Irregular ranting by an Irrelevant thinker

Cute kid came for an injection today. 10 month old, very playful, smiling like an angel. " Gunjan " her mother filled in when I asked the name. " Hello Gunjan !" Her eyes lit up listening to her own name. We had a good start. Waved to my Hello, she took the rattle I gave to her for playing, trying to bite the bright colored plastic toy like all the kids of her age do. She sat in her mother's lap while I jotted notes in her file. " She has learnt to sit up, crawls on the floor ", Her mom was proud to tell me. 'She speaks Baba only' I nod. ' Milestones WNL' ,my pen scribbles automatically. "Put her on the table, please." I order her mother. Small village woman. She follows. "Hey, Golu!!!" I chimed my favourite practiced phrase, waving a stuffed teddybear in her face. I let her grab it. Two tiny hands, hold the toy far less cute than herself. As I put my stetho, I keep the eye cont...

Try to think about this woman—poor, illiterate, beaten by her drunkard husband, stranded by her family in the last month of her pregnancy. Delivering a Babyboy at a hospital in Sabarmati at 10 in the night, taking a Rikshaw (*Alone*) to take him to CHA because he didn't cry after birth. Her only ray of hope in this whole wide world is battling between injections, and Intracaths, and oxygen hose, and Ryle’s tubes, and ventilators and sensors and tangles of lines of iv fluids. Struggling to stretch every ounce of its existence to keep the tiny heart beating. Against failing kidneys and seizuring brains. And loads of ischemic insult, The tiny creature labours to breath. She—tired and sore—both from the unfairness of the world and the pricking episiotomy stitches. Broken by the toughest of contractions, lays awake, on the stony cold bench outside the nursery, not able to get up and quench her thirst without the pain ripping her apart into bits and pieces. Bright light, ...

Exactly 20 months of hiatus from this Blogspot . And now I am returning with a piece thought over a period of say 12-15 minutes. Started with a single word 'Existence' and going on typing whatever comes to my mind. Something like a conscious dream sequence, this thing has another trivia attached to it. That it is being typed while lying in the same hospital cabin I occupied 20 months ago, probably the illness has some trophic effect on my neurons, or is this day-ful of plain nothingness that jolts my thought from the depth of slumber to make me commit them to paper.(or blog- as the case is.) As usual. Shittiness in Editing and typing would be ecpexted. And poverty of the content should be more or less suspected. But here it is...... The irregular ranting of an irrelevant thinker . ( Literally !) "EXISTENCE" Rather than contemplating over our existence in this materialistic world why can we just not shut up and enjoy being here, right in the moment, relis...

Just finished reading 'THE WATCHMAKER' a moving tale of love, respect and melancholy. The original work aptly titled 'pavitra paapi' describes the life of a man who's taken the support of lies to do the godliest deed of preserving the ruth. A must read. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13334909-the-watchmaker This book, a small 180 page paperback, caught my attention while strolling in the Second Amdavad National Book Fair, and I decided to buy it as soon as I read the description on the back cover. " Kedar, orphaned and penniless, comes to Rawalpindi in search of a job. He finds employment as a watchmaker,but discovers, to his horror, that he has taken away Panna Lal's job, whose debts are mountins by the day................" on the very first day of this job, a deadly curse falls on his head from the wrenched heart of this Pannalal who confesses in his letter that he has not left him any option than to die. With this letter...

જીવનભર દોડ ભાગ કરીને, કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? નિરંતર માગમાગ કરીને, કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? ખુદા એ આ જીવન તુજને. દીધું મઘમઘતું ઉર્મિ થી એમાંયે તોલમાપ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? પરસ્પર સાથ-સંગ કરવા, દીધાં તુજને રૂડા સ્વજનો, સબંધ માં ભાવતાલ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? લલાટે લેખ લખ્યા 'તા, વિધી એ જે સૃજન સમયે , કરમ થી છેડછાડ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? લખેલો આંકડો છોડી, નથી કોડી જેની કિંમત, એ નોટો છાપ છાપ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? અહીં શતરંજના પ્યાદા, મંડાયા ખુદ ખુદા સામે, નઠારા પેચ દાવ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? થવાનું જે બદન તારું, કદીક બસ રાખ નો ઢગલો, નકામા ઠાઠ-માઠ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? જો આવ્યો છે આ દુનિયા માં, કંઇક તૂં નામ કરતો જા, ઊમર ભર રંગ-રાગ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ? જીવી લે આ જીવન હાફિઝ, હજી યૌવન ના અજવાળે, બુઢાપે રામ રામ કરીને,કહી દે શું કરી લેશે ?

It's high time I came up with any fresh Gazal. And a Gazal in English ? Well, that's probably my first time ever. So, here we go, a celebration of Pain and Sorrow ! ! ***** Walking down the path, leaving a trail sanguine. My soles pierced by, these Shards of Shattered Dreams. The thick crimson fluid, on the crisp green grass. A stark contrast by, these Shards of Shattered Dreams. Me limping through the pain, all tears gone dry. Mercilessly they cry, these Shards of Shattered Dreams. The failures don't stop, however hard may I try. Do not ask Why, oh! These Shards of Shattered Dreams. The Sun is set ablaze, the Moon a shabby dull pie. Like Stars going to die, these Shards of Shattered Dreams. The start was Eons ere, the end is neither nigh. As mirages they hurt my eye, these Shards of Shattered Dreams. With each breath I take, comes out an achingly deep sigh. Please stop torturing from s...

ગઝલકાર શ્રી બરકત વિરાણી 'બેફામ' ની સુપ્રસિદ્ધ રચના "થાય સરખામણી ......" નાં ચંદ શેરો જે ગઇ કાલે શ્રી મનહર ઉધાસ નાં સુમધુર કંઠે માણ્યાં, એ અત્રે વિષયવાર ઉપસ્થિત કરું છું - * ફીલસુફી- ઘોર અંધાર છે આખી અવની ઉપર, તો જરાં દોષ એમાં અમારોય છે. એક તો કઇં સિતારા નહોતા ઉગ્યાં, ને અમે પણ શમાઓ બુઝાવી દીધી * ખેલદિલી - કોઇ અમને નડ્યાં તો ઉભાં રહી ગયાં, પણ ઉભાં રહી અમે કોઇને ના નડયાં. ખુદ અમે નાં પહોંચી શક્યાં મંઝિલે, વાટ એની તો બીજાને બતાવી દીધી. * એકલતા - કોણ જાણે હતી એવી વરસો જુની, જીંદગી દોસ્તો એક તનહાઇની, કોઇએ જ્યાં આંસુ લુંછ્યું એક તો, એને આખી કહાણી સુનાવી દીધી. * ઇર્ષ્યા - બીક એકજ બધાને હતી કે અમે ક્યાંક પંહોચી ન જઇએ બુલંદી ઉપર કોઇએ પીંજરાની વ્યવસ્થા કરી કોઇએ જાળ રસતે બીછાવી દીધી * પ્રેમ - દીલ જવા તો દીધું કોઇનાં હાથમાં, દિલ ગયાં બાદ અમને ખરી જાણ થઇ. સાચવી રાખવાની જે વસ્તુ હતી, એજ વસ્તુ અમે તો લૂંટાવી દીધી. આવાં ચોટદાર શેરો લખનાર સર્જકને ઝુકી ઝુકી ને સલામ ! !

I was sitting in a corner in the library, writing furiously in my diary, confessing about all the frustration I felt about the badluck and suffering in my life. As I was being torn apart deciding whether to take the upcoming AIIMS PG exam or to choose a Job to support my family as my father was retired from his job. A senior doctor whom I didn't know passed by my desk, and just out of curiosity asked what I was writing in the thick notebook. I tried to hide my work,but he assured me that He won't look. I replied candidly that I was penning down my frustration on all the injustice my life was doing to me. He put a hand on my shoulder and sat next to me. Told me that the pre-PG exam or the unavailability of job was not that much big deal to get frustrated. There were many worse things which I should be grateful they didn't happen to me. He sat next to me and told me his story, how he had failed his exams twice in succession , and how he was so broke he ha...