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| Indian colours of true devotion |
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| standing azure and dancing childhood........ |
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Heart's diary
There is one diary, intuitive diary known as "heart's diary" which writes and notes down every new and old event, feeling and experiences. It is only when this diary gets overfilled with barrage of emotions and deluge of thoughts, we need a diary of paper and pen to scribble the words fraught with an anxiety and fear of getting lost. This diary writes about the things lost and surprises that everyday we are offered by the almighty. I realize and offer my grain of gratitude to Him to make me potent enough to sense the beauty of life all around and the most beautiful thing that I see he has made is "me”. I am an entity whose eyes are made to see the greatest things of all time like presence of a mother, near to me, affectionating me, pampering me, swearing to loose everything for the one she loves and has cared for always.
Though words serve as a medium to continue the flow of thoughts and abridge the gap between what we feel and what we acclaim, sometimes they betray and prove themselves incapable of expressing. There remains something which I become unable to speak.
Though words serve as a medium to continue the flow of thoughts and abridge the gap between what we feel and what we acclaim, sometimes they betray and prove themselves incapable of expressing. There remains something which I become unable to speak.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
festive canvas
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| ethereal emergence of goddess from each figment of colourful nature:occasion of durga pooja |
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Comatose………
Despite being quite aware of an undelible fact that people die and their appearance vanish like the evanescent rays of the sun at dusk, we fear. Dead people just go away leaving behind a vaccuum of memories.The feeling is unbearable.
Addicted to the habit of getting used to relationships is life’s best shot to agree categorically to its unique and sometimes illogical framework. Everybody has a different story with a tinge of happiness and scad of sorrows as they may say where thousands struggled,lived and died. Man since his childhood ties knots and make commitments bloating the circle of kith and kin from families to friends , alliances to colleagues and sometimes even anonymous bonds that are rife ignorant of the upkeeps in life. It is not at all impossible to live without all of them but it is quite difficult not to find them around and to love life again when it seems effete.
Dedicated to all those people whom we have lost but whose promises would live diluting the peevish strokes of life seizing their fragments in the clime forever.
Eyes poured on the day crowned.
He aired his cap ,made a rhetoric sound.
The blaze of pride and aurora of glory
Marked the beginning of a tragic story.
Life is restive and expects the same.
But never get trapped in its language lame.
It has wrapped all in it: the good and the best,
Flaunts only a part ,never talks about the rest.
It is hard to leave home as always
When the weeping faces beseech the days.
To run fast and faster as guiles,
Wiping their saline and bring back the smiles.
With all the blessings one embarks upon.
Life goes on with days and darks along.
Tieing the knots with promises to keep,
Thousands of dreams to see and to leap.
Green turns the heart with a naïve inside.
Novice of the wrongs he thinks to be right.
With a happy family and circle of friends
He could live up the dreams with all messy bends.
Saviour is he and spirits are high
Thinking with the hallowed wings of happiness,he could fly.
Children’s eyes shimmering with desires.
The only thing heart always aspires.
A song of desire and dreams and hope.
A roseate feeling being together to dope.
One sings a lot jauntily in the breeze.
Under the blanket all bliss to seize.
Late night thoughts with a drowsy note ,
Whispers to swim into dreams and clothe
The bare vision of the day coming next,
Will it be great or once again vexed?
Every goodbye and a waving hand
Invites their return back to the land
It happens,
When people go and never come from the past
Leaving behind a wraith vision of the last
They cry and scream and weep and glance
Wishing to rewind the time at once.
Remains a soul connected though in comatose
Memories become the only bridge to close…………
Addicted to the habit of getting used to relationships is life’s best shot to agree categorically to its unique and sometimes illogical framework. Everybody has a different story with a tinge of happiness and scad of sorrows as they may say where thousands struggled,lived and died. Man since his childhood ties knots and make commitments bloating the circle of kith and kin from families to friends , alliances to colleagues and sometimes even anonymous bonds that are rife ignorant of the upkeeps in life. It is not at all impossible to live without all of them but it is quite difficult not to find them around and to love life again when it seems effete.
Dedicated to all those people whom we have lost but whose promises would live diluting the peevish strokes of life seizing their fragments in the clime forever.
Eyes poured on the day crowned.
He aired his cap ,made a rhetoric sound.
The blaze of pride and aurora of glory
Marked the beginning of a tragic story.
Life is restive and expects the same.
But never get trapped in its language lame.
It has wrapped all in it: the good and the best,
Flaunts only a part ,never talks about the rest.
It is hard to leave home as always
When the weeping faces beseech the days.
To run fast and faster as guiles,
Wiping their saline and bring back the smiles.
With all the blessings one embarks upon.
Life goes on with days and darks along.
Tieing the knots with promises to keep,
Thousands of dreams to see and to leap.
Green turns the heart with a naïve inside.
Novice of the wrongs he thinks to be right.
With a happy family and circle of friends
He could live up the dreams with all messy bends.
Saviour is he and spirits are high
Thinking with the hallowed wings of happiness,he could fly.
Children’s eyes shimmering with desires.
The only thing heart always aspires.
A song of desire and dreams and hope.
A roseate feeling being together to dope.
One sings a lot jauntily in the breeze.
Under the blanket all bliss to seize.
Late night thoughts with a drowsy note ,
Whispers to swim into dreams and clothe
The bare vision of the day coming next,
Will it be great or once again vexed?
Every goodbye and a waving hand
Invites their return back to the land
It happens,
When people go and never come from the past
Leaving behind a wraith vision of the last
They cry and scream and weep and glance
Wishing to rewind the time at once.
Remains a soul connected though in comatose
Memories become the only bridge to close…………
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
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