What a White Show!

The love for the gora chamdi among Indians couldn’t have been more prominent. Our very own media houses have turned up to the white skin to rescue them from the maze of dipping TRPs. General news channels still haven’t done that but business news channels are certainly racing against one another to show the best of white skin they have.
Eight-nine years back when CNBC TV18 launched in India it made waves with the ‘firang’ connection of CNBC in US. Prettiest of all faces were displayed and the trend continues even today. In fact, it has become more aggressive now.
We have ET NOW which launched on June 17 and tied up with Reuters. Which means more of white skin show for the viewers. The thing about white foreigners is that Indians consider them beautiful even if they don’t have the best of features.
We thought that ‘racism’ would stop at that but heck no! We now have UTVi tying up with Bloomberg for their share of the white skin pie. If you look at all the four channels together which I do in my office you will realize that our Indian channels look more like foreign ones, something like BBC.
NDTV Profit still makes you feel at home as of now with no foreign affiliations to boast of. I won’t be surprised if they announce a tie-up with ABC or any other channel. Tie-up with ABC wouldn’t make sense anyway.

Ganpati Bappa morya, purchya varshi lavkar yaa!

An intricate assortment of vibrant colours of Ganesha murtis. It was a rally of fun and happiness coupled with flowerworks & fireworks.

It was quite a twist of events which was clearly visible on news channels running breaking news from dawn to dusk. The morning was occupied by minute by minute update on YSR Reddy's crashed chopper followed by his demise and evening was giving a minute by minute update on how many kilometers 'Lalbaghcha Raja' had covered.

The rally for Lord Ganesha's 'visarjan' was humungous, I was tired just by looking at the number of people dancing & walking around me. Mom too kept on going further for a while then gave up, thinking this much 'darshan' was enough for the year. But truly felt fulfilled after admiring so many beautiful idols.

You can't get greener than this vegetable ganesha

This is the green Ganesha among assorted veggies.
Long live the culture of Hindu festivals!

A heaven near Mumbai

My recent trip to Matheran made me realise that natural beauty in India is grossly underestimated (of course only by Indians). The boulevard I walked through is still vivid in my memory. Charlotte Lake was lush green and made one wonder whether this is what Heaven looks like.
My legs did ache for the rest of the day but it was worth climbing up the high mountain and appreciating God's creation. It was a nice break from the daily city rush. It helped me soothe calm down and soothe my restless nerves. Any place lush with trees will always make you feel rejuvenated and refreshed. Matheran, Lonavala & Khandala are just the places to go for a forest walk and reinforce your faith in God and his picturesque creation.
I am sure there are many other unexplored locations near Mumbai and in Maharashtra and I would love to go there one day. This trip to Matheran was fulfilling especially because of the company of friends and loved ones. My I-day went really well.

Milkar bichadna

Woh pehla gaana
jo yaad dilaaye kisiki
woh muskurana,
chhedna, hasna
us geet ko gungunana,
aansu dilaaye kisiko.
Milkar bhi mil na sake,
aisi kismet bhi hoti hai yaaron.
Dilon main koi doori nahi,
phir bhi meelon door ud jaata hai pyar yaaron.
Ro ro ke bhi alag hote hai log,
kyunki milkar bichadne se darte hai log.
Dilon main pyar rakhkar,
ant tak use yaad rakhna chahte hai,
nafrat ko koi jagah nahi dena chahte hai yeh,
ant tak us pyar ko yaad rakhe
isliye door chale jaate hai log.
(Written on 22/02/09)

Death

Is this the ignorance of death that eludes us?
Helps us escape the thought,
and run the daily chakra mechanically?
Is it God's handiwork that makes us forget
the eternal black truth?
Or else we wouldn't move or walk,
the earth might stop.
This earth wasn't meant to stop, right?
Therefore we move along with it,
like a wheel in mechanical motion
spinning on its axis.
Its spins pre-decided.
But we don't have to think of death,
of its finality when we look into the mirror
combing our hair.
Death is just there,
like the kajal in our eyes,
smile on our lips,
love in our hearts
and money in our hands.
So, is the puppet ready to take a backseat?
Who'll ask?
It'll just disappear, there, somewhere.

(Written on 19/02/09)

I press my lips with the chapstick,
what was I thinking?
Would they look luscious,
attract attention with the pout?
Will it help to not show the otherwise
poor chapped pink strawberries?
I think the pale pink poor urchins
compliment my type, my body.
Lusciousness seems out of place somehow,
doesn't gel with the otherwise unkempt self.
Smooth strawberries do not even provide
self-confidence as big as their pout.
Then why waste your time
thinking that lusciousness makes you standout somehow.
Don't bother the mind into the pout,
the kissing and the meeting of eyes.
It doesn't go with your type somehow.

Woman

The all encompassing, all loving mother, wife,
stands a pole to her family,
a rope to bind them.
The cross with arms wide open,
to take in all the tantrums and love.
To bleed for others' smiles,
shed the water in
and wipe the tears out.
Taking in the fears,
the strength of the home,
the pillar that never falls
but frails.
Withers in old age,
with memories for company.

A few random lines

(1)
I see, I dream, I wish,
I conceive an idea,
I see, I shatter, I break.
I shed water then I forget
I am low but still I grow,
then again I dream
and circle completes.
(2)
Don't make an effort to write,
it is not in everybody's might.
But still just write few random lines,
not to show off but to let out
the little wish to write.
There walks the great lion strutting along the way.
His kingship worshipped by many,
with no fear along the way.
When will I learn to break,
the clutches of rhyme.
Learn to write
with no rhyme scheme in sight.
The lion comes in sight again,
making me weave dreams once again.
I fly and fly and keep weaving,
never to touch the reality.
There is no wish to touch the ground
No desire to be anywhere
But there and only there
where the heart beats and time flies.