Saans

Woh jo jalte hain chilman
Chiragon mein tumhare
Agan unko hamari aahon se mili hai

Ye jo barasti hai tumhare aangan mein barkha
Boondein use hamari aankhon se mili hai

Yoon to hum jal lete, ta-umr,
Aashiyan ko tumhare roshan rakhne - par afsos

Yeh jo ruk rahi hain, ab tak hamesha
Meri saans humein tumhari saanson mein mili hai

Words

Words are such disloyal friends. They have this stupid tendency to desert you just when you need them. They just run and hide somewhere in the folds of chaotic waves inside you, no matter how much you cry for them. They know they're there, they know what they mean and they know they're needed to stop things going astray, but they wouldn't arrive. Worse, they'd often send some foreign cousins of theirs to cover up- other words that have no clue what's going on and have no business showing up. And you're left cleaning behind the mess they make. Such disloyal friends.

And then, there are other times. When a truth, a forbidden feeling, an honest confession just appears from somewhere inside you. Words suitably accompany and just pour out of you, like they suddenly hate you and cannot stay inside any longer. And so you say stuff, out loud, stuff that leaves you defenceless and exposed. But the listener doesn't care. He's somewhere else, engrossed in some other words. He listens, he reads - probably - and he ignores. And you're left alone, vulnerable, staring at the vomit of stupid unrestrained words spread on the floor. Wondering whether you're not worth it or your feelings are meaningless. Or whether, words are being disloyal friends to your listener, abandoning him, leaving him speechless and unresponsive, when he really just wants to tell you how much your words mean to him.

Such disloyal friends.

Noise

That sinking feeling
At the pit of the stomach
Crowding around the gut
Climbing up to the brain
Squeezing all in its way
Pushing out every breath
I gasp, that sinking feeling
Is making me drown again

I sink, I swim, I fight
Till the sinking wins and I quit
What's the point, I ask myself
Life isn't worth the pain
Numbness takes over the limbs
The mind refuses to think
I walk alone, drowning
In cold November rain

I sink, till I shrink
Deeper and deeper within my shell
The only place still safe
The only place still sane
Alone, in the darkness, I question
Whereforth leadeth life today
But noise is drowning the inner voice
The noise mocks with disdain

Directionless, helpless, alone I wait
In deep safe corners of the cocoon
Either the noise itself will die
Or wash me over drown the drain
I cannot hear, in this noise
What the instincts want me to do
But logic asks me why even try
Life really isn't worth the pain.

Incomparable loves

Lots of loving lovable loves
Loiter around in the throes of the heart
Who is to say which ones are greater
Love is always perfect, love is always flawed

Pyaar to aakhir pyaar hi hai
Naapein parkhein kaise koi
Ishq waala love bhi love hai
Aur pyaar hi hai khamoshi ka saath

Loves, unlike lovers, do not hate each other
They're far too self-obsessed to even care
The love for the moon doesn't rival that for night
They both just ignite, they both are just there

Mere pyaar se tera pyaar na kam na zyaada
Gehraiyaan na naapi jaayein inchi tape ke bharose
Na gin sakte hain aansu, na lafzon ko wazan karein
Is jado-jahid mein aksar pyaar hi jata hai bikhar

Some loves are fleeting, some undying
Some flicker with the candlelight and the wail
Some weaken, some strengthen, some draw off each other
Some give life and some lead down a dark trail

Gusse se bhi pyaar hai, teri muskaan pe bhi marte hain
Teri aankhon ke kone ke jugnu pe bhi hain kaayal
Pyaar kaun sa is duniya mein mukammal ho jaye
sab kismat ka hai khel

Book Review: The Krishna Key

Ever since I finished reading The Krishna Key, I have been wondering why is it a work of fiction. The closest I've got is, "Because Da Vinci Code sold x million copies". But The Krishna Key is much more a book of history and mythology, and more precisely the grey zone between the two interpretational art/science forms, than the latter ever was. In terms of sheer quality of writing and narrative though, even Da Vinci Code was better than this.

Ashwin Sanghi has a reputation of his own, though Krishna Key had come especially recommended. It appeals, I am certain, to a certain reader demographic - the religious, the non-fiction-oholics, the conspiracy theorists. But it manages to sound a bit too contrived, too forced, and by the end too preachy for even a reader like me who likes narratives that try to find a hidden layer behind notions we have and the world we see around us. 

In brief, the book brings to fore the oft-repeated questions - Did Krishna really exist, or is it just mythology? Did Mahabharata really happen? It throws in tons of evidence, theories, stories and interpretations that make you want to believe in its hypothesis. The theories in itself are easily the most interesting part of the book, which makes me believe the writer should have chosen a better format than the force-fit fiction tale with too many stereotypical elements and "forced" surprises. 

The protagonists of the book are unlikely hero. The women of the story are smart and sharp, the men confused and the motivations laughable. For a fair while, you don't even realise who are supposed to be the leads, which in itself is not a bad thing.. Part of it is weak character development, some elements of which appear so late they appear forced. Mostly, I do not like the dialogue. The plot is kinda plausible, especially once it gets over the hindi-filminess of the first half. But the dialogue is virtually non-existent, because the monologues take it over. At a point, you wonder, why are they all running? What are they trying to get to? Why now? Why so urgent? Why so SERIOUS?

This book is great if you're interested in history, mythology, the one world-one civilization paradigm, the supremacy of Hinduism (in a very twisted way), and hell, who doesn't love a conspiracy theory. Dont read it for the story it tries to tell you though. Not worth it.

This review is a part of the Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers!

Nights

Exhausted
I fall down on the bed
But sleep evades
When will the questions die?
Unchanged
Stays the toughest one
Have I changed
Over years? Over weeks? Why?
Peace
Could probably be bought
Can faith be restored?
Should I quit, or should I try?
Tears
Appear uninvited anyway
And clean the eyes
Off hazy dreams that pry
Sleep
I still pray for
As answers don't come
In guilt, pain, confusion I cry.

Abhi abhi

Another place I dream to reach
And I walk another path
Abhi abhi to dil ki suni hai
Abhi na karo zamaane ki baat

Half-truths

Are half-truths lies? If so, are they "better" lies?

Imagine yourself where you repeatedly tell a half-truth to someone because you think they'd not like or understand the full truth, or because you think they'd have a 'problem' with it but in your head is completely legit, just a point-of-view issue, so they don't really need to know. It is likely the "someone" here is important enough that you care how they think/feel/perceive you. How does telling those half truths make you feel? E.g. Telling your parents you're going out with friends while you're going out with a certain 'friend' because you don't want them to know/ overreact. Or telling your best friend you're going out with boring office colleagues when you really have to go out with a new close friend because it is quite awkward. Telling your husband you're crashing at your (girl) friend's place tonight, while really its one of your guy friends you'd crash at, because you're not doing anything wrong, just avoiding an inconvenient conversation.

I don't think it'd be hard to imagine what I ask for many of us. We say convenient half truths and little lies ALL the freaking time. So what's the big deal?

The big deal is to me, at least, sometimes these little lies rankle a lot. We say them because we care about the other person's feelings or beliefs, and want to sidestep rather than hurt them. We do it anyway because we're convinced we're not doing anything wrong, but we also would rather have them not know than know the full truth. It's a really fine line. Most days indifference is probably ok. Some days it's not. Some days the guilt wakes me up at night. Some days I wonder how I would feel if I were being led to. And then I realize I would "understand" quite easily and not 'think' much of it, but the way the 'lie' would make me feel is a very different kind of pain. The pain that lingers. The pain which 'knows' and yet where you're quiet because you understand.
And then I wonder, wasn't pain what we are avoiding in the first place anyway? Why damage trust for a little bit of convenience?
Isn't trust TOO precious for that?

Is it too hard to do a direct honest conversation upfront, battle through a bit of temporary heartache if any, and live peacefully truthfully thereafter?

Chaand

Ek chaand mera
Ek tha jahaan ka
Ek pal churaya
Ik wahin gira tha
Ek aasmaan ka tukda
Us pal ka rehnuma tha
Kuch aur hi tha manzar
Kuch aur hi sama tha
Aankhon mein chaand chamka
Ek boond mein tha chhalka
Dil ko chubha naya ek
Ehsaas halka halka
Lafzon ne sath chhoda
Chupchaap se gila tha
Ek pal maine churaya
Ek pal wahin gira tha


Ek chaand mera
Ek chaand jahaan ka
Us chaandni mein mujh ko
Mera aashiyaan mila tha...

Baat-cheet

Shikayat lekar tumhari gaye the khuda ke paas, 

kambakht khuda bhi tumhara aashiq nikla...

Mizaaz aashiqui ka chhaya hai lagta hai aj kal

Zara hum bhi to jaanein khaas itna kaun hai...

Us ka jo pucha hai to bas itna jaan lo. 

Bahut khaas, bahut khaas, bahut khaas hai koi.

Shabdon ko kisi ke naam kar pate 

Kash koi khaas itna humare paas bhi hota

Ishq karna hai to ubikharne Ka hunar bhi seekho

Ishq main hadse aksar badey sangeen hotey hai

Wo Haadsa Wo Pehli Mulaakat Kyaa Kahoon...

Itni Ajab Thi Soorat Haalat Kya Kahoon

Koi bhi ho ham-safar, yoon na ho Khush is qadar... 

Ab ke logon mein wafa hai kam, zara aahista chal

Bewafa is duniya mein, wafa ki umeed kam hi hai..

kuch pal hi mil jayein mohabbat ke, to zindagi kat jaye shayad

This happened on Twitter, love the banter. There was a time the blog had a lot more of this, so putting this here to remember. Not all shers are original and many are not mine, of course.