The songs of my heart

I always wondered why people wrote all those loving messages to dead… why couldn't they express it all while the other person was still alive…but today, here I am, doing the same- perhaps because the logic takes a backseat when emotions take over. Prof.Kamalakant Parab passed away. Parab sir, as he was commonly known among his students, was (and will always be) the most lovable person known to me. Sir taught us Hindi in the higher secondary school. He was a delight to the 16-17 year olds who had just crossed a threshold in their academic and personal lives. With those caring words, never fading smile, cheerful laughter and the voice- Oh! That voice! Most of us thought sir sang like Rafi. I remember the night in our college trip where in one antakshari round I had completely lost my heart to that voice. Those different camp fire songs which he taught us during the NSS camp, that energy and enthusiasm which took over all of us, and the fun we had together! Sir deve

“What’s the punishment for a man who takes away a woman’s life while she is still alive?” Screams a poster on the wall behind the counter. I am waiting for my sandwich at the counter of a leading food outlet when I hear this conversation: Customer :  “did you get that poster printed?” Counter guy : “no… they gave it to us to display, the Times of India people” Customer :  " oh! These posters and all won’t work, u see… NO action will be taken against the   culprits. “kkay faaydo na tacho! Haav sangta nhi” Counter guy :  "Seriously! Those babus in Delhi won’t be moved by anything at all. I’m telling you… Sheila Dixit’s or some other minister’s daughter should get raped someday. Then u see, how action is taken” Well… the conversation must have continued but I couldn’t hear more. I went numb. So the anger is oozing, alright. But is this how the men in my country give vent to their anger? “Sheila Dxit’s or some minister’s daughter should get raped someday…. So th

I happened to find these pictures in a drawer in office. The pics dont carry any name or anything written behind them, so I presume a few things: first, that the one who made them wishes to remain unknown second, that since the pics were in a media office, they were sent for publication and third, that he/she wudn't mind me sharing them because THIS IS SOME AMAZINGLY GOOD STUFF!   i dont intend to steal anybody's work or anything like that... just sharing this because i loved the work

४ वर्षां नंतर आज अश्या आठवणी का येताहेत काय माहीत! २००८ च्या अनंत चतुर्दशीला मी पुण्यातील गणपती ची विसर्जन मिरवणूक पाहिली होती. आयुष्यात पहिल्यांदा! संपूर्ण ! आणि अगदी २ हाताच्या अंतरावरून! चाणक्य मंडल परिवाराची एक विद्यार्थिनी म्हणून सदस्य असताना दर वर्षी प्रमाणे ७ दिवस गणेशोत्सवात volunteer म्हणून काम केलं होतं. ते ७ दिवस आणि विसर्जनाचा पूर्ण दिवस आमच्या  टीम मधल्या unique pieces   मुळे शक्य झालं. आमचा ग्रुप  होता   group 7. पण   कुणी विचारल कि सगळे मुद्धाम “007” अस सांगायचो. तेव्हा “इंडिअन बोंड” नावाची ringtone सगळ्यांनी आपापल्या फोन वर सेट करून ठेवली होती. टीम मधला कुणी समोरून येताना दिसला कि   background music दिल्यासारख ते music   म्हणायचं.   ७ दिवस   जगातल्या   सगळ्या प्रकारच्या   PJ चा स्टोक उघडला होता. आणि काहीही बडबड करून कारणाशिवाय वेड्यासारखे हसायचो.   PJ   म्हणजे poor, pathetic, pachka, आणि जे काही होत असेल तसले जोक्स झाले होते. दुसऱ्या  टीम मधले मुलं मुली आमच्या टीम  मध्ये मुद्दाम रेफ्रेश व्हायला यायचे! कसे काय माहित पण CMP मधल्या चारही batches मधली  

I miss my sneakers, and I can’t find them. God knows where I lost them. Some things in life just get lost! You remember the time you saw them last, used them, but eventually you find out that they are gone. Lost! I was not like this when I was small. But I remember one cute doll which I had, and one day it was lost. There are so many books I can name which have managed to disappear in thin air. And the stickers which I collected as a kid, so many photographs which were sleeping peacefully in the comfort of my drawer, some cassettes, yeah, the special friendship bands….. I wonder how… they just managed to get lost! And then as I grew older I seemed to have lost the attachment to material things. So things took another level. But now I miss the faith which I lost. The ability to trust people, I lost innocence. I have lost my heart- more than once. I lost good sense. Then I lost my mind. I am a complete loser now. How I wish I could keep those things. How I wish I could pl

pic courtsy: google A strange tension will fill the air in Vishakhapattanam tomorrow. Hands will clap, girls will cheer their guts out, and people will rise from their seats as India shall get her new hero. Yuvraj Singh comes back from a successful battle against cancer tomorrow to play his first comeback match. Dear Yuvi, I remember the day when the news broke out about the dreaded diagnosis. I may not be among the best of your fans, but I remember staring at the paper in disbelief… but we never lost hope. Being the spirited sportsman that you are- you couldn’t lose hope, could you? And then you were in bed (for wrong reasons) and we cried silent tears, you were being treated and we prayed our prayers and you said you’ll be back…. And we cheered!!! What more could we do anyway? And now, as the day comes close, its not just your heart which is racing. It’s not just your fingers which are crossed. Its not just your throat which feels choked. When you will take to t

दर सोमवारी वाळपई ते पणजी असा दोन तासांचा बस प्रवास होतो. हा प्रवास म्हणजे a complete assault on senses असतो. त्यातल्या त्यात नाकावर जास्त! for those who are ‘blessed’ with a sharp sense of smell, the journey is enough to turn it into a curse. घरूनच सुरुवात होते. सकाळी ६:३० – ६:४५ च्या दरम्यान निघाल्यामुळे स्वच्छ ताजा श्वास आणि भोवतीच्या झाडांमुळे मोकळा वास पुढच्या आठवड्या साठी साठवून मी बस साठी उभी राहते. बस मध्ये चढतानाच पहिला हमला होतो- गंजलेल्या स्टीलचा वास... आणि त्या handle ला धरून चढण्या शिवाय पर्याय नसल्यामुळे तो वास पुढे २ तास हाताला चिकटून राहतो! आत शिरल्यावर बस मधल्या अगरबत्ती चा वास! (बस मध्ये अगरबत्ती लावायची प्रथा ज्याने कुणी सुरु केली असेल त्याला देव माझ्या शापा पासून वाचवो) खेडेगावातील शाळेत जाणारी मुलं खच्चून भरलेली असल्यामुळे त्यांनी डोक्याला   लावलेल्या तेलाचा वास. त्यात सुद्धा खोबरेल चा वेगळा आणि कुठल्या तरी ‘सुगंधी’ तेलाचा – पण दोन्ही स्वतः पुरते prominent! आणि सोमवार असल्यामुळे ‘स्वच्छ ‘ धुतलेल्या uniform ला येणारा detergent चा वास... असे वार (कि वास?) झेलत

एक वह रात थी और एक यह रात है … किसी के सोच मी डूबे दोनो हि जगी है पर कभी आंधी सुहानी सी लगी थी , आज चांदनी भी अंजान है एक वह रात थी और एक यह रात है मुस्कुराये अंधेरे मे तब भी और अब भी पर बहाने क्या हूए कभी तनहाई में खयालो की  भीड थी, आज किसी के साथ में भी तनहाई सी है एक वह रात थी  और एक यह रात है इस किताब के पन्ने कोरे से रे है हमेशा कभी लगा था इसलिये के कहानी कि शुरुवात बाकी थी आज इसलिये कि कहानी अधुरी सी है एक वह रात थी  और एक यह रात है... pic crtsy : google P.S. I hve always wanted to write in hindi for the love of that language. But this just happened... no deliberate attempts :) Kiran Ma'm will be so proud ! heheh

Now, let me warn you beforehand…. This thought could be a little… scary!(?) There are generally two types of people: the first types make mistakes, and get away with it. If they don’t, they try hard to cover it up. By using tools like blame game, high voice, rude language and what not…… The second types make mistakes and admit . They confess, be sorry and then dust the guilt off.  This type is generally considered to be nobler of the two- strong, courageous enough and blah blah … Now I wonder… I wonder,  'What after that'? What comes after confession? Is this confession something like a hand towel to us? (yes, I did say “us”) As in we soil our hands, and then use the towel to clean ‘em and then we r ready to get back to the ground again. Do we consider that we have a free hand to commit any mistake (and what do call a bad act purposely done?) as long as we are honest enough to admit it? P.S. I think it’s high time I changed the title of my blog to “the questions of my h

I had given up on new year resolutions long time back. Because none of them could live longer than 7-8 days.   Also, their short life started affecting my self confidence, and self image.  And what’s the point of making resolutions which will never come in practice, right? Well, now, after 2012 is a month old already, this suddenly occurred to me:  I’v been wondering lately if I am carrying too much of garbage in my mind. Some things that happened in the last year and the way I’v reacted to them are making me feel stuffed! And it’s a sick feeling…by the way. Generally I am not a person who holds grudges against anyone , but here I am- I can name so many people I don’t like, so many places I don’t want to be in, so many situations I wish to avoid…. Goodness, whatever happened to the peace that once lived in here? Why do I keep going back to the things I hate?  Why do I even have so many things to hate? (Now you know what’s “feeling stuffed”) I feel like this more often these days. I