I like most...

Contry Roads ..Take me home…

2012-02-08T14:54:00.000-08:00

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home

To the country roads
I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me
Radio reminds me of my home far away
Driving down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home

Country roads
Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home
To the country roads

Take me home, that country road
Take me home, that country road

Country Roads….Take me home…

2012-02-08T08:35:00.001-08:00

Take Me Home, Country Roads
Almost heaven, West Virginia,
Blue Ridge Mountain, Shanandoa River,
Life is old there, older than the trees,
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain mamma,take me home

Country roads
All my memories, gather round her
Modest lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home

To the country roads
I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me
Radio reminds me of my home far away
Driving down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home
Country roads

Country Roads, take me home
To the place I belong,
West Virginia,
Mountain Mamma, take me home
To the country roads

Take me home, that country road
Take me home, that country road

Sunshine…

2012-02-07T05:29:00.001-08:00

Sunshine On My Shoulder
- John Denver

sunshine, on my shoulders - makes me happy

sunshine, in my eyes - can make me cry

sunshine, on the water - looks so lovely

sunshine, almost always - makes me high

if i had a day that i could give you

i'd give to you a day just like today

if i had a song that i could sing for you

i'd sing a song to make you feel this way

sunshine, on my shoulders - makes me happy

sunshine, in my eyes - can make me cry

sunshine, on the water - looks so lovely

sunshine, almost always - makes me high

if i had a tale that i could tell you

i'd tell a tale sure to make you smile

if i had a wish that i could wish for you

i'd make a wish for sunshine all the while

sunshine, on my shoulders - makes me happy

sunshine, in my eyes - can make me cry

sunshine, on the water - looks so lovely

sunshine, almost always - makes me high

sunshine almost al the times makes me high

sunshine, almost always

The Ganges….

2011-11-06T06:21:00.001-08:00

Tributes to great singer : Bhupen Hazarika

GANGA BEHTI HO KYUN?

Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,

Oh ganga tum, oh ganga behti ho kyun?..

Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..
Naitikta nasht ***, manavta bhrasht ***,

nirlajj bhav se behti ho kyun?..

Itihas ki pukar, kare hunkar, oh ganga ki dhar, nirbal jan ko, sabalsangrami, samagrogrami, banati nahi ho kyun?.
Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, oh ganga behti ho kyun?..
Anparjan, aksharheen, anginjan, khadyoviheen, neatravhiheen,
dikshmon ho kyun?.
Itihas ki pukar, kare hunkar, oh ganga ki dhar, nirbal jan ko, sabalsangrami, samagrogrami, banati nahi ho kyun?.
Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..
vayakti rahey, vayakshti nirvighn, sakalsamaj, vayakshtitva rahit,
nishpran samaj, upbhoktina kyun?..
Itihas ki pukar, kare hunkar, oh ganga ki dhar, nirbal jan ko, sabalsangrami, samagrogrami, banati nahi ho kyun?.
Vistar hai apar, praza dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..
Tejasvini, kyun na rahin,tum nishchay, chintan nahin,

prano mey prerna deti na kyun?

Tum madhyavami, kurushetra grami, gangey janani, navbharat mey, bhismarupi sutsamrajey, janati nahi ho kyun?.

Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..
Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..
Vistar hai apar, praja dono par, kare hahakar ni sabdth sada,
Oh ganga tum, ganga tum, ganga tum, oh ganga tum, ganga tum, ganga behti ho kyun?..

English translation

your expanse is unreachable, the public on both sides is wailing silently
O Ganges, why do you flow

morality is destroyed, humanity has been corruptedwhy do you flow in this shameless way

the call of history is roaring Oh flow of Ganges, why don't you make the weak people stronger, make the villagers unite to fight for their rights

innumerable people are illiterate, letterless, without food, blind,
Why are you not teaching them the path?

people stay without sufficient income, the entire society is economically challenged
society is lifeless, why are you unaware / unfeeling of this?
why did you not stay full of glory
you are decided, no worries
why don't you give inspiration to life
you are flowing through the middle, seen the villages of Kurushetra (where Mahabharat took place), mother of Bhishm (great uncle of Pandavs & Kauravs), in this new India why don't you give birth to sons like Bhishm again?

Gurus of Peace…

2011-08-29T00:44:00.001-07:00

The last evening….

2011-08-26T08:07:00.001-07:00

Golden songs of yesteryears…..

2011-08-26T04:34:00.001-07:00

There was a a velvety voice ….Talat Mahmood.

2011-08-22T23:44:00.001-07:00

A foggy day….

2011-08-20T02:57:00.001-07:00

The Gift of Magi...

2011-08-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

Shadow....

2011-05-12T00:16:00.000-07:00

Your shadow is closer to you than anything else.....

Above the cloud with its shadow is the star with its light. Above all things reverence thyself !!

When walking through the "valley of shadows," remember, a shadow is cast by a Light ...

Silent Steps...

2011-05-06T09:43:00.000-07:00

Silent Steps

Have you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age,
every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind,
but all their notes have always proclaimed,
`He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he comes,
comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of clouds
he comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart,
and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to shine.

- Tagore

Smile...

2011-04-14T03:33:00.000-07:00

Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.

~Quoted in P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Apart from short stature at 5 ft 2 inches (1m 57cm), World's First Spaceman Yuri Gagarin's most notable traits was his smile.Many commented on how Gagarin's smile gained the attention of many in the crowd on the frequent tours Gagarin did in the months after the Vostok 1 mission success.

The world always looks brighter from behind a smile.

Cute and lovely...

2011-03-23T03:56:00.000-07:00

In a cosy company...

2011-03-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

Last Curtain by Rabindranath Tagore

I know that the day will come
when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence,
drawing the last curtain over my eyes.

Yet stars will watch at night,
and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.

When I think of this end of my moments,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare is its meanest of lives.

Things that I longed for in vain
and things that I got
---let them pass.
Let me but truly possess
the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked.

Stillness...

2011-03-15T10:37:00.000-07:00

There is a point where in the mystery of

existence contradictions meet;

where movement is not all movement

and stillness is not all stillness;

where the idea and the form,

the within and the without, are united;

where infinite becomes finite,

yet not losing its infinity.

- Tagore

Time ....

2011-03-15T04:34:00.000-07:00

The butterfly counts not months but moments,

and has time enough.

Time is a wealth of change,
but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.

Tagore

On a long journey....

2011-03-13T01:51:00.000-08:00

Harivansh Rai Bachchan

The Last Post....

2010-12-25T10:13:00.000-08:00

The Last Post....

Do you know the story behind the song?

Reportedly, it all began in 1862 during the American Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near

Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land.

During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment.

When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead.

The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in

the Confederate Army.

The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial, despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted.

The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral.

The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate.

But, out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him

only one musician.

The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the

pocket of the dead youth's uniform.

This wish was granted.

The haunting melody, we now know as 'The Last Post' used at military funerals was born.

The words are:-

Day is done.
Gone the sun.
From the lakes
From the hills.
From the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh.
-------
Fading light.
Dims the sight.
And a star.
Gems the sky.
Gleaming bright.
From afar.
Drawing nigh.
Falls the night.
-------
Thanks and praise.
For our days.
Neath the sun
Neath the stars.
Neath the sky
As we go.
This we know.
God is nigh

Remember Those Lost and Harmed While Serving Their Country.

Also Remember Those Who Have Served And Returned; and for those presently serving in the Armed Forces..

The Last Post

If....

2010-12-03T09:20:00.000-08:00

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

-Rudyard Kipling

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tTeZNfwesg

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xcmik6_if-rudyard-kipling_creation

After the Rain..

2010-09-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

A simple rose I have found
It's not the flower that grows from the ground,
Its beauty is one of such delight ...
This rose is soft to the touch in all its perfection.

The envy for all the flowers in this garden
Its fragrance will consume your every obsession.
This rose must be a gift, a gift from above
A gift from Heaven to show us love.

Every morning I wake to see its petals glisten
Its easy to see how one could be so smitten
If love was a rose it would shine so bright
Because all I need is this rose in my life.

- Kevan Mends

Freedom

2010-08-20T19:33:00.001-07:00

Photo : Prakhar

Freedom

Highway rainbow

2010-07-30T10:36:00.000-07:00

Highway Rainbow

I wish if I could ever see this rainbow on my way.....

Photo : National Geographic

Breathless....

2010-06-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

Breathless.....The Best of Shankar..

Breathless by Shankar Mahadevan...

Best of Jagjit Singh...

2010-06-14T05:53:00.000-07:00

Khumari Chad ke utar Gayi , Zindagi Yun Hi Guzar Gai.....

Khumari Chad Kay Utar Lyrics

(khumari Chadh Ke Utar Gayi
Zindagi Yun Hi Gujar Gayi) - 2
Kabhi Sote Sote Kabhi Jaagte
Khwaabon Ke Pichhe Yu Hi Bhaagte
Apni Toh Saari Umar Gayi - 2
Khumari Chadh Ke Utar Gayi
Zindagi Yun Hi Gujar Gayi

(rangeen Bahaaron Ki Khwaahish Rahi
Haath Magar Kutch Aaya Nahi) - 2
Kehne Ko Apne The Saathi Kai
Saath Kisine Nibhaya Nahi - 2
Koi Bhi Hamsafar Nahi
Kho Gayi Har Dagar Kahi
Kabhi Sote Sote Kabhi Jaagte
Khwaabon Ke Pichhe Yu Hi Bhaagte
Apni Toh Saari Umar Gayi - 2
Khumari Chadh Ke Utar Gayi
Zindagi Yun Hi Gujar Gayi

(logon Ko Aksar Dekha Hai
Ghar Ke Liye Rote Hue) - 2
Ham Toh Magar Beghar Hi Rahe
Gharwalon Ke Hote Hue - 2
Aaya Apna Nazar Nahi - 2
Apni Jahaa Tak Nazar Gayi
Kabhi Sote Sote Kabhi Jaagte
Khwaabon Ke Pichhe Yu Hi Bhaagte
Apni Toh Saari Umar Gayi - 2
Khumari Chadh Ke Utar Gayi
Zindagi Yun Hi Gujar Gayi

(pehle Toh Ham Sun Lete The
Shor Mein Bhi Shehnaaiya) - 2
Ab Toh Hamko Lagti Hai
Bheed Mein Bhi Tanhaaiya
Jeene Ki Hasrat Kidhar Gayi - 2
Dil Ki Kali Bikhar Gayi
Kabhi Sote Sote Kabhi Jaagte
Khwaabon Ke Pichhe Yu Hi Bhaagte
Apni Toh Saari Umar Gayi - 2
Khumari Chadh Ke Utar Gayi
Zindagi Yun Hi Gujar Gayi

Ghazal by Jagjit Singh...

Rainbow...

2010-05-28T04:12:00.000-07:00

I can see a rainbow,
see it in the sky, see it when the rain has gone away.
All the colors of the rainbow
in the sky so high,
I can name them all for you today:

Red there is, a rosy red, a red so bright and bonny,
and orange as a tiger lily leaf, so bold and tawny,

yellow as the blazing sun, that gives us all our light,
and green as grass beneath our feet,
blue as the sky so bright.

There's indigo, as dark as night,
and violet like flowers.

These are the colors nature paints
the sky with
after showers.

- Helen H. Moore

For everything there is a season....

2010-05-12T03:05:00.000-07:00

For everything there is a season,

And a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate,

A time for war, and a time for peace.

Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows us only what lies in its own focus.

The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers

On Mother's Day..

2010-05-09T00:18:00.000-07:00

By Miles….

You are far from me..

By thoughts You are close to me..

By Hearts..

You are in me….

I cannot remember my mother....

I cannot remember my mother
only sometimes in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air
the scent of the morning service in the temple
comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from my bedroom window I send
my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of
my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

By Rabindranath Tagore from Shishu Bholanath

Time....

2010-05-07T18:53:00.000-07:00

Distant Time

I know not from what distant time
thou art ever coming nearer to meet me.
Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.

In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard
and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

I know not only why today my life is all astir,
and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

It is as if the time were come to wind up my work,

and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.

- RabindranathTagore

So sweet ...

2010-05-03T02:58:00.000-07:00

My Snowy....

Close Love !

Snowy...caught in Prakhar's Camera..

So Cute ...

On Outing ...

Watching the World !

Success....

2010-04-16T19:08:00.000-07:00

Hero's Journey

"Success is a journey, not a destination." -- Ben Sweetland

"The ladder of success is best climbed by stepping on the rungs of opportunity." -- Ayn Rand

" Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other thing." -- Abraham Lincoln

Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful. -Albert Shweitzer

The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time after time given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. . . . The ordinary objects of human endeavour -- property, outward success, luxury -- have always seemed to me contemptible.
- Albert Einstein

Making your mark on the world is hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. But it's not. It takes patience, it takes commitment, and it comes with plenty of failure along the way. The real test is not whether you avoid this failure, because you won't. it's whether you let it harden or shame you into inaction, or whether you learn from it; whether you choose to persevere.
- Barack Obama

पुष्प की अभिलाषा ...

2010-04-13T10:25:00.000-07:00

Photo : Roses in my Garden

पुष्प की अभिलाषा

चाह नहीं मैं सुरबाला के गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ

चाह नहीं, प्रेमी-माला में बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ

चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव पर हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ

चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ

मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक

मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने जिस पर जावें वीर अनेक ।।

- माखन लाल चतुर्वेदी

I remember a school time poem by famous Hindi poet Shri Makhan Lal Chaturvedi. An unforgettable poem about the aspiration of a flower.

Memories...

2010-04-12T04:26:00.000-07:00

Memories

Memories are heartbeats
Sounding through the years
Echoes never fading
Of our smiles and our tears.
Moments that are captured
Sometimes unaware
Pictured in an album
Or a lock of hair.

Images that linger
Deep within the mind
Bit of verse we cherished
Once upon a time.
Through the musty hallways
Of the days we knew
Ever comes the vision
Beautiful and true.

Memories are roses
Blooming evermore
Full of fragrant sweetness
Never known before.
Life must have a meaning
Goals for which to strive
Memories are lights that burn
To keep the heart alive.

(Grace E. Easley)

On the Nature of Love ...

2010-04-08T03:09:00.000-07:00

I see that instant I fall in love with...

The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness,
but where or with whom- of that we are unaware.
But we have this faith- that a lifetime's bliss
will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.
Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs brush us,
pass us, give us delightful shocks.
Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry:
'This life is blest! For your sake such miles have I traversed!'
All those others who come close and
moved off in the darkness - I dont know if they exist or not.

From Chaitali (1896) -Rabindranath Tagore

A Tear And A Smile

2010-04-07T06:17:00.000-07:00

A Tear And A Smile

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.

To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.

- Khalil Gibran

Cuckoo - The Song Bird...

2010-04-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

To the Cuckoo

O blithe newcomer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice:
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my schoolboy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed birth! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, fairy place,
That is fit home for Thee!

-William Wordsworth

It's the Spring Time here. The trees are covered with fresh leaves. A variety of birds could be seen here .Every morning becomes melodious by the sound of cuckoo. I wake up everyday with their sweet sound. No sound can be sweeter than than the sound of Cuckoo !

Rose..

2010-04-02T04:14:00.000-07:00

Oh, my luve’s like a red, red rose,

That ’s newly sprung in June;

Oh, my luve’s like the melodie

That’s sweetly played in tune.

- Robert Burns

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose ...

Photo - Roses in my garden

When the lamp is shattered...

2010-04-01T03:48:00.001-07:00

When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead -
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute -
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.

When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

Its passions will rock thee,
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

- P B Shelley

Which is important ?

2010-03-29T20:01:00.000-07:00

"One day you will ask me which is more important? my life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life." - -- Khalil Gibran

Farewell My Friend...

2010-03-29T04:34:00.000-07:00

Farewell My Friend

It was beautiful as long as it lasted
The journey of my life.
I have no regrets whatsoever
save the pain I'll leave behind.
Those dear hearts who love and care...
And the strings pulling at the heart and soul...
The strong arms that held me up
When my own strength let me down.
At every turning of my life I came across good friends,
Friends who stood by me,
Even when the time raced me by.
Farewell, farewell my friends
I smile and bid you goodbye.
No, shed no tears for I need them not
All I need is your smile.
If you feel sad do think of me
for that's what I'll like when you live in the hearts
of those you love, remember then
you never die.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

When you are sorrowful
look into your heart
and you shall see that
you are weeping
for that which has been
your delight

~ Kahlil Gibran

Waiting ....

2010-03-26T19:31:00.000-07:00

The song I came to sing
remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing
and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true,
the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony
of wishing in my heart…..

I have not seen his face,
nor have I listened to his voice;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps
from the road before my house…..

But the lamp has not been lit
and I cannot ask him into my house;
I live in the hope of meeting with him;
but this meeting is not yet.

-Rabindranath Tagore

The Evening was Lonely....

2010-03-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

The Evening was Lonely.....

The evening was lonely for me, and I was reading a book till my heart became dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing fashioned by the traders in words. Tired I shut the book and snuffed the candle. In a moment the room was flooded with moonlight. Spirit of Beauty, how could you, whose radiance overbrims the sky, stand hidden behind a candle's tiny flame? How could a few vain words from a book rise like a mist, and veil her whose voice has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?

- - Rabindranath Tagore

धुंधली नदी में ..

2010-03-26T09:59:00.000-07:00

-धरम वीर भारती

Evening...

2010-03-26T05:05:00.000-07:00

Evening Solace...

THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie !

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come.

- Charlotte Bronte

Music..

2010-03-20T04:16:00.001-07:00

SWING TO THE MUSIC

The music has a love beat
Swing to the music !

- Aldo Kraas

“Music is only love looking for words”- Lawrence Durrell

Music is what life sounds like.

~Eric Olson

Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.

~Alphonse de Lamartine

Best Friend...

2010-03-19T04:15:00.000-07:00

A BEST FRIEND

A best friend
is always there,
whether you need advice,
or a pep talk,
or even a shoulder to cry on.
A best friend
listens with her heart
and is always honest with you,
even though the truth
may not be
what you want to hear.
A best friend
knows all your secrets,
understands your fears
shares your dreams.
A best friend
never stops believing in you
even if you give up
on yourself.
you are
that kind of friend
to me.
And no matter what happens,
you always will be.
You are my best friend....
my forever friend.

- Renee Duvall

Agnipath....

2010-03-16T05:25:00.001-07:00

-Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Sunset..

2010-03-12T00:47:00.001-08:00

Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for me
Just beyond the sunset
Lies my destiny
-David Harris

I didn't ask it to be over, but then again, I never asked for it to begin, For that's the way it is with life, as some of the most beautiful days come completely by chance. But even the most beautiful days eventually have their sunsets.

Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.” - Henry Rollins

The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in Rememberance more than things long past. - William Shakespeare

The Gift..

2010-03-09T22:12:00.001-08:00

If you would have it so,
I will end my singing.

If it sets your heart aflutter,
I will take away my eyes from your face.

If it suddenly startles you in your walk,
I will step aside and take another path.

If it confuses you in your flower-weaving,
I will shun your lonely garden.

If it makes the water wanton and wild,
I will not row my boat by your bank.

- Rabindra Nath Tagore

On Woman's Day !

2010-03-08T01:21:00.000-08:00

Helen Keller has been a truly inspiring icon. Having lost sight and hearing ability at a very young age, Helen learned to grapple with life's small and big struggles. Her indomitable spirit saw her through her handicap. For Today I have a special collection of Helen Keller quotes, which are truly inspirational. Her words speak of the wisdom and strength that is the essence of her life.

On Optimism:
When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
On Knowledge:
Knowledge is love and light and vision.
On Life:
Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.
On Life:
Life is an exciting business, and most exciting when it is lived for others.
On Dignity:
Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world right in the eye.
On Hope:
Once I knew only darkness and stillness. My life was without past or future. But a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness and my heart leaped to the rapture of living.
On Unity:
Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.
On Hope:
Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.
On Optimism:
Be of good cheer. Do not think of today's failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourself a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles.
On Security:
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
On Self Pity:
Self-pity is our worst enemy and if we yield to it, we can never do anything wise in the world.
On Love:
The best and most beautiful thing in life cannot be seen, not touched, but are felt in the heart.
On Overcoming Problems:
The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.
On Vision:
The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight but has no vision.
On Attitude:
To keep our faces toward change, and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate, is strength undefeatable.
On Patience:
Toleration is the greatest gift of mind; it requires the same effort of the brain that it takes to balance oneself on a bicycle.
On Happiness:
True happiness... is not attained through self-gratification, but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.
On Life:
Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another's pain, life is not in vain.
On Ability:
When we do the best we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another.

On Self Pity:
Self-pity is our worst enemy and if we yield to it, we can never do anything wise in the world.

On Love:
The best and most beautiful thing in life cannot be seen, not touched, but are felt in the heart.

On Overcoming Problems:
The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.

On Vision:
The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight but has no vision.

On Attitude:
To keep our faces toward change, and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate, is strength undefeatable.

On Patience:
Toleration is the greatest gift of mind; it requires the same effort of the brain that it takes to balance oneself on a bicycle.

On Happiness:
True happiness... is not attained through self-gratification, but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.

On Life:
Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another's pain, life is not in vain.

On Ability:
When we do the best we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another.

Lincoln's letter....

2010-03-06T18:02:00.000-08:00

Abraham Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher ....

He will have to learn, I know,
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for every scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish Politician,
there is a dedicated leader...
Teach him for every enemy there is a
friend,

Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.

Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick... Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books...
But also give him quiet time
to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and the flowers on a green hillside.

In the school teach him
it is far honourable to fail
than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if everyone tells him
they are wrong...
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when everyone is getting on the band wagon...
Teach him to listen to all men...
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.

Teach him if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness...
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price-tag
on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he's right.
Treat him gently,
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test
of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage
to be impatient...
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will have
sublime faith in mankind.

This is a big order,
but see what you can do...
He is such a fine fellow,
my son !

My Song...

2010-03-05T21:56:00.000-08:00

This song of mine will wind its music around you,
my child, like the fond arms of love.

The song of mine will touch your forehead
like a kiss of blessing.

When you are alone it will sit by your side and
whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
it will fence you about with aloofness.

My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.

It will be like the faithful star overhead
when dark night is over your road.

My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
and will carry your sight into the heart of things.

And when my voice is silenced in death,
my song will speak in your living heart.

- Rabindra Nath Tagore

Beauty..

2010-03-05T21:25:00.000-08:00

Beauty is truth's smile

when she beholds her own face in

a perfect mirror.

- Tagore

Beauty is in the ideal of perfect harmony
which is in the universal being;
truth the perfect comprehension of the universal mind.

- Tagore

O Re Manwa...

2010-03-04T02:11:00.000-08:00

ओ रे मनवा तू तो बावरा है.....
तू ही जाने क्या सोचता है बावरे ........
क्यों दिखाए सपने सोते जागते ........

The woods are lovely, dark and deep...

2010-03-02T22:44:00.000-08:00

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep

- Robert Frost

गहन सघन मनमोहक वन तरु मुझको आज बुलाते हैं

किन्तु किये जो वादे मैंने याद मुझे वह आते हैं

अभी कहाँ आराम बदा यह मूक निमंत्रण छलना है

अरे अभी तो मीलों मुझको,मीलों मुझको चलना है

- Translated by Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Best of Harivansh Rai Bachchan….

2010-03-02T17:30:00.001-08:00

Yesterday…..

I thought I had forgotten....

A poem to remember….

2010-03-02T07:52:00.001-08:00

A school time poem to reminisce...

Little drops of water,

Little grains of sand,

Make the mighty ocean

And the pleasant land.

Thus the little minutes,

Humble though they be,

Make the mighty ages

Of eternity.

Thus our little errors

Make a mighty sin;

Drop by drop the evil

Floods the heart within.

Little deeds of kindness,

Little words of love,

Make our earth an Eden,

Like the heaven above.

- J.A.Carney

Ab Dekh Baharen Holi Ki.....

2010-02-27T08:47:00.000-08:00

A special song for this Holi ....

Ab Dekh Bahren Holi Ki by Farida Khanam

Short Poems by Tagore...

2010-02-26T23:47:00.000-08:00

Time

The butterfly counts not months but moments,

and has time enough.

Time is a wealth of change,
but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.

Love

Love adorns itself;

it seeks to prove inward joy by outward beauty.

Love does not claim possession,

but gives freedom.

Love is an endless mystery,

for it has nothing else to explain it.

Love's gift cannot be given,

it waits to be accepted

Life

Life is given to us,
we earn it by giving it.

Let the dead have the immortality of fame,
but the living the immortality of love.

Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty
that can modulate their isolation into a
harmony with the whole.

Life, like a child, laughs,
shaking its rattle of death as it runs.

Best of Tagore..

2010-02-26T22:15:00.001-08:00

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), Nobel prize-winning Bengali poet, author, songwriter, philosopher, artist, and educator wrote “Gitanjali” (1912)

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not!

I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.

I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch

of pain from thy hand and pluck it.

I fear lest the day end

before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.

Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint,

use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.

First published in 1910, Tagore’s collection Gitanjali[Song Offerings] of mystical and devotional songs was translated to English in 1912. It would be the first of many volumes that earned him much acclaim in the East and West. It includes an Introduction by fellow Nobel prize-winning poet William Butler Yeats.

From My College Diary......

2010-02-25T20:42:00.000-08:00

My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon it her signature in tears with the words " I love thee" .

That man is free who thinks his own thoughts and set his own course who lives by his own standards and creates his own destiny !

Who says we are such a distance apart
don't we see the same moon !

Some quotations that I found in my old college diary which I used to write from here & there.....

My Favorite Ghazal by Mehdi Hassan

Zindagi Men to sabhi Pyar kiya karte hain....