Khush ho rahe thhe pehle

Khush ho rahe thhe pehle thukra ke zindagi ko
Ab dhoond tey hain dekho ghabrake zindagi ko

Nadaaniyon pe apni kya kya tha naaz humko
Sharma rahe hain ab toh sharma ke zindagi ko

Gham-khaar koi apna, humdum na koi apna
Phir kaun laye waapas samjha ke zindagi ko

Khush ho rahe thhe pehle thukrake zindagi ko
Ab dhoondtey hain dekho ghabrake zindagi ko

-Rajender Krishan

Random Thoughts

Everyday is a new battle. I fight with one of my many selves. Victory and defeat are both mine. And so, I remain ever pensive.

Serenity is within. If only I could reach out. If only I would stop expecting someone else to draw the line from start to finish in the maze box of my thoughts.

Did I let those moments of hope pass me by or did they choose to ignore me? Maybe i'll meet them on busy highways yet again, but this time, recognize them. Wait, I think I lost their id.

This couch of complexity that I'm sitting on seems so very comfortable. I collapsed right in. Why do I feel like i'm sinking then?

Do random thoughts strung around confusing emotions look beautiful or strange? Tied around the neck of this calm night, they seem familiar. Too familiar for comfort perhaps.

The moments
between sleep and wakefullness
are Yours

Resting quietly
beneath my eyelids
You gaze long into my soul

Tears, Idle Tears--Lord Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;S
o sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

I remember I was in 9th grade when I first read this poem and somehow in one of those melancholic moments, "tears from the depth of some divine despair" moved me deeply. Reading it now, after years, in another one of those empty moments, makes me feel like a little confused girl all over again!

Vada Raha Sanam, Ho Jayenge Tag Hum!

Your Inner European is Italian!

Passionate and colorful. You show the world what culture really is.

Who's" Your Inner European?

SE7EN Things I Plan To Do:
1. Morning walks or Yoga
2. Start studying
3. Write
4. Fly into the nothingness of the sky!
5. Take singing classes
6. Join an NGO
7. Travel, travel and some more travel

SE7EN Things I Can Do:
1. Dream
2. Laze around
3. Sleep for ages (literally and figuratively!)
4. Trust people very easily (fortunately or unfortunately)
5. Listen to people, animals, winds, leaves, life, for hours!
6. Fret over small things
7. Nothing!

Se7EN Things I Can't Do:
1. Have a routine
2. Be street smart
3. Cook well
4. Mathematics
5. Smoke
6. Stay outdoors too long when its sunny (gimme my cloudy days and i feel energetic)
7. Get rid of my laziness

SE7EN Things I Say Most Often:
1. Oh God! And variations of it...Goddd! Oh my Godd!
2. Hmmm or mmmm
3. Accha or Oh ok
4. Please (with or without an exclamation)
5. Okie-dokie
6. Oh Shitt!
7. Pistu, Baby, Shonu, Buggle, Boo Boo, Momo (names i call my dog with coz i talk to her the whole day!)

SE7EN Persons I Want To Tag:
1. Amit (too bad ur tagged already)
2. My dog
3. My alter ego

4. Panji

5. Bods

6. Fuzzy-wuzzy (not my teddy bear)

7. The dead relative who is supposedly always around me :)

Khwab--Junoon

Door jo aaj hain
Yaad aatay toh hain

Khwab adhooray sahi
Khwab saharay toh hain

Aaj bhi meri rahain rokti hain
Yaadein teri daman khaenchti hain
Bhool chukay hain jo humain
Yaad aate to hain

Sadyon ke faasle aaj hain darmiaan
Hojain magar jitni bhi doorian

Aap jahaan bhi rahain
Aap humare to hain
Khwab adhooray sahi
Khwab saharay to hain

Jaanay phir kab milain
Tere mere raastay
Aas tootay nahee
Yaad itna rahay

Raat dhalnee to hai
Aane ujalay to hain

To be, or not to be

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action-- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

William Shakespeare in Hamlet, one of his finest tragedies.

‘I like you calm, as if you were absent’
--Pablo Neruda

I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.

Since all these things are filled with my spirit,
you come from things, filled with my spirit.
You appear as my soul, as the butterfly’s dreaming,
and you appear as Sadness’s word.

I like you calm, as if you were distant,
you are a moaning, a butterfly’s cooing.
You hear me far-off, my voice does not reach you.
Let me be calmed, then, calmed by your silence.

Let me commune, then, commune with your silence,
clear as a light, and pure as a ring.
You are like night, calmed, constellated.
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.

I like you calm, as if you were absent:
distant and saddened, as if you were dead.
One word at that moment, a smile, is sufficient.
And I thrill, then, I thrill: that it cannot be so.

No one writes love poetry like Neruda! I can't imagine what it must be like to read him in Spanish. He uses just some of the most beautiful metaphors. This particular one is from "Viente poemas de amor" and a personal favourite.