Movie Review- Ghajani

The super-hyped movie (much thanks to the curiosity garnered by Amir Khan's 8 pack abs sculpted raw power) finally released to the packed cineplexes all over.The film rode high on it's shrewd marketing prowess and of course the latest avatar of Amir Khan, that rendered the masses almost into hysteria.
However, amid all the blitz of marketing and hype surrounding the movie, the plot did not deliver anything close to the preludes being spilled everywhere.
Nevertheless, the film would be a hit.
The film begins with a psychotic buzz -cut Amir, groping around in his own world of amnesia, falling, tumbling after every 15 mins to recall the moments past,to recall his immediate purpose etc unless he finds it scribbled in his notepads, shot in his cam or tattooed allover his body.
(Btw, he suffer's from Short term memory loss.. and we were also told that he remembers everything for 15 mins... and then he forgets.... So is this aptly the 'Short term memory loss' ?- a pertinent question raised by my friend.)

Sanjay (Amir Khan) had a beautiful life-what with a high profile MD of a Cell co and a beautiful girl - all of which was devastated by Ghajini- a monster criminal, who killed his girl and left him with severely hammered blows on his head and a wriggling pain in his heart.
And that marked the unflinching desire of Amir to avenge the killers.
With the disability in remembering anything for not more than 15 mins, he continues in the path of vengeance and succeeds.Redemption is achieved and then again he forgets everything around.
The film oscillates in flash backs with the diary written by a plush Amir about his glory days and comes back to the present vengeful Amir.
The film had some violent sequence in the actions part, a few almost gory.
Whosoever had said that Amir is not suited for action sequences should eat their words now.
The songs especially Guzarish is pretty nice but for me what tops is the slow version of a song.
Other songs are just forgettable.
The movie is also a yawningly drag at places, like the Girl children racket sequence and some unnecessary scenes. 3 hrs is long and could have been reduced atleast 30 mins of it.
The story promises nothing special in it too.
The southie girl Asin appeared confident in her role of a struggling model (who made it big by spinning yarns of her affair with the MD when Amir had no clue- this part is makes the film lighter and mellow) and Amir's flame.An uprightly decent debut. Especially the 'wait-until-dark' kind of sequence , with she hiding to escape the killers, scared for her life speaks a lot of the niceties in her acting.
The villain forms the weakest link to the film, what with a pot belly Gujjar accent mouthing monster- such samples suit best in the South. It was a big dampener, and the movie being named after such a callous criminal does not augur well.
However, it's Amir's portrayal of a psychotic good hearted soul lurking to avenge the killer was fantastic. The inmost turmoils of the broken soul, the rage and revenge ,the extreme restlessness, the cold, indifferent stare -when he's lost to translate his purpose every time- evoked sympathy.
The climax when the monster was taken to task by the teary-eyed protagonist said it all- how much has the soul suffered for the loss and how much the heart continued to burn within.
Avant garde expressions there.
One time watch-worthy- simply for the buzz-cut Amir Khan's expressive, on the edge performance.

I rate--- *** out of 5.

Fading into the corridors
of unchartered lands-
What is it?
The mind grippped
with weakening ecstasy
numbed to understand.

Slowly , slowly sinks- the mind
in deepened hollow- to a faraway land..
powerless the carcass floats
in the lands of oblivion.

Is it the Truth or Illusion?
truth or illusion.....

The breathe is no more heard-
while dissolving into the void
of inhuman proposition.
The lurking sigh pronounces
'Human, a mere human.'

Is it the truth or illusion?
truth or illusion.....

Indrajit Ghosal

I witness the impassioned deliverance-
upon your rosy feet by the denizens-
the unruly chants proclaiming your Supreme-
the conch shells reverberates-
into the heart, seeping slowly
slowly- absorbing
into the entire revelled existence of the Devotees.

I stand nowhere among them.
I stand faraway with you Mother,
for you are mine and so you remain.

There is festive rage there Mother
the uproaring devotees gather
in stupefied devotion seeking your blessing
everyone prays for everyone-
families unite on the other side of the threshold.
There's joy in the surround -
You the revered Mother is Home-
your Homecoming- Unites Mortals.

I, a Mortal too, stand nowhere among them.
you dwell in my soul and so it be...
I know , I am at Home with you.
for you are mine, and so you remain.

Copyright(c)Indrajit ghosal 2008

O Teddy..
(My song)

You bring in the light
as my Life-
The light forever I see.
Bring me home, am lost,
find me near-
O Teddy-my Teddy you talk to me...

You hold my tears
you hold my hand-
Lest i lose your sight if free.
I feel near
to your rays of love-
O Teddy- When closer to you I be....

You breathe me life -
all day and night-
I love your loving me.
Hug me in heart
and draw me near-
O Teddy- come closer you to me...

P.S- Teddy is a cute girl affectionately called so.
I have a tune only in my mind and keeping the recession factor in the mind, I may do the singing bit. :P
Not sure about anything else.

copyright(c)IndrajitGhosal 2008
Together We Dance
A Lyric

Together we dance-
Come rain, come fall,
In autumns, in all seasons-
In jaunty rhymes ,sashaying
-feet over the silken dew,
jazzes- rustling dreams a few.

Together we dance-
And let Love be the reason.

And it shall be
till kingdom come.

Together we dance-
in springs of the youthful sky,
that shines and sparkles-
merrymaking -
the unchained melodies rained down
the laughter rolled in joyous tears-
the ballad of the hearts continues.

Together we dance ,ain't be no fears,
And yes, love is the reason.

And it shall be
till kingdom come.

copyright(c)indrajit ghosal 2008

2 years of Blogging

My Virtual Speech on this occassion:-

I complete 2 years of my existence as a Blogger on the 17th of Nov 2008.

I never knew in first place that I would blog one day.That I would finish 2 years of Blogging is per se a blessing.

2 years - a pretty big span of life if I think of the events and it's ramifications that had caught me both with surprises in it's various manifestations as well as seeped into my Life with ecstasies manifold -that had ushered in joy and jostle in life aplenty.

Again, it's too less a time taking stock of things, when today I look back and wonder how things have panned out --whooshed, in a way less desired or how things have developed--poised, in amazingly better ways.Two years passed pretty fast.

And in all these 2 years of my life, I remain a Blogger.

My esteemed Blog readers remained- some of whom are from my primitive days of blogging- the time when I baby-stepped in to the Bloggerhood scapes and opened up my eyes to the World of Blogging.While some of whom joined my caravan later.

And then my first few readers arrived and baptised me as a Blogger.They rendered in me a sense of aspiration with their praises and opinions. They made me grow- grow wholesome, grow as a blogger.They are those few people who still are and Godwilling would ever be- my blog readers.You all made me special many a times and special you all are for me.I doff my hat to all you wonderful people.You all know who you are.Thank you.

Thank you so much.I thank the Almighty too.

Let me as an addendum,stamp the established testimony that your blogs also adorn with wonderful penmanships.I am fortunate enough to be one of your readers.

Then came another set of cerebral/outlandish fellow bloggers who have stayed since then. Visiting their blogs which screamed laughter, whispered poesias and sang hosannas on life was wonderful.

A hearty thanks to all of you.

Also thanks to all of you who have ever bumped/barged/ in and out of my blog, with or without your pugmarks stamped as comments.

I pray for all of yours Godspeed and a Life of Contentment.

Thank you.


A Cafe, a Magpie and 1 Ms Grace...

Allow me to introduce 2 characters here, the backdrop and then we would take off with the proceedings.

The Backdrop:-
Sahara Mall CCD happens to be my fave haunt to keep my own company, especially on weekends.The place being closer to my place and without any rush most of the times until evening, only helps my purpose.Sometimes the silence is amazingly wonderful there.
I know it means loss of business for them, but as they say, 'someone's loss is someone's gain', so good for me. :)
Today I was on the verge of fuming owing to a restless Magpie chatting her lungs out over her cell, and when stepped in vintage icon Ms Grace, an older lady, the kind of whom I have always admired, since God doesn't know when..

Thanks Ms Magpie as I don't know what to post next, until you invaded my beloved solitude unknowingly (it was vicious for me though).
I entered the cafe and sat at the usual sofa that always waits for me and reposes at the entrance - empty while a twitchy bee of a girl sat at a nearby table chatting away,as if that's what her life is meant to be( Yes I am harsh here cos I realised the immenent danger of my usual existence -uninterrupted- the moment I came in there- and I wd not sit anwhere else, cos that's teh only sofa and teh comfy set should not miss my company for the next few hours)
Her non sensical blabbers over the phone meant my peace is being pooh-poohed and my day there screamed ominous sighs. sighs !!
Over the period of time, unwillingly I came to know about the slangs she's familiar with, her age and so many things, unwantedly with bellowing rage.
So here I am providing certain excerpts of what I heard (sigh) though she went on for 2 hours with her yappity yap...
'Well sure. shit..... ya ya ( laughter)
o my Dad .. is a pilot..'Retired and joined Kingfisher' .. he's among the selected group, would go to US re ....''
'o they are selected among a whole lot yaa... no no he is specially Selected One'
-- O really !!! How special can he be?' I thought in disgust...
--- She went on and on....
' Holy crap... aww hey I wshed u dint I?''
'ya ya delhi sucks.. metro sucks.. thrs no no no no... hahhahaha
No metro from Palam. ya delhi is bad....... forget it'
u know me na' i just hate my house...
'It sucks ya ya actually thrs a garden and I share wth my sis'
Me thinks---( Now does she mean she shares th garden with her or the house and if it sucks and sucks .. now u sucks all thse while and - pardon me my grammar dearest readers! It's on the spot writitng. so feelings don't understand grammar :X)
(if It sucks so much, then get out u crib and let me in....)

Meanwhile she went on never to stop....
' ya u know her bf is a gay... hey hey
laughter.... and did tht rhyme "gay gay hey hey"
n more laughter and some more.. and then reality dawned...
' Holy shit.. no balance yaa me on a pre paid re so would check the balance'.
'Abhi to mobile phone bhi sucks these calls marketing and all sucks.'
' My shift is frm 7 to 5, na na abhi to it;s like 4 to 11 ya yua within a few days it wd be 8 to 5..'
I thought " what weird combinations now what else can I try out.. may be 11.30 pm to 10 am or ummm don't know. ughhh .:x

I was learning a new virtue all thse while ' Patience and More Patience.'
Patience sucks too dear readers.. :x :(
And then...

Amid all such insane chaos and chatters , stepped in ......... who else but Ms Grace.... Gracefully..... Ah am rhyming you see that !!!
A lady much older to me, but graceful. No airs, but graceful.
.. Since I sat on a sofa with the other seats empty so there are insolent people who would come and sit without even asking my permission at times... Don't they see the entire cafe stares at them with an open mouth eager to swallow them in the vacant seats all around??? Why disturb my peace ?
Ask me atleast.
For them i have an answer' Excuse me, I am waiting for a few friends who might come in anytime.' I developed this trick courtesy solitude and it works like magic.
Those of who were about to butt down, would leave the desire midway in the air and proceed.
Those who had comnmited the sin, had to get up and allow themselves to be swallowed in the huge open crowdless cafe in some other less comfy chairs.

Ms Grace did the same- No permission just sat.I retorted politely. ' Excuse me... " The same old line.
She was aplogetic and started off to another nearby chair, before which she took up my newspaper from the table.
I said ' this is mine' with a smile.
And Ms Grace rendered a charming smile and with a suave expression almost whispered (from a distance of course) ,' Well, can I still take it to my seat and have a look?'
'of course' I poised and said.. Never expected this, but with Ms Grace around, one must walk the ropes with assured calmness. :p seriously.
She graced a black long skirt and a white full top( I mean covering her hands) ,poised at the newspaper , her atttitude screamed of a sober intellectual, her mannerisms dignified( i told u she's Ms Grace- so these were expected I think). Could be in her forties, without any airs and pride.
I felt bad not to allow her my empty sofa seats on my other side. And I said ' You can sit here,as my friends might be late.' To which she said 'it s ok' with a smile.
Now it's only because of her elegance and intelelctual appearance tht prompted me to tell her.

All these while the chatter box went on with things like 'boyfrnds' 'gayhood' ' ya you are made for each other' North campus gossips and announcing ' I m the youngest there, at my work. You know all are of age group 23-24 or 25 , me only one of 20 years.'

I was about to fall of my seats ' 20 years' well then I would be 22 coming December, may be 21 ummm, let me think...
And then She went on and on,, Ms Grace read on for somtime before returnign the paper with a thanks and I continued writing what would turn out to be my 70 th blog post...
When I am done with a borrowed pen and borrowed A-4, no one was there.

P.S - CCD guys there are nice to me everytime I go and sit for some hours with a coffee, for obvious reasons, they should be nice with regulars even if he sits for 2-3 hrs with 1 coffee and occasionally with deserts.
Today they served me water with floating coffee dusts inside..
Sucks man!! Sucks.. :p :p- That's the MAgpie Effect. :p :)

The sky was conjuring up an intriguing spectacle involving the moon and her frolics with the restless clouds-clouds that at one moment draped it's dark veil over the chiselled moon and another moment lilted with the winds and gave way to the Moon to emit her dimmed radiance.
Faraway from this heavenly scene, a precursor of some poignant moment was brewing up between two individuals:-

'Sir, I know how you are-you were not made to be here, amid them.For your loved ones, the least that you could do is not what the others could do.'
Tears sprang down his cheeks, that cascaded to his Sir's hand.
He said calmly as if lost in something else.'No Viru, you are too nice to....'
'Sir.' Viru said, 'the least that you could do is take your heart out for your loved ones cos to brign them back to life-- not most of the others could think of.'
Then he said something which Arya would remember lifelong.
'Sir, I never had a father.'

May be continued.....
Beneath The Mulburry Leaf:-

Through the Mulburry leaf, goodness glitters,
In silence of the night, peace sails aflutter-
Breezed-the branches sways abound in Meadows.
frolics the mooonlit amid the Mulburry shadows.

Strings of Heart swings in the peaceful gaze-
And it passes through mazes of happiness.
And beneath the mulburry leaf, the Soul rests-
And sways as wind, in Life's shades and glitz.

Indrajit Ghosal
The Lost Poem.-1

Ages and miles went past life,
from the springs of sunshine-
to it's baked confines-

The Vagabond yearns for glimpses bygone
The footsteps in the sands of time-
The rose tinted shadowy scapes.

The mind rummages something precious within-
The Heart bored many restless pangs-
Seeking the Lost Poem.

Amid dusts in the piles gathered-
Amid unseen corners in that Haven-
Amid chords of disrupted songs.

The Lost Poem- once that was-
Still stays somwhere close-
something the vagabond always holds dear.

Copyright(c) Indrajit ghosal.

Death- A Nonnet

Kissed the parted lips in Emptyness,
the unseen,in quietness arrives,
Coldness gray frowns upon Life,
Heartbeats hushed to Silence,
Eternity dawns,
In stillness lay-
The Truth-

Indrajit Ghosal

NONET:A nonet has nine lines. The first line has 9 syllables, the second line 8 syllables, the third line 7 syllables, etc... until line nine finishes with 1 syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.

Syllable Counting of the Write;-
line 1 - 9 syllables Kissed/the par/ted/lips/in/Emp/ty/ness.
line 2 - 8 syllables the/un/seen/in/quiet/ness/arrives
line 3 - 7 syllables Cold/ness/ gray/frowns/u/pon/Life
line 4 - 6 syllables Heart/beats/hushed/to/Si/lence
line 5 - 5 syllables Eter/nity/dawns
line 6 - 4 syllables In/still/ness/lay
line 7 - 3 syllables im/mor/tal
line 8 - 2 syllables The/Truth
line 9 - 1 syllable Lives

"A Dream and A Granny"

'Twas a night when I laid sound asleep,
When to the hushed numbness, a Dream Peeped,
Touched by one Soul, in love i shivered-
Granny tiptoed, to Solace i leaped.

The hands outstretched-my only haven,
To the beckoning, restless i rushed,
Buried my head in her heart after ages-
Towards her caring hug, a lovelorn soul dashed.

All I recall, are my wordless complaints-
and her fondness and caring warmth-
Amid layers of tears streaming down,
the desires soaked in the flow raged.

Then hazed went the dream sudden,
And nothing existed it seemed-
I awoke to see - the quest undone-
Reality betrayed, what dream aspired.

Indrajit Ghosal
Some of my poems from Yesterdays:-

The Dew....

Hazed fogs dawned at midnight,
and placed a tender shining dew,
over a greener grass that sparkled bright.

The Dew innocent, lay on the tip of the grass,
and swayed with the grass when
the wind whispered Sonatas abound. (**Sonata is a kind of musical cmposition)

The Dew , silent , lonely dew,
breathed lulllaby to it's new found delight,
With gentle moist touch, it glazed all sweetness and light.

And with the first kiss of the crimson morn,
rolled down from the grass blade slender---
The quivering, lonely, little drop of Dew.

The end of "The Dewdrop."

Copyright(c)reserved 2008 . Indrajit Ghosal.


Who am I , but a piece of you.
who am I , but a lost hue,
who am I , none , but U.
Who am I , but born anew.
Everytime i will die,
and so will i rise,
nay, am not th Phoenix,
but I am 1 of ur Your Chosen Few..

copyright(c) indrajit.g
My Dear Bato/Our Dear Bato-- Our school friend

Last evening Bato, alias Somnath Mukherjee went on to live in another world-a world that would be an everlasting mystery until the the final beckoning. This is not an elegy or a lament for our dear friend.I am not counting all of his goodness nor do I intend to express my profund grief.
This is just a tribute from all of us Nobilians-the once-inhabitants of the famed De Nobili School, CMRI, Dhanbad for a simple and a honest guy , full of frolics and fun, with that childish element intact.
On behalf of Nenu, Lomri,Rugo, Chorbi, Lengti, Gondo,Odo and all other friends and kins-I dedicate this one for Bato.
This one is for you Bato.:)
We all love you.You are with us, within us.


A path that leads to the Immortal scapes,
A Paradise dwelled by Divinity's grace,
A journey abrupted by the Inevitable's usher.
When Death-"the leveller", outlived the earthly solace.

From an earthly song to a Celestial Opera,
From unsung dreams to The Truth's surreality(strangeness),
From Mamma's entwined heart to the Beckoning Wombs,
A passage from home to the undying Sabbatical.

Indrajit Ghosal


Paths strewn with vices since ages across,

face smeared with layers of coldness gross,

nursing the tender hurted heart so gray,

that wounded many hearts, bleeds in disarray.

Many kind souls tendered the Sinner's world,

the Sinner echoed the feelings humble,

And lo! what came upon the Sinner often,

Those hearts he bruised,in acts of inane.

"Sinner, sinner," resonates the long void,

Salvation he seeks from all and Almighty-

he walks now to the awashed heartshore ,

Salvation awaits at the horizon's door.

Copyright(c)IndrajitGhosal 2008

We Love You Bato....

"How many breathes more Bato?"
Just how many?
Every second counts they say.

Somewhere a drama is getting enfolded. A lost battle is being fought by you my braveheart.
No, you can not lose this.You can Not.

You-a short plumply built friend from my school days.
You-a frequent mate of mine at indoor cricket for many days, ever since your Jethi relocated.
You-Our simpleton.
You-the ever enthusiastic player, a devoted student.
You-Our friend.

I know and another guy knows of your secret childish liking for one girl. Well, yes that was your silliness you may say.

This post is not proclaiming about how We, how I remember you.

It's our way, it's my way of tribute to you.
This post goes for you.


Eyes ..

"Lights" I said and then I saw,

those eyes gazing upon mine,

In glowing pure brightness,

in the moonlit hue sublime...

I touched beauty then,

when rose the Eyes Celestial,

I saw life in shades of Green,

and I saw dewdrops burn in a silvered sheen...

Eyes that commanded the oceans ,

and eyes that enslaved storms brutal,

Those eyes,then trembled shy and bowed,

when the autumn rain tickled from Heaven.

Eyes that know the secrets,

of the oceans and it's pearls,

Eyes that lead to landscapes of bliss

to a mortal , in rainbowed swirl.
copyright(c)2008 indrajit Ghoshal.

July 2005.

Bus stand,South Extension, part2, New Delhi.

The landscape bore a look unfamiliar to him. Everywhere, there was an urgency.Every road in his view carried swarms of people, with different gaits, all thrusted with some purpose in their life. The melee only shored up with the buses plying to and fro , coupled with the odd vehicles whooshing past by. The sky was dull red , that soon beckoned to turn into a fading scarlet-the setting sun.He gazed at that sun. He simply gazed.

In this overwhelming insecurity, in an unknown place, all in his own elements, he felt scared.

He didn't want the sun to set, he wished something miraculous to happen, that would perpetuate that last scarlet lining in the sky. Somehow, he felt a closeness to that light, somehow he felt safe.

The fear of the advent of the darkness loomed large upon him. Insecurity has never been so overriding, so gripping and so terrible ever in his twenty two years of life ever. Then, Delhi scared him. The enormity of the city , for someone who was marooned there, on that fateful day with a letter of disgrace was way too much for him. He knew not a single soul here and his first visit there, he thought, was a bad omen, that only with every faint of the passing reddish hue of that day, would accumulate. He missed his home, his friends from school, his few hostelmates, his colleagues. He missed his lost grace.

The vastness of the city seemed too overwhelming for him. Suddenly, life took a cruel turn and unleashed a chain of events that pulled the rug under his secured and short-lived days of contentment.

His last flicker of dying hope diminished as the reddish hue on the sky melted and gave way to an immenent darkness. He could not go back, he could not proceed ahead. Sitting at that bus stand, he was alone, he could feel it....

A Heartbeat Away....

Desires seek the lost verse from time,
I lay awake, hopeful till Eternity,
And a Carousel of that chapter I hear,
I knew then, I was just a heartbeat away.

I travelled many roads, wicked and smooth,
I yearned for the glimpse Oh, elusive and why?
When holding the moist's presence in the eyes,
I knew then, I was only heartbeat away.

Wombs beckon from the sands of time,
I grope aimless, I roam asunder,
I ransack my world for Eternity's way,
Alas! which I found only a Heartbeat away.

copyright(c)indrajit ghosal 2008

Holy Mother , to your abode,
Cometh and go devotees in flocks
Oceans of offerings to appease you –
O Mother, riches flow to your Divine coffer.

Mother,the solemn chants colored with desires,
The numerous pleas in the incensed smoke ,
The gong and bells pleasantly mighty,
Craving your blessings in absorbed trance.

Mother, O you the beauteous and kind,
Why spare the rotten dust-draped innocents ,
Streaming outside your Devotee’s threshold
Sighting blank to your Offerings galore.

Outside the chatters from filthy littles,
Gaping at the proceedings lavish towards you,
Know not they, your Devotee’s deliverance,
For they devotedly await there for gifts.

In the unfriendly sun’s gaze, they stand,
Indifferent to the Devotees’ glare,
Hunger that makes them bear all ,
Sparse gifts from your odd Devotee’s ,
Away Carries the little dusty hands.

copyright(c)indrajit ghosal 2008
A Sweeper

Mopping the floors in randomness.
With brisk strokes and bowing just slight,
On the canvas of priceless floors,
A Sweeper dazed, removes the patches.

Patches of snobs and pricey genteels,
Blots of kiddish trails and common men,
With indifferent strokes , he wipes clean-
The floor all day-the Sweeper unseen.

Pieces of dirt that lay bare,
And reminiscences of footwears,
He spills water and sights his field,
And soaks silent, his mop smears.

The Sweeper in his formal blues,
Brushes past shoe-soles many,
and when reined in by fatigue blues,
He rests still ,his pail and mop unglued.

indrajit ghosal .

Home---- A journey

Sunlit poured through the windows where danced the dusts folly,
reflections of a vagabond mind, then ,glimpsed every cranny,
the satin that touched the heart and wiped the dusts within,
and through the haze, in a trance, I see a Home Coming.

The familiar smell of spices and pepper,
that seeped in the palate from a kitchen faraway.
i felt near the warmth of the hands, that stirred the mind pleasant,
Take me there to my Home, to the lost smells nascent.

The pranks a little, the silent love,
pampering a kiddy and then a little shove,
My study table's dust stil lays thick in dismay i see,
and to sniff my old books once , to the Home now I must be.

To the Home , i must return, lest the flowers wither,
and see myself anew again, beneath the same old mirror.

Indrajit Ghosal
Copyright(c) reserved 2008
Grandpa .....

Grandpa wake upand see-
your sonny stands aloft,
with head held high
your yesterday's bud,
has bloomed today in splendor.

the one who lost to you,
once, in the daily morning runs,
the blushed one of yesteryear,
he's grown and gained in life's sphere.
memories of glooms are distant now,
he walks in sprighted galore.

Grandpa wake up once and
pour forth the jovial smile,
wake to run once, one more
winter morn's mile.

grandpa wake up and let me hear ,
my birthday song that you once crooned -
for birthday is far though, still
i want to listen it after many moons.

Now wake up before my eyes betray,
and vision fades , haziness revels
to end this, much to my dismay.

Indrajit ghosal (c) copyright reserved
the Poetess. part 1.

Writing something after a long time and i hope unlike Maniac -1 and My Utopia-part 1,
the sequel of Poetess is made.:), which I would like to write, soon.

holding my hands with silken ease,
she tunes my verses in life's green,
deepest of dreams, deepest in the heart,
beholds her eyes,in silent din.

intend to hide, so my eyes i close,
to bury emotions , as always,
and what a fool i conjure myself to,
for the Poetess reflects my soul's face.

Oh Poetess, come down now, will you please?
I thirst for my lost verses; i see them none !
Greens call from not-so-far, and yet it hides,
Poetess, now come and write me one.

Indrajit ghosal 03-18-08
In crowded Mart..

iN the still solace of the towering night,
littered with nothings, i lay in sombre,
I seek freedom , i seek my world,
bring them back, O my solitude dear.

The harangues and the stilted flow,
of words all around in pompous show,
i yearn a glimpse of the blissed sight,
in the blabbers and boasts of spurious delight.

AH being lonely without the Solitude's shine,
as if life's a mirage , mirroring me insane.
Beloved solitude, if you not come,
to chase my horizon now, I must run.
Indrajit ghosal


Dreaded the desire to open the eyes,
that seeked witness to let go of
the chastised tears-
still very much my own.

I dodged every beat of the heart
that forced and summoned me into
the long void passages of pain.
I clinged to the flickers of forlorn happiness,
with every passing breath, i consoled myself-
"Yes , Life- i have so much Life to Gain."

Till the breathes turned into feary sighs,
till my every plea of Mercy, in denial Dies-
Then a sadist force dragged me to those dreaded Bylanes,
and before i knew,
I started losing myself
in the same crooked paths
that led me nto the wilderness of Pain
Yet Again.

P.S -this is just an imaginary work and hope u like it.
Indrajit ghosal

where Merrily Bloom the Roses.

In a place of all places,
where merrily blooms the roses,
far from mortal thorns,
in warmth of silvery dews,
sprinkled in cosy petals.

every petal pearlish pink,
in scarlets some are born,
honeyed with the reddish sun,
roses laced with petals adorn.

then the fragrance sprightly blows,
breeze bows to it's beautious glow,
in times of showers and snows
drench the roses , in colors overflow.

Indrajit ghosal

this is MY 50TH POST..
Fiddler On the Roof( translation of a Jewish play in Hindi)

Witnessing 2nd Play in delhi.:)
(My theatre visit @ Sri fort audi, khelgaon, New Delhi)

it was an enormous Auditorium , with an 1800 seater and i was glad to get
one , so what if it was from the back (they say 'nice boys come last' :( :( ) ,
reaching there all the way from Gurgaon , braving the winter chill , without
my new d cam ( they dont allowinside :( ), and managing a ticket from the
back row( cos the genteels have tele booked all prime seats, and no hard feelings for
this), the entire effort lavished a sense of an undermined achievement in my
heart , that continued and reaped rich dividends when I witnessed such a
marvellous Play.

In theatres ,the front seats are the most expensive and most sought-after
unlike the cine-plexes , just to get a better view of the artistes' subtleties
and executions..

I liked the ambience of the amphitheatre , with the rock-solid volunteers
jumping towards yu before you ask for the directions , the aroma of a
charming world inside, the perfect settings , and teh throngings of genteels ,
whom I would soon call 'A Class Public"..Throughout the entire 2 hrs
play , there were no side talks around me and not a single phone beeped.
Nor did i hear any cheap talks or the chomping of popcorns inside, taht
are so so distractive . the crowd seemed sophisticated and mannered , with people
mostly in their 35s to 45s.elderlies were also there in good nos and people in their
early 20s were far and few.

How unlike a cineplex ! one of the reasons i always ask them to give me a ticket away
away and as away as possible from the cine crowds, no matter if it's nearest to
the screen. Mostly i had to contend with a seat i dreaded. but that's a different story.

The play was called FIDDLER ON THE ROOF-- an account of the Jewish
community , struck in their orthodoxy and the their self-doubts , that
reared cynical heads, whenever someone tried to embrace the modernisms.
Every such phases revolved around a family , that comprised a mild hearted father,
a stern mother and 5 daughters.
With every liberal changes happening around the world, this community stuck
to it's old traditions , unless their 2 elder daughters gave way to a different outlook
marrying a groom of tehir choice.
The last straw for the Jew milkman was his 3rd daughter marrying a
Christian ( which was tantamount to a sin), for which he disowned his daughter..
The incident had a domino effectin their whole village and they had to leave
their village (the entire contingetnt :( )...
the fiddler who came in on and off was the metaphor for tehir survivals,
through odds and evens of life, thorugh uncertainties that it summoned.

The play had some mild witty sequences and some sarcasms on the Christian comm.

The songs did not augur well as they were translated from the original jewish play in
Hindi , but the choreography was fantablio...
One sequence of a ballad (well i like to think it was a ballad , dont know what it was:P),
where the 4 dancers sashayed around with empty bottles on their heads ,
that covered their cowboy cap.. That drew the largest applause, yes , the largest.

even when at teh end, when the artistes and backofice people came for encore,
it was the choreography director who drew the largest and heartfelt aaplause,
and sad that she was absent .:(

And then i came out . 2 hrs show over. It was drizzling in Delhi,that further
severed the cold yesterday night. It felt good and with a hot disposable cocoa
cup, I walked out with the crowd , with the desire to witness many more

indrajit ghosal

Ah! heart ,is it the same arcade,
where we store our fondness forever
& secluded memories, bitter-sweet,
galaxies of love with delicate care?

Heart,that pumps blood till we live,
bears the lost pangs in an impassive vein,
heart , they say is hurt the most,
wheh wishes tumble and betrayals reign.

Heart , O how many deaths it witnesses
in one life , (or is it one too many) ?
spacing for sublimes and sorrows alike,
it beats usual, and at times, cacophony.

heart, the bearer of secrets immortal,
the seer of goodness unsung,
every valour needs a heart,and yet -
it melts with every paramours' depart.

the heart beats , at times the void hollers
yet it reposes , in many lazy seasons.

with days of yore and essence of yesteryears,
with all life's beatings , it seeketh no reasons.

savouring and solacing till the curtain draws,

it beats blued flaws and hosannas galore
the bearer for life and it's reflections' abode,
Till life's curtain sails to the Eternal shores.

Indrajit Ghosal
Copyright(c)reserved 2008.

Forgive Me ,Once More..

no, never would the sweets be stolen,
from all your secret places i know,
I promise not to bug Grandpa-
when he drifts to his siesta's dose.
Never would I come from games after dusk,
and your son would do as you say..
and i wont turn grumpy, time and again-
please come back now , if you may..

nor would I cry watching my other kindergarten pals cry,
or squeeze my toothless sister's cheeks, till she howls and cries,
and lace her face with her spews, no fuss i would display.
Never would i hide granpa's cap or scribble in his diary,
come back please, i can't wait no more,
for the last time,Granny- forgive me, once more..

Indrajit Ghosal
आपकी यादों के चादर तले
पड़ा रहा एक कोने में कहीं ,
करवटें उन दास्तानों ने ली ,
जो हमने आपके लिए छोडा था कहीं-
आप न आये ,झिन्झोरा हमने अपने आप को,
मेरे रूह से किसीने आवाज़ दी
के "एक साँस मेरी आज भी बाकी हैं"..

मौसम कितने मेहमान बने
इस दिल के खाली कोने में,
जो कोना हमने सजाया था
आपकी सर्द धुप चादर में,
उस नर्म ओओस की महक में,
वो रूहानी कोना आप का ही तो था,मगर आज देखो ,.....
वहाँ एक गुमनाम हवा बहती हैं,
कोहरे की आड़ में जो कहती हैं मुझे ,
के " एक सांस मेरी आज भी बाकी हैं" ....

क्या हमने आपको खोया,
या फिरमैं खोया आज भी हूँ आपकी उस नर्म चादर तले ,
जहाँ ज़िन्दगी की उदासभारी रोशन आलम में,
आपकी सांस गूंज जाती हैं-
जो एहीं आगाज़ देती हैं,
के " एक सांस मेरी आज भी बाकी हैं"...

इन्द्रजीत घोषाल..
And so The Candle Dies.....

The slender gait, the burning glow,
shapely shining, the waxes flow,
I said "Lights" and lo! the candle beams,
escape from dark, to lights I spring.

Flickers and trembles, shy and sudden,
the candle coy, with elusive smokes,
that rises from blue in stately flames
burns itself: wax freezes to an eternal still.

Then the flame aspires for one mighty leap,
it rises and stays ecstatically high, one last time,
before the last drop of candle melts with the passing dark,
lying low, amid it's own frozen wax, a faint glow,
it crumbles and crushes in it's debris, near my eyes
a splendid show over, as i see the candle dies..

indrajt ghosal
Some silly Gyan ----

Well, i thought for a change ,especially when the poetic inspirations seem to elude,
i could exercise my few living grey cells into some other enclaves, may be distributing
some Gyaan to all of you and in turn , await contributions, if any, from your side..

The topic that I am going to anoint myself with is not indicated towards any particular joints,
establishments or outlets..It's all about some observations and some experience.

Well, we all go for outings , some alone, some towed with solitude, some with friends, to
any renowned coffee shops, restaurants etc to have a good eating out experience and have some nice moments
for keepsake times or for sheer liberating experience.

Now, how often have you got the bill? Or how often have you felt something wrong in your drink or
your foods?? How often you felt irked by the way an extra item has been added on to your bills without
your notice? And how often u have not got the standards of stuffs up to your expectations??

Hmm, let's start this way.. All organisations of such ilks are into business that turns tactful salesman/team members into a ruthless bunch of puppets of the company norms and with their manager breathing on their neck, hankering for sales , up sales, up-up-sales, less wastage etc, they involve themselves into hardcore selling , sometime at the expense of their patrons annoyance or a feeeling of unfulfilment.

Now, whenever you decide to buy something from the pastry cooler/ food display shelf, try to buy or order the staff to provide you with the stuffs,that are Towards your side, not the one closer to them... The one which is towards you would always be fresh... In spite of the display , if he/she leaps towards the fridge , then you know he is trying to move
the old stocks..These stocks should have been dumped as per company policy, but They would try to reduce the wastage factor.
(Chalo, ek target to achieve hua, ab watt kam lagega---all are into saving their backs u see.)
And BTW , stand there till he dishes out what u wanted , right the one towards your side in the display, and not the one closer to Him..
Then you would see, frequent up selling tactics, huge boards notifying the Best Drinks, the Hottest Moving Items
with fancy exaggerations, hmm.. Okay now The hottest selling items never needs upselling strategy, eg a cappuccino wud always sell( taj Mahal---do we need to upsell that?)...
The reason is simple----move out the old stock asap so that they get saved from the glitch of poor ordering and get rid of the stock before it's expiry date.
Or the item concerned must be darn expensive or The item is newly launched and is not moving at all..
When u do not get bill, one reason is the poor staff must have forgotten---ideally thinking...
However, there's more to it than meets the eyes. On counting cash , it was found that the sales figure in the system is not equal to the actual cash... So , you got the drift, i feel..
On up selling, esp during rush hours, they would suggest "toppings" citing reasons as " It tastes awesome" or "it would add great taste sir, believe me"..

And they would scornfully(somtimes) think," So tell me sucker how shall i swindle u,with x topping, or y topping, say no and see i have other options." They wont tell you the add on is priced and is not free. (it's business u see!! ) and U jump out of your seat to see an added syrup or cream to your kitty..
So ask if it's charged extra, and see his face(well here i am talking about any zealous , stubborn guy, desperate to impress his manager, wont easily leave you)
Let me keep some more for the next posts, with me...
yes be good to them, they are serving you on every occasions, celebrations, away from their families .
Just play clever....
Hope you like it.

If u have anything to top this write up, as an add on, i won't mind that...
Your feedback , experiences if any, are awaited...
Bye for now..
A Beginning-

Night-sky painted with dots and a Crescent,
Adieu ed and waited to a new advent,
cradling bygone year's slow depart.
To usher into a spirited start.

The dawn then, lit up the eastern Sky,
painted with random strokes of red,
so begins a journey anew,
tiptoeing over the lavish dew-spread.

Renal tunes of hope, churns the mind,
A new life's song every heart breathes in,
every soul holds on to the dreams again,
and dazzled eyes await many vistas unseen.

Indrajit ghosal
Copyright(c)reserved 2008.

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