We (I) Owe You

Could have said these words any other day Not for tokenism but now is better than never they say So here’s to the women in our life To our mothers, teachers, friends, daughters and wife For all the times you were taken for granted For not always knowing what you wanted For the love you’ve unconditionally showered For all those tough times you were brave and someone was the coward A simple thank you cannot repay For holding up our world yesterday tomorrow and today
A River Called Hope

There’s a river that flows eternal its called Hope From the zenith of optimism and down its mountainous slopes It runs the deepest along the valley of despair The currents dismissing obstacles like it just didn’t care Ever accommodating in its spirit It carries within it Streams of negativity, even the past Meandering along teaching you nothing lasts To opulence from penury To contentment through misery There’s a panacea for problems one can’t cope It’s a river that flows eternal and it’s called Hope
Older

We are growing older All the mountains we climbed We could because for every difficult wheel I always had your shoulder We were not even meant to be Or so we thought Keeping each other company Good friends it was...weren't we? We've come a real long way Blessed with beautiful angels Who warm our hearts Filling them with joy every single day We are growing older So much yet to experience and explore So here's to us keeping the flame alive Burn bright and before we go out we smoulder
Remember

Remember the time when we were WE Remember when would be together and could just BE Times when doing nothing together meant EVERYTHING Times when arguing was just a way of TALKING Remember saying what we meant and meaning what we SAID Remember never wishing for a lifetime but always FOREVER Times when making out meant way more than LOVEMAKING Times when we gave it all but nothing was really worth TAKING Remember when we could hear every thought without SAYING Remember feeling the pain without anyone HURTING Times of living in the moment and every moment worth a MEMORY Times of breathing easy around each other and making it easy to BREATHE Wonder why life feels like all of it was a LIFETIME AGO Wonder what came over us where did all the time GO Time perhaps to count our blessings and making the blessing COUNT Time to stop changing what we had and remembering to make that CHANGE
Past Continuous

It’s September again The great healer has ground on It’s passage though hasn’t erased pain Life meanwhile has been persistent and gone on But thoughts and questions they never cease The why and what if keep meshing new tales Indulging the heart, dancing the tease Memories coming to life in great detail Some things perhaps are just too good to be Breezy lives that leave happiness for your lifetime to last Angels passing by, meant for another world maybe Our present and future unfolding from their continuing past
The One

Life oh life! Mysterious are it’s ways How and when Who knows and who can say It doesn’t matter How brilliantly the light shines Is and was Separated by a moment, literally a matter of time If only, only if There just could be a last summer of song Chances passed around To maybe correct things, all that went wrong Oh! Cruel tide It favours not and it waits for none This much is certain Everyone is in the queue, just unaware about the (next) one
Where the Mind is Without Fear

As I write this post on the occassion of Independence Day, the patriotic fervour has been higher than I have ever seen in my conscious years. In an age where the distance between thought to tweet is 140 characters and an entire nation can be bridged with seven degrees of WhatsApp group separation; thoughts and opinions can travel….fast.
69 long years since India became an independent nation. Time enough for an entire generation to pass. Today’s senior citizens are not those who fought during the Independence movement. We have a Prime Minister who was born in independent India. For a large part of the population today the mention of Vande Matram evokes images of the Bharat Bala produced A.R. Rahman rendered Maa Tujhe Salaam and not the original lyrics penned by
Bankim Chandra Chatterjee that used to float liltingly over the air waves every morning and perhaps still do.The symbols of Digital India’s pride are different from that of the previous generation. The binding glue of today’s India is the mobile phone. If there is one asset that is availble in a majority of the 200 million households which have 996 million mobile subscribers it is the mobile phone and with 280 million of them connected to the internet!
No other medium today can promise this kind of reach or penetration. The various messengers services have woven a web where dissemination of information happens real time as it happens.
Rural-urban, literate-illiterate, the haves- the havenots, young-old there is no chasm that is not bridged today in terms of a common platform of presence. Today, more that ever before the average Indian speaks his mind, airs his opinions and views to the world at large, he tweets, blogs, creates and forwards WhatsApp messages. Today support is not silent, anonymity is not a required condition for going anti-establishment or for that matter anti anything.
The growing confidence of being one of the faces in the crowd and not afraid of being seen as one. Being a part of an uprising or a movement much akin to the crowds that were a part of the independence movement. Only difference, they now do it with a few key punches or screen touches on their phones. In the comfort of their homes or while on the move.
The dream of using the mobile as a vehicle for upliftment, progress, betterment (pick a term of your choice) is not a distant one. The first step of embracing change has been taken and how!!
Today, more than ever before, we really can understand the meaning of Rabindranath Tagore’s immortal words and maybe, just maybe, hope to make our tryst with destiny! To close I quote the poem that inspired this post.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awakeWishing that all of us find and revel in the greatest independence there can be… THE FREE MIND!!
A Tale of Two Cities

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
Charles DickensThis is a new tale of two cities. One with phoenix like capabilities and the other with a mythical lineage. This is the story of the path they traversed over the past 10 years or so. This is the tale of opportunities lost. This is the tale of Deadly and Greedgaon.
Liberalisation was doing its job and money was coming in thick and fast. All the key economic indicators were looking up. Multinationals were setting up shop big time. These were the times when “outsourcing” was the buzz word and not a bad word.
The real estate hawks had got it right. The waiting game had paid off. All the farmland that they had picked up was about yield rich dividends not of the green kind but of the concrete kind.
In Greedgaon tall, shiny glass buildings came up and so did swanky high rise apartments, the cycle of prosperity had been kicked.
The BPOs took the bait because they had worked on keeping the cost base low and the MNCs saw virtue in picking up the false ceilinged, centrally air-conditioned replicas of where they came from. So out went the socially and politically correct Rajendra Places, Nehru Places and the business districts moved out of Deadly and into Greedgaon.
The BPOs and MNCs both needed people and people is not a thing this nation was short of then or is now for that matter.
Well, all these people needed a place to stay and since Deadly and Greedgaon were not “well connected” in those days Greedgaon became the better option.
The offices and the apartments had come up with the people moving in the malls sprang up too.
There was of course one teeny-weeny problem there was still no connectivity between Deadly and Greedgaon save the Multiple Gaddhas Road or as it is known the MG Road. For people who had moved to Greedgaon roads continued to be something like science fiction i.e. possible, but only in the future, one that is still awaited.
The powers that be were enamoured by infrastructure and aided by all the trips the netas were making to neighbouring China decided it was time for the Deadly Greedgaon Expressway. Now have they not told you that “Good things come to those who wait; All good things take some time” and time they did take.
In the meanwhile, roads or no roads, connectivity or no connectivity the hundreds of thousands who had joined workforce at the plush offices in Greedgaon had to get to work and get around. The money was good and loans came easy it was time to give another sector a boom. The upwardly mobile executives bought their shiny sedans and monstrous SUVs and started zipping around.
Now we had large offices, lots of apartments, huge malls, thousands of cars but still no roads.
Time passed, more offices, more apartments, more malls and more cars came up and the good thing that all were waiting the Deadly Greedgaon Expressway finally opened.
The expressway was world class with its wide metalled roads and neat signages, there was of course one minor problem. The expressway went over practically every important road (the reference is to physical places where they are supposed to exist!) of Greedgaon.
Now, while Greedgaon was busy becoming the Million-hole City, Deadly was attempting another rise from the ashes. The Metro started, roads widened, more flyovers came up and more people could get to the Greedgaon Tollgate faster obviously in their faster, high powered fuel guzzlers. And then the people waited, no not for good things but just to reach wherever they wanted to in Greedgaon.
The bottomline, over the years the BPOs/MNCs benefitted from the low costs; the real estate guys made big money selling, leasing, developing; the local farmers turned cubby hole millionaires; the car companies made great fortune selling cars; the oil companies too kept afloat since people with their BS IV compliant cars were now consuming more fuel for travelling the same distance.
Deadly on the other hand was scheduled to host “The Games” and so the forward thinking government declared that it intended to transform Deadly into a world-class city.
Thus began Deadly’s travails. The Madame at the helm of the affairs like all things Deadly deemed that improving public transport was key.
On the agenda amongst several noble things was converting the fleet of buses into green machines albeit prodded, nudged and eventually kicked by the judiciary before some part of it could be implemented. First the orders and then the deliveries were delayed oh yeah we must remember “Good things come to those who wait”.
Next on the list was a master-stroke called BRT(Bus Rapid Transit) that perhaps single handedly causes more misery to more people at any given instant than anything known.
Honourable mention for the almost Tughlaq-esque beautification drive that involved uprooting the existing lampposts and replacing them with new ones or uprooting existing signposts and replacing them with new ones or digging up the existing footpaths and relaying them and oh did i forget to mention the re-colouring of all traffic poles.
The citizens through this all have gone through a melee of juxtaposed emotions patient yet irate, brazen yet accommodating, troubled but at times impressed and disgusted yet hopeful.
To conclude a few lines from the epic…
“I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.”
Give Change a Chance

The first drops of rain May never assure a season of plenty Scant as they maybe They most always give new life a chance Who ever knew what a new day can bring Strange how hope transcends The inevitability of the darkness to follow Why then do we dread That which we do not know Who knows an honest attempt May ring flowery promises hollow Hit a fresh note, strike a different key Swing to the rhythm of a brand new beat Even two steps forward and one step back When taken together can form a dance Go on give change a chance!
Just Another Headline

Incessant blabber, opinions dime a dozen Millions more watch glued to the tube Ah yes the new age makes it interactive They say revolutions have taken shape through the networks It ain't gonna change one says in his Saturday night stupor We must do something says another The others nod and quickly get back to their tipples Well destinies of nations have been decided in elite drawing rooms The show is over, so is the party Each gets back to his life Resilience they say, but we all know its not The reality speaks through the lives of the millions Someday its going to prick Someday I will stand up for something Someday will see the awakening of the collective conscience Someday, yes someday, I tell myself She gets up goes to work Her reality has not changed Oh yes, there are a million people talking about it Talking about a revolution Its a new day Talk was cheap and memories short Alone in her battle, she marches on Fighting everyday not to become Just another headline