The bell curve of life

Little stories tucked under my pillow, seldom told.
Our memories, faded yet vibrant, gathering mold, growing old.
Eminence of forty,
a little naughty,
a little spotty.
Bell curves and learning,
life turning,
a candle burning.
Mere mortals we are,
life close, life far.
Clinging to our memories and sometimes evading reality,
meaningless relations, shallow cordiality,
Losing steam yet clinging to vitality.
Silently the wheels are turning,
the bell curve of learning, a candle burning.

Masters of sweet nothings

Promises made, quietly forgotten
Sweet exterior, insides rotten,

We dreamt a dream, you dreamt alone,
Quietly I leave, sad, forlorn.

Now I know what to call you,
Masters of sweet nothings.

A promise here, an assurance elsewhere,
Over the years, reality came bare.

The commitment of time, promises thrown out,
The futility of change, the cementing of doubt.

Simple souls, lost in materiality,
Each sweet nothing, a myth not reality.

The hunger in their eyes, is it for knowledge or money?
Little masters of tact, misled by promises, ironic or funny?

Like putty in our hands, so easy to convert,
With lies and deceit, so easy to subvert.

Time to move on, time to build,
Loyal souls, members of a guild.

No we will not negotiate with those that are ours,
Even to others, send chocolates and flowers.

I came to build and not to destroy,
I leave you my all, go ahead, enjoy.

Walk through my garden, with each step be gentle
Be soft and yet be firm,
You are free to decide, pulpit or mantle?

I know now to call you, the masters of sweet nothings.

Ten Questions by Rainmaker

10 Questions
Dheeraj Malhotra
Dheeraj Malhotra is a Delhi-based partner with Desai & Diwanji specializing in Project Finance, Private Equity and Capital Markets.
Read more.

Shimmering lights, twinkling bulbs
crackling crackers, glittering sparklers
starbursts of multiple colors.

The return of a victorious king,
Triumphant and Joyous.
Centuries old, still revered.

Our lives, beliefs, fortune
an eternal circle, joy sorrow, love, relationships.
We evolve, the world revolves, the circle endures.


With love in our hearts we wish you
a very Happy and Joyous Diwali
and
a Prosperous New Year

Chaitanya, Nitaai, Nandika,
Mehr and Dheeraj Malhotra

Yes I know

Yes I know .
Years ago we met as children, grew, matured and started aging, separate paths, unaware. Then we met again, per chance and without designs. At least not designs that we created. Perhaps our meeting was a conspiracy between our fates, which were intertwined but of which we were ignorant.
We share thoughts now and sometimes our mornings , but always far apart. I visualize your day sometimes and you perhaps mine. We mean more to each other than we know, the tragedy is we think we know it all. The nice part is we know, it doesnt matter how much.
So, I know I mean something, still learning though how much I mean to you. I have yet to see your family, but if i know you from the time we spent together long ago or from your writings, there is a lot of love and sensitivity there. Your achievements make me proud vicariously and your words add a strange fragrance to that pride. What you wrote is beautiful, I wonder how much more beautiful is the inspiration.

Mixed Feelings

Came back from Mumbai on Friday evening and was happily greated by Chaitanya, Nitaai and Nandika shouting "Papa". Chaitanya rushing towards me at full speed Nitaai and Nandika carried by their respective caretakers. We headed homeward with a brief stopover intended at Ashwini Bhaiya's. He had recently been raided by the Directorate of Revenue Investigation and in right earnest, as his trusted lawyer brother/son, I was dutybound to swing by. We landed up at their home.

A little pekingese missile of hair called Whistly merrily hurled itself at my children, who promptly esconced themselves on the higherst reaches of the neares pieces of furniture, precariousl balanced as the canine apparently challenged. Slowly fmiliarity built up and I could ahve a conversation with Bhaiya. Oh, I forgot to mention that Nandika, the little one was the first to make friends with Whistly, I guess we all know the lesson to be learnt from that fact.

We sat and dscussed the horrors that had been meted out by the custodians of revenue and the enforcers of our tax laws. It took me back to my readings on dungeons and the demands of heartless monarchs and the miseries of the commoners. For once, it didnt seem that we lived in a free country. Visiting those feelings again. Thank you Narendra Modi, you made our dreams (nightmares) come true.

Mountains - in response to a friends thoughts

The rumble of burning engines, a distant sound;
gentle moist drizzle, trickling down my face;
silent monoliths invite my uncaring feet;
pure and gentle mistrals greet my countenance;
blades of grass, millions forming a gentle sheet;
feathery brush, berries still green.
Bottlebrush coyly gazing at its own reflection,
swaying in abandon at its own direction;
lavender and peach canopied trees;
mooing cows, crowing roosters, cackling geese;
all carried by the gentle breeze.
The words are there, not cast asunder;
I lack the time, not literary thunder.
The rumble of burning engines, a distant sound,
paradise lost, paradise found.

Observations on my Mumbai flight

The Ecstasy of Innocence

headphones suddenly found

by a little child, while the plane was still on the ground,

gentle gestures, curious minds

parents ignorant, thoughts in a bind,

soft words loudly spoken,

tolerant travelers, silences broken,

two little brothers bound in a pact,

first time flying, not corrupted by tact

a journey of sorts more than one,

our plane flew onwards to the setting sun,

a delighted exclamation in first flight,

loudly appreciating the aerial sight,

peering eyes, they look for their home,

their city to them, prettier than Rome,

a larger view, yet everything so small,

little boys missing the paradox in it all.

The ecstasy of innocense, the beauty of flight.

Reality?

Gentle sensations
Fragrant memories
A little thought
A vision conjured
Suddenly she is alive
Apparition or reality?
When reality is gone
The memory will survive
In my little world
she will become a sensation.
Tell me, which is reality - which the apparition?

come little angel,
give me your sorrow,
for i am nothing but your tomorrow,
before we commit,
you have a little smile that i need to borrow.
I trust you have tears,
I too have fears,
Love, vision, mirage, the delusion endears.
They call it love, with such watery eyes,
Tarry just a little, event the delusion dies.

Just the thought hurts so much, cant even think how harsh the reality would be.

A silent scream, piercing through the darkness
Does your heart hear it too?

A throbbing heart writhing in pain
Wondering if it was all in vain.
A mother sitting by a motionless child,
crazed mind, emotions wild,

A silent scream, piercing through the darkness
Does your heart hear it too?

Memories of bowls and dishes sterile
Endless spills, cleaning futile
Tiresome days satisfied armpits
Where her baby’s little head snuggles and sits

A silent scream, piercing through the darkness
Does your heart hear it too?

Little feet and their pitter patter,
Tirelessly evading a beseeching platter,
Mutliple colours on stainless steel
Carelessly sitting on a rubber wheel

A silent scream, piercing through the darkness
Does your heart hear it too?

To friends again, also to the ones I dont see anymore

enjoying your lives as you whizz by,
trying hard to keep up pace
with your sprightly steps and amazing grace.
to each of you I wish the best.
thank you all, our friendship has withstood time,
changing fortunes, changing climes,
whilst we moved on from nursery rhymes.

To friends on a monday morning!!

another weekend out of 52,
another year will also pass,
meaningless soirees meagre interaction,
intellectually moved just a fraction,
to sit and talk or interact with meaning,
to exchange thoughts and consider leanings,
one on one or a little more,
to use a seven iron and cry out fore,
fervently discuss within the foursome,
in crocodile tees each one so handsome,
of likened minds that rush to the cart,
leaving home for an early start,
saturday nights and hung over sundays,
why do we not meaningfully gather, to sit and imbibe of meaningful thought?
I need you to bounce my careless thought,
to see what ought to be and what not.
So walk with me my splendid friend,
and talk with me my splendid friend.
Take me to my journeys end.
Love me as you always did
Be the light when I am dark
Be my float when I am heavy,
Be around throughout my travels,
Share with me whilst our life unravels.

A recent judgement passed by the Delhi high court that I beleive will be helpful to all. It relates to a married daughters right to reside with her father and eviction. Theres a bit of a constitutional flavor to it that would interest people.

http://delhicourts.nic.in/Sep08/Subhash%20Chander%20Gupta%20Vs.%20Vasudev%20Kumar.pdf

A blog of my own

"श्री"

"Art for arts sake, or art for the people? Artists dilemma"

Pat came the response when I asked Vishruta "what is expected of me on a blog? Should I type things that I believe people want to see or should I let my fingers ramble on?"

Given a choice, ramble on I will. Art for arts sake, pretentious, but worth a try. I am no artist after all.

Now to why I wanted the blog. Is it because it is the ultimate form of self adulation. My thoughts deserve to be out there for all to learn or see, right? Yes at first and on second thoughts, No! Each visitor to my blog , I am told, can comment (thank you for stopping by, and thanks but no thanks). Thats completely out of control, criticism and that too of my thoughts or me, a definite no no. For that reason, the pragmatic control freak in me started weighing the pros and cons.

I want the blog because I am told that it is a way for me to reach several individuals regardless of whether or not they are on my friends /contacts list. My objective is dual, firstly, maximize traffic, therfore, include as many relevant words as I can think of, so that anyone searching for something on those words will chance upon this blog, so that is the "thanks for stopping by" bit (I can make money selling adspace).

The second is to ensure that each visitor chances upon such views as would elicit diverse responses, that would be "the enlighten me" bit. In addition, hopefully between my now middle aged friends and I, we can help some of the younger lot understand the true meaning of nirvana.

माया मिले और राम।

Cliched and borrowed as it may sound, I finally have a blog of my own।

ओस्स्स्म्म्म!!