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