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The Calling


For those who look for heaven, must look beneath their feet.

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Women

Contrary to the undercurrents prevailing in the present state of our hallowed nation, I for one have always been grateful to women who are and always will be the better of the two sexes. Here are some who made 2012 an absolute rocker. Their mentions are in the order of how I met them or how they have always been around me. Sisters Neha & Aarti (Indescribable) Renu a.k.a Renuka (Temperamental, Mental, Temperate zone dweller - mood defined) PC a.k.a Priyam 'LongBongSurname' Mood capturer, Part British, Exotic Indian living in the land of the long sword (Oman) Chetasi, Neha, Vigya a.k.a Chittu, Chotu & Vigsy (Green card holder, Fashionista, Dreamer - respectively) Arunima a.k.a Shorty (Lights up your Dey, thinks in technicolour & conveys in Dolby) Deb a.k.a Debby (Thinks Dolby, talks Dolby & lives Dolby) Shilpa (She sings, strums,serenades & is one hot Tam babe) Praachi Kapse a.k.a Ponchy (PR Prof/pract
I often wonder what drives young men to take to arms. I realise they are driven towards a wrong cause by some men who were misled too. In the following lines I try to depict the scene of terrorist who is embarking on his task, in the hope that men do not take recourse by such measures for there are people as well as a power that awaits to make amends. Cowed down by ways of his life in a corner he sits scared, With folded hands and open palms, head bowed down in prayer, Misled by his virtues, his future on the floor, A voice inside that’s telling him, to settle all his scores. For tragedies yet to happen, all miseries he must stall, Rise for the common cause, answer Allah’s call, What he won’t know is that his heart is cold and still, And all that he plans about, is against Allah’s will. Misery in his bloodshot eyes, his lips spell out a curse, Misunderstood, oft repeated a common holy verse, Deep in prayer with beads of sweat upon his brow, he summons his men miss bred, Heaven has been
The massacre of innocent lives in Mumbai had millions of stories. Fortunately, most of those killed were not children. Unfortunately, several of those orphaned still. The following lines are dedicated to all the children who shall have a void in their life forever. Those who lost their dad, mom or even both. These lines are also written for the wives who shall never see their husbands again, for husbands who shall never see their wives. In short, to all those who lost a loved one. For those who lost years in those hours, as well as to those who gained some, only to realise the vagaries of life. (Above) The tall and mighty Taj a while after the incident... Took it from my cell camera on a bike ride with a friend... With eyes so blue in a face so grim, Songs of sorrow stored deep within, Her heart growing weaker with growing pain, Heart break as cold as winter rain. She stalk midnight like shadows at noon, And waits but knows he won’t be here soon, Lights shine out at a distant scene, He