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Saturday, November 21, 2015

Those 8.3 minutes...


That winter morning, I waited for it to reach my window,
Every moment felt like eternity,
it just reached my window pane, and my pains vanished,
the birds who were waiting like me, flew together,
in lovely patterns, which just happened.
There was joy, as the sun reached the earth, the flowers opened up again,
in those long 8.3 minutes!
(- Khs, November, Delhi)

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The War

Rama returned from a war,
to see light, but,
he experienced, loud sounds,
he was in two minds,
should he come back or stay in Lanka!

Friday, October 23, 2015

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Missed it!


I slept late at night,
I woke up late in the day,
But I had missed the lovely SUNRISE!
I had..."
-khs, 2015.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Everyday, sir!

I sat down sad and dejected,
at the tragic fact that the sun goes down every day.
Why?
But the poor, old man on the bicycle,
stopped, smiled and said,

"Don't be so sad, sir,
It rises every day,

EVERYDAY... "

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

The Horizon...

"The kid always wondered, what lied beyond the horizon,
he asked the mother, who had no answers too.
They looked into the horizon, together,
looking for answers!"

Monday, August 24, 2015

The day...


The day is hot and humid here,
the day is cold and rainy there.
But what's common is the beautiful sunrise.

It is the same every where, every time!

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Lovely mirror!



The world's a lovely mirror.
You smile into it, it smiles.
You frown into it, it still smiles :)

Monday, July 27, 2015

Dr. Kalam and my letter!


7:50 am, Delhi.
"Aaj chhutti nahi hai, aaja!"
(The school's ON today. Come down!)

Shouted a little girl all dressed up for school. She was probably going to the municipality school, looking up at some other friend of her's, who would just have woken up.

This was a big piece of news. Dr. Kalam had passed away last night and the government had declared NATIONAL MOURNING ( Rashtriya shok) for seven days. Kids and people were tensed to find out whether it was working today or not.

As I walked further, thoughts poured in. I knew Dr. Kalam. Who was he?

He was India's famous scientist, who worked on India's major missile programs. He was associated closely with DRDO, the army and ISRO, and he got or rather earned the country's highest civilian honor,'BHARAT RATNA', in 1997. He was given the title, Missile man!

But what was special about him was the fact that he had dedicated his life for the work he loved the most. He never got married. He was made the country's PRESIDENT, and with me, most of the country was happy that the right person got the 'position'!

He was the most active President the country ever had, with travelling from little schools in the south to the north. He travelled and covered various 'Premier' educational institutions and addressed all the student queries in person. But still, what was so special?

I knew him really well, only through his famous autobiography, "Wings of Fire", which had motivated me the most. I was just a kid back then preparing for my pre-medical entrance exam. And I had failed them. I was sad, with my dreams going down. It is then that I came across this chapter in the book, when Kalam, a young man, appeared for a pilot's exam. The exam had just 8 seats and he came 9th and he was not given the seat! He was saddened by the scheme of events in his life.

This Rameshwaram-born young man, then moved forward and did Astro-physics and he fell in love with it and the rest as we all know is history. But as I walked, I thought about him. What was so special? And I got the answer...
As a 17-year old boy, and not clearing my pre-medical exams, and having just finished 'Wings of Fire', I thought I will write to the man. This was insane, but I wanted to share my thoughts with a man who had gone through a similar situation. It's just that the person I chose to write to was the President of the Republic of India.

I wrote my heart out, with my passport-sized image pasted on the top right of the letter, I also wrote this,
"Sir, expecting a reply from the President of the country, by a seventeen year old is too much. But as you always say that Small aim is a crime, I am writing this with no expectations of a reply. Thank you for reading this..."
I sent him the letter and forgot. But after a few weeks, I got a special letter-
From the President of Republic of India,
President's personal cell,
Rashtrapati Bhawan, Delhi.

He wrote...
"Dear Harish.
Wish you all the love and do thank your teachers and parents, for the support.
APJ Abdul Kalam"

I was extremely happy to receive a signed-letter from the big man. I had a tear of happiness in my eyes.

Last night, I cried, with sadness. He was delivering a lecture at IIM, Shillong and while talking, he collapsed and died in a few minutes. A death of honor. We had lost a gem. I could not eat a morsel of food.

You will always my hero. I came back to the present with...

"Aaj Chutti nahi hai, aaja", the girl still calling her friend.

I smiled and moved ahead.
RIP Dr. Kalam.


Wednesday, May 27, 2015

BRAIN


BRAIN is as good or as bad as the RAIN!
Never play with it.
It hurts when it starts playing with you.
It does!

Wednesday, May 13, 2015



My-crow thinking crow-versation:
Old crow- Kid, In our times, I used to fly 30,000 feet.

Older crow- No in our times we used to fly 45,000 feet kid.

Oldest crow- This is nothing Kid, in our time, I once flied 50,000 ft. Get it. What is your aim now!

Kid crow- (scared) But I think SKY's THE LIMIT,sir! Isn't it?!

Friday, May 8, 2015

The toughest journey



I was finishing my education,
all excited I wanted to take the toughest journey,
I thought so, and thus began my big journey.

From Ahmedabad, I came back home, to Delhi,
and I was happy at my pace.
I was faster than the others,
but not content.

I worked for a bit and,
joined the Bombay film Industry,
my speed got better, and experiences obviously bigger,
I was definitely faster than the others,
but not content.

I finished working in 4 feature films, one ad-film,
I was way faster than the others,
but still not content.

I could not settle in Bombay,
as I had plans way bigger and much grander.
I began my production house and theatre company.
I battled corruption, and won.

Kamaan was on, so was My-Crow Thinking and the journey with unknown pride.
Again I could see,
I was faster than my friends,
but not content.

But one fine midnight, things changed for me,
I did no wake up in the morning,
with multiple seizures and fits I had suffered the whole night.

I saw sad and worried faces of my parents.
I had problems in my brain,
with multiple CAT scans and MRI's.
Though I was unconscious,
but I sensed my parents' pain
about their only son, battling death.

Epilepsy and Brain hemorrhage at a young age.
And now I thought,
what was the use of running faster than my contemporaries,
when it was just pain that surrounded me.

I saw my friends disappear,
and my parents had that fake smile, to give me courage.

I realized that my journey had not started yet, and I could see the end waiting for me.
I spent hours with my own self, with hours getting inside my brain,
I realized that though the toughest journey had begun,
but now, I was content with the challenge.

Thanks to that lovely couple which gave me birth,
I could now battle death.
The deeper I went, I saw how less I had known about my-self.

This undoubtedly was my toughest journey.
My best journey...:)


Wednesday, April 22, 2015

That dog...




I saw this dog, always in the lane.
My friends from Hong Kong came and spoke to it in Cantonese/ Chinese,
the dog wagged its tail happily.
One fine day, I had a walk with my Dutch friends,
who patted on the dog's head, in the same lane.
They told it something in Dutch, and I didn't get a word,
but the dog still wagged its tail, with happiness.
One evening, I had a walk with my Kashmiri friends,
and they spotted the dog too.
They said something in Kashmiri, and I obviously did not get a word again.
But surprisingly, the dog still wagged its tail.
I kept getting friends from various backgrounds, languages and regions,
the dog kept wagging tail.

I kept getting my answers as the dog kept wagging its tail,
and kept spreading love,
irrespective of language, nationality, region or any boundary.

I got all my answers.
That dog silently answered...


Friday, March 27, 2015

The Nizamuddin Dargah and the ten-rupee note, AGAIN.


It was an evening and I had to rush to NIZAMUDDIN DARGAH, after our theatre rehearsal, with some friends of mine, who had to run to various destinations for reasons of their own. I reached the Islamic sacred place and could not hear the 'famous' music. The Qawwali which begins at 6 pm. There was unwanted peace. No Music, no rhythmic claps, just a curious crowd around the monument. Had we missed the music. Were we so late? How could we be so careless? With these question we were beginning to turn, and suddenly out of no where, emerged a HARMONIUM, the Indian instrument which the singers played while singing. We were on time. Yup! And a blink of time the whole atosphere had turned musical with people giving 10 rupee notes to the singers. I meditated for a while. I could see my friends and they could see me. I was happy that we had witnessed the brilliant music, but every time I came there, I would give ten rupee note, but I did not feel like, I don't know why. May be it was 'cause of the fact it was a bunch of rich singers singing. May be 'cause that they were all young. May be... I didn't feel like donating at all. We all got up, I did not go (feel like) going inside. As we were walking out I saw this on to the other side, I saw an old man lost in the music, just clapping. He looked poor. He looked spiritual, and he was sitting far away from the sacred place, but he could clearly listen to the music. He was lost in himself for sure. He looked sacred to me. I gave him tenner. He was not even begging. He was definitely poor. He looked into my eyes, and with the qawwali playing in the background, he blessed me. I bent to take his blessings. He was scared, but he put his hand on my head. And with a content heart I lef the 'sacred' play. The qawwali kept plying...