Na koi Aahat,na koi shor
Kabhi raat, kabhi din to kabhi bhor
Khamoshi se deti hai dastak
Dil ki dhadkan kar deti hai kamzor.
Usse aage hai kya na humein hai pata
Bas uski chintan hee pahuchati hai sihran.
Apne aas paas ke logon ke baare me soch
bhar ata hai man.
Jinke godd me hum pale bade
Jinhone humein chalna sikhaya ungli pakad
Maa ki mamta,pita ka pyaar
Behen bhaiyon se nonk jhon sage sambandhiyon se takraar
Doston ke saath kaate chand gudgudate pal jab umar thi kachchi
Na chalein hum kabhi sambhal.
Cheen kar le jati hai bina chetawni diye,
Kitni hai yeh kathor.
jahaan khushi is taraf hai aur tu hai nadi ka doosra chhorr.
Ae maut tera agaman na koi kabhi chaha hai
na shayad koi chahega
Lekin hathi hai tu bhi hamari tarah
Haar jeet ke is khel me, tune bhi baazi marna seekh liya.
Ekaant me baithe hi apni saason se lagta hai dar
Kaun jaane kab sunayi de yeh dastak aur aant ho yeh zindagi ka safar..
Maa ki woh khilkhilati hasin pita ka woh pyaar
ek dar sab se sath chutega dil yaad dilata hai baar baar.
Moh na tyaag paa rahi hoon main
Pyaar se na vanchit karo mujhe
Ae mrityu tere aage jhukti hoon main
Kaun jane zindagi ka diya mera kab bujhe.
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
My Father and I
Like any other child I would always say my daddy is the best dad in the world.In fact almost every dad is the best dad for his child and if there has to be a competition I am sure there cannot be any winner, for the competitors would pull each others's hair for giving one's dad more point:-).....
Well Well Well.....now that I am married and live happily(ahem ahem) with my husband dear, who leaves no stone unturned to keep me happy, take care of this heavy duty responsibility , I occasionally brag dad was this dad was that and it goes on till I realise a girl can no matter how much she loves her husband will always have her daddy dear in her heart.
My mum tells me stories of how my father would baby sit to both the sisters when we were little.We both the sisters have been raised by our dad mostly since mom never kept well after my younger sister's birth.
My childhood was a lonely one till I got Tulika to play with.But daddy would always be there when Mumma would scare me away with her facepack,Hide me behind his back when she would come running after having found out that the tamarind pickle locked in the Almirah was finished by Setu.What she didnt know was that besides Setu her husband D Great also loved tamarind and was the partner in crime.
I always had something new to do, to keep my parents on my toes.Daddy would take me to the Barber Shop for hair cut and made sure I had tiniest of hair.The Barber and his skills inspired me to the T to try my hands on this temporary best thing in the world.But where was the bait? I mean hair on the heads to be scarificed for my new hobby?
There I saw Tulika and her Nanny with long hair.With false promises of chocolates which I never kept upto and rebuilding Nanny Purnima's hopes to make her love story successful with the panwala in the market, I literally bobbed Purnima's hair and used Dad's razor to give new style on Tulika's head.The result was disastrous with Mom running after me around the house.Dad again was the rescue point.His soothing way pacified mom again for the nth time and he encouraged me saying I should never give up this creative mindset(Unaware of the next upheaval in my mind).
Tulika mostly underwent my torture ever since she was born.From being packed in my school bag to be shown to my school friends to be the object of jealousy( she had equal share in all the love showered to me) which led to pack my bags and leave the house at the age of 7.It is a different thing that the suitcase had my sister's stuff after she was brought home from the hospital.I was literally pulled out from the Rickshaw I sat to leave for my uncle's place in anger and was thrashed.That day dad was the meanest in the world for me. I felt he loved me less though I was fine after sometime.
On many occasions then, I found dad the worst dad in the world when he would thrash me for my silly mistakes in Maths, for being a rebel punish me for not valuing the money which is hard earned for not buying everything that I wished for.Less did I know then what budget is, what good comes out of the truly deserved punishment for wrong deeds.
Where daddy was like a friend buying bogoris(A citrus fruit grown in Assam) and tamarind, sneaking in mom's puja ghar and breaking the coconut and replacing the same with a new one in her absence, he was a mentor in everything I did.When I started growing up, from sex talks to boyfriend issue daddy never made me feel was my father.I at times acted very difficult putting questions which were taboo topics in Indian society but he took everything clinically.From letting me watch porn just to experience what it was like to taste alcohol he let us do everything just to realise what he said was right and also every decision of ours came with a freedom to choose and live our life our way.
Parting with dad and mom was the most difficult thing when I left home for higher studies after 12th.The long long letters to them, the phone calls, emails and photo sharing were the substitute.
With the newly acquired freedom and independence which was more than before,in every thing that I did dad's face was always in front of me.There were times when the glitz and glamour encroached my identity and I let it do so but I bounced back soon.
Whenever in dilemma and even after having done something that actually hurt my dad he patiently heard me cry, shout at him, scold him, and despite all this he would say I can for who else can I open up like this.
When I started working and on his occasional visits, he would wash Tuli and my clothes, clean the kitchen, tidy the house, something that he would do even at home but here it was for us in our absence we would but be overwhelemd.A workaholic to the core, I wonder how he finds time to stay fit, exercise religiously, be so well read, a social animal,help people selflessly, never say no, write for umpteen magazines and newspapers, serve the Nation as an Advisor to the Ministry of Mines and Donor, run his Restaurant, Handle the post of Vice President of Indian Body Building Association and the list is never ending.And after all this he stays away from the limelight, stays humble, listens to the Roadside Musician with much pleasure, loves to cook for his wife and kids,is a Ramdev Bhakt and his Political Organisation and works everyday to remove corruption from the society with his new venture in taking over an NGO and planning for female education in Villages of Assam.
At the age of 61 he is a kid at heart, still steals pickles from the Fridge, get in to slight bantering with the kids in the family, and still teases his both the daughters by waking them in the middle of the night to share a stupid joke.
Sometimes when I am sit back and miss him all these memories bring tears in my eyes and at the same time makes me feel proud to be the daughter of such a human being.Not to mention the camarederie he shares with my friends.
I truly respect the hunger for knowledge, the desire to selflessly work towards the Nation's development and fearless personality of his and I miss him every moment.I know he is going to live with me forever in my memories.I always pray to God I am born as his daughter in my next birth too.Like any other day I am waiting for his phone call.
Love you dad.
Well Well Well.....now that I am married and live happily(ahem ahem) with my husband dear, who leaves no stone unturned to keep me happy, take care of this heavy duty responsibility , I occasionally brag dad was this dad was that and it goes on till I realise a girl can no matter how much she loves her husband will always have her daddy dear in her heart.
My mum tells me stories of how my father would baby sit to both the sisters when we were little.We both the sisters have been raised by our dad mostly since mom never kept well after my younger sister's birth.
My childhood was a lonely one till I got Tulika to play with.But daddy would always be there when Mumma would scare me away with her facepack,Hide me behind his back when she would come running after having found out that the tamarind pickle locked in the Almirah was finished by Setu.What she didnt know was that besides Setu her husband D Great also loved tamarind and was the partner in crime.
I always had something new to do, to keep my parents on my toes.Daddy would take me to the Barber Shop for hair cut and made sure I had tiniest of hair.The Barber and his skills inspired me to the T to try my hands on this temporary best thing in the world.But where was the bait? I mean hair on the heads to be scarificed for my new hobby?
There I saw Tulika and her Nanny with long hair.With false promises of chocolates which I never kept upto and rebuilding Nanny Purnima's hopes to make her love story successful with the panwala in the market, I literally bobbed Purnima's hair and used Dad's razor to give new style on Tulika's head.The result was disastrous with Mom running after me around the house.Dad again was the rescue point.His soothing way pacified mom again for the nth time and he encouraged me saying I should never give up this creative mindset(Unaware of the next upheaval in my mind).
Tulika mostly underwent my torture ever since she was born.From being packed in my school bag to be shown to my school friends to be the object of jealousy( she had equal share in all the love showered to me) which led to pack my bags and leave the house at the age of 7.It is a different thing that the suitcase had my sister's stuff after she was brought home from the hospital.I was literally pulled out from the Rickshaw I sat to leave for my uncle's place in anger and was thrashed.That day dad was the meanest in the world for me. I felt he loved me less though I was fine after sometime.
On many occasions then, I found dad the worst dad in the world when he would thrash me for my silly mistakes in Maths, for being a rebel punish me for not valuing the money which is hard earned for not buying everything that I wished for.Less did I know then what budget is, what good comes out of the truly deserved punishment for wrong deeds.
Where daddy was like a friend buying bogoris(A citrus fruit grown in Assam) and tamarind, sneaking in mom's puja ghar and breaking the coconut and replacing the same with a new one in her absence, he was a mentor in everything I did.When I started growing up, from sex talks to boyfriend issue daddy never made me feel was my father.I at times acted very difficult putting questions which were taboo topics in Indian society but he took everything clinically.From letting me watch porn just to experience what it was like to taste alcohol he let us do everything just to realise what he said was right and also every decision of ours came with a freedom to choose and live our life our way.
Parting with dad and mom was the most difficult thing when I left home for higher studies after 12th.The long long letters to them, the phone calls, emails and photo sharing were the substitute.
With the newly acquired freedom and independence which was more than before,in every thing that I did dad's face was always in front of me.There were times when the glitz and glamour encroached my identity and I let it do so but I bounced back soon.
Whenever in dilemma and even after having done something that actually hurt my dad he patiently heard me cry, shout at him, scold him, and despite all this he would say I can for who else can I open up like this.
When I started working and on his occasional visits, he would wash Tuli and my clothes, clean the kitchen, tidy the house, something that he would do even at home but here it was for us in our absence we would but be overwhelemd.A workaholic to the core, I wonder how he finds time to stay fit, exercise religiously, be so well read, a social animal,help people selflessly, never say no, write for umpteen magazines and newspapers, serve the Nation as an Advisor to the Ministry of Mines and Donor, run his Restaurant, Handle the post of Vice President of Indian Body Building Association and the list is never ending.And after all this he stays away from the limelight, stays humble, listens to the Roadside Musician with much pleasure, loves to cook for his wife and kids,is a Ramdev Bhakt and his Political Organisation and works everyday to remove corruption from the society with his new venture in taking over an NGO and planning for female education in Villages of Assam.
At the age of 61 he is a kid at heart, still steals pickles from the Fridge, get in to slight bantering with the kids in the family, and still teases his both the daughters by waking them in the middle of the night to share a stupid joke.
Sometimes when I am sit back and miss him all these memories bring tears in my eyes and at the same time makes me feel proud to be the daughter of such a human being.Not to mention the camarederie he shares with my friends.
I truly respect the hunger for knowledge, the desire to selflessly work towards the Nation's development and fearless personality of his and I miss him every moment.I know he is going to live with me forever in my memories.I always pray to God I am born as his daughter in my next birth too.Like any other day I am waiting for his phone call.
Love you dad.
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