A Lotus in the Swamp

An invitation that inspired a journey

As the auto- rickshaw see – sawed over the innumerable pot –holes

Finally coming to a halt at a township where people were stacked like sardines in a tin

Buildings stacked like bakery shop sandwitches

Racks of floors spread across to fit 17 of those tins

My eyes rolled over those stacked buldings in the left and right

And at the road divider that made the division evident.

My intuition pictured a virtual map and guided me to the destination

Then there were these invisble vibrations, repelling me from not going to one of the houses on the other side of the divider

I became a clockwork man to my intuition, And I Manuvered my way to the entrance,

Dodging over the random heaps of polythene.

The tins were noisy, quite contrary to the way they were disciplined in every rack

An then a door opened with a smile

A smile with an aura, a refuge from the filth people were surrounded with.

I entered a room of a man with basic needs

Faith, knowledge, rest and travel

A wanderer

Who trusts his imagination inspired by printed letters, not by spoon fed plasma screens

Who exahales experiences like the throttle of his royal enfield

Who makes you realise that it’s not the size of the house, but the belief that gives a man the warmth and security which he desires.

And you question yourself,

What makes a man?

Does he carve the environment or does the environment carve him?

We blame the upbringing, but

If his individuality permeates and gets manipulated by the guild where he belongs or rather where he is forced to live

There would have never been

A lotus in the swamp

Sunday ka Tadka

so the Sunday .... man it can been more eventful than this
Stared off with a call from hamza saying there's a musician by the name Kavita Seth who desperately wants to fill the rhythm section for their shooting for 'UTV Bindass Music ka Tadka' show (the same one which Coshish went for almost a month back). I told Hamza it's not gonna happen as in i dont play impromptu without any rehearsals. he mailed me few of her tracks and i was taken aback by her voice. Her voice is what can be categoriesed as 'Bulandh awaaz' with deep low tones and mid ranges. i worked on my basslines while listening to her compositions and was armed with my own compositions for the day.

We were supposed to reach at 5 30 which was the scheduled timing for the Kavita seth's troupe to hit on stage. the moment i reached the place it was heavy with percussive beats of reknowed percussionist Tafiq Qureshi and the kneaded melody created by Ravi Chary on Sitar. and i knew my day is gnna go good and it has already become eventful. so we met with Kavitaji's troupe and greeted them with fake smiles to cover up the feeling of being the weakest link on today's performance. hamza already had written Kavita's compositions in an algorithm, and i as usual didn't study for the exam :(

There was a good vibe of camaraderie in the air so i could feel comfortable and all the more confident. Draped in maroon kurta which was gifted by the 'haat delhi kyuti'. We hit the stage and twas time for setup. Then i heard a sound, a rustic sound of vintage instrument, takes to back to the era of the mughals and the Persians. An instrument that goes by the name Rabab, built like an alien spaceship with 4 strings to strum and the bunch of thin strings to create vibrance in the tones and resonance. Played by Chintuji who has been exploring the instrument for the last 15 years. i was convinced that today's performance will render hapiness into the Sufi souls.

And thus the first original compostion was been played and recorded on the Canon EOS DSLR's and what was before a bunch of session musicians now sounded like a 'band'. and we (hamza and I i.e.) made sure we dont end up being misfits among them as well. The 'Bulandh awaaz' still sounded like how it sounded on the earphones and i was truly tripping. The sufi themed song ' yaar mera gaar mera' was customised to infuse with the rustic reverberating rabab. The band was taking it's own sweet time and it gobbled up the night and seeped into the 'graveyard shift'. the session came to and end with soulful 'khuda wohi hai' and the energetic 'Sanam ab dil'. During the break me hamza and chintuji were jamming and the blues was 'high fiving' with the Sufi compostions. An impromptu jam carved itself into the composition and Kavita herself admitted reaching a state of trance. The song came to an end was and invited by a thunder of claps from the crew members and other performing artists. Kavitaji was truly happy with effort by 'half Coshish' members.

Up next was 'Rabani brothers', three khan brothers from musicals lineage who were so eccentric that they'd alaap hindustani classical ragaas during free time. Claiming they created shockwaves at their session on MTV Coke Studio. I was requested by the production incharge Chanakya Chaterjee to play bass for them as they couldn't bring their own session musicians. And since i was the only 'bassy' in the perimeter, and the room was heavy with humble requests from both the production people and the 'Alaapers'. Hamza had to bid goodbye has he had a long way back home.

I agreed and was looking forward to their rehearsals. I'd admit these 'Alaapers' were finicky. They expected us to be 'Raagafied' and caliberated so much that they always mutter to themselves "nahi maza nahi aa raha yaar" after every chunk of rehearsing. Twas a hostile situation and me with the bunch of other 'in-house' musicians felt restrained. Some how we all got on stage and tried to gel and hold on the other musicians and making sure to have minimal communication with the 'Rabani'. i'd admit the ambigious raagas of theirs could easily be dissected into western scales and the confidence held my hand again. Accompanied by guitar maestro Ravi Iyer. We also made a Reggae version 'Damadum mast kalandar'. and my overworked body was suddenly grooving. Inspite of the 'Alaapers' forgetting the lyrics and humming and retaking the song, the groove kept me going and it all came to and end at sunrise (7 am that means more than 12 hours). the 6 stringer baby was hanging on my faitgued shoulder for more than 10 hours. Whoa! that's quite a rush.

and finally Suyash from the production team and a good friend of mine pooled with me on the cab back home and i crashed into the 'monday' bed. Sorry corporati i aint working for you this monday.

Backyard hills

Swimming through the sheets of green fields
strokes complimenting the trumpet rhythms of 'toots and maytals'
the 'reggae' trek prepares to render
the hill greets me with a smile
riddled in liquid dust
I wave to the
human fins propelling in the pond
approaching the gargantuan's navel
winds shifts the dust trajectory
transforming, thus I soak in welcome showers
weak rocks give away
while the mud cemented ones volunteer a boost
spidering over the grinning rocks
walking along the natural caves
dried water reservoir affirms
the ruins of a civilization
perhaps ancient ..
a sight
wraith like sculpture in polished white
contrasting the pastel surroundings
park my sneakers
now soles caressed by wet earth
as i touch the marble feet
faith enlightens.. fear subdued
turn around..
faraway scrapers like tombstones from...
the materialistic cemetary
PANIC written in epitaph
Tear taps still firmly wound
Rejuvenated..
observing the tornado of swallow birds
communicating in their elliptical paths
disoriented peace
wet mud stuck to the second skin
a testimony ... to a beautiful experience

snake walk path beckons again
god descends from the smiling hills

triumphant breath

a place that jived a tornado
under the heap of debris
a gleam in gray
shivering in the cold
still breathing a steady rhythm
a faint smile of innocence
triumphant one
He picks up the baby
and the little one makes an involuntary wrap around his neck
As if it was meant to happen
mocking the ravaged den with her smile
the God's little one...
triumphant one

Angels from Vrindavan

Instruments of gods disrupts the cacophony of crows
dry leaves from bamboo shoots tempted to welcome the musicians
Acoustics rode the chariots of wind
and i breathe in deep
for the air carrying the divine sound
blesses my breath pipe
progressive patterns mock the still breeze
fingers tiptoes on the chiselled melody
webbed in the matrix of talas, reaped by the percussions
strings knead the wood thus weaving a magical ambience
draped in white

angels from vrindavan
shone in the rising sun

Dreamreel cogwheels

The dry purple leafs succumb to welcome the visitor
for his attempt turns futile to rattle the gigantic tree trunk
the mojo fruits sway
held at the tip of the slender branches
the visitor
slave to the experience the fruit will yield
Now the fruit loosens its grip n freefalls on the being
teeth digs on the textures
allowing citric juices to rendezvous with the pheromones
as the being lays on volatile pastel shades of grass
view of the sky sports a purple tint
the cloud intimately mounts on the beacon of amour
eclipsing the sun, inspiring a silhouette
shining in the nascent light
sheets of lust bubblewraps both
Entwined, in spiritual and physical embrace
spirits guides the involuntary sway

As the Dreamreel climaxes, the cogwheels creak counter-clockwise
Rewind :)

snowflakes of ashes

Feet ascend the dingy stairs
if my aural sense could be seen
the visibility is null
i touch those frigid fingers, possessed in cold
devoid of warmth of the soul
mind rolls back to the memories
her expression of love can be gauged by the spoons of sugar
that aided the creation of super sweetened chai
the memories roll like 'sunday family' flicks
It's said when you age
when the bodyclock reaches the threshold of maturity
the mind goes backwards
her medium of communication roamed unexplored territories
only the toddler could understand her feelings
the kid reigned where everyone failed
as she shares a secret conversation
the frequencies which can never meet our rational minds
now the infant tries to reach out to her again but the signals turn dry
held on the shoulders of four
she prepares for the final journey
Enrobed in the heap of damp woods
the flame now pierces through...
the bones which are laminated in the layer of shrivelled skin
tears of remorse trickles down the eye
remorse of time depriving me with her
when she needed us the most

the air is now consumed in the snowflakes of ashes

Glutton for sedation

Stand staring d room, drowned in the mist of indigo hues
the sterilized metal coated pods shine in the nascent light
now that the misery in the world amplifies
Man makes sure his sense doesn't burst up in flames
so yea the pods
the pods picture themselves as tiny metal warts
sprouting out of the skin
like a subway staircase leading to the veinal railway with
brain as the rendezvous point
Entertainment comes in the form of syringes
TV is the secret ingredient of those sedating hormones
Tequila worms are shrunk to the size of blood platelets
green shimmering fluid 'x' grins from the globular containers
fabricated blasphemy cements the walls
The walls around the emotions that strikes the neurons
the senses are tranquilized
as the walls are reinforced with layers of itself
the battle is won
smirks flows through the face of the

glutton for sedation

Monochromatic rainbows

The dark corridor and your beauty lits where the horizon ends
walking through the blinding darkness with a hope inspired by the aura
as the steps fuel the desperation
the white silhouette beckons
hope is now a certainty
the walks are now strides
but now you fade off like a death of a supernova
with each beat of my heart you dissolve in the darkness
the charm vapourises as i reach the end
I weep in agony
turned to the deafening silence
and there you are shimmering again in white where the perspective ends...

A Night with the Piper and the Princess

whoa! so ther goes a sexy start to a weekend. The rumours of Jethro Tull and Anoushka Shankar's concert bein cancelled /postponed/ stopped/ will begin etc . finally came to an end this friday at Shamukananda Hall. A big fan of this famous progressive rock band seeing them live was a privilege, wht next ? well kept my fingers crossed n wished the tickets dont go 'SOLD OUT', reached the venue 3 hrs early to get the tickets and voila ! it's here with me grinning. So there i was scouting the whole place .. taking a look at the event volunteers ... (damn the gals were hot!! ). a big boxes of Lays stax chips kept at one corner and i was thinking wudn't it b disturbing for anoushka to hear those crunching muching sounds at the auditorium, but yea they were smart enough to give it at the end of the show, people were grabbing it not minding to sacrifice the gentleman in them, but yea seems the gurls were prepared for tht.2nd floor and i was looking at the stage which is going to drown in the ambience of world renowned musicians. A 1 minute silence for all the victims of black wednesday and the stage was set for classical music. Like the horse, the rook the pawns and the queen the musicians were pegged on the stage waiting for the favourite move.The auditorium amazingly had a pin-drop-slience and each note played by Anoushka was crystal clear to the ears, thanks to the amazing sound arrangement and acoustics. The 'pep-up' jugalbandi lit up the audience and they craved for more. Next twas Ian anderson on stage introducing and even seasoning a bit of humor as the band members get to their thrones. Ian had an amazing stage presence and the oldies look was so deceptive as compared to the energy they radiated in the hall. They played their and my favs 'mother goose', 'heavy horses' and 'thick as a brick' and was in a 'bang-my-head-like-no-one-

watching' state and that did raise some eyebrows of uncles and aunties sitting besides me.My mind was already screaming out "paisa vasool" when anousha shankar reappeared on stage and twas time for the hindustani classical to fuse with the western celtic music and believe me nothing felt out of place even as the music came from the two majestically different parts of the globe. The flute triggered an imagination of the high swiss alps with the piper playing the instrument perched on the top and the earthly sounds of the sitar spewed vibrant colors on the walls of my imagination.The 'Tea with Anoushka' session finally came to an end with the classic 'Locomotive breath' rumbling with soft plucks of the string from the sitar.The ended up bein the best was all musicians getting their space for the compositions and one gobbling up the talents of the already multi-faceted individuals. The sound setup was mindblowing, from the distortions to the raw acoustics each tone was a treat to the ears.The day ended up with every1 getting lays stax 'cream and cheese' chips as the return gifts
well all i can say is
Bless are the ones who have seen the gods..

Natural born cynics???

'Eye on the TV, cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor it happens to be

Like:

"Killed by the husband"
"Drowned by the ocean"
"Shunned by his own son"
"She used a poison
In his tea
and he kissed her goodbye"

Thats my kind of story

Its no fun till someone dies'

started off with some lines from the song Vicarious by Tool. The reason y i wrote it it because cynicism creeping in people or lemme use a more diplomatic word "sensationalism" ....ohhh yea everyone craves for it rite from the toddler to the gramps. A soap opera TRP goes for a toss if ther aint no sensation in it, a husband needs to have more than 3 wives ... like each wife contributing to 25% of TRP's .. n yea it's a bonus if 1 of them is a vamp. Surf thru the idiot box n u'd find a ponytailed guy screaming his butt out "kya aap iss shakhs ko pehchante hain??", no wonder 'Sansani' has turned bout to b a cash cow for Aaj Tak. the 27*7 news channels are just waiting to squeeze out grapevine for the semi-conscious zombies who crave for summin to happen ... but hey it's keepin urself informed right?? We needta b informed bout the wrestler Khali's new moves, we needta b informed bout the kid who was stuck in well for 5 days ;cameras of all news channels trying to reach wher even the kid hasn't stepped in, we needta b informed bout some big-shot's weeding wher wine was in room temperature n champagne was served in red wine goblet, a reality program aint tht happening if ther's no 1 crying the producer wants the cameraman to zoom in to the glycerine tears .. wants the editor to add a grayscale tone for the amplified saddenss... "grey dammit i want more grey", "why's tht kid smiling, i want her to cry", sensation .... sensation... MTV roadies wnt work without a delhi spoiled bitch


yes why dnt u join me for a cup of sansani khabar....

The Epitaph of a cassette

Seriously i just cant believe how the thing which was a rage among the youth in 90's became extinct. the audio cassette... cute little thingy wrapped in a loop of brown tape .... the jaan of every walkman ... comes under the most preferred birthday present among friends. Well, it just remains as a showpiece in the music stores. People have also tried a creative approach to the thousands of stacked cassettes below the drawer... now they are been used as novelty furniture... like maybe a tea-table or wall accessory. With the advent of CD's, DVD's n MP3 players ...looks like our beloved cassette has to dig it's own grave.Now tht the cassette players in automobiles are replaced or used as ashtrays... lets have a moment of silence for our brown-tape pal. R.I.P
(btw tell u summin they make excellent novelty furniture ... LOLs)

That recharge of emotions when u met ol' pals

Ok here u are working 12 hrs a day, the computer screen staring at u and giving that saddistic 'ur-my-slave' looks , u feel like a bot assigned to do certain things not to forget doing those things under freaking deadlines. So an angelic holiday comes in between to save u from the mental turbulence. What do u do???? spend extra time playing ur recently downloaded games or orkutting with imaginary profiles ??? aargh ... get a life. how bout catching up with ol' pals? sounds gud , hell yeah it does, come on maybe they have a holiday just like u or maybe they too wish they'd get one day to get away from the materialistic world. It's rejuvenating meeting with pals who always make u feel like a star, pals who would share the bill from the awesome food u just had from ur favorite eating joint , pals with whom u cant stop taking photos n posing with , pals with whom u cant do nautanki n still not get embarrassed, it's a recharge of ur emotions. The day suddenly comes to an end and realise u had another milestone in ur memory.
So the next time u get a holiday from the monotonous 'action-replay' days of work..
make sure ur plan includes meeting up those ol' pals ...