As 2011 is going to be a memory followed by unfolded tomorrow and looking forward with a very positive outlook, I raise my glass in reminiscence of the glorious year, “To friends and to friendship.”
Situations are always there, sometimes in favor and sometimes against; but say time flows with its own swiftness, careless from everything. How true! 2011 has been all about going along with time. All my life I carved for love, this year taught me friendship. Since always I read in lines that love is above friendship, this year I realized. To write names of people is not a necessity because they already know their place in my life but yes! This year has given me few people as the gifts which belong to me forever. Friends, you make my world and I am really in love with you.
Second best thing happen to me is increase in my love for literature and by the end of the year I am at a point from where I can be sure that I will write a book someday. I have developed a group of people who regularly read my writings and come up with their appreciation and criticism. Though they are few in numbers and receive my numerous thanks for spending their precious time to read me and write me back with their valuable responses.
Lesson of the year is, “Keep a faith in people and they will never break a promise.” Here are few random incidents of the year:
My sister gave birth to the little champ and now I am a happy mamu of 3 kids :)
An outline of my novel has been written and at least I have an idea of climax.
Watched the whole Twilight movie series and loved it beyond degree. Now anticipating its final part in November, 2012.
And now just in last week of 2011 I have changed my job and seeking for a better career with new opportunities in my new organization.
I would like not to write a long article saying lots of things. I would love to cherish them in my heart for always rather. Thanks to everyone who made my 2011. Thanks to 2011 which made my people. Sayonara.
Ah! Pain nips me and I tend to show,
And I come running to you from miles away
But before I unwrap a single layer of feeling
How terrible I feel right… I feel right now
I melt and flow, without saying any word of my pain
And you laugh at me, showing me your middle finger.
Perhaps you can ever realize, how beautifully painful it feels,
Oh yes! Beautifully painful it feels to my fucking dumped soul.
Don’t cry sweetheart! It is none of yours faulty foul.
You love playing, I love being played
You love laughing, I love being sad,
I love you laughing, you love me being sad
What is the problem? Let’s continue together,
Yeah! Hearless sweetheart, together forever.
And you know what? I know you don't
So let me tell you because, all this not because
you love to celebrate at my limitless pain but
Because Oh no! "I Love to See You laugh at Me."
An anticipation of this book was somewhere on my mind at the very moment when I finished his debut novel I Too Had A Love Story in tears but when I read about another upcoming novel on the Facebook Fan Page of Ravinder Singh, the anticipation turned into eagerness and excitement. And seriously, as author Ravinder himself says, Facebook contributed a big part in conveying updates, establishing coordination between author and readers and much more than that developing a relation.
First of all mazel tov to Ravinder Singh for release of his most awaited book. May God gift him with success and happiness in every aspect of his life. The very moment I saw Delhi/NCR book launch event of Can Love Happen Twice on his page, I RSVP with a positive confirmation. I mean this was something very exciting for me like OH MY GOD!! I AM GOING TO MEET Ravinder Singh, THE BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF INDIA. Oh! Oh!! My god. I already had ordered my copy of
Can Love Happen Twice on Flipcart time long ago. And when I shared this news with one of my best friend, she was excited too, more than me. We both set up a plan that we will be going on the book launch together. Wow! Evening was going to be a great thrill for me.
By afternoon I heard from my friend that she will not be able to accompany me on the event and we both were bit gloomy about it. But finally I reached Ambience Mall with my copy of Can Love Happen Twice? 1 hour prior from the event. Hoppering around, enjoying my curiosity, missing my friend and waiting for Ravinder Singh, I was impatient to know the atmosphere of Reliance Timeout what was going on there. At the beginning during the security check, they updated me that I cannot go in with the book bought from outside. There is one thing about me, whenever I read any book, I underline quotes that touch me, write my own notes beneath lines. So after reading a book, I feel special about that particular copy of book. And when mustache man told me that book is not allowed, I gone off. Still I had almost half an hour before the event was supposed to commence. I paced to sales persons regarding my issue from where I was referred to their sales manager and then to their security head. Anyhow within twenty minutes I was able to have a star shaped security stamp fixed on the cover of my book which meant book could hang around with me inside the store.
I finished my latté in haste and took a seat to observe their preparation. There were people from Reliance store itself, Penguin India and others managing the événement. A projector was set up above our heads which would play the presentation on a medium sized screen. Two big sized comfort chairs were installed on one I had a guess Ravinder Singh himself and on another any official from Penguin will be seated. Audio books of Can Love Happen Twice? recorded by Ravinder Singh in his own voice, copies of Can Love Happen Twice? all colored in blue (my favorite color) were arranged in a tower shape, few copies of his first novel I Too Had A Love Story in English and also translated in Hindi. In time all chairs were full and area of Café Coffee Day was also occupied by Fans of Ravinder Sir. As time was getting closer, the zeal was reaching to its top. Right then they stood a poster-in-red and printed numbers 93.5 on it. Oh yes! The opening chapter of the novel rang a bell in my head. And the thrill raised its bar to roof when we all were informed by Vaishali that RJ Swati from Red FM 93.5 will be reaching here with Ravin.
Soon the video of the book made by Penguin India was played on screen. Words popping from blue clouds. Few lines than can really make someone thinking.
We are born …once
We die…once
We fall in love… once
And when that happens,
We promise this very life to someone else
And then if destiny plays a cruel joke and that one love is lost
Would your heart stop beating?
Would you stop believing in love?
Or would you give love another chance?
Allow happiness to knock your door… twice?
From the author who has become an inspiration…
Ravinder Singh
Comes a second love story
CAN LOVE HAPPEN TWICE?
Around 1930 Hrs appeared the bestseller and most loved novelist of India, tall and decent Ravinder Sir and the most loved RJ of Delhi gorgeous and spontaneous Swati both in black and were welcomed with warm hearts in the its own Desi-Delhite-style :-) We are gracious to you that you have dedicated this book to your readers, thank you millions Ravinder Sir.
"So we all are here for book launch of Can Love Happen Twice?, how many of you already have got your copy?" Threw the question Swati to all of us.
I and many others raised my hand. Yes I had my copy of novel in my hands.
"And how many of you are planning to get it?" Swati again.
And I too again. I was going to buy another one too. Probably to gift someone. I love gifting books.
"Alright, that is a good amount. And how many of you have have the hreatbreak."
Uff! I was one of those who know pain of heartbreak. My hand went up.
From here picked up pace the discussion between RJ Swati and Ravinder which was utterly entertaining to audiences. The first attack by RJ Swati upon Ravinder,”How rude the character of Shambhavi you have portrayed in the book, Ravin! I am very nice with my coworkers.” Ravinder Sir had to be diplomatic on this to save himself otherwise you know well how perfectly Swati can trap someone, even the king of pen cannot escape from her word trap. This turned the ambiance light and during the conversation between both of them we were able to know many unfolded facts behind the scene. I was surprised to know that Ravinder Singh had never been in a radio station until release of this novel. How effectively he managed to describe the RED FM office as if he himself is a RJ. I had mistaken to think that he has done a good research on this part of book. As he has quit his studies for a business degree from some very reputed college of India, I do not recall name of the college at this moment, he told how hard he had to work on the book along with keeping his studies on. Every single day he had to make sure that he submits his college assignments before it is next day and dosed with cuppa. He would spend hours to google back in his own part of life, thousands of stories he received from his loyal fans and his imagination. Then only after tough work of hours for months this book could reach to our hands.
On the question ‘Can love happen twice?’ he tossed the question back to his fans. Well, I strongly have a faith in love and see it above from all social, emotional and any kind of boundary I believe that love can happen twice. I took the mic and with greetings to Ravin Sir initiated my words,
“Well, congratulations to Ravin Sir for his book. And as the title of the book is a big question itself, everyone has been talking about questions and answers rising and debating about them. I would like not to say anything about it and just to share how I feel about this. Yes, I agree love can happen twice. and I think second time more mature, more sincere, more deep and more caring. Because we already know how painful it is to lose someone we love. So I would say Love can happen twice.”
This time he wants to engage his story with Simar in a more effective way so this time he has came up with the audio book and that too in his own voice. When he read a couple of pages from the book in which Khushi, his girlfriend who unfortunately passed away (Only from the earth, in his heart she lives forever), gives an approval of his relation with Simar, everyone became emotional. Swati wanted to hear our reactions on it but when no-one could utter a single word about this and Swati was bit low about it, I grabbed the mic and said, “I am not able to say anything. I have lumps in my throat.” Swati in her prompted approach made the moment light again, “So when you read the book you have lumps in your throat and you are unable to speak. I think you should get this so that you can plug in your ears and go though the book WITHOUT-HAVING-LUMPS-IN-YOUR-THROAT,” Swati mischievous said pointing towards audio book and everyone indulged in this joyous moment.
When I asked about art of literature he uses in his book. “We know Sir, you are much inspired by your own and your readers’ lives; how do you bind all those stories together. Do you follow literary conventions and fit your stories into the definition of novel? How do you go with the flow?” on which his reaction was, “Oh! I am really not too much into the grammar and all. I simply start writing from one end to another and pour out all my feelings. I flow like a river, from beginning till ending. Not following particularly any particular regulation.” And when I asked for tips on writing he came with only one, “Write with your heart. Pen down what you have in your heart. Write truly and truly with your heart and you will end up with a great story.” What a man of heart he really is! May God bless him.
Finally we all were invited were for autograph ceremony for which we all were desirably waiting. The already copy I had, I got signed for my friend who could not join in today and an audio book for me.
For Ashish,
with love.
Ravin Singh
While having my copy being autographed he had to say, “Tum thoda smile nahi kar sakte?” :-) and we all again burst into laughter. When finally I reached him with another copy to be signed for my girlfriend (yes, I never call her my ex-girlfriend because there is nothing like ‘ex’ in true relations) Sir baptized me with a new name,”Tum bahut SENTI-BANDE ho yaar.”
“Weak at heart Sir, like you perhaps.” (And strong at the same time)
I was about to leave there Swati’s eyes caught my sight,”Hey Hey, yum wohi ho na josko lumps aate hain throats me. (You’re the same same guy who come to have lumps in throat)
“Thank You Swati, because of you I got the audio book too.”
“OK, you take a little amount of turmeric with (I do not remember what she told) whenever you have those lumps again,” she was not ready to miss a single chance of leg pulling, “And you never talked to me on air, call me on zero one one four…”
“I already have called you once, you know.”
“Oh that’s great, when?” her known –known-to-entire-Delhi accent.
“It’s been two years. After my break up and you know what! You told me to move on move on.”
“So you moved on?” raised she a question.
“Mmm, yaah!”
And with these words we ended the short discussion, shook a warm hand with Sir Ravinder Singh with a wish to see him again. What a beautiful and unforgettable evening it was!
I, the guy in white behind with his copies in hand.
Disclaimer : The above article is based upon my experience of being in book launch of Can Love Happen Twice? in Delhi/NCR. The dialogues and incidents are rewritten the best I could recall and may be different from original.
(English translation of this poem can be read below.)
Apne ghar ki khidki ke parde ke pichhe se
Mai un rasto ko der sham tak dekhta rahta hu
Ab tak mujhe yakeen hai aaoge tum
Palke bichhae tumhara rasta dekhta rahta hu..
Mai un rasto ko der sham tak dekhta rahta hu
Bharosa kiya hai tumpe apne aap se bhi jyada
Janta hu meri fikar nahi hai tumko
Per sochta hu kya pata mere khatir na sahi
Mere bharose ki khatir hi
Kissi din bhuli raahon se wapis aa jao
Issliye aone bharose ko tutne se rokta rahta hu
Mai unn rasto ko der sham tak dekhta rahta hu
Duriyon me bhi maine nazdikiyon koo dhoondha hai
Janta hu mere akelepan ki fikar nahi tumko
Per sochta hu kya pata mere akelepe- ki khatir na sahi
Mujhse dooriyoan mitane ki khatir hi
Kissi din veerane hue raston se wapis aa jao
Issliye inn duriyon ko ankho me sametata rehta hu
Mai unn rasto ko der sham tak dekhta rahta hu
Translation:
Standing behind curtains hanging on the window of my house,
I keep gazing at those paths till late evening
And still, I have a strong faith you’ll come
Hopefully, with gazing eyes I in hope of you
I keep gazing at those paths through open window till late evening.
Have kept my trust into you, more than I believe myself
I know you do not care for me
But then I console me thinking, may be not for me
But for my trust at least
From forgotten lanes, A day perhaps you come back
Ergo, I keep stopping by faith from braking
I keep gazing at those paths through open window till late evening.
I have searched for warmth of closeness even in distances
I know you do not care for my loneliness
But then I console me thinking, may be not for my loneliness
But to kill those distances from me at least
From deserted lanes, A day perhaps you come back
Ergo, I keep shrinking distances in my eyes
I keep gazing at those paths through open window till late evening.
They say, color of love; once you are colored in love, no other color can leave it’s effect upon you. Being in love is like completely lost in the another world. You go blind. No other color you can see. This poem Rang De Piya Re Mohe, writing a Hindi poem after almost a couple of year, is about a lover who is totally lost in love and now wants to dissolve his soul in the love of beloved and vanish in it to attain integrity with the soul mate. So here is the Rang De Piya Re Mohe…
Rang de piya re mohe apne rang me aise,
Rang aur kisi ka mope chadh na sake,
Preet me teri, meri doobe aisi naiyaa,
Meri naov vahan se aage badh na sake.
Tere prem ka pyala peeta rahoon,
Pi pi matwala ho jau
Mujhe itna pyar pila de tu,
Main prem ki madhushala kehlau
Mera hath tham meri shakti ban,
Bhagwan bhi mujhse lad na sake,
Rang de piya re mohe apne rang me aise,
Rang aur kisi ka mope chadh na sake.
Prithvi me dikhe, ambar me dikhe, Chahun ore disha me mohe tu hi dikhe,
Mai itna pagal ho jau,
Tere siva aur mohe kuch na dikhe
Jis cheez me teri chhavi na base,
Vahan nayan mere kabhi khul na sake,
Rang de piya re mohe apne rang me aise,
Rang aur kisi ka mope chadh na sake.
Glossary:Naiyaa: Boat, Naov: Boat, Chahun: All four (Here in the sense of 'in all four directions'), Chhavi : Reflection
They all called, and called it my day
For me it was just another Tuesday
Cheerless, noiseless; lying in my grey
Yes, it was my twenty first birthday.
Be it a new friend, or the oldest pal
Few wrapped me in warm-blessing-shawl
Few wrote wishes on my Facebook wall
Few messaged smiles, laughter and lol
Few made promise to see me at The Mall
Few forgot to remember, Oh! That’s all.
Mother sent blessings direct from sky,
Holy being exalted from inner soul high
Bless and bliss enough, to make me fly
Cheerless, noiseless, but I, waiting for thy.
Gazing at phone, refreshing my email,
Trying to feel fragrance, in the wind that sail,
Looking at the way, as if anticipating rail
Finally day passed, hopeless, frozen in hail.
Locked up entire day, needing for some air,
Almost at midnight, I open the door-pair
Fragrance of roses, all here and there
“Oh My God!” She had wished in her own flair.
Big ope’d eyes; yes I had smiling eyes
A wind chime there with two hanging butterflies,
A red rose had she sent coupled with a pink
A white porcelain coffee cup, “Look how does she link!”
There are few things, not possible to pay,
A thanks from my heart, is all I have to say.
Once the teacher asked kids,
To write their favorite wish on paper
One little girl wanted a room full of chocolates
Where she could live and eat all day all night
And a fasto desired if he could bring
Two lunch boxes instead of one
Another girl wrote for long blonde hair
Which would shine golden like sun
A shy cute tot wished he could
Sit everyday with the girl next row
One kid with thick lenses on eyes
Wanted his fighting parents to be silent
So that he could study the entire day.
At last submitted the calm back seater child
His white sheet with his most wanted wish.
And when the teacher asked why you want
Wings like angel on you, afraid he said
“I am sorry Ma’am, but do you see
At night the brightest star in the sky?
I will put my wings on and fly
In the sky to it because daddy says
Son, that shining star is your mother.”
“There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
So true. The last line from the movie Terminator Salvation. The best movie ever exposed differences between humans and machines. I completely agree the fate is what we make. But the fate what we are making, the trail we are leading to, the story we are writing has a horrible tomorrow. A world where will be no place for emotion, where is no place for love, where everything is mere a commodity, where exchange will the only rule. Is this the tomorrow we have dreamt of?
Have you ever thought of the difference between a machine and a human? Machine can work hundreds times faster than a human can, they can perform tasks which are beyond capabilities of humans, machines are much stronger and have a much higher caliber than a human can hold. Then what is that makes humans conquering over machines? Why machines are still slaves of humans? Why they work according to human instructions and not rule over us?
There is one principal difference between humans and machines. We humans have feelings. We are made of emotions. We cry when we are happy and we cry when we sad. But now-a-days the way human emotions work, sometimes it feels machines are par times better than us. At least they are not selfish like us. They do not hurt others’ sentiments. It is miserable when we people go ruthless more than machines. You know even a gun kills only when its trigger is pressed.
Look at ourselves friends, where we all are leading to! Our whole lives we keep committing sins, doing wrong things, hurting other peoples for our own happiness and what we get at the end? a heart full of regret, a heart seeking for just one sentence of forgiveness, a heart yearning for one drop of love. We hate a poor man lying on the street because he is wrapped in rags. We are too afraid to hug a man because he is HIV Positive? We slap a little child serving on shop because he has spilled tea on expensive suit? We leave our parents alone to die because they are too old and a burden upon you? You break up with the girl who loves you more than herself because things are not working between both you? What is this? Why is this? Are we that much self obsessed? Do we think only about ourselves? Have we gone too much blind for for the sake of our own smile that we cannot see tears of others?
Hundred questions, not a single answer. Don’t you think people, those emotionless machines are far better than us? I would wish to born as piece of some steel rather than being an emotionful but emotionless so called best creature of the universe ‘The Human’.
She was alone and she was gifted. She could stop the world from her music. She lonely used to play her piano in her little shelter by side of river. I, every day listened her music and every time I heard, I was lost.
I am once again lost when she does not play anymore. God knows where she has gone. But wherever she is, her music always echoes in my ears and steps down into my soul. I miss the girl with the piano.
I knew a damsel, in my neighborhood,
Her hut was across; in meadows, past wood
Magic in pinkish fingers, pre-blessed by God
Which became preternatural, by nature’s applaud.
Her fingers flew, on keys like breeze
Birds stopped chirping, rivers did freeze
She had no companion, to listen to her song
Lonely played harmony, and sobbed along.
One day I by chance, happened to listen her tune
“Collect firewood,” when mother ordered; my fortune!
Arpeggios; born in piano, sailed through on air,
Melodious than an ode, delicious than éclair.
Stood I un-blinked, forgot heart to pound,
Earth impeded to gyrate, heavenly soothing sound.
That was the day, and the day is this
I went every day, none chance did I miss
Indulged in her music, lost in compositions
Between me and her, piano became preposition
That was a day, and a day is this
Where is she gone? Crave! How much I miss.
Some say she sings in the court of heaven
Some said her songs were the holy daven.
Wherever ye hath gone, I feel thy harmony
Aft never heard, that marvelous symphony.
A stranger, I saw in boulevard,
Drizzling down, blurred sight
Standing soaking, off wool lard
Appeared she known; her face white.
Face upwards, straight to sky
Obtaining into her, the divine bliss,
“She is my own,” assumed I why
“Who is she, is something I miss?”
Under umbrella, evading heaven-shower,
Hiding my identity, behind high collar
With paced feet, passed through street,
To recognize the face, in haste to meet.
As visions exchanged, recollection sent messengers,
Passed by across, two familiar strangers.
“Dear Chetan Sir, I am gratified to you for writing such a miraculous novel like Revolution 2020. I grown up reading your earlier novels and found all of them appreciating but this one has spark. A spark to raise issues on which our community prefers to remain silent, a spark to bring revolutionary changes in India. And the way you unmasked reality the behind educational system in our country will surely make a big share of our population thinking. Apart from national issues the love story in the book touches the nerve and conveys the message that receiving is not everything in the love. It is the best threesome I ever came across to. Meaning of the love is to scarify, to give and to be happy in the happiness of others.
In cell I would like to say you thank you. Such a great volume. May lord inspire you writing more and more. Bless him almighty!”
The book impressed it before even I could open it. Title of the novel was indicating but book-cover immediately grabbed my attention. On the top Dashashwamedh Ghat in Varanasi and below a flow of emotions. Varanasi, one of the most rich cultured, ancient and hub of education system in the world since many thousands years; I could not take my eyes off for a while. I find Varanasi the second most amazing city in the world. There is something about this city. So I could better connect myself with the story. The ghats, broad Ganga in the Varanasi, temples, BHU, all the places and specially the other bank of the river took me back to my journeys to the city in past years. And if we talk about characters, be it Raghav, Aarti or Gopal; all Characters are strongly portrayed. I wonder how deeply Chetan understands things from the view of a girl. For a moment I did not feel that book is written by a man when I gone through Aarti. Friendship, love, possession, sacrifices all built very well together in one story. Somehow I could relate with the story. There are many points I became emotional. From very first to last chapter and epilogue the ride of sixteen years is earnest. It touches. Chetan knows nerve of Indian youth and he successfully hits this target. The books conveys us thoughtful messages toward our contribution to our needy society, our sick educational system and at the same time it teaches us real meaning of love. Scarifying for our love is aching sometimes but it takes love to the place out of this world. Anyone can happily spend life being with the love of life. Being happy in the happiness of love is love. And this is why I consider Gopal as the best character in the novel.
For own sake everyone would do anything, Test of the love is when you cry for the smile of someone else. And the fact is that everyone cannot pass this test. It never was easy to see the one whom you love in the arms of someone else and still smile. But who do, they reach to heights of pure love. There is a lot to talk about the book but everyone has their own outlook and I hope they will be happy to share.
Good enough for a rating of ★★★★.
Thanks, Ashish
Dear husband John, Honey I am very happy. Very soon our angel is about to come among us to spread lots of bliss in our world. I am sorry I haven’t told you yet but I wanted to keep it as surprise for you but now I cannot keep any longer this secret inside me. Yes Johnny my love, I am pregnant. Seeds of your love are developing in my womb. I know you will go mad with cheer with this news and will first smile then scream and then run here and there everywhere in the cantonment to tell everyone about this. Wow! This feeling overfills me with ecstasy John I cannot tell you. I am heartily thankful to you for blessing us with this precious flower of love. But you know John I wanted to see how you will smile when you hear this news, I wanted to feel your touch, I, John; I wanted to be in your arms when I tell you about my pregnancy. I really really miss you baby. I wish my strong man comes back soon. Please do come back soon. Is not it possible to apply for a few days leave? I want to live these moments with you. Our child is waiting for daddy. There are thousands of things I want to tell you. I wish you take me into your muscular arms and we talk for the whooole night. And I tell you everything I have in my heart and you tell how bravely you fight with enemies. Oh! John… mom is calling, I will write you later… Bye bye bye bye bye. Mmuahh!!
I love you. Your wife, Jane
........................................................................................................................................................... MONDAY MARCH 01ST, 2010 11:25 AM EST
Good morning Daddy John, John you know last entire night I could not sleep. I have been thinking about you and our child. It will be a baby boy :) And I will name him… OK this responsibility if leave on you. But used to say you want a baby girl. What if this is a girl? Then what name we will give her? No, boy and only boy and his name will be… ufff I forgot again, naming the kid is your job. I know John it does not matter whether it is a boy or girl. All I know is it is our child. And I am very happy and excited. Again there is a problem. If we do not know it is a boy or girl then how we are going to do a lot of shopping? We will buy little prince cloths or little princess cloths? We will get dolls or cars? Will he be a soldier like you or will she be a writer like me? Oh John, I am completely mystified. I am aware when you will come; you will come with all solutions of my problems. Only the thought of being with you thrills me from head to toe. When you will gently wrap your arms around me and put your ear on my stomach to hear beats of the second heart beating inside me, Oh Jesus how I will stop myself from dying of delight! I think I should stop writing before I die :)
Bye Papa John, Love you Honn, Your Jenny ........................................................................................................................................................... WEDNESDAY MARCH 03RD, 2010 01:48 AM EST
Western Pacific winds
Tenderly touch my face,
It feels you came and kissed.
You are nearby; even when not
With thy love, I am bliss-ed.
O my sailor! Sail to home,
You are awaited, you are missed.
God, how frequently I use the word happy now. Look, how happy I am! Celebrations are all around. I feel to be from out of this world. I heard voice of John today after… ummm let me count… after 36 days. My heart skips a beat when you say,”I love you.” John your voice comes through from earpiece and goes through my soul and each word you say echoes loudly throughout the day and night. Our kid heard you today when you were talking to me. I exactly remember every sentence you say and murmur it to me later. I cannot hide a glitter of exhilaration in my eyes. They are shining like star. My two eyes are gazing at the path that comes to home, John, they are anticipating you, honn they are eagerly waiting for you. Eyes are thirsty sweetheart it’s been seven long months they have not catch a sight of you. I am starving without you. This heart is yearning.
But I am happy beyond explanation because you are coming home :) ...........................................................................................................................................................
1 Year Later
MONDAY JULY 18TH, 2011 05:10 PM EST
Don’t know why John today you are coming a lot to my memories. I still remember the last time you said me that you love me. How can I forget the day of 03rd March. Our little John, yes I have named him John, has learnt to crawl on his little knees now and all the day he keeps me busy in taking care of him. Mom says you were also very naughty when you were of his age. His eyes exactly resemble to yours. Deep and blue like Pacific Ocean. Pacific Ocean! How can I forget cruel Pacific? I will never forgive Pacific in my life. Yes, I saw those giant waves on T.V. in news. Sea, you swallowed up my John… you swa….ll..ll..ooeed… up….. Jo..oo…h..n.. where have you gone?
Home was waiting for you to come and came your dead body wrapped in the flag. I wished you will cover my body with yours and they covered your body with soil. It kills me John. Every memory kills me. I cannot live because you are not here and our child does not let me die. Everyday I have to live without you but living without you more than dying. I will never again hear your voice. I will never again be in your arms. Our child will never see his father's face.
Harsh Pacific winds,
Bring memories of you
And with memories they bring,
They bring a touch of you,
I still feel
You came, touched and kissed,
O my sailor! Sail to home,
You are awaited, you are missed.
AN EVENING, FRIDAY AUGUST 19TH, 2011
Yesterday... while moving to home, I was passing by Rajouri Garden, a voice announced,“The next station is Rajouri garden. Doors will open on left. Please stand clear off the doors." West Gate Mall was right in front of my eyes, crowded with student, shoppers and love-couples like always and there inside the mall is a coffee shop. A coffee shop, which has always been my favorite place to recharge myself with my most favorite drink 'Coffee Café Day Cappuccino'. But I have not taken a coffee there once in last six months.. in fact its been a little long than six months.
Because there was a promise; Oh! Let me correct myself. Because there is a promise. Promises never die so there was a promise, there is a promise and there always will be a promise. So I was saying I was passing by Rajouri Garden and a coffee shop, a promise, a face, a cup of coffee to be shared.. all flashed in front of my eyes. A blended feeling of anger, anxiety, grief charged with negative ions and this negative energy made me thinking of breaking the promise. I intended to go and have a cup of coffee... alone. "Will I have to have the coffee alone?", I asked. Was I asking to myself or I was asking to the one who made the promise? I got up. Immediately the girl standing next to me, who perhaps was much eagerly waiting for me to get up so that she can take my place, occupied my seat. There was a very strange feeling I was sensing while making my way to Metro door. I was forcing my feet towards Metro door and some mighty resistance inside me was pulling my legs back. I wanted to have the cup of coffee and at the same time I wanted not to.
A battle of thoughts was going on inside me. Should I? Should I not? Should I? should I not? Fighting with my own thoughts, so unconsciously I eventually deboarded the train. The thought-war was still on. “Should I?”, I asked. “Why should not?”, my brain replied. "Promise? Of what promise you are talking about, Ashish? The promise which will never be kept, which does even not matter to the person you are thinking of. Stop being such a mad man for someone who does even not care your feelings. She does not even remember that there was a promise”, my mind kept on giving me logic forcing to descend myself downstairs and pouring that warm cup inside my throat as soon as I could. But then heart spoke, “It was not a deal Ashish when it was made; it is a promise and promises are to be kept. Keep it. For a lifelong time.” And the heart said further,”I so much strongly believe, she also will keep the promise. You both will have that cup of coffee together someday” I sadly smiled. The next Metro was standing on the platform. I joined the crowd stuffed in the train, wishing to reach home and throwing my tired body on bed. My heart had won; the promise had been kept. Forever.
When clock ticks three in the morning and a person lying in the bed widely awake with nothing on mind feels of a dark emptiness around then how lonely this heart feels is very hard to put here in words. It feels like something is missing somewhere and we try to find this missing thing within ourselves and when we fail to find source of this hollowness, a cloud of hopelessness, uncertainty and loneliness takes the place of these strange mixed feelings.
In fact most of the times this loneliness is somehow outcome of our own deeds. Today I know I am feeling lonely but one barely considers what we did yesterday because of that we are so much alone. We keep think this isolation is gift that is gifted to us by others and whole life we keep blaming others; and sometimes cursing and hating too. If you feel lonely and think it is not you but someone else responsible for your situation then once ask yourself are we not equally involved in those happenings occurred? May be you are able to see or might be you are not but if you can see your contribution towards it, why not to start blaming yourself instead of putting weight of allegations on the head of someone else? I guess that is a better idea.
Now the question rises how we are the only answerable person then my friend a clap makes no sound until two palms are not hit together. Sometimes straightforwardly and sometimes indirectly; but we are always involved in behaviors which cause our fate. If still you could not understand what we are talking about exactly then here I am talking about loneliness that people most often say is because someone else has cause then most probably that person left them, things did not work between them or say there were gaps and so on; lots of things to say and problems to count. Let us come back to the topic where we were. Well, I was saying how we are included. There is a word, ‘expectations’; as long is the word itself, much more heavier is it’s meaning. We kill others under weight of this word and weight of this word kills most of the times a relation. This is exactly from where it all starts that makes a feel person abandoned. This is the basic instinct of us human we never feel satisfied. We want more then we want some more.
You keep thinking what you were demanding was allowable and the another person keeps fulfilling your wanting as long as that person thinks are allowable and then all it takes a moment to crash a world made of playing cards.
There are lots of questions which may rise and there are lots of situations when you are innocent but sometimes it is better to let it go. These are matters of sensitive and soft heart not of some analyzing egocentric brain and in the matters of heart it all becomes perfect with the divine act of forgiveness. Forgive yourself for everything you did wrong and forgive others for what they could not do appropriately. Don’t run away from things, don’t hide from loneliness. Make your isolation your strength. Give time to yourself, know yourself better. Loneliness is a choice either you live with it blaming yourself and others or conquer the darkness with luminosity of forgiveness and step into a world of illumination where you can smile from your heart without any weight of regrets on you. Loneliness or smile; choice is yours, make it.
When I was small I loved watching birds. This was one of my most favorite activities. This bird watching would start at six in the morning when many dozens of grey colored wild pigeons would gather their morning meeting at my rooftop. Colored around the roof railing would turn into grey. This early morning chirp always sounded me like some musical notes. Few pigeons, I guess male ones, would turn round and round as if some singing-dancing competition was going on and winner was supposed the get the most gorgeous of the lot. Slowly… slowly… one by one all of them would open their wings and fly far away iin the sky in the hunt of grain seeds.
As sun went up higher in the sky and some heat would bring drops of sweat on foreheads, I very well remember, little sparrows would attack in our red court yard to eat grains of wheat which my mother had kept to dry in the sunlight. My teacher always told me to love animal, birds, humans and being an obedient student I never interrupted those little creatures from eating their favorite food. I would hide somewhere behind any door and watch them how neatly these birds take each seed in the beak and then swallow. Minutes and sometimes hours would pass by while I was enjoying watching this attractive food party going on in my yard. An angry voice of my mom would disrupt this gathering and all of them would fly high together in the sky with a big noise making. Sometimes I have received a good scolding from my mom for enjoying this game instead of protecting wheat from, in my mother’s tongue rascal-all-time-hungry-birds.
We children, most of them of my age, were always great hunters of nests of birds. Some of us were excellently self-trend in climbing on tress and finding secretly built hidden shelters of birdies. Most of nests were found empty and sometimes with three or four eggs. None of the case was exciting for us. We were keen only for cute looking tiny chicks. Unlike their mothers these small chicks were not covered with feather. We would find them, look at them and would feel so much love for these small wonders as if they are our own children. We were prohibited from touching them. We were told that if we will touch chicks; they would die. Now whenever I think of my childhood, the nest hunting; a smile automatically spreads on my face. How naughty and stupid we all were.
Since I know, I exist, I have seen a parrot caged in house of my uncle. His family is very fond of pt birds. And sometimes even two parrots at the same time. Specialty of those parrots is that they speak in human voice. My aunt has worked very hard in teaching them how to speak few certain words. One more strange fact about those parrots is that all of the parrots they have (or had) all were addressed with the same noun, “Patte”. Sharp, clear and loud voice of Patte,”Patte bhukhe hain.” (Patte is hungry.) attracted attention of every person in the family. Among visitors in our family Patte was a center of attraction. But in my own thinking it is sin to cage a bird and keep them within boundary of few inches for their whole life. God gifted birds with wings so that they can fly high and can feel joy of freedom.
I don’t know why we human cage such pretty gifts of God. Perhaps because we ourselves are cages in our own boundaries and somewhere inside we derive pleasure by caging others or maybe we love these natural flying machines so much that we want to live around them or maybe they kill loneliness and frustration we have in our boring busy life. Whatever the reason is, what is not right is not right. Anyway, it is thinking of each individual and it better to leave on individuals to select their choices.
Years have passed and everything has changed with the time. But I notice there number of birds around us has tremendously decreased. God knows where all the birds disappeared but I really miss watching those birds in the sky until they disappear far somewhere in the sky. Where is that feel of liberty? Sometimes, I, jailed in my flat come out in my balcony in the time of evening in hope to listen chirping noise of those old mates and what I get to see is human made aluminum birds flying in the sky from IGI Airport to far somewhere to some destination and I satisfy a child inside me by gazing at painted, big and noisy birds till they do not vanish somewhere in the sky.
Good e’en, my brutal lord, evil, sure you are,
For your happiness, I thrown mine far,
For your wellness, I have died,
I attempted once to fly; was chide,
As you wilt and ordered, I followed.
You rained of tears, I swallowed.
Lord of desires, donate back my living,
Unlock my freedom, pay me for giving,
Yearn I to wear, white wings and fly,
Generosity heartless Heart, else you shalt cry.
Why dost ye expect, aspirate then wait,
Why dost ye love, feel and then hate?
Thy selfish approach suppress my wish to delight,
My feelings expire, in your feeling-fight,
Ye cause me pain because you are unpleased?
You are king of dark ergo keep me ceased?
Learn to give and forgive, and learn to forget,
Spread joy and self glee, before my lord ye regret.
About the poem: Heart, source of all pains and bad thought that can hurt a person; this poem is addressed to the selfish heart which gives lots of pains to poet because the heart itself is not happy. Poet says to heart that he has gone through all the pains and has never smiled because his heart was not happy. He, whole life, has obeyed his heart, lived according to his heart. But now he wants to live his life in natural way and here says to his heart to stop feeling so that he can lead to a life which is actually lived by feelings of the poet himself and not by feelings of someone else i.e. his heart.
“Dear John, regretfully, telling you I am sorry
Fighting you there war, my feelings go awry.”
Slipped cold M1 Carbine off from hands of John,
Unbelievingly read it thrice, in pain he looked drawn.
“I set you free John, to fight for the nation
Aching from Separations, John, I need salvation.
No home in your wait, bye, sending you your coat.”
Only five lines, was the all she wrote.
After six war-years, in nineteen forty five,
The village of the Jane, seeks an arrive.
Brown coated, unshaved, A tired soldier,
Gun pointing down, from his brave shoulder.
Six years ago she passed, ”Love, John”, did she crave.
Told villagers the story, shot his head on her grave.
Theme of the Poem:John is a an American soldier who is fighting Second World War for his country. A day he receives a letter from his girlfriend Jane telling him that she cannot take pain of separation anymore therefore she wants to end her relation with John. The letter speaks only five lines. Jane even sends brown coat of John with the letter which is the only thing of John she had with her. This is an indication that now there is no any reason for John to come back to her.
But in 1945 when World War II ends, John comes to the village of Jane. End of the sonnet is tragic. John hears news of the death of Jane by villagers, when they narrate him that the letter to the John was the written by Jane on the bed of death and she died with the name of John on her lips. She did not want to bring into the knowledge of John about her death ergo she wrote a heart-braking letter to him so that he forget her. After knowing the painful death and reality behind the letter, John fills with grief and has no reason to live and kills himself with his gun on the grave of Jane.
Cupping my face in my own palms,
Listening my sighs passing in and out,
Drawing and drying salted cheek lines,
Hiding behind door in a dark solely world.
Suddenly feel I, two eyes fixed on me,
No one else in, I might be dreaming,
No later than I shut eyelids and feel,
Two eyes looking wordlessly at me.
The one who is miles away so much far
Felt was here a moment ago with me,
From that night; every night every day,
I feel, by someone, every instant being watched.
Walk in streets, I, and no one around,
Silence of loneliness and tip tap sound,
A brainful thoughts and my hot sighs,
Looking at me, those two hidden eyes.
Wherever I go, whomever I meet,
Those eyes see and know everything,
Whenever I sleep, whatever I think,
Those eyes read and know everything,
Never say anything, those silent eyes,
I feel on me, two questioning eyes.
Eyes... the best gift by God so that we can see things. But eyes are much more than just eyes. Eyes are reflection of human feelings, a mirror of imagery of emotions. Imagine... when you see something scary isn't that fear clearly visible in your eyes? When your beloved looks at you and smile and you come to know what she is trying to say. Then you reply in the same manner with your twinkling eyes contained with lots of love,"I love you too." Wow! Eyes are not just eyes. They are amazing.
I walk on street a bit in haste, so that I manage to get in office on time and my fat boss does not teach me those boaring lessons which I already have listened hundreds of times. How he was always punctual at his work when he was of my age. What the hell I am supposed to do if he had plenty of free time when he was twenty one. I almost run lost in these thoughts until a poor street boy distracts my broad day dreaming when he comes across my way. Wrapped in rags, his neck black because of not bathing since ages. I stop and try to alter my way and it is when he peeps through his eyes straight into my eyes. There was an appeal that entered into my soul from the door of my eyes. He utters not a single word. My feet jam, I could not walk a single step. His eyes were demanding. They were saying something to me. Yes, they were saying,"I am hungry." Mighty impact of speaking eyes!
Remember so well I still, magical game of eyes when I saw her first time. In my new coaching class she was standing with her friends, her hair floating in the air which she was trying to collect and wind would scatter them on her face again. I still remember that laughing face and more than that those two most beautiful laughing eyes. I was staring her until she noticed me. She noticed someone is gazing her. She looked at me. Ah! I can die for that look. Such a pair of beautiful eyes I never saw before in my life. Those dark brown eyes. She looked at me as if trying to say why you are staring me but the very next moment she pulled her eyes off me and left.
The game of eyes is very interesting. When you are not looking at her she will make sure no one else is observing her and will look at you with stealing eyes but her head will still stay down pretending that her entire attention is in the book in her hands. As soon you feel someone's eyes upon you and raise your eyes up at her she will step into your heart, just for a fraction of second, by looking straight into your eyes and her cheeks would turn apple red and she would bow her eyes in shyness. She will pretend that she looking something else and mistakingly she happened to stop at you and this hide-seek game will bring a smile on your lips.
Eyes know the person whose you do not even know the name. They can find that person in crowd of millions faster than Google. Tears are another way of eyes to speak. When they are so much overpowered with a strong feeling, they flow down cheeks. Happy moments, sad moments, friendship moments, miss you moments, love you moments or don't go moments, all are expressed in special language of eyes. When words end, eyes become your words. When you are silent and your lips do not talk, your eyes communicate. They says eyes never speak. They say it right. Eyes are book of heart. So pure and innocent. Telling you how much someone loves you. Mirror of all sentiments. Fear, amour, anger, grief, care and everything which is made to feel. The best things you can do is to make two eyes cry for happiness and the best thing you can gift someone is to donate your eyes.
Eyes, I say again in the end, are not just eyes.
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Raining to empty entire black thick on sky,
Blowing too hard to spare any window glass,
Shut the storm out, try searching sight of thy.
Lit up two candles, never wish night to pass,
Both kill dark, standing burning on,
Like fire of desire in hearts; going on and on.
Eagerness grows up, difficult becomes to wait,
Enwrapped in pink bed sheet, in blood and flesh
Wink at me mischievously, Alas! My fate.
Disappear magnificence. Wishes craving to embrace.
I want her, my her seeking-and-hiding,
I call her name, she pacing and gliding.
Standing smiling behind study’s oak table,
Playing with my vision like fairy of fable.
Caught on staircase , the lady in the pink,
Surrender her to me, imprisoned in grip,
Pinned to the wall, allowed to slip her pink
Neither heard drizzling nor stormy wind-trip.
Talking we in whispers, Locked our eyelids,
Automated by magic driven by hundred cupids
Palms talking to palms, lips meeting with lips,
Knocks on your cheeks, my breathing slips.
Placing my signature with my Montegrappa
While writing a cheque to my expensive son,
Nostalgia and a travel fourty years back when I
Always gave my best to fill little piggy bank.
Still I remember it was shaped in smiling pink swine,
A narrow slit on its head so that every day,
I can stuff its stomach and rejoice and count.
How I used to count those glittering coins,
Before I would send them to safest place,
And mark one dot for every tens;
Dots those filled pages of my hand made diary.
My childhood, I know was not luxurious as my son has,
And I had to skip Costly Strawberries
So that my tiny piggy does not sleep hungry,
I would not eat those toffees and save;
And save pennies to hide in womb.
World of the piggy, trust me so mysterious,
I would pick it and guess weight inside,
And would shake it to listen the sound,
Heavier the sound; more coins gobbled,
And a curios smile would increase my eyes.
Counting on fingers counting days and dots,
I flipped through pages of tiny diary
Thirty one… thirty two… and a two bucks coin
Three hundred thirty two and I open
The chamber of secret - mysterious I told,
Trust me a complete three four nine.
“Was it God who always multiplied?”
Those faces of heads and tales or perhaps
My wooden trunk was blessed with some magic
No I can’t be wrong in marking dots nor at maths
In which I always excelled entire class
My childhood spent asking how God! How
How it happens?
And now when I am father of a son,
I murmur to myself,”Oh, daddy you!”
Call, I this morning my mistress,
Decorate the deliciousness as in bless,
Haste my mistress, I shall be carving
Shall I produce my fiction on starving.
Stress, I initiate my thinking tank,
Go and fetch something from lower rank,
(Forgive, my apologies to address thee
Of the lower rank; in fact is me)
Recall an incident in great sorrow
Unforgettable, impacted so deep, until any ‘morrow
Saw that brave soul, when bloodshed two was fought
Died he there, home he was never brought,
I recognized a hunger in each his thirsty eye
Starving for beloved, too poor to adieu a bye.
Comments by writer (Ashish Chauhan): On the request by a page on Facebook, I have tried to write this poem. I know this is not the theme exactly as desired by them but this is what I could utter in the answer, I hope it is liked though I know I cannot do things that nice way.
In first octave this sonnet is a keen satire on people who talk about starvation though they do not know what it is because they have never faced it. Poem starts with writer addressing to his wife to prepare his meal. Here it is very ironic that poet is going to write a poem on ‘Starvation’ and he, himself is commanding his wife to make delicious food. Then he says that he is stressing his mind (thinking tank) to write something on the very topic of starvation while he totally unaware that it is very difficult to write something starvation which is soft, serious and an issue full of feelings. The poet calls those who starve are from lower rank but later he admits that he is wrong in calling those poor people from the lower rank and considers himself as a lower rank personality for his lower thinking. Here poet is representing the society which calls them to be from higher ranks but value of their thinking is low.
Sestet in the last lines of the poem speaks story of a soldier in the World War II who has fought so bravely for his country and is dying now. According to poet he is an example of real starvation because he dies thinking of his beloved who is waiting for him at home but he is unable to even bid her a good bye before he dies.
Bestow, God! difficulties, I will race
Create, Mighty! complication, I will face
Fix there a target, I will chase
You build obstacles, I will keep grace.
Ask me to die, middle of battlefield
To batter on my chest, not to put the shield
Swear take I breath last, detest I to yield
Exterminate me in glory, shalt not I bield.
Thorns are always, before you win the throne
Mourns are always, before your earn the Krone
Souls brave not born, ‘cause heroic verses
But epics sing splendor, do listen universes.
This sonnet is dedicated to one of my friend. She is going through a tough time of her life. I can understand this is so frustrating for her but I want to convey her to follow path of truth like she has always kept doing all her life. May be a little late but success is lying there in her bright future.
"Dear friend, please be patient and God will surely greet you with what you deserve. I wish you a very bright and successful tomorrow."
Two paths can lead you to one goal,
Way of truth; difficult; passes through hell,
False is glittering but destroys your soul,
Stay true life long; make your heart swell.
Flip old pages or hear ancient stories,
Conclusion is one; legitimacies endure,
Hollows vanish; true spirits write glories;
May stay hidden in fog but finally conquer.
Success and celebrations; ‘ll prove brief,
Even if permanent, cannot peace thy heart,
Stumble, fall, rise and never lose hope,
They deject but you; never give up the rope,
They make marry while you are in exile,
But they will regret and you will smile.
The witness will be moon, let stars watch,
Tonight confluence of two souls on earth,
Let mingle two bodies, two hearts, two souls,
Like two rivers flowing into each other.
I will color my spirit in yours color,
You will wear my existence on you,
Come closest, let our breaths colloid,
Let my blood flow through your veins.
A gentle osculation, breaths flowing heavier,
Our fingers Caressing, exploring our physics,
We fly higher and higher, an odyssey together
Extreme of ecstasy, two souls melt into each-other,
In confluence of spiritual love which became eternal.
Sometimes close your eyes and try;
To peep through my chest in my heart,
A never told story, few dried tears and a buried smile,
Deep in there lies reason of my silence.
My eyes are not what you see,
My whisper is not what you listen,
My breathes are not what you feel,
My song is not what you sing,
My everything is you and;
You are my everything,
I cannot hide the truth from you,
Alas! The truth is so aching.
I try to smile, no doubt;
You make me smile with you,
But I need to smile my dear,
To smile with heart along with face.
Hope you locate, hope you trace,
Hope you find the answer a day,
In my silent words, I hope,
You recognize the truth beneath my skin.
Black dark, dead silence, passing seconds, tik-tok,
White walls, breaking rules one hanging clock,
Engraving peace, echoing loud, making sound,
Tik… tik… Sixty moves complete round.
How magical to see three sticks' cruel game,
Walking clock make us dance still we to blame?
Nothing real, all fake, only time is wise,
Tik-tok tik… tik… makes me realize.
Handful time, short life and a big desire,
Stoned eyes, cold lips and a heart of fire,
All life we greed, demand, want and conquer,
“End of day have to go.”, only these words pure.
Find a place, hide deep and put your all mind,
Fixed time, anywhere, certain body, death fill find,
Judgment day, crash of world, you will meet trinity,
And my soul constantly counting back to eternity.
Like the first ray of dawn,
The pleasantness that wakes me up,
From beautiful dreams going in eyes,
A sensational feeling of your breaths,
My palms on your cheeks and you,
Wrap your hands around me honey
Syrup of that sweetness still;
Remaining on my lips forever.
It just happened, so unknowingly,
Passionately, lovely and heavenly,
Our closed eyes and tight clutch,
Fragrance blended and blew with wind,
Ah! Your soft, sweet and gentle touch
And paradise came down on earth.
In arms, we take each other,
And stuck our warm lips together,
Breathes become more heavier,
We are lost till forever and ever,
Feel of your rosy red lips on mine,
Nothing could be more beautiful now,
And in the evening, I get back home,
With marks on me of THE FIRST KISS.
