Love and poetry

The warmth of the shining star,

The calm of a mountain pond,

The sweet of the flowers belly,

and the fragrance of the morning dew,

With love in my bosom, my life,

is as beautiful, as it is new!


Love. Makes poets out of many and drunkards out of many many. :)

As much as I have read and seen, I can say this with authority that love generates more pain and agony than happiness and satisfaction. Period. But we can't stop loving can we?

Also it's actually strange that most people like remembering that pain and revelling in it. You don't poke the thorn back into your leg just to relive that pain and relish it, do you?

Yet, here we are, in a world where people love the failures in love....and the poetry that follows.

Many would argue that the poetry would never happen if not for the failure. Fair point. and also that the poetry gives an expression to the un-spoken feelings. Fair point again. But the poetry in love is far sweeter than out of it.

God - The concept

God is a very interesting topic and I should say, an unending and an arguably impossible topic to bring people to a consensus on.

But there are some important points related to the concept:

1. First up, God is a powerful thing/being to which/whom you can turn to when you can't control something.
In olden times(really olden times) the king was either a God or a messenger of God...for reasons which were part of the above statement. God is a concept, and can be applied to living things as well as non-living things. Hence the innumerable number of Gods in the world.

2. Every religion needs money and power.(in the human world)
How will you build temples, mosques, churches without it? You donate to the temple to keep your faith alive in this world full of people and powers who want to suppress your faith and impose theirs on you. History has numerous examples of powerless faiths being wiped out and converted to powerful ones. Even in this advanced age(really?), this is a big fear of a large number of people around the world. Even in India there are multiple tribal faiths which are facing being wiped out because of conversions. So your God needs money and offerings. The priest/father/mullah will tell you this in one way or the other.


3. Every religion needs proofs of God's miracles. Without those proofs the religion cannot withstand the questioning of another religion. The proofs could be an epic like Ramayana, or the Quran or Bible, or architectural, like buildings or natural formations(hills, caves, lakes etc) with a believable story about the origins of the proof. It could also be an event marked in history. like the eruption of a dormant volcano, death of a tyrant who might have targeted people of a particular faith.

4. Every religion needs to show an incentive to the follower to believe in it. This is the reason why every religion markets that a true believer in its faith has a great afterlife and a non-believer has hell waiting for him. It can be understood as a) follower acquisition(incentive, heaven etc) and then, b) follower retention.(fear of going to hell, if you do not believe).

5. Every religion needs highly confident/intelligent marketing manager(s) to propagate the faith and convince new members to join in.Mullahs, Fathers, Nuns, priests come under this category. 

If I decide to start a new religion, I need to take care of points 3, 4 and 5 very well. Point 2 will follow and point 1 can be proved for my God through the judicious use of point 2 and 3.

From an atheist's point of view all major religions have followed these rules very well. He believes there is no truth in the claims of these religions because he can always point out one or the other flaws that cannot be completely explained by them.
 An inquisitive true believer asks questions too, but only within the purview of the religion he follows. For questions that do not have clear enough answers he supposes that he is not "deserving" enough to "get" the answer, and hence approaches the religious manuscripts or the preachers/gurus/mullahs/fathers. 
If the religion is very well developed/framed, most of these un-answerable questions will dissolve into God, someone who can do anything and everything and should not be questioned.

Even with this outlook of religion, faith and God, I still follow a particular religion and its practices. Why?
Because religion is not just about God. It's about how to live my life without thinking too much about the whys of this world. The world is here to experience and engage it and not to keep thinking why.
 Yeah.

And frankly, who cares about the God?

Some crap -2

Some time pass ones from me…..(inspired by a similar mail)

Socha main Ghar jaaon aaj cycle par,
To kampne lage mere pair thar thar thar thar …

Jaaon kahan bata eh dil..
Jaaon kahan bata eh dil..
Clinton ka First name hai Bill.

Chupke chupke maine use dekha…
Chupke chupke maine use dekha…
Meri favourite actress hamesha rahegi Rekha.. :P

Yeh joke jo maine logon pe feka,
Koi na hansa mar ke thahaka.
Gusse mein aake jo de diya maine ek ko mukka,
Sare logon ne mil ke mujhe jee bhar ke thoka.
Ek bande ne cheekh ke sab ko roka,
Fir kaha ki yaaron break le lete hain, main ho gaya thoda thaka!
Mauka dekh ke main jo wahan se bhaga,
Jaise aa gayi ho mujhme ek PT Usha.
Bhagte hue raste mein tha ek police ka naka,
Pakadne ek mujrim ko, jisne dala tha daka.
Mujhe dekh puliswale ne apna lath feka,
socha ki main hi hun jo bhag raha tha dal ke daka.
Lathi se bachne ke liye main jo bhagte hue jhuka,
mere piche aata hua banda ho gaya hakka-bukka.
chat se maine paas ek auto ko roka,
aur bola " Chal bhai, le chalo mujhe ghar, yehi hai mera mauka"
Ghar panhuch ke kampte kampte maine TV jo ON kiya,
Pehli hi gend pe mar diya sachin ne zabardast chakka.
Fir Sehwag ne mil ke jo Australia ko dhoya,
Aaj ke sare dukh dard main khushi khushi bhool gaya.
Yehi hai apne is kahani ki seekh,
ki har dard ki dawa hai Sachin and sehwag ki crickeeet.

Shukriya... Shukriya....

Some crap

Why does anyone write a blog?
Why do I write a blog?
Just to say what I want to say and read it myself, and also let others read it and enjoy or know me or just to air some view or just plain write something when I feel like.
You know for loong, I have been concerned with how my current blog might effect my current image and future relations and my own feelings and image of my past self when I see the blogs in the future. Its unnecessarily complicated to think and now it seems truely dishonest if I miss to reflect my correct current thought process. But, I also know that this is not my diary, so it is alright if I don't publish everything I write.

Well, thats all! This episode of "Some crap" ends here.

Strange story, my life this.

On one busy day in November, I was going to my office. Mid-way, finding out there was a huge traffic jam ahead, I steered into a narrow by lane, a characteristic of Hyderabad loved by twp wheelers and equally hated the car wallahs.
That morning was actually not very normal. I had woken up early & thought I would start up my dream routine from that day, a routine which included an hour of exercise, 15 minutes of meditation, 5 minutes of pooja, an hour at the guitar classes, half an hour of useful reading and a delicious breakfast at home and of course some spare time for unexpected things like a special edition in the news paper etc.

I woke up around 5:00 am & had managed tto do all the planned things by 8:30.

Leaving for office on Dad’s activa( Dad took a day off that day) I had one of my favourite songs on my lips. Singing all the way to office I as habit of mine I really enjoy.
So when I took the by lane I was very happy.
My routine had gone as planned & I was singing well that day.

A door opened from the left side & a girl ran out in front of my activa.
I had been serviced just a week ago but the brakes weren’t strong enough to tolerate my 90 kgs along with its 150 kgs. The obvious happened.
I braked hard enough to break the brake wire and crashed into the female. Without the delay of even a second, she rained abuses of the most premium quality on me.
My initial reaction was one of concern for her injuries (which weren’t there), which turned into a surprise, then shock, then anger.
Interrupting her I said, “I don’t know Telugu”, which stopped the deluge of filthy local language from…. the most beautifully carved lips I had ever seen.
My focus now shifted to the structure of the person standing before me.
5-6, 5-7 height, dark hair, hazel eyes, perfectly carved eyebrows, round cheeks and a little chubby, cute look to the face. Her body: right out of a beauty pageant.
The dress though left a lot to be desired. A dull grey suit (salwaar-kameez) with a black chunni and bathroom slippers for footwear wasn’t exactly the dress combination to do her justice.
“What the hell do you think you are, Michael Schumacher?” Her voice reverberated in my ears, the pitch, almost piercing my left eardrum.
I parked the activa near the electric pole and gave the I-know-there’s-nothing-serious-here-but-you-just-want-to-create-a–scene smile.
People gathered around as her voice crossed closed doors and windows.
Housewives looking for some morning masala joined the abuse fest.
My initial reaction which was no more than a faint feeling of concern for her and my office timings, started to shape up into something I hadn’t predicted, expected or the least, was prepared for.
Before they could have their fill off me, and stone me to death blaming me for the rape of the innocent girl abusing me (a crowd in India is the most potent, volatile and mindless weapon the world knows) I picked up my phone and started talking to Mr. Vijay Reddy, Superintendent of Police.
That was the best name I could make up. It had to have Reddy because the Chief Minister of State was Rajashekhar Reddy, I could at least feign some allegiance.
A loss of interest spread over the passers by and the joiners. The crowd started clearing as fast as it had gathered. I love India.
My call ended as abruptly as it had started and I was about to start off when the girl walked up to me and asked for compensation for her injuries.
Her voice had mellowed down, her face calmer and wiser. A distinctly strange feeling encompassed her face, a mix of anger, helplessness, guilt, pity, relief.
I started to feel this wasn’t actually an accident, and the veins in my stomach started tingling. That same feeling when you go to an exam half-prepared, praying to God, the other half doesn’t feature in the test.

I read her face expressions. They gave me a hint which I couldn’t decode. After all the commotion and drama she wanted more!
I gave her a stern, wry look. It seemed to work. Two gentle droplets of water flew down her round cheeks.
Of all the things in the world, I have never been able to show indifference to one thing, the tears of a woman, right from Kindergarten to Graduation and now, beyond. My heart melted.
The words came instantly from me, “I am very sorry. Are you hurt?” The weakness in my voice washing away any strength I had feigned, in front of a woman as beautiful as her.
She saw my face, and instantly realized she could press for her demands. I in the meantime sensed this woman sensing this and yet could do nothing but show my vulnerable self to her.