Thursday 3 November 2011

YOU

You, my dear, are like sand,
I can’t hold you in my fist.
You are as true as my own hand,
Still evade you my embrace like fog, like mist.

The more my heart yearns for you,
The more these eyes find you away.
Not much is left for me, come have a view.
Give me my life back or me darling you slay.

You are the only oasis in this vast desert,
Water is nowhere to be found but in mine eyes.
Take me to the oasis or with death let me flirt.
Either with love anoint me or award me my demise.


Friday 7 October 2011

My First Story for Kids


“Knock ,knock”
“Who’s it”, asked granny, putting the book aside which she was reading in her bed.
“It’s only me, dear granny” replied her grandson Sunny, who- as usual- had come to his grandma’s room for his daily dose of stories.
“Oh, you must go to bed now sunny, it is quite late and it’s time you should be sleeping. You should not be loitering around here and there at this time of the night.”
“Come on, granny open the door just for a few minutes. I promise, I shall not take more than 15 minutes, come on granny, please” insisted the young fellow.
“Ok, Ok. This kid is so stubborn!”spoke she, getting out of her bed.
As the door got open, Sunny quickly entered the room and jumped straight into granny’s bed and in no time was beneath the quilt. Granny followed him back to the bed.
“What is it child, didn’t I tell you, no stories today? I have to finish my book.”
“Hey granny, look I have brought you a gift” said Sunny, pulling a packet from his sweater.
“Now, what is it?”
“Ha, find out yourself”, said the grandson with an air of nonchalance.
“Oh , no”, she sounded perfectly devoid of any joy. “It’s a bunch of flowers!”
“Yes, a bunch of red roses. Aren’t they beautiful! I stole them from our own garden, only for you.”
“I know, child, how much you love me but they don’t belong to this place, they belong to somewhere else; to the garden.”
“Oh, come on granny, they are beautiful and they are for you.”
“But still....”
“No, No, No....... don’t dodge the real topic: give me my daily share of stories now and make the deal complete,” insisted the kid.
“It’s fine, if you are being so adamant. But, today’s story is going to be of my choice and it’s going to be about flowers. Say, do you accept the terms?”
“Ok. If you are being so adamant, then I suppose, I shall have to accept your terms”, Sunny mocked his granny.
“So, let’s start, but you first lie down properly and let me put my book back on the shelf.”



When they settled down on the divan, both faces facing the ceiling, granny began, “you know, kid, there was a time when all flora and fauna used to speak the language of us- the human beings. This story belongs to that era. So, long- long ago there happened to be a king who ruled a kingdom which was not just big but very strong also; militarily and economically. Prosperity reigned supreme in his kingdom. The king was very popular among the residents of his kingdom because he was extremely generous towards all his subjects. He was a law abiding man and never took sides while making decisions. In other words justice was served under all kinds of conditions and circumstances in his rule. Everything was hunky- dory.
In his family he only had one daughter. The king loved his daughter immensely. He wanted to give her all the worldly luxuries, and had provided her with everything that eyes could see and brain could imagine. From top to bottom she was clad in gold, her food was cooked by the best cooks of the nation, she had a humongous fleet of servants who never let her do anything by her own hands, when she wanted to go somewhere for enjoyment or wanted to browse around, there were sandal wood chariots waiting for him; not one but many: in other words she was living the life of a princess at its best.
Yes, she had everything, every item of luxury; but she loved only one thing with all her passion red roses. Her weakness for the roses was such that she never had enough of them. The king would bring cart loads of roses everyday for his daughter; but the heart of the princess was always yearning for more. King being king, always wanted to get more and more flowers for his daughter, no matter from which source and no matter how. Famous flower merchants would come to the king’s palace and sell him huge amount of flowers at exorbitant prices. Then there were numerous gardens surrounding the palace, in the garden there were only rose plants. Every day the king would go those gardens and pluck all the flowers from the plants. Gradually, the gardens started to wither because there were no flowers on any of their plants; they were nothing better than a forest of thorns. Slowly but surely, there was a conspicuous scarcity of rose flowers in the country. Then came a day when there was not a single rose in the entire country. The gardens of the private courtyards were raided; nothing came out from there too.
The good and jolly king was now a grumpy old man, who never smiled and never listened to anyone. The frustration of not being able to provide his daughter with what she loved most was tormenting him day in and day out. All the works of his office were halted now; he has stopped attending his own state council. The hunky - dory state was now a jilted and deserted country. Then one day his prime minister came and suggested him, “my lord, your humble servant has one suggestion to give. If thou allow me, I would like to say something.”
“What is it prime minister?”, said the king without any interest.
“Sir, why don’t we make an announcement in the entire country that whoever is able to bring some flowers to us will be awarded a grand prize? My lord, my humble opinion says that this ploy will pay dividends.”
“If you think that this ploy will work, do it. But I don’t think that anything concrete is going to come out of it.”

And the announcement was made.

A week passed, nothing happened. Then on the 8th day a man clad in a ochre robe came to the RAAJ DARBAR. He said that he wanted to see the king; he had something to say about the flower issue. He was brought to the king. He said, ‘if my lord is interested in rose flowers I have a humble suggestion to make, with thy permission.”
‘Yes, go ahead,’ said the king, ‘but remember, don’t you dare lie otherwise you shall be hanged’.
‘No my Great master, I shall not lie. I have come here to tell you about a rose garden where you can pluck as many a flowers as you want and the garden will never wither.’  
‘Where is it, tell me.’
 When the man told the king about the eternal garden, he said one more thing, ‘sir, the garden will not be visible to anyone else but you, so it’s only you who can go there and get the roses for your daughter.’
The king agreed, and, the ochre robed man was offered his prize which he did not agree to take.
The next day the king headed for the eternal garden. When he reached his destined place he was dumfounded by the sheer size and beauty of the place. He entered the garden greedily and headed towards the most flowered bush. When he was about to pluck his first flower, a miracle happened. The rose bush suddenly turned into a man; a demigod. The king was extremely flabbergasted by what transpired in front of his own eyes.
‘What art thou doing, King’, asked the demigod.
‘Why, plucking flowers for my daughter. We both love rose flowers immensely. We love to adorn our palace with roses every day,’ said the king, somewhat gathering himself.
‘Oh, this is the matter. You can take the flowers, king, but answer my one question first. You love the rose flower as you have just said, that’s why you want to adorn your daughter’s room with it. Now, tell me do you love your daughter?’
‘Why, yes, immensely.’
‘I see, then why don’t you adorn the palace with the head of your own daughter. She is also very beautiful and you love her very much. It will be fun, wont it?’ 
‘What are you speaking, you nutcase, she is my daughter, my own flesh and blood. How can I even think of doing what you have just said,’ shouted the king, shivering with anger.
‘What do you think; the flowers are not anything to the plants. Listen you foolish King, the plants love the flowers in the same way as you love your daughter. When you pluck a flower from a plant, the plant bleeds tears. Only because you are a man and a King, you don’t have the right to hurt a hapless creature. The plants are also a creation of god as you and I are.’
The king had no answer and he did not want to answer. Tears had wet his eyes. He had understood perfectly well what the demigod standing next to him was saying. He could only manage to say, ‘ forgive me my lord ,I have understood my folly and I promise I shall never ever touch a flower in my life. I shall make such a law that no one in my country will pluck flowers from now on.’
‘I see that you have fathomed your fallacy. So it’s time for me to leave, but , before leaving I would like to bequeath upon you this rose flower. You give this to your daughter as a token of love. This flower is called the eternal rose; it never fades and shall keep her happy forever.’

And the demigod disappeared into thin air. The king returned back to his place, resolute never to touch any flower again in the future. The old times returned and they lived happily ever after.

 This, dear boy, was our story.”
Granny looked at sunny who had tears in his eyes. “What happened, son?”, asked she.
“Nothing granny I shall never pluck flowers again.”
“Ok, child, let’s sleep”, said granny patting his forehead.

                                                      The   End   

Friday 26 August 2011

THOSE MOMENTS


Those evenings, all those evenings...
In which I reminisced you with all my yearnings,
In which like a thirsty oyster my heart used to wander
For the advent of someone unknown.

Those evenings,
Don’t they have any meaning, don’t they augur something?

Those moments, all those moments of solitude
When I talked to my shadow.
In my sorrow, threw all the pleasures away
Which now are redundant of any happiness.

Those moments,
Don’t they say something?

Those moments, those heavy moments,
When I came to realise
That total surrender has no other path.
When I bent and my forehead touched the road,
Then, the old footsteps were transmuted into diamond anklets.  

Those moments,
Are they nothing?


All those evenings, all those moments... all of them
Which froze upon my soul like mist
While they were coming into existence

Don’t they mean something?

 Why someone tells me all the time
That there should be something,
That even the most dreadful pain if touch
 Shall never come back in my whole life.

He who has devoted his soul like the flowers of worship
Some unknown sorrow would have polished him throughout.
And he would have accepted all the crude realities of the outer world
With his head down with gratitude.

All those things would have metamorphosed into hymns
All those evenings, moments, sorrows and gloom.

What is in them,
What is nugatory?
 Nothing, absolutely nothing.....

Monday 8 August 2011

When You Are With Me


When you are with me;
There is only joy, there is only glee.
When you are with me;
Life is embellished like a Christmas tree.
No pain, no sorrow, no gloom,
Autumn can’t touch me; spring is the only season.
 Tree of the heart in eternal bloom.
Can anyone elucidate it with reason?
Floats my soul like a bird set free,
Darling when you are with me.
Sings songs the heart of mine
Like sweet wine tastes the brine.
Like a feather all the vicissitude weigh
The bleak night to me is like a glorious day.
Only, darling, when you are with me.
Mine eyes are full of vision,
My mind brims with reason.
Air sonorously whispers in my ear.
I feel complete, Darling, when you are near.
Never leave me – just one request I have!
All my everything is yours: my soul, my conscience.
My feelings, my sentiments and my sense.
When you are with me,
I can be what I am.

Thursday 28 July 2011

my somber beauty


How pulchritudinous you look
When you get lugubrious!
Like in some place, pink with beauty, around old ruins
The intoxicating moon perambulates.

You cover your beautiful face with a veil
Like the descending sun hides itself behind the veil of clouds:
Or a ray of light, tired with a day’s journey,
Sleeps with her wings withdrawn.
Two mellifluous sad eyes can keep two lost passers-by in them.
How pulchritudinous you look
When you are lugubrious!!

Cheeks washed with the salty droplets,
Arid dishevelled hair,
With some golden hue,
Like the rays of silk, dropping from the sky one after another.
On thy succulent sweet lips there is a thirst lurking.
How pulchritudinous you look
When you are lugubrious!!!

Descending the stairs of waves,
The beauty itself whispers in your ear- “what hath happened to thee?
Why the corners of thine eyes are suppressing so much moisture?
Why thy lips art betraying a smile, why?”
Darling, how pulchritudinous you look
Like in some place, pink with beauty, around old ruins   
The intoxicating moon perambulates.

                                                           Your’s truly,
AVINASH RANJAN......

Monday 18 July 2011

The Real Loss

I happened to  encounter a quote of Norman cousins(great American author and journalist) in “The Times Of India “ this morning , it said ”death is not the greatest loss in life; the greatest loss is what dies insides us while we live”. The moment I read this, I was taken aback- how came I have never thought about life in that light and oh God, how important that is!
                                                                                 Some people may say that it is a pessimistic view, some may call it a loser’s perspective. But a few of us who has the courage and strength to go inside, inside the mind and heart, will stand up and say that this is one of the most honest and sincere assessment of human life. Yes, to a certain extent this is a gloomy and depressing definition of our life but is it not true that the gloom is our own creation, the depression is our deserved award, a deserved award for what we have been doing, with all our might since the time immemorial.
                                                       When I was a child, I never felt a single moment of bleakness or disconsolation. It will not be true to say that children don’t have problems: I had mine. Getting lesser marks than expected, the shame of losing a game to someone far inferior to me, the ghastly cuts in pocket money every now and then etc, they were all gigantic questions to be answered at that age. It is true that they all made me sad but the anguish never lasted more than a couple hours. And everything would come to normalcy like nothing had happened. Every day passed like a festival celebration; no pain of past, no worry of the future. The present was the only thing that mattered and everything else was a mere trifle. Small things, trifling  things used to provide with enormous amount of happiness; a small toy, a cheap ice-cream, a few good words from the teachers or parents and such inconsequential things were enough to fill my heart with happiness. The horizon of my sense of achievement and loss was fairly limited. In short I was pretty happy at that time without any ‘valid reason’.
                                         But, when I became a fully grown up man, my brain took over the reins from my heart and started to take control of my senses; my sense of happiness and my sense of dejection. And what changed now was, the disconsolation stayed longer and ecstasy faded like the waves on the serene water. Now the small setbacks produced enormous dejection and the major achievements produced a little joy. Every foul word spoken by any foul man stayed in my heart and every word  of encouragement evaporated quickly like camphor on fire. In simple words the happiness of the childhood was nowhere to be found.
                        Now, I want to raise a question: can life be imagined without happiness, can we find happiness without finding what was lost while we were transitioning from childhood to manhood. What was that one thing that we lost then. Not just for me, for you,  it stands true for every one that we lose our innocence while we grow up and when we are fully grown up we are completely devoid of that and hence all our problems. I must tell you that I have seen people who somehow have managed to keep their childhood innocence intact, and by heaven, I have seen them as happy as a five years old kid.
            The loss of our childhood innocence is a major setback to us, it takes away from us all our inherent virtues like honesty, truthfulness, passion, compassion, our positive sense of pain, the positive  aspect of our confidence and every positive thing that we have.
              When we die we lose only one thing- our breath but when we lose our virtues we lose all that make man similar to the ALL MIGHTY. Death can only make us die once but loss of our natural instincts makes us die every moment till our corporal frame is in existence.
                                                         My friends this article is getting bigger and bigger so I will have to conclude it, but my sincere salute to MR. NORMAN COUSINS. He has given me something very-very precious to ponder upon.                                                                        
                     Yours TRULY,
                                        AVINASH RANJAN.                           

Wednesday 13 July 2011

Open Up The Doors

Like this, the pain will not alleviate;
Like this, the dark will only abbreviate.
    Moping was a thing of past,
    Do away with the tears: do away fast.

This loneliness, this gloom, this anguish, this suffocation,
How can the wind blow when there is so much stagnation.
     Just open up the closed gate;
     Talk to light, it’s not too late.
All the negativities, all the hindrance will disappear, Realisation will  occur, how  close  the goal was from  here.

Not only in the homes, there are stairs in the hearts too;
If melancholy can use them, same  can the angels do.
   When  shackles of boast are broken,
   New relations will come like love’s token.
    Let the noise from the outside come,
    It will vanquish all the loneliness,all the glum.

Come, for some time, let’s live a life, a life full of chaos;
Let’s feel others pain, let’s mourn other’s loss.
      Let’s for some time live carefree,
     To everyone’s speculation agree.
     Let the fog disperse from the soul, from the heart,
     Let the pain in the heart subside, let’s all restart.

Friday 1 July 2011

Who Knows what Happens


Do not waste a single drop of your tear,
Who knows when the ocean comes begging to you!

“The well does not go to the thirsty”
It’s just a phrase, not an axiom.
There is no one in this world
Who does not have anything to offer.

Always keep yourself ready,
Who knows when the eyes of the Master catch you!

It’s only the mirror which breaks by a shock;
The image always remains untouched, unharmed.
Even the best of our friends can show us their backs,
But our problems; they will never jilt us.

Each and every drop of tear, we should love,
Who knows which one washes our soul!

It is no use showing obsequence to the roads
Our feet are our means in the journey; not the roads.
The man who can fall in his own eyes,
Can get up without any help; corporal or divine.

Never reject the invitations of the waves,
Who knows , which one of them will take you to the shore.

                                                         Thank you,
                                                                 Avinash Ranjan.   

Thursday 30 June 2011

The Trier Triumphs


Afraid if the boat is of the waves,
It will never cross the river.
Those who are brave enough to try;
When the sun sets, shall come out triumphant.

With a heavy weight on it’s head,
The tiny ant tries to mount the wall; falls several times.
The heart suddenly pumps courage into the veins,
Suddenly the falling disappears; only the goal remains.
And, at last the persistence pays.

The mariner dives several times into the deep ocean;
Several times the ocean returns him empty handed.
But, he has faith, there are pearls in there,
Hence his courage remains intact, excitement unabated.
Ultimately he has  gems in his hands; his efforts vindicated.

Failures: challenges, that’s what they are.
Accept them and introspect- what was remained to be done.
Leave every corporal bond aside till the goal is realised.
Without sweating your blood out, the seed will not sprout.
Remember only the trier triumphs .

                                                   Thank you,
                                                                    Avinash Ranjan.

Wednesday 29 June 2011

love and attraction


Attraction,
No matter how intense;
Will fade one day.
Like every bright star of the night
Disappears with the first rays of the morning.
Like every green tree of the spring
Loses all it’s leaves in the autumn.
And like every passion, every dream
Loses all it’s significance just after being realised.
Yes, time and vicissitudes created by the time,
Takes all the life and all the meaning from attraction.
And render it as lifeless as a wicked man’s heart.
Attraction is a bond:
A bond is bound to be broken, to be shattered.

But love,
Love is a flower that never fades;
No matter what the season is.
There are bonds, there are limits;
But, love itself is not a bond, it is not limited.
There is no visible source
Of the pleasant smell that it exudes all the time.
Self-sufficient: that’s what it is.
It never ends because it has no beginning:
It just sprouts in our hearts out of nowhere,   
Disappears when we proceed towards our eternal abode.
Every other feeling: hatred, passion,compassion, jealousy...
Everything changes form; but not love.
For thousands of years it has remained the same;
And it will not change till the end of time.
Because it is the only thing that god created;
Everything else is man made ...........

                                          Thank you,                 
                                                            Avinash Ranjan.

Thursday 23 June 2011

From gloom to glory


Whom are we impersonating?
Why are we changing ourselves so drastically?
Where exactly are we going?
What precisely do we want?
Ah, our respective answers, we all know.
Oh yes, that is the fact; isn’t it.
It takes enormous amount of courage to utter those words.
“I want to succeed; yes, I want to embrace the Goddess success.”
Deep inside, we all know
That,
We don’t want to be successful
Rather,
We want to be deemed successful,
In the eyes of others,
Who also want the same thing.
Don’t we know that
We don’t love ourselves
As much as we envy others.
Our sorrows are not our miseries;
Other’s prosperities is our misery.
We don’t walk alone because we are afraid;
No that is not true;
We don’t walk alone because we want to follow the throng,
We want to be assured that our path is well treaded.
Knowing quite well that well treaded paths only brings mediocrity, not success.
We don’t laugh because others are not laughing now.
We don’t cry because we will be deemed weak.
Not a single thing we do for our very sake.
We consider mundaness the way of life.
Our treachery is our resourcefulness:
Deceit our weapon.
Beach pebbles the pearls of oceans.
All we human beings have become a big throng of insects;
With no individuality, following each other without knowing the reason.

NO..NO..NO..NO............
This is not going to work, not at all by any means.
Human race will die without it’s individuality:
We will not survive if we are all not different from each other.
Only a peculiar individual can be creative;
Creation is the flesh and blood of our race.
Amassing the heap of information in our brains will not take us anywhere:
Knowledge is the need of the hour.
Only creative force in this world is individuality.
Without that we are breathing dead bodies.


Friends if we feel any obligation towards our world,
Let’s all take a pledge now that we will remain faithful to our respective individualities.
Come what may, we will not change our naturality for anything ,
Thus we will always remain Productive, Creative, and Real. 


                                                                                       Thank you ,
                                                                                                           Avinash Ranjan.

Thursday 9 June 2011

What a strange man he was.

What strange man he was :
what a peculiar man, indeed.

Some times he was as soothing as love songs ,
and at times he was hammer and tongs .

He used to tell the poor
that our days can change.
And to the affluent
that nothing can stop us from taking our revenge.

He used to tell all the splendors of life
that i can forsake you .
And to all the prohibitions
that  I can break you .
And to the mighty opposition he used to tell
that I can shake you .

To the dreams he used to tell,
my dear I will make you come true .
And to each and every desirable passion
I can achieve you, if  i can construe.
No matter how far you go away from me
I will chase you; any distance I will travel through.

He used to tell his life
darling ,you to me are adorable.
You can ask me for the impossible
and i will get you the impossible.

He used to tell the human beings
"love thy enemy" .
who will save this decaying world,
if not you; if not me.

To all the difficulties, sorrows, vicissitudes, and pains he used to tell,
I will vanquish you one day .
One day this world will bid you farewell.
But I, I am a different story.
The eyes which have dreams :the hearts who know how to throb
The arms with strength:the lips which can afford a few words.
I will remain forever in their memory .
When I am long gone from here.

Wasn't he a strange man ?
A strange man indeed?

Tuesday 7 June 2011

I am not alone today



I am also not alone today:
there is melancholy,there is ache there is gloom.
do not i have company in every form, in every way?

There is a reticent evening star in the firmament,
then there is a memory well nigh but still distant.
and they are my pillars of strength.

There is a turbid deep river,
some foot marks, well lost, are also there.

To let the boat sail free;
to break the anchor quickly;
to take a turn extraordinary.
there is a feeling
joyful ,peculiar
baseless and somber.

It's not only love,my friend,
that the waves to the sand send.
a thirst is also brought to the shore that's unquenchable.
and that makes our lives beautiful,
like  winsome oil paintings
painted on us ,the human beings.

I am also not alone today;
there is melancholy,there is ache,there is gloom.
do not i have company in every form, in every way.