skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Story lines move
And
I as usual
lost in oblivion s of find
Most I ask
least I find
I was standing at a place
Gurgaon house of Kiran
I know
Genius brains are misfit every where
I generally have a cig packet
bidi too
I know its health hazard
It was a scene of innovations
self reclusions too
Even driven to walls
made of mirrors
that
hardly afford
too opaque
too stoic
But it makes what sense
to paint
what is not there
There stands a green
its beautiful
isolated too
But I could not find
What I was looking for
Stray dogs
probably they could smell my worth
All of them
struggled hard to find proximity
me a docile delusion ed chap
Every Na non
it looked too irrelevant
I did notice
their female and their fights
of the dominions
one day
a psychiatrist
it was a memory lane only
Dogs are too stinky
they come to your living rooms too
I have faced
ensconced too
You see
It gives hard equations
And
I am poor at all know ledges
Now a day came
Navu was with me
its a subash palace market complex
probably some woods were still fresh
I was still a less throbbed upon
I spent a few hrs with her
I remember those nice moments
As if
Nature forgot to punish me
round the clock
I know
you may not come at all
I have yet to learn
how to live
Dogs are filthy
I do know
its a tough equations
May be
I have hope (s)
yes
no definitions available
and the
stray dogs
कितनी गहरी होंगी
बड़े बड़े
हरे भरे
उन पेड़ों की जड़े
जो अक्सर
तेज हवाओं के
संग झूमते
बदलते मौसम के
हर मिजाज को
बेफिक्र चूमते
शायद कहीं
अंतर की गहरायी
तय करती होगी
कितनी ऊँची हो
आसमान में उड़ान
भीतर की चाह
देती होगी पंख
भरने को ऊँची उड़ान.
yes love
I was continuing my letter
Dad was too innovative at his nerves
in his one living room he made his window too airy and placed a big cot adjoining it to make it a panoramic when idling on the cot and have fresh air too , it gave a vision on his work place
a big hanging fan made of wooden base having a long spread ed coloured cotton cloth and it was hung on the roof on a big log with the help of a rolling pulley , one big rope of fine cotton was tied to the wooden part and it hung loose through the movable pulley , it was that long to enable a person make it swing whilst siting practically at all possible length linear of course.
When Dad deputed me for the job
I used my legs more rather than hands
may be it was too playful
Love
I was telling you of my small days
summer in my village is known for its sharp rise and drop of temperature
I told you my Dad house was on mud only
initially it was a single room with kitchen
then he got it extended with another big rooms for storage
and got erected a platform in front of all the rooms
He was fond of his pet tree an acacia arabica plant along with another sister plant of bushy in content
this was used as a shade for making food in hot and scorching sun
later on he got erected a tan door for catering larger demand way away from the rooms to best suit the hot environs
his house was in an L shape the small wing being the kichen and large being storing rooms
it was east facing
the trees stood in east to west at the end of the arm of L
he used to fetch ice from a nearby town
keep it in husk used as a thermocol
mom made food
mostly on tandoor
a share system at tandoor prevailed during those days
neighbors pooled the fire wood and labor too
it was a gossip point too
he had many big cots as big as you simply can not imagine
four to five were used and put in the front area of house
water was sprayed for making environs cool
mom made "pakki lassi " of milk and ice and sugar
vegetables included onions bringals cucurbetaceae family vize kaddu tori
oil was from the cattle
normal curd and lassi was not available at evening food as temperature had no scope of such facility
I was too small
as little
as you can imagine.
Love
Today I am washing cloths
some are too worn out
I have yet to see you with me
your Dad is too stoic
I dont think he will allow you to live with me
your mom is liberal
yes its the other way round
what you have experienced till date
Love
good morning
Nothing having drinks cheers !!
I was telling you of my small days
Dad brought his first tractor
it was a ford
during those days Indians were that crank they used to sing the songs but do nothing. Nehru and Gandhi has spoil t the genes.
That spoilage is still continuing to a larger level
Now it has taken a black hole equations
I told you
one day I wrote a love poem
Kan , Navu friend
she was reflected as a source of inspiration
Kan called Navu and ricky and asked them to tell me to remove her name immediately
I did as directed.
Dad used to repair his tractor on his own
Love
I was just reading the Tagore work ; translation only yaar !! I do not know any bullshit love poetry and non sense around it.
I feel its a psychiatric disease only.
Today my whole hell hierarchal cranks were disturbing me
Even my canteen tele showed your latest film clips some jawani etc etc to me by bloody cable remote control mechanism
Nothing
I kept as if I hardly know anything
just like
you hardly love me
and I paint
you love me all the time.
