SAY IT WITH A GIFT.....

No! The Archie's Gallery or the Hallmark people or for that matter, none of the tycoons of this ‘say it with gifts’ business are paying me even a single penny for this free publicity I’m giving them. Worse, they do not even know I am doing it for them! But then, there are places where hard-cash payback just doesn't matter. You get a lot secretly and that’s all that matters!!! Realization strikes.
So, I was talking about saying it with gifts. Gifts that could vary from flowers to books, jewellery to cars, pens to accessories or whatever to wherever. All that matters is, just saying it! Saying it (differently) when things are simply superb and you want your special ones to know, or when things are just not fine and you want them to be! And trust me, gifts help.

Of all the things that I've felt, I realize that “just saying it” is the toughest (and I know that all my readers of the opposite sex would want to shower me with accolades (read ‘gifts’) for conveying this to all :)). But it gets much easier when we try and go the gifts way. All those beautiful people who have tried this would sure want to reach out and support me on this, and well, I thank them all in anticipation! You Hail!

Wading through those unsaid, unorganized emotions gets just so easy when cards say it for you. And recall the ecstasy (please note that I don’t use the word ‘pleasure’ for thisJ) when you discover ‘the one’ that you feel was drafted only for you to word yourself!

Or imagine the look on his/her face when you get daring enough to gift a coffee mug, simply because that would become the first thing to touch their lips every morning! 

It could also work out if a crystal globe was chosen all in all to convey that the sender was handing over his/her world to the receiver (exempt me for this, but I am essentially an electronics and COMMUNICATION engineer, I can’t just get away from the basics!) 

Or let’s be thoughtful enough for the sincere ones when we take a plunge in the massive pool of the latest bestsellers so as to find one by their favorite author. Big task for us. May be. But for them, irresistible, simply! Same goes for the disciples of rhyme as well. And nothing could be more wonderful, if you gave an extra edge by composing something for them yourself! After all, its only words, and words are all we have, to take their heart away!

Everyone does it on special occasions, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, et al. You go, do it, when it is hardly expected. And there lies the recipe. Of a gate-crashing entry into their hearts. Because, one of the things that keeps the spark alive is the element of surprise. Cliche  but very very true, indeed.
Now some small tips of the trade. Say it fresh and with something that they've been waiting to acquire. Better still, something that they could not do without, that they always wanted, especially lately. Something that would be tangible and non-perishable (that’s how I like it) and best would be something that could stay on, till as long as it can. Gurus say, avoid key chains and deodorants or perfumes. They tend to trigger a quarrel. Try keeping away from dried flowers, they bring in negativity. Go by the ‘appeal’ and the ‘feel’. And don’t forget, the wrapping, the presentation is equally important.

Say it with enrollment in ‘salsa classes’ or free passes for a theater workshop, Say it with candles, with earthen pots, with colors for those with creative fingers, or with a lollipop! 
Say it with personified tees or songs of their soul, Say it with something you sketch for them, or say it with an idol. 
Say it with pens of their favorite brand, or with a pair of kissing fishes in an aquarium on the stand. 
Say it with a solitaire ring rattling when their drink is done, or say it with a canvas that’s aglow with the rising sun! 
And please don’t forget to scribble a message yourself, And then, when they’re away, secretly place it on their shelf. 
Say it now, do it today, 
And take my word, they’ll be by you, to stay!

The bottom line is to say it, with gifts, of course! And yes, the next time it works out for you, do drop in a line to me and make me a part of it all! Fingers crossed, I’m waiting to hear from you….

“MADHUBALA”

I recently read “MADHUBALA” by Dr. Harivansh Rai “Bachchan” and am deeply inspired to present its Book Review for you :

                                “MADHUBALA”

“Because of rhyme, word come to an end and yet end not. The utterance finishes, but not its ring, and the ear and the mind go on with their game of tossing the rhyme back and forth. So here, wherein the lap of limitless space, clouds lie down to sleep, I have built my house for thee, O Poetry!”

                                                        ‘Gurudev’ Rabindranath Tagore

On the onset, my sincerest obeisance, for forging into the unexplored territories of reviewing the masterpiece of Hindi Literature in a language called English. But after all that I have read, I’ve begun to think big and beyond. Language, in itself, can never be the medium of restraint. It is the most exquisite and intricate form of art, of wording the expressions and hence liberating the soul. It is food for thought. And Poetry was, is and shall forever remain the elixir to live and die for. As words gently caress the rhyme, and the rhythm is tossed yonder and within, as emotions spill through ink, and volumes are spoken by lyrical gestures, from the annals of self-existence comes surging out a vivid recollection of feelings in the due splendour of a butterfly’s vibrance. And   Bachchan, indisputably, is the king of this forte.

MADHUBALA came after MADHUSHALA and was composed way back in 1934-35. And ever since it has stayed a reader’s favourite. A collector’s item. A vintage treasure. This is one of the most read books of Hindi Literature and is likely to remain so for years to come.

After reading the book, it seems that the author had turned to unstoppable drinking (read alcohol) when he lost his first wife. As if that was the only means of solace for him. But that is where the magic unveils. Dr. Bachchan stayed a teetotaller throughout his life.  But it was in the days after this major loss in his life that these gems of literature were drafted. I’m rightly reminded of the lines which say, “my sweetest songs are those which tell the saddest thought”.

The book has 15 of the world’s best poems, all in five less than a hundred pages. The poet has personified himself to everything that can be closely associated to liquor, right from the drink to the drinker, from the vessel to the house, from the owner of the place to the song that is.  He has introduced the reader to that layer of this process, this phenomenon, which no one could ever even think of. In spite of being a teetotaler, and having observed the repercussions of alcohol-consumption in first person, I was still carried away by what the author offered, even tempted for a while.

He feels so relaxed, so much at peace with himself and the world, with good and bad, with people, with pain, with all that life has and has not to offer, that at a point, impersonating a vessel, he says,

“pal me mrit peene waale ke kar se gir bhoo par aaunga

Jis mitti se tha main nirmit, us mitti me mil jaunga

adhikar nahi jin baato par, un baato ki chinta kar ke

ab tak jag ne kya paaya hai,

main kar charcha kya paaunga?” 

He is reluctant even to think of getting out of that stage of self-obliteration. Underscoring all creations is, unquestionably, the love of his life. “is paar priye, madhu hai, tum ho, us paar na jaane kya hoga”.

Simply reading through this text makes one swim into that state of oblivion, where nothing matters, but liberation. Freedom from all shackles of worldliness, pure-impure, caste, creed or for that matter, anything else. All seekers have entered that hall of realization where it isn’t them who rule the world and it hardly matters whoever does. They are the emperors of their own lives, their own destinies.

As I wade through this review, I feel I could go on, without stopping. But in middle school, we were taught to read as much as we could, so that no on else could deprive us of the pleasure that reading fresh text could fill us with. So, I pass it on. And yes, I am filled with boundless love, respect and gratitude for the language and the author. More so for the latter, for re-introducing the reader to the eternal beauty of Hindi language and revitalizing them with the ‘cup of life’ as served by Madhubala. But readers, don’t go by what I say. Go, find it, feel it for yourself. And only when u start loving to treasure it, I’ll consider my task done. Till then, I sign off, in ecstasy.

Saying "Thank You" before it is too late...

A few days ago, I stumbled upon this article on a blog appealing all to ‘say Thank You before it is too late’. That clicked something deep within me. Something that belonged to the past but that always had the capacity to give me a jolt, immediately, at the very moment.

I too had had a great Professor in our Engineering College who mentored our Software Project in the Final year. He always addressed me with my surname, even during our volleyball net-practices. Whenever I asked him when he'd learn, remember or call me with my first name he said, when I would treat him with a 5-Star (an Indian chocolate of cocoa, caramel and nougat). Everyday, I thought I would get that for him, but somehow it kept getting postponed.

One fine day, I finally had it with me, and was headed to the volley court where I wanted to hand it over to him and tell him that his energy, enthusiasm, knowledge, sense of humour, his entire persona was a complete inspiration for me (and many others) and so totally infectious! I wanted to thank him for just being there. But that day he was busy with some official work, so couldn't turn up for the game. I pledged to hand it over to him the next day. That same night, at around 11:30pm, when we were deep engrossed in our upcoming project work in our hostel rooms, we heard a crashing sound. Our college is located on the national highway. Minutes later we got the news that there'd been a terrible accident and 2 lives were lost on the spot. The third was badly injured, but thankfully alive and was immediately rushed to the hospital. Our professor was one of the two whom we'd lost forever.

As soon as we got the news, the first excruciating thought that hit me was, I couldn't give him the 5Star. That pain stays. Even after 4 years now.

Since that day I vowed that I shall live up to any and every commitment I make, no matter how small that may be. Or I shall not commit anything at all if I'm even the slightest bit unsure.

The post on that blog brought these memories surging out from the deepest annals. But I feel happier that I learnt a valuable lesson that stays alive in me and that has helped me become a better person. Also, I want to say “Thank you Karl” (The Author of that blog) for such an insightful post!

A Tranquil Prayer...

Merry waves.  Starry night.

Sparkling sand. Full-moon on right.

Serenity. Breeze around.

Silence is the only sound.

To The Father, humble requests

Of only two lasting bequests

That every star softly sings

One is roots, the other wings.

When Rain's At It's Best...!!!

Being blessed with April rains is a relatively new trend, courtesy Global Warming, but rains have always had an element of unquestionable acceptance about them. Rains are the drizzling reminders that heavens are ceaselessly showering their limitless blessings upon us, and which leave everything on our planet awash and anew. Whatever the time of the day, they drift the soaking souls into a whole new territory, mentally, emotionally and even geographically. No matter where one is, the drift is absolute and instant. Rains are just always welcome.

Be it the 6am shower, when the open windows usher in the most intoxicating incense of the freshly bathed Mother Earth, as if returning after her early dawn’s offerings to the Almighty.

Or the mid-day showers, when nothing on this planet, living or still, seems more beautiful and invigorating than the cheerful laughter of those tiny-tots returning from school, splashed all over with the semi-solidified subcutaneous layer of the earth. Floating paper boats, they are least aware of realizing their privilege of having drapes for their slender silhouettes and least bothered about catching a cold. Even if their mums shout their lungs out (though secretly yearning to be a part of them, then and there)!

Or be it at 4pm with ‘chai’-the ultimate Indian delicacy and steaming hot ‘pakodas’ (shove health, fitness and nutrition in the closet for the moment), the fragrance of mint, garden-fresh coriander, ginger and basil filling the air, as each member of the family recoils to his/her original self, after the hectic day at school, college, office or kitchen, content and aware of the blessings of life and elderly ones.

Or be it at 7pm, when young hearts beat rhythmically with the dribble in the basket-ball court.

Or be it during the pre-midnight hours, when the curtain flutters and brings the slightest drizzle in, as the bed-side lamp emanates its exotic radiance and the aroma of coffee revitalizes the senses and reimburses the emotional quotient as eyes scan and fingers flip through the pages of the latest bestseller by your favourite author.

In or out, now or later, here, there, everywhere, rains have always played the role of ‘soul-cleanser’, carrying one’s spirits into non-dual timelessness. With them around, one of nature’s most unassailable laws – that time just moves forward and never recedes – loses its vitality. It is in the rains that everything: the greens, browns and blues revert to unbridled, fresh childhood! And as it is, it is now that I simply want to break-free, as the kid in me just refuses to grow up, exactly the way it longs to get soaked to the soul!

A lesson well-learnt...

About a couple of years ago, when dad was posted in Dhule, Maharashtra, he often had to visit Mumbai for official meetings. The nearest airport was at Aurangabad, and he often had to take the early morning flights. Being a religious soul,  he missed no opportunity to visit the ‘jyotirling’ that is famously located there. On one such trip this incident happened, which he narrated a few days back.

One morning, on his way out of the temple, a teenager boy approached him as he was moving towards his SUV.  Inching closer, the boy said, ‘Sir, I am a student of 10^th standard and  need some money to buy books’. My dad is a thorough philanthropist and is ever ready to help people ‘who want to help themselves’ as he always puts it. “Hum to sirf zariya hain. Jo unki kismat me  hai, unhe zaroor milega” (We’re just means, they’ll definitely get what is in their fate) is what my mom adds. And my parents strongly feel the pleasures in ‘giving’. So taking it as another god-gifted opportunity to help a little child, my dad asked him to sit in the car and took him to a nearby book store. ‘When I looked at him”,dad said,”I was reminded of Viviyan (my younger brother). This boy would also be somebody’s son, probably of a father who wasn’t as fortunate as me to be able to provide his son with the books he needed for a brighter future.” From the shop, dad bought him all the books he asked for, notebooks and even other stationery. The boy thanked him and my dad left for the airport, feeling happy and content.

A few weeks later, dad had to again board the same flight at the same time. As he went about his ritual of visiting the temple,  the same boy approached him again while he was coming out. Now, my dad has photographic memory which neither was this kid aware of, nor did he himself possess. Dad immediately recognized the boy but before any other thoughts could register or process, with utter confidence this little lad started off with the same 10^th standard story, AGAIN!!!  My dad caught him and reprimanded,’a few days earlier I’d got you all those books and stationery, where are they?’ The boy struggled to release himself and finally managed to run away. 

Words probably can’t describe how violated dad would have felt.

After that, dad paid several visits to the same temple before boarding the same flight at the same time of the day, but never met that kid again.

After hearing this incident, I could not help but wonder, under whose “able guidance” was this kid actually working. [Most probable chance is that the kid(or his ‘supervisor’) would have resold the books and other stationery at silly discounts (may be to the same book store)and ‘ate, puffed and drank’ and the money was gone!]  Was this kid orphaned by fate or was it some cruel joke of destiny that had made him a subject, turning him out into someone he’s started to enjoy being! Did the child even understand the dynamics of this universe at work-that he’d be precisely and accurately awarded with whatever he was giving to this world: treachery, mistrust  and deceit.  Or may be this was all absolute non-sense for a child whose only concern was to attend to a growling stomach and fight for survival-no matter however! Who was  at fault? Better still, who was suffering because of this fault? Would he ever think twice before helping any such kid again, I asked dad. “When we stumble while walking, we neither stop walking, nor do we stop treading the same path. But we learn to be more careful and attentive and start wearing the right shoes. There are always lessons to learn. I have already started browsing websites to learn the ‘art of face-reading’.” was his reply.

HoW iS It mEanT tO Be?

What is the best way to get the best out of a person/relationship/colleague/subordinate/child? Is it by constant dismissal so that the concerned person does not go overboard with a profound sense of achievement and stop working hard to create better results in future? Or is it by praising them, giving them incentives and celebrating their accomplishments?

Modern philosophy tells us that praising in the right quantity and at the right time energizes anybody beyond imagination and almost always propels for better next attempts.

I am a QA (Quality Analyst) in a software firm. I get paid to catch defects or ‘bugs’ as we call them in the codes that our developers script so that the product or service we deliver our clients becomes a quality delivery and as risk-free as possible. I am supposed to let no defect or error go undetected and eventually unresolved under my nose. When I OK a product, the product has to be Ok! Thereby, my efficiency is calculated in terms of the number of valid defects I sniff against the total bugs detected by me. But in this ‘professional’ case also, I’m never expected to deliver 100% efficiency. This is for the sole reason that under the pressure to perform cent percent, at some point of time I might be frightened to even log a defect. This would, without a doubt, affect my performance on the work front. And no organization would want their employees to work with a monkey on their shoulders (a very big one in this case!) Doesn’t the case remain painfully similar on the personal front too?

People extremely close and special to me want to focus completely on the mistakes I commit for the only major reason to make me better and better by the day. But I crave for a single word of appreciation, a single pat on my back for a single, any job well done. I work hard and harder that may be this time, if I am not praised, at least I won’t disappoint anyone. But, as they say, when you are hungry, all you see is food, all you smell is food, all you listen about is food! I feel the same way. That if people have accepted me as wrong, no matter what I do (or I don’t) I will always remain at the receiving end.

And this in turn has made me lose my self-confidence. I am now actually scared to do anything. Because I fear that whatever I do, I’ll land myself in hot soup. My desire to take initiatives, risks and to be obstinate about issues I feel strongly about is diminishing exponentially by the day. And this further drops me in hotter soup for being ‘disinterested, inactive, killjoy and pessimist’. The trouble is intensified because of the sense of ‘nothingness’ and ‘helplessness’ I fight with. Deep inside me. Every day. Every moment. I know I am not what I am being considered to be, I want to keep my point, fight it out, but cannot, because some huge arbit baggage of my past always, always keeps me from defending myself.

I keep hunting for inspirations, keep pulling myself together, bringing to practice all self-motivation techniques I know of, but when a wound keeps getting wounded, doesn’t it take simply too long to recover…?

But I have promises I sometime made to myself that I need to keep up, an image I have of myself that I have to live up to and a desire to present to this world the real character of substance that I always have been, inspite of all layers on me. 

And I’m sure that day shall dawn soon when this world will see me the way it is actually meant to be!!

My INSPIRED Wish...

Little deeds of kindness
 Little words of love
  Can make this world a paradise
   like the heaven above


For hands that help are holier than lips that pray
 If I live for the cause of mercy, forever in hearts I shall stay
  God gave me all that was meant for me
   so, when I reach out and make others full
    Is one way I can add meaning to
     and make life more beautiful


So let me be the disciple of love
 And let love take over all sorrows and woes
  Allow me to celebrate life
   Till my soul departs and goes...

New Beginnings..

Its amazing how life takes U-Turns! From the deepest lanes of nothingness, suddenly, so much pops out - like the Pandora's box! For good or very good is left for the times to decide, but certainly for the better. We learn, unlearn, re-learn and life goes on. Every moment spinning a new story, creating a newer milestone in the journey called life. One of the biggest lessons I learnt is that you and you alone are the only one responsible for whatever's happening to and with you.
sO tAkE cHaRge nOw!!!

See you soon...