RIP Paul Walker

Nothing to write, except, RIP Paul Walker!!! You will be missed...

What is important!!!

What is important? To be a good human or good looking human?

How many people we meet on day to day basis who are very concious about how they are looking! But how many can understand that when you look into someone's eyes, you are directly looking into their heart and for some, it is your heart what matters, not the artificial faces and figure you carry.

There is a place for everyone in this world, one's own space and place where no-one else can get fit into.

We just need to look there, not where everyone wants us, but where there is our place which makes us beautiful. Nature, there is no difference between a bad flower and a good flower. It’s just a flower which is making the place beautiful. Shape and size doesn't matter. What matters is how good and strong one is within.

Ask a child how his/her mother is! Always beautiful and protective about him/her. Always taking charge. No beauty comes in between than, only a heart of mother. Ask a patient, how beautiful a nurse is looking. No matter how bad looking she is, she is a support system for the patient at that time. Ask a man who has turned 60 years old and retired. How beautiful his wife is. No matter they might have not liked each other throughout the life, but at that age now when they have got into their 60's, when they can see nobody else has been left with them but they together themselves, they than understand the actual beauty, which is in staying together, no matter what may come.|

We are mad people and because we are mad, we have created a mad world around us. We use to choose the things on the basis of their looks and color and not becuse of the taste. People just want to be around someone who looks beautiful and pretty. But is it going to add some value to their life? Those people don't even understand what beauty and prettiness is all about. Beauty is always in the things which we can't see at all, but just feel and realize, like the nature of the person, kindness, attitude towards all beings. The way you think, makes one beautiful, and not the shape one carry or the clothes one wear or the food one eat. The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

A saying -- The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

As far as my knowledge is concern, truth and honesty is the most adorable thing in a human being. Esp any women can look great in any ordinary piece of cloth if she is strong from inside, if her fundamentals are clear, if she is kind enough and having all these qualities, she will be beautiful.

To any human, happiness is what makes one pretty and beautiful. Happy people are beautiful. And they know happiness is not how they look, but how they are, content with whatever they have got.

A famous saying I got and wanted to share:

“For Attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run their fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

People, more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself and the other for helping others."

Hope by this time you might have got the idea of what beautiful means for some people, its inside, not the outside. Whatever outside is, a myth. The people who can't appreciate because of what you are, are not worth hearing, but just to be smile upon and ignore.

God Bless... :)

Rain

The chemistry between the river, sea, sun, clouds, air and the mountains... the nature...

 

Rain always played a very special role in his life...

When he was a kid, he used to be out till it was raining... wanted to pour himself into the each drop of it... knowing he will be bitten up by his mom after he will get inside...

He used to pray all the time to let the rain happen.. even in the winters... so that he can see this amazing creation of the supermacy... to let it wet the sand... to let the pleasent smell of sand get inside him after the rain...

He had been told by the means of stories that even God cries... and the God cries when he is in too pain, or when he is too happy...

When in pain, its rain and storm... but when he is happy, it called as rain...

He believed that...

And he always wanted God to be happy... as happy so that he can cry... and so he can call that rain...

He always wanted to see all the green graas and trees dropping the blessings from their leaves after the end of rain...

It really meant the blessing for him...

He never put his umbrella on his head when going to school or coming back while it was raining...

Just protected his bag full of books...

When he was young, and in the college, he always had a walk in the rain when the other students didn't wanted to get their pair of clothes wet...

He always find himself in between the green fields, with his imaginary dog and horse whenevr there was rain...

He was known as a dreamer in all aspects...

Rain always made him happy... he always felt the beauty of life in that... one of the real gift from the nature... to keep everyone alive...

He remember he used to run in the rain... sort of jogging... people called him mad...

He remember he always used to go into the park to play football or cricket whenever it was raining...

He found some other mad people who were their to accompany him...

He remember that lonely basket ball ground in the college, always waiting for him whenever it was raining...

He always kept repeting the quote to his friends... "Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby"... some listened, some didn't...

He never missed the rain... it was amazing...

 

Before the spring came, she was gone... with her new rain-man... in the search of new life... new opportunities...

He never got a chance to hold her hand in the rain... to give her the most beautiful gift he could have given... to tell her that he don't want to let this rain ever stop... let it continue like this... forever... he will take care of everything else... he will resolve every problem of his and her life... just let the rain come once... wait for me... he didn't got a chance...

He don't like the rain now.. it hurts him... every drop of it hits him...

He is just sitting at the window... watching the rain... pouring the every bit of existence outside...

He can't go outside... he is scared to be wet... scared of rain... scared of what if someone hold his hand...

He can't do that... he don't want to let it happen... with him...

Its always the rain with the storm now... atleast for him...

And the rain... it's just hiding the tears from his face... that is the only purpose he has left with for the rain...

Few drops cames from his eyes... its raining... inside and outside... everyday... its rain for him, all the time, now and then... with storm...

He pray for everyone now... "Into each life, some rain must fall... without storm...”"

Rain... the chemistry between the river, sea, sun, clouds, air and the mountains... the nature... the storm... the him...

God Bless....

The things and the matters...

I wonder sometimes for the things and for the matters too!! On a soft note, esp for the things which matters a lot!!! How someone can turn so selfish so that he get everything on behalf of someone else life? On someone else pain? On someoneelse health and beautifulness? I know one person who do that quite oftenly... very oftenly. But does it matter how that person feels like for the things he do? I don't know the force behind it, neither the ageanda. For sure he is not a killer, for sure he is not emotionless, for sure he doesn't want anything bad should happen to anyone. But how does it matter? What matters is he do it, on the count of someone's hapiness, and he do it repeatedly. To the one person and to the another... everyday!!


Life have many unanswered questions, and more answers to which there are no questions. Having things in mind going around that how someone is able to live for so many years without a proper sleep? Without giving rest to his heart and mind? In search of something which he don't know. He want to do a lot so that nobody can even think about. He meet so many people, try to understand the unsolved mystery of the science of the life but get confused with the life of the science, being a person who wants everyone happy by doing all the sort of things which eventually doesn't matter to anyone. No words to define the situation but one try, caught in his own web, caught in his own questions and answers.


The moral in the end he get that even he can satisfy himself for anything, life would have been bit easy. And without convincing himself, without being happy himself, how he is trying to make anyone happy?


I watched a movie, forgot the name, but like the last dialogue the most... "Kuch log aise hi hote hain, kuch nhi kaar sakte". Its being a situation like that. He is like that. what else he can do but just trying? What else is left to be tried?



Life is a trap of your own words. Finding questions, giving answers to yourself. Life is, for few, a beautiful thing, for few, a dream, for few, a mystery, for few, a question, and for few, just life!!! So be it. Everyone has discoveries of life, and few have inventions, for the definition of their life. But for so many, even today, it is left as a mystery, miserable mystery.

What else matters, or nothing else matter, to be or not to be, many questions, many philosophies...


In the end, nothing comes to the conclusion... practical people are safe people... it just goes on!! But still, they too miss one answer... what goes on? Is it life or them?


So the question and the title of the post still remains unanswered: "What matters? The thing or the matter after the thing or just matter?"


For me, its the thing, for few, it what the matters. I find myself very helpless and weak in this paradox, many times. And in the end, I have to just be quiet and let it go. Yes, its a personal choice what should matter, but how we make our choices? Heart, mind, results, experiences? As per me, its nothing. Its just being. You want to do something but you can't, you are just being... You want to run but you can't, because its just being...you want something and you can have it, but you can't, because of just being...


I know its easy to get bore by reading craps, and tough to splve the web and the threads of anyone's mind, but that it is, that is the thing...

Be good!!

Maa

                            

This is for my first love, my granny... who is the biggest reason behind what I am and how I am... More for my granny here at Granny's day out

Maa kab itnee boodhi ho gayee pataa hee nahee chalaa...

pataa hi nahi chala ki kab chahare ki khaal ne jhurriyon kaa daaman thaam liyaa aur maa ke chahare par kaee nadiyon ki dhaaraao ki tarahaa phail gayien...

Maa ne kai baar mujhe kahaa vaapas ghar aane ke liye... Delhi me rahane ke liye...

mujhe kabhi pataa hi nahi chalaa ki wo mujhe hameshaa apane paas rakhanaa chahatee thi...

hameshaa chahti thi ki jab bhi unhe apne daato kaa kaam karaanaa ho, to mai unake saath rahoo...

jab bhi unhe koi jodo ke dard ki takleef ho, to mai unake x-ray karaaun...

aaj bhi maa ki photo dekhataa hoon to unkee aankho me wahi sawaal... "Daato ke daakktar ke chale...?"

unaki lagabhag sabhi tasveero me unake nakli daant zarur dikhate hain... jaise unhe dikhaa ke vo mujhe hasaane ki koshish kar rahi ho...

hansi aa bhi jaati hai bahut baar... topic hi hot thaa, unke daant...

Maa ne kabhi bhi hame pareshaan hone kaa mauka nahi diyaa...

ham maukaa dhoondhate bhi the to vo us mauke ko dandaa maar ke bhagaa deti thi...

bahut koshish karte the ham kabhi-kabhi apani maa ko haai profile Maa banaane ka...

jaise aaj-kal seerials me haai profile maayien hoti hain, dependent types...

jin kaa bahut dhyaan rakhaa jaataa hai, jinke bolne se pehle hi unhe har cheez laake de di jaati hai,

jin ke liye ghar ke andar hi sabhi sukh-suvidhaao kaa implementation kiyaa jaataa hai...

par vo meri Maa thi, kathor, independent...

Ek dam apane balboote par jine wali... binaa kisi dipendencies ke... binaa kisi ki help ke...

jab tak jaan gale me naa atak jaaye, tab tak sab khud karanaa, binaa kisi ki madad liye hue...

jo aurat heart-attack ke tisare din hi fir se kaam karane lage, use aap kahaa tak sahara dene ki baat sochoge...

ek cheez jo mujhe bahut achchhe se yaad hai aur shaayad zehen mein itni basi hui hai ki nikalna bhi chaahoo to nahi nikalegi...

aur vo hai mere bachpan me maa ko kaam karate hue dekhane ki dhundhali tasveerein...

maa jab bhais kaa dudh nikalati thi to mujhe aawaaz lagaa leti thi...

aur fir baalti se pehle doodh ki dhaar seedhaa mere muh me...

itanaa taazaa dudh ki aaj 25 saal baad bhee usakaa swaad mere muh me basaa huaa hai...

fir vo maa kaa raai se doodh bilonaa...
vo haree ki aanch me doodh garam karna...

vo sookhi lakadiyo ke chhote chhote dher ikatthaa karate rehna chulhe ki aanch ke liye...

vo Chakki pees kar aataa nikaalanaa...

Maa ke transformation ki bhi gawahi de sakti hain meri yadein...

Jaise vo haath ki chakki electric chakki mein badal jana aur Maa ka fir vo chalana sikhna...

Maa ne proper knowledge transfer (KT) liyaa tha electric chakki kaa...

Fir vo manual haath wali raai se electric raai par aana...

Fir vo Maa ka Paidal chalne se lekar meri car mein baithne tak kaa safar...

Kai baar bohot si baton ka bohot baad mein ehsaas hota hai...

Jaise aaj mujhe lagta hai ki main Maa ko apni car mein baitha ke kahin bhi le jaa sakta tha...

Kitne bhi lambe trip pe...

Aur aisa isiliye nhi ki mere bachpaan mein Maa mujhe apne kandhe par baitha kar 10-12 kilometer doctor ke dikhane le jati thi...

Balki isiliye ki ab jab sochta hoon un dino ko jab Maa meri car mein baithi thi aur main chalata tha, tab ek sukhad ehsaas se maan bhar jata hai...

Maa ki ek aadat mujhe jo sabse pasand thi...

Vo kabhi bhi aage nahi baithi thi car mein... Hamesha piche...

Aur mujhe bhi tabhi unka driver banke car chalane mein bada maza aata tha...

Ab koi ehsaas hi nahi hota, koi car mein aage baithe yaa piche...

Mere bohot se dost jante the Maa ko...

Bohot baar rukte the mere ghar...

shayad har baar jab bhi hum kisi trip se wapas aate the, to sabhi mere ghar hi rukte the aur fir wahin se office nikal jate the...

Aur jab bhi aisa hota tha, mujhe bohot daant padti thi...

Isiliye nahi ki doston ko ghar kyun leke aaya, balki isiliye ki subha-subha unhe bina khilaye pilaye hi bhaga le gaya office...

Maa ko sabse bura lagta tha jab koi ghar se bina chai piye yaa khana khaye chala jata tha...

Mujhe hamesha daant padti thi isi baat par ki office thoda late bhi ja sakte the, par sabko nashta to kara deta..

Par ek vidambana ho gayi...

Jo bhi mere dost sabse zyada mere yahan rukte the, maine Maa ke bare mein sabko bataya... unke jaane ki khabar...

Sahanubhuti paane ke liye nahi, balke isiliye ki mujhe laga ki jo log Maa se mile yaa unhe jante the, unhe maloom hona shayad zaruri hai...

Par ab 2012 aa chuka tha, log 2008 aur 2009 se zyada busy ho chuke the...

Kisi ka phone bhi nahi aaya ye janne ke liye ki kya hua aur kaise hua...

Milne ki umeed zyada karni bhi nhi chahiye aajkaal, samay badal raha hai, log zyada bhagdad mein hain, competition badh gaya hai, paisa and post zyada chahiye...

Shayad aajkal "milne" ka matlab bhi badal gaya hai... "Milne" ka matlab ab sirf aise Dhaabe reh gaye hain, jinke side mein sharab ki dukaan ho...

Ab usi cheez ko milna kehte hain doston ka...

Aur ye upar ki panktiyaan bhi meri kisi dil ke kone mein dabi hui vo bemani icchayein ho sakti hain, jo kabhi-kabhi khali dimaag mein shaitaan ki tarha ghar kar jati hain... log to sabhi acche hote hain, koi bura nahi hota... bure humare vichaar hote hain jinke kaaran hum logon ko bhi bura bana dete hain...

In sab cheezon ke bavajood, sab acchaiyon aur buraiyon ke chalte, bas Maa nahi hai beech mein...

Aaj bhi ghar mein humne unka chulha sambhal ke rakha hai...

Bohot baajre ki roti khilayi Maa ne uss pe bana ke...

Jis din Maa gayi, us din bhi lunch mein maine unke haath ki bani hui baajre ki roti khayi thee...

Agar thoda sa bhi ehsaas hota unke jane ka, to 1 roti bacha ke rakh leta main shayad... unki yaad main...

Itni acchi thi Maa ki aankhon se aansu bhi nahi nikalne diye kabhi...

Aaj bhi nahi...

Shayad limit nahi hoti koi, agar aap kisi apne ke baare mein likhne lago to...

Par ek jagah rukna to padta hai, fir se dobara likhne ke liye...

Some dates get so much alive in your heart, that they just can't go away, no matter how many days, months and years pass by!! 18th Jan... still alive in me, my heart...

God Bless her soul!!!

RIP Maa!!!

Care

Somethings can be never taken care of... no matter how precious they are to you/anyone...

A birth.. on a day...

I didn't have any idea what to write like last year's Blog Entry, just trying to cheat the sleep tonight...

When you are young, seldom are the chances you get surprised by yourself...

You do the things, you take it as it is... never shocked...

Like a beast on the road, careless, carefree...

With the wings, the energy push you... get very less time to think to do whatever...

The same person surprise himself looking back to the past, what I was doing that time... was it I? A young...

And I am nodding to myself sitting alone here on my wood made long back comfortable chair, with the same all day glass of water on my right side...

I am nodding to the fact and trying to accept that when I say young, I mean by the thoughts, by heart young... not physically...

You surprise yourself how the energy flow into your young heart, to do anything... little calculations...

Like Jennifer Yane said… Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened...

To be truthful, I don't remember when I celebrated my birthday except once or twice...

Or may be there is nothing inside the box to take out and write about my birthdays...

What I remember are the days...

Few days in a year which gives me a wake up calls at times and ignites my basics...

For me, still a birthday is bit bigger then people around, having party, cutting cakes and then next day... regular!!!

It’s more or less a dictionary word for me... a day commemorating the origin, founding, or beginning of something...

The origin, the founding, the beginning... If I go by this definition, which I do...I have to celebrate many birthdays and to the same fact, I unfortunately have a very bad memory...

However, to my honest part, I never forget some very of the precious days of my life which made me what I am and how I am today...

Memories...

The memories which tell you who you are and why you are being like this... good or bad, leave it apart!!!

The memories down the line shows you a true cinematic show to cherish the good time, to be sad while thinking about bad time (or rather a miss to good time)

The memories which make your mood swings in fraction of seconds...

The memories which tell a story every time to you while you are walking, working...

Memories about the people who have been along with you throughout the ups and downs of your life...

Memories which can make you think about how life has been and how it has changed in the years gone by...

When you feel alone or lonely, you always have these memories within you... like a mom who is always there for her kid to sing a song or hymns!!!

Memories, makes you sing, dance, cry, laugh, fear, hug, respect, love.. anything...

Honor the memory!!!

Try to listen the sound which fills you from inside... the sound of silence...

Hello darkness, my old friend,

I've come to talk with you again,

Because a vision softly creeping,

Left its seeds while I was sleeping,

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone,

'Neath the halo of a street lamp,

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more.

People talking without speaking,

People hearing without listening,

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows.

Hear my words that I might teach you,

Take my arms that I might reach you."

But my words like silent raindrops fell,

And echoed

In the wells of silence.

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made.

And the sign flashed out its warning,

In the words that it was forming.

And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls.

And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.

I forgot... regarding birthday... a day will come when you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again...

Birthdays? yes, in a general way;
For the most if not for the best of men:

You were born (I suppose) on a certain day:

So was I: or perhaps in the night: what then?

- James Kenneth Stephen

May everybody live each day of their life... God bless!!!