To the Stunning Mystery

Hi le,
Don't be surprised by the tone of the sentences that you're about to read. I'm still your friend with the weird smile. In case you feel any awkwardness, you're welcome to punch me. So let's start.....

It's been three years since we became part of this crowd which now holds tons of nostalgia. These were the fastest, yet intense three years of my life. Full of joy and new experiences. You, specially are a big reason for lot of worth treasuring moments. I suppose it's been more than a year after we became good friends. As I always told you, you surely are not a typical girl. From listening to variety of songs to seizing mesmerizing experiences, I've always felt you're much of my alter ego.

The best part you is your attitude. You know when to care and when not give a damn. Sure you're not 'depressing' like me  and you know I'm fan of your sarcasm. Most captivating part is the way you listen to everybody. And mostly that part has made you many fans. No wonder I'm one of them.

Somewhere amidst those random long walks and unending talks, I was opening up to new fantasies. I myself didn't know until those fantasies started to get vented as poems. You've read most of them and teased me over the lines but it was difficult to convey you about the same. Don't know when the rhymes of the songs caught up with the wind and you became a sunshine. There was a flow, I was buyoant and you were the spell I got jinxed to.

It's been quite a while I've been caught up in thoughts of you. Suddenly everything about you has become my fantasy. I feel like talking to you, write about you, listen to you all the time. I also tried to convince me the contrary of all this and hide my feelings. Sure I failed, the supression doesn't seem to sustain long. So here I'm blabbering about my silly, dreamy feelings. I may be wrong but I suppose somewhere along this journey you might have felt a little about me that way. Hoping for a positive reply, I'll remain imprisoned to the tethers of your unspoken words.

Yours
Unsung Seagull

Meeting School Friends

Like a river I flowed.
Creeping through the cracks,
Peeking up from the burrows,
Cutting through the mountains,
I rallied ahead.

Took a few plunges,
Tussling with the stones,
Meandering in the planes,
Met the depth of the sea.
Where, my friends were already waiting.

ಸತ್ಯ

ನೀ ನೋಡಿದ್ದು,

ನೀ ಕೇಳಿದ್ದು, 

ಮೂಸಿದ್ದು-

ನಿನ್ನ 

ಬೇಧ ಭಾವಗಳ
ರಾಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ 

ಒದ್ದೆಯಾಗದೆ,

ನಿನ್ನ ಸೀಳು 

ವಿಚಾರಗಳ ನಡುವೆ
ಹಿಂಡಿ ಹಿಪ್ಪೆಯಾಗದೆ,

ನಿನ್ನ ಕೆಂಡದಂತ 

ಸೊಕ್ಕಿನಿಂದ
ಬೆಂದು ಬೆಂಡಾಗದೆ-

ಸಂದರ್ಭದ ಲಾಭ 

ಪಡೆಯದೇ
ಹೊರಬಂದರೆ....

ಅದು "ಸತ್ಯ".

ಅರುಣ

ಸುಖ, 

ಮಂದರ ಪರ್ವತವಾದರೆ,
ದುಃಖ 

ವಿಷ್ಣುವಿನ 

ವಾಸುಕಿ ನಾಗ.

ಕಷ್ಟ ಸುಖಗಳ 

ಮಂಥನವೇ ಜೀವನ.
ನೀನು ಮಂಥನದ 

ಆಧಾರ, ಕೂರ್ಮ.

ಪಡೆದ ವಿಷವ 

ಶಿವನಿಗೆ ಬಿಡು.
ಅಮೃತವನ್ನು 

ದಾನವನಿಗೆರೆವೆಯೊ,
ನಿನ್ನಲ್ಲಿನ ದೈವಕ್ಕೆರೆವೆಯೊ 

ನಿನಗೆ ಬಿಟ್ಟದ್ದು.

ನೀನೆ ನಿನ್ನ 

ಸೂರ್ಯೋದಯದ

ಅರುಣ.

Liberation

Between Truth and Lie,
I would choose Sarcasm.

Between God and Satan,
I would choose Joker.

Between Success and Failure,
I would choose sleep.

Between Love and Hate,
I would choose Apathy.

Between Left or Right,
I would choose Satire.

Between Me and You,
I would choose a Dog.

If you want me to take Sides,
I would choose a better one-
The redicule of both.

Arrival vs Aravali

The residential school I hail from has has four houses, just like Hogwarts. They go by the name Aravali, Nilgiri, Shivalik and Udaygiri. Each house has a house master who looks after the activities of the students of their particular house. Besides the house master, the  office of second house master too is a prestigious post. The person concerned to this narration was the second house master of Nilgiri house, who was be our physical education teacher too.

Indeed, we Navodayan folks are known for trolling the physical education teachers (PET). Among the Homo Sapiens they're differently evolved creatures. I know some are normal, but that just might be because of mutations. Our weirdo too never failed to surprise us all. Apart from his other hilarious acts, this was the one I involved directly. It happened right in front of me, well I'm a survivor in most obvious ways.

It was a day when everyone was returning back from home after Diwali holidays. I was in 9th standard. I was at PET's as my parents wanted to meet him before they went home. We went to his home and seems that day the he was in charge of Nilgiri house as the first house master was away. The only thing he had to do that day was updating the registry. So, he sent me to call a senior from Nilgiri house to assign him process of registration of those who returned from home. A senior, Sunil Chini came with me. After he came, the PET started explaining him about the columns that are to be included in the registration book. Of course he did it by referring to previous entries. 

He said to him..

“Draw few columns to enter Name, Name of Parent, Aravali time, departure time and signature". He couldn't pronounce the word 'departure' that's a different thing.

Right at the moment I was looking at the senior. He too was looking at me with a crooked smile. We had a story for the evening.

Sir, he's not Sharanabassappa, he's Sunil Hanasi.

It was June of 2007 and I’d just entered ninth class. According to the convention, it was time our batch moved from the junior house to the senior house. A month had passed and the anxiety of being under the same haunted seniors was yet unsettled. The royal command we had in junior houses was no more. The days of giving commands were over and days of nodding heads to the commands had begun. In the classroom too the ordeal of new teachers was unprecedented. Like earlier, now there were very little chances of fooling the teachers and escaping from the assignments.

Besides this uncomfortable servitude experience in new waters, the announcement of school inspection created some more ripples. So, prior to a week our preparations for the showtime started. From cleaning the dormitories to updating our class assignments, it surely was a real kick in the gut. Not only students, teachers too were preparing themselves for the judgement day. For the house masters of course it was a double task. More than the classroom their house was their point of worry, as they knew, even after taking care of everything still there could be surprises waiting till the right moment.

Now let's come to the real story. Then, the house master of Neelgiri house was Mr S. T. Maithri. He surely was not a routine personality you would meet. He was funny by his actions but had a very grave temper. He spoke more with his gestures than words, that’s what made him unpredictable. Sometimes his gestures seemed funny but one never knew if the gestures meant other way too. Anyway, from his past experiences he knew that when the inspection panel pays a visit to a particular house, a member of the panel would randomly point at a student and ask for his name from the house master. See, that was a matter of concern to Mr. STM. He was a kind of personality who cared little to remember names. Now he had to do something about it. So to avoid any possible embarrassment, he came up with a plan. He held a meeting with students of his house and told them to simply nod their head for whatever name he utters in such a situation.

Such a well thought plan right? Easy too. But wait, I didn't mention about the existence of a second house master. Mr.M. Y. Kurugund, the physical education teacher was the second house master of Neelgiri house. I think he needs no introduction as he’s like any other PET. He would never miss an opportunity of flattery in such events. So he was there with the panel everywhere, though his presence was not at all necessary. 

That evening the inspection panel visited Neelgiri house. After some random walk through the house the panel started an informal interaction with the students. A panel member- who didn’t forget the convention- pointed at a student and asked Mr STM for his name. With a most friendly, confident grin Mr. STM said, he is "Sharanabassappa". The student too in a humble manner nodded to the response with a smile. Well, before everything was okay, a 'noise' from the background said, "Sir, he's not Sharanabassappa, he's Sunil Hanasi” Any guess who was that noise? Well that's why I introduced Mr MYK, the PET. Didn’t I? Only the PET didn't knew what was happening and before he could realize, the panel chairman sarcastically said "I think the second house master is dynamic than the  first house master" and went out.

Who's R.N.Ta-Go-Re?

I hail from Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya Dharwad. A residential school in every district of the country. Established to identify rural talents and nurture them with good education. Among the other routines, morning assembly was one that held utmost importance. The irregularities in the assembly were seriously confronted by the principal. Be it on the stage or off the stage. In the morning assembly we were expected to present ourselves in rotation - supposedly meant to overcome stage fear and imbibe etiquette of formal proceedings. Quiz was one of proceeding among others. The convention was, the person on the stage asked some 6 to 8 questions and whoever among the audience knew the answers, could answer to the question.

It was not an unusual day, but not for our guy Jnaneshwar. Compared to the things he did his name looked more like an oxymoron. He was popularly branded as 'Madda' after few of his idiotic acts. That day the proceedings were supposed to be on Kannada. And when it comes to Kannada, Madda had an unusual accent given his Marathi background. Seems the guy who had quiz that day had some issues at the last minute and requested Madda to present on his behalf. Madda was ready on stage with book which already had questions picked by the other guy. Of course Madda was not good with even basic general knowledge. If he was any good, the incident which lead to this narration would have been not recorded in this space- time continuum.

So, our guy stands there on the stage. Confident, with a commanding, unusual Kannada accent. Everything went smoothly until he asked this question- "Who's the first Asian to be awarded Nobel for literature?" You know the answer. Easy right? But wait. Following the question, many from the crowd answered "Rabindranath Tagore". To that, Madda plainly replied, "Your answer is wrong. The correct answer is R. N. Ta-Go-Re." Pronouncing "Tagore" unusually, he said it so confidently that many who realized what had happened were baffled. Seems the answer was written in English in the book. He pronounced the last syllable '-re' as it's pronounced in 'Red'. After he said "R. N. Ta-Go-Re", the principal was infuriated enough that, he grabbed him by collar and slapped him hard. Yeah! The principal used to do that and sure, he was not the only victim on that stage.

It is one the funniest memory from school that is cherished by everyone. Even now, he is teased with the same incident. It's been almost 7 to 8 years after the incident and now  "The Jnaneshwar Kammar" is serving in Indian Navy.

The Angry Professor

We had this very strict, sincere and ill-tempered professor. If anyone was late for his class, he freaked out and sent them back. He had a conservative attitude. Though he was a good teacher, he had poor command over English language.

However strict a teacher may be, always there will be some guys who- despite any type of consequences that follow- don't give a damn about anyone. While this professor was busy teaching that day, a friend of mine in the back row was talking to other guy. The professor caught him. He was enraged and suddenly lost his temper. With all his rage, he yelled, "stand up." Our guy stood up looking at the professor.

My friend stood stiff, anxious and embarrassed. The professor was staring at him. There was a awkward silence and as a vacuum was developing in the classroom, the professor was searching for words. While his angry face was turning anxious, he suddenly said "Follow me." No one understood what's going on. Our poor guy followed him like a sheep to be butchered. The professor went out of the classroom and stood there until our guy went out and stood beside him. Then the professor yelled, "stand here." Then the professor came back to the class and closed the door.

Guess what?
The professor was so angry that, he forgot the English words "Get out". The anxiety that followed left him blank completely and he couldn't make anything other than "follow me."

It took some time for us to figure out what exactly happened there. But this was the most convincing explanation as his command over English was not that good.

Delivery or Delivery?

This happened after my fifth semester. I was at home after completing my state tour. While I was in college, I had placed an order for a hard disk as my friend wanted to buy one. The delivery was supposed to be in my name and the delivery guy called me when I was at home. After I talked to him, I called my friend to to tell him the same.

I was talking to him on the phone standing in the backyard of my home. My grandma was nearby washing some clothes. My tone is bit high and I talk like I'm yelling at somebody.  I told him - Le delivery bandeti. Avang call madi harddisk tagond ba - the delivery has come, go and collect it. I saw my grandma becoming alert as I said that on the phone. She stood up and rushed towards my father. With a concerned tone she was telling my father - Yappa, ninna maga ghata madida. Mani kimmat kalada. Iga yardo delivery ga hontan nod- your son has committed a blunder. He has ruined the family name. He's going to someone's delivery.

My father and mother came out laughing at me. I too was laughing out loud. My grandma was perplexed at our gesture. We altogether explained her what was the context and what 'delivery' meant in different context.

When Crush Kicked a Surprise...

My home is some 50 km away from Dharwad. Which is where I've been studying for exams. On some random occasion, I'd been to my home and was returning. While I was traveling to my room in a city bus, I was sunk in the music that was being played at best possible volumes via my new earphones. The only time I'd removed my earphones was while the conductor gave me ticket.

As the bus approached my destined terminal, I was ready with my bags to readily get out of the bus. When it stopped, a really good looking lady entered the bus. She wore decent chudi and looked pleasant. After I crossed her, wearing wtf smile I started pacing towards my room.

I was hardly 10 meters away from the bus when someone patted my shoulder. Guess what? It was the same lady that had left a momentary impression on me. Before she gave me a real shock, a lot of reckoning went through my mind within that second - " Do I know her. Is she from school? Did I drop something? I'll have a cute story to tell after all. But why's she serious?"

As I removed my earphones, I could hear now. She was scolding me. Before I could pick my confused senses, she asked me to show my ticket. I didn't get her in the first instance. With a serious grudge she said  "Show the god damn ticket. I'm a ticket checker." After I showed her the ticket, she looked at it, stared at me disgustingly and went away.

I wish, I'd told her, "You look beautiful when you are angry." I mean, how rare it is to encounter a ticket checker without a thick skin?  Of course she too, seemed to be of thick skin, though behaviourally.

Sing Me To Sleep

And you ignore me.
These unfulfilled fantasies,
Strangle me mentally
And like a catastrophe,
Cascade down deep.

Where are you?
Come, emancipate me.
Decipher this silence and
Sing me to sleep.

The Ordinary Man

Who am I?
The good me? The bad me?
I'm both. I'm either.
Also, I'm neither of the two.

A victim of time,
Picking up myself,
Crawling, aging,
But still, standing,
To make a living.

Drowning, crumbling'
In this sweep.
Yet, in a momentary lapse,
Cheating the mighty time,
To nail some moments.

I'm me, wondering who's me?
Through the sweep of time;
Fighting, flying and sighing,
I'm a warrior, a survivor.
I'm, the usual, ordinary man.

Heart. You bitch.

With broken promises
you were tied.
Even when you already knew the truth,
With convinced lies
you got twisted.
You were battered, betrayed
and laughed at.

Away from vulnerability,
Though I locked you up.
Yet, when you got that sign.
Heard that silly song.
Breaking all the tethers,
You were afloat. Again.

- Unsung Seagull

Unwilling Wishes

Some footprints are
Too poetic to be washed away.

Such things.
A bulwark against my reasons-
Enticed in me by the grasp of memories,
Bolstered by these unending longings,
Carried forward by songs and
Reminded by the caress of winds.

Sometimes I wish for
An adamant surge come along,
Give some reasons and
Wash all this limerence away.

Yet!
A part of me that's used to them,
keeps asking me,
Still,
You don't wanna miss the poetry.
Do you?

Now She's Gone

Some words and instruments
Are making noise.
Now she's gone,
The music, that's all it is.

Wind just seems like
Ageographic disturbance,
The buoyancy in me,
I've lost.

Sun rise and the sun set,
They behold it's nostalgia.
Seems earth is simply rotating like me.
All for nothing.

Now they stink. The memories.
They're but a decayed past.
Their flamboyance is corroded.
I'm blind.

She was like rain.
Now she's gone, I blurt.
Poems are athirst,
And craving for a sign.

Smile that Snared

It was only a smile,
That got launched from your gentle lips.
I'm afloat.

Took a heavenly ride already.
Taunted the moon, smirked at the sun.
And didn't gave damn for the stars.

Gosh! that smile!
In which abyss you've pushed me?
My heart is astir.
Mind is swirling amidst toneless rhymes.
I'm lost and out of words.

Your smile!
It asks me a poem to set me free.
I'm afraid. If I do, it can get cast in strongly.
As it has now, already!

A Beyond Place

Where knowledge doesn't matter
And even our folly is a bliss.

Where wisdom is not ruined by
The shackles of words and
Even silence is poetry.

Where the world is not defined
By the right and the wrong
But by very being.

Where vision is not limited by a horizon,
But go beyond,
To embrace every seamless beauty.

Away from the masks of people,
A place where there's good radiance of
Heart filled laughter.

In such a heaven, I wish to wake up
One day, with you, my dear.

Blimey!

I don't know, what I know and
What I don't know.?

Don't know what I'm and
What I'm not.?

Neither what I want to be nor
What not to be.?

Do I have a purpose or
This is one.?

Am I confused? 
I don't know.

I simply wonder!
All these are questions or answers themselves.?

Tribute to the 'Holy Word'

It's noun, an adjective,
A verb many a times.

One word-
Innumerable expressions.
A silver bullet to
Move past the troubles.

It has stood by us
During betrayal,
We've embraced it,
To get past our ex.

We. You and I.
Have used it on others,
So have others on us.
Sometimes,
On ourselves over a fuss.

It ain't a superlative,
Yet when prefixed or suffixed,
Gives intensity to
Any expression. Any feeling.

Through it, we do vent our ire,
Also exclaim our happiness.

For decades, it has
Outlived other mighty words,
Other are learnt and forgotten,
This one lingers.

It's versatile usage
Can't be a sheer luck,
The word worth
This praise is 'fuck'.

ಕೇಳಲಾಗದ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ. ತಿಳಿಯಲಾಗದ ಉತ್ತರ.

ನೀನಾವ 

ಕವಿತೆಯ ಸಾಲೊ?
ಯಾವ 

ಹಾಡಿನ ಪ್ರಾಸವೊ?

ಮನದಲ್ಯಾವಗಲೂ 

ನೀ ಗೊಣಗಿದರು,
ಇನ್ನೂ ಪ್ರಶ್ನಾರ್ಥಕ 

ನಿನ್ನರ್ಥ.

ಯಾವ ಒಗಟೊ?
ಯಾವ ರಹಸ್ಯವೊ? 

ನಾ ಕಾಣೆ.
ಬಿಡಿಸಿದಷ್ಟು ತೊಡಕು.
ತಿಳಿದುಕೊಂಡಷ್ಟು 

ಗಾಢ, ಈ ಒಲವು.

ನಾ ಮಾತನಾಡ 

ಬಯಿಸಿದ 

ಗುಡ್ಡದ ಗಾಳಿಯೊ?
ಆಲಿಸಲೆತ್ನಿಸಿದ 

ಕಣಿವೆಯ ಮೌನವೊ?

ಶಬ್ದಗಳಿಂದ ಹಾಳಾಗಿ,
ಶೂನ್ಯತೆಯಲ್ಲಿ 

ಮುಳುಗಿರುವೆ.

ಕಾಲ ಗರ್ಭದಲಿ 

ಕಳೆದುಹೋದ
ನೀ, ನನಗಾರು; 

ನಾ ನಿನಗಾರೆನಿಸಿದರೂ,

ನನ್ನ ತರ್ಕಹೀನ 

ಭಾವನೆಗಳಿಗೆ 

ನೀನೊಂದು ಉತ್ತರ,

ಕೆಲವು ಸಮಂಜಸ 

ತಿಳುವಳಿಕೆಗಳಿಗೆ 

ನಿಲುಕಲಾರದ 

ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ.

Her Silence + My Loneliness= Poetry

Like a song from a distant land,
With the familiar evening winds,
You come, stir my thoughts,
Just to go again.

No signs, no whispers, no words.
Your silence is all I have. 
My loneliness weaves it with words;
And that's my poetry.

Good- Bad

A bad man, a good man.
Who decides reason?

A wrong deed, a good deed.
Who defines destiny?

He's theist, me atheist.
Does it matter?

I'm smart, she's dumb.
Really?

World isn't black and white.
Colourful it is.

Reality is our perceived illusion.
World is beyond our calculations.

We're prisoners of our thoughts,
Our lives are beyond all rationality.

Painting by- SUMALATA SONAVANE

ನನ ಹುಡುಗಿ

ಹುಬ್ಬಳ್ಳಿಯ 

ಹೂಬಳ್ಳಿ
ನನ ಹುಡುಗಿ.

ಹೂವಿನಷ್ಟು 

ಕೋಮಲವೇನಲ್ಲ,
ಬಳ್ಳಿಯಷ್ಟು 

ಜಟಿಲವೇನಲ್ಲ.

ಹೇಳಿದರೂ, 

ತಿಳಿಯದವಳವಳು,
ಕೇಳಿದರೂ 

ಹೇಳದವನು, ನಾನು.

ಅವಳು ಕಿವುಡಿ, 

ನಾನು ಮೂಕ.
ನಮ್ಮ ಪ್ರೀತಿ,
ಎಂದೂ ಮುಗಿಯದ 

ಮೌನ.

ಎದೆಯಾಳವನ್ನು 

ಮೀಟಿ,
ಮಾತಾಡದೆ 

ದೂರವಿದ್ದರೂ,

ಧಾರವಾಡದ 

ಮೂರು ಸಂಜಿಯ
ತಂಗಾಳಿಯಂತೆ, 

ನನ್ನನ್ನಾವರಿಸಿಹಳು...

Days of Our Lives

We're men,
Running from the life's truth,
In search of a convincing lie.
Busy, wasting time to earn,
Again spending it to waste time.

How we live?
Revolving around consumerist ethos,
Doomed in convincing ourselves this lie,
When we already know what's the truth.

And finally, here we're
Obsessed with future,
Regretting wrecked past
While present is in crisis.

Paradox

Some people walk in your life.
One or two,
Physically or virtually become part of routine.
In a short span start imbibing in your memories,
And penetrate into your little beautiful world.
At times a confusion arises.
You feel you've got something to tell.
And you know? You just can't.

It's like this,
You want to tell it. Also don't want to. You try to give clues but yet,
Not satisfied, that she haven't got you.
And one fine evening you decide,
'I'm gonna tell, let the world burn'
But again your courage gets shattered.

Many give words to these paradoxes,
I couldn't name it,
May be don't want to.
I don't wanna name it as friendship,
Nor confine it as love.
Thought it's something beyond,
And just choose to let it go.

Nightmare

These days,
My mind goes empty,
Heart remains drab.
I try to sleep but
Till late I keep awake.
The dead silence around,
Whispers rattle of shattered dreams.
These scars remind me,
The agony of those fresh wounds.
Closed doors at which I stare
Tells that I've been ignored.
For the promises that are broken,
I feel like weeping.
But I withhold it in eyelashes,
For no one is here to comfort me.
Then to divert from everything,
I just listen to tickling clock.
Slowly, the tickle drives me asleep.

-Jatri

Truth

Truth is a dangerous thing,
For its variable in space and time.
When a man speaks a truth,
The person targeted understands it in one way,
Others perceives it other way.
And in process of convincing all,
It becomes a different truth.

Not all truths bring happiness,
Not all lies hurt.
I suppose,
The truth that hurts is more than a lie,
The lie that keeps happy is a better truth.
Since no one knows absolute truth,
It's only convinced in different versions.

Why Words of Pi mean a lot to me....

'Life of Pi' seemed to be a special movie for me. Caught hold of my emotions in a different manner. Specially the dialogue that comes when Richard Parker departs from Pi, ''I suppose in the end, the whole life becomes an act of letting go. But what always hurts most is not taking a moment to say goodbye''. It closely associates with everyones life. It becomes the most emotional quote for me and also sends fears down me sometimes. Fear to let go somebody like Richard Parker.

After I was out of school, the agony of departing from my best friends circle was always haunting. Always my worry was I've just lost it. Lost those seven years which would never come back. I can never do things as we did it all together. Laughing, dancing, playing, eating, bathing and what not? That initial one year out of school was just a hell. I was so secluded and life then was so drab that it took much time for me to adjust to new friends and new world.

Often I used to get thoughts like what if I just pass away one fine day? The very idea dreaded me.  I just don't want to simply fade away. Always I used to think, even now I think of thanking everyone who came in my life and tell them what they meant to me. I just don't want to suffer again as I repented when my roommate just passed away. Raju,  was may be one of finest friend I had. An innocent lad who taught me about dedication and devotion in life, one fine day he just faded away from my life. I could hardly believe it. That one month I was in Pune. He used to text me often and because of roaming I didn't replied him anytime. Even didn't called and talked to him for about one month during my stay in Pune. When I returned to college, he was not there. I thought he may join directly first day of college. But he didn't. Later when I felt he should have been there by now, I called him but there was no sign reaching him. Next day his uncle conveyed us that Raju's no more. It was such a worst moment of life. A life just vanishes away and we're compelled to believe it. It's the hardest part of it.

May be that's why the dialogue sucks out all my emotions. It has happened to me. Good and bad part of life is many lives get attached to it that it never lets anyone to simply fade away. So I suppose in the end, the whole life becomes an act of letting go. But what always hurts most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.

Rafting in the Ganges

Yesterday morning we reached Haridwar. After roaming around, by noon we reached Rishikesh. I took no long to figure out that there is rafting facility. Since me and one of my friend had an unsatisfied experience in rafting in Dandeli, we dragged another ten boys with us and just decided go rafting in the white cold waters of the great Ganges. It was told that we'll be charged only 350/- each for 18km rafting. We agreed for that. The charges seemed very cheap because in Dandeli we were charged 1500/- for 6-7 km rafting. After our our crew was ready we're taken to the spot in a trax. Within an hour we're ready at the spot, wearing a life jacket, helmet, a paddle and raft. We had an instructor too.

The place over there was covered with beautiful mountain ranges all along the way. I suppose they're Shivalik ranges. Amidst those, green tinged water of Ganges flowed, which has set bed of beautiful fine sand on the bank. One can see hundreds of tents all along. Ofcourse I was jealous of all them. With the paddle in the hand along with life jacket and helmet we felt almost like warriors and screamed a lot with all available slogans. It was like a wild bird has awoke from within.

When everything got set, the instructor gave some basic instructions to be followed during emergencies and how to paddle etc. We were ready to sail away. We left the shore, the instructor screamed 'Ganga ma ki' and we together cried 'Jai'. It was like heaven. We peddled following the instructors commands. There were some places where the flow was more rapid. At those places the water flow used to throw the raft up and again leaving it to thump back which splashed water on us. My heart used to be heavy at those moments. The chill waters sent shivers, that used to make us scream.

After we reached certain distance. The water was still. The instructor asked if we wish to spend time floating on water. Ofcourse I was waiting for that particular moment since I had experienced it already. As he said it. I clutched my hand to the rope by the side of raft and just fell in water. I went inside the water, lost breath for some seconds and water went in through nose. And you know how one feels when it happens so. The life jacket brought me up. I enjoyed the float longitudinally for sometime. Then I stretched my hands side ways keeping head and legs straight to body. In this particular position, the life jacket makes one float in a perfect relaxed position. Oh!! Hard to explain that tranquillity. The moments were so serene and to add beauty to it I just chanted the poem ''Pighle neelam sa behta hua ye sama. Neeli-Neeli si khamoshiyaan" from ZNMD. Though no one over there knew what that great poem meant, I didn't wanted to give up that madness.

Beside this ecstasy, the matter of anguish was all others were searching us. My escort professors were almost broke. We called them in the middle of our voyage but all we got is bloody scoldings. At that point we were enjoying the last moments of our endeavour. Paddling it more rapidly till the hands ached alongside keeping our high frequency screams constant. We hurried fast towards bus as we got to the shore. The professor had called to our parents. As my number comes first in the roll call list. I was the first victim. That part was really terrible. Heavy assault with scoldings from both sides. I got strong warnings from my father. We just took every scolding as a masala for what all we experienced for past few hours. Atleast the freedom should cost that much, 'freedom is not free'. Finally I would say, I really feel that Uttarkhand is a good destination for hangout with friends. It has many great facilities to spend time. Just don't want to miss any of it. So let me wish to visit here again with a better dynamic and mad crew of navodayans.

Sometimes Just Relax and Say....

Not always we should be happy,
Sometimes let sadness break the monotony.

Not always we should be clear,
Sometimes confusion adds great memories.

Not always we should judge people,
Sometimes let's walk in their shoes to behave matured.

Not always we should be charming,
Sometimes being absolutely boring gives us freedom.

These ups and down add life to our days,
Otherwise stagnation is almost death.

Running like a rat is everyone's fate,
Sometimes just relax and say, fuck it....the feel will be great.

Sometimes,

Sometimes,
Caress of flowers hurt,
Thorns soothe me.
Thunder behold me,
And rain turns me lackadaisical.
Some lies have buoyed,
Truths have torn me apart.
Exhaustion has inspired,
My potency turned me lazy.
The only thing I realised each time was,
With bondages I was maniac,
This freedom alone has kept me lively.

-Jatri

Tear Fall

Wishing for a thrust from within,
Waiting I was for her advent.
She came when the heart was yawning,
Was going when my heart was yearning.
Was that a dream?
In half sleep, I could only stand
Staring at her fading silhouette.
By a corner I sat and tried not to cry,
But tears rolled down unknowingly,
For I being abandoned.
In this tear fall, though I don't want to drown,
I'm not a swimmer even, to get through.

-Jatri

Confusion

There is rain,
There is pain,
And a confusion.
To dance with the rain,
Or cry for my pain.

There was rain,
There was pain,
To not let go the moment in vain,
Crying for the pain,
I danced with the rain.

-Jatri

Through

People come, people go.
People come, people stay.
Many have stood and gone.
I been through to them.

One came, penetrated
And went away.
I sat waiting,
She never been back.

One day, I stood
And came out.
Now I see, I had stood, at
My through to this present.

I thought she was in me,
But in her I stood.
When I came out, she was there.
And she is my through.

-Jatri

The Unabandoned Wounds

Once I fell for you.
The more I tried to heal,
Deeper these wounds grew.
More I ignored,
More I became concerned.
And more I cared,
They started expanding.

Caught between heart and mind,
A kind of obsession grew.
Prone were my thoughts,
Victim was my freedom.
With my wrecked will,
I was deeply tangled within. And
To revert back, I decided to be still.

About them I didn't care,
Didn't ignore nor tried to heal.
And one morning I was back,
With no obsessions.
Healed were the wounds,
But the scars persist.
Those I could never abandon.

-Jatri

The Dry Tree

Amidst hub of green trees,
By the side wall,
A dry tree stood.
All the leaves of hope lost,
Stretching it's withered limbs,
Against the taunt of other
Green blooming trees,
It stood firm and sturdy.

Though withering, it's desperate.
Lone but resolute,
Battered but still resilient.
Amidst hate, patiently,
It was raising above hate.
This evening it held me,
May be because,
While I was finding myself in it,
I was learning something, from
This dry tree, that is hiding its roar
And standing docile.

-Jatri

A Forgotten Friend

A friend I had.
Together we roamed,
Laughed, danced.
Tied with the goals,
To assume some roles,
We diverged in two roads,
Kept diverging.
Distance grew, too long,
Our voices started fading.

Our memories, the ego did scatter,
For both it little did matter.
Neither he took a shortcut,
Nor I raised my voice and then
There was silence.
The silence grew, too deep, that
He became deaf for me and
I been dumb for him.
Been dumb and deaf for eachother.

~Jatri

(My friend Wasim was responsible for this poem. The poem is squeeze of what all went through me during a cold war between me and him.)

Where Silence Speaks

There is a place.
Away from this roar and race.
Upon the hill, across the lake.
Where the green grass has
Smoothened the scaly land.
Where the birds come to rest
To to slake their thirst.
Where the gentle wind rustle the leaves,
To chorus the birds that sing.

To there my dear. An evening.
Let's go, to rattle around.
Forgetting all preconceived thoughts,
Let's sit quietly at an end.
To watch the birds that take flight,
To fly across the horizon,
While the mellow sun starts fading,
Let our silence speak.

~Jatri

I'm a Tamed Bird

I was a free bird,
Souring and exploring heights.
I was tamed.
Thoughts captived,
Wings held tightly,
With the obligations and
Unuttered promises.

I was a bird, born free.
Tamed to unlearn flying,
Trained to sit aloof and
Watch the other birds that took flight.
Nodding to tone of birds that sang,
Wondering about those flew high,
I forgot myself ,forgot to be courageous.

~Jatri

"Flying Together"

Giving someone a hug,
When you yourself need it,
Can be a most courageous moment of your life.

Being the reason for a smile on someone's face,
When your own smile is lost,
Can be a greatest ethic you posses.

Comforting someone,
When you yourself are frustrated,
Can be a greatest venture you can ever do.

And sharing your time with someone,
Even when you're too busy to look back,
Can be a biggest favour you can do to someone.

Because, Life is not a competition,
Neither we're competitors.
It's a journey and we're Pilgrims.

(Thanks to my junior. A SMS sent by her is impetus for this poem.)

ಮೌನ

ಮನದಾಳದ ಮಾತೊಂದು ಹೊರಬರುವಾಗ,
ನಿನ್ನ ಹೃದಯಕ್ಕೆಡವಿ ಗಂಟಲಲ್ಲೇ ಇಂಗಿಹೋಗಿದೆ.

ಕಣ್ಗಳಿಂದ ಹೊರಹೊಮ್ಮಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಭಾವೋದ್ವೇಗದ ನೋಟವೊಂದು
ನಿನ್ನ ನೋಟಕ್ಕೆ ತಾಗಿ, ಕಣ್ಣ ರೆಪ್ಪೆಗಳಲಿ ಮುದುಡಿಹೋಗಿದೆ.

ಏಕಾಂತದಲ್ಲಿ ಮೂಡಿದ ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಭಾವನೆಗಳು, ನಿನ್ನನ್ನೆದುರಿಸದೆ,
ಬೇರಾವೋ ಮಾತುಗಳ ಕಂಬಳಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಮುಸುಕು ಹಾಕಿವೆ.

ಪ್ರಸ್ತಾಪಿಸಬೇಕೆಂದು ಎನ್ನ ಹೃದಯ ಪುಟಿದೆಬ್ಬಿಸಿದ ಭಾವ,
ನಿನ್ನ ಸ್ನೇಹ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡೀತೆಂದು ಬೆಂದು ಮೂಲೆಯಲ್ಲಡಗಿದೆ.

ಮನದಾಳದ ಆ ಮಾತು ಎಡವಿ ಹೊರಬರುವಾಗ,
ಕಳವಳದ ತೀರದಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಎನಗೆ
ಕೈಬೀಸಿ, ಬದುಕಿನ ತಿರುವಿನಲಿ ನೀ ಮರೆಯಾದೆ.

ಜಾತ್ರಿ

"I'm a Theist within"

God is not just a statue,
He's a virtue within.
He's not a concept,
A belief within.
Neither he's prophet nor religion.
He's a religiousness,
Meant to make you  humane.

He's not a master,
Nor you're his puppet,
To follow his orders.
He's but a friend to be understood.

For some god may be love,
And for some truth.
Compassion for one,
And honesty for other.
Some see him in others,
And some within.

You can call me atheist,
But I'm a thiest.
Since my god can never be your god.

Being Positive

When you're down,
When dark clouds of bad luck take over you,
When all your plans remain only as plans,
Try to smile.
Not to show that you dont have problems.
But, to show, you have confidence to crush them.

When a man seems argumentative,
When his words seem assaultive,
When you're irritated by that.
Before it turns into a fight, you give it up.
Not to admit your weakness.
But, to show you're more civilised.

When you're bored with your routine,
When you feel like celebrating,
Dance in rain even though you're bad at it,
Sing out loudly even if that irritates other.
Don't give up because others laugh at you,
But, do that to miss not such ecstatic moments.

When you're near the peak you destined,
When all  your crew is exhausted completely,
When even you can't pace further,
Get up and give a call to your boys.
Not to show your superiority.
But, to fill courage, to rejoice at such heights.

When you're hit by a worst cancer,
When death is at your door step,
When you're about to die,
Long to live desperately.
Not to show your desire to celebrate your centenary.
But, to inspire others, to not give up even at worst times.

Routine..

When the day is done complaining,
Battered by classes, abused by teachers,
Baked by the sun and fed up by the rest.
I come home exhausted in the evening.
After tight dinner, before sleep engulfs me,
I pace along  the field in the mild moon light,
With the cool breeze.
The moon and night breeze are that companions.
Who erase my daily worries and please.

Inclination

Whenever our eyes met,
Whenever you passed by me,
When I started to expect a smile from you And longed to give you back one.
I often asked myself,
why it happens to me?

Whenever we talked for hours,
Chatted over night.
When you shared everything with me and
I enjoyed to do the same.
I asked myself,
In what way you're related to me?

But, when you took over my loneliness,
When I started smiling over your thoughts foolishly,
When I felt like staring at you as long as I can and
Escaped your sight before you noticed my eyes.
I asked myself again,
What's it?
Then my heart replied,
May be this is love.

Still I wait...

Late in the  evening,
when the sun is at horizon,
when everyone starts to move,
I sit on the bund and wait for you...

The birds are almost on their way home,
while some boys call me to join them for walk,
I take excuses to sit there again
And sat there waiting.

I unlock and  lock my cell repeatedly,
look around and keep throwing stones.
Uproot the grass sometimes and wait.
But yet, no signs your appearance.

After an hour, when it's almost dark,
Someone in pale tops and dark skirt appeared,
But, it took no longer to learn that she was my junior.
She sighs and goes. Still I wait..

Very late in the evening,
when it was getting darker.
My cell rang. You told, you'll not be coming.
In a deep silence, I stood for a moment and went away...

Vivid Memories Still Blossom

How can I forget those days in your
bosom,
The vivid memories still blossom.

P.T sir stood with a gun,
To tell us importance of morning run;
Behind every effort shun
that, we had greate fun.

Even after our every grudge,
House Masters used to urge;
We thought they were greatest pest,
But now I realise, they were the best.

One day,
I was late to class, after a noon nap,
which I took at short gap;
I remember that Principal's slap;
which had sounded like clap.

There is no substitute for Navodaya's
Bisi Bele Baat taste,
and surely everyone is missing the
tradition of sharing paste.

Those memories can never perish,
Recalling those I still relish;
Those who have forgotten are foolish,
And those who remember will cherish
.
So beautiful were those days,
to embrace them again, I pray;
Why those seven years didn't
remained as such,
The memories haunt me so much.

Spread Laughter by Laughing...

The wind blows,
To gather the fleeting clouds.
All together they laugh.
Rain is their laughter.

It rains and seeds sprout,
a plant grows,
in spring the flowers bloom.
Plants laugh as flowers.

On a blossoming tree,
birds come to rest,
enjoying that beauty they sing.
The laughter comes out as a song.

Again,
The song dissolves in wind.
A cool breeze blows,
rest lives enjoy the breeze.
And the wind laughs by spreading laughter.

My Wish

I WISH,

To walk down the road,
beneath the boughs,
against the cool breeze.
Looking around and recalling memories.

To travel all along,
amidst the deep woods.
Watching full stand of trees
and listening to birds that chirp.

To stand in rain.
Hands stretched aside,
head held towards sky.
As if waiting for a hug from someone.

To be part of my group.
Marauding all together
towards the places unknown
and to laugh all at once.

To dissolve in that heaven,
where laughter engulf me.
And I shall enjoy only the present,
with no worries and confusion.

And I WISH,
To die peacefully,
with the flow of much satisfied memories.
Having my death as another memory,
in the eternity.