Copy Right on I.P.

 Right on II don’t like this. I don’t even know if I should be writing all this here or not but on second thought, this is my blog and my outlet to emotions which I otherwise cant express. I feel as if I am this silly duplicate of some Ashwarya Rai, doing stunts for her. The public would think that its Ashwarya Rai but the Director, Ashwarya Rai and I would know the truth. I mean the stunts are real, but Ashwarya gets the credit because its her body double after all. I want to scream and say, I hate being unoriginal. And I know I am original its just that someone got the idea before I could speak or implement. And one request to all of you, in case this sounds familiar to you please don’t come back to me saying that your so and so had already done that said that. Feels like been there done that, you are just wasting time dudette. You may be nice, and you may have been nicer, but my ideas are mine. What I say or do is WHAT I SAY OR DO. You just got lucky because you had the benefit of time. Thank God Buddha came to my rescue and said, “May be you are a great mind that came in this world a little later.” And, “Our ideas are never original. We do and think what ever we have been fed on”. How true Ending this post on one request, please don’t compare me with your Ex’s or your Current one’s. I aren’t your Ex don’t want to be one either. Don’t see me as this mirror image of those. Please. I am sleepy and have got distracted.

Delhi:- My Home

There flows a river

And by its side there’s a world

Dilapidated, tightly knit

Yet on the outskirts of what we call a social limit

There I see elephants and a little further a new city

Come little closer, and I see the ruins of old age

And also broken bones of our victory

People jostling and moving for livelihood

People unknown and known stopping by

For Prayers offered to different Gods

But one cause, different faiths But one race,

In the heart of yours and his and hers

There is the sign of slavery

Look beyond and I see the fire Ever shouting in silence of our bravery

The fire within the fire outside The fire which has been burning inside

For 60 years

The causes, the beliefs, the atrocities

All united and all one

Marching together to mock the shackles

You can not catch them, they are the mob

Motivated for right or wrong T

hey will stay and some might go

Some would become the headlines tomorrow

You will discuss over a cup of tea In your barista or your office canteen

Blue is the line that runs in the nerves

Tubes also now fitted to it,

Steels and rods all round Concrete bed, and a few green lawns

The three legged visitor is a nasty one

Green and yellow is what it wears for pun

There I see a white lotus Standing still amongst all hocus

A little there is the haat and a little there is the gate

Could you see it standing tall

From where all children fall

Mumbo Jumbo and a Jantar Mantar

Casts her Magic from prince to sponger

I saw rising and falling

For years and centuries Scared and hiding

between the Arravalis And the ridges

Visited by so many

Dynasties after Dynasties

Mauryas and Lodhis Mughals the Afghans,

the English the Pandavs professed and confessed.

With the Blackouts and Brownouts And Power Play

The money, the less

The 26 winter day

The 15 rainy sky

The 2 of the 10th non-violence

The beating retreat of lights and colours

The festivals of all cultures

They get and they eat here

They take and dirty there

With modernity and tradition Walking hand in hand

Where abundance and scant are married

Where green is living in Smokey rooms

This is my city, Delhi, my Home