VeetCaseStudy

VeetCaseStudy: case study

Se

 थोड़े टूटे से थोड़े बिखरे से,थोड़े उदास,थोड़े बिफरे से,
खफा से,खिसरे से,खार खाए बैठे से,मुंह फुलाए बैठे से,
सपनो के चरमराते हुए फर्श पे,संभलते से ,फिसलते से,
दिल में उन मसोसे हुए अरमानों को इस्त्री करते हुए,सीधे करते से,

पुरानी उन बातों को याद करते से,हँसते से,मूर्ख से,
पर असलियत में अपने आप को याद दिलाते,जिंदा रखते से,
उस चेहरे पे शिकन मिटाते से,थकन भूलते से,
कुछ मेरे दोस्त हैं,टूटी चप्पल पहने हुए,हांफते,गिरते से,पर दौड़ते से...

Unexplored...

Sleepwalking on a treadmill..
No doubts..for brain lobmotomized,soul numb.
Everything moving so fast,or is it all so still??

Started with promises didn't it?
To consciously take roads,unexplored
Wondering,who nudged me off, as I catch his reflection and sigh

The garden verdant,flower blossoming
I stand outside,unable to wonder,explore,smell,smile..
Trying to break the gate,trying to get in,before green turns yellow...before the last flower dies

Gond...

Gond in Hindi...means glue...glue that helps you hold on to those pieces of life...your hope,dreams and assorted stuff that rest of the world works really hard to crush...

ज़िन्दगी  के  छोटे  छोटे  टुकड़े  कभी  कभार  चिल्ला  उठते  हैं
दोस्त ,हमें  जोड़ने  का  वो  गोंद ,ढून्ढ  लाओ  ना

और जलाओ  वह  सपनो  की  धीमी  आंच ,हलकी  सी , गोंद  को  पिघलाती  हुई ,
मकसद  की उस  गोंद  से  जो   कभी  आखों  से  आसूं  बनकर  निकली  थी ..

माना ,पत्थरों  से  टकराकर  हम  टुकड़े रोज़  चकनाचूर  होते  हैं ,
वक़्त  के  थपेड़ों  से  उलटे  पुल्टे  होकर  यहाँ  वहां  भटक  जातें  ...

Woh kamra

ठेड़ा मेडा,कुबड़ा सा,
टूटा फूटा बिखरा सा,
गलत खानों में भरा हुआ वो कमरा,
जिनमे कभी यादें रहा करती थीं...

कोनो की गन्दगी,कहानी कहती थी
 गिरी चाय,माँ की मठरी की भोर,पुराने अख़बार
गंदे कपडे तितर बितर पड़े,सब,कुछ बोलते थे
हाँ,यहाँ कभी थोड़े पागल से,मसखरे,कुछ दोस्त रहा करते थे

Losing my religion...

Reading Finkler Question...something about violence
motivated racially or religiously sends chills through
my spine...Scares me,pushes me to see the darkest crevice
in human heart...when the human part is lost...
what pushes us from being a human to a frigid cold mamzer...


I finally lost what was never mine,
Religion,belief,that mark,the sign,

For like a pedophile it whispered something mean,
Hypnotized,enticed,confused,aroused,made me keen,

Told,its ok to spill their blood,for its not red,
Their pure,impure,their god,satan,poison injected in my head.

I raised the matchet ,inflicted razor sharp hate,
On the baby I used to croon for,on mother,even my life long mates,

It ( my hate ) won,I lost,though I cant realize,
Drops of blood on my soul,searing,scarred,agonized,

Hate is what I gained,fear is what prevailed,
Mere puppet I acted upon my masters wishes,unknown to me,veiled..

How long??

Success makes you a little forgetful.
You forget to question yourself,torment yourself.
Kind of forget to ask yourself some nagging questions...
Those nagging questions which raise their ugly head when we fail..
We see ourselves being denied of what is rightfully ours
And then we ask...How long...


I retrace,recount,those steps,back,further back,
Dizzy head,like a given up pugilist,
What went amiss,where it faltered,where the lack??
Unable to figure,hope,shade dimmer,hazy,covered by mist...


I know there is light,somewhere else,for sure,
Where my steps are waited upon,to be greeted,
Where that flickering lamp of success,glowing,pure,
And my thoughts,lucid,my own,not a proxy,stimulated...


But till then,I fight against those demons,
Under my bed,inside my head,troubling,keeping me awake
How long do I fight them,days,years or eons?
How long before I catch a blissful sleep,troubles abated,slaked...

Twisted...

Twisted,warped,crushed and a little dirty,pale
Life,rummy once stinks now,rotten,stale

Being pushed,driven,haggled and hurried,
Whatever happened to my pace,my tread,tranquil,unhurried?

Voices ringing in my head,surely,not mine,
This image in mirror,filled with cracks,sharp,oh so fine.

Pain,beyond sensation,spread like normality,
Numb,by the continuous humdrum,darn,this banality...

Do I need title for everyting I write??

Bumping against the walls,
In a room,illuminated,fully lit...

Straining hard to hear silent calls,
Barely able to decipher,annoying little bits...

More known that unknown,not sure if thats good,
For those glaring wrong,under a strobe,exposed...

Atleast I have bared,torn the mask,sans the hood,
Credit,debit my + & - ,the net of me juxtaposed...

mere sapne

अधखुली आखों से सोचता हुआ,
विचारों से देखता अनदेखा करता,
चबाता उन्हें,धीरे,धीरे,गाय के जुगले की तरह,
भिगोता उन्हें तब तक जब तक अविश्वास से गीले गंदे नहीं हो जाते.

बेचारे,आपना सा मुहं लिए,संकुचित से,असक्षम,उदास,
बच्चों जैसे,जिनका गुब्बारा छीन लिया गया हो,फोड़ दिया गया हो,
गुस्सा से,नाखुश से,बेरंग,बे हवा उस फुग्गे को घूरते हुए,
मनो कहते हुए,बस,कर दिया बर्बाद,एक और सपना?

और नहीं!इस बार जिंदा रखूंगा उन्हें,
तोडूंगा मरोरूँगा  नहीं,ख़ुशी नहीं निचोरुंगा उनसे,
सपनो को थोडा संभल के रखूंगा,शंका के विष से दूर,
मुस्कुरा कर बोलूँगा,पास आकर बैठो,तंग नहीं करूंगा.

Dad...

I should not be writing this.
No body should write anything like this. But then there is God and you pretty much end up
doing everything you never wanted to.

It is downright horrible to write about loss.
Specially when that loss just leaves the mark,deep,always hurting,always green.
In those morsels of food,in those gatherings,those words,clothes everything.

I do not know how will I ever cope up with loss of someone around whom my life revolves.
Hope I never have to,and no one else has too...its naive I know...


And I stare in mirror dad,
Reflection a little weird,something amiss,
No one to protect me against all that is bad,
No one in whose arms will I find that bliss.

I so want to be scolded today,please...take you time
Promise, I wont run to mom,wont hide today,
Want to hear all that was unsaid,over that phone line,
For all those years,wish I could hear,wish I could say

You taught me to stand,holding my fingers in your big hand,
Remember?You showed me how to throw that cricket ball?
But you forgot to tell,where do I find you in some distant land.
There I am,consoling,but inconsolable,looking at my phone,hoping,may be you would call..

For you were always there,and I hoped status quo,
But not fair na,I am still waiting,so sure you would come,
Come near my bed, see me sleeping,smile and go,
Tonight,I would just pretend to sleep,for I want to see you smile dad,please daddy,wont you come???


PS : For our friend Sid....we know Sid we cant truly fathom what you feel now but we are there...

Mera Bachpan

Its been long since I wrote this, arguably one of my favorite post.
More so because it is in Hindi.
Had written it some time back but thanks to Windows periodic ( moody ) start ups lost it.

Just hope that Gulzar ji could read these lines... :)

गंदे मट्टी से सने हाथों से,अलूफ़,हलके से मुस्कुराते हुए,
घरोंदे बनता,तोड़ता,खुश होता,खिलखिलाता,मेरा बचपन,
उस सफ़ेद क्नेकर पर,उस धुली कमीज़ पर,छोटे काले भूरे बादल से,
मट्टी को अपना दोस्त बनता,बेसुध,अचिंतित,वो पगला,मेरा बचपन.

मानो इंतज़ार सा करता,माँ के आने का,उस मीठी झिडकी के साथ,
ऊपर से डांटते हुए,पर मन ही मन,ढूँढती,कोई चोट का निशान,काँटा,कीड़ा,
और वो बावला,हाथ पैर पटकता,ना ना चिल्लाता,बस थोड़ी देर और की गुहार लगाता,
बनाने की कोशिश करता उसे,जो कल बिखर जायेगा, बेपरवाह,छोटू,गोलू मोलू सा मेरा बचपन.

पर आज उसे मैंने बंद कर दिया,सफ़ेद अच्छे कपड़ो में,कस के बांधे हुए जूतों में,
दूर से ही रोक लिया,सौंधी मट्टी की खुशबू से, और शायद माँ की गोद से,
पर पता नहीं क्यों,यह तो नहीं चाहता था ना मैं,फिर क्यों?बंधा,पकड़ा,जकड़ा उसे?
शायद मैं बड़ा हो गया,पर अभी भी,बेसुध,अचिंतित,बेपरवाह,छोटू,गोलू मोलू है वो मासूम....मेरा बचपन...

Lost...and found??

No. Not a big fan of lost.
But ya,big fan of floyd...you would figure that out...


And i m torn again...just like that??
The bar high,more than that twisted,
Between my good and the ugly heart,
a little lost,for the dream just burst.


There I go again,in the self destruct mode,
Losing sight of finish line,right after lap one,
But still,I take that path,that rough,rugged road,
For I know,it wont be dark for long,as I stare into that shining sun...

Lost for words...

Ok.So what if its a Floyd song.Just a bit of inspiration :P
And so what if Words have become a recurring motif in my posts...

And they just got lost,
like those naughty kids,
not listening,not understanding,
rushing away,leaving me,amidst silent frost.

Like a vessel,boiling,but sealed lids,
Not letting you vent,smothering the shouts,
But surprisingly,it is ok with your system,
Or is it,deep unfelt blows,those deadly bids.

If only you were there,still talking,
Words would not had deserted,absconded,
Wouldn't be groping in dark,at loss of words,
If only you were there,they would be back,out of their hiding...

A million little pieces..

Kept it waiting for far too long...


Faces,staring at me,from million little pieces,shattered,
Potraying perfect distortions,that mirror,battered.

Dillicult to pick those pieces,with sharp shards strewed,
Attempt to glue them up,bloody futile (literally),my image,incomplete,askew.

Voice from those pieces,sharp,cacophonous,chaotic,
Trying hard to decipher them all,most of them mine,but distant,robotic.

Unable to put back together,those fractions of my whole,
Angry,I stamp over,crushing them fine,and they move apart,like those opposite poles... 

A few lines..

Seriously,I had so many things to write about...so many...
Not sure why I picked up the only topic which does not merit words...


And just a few lines,to make it all gone,
Futile,attempts at cracking the glass cubes
Everything visible,but still closed,locked,exits,none
I spill it all,in words gibberish,still cant explain,these self feuds..

पगला

थल्ली पे बैठा हुआ,टाँगे हिलाता,मुस्कुराता पगला,
वोह खट्टी टोफ्फी गंदे तरीके से खता हुआ,नाक पोंछता ,
वहां पीछे दुनिया,चिल्ला रही है,बूढी खूसट,खांसती हुई,
सुना अनसुना करके खुश है पगला,अनंत को घूरता,टंगे हिलाता थल्ली पे...

Highly arbit

Sometimes you just write.
You might have your Spanish end term the next day and you hardly know anything about it.
You just write,because it just makes you feel a little better.
And you write,as sometimes this is the only anchor you have.

Couple of arbitrary lines...

Alarm bells dont wake me up,
Just the droning noise of dull heart beats
Innocent,quite but so strong,kept me alive,awake
And when it stopped,the bells just kept ringing...

************************************************************************

So much to that words just went amiss,
Silence is all I am left with,my only ally,my only bliss

Naive hubris...

Picking up stupid fights,with unknown bullies
A reason there?Or mere satisfaction of hubris?

Just saying no,for the heck of it?For feeling good?
Pretending you are not one of them,albeit your are,under the hood.

Arghh...not sure,may be it helps stay sane,amidst the chaos,the rush
Or help to maintain a semblance,stay a little alive,a little less crushed.

So I do it,mix my naivety and hubris,all in one,
Shook them well,take a swig,guffaw,and like that kid,away I run....

लड़ता भागता बचपन

Back to back posts in Hindi.


 माँ के पल्लू को दातों से कुतरता,उँगलियों में घुमाता,शर्माता,
पैरों से मट्टी में गोले बनाता,ज़मीन को घूरता हुआ,छिपता हुआ,
वो बचपन ही था ना?चीज़ें समझना जब ज़रूरी नहीं हुआ करता था?
जब छिपने को जगह हमेशा मिला करती थी,अलमारी के पीछे,कुर्सी के नीचे.

गिलास गिरने,दूध फ़ैलाने पर एक मीठी सी झिडकी ही तो मिलती थी,
चोट खाने पर,माँ का वो झूठ मूठ का गुस्सा,उनका वो सच मुच का प्यार,
एक बार फिर,माँ,थोडा गुस्सा करो ना,पूछो, की क्या सब ठीक है?
हाँ,पल्लू हाथ से फिसल चूका है,लेकिन वो बचपन,लड़ रहा है,भाग रहा है,बड़प्पन से दूर...

अकेली ख़ामोशी...

Hindi version of a theme that I had written before ( Silence...a little alone ) , always felt that it would come out better in Hindi....thnx again...google translitration..

ख़ामोशी, अनमने से बच्चे की तरह,
जिसे उसका खिलौना न मिला हो,
गाल फुला कर,अकेले उस कोने में तकती हमें,
जहाँ उसे सब देख सकें ,और महसूस करें,कोई नाराज़ है.

शोर मचाती,मगर ,डरते हुए,रुक जाती जब उसे घूरा जाता,
चीज़ें जान बूझ के गिराती,बेफकूफ ख़ामोशी,सन्नाटे को ही तोड़ने पर तुली हुई,
गुस्सा  मैं,पहुंचा उसके पास,पूछा,क्यों चुप चाप नहीं बैठती ,
गोल सी आखें घुमा कर बोली,मासूम सी ख़ामोशी,"थोड़ी अकेली हूँ,मेरे साथ बैठोगे??"
 

Trip to Jaipur..again..

Trip to home brings out my funny side. Yes,I do have a funny side.
So no matter what you naysayers say,I am so not going to be detracted/discouraged.


As the brave white knight who makes his way through,fights the princess,defeats her and wins
the dragons heart I tread again on this perilous journey.
Writing something funny.Not something sad/motivating/inspiring/arbit stuff I usually write.

And nothing is as funny as traveling back home on a friday night.
One has a lot of things to look forward to. Rather I had a lot of s*** to handle.

Classes,downright depressing 2 hours of staring at problems that if solved would help
well,nobody,top it up with calls from concerned friends if I was okay ( euphemism galore,go figure what they said ),getting stuck up in a protracted meeting for a duration where all those theories of  time & space
seem to get caught up in the meeting itself.

Highlights/Reasons for the trip...

 1)Friends getting married for no apparent reason.
   
2) Going through the whole excruciating process of poojas and ceremonies after promising
    to you that it would be a simple court affairs followed by high tea ( well, this should be counted as
    funny,and from now on consider this

3) Taking a cycle rickshaw to travel from point A to B ( that was kind of given right?? but then I am doing       my  MBA right??) .
 Now I am pretty uncomfortable with this particular mode of transport. Apart from the fact that most of them were purchased and being used since 1925,and frankly with the few extra grams I have
generated ( with great difficulty ) as a part of an extensive dietary and exercise regime I have been following for quite some time now,its a little difficult for me to fit in that space.

And once that poor soul starts pulling the rickshaw,even though I know my weight is not the problem I feel bad. Its like I am some "rule the village an iron fist" guy from black and white Indian movies. 

4) Now I know you have not read my earlier escapades adventures ( which are extremely boring to the extent
of being hazardous to public health and sanity,so avoid anyways ) but the means I take to reach Jaipur are getting disastrous to say the least.From hitching a ride in an Innova with driving catching some sleep during the trip ( and trying so hard to get me killed ) to this time when I had to resort to Rajasthan roadways bus where "We the people" just don't get believe that seat for 3 is meant only for 3,may be 4 or 5 but not 6...definitely not 6.And that too with luggage,sir,absolutely no sir. I understand that you would get down after 2 hours but my lungs and all need some ridiculously useless things,air and all,geesh!!

Anyways...I had a lot to say,but then its 4 15 AM and I have a wedding to attend..ya,same guy,who after promising court proceedings is going the Suraj Barjatya way...Ham apke hain kaun types...phew...sobbb

7/10

This one as a result of some intellectual (:P) argument about ego etc.


Third in line,lost out again,
To my ego,my biases,my banes.

Clouding my thought,blurring my sights,
Bolstering my wrongs,wronging my rights.

Waging a crusade,against self,vigorously,
Dichotomous factions,hurting myself callously.

8 lines

For some success comes,even if it takes time and it feels great then.
For some,wait is a little longer,hurts a little more but then I am sure it would be even sweeter.
For those who took that plunge,fell hard but stood up again..

And I took the plunge,eyes closed,smile wide,
Held the bull,took it by horns,braced that ride.

Grip,initially firm,stride confident,serene,
World,resplendent,promising all its sheen.

But far too many jerks,tussles,slips,
Sheen dampened,steady light no more,mere weak blips.

For the grip started slipping,and fall seemed into abyss,
With gloves missing,safety net,torn,lose,amiss.

Spoken but unheard...

 Trying so hard,to get words out,
Most of them,poor things,implode,
Channel,tortuous,all they could manage was shout,
Their voice,sadly,not loud enough,as they are left,unattended,ignored

Spoken but unheard...

Trying so hard,to get words out,
Most of them,poor things,implode,
Channel,tortuous,all they could manage was shout,
Their voice,sadly,not loud enough,as they are left,unattended,ignored

Absolute arbitness...

This is what happens when you are trying to manage through a really really slow and not to mention boring lecture.
During boring lectures,You write.Rather,one writes,even ratherer,I write.


Messing around with words and emotions leads to poetry.Or so I think.


Quotadine themes,attempts at wierd sentence formations,word counts and structures.


All this in one language class...

 
Readers,you are more than welcome to provide title for each of them.


The best title will....ummmm...given the extremely liquidity strapped
situation of the author wont get anything.

**********************************************************************

First instinct,second guesses,
Lot of hits and some misses.


Tight rope,loose safety net,
This,the only chance,that,the last bet.


Lows frustating,exhilarating highs,
Holding the breaths,masking those sighs.


Today,tomorrow,day after and again,
Striving,for that closure,switch to a new lane.

**********************************************************************

Tried this one to increase the word frequency in each stanza,failed miserably.
Second line of second stanza says it all doesnt it?



Right things,wrong time,
Poetic words,sans rhyme.

Kid like happy,adult like sad,
Letting things go,holding on bad.

**********************************************************************

This came from a spanish sentence which on translation meant,"I remember my dream".Which was both inspiring and pinching.But could not finish it as class got over by then...

Used to laugh with it,with it I cried,
Shared everything,with it,I never shied.

Like those best buds,who fought and reconciled,
Some one with whom silence,never ackward,it even smiled.

All of a sudden,it was snatched,tucked away,
Locked in the close of "life",not meant to see another day.

**********************************************************************

A little longer...

A semblance of peace,something right,
as I delay getting up today,keep the eyes close,a little long,
Those nagging voices from within,a little quite,
Hum that tune,turn up the volume,make it a song...

Silence...A little alone...

Four lines after a hiatus...

In that room,emptiness sits all alone,
Trying desperately to find someone to talk to,
Jumping over tables & chairs,trying to entice me in that shrill tone,
While I run towards noise,sounds of silence ,growing low...

That red tie..

There are some things in life which justify everything.

Difficult days,frustation,anger,everything.

All these things just go poof when you see someone get what they truly deserve.

A smile,a sense of comfort is all that you derive your purpose out of.

This goes out to an alum who did not give up on his dream. He faced probably the most testing times an individual could probably face but then hey,he cracked it,didn't he.

Never been happier.Paras,that tie would always remind us of what all you have achieved and yes,it only gets better from here.

That tie,hanging,dangling,like a noose,

Reminding,hurting,that old shoe.

Hurting and bleeding for far too long,

Abuses,like a lullaby,this pain,a song.

A step ahead,pushed back by miles,

Name forgotten,amidst those dusty files.

Acknowledgement of existence refused,

Voice not hear,lips forcefully glued.

But today I spoke,and how I did speak,

Told them I was tired,but then not weak.

Finally,a smile made a trip,oh so amiable,

One chair to another,then across the table.

Their nods were finally what I extracted,

Shook hands with shaking hands,grabbing before they retracted.

Phew,albatross off my neck,sans the load,light,

As I waltz my way to happiness,to claim this long due right.



Frozen Bachpan...

Crazy cold in Delhi...and catching a glimpse of families on road struggling through that pinching , bitter winter :(



That ice candy slowly melting away,
He stands watching helpless, tied, unable to sway.

Other kids, rushing towards that bell,
This flavor, no that one, to the ice-cream uncle, they yell.

That wistful look and that sudden guilt swung,
As Maa coughed,a darker crimson than candy,from her lungs.

Candy still melting,but something just froze,deep,very deep,
Wept a little,consoled maa,shooed away his bachpan,forced it to sleep.

That Smile..

There...that is 100th. I so thought I would remain untouched by what is going around me.
And would not write anything that borders on morose even if its not such a sad thing in itself.


Also,I miss out on writing my 100th post on my new Kindle. Well that is partially because it 
has not arrived in my hands. And partially because I am in one of those "I Think" modes...


After a lot of restraint and being unaffected by whatever happens,I succumb.

The nagging doubts,put to sleep,
That lethal injection,inserted,
Picked up pieces of me,from that heap,
Only the once still ticking,though interrupted.

Admists,hurrahs,my sighs,phews,unheard,
Those giggles,guffaws,muting those cries,
Skin irritated,but leaving those tears,untouched,
Long caged,those poor droplets of salt,independent,saying all rise

May be its not the day,to say it all,
Let the day be just smiles today,just today atleast,
For enough of wounds after every fall,
And this time,the smiles will be different,today I rest