The Mannequin World

Peeping into a window I saw ....

A woman, A man and their children two,
All seem happy, they did yesterday too,
they wore the same clothes and the smiles,
they always looked bathed, without any spoils.

Their neighbors were the other kind,
young, hip and ready for party fun,
be it morning, evening or the afternoon sun.

Then there were some around the block,
some standing, some running but still was their clock,
No smiles or cries nor faces to put them on.

They all looked out of the window and saw the moving mannequins,
Wondered, there is change but saw there was pattern.
Things move but they repeat,
Things after all were not very different.

In waiting for the sun rise

In waiting for the sunrise, playing with thoughts,
making stories and breaking them, to make them all over again .

Seeing light and visions of the new day to come,
bringing people to life and things I have seen before,
making memories with my thoughts,
real are these as much are the real ones.

It is not too long before the sunrise now,
I am waiting to see a new memory unfold.

Raag Nand, Lata and Ghalib.

I am a frequent visitor of Ranjan Parrikars articles on classical music. Last night while I was sampling renditions in raag Nand I stumbled upon this beautiful sher sung by Lata Mangeshkar.

Click here to listen.

It sounded so beautiful that I had to look for its meaning and I found it on this blog.
The message sure fills one with its profoundness and to top it Lata Mangeshkar's voice; her eloquence is simply divine.

Credits:
The below section is from sukhanwar-ghalib.blogspot.com.

naqsh fariyaadii hai kis kii shoKhii-e-tahariir kaa
kaaGazii hai pairahan har paikar-e-tasviir kaa

[naqsh:copy/print, fariyaad: complaint, tahariir: writing]
[kaaGazii: delicate, pairahan: dress, paikar: appearance]

In this sher Ghalib complains about the existence of mankind to the Creator. ‘Naqsh’ represents mankind, which complains to the creator represented here by the ‘Tahrir’ of which it is a part. O God!, why did you create me in your playfulness? The second line elaborates this complaint by saying, “Kagazi hai pairahan har paikar-e-tasveer ka”. In ancient Persia, there was this tradition of wearing paper attire whenever any complainant went to the Sultan for the redressal of his grievance. So Ghalib laments that all existence is nothing but a complaint.

Holi Hai !

Aayi aayi rangon ki holi |
Khushiyon se bharne ham sab ki jholi ||

Udati hai rang gulabli |
dhodeti har jag ki kharabi ||

Neela jo hath se choote |
roothe preetam ka man loote ||

Hara jo ud ud aaye |
tan man ki klesh mitaye ||

Aayi aayi rangon ki holi |
Khushiyon se bharne ham sab ki jholi ||

aam... aam... nahi khas hai

aamras with warm ghee and hot chapatis... !

Atal Vani...

This is one of Atal Bihari Vajpayees poems I like.

Here is an attempt to translate it to english.
Please put in comments if you think my interpretations are
incorrect.

You can listen to this poem in his voice here.

Apne hi man se kuch bolen

Let us speak our minds

What did I gain or lose in this world,
In this game of constant union and seperation.
I have no qualms with any, if one deceives me .
Let us cast a look on our past, let us jolt our bag of memories.

Earth is ages old, life an endless story.
But our bodies have limitations.
It is enough when the end comes knocking be there to embrace it yourself.

Birth - death is a continious cycle ,life - like a group nomads.
with today here... and an uncertain tomorrow...?
who knows where the next sunrise is....
In this seemless dark sky, weigh the wings of your life(see how far you can fly)

Let us speak our minds.....

Shwanopakhyana.....

Let me first tell you about the title "Shwanopakhyana".
You can divide it into 2 words Shwana + Upakhyana.
Shwana = Dog , Upakhyana =to say about (tell a story about). This is mostly a word I think I have put together .... and the 2 words used are sanskrit.

This picture was taken summer 2004 near pike place market Seattle, during one of my daily strolls exploring the city which was only days new to me.

Now the title of this blog is also the title of a poem I wrote in spring 2004 in Manhattan, Kansas expressing an interesting incident in my life "a dog bite..". And the dog which bit me more or less looked like the one in the picture but was brown in color.

Shwanopakhyana
------------------
Suhani shaam thi, halka sa dhoop tha,
sundar prakrati ka roop tha, cycle pe apni main sawar tha.

jaise khilte huye bahar main baad aajati hai,
ek achi si love story main villan ki entry ho jati hai....
mere kahani main bhi ek twist aaya,
ek khunkhar kutte ko maine apni aur aate huye paya.

Kutte ko dekh hogaya main pani pani
socha khatam hogayi meri jeevan kahani,
kutte ne yeh jo chalang mari
uske muh me mani apni tang payi.

Woh dekho kutte ka malik aaya
Kutte ki aturata samajhaya.
Bola -
" jab kutta chota bacha tha,
man ka bilkul kacha tha,
Cyclewale ne koi use peet diya,
tab se kutte ne taan liya,
har cyclewale ko dushman manliya"

Sham dhali aur raat aayi, hamko samajh yeh baat aayi,
har kurupta ke piche hum hi the aur yeh manav kul hi tha.......
har kurupta ke piche hum hi the aur yeh manav kul hi tha.......