Friday, April 26, 2013

White Window


Oh my sweet li’l window. 
Always remain wide open 
Through you I see a world 
Which never existed before. 
You are my friend …my strength …my hope. 
A pure reflection of my soul 
You are such a shadow of mine 
Which is purely eternal. 
I don’t want to keep myself 
Hidden from the world any more. 
Through you I want to explore 
The world and my soul. 
And the connection in between the two.

P.S: This poem is a repost. It was originally written and posted on 17th Sept. 2008 on the occasion of My White Window's 1st Anniversary. And this year i will be completing six gorgeous years of blogging and i hope to be around for many more years to come.  

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Vanilla Twilight


While yet again as I struggle hard to survive this challenge, this came as a breather that i have finished writing my V post sometimes back while not doing anything at all other that submerging myself in music.

Only there's four simple rule to it,

1. Put your Music Player on Shuffle Mode.
2. For each question, press the 'Next' button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what it turns out to be.
4. No cheating. :D

.....and so here I start. Bring on the music people and groove.

1. If someone says "Is this okay?", you say?

Have you ever been in Love- By Celine Dion.

2. What would best describe your personality?

She will be loved- By Maroon 5

3. What do you like in a guy/girl?

Here I am...this is me-By Brian Adams

4. How do you feel today?

Little of your time-By Maroon 5

5. What is your life's motto?

Khudkhushi- a poetry by Gulzar used in the movie Dus Kahaniya.
(Now this answer made me laugh like crazy :P)

6. What do you think of your parents?

A different beat-By Boyzone

7. What do you think about very often?

Imagine - By John Lenon & The Plastic Ono Band

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

8. What is 2+2?

Your Song-By Ellie Goulding

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind that
I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

9. What do you think of your best friend?

I won't give up on you-By Jason Mraz

And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find.

10. What do you think of the person you like? 

This ain't a love song- By Bon Jovi

If the pain that Im feeling so strong
Is the reason that Im holding on
Then I am wrong, yeah I am wrong -this ain't a love song

11. What is your life story?

Koi baat chale- By Gulzar and rendition by Lt. Jagjit Singh

Aadmi bulbula hai paani ka, aur paani ki bahati satah per tut ta bhi hai dubta bhi hai...phir ubharta hai...phir se bahta hai...na samandar nigal saka isko...na tawareef tod pai hai...waqt ki mauj per sada bahata aadmi bulbula hai paani ka.

12. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Yeh khel aakhir kisliye-A poem by Gulzar

13. What do you think when you see the person you like?

Breath Slow-By Alesha Dixon

I'm running out of patience
I love you too much, it shows
All my emotions go out of control
Good for you, bad for me.

14. What do your parents think of you?

Tum bin jau kahaan-By Kishor Kumar

15. What will you dance to on your wedding?

Everyday I love you-By Boyzone

I don't know, but I believe
That some things are meant to be
And that you'll make a better me
Everyday I love you
And you'll never live until you love
With all your heart and soul

16. What will they play at your funeral?

Angel-By Akon

I'm looking at an angel
And believe me when I say
She got that whole place glowin
And she's high in the sky singin'

17.What's your biggest secret?

Hips don't lie-By Shakira

I never really knew that she could dance like this 
She makes a man wants to speak Spanish 
Oh baby when you talk like that 
You make a woman go mad 
So be wise and keep on 
Reading the signs of my body 

18. What do you think about your friends?

Wake up Sid. :D

19. What should you post this as?

Vanilla Twilight-By Owl City 

The silence isn't so bad 
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad 
'Cause the spaces between my fingers 
Are right where yours fit perfectly 

And I'll forget the world that I knew 
But I swear I won't forget you 
Oh, if my voice could reach 
Back through the past I'd whisper in your ear 
Oh darling, I wish you were here.




Friends and Readers, I invite all of you to try this musical tag. It's sweet. It's fun. :) 

I was so amazed to see how unbelievably aptly some songs have fitted the questions. And you got to trust me when i say that i did not cheat. :D So try it out and amaze yourself too. :)

Monday, April 22, 2013

Sweethearts.


No matter where I am and wherever I go, you two would always be there safely tucked inside my heart, for time and tide can snatch away everything but never the two of you.

I love you.



Saturday, April 20, 2013

Rag Doll is all I am

Ripped apart I am, again and again
Rag doll I become, for you to play
Robbed of my soul and my innocence
Ravaged I am, by you forever

Ravenous you are O! You Men!
Ripples of pleasure for you get
Raked by you from inside out
Repressed of life and everything I deserved

Rapist you are, still supported
Recluse I become for rest of my life
Ruptured, rummaged, and ransacked
Rumpled paper is what I become

Reduced I am to scavenged flesh
Rebuked forever by one and all
Rivers of emotions, not a tear to drop
Reprimanded I am for being born a girl

Ruthless behavior inflicted upon
Ruined, I repay for deeds of your
Rusted-I am considered so
Rutted road my future becomes

Rejoice, O! You Men! by changing dolls
Ruffians and rouges, you live long! For this
Rotten society will never reform
Rest in Peace’ is where I belong.

~*~

~My heart goes out to the brutally raped five your old girl. I don't know how to extend by help to her. I cried uncontrollably while penning this poem. It's 3:00 A.M now and I am unable to sleep. I just do not know what else to say. She became my muse tonight but I hate this to the core of my heart. I can only wish for a day when no such poem will be written. No human being deserves this. O! you Men! Please become a Human now else it will be too late...too late.

~Laxmi, You are the inspiration. Thanks for all your love, blessings, and wishes. But I am sorry as I could not gift you a happy poem. I feel terribly disturbed, miserable, and weak.

Signing off with a feeble hope that the girl will recover and would be able to lead a normal life again. But I am not sure how will she will be healed of her emotional and mental pain. I wonder will this society ever change? No matter how hard I try to think otherwise, the only answer I repeatedly get is a 'No'.

I better try to sleep now.

Friday, April 19, 2013

QuishMish in Quietude


"I shall call him squishy and he shall be mine. He shall be my squishy. Come here squishy!" ♥ -- Dory (Finding Nemo)





Thursday, April 18, 2013

Poesy or something like that.

When summer ends 
This stupid love beholds 
Step by step masquerades 
Under the cover of some 
Dismantling York. 
City walls still 
Grow taller each day. 

Like those autumns leaves 
Golden and barren 
Torn in some corner-
The bricks fall upon 
Over the shelter 
That we call a home. 
Leaves lie there 
Trampled and torn. 

In the midst of those mist
When the eyes are blind 
How long can you preserve 
The memories of green? 
Gait you hands time and again 
Over the screen over the mane 
(How precise the way) 
You wipe out the glass 
Marks would stay forever to last. 

Mark! His name was so 
So I am Poesy 
We walked together on a road never born. 
To each we hid an eraser scented 
In our pockets with holes uncounted. 
All poems don’t leave a mark 
Nor all poets do have an arc. 

Poets and poems 
Perplexed and ambiguous. 
A rubix cube and a game of scrabble. 
Word beside word Doped in morphine 
An Orotund self and a periphery. 
Don’t we dwell in some falsified anecdote? 
Look at the freedom to call ourselves 
Poets or poems 
Whichever suits best

~♥~

P.S: Dug it out from the draft folder. Originally written on 15/2/2011. Never posted it before because I did not like it back then. I generally do not like my old write-ups and this is one poem which i never liked much. Hence it is a very rare case where i am kinda linking an old write up of mine which i have discarded long back and daring to post it now on my blog too  :) 


Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Obscure Love

Once upon a time, I saw you Kid. While I used to wait there for my bus, you dressed up prim and proper in your crisp school uniform went to school daily sitting in a rickshaw. There was this road beside the bus-stand from where the Rickshaw Puller used to take you ahead. I didn’t know where exactly the school was. All I knew was you. With your impish eyes you never really noticed me while on the other hand you have already stolen my heart away.

See! I even remember the details on your school bag. Red and blue in color. And lines of bright silver zips adorning it. Ah! You see Kid, I have not forgotten at all about the picture of your favorite Spiderman on it.

I am still in love with you even though many a year has passed in between the two of us. My heart still skips many a heart-beat thinking about you. The image of your impish eyes is stuck forever on my heart.

You must be a big boy by now. And must be very handsome too. Are not you my Kid? And I wonder would you ever like it to be called a Kid that too by an unknown lady who herself is in her late twenties! Ok what about me calling you a Big Kid then? See, I tell you; ‘Big Kid’ and just a ‘Kid’ are different. :D

And tell me one more thing my Big Kid! Will you please? Do they still send you to school tying you to the back of that rickshaw seat with that colorful bandhni dupatta?

I wish I could have told you how the impishness in your eyes has stolen my heart away!


~Dedicated to that 4/5 years old Autistic kid who I used to see on many days while waiting for my bus at Moolchand Bus-stand. 


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

No Worry!

I love to cook but only when I want to. :D

You ask me to cook and I will surely make faces. But if I feel like cooking then get ready for a kind of treat that’s no less than an extravaganza. I have this inherent thing in me to cook for the people I love but that mode of mood gets active not very occasionally.

But thanks to a very dear friend of mine, this love-hate relationship with cooking reached all time high level of pure love in last couple of months. I experimented quite a lot and tried cooking several new dishes that includes my favorite Cheese Cakes too. Either I got the recipes from the food groups on FB or it was my friend dictating me his recipes over the phone.

Cooking for me is an act that holds so many memories. While the dish boils, rumbles, and simmers and arousing the taste-buds as the aroma spreads around, I am done with pinning so many memories on the dashboard of my heart. There is a naughty kind of magic in it when the aroma fills the whole house and my li’l brother and sis keep hovering around for stealing a chance to have a spoonful of it. My dad while shifting between sports, news, and Hindi Movie channels that telecast Amitabh Bacchan’s movies howls every now and then saying “aar kotokhon” meaning how long I have to wait more. But that ‘Aha’ moment when your loved ones and in my case it is mostly my dad gives me the biggest grins ever- takes the cake away. Pure bliss it is. Isn’t it?

And here comes my mom who straight away declares that the credit for such a stupendous dish solely goes to her as she is the one who arranged everything. In between my father quips that since the succulent chicken/mutton is his buy so the credit goes to him as well. My bro never loves to be stayed behind and so he jumps in too to take the credit for getting the missing spices and other ingredient from the market. Ok and now my sister yells that as she did not cook herself that day and hence gave me the opportunity to cook, so she needs to be credited as well. Hearing all this, I do nothing other than rolling my eyes and smiling ear to ear.

Ohkay! Too much of talking. Now it is time to cook. And today's recipe is by my friend but mind  the credit goes to me as well as he got the idea of it while talking to me. :D And I dared to tweak it a bit too by adding potatoes to it. :P

Recipe:

1. Take 500 gms Chicken. Wash it thoroughly so that it doesn't have any bit of redness of blood left in it simply because it devours the taste.

2. Now prepare the marinade with:

4 tbsp of hung curd, 4tbsp of oil, paste of golden-brown fried rings of 3 onions, 1 tbsp of Cumin paste, 1 Tbsp of Ginger and Garlic paste, 1 tbsp of coriander powder, 1 tbsp of red chilli powder, 1/2 tsp of turmeric powder, a little salt just enough for the chicken..., 1/4 tsp of kasoori methi, 1 tsp of Garam Masala.

3. Mix the marinade with Chicken and keep it in refrigerator for 2 hours.

4. In a cooking vessel take 6 tbsp of oil and lightly fry 4 potatoes cut in half. Once done take them out and keep aside.

5. Heat some more oil and throw in Black pepper and thin strands of half inch of ginger to give a gingery taste to the oil.

6. Add 1 tsp of sugar and as soon as sugar turns into caramelly red add onion rings of 1 small onion. Fry it till it starts releasing water.

7. Now add the marinated chicken one by one and stir it well. Once done pour in the left over marinade and fry till it starts releasing oil. Do not over fry it otherwise the coriander powder and curd will become grainy.

8. Add water and salt according to taste and close the lid of cooking vessel. Boil for about 20 minutes. And yes! Don't forget to drop in the lightly fried halved potatoes as well.

9. Voila! It’s done. Now it is time to take out the best crockery out of that shelf. Garnish your dish and decorate the table.

10. Finally invite all the hunger driven family members.

11. While they are seated with plates in their hand and a tongue that has gone almost dry salivating. Click number of pictures of the sexy succulent chicken dish in every possible angle so as to showcase it on FB and Blogs.

12. Okay it’s not good to take in so much of wrath of your loved ones. Hence serve it with   plain Basmati Rice. :)

Okay! But what this dish is called? It’s called ‘No worry Chicken Curry’- all due to its easiness and simplicity. And mind you the credit for naming the dish with such an awesome name goes solely to Yours Truly.

Do give it a try. You would be amazed by its sheer easiness coupled with superior taste. Trust me! I can vouch for it.

And what a feeling it is to complete the N post with No worry and Chicken Curry. See I am smiling ear to ear again. Yay!!!! :D

Oops! I almost forgot to add the pic.

So here comes my No Worry Chicken Curry. *Drumrolls*



Monday, April 15, 2013

Meets-Masti-Mazaak

The recent IndiBlogger Meet turned out to be very close to my heart because it brought us so very close to each other. Earlier other than Akanksha, I used to share just a formal yet cordial relationship with Garima, Priyanka and Naina. But now my world has turned upside down all thanks to these awesome women in my life. Errr...Mind you! Pri is still a kid and is privileged to be a part of this Awesome Women Gang that too so soon in her life :P

This picture sums it all up so very beautifully.

This is something very gorgeous. So much so that FB decided to stay away from it, lest it burns. PD Muahhh


The Sesky and The Sexy
Vrat ka khana enjoy karti hui kudiya. But angoor khatte hai :-P

Chalo kuch toh accha mila. Mushroom hi sahi. :-P

Look at the pyaar. Ishq wala love hai ye toh. :-P Or as Pri put it Triveni of Seduction. :P

In the Loo... infront of the Jharna which Naina was so curious to show us.

The Sunshine Girls



Vineet-The lucky Man!
Lady Lucks strikes Vineet again

And now here comes my Desi Martini.


And I can't thank IndiBlogger and Cloud365 enough for bringing the best of us together. :)

 ~♥~

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Linings of love

Surprisingly since the onset of this summer, I have become an early riser. And my parents’ happiness knows no bounds for the same. The glint in their eyes and the hidden smile on their face turns my sunny days more bright. Yay!

Like every other girl I too am my daddy’s li’l princess who refuses to grow up. For me ‘My Daddy is the Strongest’ and will be my first love and my Hero forever.

Today morning, before leaving for office, he asked me to put Eye drops in his eyes. And as he leaned his head back on the back of sofa, I noticed the colors of his eyes. They have turned dull brown now which used to be of a brighter shade before. Does eye color change with age? Or is it just in my mind? He closed his eyes as I poured in two drops of medicine in it. And my gaze shifted towards his bearded face. Not bearded exactly. Or were they stubble? Err may be a li’l more than stubble. And to my surprise, white linings adorned his face. When did he turn that old? Last when I saw his face, it was a mix of black, grey, and white! And today every strand of his facial hair has turned to white! Something churned inside me and I felt a lump in my throat.

Before moving away with the small bottle of eye-drop in my hand, I paused for a minute to look at his strong hands. Like always they were absolutely neat and clean. Nails perfectly cut short. He never forgets to apply Nivea on them. I noticed, his hands too were adorned with linings. Linings of subtle wrinkles have started to grace his hands. My Daddy is aging gracefully. And each wrinkle and every strand of grey/white hair tells so many stories of his entire life. Stories of the struggles he has gone through. Folklores of his dreams- incomplete, failed, and fulfilled. Poetries of how proud he is of his children even when they never left a stone unturned to hurt and disappoint him. And the tinge of fear mingled in buckets of Hope about the day when a prince charming would come galloping on his white horse to sweep away his princess off her feet and take her away from him.

Dear Daddy, You will always be my First love and my Hero forever. For me 'My Daddy will always be the Strongest'.


Daddy proudly posing while devouring the whole-roasted chicken that his Li'l Princess prepared especially for him.

Friday, April 12, 2013

Kamala's Kalimba

Out of nowhere some people enter into your life and make you realize how beautiful Life is! 

I wanted to pour my heart out but then whenever I think of you, my soul gets submerged in the magic of your soulful voice. Some emotions are so strong that words fail to express them. They are only meant to be felt and that’s what I do whenever I listen to your songs. 

Even in my thoughts, you make me feel happy, girl! 

You are missed and thus come back soon. 

Right now I am listening your Feel Fine. And your voice stirs my soul every single time.

(Click here to listen to Daniela Singhal a.k.a Kamala's divine voice through the songs she writes and sings.)

And as I am not suppose to upload your pictures, here I am consoling myself by uploading the picture of your Kalimba. You are a Magician Kamala and this Kalimba is your Magic-wand.


Do I need to write that I love you my Dannu Darling? 




P.S: Dear Readers, please spread some love to my these two posts also

 



Thursday, April 11, 2013

Jim Morrison- The Lounge Bar.

Sharp at 21:00 my eyes wander away from everything and the Table no. 8 becomes the center of my Universe. I could never remember anything about her other than her smudged eyes and red lips. She is never dressed up in anything remarkable. What seems to be her only possession is a watch that has got two golden strings to it. Just a single glass of red wine and an ashtray full of cigarette butts adorn her table. She seems to enjoy this corner of her while her eyes always tells a remarkable brand new story to me. You can never exactly tell when exactly she enters and leaves the lounge. And what sets her apart is this eeriness about her. It’s like she can touch you and flip your soul around. But even when you are just close enough to touch her brown skin, she is nowhere to be found. Like a sudden waif of air she is gone. And someday when you locate her again, she is always engulfed by the haze of smoke that her sullen lips puff away. 

I have seen some random men taking chances on her. On given days, she even shares a smoke with some of the lucky few. But I have never seen her repeating them. Luck favored me and it was my chance that night. I noticed her eyes always have this sleep-deprived feel to it. Her watch always tells the same time and foreseeing my curiosity she quipped that that is how she has successfully managed to stop her world at 04:00. Her aura made her so unattainable to me that I was afraid to speak anything at all. Lest she vanishes again! I don’t know whether to believe on her or not but while shifting between sip of wine and a puff of smoke she told me that in the day time she juggles between Corporate Finance and a Home. But she loves night and everything obscure that this lounge bar offers her. Here she is free and no one puts a tag on her fleeting relationships with the random men around. And that in the dirtiest corners of her mind, she sleeps with Jim Morrison. She laughed at the hibiscus printed shirt I was wearing and said that I seem to be a man wrapped up in layers of poetry. I did not know how it was to be taken— as a compliment or sarcasm. She understood my confusion and I could see her looking me from the corners of her smudged eyes. While I was going all cold due to her glint of smile dabbled in mystery, she leaned back with her glass of red wine in one hand and an almost finished cigarette to her sullen lips. Next, what all I could see of her was from the layers of smoke separating the two of us. I knew my time with her was over. And I also knew it would not be repeated again. While other men in the wake were certainly jealous of me, I was unsure of my feelings. But a tinge of pain circulated in my veins to realize that it’s over. Mystery within mystery was all I was left with. 

She came tonight again with her signature smudged eyes and red lips. I could also notice her chipped purple nails. Her watch dangling on her wrist telling another unspoken story shrouded in mystery. A glass of red wine and a notebook adorning her table no. 8. And She- lost amid the layers and layers of smoke. 

Unattainable as much as she is, I felt a feeble string of my heart does connect to hers. I hastily moved on, lest it breaks. For the first time, I asked the DJ to play my choice of song. The DJ nodded with a smile. And as the song continued, like her, I too was sleeping with Jim Morrison in some dirtiest corner of my mind. 

What are they doing in the Hyacinth House? 
What are they doing in the Hyacinth House? 
To please the lions in this day. 

I need a brand new friend who doesn't bother me.
I need a brand new friend who doesn't trouble me.
I need somebody who doesn't need me. 

I feel the bathroom is clear.
I know that someone's near.
I feel that somebody’s following me, oh yeah!

Why did you throw the Jack of Hearts away?
Why did you throw the Jack of Hearts away?
Why did you throw the Jack of Hearts away? 
It was the only card in the deck that I had left to play.

What are they doing in the Hyacinth House? 
To please the lions in this day.
But I’ll say it again, 
I need a brand new friend
But I'll say it again, 
I need a brand new friend, 
The End. 

P.S: The Song is Hyacinth House by The Doors.


Music inspires me to weave stories around them and hence this post is my entry to Indiblogger's The#Connected Music Experience sponsored by HP Connected Music India .