From heaven to heaven

-

Hi blog,
I wrote this poem when our college shifted from nizamuddin to the present location. It was disappointing, when compared to the older one, but i just wanted to force myself to be optimistic. Now we have spent almost 7-8 months here and we have learnt having fun here , shooting here, writing here; living here too. While flipping through my diaries, i found these lines of mine, bringing back memories of that moment; the moment i saw the new campus...
i was disappointed,
trying my best to be optimistc!


(photo: Groovy)
From NIZAMUDDIN to 120-B,MADANGIR.

The wind blows,
there are heavy snows,
there's movement everywhere,
but still there's some music in the air.
There are no daffodils,
there are no more lovely hills,
there are numerous problems to scare,
but still, there's some music in the air.
Birds are flying away,
I don't have any friends to play.
I still have a million sorrows to share,
but still, there's SOME MUSIC IN THE AIR...

Comments

Lucid Dreams said…
Wow.
i love each n every line...
amazing!
March 2, 2008 at 7:30 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The TEA garden visit!

-
Image
Priyanka Vadra in a tea Garden in Assam  8:08 pm, Jorhat First of all, I am really sorry for not posting my blog this Sunday. I have been busy buying, setting my new house here. But meanwhile, I along with my wife took a short trip in the city, to the world famous tea gardens. I had always seen them in movies or television. In fact, recently I saw an image of Priyanka Vadra visiting a tea garden (image). Jorhat is not huge city, but it is a town of a good size, where all the points of my motive, have been just around 15 to 20 minutes. That is the size of the town.  We have recently bought a two-wheeler and it has come as a boon to travel across the city. We have bought a sky-blue coloured Vespa (Pic) and we are loving taking random trips on it. Our new Vespa. The Estate Entrance So this Sunday morning, we got ready and left for Cinnamara tea estate, Jorhat. It was established in the year 1850, by the British East India company. The land was owned by Maniram Dewam, who later took it fro
Read more

Memories of my 'Chhote Mama'!

-
Image
Hyderabad,  August, 2020. When he was born, he was the younger brother. So, his parents named him 'Chhote'. Even his younger siblings called him 'Chhote' bhaiyya (younger brother). My chhote mama recently passed away because of Covid. It is painful, because it happened very soon, and from a man who was walking freely, to a straight pan dead body! I don't want to cry now, because I have admired my Chhote mama's (uncle) positive patience, always from a very young age. It is one feature of his personality which I had admired.  I am sharing some of the memories, which I have cherished all my life, some memories, which are pretty clearly imprinted on my mind, some time I had spent with him alone. Let us begin: MEMORY-1 Secunderabad, 1994 I was little! My mama had come to our place in Trishul Line, Secunderabad. These are some very clear visual memories of Trishul line. Our house was on the ground floor. He had come home.  He asked me, "Do you sleep outside?"
Read more

HAPPILY EVER AFTER...

-
Rohan sat in front of Sheetal with folded hands. He wondered if it was the worst moment of his life or not. Sheetal was looking at the cup of coffee in his hands. She had tears in her eyes. She could not cry aloud, as it was the canteen and she could not be quiet as it was hurting. It had hurt her really hard inside when Rohan told her that he had started liking someone else . After being in a relationship for more than a year, it was difficult to hear such a thing from the person whom she had loved the most. There was stunned silence. They were not talking, but still everything was being communicated. It was the weirdest of communications; the communication through little gestures- of hands, frowns, eye-lids, lips and may be the vibes between them. To break that communication for a second, Rohan lifted the cup to have a sip of coffee. As he started gulping the hot sip, his eyes met Sheetal’s. They were red, with the veins crying on the white surface of the ball. T
Read more