Random spurts of soully sagacity

Old me and pastures anew

2010-01-28T14:43:00.000-08:00

I now write at http://gurshi.wordpress.com

Welcome though.

The chords inside

2009-08-05T13:43:00.001-07:00

So after learning some sargams and thaats for a couple weeks, this Saturday I had a rendevouz with (Raag) Kalyaan. Right now I am listening to the recording of the lecture, umpteenth time. As my instructor (Prof. saab) mentions in the recording - its really a beautiful Raag. The beauty is beyond words. Really. You don't realize and it melts you. I wonder how and what chords are struck inside. It appears to me that as there are sympathetic strings in the Dilruba that are not played but they just resonate with the main string, these strings inside resonate with the environment around you when you are sitting with a Raag as well. The joy is inexplicable.

I am not sure if I am allowed to share this, but as I said, characters of a language are kind of not enough to explain. There is not a lot Dilruba in the recording, but the idea is to convey the spirit of the raag.

PS: I can't believe that I could beat all that laze to actually start learning. Dhan Heavens!

Nijaaz

2009-03-15T17:01:00.000-07:00

sunke,
dekh ke,
aur dil se haar ke,

ek ghar hi hai,
jo panaahata hai,
yahan hum,
kisse kahein,
zehen ka dard.

-----------

I listened, saw,
and the heart conquered me,

But, only home
gives you shelter?

Ah, here! Whom should I share with,
the agony inside.

-------------------------------------------------

Sikander, mukander,
aur jahaan ki fateh,
kaisi thi yeh bani mufeed?

haar to khudee ki thi par,
mil gayi is dil ko jeet

PS: Gulaal might make you think.

Paint me Yellow

2009-01-17T21:01:00.000-08:00

I always believed there were two kinds of men in this world- men who go to their deaths screaming, and men who go to their deaths in silence. And then, I met the third kind. - James McKinley (Superintendent in-charge, Lahore Jail, 1922-1923).

Tujhko zindagi baad-e-fanaa milegi Ashfaq, tera marna tere jeene ki badaulat hoga - AshfaqUllah Khan

I love India, my desh, the motherland. And so I believe do a number of people I know around (exceptions ignored). Despite a bouillon of corruption, religion, politics and a braced administrative set-up that we complain about the des. Why though? Why does a string inside always enchants past times; and a hope of being there for the rest of my life. The cool breeze of the monsoon, the chill of the morning winter, everything so mundane only adds to it. But why do I feel withdrawn all the time, ignoring all these problems? In fact, I sometimes tend to even disagree that India has all these problems when someone takes over with arguments in favor of staying outside India. Is it just because I've grown up there? Or I've spent almost a quarter of my life there? I am asking this question to myself. Don't have an answer yet, and even without one, the feeling only gets stronger.

How about those sons of the land who made it what it is? The trio of Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad, Rajguru. The numerous other freedom fighters? Were they happy in their times from the things around them? I bet not. Caste, religion, Indians working for the Brits and their no support for freedom, poor quality of higher education? Probably they planned on domestic problems after weeding out the bigger one? But, they still held their ground, struggled, loved everything Indian and brought a change.

In a meta-sense, I guess, the feeling is the same. You love someone, and you are willing to do anything for them. You stay with them in whatever conditions are of present. You try to live in time in a hope that things would improve. And you go all out. But, you don't run.

Hold, don't run. Hold. Strive. Emerge. Live.

Zindagi, khudi,
aur mere yeh sawaal,
ghar ki roshni, aur pakiyat,
ek hi manzil hai yeh

-G Singh, San Jose, 18 Jan, 2009

Raqeeb

2009-01-07T00:05:00.000-08:00

In its woe,
the heart whined,
allow me to open the pages,
from confidant to beholder, can I?

I stare,
amused,
whom to confide in,
the tender piece losing itself,
in the revelation

Urdu/Hindi

Dard mein, dil ne teh kiya
kitaab ka har safaa khol kar
raazdan se raqeeb bane

Par
Bayaan kare to kaise
raaz hi to
iska wajood hai

-GS, San Jose, 7th January 2009

A distant come back

2008-12-22T23:21:00.000-08:00

A reverie,
You,
And I caress life.
Startling,
the mind reckons else

Time,
I fail to seize.
Eternity,
is not acquiesced.

Alone, I reverie
Hard, but,
Umpteen lives,
and delicate threads to wind

-G Singh, San Jose, 22 Dec, 2008, 11:14 PM

Spurt of 12/3

2008-12-03T23:36:00.000-08:00

Light
is beauty disguised
Sun
is burning too

Day
is hope concealed
truth
persists in dark, the night

-gs, 11:43 PM, SJ

Spurt of the day

2008-12-02T01:18:00.000-08:00

Chants around,
she teaches,
how to live,
the lady called life

Sadness dying,
happiness inundating,
I wonder,
how to live?

-gs

Run-away sons

2008-11-29T16:28:00.001-08:00

We have been witnessing a lively city coming to a halt - Mumbai, though only temporarily. No doubt the city exemplifies courage and resilience, coming back to complete shape every time some monkeys created havoc.

Indrani recently questioned - Where are the sons of Mumbai, the so-called Shiv Sena and MNS activists? What happened to them when there is a real need of them to come and save their bleeding mother? Sadly, they probably are amongst those children of the mother who don't listen to her, to her cries, to her grief. Rather, they often make her cry - cogitate just a few weeks in the past. The doleful truth is, that some loving and caring sons like Hemant Karkare, and the hundred other jawans of army and NSG, have to fight when the run-away sons don't turn-up. And ignobly perhaps, when they do turn-up too. These sons are not even worth being known as sons, just a bunch of ungrateful cowards. I don't see a difference between these cowards, and the cowards who attacked the beautiful Taj and other parts of Mumbai.

From the sludge of politics, religion, culture and sabhyata, who will stucco the wounds of the mother, the sons who died, or the cowards alive?

May peace be bestowed on the land. Impotently enough, another type of coward inside cries out for the brethren who have seen it, and taken it on their flesh. May the fragrance of your burning flesh awaken the ones still in siesta.

-G Singh, San Jose, 4:53 PM, 29th Nov, 2008

Bygone

2008-11-21T21:16:00.000-08:00

The warm lap
A kiss on the golden-red cheek
That hand, anytime
Those assuring eyes, holding

The chirpy giggle
A naughty twinkle
That small stepped-run, wild
Those cajoling clings

The clock has ticked
Wonders the grown
That kid is lost
with the flower just sown

-G Singh, 21st Nov 2008, San Jose, California

All time blogger

2008-11-21T17:56:00.001-08:00

May I be lured into writing by her slick interface. May the devices work in harmony for this blog. Anytime. Anywhere. Amen!

GS San jose 21st nov 2008

Made in China

2008-11-16T05:26:00.000-08:00

From the land of maximum number of "Made in"s, comes this post as a souvenir. Sitting at the Shanghai airport transfer lounge, looking at the faces of all the fellow passengers who have been tortured with a 7 hour long journey iced with a faulty flight entertainment system, it appears that everyone is a hostage of an unpleasant event, and they have been enclosed in this huge glass walled cube (fondly called the waiting lounge).

Seriously, when the screen in front of you boots time and again (Redhat, as usual, sucks), you feel like opening some box and fixing it up or re-imaging the machine or .....

I was wondering if each such failure in the flight would be slapped as a penalty on Boeing. Jet airways would earn some bucks, but poor passengers get nothing. May be an extra glass of juice. Or honey roasted peanuts. Pity. Poor customer, always at the receiving end of it.

Lets see if the geeks in China can fix the system in 1 hour. Only then will I accept the mettle of these guys. May my blabber bring some color. Hail thass!

-G Singh, Shanghai, 16th Nov 2008, 9.30 PM

Analogy

2008-11-13T23:36:00.000-08:00

I was speaking a lot the other day. For some reason, I was a bit high, may be standing at the roadside tea stall early-early morning without sleep was too exciting, and the victim was a poor (not literally) guy who was selling small artifacts in the Galleria around Harmandir Sahib, Amritsar. Though it didn't hurt him, and I was also doing a cinch blabber, it occurred to me that I should have spoken a bit lesser. May be the guy got bored. May be he misunderstood my words to some grief. May be it was 1.30 in the morning and I hijacked the last hours of his business (I bought some not very useful items in the end in bulk from him though :)). This brings me to a very interesting analogy.

Words are like arrows

I am not sure if this is a known analogy, but I am pretty sure Bollywooders have had the pie.

The analogy builds as-

i. There are limited arrows a warrior has. Using them wisely is very important. We have limited words, limited time here and limited energy to speak, using it wisely is important.

ii. An arrow hitting the right person, at the right spot is worth its price. A word, spoken to the right person, in the right way, reaching him in the intended sense is worth spoken.

iii. An arrow hitting the wrong person, makes you a murderer. A (wrong) word, reaching a wrong person can disrupt listener's calm.

iv. An arrow leaving the bow cannot come back, so will not a word out of the mouth.

v. Nobody nailed by you will forget you. Nobody ill-spoken to will ever forgive you.

Human mind, speaking loosely, is a paint blob. An impression on it is easy to make, persists for long, and also leaves a mark on you. Some souls, that are above this human instinct, are true Gods - Nirvair.

-G Singh, 1:25 PM, Nov 14, 2008, New Delhi

Talent, flowing, unabashingly

2008-11-07T07:46:00.000-08:00

Traveler no. 1- T1
Traveler no. 2- T2

T1: Upadhyay ji, iska vyaakaran thoda druodh hai, aur isliye samajhna padhne waale ke liye asugam bhi (Mr. Upadhyay, its grammar is a bit convoluted and hence the meaning is difficult to understand)

T2: Sharma ji, padhne waale ko bhavnaaon ka sparsh ho, yehi vyaakaran bhog hai (Mr. Sharma, only if the reader feels the essence of the subject is the use grammar justified)

After a day at work, while returning home on "Delhi waalon ki Sawari", a million other frequencies struck my ears, along with "Delhi Metro mein aapka Swaagat hai". The above two lines pierced my attention, enough to bring it to focus, enough to tune it. There were some aged (people who know Hindi, please read "buzurg") people on board, and all of them Hindi literature luminaries (not all local language enthusiasts/literaries achieve fame). They were apparently returning from the launch of Upadhyay ji's novel at the "Karol Bagh Sahitya Bhawan", one of the million "Sahitya Bhawans" of the capital. I crossed all limits of over-hearing, and that too shamefully looking into their faces while keeping my ears to the ground. Though all of them were writers, one even a proud writer of 37 novels, some were still not old enough to be only writers - one a Professor, one a Reader in a DU college, one a writer with Jansatta (a local Hindi newspaper) and another a freelance article writer (who earned only by Pen).

"Ji haan ji haan, bahut umda thi" (Yes, yes, it was a very good read) came a reply from the man on my left when the man sitting one girl (who felt she was the patty of a hindi novel sandwich) to the right asked
"Aap inko to jaante hi honge, yeh Kailash Prem ji, jinki Hare Phool aur Laal Ghaans bahut prasidh hui thi pichle saal" (you must be knowing him, Mr. Kailash Prem, whose novel Green Flowers and Red Grass was a hit last year)

and the round of introductions was as smooth as the train ride.

In these introductions, in these literarily-glamorous talks, in the complex grammar pats and thumps, was hidden a difficult-to-find satisfaction. Here are some people who are no different than Rowlings and Zandts in profession and "self-understood" accomplishments, but are very different in the kinds of humble lives they live, the luxuries they (don't) enjoy. This, I feel, is Talent, unabashed of the worldly achievements, a pearl-reminiscent of success.

-G Singh, New Delhi, Nov 7, 2008 10:04 PM

2008-11-02T01:01:00.000-07:00

A casual chat with a friend today reminded me of an intellectual, whose words were:
"Everything boils down to minimizing pain". Today, I beg to differ here, measly in words, but galaxies in meaning - "Everything boils down to pain".

Fun, to kill some pain
some types of fun, leads to pain
an urge to have fun, is painful
an unsatisfied urge, is even more painful

If everything is for fun (read your own definition, or substitute fun for whatever makes you happy), then pain is inevitable.

-G Singh, 2nd Nov 2008, 1:42 PM, New Delhi

Lives lived

2008-10-31T10:06:00.000-07:00

Old narrow lanes
small houses
content souls
walking
ruffling yet hugging breeze
specie, no bills

Carpeted wide alleys
tall buildings, shadows to darkness
searching humans, lost souls
riding, whipping
nobody to embrace, dry gust
fortunes bought, sold

Times in contrast
the mind wonders
lives,
already seem lived

-G Singh, New Delhi

An Encounter

2008-10-29T08:21:00.000-07:00

Roaming around in Delhi alone is so much fun. There is so much noise and chaos around you that you never feel alone. Politely, its so happening. Returning from one such expedition, a traffic policeman knocks on the window of my car. I look at the light. Its red. Knock again, light still red. I realize that a policeman's knock may not necessarily mean one's caught for a fault. I roll down the window -

P: Where are you going?
Me - towards X Nagar.
P: Ok, can you drop me at point Y?
Me - Well, thats in the other direction?
P: Thats okay, you can then drop me at point Z before X Nagar.
Me: Ok.

The policeman helped himself into the car and my bollywood eyes brought to me the scene of this policeman being a conman in a policeman's dress who will soon hijack my car. And the black bag clinging to him has a pistol. Vrrrrrrrrr. Although he had this imaginary pistol, I fired the first round.

Me: So where do you work?
P: At the Chanakya Puri station.
Me: And where do you live.
P: XYZ in Haryana.
Me: Whoa, thats 40 kms from here???
P: Yes. But I am learning to drive and I will soon get a motorcycle, on a promotion.
Me: You would reach at 11 PM in the night.
P: Hmmm. May be not. 10.30. Lets see.
Me: What time do you leave for work in morning?
P: 5. To reach the "chowki" by 7.30. VIPs are on a move starting early morning, so we have to be there before them.
Me: Who VIPs?
P: There are only 2 VIPs in Delhi. Dr. Singh and Pratibha Patil.
Me: Sonia?
P: Oh yes, she too.

My bollywood senses depart here.

P: Hey, can you take a slight right from here and drop me at point C?
Me: I will drop you right at some metro station. Dont worry.

He acks with a Thanks.

Time for my favorite question - Dhadwal vs Bedi.

Me: What do you think about Ms. Bedi.
P: Dont ask, if she were the Chief today, things would have been a lot easier.
Me: Are things hard today? Whats hard. What part in the whole scheme?
P: We have no schedule. Dhadwal wants us to be honest. We are honest. But there is no time schedule.
Me: Ok, so is Dhadwal not a great manager?
P: Hes only an administrator, a tough task master.
Me: Is it true that since Bedi's track record is better than him, hence she would have been a better manager?
P: Everybody has a good record. Ms. X of the Punjab cadre is also good. But she is not the Chief.
Me: Ok. So what do you think Bedi should do?
P: See, she has some more work to do. She has NGOs to run. She took VRS and is happily doing it.
Me: She has 35 years of service. Commendable record. Why cant she do service as a Chief for 5 more years, and then retire to play NGO-NGO?
P: These decisions are well done. They cant be changed. Lets face it. Ok, here is my stop. Thanks a lot. I appreciate your help.
Me: Sure. (Murmuring "Delhi Citizens, with you, for you, always" in heart).

I am wondering that this guy is spending only 6 hours at home, including his sleep hours, eating time, and any time he might want to spend with his kids. This brave fellow gets up at 4.30 in the morning, to leave home early for the VIPs. And then, he is expected to be honest and not crib. How is this possible? These guys have no say on who will be their boss. They have no schedule at work. With the measly salary for this much hard work, no transport arrangement in odd hours, what reasons does he have to stay honest?

-G Singh, 29th Oct 2008, 9.30 PM, New Delhi

Just for the day

2008-10-16T00:19:00.000-07:00

आईने में ,
क्या हम हैं यह ?
हम तो इतने काबिल न थे
कि घर से बाहर उदोत हों!

यह ख्याल , है तो दरुस्त
पर हमारा कैसे हो ?
इतनी ज़ईफी ,
खयाल -ऐ -जुर्रत कैसे करें |

Chhide Raag Naad

2008-08-27T22:48:00.000-07:00

This is truly a melancholic ecstasy. Bhai Baldeep Singh with Sukhwinder Singh, playing Shaan. As the video points, the duo immersed in the soul of Jodi so much so that they kept the audience tied for 3 hours in a concert performance supposed to be of much less time.

Notice the difference between the sounds of smaller sibling of the Jodi (Daya waj) of BBS and of Sukhwinder. BBS must have made his own "big" smaller sibling, while Sukhwinder is playing the normal one. Also notice the flying bits of wet dough (kneaded atta) that makes BBS re-apply it frequently.

Part I

PartII

Wisdom from Bulle Shah

2008-06-29T21:27:00.001-07:00

Bulle Shah, a Sufi poet, also popularized by Mr. Rabbi Shergill (bulla ki jaana main kaun..), has always challenged religious rituals in his writings. I came across one of his writings, sung equally enchantingly by Nusrat, and ended up wasting (not really, only worldly) 3 hours on it. I could find a decent english translation here for you (spanks disabled). You are also welcome to step into the whirlpool Nusrat creates, Bulla sitting at the eye of it.

Philosophical response to the poem pending, yours truly cannot write but just listen right now.

Alla hu!

-G Singh, San Jose, 29th June, 2008

Deep inside, somewhere deep

2008-06-19T23:48:00.000-07:00

There is us,
there is me,
there is you,
and there are they

Light inside,
reflecting on the face,
chord in the heart,
fibrillating, enchanting,
beat in the ears,
song on the tongue,
transforming, transporting, ages, miles

Deep inside, somewhere deep
we are all alike,
Reflecting face,
enchanting heart,
lost ears,
swinging tongue,
What is unknown,
strange,
sad, dismal?

The oneness,
there, deep inside,
refracts,
to colors human,
seeing, listening, feeling, thinking,
take over,
profusely,
enough,
spearing,
enough to bleed,
enough,
to blind

-G Singh, June 20, 2008, San Jose

Sayonara MSR and India

2008-04-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

To the young folks at MSR, working towards a happier and progressive India:

Adorning a colorful robe,
woven with cultures, nature and love,
a child, in her hands staring, twinkling,
she recites a song of hope

A hope that her child will,
realize her dreams of happiness,
happiness that contents her heart,
for all lives she would live

The child buds into youth,
finds content in making The mother’s heart,
a beautiful garden,
from a baked patch of earth

Strives, struggles,
stretches beyond abilities,
reaching stars,
twinkling bright it says,
I shine apart, not in a quest to,
it is how I survive,
it is how my mother will smile

India smiles,
that love felt and the dreams dreamt,
the Godly destiny,
finally meet her at the horizon,
changed,
from where she will see,
her other children playing happily

-G Singh, Bangalore, 11th April 2008

Soul searching

2008-01-30T10:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there is a talk between the two selves. Though it happens quite often, and there is usually a winner, but there are instances when both of them are equally strong. And The "You" can only listen, or at best write -

The sky is high
earth you consider too low
oh my soul
allow me to dream

Love too sweet
abhorrence not even sour
oh my soul
allow me to feel

With them too worldly
apart too abstract
oh my soul
know the penurious brain

Education imposed ignorance
ignorance a bliss
oh my soul
itch the lead in your own way

You are there, I
I have seen you
oh my soul
reveal yourself once again

-G Singh, 25th January, New Delhi

2008-01-20T09:45:00.000-08:00

Maasoom hain hum,
zarrra mat samajhna,
in pyaari aankhon mein,
zindagi ko sameta hai,
inhi ki chamak ne,
aftaab ke haunsle kam kar diye,
humein kya padhaoge tum,
jaake apna jahaan to dekho

-G Singh, 20th January, 2008, Bangalore.

2008-01-20T09:38:00.000-08:00

A spontaneous reply to a friend who on hearing some supposedly imaginary truths and elating ideas would say - "neeche aaja, zyaada ud mat"

khuda ne kaha parinde,
udnaa teri fitrat nahin,
udnaa teri zaroorat hai,
shaakha pe reh ke na hi khud ko,
aur na hi khudi ko samjhega

- G Singh, 20th January, 2008, Bangalore.

Who is Who?

2007-11-21T21:45:00.000-08:00

Twinkling bright it says
I shine apart, not in a quest to
it is how I survive
brightest when the world sleeps
preparing in the king's presence

A distance apart we are
still you could see me
for the inspiration you are lit with
you could only have had it after seeing me

It smiled, not in sarcasm
to appreciate makes one happy
to encourage and pat for persistence
may kindle something more

Through a window it happened
we both being on each side
it may not be difficult for you to make
who said which of these lines

Doesn't really matter
we both shine equally bright
nature was enthusiastic
to fuel us for eternity

-G Singh, Philadelphia, 22nd Nov 2007

Timeless Demystification

2007-05-13T10:59:00.000-07:00

Its like water in the palm,

left open feels cool and calm,

childish of me to try to possess it forever,

tried to close the fist, forgetting it will seep and will stay there never.

Its like the beauty of the flower,

beauty filled in the air trying to defeat the beauty in the color, to get higher,

infantile of me, plucked it, desired to keep it with me,

it spread its fragrance only with its roots, as crafted by its Saviour – Thee .

Its like the play of a child,

described by innocence and steps that go wild,

childish of me to confine it in the discipline defined by emotion,

forgot that though small and frail , the child is an impression of His execution.

Its like the river that flows swiftly,

supported by the mountains, holding them tightly,

infantile of me to ride on religion to take Ganges in a container,

for it was Ganges only with the stream and I remained as always, a mere complainer.

Life has always been beautiful,

only the emotion tank has been at times empty, half or full,

childish of me to measure life in terms of happiness and satisfaction it gave,

for it was meant to be cherished let free, allowed for its own ways to pave.

O Lord, Life seems to be Demystified,

the mist has cleared and nothing feels like sacrificed,

I have grown up to reality now,

childish was I, help me improve, make me understand how?

Gursharan, 10th June, 2006.

The Great Uprising and the Parliamentary Mutiny

2007-05-10T20:38:00.000-07:00

In the late afternoon of 10th May 1857, Mangal Pandey, known as Amir Khan amongst the younger generation of my India, was the man who rose first against the invaders. And it marked the beginning of a seemingly endless struggle. It was nice to see the 150 year commemoration ceremony in the Lok Sabha, with the members in full attendance; a rare event. Gulzar Sahib read a beautiful poem on the free yet held India: held in religion, hatred and obstreperous politics. The Lok Sabha television also showed a 10 min documentary on the revolt. It was well scripted and cinematographed: background narration by the Lal Quila itself.

I had two qualms after the whole 2 hour program. First one is more serious. There was no originality, vigor, passion and respect in our parliamentarians. Somnath Chatterjee, the hon’ble speaker(please allow me to say) gave a rotten speech. It seemed that whosoever writes his speech hasn’t been paid from long, and he also discovered it amidst the words. The members of the house yawned, laughed, chatted with the neighbors, and did everything, but listening to Chatterjee felt like a dog bite to them. He took 15 minutes to relieve the crowd. Next was our Vice President, Bhairon Singh Shekhawat. His poor health didn’t allow him to speak much, and he leveraged the fact pretty smartly. I can’t, even in my dreams, imagine on this earth that how somebody can be so dotingly lost while talking about the 1857 Revolt! They were 85 who initially revolted, and this was a house full of over 800 people. Sitting in the House of India, wallowing in all luxuries of life, were the sons and daughters of the Mother paying homage to their brethren of 150 years ago. Dr. Singh, Dr. Manmohan Singh I should say, failed to moh anybody’s mann. I am finding it hard to say anything for a man of that intellect, but it hurts to realize that he ordered his speech with a class 8th history text book to the writer. With almost no content of substance, he finished by saying something like: I call my countrymen to align their vision towards the development of Our India. Independence Day and Republic Day also hear the same line every time, just that its position changes in the speech. Now comes the Son of this land, the person who should actually be called punjab da puttar (and not Dr. Singh), His Excellency,Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. This man is a bombshell. Azad, truly. He is. His words can really ignite something under you. Only 10 words spoken, and everybody woke up to a thunderous applaud. He addressed initially in Hindi, struggling a bit. When he came to form, he switched to English and Oh my! I was all stoned. My dear friends, especially my younger friends, there lies a responsibility in front of us, more so in front of you, to realize the dream of my father, Rabindranath Tagore, who said: I dream of an India where the mind is without fear, and the head is held high. Note that he addressed Shri Dr. Tagore as his father. With the longest speech from amongst the multitude sitting on the elevated stage, with a jack under their butts, he finished in an emphatic voice with his face red, smiling and shining with pride.

Secondly, I was thinking after the speech, that the first revolt of Indian freedom was rooted at religion. The beef oil cartridges and the pork sheath kindled the fire. In terms of Sabhayata and culture, religion seems to have some pros on what India today is. But, the cons outweigh the pros by tonnes of ignorance, darkness and feuds. Though the voices of the man made sects known as Hindus and Muslims were in unison at that time, but why is this so important to say that Hindus and Muslims revolted together? Why not, every son of this land revolted for his Mitti? It appears that it is hard for us to jettison communal inspiration. If every kid of India grows up as a Hindu/Muslim/Sikh/Isai, it would be the ill-fate of nobody else, but the Mother and Her children.

Mitti...

2007-05-03T15:10:00.000-07:00

After an 18 hour long air haul (yes that seems like a haul, time fails to pass and you feel like being dragged), I touched on Land, my Motherland. With a thought of kissing the land after getting off the jet, it was a moment of dismay for me when the transfer was directly into the lobby from the jet. No worries, the aanchal is a span outside... Picked up by family, it was ecstatic to be back home, home, that Is. Everything was same, the sweet hot weather, the raunak on the Delhi airport (that I missed at the philly airport) and of course, the family receiving me. The sultry play between the smiling moon and the moving clouds, the not so cool breeze trying its best to make you feel cool and the car passing by on the road that shakes off your sight when you try to find the horizon. Yes I am Home.

Albeit it has only been close to 9 months since I left home, I was floating on oozing joy after stepping into the same house where I spent the formative years of my career. Ma, keeping it neat as ever. It was a strange feeling to meet parents after some time. I had never stayed out of home for more than 3 weeks. The inexpressible joys were not fathomable. Dad, calm as ever and mom emotional, as ever. Soon, a strange feeling started gripping me, I am *visiting* my home? Countable days. Sad. I am writing this post sitting in one corner, trying to make no sound from the keyboard, so that nobody wakes up and says, "are you jetlagged" and make me feel like an outsider. Life is strange. Hits you with a brick on head at times, and makes a bed of roses some other times. And this human is even more strange - writes his fate with indelible strokes of stupidity.

Am I so limited by thoughts and vision? Is Jonathan Gull correct in saying that don't believe your eyes, they always make you see the limitations? Am I really limited by space and time? Is this body - reckoned to be the best of all creatures on earth, really so tied? I think I am evolving, realizing, growing and this Mitti has always been auspicious for me.

-G Singh, New Delhi, 4th May 2007, 4:20 AM.

Somebody on Somebody

2007-04-06T23:33:00.000-07:00

Somebody calls an abstract thinker,
somebody laughs on the poet's tinker,
somebody pulls a poor grad student
and somebody obliges this mortal human.

Somebody asks if I am a Sikh,
somebody questions if I like life on pitch,
somebody queries how was the day,
and somebody wants the evening plans, to my dismay.

Somebody asks for work everyday,
somebody expects me with the readings of the day,
somebody calls me for the lead and tablet itching,
and somebody for the everyday moon hitting.

Someone dear knows me as son,
someone near loves me a ton,
someone dear wants me to do well in life rather,
and someone sharing childhood memories teases a younger brother.

Somebody is there not some but every tick,
some ticks I feel like giving life a kick
somebody might be anybody, somebody could be me,
this is the maze of my life, I long for the moment of glee

I made a promise to the soul,
soul asking me to be cautious of the cajole,
soul that seems still inside,
that I will not live Somebody's dream.

-G Singh, 7th April 2007, Philadelphia.

I wonder why?

2007-02-17T20:50:00.000-08:00

A recall to the bleeding humanity, written by a disheartened frame.

Khoon apna ho ya paraya ho
Nasle-adam ka khoon hai akhir
Jung maghrib mein ho yaa mashriq mein
amn-e-alam ka khoon hai akhir.

Tank aage badein ya peeche hatein
kokh dharti ki baanjh hoti hai
fateh ka jashn ho ya haar ka soq
zindagi mayaaton pe roti hai.

Soon the world will witness history
but why they are chopping each other still remains a mystery.

The gold has tarnished-
Mazhab nahin sikhata aapas mein bair rakhna
the feeling of love has vanished.

Oh thee,the proud humane fraternity on this earth,
knows nothing of humanity, worthless is in worth

Par kyon insaan usko ko
yaad nahin rakhta
Jo zarre ko aftab aur
aftab ko zarra pal mein hai bana sakta

-G Singh

Life in womb

2007-01-21T19:28:00.000-08:00

Youth I am, a seed of knowledge
I can sweat, to help myself harvest
Bird is my mind, thoughts my sky
Ideas I ignite, with wings of fire

Innovation my playground, creativity the game
fairness my stick, winning my sole aim
Humane fraternity the spectator, they shall enjoy
Ash may I become, to fly in rejoice

Youth I am, united I should stay
diminishing for equality, would make my day!
Equality in society, equality in thought
equality in life's and on globe's every spot

I am the world, the world is in me
I am the God, the God not outside me
Effort my worship, result Thee's grace
from earth's womb, I will take birth after I ace

Youth I am, a seed of knowledge
I will grow and form the truth
May I perish, manure I would become
The meaning of me is to contribute and flow

-G Singh, 20th January, Place: Somewhere in the US (exact:United Airlines jet :) )

The Ottawian composition

2006-12-31T15:12:00.000-08:00

With two little angels we started the day,
the air chilly and snowy was the way,
after the nice drive and some car sways,
we ended up at one of those cafes.

Nice indian lunch we had,
all were happy, but the weather still a bit sad,
but they say determination is in a good man's gene,
and then it was the turn of the parliament, with statues and some leans.

With some random river in the background,
and that half hourly bell sound,
it was fun with those inanimate humans(statues),
we saluted the canadian democracy, and those braves ones.

Last was the mall's turn,
the mall seemingly big like the rings of saturn,
After getting a cute muffler for "mou"
we were back to sixteen thirty two.

Nice was the day with cutie sippy and mani,
bidding good bye to 2006, welcoming 2007 with a huggy,
Nice things should not come only once,
Oh God, please get everyone this bunce!

Mou:- The latin for me

-G Singh, Ottawa, 6:07 PM, 31st December, 2006.

Life. Period.

2006-12-09T17:22:00.000-08:00

Somebody said loneliness is dangerous. And yes I can feel that. IT is dangerous because you talk with yourself, introspect, and end up measuring your life in terms of what you did/did not. I ended up concluding the reason for human existence. Please proceed only if you are a firm believer in Almighty- the timeless. Human- the only living creature that has got inspired from the creation of the universe and is constructive. The immaculate and flawless nature is an inspiration to this creature, that he has to be perfect, and in his efforts moves more towards perfection with his frail attempts. But, what is he actually doing? What is the reason for his existence? What is he at all? Just another form of life, that comes into the world from void. He has no control on his birth, death, and not even on his bowel movements for God sake! Then what is this human proud of?

"Maati ka putala kaise nachat hai" -SGGS, (Look, how this creature made of mud is dancing> is an apt description of this creature. Whatever he builds his whole life can be destroyed overnight. When he dies, hes burnt, and even if he comes into the thoughts of his wife later, hes regarded as a Ghost! What a misery. Point blank insult. Then what is he doing the whole life. Whats the truth? Whats His hukam?

"Jag rachna sab jhooth hai jaan leyo eh meet"-SGGS, (this so called world is the biggest fallacy, please understand mu dear friend).

Can this creature ever realize what he is doing is not what he should do, or if what he is doing is right? Yes he may, but does he really?

Halwa Poori Aaloo and Heaven

2006-11-23T20:55:00.000-08:00

Today Salman and Me after a bad day in the lab decided on a feat with the frying pan and some ingredients lying in the refrigerator. By God's grace, the ingredients turned out to be potatoes, indian store rolled pooris and Suji lying in the kitchen shelf that mom said to use quickly to avoid spoiling it with moist worms. Armed with these, and a call to Saurabh we went on the cooking spree. As saurabh said, Aaloos were superb, and halwa was sweet too :). With a perfect backdrop of thanksgiving, it was a wonderful dinner we all had and enjoyed and thanked Thee for everything. The only way for you all to get along with our celebrations is the pic below and on the left.

-G Singh, Philadelphia, 23rd Nov. '06

Why? Why Not? Yes.

2006-11-18T16:46:00.000-08:00

From past few days, I have been feeling away from myself. I can't concentrate, I can't feel my inner self, I can't do Dhyaan, something bad is going on. Trying to find the answer, I tried pinning these lines down-

Why? Said the Satan inside.
Why do you remember Lord,
Where is He,
Who is He,
How can you feel Him?

I said, so you too believe that I remember someone?
that He is in "Where" too
that he is He and not he,
that I try to feel Him.

Came the reply, yes but show me who's He.
Said the Guru, Amitoj He is,
that He is in me, and hey Satan! in you too,
can you see?

Fiery red, the Satan said, you defy reality, practicality
and live in an illusion, and what your Father (GGS) said is not proved.
Seeing the red Satan, peace dawned inside me,
proud to have tight roots, I gave the answer,
your existence is His proof, my existence is His proof,
the world's existence is his proof, why do you goof?

Satan turn-coated into a scientist and now said,
I discovered and know an atom.
I discovered the wave.
I dug oil, I dug coal.
I did so much work that humanity has forgotten your Thee and I made so easy to earn bread!

Oh, said I. Poor Mr. Scientist,
can you invent an atom?
have you seen an atom?
You are in a deluge by your attempted experiments that its an atom,
can you tell me how smart an electron is?
And hey, it is He, who has been kind to you, in making the atom as you think.
Can you create a wave from your hand? Can you make wheat without the land?
Can you make coal in microwave? Can you make oil in your own cave?

Satan now fading away, with his last attempt,
you are ruining life, don't waste time, do something good.

Ahh...now you came on the right path, said I.
Good has God in it, and so I reach Goodness directly,
I have a Master to follow, who will take me to Him swiftly.
He inculcates those qualities in me, taking me closer to Him,
His hand is always above my head, helping me to ride the bicycle of life with a strong rim.

This was the conversation I had with the Satan,
with he running away into darkness and glowing up inside of the True lantern.

Hide and Seek

2006-10-25T07:48:00.000-07:00

I see out of the window, the wind- you are travelling,
I see in the eyes of a child, you are twinkling,
I see the water of the sea, you are flowing,
I see the standing tree, you are patiently serving,
I see the grass beneath, you are never complaining,
I see the Sun shining, you are beautifully warming,
I see the moon at night, you are a mother's lap,
I see clouds gathering, you are containment and unity in yourself,
I see you happening everywhere around,

I see around, you are everywhere,
you are infinite, limitless, sempiternal but hey, I am greedy too.

O Lord, you have ruined me,
You play hide and seek and it seems fun to you,
But its an eternal loss to Mou,
Help me realize the light thats in,
find you, catch you, bottle you and enshrine you in the beating mass within.

-G Singh, 25th October, 2006, Philadelphia.

The limitless...

2006-10-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

This is what gazes at me from outside the window on my left in my apartment, or am I gazing at it? This is the limitless, the "beant", the lap of nature where nature holds calmly the sun, the moon, the stars and several other creations yet unexplored. Despite having a large number of "energetic" objects inside, the serenity that embraces you, actually literally hugs you if you allow it to, is nothing but the the revealation of One in it. Everyday, every morning, every afternoon, every evening and every night, I feel so good talking to it in heart, the feeling is ineffable. No more words for it, just that the revealation is great! :).

Tum Ek Gorakh Dhanda Ho

2006-10-06T15:11:00.000-07:00


Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Qawwal & Party. Live performance U.K early 1990s singing Tum Ek Gorakh Dhanda Ho. I listened to this when Jaspreet forced me to but I enjoyed it. This is really amazing and true devotion. Enjoy!

The way I reach home....

2006-09-16T09:47:00.000-07:00

Some of my friends (Saurabh, Gurpreet, ..) have been asking me to write a blog post since I ve landed in this new country. I never felt like writing anything from the day I stepped on the land I never wanted to come to. But then, its just for studies, as I have always said and it seems I will live with this pillar of strength for the time to come. Anyways, sitting in the living room and having breakfast cooked by myself at noon with Jaspreet bhaji (whos always lost in the songs of Nusrat and Shiv kumar batalvi or is playing with assignments and books) is an experience that makes me feel away from home. As a punishment for getting up late, I had to cook my breakfast at home and burnt the bread in the toaster/tawa and then mom showing sympathy that followed the punishment ( a human virtue) gave me yummy paranthas and coffee. So, looking out of the window, I see the blue cloudy sky- clouds moving slowly in a direction nobody knows, taking my hand out of the window I feel a breeze, I see the rain water dripping down my face at times when its raining, far away from the buildings the greenery in abundance and farther the horizon and farther.....What farther? Oh, farther must be my home, home sweet home and Delhi, and my folks, friends, and everyone else who matters. Now comes the feeling. I see the sky and everyone else in Delhi must also be seeing it, so I reach their eyes and talk to them. The breeze touches me, it will touch them too, so I hug them. The rain water, they must be also getting dripped in, and hence we feel the same at some times and share. The greenery in the far must be soothing to their eyes too, and lastly far from the horizon, they can reach me too. Hence, I am always at home.

This brings me a better perspective of life. God never made countries, he made land, earth. He still has everything common for every being on earth. The flora, the fauna, the land, the sky and the air, the essential nature for us is still with me. Only material world has changed. The buildings have changed, cooked food (raw food by nature is still the same) has changed, the technology affecting and enhancing human lives has changed and least importantly, the dialect and language has changed. But, if I see the broader picture, nothing has changed. Everything that should matter the most is still the same, Thee still appears to me in the blue sky that I see out of the window, I can still feel the same thinking of Him and I still chant his name as I did with my folks back home.

The essence of all this is, I am still human, and I can't remember the Truth always that I should to remain happy in His will, always.

As Nusrat sings beautifully relevant to the same feeling-

Aag ko khel patangon ne samajh rakha hai, sabko anjaam ka dar ho yeh zaroori to nahin.

and

Sheikh karta to hai masjid mein khuda ko sajde, uske sajdo mein asar ho yeh zaroori to nahin.

So, I try to be like a patanga playing in this world of fire and worrying about the consequences, forgetting the presence of Thee. The belief that shows that I have faith in Thee, is like the sajda that Sheikh offers to khuda, but then, the sajda that I should offer from heart following His will with happiness is missing.

I am still learning how I should discover His will more, to understand the happenings and simply live in the "razaa".

-G Singh 16th September, 2006.

Let the feeling sink!

2006-08-18T12:48:00.000-07:00

Let the feeling sink in! This is what I say to myself each day after I wake up, and after I have spent a decent amount of money in preparations to go to US for my Masters. The feeling is ineffable, wholly and truly. It is sad to realize that I will be leaving my parents, my siblings, my nieces, my friends and some other people I would tend to miss. At the same time, I am happy to know that I will meet and become part of a multi-cultural student fraternity. I will be meeting people from different continents and countries. I would love to know more about their motherlands. At the same time, I also feel bad about missing food that I get in India. By and large, these two forms of emotions are the perpetrators that make me think all time during the day and night. Anyway, what I am most concerned about is my time to come back to India. I should not get settled in US and would just be there for studies and some work experience. It shouldn’t be much difficult to do that, God willing. I wish and pray to Almighty, and in the feet of my motherland, that I remain firm in my thoughts, that I remain confident on my stand, that I never forget my roots and move ahead successfully in life and in my career, on the new land.

-G Singh, 19 August 2006.

Individual's heart to the World!

2006-07-28T12:10:00.000-07:00

When there is truth inside, and you speak your heart
There is goodness in character.

When there is goodness in each character,
There is happiness in family.

When there is happiness in each family
There is prosperity in society.

When there is prosperity in the society
There is progress in the nation.

When there is progress in each nation,
There is peace in the World.

-Gursharan Singh, 29th July, 2006.

Read it ANYWAY...

2006-07-28T12:08:00.000-07:00

Though falsehood may prevail for a small time, truth is immortal. Trying to gather some more thoughts on similar lines, I was just trying to write something on the co-existing forms of life, some lead it with truth, some in falsehood, and some with both with the motive of defining everything as it suits them. It is not that I am shooting spearheads on humanity, I am no less and may be worser than anybody. Though I try to be a truth follower, I am too human to always remain one. Life plays smartly, never letting you know that it made you do your chance – and you can’t do a look ahead. Amidst all this slurry of thoughts, I can recall Mother Teresa writing beautiful principles of life. If we try to circumscribe our living within these simple facts, it appears that we win over life. Else, line of fire always passes from between your toes. As some say “Larger than life”, these principles teach us to be ignorant about certain things and happenings and the power of the word “Anyway”. Here goes the fragrant bouquet of couplets -

People are unreasonable, illogical and self centered, love them Anyway.

If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives, do good Anyway.

If you get success, you win false friends and true enemies, succeed Anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow, do good Anyway.

Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable, be honest and transparent Anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight, build Anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt, give the world the best you have Anyway.

My frail minded extension:

People favor underdogs, but follow only topdogs, fight some underdogs Anyway.

If you try to be honest, chances are that you will be exploited, but be honest Anyway.

If you do good, you will be kicked in teeth, do good Anyway.

If you speak truth, you may be regarded a blunt and straight shooter, speak truth Anyway.

If you express your true self, you will often be misunderstood, speak your heart Anyway.

If you fail, it may be difficult to proceed, but spin back with more force Anyway.

If you fall, rise and again fall, rise again Anyway.

Success, failures and happiness are too small metrics to measure life, be confident, cheerful and live life ANYWAY.

-G 29th July, 2006.

Life goes on....

2006-07-24T13:39:00.000-07:00

To start, allow me to use the metaphor “war”. My enemy is my thought. It’s so painful to be misunderstood and then toiling hard in the hope that things will be fine, believe me, they do not. They never will. The same old one liner – “God helps those who help themselves” strikes again and bangs right into my face. At times, you feel so energetic that you feel you can move anything that comes in front, but pity, not your own heart. Feelings and thoughts that have hung for long, these rascals just won’t quit. You try hating what you loved, just to forget it, but it spins back, harder. Just when you decide on something, you realize you have experienced a pitfall camouflaged by your dreams and the endless quest to chase them. Bah, humbug! Then where flew the principles? You behaved vociferously with them, lacking discipline in thought?

People who have loved me for what I am, people who always stood behind me, people who I know will miss me (and me will miss them too), when they encourage me, I just fall short of crying. I also feel like missing them - I have lived with them for long, for the life that is said to be lived by me till today. And some who were into my life for not so long, but left their footprints for me to cherish, with a belief that I will remain happy in ignorance and falsehood in the guise of a satisfied human being. I am sorry, I can’t be like that. I would request you to make me understand how should I? Lighting up a candle and expecting it doesn’t melt surely is a sign of living in falsehood. I don’t have anymore words on this.

May I dare say that I love the darker side of life? Yes, I do. But I feel its truth. Atleast I am sure to myself for accepting it? Or not? At times I am so bogged down and pessimistic that if someone got me the Kohinoor, I would throw it away feeling its thickness encloses a bomb. But then the posterity that follows in thought, the kindred spirits that I feel enchanted with, everything seems so beautiful, but sadly, short lived. I tend to over-analyze things, and often end up with word-beatings from friends and family, but I feel happy about the way I think and take decisions. Over the past few months, I have felt so confident professionally, taking extreme and bold decisions. At the same time, I have felt so weak emotionally. It seemed that I had a general stock of confidence that could be castled into confidence in profession and the confidence in thoughts & emotions. I overused it on the former one, and now facing lurking dangers because of the latter.

I love saying this “ I am feeling so numb”. I wrote it earlier and I write it again – “I love life for the numbness that it gave, taking the hits feeling that I am brave”. There are a plenty of things that pester me day and night. Where am I heading, what is going to happen in future, what about making it big, how big? What about losing someone in the time, no looking back, can I live without that someone, do I really need to think on it, or is it really too early, or, or, or? Seems I have been a false believer in the almighty, but nevertheless, in the end, I understand in sound state of mind that it’s all up to Thee. No matter how smart I try to be, the grey cells in quantity I invest, things that will finally happen, it’s all going to be in His will. It has to happen; I have to be a part of it, grown up me if I can enjoy it or childish me if I crib over it.

I feel so good after writing. I feel it’s the best way to vent ones feelings without letting them explode. But I do not expect it to be interpreted in my favor, always. It’s just a piece writing, a wanderer’s thoughts, but its neither too unrevealing. And I live in the hope, that I will understand myself one day, before anyone else does so.

-G

Inspiration-e-Ghalib

2006-07-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

Saurabh writes a beautiful four liner with inspiration from Ghalib. While roving through that post, I felt like extrapolating the feeling he tries to make effable. So without his permission :P, here it goes:

Saurabh:

muddat baad hi sahi, aap humein milne to aaye.
kaayal hum bhi hain mehmaan-nawaazi ke,
par is kabr mein se,
paani bhi poochein to kaise poochein...

Gursharan:

kabr mein hain to zarra mat samajhna,
aftab banne ki to chaah hi na ki,
aapne agar aakar awaz di hoti,
to khuda kasam, khuda ko khaak kar ke palkein bichaate.

eh khuda muafi tujhse maangenge nahin,
tune gar kabr mein jaan di hoti,
us zindagi ki to chaah hi na karte,
agar is bani-raun pal khwahishe-deedar hote.

bani-raun : that happens, existing in time.

Even I burst into laughter after writing words like palkein bichaate, khwahishe-deedar but this is the way Ghalib wrote. Each word he used to use would carry the meaning of a whole sentence that another poet will write. I remember him using some really complex vocabulary that made me leave the book ‘Urdu-i-Muallah’ mid way ( but I am gathering confidence again to start it).

Cheers!

-G

Bi-selfness

2006-07-09T07:17:00.000-07:00

I read on someone’s orkut profile that she believes she has two selves. I was so happy and delighted to find someone who has the same thought I have been trying to live from a good time now. The two selves in talk are within everyone, a fact verified from the writings of Asimov. One self is ourselves, that we call “me”, that is trying to be good to the world, trying to wallow in all luxuries of life, that makes sure you are loved by all and you love all. The other self is just what we are supposed to be, the reflection of our “true” mind and soul. The one self that talks to “me”, to always teach me something is never wrong. That’s what the soul is. That’s what we have been made to become and follow. So, dedicated to this human thought, that can help allay anything that hurts, below are some lines.

Me, Myself : The “Me” everyone knows, first self
Soul: The true “Me”, the second self.

Do you see what I see
Why do we live like this?
Is it because it is true
That ignorance is bliss?

Why am I so numb?
And life suddenly is fermenting in stum.
Is it that I take life too vapidly?
Nothing like I have to live, live happily.

Why do I live two selves?
Each mocking on the other on lost helves.
Why are the thoughts being whipped?
How did everything whisked?

Why can’t I let it go?
Please make me understand why is it so?
Everything I loved all way,
Someone steals them on fro of the sway*.

Clock of life is wound but once,
Can it be stopped, can I get this bunce**?
Want to live life as it spells,
Only wax, this dunce was never made to melt.

Back in that page of life,
Chirpy, bubbly with sparkling eyes,
Who was He? How was He?
That wasn’t I, coz sparkling can’t be without glee.

Looking back at time,
I think I never really got it right,
I only messed up some things,
The culprit me, sweating in the springs.

Confused in the twilight,
Never understood its going to be a day or night.
I need an antidote of light,
Waiting for it to come and make me bright***.

Let me give myself a blow,
A blow that takes me to the soul,
The soul has nothing to perfect,
May be that fits in my intellect?

I would then want to return,
Without anything that caused the burn,
Is it really going to be tough?
Do I need to curse myself and handle it rough?

Gursharan Singh, 9th July 2006, New Delhi.

Tidbits:
*as if it is swinging and in the “fro” of to- and- fro, someone takes it off
**good fortune, can I get lucky
*** bright here means closer to soul, reality, often a biting truth.

Murder of Milk

2006-07-05T04:19:00.000-07:00

Shiv Kumar Batalvi, a renowned poet from Punjab, wrote his agony on the division of the country during the partition days. Titled as “Dhudh Da Katal” or the Murder of Milk” which signifies the murder of milk of his mother, mother Punjab who was murdered by division at that time. The English translation goes as :

I still remember it today
And you must remember it too
When together we murdered our mother
They killed my childhood they killed my mother
And a cold corpse was left at my place to rot.

I have a longing to die young
To go to realm of youth
After my demise.

I sing to conceal my agonies
Under the guise of lyrics
Sweet and serene the curses
Miserable and doleful verses.

I have been occupied
With burning the lamps
Of my own existence , fears
Feeding it with flowing oils
From my own saline tears.

Help me to remember Thee

2006-07-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

First quarter of the day was that*,
abandoning the nocturnal tryst, experiencing the lat,
I laid on the mattress with that wildness and exploring thoughts,
did I ever think of Thee, is this from me what He sought?

Thankless, unappreciative, selfish and ungrateful - my soul abused me,
wanting to hide my face in the darkness that surrounded, crying for a re,
forgot that darkness is the truth, light its façade,
for light was never termed to be, if darkness not made to wade.

They say, when the cursing dusks, blessings dawn,
the ecstasy was ineffable like air, flower and the mystic spawn*.
The human so small and poor, to thank, appreciation seemed to be the only way,
devising ways to do it in sleep, the omen feeling started getting allay.

Started with “it” being in air, water and the fire,
the Sun showing “its” ruddy face, the moon so cold albeit able to light every poet’s pyre.
only Sun, moon, air, water and fire? “It” wasn’t so small,
said the kindred spirit, make it fast son, life will be short to think of all.

Rivers, seas, oceans, the flora and fauna, everything abundant, nothing in dearth,
the amazing attraction between the fly-aways of big bang, and a discovered life on earth.
Food for everyone, liquid, peace in nature He assured,
distributing wealth evenly as oil ’n’coal, never was it meant to be a selfish procure!

The calmness and love of a mother, carries the breeze,
the land and soil, saying nothing beneath your feet,
the soil, Oh my, is even so great, why boast of a glaive,
Sayeth wise, below my feet when I am alive, taking in its lap when I am in grave.

Twice semidiurnal is too less to call of You, calling only for a cure?
being One is the only worship I know, and forgetting you is not possible anymore.
With nature in Me, and I in nature, Your only form,
help me settle between Me and I, and fight this storm.

You are illimitable, infinite, sempiternal; I have no faculty to estimate your span,
I can only beg of knowing more of You, hold me, You are my can.
He, She, I and they have failed to understand Me, and Me failed with all imperceptible attempts,
take me in your lap, hold me in your arms my Sea,
save the falling, drying river, bestow me with “The” thoughts, O’ My Thee.

Gursharan Singh, 2nd July 2006, New Delhi.

Tidbits:
*First quarter of the day : 00:00 to 06:00 hours
**air, flower and the mystic spawn : refers to the fragrance that’s spawned when the air(wind) touches the flower and fills the atmosphere.

Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna

2006-06-26T11:09:00.000-07:00

Monday is a lazy day, I took off from work and the Sports Complex is also closed for the day. Muscles were sort of crinkled, trying to stretch out at home, came flying a suggestion from mom, “Go to the nearby park for a walk”. The tone complained of my being lazy throughout the day and couldn’t help, but to escape from the taunts that would have come in the remaining day, I started from home to the park. The scene is generally very serene, birds chirping, aged people talking, children playing, everything was perfect. The small children, varying in age from 7–10 years, fell to the ground after sweating with the frizzling games they play. I found the scene very interesting, children talking to each other so calmly. Suddenly they started playing the game of songs. It was a delight to watch them playing that when suddenly, they started singing the song “Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamare man mein hai”, and I couldn’t help and the “thing” resuscitated. Co-incidences don’t fall into my lap that often, but this one was really on time, when reaching back home I switched on the TV to see Rang De Basanti on prime time. I was in awe of those children by that time and Ramprasad Bismil sahib who penned those vibrant lyrics. The timeline in the movie was on the same song and I tried to write it along. It goes as –

Hai liye hathiyaar dushman taak mein baitha udharaur hum taiyyaar hain seena liye apna idhar,

khoon se khelenge holi gar vatan muskhil mein haisarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.

aur bhadkega jo shola-sa humaare dil mein haisarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

hum to ghar se nikle hi the baandhkar sar pe qafan,chaahatein liin bhar liye lo bhar chale hain ye qadam.

zindagi to apni mehmaan maut ki mehfil mein hai,sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

dil mein tuufaanon ki toli aur nason mein inquilaabhosh dushman ke udaa denge humein roko na aaj,duur reh paaye jo humse dam kahaan manzil mein haisarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

The lines I savor the most are italicisized above. Bismil sahib, hats off to you.

Harry, you are great, with words atleast ;)

2006-06-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

Harpreet aka Harry Singh, a young and a smart doctor living in the US has been looking for a wife for quiet long. It seems Harry, you believe in the concept of selecting a wife for yourself and that too within the US! And to top all of it, he is in need of a Sikh lady, a true Sikh, by soul and by heart. But, he couldn’t find a sikhni in the US who seem to respect his respect for sikh women. He met a girl, named C, and then they had a breakover. But, the way Harry narrates his experiences from life, its truly awesome, I bow before him. C came to his place one day and Harry expected her to make a move for good but she never turned back while leaving. I am sorry I am writing all this Harry, but I had to write this background to let people acknowledge the words that you wrote. They are truly mind boggling. Here they are –

“ I stood at the door watching her walk away. Every step that she took, I prayed that she would stop. I prayed that she would atleast turn around and exchange a final look, the look that would tell me some sort of indication that she still felt anything for me. The look, by which I would be able to spend the rest of my life with. "woh nazar jiske sahare mein baki ki jindagi goojar doonga".

But she didn't. She kept walking (some would say, briskly) and kept walking. And then she turned the corner and with that last step, she walked out of my sight and I am afraid, out of my life. The passage was brightly lit with pretty lights, the air was still and musty and I stood there wondering how things could change so fast. No answers came to mind. Like they say, American appliances don't work in Europe and I guess, Indian men don't work in America. You know, it is all about the "connection".

As I started to turn around and drag myself in, I noticed something on the floor. I bent down to take a closer look. It seemed familiar. "I'll be damned", I told myself. It was my darn heart. God bless my soul. The poor bugger was badly mangled but it was still beating. The rascal just won't quit. C had very skillfully dropped it on the ground as she was leaving, severing the final ties and sealing the deal. I picked it up and put in the refrigerator where it would lay healing, only for the next angel to come and break it. “ — Harry

Harry you are a great philosopher. Your sense of observation for things that happen inside cannot be put into words. Awesome is the only word that comes out time and again.

The racket and the Sympathy!

2006-06-22T13:26:00.000-07:00

Last week, I broke my squash racket and today, I was all game to enter the most crowded place in Delhi to buy a good one, the Sadar Bazaar. It is supposedly the place that pumps the economy and accelerates the cash flow in goods trade in New Delhi. You can get almost everything there, sports equipment, lab equipment, household stuff, raw cloth, bag, umbrellas, spices, you name anything, it will be on one of the ‘gali’ or the so– named “XYZmal” road there (e.g. Munnamal road). You cant get parking there, park the car 2 kilometers away and take a cyclerickshaw to the gali of your needs or if you fall into the class that feels its inhuman to have someone drive you with his legs ( unfortunately I belong to this secta), you can only bravely walk on your own feet( with handkerchief incessantly sticking to your nose to help you preserve your nostrils from rotting away by the open nullahs). The way people work there – labourers, wholesalers, “Laalas”, its simply amazing. At such a place where you can’t even afford to breath suently just to help your heart beat only 72 times per minute, people spent their whole lives in the legacy trades.

Among these arduous spokes of the wheel of trade, the ones that rotate the most are the freigth pullers. Neither the cyclerickshaw, nor the horse cart, they are a human cart. They have given horses a run for their money and have substituted them. They would carry anything from anywhere to everywhere. Just give them the money and they will even take a nuclear bomb unknowingly. A simple description of a puller would be – thin, boney, some muscles spurting out, wearing a lungi/some short and yelling nothing but “ Dekh ke Dekh ke” making sure nobody is hurt from their cart when they move like a serpent from those 5 feet narrow(or wide?) pot holed tracks. Oh and yes, they are BARE FOOT.

I couldn’t stand my thoughts about them and spilled it out. I asked one of the not-so-busy pullers, “ Aap agar chappal pehen ke chalo ya fir cycle wala ricksha chalao, to kya aamdani mein kuch farak padega”. He looked at me as if a part of some space shuttle chipped off and fell in front of him – yeah me. I felt like I committed a sin. The way he looked around caressing his thin stomach, the satisfaction that I don’t even show after gulping a gatorade, shining bright on his face after taking his own saliva in (visible through some crawling in his throat and then through a small drop of sweat on his bare chest that was displaced by the motion that just happened in the feeble body), the fibbrilation that throngs my heart when I fail to put emotions into words was just something that was reflected in his eyes, just the failure had a different genre here, to earn enough bread for his family, for the day. In a sulky voice, he replied “ Jab kisi ka bhoja dhote hain na, to yehi nange pair (feet) kaam aate hain, bhoja dhone mein nahin, unse mehnat ke paise aasani se lene mein aur jab kisi ko taras aa jaye, woh 2 paise zyaada bhi de deta hai”. What he meant was that his pulling the cart barefoot helps him get some sympathy from the Laala who is going to pay him at the destination and if he is lucky, he will get some extra bucks to make his day. The people who pay him for pulling the freight are new everyday, the retailers coming to the wholesalers from across India.The duologue ended there. I couldnt reciprocate on what he said, just said a “hmmmm” and moved ahead.

I left myself for the 2 kilometers I was supposed to travel on feet. I don’t know how I reached the car, what I saw on the way, what was happening in the way, but I reached the place, somehow, safely. Even the feeling of having a live left ventricular appendage abandoned me. I don’t know if I felt sad for the state of the physical labourer in my country, but yes, I felt like crying, crying for God, crying to God who plays with the world on his will. Even if I cried all day long, the millileters he perspired everyday would by and large outweigh my attempt from the organ that scientifically can regenerate water in the body most quickly(eyes). The drop of sweat that I saw going down from his forehead down his missing cheek acted as an emboli choking all the red liquid gushing inside. It was not that I saw such “mehanati” people for the first time, but I just devoted some thought over how they work and survive, for the first time.

The physical labourers in the US and the gulf are a respected lot, earning anything from $20–30 an hour. Why in India is such a situation of pity spitting on the so-called equality for all barking constitution? If he couldn’t go to school, why is he made to ruin? Whatever the reason may be, unemployment, over-population, humans riding on human weaknesses, whatever, but why so much discrimination and disrespect for someone (the puller) and why so much respect and dignity in speech and behaviour for the other one (The Laala). I am sure many would vow for the education that the carter missed. Please do not delve into that discussion, it would be meaningless here. The Laala is as illiterate as the cart puller. This just shows that the flow of power and revenue in India is very much unbalanced. Albeit it may sound too childish to think of revenue balance between the two ‘types’ of spokes in the trade, acually it is not, try looking at the bigger picture.

Though I wish that all wallow in the luxuries of life that have been dreamt, your dreams be graced, your needs fulfilled at the blink of an eye, but is it really too early to rove a look around, or is it too late? I can’t think of what I can do, what I WILL do. But I pray to the almighty, just give me enough strength, enough determination, enough motivation and just enough sensibility to do what I should do.That I take this stance in life with a pious heart, with a selfless feeling, to do something, to work for something, to die for something, that does not reap me anything.

Amen!

The Fall of me ...

2006-06-17T01:57:00.000-07:00

Theres a pain that sleeps inside,
that sleeps just one eyed,
and awakens the moment you are near,
feels nothing is inside, but a fear.

Theres a pain that sleeps inside,
that never lets me feel that I am 'one',
that only crunches the soul,
soul screaming inside that I am none.

Theres a pain that sleeps inside,
that has frozen the blood of mine,
the veins feel like tunnels of sorrow,
and I am blue like someone poisoned my marrow.

Theres a pain that sleeps inside,
that always heightens the inner tide,
someone is always around,
and I am feeling caught, forever bound.

Theres a pain that sleeps inside,
that will never leave me kind,
and I wish I were a stone,
standing rock but never feeling alone.

Hey life, why did you open my eyes,
the pain that slept inside,
I loved it for the numbness that it gave,
the hits that I survived, feeling that I am brave.

The pain is no more inside,
and I am loving life,
but I doubt if I am better,
'coz something still makes me fetter.

O Lord, can you come and make it disappear,
make it disappear and we can stay !

Thanks to Hoobastank for giving a start...

Gursharan, 16th June, 2006, New Delhi.

2006-06-15T02:14:00.000-07:00

This time, I talk about another loving friend - Espresso Coffee.

Before rendering my thoughts in words for it, lemme explain what espresso coffee is (ok if you know it, you still need to read it) and what it does.

Coffee connoisseurs call it the purest form of coffee, since its advent in 1435 (known as 'quawah'). It was able to defeat the other hit in the coffee arena, named on the robes of monks of the Capuchin order - Cappuccino.

What gives coffee its kick? Caffeine, of course. Caffeine is trimethylxanthine (C8H10N4O2). It's an addictive stimulant that operates in the brain the same way amphetamones, cocaine and heroin do (although caffeine is much milder than those drugs). Caffeine occurs naturally in a number of plants, including coffee beans. Your average 6-ounce cup of drip-brewed coffee contains 100 mg of caffeine.

If anyone of you visits a Starbucks some day, just try espresso italiano with cardamom. The heaven would be down there !

Please visit back for the poetic dose of coffee....I assure, it would be more kicking.

Meet my friend - Mansi

2006-06-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

Mansi has been a class mate and a good friend all four years. It would have been foolish of me not to introduce her to you, so here goes the intoduction -

First day in college was that
Every student wore the introduction hat,
standing in each class, they revealed their names,
Heard Mansi's intro, felt she is not meant for ordinary games.

What should I tell about her,
she's an intellect tank,
I agree anything I write about her would be too less,
and I submit before all readers, for a spank.

Though she's a nice and loving friend,
but keeps on pulling my leg without fear,
and its my turn now to reveal,
how things went with her over the past 4 years, year by year.

First year was about boring subjects,
Mansi seemed to be all a girl who used the pages of books to make paper jets,
but I was proved wrong once again,
when I found her to be a Mathematics power brain.

First year and the months passed by,
we bid 2 sets of professors a very good bye,
but instead of professors being in talks on air, it was her fancy,
her name was written ahead of me, as Gupta Mansi.

By the second year her exuberance was well known,
her giggly laugh and a smile like the first leaf of a plant freshly sown,
the aura she exuded is worth a mention,
she always lived her life to the max, believing life gave no pension.

Friends give gifts, she gave me a name,
all through the four years I have been known as Guchu,
smartness donated by her highness, hence I never afforded to be lame.

The third year dawned like a long career fair,
she was firm on her take, wanting to roll a Business chair,
making sure she had nothing in future for sadness to dye,
she started her entrance preps, it would be too less to term them as a mere try.

She has come out with flying colors,
has put on the IIM Bangalore Business rollers,
An Engineer by God's grace, she will also be now known,
after umpteen number of early show ends during exams, she has shown.

All said and done,
she is among the only ones,
those who are honest to themselves,
those who manage to get good grades, without messing much with bookshelves.

She is smart, she is beautiful,
her sense of humor adorable, never near being dull,
she's fast, always on a ferrari,
takes challenges as they come, never worrying about them apriori.
.
I am going to miss a precious friend,
specially when having true ones is out of trend,
Mansi, I assure you,
forgetting you would be a personal loss to 'Mou',
Lord, give her success in all walks of life, happiness in all times,
may she exemplify successful women, and becomes the soul of hundred such rhymes.

Catcha: ‘Mou’ is the latin for ‘Me’.

Gursharan, 14th June, 2006, New Delhi.

Life Demystified

2006-06-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

Following is an excerpt from a talk between my mind and soul. Whenever these two talk, philosophy is spilled out. Here it is!

Its like water in the palm,

left open feels cool and calm,

childish of me to try to posess it forever,

tried to close the fist, forgetting it will seep and will stay there never.

Its like the beauty of the flower,

beauty filled in the air trying to defeat the beauty in the color, to get higher,

infantile of me, plucked it, desired to keep it with me,

it spread its fragrance only with its roots, as crafted by its Saviour – Thee .

Its like the play of a child,

described by innocence and steps that go wild,

childish of me to confine it in the discipline defined by emotion,

forgot that though small and frail , the child is an impression of His execution.

Its like the river that flows swiftly,

supported by the mountains, holding them tightly,

infantile of me to ride on religion to take Ganges in a container,

for it was Ganges only with the stream and I remained as always, a mere complainer.

Life has always been beautiful,

only the emotion tank has been at times empty, half or full,

childish of me to measure life in terms of happiness and satisfaction it gave,

for it was meant to be cherished let free, allowed for its own ways to pave.

O Lord, Life seems to be Demystified,

the mist has cleared and nothing feels like sacrificed,

I have grown up to reality now,

childish was I, help me improve, make me undersand how?

Gursharan, 10th June, 2006.

Is it necessary?

2006-06-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Those who leave the ground, touch the sky,

to have ground beneath your feet, ask yourself, is it necessary ?

Flower beds blossom in wet and soft mud

to stand like a Mountain, ask yourself, is it necessary?

Flowing waters make the future of land and soil fertile

to remain stagnant for nothing, ask yourself, is it necessary?

The mind and soul look beautiful in synch and rythm

but I seek a reason to rapture, asking myself, is it necessary?

I feared all my life for the thing that never happened

and when heart sails in the sea of emotions, even the moon frees those tides from its whip ,

but then I realized I was in the middle of the ocean, asking myself, was it necessary?

Who says everyone dies and so will I,

I am a flowing river, O’ Lord my sea, I shall mix and enter into You.

Gursharan, 9th June, 2006.

Thank you Thee

2006-06-08T07:34:00.000-07:00

Life is fun, I realized it,

When on my way to Amritsar, the tyre got punctured,

and missing in the car was the toolkit.

The road was dark, the place secluded,

What I could only say was,

I am in a fix, six others included.

I waved to the few passing by

the situation was serious and futile was my try,

when suddenly an old man came,

and things were never the same.

In the blink of an eye,

he himself replaced the tire,

and in another moment,

vanished away like oil in fire.

I have been wondering since then,

who was “He”,

to help me reach His place safely,

was it THEE?

Gursharan, 6th June, 6:30 PM, on way to Amritsar from Ludhiana.

About me !

2006-05-31T07:56:00.000-07:00

This is an “about me” I wrote at orkut. Enjoy!

A lonely meteor in the sky,
in search of a sea to enter and pacify,
heard that 76% of earth is water,
still fearing to get the 24% of the dry.

Found a sea in one of those eyes,
happily changed the way in life and my flies,
thought that things would change for good,
but those eyes now seem to shoot me from the hood.

The pearls I termed them to be,
help me, I can't remember how I did it Thee,
leave apart the pearls, I can't breathe that air anymore,
but still I crave for the "thing" to come in galore.

This is about me that you should know,
meet me and let me have something to show,
a clean heart and wishes to the sky
and hey, please don't be another one coming in front, and time and again passing by.

Gursharan, 30th May 2006.

Thank you fans!

2006-05-31T05:53:00.000-07:00

After my last two creations (wow that sounds like GOD, but I am not even a zarra), I have received so many messages about the goodness of those. I assure you I am still writing, but I can’t post all of them here, somehow, I don’t know why. It isn’t that I am into writing obscene content, those are also as pure, but, theres a but that I cant cut. Sorry mates. But I will make sure that I write more of open ones. Thanks.

Afraid of World?

2006-05-29T11:54:00.000-07:00

Beauty is a bliss,

please understand dear miss,

you wouldn’t get serious admirers,

hold on, dont shoot so many firers.

When I look at you,

the heart even forgets to sink,

and if you give me a wink,

ahh…the world for me is just pints.

Appreciate and embrace the feeling,

please don’t do a silent killing,

or Thee shall punish you,

but that will again hurt ‘Mou’!

Oh C’mon dear,

they say, life goes on and it never ends,

eyes of stone observe the trends,

but I know from deep inside,

that theres also some light kindled at your side.

If its a toll to say,

remember, you must only park at your heart’s bay,

for life is too uncertain for even a minute to stay,

but in my heart, even after life, will be your say.

Discover your own self,

forget the left and right and those otherly uprights,

look into your own eyes, or for that matter mine,

and seize the Rythm Divine.

World has never understood the emotions,

who do you care for, have some might,

If you are afraid of the damn world,

tell me, I will be your knight.

Catcha: ‘Mou’ is the latin for “me”.

Gursharan, 30 May, 2006, New Delhi.

The Urge Deep Inside

2006-05-29T06:43:00.000-07:00

That smile revealing the pearls,

That look in the eyes, revealing the innocence and truth,

The aura and the perfume air failed to mitigate,

I can’t sense it anymore.

The everyday willinglness to say it,

those attemps to muster the courage,

Courage, you said why?

‘Coz the innocence they say is divine,

and the feeling of win by happily failing everytime,

I can’t have that willingness anymore.

The dawn and dusk sharing the untold grief,

Wanting to have that heavenly look, anytime, even for a brief,

your sensing of my feeling and ignoring it,

and my believing in ignorance is bliss.

That feeling of ecstasy on spotting you,

that telling of stories of liking you,

being sleepless with stars as your replacement,

I can’t feel it anymore.

Lord! I have a deep urge inside,

to say it, at last,

to relieve my heart,

to pacify the tide of emotion,

to satiate the evokation.

But with so many can’t anymores and no mores,

I have been asking myself,

is she the same, or is it for a change?

Is it to help me to forget,

or is it high time for thy ownself to introspect?

Theres a deep urge inside,

even if she sits forever by my side,

Will I be able to savor the pride?

Pride is lost, the feelings sold at dirt-cost,

Was I a fool?

But now, to empty the immense emotional pool, Theres a Deep Urge inside !

Gursharan, 29th May, 2006, New Delhi.

Einstein, the man, the philosopher...

2006-05-06T05:48:00.000-07:00

I had only read in text Einstein’s idealogy, but now have got in his own ryhmic and philosophical form. Awesome, is the next word that comes out. You can also enjoy it at :

http://rescomp.stanford.edu/~cheshire/EinsteinQuotes.html

Cheers!

Live it, to the Max!

2006-05-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

News on websites? They are as boring as they have always been. Information overflow & bad presentation have always hit the online news providers. Welcome to reality. The so very presentable and lovable, Max is here! Presents news in a way you would like to read. Also has an album maker and a cool picture annotation tool.

Check out www.microsoft.com/max

Googlepages

2006-05-05T12:19:00.000-07:00

This comes as the latest web stunt from Google. yourgmail.googlepages.com is ur own personal webspace thats easy to build, and fun to customize. Check it out.

2005-07-26T11:56:00.000-07:00

Hey, check this out, the new Moto Q has been announced - doesnt this looks like the latest iPaq ?

-Gursharan

Longhorn Release

2005-07-22T12:43:00.000-07:00

The next version of Microsoft Windows code named "Longhorn" beta1 is on its release trail now with the official name Windows Vista.

Sounds cool eh!

was wondering why dun they give such cool names to windows CE? Like, Windows Robot System or the Windows ChipDeCarpeDiem !!

Check out the official naming ceremony at http://www.microsoft.com/presspass/press/2005/jul05/07-22LHMA.mspx

Enjoy!

Cool App

2005-07-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

Was watching the CNBC Bill Gates talk. He foresees Win CE / Mobile as a potential product from Microsoft in near time( by potential i mean something like XP). While watching him say about camera stuff on smartphones, a very smart idea for an app took birth. Imagine a web service that can give all the historical monument info by taking its picture as input. So you go to Statue of liberty, click its pic, process it locally( as can be given to the web service) and send it OTA. The web service in response to the pic sends back a whole book worth of info to you. Pretty cool Nah!

Think over it….

-Gursharan

Your stats

2005-07-07T15:35:00.000-07:00

Check it out…..Works fine????

http://www.danasoft.com/sig/gurshi.jpg

INDIGO

2005-07-07T01:00:00.000-07:00

Heard about it at the techEd. Came across nice tutorial in the WHIDBEY release notes. Indigo as MSDN says is the new standard for building and running connected systems. Like previous distributed technologies like web services, Remoting, MSMQ etc, it is a Service oriented programming model built on .NET framework. Will be available for Longohorn natively, and requires some SDKs( right?) for win XP and server 2003 development.

Sounds like next big thing!

-Gursharan

BillG - the STANDING man!

2005-07-05T06:58:00.000-07:00

This is BillG at the inaugral ceremony and the flag off dinner talking to the contestants at the WESC . His presence was for around 15 mins, and nobody dared to blink!!

BillG briefing about the foray of Microsoft into embedded and the future of winCE. At back is Ivan Joseph, Product Manager, Academic, the great organizer of WESC and a wonderful guy to talk to….

Windows CE in Automobileeee

2005-07-03T03:29:00.000-07:00

So, while reading Paul Yao’s( great guy to meet) master piece, I came across this info that windows CE is being presently used by Intermec, Psion Teklogix, Symbol Tech for board scanners. By Viewsonic, Philips and Silicon on displays and by BMW( with help from Siemens VDO), Citroen, Fiat, Mitsubishi, Subaru, Toyota and Volvo in AMobiles. Hope the VxW guy reads this!:-)

MS TechEd Over!

2005-07-02T05:59:00.000-07:00

So the TechEd 2005 at New Delhi was over today with hands on sessions which were good. Ravi Soin from Microsoft Redmond was found to be the most active tutor! Was good. So, alls well that ends well is all what I can say right now (tired hell) . Next update soon !!

-Gursharan

Microsoft TechED 2005 great question

2005-07-02T05:51:00.000-07:00

From past two days, I have been attending each track of the Mobile and Embedded devices group talks and in crux it was , Mind Boggling! The intensity with which Windows Mobile and CE is shooting ahead is tremendous. People from the globe were discussing how is Windows CE better than vox 330 or RTLinux. The guy giving talk on win CE was Asang Dani from Kanetkars insti in Nagpur – Dcube s/w I suppose.( former Dow Jones and Microsoft Employee). A VxW employee buckled him at the point that is Windows CE a Hard or a Soft RTOS and he was like……. I took pleasure in clarifying and told him that Windows CE Automobile edition is on way now and is already being used by Lego robots…..Again he asked the same question. I wonder how smart employees VxW has. Its catastrophic for a Robot to have a soft RTOS !( Am I right? – comments appreciated)

Visit for win CE Automobil http://www.winplanet.com/article/1153-.htm

-Gursharan

Placement Co-Ords.

2005-04-10T07:17:00.000-07:00

Hi comrades

Its getting late now to decide who will be the class co-ord from our batch for this year’s placement session. Bhatia Sir has announced special rewards( or bribe as you may like to take it) for the co-ords.

1. Team leadership Certficates– CAT ppl where’s your oppurtunistic instinct

2. Special Recommendations to the visiting companies

The Co-Ords will be required to connect to the companies on their own with Bhatia Sir just giving the initial and the final strokes. So, I request ppl to leave their names on the Blog or poll( lets first poll to get the contestants:-)) on the blog, whatever you feel comfortable in.

Thnx and Kia

Gursharan

Testing BlogJet

2005-04-09T11:55:00.000-07:00

I have installed an interesting application - BlogJet. It's a cool Windows client for my blog tool (as well as for other tools). Get your copy here: http://blogjet.com

"Computers are useless. They can only give you answers." -- Pablo Picasso