Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit

There are stresses abound
some created
some complicated.
There are troubles galore
some uninvited
some of them unknown.
But they must not let u down
'Success is failure turned inside out'
Yet now it is time for me
to let the demons go and
allow me to breakfree.

So, away I shall be
(for some days)
flying up high
touching new skies
searching more horizons
n discovering a world
that thus far
existed only in my dreams...


Shall be back soon...
Happy Living!

Lights, sounds and blasts

Unlike beer and bread, Wine was discovered 'accidentally'- by a Persian lady. A Persian woman tired of her life attempted to poison herself by eating content of a jar labeled 'poison'. She became intoxicated and fell asleep. She opened her eyes later to find that the stress she bore for years had gone and she felt light and happy. The jar was full of spoiled grapes. It is said that in Persia even now wine is sometimes called the "zeher-i-khoosh," i.e., pleasant poison.

The discovered the fact minutes before serial blasts shocked and scared Delhi on Sept 13th. It was narrated through a dance play -- And Then They Came to India --by Mallika Sarabhai and her group Darpana. The play in 45-minutes talks about the Parsi community and events leading to their migration from Persia to India after the Arab invasion. Apart from the wine discovery, one of the landmark events included in the narration was the birth of Zarathustra, the founding father of Zoroastrianism.

Though I found the concept interesting, i would admit I expected a lot more from the group. Mallika was the sutradhar dressed as a spinning dervish. That created a nice impact on the entire play. Undoubtedly, the events were beautifully visualised and the choreography was commendable but there could have been a better choice of events. While some of them were very gripping, there were moments when one lost interest. Sure, it is difficult to summarise the rich Persian history but I am sure there are many more facts that could have the evening more interesting.

I Liked the costumes -- they were rich and vibrant. Lighting was interesting. It was mellow. Music gave the 'parsi' feel. I loved the end part when the tribe mixes with the Gujarati community, adopts things like saree style and a few customs and finally 'arrives' in India. Peace, joy, happiness were the words that came to my mind when, uncannily, just then I received a message saying "Whre r u? Rush home...there hv been serial blasts in delhi killing several ppl...."

A walk to remember

It's the perfect weather to enjoy a long tiring walk. Roads are clear...so is the sky. The breeze is fragrant or is it my hair that are silky today cause they were washed today? There is relatively less traffic -- it's a Saturday. So no auto/bus/bike/car, I go back home walking today.

The service lane is too narrow to make space for arrogant gigantic cars, mischievous motorbikes, reckless college students and lost souls like me too. Others mights still accommodate, wanderers like me should have separate boulevards. Anyway. Have to bear with this rush only for about a kilometer before i find some peac..."kahan jaana hai madam" - the considerate autowallah.

Nowhere. Seriously. Let me be, please. I see a familiar face approaching. I choose to ignore and pretend I din't see. I wouldn't want anyone to accompany me unless it was you. But you ruthless bugger. You are a bigger dreamer than I am. You'd not like to leave those stars and walk with me on paths that I choose. One day you will. Till then I see my feet taking me one step closer to the beauty of everything around.

The flowers here aren't very pretty but look aesthetic, juxtaposed against dark n light green leaves. The man sleeping under the tree must be a day labourer who just gave up after struggling through a long day. Or may be a useless unemployed soul who drank too much. Must be fun sleeping like that.

I sense a very eerie pride in some cars that speed by - the red Esteem, brown Pajero, blue Suzuki, off-white Corolla and black Skoda. Cycles are innocent but have low IQ, it seems. Go berserk anytime. Bikes are bikes - dreamers like me. And pedestrians are irritants as most of them are walking to reach somewhere, therefore, missing to see how happy trees on the way are; to hear the call of wind; to feel the grief of the big monument that stands unnoticed or under-noticed.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe said, "The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. "

Punjab Tales...Travelogue

When one plans for a weekend getaway, spirituality may be the last thing on mind. A visit to a temple about 450 km away does not in anyway converge with the idea of holidaying. But what if that temple is located in a place that has memories of an infamous bloodbath, a door dividing two lands that were once one and yet is as tranquil as it could get?

Amritsar, merely 50 km east of Lahore, Pakistan, may not be a destination for unwinding after a long tiring week but it nonetheless deserves a trip to imbibe spiritualism with a touch of culture and history.

The pious journey is bound to start with the Harimandir Sahab better known as the Golden Temple. Pre-dawn is the best time to pay a visit to the shrine when the peaceful breeze gives you the feeling of being one with God as you hear the words ‘ik onkaar...’ (meaning God is one). Basking in the golden glory, the temple is aesthetic and a marvel in architecture.


Its four gates appear to welcome people from all sides at the same time representing the liberal character of Sikhism. The large lake of water, the Sarovar, surrounding it is said to be consisting of amrit, which means holy nectar.

This explains the city’s name. One is bound to get attracted to the splendor surrounding the fishes that swim in the holy water. After you have finished one round of the entire temple you are sure to ask for more. The best thing to do then is to travel around the city and come back at night to witness the grandeur when it is beautifully lit up.

A short walk from the Golden Temple leads you to the site that is reminiscent of the monstrous massacre, Jallianwala Bagh. The ground where thousand innocent lives were lost is now changed into a park. The narrow path between the houses may not give a hint of the legacy stored inside.



There is a well, called the Martyrs’ Well, where visitors can’t help but stop and have a dekko of the place where several people jumped in while trying to escape from bullets. Also, there are remnants of walls preserved to show the bullet holes.

It is advisable to save some time and a lot of energy for a trip to the action-packed Wagah Border, the only road border between India and Pakistan. It’s best to take a taxi from the backside of the Golden Temple, which would take you about 45-minutes to reach.

Wagah is a village that was one before partition. Today, for Indians the eastern part is theirs while the other half belongs to Pakistan. There is an eerie feeling you get standing in Atari, the ‘last village in India,’ that is if the borders bother you. This border, however, is a stage of an entertaining flag lowering ceremony at both ends every evening.

An energetic parade by Indian soldiers and a slight glimpse of the same by Pakistan ranger soldiers does bring in pride for the country and perhaps, somewhere, a curiosity to see the one on the other side of giant gates.

The ceremony proceeds, flags are brought down, ‘nationalistic’ fervour rises and lights are switched off marking the end of the day. The sun sets on both sides equally and winged creatures fly back unaware of the borders, gates and any ceremonies...