Love is the enchanted dawn of every heart 

An idyllic romantic deep blue sky.
Isn't that beauty?

Samy 

The ranches of Wyoming. Lots of white sheep.
In a way it symbolises we the people.
We the people represent the sheep,
Lord is the shepherd! 

This love

Words don't have wings but they travel much faster than the swiftest of birds. I wrote a generic piece yesterday. Albeit jotted with much honesty and meant to be a frank assessment of the general state of affairs, it ended up offending some. I apologise for the hurt but I guess it was never intended as a take on anyone. What confusion, God! Frost, my fav American poet says, I'm not confused, I'm just well mixed.

I hate a couple of things about me. I can be terribly boring at times. Too engrossed with my books to notice people around. Like an empty chair in an ante-room. I can be fanatically choosy too. I have a select number of people on my friends-list. I love them. I can be either too dependent on them or shut myself up completely outside of this charmed circle. I think that's not something I should be proud of.

I love expressing myself and I like to be candid in my postings. There are moments when I reckon, I don't quite belong here. I can't align myself to the plebian sensibilities of people around. I never want to sound arrogant. I never deliberately hurt people. I can be angry and often feel hurt when I am. The short fuse is anchored somewhere in my genes and so are the gentle touches of generosity.

I have this terrible bug in me that asks me to laugh at the world. Most of us look for beauty day-in and day-out and yet find her elusive. What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for beauty, and never see the Dawn! There is so much beauty in it. I find beauty in the most secluded and senile of places. Call me a romantic. I can't resist loving the blue-tint of a spring sky. I love wyoming mountains. With lots of white sheep and a lonely shepherd to tend his flock. One of my greatest dream is to amble across old alleys and touch history with my index!

There is so much beauty still left in the world!

Sameer bhat

Love: What love?

God, I wish I knew how to quit you!
Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain

We live in a simmering cauldron called earth. These are times when religion is pitted against reason. Sparks of hatred fling by. Emotions have reached a flash-point. Global events are meshed with homemade outrage. Ordinary blokes -- on ranches and farms, in the countryside and city perimeters, upon mountains and deserts -- look stupefied and flabbergasted. There is killing and there is misery. Lots of it. People work frenetically as if there is no tommorrow. Stress: What is that? Global warming and Cold-age waltz to an indifferent age. US is the biggest power and it is arrogant. Vain glory. A stupid president flanked by neo-cons. It doesn't get any worse.

There is no love. It is all lost. Splattered. Killed by forces of the market. Overrun by lust. Emotions: What is that? Heart has gone fishing. Mind rules. Money only matters, not unadultered feelings. Bourses are on fire. Pockets are full. Banks are filled. Tummies are bloating. There is no wind. That is taken care of by air-conditioning units. Fake smiles. Fictitious promises. No place for sanity. No one cares for the hungry.

I have loved cartoons since childhood. Tintin and Asterixs still come in my dreams. Snowny wags at me on solitary evenings. The whole world is fighting over toons now. The clerics blame the Danes. A puffed up Condy blames the Iranians. The French invoke Voltaire. Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities, the great frenchman once quipped. There is no love lost between the warring factions. To my mind, one can't take sides in a round world.

You can't find love these days. It is rare. Near-extinct. Endangered. It has long been commodified. No one understands you. You wish to draw back. Can't. You are one of them -- you think -- but still unlike them. Your heart is not taken by the silly spectacle around you. You continue to be innocent.

Samy

VS

With no companion to my mood,
Against the wind as it should be,
I walk, but in my solitude
Bow to the wind that buffets me.

The Ruski Groom

Tanu was home recently for his wedding. A glimpse of his usual colorful life

Is that the way we go to office! In-formally yours: Tanseer

Tip: Never stare directly in the camera

Chevrolet Corvette: Ain't that classy and comely

Lost samy

Islands packed with people
Meadows full of flowers
Trees laden with fruits

Birds that glide in air
Ducks that swim in ponds
Songs that make us glad

Eyes that drop me dead
Hands that touch my head
Lips that swell me crimson

Touches that do me good
Tugs that leave me soft
Hugs that halt the clock

A world of endless attempts
A city of countless stems
One big maze of neural systems

Am I lost in 'em?

samy

Miracles and Marvels

There are times when the heart takes precedence over mind. Generally rationale, I was stumped to read a news-story in Guardian, Feb 2, 2006. Now Guardian is one of the world's best newspapers and my fav news-sheet.

I never believe chain e-mails. I'd have perhaps not trusted a religious website on this.
For once, it humbles me.

Here,
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,,1700465,00.html

Samy

Adduce of the day

“Nature has made us frivolous to console us for our miseries”
Voltaire (French Philosopher and Writer. One of the greatest of all French authors, 1694-1778)

Samy's moment!!!

There are times when I want to un-wind. Just be myself. Relax after a snow-stormy night.
Sit on a lonely bench and hold someone's loving hand!

The day we went gading

Republic day, 2006

The republic turned 56. The word republic comes from the Latin res publica: public matter, or the affairs of the people. A state governed by an assembly of citizens rather than by a king, queen or emperor. Another matter, His Royal Highness King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia lorded over the main celebrations at Rajpath. Filthy rich, regal and autocratic as ever! PM and Prez were relegated to the shadows.

Far from the maddening crowd, I decided to go hopping with my bunch of mad-caps. Five of us -- Sam {thats me}, Wasy { Did I hear someone say... Attitute}, Raj { Where do you end}, Salus { I too wanna drive} and Navvy { Sweeto}. We watched the latest Amir Khan starrer Rang De Basanti -- RDB. Frankly, I don't watch too much of Indian cinema because much of it is pretty pedestrian. Average, run-of-the-mill type. There are occassional flashes of brilliance. RDB, however, dazzles!

Stellar performances, superb direction and a subtle, strong message. They say a good movie must entertain. RDB, not only entertains, it amuses, mocks, jokes and makes you think hard. It is a courageous, different and coming-of-age flick. Ofcouse, I cried. I laughed my heart out. We all did. The entire cinema was whoopee-ing with roars of laughter. It was a joyride -- History beautifuly interwoven with the present. The stiches are not at all visible. Perfect connect. That is what film-making is all about. It lifts you and drops you back in the peanut crunching darkness.

We drove down to D-Haat through the express bridge. 127 kites soared in the Sky. All connected by one string. Hot Paranthas and sugary-tea in open air with pals. Calories can take a back-seat for the while. Dinner at 11-30 in the night over some sensible discussion. I battled with 6 fiesty souls. They threw a barrage of tough questions. I batted for the Republic, ofcourse.


Sameer

Brave new world! Loose-Loose control, one more time


Rouge rules at the Waves: Raj and Wasy

Never let the kid inside you die: Rides, anyone!

He's not thinking. Just posing for the pic

Inside the Pea-nut crunching darkness. Eyes still haunt!

The long and the short of it: Raj and Salus

Wasy munching the way-side chaat: Salus offers some help

Tech Guy: Navvy clicks through the mirror

Timeless words

I have a sweet little friend who lives latitutes away from me. He is a bundle of radiant energy. A trademark tuff of flowing hair, which easily camouflages him as a rock star. His lone weapon is a disarming smile athough he brandishes ninja swords too. He visits the Istanbul Hookah lounges to have a go at the winding pipes. He came to the US and worked in Cinn. almost all by himself. He is a friend who I wish all of us must have. He is loving and stupid like me. He is all of 20. That's Selcuk for you.

The irony with such beautiful people is that their hearts don't know how to lie. They beat with truthfulness. The flutters are just too real. When the soul is honest and warm enough to make you comfortable in a different country -- across seas and mountains. Ideally, they ough to be cherished. Alas! No one understands them. I think the love of his life flunked to fathom his sublimity.

Here he shared with me this soulful poem he's written. I am thankful to him. He allowed me to carry the adapted version from the original Turkish in my web-page.

Blue-Brown

It was dark and I lay in darkness
Then there was light from nowhere
Blue-brown eyes came to my rayless world
The glow lit up my dark life

Then suddenly, I was alone again
The darkness came visiting again
Someone forsake me at the cross
just when I thought that
my love was enough for both of us

I sent boxes filled with love
to the distant light
I kept waiting for my gift
in the dark cold night
It just let me down

As I walk back to my darkness
I don't find it hard
because the pain I got
Has been too real and bitter

Eyes, I still recall from the dark
Eyes, I thought were Noah's ark
The darkness is here
And I am afraid to enter
Look at me, Yo Blue-brown eyes!

Original: Selcuk 'KaraMaVi' in Turkish
Adapted: Sameer 'Blue-Brown' in English

Going slow

I am slow
In a fast world
Trying to walk straight
On a road so curved

Tears slide
upon stupid cheeks
and go down fast
through love's many creaks

Troublesome knocks
on cold cold morning
For a simple glimpse
don't pop in sans warning

Silly illusions
in the gullible eye
Images flicker
looking at the vanilla sky

I'll check my flow
I'll go slow
As the beats get low
They wait for the glow!

Sameer

Pics from the C-Zone

They don't call it Switzerland of the East for nothing: North Kashmir in an earlier picture
May be one reason why Gen Musharraf dreams about Kashmir

Dal Lake at Sunset: Do nothing, Just watch the winter sun go down: Sheer Bliss

Simple pleasures in life: Bar-be-Que in a Shikara -- small boat -- in the Dal lake

It takes some courage to stand in freezing temperatures
-- mercury plunges below 0 in Kashmir -- for a picture.
In the orchard just beside my home, kashmir

The Nippy Chill

I was in a frigid zone for two days. Kashmir. It was frosty. Chilly. Cold with an upper-case C. Everything was shrouded by huge piles of snow. No car can come to a sniffing distance of my home. All alleys leading to our chalet are blocked by the frozen snow. It is a completely different world out there in the nippy valleys of Himalayas.

I personally like winters. The cuddling chill of it. The flakes of snow. I enjoyed it in Kashmir. For a few hours, we had a light dusting of snow -- makhir, as the folks call it -- and I revelled in it. However, I reason, a cold territory must have proper infrastucture to while away the beautiful but harsh season. In Kashmir, there is nothing called infrastructure. It is not only conspicious by its absense, people don't know what it really means. They have largely reconciled with the abysmal power supply -- 5 hrs a day -- they get, lazy evenings they spend and the badly mutilated roads they have. Poor folks!

I enjoyed my best pal -- Tanseer's -- wedding. It was dozes of fun. His Nikkah ceremony was the first such event I have attended. I never care to participate in other such social-- relatives et al -- functions. I can be fanatically choosy about the people I admire. So, Tanseer when asked -- Kabool hai {Do you agree} -- said I do. I do. I do. Thrice. That is mandatory. Christains, Muslims and Jews, I reckon, have to utter the magical words on their weddings. A flicker went through my face. My childhood buddy, bench-mate and a very close friend was now legally married. It was emotional. A succession of quick naughty flashbacks. I froze the moment in my video-cam. The begining of a beautiful relationship.

They -- my friends -- make fun of me. I cry in movies. I am sentimental. Schmaltzy. I think I am more in tune with my heart. I hate fake appearances. I prefer being called more humane. I love small things in life. The beautiful moments that actually make life. The smile. Winks. Laughter. A mother's eyes. A friend's wedding. Music. Humour with mates. Love.

I am afraid one doesn't get much of it these days. I am glad I have a heart that has tomes of it! Call me emotional!

Watch this space for my snow pictures!

Sameer

Mid-winter feast

I am off for the weekend. To the land of white meadows, whiter runways and stupid aspirations! Kashmir! Some colorful Indian Mughal prince once blabbered a few couplets, praising the pristine beauty of the then-virgin dell. The verses are still parroted by a whole lot of native folks. Especially old school teachers and amateur urdu poets. I just can't stand both.

I have a mixed opinion about my compatriots. I find Kashmiris at once innocent and shrewd. They are both -- warm and fake. Religious and phony. Perhaps I am being a little acerbic here but I am only trying to be honest.

I find Kashmir beautiful but its people pretentious. Now, people might throw this at me: We have good and bad folks everywhere. Don't we? West and East. India and the US. Guys, I too have a kashmiri origin but I am only attempting a general caricature here. There are exceptions. And there are cart-loads of them.

To begin with, I admire the resilience of Kashmiris. They stood bullets. Braved a strong army. Fought insurgents. Suffered unspeakable pain and anguish.

I love the warmth about them. They are hospitable raised power five. They will put you up in their family. Unlike anywhere else in India. Feed you like family and leave you surely touched.

They can be Naive. Stupid. Ignorant. All in tandem and might still come across as lovable. Color of their skin or the sheer ingenuity of their senses?

I hate the antiquated values of Kashmir. Their backsliding words. The hypocrisy of it.

I abhor their arrogance, the artificial attitudes and contempt for everything alien to their narrow vale-view. Everything starts and ends with religion in Kashmir. Another matter anything they do has shades of shallow pretence to it.

From where I stand, that's not done. Nations are not found on such lackadaisical edifices. You have to have strong mores and a value system in place. No amount of pressure must break this link.

My assessment may be wrong. I can't die for my beliefs because I might be off-track. But I'm firm.

Ps-- I am holidaying in snows. I am going to have the rich wazwan. Cups of the nectary Kehva. One of my best mates -- Tansir -- is tying the knot -- I do style -- and I don't want to miss out!

Sameer

Thy Eyes

Eyes that can kill at will
Eyes which freeze me still
Eyes that look so freaking
Eyes, that has hearts' go creaking

Eyes with the golden glow
Eyes for which zephyrs blow
Eyes like magic bells
Eyes like no one else

Eyes that wander always
Eyes that never rest
Eyes which look for someone
Eyes, I wish look up to me

Eyes, those beauteous pearls
Eyes like a falcon that furls
Eyes whose stare is seditious
Eyes that look so flirtatious

Eyes, I think of
Eyes, I drink for
Eyes, like those of a dove
Eyes, I'll always love

samy

Making Love

One of my best buddies -- Tanseer -- once remarked rather wryly, "Sam, How effectively can you veer a conversation from religion to sex". That was in connection to a tiny talk we were having on religion when I suddenly changed gears and asked him how his last session was like! I am going to repeat that again. Having discussed faith in my last post, I now doodle about fornication-- one of the original sins, propounded by all books of the Lord!

Sex to my mind is the ultimate aphrodisiac. It is those fleeting minutes of stillness, called joy. Temporary madness. It is sweat. It is sinful. It is passion. It is all of that and much more. I don't understand why it is often seen as leer. There is an element of lust to it but there are myriad tomes of ecstasy too. Someone rightly called it love-making. It transcends all borders and speaks in one universal accent.

I was prostrate. Tears welled up in my eyes. There was no guilt. Only whispers in the ear. Before you can say something, a wedge of lemons or an impassioned peck makes you go quiet. Kiss. The breathlessness of it. The panting. The throwing away of pants. Canoodling your senses away. Tossing like a feather on cold sheets, the winter chill needling you in a million places. And the warmth of arm-pits. Newness of limbs. The emaciated feet. Bliss.

There is a certain emotional slack to it, the warmth and fears. Insecurities. The climax. Epiphany. Sheer heaven.

Coffee wafts and flirtatious eyes is all I can think of!

God, spare me the indulgence.

sameer

Eid

Eid-day. A feathery-buttery winter sun. I donned a crisp white shalwar-kameez and attended the Eid-mass -- read Eid Namaz -- with my pals. We were in the last row. A sea of heads lined the countless columns in front of me. Heads with expensive fezzes and heads with subaltern skull-caps on them. The best thing about the Islamic faith is its egalitarianism, the equality in the ranks. No big and small. Rich and poor. All are one before God. Intellectuals and morons, good-looking and ugly. Liberals and fanatics. One-creed! Period.

Now, the most endearing aspect of Eid-al-Zuha -- Big Eid in Kashmir -- is the element of sacrifice. A very close friend of mine, who is not Muslim, asked me sometime back: Why kill animals? Grotesque, ain't it? Two things strike my mind. First, the sacrifice of animals on Eid-day is an Abrahamic tradition. Something that the prophet of Islam -- Muhammad -- didn't start. Now all three Abrahamic religions believe in Prophet Abraham and have actually evolved from his doctrine.

In the study of comparative religion, an Abrahamic religion is any of those religions deriving from a common ancient semitic tradition and traced by their adherents to Abraham, a patriarch whose life is narrated in the Bible, Old Testament, and in the Qur'an. This forms a large group of related, largely monotheistic religions, that includes Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and comprises more than half of the world's religious adherents. Another matter, the Big-3 -- Christians, Islamists and Jews -- are at each others throats!

Second, about the actual act of sacrifice. Here the theme is again recurring in these three major religions. In the Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Oriental Orthodox Church, as well as among some High Church Anglicans and some Lutherans, the Eucharist or Mass is seen as a sacrifice.

The centrality of sacrifices in Judaism is clear, with much of the Bible, particularly the opening chapters of the book Leviticus, detailing the exact method of bringing sacrifices. Sacrifices have been ordianed either bloody (animals) or unbloody (grain and wine). In the Jewish faith, a sacrifice is known as a Korban from the Hebrew root karov meaning to come close to God.

In the Islamic context a sacrifice is usually referred to as Udhiyah. Udhiyah, as a ritual, is offered only in Eid ul-Adha. Quran is clear here: The event has nothing to do with blood and gore (Quran 22:37: "It is not their meat nor their blood, that reaches God. It is your piety that reaches Him..."). The sacrifice is done to help the poor, and in remembrance of Prophet Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son --Ishmael-- at God's command. The son got transformed into a sheep, according to theological texts. The meat is distributed to friends, relatives and to the needy.

Looking at the whole affair from a rationale, objective, modern point of view, one is a little nonplussed. Spilling blood! My friend's original question. The poor creatures have life after all. The Pain of it. Well, we have innumerable chicken, turkey, cattle, sheep, goats and animals of all form -- boars, duck, fish and so on -- slaughtered each passing minute. The world over. The most preferred diet in much of US, Europe, Africa, Australia, large swathes of Asia and even the poles -- south and north -- is non-vegetarian. Studies show that 70% of the world's vegetarian population is : Yeah, you guessed that right: Indian. Again in India 20 to 30% of Indians are estimated to be vegetarians.

Again, experts say that humans have omnivorous set of teeth. More apt for eating meat. We have a digestive system that can digest both veg and non-veg food. Animal diet is an excellent source of proteins, vitamins and nutrients.

Coming back to religion and rituals. Nothing but a set of attitudes, beliefs, and practices! In hindsight, all faiths, we have these allegories...monkeys flying, animals talking, rivers splitting open, ten-headed demons. Sacrifices. Faith as such can be quite an illusion. To my mind, these tales teach us the value of life. They are metaphors, that is what they are. They are more about moral lessons. About being honest, being caring, being loyal, being bold and perhaps, being a wee irrational too.

Happy Eid

sameer bhat

Of chill

The city is reeling under layers of chill from the hell. They say that this may just be begining of a cold-age. That is 'The Day after Tommorrow', redux. Large chunks of Asia are actually hit by a severe cold wave, seen never before. In Delhi the temperature touched zero, lowest in 70 years. Japan is buried under record snow. Australia and Europe have reported a marked change in the climatic patterns. Scientists and climatologists are hollering that the arctic icebergs have started melting away. Experts in UK and US opine that this may be the advent of an ice-age!

I reckon, it is time humans start owing up the damage we wreaked on our fragile planet. We -- all of us -- have mowed down its lank trees, raped its virgin valleys, poisioned its dancing rills, slashed its lush greens and contaminated its breezy airs. We have collectively trampled upon mother nature. Now, nature is hitting us back. Last year -- 2005 -- 14 tropical stoms in the Atlantic developed into major hurricanes. Weather-related disasters totalled $200 billion. Still USA -- the biggest polluter of us all -- refuses to sign the kyoto protocol, rendering it useless. Kyoto sets binding greenhouse gas emissions targets for countries that ratify the agreement. Prez Bush -- in an ever stupid swagger -- says signing it would cost US a lot. The world has already started to pay the cost!

It is infact not about winters only. Even summers are hotter. Infact 2005 was the second hottest year in 145 years. It is actually about 'Climate Change'. Each year, cold conditions will start getting colder and hot, even hotter. Like Mumbai, last year had rains like never before and southern states had unusually heavy rains about a month ago. The summer heat had also been abnormal in many parts of the world. Ever spared a thought: What's going on?

Weather patterns are going haywire because of climate change and extreme weather is now going to be a regular fixture. Stock yourself with bundles of woolens and oil your air-conditioning units. Extreme events of weather - severe cold and heat, heavy rains, droughts, storms and cyclones - would increase in intensity and frequency, scientists say. And, they are also going to occur in new locations that have never experienced them.

Further, climate change would also impact on economy and the state. It would affect agriculture, water availability, coastal areas with rising sea level and this would happen on a longer, steadier basis. Will that be an end of what is known of the human world! Are we at the threshold? Will we witness a real ice-age in our life-times. Or the usual, in vogue, stylish...why care for our progeny? Who cares!

We need to create a knowledge base and systems to prepare for consequences of climate change. It is for real. I am not an alarmist. Only fascinated -- and concerned -- about the climate because as a world citizen, I care!

sameer bhat

Snow in the Dell

Perhaps the only two things I truly miss about Kashmir are its enchanting snow-capped mountains and the fluffy-icy-shivery snow. It is snowing in Kashmir now. Kashmir
is one of the few places in India where it actually snows in winters. Frankly, few things in the world give me such a kick. Imagine, the feeling. You are cut off from rest of the world. Unwind!!!
There is no electricity. Consequently no watching the TV. No lamps and tube lights. Light thy candles. Fusty style. Re-live the way your ancestors did. It puts to shame all the candle-lite dinners in plush NY hotels and swanky New Delhi lounges. Doesn't get more antediluvian than that!

Think of the magical feeling. White gloss all around -- on your window sills, your backyard and your back-alley. Upon the front-street and snaking turnspikes too. As if an unceasing white fur carpet is spread all over. No potholes. No drains. No runnels. Just running miles of endless, clean snow. Snow that came last night, over night. God has stockpiles of it, I often doodle. It falls on the rooftops and topless rivers. On nests and little chirping birdlings in them. Tweet-tweedle they croon. The downpour continues on the mighty mountains and the lowly grasslands. Across a cross section of an entire landlocked dell. The valley. On its peripheries. Its mass and centre of gravity. God's confetti.

Fantasise the cosiness. Cycling around in the snow. Snow flakes on your nose. On your back. Snow-man. The snow-ball fight. Throwing small orbs of snow on each other. The fun of it. The rush. The pink of cheeks. Rouge of palms. And the quite wintry nights. The eerie silences. The snow-globs coming dancing down from the sky, in hushed whispers. On deer-backs. Upon trees. On defunct electric lines. In terraces. Upon doggy-snouts. On parched humans. Never failing them.

Warm hamams, warmed still by logs of wood. Envy the old world charm.

God. I love snow.

Samy

Happy New Year

Final dying moments of 2005. Like each year the year had its pits and hits. Inspirations and desperations. Tsunami entered our collective lexicon and so did I-pod. We wept and we cheered.
We do it each year. Don't we? Every day. This is the triumph of human spirit. We fall and we rise. We had the gruesome London bombings. Faced havoc in a devastating earthquake in Kashmir and Pakistan. Katrina struck the US gulf. Planes came crashing down. We still continue to live. The show, as they say, must go on. Humanity at its best.

I enjoy each year. Every new year is just the first day for me for another 365-day trip around the sun. I can't introspect. I can't remember in one sweeping moment the whole of the year by-gone. That is for the newspapers and television channels to cronicle. For internet to record for posterity. I am not an almanac. I am just happy. I'll have a little bash with chums tonight.

I met a wonderful friend in 2005. I got a couple of salary hikes in 2005. Got a new car in 2005. I have sobered down in the year petering away. I didn't indulge too much and I read a few very good works. Chanced upon a few incredible movies and continued to dream.

I wish 2006 is good for us all. I wish my friends love and peace. I wish all girls lotsa kisses.

For the next 12 months, 12 naive wishes:

May Bush continue to be stupid
May Manmohan Singh take India to new heights
May God completely forget about calamities
May BJP chaps fight it out among themselves
May we have more stings to expose the corrupt
May Amitabh get well soon
May we have more of Blacks and Brokebacks
May Osama declare truce and take to farming
May we have more sizzling girls around
May they find a cure for AIDS
May Vikram Seth write more books
May my coy friend continue to be beautiful!

sameer

English Cold

When nights go freezing
in quiet English winters
and flutters grow wild
over cosy feather beds
A quiet child tiptoes to loo
on cold zig-zag tiles
teensy slabs smile
at the kid's tender soles
A wince they send
to the sole's soul
And...
an icky snuffle starts
that soon conspires
to spread like bush fire
and floors the entire household!
Thats what you call the English cold!

Samy 

I love you Mom!

Dec 28, 2005. Eight years since mom died. She would have been 50 now. She won't! She left us on a bitter wintry night many years ago. I was in Class 10.
She was like all mom's of the world. Loving, beautiful and the world's best cook. I was fed like a king's ram. No one counted the calories back then. Good old days. I was born with a silver spoon clutched tightly in between my teeth.

Mom married Dad in 1977. It was a love affair. A love-affair in the 1970's Kashmir. To put things in context, a run-away marriage in Kashmir's conservative society even in circa 2005 is quiet unthinkable of. At 22 years of age in the fall of 1977, she married my Dad. In a court. Only my dad's two buddies attended. None from my father's rich landlord clan. No soul from my mother's educated, aristrocratic household. Complete filmi style. Only difference was this was real! I still call my father's friend Chacha Jee -- Uncle -- because I didn't know my real uncle's for a long time.

Extra-ordinary lady. Well that is a tad cliche' now. She was elegant. There was this extreme pallor of her face and a serene dignity that she seemed to carry so well like her cape shawl. She would never go to her rich dad's home. They had to come to our city apartment. She ensured that I got the best tutors -- only Hindu teacher's cos' they were considered more intellegent. And I had to eat and study and brush my teeth twice a day -- another rarity in Kashmir -- and if I got any spare time, pore through Tintin, Archies and Astrix comics, which -- later on -- our foriegn uncle would bring us.

My friends -- I just have 4 good one's -- loved her. She laughed and joked with them, endlessly. She would floor people with her wit. I have some of those funny bones in me. Mom was religious also. Perhaps one of the few souls, I know of, who was at once, religious and secular. Sikhs and Hindus would eat from the same plate in our home, as we did. She taught me that it is important to be a better human being before I try to be a better Muslim. I know this lesson, by heart. I think I have a more profound understanding of mankind than my faith.

On Dec 28, 1997 she met with a terrible accident. The candle blew out long before the legendary wind. I miss her affection, love and joviality. My mom had an incredible sense of humour. She now jokes with the angels in paradise.

The mother who conceals her grief
which to her chest her son she presses
Then breathes a few brave words and brief
kissing the brow she blesses
with no one but her secret God
To know the pain that weighs upon her
Sheds holy blood upon the sod
received on freedom's field of honor

Mom, 28 Sep 1955- 28 Dec 1997, RIP

samy

When wishes come true!

This is what my friend confided in me sometime back; It is a thoughtful composition written in a beautiful verse a few years back. I don't know why they were etched:

I wish
You were not same as you are
you had not liked me that way
you were not a part of myself
you had not to finally go away
I wish I never meshed with you
and I were not so vulnerable
I never depended on you
and I were not so miserable
I wish
we didn't share things with each other
we didn't think our future together
we didn't listen to each other's silence
we didn't have to pass as cursed weather
but still
even if there's no "me" now nor there's any "you" left
an "us" still hides
somewhere amidst nothingness love-bereft
I know my wishes are not to come true
if possible you'll please try
to take as much of what you left
and take someday my breath away

And here's what I have to say to you friend:

I wish I had met you before
to know what love is like
to learn to love with eyes
to understand the meaning of silence
to fathom the pangs of seperation

I wish I had met you before
to latch onto your soul a little earlier
to save you the pain you've been through
to protect you from thorns and thistles
to clutch you when you needed a hand

I wish I had met you before
to cover you in those storms
to keep you warm on bitter nights
to be your shade in the glare
to hear to your heart's song

I wish I had met you before
to love you like no one else
to kiss your apple-pie neck
to hold you in my arms
to never ever let you go

I wish I had met you before
to never let you feel miserable
to always brush your tear away
to never allow you to be vulnerable
to laugh, to talk, to love you

I wish you live to see
the wishes coming true
to smile and never again cry
to say in hushed breaths
God, thank you, for this mad guy!

samy

Land of Queens n Kings

Think of me sometimes
As the oceans and mountains part us
And hold on to my rhymes
as flowers hold the truss
Ye are far and yet so near
Mingled in my tune
I would fly, if I had wings
to the land of queens and kings
To watch you over in the water;
the soft cadences of your laughter
I miss the blue and black of your eyes
that mellows hearts with all their vice
My affable little swain
Without you, it won't even rain
It is foggy and it is damp
I long for the distant lamp
How I miss ya

sameer

Cake-cooook

Maine cake-coook nahi khana

I often ask myself, What is love? I flunk to answer. I also flunk to understand the chemistry of it. Or is it Physics? I think it is a lot of chemical reactions going on at random in your mind. Flux. All the time. It needs no outside catalysts, mind you. It happens in any given condition. Sunshine or moonshine or pitch-dark nights. It just happens to you. In the middle of a dream or a fairy-tale movie. In a cocoa smelling cafe' when someone watches you from the corner of the eye. Probably due to its large psychological relevance, love is one of the most common themes in cultures, the world over.

Is it the most profoundly integrated state in the universe? I think it is simultaneously the highest, deepest and most powerful state of consciousness. And Trust me, I am not aggrandizing. I don't do that. I recall Khalil Gibran, one of the best philophers of last century.

When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
As the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth
So is he for your pruning.

The lebanese thinker perhaps put it right. I know, Love is like heaven but it can also hurt like hell. So if you are smitten with cupid's arrow, you tread a delicate turnspike, one that is at once beautiful, enchanting but threadbare. It is a different, mad, sudden, blessed, edgy feeling!

I thought and thought and thought! I concluded thus: it is about Care. It is about looking at the Sun-downs, about walking together and talking through eyes without uttering a word. It is being together, without seeing each other for aeons. It is magic without magical spells. It is a cake. Don't worry. That is some crazy stuff in my head and that is vintage me!

sameer bhat

I Love Walking In The Rain Because Nobody Can See Me Crying!

It is cold outside. I just stepped out and found the day tenderly overcast. The fluffy, dark clouds look mournful. Mourning Summer, perhaps. Reminds me of NY. How I wish it rains now! I want God to be benevolent, however. I know when it rains, homeless folks, on the pavements and sidewalks of this huge city, shiver in cold. But I like rains, I like the feeling of getting wet. I cry -- at times -- in the godly shower because no body can see me crying.

Tears idle tears I know not what they mean
gather in the heart and rise to the eyes

I don't have a reason to cry. Still I do. My pals don't know this side of me. Most of the time, I make them laugh. In cafe's and clubs. At home and away. We joke and have fun. Like a jester -- a clown -- in some ancient king's court. Sam's brand of sharp, witty humour, they yell.

In private -- at times -- on dark evenings and rainy days, I sob. I cry for my mom. Her love. She should not have left me like this in a big, bad world. Unloved and unprotected. God, not fair!

I love strange and beauteous things. Like...people who don't love me. Birds. Trees. Rain. Sun-set. Snow. Books. Fish. Flowers. Dew. Friends. Twilight. Honesty. Life.

I dreamt a beautiful dream last night. I was on a carriage. It was going to a snow-land. It was fitted with lights and bells. It gallopped. To Kashmir. To NY. God knows. Santa waved to me on the way. I trundled on.

sameer bhat

When I was a kid, I was naughty

Cristmas is here!!! {Week to go}

Christmas is a holiday for friends,
However they may be, or not, related.
Remember that the three wise kings were strangers
In search of one remote, uncanny dream.
So may we all be far more than we seem,
Together bound for dark and haunting changes,
More lovely for the loves we have created
Along the lonely paths from means to ends,
Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.

God bless us all

Mercedes Maybach Exelero

The seductive curves of the New Mercedes Maybach Exelero would sure make all guys weak in their loins.

For whom the bell tolls

It amuses me how intense can our collective interests get. I have been read over -- I mean my post -- by more than a hundred blokes since yesterday (my remote monitor informs me) and six chaps have been gracious enough to post their comments. There has been one common undercurrent running in the readers feedback -- Who is this friend of yours?? {Hey, folks I thought that was supposed to be private business}.

I cannot tell you who my soul-mate is. I respect the element of privacy. Frankly it is about us, not me only. I wish I could. However, I will leave a couple of clues -- thats all I can contrive to do -- for you to sort that out. A la Da Vinci code style. Hope you decipher the little riddle.

• Mon ami -- that is my friend in French -- has the world's most beautiful eyes
• And a quietness that gives nothing away: Nothing
• Will innocently tell you dates of every meeting (keep that in mind)
• Listens and listens like a former prime minister and speaks like a dove (
• Likes to call me weirdo, madcap, stupid (anyone callin me that, you got'em)
• Kid at heart, balanced in head and saccharine teeth (doesn't bite)
• Difficult. I serenaded, cajoled, woo-ed like mad
• Tells me won't marry me at all -- Not at Naigra falls, Canada or Navy Pier, California ( a tad un-romantic)

Happy cracking the code, folks. You can't I know!

samy

Indulged

I don't want to explain it because I don't know what it was! Like weeping after a long time stunned. Like drinking water after an ages thirst. I think it was Magical. Regal. Superb. How can one describe an ancient rhythm. Or the moon's waltz with fleeting clouds. Or a hummingbird's love-dance. These are surreal moments that make life more beautiful, more lovable.

It was a Kiss. They say soul meets soul on lovers lips. I reckon they -- whoever they are -- are right. I hadn't expected it but then we never expect to watch a shooting star. Or catch a gold-fish. Or fall in first-love. This is the exotic fragrance, of sweat, of hair, of mouths, of breaths that stays for ever.

Lovers intertwine. They grow on each other. That is called a Hug. It is different from a bear-hug. It has shades of ecstacy to it. Bits of longing. Oodles of joy to it. It was not even a bunny hug. It was a love-cuddle. A sweet embrace.

Then marks sprang on the skin. Plebians call them love-bites. I gave them. Deliberately. I hope the feeling has seeped in below the marks. I wish it mingles in the maroon -- rouge -- blood. It flows in someone's nerves now. I think I have a second heart that flutters in me, remembers the whispers, and adds to my entropy.

Do I need say more? I think many people read me here. I must stop in my tracks.

sameer bhat

Ford Mustang 

Going home

Along the fields so vast
the bus carried him fast
Bleary eyes and a million dreams
that lit up in Sun's orange beams
Fimiliar smells in the old eateries
similar roads, known skies, common trees
Home is such a great escapade
away from life's wacky trade
The laughter and endless chatter
Baked beans and rice flakes on the platter
The rickety bus roared back to Delhi
With hopes in heart n love in the belly!

Samy

At Nature's Mercy

A few months back, a devastating earthquake shook the ground beneath their innocent soles. In a heartbeat's span they were rendered homeless and orphans. In the loftly hills of Kashmir, where it has already begun to snow, these tiny tots play, unmindful of God's wrath.

Thats what unites the children of this beauteous world. Play. Innocence. Love.

In adults this streak gives away to double-standards, greed and vice. I hope I always remain a child from within.

sameer bhat

Friends are for Hugging

Hugging communicates at the deepest level of emotion. With a hug, we embrace the whole of life. The language of hugs nourishes the spirit. A good touch always works wonders.

Touch can relieve pain and anxiety. It stabilizes heart rates and soul mates. It is needed in potato farms and paper homes.

Hugging is a very special form of touch that heals hearts. Hugs make us more safe, secure and strong. A simple hug leads to trust, belonging, happiness and appreciation. And Love.

Samy

Friend

A friend is the one who tells you the truth regardless of the cost

A friend will help you find things you'd given up as lost
A friend will never put you down or make you feel alone

He'll smile and try to put you in his comfort zone

A friend is the one who picks you up when you've fallen on the ground

A friend is the one whose voice at night is a welcome, warming sound
So when you think you're on your own and wish you had a helping hand

Remember, a friend is the one who,when you cry, will always understand

Because the world is full of people who will laughingly pretend,

But, when it's said and done you're lucky if you've got a friend

I got one great pal, whom I trouble a lot

Is he the world's best lad, I know not

I am glad I know him, though!

Sameer Bhat

Samy... On a wintry night.
Please the read the lines below 

And I went cold

The chill hit my eye
and pierced my jersey
I waited for the carriage
on a dark wintry night

The dulcet laughter won't go
nor would the sweet smell of thee
candied whispers reeled in my head
endlessly and in full circles

If I were my consort
I would travel to world's edge
just to see bee-two's back
ambling safely to thy abode

Alas... I tarried!
Lovelorn flutters in a loveless land
loving hopes in a hopeless dream
tender hollers in dead woods
coot sam calling out in vain

God...
Why do I love
Why do I sigh
Why do I expect
Why do I muse

If I could fly like potter
I'd hover in the skies
and dance in the clouds
with angels and birds

And I won't shiver in cold!

samy

Pope be warned!!

Year 1981

1. Prince Charles got married
2. Liverpool crowned Champions of Europe
3. Australia lost the Ashes
4. Pope Died

Year 2005

1. Prince Charles got married (again)
2. Liverpool crowned Champions of Europe (again)
3. Australia lost the Ashes (again)
4. Pope Died (again)

Moral of the story –

In future, if Prince Charles decides to re-marry.... please warn the Pope.

Whats Love!!!

I once had a friend who grew to be very close to me. Once when we were sitting at the edge of a swimming pool, she filled the palm of her hand with some water and held it before me, and said this: "You see this water carefully contained on my hand? It symbolizes Love."

This was how I saw it: As long as you keep your hand caringly open and allow it to remain there, it will always be there. However, if you attempt to close your fingers round it and try to posses it, it will spill through the first cracks it finds.

This is the greatest mistake that people do when they meet love...they try to posses it, they demand, they expect... and just like the water spilling out of your hand, love will retrieve from you .

For love is meant to be free, you cannot change its nature. If there are people you love, allow them to be free beings. Give and don't expect. Advise, but don't order. Ask, but never demand.

It might sound simple, but it is a lesson that may take a lifetime to truly practice. It is the secret to true love. To truly practice it, you must sincerely feel no expectations from those who you love, and yet an unconditional caring."

Life is beautiful!!! Live it !!!

Sameer Bhat