FUNKY PEN

The scarf has been picked up... Black and White, two shades of life, alive and dead, It's adorned with fondness... Rattled, as it left its resting place, from a quiet repose to an airless room. Now regretful, with its utter silence. Resting in a corner, never washed, rife with "red apple orchards" of emotions, preserved like - jam. In essence a remnant of a burning man. Quiet, in only his silence, His delicate relics now rest with us. A frame untouched by time, a mirror cracked by distance, a sharp reaper - enlivened by the new master's touch - whom it will serve from now. The care, the regret, the imminent anger, the cloud burst, the regard, the emotion, They have all travelled in the personal artifacts and now rest heavy in our hand. Sumbal is far, yet - a feather touch away. Memories will wait for another day.

A new year, supposing a new post, Hackneyed - yet but necessary - definitely A pen, a rose, a post, all have the same effect - de-burdening the mind and the body, Whipping up a fresh cream of motion, a surgery elevating inner onion layers of emotions. Bursting for acceptability and yet reserved - with their vulnerability. The mind trusting inner instincts, and yet lying like a python in wait, sharp and reclusive. Revelations, are un touched and rare, raw black diamonds un-mined. Sharp shards await, fluffy white innocence, such is the heart and mind. Pick up a coffee and move, New York like practicality sometimes, Andaman like deep sea reveries sometimes, Some wheels to be changed, some to be accepted rusted, Yet a part of me, I can not leave behind. Untimed, un-met, un-believed. Not funny, not friendly, not kind, life normalised.

Social Media - the Mindless animal, a sharp beast or a human ageing agent? Zukerberg's trials and trepidations are not unknown to the world now, his own device which had made him a "hostel hero" and then a world magnet has got him crushing down to his feet, begging for forgiveness and meekly accepting the blame for his own grand failures. Isn't it funny that today, social or the web can transform an unknown individual into an icon and then transform an icon back into an infamous villain. Be it Chanda K or Zukerberg, or our jewel thief (figuratively) Nirav Modi everyone has risen and fallen on the web. I remember reading Chanda K's article on how she balances her home and the bank, and is there on every family occasion (I often wondered how, when even I with my near modest take home - I can not guarantee my presence everywhere and often have to cut a sorry figure at functions :) ). The same platforms built her image and now have completely destroyed it - ...

Mukti Bhawan -  A rare sanctum of satire This is not a hapless movie which talks about the esoteric concept of "passing on". Pun intended, this is a glorious movie emphasizing the importance of having lived well. Mukti Bhawan - a paradise for those wanting to die in the arms of god, is merely symbolic of how much an individual wants to control his destiny, he wants to live for a particular time and when he feels the time is over, wishes to pass on... destiny can not be controlled, and the number of days one has to spend in the world is type written and passed on to every person, he has no wish or command over his own breath. Lalit Behl is symbolic of a "free man" a man who enjoys his life superbly and lives it on his own terms, like grand father like grand daughter, both are dancing spirits, happy in the worldly matters of life. Rajiv actually symbolises "death" in his current life, over burdened and jostling to everyone's tune, right from h...

हो सकता है फिर न मिलें हो सकता है हमराही बने बिखरे बिम्ब जोड़ें हो सकता है। हो सकता है. जब छोड़ा है हमने किसी को तो उसका एक अक्स लहू में छूटा है मुझे पता नहीं पर क्या तुम्हारा जीवन भी झूठा है ? रोज़ उठके नहीं सोचा ये ज़िन्दगी काबुल नहीं ? पर तुम्हे गैर की क्या, तुम्हे तो खुद की फ़िक्र नहीं ज़िंदगी  पर जो लोग भरोसा करते है, ज़िन्दगी उनसे रूठ जाती है कब्र सा जीवन और बेरहम मौत दे जाती है पर हाँ  हम तो उन्ही मे से है, जिन्हे ज़िंदगी कही छोड़ गयी रौशनी दी फिर यकायक सूरज बुझा के ले गयी अरे कहाँ अपने आप को ढूंढते ओ, आइना रूठ  गया तुमसे, तुम्हारा प्रतिबिम्ब कहीं खो गया नायक के रूप का शोषण किया है तुमने, तुम्हारा बदन चिलमिलता है, प्राण नहीं है तुम में, तुममें लहू नहीं है , सिर्फ जल समता है, तेज़ाब से लिखा हुआ एक और जनम तुम्हे बुलाता है, बरखत श्वास की सिसकी भर लो,  बहुत लम्बा अभी हमरा  नाता है

Bahut dino badd pakdi hae kalam, kari kalli seyahii, Daag deke hee niklegi, maili, bhar ayii.. shuruat kidhar se ho, anjan hae woh aisi, dilon ko chire, ya bikhere muskurahaten nayi jaisi, chipen hue hae dil ke kuch pehlu, nikal aye agar woh, kalee lahu si bhar jayegi, royegi ye seyahi, bahut dino badd pakdi hae kalam., kari kalli seyahi.

"Grey, Gloomy, Beautiful" - Rain drops ashore. Milestones a-plenty, beauty so pure. Buzz in the air, Carnivals may-fair; Victoria Alberts,

I’ve never really been a dancer... Always the singer, being forcefully :(..Kind of... classically trained since donkey's ages, hiding behind exercise machines when my music teacher came, and memorizing raag bhopali, dhrupad, xyz, etc etc. with a rather wistful expression. Dance really began, when I once understood what a looser I was at it, in some party in my childhood, those childhood memories and complexes never really go...they become a part of you and creep into your being...morphing into deep resolve. Well then there was no turning back, when I realized I can’t even move one step forward and backward at age 11, i decided to become a student and teacher of dance both- of course to myself, no one else would accept me.. Life moved on, I started as the bathroom or rather closed room dancer, then joined shiamak dawar after my boards, hoping at attaining some fantastic prowess at this noble hobby, but all i got was the steps of one song - let’s get loud, which we practiced ...

Har admi marketing ka halwa bana ke dusre ke halak mein dale ja raha hae … Bura haal hae… Marketing is certainly not what it wanted to be, today if you measure marketing on its own brand prism, it would indeed lie defeated on all counts. Every 1 person enterprise has a marketing budget these days, translated as money spent on consumer nuisance and harassment. As if it’s not boring enough to be serenaded by Irfan’s dull as ditch water middle aged act every few minutes on TV, courtesy Vodafone, we have to bear inane ads linking things like soap with Vishwas and Bharosa. What the hell has bharosa got to do with a standard consumer durable like soap?? Is the emotional pull even required?? I am quite happy if my soap smells good .. and thank god for that. Does a consumer really buy more if an Aggarbatti promises to invoke god? Or if a Galaxy tab can help sketch some man with a tap running on his head? Does it all really account to more sales or just more NOISE? Leave apart the insaneness of...

BEING THE PREFERRED HIRE … How on earth can you make yourself the most preferred hire? Someone who literally has the recruiters hounding them and the offers flowing?? Here is some advice… stand for your brand.. But first learn how to create it. Personally and professionally I have heard a lot about personal branding, what is it? What can be done with it? And how can it benefit you in this area. Few things I have gained from my experience: Branding yourself as the employee whom companies want: To be an employee who is a brand, focus on: > Role > Skill > Industry Remember all 3 are important. Look at your role and try and go deeper in it, then concentrate on your key skills and try and improve upon them. And then finally target the industry of your choice and know how it is shaping up and gain knowledge in that area. Try to be an SME of your area and try to make it your goal to excel and add value to the industry you are in and the principle you specialize ...

FUNKY PEN: Jaipur Sojourn : "Can a city really capture someone and hold them so close that they don't feel like leaving? It happens,sometimes.. This is a humble city bu..."

Can a city really capture someone and hold them so close that they don't feel like leaving? It happens,sometimes.. This is a humble city but with a lingering and lasting heritage that never fails to shine and illuminate each and every one of its corners... Right from the glory and the stately nature of its Albert Hall with its bright white walls and royal interiors to the genius of its Jantar mantar, the city never ceases to amaze.. The city palace has a long lasting heritage which beacons even a stranger to chat up to it...the shops are colorful and the bangles endless,never leaving one's wrists,never really letting go of the curious tourist.. soaking him in them... The food scrumptious, flavorful, and yet light like a little feather,a gentle stroke to the gastronomy... But nothing can beat the city at night, while Delhi is drowned in smog and coated by dust, Jaipur offers a basket of night time sky,each star poised... All the constellations proudly visible in this deep inky e...

No matter how many movies i see, outings i arrange, friends i meet, food i eat, mags i read, or posts i write. My mind is lonely, like a lost icy seagull alone on the shore, i thought il get over it so i write some more. But the human mind is so designed that it can be lonely even when deeply engaged, is there a kinship i can create? With myself coz none is there in these private moments im stil aware, no one like me of me for me by me, im unique and everyone else is too, is that why we are so lonely , me and u?

I always wanted to stick to the notion of the 1950's pyar hua ikraar hua rain soaked heavy love, Par ye year 2k mein iss pyar ka kya hua? Magazines like Cosmopolitan and others treat it like a game, giving weird tips such as don't make your guy feel like your'e too into him, don't always make yourself available, don't give surprise gifts... But then by playing all this hard to get, do you actually keep the romance alive? Surprise, when you get to books and articles which talk about how to bring back the spark in your relationship they speak about the same things in a definite U turn, Give surprises, be there for each other, make yourself available etc, I think love has not changed, what has changed is the intrinsic human core, from the generosity of our grand parents to the miserliness of the teenagers, each human now wants to know what he can get from the other before even squeezing a lemon drop of a favor for the other. Which is why each relation has changed to be...

The canvas is blank, the night is just right freedom of form, freedom of sight, dreams do come true, when salt picks up courage... quit India shines in full form and flourish. Years and decades will pass by in this knowing, that fathers and fore fathers blessed us showing, birds of paradise fly in barren clear skies, chirping the anthem of goodbyes. Windmills of change burn in the new, flesh and love flow not a few.... make a part of this yours, and hold it together, the freedom lantern burns forever...

उलझी उलझी बातें तेरी , खट्टी मीठी रातें मेरी कोई वादा कर के भी अधूरी, ऐसी हैं ये आखें मेरी बर्फ और ओस की बूँदें ले आ, कटी पतंगें सारी ले आ उन्हें उडा दे, गीत कोई नए सजा दे, ऐसी है ये आशा मेरी वादें कऐ करती हूँ, उनके फ़साने लिखूंगी सदियाँ बीत जाएँगी मै प्यार के नजराने लिखूँगी जब जब वो लौ सजी होगी महफ़िल में में तब तब तुम्हारे सरहाने मिलूंगी कोई बीच में तो कोई किनारों पे छोड़ जाता है साहिल के दायरे के परे खुद चला जाता है अकेले नहीं छोडूंगी यही वादा है मेरा , बाकी, किसे पता कब तक है इस आशियाने पे बसेरा

Like blood you rose; Like escape you came to the emptyness of silence; The simple repose My pen turned to chalk; My life learnt to rock My aged white hair became all black; you cut my slack the year went to fast when you came and occupied it --you and me, god decided you came and lived in my tolet apartment, opened my sootish windows; mowed my unmowed lawn; ploughed my filed of dying poppies... even if i mix 2 languages, my "i love you" will fall short, even if i create a "tajmahal" it's marble will be distraught, when will the clock strike one without my having to go? a life time passed, i didn't know ...........................................

We find, we ignore, we shout, we stun - love... Life always comes full circle, so wht's the fun? Metropolitan living and strings of ragged greetings, shanty games of promise and preenings... Dark party make up and fake nuances, life for living needs no responses, Penning this makes me feel ill, but it's not my will, grasshopper feelings emerge, rubble of emotions sweep my weepy hill, has Life had its fill ?--

Who am I to create, destroy, and forbid? Who am I to purpose and form? Who am I to refuse or accept? Who am I to reign and reject? When all the goals, committments, and ills will be over, Will I have fallen in the gutter of humanity - bearing diamonds, underneath rotten teeth? Who will I be when money is taken from my list of attractions? Who will I be when fame is wiped away? Who will I love truely when his form is gone? Which new monster will I obey? And which committees am I forming, when I myself am in total disarray?

Ure only as new as your lavender soaked tresses Youre only as fresh as your novel ideas Youre only as open as your "but" less brain Youre only as unique as your next poem You bard, you hunter, you fabulous scientist You wordswoth, you writer, you grave philiosophist Life is less ideal, when ideals demolish, but if that's not so then what is original about it ?