On a day like Today,
Everything's gonna be fine.
On a day like Today,
I am gonna shine.
On a day like Today,
The worlds gonna be mine.
In search of that day,
My Today is dying.
Torn by unresolved conflicts,
Stranded by never ending pursuits,
Confused by hidden identities,
Perturbed by future's obscurities,
Disheartened by life's verdicts,
Betrayed by uncanny adversities,
Abandoned by the last strains of reputabilities,
Everyday I overcome urges to call it quits.
Love says I don't deserve her,
Success says its too much I am asking for,
Friendship says nobody befriends a loner,
Dreams say they foresee absolute horror,
Future says it all ends here,
The world says I am a selfish monster,
Life says in this battle I am already a loser,
I say this is not me I see in the mirror.
Whats happening around doesn't matter to me,
As I move towards another reality,
Of unthinkable calm tranquility,
And a state of undefinable ecstasy,
Where existence follows another geometry,
And life moves like a pure mystery,
A world where I am my greatest enemy,
Bringing with it a future which only I can see,
On a day like Today,
Everything's gonna be fine.
On a day like Today,
I am gonna shine.
On a day like Today,
The worlds gonna be mine.
I believe I will reach there someday,
Till then I am not gonna stop trying.
P.S.: This post is a tribute to one of my all time classics - Bryan Adam's song of the same name. Though this isn't one of my great pieces, written in a state of I don't know what, after lot of thinking I have put it on the blog for everyone to see. The style used is , unlike my style of writing poems/songs, reminiscent of the hip hop and rap culture, something I have ventured into for the first time and personally have failed big time.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Dance With Me
Pushing my grievances into the shadow of ignorance,
Filling my heart with unperturbed romance,
With nostalgic memories exuding their sweet fragrance,
To the tunes of uncorrupted happiness I dance.
Encyclopedia Britannica defines it as the movement of the body in a rhythmic way, usually to music and within a given space, for the purpose of expressing an idea or emotion, releasing energy, or simply taking delight in the movement itself. It is the very thing that piloted celebrities such as Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Michael Jackson or our home-grown brunch of actors such as Prabhu Deva, Govinda and Hrithik Roshan to the very pinnacle of stardom. It is said to be an inherent form of celebration and expression of joy. Be it Kathak, Bharatnatyam, Ballet or any other form, Dance till date remains one of the talents that is present in all human beings in the crudest form possible and that can be further refined. There is a difference between dance and the art of dance. Dance is a powerful impulse, but the art of dance is that impulse channeled by skillful performers into something that becomes intensely expressive and that may delight the onlooker. So shaking a leg or two at the disco is dance where as being able to carve a story out of gyrations is the art of dance. Well all the people who know me would unanimously agree that I am not the right person to get in touch with if you are interested in dancing even though I can differentiate the Waltz from the Tango. Then what is this piece of undecipherable inventory doing in my blog? I first thought about writing on this topic when I came across a community in Orkut (the web based version of yesteryear's pen pal movement) titled "Dance As if no one is watching". But then I finally wrote this piece because of two reasons. The first one I am not going to say here whereas the second one is that I was deeply influenced by a ballet that I was watching on the Travel and Living channel, which was depicting a sweet legend about a young couple who died protecting their love for each other and the honour of their families.
Dance is one of the most unadulterated form of displaying happiness and exuberance. It is one such act where you loosen your grip over your body and move farther away from the ominous reality chasing you and let an aura of rhythmic chaos take over you. Soulful dancing introduces one to a world of calmness and symmetry that we all dream about but rarely venture into. I love to see people dance. May be thats because I make a terrible dancer or may be because I am just too shy to dance in front of others (though the latter one is now fading away). But I just love to watch others dance. They do it with such a sense of gracefulness and satisfaction that fills my heart. Each step seems to be so meticulously placed. And their smiling faces speak volume of how much they enjoy their dance whether they are dancing well or not. In fact, at the end of the day, what matters is the pleasure derived. Dance is an extremely powerful tool of expression. I have seen good dancers emote through dance. Speaking tonnes through a rhythmic synchronization between the hands, legs, facial expressions, stance and gait and the body as a whole isn't just an art but a skill that can be learnt by many but mastered by few. This is what makes the casual dance different from the practised art form. Dance for the common mass is a way of enjoyment while for the elite its an art of expression. Both of them are equally appealing and heart rendering.
My years of research through abstract philosophy and "People-Watching" (if Bird-Watching can be a passtime, why can't this be?) have lead me to believe that an individual's attitude toward dancing can be an indicative of his nature. Its obviously not the dancing skills but the presence on the dance floor that falls under the perspective of this analysis. A simple glance at the face of the dancer can tell you about his nature from the level of satisfaction he is deriving from his dance. Basically there are two types of people - the ones who dance and the ones who just dance. The ONES WHO DANCE are those who dance freely without any resentments or reservations. They dance as if the world is their dance floor and they are the only ones dancing. They dance without any inhibitions and as a result exude an aura of satisfaction. I have often found these sort of people to be pretty expressive, easy going, broadminded and open hearted. The ONES WHO JUST DANCE are those who dance because they have to. These sort of people are always caught dancing in public glare when what they actually want to move out of the dance floor and just spectate. Such people are normally shy, introverted, self restrictive and less outgoing. Its not that these people cant dance their hearts out but somehow fail to do so in front of an audience. In solitude, these people easily migrate into the first category. However this is not a foolproof way of indentification because there are people who can mask their emotions and expressions and it becomes difficult to conclude what they actually are. But the truth is that dance, easily, is a form of living life. In fact an old Persian proverb correctly highlights that "He who danceth not, knoweth not the ways of life".
So now you know what is the perfect recipe for a 5 minute bliss. Get your friends with you or if you are too shy just lock yourself up in your room. Get the music on, close your eyes and follow your heart. Feel the music flow through your nerves, enter into a state of perfect trance and let your body do the rest of the talking. Dance as if no ones watching you or if you prefer it, dance as if the whole world's dancing with you. So friends, SHOULD WE DANCE???
P.S. : This post has been named after the 1998 movie with the same name starring Vanessa Williams and Chayanne. This post is one of the "long in the making" kinds taking me about a month to complete. Well blogs are normally meant for short and quick posts but somehow I cant manage with FASTFOOD it seems :) Anyways this post is my tribute to the never say die free-spirit of us humans which makes us achieve small doses of happiness every now and them although we always yearn for perfect bliss chasing it throughout our lives.
Filling my heart with unperturbed romance,
With nostalgic memories exuding their sweet fragrance,
To the tunes of uncorrupted happiness I dance.
Encyclopedia Britannica defines it as the movement of the body in a rhythmic way, usually to music and within a given space, for the purpose of expressing an idea or emotion, releasing energy, or simply taking delight in the movement itself. It is the very thing that piloted celebrities such as Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Michael Jackson or our home-grown brunch of actors such as Prabhu Deva, Govinda and Hrithik Roshan to the very pinnacle of stardom. It is said to be an inherent form of celebration and expression of joy. Be it Kathak, Bharatnatyam, Ballet or any other form, Dance till date remains one of the talents that is present in all human beings in the crudest form possible and that can be further refined. There is a difference between dance and the art of dance. Dance is a powerful impulse, but the art of dance is that impulse channeled by skillful performers into something that becomes intensely expressive and that may delight the onlooker. So shaking a leg or two at the disco is dance where as being able to carve a story out of gyrations is the art of dance. Well all the people who know me would unanimously agree that I am not the right person to get in touch with if you are interested in dancing even though I can differentiate the Waltz from the Tango. Then what is this piece of undecipherable inventory doing in my blog? I first thought about writing on this topic when I came across a community in Orkut (the web based version of yesteryear's pen pal movement) titled "Dance As if no one is watching". But then I finally wrote this piece because of two reasons. The first one I am not going to say here whereas the second one is that I was deeply influenced by a ballet that I was watching on the Travel and Living channel, which was depicting a sweet legend about a young couple who died protecting their love for each other and the honour of their families.
Dance is one of the most unadulterated form of displaying happiness and exuberance. It is one such act where you loosen your grip over your body and move farther away from the ominous reality chasing you and let an aura of rhythmic chaos take over you. Soulful dancing introduces one to a world of calmness and symmetry that we all dream about but rarely venture into. I love to see people dance. May be thats because I make a terrible dancer or may be because I am just too shy to dance in front of others (though the latter one is now fading away). But I just love to watch others dance. They do it with such a sense of gracefulness and satisfaction that fills my heart. Each step seems to be so meticulously placed. And their smiling faces speak volume of how much they enjoy their dance whether they are dancing well or not. In fact, at the end of the day, what matters is the pleasure derived. Dance is an extremely powerful tool of expression. I have seen good dancers emote through dance. Speaking tonnes through a rhythmic synchronization between the hands, legs, facial expressions, stance and gait and the body as a whole isn't just an art but a skill that can be learnt by many but mastered by few. This is what makes the casual dance different from the practised art form. Dance for the common mass is a way of enjoyment while for the elite its an art of expression. Both of them are equally appealing and heart rendering.
My years of research through abstract philosophy and "People-Watching" (if Bird-Watching can be a passtime, why can't this be?) have lead me to believe that an individual's attitude toward dancing can be an indicative of his nature. Its obviously not the dancing skills but the presence on the dance floor that falls under the perspective of this analysis. A simple glance at the face of the dancer can tell you about his nature from the level of satisfaction he is deriving from his dance. Basically there are two types of people - the ones who dance and the ones who just dance. The ONES WHO DANCE are those who dance freely without any resentments or reservations. They dance as if the world is their dance floor and they are the only ones dancing. They dance without any inhibitions and as a result exude an aura of satisfaction. I have often found these sort of people to be pretty expressive, easy going, broadminded and open hearted. The ONES WHO JUST DANCE are those who dance because they have to. These sort of people are always caught dancing in public glare when what they actually want to move out of the dance floor and just spectate. Such people are normally shy, introverted, self restrictive and less outgoing. Its not that these people cant dance their hearts out but somehow fail to do so in front of an audience. In solitude, these people easily migrate into the first category. However this is not a foolproof way of indentification because there are people who can mask their emotions and expressions and it becomes difficult to conclude what they actually are. But the truth is that dance, easily, is a form of living life. In fact an old Persian proverb correctly highlights that "He who danceth not, knoweth not the ways of life".
So now you know what is the perfect recipe for a 5 minute bliss. Get your friends with you or if you are too shy just lock yourself up in your room. Get the music on, close your eyes and follow your heart. Feel the music flow through your nerves, enter into a state of perfect trance and let your body do the rest of the talking. Dance as if no ones watching you or if you prefer it, dance as if the whole world's dancing with you. So friends, SHOULD WE DANCE???
P.S. : This post has been named after the 1998 movie with the same name starring Vanessa Williams and Chayanne. This post is one of the "long in the making" kinds taking me about a month to complete. Well blogs are normally meant for short and quick posts but somehow I cant manage with FASTFOOD it seems :) Anyways this post is my tribute to the never say die free-spirit of us humans which makes us achieve small doses of happiness every now and them although we always yearn for perfect bliss chasing it throughout our lives.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Blame It On the Men in Blue
I slept at 4 yesterday. That's 4 AM in the morning. No it wasn't because I had an off day at job the next day. Neither had it anything to do with me being in pursuit of some inconceivable idea on my dear lappy nor had it anything to do with me watching one of those flicks where you can't go to bed until the climax has been revealed. It had to do with something that I love a lot. Not only me, my brother, my roomies, most of my friends and in fact the whole of my country swear by their devotion to it. Its something that flows in the blood of almost all my countrymen ( I don't know about the women but they too are addicted to this). This virus that has plagued me and me comrades is a simple yet time stretching game of CRICKET (pronounced kri-ket).
Its said that whenever a child is born in the country he either learns how to wield the willow or how to hurl the round projectile (Read: BALL) in meandering paths even before learning how to carry his weight on his legs. Cricket is not just a game or a pastime out here but more of a religion and the players no less than the residing deities. Having yielded matchwinners for decades and been crowned world champions once, there is no denying that this craze is rooted on valid judgement and not mere hype. But there is always a thin line between adoration and worship. When you adore someone, you consider him human and fallible and his failures appear as mere stepping stones towards success. But when you worship someone, he becomes comparable to GOD and is certainly infallible. He can never lose and certainly never err. His mistakes, however feeble they may be, dethrone him not only from the Godly status he commands but also the human position he would have otherwise occupied. They now become sinners who should be driven away from the comforts of the middle earth into the fiery oblivions of the underworld. Every individual in my country considers him to be a better player/captain/coach/selector then the actual people who are entrusted with the job. One defeat and the whole country rises in a unison to criticise the eleven and find flaws in all aspects be it batting, bowling, fielding, toss, pitch, weather, team selection and other such blah blahs. With the very next victory, the country roars behind them and hails these fallen heroes as "Dharti Ke Laal" and the media as well as marketing brands pitch behind those whom they had shunned yesterday. Crushed between all these turmoil are the poor cricketers who now are confused as to what they are doing currently and what they are expected to do. Add to this, they have to endorse brands, make public appearances to glorify themselves, get into scandals so that people don't forget them and make as much money on the way. The only thing they forget about is that they have a role to play and a game to immortalise which they are only reminded of during those talked about defeats.
Yesterday we lost again. But this defeat meant that I had no more reason to watch the remaining one month of world cup which had just started a couple of weeks back. We were subdued by two nations belonging to the sub-continent whose combined size, population, GDP, cricketing history gets dwarfed in front of ours. Yet we lost. We had more superstars, more statistical advantage, more odds in our favour, yet we lost. Yesterday was probably the last time I saw my idol (see I told you we idolise our cricketers :) ) playing in a world cup. I have turned dumb ears towards all the ongoing disaster analysis programmes because these have been included only to channelise the TRPs that have been hit by this failure. I needed to do something about this. So I decided to do something. I started blamestorming. From now on anything bad that happens in my life will be blamed on the defeat of my cricket team. So I slept late. Blame it on the men in blue. I woke up late and disgruntled. Blame it on the men in blue. I missed my breakfast. Blame it on the men in blue. My brother woke up with a slight fever. Blame it on the men in blue. My lappy was crawling the web while what it normally does is jogging. Blame it on the men in blue. I didn't like the lunch I had. Blame it on the men in blue. I couldn't watch the TV because it had all the rubbish things going on. Blame it on the men in blue. I just remembered that I had bunked a bit of my office work the previous week. Blame it on the men in blue. And as I am about to finish this piece of worthless script, I am thinking as to why I wasted my time writing about this? Blame it on the men in blue. As an upcoming actor exclaims in a recent to-be-released flick " Woh Kehte hain naa, Jo hota hai Achchey ke liye hota hai" (meaning: Whatever happens, does for a good reason), I say " Galat Kehte hain" (meaning: Wrong). In the meantime, lets keep blaming everything on the men in blue.
P.S.: This post was actually written on the 24th of March, day after India lost to Sri Lanka and hence were ousted from the cricket world cup '07. The post gets its name from the 1984 romantic comedy Blame it On Rio starring Michael Caine and Demi Moore.
Its said that whenever a child is born in the country he either learns how to wield the willow or how to hurl the round projectile (Read: BALL) in meandering paths even before learning how to carry his weight on his legs. Cricket is not just a game or a pastime out here but more of a religion and the players no less than the residing deities. Having yielded matchwinners for decades and been crowned world champions once, there is no denying that this craze is rooted on valid judgement and not mere hype. But there is always a thin line between adoration and worship. When you adore someone, you consider him human and fallible and his failures appear as mere stepping stones towards success. But when you worship someone, he becomes comparable to GOD and is certainly infallible. He can never lose and certainly never err. His mistakes, however feeble they may be, dethrone him not only from the Godly status he commands but also the human position he would have otherwise occupied. They now become sinners who should be driven away from the comforts of the middle earth into the fiery oblivions of the underworld. Every individual in my country considers him to be a better player/captain/coach/selector then the actual people who are entrusted with the job. One defeat and the whole country rises in a unison to criticise the eleven and find flaws in all aspects be it batting, bowling, fielding, toss, pitch, weather, team selection and other such blah blahs. With the very next victory, the country roars behind them and hails these fallen heroes as "Dharti Ke Laal" and the media as well as marketing brands pitch behind those whom they had shunned yesterday. Crushed between all these turmoil are the poor cricketers who now are confused as to what they are doing currently and what they are expected to do. Add to this, they have to endorse brands, make public appearances to glorify themselves, get into scandals so that people don't forget them and make as much money on the way. The only thing they forget about is that they have a role to play and a game to immortalise which they are only reminded of during those talked about defeats.
Yesterday we lost again. But this defeat meant that I had no more reason to watch the remaining one month of world cup which had just started a couple of weeks back. We were subdued by two nations belonging to the sub-continent whose combined size, population, GDP, cricketing history gets dwarfed in front of ours. Yet we lost. We had more superstars, more statistical advantage, more odds in our favour, yet we lost. Yesterday was probably the last time I saw my idol (see I told you we idolise our cricketers :) ) playing in a world cup. I have turned dumb ears towards all the ongoing disaster analysis programmes because these have been included only to channelise the TRPs that have been hit by this failure. I needed to do something about this. So I decided to do something. I started blamestorming. From now on anything bad that happens in my life will be blamed on the defeat of my cricket team. So I slept late. Blame it on the men in blue. I woke up late and disgruntled. Blame it on the men in blue. I missed my breakfast. Blame it on the men in blue. My brother woke up with a slight fever. Blame it on the men in blue. My lappy was crawling the web while what it normally does is jogging. Blame it on the men in blue. I didn't like the lunch I had. Blame it on the men in blue. I couldn't watch the TV because it had all the rubbish things going on. Blame it on the men in blue. I just remembered that I had bunked a bit of my office work the previous week. Blame it on the men in blue. And as I am about to finish this piece of worthless script, I am thinking as to why I wasted my time writing about this? Blame it on the men in blue. As an upcoming actor exclaims in a recent to-be-released flick " Woh Kehte hain naa, Jo hota hai Achchey ke liye hota hai" (meaning: Whatever happens, does for a good reason), I say " Galat Kehte hain" (meaning: Wrong). In the meantime, lets keep blaming everything on the men in blue.
P.S.: This post was actually written on the 24th of March, day after India lost to Sri Lanka and hence were ousted from the cricket world cup '07. The post gets its name from the 1984 romantic comedy Blame it On Rio starring Michael Caine and Demi Moore.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Dreamcatcher - Blast from the Past
This is a poet's rendition to the enigmatic thoughts of a never-say-die philosopher.
Dreams give me wings to fly,
Opportunities so that I can try,
Tears so that I can cry,
Make me do things from which I would normally shy.
They come to me even when I am not asleep,
And have around me an enigmatic grip,
No matter whenever in my life do come obstacles steep,
My dreams help me cross them with a giant leap.
Lurking somewhere in my dreams is a face,
which now and then surfaces with unmatched grace,
So it can all my sorrows embrace,
And before I realise it leaves without a trace.
This world looks so different in my dream,
No chaos, no issue so grim,
Only happiness filled upto the brim,
And good will flowing down the stream.
My dreams give me a reason to live,
The strength so that amidst living corpses I survive,
In realising them I believe,
And making a difference in this world before I leave.
When my dreams turn into reality,
forgotten will be all the emotional hostility,
that were once inflicted by the world's ignominity,
Of my vision and capability.
I am a dreamcatcher,
clinging to my dreams which are so volatile by nature,
Hence every moment of these I got to treasure,
Since they possess a value no metrics can ever measure.
Away from all the worldly strives,
In my dreams I have lived many a lives,
And therein, still, all my passion thrives,
where live my lonely vibes.
P.S. : This post has been named after Lawrence Kasdan's sci-fi movie based on a novel of the same name by Stephen King, starring Morgan Freeman, Tom Sizemore, Thomas Jane and Jason Lee. Dreamcatcher is a Native American object based on a willow hoop, on which is woven a loose net or web and is then decorated with personal and sacred items such as feathers and beads. As legend has it, "Good dreams pass through the center hole to the sleeping person. The bad dreams are trapped in the web, where they perish in the light of dawn." (courtesy: Wikipedia). For those who came in late, this piece of poetry is actually an expansion of the quadruplet, I had injected in the beginning of an article of the same name , long back...
Dreams give me wings to fly,
Opportunities so that I can try,
Tears so that I can cry,
Make me do things from which I would normally shy.
They come to me even when I am not asleep,
And have around me an enigmatic grip,
No matter whenever in my life do come obstacles steep,
My dreams help me cross them with a giant leap.
Lurking somewhere in my dreams is a face,
which now and then surfaces with unmatched grace,
So it can all my sorrows embrace,
And before I realise it leaves without a trace.
This world looks so different in my dream,
No chaos, no issue so grim,
Only happiness filled upto the brim,
And good will flowing down the stream.
My dreams give me a reason to live,
The strength so that amidst living corpses I survive,
In realising them I believe,
And making a difference in this world before I leave.
When my dreams turn into reality,
forgotten will be all the emotional hostility,
that were once inflicted by the world's ignominity,
Of my vision and capability.
I am a dreamcatcher,
clinging to my dreams which are so volatile by nature,
Hence every moment of these I got to treasure,
Since they possess a value no metrics can ever measure.
Away from all the worldly strives,
In my dreams I have lived many a lives,
And therein, still, all my passion thrives,
where live my lonely vibes.
P.S. : This post has been named after Lawrence Kasdan's sci-fi movie based on a novel of the same name by Stephen King, starring Morgan Freeman, Tom Sizemore, Thomas Jane and Jason Lee. Dreamcatcher is a Native American object based on a willow hoop, on which is woven a loose net or web and is then decorated with personal and sacred items such as feathers and beads. As legend has it, "Good dreams pass through the center hole to the sleeping person. The bad dreams are trapped in the web, where they perish in the light of dawn." (courtesy: Wikipedia). For those who came in late, this piece of poetry is actually an expansion of the quadruplet, I had injected in the beginning of an article of the same name , long back...
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