Mehfil

“ Threats of narrow-minded Parochialism”

2012-01-05T22:50:00.000-08:00

When we regard Kashmir to Kanyakumari as One India, no one is an interloper for another!
What is an interloper anyways? Anyone who stays at my home still cannot associate with my joys, sorrows, hopes or aspirations; isn’t it? The English remained as intruders despite spending 150 years in India just since they could not be one with the joys and sorrows of the Indians. A Marathi settled in Kannadiga region, UPiite migrated to Maharashtra, a Tamilian dwelling in Delhi or a Punjabi living in Andhra Pradesh – If all these people reside with only their kith and kin (where they think don’t belong) simply out of their vested interests, remaining absolutely disinterested in bonding with the localities or respecting their language, culture, festivals and reverences; posing themselves as the competitors against the localities for business, employment and power; bitterness is bound to soar. A man expresses anger out of a right. It could be an emotional right as well. The feeling that someone is intruding or someone is trace passing is surely annoying. And then this annoyance becomes public. Intemperance of anything is poisonous. It is as preposterous to behave in such selfish manner with local people that they get intense feeling of being imposed on; as it is to breach the principle of democracy against Parochialism; and induce the selfish superiority complex within the localities. What are principles? Nothing but observing appropriate restraints. ‘Regionality’ need not always be a poison or a pest! Our regional languages are extremely rich from the literature point of view. Their treasure cannot be neglected. People who recommend to divide the map of India with straight lines; must be regarding those who live in there as sheer dots - as lifeless as the map itself. Birds of the same feather flock together and this togetherness gives birth to distinct knowledge and arts thus celebrating life. A region is not merely a piece of land created for the convenience of revenue officer. Its a system implemented keeping in mind the holistic development of the folks of our country. The reason why it’s necessary to retain the language based regions is that; a person living in a remote hamlet can interact with his governing authority with confidence. The compulsion to learn the language he has never heard; thus making it difficult for him to “learn” itself; must be ended.
However its of utmost importance for the people migrating from one part of the country to another must obey the principle that they will not attack on the minds, hearts and most importantly the breadwinning hands of the localities out of their selfish motives and provinciality.

Ultimately; the only way for us to live together harmoniously is – we must try to understand the cause behind the other’s loud cry; and if he is hurt by us then we must change our ways. This is the only true principle that will lead to a society living in harmony. Selfish sinners don’t follow it and weaken the society. A character named man; full of paradoxical natures; when has thought about how to reduce resistance and reduced it ; only then he has managed to stay at peace. Lets affirm this fact in our minds that a nation and a region are not against but they are complimentary towards each other. The threats of parochialism and racism are a serious matter of concern and action for both politicians as well as citizens.

[This is an excerpt from a radio speech Mr. Pu. La. Deshpande originally in Marathi.
I translated it since it appealed to me and thought of sharing it with all my Marathi and non-Marathi friends. ]

- Pradnya

2010-11-19T07:15:00.000-08:00

“Offbeat”

I’d determined to abandon you from my thoughts

For all misery you’ve installed in the world
For heartfelt prayers you overlook
For each time you fail to protect the noble
For every instance you let the wrong win over the right
For each cry of the innocent
For every tear for the impeccable
For all saints crucified
For all devils enthroned
For undeserved suffering met every now and then
For me and all like me
In You who trusted

Abandoning you did not help
Everyone else vacated my world
Don’t know if it were one of your conspiracies again
But realization dawned the hard way
And I find no one else but only you with me
Your invisible presence is felt around
You don’t justify but take on all indictments
You might not answer but you sure listen
Don’t know from where then
The answers come on their own
And so does the strength to breathe on
Path is lit just about a footstep

In your limited capacities you offer
Stillness of a frozen lake
Vast emptiness of the endless sky
Soothing calmness of the maturing night
Serene coolness of the full moonlight
Freshness of springing blossom
Silence in the dense woods
Your company in loneliness

And then my offbeat life goes on….again!

~Pradnya
15-16 Nov 2010

:)

2010-11-19T07:13:00.000-08:00

Okay! So, it all began with my cell phone getting discharged in the night without giving prior notice! Like any typical Twenty someone, I have complete dependency on my cell to get up, remember birthdays, get alerted about important to-do-things, and getting tracked down by family and friends. My SAMSUNG X650 also has been the first solid asset purchased from my own income! Hence no matter how much ever my friends hated it, this little thing had a special place in my life! However that day I forgot to feed electricity to the pale hungry gadget and it must have fainted somewhere in deep morning hours. It was a beckoning Saturday morning after a frenzied work week and I must have been dreaming about Aamir riding majestically on his brown horse with his hands up in the air (ref: RDB trailers!). I had then* reserved the Saturday morning slot for Aamir Khan dreams. My indulgent siesta was interrupted by noisy thumps on the door at 5 AM. It suddenly dawned on me that I was supposed to be up at least an hour back and ready to leave by now!
“Oh Sh*t…!” the words slipped down my mouth instead of my daily good morning greeting to the Gods. (Is it this sacrilege gesture that cursed my day ahead?)
I almost fell from my bed and rushed to answer the door in zombie…
“Damn this lock…” I muttered as I struggled to unlock the door to the He-who-must-not-be-named banging! Enemy at the gate!
[Note: I will not be disclosing the name of the villain of this story for legal reasons, so will be referring to him as He-who-must-not-be-named.
Since he is the villain, its needless to say that I am the hero of this story [;), Also, the name of my friend has been changed!]

“ I have been knocking since like 15 minutes! Where the hell were u and why the hell are you not ready” he was obviously angry!
“Oh Sh*t…!” Again, as I just realized that I was facing him in my night pajamas!
“ I …I dunno..I didn’t get up…I was sleeping…I had set the alarm…but it didn’t ring…God! WHERE’S MY PHONE!!!”
“God knows where is it…me and Ankita have been trying frantically to reach you since an hour but you are unreachable as if already lost in jungle”
“Its discharged...” I found it under my pillow only and dead as a rock. ”…that explains it”…I blabbered meekly.
“Damn that thing now. Our train leaves in 20 minutes from Shivajinagar and you’ve got 5 minutes to get ready and come with me, Lady!“ He commanded!
“…SO u better move…I dunno how people can be so irresponsible…hope you’ve at least packed your sack”…he kept on going!
“Hey! I didn’t ask you to come and pick me up did I?…I could have come on my own alright?” His last taunt hit me and I realized he was there uninvited and had not breached any promise to be ready at 5 AM sharp. So I need not obey his orders!
“Oh I see! First you should learn to get up on your own…anyways I don’t have time to fight with you and spoil my day…just get ready and lets get the hell outta here okay?”
“You know what? I changed my plans! I ain’t coming for the trek. So Goodbye please and a have great day ahead!”
“I see! So you’re not coming! Lovely! And what about Ankita? She sent me all the way here to pick you up and she is waiting for us at the station already” He was right this time! What about her?
“I will talk to her and explain…its none of your business” I snapped back.
“Let me get some things straight here Miss Joshi! I am here after a lot of struggle and I am not leaving without you. So you have eaten up 2 minutes to get ready now so GO!”

Don’t know why but I hurried inside without further arguments. Actually if it were not for Ankita, I would have sure dumped the idea of this trek. She was my best friend and wanted to go for her first trek and needed me with her. I kept all my rage and ego aside and unbelievably got ready in the remaining 3 minutes! We made our auto-rickshaw walla floor it literally fast as an ambulance…

Remember Kareena misses her train in ‘Jab We Met’? You would if you had seen me running for that train at Shivajinagar station…Despite our jack rabbit run, the train off passed us in front of our eyes, with our entire trek gang loaded into it.
Something that was feared had happened! Our train was missed, Ankita was sent with bunch of strangers, the next train was after 2 hours and it was the two of us left on the entire platform. The same two of us who cannot keep quiet for more than two minutes, cannot agree on even a thing and cannot be in each other’s company without fighting tooth and nail!
Awkwardly we stood on the platform for couple of minutes. My heart started pounding anticipating the fury of my fellow co-traveler… I suddenly felt guilty for him and my friend.
“I am sorry… I am sorry … I am sorry…” I murmured genuinely to him as I wanted to put the his anger off before it comes on me. Nothing else works like saying ‘sorry’ in such a situation. Miraculously without further blame-games he asked me if I was okay to try taking the state transport bus route to the village Ambivali(Ouch that name hurts…read further to know why!) we had to reach. Hastily I consented and there began our pilgrimage. I don’t even remember what route we traced. I decided to keep myself out of the decision making to avoid any further conflicts and decided to just follow the commandments!

He inquired at the ST Stand and we boarded the “laal dabba” ST from Shivajinagar. Got off somewhere and got into another one. Then got off somewhere again and traversed the next bumpy stretch in a noisy TamTam. Tamtam dropped us in some sidy village where we felt we were hungry. Gorged down the cold (and perhaps stale) Wada-pav’s with water from the dusty but packed mineral water bottle sold at the only makeshift kiosk nearby. Further to reach to “Ambivali (Ouch again!) we also hired an expensive private auto-rickshaw. Our trekking gang had already reached the base for the Fort Peth, our climbing target, on schedule and waiting for us at the public school there. They were tracking and in touch with us via his cell-phone

During this phase-wise journey myself and “the-he-who-must-not-be-named” chose our words carefully and avoided any typical highly inflammable topics since we both were already frustrated due to all the phenomena since morning. Slowly as time passed, the good weather and the beauty of surroundings perhaps calmed us both down and we could even smile at each other. Truly it was a day perfect for a trek. Not very rainy but moist air. Not sunny but high visibility. Cool breezes carrying fragrances of fresh foliage, all landscapes going green!! Monsoon splendor of Sahyadri’s dissolved our morning turmoil gradually and we both were now all set to join the gang and hit the slope…
I wish it were this simple though! Read further for the kahani mein twist!

Step-by-step and vehicle-after-vehicle we managed to make a victorious entry in the petty village. Locating the only public school wasn’t even a task.
“Here we are!” We told ourselves and pat our backs…My guilt now was melting…Phew!
“We made it…we’re at the public school! Where’re you guys? Why can’t we see you” He asked the lead of the gang over cell
“We’re very much at the public school yaar…waiting for you guys for the last 2 hours…we don’t see you either?”
Initially I thought they’re kidding. However, there were no traces of any trekker in the premises. After 5 minutes of heated discussion, the face of he-who-must-not-be-named turned sore again!
“Uh Oh!...Surprise?” I asked him in a lighter tone.
“Yea…Surprise! And a BIG one damn it ^$%^$&%^&%^”

The fact was that ….we had reached an altogether separate Ambivali village which was far far away from where our friends were parked! It was already 2 PM.
We were on our toes since 5 AM in the morning, had to stand each other since then, trudged a long and painful way hungry, thirsty, frenzied, had spent much more than expected, and… the trek stands missed! Wow!
Don’t even ask about the reaction of the rest of the clan. They enjoyed their hearty laughs ROFL LOL all of them.
‘Ankita must be fuming…I am so so dead’…I thought…

We both didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. In purest form of humiliation, we waited on the main road where some kind hearted bus could stop.
Quiet, tired, sleepy. It was over. Excitement, and anger both! We exchanged empty smiles and headed our way back home. Quite a fruitless effort looks like it, right?
I could be wrong but I think me and the-he-who-must-not-be-named had become friends from foes, and me and Ankita had gotten closer due the pains we took more or less for her! Not too bad!

Laugh at the thing, tease us for that…but that trek is noted distinctly in my diary…especially since it was missed! ;)

~ me

कत्थक ..

2010-07-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

In my mind I was obviously carrying a mixed bag of feelings – delight, excitement as well as anxiety while I filled the enrollment form…. I was finally going to start something I have been longing to do for almost a decade now.

I was only in class 7th and 8th during my toddler innings of Kathak. I recollect killing time in school for the thrill of rushing for my dance classes with my friend who stayed in the same building. Hunger otherwise hovering towards the end of school time would vanish God knows where. The fatigue of the entire day’s mugging would also not bother during those 2 hours of dancing on the guided verbal beats counted by my teacher. Learning the various Taals (Sorry! No synonym in English for this!) in forwarded in its patent tempos, practicing typical Mudras (facial expressions) and the most fascinating part was doing the Todaas as a team…all in sync. Same feet slapping on the floor at the same time, hands aligned in the same direction, maintaining the same niche of time while switching in between the Todaas… the resonance of everyone’s Ghungru’s jingling as one…it was like how thousands of sunflowers sway upon the swings of the winds together. Harmony was happening despite all our differences…so effortlessly…so beautifully.

Our good teamwork even invited some interesting stints our way. We performed on stage…before celebrities. For many social, cultural and even commercial events. Too young to be aware that we were gathering good matter to decorate our resumes, we went on dancing. We went on rejoicing. It was only during the performances, that I loathed my short hair and felt jealous of my other friends in my team who had long hair which would go very well with the traditional uniform of Kathak. My teacher had to take extraa pains to make a tomboy (that’was me) to get dressed as a Kathak dancer with Anarkali Salwar, wrist-full of bangles, dangling earrings, twinkling necklaces and loooong plait of hair decked with Gajraas(garlands)! These were also the times where we would get to officially do Make up without Mumma’s denial. I would keep it on and on till I slept( or till Mumma summoned to take it off) on the day of the performance. I hated my regular cloths on such days. Feasts and treats from parents and teacher usually followed the performances and those days were so special…we all felt like Miss India’s then ….

And shortly after the chirpy days were gone and the era of (so called) career building kicked off! My entire world revolved around some numbers flashing on the marksheets. The harmony, innocence and glee got replaced with competition, self-focus and tension. I was soon one of those zillions of people swimming upstream in the tide of struggle to “succeed”. My friend somehow refrained from this academic trap and continued pursuing Kathak. During these leaving years dance was a rare commodity for me and was limited only to socials in college fests and Garbaa in Navratri. However it was not unnoticeable how much I loved dancing. Whenever I got a chance I took quick dips in jive, salsa etc and even thoroughly enjoyed doing the silly “Ganapati dance” (NOM pls!). But whenever I went home and the voice of Ghungru’s came floating unto my ears from my friend’s window, they pinched my heart and reminded me that I was missing on something that was so so close to my heart and soul, upsetting me.

Years have gone by and my stereotypical IT personnel life has traversed its usual path…the Stress way!
I had given myself thousands of excuses why I couldn’t or can’t dance. I keep on doing things out of obligation of people’s opinions about me. Keep on ignoring the voices of my soul. Struggling to rush ahead while carrying my baggage of aborted projects, incomplete journeys and unfinished creation…

I had not realized that Dance was already acting as my sure-shot stress-buster even when I did not need it badly as today. Its only Art which has the supreme healing powers to absorb the stress and evaporate the same. And now as I have arrived at the point of “Enough is enough!” without even thinking about any consequences, I went and got admitted in a Kathak beginner’s program. Today was my first class. My new teacher asked me if I had learnt anything earlier and I simply denied for I wanted to start afresh. Devoid of any pre-conceived notion, any ego of “knowing” a bit of it. I took my first Tatkaar today and an anonymous joy filled my heart as if layers of my frustration fell of with increasing cadence of the Tatkaar.

I am in a batch of young school girls and I could see myself in each one of them. Most importantly, I just peeped in the mirror, and guess what? After long time and to my surprise, I saw myself there, too!!!

-- me!

2009-09-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

Never...

Never have I let my head rest
On any stranger's shoulders
Never let my aching soul seek solace
In any unknown arms
Never sold my respect and in return
Begotten sympathy
Never lured any innocent self
Misusing my charms

Never have I hurt a loved one with intent
Never retorted with unwarranted contempt
Never cast a stone in a serene placid lake
In undeserved fortune I've never claimed stake

I have travelled alone with my baggage on my back
No matter how tired, never have I switched my track
But in the surge of walk I have come so very far
On cold sleepless nights all I have is my twinkle star

I have danced all learned steps
But never have I felt the pulse of Jive
I have read and heard all melodious verses
But never has the music come alive

Never has my hand been gently held
Never have my hair been passionately smelled
Never have my heartbeats been closely felt
Never in love my resolves could melt

Yet

Never will I lose my faith in the Good
Never will I choose "want" over "should"
Never can the loneliness take away my Lord
Never can the silence mute my divine chord

I shall keep singing my song to the world
With cruel winds I shall fight like a bird
Gulp down my sorrows Put my smile back on
Never will my nights not await a new dawn

~ me

Awaiting my Monsoon

2009-07-13T23:44:00.000-07:00

Its becoming difficult day by day to watch the dark clouds just loiter across the sky and vanish away God knows where. Monsoon is half way through on calendar yet there has not been a single wet day this season. I feel like asking Mr. Varun Raj – the deity of Rain : Dude what’s the matter this time? Are you on bench or something?

I am no farmer who has lost all his crops to the drought and who has ended up in pitiable conditions. Nor am I a gypsy who is not able to find oasis. I live in a city where the water supply has been just “cut down”. I have the syntax tank installed at home and my shower still pours steady lines of water upon me to accompany my bathroom singing. I drink purified water and don’t remember my mouth ever being parched. Draught hasn’t hit me as yet even though it seems lurking right around the corner...

Thinking of the rain my mind takes a reverse gear back to my schooldays. Yea yea yea…the same dancing in the rain, paper boats, puddle jumps, fragrance of new school books , frog catching and all that most of us indulge in. The very act of huddling up in the warmth of the blanket on a cold rainy night, watching the dancing streaks of water upon the window pane and listening to their Taal-Vadya-Kacheri was a soothing exercise. No thoughts racing in the mind, no demands, no complaints, just an observing me. As if I were drinking the rain through my eyes and ears. Flapping my feet in the pool of muddy water trapped in my building was my favorite pass-time. But I am sure cleaning me after that stunt wasn’t mom’s. Thanks to BSES that no-electricity days which I adored, were celebrated only during monsoon. No homework that night. Shadow’s ballet shows on the walls. Candle light dinner at home, post dinner trek on the terrace with dad. I used to get to fiddle with torch only during this time. Those nights I have lived all my fascinations of the medieval castles lit up in the candles. Snakes used to show up sometimes which was a rare feast for a city child like me. I used to boast about my building watchman who had hunt down a water snake once upon a time in late 1970’s (when I wasn’t even born) to my classmates having them them listening with widened eyes and dropped jaws. He sounded like a Hero to us then. I used to suitably assume every stick visibly floating in water was a water snake and I was this brave girl to pave my way through them…like in Harry Potter! Thankfully I never had any genuine encounters with this category of danger, however as I grew up, there were many other hazards…especially for us traveling Mumbaikars!

Trudging through knee deep, dark and filthy sewage water outside the train station unaware of the potholes and ditches carved by Municipality…hell it was risky…it always is! Sitting in college lectures feeling disgusted about your feet, shivering in your wet clothes and urging the monsoon to get the hell out of Mumbai was a yearly ritual. Flooded roads, local trains delayed and cancelled, uncertainty of exams due to excessive rains, epidemics and unaffordable sick leaves amidst study pressures, wet books and thus to be redone assignments…monsoon was no more a friend like it felt during school times. Beyond my understanding was why on earth poets and filmmakers portray it romantic.

It took several more years and phases of life and different versions of monsoon experienced to understand that. Monsoon treks to lush green mountains. The panoramic views of the blessed and contented earth from their summits, roaring waterfalls, thick grass, wild flowers, soil fragrance, moist air, interesting group of friends and the natural “hit on’s” and infatuations in early twenties mostly happened amidst such atmosphere only... This most beautiful face of monsoon was none less than ecstatic. I recollect a very filmy incidence happened with me in the crazy London rain. I was walking past a pavement at Canary Wharf, the windiest place you can imagine. It was raining horizontal and vertical and I was drenched to the fullest with my overcoat dripping. My frail umbrella had turned into a satellite dish upside down and I was being pulled with its force. It was impossible to hold onto it at one point and my hand just gave up. It went drifting along with the winds and hit a handsome young British-man. He looked around and realized that I was the owner or that poor thing and am myself drifting along with force of the wind. Catching the umbrella, he gathered its frills together and gently handed over it to me with a smile on his face. In perfect Scottish accent he said “No use opening it” …I stood there in electrified numbness. Fortunately or unfortunately unlike in the movies we never met again, but that monsoon moment justified to me what a romantic season is all about…

Different types of rains, different times, different places…but it makes you get involved. Not only your body but also your mind soaks in it. Itsn’t it beautiful how every little leaf even on the thorny bushes blossoms after the very entry of monsoon? It’s the season of burgeoning life. No matter how inconvenient, how difficult it is, monsoon assures life…not just water. These days due to the aging effect and the social inhibitions its difficult to get away and play in pouring rain. But I consciously did that during the debut showers of this season, and trust me it did bloom something inside me which was dead...or at least dried out. I don’t know what that is but its alive now. I felt like a peacock flaunting his plummage.

Which is why I am really really waiting for it like that very farmer or a gypsy or a peacock. Yes, water shortage is a hovering peril but its not just about that. I am missing you monsoon…I am missing you bigtime…

Hey you Varun Guy – What are you waiting for? Get out of your bench and send me my monsoon…NOW!

2009-01-07T08:50:00.000-08:00

She couldn't fetch me fortune
Nor did she bring me any glory
But she put my heart to solace
By always listening to my story...

My unspoken dreams, my fears
My unhealed wounds, my tears
My expression of joy she broadcasts
Upon tides of time forever it lasts

Forbidden emotions she handles
Fizzled memories she rekindles
Despite all selfish forces
My vanilla soul, she endorses

She's been there from beginning
She'll stand by my till the end
She's none but my dear Poetry...
My forgotten old best friend

Pradnya Joshi
5 Jan 2008

चंद शेर ...

2009-01-03T21:31:00.000-08:00

बहुत मुश्किलसे रोक पाए है आंसू
हमें अब रोने को न कहो
मेहनतसे लाइ है होटोंपर हँसी
उसे यूंही खोने को न कहो

जाने क्यूँ मिली है सज़ा
हम तो बेगुनाह है
के इतने अपनोंके बीच भी
हम बेपनाह है

जिन्दगीने कितने सितम किए
हमेशा हमने की वफ़ा है
पर अब जिंदगीसे कहो कोई
के हम भी उससे खफा है

दर्द की नशा काफ़ी है
हमें तो खाली जाम ही मिला है
इस कदर दिल है टूटा
के न बचा कोई गिला है

खूबसूरत सपने सजाए थे हमने
न जाने किसके भरोसे
निवाले भी लुट गए थालिसे
जिन्दगीने थे जो परोसे

- प्रदन्या जोशी

That evening...

2008-08-25T05:37:00.000-07:00

“…and the call concludes with action item on the design team with a deadline of next week”…I completed my summary email taking my own sweet time and picked my stuff…all in hand and began waddling towards my cab. It takes a long almost a kilometer walk to reach from my building to the main gate. It being Sunday evening, practically nobody was there in/outside office. 6:6-30 was the time and the tired me was walking rather sluggishly. It was a beautiful evening. Twilight illuminating freshly manicured lawns… faraway hillocks resting peacefully…cool breeze driving waves in the artificial pond next to my glass building…scent of carefully tamed flowers filled the air…clean blue sky with occasional cotton clouds swimming in…without even realizing I was observing the campus like I had never seen it before. In the daily hustle bustle I never really had the time to feel landscaping at my workplace completely. Having been brought up in the chaos of the fastest city; I always craved for peace…serenity. I was crazy about mountain view, flowing waters, green lawns, flowery gardens and pure air…and there it was. All of it. Very much at my disposal awaiting my attention. I recollected a dialogue from one of my favorite movies Parineeta …” Tumhare paas kya kya hai tumhe pata bhi nahi hai”. This sudden realization dawned in me pushed me on the contemplative track.

I decided to enjoy the ambience for a little more while and parked myself on the edge of the fountain where water was purling by. I relaxed almost immediately. The peace filled in the air was dissolving the noise in my mind. In my leisure time I am usually never without music…in either listening mode or singing mode. But yesterday I didn’t feel the void for music. Maybe the hymns of silence were musical enough that my ears couldn’t hear but something in me could listen. The whole setup was complete. Just complete. And I didn’t want to move an inch…say a word…need a thing…

Who says meditation is tough?

-- Pradnya Joshi
25 August 2008

गोइंग ग्रीन!

2008-06-30T21:36:00.000-07:00

So what do you usually do on your Sunday mornings? Let me guess…get up as late as you can…sip on a hot ’n creamy cup of coffee munching on savories spiced up with Sunday Times(Yeah Sunday Times is a part of Sunday breakfast, isn’t it?) lazing around in the balcony…enjoying anticipative aromas of your Sunday special feast ‘in the making’ swaying from the kitchen...and by the time your mom/roommate/wife persuades you to finally go for your long lasting cozy bath, you realize the clock has already struck 12 noon where in you’re late even to catch a matinee! Half of ‘The’ day you had waited eagerly for, killing an entire tiring working week is over. Gone. And what have you done? Practically nothing! Isn’t this more or less similar in your case? With little variation as per our marital/financial/habitual status we end up ‘wasting’ our precious Sunday mornings…But not everyone does this you know. At least the members of Vasundhara have been doing something really incredible since past 90 odd Sundays by spending just 2 hours in totality! They are going green…

Continuous Contour Trenching is the best proven technique that has been successfully executed throughout major water harvesting and forestation projects, especially in the Indian sub-continent. It involves slashing the mountain to mark 2 feet wide contour trenches along the object hill in concentric circles and parallel to each other and to the ground from Top-To-Bottom with the only glitch being these contours should have no slopes. That’s IT. This simple paradigm has the potential to sustain forests, conserve the fertile layers of soil, and harvest most precious nectar of nature… rainwater! The rainwater otherwise descends with full gravitational pull scraping all the possible earth and leaving behind eroded rocky mountain which turns impotent to conceive further foliage. Hundreds and thousands of such hillocks and mountains have thus been robbed off their vegetation and within no time the rainy clouds wagon also ceases to stop by them. Lands over lands enter this vicious circle awaiting draughts lingering right around the corner. CCT impedes this treacherous flow of rainwater and forces it to get absorbed in the soil in trench. The water which escapes one contour gets trapped by the next and so on. As the end result, the rainwater which falls on the mountain is retained by the mountain and is consumed by the forestation or drips through the rocky layer to rise levels of under ground water. What can be better than this? CCT has thus resurrected hundreds of deserted villages in rural western Maharashtra and set them ‘tanker free’!

The PANCARD hills surrounding Baner locality are good for nothing. Seasonal grass paints them green in monsoon for a change however otherwise they lay hopeless with hay and thorny shrubs. Bunch of environment freaks set out to do something about mother earth in a scale that is reasonable, manageable and affordable. Pune Municipality encouraged them by providing them with 2 thousand free saplings. The objective is to work towards a clean and green environment. The task force is no full time dedicated social workers but civilians with regular jobs, responsibilities and liabilities, motives and excuses. The timelines are 2 hours on Sunday mornings. The plan is to get together, dig the contours, plant the saplings, water them, breathe fresh air, and to be happy about having planted and sustained at least a tree. Who all come? Doctors, IT pro’s, managers, drivers, baner natives, senior citizens, school children, college youth, agricultural experts, agriculturally challenged one’s like me, a patrol pump owner comes, bachelors, families…anyone and everyone. Yet, we still have dearth of people at times! This has been happening since last 90 weeks and will continue till the saplings grow out of their infantry so that their roots are strong enough to survive by themselves. One day not very far from now the PANCARD hills will majestically flaunt its flora. Neems will purify air…Flame of forests will blossom saffron…Jamuns will reap syrupy fruits…Shady Banyans will break into the rocky summit to grow old and tell the tale of simple effort by simple people.

2 Hours on a Sunday morning for your own environment। Is it really too much to ask for?
-- Pradnya Joshi
P.S. Kindly get in touch with me in case you're a puneiite n want to make most of your sunday mornings!

Bucket list afterthoughts

2008-05-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

Sure it was ironic. Me and my friend were desperate to catch a light/comedy movie to dilute our moods stressed due to hazards of both work and QLC (for those of you who don’t know QLC its Quarter Life Crisis…the state of deep sh*t while you’re in your mid twenties!). We were determined to settle even for the worstly rated movie with apparently single or so star. However the ad of Bucketlist caught our attention and the strong recommendation from a friend propelled us to check two squares in the half empty plan.
The movie is off course is FANTASTIC. The cast, story, the dialogues and cinematography all could get a 10/10 (at least from me!) But I ain’t doing the movie review here. I am talking about Bucketlist. My bucketlist!

All of us dream. Some dream big, some small and some both. But each one of us have those desires pondered over say while in a boring lecture with open eyes, while staring at the roof during sleepless nights or while killing long lonely traveling hours. Things which we aspire to own or deeds which we are inspired to do. Places which we long to visit and events which we pray to happen…they all reside somewhere lost in our minds. Some are doable some are pure fantasies. Bucketlist is the to-do list which jots down all or at least main of such heartfelt unspoken dreams…before you kick-th-bucket!

Mine has action items as trifle as riding a bullock cart to as extravagant as sky diving in Alps. To soak in moonlight in Bhedaghat on a full moon night and to perceive the hues of the dawn while witnessing sunrise on a flight…
To attend the service and choir in Vatican and to spend a Christmas with a family with decorated Christmas tree, socks full of gifts and cake with hot wine after-treatment. To be able to understand and appreciate Shakespear’s classics and Khayyam’s verses when I read it. To listen to raag Malhar live on a lush green mountain top when its pouring and to attend a mushaayra with dardee company. I wait to dance night long garbaa in Navraatri with my dear friends and I crave to perform salsa with a good lead and to do justice to his skills. Beating my dad in a sophistical argument and singing along with my brother on the same stage have been my fancies since long.
I find the idea of a ride in a jet black limozine having a well dressed chauffer just as fascinating as that to cross the mustard or sugarcane fields on a tractor. To see a live cricket match when India is playing and to learn to play guitar. A walk in Valley of flowers in spring and meditation on the Pondicherry beach the rhythm of the gushing bay of Bengal waves on background…aah! When do I get to do these?

I yearn for sudden guests and informal gatherings. I love trips on the fly and am dying to be a part of an adventure with limited cash and lifts and last moment hush-bush! It would sure give me immense joy to cook for a dearone who’ll come home tired and hungry and say “I am dam hungry…can I get something to eat?” (Not many would vouch for m cooking skills so this one is a little tough to happen I know ;)) There is a whole list of dishes which I want to learn to make! Performing as a learned dancer was (and still is) a huge huge aspiration. I had even got a chance to join a dance group who were to participate in the dance festival which would take them all around Europe. Alas! My new job resuming dates and the dance festival clashed and this dream of mine crashed to pieces leaving me pensive.

Off course! Not all dreams come true but some do without giving you any warning. As a child I always wanted to come out with flying colors academically. To match the performance of my dad I had practically burnt midnight oil to do great in my matriculate exams. The day my results were out was the day when a dream cherished for about 10 years had came true. That day won me a different denomination in eyes of people in our circle. And expectations from me shot up rocket high. One dream come true had given birth to many more. Despite the times of failures, rejections and uncertainties met in the later years, ‘that’ day remains frozen in my life as a verdict of the good times I’ve had… My fancy of touring on bike came to reality when 10 of us close friends set out vroom vroom in a gang on 5 bikes on our biking trip to Mekedatu… On my way to Calcutta when I was informed to have been upgraded to Executive class despite having an economy class air ticket, I was enthralled by the grandeur of that suite and elite company which I hoped to get to do after maybe a few years of professional pursuit…

I was haunted with mysterious Egypt and thought I have to go all the way there to see how a real Mummy looks. Least did I know that I would bump into many of the mummies in London’s natural history museum itself! Glad as I was to have seen the mummies but also annoyed at the English to have stolen the same from Egypt at the same time! …Not being a party animal had kept me ignorant about the youthful face of the world. When I got an invite to celebrate the new year’s eve at one of the most famed parties in town, I was sure I would be like a foreign body. But to my surprise, I felt great! Different. Glamorous. But great for sure! Dancing crazy that night shed my diffidence of being ‘naïve’ considerably. I knew then what Cinderella must have felt!...

I can’t tell you what a rapturous moment it was when the blossomed cherry tree showered hundreds of its tender pretty flowers on me in Stratford-upon-Avon. A daydream I had treasured to bathe in ‘Saakoora’ had been granted all of a sudden! My friend accompanying me simply failed to understand the reason for my elation. What’s a big deal ..he must’ve thought? I wish I knew what’s a big deal myself…but it was! And my heart knew it…

My dreams…many are ticked(I don’t want to say crossed!) and many are waiting to be espied yet. I know there is a long way to go and its not enough to just dream but one has to strive to bring them into reality. It takes a lot of perseverance, determination, efforts and off course the backing of luck.
I am always a not go-getter about them and that’s exactly where I was hit! The crux of this movie shook my recently developed apathy and forced me to contemplate over my bucket list all over again. I am surely not going to wait till I am hit by cancer or heart trouble or alike. The clock is ticking and I am already late to book my seat for the Valley of flowers trek this year. You joining along? J

--- Pradnya Joshi
18 May 2008

P.S. For those who haven’t seen Bucketlist, it’s a beautiful movie starring Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman. If you have dreams, it’s a must watch!

कितनी अजीब बात ...

2008-04-27T03:12:00.000-07:00

क्यों इतनी अजीब है ज़िंदगी
के कोई कभी समझ न पाए
कई बार थामना चाहा इससे
पर यह मुई तो चलती ही जाए...

पास आता है कोई
तो डर सा लगता है
दूर चला जाए वोही
तो अजीब दर्द होता है

जब खुशिसे झूमता है दिल
तो नज़र आता है दुनिया मे भरा गम
उसी दुनिया के जश्न चुभतेहें आखोंमें
जब अपने दुःख मे डूबते हैं हम ...

नींद के इंतज़ार में रातें
चैन के इंतज़ार में दिन
मंजिलोंके इंतज़ार में रास्ते
और काफिले भटकते रास्तोंके बिन

अनकही आरजू अनसुनी रहे
कुछ ऐसे ही सारे हालात है
के ज़िंदगी अपनी होकर अपनी नही
ये कितनी अजीब बात है ...

- प्रदन्या जोशी

Ab kuch aisaa aalam hai...

2007-11-27T02:00:00.000-08:00

Ke khwaab zyaadda aur zindagi kum hai...

Murjhaae hue din Sooni Sehmi raatein
Rozmarraaki duniyaadaari paapi pet ki baatein
Naa anhoni kaa dar aur naa honi kaa jashan hai
Ab kuch aisaa aalam hai
Ke khwaab zyaadda aur zindagi kum hai...

Dil air dimaag ki jung mein Dil ki hi haar hai
Tanhaai kadwi sacchaai aur samjhotaa hi pyaar hai
Khushkismati ki daud mein hum to aaste kadam hai
Ab kuch aisaa aalam hai
Ke khwaab zyaadda aur zindagi kum hai...

Kuch naajuk rishtey kuch gehre sadmein
Choor choor armaan kahi toote waadein
Is dil ke kai raaz isi dil mein dafan hai
Ab kuch aisaa aalam hai
Ke khwaab zyaadda aur zindagi kum hai...

Lagta hai apni kahani kabhi kisiko sunaaoon
Dard ko alfaazmein baandhe paani mein bahaaoon
Par likhneko naa bachaa kaagaz na kalam hai
Ab kuch aisaa aalam hai
Ke khwaab zyaadda aur zindagi kum hai...

-- Pradnya Joshi
November 2007

Wild...Wild...Wet!

2007-09-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

Don't know during which crazy hour I decided. To get out of my cozy home and comfortable living and to get lost amidst the sprawling western ghats that too during the pouring of monsoon charity show! Some people’s adrenaline doesn’t let their souls rest in peace ! Just with such a bunch of wilderness lovers; I set out for an expedition-de-Sahyadri’s this August.
It had been quite a while that I had gone for residential mountaineering. Had taken few plunges couple of years ago while the professional moss hadn’t gathered over my enthusiasm in form of inertia and stress, but now I knew it was high time to blow the dust off my trekking gears. Come’on! I ain’t ‘that’ old yet!

The journey to our base camp in a rural chariot provided by State Transport ensured that all our bones were loosened and warmed up! By 'base camp' don’t start visualizing a labyrinth of tents perched on banks of a river. Our investments in the project weren’t sufficient to have availed us those glamorous trekking equipments. What we carried on our backs was set of worn out minimal clothing and bedding, first aid, basic climbing gadgets, raw grocery to prepare just edible food and stove to cook it on. Our campsite was a temple centrally located in a petty village Wadghar with hardly 40 odd families dwelling within. This tiny village is settled in the bowl of rugged Sahyadri blocks. A neat river curls across its waist as if marking its territory. Two rusted bridges on this coffee stream connect the village to the main tar-road and in turn to the sophisticated world of technology, time-tables and artificiality. The road that never returns…

We set out on our mission climbing towards an ancient namesake fort Chandragarh. Why namesake is that it doesn’t have any civil structure left on it that can be regarded as a fort but just a lofty mountain piercing into the rainy clouds and concealed in substantial vegetation. The cattle trail to the top had vanished amidst waist-high grass. Before commencing the climb, I looked up and gasped at what lay ahead of me. The pinnacle of Chandragarh leaped above my eyesight could raise and felt beyond my capacity…

A real trek is different from that organized for ‘with family and friend’s. It doesn’t have a tour guide, color-coded area map, lodging boarding facilities and the assurance of assistance in case of emergency. All you can see is the summit of the mountain you’ve dreamed to conquer and all you have is the determination to do so! Your instinct is your tour GPS and confidence is the fuel of your engine. You keep walking. Along the gradients, down the dales, upon the basins through thorny foliage or soapy mud-ways, combating smacking showers, crossing stone laded vigorous torrents and resisting howling winds. With leaches sucking your blood and barbed shrubs peeling your flesh. There are no railings to clutch or shuttles to catch. No takeaway meals or crisp bed-sheets to wrap in. Your mobile phones turn as dumb as they can ever get, disconnecting you from all networks you’re entangled in. You hike with your own baggage on your back. If you carry more; its your fault. You have to fling what’s unnecessary and eliminate what’s excessive. Outsourcing isn’t possible here! Its a vacation devoid of cosmetics, confectionaries, magazines, internet or television. Its an exasperation devoid of pollution, traffic jams, stress, crowd and chaos.

All you have around you is wilderness. Nature in its most savage form is what you encounter every now and then. Unpredictable. Impregnable. Men and women flashing several masks in the civic contexts embody here as pure homo sapiens shredding the synthetic stratums they’ve gathered over and over. When you traverse 15 kilometers a day; like hungry wolves you eat whatever food is available with none of your usual tantrums, as if it were ambrosia. At the end of a hike; you’re too exhausted to be insomniac and you need no pills. A natural survival instinct overrides all ego’s, preferences, mind-blocks and you are personified in your most human form. That form which is equivalent to any other species…the apes, aves, serpents…all same in the lap of mother nature then.
.

The hike to Chandragarh seemed unending and the pinnacle of it invincible. With every painful step against gravity my feet were despondent to rest. So was the case of everybody in the team. I even got jammed on middle of a 80 degree slippery slope. I could find no suitable grove to grip to pull my mass upwards. Both of my feet fumbled but could not fit in any slot to give me a confident nudge. It was a perfect trap.
One wrong movement and I could be at bottom of a deep valley perhaps deformed and lifeless. I have got goose-pimples even right now reliving that moment…of fear of death.
In a fraction of time all my life flashed in front of my eyes like a film and it was the moment to do it or die and not just metaphorically. My leader’s words of assurance gave me the courage to push myself up to catch his palm he extended just little away from me. And I had made it. The strength in his hand was as if transmitted in mine and I was over that monstrous rock. The solution was easier than the problem appeared. And the fundaa was straightforward. Once you hit the path; you have no come back. You cannot help but press on till you reach your goal. And you have no alternative but to win. You clamber huge rocks, cross vigorous streams, submerge in quick sand, withstand unkind weather or trudge hungry, sweaty, exhausted… You are fighting a battle. Of your weaker, lazier and loser self against a resolute, tough and brave character. Each time you put another tired step forward; you are tracing the path not just to the summit but to your unleashed triumphant soul. And as you reach the peak; you look around you at the heavenly panorama; you suddenly know why you have come there having accomplished an excruciating journey. This is worth it all and more…you whisper to yourself.

Do it sometime. Test-drive yourself into the woods and mountains in monsoon. Not just for the sheer thrill of an adventure but to meet a very special you who is wild, wild and wet…!!!

--- pRaDnYa jOsHi
26 September 2007

That night in the hospital...

2007-06-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

It’s not easy to spend a night in the hospital. The patent smell with mixture of bitter medicines, anti-germicides was making me extremely nauseated while I was trying to rest. I had to; for getting rid off the severe allergic attack that I was undergoing. Some kind of strong food allergy had swollen me like a hanuman langoor. I always try my level best to keep the doctor away even though I find doctors very attractive (Gosh they look so dashing and assumingly intelligent in their crisp white coats and stethoscopes resting upon their shoulders like their coat of arms!). Why won’t anyone kneel forth them when they play the role of live saviors and they purge your pain off; if your lucky enough and respond to their treatment! However all the attraction fizzles out when he comes armed with a long thin needle or an assorted collection of multi-colored and multi-shaped capsules? I am assuming hereby that you wouldn’t want to blow your money to see a doctor without a health problem. What’s more humiliating is that if he turns out to be interesting; you still end up visiting him in worst of your looks and exposing your mouth cavity wide open with your tongue out followed by an elongated ‘AAAA’. My condition was even worse. With rose red rashes all over me my body was burning and my bones aching adding to my buffoon like appearance. The nurse had injected God knows what potion into my veins that my body refused to acknowledge and I was invited for a sleepover in the luxurious comfortable suite in the clinic under observation albeit I had gorged medicines extravagantly as I wanted to shun spending any time under the roof of a hospital. Apart from my fear of injection and aversion of its atmosphere; I have heartbreaking memories associated with that institution which I was afraid will resurface again.

And it did as expected. I relived all those moments sadly again. It was terrible. I lay there all alone. With no family members to bring me home food and no friends to cheer me up as I was cast away from everyone. I had to reckon myself that I was sick and needed medical assistance. Go seek it in the hospital; purchase my medicines; accept the gravity of the situation and take actions to debug myself. I admit for the first time; how miserably lonely I felt. I have number of friends who I thought would come running for help should I call them. But I have always refrained from doing that. Having this urge to be independent and strong had always made me say a strong THANKS BUT NO THANKS to care and concern offered unless I have no other alternatives. I know I have also eventually hurt my dear pals in doing so. And there I was. Sick, tired, hungry, sad and in deep pain with absolutely no one around to share that pain with. I hoped somebody would call me up at least that day. I kept staring at the pale roof holding my mobile in hand anticipating at least some call. It never rang. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to; but I did not call anybody too. I don’t know why and how; but my extremely formal attitude and sense of independence has always held me aback when it comes to asking for a helping hand. In the endeavor of not wanting to bother others; I had made them all ‘others’ without even realizing. That's the negative effect of strength. I recalled how heartbroken I was to hear from a dear family member a confirmation that 'we don't worry about you as we know you're capable enough to take care of yourself no matter what!'. I had pushed everyone away and now I was dying to hear from people…ask them if they can talk to me for a while…tell them how much I missed them. But I didn’t. As usual I didn’t. All I did was shed a few silent tears alone. As usual I did.

In just a while suddenly there was chaos and I heard a group of people approaching. They carried a stretcher upon which slept a smartly dressed pretty unconscious lady. They gently placed her on the bed next to me. The sleepy hospital awoke as it was midnight and the doctors came to examine her. She had collapsed out of fits due to immense stress. Accompanied by her gangful of friends and colleagues she was being taken care of like a princess. Somebody was rubbing her feet; somebody was arranging for medicines and somebody was caressing her hair and comforting her. Despite my zombie state (courtesy – the injected potion) I could clearly witness all the care her friends showered on her even in such an odd hour. I felt really nice for her; and won’t lie; felt equally miserable for myself. My saline drip pricked even deeper. I wished I had not been there to yet again realize how fortunate some other people are and how forlorn I am.

She threw up a number of times and the doctors geared up for an injection to prevent puking. The moment she realized there would be an injection; she almost created a scene by yelling and crying aloud. Like a small baby all her friends tried convincing her how quick and painless injection would be and how much necessary it was. There I got damn irritated. What kind of a selfish girl is she; I thought. Who is not even thinking about the relief of her friends who are toiling in the middle of the night for her well being and she is creating still more problems rather that co-operating. How can people do that; I kept wondering. I don’t even ask for help when I need and she is asking for help even when she does not need it. My thought process continued and I felt more and more depressed.

However; it wasn’t just me but the nurse also got annoyed and asked what her age was and where on earth is she from to make such a big fuss about a stupid injection. One of her friends hastily answered that she was from Calcutta and from a very ‘different’ background. Must be a heiress to some Bong multi-millionaire I concluded; to have been pampered to the core and used to bullying people around her. My dislike towards her increased even more. After great and noisy efforts they managed to give her that injection and she was put to sleep. It was then; the climax of the story happened in when her friend uttered to the nurse, “…she is an orphan and has been raised by Missionaries of charity. She has never before been admitted a hospital and has never had a vaccination to have known the severity of pain of an injection or any other medical thing. She has just had a serious fight with her room mate who questioned her if her parents had never taught her how to behave. She couldn’t take that… she collapsed…”

Life sometimes makes biggest jokes out of our lives. On one bed; I was lying. A girl blessed with a beautiful complete family and loads of caring friends. All alone. Longing for some company while handling her life single handedly. And on the next one laid an orphan who had her friends collecting her puke in plastic bag in the middle of the night.. Can it get more ironical?

Pradnya Joshi
12 June 2007

Kuch Aur Shaayri

2007-04-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

Aakhonse behnese roak liyaa
Toh qualamse behte hein
Sehmese gumsum mere aansoo
Dilkaa aalam ye kehte hein

Saare jaate hein jahannum ki oar
Fir hum kaunsaa raastaa lein?
Yahaan to Khudaa bhi paraayaa hai
Ab aur kiskaa waastaa dein?

Aakhir woh din aa hi gae
Ke jeeneke iraadonki khoj hai
Aur to kuch nahi haathmein
Bas chand yaadonka bojh hai

Shaayad har shaayarko Khudaa
Gham kaa hi tohfaa detaa hai
Kyonki dard ke binaa Gaalib
Gaalib nahi hotaa hai...

Ab To..

2007-04-29T06:56:00.000-07:00

Ab to na aar hai na paar
Na hai kisikaa intezaar
Na kisipar aitabaar
Aur na hi kisise pyaar

Ab to zindagi aise jiyenge
Jaise baadal aasmaanse utarenge
Aur halke halke hawaa me ghulenge
Lekin koi nishaani na chod paaenge

Ab to na dukhegaa ye dil kabhi
Khushi se bhi naataa choota abhi
Hamaari aahat na sunaai degi firbhi
Apni zindagiyan to jiyengehi sabhi

Na kisise gile hein ab to
Dekh liye dosti ke jhoothe nazaare
Apne kaun? sabhi hai paraaye
Humnebhi zakhm sile hein ab to

Meri fikr naa karo koi
Ab to mein zindagise aazaad hoon
Aagoshmein kai sacchaaiyaan hein
Ab to tanhaaimehi aabaad hoon

...Pradnya Joshi
28 Feb 2007

Darr

2007-04-29T06:54:00.000-07:00

Na koi kaaydaa todte hein
Na kabhi jurm karte hein
Firbhi kyon ey Khudaa, hum
Teri duniyaa se itna darte hein?

Darr hai ke kisike aage
Ye daaman bhi kabhi failaanaa padegaa
Jahaan dam ghuttaa hai
Usi jagah firse jaanaa padegaa

Dar hai ke aasoon bahaate bahaate
Baadal mera sookh na jaae
Pyaas to bujhegi nahi par
Ye sookha aur bhookh na laae

Chand saazonka saath hai bachaa
Woh bhi khafaa ho na jaae
Bhikhre sapnonki bhanwarmein
Meri tanhaa dagar kho na jaae

Chattaan samajhkar thaami hai meine
Kahi woh bhi pighalti baraf na niklein
Ujaale ki talaashse thak haarkar
Mere raaste andhereki taraf na niklein

Na hai khauf maut kaa
Na bachaa hai zindagi ka junoon
Duniyaka samundar nigal na jaae
Mera baki bacha aakhri boond sukoon...

.... Pradnya Joshi
18 Feb 2007

Kuch Shaayri...

2007-04-29T06:51:00.000-07:00

'Safar'

Haan yeh to maannaa padegaa
Ke kuch waqt bhatak gayi thi raah
Kisike aanganke phool dekhkar
Anjaaneme dil mein uthi thi chaah

Ke kabhi hogaa aashiyaan hamaaraa
Jaisa hum sajaaenge
Ke zindagi mein aayegi bahaarein
Jahan bhi hum jaaenge

Aakhein dekhne lagi thi sapne
Pighal rahe the samjhote
Lagaa thaa kismat saath degi to
Hum bhi jannatmein hote

Mili thi daad kabhi kahin
hamaare bhi gungunaane ko
Alfaaz hamaare tarase the
Kisika dil lubhaane ko

Bhool gae the ke in hotonko
Hasneka koi haq nahi
Karz nahi utar jaate saare
Shayad tab taq nahi

Ke hamaari zindagi hamari nahi
Doosaronki amaanat hai
Kisiko kyon fark pade
Kya hamaari chaahat hai...

Paaonmein bediyan aur sar pe bojh
Aisa hi ye safar chalnaa hai
Bhool gaye the ke hamara sooraj
Shaam se pehle hi dhalnaa hai

Lekin haan ye to maanna padega
Ke khushi kuch nivaale to mile
Unhi ko simatkar aansoo dabaae
Hum zindagike safar ko chale...

...Pradnya Joshi
7 March 2007

Sequel to Do you know Why? : That’s why!

2007-02-22T07:46:00.000-08:00

Tears are precious
They don’t flow easy
Till the heart is cozy
Embrace someone’s pain and see
Just try

Feelings come and go
At once what you feel
Need not be always real
Be clear first then convey
Don’t sigh

Home is where heart is
Don’t confine to walls
Where the boundary falls
That earth is yours
And so is sky

Numbers matter
Whether you like it or not
In your heart and thought
Your dear ones reside
And they stand by

Bonds, those which loosen
Can be strengthened with trust
When you’re fair and just
Knots are awaiting
You’ve got to tie

Comforts and passions
When they jeopardize
Its time to be wise
And to ascend beyond
Me and ‘My’

If head meets heart
Empty lives can flourish
Shallow dreams diminish
The questions are the answers
That’s why!

-- Pradnya Joshi
16 Feb 2007

Do you know why?

2007-02-09T10:48:00.000-08:00

Tied amidst mesh of networks
Yet so disconnected
Thoroughly Unaffected
In spite catastrophes;
I don’t cry

Some to question some to answer
My inbox always full of mails
Yet my message always fails
To convey what I feel;
I only lie

The warmth of my soil
My domestic bliss
The extent that I miss
Breathing this freezing air;
all dry

Numbers are the only gains
But I’ve surely lost
At unrecoverable cost
My gentle kindred…
so precious.. so shy

For my people no more wait
That I’ll come home by dinner
The bonds stretch thinner
With every occasion;
as times fly

Ipods and CDs and bulky water bed
But; where is my music; what’s sound sleep?
Senses crave but heartbeats weep
When dreams come true
but passions die

Chasing some shallow dreams
Cocktail circuits and Schedules so busy
Pensive minds and Lives so empty
We continue pretending to live…
do you know why?

--- Pradnya Joshi
9 February 2007

The frequency of Pain

2006-12-15T04:44:00.000-08:00

It happened while I was returning from office in the tube. That middle aged couple was seated in front of me. The uncle hid his face in his palms; clearly in despair. Aunty was holding the uncle like we hold a small child. Her wrinkled fingers moving gently across his thinning grey hair. She wasn’t uttering a word; but I am sure her fingers said all that they had to. Auntie’s wine red eyes were evident enough to indicate that she has had her hours of grieving. And now it was the need of the hour to congeal stronger and calm uncle down who seemed collapsed. I didn’t want to; but I could really not take my eyes off them. The frequency of pain had matched; and I was taken on the same track; as theirs…

I was in no way similar to them. In nationality, age, phase of life…nothing. Yet I could relate to their unknown but obvious pain. I wanted to sit closer. Warmly press Aunty’s tired hands. Wipe off uncle’s tears and comfort him saying “its gonna be okay” even though I was far too younger to him. I wonder if there would be any way I as an individual in my trifle capacity could help them in their peril. I wanted to do was to tell them that they are not alone. But all I could do is pray. Pray wholeheartedly so that these strange relatives of mine attain solace in the best way possible. I didn’t apprehend the wet corners of my eyes till they swamped…again!

It took me aback. My soul bled as if after scrubbing the scar again. Even though my wounds were not very stale; they were not very fresh; too. I thought I was over them. But I guess I wasn’t. I guess I am not yet. I had dumped my memories deep down in the secret chamber of my heart…but some things knock the doors of that chamber. Which now was unbolted slightly and reminiscences hung over my consciousness.

Its not just Buddha; the ultimate sage’s theoretical postulate; but a vividly realizable fact that there is pain in this world. No human being survives without suffering. The flavors of pain are rather universal. Pain of separation from loved one(s)...maybe for a long while or forever... pang of betrayal… heart break high’s…victory of the wrong against the right…loss of wealth and might…crashed dreams…unfertile struggle…aborted wishes…unfair settlements…compromised existence...and so on!
Hasn’t any or many of such hues of pain colored life of each one of us except for none?
Yet; its so difficult to accept pain as it comes. Whilst at that moment; the entire world seems to sink. Life seems worse than death. The directions darken; and one wishes if only the earth would slit apart and one would hurl down the womb of Mother earth…away from all the consequences. And then the silver lining of the dark cloud shines. The essence I guess lies in beating that moment of peak of pain and standing up again. Many times not for yourself but for your dearone’s. You have got to grow much older than your age and take care of the others. Pain diminishes immaturity. It tosses ego so far that next time it would think twice before seeping down your elements.
Pain teaches you the value of people and peace. I recollect with gratitude till date and will always do, every single person with their kind gesture to comfort me or my family during our times of agony. It was the grief we were put through which brought us all so close; re-united together as a family, ripping off all our domestic differences. It broke my selfish window and made me susceptible to humanity…after all; compassion cannot subsist without sorrow. The anguish in my life redefined my ambition upside down and extended it beyond my personal pleasures. I don’t know how much I have succeeded so far or what length I can manage to go hence forth; but I dared to take a plunge; in my own insignificant way; to lit some lamps; wipe off some tears; spread some smiles…in spite of the Omni-present pain.
I had my trial and error method of overcoming. Some surrender to the Almighty; some turn atheist; some drawn in addiction; and some choose to just live with it for ever…

I recall an incidence that happened in one of the meditation courses I was attending.
In the middle of the session; another attendee received a call informing her that her hospitalized elder brother had expired; all of a sudden. Her emotional outbreak was evident from her squeal of cry. The situation was awful and I stood there numb trying to pacify her. Many of the other members vacated the room while a couple of us hung in there till she was under control. I usually refrain from sharing the past with nascent acquaintances. But in order to soothe her when we shared our stories, we gathered that each one of us who was lingering in that room after witnessing that dreadful scene; had a history…of pain…! And that same frequency has made me so vulnerable to the woe of these two strangers I met in the tube. I don’t have a clue as what happened to them later. I have no way to figure that out. Time is the greatest healer hence they would overcome their problem just like everyone else does. All I know is I had sincerely prayed for their solace. And I don’t care if such prayers matter or not in reality.

When the stanzas of Galib, imbued in purest form of ache and sung in soul grasping voice of Jagjeet Singh fall on ears from somewhere far away; when suddenly pastel figure of an innocent street child emerges in front of your vehicle and offers to purchase a garland; or when mother of a shaheed soldier appears on the news shedding silent proud tears…the frequency of pain pronto does its job and shoves me on yet another track…what about you?

-- Pradnya Joshi

Antony and Cleopatra : (Not a review...)

2006-10-03T06:26:00.000-07:00

Master William Shakespeare! He condemns the power of Name in one of his famous dialogues. But I daresay Shakespeare fails there. For His very own name has stirred generations and even right now whilst typing his Name my hands yield goose pimples. In Mumbai language; I have no Laayki to write about Shakespeare. I seriously don’t. I haven't read much of his literature. I don't know how many lifetimes I would take to actually Understand those completely. I forgive my trifle soul fo even Sir P.G. Woodhouse had read complete shakespeare in his imprisonment during second world war. With my fingers crossed I pray for avoidance of such a peril. Yet, I cannot but hold up my exhilaration to articulate the experience I had. To watch Antony and Cleopatra. In Shakespeare’s Globe theatre for which none other than Shakespeare himself wrote several of his stupendous plays. While ambling upon the pathway a thought struck my mind. A few hundred years ago; the Man himself must have walked past the same ground as I am. He must have touched these wooden railings and he must have drunk water from this same stone goblet statue’ed in the theatre premises. And I wished I could float and not stamp on of his footsteps hidden somewhere there. I slurped a fistful of water from the goblet and palmed my eyes…just like I do it in the temple after consumption of Teertha.
I felt like a pilgrim…and trust me hey you…so would you.

Bequeathing spirit to fading history he immortalised it in his plays like Antony and Cleopatra. The story itself being a terrific drama in its own, its characters are personified by potency of Shakespeare’s miraculous language. The allure and ambiguity of Cleopatra, rage amongst Romans, the sting Antony suffers after betrayal by his beloved and the cruel game of fate operating upon the lives of these poor souls, ends up in a painful melodrama…and needless to say an enchanting experience. Shakespeare sprinkles absolutely unanticipated humour during utmost dramatic of scenes; thus swaying the spectators along waves of distinct emotions. Veteran actors like Nicholas Jones as Antony, Frances Barber as Cleopatra are brilliant of the cadre and the theatre is sustained in the same archaic structure as it was 400 years ago. Pouring rains couldn’t but perturb the attention of the audiences and they stood still for it was impossible to get out of their congruence with a bygone age. The play ended with a classic European tap dance piece when the audience was also on the toes…clapping.
Upon the yard of the globe are affixed tiles with engraved names of greatest actors of English theatre, who have acted on this stage. Shakespeare lovers from across many nationalities, age groups and social status had amassed there to salute to their master writer. All hath pecked an experience of a lifetime. Worth cherishing. Worth relishing. Truly worth worshipping.

Master Shakespeare; thou art great…dust thou know that?

P.s. With all my heart I beg for pardon to Master Shakespeare for daring to even write this much about his works. I just wanted to pay homage to Him and His works. That’s truly all.

Aamchi Mumbai

2006-07-17T23:44:00.000-07:00

With all its shortcomings; my Mumbai is an amazing amazing city. This city breathes poisonous gases and drinks contaminated water. It resides on the plank covering a gutter as well as in sky scrappers. It hogs everything from a 500 Rs. Shark’s fin soup to a 5 Rs. Vadapav. What’s most fascinating is the pace…a grand prix happens every single day on every single railway station of Mumbai; and that’s the Formula-1 to live, as it teaches us Mumbaikar’s. For some the lifestyle may appear very mechanical; for some it may be too much stressed and for some others it may be chaotic. All of these being true; it always have been felt that Mumbai is not just a piece of land… it lives. And its soul is noticeably felt in none other than the catastrophes it faces…every now and then.

<>
People who criticize mumbaikar’s insensitivities don’t know that on the 27^th July last year, there were hundreds of people serving Poha’s and tea on flooded roads to those thousands of people, making their way to home without food or water for hours. After the bomb blasts of ’93 people participated in rescue operations; during the riots of ’92 mumbaikars went out of way to support Mumbai police and restore peace.

Let’s analyze the probable causes of the proclaimed inactivity of a mumbaikars! First one; non-violence? No way. I am sure in today’s era we don’t even know the correct interpretation of non-violence. With all the due respect to the greatness and to his sacrifice; Gandhiji’s doctrine of the one sided non-violence had rooted massacres; which in turn elicited indigenous peace lovers like Bhagat Singh to clasp armaments. Bypassing this rather controversial topic, the point is; non-violence isn’t the substance of Mumbai. [Off course; there sure will be other opinions.]

Second: passive resignation. Acceptance has deemed part of our Indian-nes. The only issue is it is a passive one. This great melting pot encompasses both yin and yang;

unfortunately in an imbalanced ratio; and that’s why it ends up in a mess like this. Had we curbed consumption of dynamite to building tunnels…the picture would have been better; ain’t it? Had we controlled the torrents of people constantly barging in scorching the city’s resources; had we ensured that (rather enforced) rules by the municipality are meticulously observed; it would have remained yet another dazzling city; as it originally was. She is nothing but a prey of the politics and eco-dynamics.

<>
The third case of adaptation needs a deeper peep. Yes. Both flora and fauna adapt cleanly out of their threat of extinction. However human adaptation extends beyond just the basic survival instinct and exponents towards improvement of quality of living; which also includes one’s temper and mindset. Fundamentally being the worshipper of peace and harmony; development of aversion to brutality, filth, and frustration is a natural tendency and exactly that happens in Mumbai. How much and how often will a Mumbaikar cry? There is a saying in Marathi “Roj mare tyala kon rade” meaning “who will cry for someone who dies everyday?” Mishaps every single day. Emotions are bound to get bruised and ‘fed up of’ if overwhelmed everyday. There is so much misery round the world if one looks; and in some or the other way one can find oneself contributing to their misery. This fact can make every breath of us guilty and every day a funeral. The spirit of life lies in keeping the show go on. I recollect a movie based on a true story, starring Glenn Close and Kate Blanchet, about a bunch of American women, comprising of a musician, arrested as war prisoners. This group is sent to a god forsaken place and their life is made hell by the Japanese soldiers. This musician in her tenure in prison continues with her music practice and gets everyone involved including their Japanese ‘caretakers’. At the end of a few weeks; they manage to craft a phenomenal orchestra with no instruments; just their vocal chords! Now at that point of time; the entire world was a burning chamber…yet the music never died in the musician. And ‘that’ supreme fortitude to “live” than merely “existing”; propels an ever painful human life towards comfort.

Sensitive; doesn’t mean grieving for ever and never rejoicing. Sensitive to me means serving those in pain while celebrating life. And the same spirit was exhibited by mumbaikars by resuming to their routines right after the recent bomb blasts and commemorating the Ganapati festival immediately after the 26 July peril last year. No one can deny their bit to the victims of all the hazards of the city. Yet; they didn’t give up.

<>I admit all the evils of this cursed princess. However; she seems to me like an HIV positive gorgeous lady; battling for life; struggling for joy while going through excruciating ache. She knows the end. However; she won’t seize subsisting with her valor till the doomsday takes the final toll on her. Blasts can shatter rail compartments. Roaring rains can sink edifices. Riots can murder humanity. But Mumbai…aamchi Mumbai remains unbeatable. For ever…and ever…

‘Queue’s

2006-05-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

It was just by my good deeds(surely!) in past lifetimes and blessings of my elderly well wishers that I passed the daunting Data structures ‘gracefully’ during the wonder years of engineering! I am sure my teacher must have treated my other tuition-mates for my stunning 40% score. Not that I am so dumb (if you have doubts on this statement; please take it offline; don’t post a comment ;)) but I was so very confined to my books to not realize how these structures have captured our whole world…

<>I always strenuously refused to approve of existence of any data structure other than the ‘queue’. Righteousness being the back-bone of my idealism; I find Queues to be the only fair way a bunch of entities should be collected. First IN should indeed be first OUT! Fair enough! Be it efficient or things like that I find stacks very unfair. Queues being part and parcel of everyone’s lives are so unique and distinct. I recollected standing in the queue in the university for re-valuation of a paper wherein I had almost flunked. Mentally devastated me; but was a bit consoled to find a large number of students aheading me sailing(or drowning) in the same boat. It gave me a dash of nerve to face the fact of being a failure; merely since I wasn’t all alone. Contrary to that just after a couple of years; life made me march in walk-in queues of many companies. Almost whole day without any food; carrying weight of heavy cluster of certificates; transcripts and books like Lafore/Tanenbaum to revise key-concepts(which never helped anyway!); striding slowly ahead under scorching sun; the length of that queue had discouraged me bigtime. The hope of getting placed would evaporate bit-by-bit with each candidate coming out of the interview hall flaunting his selection. Queues for ‘checkin’s at the airport are yet again annoying one’s as they trim down the probability of a window seat. Ironically they also permit your dearone’s to watch you longer from beyond the visitor’s windows. Their faces reflecting pain of separation, pleasure of your life progressing ahead and anxiety of “when do we meet next” all together makes your heart heavier than the trolley you’re pushing…

Not to overlook the queues at the VISA consulates especially the US. Children, oldies, ladies, students; teachers all footed all day long bearing the beggar-like treatments from the consulate’s non-residential American and unfortunately(according to them) of Indian-origin staff. Considering the tension in air, it feels like VISA rejection seems to be far more thwarting than being HIV positive. I have met one of my favorite, very famous and rather glamorous writer in the rest-room queue of a Drive-in on Mumbai-Pune highway. Having bumped into her; I almost disregarded my original urgency of visiting that vital edifice; but since the reciprocal wasn’t the same; alas! she didn’t acknowledge my spontaneous and jovial compliments other than a stringent and hard-pressed ‘thank-you’. I thoroughly enjoyed the company of a celebrity even in ‘that’ situation and was glad enough to validate that basic instincts are still basic for all!!! he heJ

Queues in the bus, queues before the railway reservation counters! Those for the ration and for water in dense slums in metropolitans are similar to those during elections for dropping a vote: with majority of illiterate angootha-bahadoors. Those to grab better seats at the cinema hall; those to get catch early bird prizes at supermarket; each one has their own existence and strategy!

Philosophically and religiously, lines in courtyards of affluent temples are supposed to be queues; but they seem more like linked lists! If you have appropriate ‘pointers’; you can very well overtake all the members! Same seems to be the case in Mantralaya’s. Separate multilevel Queues for quota holders in educational institutes dumping all the ‘outstanding’ students are truly frustrating. Ray of hopes ablaze to participate in the human chains; protesting hard for a cause.The never excavated ‘stacks’ of files in government offices and that of majestic wine glasses skillfully arranged on the shelf of a grand hotel: same structure; yet so different. The procession of cars stuck in traffic jam; suffocated in the smoke; tired, weary and a gang of friends at the perfumed wedding; awaiting excitedly to congratulate the newly wed couple. Same arrangement…just a different composition!

Whatever it is; one thing is true. Be it in a stack be it in a queue;. Be it in a circle or just a haphazard random horde; getting together is important. What say?

-Pradnya Joshi

22^nd May 2006

Letter To Prime Minister of India

2006-04-19T23:28:00.000-07:00

Respected Mr. Prime Minister,

<>I have saluted you as Respected Prime Minister as I believe that you are truly worth respecting for enthroning the biggest democracy(?) in the world. I have ascertained that Yourself have reached at your heights by virtue of your own potential; capabilities, merit and Not by your caste or creed. Same goes the case with our Dearest president. <>

I am a Non-OBC/NC/ST responsible citizen and I do love my motherland wholeheartedly in spite of the fact that in my own country; I have been deprived of my rights and my opportunities many many times just because I don’t belong to the privileged communities outlined in the ‘gazette’. I have witnessed hundreds of much more deserving candidates losing their glorious chances of education, scholarships, recognition and employment purely because of the ‘Quota’ policies of all the governments. This, I am sure you are very well aware, is the case of millions of capable sons of our country.

We agree that our ancestors have wronged certain communities for which we have suffered more than 50 years. We also agree that reservations are required for underprivileged sections of our nation like remote rural areas, socio-economically backward classes and people from hostile lands like Kashmir/North-east. Etc. However, when a spoilt convent educated westernized youngster, born to an OBC/SC/ST father (who is filthy rich due to his default high government post and other sources of income off course!) takes away an esteemed IIT/IIM seat with less than half the score of people like us who burn midnight oil for years…the blood boils in the veins.

One doesn’t need an astrologer to predict the state of such revered institutions when such hopeless students enter the campus.

We don’t get jobs in Government Sector
We don’t get promoted if we already have jobs; in spite of being more than deserving
We don’t get admissions in prestigious institutions in spite of deserving to get in
We don’t get government scholarships
We have to pay heavy fees for our education and education for them is free!
We have one private sector and competitive exams left to earn our success and your government is taking away those opportunities by increasing the reservations
What do we get in our own country? Unemployment! Injustice!! Frustration!!!

<>For 150 years, British Raj followed the brilliant policy to 'Devide and rule’. The governments all over internally are not doing anything different. We endured as we have been taught to be civilized and patient. But endurance has a limit.

Two things can happen.

The cream will be force to somehow leave the country for ever
Just like our very own war of independence enforced many peace-loving youngsters to trigger bloody revolutions, it will lead to yet another one.

Corrupt politicians are playing a fatal game with the fate of generations to come thinking of nothing but their vote banks and they have nothing to do with the goodwill of the nation. Even a blind person can see crystal clearly their politically pregnant intentions in announcing more and more reservations.

I don’t see that day far away when all the seats of all the fields will be reserved.

And that point onwards; India’s funeral will begin. And at that time Mr. Prime Minister, her sons who could have saved her would have all settled far far away from her.

Don’t force us to hate our own country Mr. Prime Minister. Its all in your ‘capable’ hands.

- pradnya joshi

A Sunday to My Home India!

2006-03-29T06:32:00.000-08:00

Not that we all don’t know about our own Mother India's north-eastern arm; but there is a lot, yet unrevealed, apart from the warm Nagaland shawls, Kaziranga rhino’s and Bamboo dance...mainly the people. The people having complete Chinese looks and complete Indian hearts as they say "Fir bhi dil hai hindustani..."

Some...rather lots of anti-Indian forces have been constantly conspiring to get this arm of mother India chopped off her. Just like many other problems introduced by the British Raj, this is yet another. Who wouldn't after all get lured by the land enchantingly beautiful and extremely enriched with key resources like uranium and oil and like? And that's exactly why the hungry western wolves have put their foot down to "convert" this innocent part of India into the official "Land of Jesus". Jesus never recommended violence. But under the cover of loving message of Jesus the native youngsters are victimized with drugs, guns and "I-am-not-an-Indian" attitude.

"My Home India" aims at getting such lost youngsters back on their track. To re-established their confused identity as Indian citizens, there can be no better tool than belongingness and brotherhood; and My Home India applies these peaceful weapons against the carnages happening in the North-East.

In the same endeavor, a picnic was organized on this lovely summer Sunday! The picnic spot was a unique Cow-shade! Surprised? Don't be! Because there isn't a better place in Asia wherein 33 different species of pure Indian breed cattle are conserved. Yes, the word used ‘conserved’ is intentional as these Indian cattle are on the verge of extinction due to the commercial hybrid of the cattle. The weather was not yet scorching hot and we all set out for a late-morning ride.
A group of about 30 people; mix of north-eastern, southern and western Indians! Mr. Sharma's GoLok is a cow-farm located at about 25 Kms in the outskirts of Bangalore and is spread over 15 acres. Lush with variety of trees, this is a huge upcoming project is inspired by H.H. Ramchandra Saraswati. The project involves cow shades, cow urine treatment centre, research centre, manure manufacturing centre etc. After the "butter milky" welcome; we took a tour of the cow shades. Cows hailing from multiple parts of India dwell under the same roof. From gigantic Mahiwal's to tiny tamilnadu breed, from Gir's of Gujrat to Amrut Mahals they all seemed in perfect harmony. I kept wondering how do they communicate? I mean did the language problem not bother them? -:)) they must have all learnt Hindi I guess...Just kidding!

Well I personally didn't know much about cattle farming. It was startling to gather that the cow milk is augmented with the best of nutrients, cow dung is the best of manure and processed cow urine the best insect repellent-cum-pesticide, that too without any harmful side effects! Thus a cow can make more than Rs. 80 per day merely with her by-products; which is much more than the cost of maintaining her! Since I am not a staunch feminist as such; I must also mention the utilities of cow's husband Mr. Bull. Apart from by-products (off course, not the milk!:) He ploughing the fields retains the most fertile layer of soil which the tractors scrape away. Plus he doenot pollute as he does not require a diesel engine! Great isn't it?

We gathered all this information in the small introductory session Mr. Sharma conducted in the courtyard of a small "kutir" made completely of soil. No cement; no bricks, still that Kutir was a centrally air-conditioned and earthquake resistant edifice. The session following introduced the back-ground, motto and methodology of My Home India. Sitting here in Bangalore, how can we help our north-eastern brothers and sisters? Nothing much. Just make them a part of us all. Due to their Mongolian features they are generally regarded as "Chinese" or "Chinkies" or "Chini Makaos". Their angry reply "I AM NOT A CHINESE! I AM AN INDIAN DAMN IT!" says it all. Many unknown facts were disclosed in the discussion. That some of the text books in china refer to the north-east as the "India-occupied-china". That there is a permit, exactly like a VISA, is needed for even Indian citizens to enter some states like Manipur(This law was made in 1853 British Raj and is still kept effective blindly). That when the north-eastern children travel to say Delhi or Bangalore they say "I am going to India".

It was shocking! How did the media miss out on so much so far? Is the government sleeping?... None of us can help change the politicians immediately. Nor can we promise that the media will publish the true story on cover. But we can call these young students from north east; scattered all over India, 3000 Kms away from their homes; for a feast or a festival. We can help them in their urgencies and emergencies. We can learn their recipes and teach them ours. We can ensure them that they belong to us and we belong to them. We can surely give them another canopy with us as this is our own home India; all over...

The discussion concluded with these action items against all of us! Apex members of My Home India Mr. Sunil Deodhar, Mr. Mohan kumar threw great light over the said details. We got up as we were famished and I couldn’t wait to have lunch with my new slit-eyed brother!!!

~ Pradnya Joshi
28 March 2006

Words awaited...

2006-02-27T02:18:00.000-08:00

It has been long since I have written.
Actually it has been long since I wanted to write...but somehow those words; which were best of my friends sometime back; seemed to be upset with me. They just wouldn't come to me. I have got aborted poetries and scribbled articles in 'My Documents'; dumped like mummies; waiting for their day of salvation.
I had tried hitting a simple delete button a number of times; but couldn't... i don't know but i found be hard to just 'end' your incomplete creations. Not that my poetry is read and enjoyed by a million ardent readers or my thoughts are pondered over generations and can trigger revolutions; yet they still are the reflections of my own thoughts and do hold a place in my life. The are the reactions for my poor little soul to the phenomenon of this gigantic world. they are the anti-depression pills that vent all my rage and ensure that I keep the show go on. They are the fabrics woven with merely my experiences; my perceptions and my possibly pre-conceived notions; but they give me the excuse to think. To think deeper, piercing through the realms of my insensitivities. They call my true voice; it may be the case there is absolutely no one to hear it; so what?
Just because there is no professional playback compensation; the frogs don't stop groaning their song...

I always wanted to write. Something or the other. Either entertaining stuff or thought provoking matter; emotional experience or linguistically rich piece of art. Absolutely anything. But all i wanted is to play around with words. eventually i did so with maybe just a flare yet now its a fiasco.
with a handful of unfinished sculptures in my kitty; I await the miraculous flash of literary grace so that my dearest 'Wordly' buddies unite with me, once again...Will they?

My visit to a warship!

2005-12-29T10:39:00.000-08:00

I couldn't resist but to write about a very special experience i was subjected to!
I was invited to have lunch on INS Bramhaputra; the champion warship honoured to be a feather in the cap of the Indian Naval Services!
God Bless but for the world i wouldn't consider missing this offer! I entered the Lion's Gate in Fort, VT at noon where my inviting friends who work in the Navy were eagerly(i have added this eagerly!) waiting for me (simply because they were hungry damn it!):))
there was a whole lot of security affair passes and checks and scrutiny after which we were allowed to enter the premises which spans over miles and miles.
Having owned their piece of Arebian ocean these guys wouldn't give a fig to a place like Juhu! to roam about ;they have bikes. Thus we were escorted to the "parking lot" of the warships where my luncheon was awaiting me on INS Bramhaputra!
On boarding upon by the slanting gangway; two strong and stout Mates saluted us. As it was the first time someone was saluting me; i felt as if i was the president of India :)) (its a custom to salute all the ladies on board! by the way; a lady on the ship is equally respected as the ship itself!!- additional info). i was completely torturing my fellow Lieutenant guide to enlighten me about every possible minute detail on and about the vessel!(later he thanked me and said that he nomore needs his revison for the exam comming up!:))
INS Bramhaputra is a German make ship with some components manufactured in the US. We now have our own similar models;too. The radars ; communication systems and the Missile control systems are developed in India itself (mainly by BHEL and the B'lore Aeronautics) I was enthralled to learn that due to crue constraints; they are all trained to operate most of the systems (Hell lot of study mann). the entire On Water energy generation boils down to the Boilers with mammoth capacity. engulfed in heat resistant plster of parris; i could see from a tiny watch window leaping flames inside the boiler. In the boiler room; when passing through the web of bundles of pipes; the body perspires instantly. It was nearly 35 Degrees and was scoarching hot. "Ye to Thandak hai" was the remark of the sailor. The ship; since not sailing; was cooled down! when competing with the mystic oceanic miles; the usual temperature varies from 50 to 60 degrees!
the daily working span of a sailor as well as the engineer ranges from 16 to 24 hours a day; right in that furnace! The OPS Room is where all the strategic decisions are made and where the Huddles take place. Tiny ladders everywhere like Snakes and ladders and small AlleyWays which confuse you completely.the SONAR system; Signal Jammers; Misslie Controls; Gyrometers; ...........it was a city of machines! the platform for aircrafts and their servicing centre composes majority of INS Bramhaputra's glamour! the Galore of Crests; the souvenirs of exchanges and victories over other Navies was an exquisite one! A small recreation room amuses the sailors by pooltable; bar; library and TV/MusicSystem centre all packed in! the victories on waters and birthdays and festivals are celebrated right here!
The motor tankers or Merchant Navy ships; are much more advanced and lavished compared to the warships as they donot carry missiles and weapons and submarines. the meal was served in the Ward room which was absolutely delicious! our hosts ate almost thrice the quantity we consumed!:))
i could probably fathome 1% of what it must be like to guard the coast against the ever threatening missiles and attacks. It was then my turn to salute..and not just as a custom; but a heartfelt gratitute oozing for all those men! Men; just like you and me; with families and friends; with emotions and responsibilities; who surmount all these entanglements for one cause of belongingness to their country..
truely amazing; isn't it?

After the hijacking of IC814

2005-11-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

When all roads hurl down the cliff
All the candles burn out
Darkness captures existance
And seeds of sins sprout

FIGHT...
till the last man stands on battlefield
With last drop of blood in his veins
the last pinch of life within
and everlasting 'faith' that yet remains

Anything to survive
One does strive
To live with head held high
though,one day one has to die

If hearts tune and hands club together
to envoke the biggest power;the Prayer

Many times;the Only solution
Everytime;the suremost hope

Miracles Will Happen!
Doomsday Deamons Will Elope!!
-- Pradnya Joshi
25/12/1999

The Last wink

2005-11-10T09:11:00.000-08:00

Fed up with the world I lay
On my petient-bed for more than a couple of years
medicines,screens and bed-pans around
looking at the roof,through eyes behind tears

Not worse than a dead body
with a beating heart and thinking brains
What keeps the pale candle still burn?
Perhaps;my people's prayers and pains

Few weeks back there came an old woman
Wrapped by wrinkles her mysterious eyes would blink
Laughing through the mask,pulling the nurse's legs
enjoying the tasteless food she would wink and wink

Her friendship was an oasis in desert
I sang and laughed once again
Amazed at her sportive spirit
Responding to her winks every now and then!

One fearsome night they took her to ICU
maybe for an hour she was to survive
winking at me finally she said "Good bye!"
She smiled even when she was nomore alive..

Something happened inside;I felt a force
The force to 'live';the courage to 'die'
That last wink of hers taught me how
to 'be' with a smile...what's there to cry?

~ Pradnya Joshi
15 feb 2000.

My first poem...

2005-11-10T09:10:00.000-08:00

" THE JOY OF LIVING "

THE JOY OF LIVING..
THE VIGOUR OF "BEING"
IS A REVENGE OF A WRETCHED LIFE
BY A SOUL EVER LASTING....

WHERE THE GAMBLE OF LIFE
IS PLAYED BY IMPREGNABLE FATE..
WHERE THE BONES ARE KEPT WAITING
FOR ONE WHO IS LATE..

WHERE THE DIVINE FRAGMENT OF "GOD"
IS TRAPPED UNDER A MORTAL NET..
WHERE MAN IS JUST A PUPPET
WHILE THE WORLD IS A HUGE SET.

WHERE GOLD IS FOUND
IN THE DREARY DESERT SAND..
WHERE THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN ENDS IN A VALE..
BUT FINDS NO LAND...

IT IS FUN TO
LIVE IN SUCH STRANGE WORLD
WHICH IS BEAUTIFUL & UGLY AS WELL.
NOTHING RESEMBLES MY VARIED WORLD..
NIETHER HEAVEN NOR HELL...!

~ Pradnya Joshi

Very SImple!

2005-11-10T09:08:00.000-08:00

When the telephone does not ring
In quite some time the doorbell doesnot sing

The pop-up of You've got mail doesnot dance
When people pass past your place, but refuse to glance

When yor kith 'n kins forget to send a card
on your birthday
when your friends hang up on you
and don't hear what you have to say

when People take away
Credit for what you have thought or done
when Your thunder is often stolen
maybe by your dearone!

When your jokes are taken to heart
but people make fun of you all the while
You want to cry it all out
but you have to smile

Its Obvious to feel you're a poor little soul
Trifle, forgotten and alone
To feel there's no charm left in life
All said and done...

Take some time off
And think over things
Loosen the bonds
But strengthen your wings

There are many orphan children
who would love to meet you
their eyes will glitter at your sight
hands would love to greet you

there are so many barren lands
waiting for you to sow some seeds
The ignorent, the innocent
Lend your ear to their needs

Don't waste time following those
Who have forgotten you
Bring smiles on some other prople's face
Joy will wait for you in queue!

~ Pradnya Joshi

" Not just a story.."

2005-11-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time
in a deep dense jungle
Umpteen animals lived merrily
Some in herds;some single

There lived two little deers
Lustrus pretty and young
With beautiful beady eyes
Having their flung

Together they ate
together they played
Along winds of freedom
Together they swayed

Two separate bodies
One soul and heart
Come whatever may
They would never fall apart

Suddenly there arrived a leapourd
Cruel;greedy and wild
Heartlessly he killed and hogged
One of the deer's child..

The other cried for days
His heart tore to tatters
He felt one's presence or absence
How much it matters..

Cursing and blaming the GOD
He wandered To and Fro
With question "why us?"
Immersed in eternal sorrow

"He was destined to leave"
A voice from heavens came
"this one moment 'you' have to win..
the moment of peak of pain"

The deer was enlightened
He made up his faith
He never regretted the foretime
Uptill his last breath !

~ Pradnya A Joshi
30/11/1999

Sounds

2005-11-10T09:02:00.000-08:00

Sounds

<>looking around..

for a familiar sound

sound of crying of new-born child

barking of Hound; scary and wild

song of birds chirping by

sound of planes flying high

bang of lightening thunder and hail

roaring of monstrous winds of gale

call of a friend from far about

too much tempting to rush out

chant of the seas deep ; sacred

knock on the door ; anxiously awaited

the SOS of a ship ; sinking

silent whistle of a star blinking

voice of the soul telling to do good

looking around for music of manhood !

~ Pradnya Joshi

18 August 2000

Have you ever..???

2005-11-02T10:21:00.000-08:00

Have you ever..???

Have you ever had a stroll upon
banks of a river on full-moon-night?
Hearing the molten silver purl by
Smelling the fragrance of moonlight..

Have you ever drunk the winter winds
Brushing the autumn leaves go dance
Ever soaked in pouring rains
Getting outta home;taking up the chance..

Have you ever given Mom a helping hand
Ever shared a secret openly with Dad
Ever massaged GrandMa's throbbing head
Have u been there when things went bad?

Have your eyes ever watered
To see an orphan child cry
Have you ever wiped off someone's tears
To make things better;have you given a try??

Have you ever pondered why you are born
With silver spoon or golden cup
Have you ever really loved your 'being'?
'Coz life is all about 'living it up!'..
-- Pradnya
23/12/2001
00-30 AM

In search of joy!

2005-11-02T10:13:00.000-08:00

Marching in the queue;slowly ahead
With scores of complaints on my head
In search of peace
In search of joy!

Before me stood many men
some sick blind some lame
In search of health
In search of joy!

Men shrunk with hunger
Men burning with anger
In search of food twice a day
In search of joy!

Rich and lonely with bundles of money
Craving for 'theirones';around if any
In search of love
In search of joy!

Orphans Robbed Mentally retareded
Gulping their own tears;frustrated
In search of justice
In search of joy!

I could think;see;stand on my own feet
I was so beautiful; loved and complete
I stepped back as I realized
My joy was always in search of me!

Pradnya Joshi
20 Sptember 2000

The journey has begun..

2005-11-02T10:11:00.000-08:00

The journey has begun..

The quest for truth
beyond every proof
has finally arisen..
one thing is certain
The journey has begun!

In spite of all the doubts
the entries and walkouts
the battle lost or won;
one thing is certain
The journey has begun!

Destination seems way too long
each breath makes the going strong
beyond the horizon
one thing is certain
The journey has begun!

The grace felt every now and then
against every bane and so much pain
we shall overcome
one thing is certain
The journey has begun!

Pradnya Joshi
22 nov 2002
00:40 AM.

Life means...More

2005-11-02T10:09:00.000-08:00

"Life means More.."

The deeper I dive in
I find many More depths to begin

The happier I stay
More Joy is on its way

For every bit of my gratitude
There is a reward of plentitude

The more I offer and serve
The returns are much More than I deserve

The wider I smile
God lingers a little More while

Pradnya Joshi
26 Sep 2002
2:30 PM

If Tomorrow comes...

2005-11-02T10:07:00.000-08:00

" If tomorrow comes.."

"The deadline's here" when I'll ascertain
Different will look that morning's sun
Time just flew and its my final day;
So much's left to do;there's so much to say

If tomorrow comes I could thank my mom and dad
their love and care for me they always had
I could go back home one last time to see
the seed I long back sowed;turned into a tree

If tomorrow comes I could say Good Bye
to my dearest pals; my shoulders to cry
Play one last game to be the one last winner
gather the circle of friends for one last dinner

If tomorrow comes I could visit the temple and pray
Be greatful for all I've had so far;in every way
Here and there;few reasons to regret
Every now and then; seasons to celebrate!

Its too late even if tomorrow comes
But today has arisen in advance
I better do it all before the deadline
There might not be another chance!

YOUR FUTURE..'IN YOUR HANDS'!

2005-04-21T03:17:00.000-07:00

There's this beautiful saying;
" Yesterday Is gone
Tomorrow hasn't yet come
Today has arisen
That's why its called
'The Present' "
Indeed its true. A perfectly realistic approach to look
at life implies that what is important is the very
moment one is breathing in; and neither the bygone nor
the upcoming age. Yet the basic inquisitive nature
of the human mind cannot resist but to seek various ways
to peep in the most uncanny mystry..the time called
Future! In the same endeavors; there have sprung
umpteen ways right from ancient times to predict what's
gonna happen..and off course; Palmistry has been one of
the favorite ones.
As an amateur palmistry learner; I got to have
some wonderful time in the last couple of days.It fetched me a wide number of friends which otherwise wasn't all that possible.
I read people's hands making it very clear in the
beginning itself not to take me much seriously though I
had done my homework. Although the whole 'hand reading
process' was meant for fun or entertainment; to my own surprise; the fact that in many of the cases; the readings were coming quite close which was like a pat on my back.
Most of them wanted to know about their careers.
More emphasis was given on going and or settling abroad.
Many ones seemed interested to know weather theirs is going to be an adventurous love marriage or a 'procedural' arranged marriage! Bussiness or job. Health and overall peace of mind. Relationships and backing of luck. All these issues were on the hot list!
Palmistry believes that woven in the mesh of lines on the palm is the mixture of one's past, present and future. The job of a palmist is to resolve it correctly. Strict restrictions are there not to disclose any negative fact (even if detected) that can lead to depression or can cause any harmful doubts. There are
distinct lines signifying distinct aspects. The mounts on the hands; the directions of the lines; their clarity; extra lines; form of fingers..all these factors are taken into consideration to carry out a reading or to make a prediction. It is a methodical process and not a 'by fluke hit'.
What lies beneath; is a questionnaire. Does Palmistry make sense? If so; how much? If the lines are ever changing; then does our destiny also change? If I have wonderful lines does it mean I am gonna be on the top of the world anyway? Isn't believing in palmistry superstitious or more like not believing in yourself?
Is God a fool to declare everything onto one's palm?Oh crap!
Yup friends !It sure is controversial. As controversial as 'Is there God?';'Mercy killing=good or bad'; 'Atomic energy = Curse or boon'..so on and so forth. And I tell you; we can go on arguing but we will never find the answers to these questions because there
Are no answers. All these sciences and techniques are babies of human intelligence and that's why they are useful; yet so much incomplete. Even our so called scientific science is not an exception to it as it is not absolute and holds good only in its own little frame of reference.
It is certainly inappropriate to rely completely upon such obscure methodology but at the same time one should not simply criticize it bitterly or call it absolute rubbish just because he or she is not convinced enough. It may not be matured enough to claim that there exits no fourth dimension simply because our knowledge
is limited to three ones. You never know!
If palmistry is pragmatic and harmless; why not go for it?
If Mr X is going to think twice before taking his first sip of alcohol because his palmist has warned him not to do so; we should go for it!!
If a prediction of a better tomorrow in spite of his hopeless present is going to give a boost to a depressed fellow; I say go
for it!!!
Success is after all a necessary combination of
efforts and destiny. Both of them dwell upon the same
palm of us. That's why without hesitation I can say one
thing ;
" Believe it or not; Your future lies in your hands!!!"

What say?

~ Pradnya Joshi

WHO AM I?

2005-04-21T03:11:00.000-07:00

When I look at
I feel one
With the infinite sky
I don't know why?
Who am I?

Just like me;
a tiny heart beats
In the one passing by
I don't know how and why?
Who am I?

I shed a tear
but I overlook
my neighbour's baby cry
I don't know why?
Who am I?

Among the pinnacle of beauty
that I always wanted to see
I close my eye
I don't know why?
who am I?

I want Peace; yet I fight
I love Love; yet I hate
I live for Joy; yet I hurt
I expect Truth; yet I lie..
I don't know why?
WHO AM I?

Smaller than the smallest
or bigger than the biggest
An eternal self;
But I am going to die
I don't know why?
Who am I?

~ Pradnya Joshi ( Am I her??? )

In search of Joy..

2005-04-21T03:09:00.000-07:00

Have you ever..???

2005-04-21T03:07:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a stroll upon
banks of a river on full-moon-night?
Hearing the molten silver purl by
Smelling the fragrance of moonlight..

Have you ever drunk the winter winds
Brushing the autumn leaves go dance
Ever soaked in pouring rains
Getting outta home;taking up the chance..

Have you ever given Mom a helping hand
Ever shared a secret openly with Dad
Ever massaged GrandMa's throbbing head
Have u been there when things went bad?

Have your eyes ever watered
To see an orphan child cry
Have you ever wiped off someone's tears
To make things better;have you given a try??

Have you ever pondered why you are born
With silver spoon or golden cup
Have you ever really loved your 'being'?
'Coz life is all about 'living it up!'..

~ Pradnya Joshi

" Crystal Cathedral"

2005-04-21T03:06:00.000-07:00

Everywhere my eyesight would fly
All I could find was sand and sand
The life as if over
Buried under the cover
Of clear and clean perpetual sky

Not a glimpse of hope or chance
That some day the earth will breed
Flowers on trees
Medows will please
That the rivers and streams will dance

Right there; In that same dead land
Firmly stood the the crystal edifice
Shining like a gem
Greenary ;its aim
Without a miracle or magic wand

The Green House dwelling in the dreary desert
Built with a few precious drops of water
Emerald world
Their 'Crystal Cathedral'
Not a God gifted oasis but a devine effort

~ Pradnya

"Life means More.."

2005-04-21T03:03:00.000-07:00

The deeper I dive in
I find many More depths to begin

The happier I stay
More Joy is on its way

For every bit of my gratitude
There is a reward of plentitude

The more I offer and serve
The returns are much More than I deserve

The wider I smile
God lingers a little More while

~ Pradnya Joshi

" Just Do It! "

2005-04-21T02:38:00.000-07:00

Just close your eyes and See
The colours of your inner beauty

Just plug your ears and hear
The music of your heart from near

Just pause your breath and feel
The force flowing in you;so real

Just hault your race and enjoy
The pace of time's own; going by

Just cease your mind and think
The conflicts invoke;they so sink

Just take a break and work
Not for obligations;but true perk

Just live a life and pass away
That shall make a diference;in a better way!

~ Pradnya

“ A walk among debris…”

2005-04-03T21:05:00.000-07:00

On the New Year’s Eve, while the bottles of Champaign were uncorked and the skies were illuminated with firecrackers everywhere, our bus, carrying 42 people was heading towards Nagipattanam, the district which one of the most unfortunate prey of the Tsunami. I am sure all of us had similar colors of thoughts at that point of time.."Let the upcoming year be devoid of any of such painful disasters…”
Traversing about 500 KMs from Bangalore, as we were nearing Nagipattanam, the signs of the catastrophe became more and more obvious. Army men on the signals, sand on the road, bleaching powder sprinkled on the pavements and strong odors of chlorine mixed with that of decomposed organics. We could foresee the scenario that we would be encountering in the next 2 days.

Lots of NGO's have got involved in the sanitation and rehabilitation activities; but the most prominent one we observed was the RSS. They were offering all assistance to the volunteers coming down which included free vaccination against infections, supplies of masks and gloves, food and lodging facilities. All the volunteers must be vaccinated and should be equipped with masks and gloves before going to the 'fields' as they call the damaged areas. Our batch was then assigned a small coastal village "Akkaraipettai" having fishermen as majority of its population. Small houses, mainly built with bricks and coconut leaves were situated next to the beach. The fishermen here were quite well to do as they were into very fruitful prawns farming and the village was quite self sufficient. As we entered the market road (or should I say the 'ex'-market road) the hangover of Christmas celebration was clearly visible. Dangling of the broken lanterns, torn ribbons was making the crashed edifices look even more aweful.Along both shores of the road were lined up series of debris half wet half burnt. Debris was all that was leftover in Akkaraipettai. Daily used Commodities, planks, clothing and household goods were scattered all over. Smashed Vehicles lied upside down and were getting rusted by the salt waters. Bulky catamarans which were anchored right into the sea were carried right into the town by the gushing waves. As per the villagers the tsunami waves leapt almost till 45-60 feet, taller than any building in the town. The waves were full of underwater minerals which were quite poisonous. Even those who could swim and get there way through could not fight the chemical composition of the swigs of venom.

The monstrous waves had gulped the entire existence of the town within a few seconds, on that 'doomsday’. As a perfect package of catastrophes, short circuits had followed the Tsunami attacks. A bridge joining two towns across the bay was completely collapsed as if made up of thermocol, burried countless human beings underneath its mammoth blocks. We trudged wearily through the devastated human households, as numb as any Insomniac and heartbroken. It took us few hours to accept what we just saw wasn't a horror movie but a naked truth. To avid emotional outbursts of our own, we busied ourselves with distribution, cleaning and other works..

The most tedious and urgent task was to dispose of the corpses getting degraded and spreading infectious odors across air. Thousands of bodies were cremated without identification in bulk and the remaining are under disposal as and when and where they are found. The count of casualties is so high that still the notifications of dead bodies are being received from the villagers. We assisted the RSS volunteers undertaking this job rigorously. Owners of houses, who survived somehow, silently watched with misty eyes the remains of their houses getting bulldozed. Appeared from the debris either bodies of their loved one's or the tatters of their sweet homes. Their tranquility was pregnant with their tale of agony. The survivors are shifted in relief camps established in schools, temples, mosques and kirks. There has been incessant supply of necessary and unnecessary goods from all over the world, thereby making categorization and distribution of those goods a massive task. Many of the goods like blankets and clothing are in so much excess that piles of garments are thrown in the courtyards of houses. The states of the donated clothing were such that seemingly they were 'disposed off' into the 'donation drives'! The villagers complained that they were not beggars to accept such materials and sometimes even react violently. It wasn't tough for us to fathom their mindset when receiving filthy stuff only because their own belongings were whisked away by destiny.
To add to their peril the "paparazzi" from all across the world goof around and sympathies and ask questions and buzz off. They get great cover stories here to depict the peculiar "hungry and poor India" in their dreams!
What we could do in those two days was not even a drop in ocean. There's mammoth rehabilitation work up front. Abysmal funds and efforts are needed to get these villages back on the map. It’s these hard times when the humanity otherwise relinquished, reincarnates like phoenix. The true 'humans' serving their unknown brothers and sisters wholeheartedly are the angels indeed reinforcing the hope to 'live'. Contribution of necessary goods, monetary help or time and effort…anything and everything is needed. If not any of these, heartfelt prayers are requested. That walk among the debris had triggered whirlpools in my mind about credibility of science, existence of so called savior Almighty, and death and life and what not! Not that I got answers for any of these questions or my life is transformed thoroughly; but the next time I am on verge of cribbing about peeling paint in my house or my meal, less hot; I would truly think again to thank the Lord for retaining that roof over my head and putting that meal on my table…

Pradnya Joshi
7 Jan 2005

Home...Sweet Home!

2005-03-30T00:46:00.000-08:00

A bird that flies
Beyond seas and skies
At last has to rest
Has to come back to its nest

One unique shade in gigiantic world
One cannopy in the strongest storm
The place where one truely belongs
The only place so gentle..so warm

Its roof of Love and caring
The walls of faith and sharing
The simplicity in its beauty
The beauty of its simplicity

Though tiny by size
One's loving paradise
the mansion of sacrifice
the blessing in disguise

The reason to come back
An ever opened door
Home..sweet home
The one to die for!

The Gallery

2005-03-30T00:42:00.000-08:00

While their companions slept;
great men who toiled towards upto night
those who defeated the destiny
those who dared to fight

men in blood and flesh
men with just two hands
they built castles competing skies
extracted gold out of deserted sands

I walked upon the long gallery;
watching portraits one by one
Hero's of the past resting on the wall
reflecting all that they had done

Shakespeare looked and said
"Become like me"
And solve the question'
of to be' or 'not to be'.

"Become like me"
Mr Einstein whispered
Think beyond times
Explore mystries of the world

"start from where you are";
Gorge W Carver called out my name
find happiness in being helpful to the world
before adding fortune to fame

Watch the dawn,the flowers;the rain
Appreciate the glory of the 'Being'
Celebrate every moment with knowledge 'n art
Said Gurudev Tagore; smiling

Peeping in the next frame
Suddenly I gazed at my own face
The mirror told me to be 'Myself'
My head arose and I walked out with grace!

Just a lifetime...

2005-03-27T23:41:00.000-08:00

Just a lifetime...

So many people so many souls
talents faces natures and goals
many sages and many insane
calamities of loss jackpots of gain

Ample poverty glories not less
plentiful joy;a lot more stress
So much agony yet so much hope
hide 'n seek of failure and success

Ignorance invoking curiosity
Curiosity provoking knowledge
'hoods' and 'isms' at their own pace
In a lifetime on the edge

So many ways to take
a beautiful world to make
someone has to do something
for somebody else's sake

There's so much to laugh at
there's so much to cry for
In just a lifetime
there's so much to die for!

--- Pradnya Joshi

its about Her

2005-03-27T23:32:00.000-08:00

its about Her...
She ruled the regime.
They obeyed.
She headed the corporate giant.
They saluted.
She zoomed over the skies.
They cheered.
She crossed boundaries of the world.
They appreciated.
She helped the poor and the needy.
They bowed.
She performed at her best.
They applauded.
She's amazing!
They said."Hats off to her"
They exclaimed and went home.
They forgot.
There's a 'she' there as well.

Maybe not as brilliant as the Businesswoman who deals in cores.
But she knows how to manage the month within given budget.
Maybe not as beautiful as an actress.
But she's still the charm of the home.
Maybe not as acoustic as a singer.
But her lullaby puts a crying baby to sleep.
Maybe she's not as brave as a Lady Commissioner.
But when it comes to strength; she's the strongest.
Maybe she won't go shoulder to shoulder with her husband.
But she will silently watch him get the rewards
...with tears in her eyes and joy in her heart.
Maybe she won't actually go out to slums to serve.
But she'll do everything to save her maid's sick baby.
Maybe she won't show that she has.
But she will forgive those whom she loves.
Maybe she is not tagged as a "Superwoman".
Still she is.
She's the true "woman of substance".
And she's in every home.
Every heart.
Isn't she?
Have you taken your hat off to her yet?

-- Pradnya Joshi
Women's day, 2005.

The Prayer

2005-03-27T23:20:00.000-08:00

"THE PRAYER"

GIVE ME A VISION;TO SEE "YOU" IN EVERYTHING
IN BEAUTY,AND BEAST;IN WINTER IN SPRING!

GIVE ME A HEART;STRONG AND CLEAN
GIVE ME A SMILE;COME-WHAT-MAY;EVERGREEN!
GIVE ME WEALTH;TO HELP THE NEEDY
GIVE ME A FENCE;FOR NOT TO BE GREEDY

GIVE ME PROBLEMS;GIVE ME SORROW
TO DESTROY MY EGO;FOR A BETTER TOMORROW

TO REALIZE YOU ARE THERE WITH ME
SOMETIMES DO MAKE ME LONLY

LET ME FIND ECSTACY
IN MAKING OTHERS HAPPY!

GIVE ME STRENGTH TO FIGHT
AGAINST WRONG;FOR THE RIGHT
LET MY LIFE BE THE FLIGHT
TO REACH UP THERE TO YOUR HEIGHT!

---- Pradnya Joshi

Welcome note!

2005-03-22T21:38:00.000-08:00

Hi all;

Thanks for gracing this "mehfil" with your charming presence!
I hope you enjoy the postings; share your views; exchange ideas with me and all to celebrate the concerts of our lives

Keep visiting and commenting so that this tiny nook of mine becomes more and more warm and wonderful...

Warm regards;
pradnya

"You Need to have someone... who needs you"
~ Me!