RIP Braveheart.. and pls dont return to this land ever again..

Rest In Peace BRAVE HEART!

And please don’t return to this land ever again...

This world, where rapists rule and give speeches and make laws...

Where you are raped, and a good part of society claps and govt forms committees for eternity;

Where respected judges, for ages, keep your wounds gushing blood..

and police rips u apart when u, already, are broken!

Where PM speaks for 1 min for u, not from his heart, but from a sheet of paper and then asks: “was my speech okay?..theek hai?”

Where, those who stand by you are dealt with lathies, stones and abuses; and those who not are felicitated!

Where, while you are stripped and mutilated, rapists need to be protected;

They can’t be hanged or castrated, for human sake!

Rapist’s human rights are after all a sacred rule and important too!

I know u r amazed that, after what they did to u, they still qualify as humans..

But Please understand,

This is a civilized democracy.

You are allowed here to breathe free,

Raped free. Humiliated free and murdered free! 

Rest in peace brave soul! :'(

Lovingly yours

Roots of happiness,
tree of love,
i'll always be
if you my sunlight
my moisture and my leafs;

your love a sea,
mine a bottomless cup,
fill it if you can
till my cup's full and up;
Am the fish that dwells
only in your sea,
the air that rests
whenever your waves kisses me;
in your river of lust
i wanna loose myself,
in your mist of fragrance
i wanna blend and dissolve,
in your softness of beauty
i wanna live..

the canvas of my dream,
the rhyme of the songs i sing,
the blood in my veins,
you may not know it,
but you are the air
that my heart breathe... :)

In my childhood shoes again

Isolated from the world, stuck in the sorrow, broken-hearted, tears in the dreamless eyes, crouching in the darkness, I sat in my desolate room when the memories of my childhood flitted past me like a sweet smell brought from a distant lost celestial land...


..the innocent uncorrupt mind, that little sapling enjoying the warm wind on a sunny day unmindful of the thorns and fruits..that child face where the unadulterated emotions flown undisguised by the mask of politeness and civilization...dat lil body who never got soiled playing in the soil, when those small legs felt they can run any length of earth unflinchingly, wen those tiny hands had the power to capture the moon n the stars..when the mud was the precious jewel nd money a boring toy, when every way led to a carefree fun nd frolicker end, when every minute was a new mystery and the next minute d mystery solved..when every thirst was quenchable, every prayers were answered, every step focused nd determined, every act correct...when those untangled branches nd vines of thoughts were far from the floor of bloody evil tributaries of adulthood world....the heart mind and soul speaking one language and the unalloyed love being the only bond of relations nd religion..when the imagination was reality and reality a dream...when each of us was a lil explorer exploring d mystical creations of God..painting the whole world with our own self-thought colors....


Yes..my walls are still alive with those magical memories, my eyes still glinting with those obscure moments..but now the reality has changed its meaning! Vision more clear..brain more fertile nd sophisticated nd dreamful nd selfish...yes...eyes,smiles,laughter,tears still here but shamelessly robbed of its purity...love abounds but conditionally..heart still flies on the rhythm of love but gets subdued nd smothered in the fire of rational adulthood mind...heart fears,soul silent,mind playing....


No..i want to walk in my childhood shoes again..i want to play in my childhood dress again..i want to sleep on my childhood bed again..i wanna be a child again..


but alas!..the child is dead now with the shoes buried with him in the sands of time and the adult-self left to mourn at his silent peaceful demise....the childhood memories but a broken mirror reflecting the blur past in tiny sharp shattered pieces...
heaven lost..days gone..explorer dead!
tears..more tears...

Blind-Lovers

Under the milky sky,
On the sandy seashore,
near the blue boundless ocean;
holding hands, walking close,
lived two lovers;
loved ones called them blind-lovers,
Not for they were blind,
but for their infatuated love,
for they never see the immortal trees,
the breathing sea and the unnerved birds,
but only their calm and pacific and unbroken love;
people cherished them,their serenity,
their utopian dreamlike perfection;
people contemplated their wedding,
as an ode to eternalise their undiluted love and affection;

Near the church on the parched dunes,
wedding chimes reverberated,
perfumes filled the air and tunes,
and the aisles daintily painted;
with the sky unnaturally white,
and the silent sea beholding,
appeared the blind-lovers holding hands,
like a fresh pearl out from a vivid ocean;
all eyes turned and glazed,
yearning to witness the union,
union of the two pure oceanic souls;
elated lovers closed their eyes,
feeling the climatic joy,
enthraled to embark on a new life;

just then, as if destined,
the sky turned unnaturally grey,
wind tumultous,
and sea furious,wrathful and fray,
as if some malignant force,
bounced the vast bowl of dark sea,
from its complacent composed slumbering prose;
tempestuous waves tossed and writhed,
the bells,the dunes,the hopes and the dreams;
the woven strands of connected lives broken,
and the place but a sea of rubbles and screams;

transported to an unknown land,
tears flooded the blue stone eyes

Freedom and censorship: Always the twain shall meet!

Censorship has long been the tool of kings and rulers in the history to kill the voices that they considered were against them. But it has never been this tough to use it as today. In this day and age, when the rajah-prajah principle holds ground no more, when each liberal citizen; be it a king or a beggar, a devil or a wise; craves to be heard, to be respected, to have their fingers in every pie, is it really now possible to drive a fair bargain between all the different voices with the sword of maintaining the delicate balance between the conflicting interests of different religions communities and their ideologies, hanging over the head?


Especially in the religiously sensitive, conservative and fast developing country of ours, where there is a huge conceptual gap between the people who stick to old traditional parochial mindset and the people who are fast shedding it to get clad in modernity and open values, can they be really brought on to a common ground and made to walk together without some hard-pressed compromise? In India where the politics is fast growing out of mai-baap politics to a more participative one, can the government now afford to ignore the populist mood and fare their own agenda? And is it feasible now for the dyed-in-wool hardliners to dictate terms on the lines of karma and dharma in this cyber-age? Moreover, can the chains of cast religion community ethnicity ever let us ‘think’ freely?


The quandary of freedom of expression and censorship


Some consider the freedom of expression a sacrosanct entity not made to be tampered with. Some say it’s like nuclear weapon, good to have and develop, but can at times be disastrous if fell into wrong hands. Some believe censorship is necessarily required to preserve the sanctity of freedom of expression. Others differ saying it throttles the freedom of expression in one swoop! In reality, in the realm of freedom of expression, it’s little difficult to follow it oneself and let others practice it at the same time. Here it’s indeed difficult to put both your legs in the same boat! One never comes to consciously realize when he started voicing for censorship standing in the land of freedom. One never knows if he’s using freedom as a tool to fight with others having the same or as a shield to protect, but the weapon does have some chinks!


Yes we all voice for our freedom of expression but what we usually express is generally about others and for them to hear. As Berlin puts it: "No man's activity is so private as never to obstruct the lives of others in any way". Therefore,can the speech of unreasonable hate and prejudice, or even the reasonable one, be a qualifier under the name of freedom of speech? What if it offends or depraves certain sections and leads to a boil? Who will then foot the bill of the damage caused by the freedom abuse? Is then the censoring only solution? Can anything and everything be presented and made acceptable under the transparent decorative wrap of creativity, artistry, and freedom? Today when most of the dissents and protests are curtailed by the crack of the whip and censorship and then it’s in turn is challenged by the freedom of expression, the question begs: can these two really co-exist without each other??


Who will draw the big line? and where?


The uphill battle for the freedom of expression is being fought since ages. But deep down, we know that a line needs to be drawn somewhere to differentiate it from freedom abuse. But who is ready to blow whistle and call foul? Who can take up the mammoth task of deciding for billions what’s right and what’s wrong? On what basis? And will that be acceptable to majority and also the minority?
Hundred questions, few answers. Welcome in the complex and fuzzy map of the world having two indispensable states- freedom of expression and censorship!


Victims of the freedom of expression:


There are countless who unknowingly and inadvertently became the victims of freedom and censorship.
Turning the clock back a little to name the few:


Late Mr. M.F. Husain’s nude paintings of deities: an art misunderstood!


[Firstly, let me make this clear: my views on his paintings are personal and are in no way intends to malign his name or character. I have always had the high regard for him, towards his soft-spoken mild and benevolent personality. I condemn (it’s disheartening) the vicious threat he received due to which he was forced to live and die in exile. The prolific consummate artist and a great human-being he was, he has been a constant source of inspiration for me and he truly lived up to the title of ‘Pablo Picasso of India’.]


Mr. Husain had a special fascination for culture and values of Hinduism. He went the whole hog studying sincerely the fundamentals and philosophies on which it’s based. He believed that “in Hindu culture, nudity is a metaphor for purity“. He might have been right (I think he was). The ancient temples of
khajrao and the opus of kamasutra

O' Dream...

O dream, why you so big and intimidating,
Unnerving and tempting,

And why I desire you?
I see you standing far off the road,
With open hands, ready to embrace me,
Yet I fear to travel the road,
But I want you;


I hear you whispering
Luscious lyric in my ears,
Giving me the sweet taste of having you,
But I wake up,
And you still an unreachable star;
You are dearest to me,
Yet I find it hard
To bring myself close to you,
To feel you,
But I need you;


The vicissitudes of life
Pull me away,
And am not objecting;
You slipping off my hand
Like sand with time,
And am not holding;
Yet deep in my heart,
I live in you,
I dream of you;


While I let my time wither,
Basking in superficial happiness,
Enjoying trivialities,
Doing things I should not,
I see you standing in the corner
Looking at me with anxious eyes,
Yet I never approach you,
But I don’t want you to go,
And you are going;


Am I being cruel to you?
Or myself?
For I will be torn
If you leave me this time;
Since childhood, I have seen you,
Coming to me like angelical butterflies,
I chase you, before I give up,
And you always fly;
Now you are my last lease of life,
My dawn, my last straw;
And the pain of your loss,
The Loss of the love I never saw,
Will devastate me;
I know, you will return in different form,
To make me love you again,
To fill the hopes again,
To hold my hand once again,
But the hands will be frail then,
Faith shaken, body dispirited,
Belief corroded and the direction lost;


O dream, wield your power upon me,
Make me a slave of your love,
Make my mind wonder nowhere else
Other than you;
My eyes seeing no road
Other than the road to you;
Let the air
Remind me of your presence
Whenever I pretend to forget you;
If you a god, give me the strength
To overcome my sleaziness and lassitude;
Am tired of living in dreams,
Living in the quixotically hopeless beautiful world,
Am imprisoned now and its suffocating;


I will have to understand
That the dream is not the only you,
That the road to you
Is also the inseparable part of dream,
Road is full of roses and thorns
And I have to walk barefoot,
I hate thorns and pangs,
And I will take it,
Coz I know,
That they will melt in your warmth,
As soon as you embrace me,
I will meet you…
I will travel the road…