The songs of my heart

अहबाब भी ग़ैरोंकी अदा सीख गए है आते है मगर दिल को दुखाने नही आते  अहबाब = friends Friends! I have never been vocal about my love towards my friends. That I am generally not vocal about anything I do is another story, but nonetheless!  It is the greatest pleasure in life to have a true close friend. I consider myself lucky to have more than one of them. It is some euphoric kind of a feeling to love someone more than yourself and then get it back in turn. It is especially rewarding when people mistake your boyfriend to be your best friend and your best friend to be your boyfriend. It is also nice to have a friend who will rightfully share the negativity with you. Says something about the friendship goals. The say friends share and relieve your pain. Those who have true friends will know that this is not true. Bashir Badr has so very rightly pointed out in the above sher that pain is as much a part of friendship as anything else. And if you don't feel th

अंगावर काळ्या कभीन्न मखमलीची शाल पांघरुन रात्र धीम्या गतीने सरकत होती. बोचर् या थंडीची मजा घेत ती गेस्ट हाउसच्या मागे पायरीवर येवून बसली. आजूबाजूला तो चिमुकला गाव शांत झोपला होता. काळ्या मखमली रात्रीवर चंदेरी कुसर काढत चंद्र दूर ढगांच्या आड खेळत होता. दिवसभराचा प्रवास, स्वर्गीय निसर्गात सोबतीने मिळवलेले क्षण, सगळ्या आठवणींनी सुद्धा एक प्रकारची मंद धुंदी चढल्यासारखी झाली. पण याहून जास्त धुंदी चढवत होता तो जवळच वाहणार्या ओढ्याचा गाज. पाणी काही दिसत नव्हतं, पण त्या काळ्या शांततेत जीव ओतत आपल्याच धुंदीत तो खळाळत चालला होता. तिच धुंदी वाटून टाकत. समोर दिसणार्या हिमरांगा जणू  हिर् यांची बरसात झाल्यासारख्या चमचमत होत्या. त्या चंदेरी महालात अनोख्या मधुर तालावर तिचं मन उडत होतं. मागून हलकेच खांद्यांवर येवून विसावलेले दोन्ही हात तिने हळूच हातात घेतले. किंचीत भरू आलेले डोळे मिटून मागच्या मागे डोकं टाकत बिनधास्त ती त्याच्यावर विसावली. ओढ्याच्या गाजात अजून एक लय अलगद मिसळली. त्याच्या काळजाची धडधड. तशीच. बेधुंद.                                       ****** Apparently this part of the world

"Heaven on earth" it is called. And it is an understatement. Welcome to the experience most people also call 'Kashmir'. However bumpy and long a ride you may have had, you can't stop appreciating the beauty of this place. As for me, I screamed like a kid when I first saw the snow caped mountains in the distance. And that was the least i could do so as to still appear 'in my senses and civility'.  but come on! Do you have any idea what that sight can do to a person who was born and brought up in a western coastal state of India? It does some magic. So to me, Kashmir is magical.  all magic begins with the roads winding through some beat-skipping but breathtaking landscapes. You snake through the tall mountains and deep valleys. The sight of playful rivers running down the mountains and flowing through the valley puts a fresh smile on your face. (Just in case the bumpy ride is taking it away). As you close in on Kashmir, the beauty of everything ar

The vastness of Himalayas is itself enough to make you realise how negligible your existence is. And there at foothill of a mountain they call tololing , lies another monument which reminds you of that fact. This time even more painfully. Here you are at the Kargil war memorial. There is so much i want to write about this place, but i am at loss of words... I mean, what do you call all those feelings? For once, I know i felt proud when i entered the gate. Yes you read the gleaming "forever in operations" slogan and the tall fluttering tricolour and you have a pleasant proud smile on your face. It slowly fades when you  see a documentary which narrates how the war and other events unfolded. And you get a sudden shock. What do you call that shocking kind of a feeling you get when you realise that this is not a war movie on screen...dude -this -is -real -war footage. And then one jawan tells you that you are standing in front of tololing and tiger hill and this is exactly w