tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22943441312334064362024-03-12T22:32:06.481-07:00Diary of the Mad HatterTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-46271449800255850212012-10-16T00:25:00.001-07:002012-10-16T00:25:54.321-07:00Why<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">why bother, she asks, seriously why</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">why cant I let go and believe it never was</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">why cant i move on and decide its done</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">why bother, she asks, seriously why</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">if that special one said those words with a tear</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">if that love of her life says goodbye to her dreams</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">and he moves from her heart when her soul was asleep</span><br style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><div class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">
why bother, she asks, seriously why<br /><br />So why does the sun touch the hues of the sea<br />why bother with the wind that flirts with the waves<br />And you cry and you laugh and you smile and you hug<br />well you care dear girl, you live for that love</div>
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TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-558664249230445262012-08-30T12:15:00.001-07:002012-08-30T12:15:24.924-07:00Destiny's child <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u><b><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></b></u></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I am destiny's child, born out of dreamlock</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">My father is fate and my sister is passion</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I ride my horse called Luck, through life</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I land at my muse's town called Love</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I take her by force, with a trick called promise</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I bury her in petals of leaves called Joy</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She laughs as she shoots me the arrows of sorrow </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I know I have done , what I ever should have done</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Yesteday is history for the mystery that is morrow</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">So the steps of my life are only filled with today</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The world loves a fool but detests the happy fool</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Is it then my fault that I kiss them with my smile</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">How long can I see my fairy tale world</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">As long as I want as I live what I feel</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">But soon she starts on that dreaded path called thought</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I'll fight till the last,for the end is nigh</span></div>
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TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-44562818193233255772012-05-24T01:57:00.000-07:002012-05-24T02:06:10.261-07:00I need you...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> <span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I asked you more, the day we met</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I held your hand, the day you wept</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I could have been a little soft</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I did not know with that I lost</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I see you love and tell you so</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">People say you let it grow</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">How long does one need have to wait?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">When we are new or till far too late</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Ten twenty moons I went with you</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Let’s be friends, I never knew</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">And then I spat out “I love you”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">With that I killed what could ensue</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Feel it right and it will come</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">That’s what they say, am I so dumb</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">You were mine that’s all I know</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Just simple love, get set and go</span></div>
</div>TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-4411756228248779632012-02-20T07:28:00.001-08:002012-02-20T11:51:07.355-08:00Kodai KapersAmong the fondest and most nostalgic memories of growing up in the late 70's and 80's was the amount of 'physical' activities we kids used to enjoy , in rain or shine!TV was an option only for cricket matches or weekend films. Every sunlit moment of our days was filled with playing cricket,hidenseek,ghost games,treasure hunts,tree climbing,kite flying or enormously long and serene walks on undiscovered trails.Let me take you along two such fun rides from my flashback!<br />
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One of the fondest memories of growing up in hot,hot Madras, was the cool,cool summer visits to our house in Kodai. And we used to stay there for 2 months!The first half of our days were filled with rowing.I used to be a sparring partner for many who used to compete in the kodai boat race.Now before you think I was champion material at that age, that people used to practice against me,it was nothing of that sort!It made them feel good to win every time and it excited me that I could give them a fright once in a while. I was and have remained a king maker and never a king! This was an early lesson. On non 'race'days, I used to take the boat with my cousin and row for about an half hour and park the boat under one of the many trees around the lake and snooze for about an hour! Champions needed rest you see! Ah, isnt a snooze in the prime time of the day one of the most cherished and warm moments? I have carried this habit on to my work and without fail , take a nice snooze at around 11 am ,dreaming of boat races and winning them , while my bosses thought I was intently listening to their spiel about bottom and top lines! Of, course, now I know the art of doing it with eyes open , like most of you! The other tree-side escapes were to catch up on Hardy Boys or Tintin!, I wish we had such wonderful lakes in Madras, I may have even got great grades at school if I had taken my school books to such pristine locations! Even to this day I remember the names of every character from the Hardy boys and Tintin!<br />
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The second half of the day in Kodai was our great trekking expeditions! Our motley crew of myself, my cook, our driver and our household help, used to take walks into the unknown territories of Kodai. Though I grew up in the upper middle class mileu, my early moorings into socialism and equality were formed during these walks I guess. This was more fun and real, walking with this strata of society, drinking local chai and grabbing roadside khana and bush nuts rather than the stiff upper lip hoity toities of the upper echelons.I used to be indoctrinated into the lives of my fellow 'trekkers' and what joy it gave them to walk among bounteous nature with their master's son! And one such trek led us to 'Vellagavi', a village smaller than small, about 5000 feet below kodai and the route to this was behind the TVS guest house, a long sheer drop filled with rocks and bushes and caves and a waterfall(well actually a simple stream!) running all along the way. We discovered caves which leads one down to the plains itself at a speed which is faster than going in a car from Kodai to the foothills! The only sounds accompanying us were the gurgle of water, the occasional bird chirp and the threatening sounds of thunder and sudden burst of sunshine or mist.Dangerous rock edges with nothing to hold us if we fall(Don't look at the cliffs and don't look down,we were warned!). We reached the target in 2 hours and discovered this village of about 30 huts where everyone was equal except the postman! The reason, he was the only one who could read and write, he was the local doctor and the panchayat chief and he was their only link to civilization! We were greeted like we were visitors from Mars and every house competed with each other to feed us and take pix with us! They hardly get visitors from 'town' especially wearing shorts and trousers and they do not have TV or milk! What a wonderful life! I hate milk! Apparently if we walk another half hour we will reach the foothills and the plains! <br />
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So after singing songs, eating local food and a dip in their 'lake' we started climbing back and wow , was it tough! Fatigue and slippery rocks and the fact that we are going back to reality . slowed us down I guess, and we managed to reach back in about 2 1/2 hours and life entered the normal zone.Oh! to go back to those days! After a million years, I managed to get the same cousin sister , now in SFO, to go for a trek in NZ just to relive those childhood memories!But that is for another blog, another time :-)TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-43135212652716582332011-11-03T11:56:00.000-07:002011-11-03T12:05:05.902-07:00Living on Life's EdgeEvery moment of the years gone by,We feel<br />If ever one could have paused a breath of time<br />Which would we pick to ponder on life<br />The one that killed or the one we stilled<br /><br />In the demonic whir of the race called life, we see<br />The cobblestones of memories etch a stairway of tears<br />We slip on every step,fall and laugh a cry<br />The path beyond seems lonelier than the one we left<br /><br /><br />A hollow wind blows through the tunnels of togetherness<br />We feel the unseen, and touch the mirage of love<br />The eyes see the heart through the bottomless glass of pain<br />Shattering the Now,with the power of the NeverTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-31754463002590817922011-11-03T02:55:00.001-07:002011-11-03T02:55:54.783-07:00Suddenly..I met her now, in sprinking rain<br />A girl, who loves as much as I<br />And she is still beseeched in pain<br />Of those who loved and let her cry<br /><br />The moments passed in heaven's time<br />Where life stood still and angels fly<br />Her speech and thoughts in mine they rhyme<br />Our hearts went limp , I wonder why<br /><br />Of all the games that Love does play<br />We win and cry each every day<br />The chime of time is singing true<br />Tis as old as God, but just as newTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-84583795755056576602011-11-02T01:24:00.000-07:002011-11-02T01:28:00.193-07:00The tragedy of wanting to live on one's own termsThey told me to think of sanity<br />The world is a square box of reason<br />Stop the flying and curb your vanity<br />Most dreamers are dead in a season<br /><br />Tread the normal,dread the new<br />Make the money, be a slave<br />Leave the passion, not for you<br />Stop the smile, dig your grave<br /><br />Ask you when you've played your part<br />Have you saved or did you give<br />What you made is in your heart<br />That's the game, now learn to liveTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-63526412044829871332011-05-23T10:03:00.000-07:002011-05-26T11:51:23.612-07:00It's been a while,loveYes, tis been a while since I saw her,<br />A chance misdemeanour of the heart, led our souls astray<br />No, it’s not a great feeling to miss your only love<br />Even sweet death seems a bed of roses now<br /><br />When expression lisps in search of her breath<br />I cry to try what faith can do<br />I see her more when she is gone<br />I feel her more, it’s been that long<br /><br />Memory is the Satan of Love<br />With past life regression of those moments sublime<br />His claws reach deep to soften and strike<br />She does know this, doesn’t she? She must<br /><br />That narcotic of romance gives you a sturdy lifeboat<br />But the sadist that it is keeps the oar away<br />I am in the centre of it all, the quicksand pulling<br />Running at the speed of depression, sinking in her smile<br /><br />When all seems lost, the worst friend is hope<br />Doesn’t let one live nor love<br />I sleep the sleep of a happy morrow<br />Yes, tis been a while, I need her nowTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-3942804916796809412010-09-20T10:52:00.000-07:002011-11-14T09:30:45.847-08:00Chai,Irfan and Siddhi VinayakChennai , 6 10 am,Saturday .A pair of hands enjoying a poor man’s “Mike Tyson versus Rambo” fist fight, with the choicest of madras slang thrown in! Two call taxi drivers in a waltz! Welcome to Chennai Kamraj Domestic Terminal. I had an urgent trip to Bombay to make and I usually don’t like this kind of a start to my day! And lo and behold, the next piece of news astounded me! My flight took off 5 minutes before time and landed 10 minutes ahead at Mumbai! I will surely have Jet lag!.<br />
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Thinking it prudent , because it works well in the oft-maligned cabs of chennai, I wanted to take a pre paid taxi to Andheri(w).<br />
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Security guy ” 3321 cab le lo saab”<br />
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3321 cab driver ” Andheri nahi chalega”<br />
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Me “Huh?”<br />
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Security guy ” yeh wallah cab mein jao”<br />
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yeh wallah cab driver “Kyun? 3321 kya kaha?”<br />
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Me ” Huh??”<br />
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Finally I got into another cab<br />
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Our new cab driver asked me how much I paid and started whining about traffic and why Andheri W sucks and then he got into a low pitched marathi-ish hindi which sounded like an associate’s voice after appraisal! .<br />
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God has not endowed me with too many good habits, but one habit which alternates between good and dangerous, has been an ability to empathise and converse with anyone! . With my broken hindi (sample given above , you may have seen) , I heroically started conversing with my only hope for Andheri (W) sitting and driving our airawat. His bark slowly turned into a low growl and then some silence. We were now at one of the many signals in Mumbai , where Metro rail is creating havoc in traffic. And as it happens anywhere in India, I see a “not so priviledged” old lady extending her arm against my window, with nothing in her palm and hope in her heart. I give her a 5 rupee coin. And our cab sarathy looks at me and says “Malik dekh raha hai”. One more person comes to the car and I give her a 5 too, and now , our cabbie shows me a little of his pan chewing teeth , and enamels it with a smile<br />
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And then he starts telling me his life story, of his native UP,his poverty. His name is Irfan btw.He talks about religious persecution, he talks about the serial blasts of 1993. And then I ask him where he was on 26/11.<br />
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And ….there is silence and slowly he turns back and says ” Woh kala dhin tha saab, bahut takleef diya”. and he says his mind is still filled with anger , fear,hatred. And he continues ” ek cab driver ko uda diya, woh K…..”Anguish, pain in his voice. I realise how we all are, socially emotional animals.The most stark and horrid image for Irfan, was that of a fellow cab driver, being killed.It was not about politics or religion or anything else. It was his empathy, his immediate identity which he connected to<br />
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I swiftly take him away from that topic and ask him if he prays.I ask him about Ramzan. And then I ask him which is his favorite place of workship. And irfan says ” Woh Sachin Tendukar ka mandir hai na, Siddhi Vinayak,Dadar may!”<br />
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This time , I was stunned into silence.I realised what I had heard!”Irfan Mohammad” loves Siddhi Vinayak! What a beautiful country ours is! Here was a simple poor man, telling me God doesn’t have an affliation! And he also tell me about our responsibility ! He says it is Sachin’s temple! Thats his identification! What an impact! Isn’t that the impact all of us in seats of responsibilty have? When many our following us , or doing things because we are doing it, don’t we need to set the right examples?<br />
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What a lesson!<br />
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And finally we arrive at Anderi (W) and Irfan stops the car , gets out with me , and says “Aao saab, Chai peelenge” and buys me the most wonderful cup of tea I will ever have in my life!<br />
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And to think my story started with two cab drivers fighting with each other that morning!TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-33982572435914725612010-06-26T09:24:00.000-07:002010-06-26T09:25:25.043-07:00ConversationsDungeons of a simple sadist open up<br />static speeds of a still tomorrow,they say<br />we are victims of today,breathing in yesterday<br />a crashing ,painful shriek of silence I hear<br /><br />Together was beautiful,I am greedy for more<br />Tenderness caresses us both, never the self<br />Reflective agony is far more demonic than reason<br />If only the heart replaces the mind and the soul the voice<br /><br />When is the answer and where is the question<br />I cannot be I if I am without you<br />Smile to me,cry I will, and so we will laugh<br />Time is fine,lets walk in foreverTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-1426389348189323072010-05-09T12:40:00.000-07:002010-05-09T12:49:02.629-07:00Cry, My beloved country- a short storyThis is my own work and is a complete work of fiction. All characters and situations are fictitious. The place “Mehndi kuan" does not exist.<br /><br /> <br /> <br /><br />Rain was pouring outside the old dilapidated mosque. The late evening call of the muezzin had just finished. In the nearby compound, there stood a run down, vandalized structure which was once a Hindu temple. The thunder and lightning outside was deafening, as if this was a an indication of what was happening in Mehndi Kuan, a nondescript apology of a village, about 10 miles south west of Sialkot in Punjab, India, on the banks of the Aik Nala and south of the Jammu Hills. Sialkot , the place of Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Guru Nanak ,was supposed to have been founded by Raja Sul (or Sálá), uncle of the Pandavas.This was a Muslim dominated village with a pocketful of Hindus and Sikhs.<br /><br />India was in the grip of communal terror. The violence unleashed on both sides of a line of hatred drawn by the British was something this part of the world had never seen, the scars of which will remain as long as the songs of the Ramayana and the sayings of the Prophet exist – a line which said that one eye is different from the other, that the heart of a mussalmaan1 beats differently than that of a Hindu, and that a culture which had captivated the ‘cultured’ west from time immemorial suddenly stood divided. Yes, this was the eve of Independence, the day when India was going to smile bravely and proudly and a day Indians will always remember with shame.<br /><br /> Mehndi Kuan was not well-known even in the Punjab. This was a small village of a motley crowd of peasants, farmers, paper mill workers and laborers. Of course, the big draw for most people here was the new factory manufacturing cricket bats and balls that the British had established. Ah, Cricket, one of the very few good legacies the white man left behind in the sub continent. Most of the people working in and around Gujranwala and Sialkot were employed in this factory. Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs lived here peacefully, their only reason of dissension being the level of employment each family had. It was in Mehndi Kuan, that Afzal Hussain Khan and his family lived. Afzal, now in his late 30’s was working in the factory and earning enough to help his family. His wife, Salma was a simple, traditional woman and her sole occupation was looking after their three daughters, Zohra, Zaira and Zainab. Zohra and Zaira were 10 and 8 respectively and like most children in this part of the world, were only waiting to be given away at Nikkah and did not attend school. But 6 year old Zainab was a precocious child. She had a great sense of music and was very quick at grasping things. She used to recite the suras as though that was what she had been born for. She was a very inquisitive child and after a great deal of thought, Afzal decided to put his child in a nearby all-girls school. Afzal was very proud of his family and of his lineage. His great grandfather was believed to have been part of a brave band of warriors led by Sher Singh, the trusted commander of Sher-I-Punjab, Maharajah Ranjit Singh in the First Punjab War against the British.<br /><br />The Afzal family would wake up every morning to the exposition of the Bhagawat Gita by his next-door neighbour Atma Ram, a Hindu priest. Atma Ram was a devout Hindu and his life was all about serving God at the Ram Temple next to the mosque. The Ram temple and the mosque were the hubbub of activity in this village. This was where the Panchayats were held, this was where the village gossip spread, and this was where the people of the village realized day in and day out, that they had an identity, which was their own, something a minor issue like religion could not disrupt. <br /><br />Atma Ram and his wife Gomti also had three daughters, at about the same ages of their neighbour’s children. Janki, Parvati and Durga also did not attend school. Their father ensured that all their education was done at home and he ensured the right mix of stories, prayers, morals and values to his children. Atma Ram was well versed in all the major puranas and vedas as well as the Quran and he ensured that all his children learnt the tenets of the holy Quran as well. Atma Ram had an endearing way of telling his stories and not surprisingly, little Zainab was a constant, enthusiastic presence at his discourses. It was hard to tell whether Janki’s knowledge of the“Al-Fatiha” , “Family of Imran” or her understanding of the“Al-Maun” could match the expressions of Zainab when describing Lord Krishna’s killing of the snake ‘Kaalinga’, or her childish ecstasy when talking about how Krishna rose to his full “Vishwarupa”and explained the Bhagavad-Gita to a self doubting Arjuna at the peak of the Mahabharata war. Atma Ram was also a proud man of the soil. His ancestors were part of the early anti-British rebel movements, which inspired the subjugated Indians with nationalistic songs and patriotic fervor.<br /><br />Both the families competed with each other in celebrating functions and if Afzal Hussain’s family prepared sweets and joyously celebrated Diwali, Atma Ram’s observed a strict fast through the holy month of Ramadan<br /><br />It was against this idyllic backdrop that India’s imminent Partition was announced and the evil mask of discontent and hatred was rearing its ugly form and starting to spread like poison. There was a great game of revenge and bloodbath happening all over the country. From Lahore to Calcutta and Amritsar to Karachi, the sounds of the dying and the heart wrenching cries of women only made people believe that the Day of Judgment and Kaliyuga had arrived in unison. The Muslims started hounding the houses of Hindus and calling people out of their houses and butchering them. The Hindus were not far behind as they looted and killed people by the hundreds. Teachers murdered their students because suddenly their names sounded different. <br /><br /> An angry mob brandishing sickles and knives was gathering outside Afzal Hussain’s house, which was locked. The mob started shouting violently and calling out to the inmates. The mob had come to Mehndi Kuan from Rawalpindi with specific instructions to cleanse the ‘land of the pure’ of all Hindus .Illyas, apparently the leader of the gang was shouting “You Bastards! Come out or we will set fire to the house. Go to India and give us back our land! I swear in the name of Allah, I will not rest till I see the last dead Kafir.”<br /><br /> The thuds on the locked door grew louder “We know five Hindus are hiding here! Is the owner of this house a true Mussalmaan??. Giving shelter to pigs! Bhai, send them out at once, otherwise the wrath of Allah will befall your family. Saala10 come out or we’ll come in and burn you alive!!”<br /><br />Atma Ram was shivering, holding on to a reassuring Afzal Hussain.The frightened kids were wailing. Their mothers were saying prayers and trying to keep the children calm.<br /><br />“Arre Bhaaiyon, What are you saying, have some sense? Who, in the name of Allah, is a true mussalmaan? Who? , The one who saves or the one who kills?? Stop this nonsense at once. Islam is about compassion. You are doing grave injustice to Islam and every Mussalmaan! Do not fall into the trap set by the forces of Evil. Please listen to me”<br /><br /> “Shut up!.I will give you three minutes to send them out .Otherwise …..!”<br /><br /> <br />Inside the house, Atma Ram was panicking “Afzal Bhai, Let me go! I will talk to them ,fall at their feet and beg them to kill me and leave my family alone”<br /><br /><br />The thuds grew louder and louder. “Waiting for you, bastards!!”<br /><br /> “Atma Ram, they will go away. You just wait here. I will go out and talk to them,” said a firm Afzal Hussain.<br /><br />“No! No! , Afzal Bhai, you stay. If you are here, there is a chance my family will be saved! You stay. I will go” pleaded Atma Ram.<br /><br /> The sounds from outside turned menacing. Chants of “Naaara-e-takbir! Allah-u –Akbar!” rented the air.<br /><br /> <br />Then…there was a moment of silence. Illyas shouted “Ok!! We gave you a chance .Since all of you are bloody Kafirs , we are coming in now. Ok !!!Chaaarge …Allah-u -Akbar!!!”<br /><br /> Suddenly...the door opened. Illyas motioned the others to wait. Out of the door, as expected by the gang, walked the full family crying out “Jai Ram ji ki!Jai Ram ji ki”. <br /><br />Illyas started a frenzied laughter “Aaagh!! Bastards!! Atleast you had the sense to come out and die!! For this, you will have a sweet time in Hell! Ha! Ha! Ha!”.<br /><br /> And in one fell swoop grabbed the little girl who was the most vociferous and slit her throat. The others pounced on the remaining family and killed them one by one without any mercy. <br /><br />“Aaaaaaaaaaagh..!!!!Jai Ram ji ki!!!”<br /><br /> Mission accomplished Illyas and gang turned to leave. Suddenly there was wailing and crying from inside the house as they saw Atma Ram’s family come out banging their chests. “Kill me! Kill us!! That’s the least we can do for Afzal Bhai.You want your thirst for blood quenched. Go on. Kill us. We don’t deserve to live in this land. The land of our Afzal bhai”<br /><br /> <br /><br />Illyas was shocked .He was overcome by a sudden feeling of guilt. With shame writ all over his face, he motioned his advancing gang to stop. He couldn’t believe what he had seen and what he had just done. He just looked at Atma Ram, and with tears swelling in his eyes, he slowly limped back away with the gang.<br /><br /> As Atma Ram looked at the dead bodies of Afzal Hussain and his family , the last words spoken by Afzal came to his mind. “Atma Bhai! You have taken refuge at the house of Afzal Hussain Khan, a Pathan.As long as I live, not a hair of yours will be touched.Salma,children come on, Let’s go. Jai Ram Ji ki !! All of you now Jai Ram ji ki.”<br /><br />Today, nothing of Afzal’s house, or the mosque or the temple exists in Mehndi Kuan.All that remains there is a small ramshackle building with an idol of Lord Ram. At its base inscribed in large letters is a couplet in Sanskrit<br /><br />“La ilaha illallah, <br /><br />Muhammad ur Rasool Allah”<br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-63540349097963946612010-04-01T05:40:00.001-07:002010-04-01T05:40:40.590-07:00This is for you,LoveIt is over, is it? but no one had told me so!<br />losing her once is lost forever<br />a bond of depth broken by a poisoned feather touch<br />The happy me waits , the sad me shatters<br /><br />the number game of age is a lottery for some<br />Just once in my life, a love called me hers<br />death and love are overnight speed travellers<br />heading the same way, killing a few <br /><br />Can magnitudes be reduced by minutes?<br />we need to talk,dearest,we only have us<br />Love is a sweet poison,let's select the sweet<br />Patience,my soul,the answer is just a few pains awayTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-5621440272790598132010-02-25T10:17:00.000-08:002010-02-25T10:21:18.531-08:00Holi!!Tis coming, Tis coming the festival of colors<br /><br />Splashing with life ,chasing out our fears<br /><br />I flirt with all comers, pretty and sweet<br /><br />Jumping and screaming ,a veritable treat<br /><br /><br /><br />In the days of yore when Rajputs were around<br /><br />On horses and chariots they colored who they found<br /><br />Princes or paupers ,the slave or his master<br /><br />This was one day , when divisions didn't matter<br /><br /><br /><br />The story goes that our beloved Lord Kishen<br /><br />Complained to his mother ,sad and grief stricken<br /><br />My Radha is fair , and my skin is so dark<br /><br />How can you let go of issues so stark<br /><br /><br /><br />And the doting mother, like most of her ilk<br /><br />Could not bear to see her son sulk<br /><br />She colored the beautiful Radha's face<br /><br />And so began Holi, in memory of those days<br /><br /><br /><br />They also say that the devout Prahlad<br /><br />Had worshipped the Supreme and angered his dad<br /><br />Burn him to death, the furious king roared<br /><br />Seating him on Holika, they lit a pyre to behold<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now Holika ,the demoness, had a shawl so special<br /><br />The one who wears it, no fire can tickle<br /><br />But the Lord answered the little boy's call<br /><br />Only Holika died , thus Holi for all<br /><br /><br /><br />I got up at dawn and readied my pranks<br /><br />Syringes and powder on girls at river banks<br /><br />Abdul,David,Swamy and Seth<br /><br />It is Holi my friends, no difference in faithTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-61910751110662793172010-02-16T08:29:00.000-08:002010-02-16T09:07:48.572-08:00passing thoughtsIts so simple when you know<br />what magic she can do your day<br />its a feeling bound to grow<br />you need to know just what to say<br /><br /><br />i saw her leaning on the wall<br />of her house, where i can't go<br />i stood there hoping she would call<br />she looked away,i couldnt no more<br /><br />As i start to walk away<br />my eyes refuse to follow me<br />Screaming at my heart to stay<br />What follows now,I cannot seeTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-32168540904507684732010-02-11T09:46:00.000-08:002010-02-11T09:49:31.355-08:00Moments in permanenceDreams, she ran into me, dreams<br />wake up today and see my news<br />its there, she says, I’m here <br />patience,waiting,finally,the moment<br /><br />many moons and a few suns, our journey<br />across seas, over mountains, through hearts<br />a cloudless skyscape weaving a spell<br />Is that what they mischievously call bliss?<br /><br />Surreal, could be, So real, may be, She is and will be<br />Love's a path often tread, but seldom flown<br />We wait for what we've seen, but not for what is shown<br />It is a beautiful journey, though no angels every stone<br /><br />That moment arrives, it happens even to the best <br />when Time and heart cuddle up to waltz<br />like there is no tomorrow and today is but a song<br />She came to me when her night turns into my dayTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-62332190066748130002010-01-12T08:05:00.000-08:002010-01-12T08:22:12.083-08:00Melody of my lifeRemember the call of a youth smitten tune<br />whispering all night with a shy lover's song<br />dancing the steps of a never ending dream<br />flying with you in a blue crusted dawn<br /><br />far far away do we go in our smiles<br />a chance to be kissed and a life to never miss<br />walking together in the land of forever<br />Flirting like the rain on a gold dripping morn<br /><br />when the day cries its final goodbye<br />Seeing our shadows as Love's reply<br />Our twinkle toes step on the sands of tomorrow<br />Watching life touch the heart laden skyTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-4209173215938643232009-12-31T09:00:00.000-08:002009-12-31T09:06:20.430-08:00Doodles of my beingMeditative,pensive,reflective visions of my happy-weary world<br />a touchpoint of stillness,agonizing calm,with a roar of silence<br />a black and white mirage,a single strand of the sound in red<br />its beautiful,isn't it,when the flower gods decide to doom the bloom<br /><br />Riding fast on a sighway,slush hits you on your mind,no cover<br />the faces of my incongruous pitiable earthmates,droop in a one lipped smile<br />they walk back too soon,before the world stops to run away from them,how funny<br />I call out my name far far into the emptiness of my full life<br /><br />we think,we plan,we do and the do thinks ,the think plans,and they fail<br />do we then just do what is already planned,and then think of what we did?<br />the train of no coaches,moves on a snake winding soul,black smoke of real lies<br />I gave birth today to myself,life has stunted my beginning,welcome to my dawnTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-248642261507802292009-12-29T05:04:00.000-08:002009-12-29T05:08:04.453-08:00She is so,Am I hers?I am sure,so is she<br />are we sure, need not be<br />what if that, what if this<br />will it work,will it miss<br /><br />yes she knows,so do I<br />then what's wrong,don't know why<br />she may think,i may not<br />It's only her that I have got<br /><br />I feel free, she seems sad<br />I am happy,is that bad<br />All i know,is what is now<br />I need her,tell me how<br /><br />every time,when we meet<br />heart does pound,miss a beat<br />pinch her cheeks,when I please<br />happy sad,when she sees<br /><br />closer I,to her own<br />every breath,of hers ive known<br />in her world,of tears and fright<br />This i know,I'm her rightTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-26891973977178591922009-12-27T08:22:00.000-08:002009-12-27T20:45:06.053-08:00Love-that four letter wordIts so hard to be in love, when you know what it brings<br />You will always know how it feels, but never know why<br />Is it all about the sensuous times or more when one’s alone<br />Why does one think so much, when all it needs is to be<br /> <br />I dreamt a life of togetherness, and I still do dream on her<br />Does one select his partner, or is it all ordained?<br />Are rules of the world in action, or is it the magic of the heart?<br />If its all about the infinite, why do we measure the path<br /><br />Something dies when someone lives, that’s how its always been<br />Love does not pretend to be the God it is not, so never blame the game<br />But is it an end or is it the beginning of one, do we ever need to know?<br />It never makes mortal sense, but tell me another bliss<br /><br />Is physical attraction a blemish on true love?<br />Or could even that be from the soul, it can, it is<br />Her life is cocooned by her stirrup of circumstances<br />Can’t one just express oneself, and hold that hand forever<br /><br />Its sad to be happy when this bubble seems to cry<br />But somewhere deep inside, the referee blows his whistle<br />It could be a foul or maybe we have scored ,the Omni audience knows<br />The way to play this game, is to keep running ,running, just forget the goalTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-56886350597844858162009-12-23T08:56:00.000-08:002009-12-23T09:02:36.980-08:00Beautiful child of NazarethA still night awaits a shining star<br />to reach a barn from Kingdom far<br />A beautiful child of Nazareth born<br />to rid this world of strife and scorn<br /><br />The three wise men were there to see<br />Wisdom, Love, Compassion be<br />A beautiful child of Nazareth born<br />To light a smile in all forlorn<br /><br />From the virgin mother for all to behold<br />A pure and sublime package of gold<br />A beautiful child of Nazareth born<br />To tell us all, God's here anonTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-53707484710921492412009-11-20T10:14:00.000-08:002009-11-20T10:17:57.921-08:00and it is,what to saysmile in silence, when to cry<br />kill me soon, live in joy<br />i am gone, come again<br />in my life, you are gone<br /><br />when in fear, pray to will<br />will she come, hate to lose<br />peace to die, hope to rise<br />someone here, all she has<br /><br />run away, come here soon<br />i will miss, you will see<br />head in heart, soul in tears<br />you and I, you or I<br /><br />shattered thought, shining eyes<br />smile in heaven, hell for me<br />wait for me, let it be<br />i am sad, happy less<br /><br />so you know, why you are<br />when i am, who is me?<br />then and now, ever before<br />and again, only youTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-34756030632942274622009-11-18T01:15:00.000-08:002009-11-18T04:24:12.659-08:00A few thoughts on life or is it?<p>Precious thoughts of final love, we have to let go<br />Like the life of a journey we enjoyed till now<br />When the final red light starts its sad trickling flame<br />That colourless piece of Time called Death, arrives<br /><br />Beginning its last walk, He stoops to stand us still<br />Those beautiful little moments of old memories remain<br />Why then do we cry misting those sweet lovely smiles<br />Do we love when there are tears, and lie when we laugh?<br /><br />We ask the maker a few questions on his plans<br />He built us a wall with the strength of wet clay<br />Why then does he always want only what we have<br />Does he know what it is to lose all what is mine?</p>TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-60247179413882167422009-11-17T10:16:00.000-08:002009-11-17T10:20:55.274-08:00She is and hence I amI met her once,forever<br />It was a living dream<br />of love that moves in me<br />with her name in every step<br /><br />She did what all I felt<br />in my desiring heart<br />and when I touched her self<br />I felt what all she is<br /><br />When Time and Love unite<br />We need no reason more<br />To tell us why I am<br />The way she is to meTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-43284372670699186022009-11-14T03:49:00.000-08:002009-11-14T03:52:10.282-08:00And in the end..Surreptiously she approaches my pathway,blocking my wind<br />I set sail on a dream to neverland,far far away,close to my heart<br />She sat on the sail and steered me to her sinewy sunset<br />I felt her in that wind,stardust settles in, long after silence<br /><br />Missing her moving into my sighs,missing her strumming my life<br />Wishing what all wishes do , moistening my crying smile,<br />A walk into the known , a step into her unknown, and thus a run in her mine<br />Memories are dreary milestones of the heart,smiling the sorrows of happier tears<br /><br />The last time was our first in the first time of our last,<br />And when I sit on the wall of our death full of fears<br />Those bricks of stone,enclosing our happy sad Now,<br />Tells me of that day, when she came to pass,TMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2294344131233406436.post-38156635481232633872009-11-08T10:24:00.001-08:002009-11-08T10:24:36.367-08:00An elegy on the death of LoveThunder clouds gather ominously<br />as a wounded heart starts a tale of sorrow<br />Of how a soul , a beacon light, burnt the heart it held within<br />Old flame , they say..old flame indeed !! does fire ever soothe<br /><br /> Beaming on top of the world, a feeling which only the ecstasy of Love<br /> can give<br />The steps we climbed on ,she pulled it down as her wont<br />Why , why does she always lead one up the garden of posterity?<br /> where the weeds and thorns of selfish thoughts strike your every nerve<br /><br />But yet again, when calmness fights a losing war<br />Those golden embers of a tender touch ,peeps out through the corner of<br />the heart<br />Battleships of Cupid prepare for a final onslaught<br />If I do survive, death for the elegy, five letters is all it takesTMKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04840543128083389810noreply@blogger.com6