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Showing posts from December, 2015

Many Faces of Kabir

Some call him a mystic poet
Some a philosopher and saint
The Hindus and Muslims
Believe he is theirs

Kabir is a tree
The roots go beyond sight
Each fruit unique
like Prahlad and Mukhtiar

Who is Kabir?
Is he just lore?
He answers in silence
“I’m living truth”


- हेरंब
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Merry Christmas

Thuck!

It was the last pencil he had. 10 more days before mother could buy him a new one. Everything appeared blurred.

Eating a cream roll, Hari had seen all this from the kitchen. His mother worked as a maid. She called him to help her with the dishes. The broken pencil was replaced with a new one. “Merry Christmas!”

- हेरंब
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Paid Poison

There lived a miser: not so nasty, not so good.
He had an about-to-break-anytime rocking chair at home. Having crossed more than 60 years of age its squeaks had become a daily headache for his wife. “It’s my father’s last memory. I can’t repair it any form, he’ll be hurt.”

Then there was the poison bottle post expiry date in house. His wife couldn’t bear this silliness.
“I have paid Rs.15 for it 12 years ago. At least I have to recover the full price!”

 “I’ll get the price recovered for you- too many rats in the house!” The miser was happy.

That night she emptied the entire poison bottle in the cookie dough.

“This tastes awesome. New recipe?”
“Yes” she said.
The miser lived long. He managed to recover the full price.

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Goodness Will Always Fail

“Why don’t you understand? These good people suffer more when you erect their massive idols and worship them.”
Saying this she went away. The worn out sandals rubbed against the new pavement a little harder.
It was the 3rd month she hadn’t received a salary. She was a primary school teacher in a small town. She wasn’t on strike.

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The God He Found

With hurried strides Mohan was walking down the long winding mud road towards the river stream. The day light was getting dim. It was time for sunset.

Panting heavily after the hour long walk he felt his throat little parched. “But it doesn't matter now,” he said to himself.

Wiping away the tears as he strode few more steps, in a moment the world turned upside down with clouds of dust swirling over him, making it difficult to breathe as he tried getting up from the ground only to notice an upper tooth dangling in the cavity of his mouth sending the pain cracking his every nerve.

The small round shining black stone he had toppled over was clearly visible. Quickly bowing down he said, "Thank you God for giving me back my life." Tears didn’t allow him to see anything further.

It was that time of the year again, when the High School exam results are out. Many find their dream careers and a few end their mortal existence.
Mohan had found his God.

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The League of Most Ordinary (Wo)Men

Poet or writer or novelist or author, call her/him anything you like. They belong to the same league: The League of Most Ordinary (Wo)Men.

Ordinary? Ah! You thought they were the elite ones, right? Something like this?
Somewhere deep in a silent palace, untouched by any other human habitation, dressed in tuxedo, writing on an expensive rosewood or mahogany table under a beautiful night lamp, with a glass of the most expensive wine placed beside or with an occasional puff and violinists playing Mozart’s 9th Symphony of Mozart in the background. (He has composed a 9th one, right?)
And then there would be the most beautiful damsels waiting to serve them. Occasionally being awarded Poet Laureates, sitting among the knights and reading out their works to the royal family <oops! royal family should have been in all CAPS>
Stop!

The fact is poets/writers/novelists/authors are nothing but the most ordinary of the mortals. They notice and express what others try to forget/pretend to forg…

What next? 10 Seconds to Nothing

What next?

This is the question which haunts us when we finally achieve what we set out to achieve. It maybe landing a job with good pay package, finding someone special(ahem ahem!), or being able to catch the local train at the right time, which you could never in the last 10 years, and being able to find a seat to sit.

The question meets us all the time: What next?
Remove the What. Remove the next.

It's only now. 10 secs. Time's up.

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Yesterday I Was 'There' | A Tale of Seduction

The vacant lanes
lit yellow
those seducing looks
of unquenched beings
as if wanting you
to embrace them
at least for the night
when you are alone

Yesterday, I was 'there'
where 'decent' folks
never dare wander

Not having met her
for years
I wondered
whether my touch
she'll still remember

There, in the corner
she lay
with loose skin
but feeling 16
sweet emotions
present in her eyes
How does age matter
when expressing love?

I still remember
she was always taken
before I could
by someone
who envied
us being together

But today
without a moment's halt
she fell into my arms
taking me
in the moments of bliss
we couldn’t create before

She was the autobiography
of my favourite writer
I, her reader
yesterday, I was ‘there’
at the book exhibition.




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The Last Poem - a novel by Rabindranath Tagore

Excerpt: "The protagonist, Amit Ray, is a barrister educated at Oxford. He travels in order to escape the drudgery of his middle-class existence, and gets keenly in…

An Ode to the Monk

Untouched by opinions fearless and poised  on Kanyakumari's blazing rocks in burning sand and among roaring waves he strode in his own company and not for a moment stopped 
The sun who woke up India from deep slumber
The monk who has a single vision "Glory to his mother land,  Glory to the world"
Vivekananda



Read Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda (9 Volumes)

picture courtesy: www.ramakrishnavivekananda.info

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Make Relations Beautiful

Utter the word "Relation" and in a moment we think about our boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/cat/dog (No! This doesn't mean a boyfriend and girlfriend after becoming spouses fight like cats and dogs. The order of the sequence is immaterial :P).

We build relations with everyone around - the chai wala (tea seller), travel partner in public transport or the child with no teeth smiling back at us for no reason.

So what's the Raaz(secret) to beautiful relations?
Making relations beautiful depends on talking to each other more than talking about each other.




PS: I'm not a 'Relationship Guru'.


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A Crime Story: The Writer's Better Half

She was sitting in a mixed air of fear and excitement, anxious to hear the judgment.

He looked at her with witty eyes, the glasses resting a little lower on the nose, forcing you to re-think the purpose of wearing it.

"Yes, I am guilty, Sir," she pleaded.

Untouched by the sudden burst of emotions he coldly passed the judgment, "You have been sentenced to come to the nearby book store, and later on drop me at the library, undisturbed for 3 hours."

Her crime: She hadn't allowed him to read/write a single word during their 10 day holiday in Ooty, India. He was a writer.

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Complementary Words: Creating a Word Bank

Whether you are a blogger/writer/banker/programmer/president of the nation, the situation doesn't discriminate. There's always a time when we have the "It's-on-the-tip-of-my-tongue-but" moment. You know it but just can't get the perfect word at the right moment!

We build a special relation with every word. Seeing & hearing a word throws forth another word in our memory. For example, nation: pride, pink: babies, disgust: garbage and so on.

Let's call the second word a "complementary word". These complementary words can vary for all one of us.

Try this
Here are 3 words along with their complementary words that resonate in me.
Nature: Love
Truth: Child
Honest: Women

What complementary words do they mean to you? Make a mental note or share in a comment below. Or maybe you can add 3 more words of your choice in a comment with their complementary words.

Using this you can create your own word bank (online or offline) and use it to refer anytime y…

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Thank you for being a part of #ISupportNAAM! (What is #ISupportNAAM? read it here)
(as on 06-12-15 10:42pm IST)
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You can send your monetary contributions to NAAM through (NEFT or Cash Transfer) here are the bank account details.

NAAM Foundation | Bank Account Details Bank: State Bank of India
Branch Name: Bund Garden
Account Number: 35226127148
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I Desired

I desired good looks
to be looked at and adored

I desired vanity  for the spotlight of fame

I desired information
for them to call me smart
I desired knowledge
to be recognised as wise

I desired humbleness
and became human again
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(Moment captured: May 2011. 

My native place: Achra/Sindhudurg/Maharashtra)

His daughter

He didn't marry her because her father went broke.
Less rains, sudden rains, increasing debts, resulting poor health and family conflicts.
Here's what she wrote to him. After all she was the daughter of a man with unbound love in his heart. Her father was a farmer.
Poem: Love Them
When people you love
hate you
love them
They may avoid
go away
say "it's over"
Don't let opinions
colour your voice they are but a myth
With love it began
with love it must complete
love them

I have nothing more to say.
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The Bond with Mother Earth | धरतीशी जडले नाते

(Picture captured: Malvan, Sindhudurg, May 2011)
धरतीशी जडले नाते तरीही उमजे ना काही बघता मृत हे अंकुर शहारली मज आई
(translation) Bonded with mother earth Still unable to grasp Seeing the dead plant shoots Shivers my mother - heramb
Here अंकुर/Plant shoots is a symbol for 1300+ farmers who have committed suicide.

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आपल्या एक मित्रा/मैत्रिणी बरोबर नक्की शेअर करा!

महाराष्ट्रात,१३००+ शेतकऱ्यांनी जानेवारी-जून २०१५ या दरम्यान आत्महत्या केल्यात.

हीच वेळ आहे परिस्थिती बदलण्याची.
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डाऊनलोड करा:
कविता- "The Day I was Slapped" Background score by Sergey Cheremisinov, Music Composer (Russia)

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My first poem worth INR 11 Lakh Rupees Only

This happened in India.

One day, when an 8 year old school boy talked about his dream of becoming a farmer.

Poem: The Day I Was Slapped

My age is 8
and I love football
Messi is my hero
but that day changed it all

Doing my homework
trying to finish a math sum
of division and multiplication
pretending it to be fun

It was when Papa asked
what do you want to be
a doctor, an engineer
or a programmer maybe?

I thought for some time
and then came the answer
in a moment I said
a farmer! a farmer!

He got up from the chair
and rushed towards me
furious like never before
he slapped me three

Then he started sobbing
as I couldn't stop but cry
caressing my red cheeks
I still don't know why
- Heramb


I bow down to you with utmost gratitude for sparing your time to read this.



Farmers...

All of us survive and thrive fundamentally on food and farmers are the chief architects of it all! But what happens when they feel like ending their lives? What about their dependent families especially when the…