A love story

Well its been quite long since I had written any fiction. Particularly fiction about love. You can say a love story. The last time I tried was some almost 2 years back and it had two parts and yet incomplete and then I never found any motivation to complete it. Nevertheless I want to write one again. Afresh and inspired. Fiction yet inspired. Hopefully I will complete it this time. :)

*-------------*--------------¯`•._.•{Love Story}•._.•´--------------*------------*






Dark it was when I opened my eyes. I don't know what woke me up. In a blink I was conscious out of deep sleep. Unvoluntarily my hand grabbed the mobile lying by. It read 4:24 a.m. Scrolling up in the message inbox I could give the most blissful smile possible. Everything in a predefined sequence. In a delicate manner. I just take a look on my palms joined together. Trying to figure out how accurate is the curvature that my heart lines cast when joined together. Some one had told the more they are curve the more possible it is to get your dream partner. Everytime I wake up in bed I do it. Everytime. And in the memory-lane it suddenly came upon me, just like that. I was driftted to the day, the day which still wakes me up. Puts the smile and makes me joint my palms in anticipation....
(A magical day, 2008, Bangalore)- Hurriedly I looked back at her. The same face with the same smile I would dream of, to love to and to be loved by. I could not resist the desire to keep the gaze on. The next moment I remember over the coffee table, I asked her "do you believe in love at first sight?" "No" She snapped. I smiled and said then you must be believing in love at third sight, I do. She smiled, silently. "Its your third sight for me". She smiled with eyes, biting the pink lips, blushing and looking down. The moment spoke it all. The moment of love. The "yes" reverberated with out being spoken. Yes she loved me too. Then each glance of her ever, was as magical as it was then. Everyday the love grew older by age, it grew younger by the intensity. As fresh as a blooming lotus, as warm as the first sunlight of winter. I slowly hold her hand in mine. The hands trembling, the lips open, the eyes in the eyes. We lived the moment. A sudden sense of belongingness, and a sudden sense of pride took over. Us. The sight became hazy in slow motion. The image became blur to blurer. The eyes had their share of it. They are empty nomore. Filled with the drops of joy, two small sparkling drops. In hers and in mine. The moment then came on to be the most exquisitely designed. Filled with bliss, surprize, happiness, warmth and just magic.
All the imagery run thru my eyes, as I lay on the bed, in the dark, remembering each moment of it. Living each second of it. May be this is the only way you can re-live the past. But its not my past. Its my present too and will be the future also. How does it feel to live the whole life in one single day? I ask myself. And I answer back. "Its awesome". When you deliberately stop the motor of life to keep harmonising in the same lovely moments that you define for it. I have been living it each moment since then.

"Again?" She woke up saying beside me. I smiled, as she came closer to my face to have a look like everyday. I smiled, took her hand in mine, and kept the gaze on just into her eyes. "Will you share the smile with me for the rest of our life? Will you be my bride every day till we breath? Will you let my love admire you till my heart beats and my mind can think?" .... She smiled. Again. I loved it. Not again, I never stopped loving it ever. "Yes, I will. I will with all the love, commitment and sweetness of this world, will be your bride for ever." the joyous beautiful lip moved to make these magical sound in the little air between her and me.
My arms around her, my head resting on her chest, she made me sleep, and we slept embraced with the shield of love.
It never felt I am old now. It never ever felt so. My eyesight has gone weaker, but I can still see her in the dark, my ear don not allow me to over hear anything anymore. Still I can listen her voice in every moment. I am old now. But I can feel her in me. And she says she is too old to blush. But she does when she sees me.
(One more magical day, 2048) "You slept?" "Ohh sweetu let me take you on my lap, I promised you I will never put you down, its my lap that can carry just one thing over hundred pound now, and thats you." Every day we come to this park, me and my love. Its been more than 30years we are married now. And each morning I wake up and see too. and we live the same moments. Its not life we have spent together for last 30 years now. Its magic. Each morning has been same for us I wake up dreaming of her and she makes me sleep in her lap. Its a saga of love. May be this is what they call love.
And this is what we call life.

P.S: Its fiction, but a dream. Its a story but an inspired reality.

* the header design is taken from a fellow blogger friend Raji's name style :)

Truly
Abinash

Thodi der

Thodi der. How long could thodi der be? One hour? two hour? may be a whole day; eh? But its been infinite at time. A thodi der that never comes ever. The clocks show the exact same time twice, thrice, and several times more but the thodi der never turns up. And you can't do anything about it. You dont master time, you dont master the promiser. You do master yourself and and do just that. Anticipations die out. a false assurance creeps in. A assurance which seems just timely false. You know it now and you knew it then too. But you srive yourself to believe that assurance. It gives pleasure. Its what you want.
And the time dies out.

Truly
Abinash

Hope

Hope is a strange thing. It makes you smile in adversity. It makes you look up when you fall in to an abyss. And give strength when life turns back at you. But I am in none of these kind of times. So I find a new aspect to it. It keep you happy when happy days are around. Its not the good time but the hope in it that makes us feel so good. So happy. And it does not take bad times to learn the strength of hope. Good times teach you more of it. I never want to loose hope. It keeps me happy. It gets me going. And it will till I die. Thanks for making me aware of this hope. :)

Lets hope, lets be happy.

Truly
Abinash

Lonely I feel happy

Lonely evenings sips in as the over accompanied days die out. Seclude, I take refuse in the well lit, room. Finding myself comfortable on the edge of the bean bag, just with a stare at a point. The scent is spread in the room. The zincs, dazzling here and there. The creases in the sheet, the coffee mug with standing exactly at the same place. The dust coat on the TV screen ornamented with her name. The place has just been decorated with beauty. The beauty which is absolute for me. Sill they seem to others. The sound of breathes resonating the air, the movements still reflecting everywhere. The smiles I feel inside me. The magical eyes looking directly into mine. The mystic sound of the voice. And the beautiful bright face. They just fit in to create magic, absolute magic.

Lonely I feel happy.

Truly
Abinash

Surreal

Surreal! The days of late have been just surreal for me. Unexpected, incoherent, almost a dream at times and near to nightmare at times. Things change. Cause they are supposed to. And I am supposed to remain serene to them. But seldom I do. Never in fact. I could smile at them not anymore. They hurt. Hurt right at where it pains the most. But then its life. And life is supposed to be weird. So it is. My eyes at times makes my sight hazy and floating. Its then I realize it has got a droplet of tear in it. Almost involuntary. I wipe out. And I just grow little stronger than what I was before the drop was born to my eyes. One month was never so long. It were the weekends that come as prized days. Not anymore. I hate them now. I just want 7 working days. I hate going back to wake onto a Saturday morning. A dead Saturday morning. Its surreal and unpleasing.

Truly
Abinash

And I just miss

The heartbeat increases, the mind loomed by thoughts suddenly I stand still. Reluctant to move. Even a step. No desire to look at anyone, anything. Just a spontaneous desire to go into a self exile. Just a nonsense may be still a wish to yell out loud and cry alone. The gravity does not feel so strong as a sense of weightlessness takes over. The fingers tremble before the eyes. Like I have just heard my death sentence. Little nervous I guess. No noise, no voice can enter my ears. Just I can hear myself. Restless I reach to the pocket, grab the mobile in despair and anticipation. But in vain. I put it in my pocket close to chest, not to miss a single beep. Even unconsciously. It never beeps. Its blank, like my mind. The throat feels dry and i gulp some water. But in vain the feel continues. And I continue to be empty. I just realize I am missing something or may be some one to be more correct. I just continue missing.

Feel a refugee

Human is indeed a weird creature. He can hurt himself and he can heal himself.
At times it feels like you are a refugee. A refugee, who is just a burden, nothing more, nothing less. No values he carries. No authority. Just he has been granted a wreck shelter and a few favors dumped upon. He has to take them all. To survive.
He can't speak. he is not supposed to. He does not worth a single word of love. He but a refugee. A burden. This feel comes at times. And it feels bad. Really bad.
You are refused a even one minute of celebration. You are reminded and re-reminded that you are just a refugee, granted few favors. Mind the limits or you will be banished from here too.
And you gulp the pain, accept the fact and live with the fear. You just try setting your love free and you are reminded. Again.

Truly
Abinash

Love the water way

A guy became a confidant on me of late. He came complaining of her girl friend. That she is not caring at all. He does so many things, he cares so much, ONLY he does. And by far such a relation can't grow much as only he cares, he told. It aint fair at all, he doing all good, and he being all good. As he claimed. I gave a smile. And completely disagreed. Orally and mentally. Just one thought went through "they are not in love". Or might be they are yet to understand what love is. But I did not utter it. Not everyone can understand this. People just so confine themselves in their own irrational thoughts that if you try to penetrate, you end up hurting yourself. I said lets assume you care a lot more than she does may be double than her. And he looked amused with my this assumption. I just gave him a small example. Example of water. Whats water? He went on, water is life as taught in primary school. Water is the reason of life on earth. Its the most important compound on earth. Its The most abundant compound also. And yet its the most precious compound.
I smiled giving a nod of acceptance. He said all the benefits he gets from it, and for him what it is is defined by what it can do for him. But naturally he is human. And this is human. He missed the most important part, what it is made up of? Its 2 part Oxygen and one part Hydrogen. Oxygen may be the most precious and important element. Its takes two parts of this most important and significant element and just one part of the other not so significant element to build the most precious compound. Oxygen never complains. :) But that way it builds water. Had it ever asked for even two parts of hydrogen it would be Hydrogen peroxide. Rather toxic which can kill. Just opposite as water, which can give life.
Everything that is great has a unique combinations of things. Appreciate it. Realize it. You love her because she is what she is. Appreciate it. A slight alteration can potentially convert this nectar into poison. Understand. Do not doubt things, keep the trust up. Its the foundation of love. Know the rare blend of your love story. Its unique. And just fall in love with that. It worths it.


P.S.:Read with attention and u can find the obvious flaw. :)
Truly
Abinash

A dream

She was standing right there. With a mild smile, looking directly into my eyes. A thin bunch of hair hanging over the right eye. Down till the pink lips. I moved slowly removed the hair like removing the veil with anticipation. Just to discover the most beautiful face beneath it. And the most beautiful heart beneath the face. I looked with admiration, with a sense of satisfaction. The smile was still intact. The love in her eyes, the warmth in her breathes. I raised my hand and put my fingers on her lips with elegance. The soft touch, the integrity of the pinkness. The desperation to speak the moment. The brimming words of love. Silent enough to be called quite lips. Loud enough to be called voice of love. A sound meant for the heart to understand. She moves a little with exquisite moves, breaking the silence of the moment. Her lips stuck close to the ear. The only voice audible remains hers. And the words like ever lasting, "I love you'.
And the alarm rings, I wake up, off the dream smiling trying to hold back to the dream. I move on to work the day. Still smiling. :)

Dimaag lagana mana hai

Dimaag lagana manaa hai. So dimaag nahin laga rahe. :)

Just a little yaad

Feelings are always weird. You never know how you would you feel until you feel it. The thought to be away and just be bonded by yaad feels good, when you know the away is not far enough to generate the sense of separation. But the same feel goes toxic when it feels separation. But I am lucky its not a separation for me. It can never be. I am assured. By her. And I trust, her. Always. She aint any far, I just close the eyes and feel her. With open eyes she lives in the pupils. Always reflecting in everything I see. She lives in me. As a part. Inseparable. When if separated the error in my life would be "Location not found for integral critical process, hazardous malfunction occured. System stopped working, responding. System will shut down."

The warmth

The most warming sense is always a nonsense to others. The most warming sense would be the anticipating eyes, the marvelous smile, the heart filled with satisfaction on the day's first glance at her. But it's nonsense. To others. But I never share a self with anyone. No others. I continue to hold the warmth. Looking beyond the day.
I feel her completely in the images I create. I feel her soft fingers waving to me. I feel her expressive eyes speaking with her softness. I come out of the imagination. Just to find he is not all mine. I ma her in her personal world. I feel the irresistible desire to reach her. I see a bunch of worn out faces. Making all sort of preposterous acts like they are there to kill my desires and in turn hers.
I just move back to imagination safeguarding her smile and with the solace and asset that she loves me.

Truly
Abinash

A new smile A new day

The first sight is always appealing. Gorgeous, bright and beautiful.
Like a blossoming flower, her eyes would open, with the curved eye lashes departing to make way for the glitter of her eyes enlighten everyone. The shinning hair neatly bound to reflect perfection. Confused she turns her head to search. To search her love, which her wondering eyes had dreamt of the whole night restlessly awaiting for the morning. Not to miss the first glimpse of him. The pink lips little moist desperate to render a smile at him. His eyes meets with hers. The moment stops. Stops for ever. The smile is rendered with purity the same artistic way petals are rendered on a blossoming flower. He lives the moment the whole day long. The next day brings in a new smile a new life.

Truly
Abinash

I am unromantic

Now comes a doubt of doubts. After struggling with thoughts to find out an answer myself, when I failed miserably, I took refuse in internet and then correlated it with what perception I carried. Will juxtapose both what I found and what I thought here.
What is it "being romantic"? How to be?
Well the literally meaning would be like:
Adjective:
1. Belonging to or characteristic of Romanticism or the Romantic Movement in the arts
2. Expressive of or exciting sexual love or romance
3. Not sensible about practical matters; idealistic and unrealistic
Noun:
1. A soulful or amorous idealist

Well going by its meaning as an adjective, I certainly am not romantic. At all.
I am not part of any romantic movement.
I am not an expressive sexual lover
I am not unrealistic, non pragmatic thinker. Might be I am not a thinker at all.

So By definition I ma not romantic and I would want to be one.
Now after wondering over many sites and pondering over many facts, I guess they are facts (Please check Here ), Again I realized I never have any such compulsion to any of the mentioned things. Neither I would like to have these abilities in me. So again I am not romantic.
Then I wondered is it really so I ma not romantic, and i researched and bumped into this link, Here. Now as per this link yes I ma romantic. I am not monotonous. I love to say I love you. I never show any disregard.
I make my way of doing things, saying things. Never let go small things, as i just love every small things too. Well I am just not much sincere. I agree. Now thats single point does not disqualify me from being romantic.

This is what the result I got after the comparative analysis of being romantic with internet data. Now coming to my very own perception, it goes as below:

Being romantic is being honest at the first place. Honest all the time and keeping the dignity up all the time.
Its being in killing the ego, to let the person in your life, to understand the needs and desires of the person. Its about the honest care and the feel of longing that comes naturally. It in letting her feel that you love her, not just say it.
It in respecting her liberty. Its in being the most trustworthy person in her life. Its being in making her feel the most comfortable in the world like a child in mother's womb. Its in giving her the sense of belonging.
I always believed this is what is called being romantic. Never knew that the world perceives it differently, like in gifting a surprise on a special occasion as if not every day u spend with her is special. In following a hundred weird way to speak that you love her. In kissing her with out regarding her comfort. In giving a card or flowers on a meet and utter out few emotional nonsense, which will carry no values in the course of time.
Sorry I am not romantic. And I prefer not to be.
I can'y make my love the slave of few false acts. I declare I am unromantic. And I take pride in it.

The eyes

"You deserve the best" she declared. Looking right into the eyes. I guess she was looking for her own image in my eyes. I don't remember taking breath, with my eyes transfixed into hers. Tiny black eyes, carrying thousand large dreams. The small droplet in there told the saga of love they carried. She loves my eyes she would say. I will smile, at her, at what she said. I wanted to speak with unbound emotion but restrained. I wanted to say, I don't love your eye. Only. I love the tiny black pupil where I find my self reside. Like a black pearl on a white fur. I love the small droplets that moist your eye just to magnify the beauty. I love the eye lashes curved to perfection, to protect the dreams. I love the way she moves her eyes in almost slow motion and I follow is all along. Not to let go even a single glance. Its precious to me.And she looks back, with the same reassuring love. Oh the pleasure. And I behold it for eternity.

Truly
Abinash

A morning magic

The door is always kept ajar. The morning ray would stealth through it and awake me every day. I will wake up with half closed eyes. Half closed because the desire to get cozier under the blanket is too irresistible. Then the half open eyes take over the closed counterpart. Half open because it can see the morning ray, the golden stream spread across, my face. But then I prefer to hold back for a while. Hastily looking for the mobile just to see if an sms has beeped unnoticed. For its she who would take over my conscious mind inevitably. Her face will run through both my eyes. Closed and open. She lives in me, all the time. I will smile at myself. Try to recollect each word of the conversation we would have had the last night. Each word she had written I would try to hear with her voice speaking in my ears. I could almost feel her whispering. Her soft words touching me right at my heart. I forget its morning. I forget its wake up time.
I stay back. She filled in each part of my life.
Suddenly I realize I am already late for office. :)

Truly
Abinash

A trust I lost

Not many times I do it. Not even once in a while. Last I felt my cheeks
wet, eyes closed, mind blank and lips trembling some years back on what I
don't remember.
Standing at the edge of the balcony, facing the chilly wind with bare body
gave a soothing pleasure as I felt the salty liquid on my tongue, running
all the way from the eyes, like a moist fountain coming to life. A respect lost, a trust lost. The birth of tear take the deaths of many. Trust, respect, smiles, love. To live is to stand by a code, a code of values. It was a great day till then. When suddenly it perished. Turned around staring right at my face, laughing at my helpless disposition. I felt nothing, no pain, no chill of the winter, no danger of falling, no sense of love, no sense of loathe, just a cord of apathy. I moved back. few steps to a safer position, to realize the fountain had died again. And no more I could feel the salty taste on my tongue. The mark of tear remained like a scar on earth's face by a dead river in a summer too hot to survive. The river succumbed, so as the tears. I moved back, smiled. Shrugged off everything in the hope tomorrow I will revive the day. The same way like yesterday and wont let the dark win. Never. I wont be a looser tomorrow. My lost faith was nonexistence. Its dead now, with the passing day. It will revive. It will reborn. I am not giving up. My trust and love will rejoice again. With sunrise, like the sunshine.

The fight, the smile and the day

She usually does not speak. So I make things unusual to make her speak. In my way. Fighting over nonsense issue, or just nonsense to be more accurate. Complaining over and over on the same monotonous mistakes, or just an act to be more accurate. Pampering her. Always. Overriding her on every small things. They she speaks; she speaks with conviction. And I just stare on. Smiling. With the pretension to be listening to her carefully but no word would enter me. Just the soothing voice, a song for me, I get possessed. She suddenly finishes, her explanations. Deliberation to convince me. In vain. She knows I can only be self convinced. She even knows I don't listen her explanation. I am thoughtful she believes, when she speaks. But am not. I am actually thoughtless. For I am obsessed with something else. Her. Her smile. Here eyes.
The day ends we bid adieu. The next day comes for her the next morning. For me the last day never ends, it just gets little prolonged, little too prolonged. And I start my prolonged day in a dream as she starts in a reality. And it all happen again. The fight, the day, the obsession and the prolongation.

Truly
Abinash

New blog launched

Hi All there,
Have created a new blog (http://amorphouscrystal.blogspot.com/) with first ever post in it.
It will contain analysis of current events of my interest.
Check it out Here

Truly
Abinash

An evening, with her and with nothing

It was a silent evening. Little chill which can actually give the sense of warmth.
A little silence which can give the sense of calmness. People, the colors, the chill wind, the shinning lights, the starry sky and the full moon, rendered in perfection just to meet my imagination. I was restless to out reach myself. It was she who was waiting for me. I stepped up, and my eyes met hers. She was looking indirectly which was too direct to be resistible. Like always at her sight, my heart out pace itself, face became bright and the lips half open in anticipation. She remained calm and indifferent. Like always. I sat looking into her eyes. The bright face, the neatly done hair, the glow filled clothes, the weird nail polish, the smiling eyes. I wished I could behold them for ever, like this in a silent moment where it belonged to me. Only me. I took my eyes off her playing a stroke on my lips, almost a smile. I remained in the joy like my nerves had lost the apparent consciousness. Swam to and fro in that small moment I wish I could spend my life in that tiny space. I jerked back to reality, the noise playing a random symphony, the still image of crowd moving fast. And she looking away with the same indifference.
I smiled again. But It made all difference to me. To me it was few of the best moments for rest of my small life. To which she is indifferent might be.
And it was a time when anything meant absolutely nothing.

Truly
Abinash

Being outsider

Its a weird feeling. The feeling of being an outsider or worst of being an intruder. Life is like sphere. Soap bubbles in the air.. fundamentally free but practically bound by gravity. And the miracles happen and these bubbles merge to create a yet bigger bubble, merging their life and merging their horizons. But there exist people like who just stay on, being just an on looker. And suddenly driven by this irresistible desire to bump into some one'e life, the sphere. By own choice. But as soon as you realize the other life has no value for your choice, you forget the choice was yours. It hurts then. It hurts in an unending way. You are left stranded, just looking at from outside, with no strings attached, by yourself. Like the bubble heading to merge but just collided and bounced back. Being outsider.
The sense is painful. At times too overwhelming to be circumvented and you just succumb to it.
You remain an outsider, or an intruder, with dying out desires and failed dreams. Half drowned wishes and gloomy smiles.
Still you are the driver of your own life, and you can drive the bubble away from the gravity of the other. Just moving on in the search of, may be, self.

My idle mind :)

Well goes the well known adage "An idle mind is devils workshop".
I realized my idle mind is her workshop. :) Not idle actually to be honest. She is there in my working mind as well. Now its debatable when my mind is working and when its idle. Appreciate my honesty for it that I proclaim the confusing status of my mind. :) But almost every time I am conscious of my thoughts I find my self pondering on her. So not quite surprisingly my mind is mostly idle.
I see a lot of imagery and I am the director. But a director driven by the fantasies of her. The same familiar and lovable face with that I-can-die-for-it smile. The same way of looking from the corner of her eyes. The same way blushing when I smile back at her. And all at my personal space of mind.
I choose to be idle. I choose to be driven. I choose to be with her for ever.

Fire, light and smoke

The sounds were screaming in my ears. The lights lighting my eyes. I could see smoke and noise around. People rushing form one end to other. Running off the spot.
The place soon became darker,as soon as the sound died out leaving only numb ears.
The place looked scattered. I could see a torn piece of cloth lying orphan in the fading smoke. The numb ear responded to the cry of a child who could hardly speak.
I took my eyes off it and put it back on the fire and the smoke. The light was deem and the smoke no more. Then the next instant it came all over again. A few steps far from the earlier. The fire, the light, the smoke and the ear numbing sound.
I was standing on my terrace looking down how the boys were exploding the fire crackers in joy in the eve of diwali. :)

Truly
Abinash

Still Lost

In the late evening, or early morning. In the broad day light or in the night's darkest side. Amidst a million people or marooned in an island. The sense is as intense as its now. The sense of this shadowy feeling. The feeling of being lively.
A repulsive desire drifts me in an garbled fashion. And I feel lost. lost between dreams and reality. Love and rejection. Smile and frown. A node of yes and a node of no. A self too fragile and a self too strong. A life with her and a life alone. A day with her and a day in empty thoughts. A hope and a realization.
But all that remains is the fact I fell lost. I look too despicable. I jerk back to reality. I jerk back to now. Leaving the sweetness of the fantasies alone marooned in some isolation. Her being would clearly transit form reality to just a desire, from I reached her to I am lost. I jerk back to reality and I move on. Smiling. Still Lost. :)

Truly
Abinash

Of late is often too late

The realization that comes in of late are often too late. The feeling of not being some one's first love or not being love at all. The sense of being pitied. The feeling of not being so charming. The sense of rejection. The worries of perpetuation. The declined happiness. The loneliness. The refuge in solitude. The sense that you are just as volatile at some one's heart who is as permanent and constant at yours. But things happen, like anything else. Things change and take different shape like everything else. Life is as weird as it is. And you at some point in future would look back at it, what you now call present. Then nothing would remain neither this pain nor this emptiness. But you would give a smile, just a smile at yourself. and you will move on. Thats life, strange, wild and deep. But some feelings that comes of late are never too late.. like the realization "even this will pass".

Truly
Abinash

Nagma-e-Sayari

Of late I have got a growing interest on Urdu poetry.
A deliberated effort I to live upto the interest... few from my pen :)

Pyaar

Uff.. si ek awaz nikli,
jo tera deedaar hua..

humne bas tumhari taraf dekha aur
pyaar hua

saam ki angdai mein tasavvuur se baithe the
Jab tera khayal ayaa

kya tumhein bhi wo kasak hai bechein dil mein sawal ayaa...
---------------------------------------------
Kashak

ish kasak ko kya naam dein
kya naam dein is sisak ko

ishq ki fardoshi hai ya hai
nagma-e-Diwanapan

Gul bhi suna lage, lage bekaar gulistan
jitna zikra ho mehboob ka fir bhi lage afsana kam.
----------------------------------------------
Dard-e-Ish

"Chup rehneki meine sajaa hai pai.
zeeban main jaise khamoshi hai chai.
Dard mein zeena to humne sikhh liya,
Par dard kise kehte hain ye tum ne sikhai."
-----------------------------------
Kya khoya, kya paya

"Dard to bana he zeeban ka saaya.
Jo hume he khoya, wo tumne he paya.
Saath to tum kabhi the hi nahi,
Bas dhoondh si thi , use bhi humne suna hai payaa."
-----------------------------------
Manzeelein

"zeeiban mein manjilein to humne bhi paayi thi,
Par pata na tha in manjeelon par aakar hum rah bhatak jaayenge,
Manjil to khodiya ab to rah bhi gum gai".
-----------------------------------
Thokar

"Hum aansu to dikhaya nahi karte,
Kyun ki samjhne wale paas hua nahi karte.
Ise pyaar keh kar aapne bhi dhutkara...
Phark kya kai jab zamaane ne bhi he thokar maara."
------------------------------------

Hum laye hain tooofan kasti main daal ke - :P

I love a master piece of a song from early 50's ("Hum laye hain toofan se kasti nikaal ke...", what I din't know was that it has got a Pakistani version from that time. Have a look :)
The Indian Version




Now having watched that, see the Pakistani version :)

FYI ....

I thought of writing a poem. I wrote it. I wrote two infact. But was asked not to publish here. So am not posting them. Anyway.

Matlab ka sansaar

Matlab ka sansaar ye hai matlab ka sansaar....
Sabkuch hai bekaar, yahan pe sab kuch hai bekaar.

Haani laabh ki tulna hoti, dukh ka hai byapaar..
Matlab ka sansaar ye hai matlab ka sansaar.

log bure, buri hai ye duniya, bura iska adhaar
Matlab ka sansaar ye hai matlab ka sansaar

Lahu se hori khel hai hota, hota hai deh byapaar..
Bol ka na koi mol yahan par, bas milte hain tiraskaar
Matlab ka sansaar ye hai matlab ka sansaar

Prem bhav jo machal uthe kahin, cheere use nafrat ka dhaar
Bhabnaon ki na koi kadra yahan pe, na hai wosulon ka koi bhaar
Matlab ka sansaar ye hai matlab ka sansaar

On true Love

About Love

A whole lot of literature has been written, spoken and understood on the same constant topic LOVE. I am a minnow in the same. What do I know about it is too small might be. But What do I understood is honest and by self analysis, not from preexisting literature or gyan. I have had never experienced love ever before, till now what ever wittings I had published here on the topic was imaginary and not by experience. Here it goes what I had earned the hard way:

Love is feeling. A feeling of greatness and righteousness. Being self righteous is love for being self righteous enables you to choose between whats love is and what its not. Is it about pursuing it as if its a goal to achieve? Or is it in possession? I am afraid its not. Its about pursuing the fact or being righteous and gaining honest. Naked honesty. Its about respecting the values of the beloved. Standing by the commitment of the beloved. A commitment is commitment. She is not committed to me but the fact is she is committed. And I must respect this commitment for I love her. Love lies not is possessing the physical entity but in the courage to behold it even with out it. The materialistic possession of the body might give me solace but the solace of fallacies. Truth lies beneath it. I have to seek it if at all I love. I have to understand love lies in respecting guarding her respect and values not in sacrificing them for mere feeling of being master. The body dies with you even the values and even the sense of love. But what lives on is the re-definition of love bequeathed from era to era. And love for me as I have understood is in respecting her commitment and not in realizing my materialistic emotions. I am a mortal man bonded with emotions too but I have this curse of righteousness on me. I have to live by it. I still love her. I still. But the power of Love takes away the "I", "still" and "her" from it. All that remains is the virtue of LOVE. Till eternity. I love you. Still and till and until.

Truly
Abinash

Transition

It was crowded like any other day. shiny cars
with beautiful ladies inside halting at the red
traffic light. And in the hustle of crowd people
running off the foot path to make a fortune
though tiny from this halted traffic of rich.
Except for one. The little boy, crying silently
on the footpath. Eyes just brimming with tear, yet
to come out. The silent cry lost in the noisy
engines. Bare body he did not care about how rich
these people are and how poor his fellow mates
are. All he cared about was about his need. He
needed care. Getting off the bike I went slowly
to the kid, asked his name but got two droplets of
tears running down the black chicks as answer.
At least I freed what he was holding back. Tears.
He didn't care even about me or my existence. He
ran back on the footpath till he reached a
distance he felt safe. Looked back at me. I
smiled, he cried.Again. And he vanished from my
sight. I could no longer hear the noise of the
engines nor of those rich man shouting on their
cell phones. It was a silent world for me. I was
waken back to the noisy reality by a traffic
constable shouting over my shoulder for my
license and why I have parked the bike on the
footpath. In almost slow motion I could feel
myself drifting from what I feel real to what
they feel real. From silence to noise. From
individual need to mass desire. From myself to
the political society. I went on.

P.S. It was on this Koramangala signal (near my

office) Tuesday morning.

Truly
Abinash

The half lit day.

The shades are always half lit. Half lit is also half dark. You wake up appreciating the day. But the day does not always appreciates you. I asked for just a smile and what I got was a anything but a smile. I smiled but. The same way I used to. At least the same way I try to. The thirst of her smile remains a morning dream. Like looking for dew on a petal when sun is at the top. I take a look back on the figure which I can see quickly becoming a shade. For me. And a shade is always half lit. Half lit is also half dark.

Truly
Abinash

The conscious stupidity

succeed in being smart. Walking down the busy road your eyes catch up to some one's style and almost in voluntarily you emulate it. Spontaneously. Speaking in a meeting you suddenly realize people are watching you and the action changes. The consciousness of the disposition becomes apparent. You are explaining something and suddenly you realize some one is listening to you.... the pitch changes, the ascent changes the words changes. Everything which was natural and unconscious (at least superficially) becomes unnatural and conscious(deeply). You realize you are behaving in a weird or stupid way, suddenly who console yourself with false assumptions. That can't be me. No my fault. At least not now.
And all these are conspicuous when you are with some one of opposite sex (I assume all readers are straight sexually).
Wonder of wonders The above logic applies most of the time on both or all the people involved almost making everyone conscious of everyone's stupidity.
But still it has been the way since ages and it will continue to be till ages. Kudos. :)

Truly
abinash

Let the letter go!!!!

They all seem to be happy and excited in the start. The start was good. Slowly and steadily each one had their turn. To kill the excitement. The excitement turned into sarcasm and then to dull dismal spirit eventually to loathe. They all stood there frowning at each other as I looked on smiling. Fake sympathy flowed so rhetoric of commitments. The dejected faces and the hostile demeanor gave them that sinful bliss. Restless on the seat and the day through out they kept the topic on fire. "It's unfair justice to me" some one would say. I wondered if its unfair how come its justice? They rebuked they reproached.
An unhappy flow of living man gathered, and recited the anthem of false hood. I was asked if I am happy, I replied "Hum to nappy main bhi happy" (Come on let the letter go. U are happy. You are getting more than what you have. Reason to smile). It was the day we got the salary appraisal letters. :)

Truly
Abinash

The day was on my side

I looked at her. Again. A smile ran through my eyes reaching beyond the feeling. The bright stern face, the glittering eyes and the dangling earing creating a rhythm. The lips half open. And pink. I realized how pink did pink looked.
She unaware of my glare at her turned her back on me. Again. But the hairs with an aroma and shine were still worth watching. I kept my gaze on. The morning seemed to be on my side. She turned a little pretending almost trying to avoid an eye contact. But it was an eye contact. I still hold the gaze. She smiled from the corner of her eyes. Almost realizing I was waiting for it.
The saw the fingers with pink gel. Straight and agile. Even they spoke like her eyes. I moved on. Again. And the day came to an halt. The day was on my side. I earned this beauty. I earned her smiling eyes that day.

Truly
Abinash

Viveka nanda on Maya

The eternal words of truth uttered with eternal faith by a legendary saint Swami Vivekananda:

In one of his lectures in California, the swami described about his condition during wandering days as follows:

“

Many times I have been in the jaws of death, starving, footsore, and weary; for days and days I had no food, and often could walk no farther; I would sink down under a tree, and life would seem to be ebbing away. I could not speak, I could scarcely think, but at last the mind reverted to the idea: "I have no fear nor death; never was I born, never did I die; I never hunger or thirst. I am It! I am It! The whole of nature cannot crush me; it is my servant. Assert thy strength, thou Lord of lords and God of gods! Regain thy lost empire! Arise and walk and stop not!" And I would rise up, reinvigorated; and here I am today, living! Thus, whenever darkness comes, assert the reality and everything adverse must vanish. For after all, it is but a dream. Mountain-high though the difficulties appear, terrible and gloomy though all things seem, they are but Maya. Fear not, and it is banished. Crush it, and it vanishes. Stamp upon it, and it dies.

”

Lakshya Ki Talaash mein - Reposted

I had written it on Thursday, October 26, 2006
Dont know why fely like posting it again and here it goes.
Lakshya Ki Talaash mein......
--------------------------------

Ujjwal aasmaan mein,
Ek tim tima ta taara tha,
Use dekh har roz mera dil soche,
Kya ye meri taraf koi ishara thaa,
Yun to taare bahat hai aasman mein,
Par wohi taare pe kyun lage hai man,
Jis din dhake aasma badal se,
Udaasi saa lage ye jiban.

Par yun to ishwar ne banaye hain taare asma ke liye,
Is dharti pe rehke mein unko kya paao ,
Nih sabda swapna se mein kya laon.

Yun to ishwar ne he isara diya,
Taaron ke liye tumhe chunaa hai aasman,
Jaana hai gagan k us paar aur banana hai pehchaan.
Tabhi mein samjha kya woh ishara thaa ,
Jo mere liye ek tim tima ta tara tha.
Ab manjil ki he samajh mujhko, jana hai bahat duur,
Us aasman ko chuonga mein , gagan k par bhi jaaunga mein.
Ab raste ki hai pehchaan mujh ko, jo bhram mein gaya tha bhool.

Ab apni khud ki samajh hai mujh ko, jise samjha tha meine dhool.
Pakad hai majboot abhi, lakshya nishaane par,
Bas dekhna hai dum hai mujhmein kitna wahan pahanch pane par.
Ishwar ki is prakruti ne sikhaya bahat kuch hai,
Ab dekhna hai meine sikha kya hai?

Jis lakshya ke liye hai janm mera, ushe safal prabal kar jaana hai mujhe,
Bahak gaya tha taare ko dekh kar, ki har subah ek ujjal suraj bhi hai.

Denial is painful - in all forms.

....Lately I am a distinct looser, appeased with my loss and fugitive discordant set of emotions!!! But I am still distinct.

... this is what my Google talk status message says. Denial is painful. In all forms. Human is not merely a social animal, human is also an emotional animal. I preach about correct use of emotions. Power of emotion and all those abstruse stuffs, all along. But of late I realize I am a mere man too. Like any one else. A mere mortal fighting a battle to over come the apparent flaws in the way we live. At the end of the day when I stand in front of the mirror I realize I have gained no more than only the knowledge of the truth. Knowing and doing are different. I just know. I have failed to do. And that makes me vulnerable and fragile. I feel pity. Pity for myself. Helpless I feel. But feelings are transient I am aware but also I know they are too overwhelming at times to be controlled. And I feel let down. As I am feeling now. The discordant emotion take shape of incoherent thoughts and drive no they drift me the way they want. And my remnant is no more than an entity in harmonic motion. From one ext ream to other restlessly.
Denial ignites this flame and the uncontrolled emotions fuel it. I remain just a shadow in this unreal world. I become a flaw. I become a mad mind desperately seeking some solace. Some sympathy. Seeking every where but within. Because I know if I seek it with in I will find it. I don't want that. I enjoy this madness. I like this hopeless despair some how. I find peace in looking at my soul succumb to the madness. I rejoice over it. I remain a different me.
Denial is painful. In all form. Thats what just remain. The pain and the denial.

I ma tagged

6 Whatevers about me:

1. I am looking for a girl friend.
2. I love people,animal, computers, fire arms, books, camera, food, gym.
3. I am lazy, bad listener at times, indifferent and solemn.
4. I used to be a principled guy, not anymore. I used to be look conscious, not anymore.
5. I used to be non vegetarian, then vegetarian and now again vegetarian.
6. I do some amateur photography, and maintain blogs, irony is that I don't have a camera.

5 things I miss in my life right now:

1. I miss my school day.
2. I miss a girl friend.
3. I miss my mom and my home.
4. I miss Jb, and Shankar da.
5. I miss my days when I was a principled guy :P

10 things I wanna achieve within a decade:

1. top the CSE.
2. Achieve inner peace to fullest,
3. To learn boxing, 5 other languages, learn swimming and walk through deep forest on bare foot.
4. Write a book.
5. To build a house and buy a car for my mom.
6. To kill a few criminals.
7. To learn the fact of life.
8. To build a hanumaan temple in my new house.
9. To go on several blind dates
10.The most important to become a Yogi if at all I am destined to

Book tag:

**Pick up the nearest book.Open to page 123.Find the fifth sentence.Post the next three sentences.Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

**The nearest book is Devine Reality and @page 123 it has got exactly 5 sentences and a picture. So after that I dont have nayline to write.

Finally in Love

It was little different then usual. It was a day I felt the feeling. The innocent beautiful face almost in slow motion would move on my eyes. The lips would stretch a little to be called smiling. And I smile. The smile of immature love. The smile of solace you find no where else. she would look at me. And I feel the chill looking into her deep, adorable brown eyes. A sublime current euphoria would run through my body and I take my eyes away in an almost involuntary way, almost because it is voluntary. The man ego plays the role. You can't be staring at some one. But pretend the eye contact is accidental. The demeanor must reflect some kinda of false attitude. But love is overwhelming when ever it strikes, may be thats why its not a emotion and residue of all others, thats why its love. The most powerful of anything. A deep force of confession, ecstasy, revival, life, hope, will and divinity. Love.
In a chase of her one glimpse I would behave in almost stupid way. Almost for other don't catch it. You are not stupid as long as you are considered wise. She won't let me have that satisfaction of at least acquaintance. But I am glad. The characteristic of acquaintances would devise a screen of politeness never can be removed. Better be unknown. Who wants to know? Love does not demand cognizance, love lies in pure ignorance. Love lies in the submission of everything for the sake of faith. Its past, hence its a fact. That I loved her. But its still in the present so its a lively fact. And truth in present is as rare as time in past. I wont loose it. Its mine.
And the I love her is mine too.

The shadow and Me

A lighted cigarette in hand, few moist hairs hanging out and self deceiving smile. The re-imaging of self image while siting on my bed listening to gazal and struggling to type correctly I could think of only what I have become lately. What I am out for? What is it I want? Am I lonely? have I realized of late that I am a moron? Am I a intellectually handicapped guy? Or is it that I have become too complex? Do I do the things I do? Do I do them for I want to do or for I pretend that I want to do? Perplexed, annoyed I swhich off all the thoughts. Then I regain, I regain myself. I feel that chill. I feel my own possession. I am smiling again but this time its not deceiving its reassuring. I take a gaze on myself and here I am standing in the balcony staring involuntarily at the shadow before me. It my shadow. I think how my shadow has become longer than me, all most but not quite like a monster. I try out run my shadow, I fail. I try out last my shadow I fail. I try our cast my shadow I fail.
I realize my shadow is my self image. My shadow is as false as my body and my shadow is what gives me the courage, there is light even behind me. I have traveled a path of light. For I can see my shadow i have defeated darkness. Then My shadow moves with me, and I cant see it no more. I cant see it no more for I have realized the direction. I need not see it any more. The shadow has served its purpose. I am on the right path now. I am in the direction of the source. The source of light. My shadow made me turn around and seek the source. The dark shadow. The ugly monstrous shadow.
The life is same. The life does it all. It gives dark and monstrous opportunities to realized the path. To realize the source. Turn around set your face off it. Follow the infinite. Don't follow your shadow, let it follow you. Thats where lies life.

Truly
Abinash

Life is where lies light.

"Its a choice. A choice of yours to decide if you want to change your notion. For your believes are not going to outlast you. Neither you are going to outlast them. Both will cease to exist. Move on, get over it, you are as mortal as your thoughts. Understand the fact and understand the existence. The stubborn mind is fugacious. Then what for you feel the pride in? You are "never-lasting" what you misunderstand it to be "ever-lasting". The actions won't remain the same, they will change and they will die. The remnant you confuse to have in this world after you depart will die. The world will die. This is a mortal world. Understand. The "system" the life, the choices all are on the same mortal cord still they have their stints. Understand the purpose of action, nature and the changes. The system creates scope for you every moment to understand it, to pursue the fact. The scope is here in every moment like light. The life is like the spectrum of light. Travels in all possible directions in all [possible dimensions at each point of existence. This speaks the immortal existence of the being. The unconditional and un-dimentional existence. Understand the scope, understand the system.
Don't waste this coherence of transience in unnecessary psychology. The emotions are a strong equipment for understanding the system. Don't mislead yourself faraway with the illusion that its ever lasting. Understand its "never-lasting."
Give up the unnecessary psychological cord. Apathy is where lies the key to understand inner existence.

Truly
Abinash.

A trivial conversation with substantial expression.

Well weird though profound. Crap still intellectual. And a mere conversation yet a powerful expression. Check HERE to know what it is. Its a small conversation and one amazing guy Shailesh (Shallu bhai as I call him). He has got some nice posts in there. Check them out :)

Truly
Abinash

And still she was standing

She was looking straight into my eyes, motionless and wordless. The dark face, though surprisingly calm and beautiful, the tiny body naked except for the worn out small skirt, the swinging hands more like a pendulum as if the body is too weak to carry them. The hairs scattered and untidy, brown and uncombed, dry and unoiled, dead and dusty. She stood there with the distended belly emerging out of the small torso, encrusted nose. The face carried mark from all over the time speaking of their own saga. One she might have got collecting plastic in the garbage bin. The other below the right eye she might have got while running to avoid the barking mad dog. The encrusted wounds she might have got a thousand times. But she stood there with a faint smile. The marks speaks of her suffering and undefined and uncared pain. But she stands their with an innocence still intact, dreams still preserved and the unseen hope. She is too small to understand the politics of living world but surely she understands the morning sun, the evening moon and the chilly wind. may be thats why she still stands there looking straight into the eyes, with the anticipation she is ceased of.

P.S. Yesterday while returning home from office took a stop in a store to buy a Pulpy Orange beverage drink. And I found her standing near a drain and looking at me. I was confounded and and I confusingly but with conviction gave her the pulpy orange, reluctantly she accepted and stayed still looking at me. :)

Truly
Abinash

मौत आती है पर नहीं आती

कोई उम्‌मीद बर नहीं आती
कोई सूरत नज़र नहीं आती

मौत का एक दिन मु`अय्‌यन है
नींद क्‌यूं रात भर नहीं आती

क्‌यूं न चीख़ूं कि याद कर्‌ते हैं
मिरी आवाज़ गर नहीं आती

हम वहां हैं जहां से हम को भी
कुछ हमारी ख़बर नहीं आती

मर्‌ते हैं आर्‌ज़ू में मर्‌ने की
मौत आती है पर नहीं आती

क`बे किस मुंह से जाओगे ग़ालिब
शर्‌म तुम को मगर नहीं आती

* Courtesy The Legendary Mirza Galib

Frustration's medicine - Marriage

Yesterday I met one of my friends (not exactly more of an acquaintance than a friend). Quite surprisingly she was excited to see me! After exchanging formal greetings I happened to ask so whats new? "When are to getting married?". "In june." :P I was taken a back. I just asked that as I didnt have have anything else to ask. Now she says she is really getting married. I banged on the target all by chance. I said so "you got the perfect man, eh?" "I don't know" she responded. Its an arrange marriage. I was surprised again. she used to be the one who scorns arrange marriage and a devotee of so called love marriage. Now its she before me proclaiming her marriage in an arranged manner. I said "but you never wanted to get a guy "arranged" for you?" Yeah but you see its the perfect age to get married and you should. But does there a perfect age for something? I mean its about the guy you gonna spend the rest of your life(at least supposed to) and how come you can decide on something so important on the sheer basis of age? "Its the time a girl must get married." My thought its not the right time you are talking about getting married you are talking about girl. You are really really pissed off being single and not getting the TDH, guy with attitude. Its that you are now restless with the inner desire to lose the tag of virginity. You want to sleep with a man ain't u.I told her "is it that you are really want to get married just that you feel its the age?" She was uncomfortable with question and the friendly disposition changed instantly. That revealed it all. Its not the age its the desire. Its no more like, I am want to have sex as I am married. Its like I want to be married as I want to have sex. Even I want to sleep with a girl but just that I have not put it so high on my list of priority and desires, so am not desperate to get married just to sleep and no more be single and frustrated

I am He

The sun was fading-in paving way for the half lit moon. The whole world seemed to be dying in with the dying sun.
The moon was taking over sun and the darkness over light. The wind too changed the direction so as the birds. I was standing on the edge of the day where it was not going to end but begin the next morning. Arms spread out to embrace the scent that the soothing wind would bring with it. Like a man who know himself I stood there with the definite indifference, unprecedented. And then I asked "Who am I". And I got the reassuring answer "I am Him". Looking directly the moons and the millions of sparkling stars into the eyes, I could realize my nonexistence. Gravity seems to be broken and with it the fear of falling, falling of weight, falling with time, falling in life. The whole world was a theme, a beautiful theme conspiring against and for you. There was a feeling never before, there was a desire never desired, there was a sense never felt. There was me, and I was possessed by myself. I am He.

Truly
Abinash

The difference

It was raining outside, each drop falling with a
resonating sound, creating the immortal smell of
soil. The drops would fall and spread as dancing
ripples. The whole flow was predefined and
beautiful beyond consciousness.
Standing on the edge of porch all my thoughts
could assimilate is the memory of a similar
evening, a evening which had one exception to it.
I was not alone. Her presence made all the
ambiance and the horizon more convincing, more
desirable and I embraced them all. The whole new
feeling was blessed with her mesmerizing smell,
the sharp touch and the glittering beauty.
The whole new world seemed to be recreated at the
marvelous stroke of the artist who created.
The whole theme of life was revived with the thought of her presence. Thats the only difference between the rainy evening then and now. Thats the only difference.

Truly
Abinash

A philosophy for life

Life should be lived looking forward and not back ward they say. But how do one looks forward? I learned it may be the way to anticipate goal and achievements for yourself and live by the sheer joy and hope that some day you will achieve them. Some day for sure. This philosophy of living is rather filled with illusions still one can suffer the transient happiness. subtly you deceive yourself in a way that it becomes all most an addiction. A crazy obsession that thrives with the time. You try to get solace with this preoccupied confounded brain which knows nothing but few of these unrealistic still widely claimed futuristic materialistic possessions. They soon become the guiding rule for the life and you are drifted towards the agony of behemoth ignorance. This deflection of self away from self is what they call as life.
But when u start to take retrospective approach of philosophy of living. You may suffer a transient discordance of brain and heart, but it will lead you closer to a path which can be traversed by none other than your self. The past sins and the achievement will enlighten your present and not future in contrast with the futuristic approach of life. But then its the present thats alive for past is dead and future is not born yet. The suffering comes when we consume the present to produce the future - which is undefined. We afford to loose the present and forget the time bygone to be in the fake euphoria and not ecstasy. A true happiness can be achieved when we look back at past and realize the present and never care about the future. Just being assured that your present action is righteous and filled with satisfaction future will draw itself automatically in the flow. after all they are all related with cosmic logic. Like the future direction of any object is defined by the direction of force you apply on it at the present.
Its all blissful man can have for himself a retrospective approach for life.

Truly
Abinash

See the new snaps

all the beautiful readers in there please redirect yourself to our photo blog (Here) . New photos have been added and may you like it. :) Do give me comments.
http://www.lifesnaped.blogdpot.com

Truly
Abinash