How Many Days and How Many Hours

Another month passes with sun rising everyday probably(!) in the East and setting most likely(!) in the West -----Probably & Most likely : because, long time since I have seen these two things happening with my own eyes and in today's world every stored knowledge gets obsolete by days.
There are people who charge their fees in Hours and minutes while there are others who devour others' days free of cost. It is sheer wastage of our valuable moments brooding over who they are and what should we do to save our days and hours, but certainly we can share our thoughts here - so enjoy !!!!!!

How many days and how many hours?

How many days and how many hours,

Of digging the trenches and building the towers?

Trenches that are dug with nails,

Making silent escapades from jails;

Building towers of dreams and hopes,

Tying tiny knots with ropes;

The hidden trenches and the rising towers,

How many days and how many hours?

How many days and how many hours,

Of braving the bricks and craving for flowers?

Hoards of bricks of jealousy and hate,

Being hurled on at a turn of fate;

Craving for flowers of selfless love,

Life's hidden treasure trove;

Battered by bricks and flattered by flowers,

How many days and how many hours?

How many days and how many hours,

Of sweating in sun and wetting in shower?

Sun that rises in mother's womb,

Setting finally in the tomb;

Wetting in showers of unflinching faith,

Dancing tirelessly on the rhythm of breath;

The scorching sun and the soothing showers,

How many days and how many hours?

How many days and how many hours,

With one who dares today and tomorrow cowers?

Dares the meek with one's might,

To deprive others of their right;

Cowers when the ship has a broken keel,

Changing the garb like orange's peel;

The fury of such dares and the pity of cowers,

How many days and how many hours?

Views on News from Borders

Months pass by and the daily routine does not leave even a moment to reflect upon your own life, the family, the society and the country. The governments are running on their own and only Almighty can tell how this country is still a sovereign state in terms of the factors like a boundary, a flag, a currency, a people of its own. Yet some incidents wake you up and make you take a look at the activities of those who are responsible for existence of this nation, both at the front and in front of you. Here is a small pick from the current news making the spool on our TV screens......

Views on News from Borders

At the border, five brave men laid their lives,

Leaving behind stunned children and widowed wives;

Rulers of the nation could not care less,

One needn’t be on the front to perpetrate this mess.

Worry not you the rich, blue and brash at the jaunts,

It’s the poor and disciplined sepoy whom death haunts;

You know you will grow-up to be the one making the rule,

Millions are there, trained to be slain at a swing of the rule.

We can couch on sofas surfing net and naughty portals,

To die on the borders, there are many lesser mortals;

Send a cheque from public money with a minister,

To show-off sympathy, hiding the political intents so sinister.

Goons can become Lords of Houses by grace of elections,

Only fools like Durga and Raghunandan face the selections;

When a nation is ruled by puppets and clowns,
Youth and talent is bound to be massacred like pawns.

Durga - the suspended IAS who dared the sand mafia.
Raghunandan - one of the five slain Indian Army soldiers.

The Morning Haste

On a well deserved Sunday, getting up a little late, lazying around with the newspaper, sipping coffee and tea alternatively, going to the local road-side market.... aaaaaa.....nnnnnnn.......ddddddd away from the daily routine I got reminded of my morning haste.......

The Morning Haste

Off the bed.......

Early morning and a knock at the door,

Wakes you up with the newspaper on the floor;

A thick pack of paper with a variety of print,

Every news served with pepper and mint.

With a cup of tea.........

You scan the headlines and the briefs in a haste,

Skipping the details and the ads of soaps and paste;

The murders, the accidents, the scams spoil the taste,

You feel your morning drill has been a waste.

Through the daily chore........

You reach for the toilet in a rush,

Left hand busy with towel and right with brush;

Mixing-up bathroom-songs with sounds of shower & flush,

Pushing slices in toaster and potatoes in oven to mush.

Dressing up.......

Gulping big bites with sips of juice,
Juggling with knots of tie and laces of shoes;
Matching blacks with greys and whites with blues,
Shouting around but maintaining a truce.

On way to office.......
Laden with bag and tiffin you run to the lift,
Jump into the car and drive along the drift;
Forget metro or bus and also forget the thrift,
Just in time there to avoid the punctuality rift.

In the office..................
People trickle one by one into their dens,
Start surfing net or doodling with their pens;
The drudged-routine leaves in mouth a poor taste,
You feel your morning haste has just been a waste.

Zurm aur Saza (Hindi)

While going through the rigmarole of life one realises the importance of the people around and hopes to complement them for their contribution. But, the routine of living doesn't leave space for such exchange of feelings..... hence, this piece of my life-experience .......

ज़ुर्म और सज़ा 

मैं भी कैसा कैदी हूँ कि ,

अपने ही क़त्ल के जुर्म में सजायाफ्ता हूँ ;

हर दीवार पर तस्वीर खुदी है ,

पर अपनी ही गली में लापता हूँ।

वो मिले तो थे दोस्त बनकर,

ना जाने कब कातिल बन गए;

हमने उन्हें कमरा क्या दे दिया,

वो तो हमारे दिल में ही बस गए।

उनके साथ बिन जिधर से गुजरे हों कभी ,

ऐसा कोई रास्ता दिखता ही नहीं ;

उनके लबों पर सजने को जो बेताब न हों ,

जाने क्यूँ ये दिल ऐसे गीत लिखता ही नहीं।

दोस्ती के दर्द और दुश्मनी की खुशियाँ,

ज़िन्दगी की उलट्बांशियाँ बाँट  रहा हूँ,

जाने कैसी किस्मत है कि अपने,

कातिल के साथ ही जीने की सज़ा काट रहा हूँ।

On the Red Light

Whooooooosh!!!!!!!! Time flies like an F1 car on the tracks.......... It has been more than six months since I posted last. Now, I am trying to get to terms with life and become regular with this page. God knows how long this longing will belong to me...........?????????
Yet as I drive my car through the windy roads of Delhi, i come across the red lights so frequently that sometimes driving seems to be an act of waiting at the red lights with idle engine of the car and an idle mind in my head. To keep these two highly energy gorging components of our lives alive, you have to keep raving the engine of the car and keep feeding your mind with observing the world around you. This is a small piece of observation on such red lights......

On the Red Light

On the red light, you see him every day,

Wading through the traffic like a child's play,

A knock on the window panes of your car,

You turn your head away to avoid the spar,

You are taken aback by the sudden painful yelp,

Not sure whether it's a threat or a cry for help,

Heads shake but nothing comes out of the purse,

He is off your car showering the choicest curse.

At the next red light you are greeted by a different face,

Beneath the filth you can see the hidden grace,

God's bounty lost in worldly war of rags and riches,

Pieces of honour held together with knots and stitches.

Your eyes get glued to the dim spark of flare,

Braving the silent hunt of piercing stare,

You reach for the purse and swish out a shining dime,

Generosity, thus, envelopes a cardinal crime. 

Come the next red light and they are there,

Having stormed your car all over from nowhere,

With the claps and chants that only they can make,

Leave here your Wordsworth or William Blake,

You feel little tamed yet proud like tiger in a den,

Because you are sure that you are either a cock or a hen,

Some coins are flashed but they heckle for more,

Dare you to mingle, giving catcalls like a whore.

Next red light is near a tree on a platform,

A drum beats and two lean figurants perform,

A hand rubs against your window like a worm,

You wonder how life exists in such a frail form;

Why people bear them when they can't feed,

Is it nature's game or some goon's greed,

Lost in your thoughts you give them a pence,

And also a word of advice not to beg ever hence.