I pray God to repeat it again

Morning
	The alarm disturbs
	I wake up
	She pushes me for taking bath
	Forces me for breakfast, chawanprash, milk and a long menu
	Clock approaches 9
	She gives me wallet, watch, spectacles, sprout box and bike key
	Wishes me all the best for office
	Waves a lovely good bye
	Reminds me for helmet
	Looks at my exit from the balcony.
Afternoon
	Opens the door before I ring the bell
	Makes me wash my hands
	Serves lunch
	I sense her happiness in her to-n-fro from kitchen
	I sense her happiness in her drops of sweat on forehead
	Makes me eat some extra
	Eats at the same plate…idiot
Evening
	Serves me glucose
	Makes me pray and bow at Gods
	Googles for snacks dish and put her heart on cooking
	Asks me in child like innocence, "Is it ok at least"?
	I fake anger
	She accepts, and I sense her love in it
Night
	Scolds my serials for spoiling my studies
	Bakes roti (bread)
	Makes me eat early
	Forces me to drink the ill smelling milk…yuk
	Orders me-don’t stick to the computer
	Cleans the kitchen
	Makes sure the home is locked
	Loves me
	and I thank God for the wonderful today, and pray to repeat it again
	She is, who she is – the better half

Yashodhara

Yashodhara

Do you know that name?

Prince Siddhartha, Gautama, Sakyamuni, Buddha.

Everybody knows these names...

but...

Yashodhara?

Yashodhara was married to Siddhartha.

She loved him dearly.

One night Siddhartha left her and their son, Rahul ...

while they were sleeping, to seek Enlightenment...

... to become Buddha.

He did not even say a word to her when he left.

Yashodhara has shown compassion for the sick

... and ailing long before Siddhartha ever did!

... long before Siddhartha was even aware of suffering!

Who can say if he owed his Enlightenment to her?

Perhaps Yashodhara wanted to leave Siddhartha and Rahul.

How can we ever know if Yashodhara fell victim to anger ...

... to loneliness or bitterness

... after Siddhartha left her.

Who even thought about her?

What must she have said when Rahul, her son...

...asked that eternal question

Where is my father?

What must she have told him?

How could a mother leave her own child in the middle of the night?

lt is only possible for a man to do.

After that, Yashodhara had no choice.

She had to lead a life of renunciation.

She cut off her hair,

and lived like an ascetic.

lf your thoughts toward Dharma were of the same intensity ...

... as the love and passion you have shown to your teenaged lover or the newly married wife...

... you would have become a Buddha ...

... in this very body

... in this very life.

Inspired by the movie 'Samsara'

It's all over

She came like a breeze

And I was taken

I heard her voice

That still jingles in my heart

She told, sing me with me

And the melody was spectacular

She wrote on me

The novel was bestseller

She smiled at me

Life was beautiful

She was in tears

It was raining heavily

She parted away

There was an eclipse

She told burn all my memories

I hardly know what’s left

She told forget me

I don’t know what I remember anymore

...but I know, it’s all over :(

Where do you want to land ???

Love can be inconvenient,

perhaps inappropriate.

It can be dangerous.

Make us do things, 

we wouldn't dream of doing.

But wrong?

That just depends on

Where we end up, doesn't it?

Dussehra: Are you happy Maa ?

Vijayadashami or Dussehra-the day to celebrate the victory of God Ram over the ten-headed Ravana, of Maa Durga over Mahishasura and other demons like Chanda-Munda and Shumbha- Nishumbha; that is victory of good over evil. We, the religious ones do ‘Havans’ and a lot of ‘Daan-Dakshina’, and some of us even invite little girls (Kanya) to our homes and wash their feet and arrange a grand feast for them. The girls are given return gifts and are guided safely to their homes. We go to visit Durga Pooja Pandals with family, bow to the mother goddess and pay reverence. We ask for health, wealth, success and luck for the coming year, eat ‘Prasad’ and go back looking at other beautiful ones on the way home. 

We ritually believe that there is no greater power than that of a Woman, the mother goddess, and at the same time we do not forget to turn our heads to take a glimpse of the women standing aside. We close our eyes to sink in the divinity of the deity, and open with pleasure at inhaling the ladies deo; we mesmerize at the beauty of Maa Durga, and the same ‘we’ finds excuses to see the curves of a woman next to us praying with closed eyes. We praise the Goddess for saving the world from devils like Mahisasura and Ravan, and happily nurture the demons inside. Maa, are you really happy at you sons? Or you are eagerly waiting for the Bisarjan to hide your helplessness? I think that’s why the cyclone Phailin came on the Astami Day to make the dry lands full of water so that you will find a nearby place to be dumped at. 

We don’t get tired while praising the power of mother goddess, and then we spend the rest of the year expecting that a beautiful baby boy will come out of our pregnant wives ‘this-time’. A part of us, the flag bearers of ‘Khaap Mentality’ looks out for ways to justify female feticide, rapes and molestations in the name of tight fit jeans, skirts, movies, chowmin, mobiles and what not except the ‘male-urge’ to dominate. Some of us will even challenge the right to education for a girl child. We burn the spare candles from kitchen supporting cases like ‘Nirbhays’, but keep a mum on the question about acceptance of a rape survivor in the society.

Dussera night, and we will feel proud after burning the effigy of Ravan cursing his evil spirit, and evidently flaunting our presence at the occasion with newly owned cars or bikes, jewellery and neatly pressed perfumed suits. And then the next Navratri and Dussehra will come and, we the same people will flock in Pandals again asking for health, wealth, success and luck for the coming year. Maa, are you really happy at us? 

Maa, it’s your country, India, where ‘women’ are worshiped as ‘deities’, and at the same time the hunger for a boy over a girl leads to countless coldblooded murders. In a country where a woman represents the goddess of wisdom as Saraswati, literacy rate of women is nothing to be proud of. In a country where a ‘woman’ is the goddess of wealth (Lakshmi), of power (Durga), of satisfaction (Annapurna) and of Spirituality (Gayatri), the very women are getting raped in different parts of the country is not infrequent news. Are you happy at us? 

We can blame administration, police, politicians, system and on and on…but ultimately it is all about the mind-set that cooling its heel inside our frontal lobe. Killers of the female infants are from amongst us. Rapists are from amongst us. Those who don’t believe in the education of the girl child are from amongst us. They are not criminals; they are the product of society’s collective apathy in stopping them.

What will we do? Simply wait and watch? Show sympathy? Shout for the right of the women at the dining table gossip? March rallies to bunk the office than to support the cause? It’s true, the women are shy and physically weak, but they are never ever without power. They are like the mother Goddess who has not lost hope even on demons like Mahisasura and had allowed to rule the paradise for sometime anticipating a change. We are at the same position, and are happily exhausting our lifelines either by committing or supporting or by not protesting the crimes against women. I am sure the time is not far for the women to rise, find and punish the demons within us.

It’s never the late for walking on the path of change and hope. This Dussehra let’s get rid of male chauvinism, ego and fake pride. Let’s hope for victory, not over others, but over the ones comfortably playing inside us like Lust (Kama vasana), Anger (Krodha), Attachment (Moha), Greed (Lobha), Over Pride (Mada), Jealousy (Matsara), Selfishness (Swartha), Injustice (Anyaaya), Amanavta (Cruelty) and Ahankara (Ego). I hope, Maa Durga surely hope us to get Vijaya (victory) over the Ravan inside us. Let us make our dear mother Goddess a bit happy.     

Happy Dussehra!!!

Ramji, I cant wish you a Happy Birthday

Dear Ramji,

Today is Ram Navami, your birthday, right!!! Please tell me in private, are you really happy to celebrate your birthday among the ones who are literally and with proven action, million times advanced than the poor Raavan ??? I hope not, but if you still have faith on us and hope that your character can inspire and transform us, I appreciate your sense of humour.

The poor Raavan simply kidnapped your wife, please rewind the events to remember, he did not misbehaved; but we as your favourite follower, love to show our male potency on a kid of 3 years to an old woman of 97 years. And if we are not happy after the act, we love to force some iron rod, or glass bottle or something creative to leave you spell bound.

Ramji, I am sure after watching our creative barbarism you must have regretted your act of killing the nobel Raavan. If, you being a God had killed and ruined the golden Lanka for a simple act of kidnap, what kind of punishment you are cooking in your mind??? Please reveal that on your birthday.

I know, you must be feeling helplessness after seeing the police and other security arrangement in anticipation of a communal riot on your birthday. I was in a belief that your birthday inspires the poor human being to understand the meaning of righteousness and brotherhood...but I am not sure how can we learn to be brothers with shiny knife and bullets in hand. If I remember correctly, you had met the demon king Raavan during inauguration of the India-Lanka bridge without any weapon but a garland. Is it so that he was your enemy and a demon thats why he came without a weapon too, and we as your favourite follower have the liberty to stab each other on your name??? Just a request, please reconsider your view on Raavan, or bear us as we are.

As a God, I am sure you must have tried hard to delete your birth date from calendar... but I warn you, you will fail as we can not afford to lose a holiday to eat and drink on your holy name. I feel pity, as you have no one to pray at to help you...being God has its own price.

Anyways, if you are happy to celebrate your birthday...who am I to object??? With a heavy heart, Happy birthday dear Ramji. May you forgive me for not able to celebrate your birthday. Sorry.

But it's over now

Lay a whisper

On my pillow

Leave the winter

On the ground

I wake up lonely

The stare of silence

In the bedroom

And all around

Touch me now

I close my eyes

And dream away

It must have been love

But it's over now

It must have been good

But I lost it somehow

It must have been love

But it's over now

From the moment we touched

Till the time had run out 

… a romantic song from the movie ‘Pretty Woman”

I got a question

I got a question in my heart
Today when I thought I felt
We both walked together for some time
We both weren't companion forever

I used to laugh on your talks
My breaths were fragrant with yours
I have only one pain in my heart
We both weren't companion forever

Who thought there will be days like this?
We will even lose our shadows
I don't know if I am happy or sad
We both weren't companion forever
I got a question in my heart

I promise I won’t let you down

It was the first day, when I was formed as an embryo in my Mom’s womb. “Life emerges out of nothing”, an amazing lesson I was taught inside the womb…I smiled and happily forgot the lesson of my first ‘Guru’, the almighty God. It took me to go through the hell and see the death in my lap to get your 1^st lesson about life.  

Dear God, thank you for being my first teacher. You have given me more than I ever deserve. I am sorry for the late.  I promise I won’t let you down.

I was all cruel from the time I was in the womb, and was sucking blood from my Mom… 13 weeks passed and I spread my legs in laziness, and my Mom was all smiles getting the first ‘quickening’ (baby kick) in her womb… I stayed there comfortably for 40 odd weeks in sleeping, sucking blood and sleeping…and one day she went through the hell of lifetime in bringing me out… I don’t know how she was smiling after that… It was time to thank my Mom for teaching me the lesson “It’s worth bearing the pain for whom you Love”… Huh! I once again forgot the lesson and instead cried my heart out for bringing me out from my cozy sleep.

Dear Mom, thank you for being my first teacher I have ever seen. You have taught me what Love is all about. I am sorry to take years to get your early lessons. I promise I won’t let you down.

Grandma and Grandpa, you both were always there to tell me the stories of price, princess and demons whenever I wish to fly on my dreams. You were always there to be my horse whenever I wanted to have a joy ride. You are the ones who told me I have distant uncles named ‘Moon’ and ‘Tiger’…and you are the ones who taught me the lesson, “Youthfulness is not in age, but in mind and heart” while racing for the butterfly by my side.  It was time to thank and take care of you two, when I moved to hostel for knowing the idiotic physics and chemistry better.  I forgot your lesson of keeping my heart young. I feel tired in 15 minutes bus journey; feel irritated when a kid asks me 10 questions in a row.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa, my old sweetheart teachers, thank you for teaching me the lessons on ageless enthusiasm and youthfulness. I am sorry to get your lessons bit late. I promise I won’t let you down.

You jumped with joy when I started uttering the word ‘Papa’. You made feel there is no word such as “No” for whatever I wished. You taught me the 1^st step I ever took in my life. You were there always when I fumbled to say what 1+1 is equal to. You stood like a wall when I wanted to lean on. You cancelled your office trip to cheer me up in my school sports day. You taught me to prioritize in life. But Papa, I forgot all your lessons and ran behind money and fame.

Dear Papa, thank you for teaching me the lessons on priorities of life and I am sorry to get your lessons bit late. I promise I won’t let you down.

You always shared your chocolate, walked before me to make sure the road is clear. You jumped with joy seeing me stood first in the class. You always feel proud to be called as my elder brother than anything else. You put a ‘full stop’ to your studies to see me get the best of the facilities in my endeavor. It’s you who taught me by action, “Life is all about giving and forgiving, living for others, sacrificing and in return seeking for none.” I forgot all your lessons and started competing with you to increase my bank balance.

Dear brother, thanks for teaching me what sacrifice means in life. I am sorry to get the lessons a bit late. I promise I won’t let you down.

You entered the classroom flaunting the shiny French beard and few grey hairs. ‘Learning is fun filled’, you taught us with periodic clapping and compulsory singing in the class. When my learning horizon started and stopped at the classrooms, you taught me to look beyond; when I was about to be a bookworm, you gave your splendid touch to transform me to fly like a butterfly. You showed us how to be strictly disciplined, you laughed at being called as ‘arrogant’, ‘autocrat’ or ‘Hitler’. You are the one who taught me the lesson of life time, “Life is a classroom and we all are work in progress.” Huh… I once again forgot the lesson and instead started blaming others for my failures, not trying for at least once to understand what it means to be always ‘work in progress’.

Dear Sir, thanks for teaching me ‘change is the essence of life and constant is death’. I am sorry as I took a lot of time in understanding the truth. I promise I won’t let you down.

Happy Teachers’ Day to all those who taught me to go ahead in life, and bearing all the pain in making me what I am.