অনুরণন

This is a English translation of one of my favorite songs, originally in Kannada. It is from a Kannada movie, Pallavi Anupallav i. The movie stands out for it's unusual story line and offbeat look. It also marks itself as the directorial debut of Mani Ratnam , and the debut of actor Anil Kapoor. But what also stands out in this movie is it's incredibly soulful music , by the legendary Illaiyaraja. Penned by RN Jayagopal the lyrics stand out to be simple, adding it's meaning subtly to the melody of the tune. This song is sung by none other than SPB and S Janaki. A get together of great artists! The song when literally translated looks like this: Naguva Nayana Madhura Mauna Midiva Hrudaya Kiremaateke Amongst our smiling eyes, sweet silences and yearning heart beats is there any need to talk it out? Hosa Bhaashe Idu Rasa Kavyavidu Ida Haadalu Kavi Beeke There endures a new language between us, a passionate poem. Is there need for a poet to sing it for us? Ninagaagi Heluve Ka

Mohan decided to take the first step this time. They had had a fight numerous times before and each time it was Rashmi who would talk her way back to him. She would dis-solve their misunderstandings, each time. This time though she had made no such efforts, yet. Mohan felt responsible for their present dispute and so resolved to make the first move. He decided that a letter would be a powerful and romantic way to go about this. Feeling good about his idea, he plucked out a sheet from his note pad and started writing. Dear Rashmi, I am extremely sorry if I hurt you with my words that day. The situation was such, that I totally lost control over what I was saying. But you know I didn't mean any of it. You know I love you with all my love. You know we belong to each other, only. Please come back to me. You are my world. It might be that you and I sometimes stray and lose sight. But at the end of day there seems no light , u nless you are by my side. Believe me my dear one, when i s

There is nothing here, No Time. No Tear. Smiles happen, By Practice I fear. Often from home Stories I hear.. Of festive joys & deaths O'dear! I know of two worlds. A day there, is an endless night here. I dream in both, asleep in neither. Sometimes in thrill, I measure the distance, in miles and metres. Either way, From Home I stay Afar. Away.

Some people are meant to do some amazing things for this world, making it a much better place for us . Greg Mortenson is doing it his way. "Three Cups Of Tea" which is essentially a biography of this phenomenal personality had given me all the chronological details of his life. But actually listening to his story from the man himself, told me that this guy was for real! I got this opportunity to listen to him at a lecture in the premises of the Colorado State University, Fort Collins. It struck to me that people could actually do such things: they can survive the worst, come out stronger and forge effective changes for the human good. "Failure", which is also the name of the first chapter in his book, has literally been his stepping stone to success. In 1993, devastated by the death of his sister, he decided to summit the K2 , the world's second highest peak, in her honor. He failed to complete this mission. Barely surviving the ordeal he reached the village of

I had been looking for another name for my blog for quite some time. I wasn't entirely happy with its old name 'bas yun hi' (just like that). But 2.5 years earlier when I started this blog, it suited perfectly because the blog was started 'just like that' indeed. For that I should thank my friend Surya (who off late has stopped writing). He inspired me into starting a blog.I too wanted to better utilize my free time at work. So there it was, just meant to be a scribble pad for some nurtured thoughts! Through the years though, I think I have gotten serious about writing. Its rather enjoyable and a wonderful medium to communicate, connect and share. And so as more and more of my posts kept coming and I developed a modest blogging community out here, I felt like this page needs an uplift. A name which offers more meaning as indeed my posts have begun to have more meaning in them. Recently, I came across this Bengali movie called Anuranan. In Bengali it is pronounced as

निशा का संकोच हूँ मैं और नदी की खिलखिलाहट भी । रवि का तेज हूँ मैं पीपल -छांव की उधारता भी । योद्धा का अनुशासन हूँ मैं और दोराहे का उलझन भी । हाँ, भविष्य का भय हूँ मैं , वैश्या की अरुचि भी हूँ और संत का समर्पण भी । रूबरू हुए मुझसे तुम हर कही, पहचाना किन्तु अब तक नहीं । विश्वरूप दर्शित हुआ मैं , तुझसे इस तरह परिचित हुआ मैं । यूँ तो जीवन के हर रूप में हूँ मैं, पर खुद को पाता तुझमें हूँ मैं । तू पूँछ ले , तुझमें हैं एसा क्या गुण ? नवों रस के समर्थ, हे मानस! तू बना भिन्न !

Once again I sat there, letting it flow by. This time in the mercy of solitude. As though it knew, my pain anew it purged through. Unwet still, it passed me too. Sunkissed it shone burning my soul; setting her free of my bleeding sorrow. Yet it went the way It was to be bound. The sea awaited; there was no way around. Knowing well, the satiric secret it kept By the river Poudre, I sat down and wept. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Credits- The last sentence is duly borrowed from " By the River Piedra, I sat down and wept "- a book by Paulo Coelho. Pic of the Poudre - me

A day short of turning 28, Renuka’s life seemed to be a drag now. For the last three years it was a banal routine she had been following. Smiling at the reception desk of Infinity International, she thought her facial muscles had now begun to ache. Infinity was a well known restaurant in Connaught Place, often-ed by the well to do and pompous delhi-ites. Looking at them only made her sick of people who had had everything in life. Money, fame, friends.. just about everything. It made her wonder why she even had an existence such as hers. This day, Renuka had a small change in her routine. She left work two hours early. This hadn’t happened for any reason in the past year or so. Mr. Rastogi, her supervising manager, had given her permission for the short leave today. She had to collect her reports from the diagnosis centre before it closed at 6pm. It would take her atleast an hour to reach Anandmayi Diagnostic Centre in Mehrauli. She readied herself for the ride on her rickety Kinetic Ho

दिल्ली की तीखी छोरी, वो अम्रीकन मीठा छोरा; भरी दुनिया के दो अजनबी मिलें न उसके , न इसके यहाँ। इन्टरनेट ने बांदा पुल , हुआ विचारों का फेर बदल; चिट्टी नही तो ई- मेल से ही खुल गया दोस्ती का चैनल। लड़के- लड़की की दोस्ती थी, बदलना ही था प्यार में कल; मिल गए दिल, पर इनको भी था मिलना छोरी बोली- परदेस में हैं मेरी बहना ! मिलकर ही समझा दोनों को, साथ साथ हैं इनको रहना; कुछ इसको , कुछ उसको था बदलना प्रेम रंग में आख़िर दोनों को था रंगना। एक दूजे के मंजिल हैं ये, फिर भी राहें ठानी अपनी अपनी; बांटें खुशिया हर कही , ज़िन्दगी इनको देख मुस्कुरायी। बांदा न दुल्हे ने सेहरा, न दुल्हन ने मांग सजाई; बंद गए हैं फिर भी आज, कह के एक दूजे का बस हो साथ। रहे सदियों तक सलामत इनका प्यार; बस कहनी थी एक और बात.... भूल न जाना, रहा गोरे का मुझ पर प्यार उधार !!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is for the lovely Su & D. May yours be a blessed union. Pic taken by:me

As i scrolled through the pictures dad sent in a web album faithfully titled "Mummy's Garden" , my eyes glistened up. Each picture meant more than what it intended to. It unearthed emotions which were buried about 8 months ago and made unreachable, to avoid those very tears. Moms. Why are they naturally inclined to taking care of something, all the time? Weird they are. Not that earlier the garden at home wasn't taken care of. But I could see a refreshed interest being taken by mom in these green beings now. I am sure the flowers never looked so good earlier, I know there weren't even so many plants earlier either. I know dad never took photos of these and sent it to anyone earlier. He was never so proud of "mummy's garden" earlier. It seemed like their own little world had taken shape anew. I'm sure mom spends a good amount of time watering the plants, tending to them, adding new ones, weeding out the old ones, re potting , cleaning etc. Just l

आंसू बन, कभी तो छलक पड़ेगा आर्ज़ू न बन, शय में सिर्फ इंतज़ार रहेगा .. रात बन, कुछ पहरों का हिसाब पड़ेगा याद न बन, उम्र भर का तू मेहमान बनेगा .. बेवफा बन, वफ़ा का भ्रम तो टूटेगा वादा न बन, निभाने का तुझपे क़र्ज़ रहेगा .. ज़िन्दगी में शामिल हैं तो , बंदगी बन अफसाना न बन, फिर प्यार का ज़माना नहीं रहेगा

At some point in life, 'i' takes over you. Most of your life, you live carelessly. Thinking less, doing more. Doing more because you just got to do some things in life. You've got to eat, you've got to sleep, got to read, study, work and so on. Sometimes you do things to keep the 'i' in you happy and most of the times it is to follow the norm.The 'i' here is still nascent. But there comes a point in life, when you begin to question everything. With a why- Why do 'i' have to do something? You begin to question your own existence, your beliefs, your likes, your dislikes. There comes a point where the 'i' can't stop asking questions and you can answer no more. A point of deep contemplation begins. The 'i' gets stronger day by day. It asks you to reason out your actions. Else it asks you to find reasons for your actions. In the beginning you find it hard to follow 'i'. You want to follow the norm anyway. That's the ea

As i observed the happenings on yet another Valentine's day, it was interesting to note the very many opinions people had about this day. Every year, similar opinions are up in the air. This year , in India, the anti-heroes took centre stage and an unexpected set of events unfolded. Yes, first the opinion of the fanatical few. The ram sene,shiv sainiks, bajrang dal and more of the lot. They are the special few who think they are upholding Indian culture by opposing the so called western influences. And their love for Indian culture literally explodes during valentine's day. So they go about rallying against public display of love, harassing young couples, beating up 'modern' women. With such unjustifiable acts of violence, they try to inculcate culture amongst Indians, and especially the women, in ONE day. The rest of the year, they prove their hypocrisy. Thanks to the actions of the ram sene in Mangalore [the capitals avoided on purpose], we have heroes coming up in In