Khushali

Ek thi Khushali

Zindagi ke safar main kuch aise mod aaye,
Jeevan ki karvaton se kabhi hamne chot khaye,
Nirash jo hota tha mann, ye soch kar ummeed paye,
ki ek na ek din, kisi mod par, hum bhi khushali paye.

Rozmarra ke jeevan main to nahi the milansaar hum,
aur waise bhi rahein hai kuch sansargsheel kum,
to pasara bhoojal ki duniya main hamne apna jaal,
par idhar bhi moolya roop se nishfalta hi huwi praapt.

Phir ek din dekhe ek hasta chehra, aur soche,
waah bhaiyya, ye to hai bada sunehra.
Phir kya tha, bhej diye unki profile pe anusmarak prastaav,
teen saptah paschat unki choti behen ne kiya sweekar,
andar se huwe hum kafi prasanna,
aur kuch bechaiyn hoke unke pitaji ko phone lagaye.

Baapuji bole, 'apna profile batao, hum dekh kar batayenge',
aur maine man-hi-man socha, sweekar karte waqt to dekha hi hoga?
Khair, ek aur hafta ruke, aur koi call nahi aaya,
to frustration main hamne swayam call lagaya,
aur bole, 'Uncle, kya huwa, kya aapko hamara prastaav bhaaya?'

Uncle bole, 'Aaj kal hamari sukanya yahi chuttiyan mana rahi hain,
ham unse baat karke tumhe batate hai',
aur phir callback karke unka number hi de diya.

Huwe to ham aur bhi prasann, aur phir kuch aur ghabra kar,
agle hi din khushali ki talash main kanya ko phone lagaya.

Thine eyes...

Thine eyes,
was there ever such a mirror as these?
A vision of your soul they show,
an image of the hopes and desires
that lie beneath.
Dreams of love and longing,
hints of warmth and belonging.
Thine eyes,
was there ever such a mirror as these!

Sweet innocence your face,
trusting your dainty touch,
and thine eyes, thy sweet-sad eyes!

Strange Melancholy

It's strange that I should feel this way,
I wonder if I feel sad that you're going away,
I tell myself i don't, no, why should I,
knowing well that you're the one who pushed me away.

The only way I'd feel sad was if I thought I was the reason
that made you go away.

I tell myself I'm indifferent,
I'm neither happy nor sad
now that you're going away.

But why do i catch myself feeling melancholy,
do i miss you now that you're going?
no, but still i'll miss seeing you around.
it's a strange kind of feeling.

You told me in those heady days,
that you weren't right for me,
'you need a sweet-heart like candy,
not some crazy vodka-shot mystery'

And when when you cast off without a reason
I finally saw you were right.
You were right and i was wrong,
about the crazy vodka-shot mystery.

It's just too bad it had to end this way
and at times I wonder how we went about
to end up on our separate ways.

Do I miss you,
'no'! I hear myself say,

And yet a part of me is gonna miss
having you around,
vodka-shot mystery.

Rays of Gold

Suddenly I feel at peace with myself,
suddenly I feel a load lifted off my head.

Words I kept from speaking,
flow out, a river racing into the sea.

Feelings I kept from showing,
burst through, sun rays piercing the gray.

Someone high above,
beams their golden smile at me.

April

Why do I like you so much?

Is it the sweet innocence of your face?
Your beauty and your feminine grace?
It is true for sure, but there's
more to it.

You open up to me
as a sunflower greets the sun.
You make me a part of your life,
trusting and warm.

The sweetness of your voice echoes in my heart.

Where others leave me at a loss,
wondering what went wrong.
You, you feel so right and true.

I could listen to you for hours,
I could spend all my time with you.
Knowing well you won't be
sitting next to me when it pours in June.

The warmth of your heart draws me still,
and I'm bound to you,
not against my will,
but with every strain of my beating heart.

I can think of nothing better,
than to always be with you.
And yet I know, it can't hold true.

April must move on and I must bear
the scorching heat of May.
Wade through the deluge of June,
and brave the winter cold.

But my heart feels strong still,
for it is kept warm by your tender loving heart,
sweet April!

The Honey Bee

A curious bee, that's me,
I can flit around aimlessly,
But mostly I'm your friendly
neighborhood honey bee.

I love the whiff of pollen
from a flower fresh as can be,
The thrill of the dive and exhilaration
When I find that perfect blossom all rosie.

Ah to sip that nectar divine,
And turn it to sweet honey
The sun smiles ever sweetly,
on the good ole bee colony.

We all fly, and sip and dine,
all the while making sweet honey
But lately I've grown a conscience you see,
a rather strange thing for a good ole honey bee.

My wings were wet and I soaked in the rain,
for a while as it may be
No sips of nectar or whiffs of pollen,
all that while were there for me.

Now I fly my buzzing flight,
humming 'I'm a good ole honey bee!'
And I chance upon a rosied bloom
singing 'Honey bee, come to me!'

I think a thought and tell myself,
'What a nice place to be'
I should dive right in and help myself
to those cups of nectar, oh so tastee.

And then it pops, this little thought,
'I'm not carrying any pollen for dear rosie'
So do I dive right in for that nectar so swee',
or should I gather some pollen first for dear lil rosie?

To be or not to bee,
that's quite a question you see
To weigh on the mind
of a curious little honey bee!

Days drift by and still I wonder

Days drift by and still I wonder,
when will the pain subside?
Did I lose a large part of me,
or were you the phantom I aspired to be?

Larger than life, unfaltering,
without limits or conditions,
love flowed from your spirit,
an endless font.

As a child did I bathe in those streams,
the rebel in me bade me jump away a times.
But nary could I stay away long,
for my spirit found harbour in your soul.

The streams that sprang forth as you walked,
they gave life to all that was around.
As phantoms are wont to do,
you disappeared without a trace.

Those streams that sprang beneath your feet,
they are but shrivelled and gone.
Now then, I stand,
a parched soul beside a dried bank.

My spirit perched on a smouldering boulder-rock,
watching a figure kneel in a dry river-bed.
And I wonder,
when will the pain subside?

Did I lose a large part of me,
or will those streams ever spring forth again?

Image of You

I see your face, I call your name,
I hold your hand, we stand in a frame.

We talk, we laugh, we cry,
we stand and walk together
under the big blue sky,
you and I.

Then the sky darkens and a bolt
streaks out of the deep, dark blue.

It strikes in a flash, and
suddenly, I can no longer see you.

My eyes pried
I watch my visions fade.

The still night,
sole witness to my state of mind.

I wonder where you went
and then it sinks in slow...

They told me,
they'd see shades of you,
in the words I spoke.

In the deeds I did,
they could see an image of you.

There were times when I'd hide from embracing it,
but it dawns clearer every passing day.
I see now how true it holds,
we were but cast in the same image,
you and I.

Times I'd see the best, and wonder why I was not.
Times I'd see weakness, and tell myself I was not.
Most times I'd wear a bearskin,
and struggle to be a creature I was not.

Now I no longer have voices tell me I'm so much like you,
in every breath, in every act
I see an image of you.

My Bonny Baby...

My bonny baby got tipsy last night,
My bonny baby longed for a little fight!

I was blue cos I couldn't hold her tight,
N she was sad cos she didn't know what to do!

So we made a plan to get high and naughty,
Me n my bonny baby in a Vat o' 69!

Thinking of you...

Thinking of you,
the very thought,
brings a smile to my lips.

This morning is different though.

It's warmer, The warmth of a tender caress,
fills my heart with joy,
Brings a spring to my step.

The world outside looks more beautiful,
I give it a brighter smile,
And it smiles right back.

Thinking of you,
how you fill a void in my heart.

I walk taller, stronger!
Your trust gives me hope,
and confidence!

I never felt more comfortable,
in my own skin.

Thinking of you,
And how you make my world more
Beautiful!

Emptiness

The days roll on bye,
and I feel within me,
a deep, emptiness.

Life's canvas, stark and dull,
whenceforth the colours did run,
and leave my dreams aloof in ether.

Some dreams that held me dear, I hurt,
and some in my heart were broken.

Chained in purgatory, I bleed,
tears unheeded, unheard.
Child heart, flaying wildly,
for a hand to hold, a soul to love.

And yet all about, and within,
there is this stifling, emptiness.
How can I find without,
what lies not within.


The joy, the love, that infant heart
was blessed with, seem far gone.
A foreign land, distant shores,
no more my own.

For here lie I, marooned,
on my isle of emptiness.

I bend my head in toil, and it
takes away that dreary pain.
But when I face myself in the mirror,
there I find it lying still, emptiness.

Must I wipe clean, the slate
of recriminations past,
or free myself
from enslaving future.

I know not yet. But
for now, I stand
alone, in emptiness.

A Limerick

I met a man in a big Kom-pa-nee,
'I grew from an Engineer to an AVP', said he,
'in fourteen years at this Kom-pa-nee'!

We had a conversation, animated and engaging,
in which he sold me, the benefits of working
for this Kom-pa-nee!

We spoke at length, and to quote what
he said, here is a summ-a-ree:

'So you see, although we don't pay well,
and the work is mostly not good, you get
to grow well, at this Kom-pa-nee!'

'Hmm', I thought, 'but sir, as it goes,
a man's work says what he knows,
and if the work is no good, then what good is he?'

To which he replied,
'Well, you see, to grow is to grow, not always linearly!
You grow as a tree, silent-lee, over the years, as the case may be!'

I liked my new friend, and we had a conversation,
animated and engaging as it may be.

But I don't think I walked away too impressed,
with my new friend, or his Kom-pa-nee!

A New Day

Weary, tiresome world,
filled with the din of machines,
humming, trudging along in drudgery.
Enslaved automatons everywhere!

Nary a dream that floats free here,
the horizon - gloomy and dead.

Yet a heart beats secretly, quietly,
under the iron mould that enslaves it - heart and soul.

A dream breaks free and
fills the soul with desire.
A wanton hope gives rise to something else,
a Spirit, strong enough to break that mould of iron,
cast off those chains of enslavement.

The dream breaks free, the spirit is abroad.
Yet it walks alone, free spirit, searching
that the temple of its soul may be found.

‘Tis a hard quest, and it feels the chill,
shivers in the rain, 'n cowers in the dark night.

Yet it holds onto that dream, free spirit,
searching its heart and soul,
hoping, believing that the night will pass,
and a new day will come.

It toils, and toils,
beating through the brush,
forging ahead all the while,
creating its own path.
It toils, that its temple may be found.

At once it breaks through the jungle,
into a rocky clearing.
An imposing shadow lies ahead,
a stone monument perhaps.
It looks promising.

But on a stony-path,
around the bend,
it runs into,
a dead-end.

Saddened at first, it reaffirms its belief,
and toils harder still. Till at last,
it bursts into, another opening.
A meadow, with a lake in sight,
tranquil, yet promising.

A pebbled path rises at one end,
and over boulder and hill,
it is revealed... the temple of its soul.
Free spirit finds its home.

Yet, in its moment of triumph,
it feels not glee, nor gloat,
but a strange calm and peace.

For it knows now, the taste of
lonesome sorrow, and tempers it,
with the sweetness of joy.

Just reward for its toil.
Toil that gives birth to devotion.

The spirit stands firm and free,
a new day has begun!

Seeds of Hope

<For Pat: May you find the strength within...>


A seed of hope sprouts,
an act of love.
It plants its roots tenaciously,
nurtured by the womb of fertile earth.
It grows, a shaky sapling,
ever wary, in need of support.

Then comes a day, it stands in its own right,
a sturdy young treeling, confident n hansom.
Not yet wise enough to bear fruit,
but invincible in its bloom.

The earth beams in pride,
the treeling's roots have struck deep n wide.
The earth is its anchor,
steadying it in the face of strong winds,
letting it bounce back against the lashing rain.

All's not well with the world though,
fate strikes, a cruel blow.
The roots that make the tree strong,
a times they are cut, a times they are gone.

The tree is left weak, the earth forlorn.
The wound feels too deep, the pain too sharp,
and yet the tree and the earth,
are infinitely bound.

For every root that is cut,
the tree digs deeper.
In time it heals.
The earth does provide,
the substance that is life.

From an act of love,
a seed grows anew.
Its roots are spread,
and the earth does renew.

Hazel Eyes

I had but lost my lust for life,
I had, until I saw you.

Cupid's pointy arrow struck,
but lo, what wound was this!

The heart was pierced,
and yet I stood - swollen, smiling!

I had not lived,
until I lived in your love.

You smiled and the dark night vanished,
you called sweetheart and loneliness was banished.

The world was suddenly so much more beautiful,
The people in it, so much more caring.

Your love changed me,
Your love gave me courage.

Now I smile at the change you have wrought,
Now I find myself more forgiving and understanding.

Would that I could have your love forever,
My Dearest Puppykins!

Death is....

A faithful lover,
playfully she flirts, hiding behind a curtain,
patiently she watches, as I carry on my work.

'times she'll dart out, her velvet scarf flying,
tickling the nape of my neck, reminding me of her presence.

Yet patiently she waits,
knowing our love is eternal,
content that the day will come,
when I'll throw my worries to the wind and embrace her,

And I rest easy, safe in the knowledge that
she will always be there for me,

Death, the most beautiful of lovers!
Slender and pale, with a face that silences the noise all around,
Beauty that makes you shiver in anticipation, a gaze that holds you spellbound.

Someday I'll cast off the burdens of this world and rush into her arms.
And she'll embrace me with teary eyes and a bright smile,
happy that I came home to her, and I'd kiss her tenderly.

Until that day, she waits!
Death! The most faithful of lovers!

the lone wolf mourns

the heart cries, the tears roll
the soul burns, but life must go on.
for those who survive, will i labour
to love and no more withhold,
for death has taught me
no more to take for granted
what is best and beautiful in my life.

The lonely traveller

I stood parched in a desert.
My travels brought me here.
I determined to endure the travails
of crossing the cruel desert,
to move on before the harsh sun burnt me down.

The fates conspired to lead me out.
I ran into a flower bed.
The desert winds struck me senseless,
the fragrant flower bed carried the whiff of life.

I opened my eyes and in my gaze lay
all kinds of beautiful flowers.
Some were plain and simple
and there, spread in the center,
were some exquisite roses.

I thought of gathering them all,
my heart craved for this gentle sea of beauty.
This fragrant balm to soothe the burn of the desert.
But a voice rang out:
'Choose but one! Choose wisely & well!
Choose one that suits you most,
one that'll make you happy & bring you serenity,
And that its fragrance constantly remind you, that you are blessed
For you have emerged from the desert, scathed yet stronger!'

I stand humbled by this gift,
I stand pondering,
How should I choose?

For I must pick my rose and move on
to chart a new course of discovery.
For it is the rose that makes me stronger, fills my heart with love,
colours my dreams with meaning.

So how do I choose?
Do I choose the red one,
It brings me the crimson rush of vitality.

Do I choose the blue one,
It bathes my weary mind in a sea of peace and tranquility.

Or maybe the pink one,
For it lifts my spirits in a dance of joy!

love is...

what we make of it.

its not a big fuss.
not a peacock dance.
but a feeling.
you could bask in its warm glow
or roast in its fiery flames,

it could wing you to the heights of heaven,
or damn you to the depths of hell.

you don't need no quartet playing love songs
ringing inside your head.
when you're in love.
you just know it.

An Ode to NCST-K

A year has passed unlike any other.
I stop to take stock,
of how we stand transformed,
and the things and people that have changed us.

When we first stepped through your doors,
we had no idea of what was in store for us.
We knew the syllabus ‘tis true,
but didn’t know how much hair we’d lose
in getting to learn it.

We knew we’d find teachers, we didn’t expect
to find mentors who spurred us on in the face of odds.

We joined a reputed training institute, we were
surprised to find a world-class learning institution,
with facilities unmatched and commitment unparalleled.

‘Tis rarely that you find a place filled
with people who want to see you learn,
and take the the pains to make it happen.

A place filled with guides and inspiration,
chock-full with endeavour,
such a place is NCST.

To name a few, would be to miss many more,
and unfair to the many individual contributions
that have made this experience so special.

And so we thank you all,
The Administration and Security for planning to perfection and looking after us,
the Faculty for your unflinching commitment,
the Support Staff for keeping the lab going 24x7x365,
the TAs for your technical and emotional support in times of deep misery (read Projects --> deep mess --> messiah),
the Canteen Staff for feeding us (and I don’t care what people say – I love NCST’s lunch),
the gardeners for the thankless job of maintaining such a scenic campus come rain or shine,
the Placement Support team for landing us our daily bread (& better :),
and the higher authorities for conceiving and enabling such an incredible institution.

We carry with us a wealth of learning and memories of many happy moments shared and bonds built with you and amongst ourselves.

These, we will cherish forever. And for that Thank You!

for FPGDST 04-05