thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai!!!

This is a re-post

Being sick and in bed really does have its advantages. I am finally getting back to reading and catching up on some of my favorite programmes in television. Keeps my mind occupied. Ya I do have meaningful conversations with Brownie (my softie) but then Brownie agrees with everything I say…. so there is not much conversation. So I have to watch some real stuff happening. The books I read these days do take me to my favorite pink cloud but then again i need something challenging for my grey cells. It is all pink there. My cells are in perpetual fear of getting white…. so I watch TV. Hey!!! i no that they dont make your cells grey, rather blue, white, red and even yellow (maybe the bile manages to reach up) thanks to ekta kapoor and himesh reshammiya. They seem to dominate every channel I surf. I so hate them. Thanks to discovery and travel and living. I get my trivia from there.

I came across this advert the other day of an insurance company who was selling the concept that everybody desires a little something more. It showed a young guy crossing a street vying for a motorbike that another guy drove. The guy who drove (oops rode!!!) the motorbike vied for the chipku girl who sat behind another guy on his motorbike. The girl vied for kids with the mom and the mom with the kids for a diamond necklace. The diamond necklace was being bought by a man who was bald who again vied for the hair the first guy on the street took for granted. Neighbour’s envy owner’s pride. Everybody today wants something more that he does not have and somebody else has. (grass greener on the other side). The whole economy is surviving on this very sentiment.

I am reminded of a poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes :

Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Man wants but little here below.”

LITTLE I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten;–
If Nature can subsist on three,
Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
I always thought cold victual nice;–
My choice would be vanilla-ice.

I care not much for gold or land;–
Give me a mortgage here and there,–
Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share,–
I only ask that Fortune send
A little more than I shall spend.

Honors are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names;
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo,–
But only near St. James;
I’m very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator’s chair.

Jewels are baubles; ‘t is a sin
To care for such unfruitful things;–
One good-sized diamond in a pin,–
Some, not so large, in rings,–
A ruby, and a pearl, or so,
Will do for me;–I laugh at show.

My dame should dress in cheap attire;
(Good, heavy silks are never dear;) –
I own perhaps I might desire
Some shawls of true Cashmere,–
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.

I would not have the horse I drive
So fast that folks must stop and stare;
An easy gait–two forty-five–
Suits me; I do not care;–
Perhaps, for just a single spurt,
Some seconds less would do no hurt.

Of pictures, I should like to own
Titians aud Raphaels three or four,–
I love so much their style and tone,
One Turner, and no more,
(A landscape,–foreground golden dirt,–
The sunshine painted with a squirt.)

Of books but few,–some fifty score
For daily use, and bound for wear;
The rest upon an upper floor;–
Some little luxury there
Of red morocco’s gilded gleam
And vellum rich as country cream.

Busts, cameos, gems,–such things as these,
Which others often show for pride,
I value for their power to please,
And selfish churls deride;–
One Stradivarius, I confess,
Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess.

Wealth’s wasteful tricks I will not learn,
Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;–
Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
But all must be of buhl?
Give grasping pomp its double share,–
I ask but one recumbent chair.

Thus humble let me live and die,
Nor long for Midas’ golden touch;
If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much,–
Too grateful for the blessing lent
Of simple tastes and mind content!

Yeah!!! I no!!! me and my poems. But honestly I do not know of anyother method that expresses emotions and sentiments so well than……. poetry!!! Yeah pictures!!! Hey I am working on that so just settle for this till i start producing them. The poet here says I want a simple hut, one with brown stone will do which will overlook the sun. I will do with plain food but three courses and vanilla icecream would be nice. I dont want money or gold or land, instead a bank mortgage, bank stock, and some shares will do. I dont care for titles he says, but a chairmanship somewhere would be good. I dont care for big diamonds but i could do with some small ones on my pin and some rubies and some pearls. For my wife i dont mind her wearing cheap clothes but some heavy silks and true cashmere are never expensive for her. I do not want great horses, good ones, some of them would do for me. I would also like to own some pictures not much but of raphaels and titans because their style is impeccable. How could I do without them. I cannot understand the wasteful tricks of wealth he says. I am a humble person. I do not want much in life. I am grateful to god that my tastes are very simple and my mind content.

I am reminded of a poem my mirza galib (or may be of mir dont remember)

kisi ko mukkamil jahan nahin milta
kisi ko zameen to kisi ko asmaan nahi milta..

another one related

hazaron khwahishyen aisi ki har khawahish par dam nikle…..

Need I say more!!!! Some want money, some want fame, some love, some luxury, some material or for that matter some want GOD. The common thing in everything is WANT. You cant live in today and not want something. The something can be different but you do WANT something whether you accept it or not. You cant have everything. The disparity is created so that you want something and strive for it and to fill that blank in your life you have to work hard – physically, sometimes emotionally, sometimes both ways and in all this you look forward to tomorrow. Mostly quite bleak but then that is all you have.

Wants and desires are something that I guess will never end. When one want is satisfied another comes up. Humanity is surviving on this very sentiment. This act is justified by the fact that if you dont have wants and needs you will have to probably have to leave the common man world and take vanvaas/sanyaas. Man works hard day and night for this very purpose. With the market today booming with choices and options, Man’s desires to own the latest of everything keeps going up. Sometimes it even exceeds what you can afford. Sometimes it is to be in midst of the “IN” crowd and sometimes for the status symbol. Everybody wants that little extra. They strive for it. They push a little harder, work a little harder. No wonder I see people of my generation working so hard to be better providers for their families than I probably saw my father and his generation. They work a lot harder these days. My dad always had ample time for us. I dont think that today’s parents have that. Yeah they go for vacations…. lots of them!!!

I once had a friend who gave me a weird concept. He was neck down in mortgages on his car, house and even took personal loans. He told me that it is actually a motivation for him to work harder than he was doing presently. The loans motivate him to push a little more harder and work a little more. I wonder what will happen if there is a breakdown in his scheme of things…… something that he had not planned for. Is he really ready to face the repercussions for that or for that matter is his family ready to face the realities in case something happens to him??? Would they be able to sit on the leather couch and watch the LCD tv (brought on loan) thinking of him sick or something else??? I wonder!!!

I am not averse to more wants and desires. I once claimed to my aunt that I did not want anything in life, I had very simple tastes and could live in a meagre income. But that is not true like the poet I wouldnt mind the something extra but it does not mean that i cannot live without it. I can!!! But no I will not vie for what others have – materially or otherwise. That is something i would not ever do. I guess that comes with my middle class upbringing that I was brought up with and I am proud of it!!! I once heard someone say something on the same grounds and I actually scoffed him because just days back he had returned from a vacation with his family in Singapore, his favorite place for a holiday with his family and mind you all this on a personal loan.

I think a easier way to remove this frustration of running a treadmill of wants and never ever reaching anywhere, is to concentrate on NEEDS. The world of NEEDS is not different from the world of WANTS…. sometimes even synonymous. But then NEEDS are easy to deal with. But I think that before embarking into the world of needs and wants – one should check their balance sheet for both their assets and liabilites and make sure that their sinking fund can bear the burden of the losses incurred. I mean that both materially as well as emotionally.

Moral of the story : Try to be satisfied with what you have else you may not have even what you have today. I end today with a song from a bollywood movie khatta meetha (oldie) “thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai” somehow not able to get upload the song so posting the link watch it. It is beautiful.

thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai
zindagi phir bhi yahaan khubsoorat hai

jis din paisa hoga vo din kaisa hoga
us din pahiye ghumenge aur kismat ke lab chumenge
bolo aisa hoga
thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai

sun sun sun hawa chali saba chali
tere anchal se ud ke ghata chali
sun sun sun kaha chali
main chune zara asman chali
badal pe udna hoga
thoda hai thode ke zaroorat hai

hamne sapna dekha hai
koi apna dekha hai
jab raat ka ghungat utre ga
aur din ki doli guzre gi
tab sapna pura hoga
thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai.

chotisi ye duniye meri poori duniya hai
ang liye rang liye sang chalenge
sath hai hum sath hai sab sath rahenge

thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai
zindagi magar phir bhi yahan khubsoorat hai


Just another day 2 (poetry)

hey there !!!

Yesterday’s work-out session left me totally drained so much that I had to resort to analgesics to sleep. Oblivion came much much later at 1:00 in the night……. that’s when hubs finally returned. Since both of us seemed to be burning the candle in both ends……. and I have the option to take it slow…… I decided to do just that. I am taking a holiday today and going to do fullto chilling today. Hubs is working for more that 18 hours these days. He only comes home to sleep…… not to my liking I must say…….. so I am getting him to take a break as well…….. that will be on Mahashivratri. I will be fasting that day.

Yesterday, at the gym, there was this lady who works out with me…… she is older…… around fifties. She refused to do shoulder press because her biceps were getting hard. I mean that’s the reason why we are all there. The way she said it, had me in complete splits. I could not stop laughing whole of yesterday. Even yesterday when I was relating the incident to hubs I was laughing in spite of both my heads throbbing (that’s what it felt that I had two heads).

Poetry……. you can either hate it or love it. I have rarely seen people be indifferent to poetry. Poetry is the language of the soul…….. it comes from the heart to rest in your soul until you attain the feeling of bliss. I know a lot of people who absolutely hate poetry so much that when you mention the word itself it gives them the jitters. A very good friend of mine was just that. How much ever I tried to make poetry interesting to him…… it just would not make sense to him. I would recommend all the best of poetry ever written to him but naaaah I could not change his ideas about poetry.

As for me I used to dabble in poetry when I was in college. In fact, the inspiration for romantic poetry would come to me in the most unromantic of situations…… for e.g. I wrote some of the best bits in Nanwani’s (whom we had nicknamed Dragon) business Administration lecture. I am not so good though……. but like to write. These days I have lost it. I cant see anything poetic around me so I resort to the likes of Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Shelley. I find them more satisfying than anything I have ever written…… I even have a blog totally dedicated to everything that is pink and rosy in life.

The reason I am raving and ranting about poetry is that yesterday I was teaching my kids poetry appreciation and man it was the most disgusting experience at first, with all of them yawning and almost going off to sleep……. so I tried to hit on their nerve with romance…… Shakespeare…….. That worked for a few who looked wide eyed at me but the cynical ones did not move……… Ultimately I decided to use my bramhastra….. the ultimate weapon…….. story telling!!! Theodre Tilte and Anabelle woke one and all. Everybody woke up and it was again the same euphoric feeling. I love the eyes of innocence. I just cant have enough of it. The wide-eyed innocent look is so amazing I just cant get enough of it. Ultimately when I was doing Lochinvar they were all awake and were even contributing!!!! Even Rudyard Kipling got to them. Amazing na !!!!I ended yesterday with Owl and the pussy cat and they all left smiling.

My kids actually love poetry after all!!!!

It was so important for me to get them to share my love for poetry that I had to take this extra mile. On bleak days when nothing really works……. Poetry warms the soul. It gives you hope….. the strength for a new beginning. It is inspiring…… it is funny….. it makes you cry……. it makes you awe struck…. it is the language of the heart….. a place where every thing is pure. Poetry is a whole world by itself!!!!

For people who hate poetry………. You dont have any idea what you are missing in life!!!!

urdu poetry on pink cloud.

This week starting the 11th of January to the 17th of January 2009 I will be posting urdu poetry alongwith the translation in English by some lovely poets like Mirza Ghalib, Mir, Faiz, Faraz on my site the pink cloud . Also will be posting one rubaiyat each day of the great Omar Khayyam. These are very close to my heart and as I said earlier there is nothing like poetry to express ones sentiments. Let me know how you love them because you can either love poetry or hate it. Enjoy!!!

A tribute to Dida

Today is my grandmother-in-law (Dida’s ) Shraddh ceremony. Today as all the rituals and ceremonies take place, I want to pay my obeisance to her in my own way in the words of Tagore:

Aguner poroshmoni choao prane
E jibon punyo koro
E jibon punyo koro dahan dane

Amar ei deho khani tule dhoro
tomar oi debaloyer prodip koro
nishidin alok shikha joluk gane
Aguner poroshmoni choao prane
E jibon punyo koro

Adharer gaye gaye parosh tobo
sara raat photak tara nabo nabo
nayoner dhrishti hote ghuchbe kalo
jekhane porbe shethay dekhbe aalo
byatha mor uthbe jole urdhopane
Aguner poroshmoni choao prane
E jibon punyo koro

Ria and Jayonto

you can watch the video of the above song on You Tube sung very nicely by Padmaja.

and miles to go before i sleep

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


On the surface, this poem is simplicity itself. The speaker is stopping by some woods on a snowy evening. He or she takes in the lovely scene in near-silence, is tempted to stay longer, but acknowledges the pull of obligations and the considerable distance yet to be traveled before he or she can rest for the night.

Like the woods it describes, the poem is lovely but entices us with dark depths–of interpretation. It stands alone and beautiful, the account of a man stopping by woods on a snowy evening.

The basic conflict in the poem, resolved in the last stanza, is between an attraction toward the woods and the pull of responsibility outside of the woods. Woods are sometimes a symbol for wildness, madness, the pre-rational, the looming irrational. But these woods do not seem particularly wild. They are someone’s woods, someone’s in particular–the owner lives in the village. But that owner is in the village on this, the darkest evening of the year–so would any sensible person be. That is where the division seems to lie, between the village (or “society,” “civilization,” “duty,” “sensibility,” “responsibility”) and the woods (that which is beyond the borders of the village and all it represents). If the woods are not particularly wicked, they still possess the seed of the irrational; and they are, at night, dark–with all the varied connotations of darkness.

Part of what is irrational about the woods is their attraction. They are restful, seductive, lovely, dark, and deep–like deep sleep, like oblivion. Snow falls in downy flakes, like a blanket to lie under and be covered by. And here is where many readers hear dark undertones to this lyric. To rest too long while snow falls could be to lose one’s way, to lose the path, to freeze and die. To be lulled to sleep could be truly dangerous.

The woods sit on the edge of civilization; one way or another, they draw the speaker away from it (and its promises, its good sense). “Society” would condemn stopping here in the dark, in the snow–it is ill advised. The speaker ascribes society’s reproach to the horse, which may seem, at first, a bit odd. But the horse is a domesticated part of the civilized order of things; it is the nearest thing to society’s agent at this place and time. And having the horse reprove the speaker (even if only in the speaker’s imagination) helps highlight several uniquely human features of the speaker’s dilemma.

One is the regard for beauty (often flying in the face of practical concern or the survival instinct); another is the attraction to danger, the unknown, the dark mystery; and the third–perhaps related but distinct–is the possibility of the death wish, of suicide.

Not that we must return too often to that darkest interpretation of the poem. Beauty alone is a sufficient siren; a sufficient protection against her seduction is an unwillingness to give up on society despite the responsibilities it imposes. The line “And miles to go before I sleep” need not imply burden alone; perhaps the ride home will be lovely, too.

My favortite poems


I’m back had been to mums for a week and had a blast. It is always fabulous to go to the home that you grew up in….. sleep in the same bed where u slept all ur life…… Ya home is where ma is…. where pa is…. it is the next best place to heaven…. where ur secure and where nothing can touch you. I seldom go there these days for reasons unknown to me!!! but whenever i do….. I am again the small kid in my room… Thankfully for me, Ma and Pa never changed my room at all so it is the same whenever i go there… the peace, the simplicity, the no judging me thing is so marvellous that i really am upset whenever i have to come back.

Donno maybe i am in nostalgia again or whatever i am putting in my favorite poems in today’s post. I start with my most favoritest shakespeare’s sonnet “Marriage of true minds” this was part of my english language curriculum in college and i cd write pages on that so much that my teacher had to actually just give me all the marks and ask me to stop writing…. I dont think she even read the whole thing. I already put in Solitary reaper in my last post so wont repeat that. The next poem is my mom’s favorite “Daffodils” by wordsworth then it is Tennyson’s “home they brought her warrior dead” and last my favorite “Annabelle” by Edgar Allan Poe (All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream -Edgar Allen Poe)

Marriage of true minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare talks about the constancy of Love. The principal theme of Sonnet 116 is that love is constant despite the corrosive power of Time and chance. The sentiment expressed here was familiar to Shakespeare’s readers and to us from the customary marriage ceremony.
“The marriage of true minds” is a phrase both widely used and difficult to understand, at least in the way Shakespeare meant it. When we speak of a “marriage of the minds” we get around the problem of what “true” means. The notion of compatible intellects is certainly part of the original phrase, but in Shakespeare the word “marriage” is less neutral; he’s speaking of a total relationship—both intellectual and erotic. “True minds” doesn’t mean “authentic minds,” but “faithful spirits”; “truth” in the Renaissance still had “fidelity” as one of its primary senses.
If you follow this point, you can see how Shakespeare gets on to the topic of constancy in love. Love really isn’t love at all, he says, if it bends under circumstances or alters because the world around it is in a constant state of alteration. Love isn’t an affair of convenience, but resolute, like “an ever-fixèd mark” (a seamark: some static object used to guide navigation). Like a seamark, love should weather all tempests without tribulation, serving like a star to wandering barks. The poet says that no obstacle is possible in the meeting of two hearts. The world and its lovers too are errant, and need stable principles for guidance; love is imagined as an almost external thing, beyond the shifting sensations of the lover.
At the start of the sonnet’s third quatrain, the narrator asserts even though Time inevitably exacts its toll on physical beauty and leads to the “doom” of mortality, true love remains. “Love’s not Time’s fool” captures the gist of the sonnet as a whole.
The ending couplet, though, injects a false note into the text. The narrator challenges others to the impossible task of disproving his argument that true love is constant and then uses both his own verse and the existence of love at-large as his proof.

william wordsworth

I WANDER’D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped 
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept 

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee— 
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.’

Annabel Lee
Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

That is about my most favortiest poems…. I totally forgot about Home they brought her warrior dead…. thanks Christy for reminding me about it!!! Whenever i go down this lane of all these poems I totally get weepy and giddy!!!

Nothing more today will stop at this juncture cant say more !!!! need I????

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