An Encounter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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?

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

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

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...

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

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?

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.