Highway to men’s heart

Since last one week, I am on bed, isolated in one room. Neem leaves spread over the bed and I am awaiting for blisters to dry up and back to my health again. I, with two more colleagues got chicken pox at the same time. Not sure if its the temparature humidity controlled AC room and another colleague who have just recovered up or being blessed with the Mata not blessed earlier (Chicken pox is still considered the blessing of Godess in many part of India). Anyway it has to happen!

During the course, the fever, headache and the weakest feeling have changed the taste buds too. Earlier days as the mouth was affected, even a bit of salt or slightest spicy food was intolerable. I was given boiled food with little salt and turmeric. I used to have the changed menu even in those days. Though I must admit, the boiled food has been tasty really. Dear used to have the same food, prepared for me. Not sure, how! Note worthy here is we both love spicy food!!

Today’s lunch was again simple and again same dull looking because of the little oil and microscopic masala but it was plateful rice, dal with lauki, bottlegourd bhaji, aloo gobhi sabji. After the weakness in this recovery period, I had finished them in a shot and asked for a second little serving!!

May be its again one of the tastiest food, I had from her. May be spices that contribute to the taste, but its something else than spices that makes food so tasty! Love you dear !!

I used to have little argument with her on the old saying that, the way to men’s heart is not only through stomach but other things too. But I guess there exists ‘a way’, and infact there must be a national highway in construction !!

These Moments

Arms embraced-
Reading these lines,
When you asked –
Why these pages empty!

Seeing the changes of Life-
Reading millions words,
Revolving around,
Embraced me and you.

Where the life is moving-
Its own pace-
Writing poems of its own,
And the speed-
Faster than my pen.

We are running behind all –
To read.
And the time is faster
Before the minute details – I can draw.

Wish the time don’t stop –
I can’t stand that!

Let me walk fast
Past the terrains
That we covered
In the months few.

Wish to pick,
The pink feather –
Again my dear.
Again like before.
In the ink – Pink again.

Those Dear Strangers

Have you meet some persons, who are none to you!

When you meet them – just within some minutes, you start feeling that you know them since long back. Its not about the matching of right frequency and wavelength , etc. Even if you are two different levels of frequency , wavelength , age, profession, mental state, upbringing – just based on mutual respect they win you out.

The art of matching the two levels of brains – they are expert, its something that bring you down to a comfort level – keep you cool – and without being selfish, they talk something and you wish that such conversation go on and on…

I guess this is a rare trait, only very few persons are born with and few others develop it over the years after observation. And the most wonderful common thing, I have found in such persons is, they are artist to the core.

Those Dear Strangers ….

Her Marriage – The Final Blessing

“Yashomati Maiya se Bole Nandalala..” as now I read these lines on Juneli’s blog, could not resist to write something down, that I thought to write one night.

One night like regular calls my sister Pinky gave me a missed call. And I called her back after few minutes. After picking up phone, instead of “Hello” she was singing “Yashomati Maiya se Bole Nanda Lala….” she have a good voice and that time her singing was touching the soul. I joined her. We both completed the whole song. Many a times with friends and family members duet I do join.

Once she finished the song, she said slowly “Sona slept just now” . Actually after singing the song, she was trying to get her son “Sona” sleep .

Unlike man, a woman has clearly few stages of life well defined, not for just herself, but for the Mankind. Before she was to be married, to many persons Baba had to give same repeated answer ” Lets see, we are searching for.. (her matching groom) !” Once she got married, and at the in-law’s house everything was fine. After one year being first daughter-in-law at house there was still a vaccum felt.

Again she dedicated her worries to God again. She was blessed with a child. When most of the persons at laws house are fair including my bro-in-law. And my sister is wheatish. Perhaps destiny has its own msyteries. The baby was born with the Mother’s complexion. So she felt that her in-laws may be disappointed a bit. She said her husband about her possible worry about in- laws.” Hey this is my son ! ” – said the proud father who took care for mother and baby of  remaining more days at nursing home and still same today. This is one of the worries of a mother – duly evaporated by father in right manner.

Now seeing the baby sleeping, with the dreamy eyes of mother, she does sing to make herself happy -“Yashomati Maiya Se Bole Nandalala Radha Kyon Gori Main Kyon Kala……” for my little Krishna.

Happy Raksha Bandhan

Silky threads are here,
With me,
But not those,
Mehandi hands,
To tie them.

Sweets are here,
Full of shops,
But I shall,
Be hungry for one.

I have money,
Thousands today.
But 20 Rs. I gave them,
Asked from Baba,
They kept in purse, safe.

God bless,
My sisters,
With all happiness.
As their destiny –
Today is like poem only.

Flower Vase, Bangalore,27 August,07

A real story on my Bimla didi appears at my Hindi blog.

Au Revoir

From the wilds,
Some winds,
Touch my cheeks,
Do flow cool.
Of eternity.
I have to move on.

Dear, I know,
Still its day,
Evening is far,
I could have,
Stayed here back,
For a while more.
But I have to walk.

Today I shall,
Move on – on.
With my this small
World and few buds,
In a basket,
And dear friends-
One or Few.

I have to move on,
Before evening sets in.
As without Sun,
I fear dark today.

I have fullfilled –
My promises
With all smiles
True and false.
I am putting,
My crown down,
With all gratitude,
– its my destiny.

Far away –
Though forest is dark,
And I see that green
Where tribals are unkempt,
Wet mud scents,
I do smell,
Wild birds twitter,
I do hear,
They need me,
More than you.

I shall dance,
There tomorrow,
Painted in muds,
Naked kids around.
Thats a world,
Wild, but beautiful.

There I will sing,
Another song and
I shall welcome,
You all there,
Carpet of dry leaves,
Wild flowers grow there,
Over the brown bark.

Don’t call me back,
I will not be here.

Time and tide,
Will not wait for me.
Breaking my silence –
Today I have to say,
– Adieu.

Thousands of Thanks

Sending 25 thousands thanks to You. You have made 25,000 visits to this blog. Your consistency and encouragement motivated me to get a Nikon for capturing unexpressed moments in the stage of words. 

Flower Vase, Drawing Room, Bangalore 

Today, welcome all of you in my drawing room. This particular image will change periodically as per changing time and colors. I wish, I could put some more pictures frequently to express something worth thousands of words, when my literal words need them as companions.

Thanks once again.

When you call me.

Whatever I am here, and I do continue blogging just because of some encouragements that came time to time from various bloggers. Today, when I was told to read this post on me, I could not believe myself.

“लगता है बिसरा दिया है। चिट्ठा से सगाई लगता है तोड़ दी है।”

चिट्ठा is a word coined by us for blog in Hindi.

They are true. Once upon a time, I used to be active in Hindi Blogger’s Community. That time there was not even 100 blogs in Hindi. I was even I asked to work for Nirantar team, but connectivity of net was not cheap and smooth those days. And today I don’t read Hindi blogs much around and today I do hop around mostly the English blogs. Even the Hindi write-ups I did keep on this blog only.

And as a result, even today, when Anupji wrote a post on me, that too I did not read. I was informed by Jitu Bhaiya.

Though they told me to continue blogging several times and once Anupji even tried to scold me in one of his comment. But, today crossing everything these words of Anupji have lots of complaint.

“शायद और बेहतर रिश्ते मिल गये हैं।”

In fact, these words are paining me.

From now onwards all my Hindi posts will appear only on http://www.prempiyushhindi.wordpress.com. Please be there too as you have been here.

I shall try to pay back their love.


Generally, I don’t have anything like headache or anything like it. But like few days back, today it again started despite a good night’s sleep.

I did called my Ma, sister, close friends.Picking up phone, Ma guessed out and told to put some mustard-oil drops in the nostrils, that may help my seasonal sinus problem. I tried, it helped me. But still something was there inside to recreate the headache. I called up some of my friends – with whom I felt easy at some or the other point of time.

Some phones ended with busy tone, some friends could not talk as they were busy in sunday afternoon and a few phones switched off. I kept calling – I needed to talk with someone – anyone, otherwise 1200 watts of music system and ready to play hundreds of sound-tracks was also not helping me out at all. I switched the music system off. Staying alone can be sometimes really difficult. And the shape of difficulty is dimensionless. Men don’t cry,but when inner turbulance turns out nothing but just unbearble, sensitive men too do cry. May that help me out. But I tried to abstain – because I am a man !

I called my old buddy – my friend cum brother – Kartickda. About him, I will write in more – that how one last bencher turn out as NET qualified professor. We talked about nice times. A lot of things. Co-incidentally the time I called him, he was also alone at the house.

The old buddies were talked about. How the things moved in past 4 years, were talked about. As I asked about Sudip, one short-heighted friend of him, with whom I have a group snap too. Katickda could not answer promptly – though he is more sensibly stable than me. He told me – Sudip is no more. I could not believe, as I was expecting something like his marriage and kids. First thing came to my mind was the snap, where I was standing near to him. He further explained – how in front of his eyes, Sudip left forever.His pancreas had some problem and it got complicated and Sudip, the Station Master could never see the green flag.

Though he complained, what made me ask about him but he must be pleased to know, how do I still recall his friends so well. Actually asking about him, his pains of loosing a friend get refreshed. We talked for few minutes more – and talked on how other things moved in life.

I got entangled into the thoughts of those many places of staying, so many acquiantances and so many relations weak and strong. What good thing did we carry forward ? – The love, we did shared once upon a time – somehow or other.

I got the answer of the question that revolved around my head to create the headache. To many people it may become again a headache. But today it became my medicine. I do carry ‘something abstract’ – beyond myself being a selfish creature. My headache seems mitigating…