
3. Think thru every decision (tickets booking, hotel booking, purchases, investments etc.)
do not make haste decisions. Plan with a well thought thru approach.

e.g. Do not pay one extra day of hotel charges instead pay more for 1 day preponed ticket and save a day and some money.

4. During working hours have time for new learnings.

Tu meri dua

Dekh raha hun, khuli aankhon se jo sapne
Darr hai khona jayein, jhapak lun jo palke apne
Mehroom hai shukoon aur beinteha mohabbat
aisi jiun zindagi jo banjaye sabke jubaan ki kaahavat
Lamha lamha jodke sajaya jo khwaab tere saath ka
pal pal main basihai tu hai tu haqiqat mere aaj ka..
Tera saath mera muqadarr aur tu mera khuda
Dua banke mili hai mujhe tu, tujhpe main fanna tujhi pe fidaa..

ZIndagi

zindagi to badalti hai, humesha badalti rahegi
Har gujarta pal ek nayi kahaani kahegi..
kayi shakl chutt jate hain piche aur judd jate hain kayi naye
Isi antaraal main kisika sab khojaye to koi sabkuch paaye..
Vartamaan ka mahtwa beete kal ki smriti main aati hai
fir bhi kisi marichika ke piche bghaagne main zindagi gujar jati hai..
kyun hai ye itna zateel? itna katheen samajhna, samjhana
ishi pal main tumhare andar hai khushi, kisi aur main kyun dhundna?

 

Jeet

Choti kashti main sawar hum samandar laanghne chale
In toofaano ke uspaar aaj mukkadar se rishta baandhne chale
Ye parvat si lehrein kya bheedeingi humare honslon se
In zaahajon se aage aaj hum iteehaas rachne chale
dubone ki har kosish to ki thi unhone lekin
Unko kya karoge barbaad jinka safar khud samandar aabaad karne chale

That first little step

I was born disabled. Not able to eat on my own, not able to move even. We all were born disabled! I was worthless, of no use for many years. Just like you all were. But love brought me up. Love transformed my disabilities into multifacade abilities. I grew to be a more lovable human, who can love back and show gratitude for all the love I got when I was a disabled, demanding lesser self. But its love who made me take that first little step geared with curiosity and fearlessness and above all hope. Years have passed, I am a able man with stronger arms, legs, wiser brain and clear eyesight. But am I a better self? I don't know. Have I compromised on the very traits that  help me sail when I was a disabled growing baby? Am I as fearless, curious and hopeful? Can I be ready yet again to stumble, fall, stand up and take that first step? I started with nothing. I will end with nothing. But I can relive the moments of growing, building myself in a stronger and better way every time I take the little first step! I was ready when I was born. Am I ready when ever life demands me to be?

Truly
Abinash