He is plucking the strings of my heart. Tears are welling up. I am getting goosebumps. My heart is crying.
Oceans apart, day after day...
Right here waiting for u
I will be right here waiting for u...
I am really crying.
I taste the tears
But I can't get here you now...
You've got me going crazy
Waiting for u...
I can't see the keys, tears are blurring my vision. They are rolling down, my tears... I love u sweetie...
Oh can't u see it baby
Wherever u go
Whatever u do...
Whatever it takes
I will be right here waiting for u...
Waiting for u..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQF9kpwupeU
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Middle Name Meme
Sandy Carlson tagged me with the Middle Name Meme:RULES: You have to post these rules before you give the facts. Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had. When you are tagged you need to write your own blog post containing your own middle name game facts. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and to read your blog.
Well, my name is 'H.S. Dharmendra'. 'H' stands for 'Halale' which is the name of my clan, 'S' stands for my father's name 'Shankar' and 'Dharmendra' is my given name. My namakarana (naming ceremony) was celebrated along with my kid brother's. I was about three years old when it happened. Until then I was being called by various pet names like 'Gunda,' 'Gundu,' 'Unda-bhaakri,' etc., but I was more popular as 'Raghu' (named after saint 'Raghavendra'). I am still known as 'Raghu', more so than 'Dharmendra.'
I've been called by other names, some normal and some weird. My granny called me 'Satya Narayana' after my dad's Ishta Devata. My class mates called me 'Dharam' or 'Dharma.' My PUC classmates called me 'Bond' (I wonder why?) After getting busy with my work, I was not visiting a friend's house often as I previously used to, so his mom christened me 'Vajpayee' after the then Prime Minister of India.
Inspite of so many names, I do not have a middle name. Well, no issues! I would give myself a middle name - 'Mani' after my mom 'Manonmani.'
Dharmendra...
Mysorean to the core;
Art lover;
Non-vegetarian;
In love with his camera;
I'm tagging
Claytonia at Drishyanvesh,
Raaghu at Me, Myself and I,
Vikster at I heart Bombay, Boston,and
Rubic_cube at Gift of Gab
Well, my name is 'H.S. Dharmendra'. 'H' stands for 'Halale' which is the name of my clan, 'S' stands for my father's name 'Shankar' and 'Dharmendra' is my given name. My namakarana (naming ceremony) was celebrated along with my kid brother's. I was about three years old when it happened. Until then I was being called by various pet names like 'Gunda,' 'Gundu,' 'Unda-bhaakri,' etc., but I was more popular as 'Raghu' (named after saint 'Raghavendra'). I am still known as 'Raghu', more so than 'Dharmendra.'
I've been called by other names, some normal and some weird. My granny called me 'Satya Narayana' after my dad's Ishta Devata. My class mates called me 'Dharam' or 'Dharma.' My PUC classmates called me 'Bond' (I wonder why?) After getting busy with my work, I was not visiting a friend's house often as I previously used to, so his mom christened me 'Vajpayee' after the then Prime Minister of India.
Inspite of so many names, I do not have a middle name. Well, no issues! I would give myself a middle name - 'Mani' after my mom 'Manonmani.'
Dharmendra...
Mysorean to the core;
Art lover;
Non-vegetarian;
In love with his camera;
I'm tagging
Claytonia at Drishyanvesh,
Raaghu at Me, Myself and I,
Vikster at I heart Bombay, Boston,and
Rubic_cube at Gift of Gab
Saturday, August 18, 2007
You're Beautiful
Song: You're Beautiful
Artist: James Blunt
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Y7WDWP8WMs
I was listening to this song this morn. The initial sound of guitar is haunting, romantic. I was busy, but as soon as I heard the guitar, I glanced up and like dawn a smile broke on my lips.
The way Blunt sings you're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, it's true is dramatic. He sounds as if he's convincing the girl with his compliment. Sweet.
Later I found myself humming that song over and again, it was like this stubborn tune stuck in my head not budging a wee bit. I was enjoying the intra-cerebral hum; and after a zillion days I was completely musick (Musick: Sickness caused due to overdose of music; Creator: yours truly.)
Anyhow, the song made me think, made me mushy. I wished some one could say something similar. Oh no! I don't want to be told that I am beautiful, rather I prefer being told that I am handsome, intelligent, creative or whatever but with sincerity and love.
Shucks... I have patience no more, to wait for someone to come along, get to know me, understand my index of romance, lure me, capture my imagination and finally sing me praises. I'd sing it to myself and get over with. Here I go...
I'm dutiful, I'm dutiful,
I'm dutiful, it's true....
Yeah, I know, it's not the same, but it does rhyme well, isn't?
Artist: James Blunt
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Y7WDWP8WMs
I was listening to this song this morn. The initial sound of guitar is haunting, romantic. I was busy, but as soon as I heard the guitar, I glanced up and like dawn a smile broke on my lips.
The way Blunt sings you're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, it's true is dramatic. He sounds as if he's convincing the girl with his compliment. Sweet.
Later I found myself humming that song over and again, it was like this stubborn tune stuck in my head not budging a wee bit. I was enjoying the intra-cerebral hum; and after a zillion days I was completely musick (Musick: Sickness caused due to overdose of music; Creator: yours truly.)
Anyhow, the song made me think, made me mushy. I wished some one could say something similar. Oh no! I don't want to be told that I am beautiful, rather I prefer being told that I am handsome, intelligent, creative or whatever but with sincerity and love.
Shucks... I have patience no more, to wait for someone to come along, get to know me, understand my index of romance, lure me, capture my imagination and finally sing me praises. I'd sing it to myself and get over with. Here I go...
I'm dutiful, I'm dutiful,
I'm dutiful, it's true....
Yeah, I know, it's not the same, but it does rhyme well, isn't?
Monday, August 13, 2007
Limerick
Junior 'n White had a little fight,
'Go to hell' she told him uptight;
'Okay baba I'll go to hell...
You go to heaven' when he did tell,
'What is heaven' wondered Ms. White.
Four years back I was in this hotel room; woke up next morning and was about to open the door when I heard a little boy and a girl (may be siblings or cousins) fighting outside, next door. I couldn't control my laughter as the girl wondered aloud, what was heaven, with all her innocence. They soon sped away and I couldn't see the two little imps.
I wanted to immortalise this funny incident someway and tried to draw a comic strip (a la Calvin n Hobbes) but failed. Few days later, I read a limerick and regretted never writing one myself. Suddenly, I remembered the incident and wrote one based on it. Though the kids were Indian I gave them western names because it goes well with the rhyme.
The original was written in 2003 and the names were Johnny and Kim. I changed the names and rewrote it now. It sounds much better.
'Go to hell' she told him uptight;
'Okay baba I'll go to hell...
You go to heaven' when he did tell,
'What is heaven' wondered Ms. White.
Four years back I was in this hotel room; woke up next morning and was about to open the door when I heard a little boy and a girl (may be siblings or cousins) fighting outside, next door. I couldn't control my laughter as the girl wondered aloud, what was heaven, with all her innocence. They soon sped away and I couldn't see the two little imps.
I wanted to immortalise this funny incident someway and tried to draw a comic strip (a la Calvin n Hobbes) but failed. Few days later, I read a limerick and regretted never writing one myself. Suddenly, I remembered the incident and wrote one based on it. Though the kids were Indian I gave them western names because it goes well with the rhyme.
The original was written in 2003 and the names were Johnny and Kim. I changed the names and rewrote it now. It sounds much better.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Initiation Into Adulthood
Hey, hold on people! This post is not about me losing my (ahem... clearing my throat loudly as if to make a dramatic announcement) virginity.
For me, adulthood means freedom of choice, being adult means being free to take decisions without any compulsions. I know, I am sounding pompous and many would not agree with me. Anyhow, let me proceed with the incident which, I consider, opened up a whole new world of possibilities for me.
Rewind to 1994. I am in Yuvaraja's College, attending classes of first year of graduation. I am this gawky guy, wearing huge specs covering almost top half of my face (my dad's explanation, 'affords wide range of vision'), a moustache (dad again, 'do not shave it off'), loose baggy shirts (no prize for guessing - dad, 'you can wear them for a longer time,' but by the time they started to fit me they lost colour or were worn out) - a highly unglamourous creature in the prime of his teens. I can easily have got the highest G.R.R. (Glance Repulsion Ratio) in my class. To top it all, I am introvert and do not have anyone for a friend.
Dad: Rey! Don't scratch your crotch.
Me to myself: What the hell! Some one please tell him it's itching; I can't control it.
By now you may've got the clear picture that dad's was the last word in any and all matters.
Enter this awkward guy, Avinash from the exotic Mauritius, shabbily dressed in branded clothes. He is in the same class as me and no friends too. My spoken English is bad, I befriend him so that it gets better.
A month into our friendship, he says he's going for a movie, would I want to join him? I am excited but fall silent, as suddenly, foreseeing my dad vetoing the plan. I meekly confide about my dad's temperament and no way I wanna get in the eye of a storm. Avinash volunteers to ask dad's permission on my behalf. On approaching my dad he said, as a matter of fact, that he wants me to join him for a movie and lo behold! Dad said okay.
Theatre: Sterling
Movie: Speed
Cast: Keanu Reeves, Sandra Bullock and Dennis Hopper.
I had been to movies many times earlier but never had it felt so liberating. I enjoyed each and every frame of it. The sound, action, stunts and thrilling narrative filled me in and out. Then it dawned on me.
"If I have done or intend to do no wrong, there's no need to be scared of dad."
This realisation brought forth by the episode, instilled confidence in me and I took to skies. The next moment, I was an adult.
For me, adulthood means freedom of choice, being adult means being free to take decisions without any compulsions. I know, I am sounding pompous and many would not agree with me. Anyhow, let me proceed with the incident which, I consider, opened up a whole new world of possibilities for me.
Rewind to 1994. I am in Yuvaraja's College, attending classes of first year of graduation. I am this gawky guy, wearing huge specs covering almost top half of my face (my dad's explanation, 'affords wide range of vision'), a moustache (dad again, 'do not shave it off'), loose baggy shirts (no prize for guessing - dad, 'you can wear them for a longer time,' but by the time they started to fit me they lost colour or were worn out) - a highly unglamourous creature in the prime of his teens. I can easily have got the highest G.R.R. (Glance Repulsion Ratio) in my class. To top it all, I am introvert and do not have anyone for a friend.
Dad: Rey! Don't scratch your crotch.
Me to myself: What the hell! Some one please tell him it's itching; I can't control it.
By now you may've got the clear picture that dad's was the last word in any and all matters.
Enter this awkward guy, Avinash from the exotic Mauritius, shabbily dressed in branded clothes. He is in the same class as me and no friends too. My spoken English is bad, I befriend him so that it gets better.
A month into our friendship, he says he's going for a movie, would I want to join him? I am excited but fall silent, as suddenly, foreseeing my dad vetoing the plan. I meekly confide about my dad's temperament and no way I wanna get in the eye of a storm. Avinash volunteers to ask dad's permission on my behalf. On approaching my dad he said, as a matter of fact, that he wants me to join him for a movie and lo behold! Dad said okay.
Theatre: Sterling
Movie: Speed
Cast: Keanu Reeves, Sandra Bullock and Dennis Hopper.
I had been to movies many times earlier but never had it felt so liberating. I enjoyed each and every frame of it. The sound, action, stunts and thrilling narrative filled me in and out. Then it dawned on me.
"If I have done or intend to do no wrong, there's no need to be scared of dad."
This realisation brought forth by the episode, instilled confidence in me and I took to skies. The next moment, I was an adult.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Innocence Lost
The steel box hurtled on, up and around the treacherous hairpin curves. Deep inside it I sat crushed between my mom and sis, and elsewhere seated were my other family members including uncles, aunts and cousins. I cursed my dad for forcing me to come on this trip, 'I hate bus traveling, it makes me sick' I had pleaded but to no avail.
I was about five or six years old when I visited the hill shrine of Malai Mahadeshwara. That was my first long-trip as far as my memory goes. The journey (changing three buses) was puky, tedious and strenuous, but arriving at the hill top pilgrim centre was exuberating; the lush greenery, cool weather and rolling hills every where around elevated my spirits as much as the thought that finally I was out of the steel box with eight wheels.
The exuberance of being in such a beautiful place turned to devotion when I went to have a darshan of the lord of seven hills. All grown-ups were singing paens of lord Mahadeshwara and his eagerness to fulfill the desires of his devotees. My young innocent mind was taking in all I was hearing. The faith of many a devotees there were convincing enough, but when I heard that the place was so holy that even the soil possesses divine powers, my innocent belief turned concrete.
After a couple of days, before catching a homeward bus I surreptitiously scooped a fistful of soil from the temple premises and saved it as a holy treasure with divine powers.
Returning home I tucked away my sacred souvenir with my other treasures which had toys, beads, coloured glass pieces, marbles, etc., and forgot. Returning from the school, a few days later, I heard that my favourite grand uncle had passed away earlier that day. The news was overwhelming. I sprinted to my treasure box, took out the small packet of sacred soil and dashed out of the house.
The hope was not lost yet, for I had the most powerful thing in the universe. I will certainly bring back my grand uncle from dead. I took the magical and divine soil in my hand, closed my eyes, started praying the Lord to reverse the tragedy. 'Hit ctrl+z,' I was pleading. In the heart of hearts I was sure that the divine soil has performed the miracle and I was glad.
As it turned out, I went to my grand uncle's place only to find him in the hall, lying motionless under a heap of garlands, surrounded by wailing ladies while men stood outside refusing to see each other in the eye. That sight shredded my faith. I lost my innocence forever.
I was about five or six years old when I visited the hill shrine of Malai Mahadeshwara. That was my first long-trip as far as my memory goes. The journey (changing three buses) was puky, tedious and strenuous, but arriving at the hill top pilgrim centre was exuberating; the lush greenery, cool weather and rolling hills every where around elevated my spirits as much as the thought that finally I was out of the steel box with eight wheels.
The exuberance of being in such a beautiful place turned to devotion when I went to have a darshan of the lord of seven hills. All grown-ups were singing paens of lord Mahadeshwara and his eagerness to fulfill the desires of his devotees. My young innocent mind was taking in all I was hearing. The faith of many a devotees there were convincing enough, but when I heard that the place was so holy that even the soil possesses divine powers, my innocent belief turned concrete.
After a couple of days, before catching a homeward bus I surreptitiously scooped a fistful of soil from the temple premises and saved it as a holy treasure with divine powers.
Returning home I tucked away my sacred souvenir with my other treasures which had toys, beads, coloured glass pieces, marbles, etc., and forgot. Returning from the school, a few days later, I heard that my favourite grand uncle had passed away earlier that day. The news was overwhelming. I sprinted to my treasure box, took out the small packet of sacred soil and dashed out of the house.
The hope was not lost yet, for I had the most powerful thing in the universe. I will certainly bring back my grand uncle from dead. I took the magical and divine soil in my hand, closed my eyes, started praying the Lord to reverse the tragedy. 'Hit ctrl+z,' I was pleading. In the heart of hearts I was sure that the divine soil has performed the miracle and I was glad.
As it turned out, I went to my grand uncle's place only to find him in the hall, lying motionless under a heap of garlands, surrounded by wailing ladies while men stood outside refusing to see each other in the eye. That sight shredded my faith. I lost my innocence forever.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Question Unanswered
Saw a lovely person
Fell in love all by sudden
Have you felt the pain...
The kiss was greatest
To have one, would I become meanest
Have you felt the pain...
The fire was burning twosome
Alas! One died and other a lonesome
Have you felt the pain...
The heart fancied a happy dream
Until a terrible nightmare scream
Have you felt the pain...
Clinging onto reed and drowning
Crying out for a little loving
Please, why don't you feel the pain...
Umm... I penned this on 23 November 1997.
Fell in love all by sudden
Have you felt the pain...
The kiss was greatest
To have one, would I become meanest
Have you felt the pain...
The fire was burning twosome
Alas! One died and other a lonesome
Have you felt the pain...
The heart fancied a happy dream
Until a terrible nightmare scream
Have you felt the pain...
Clinging onto reed and drowning
Crying out for a little loving
Please, why don't you feel the pain...
Umm... I penned this on 23 November 1997.
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