“Jane kahan gaye woh din”? A question that appears in most of our minds with respect to the songs of the golden era. The youth today, however, will beg to differ- at least some of them. They are getting back to listening and appreciating old Hindi music. The acute sense of nostalgia seems to be hitting them harder than earlier. Favoritism for western or modern Hindi music seems to have taken a backseat, while ‘classics’ of the by gone era seems to be emerging as the new trend.
The current generation has become overtly conscious of what they are being exposed to and this kind of awareness is bringing them to question all aspects of their life. Gone are the days when one would lie down and listen to ‘Snoop Dog’ and ‘Linking Park’. They all want to get back to the old hits by ‘Mohammad Rafi’ or ‘Kishore da’ and other masters of the same era.
The radio as a medium is helping popularize old music and plays an essential role where young people are exposed to classics during the peak hours of their work time. What has also played a significant role in the popularization of music and especially the Hindi Genre of music will have to be the coming of the i-pod or the Mp3 players which is so flexible and personal in nature. The individual is at liberty to choose his/her music and update it everyday. (Be it an Himesh Reshamiya or a Yesu Das, Lata Mangeshkar or Jatin- Lalit)
‘Old Hindi music is what I use to relax myself after a tough days work, it’s my only solace’ says finance and marketing executive, Pratik.
‘Many young people have grown up listening to the classics of old Hindi cinema and it’s an acquired taste, probably because their parents listened to a lot of it. The reason why they are turning back to the same is because they have now begun to think about what they really like’ says graphic designer, Karishma.
‘I had to be a part of the ‘hip’ social group when I was in college, which is why I had to divert my music interest from classic of Hindi to the hip hop and rap kind of music’, says a young IT employee.
With the increasing debate on the genre preferences of the youth one can never conclude as to which has the upper hand. But we cannot overlook the growing fondness for our ‘age old’ Hindi music.
This probably explains why the city need for Hindi music singers is slowly increasing. Most private parties lately prefer ‘Old’ Hindi music or genres like the Gazal. Maybe it won’t be long before everyone tunes into Doordarshan every Sunday morning to catch the ‘Chitrahar’.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Down memory lane
The year is 1993. My family just moved from Bareilly to Varanasi. I don’t like the house. It has huge rooms with tiny windows. We decided to move to a better house.
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
Down memory lane
The year is 1993. My family just moved from Bareilly to Varanasi. I don’t like the house. It has huge rooms with tiny windows. We decided to move to a better house.
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
Friday, November 9, 2007
Chak de Cricket
In a country where cricket is a religion, Shimit Amin’s Chak De India presents us with a story of redemption, team work and victory revolving around hockey- women’s hockey. Chak De breaks all clichés of Hindi cinema; it has skill and substance instead of skin and sizzle; it makes its viewers desperately all ears to every single dialogue instead of waiting for a particular scene or song; it is a Bollywood product with no lovey-dovey passionate act, and yet boasts of viewers coming out of the theatres smiling.
The movie is based on the true story of former captain of National Men’s hockey team, Mir Ranjan Negi, (Kabir Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan) accused of match-fixing and was labeled a traitor after India lost to Pakistan in the 1982 World Champions Final. The captain, however, returns from a life of humiliation after seven years and revives the women’s hockey team as well as his honour from the depths of oblivion.
The only hurdle that Kabir Khan came face-to-face with was the team itself that was enmeshed in abundant ego tussle, senior-junior divide, veteran-novice classification, the stronger-weaker category, and the toughest part – no one was ready to budge. To add to it, the team was more regional in character than national. But Kabir was determined to bring them together and paint them INDIANS.
What happens after this is better seen than described. But what matters is how it all happened and it is this defining flavour that distinguishes the director as deserving. He has accomplished the hard task of not carrying the shades of his earlier film, Ab Tak Chappan, into this one and that too without any hiccups.
Complimenting Amin's act is Jaideep Sahni's script. He has not once diverted from the main theme–sports. The duo proved that a powerful storyline and a punching direction can create waves even if you don't have the dancing-around-the-trees act or the usual love-you-kiss-you-miss-you piece. The background score is excellent and not just adds life to the already lively screenplay but also makes your heart go THUMP. The narration is tight and the editing is slick. The cinematography is first-rate.
The only flaw with the movie is the larger than life situation when a team with initially no focus, no approach and the overwhelming urge to outshine each other, manages not only to stay in, but also win the world championship in just three months! But as regular viewers of Bollywood “creations” we can live with that. Plus the rest of movie well makes up for this.
And now to the performance. Shah Rukh Khan, who fell flat with his over the top acting in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna, makes a brilliant recovery in this movie. He keeps the attention of the viewers totally hooked with his intense performance. We must, however, not forget the debut performances of Chitrashi Rawat (Komal Chautala), Shilpa Shukla (Bindia Naik), Tanya Abrol (Balbir Kaur) and Sagarika Ghatge (Preeti Sabarwal), who were the lifeline of the film. Vidya Malavade (Vidya Sharma) has also sketched her role beautifully. The girls, well they are the face of the entire film. Each delivers their unique performance in style. They make you laugh, they make you giggle, they make you sit there and realise that they are out there to perform and would not goof it up for anything.
To cut a long story short, Chak De India rocks. So, go ahead, treat yourself to a Bollywood bonanza, which doesn't come everyday. And yes, don't be too surprised if after coming out, you get the thought, 'maybe one more time'. And for the onlookers of dance, skin, colour and romance, well it's a must watch. Perhaps it would help redefine the word 'entertainment'!
The movie is based on the true story of former captain of National Men’s hockey team, Mir Ranjan Negi, (Kabir Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan) accused of match-fixing and was labeled a traitor after India lost to Pakistan in the 1982 World Champions Final. The captain, however, returns from a life of humiliation after seven years and revives the women’s hockey team as well as his honour from the depths of oblivion.
The only hurdle that Kabir Khan came face-to-face with was the team itself that was enmeshed in abundant ego tussle, senior-junior divide, veteran-novice classification, the stronger-weaker category, and the toughest part – no one was ready to budge. To add to it, the team was more regional in character than national. But Kabir was determined to bring them together and paint them INDIANS.
What happens after this is better seen than described. But what matters is how it all happened and it is this defining flavour that distinguishes the director as deserving. He has accomplished the hard task of not carrying the shades of his earlier film, Ab Tak Chappan, into this one and that too without any hiccups.
Complimenting Amin's act is Jaideep Sahni's script. He has not once diverted from the main theme–sports. The duo proved that a powerful storyline and a punching direction can create waves even if you don't have the dancing-around-the-trees act or the usual love-you-kiss-you-miss-you piece. The background score is excellent and not just adds life to the already lively screenplay but also makes your heart go THUMP. The narration is tight and the editing is slick. The cinematography is first-rate.
The only flaw with the movie is the larger than life situation when a team with initially no focus, no approach and the overwhelming urge to outshine each other, manages not only to stay in, but also win the world championship in just three months! But as regular viewers of Bollywood “creations” we can live with that. Plus the rest of movie well makes up for this.
And now to the performance. Shah Rukh Khan, who fell flat with his over the top acting in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna, makes a brilliant recovery in this movie. He keeps the attention of the viewers totally hooked with his intense performance. We must, however, not forget the debut performances of Chitrashi Rawat (Komal Chautala), Shilpa Shukla (Bindia Naik), Tanya Abrol (Balbir Kaur) and Sagarika Ghatge (Preeti Sabarwal), who were the lifeline of the film. Vidya Malavade (Vidya Sharma) has also sketched her role beautifully. The girls, well they are the face of the entire film. Each delivers their unique performance in style. They make you laugh, they make you giggle, they make you sit there and realise that they are out there to perform and would not goof it up for anything.
To cut a long story short, Chak De India rocks. So, go ahead, treat yourself to a Bollywood bonanza, which doesn't come everyday. And yes, don't be too surprised if after coming out, you get the thought, 'maybe one more time'. And for the onlookers of dance, skin, colour and romance, well it's a must watch. Perhaps it would help redefine the word 'entertainment'!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Dead Dream
Incommunicable memories trudge along,
Walking on, I wonder where I belong,
Earth is not paradise, limit is not the sky,
Above that, in the world beyond, I am going to fly.
But are things what they ever seem?
I live on with a dead dream.
Pain is the horizon, the sky has turned blue,
The morning will cry with its dew,
But the leaf will open, flowers wish to bloom,
Hoping to dispel the surrounding gloom.
The thought of such life makes everyone gleam.
And i survive with my dead dream.
The moon cries as the stars break,
Life feels futile when all is at stake,
But i survive holding wishes fragile,
Shedding tears beneath the dazzling smile.
It hurts as it touches me- the sun's beam,
I move on with my dead dream.
Raindrops falling gently on the grass green,
Waiting, But a dream fulfilled I've not seen,
Holding onto fragments I create a form,
That shall be shattered again by the storm.
Moving away form the past, time, itself, will not redeem,
And i walked ahead with my dead dream.
Hopes have been stamped on, its all mud and blood,
Wishes have paved way for the pain full flood,
There are people around me who don't understand,
I have done nothing and time has slipped like sand.
Within, i can now hear an everlasting scream,
And i smile on with my dead dream.
Walking on, I wonder where I belong,
Earth is not paradise, limit is not the sky,
Above that, in the world beyond, I am going to fly.
But are things what they ever seem?
I live on with a dead dream.
Pain is the horizon, the sky has turned blue,
The morning will cry with its dew,
But the leaf will open, flowers wish to bloom,
Hoping to dispel the surrounding gloom.
The thought of such life makes everyone gleam.
And i survive with my dead dream.
The moon cries as the stars break,
Life feels futile when all is at stake,
But i survive holding wishes fragile,
Shedding tears beneath the dazzling smile.
It hurts as it touches me- the sun's beam,
I move on with my dead dream.
Raindrops falling gently on the grass green,
Waiting, But a dream fulfilled I've not seen,
Holding onto fragments I create a form,
That shall be shattered again by the storm.
Moving away form the past, time, itself, will not redeem,
And i walked ahead with my dead dream.
Hopes have been stamped on, its all mud and blood,
Wishes have paved way for the pain full flood,
There are people around me who don't understand,
I have done nothing and time has slipped like sand.
Within, i can now hear an everlasting scream,
And i smile on with my dead dream.
Monday, February 12, 2007
A song for my Sire
My heart is like a lyre,
With millions of chords strung o my wooden frame,
I'll compose the best music for my Sire-
Music that kindles fire among the hearts of many men.
I'll compose a tune unheard, that is not quite the same,
Same as other tunes that evoke love and shame.
Sire, is God whom i trust,
He who is above all dirt, above all lust,
He is the God that is loved by me,
Although he is the one i cannot see.
I feel his presence in everything
I am and what i will be,
I'll compose a music of gratitude to Thee
That will reverberate in land and in sea,
In mountains and dale, in gardens and lea
I'll play the chords with my nimble fingers,
I'll hold the chord till the music lingers,
So that it will reach to Thee.
With millions of chords strung o my wooden frame,
I'll compose the best music for my Sire-
Music that kindles fire among the hearts of many men.
I'll compose a tune unheard, that is not quite the same,
Same as other tunes that evoke love and shame.
Sire, is God whom i trust,
He who is above all dirt, above all lust,
He is the God that is loved by me,
Although he is the one i cannot see.
I feel his presence in everything
I am and what i will be,
I'll compose a music of gratitude to Thee
That will reverberate in land and in sea,
In mountains and dale, in gardens and lea
I'll play the chords with my nimble fingers,
I'll hold the chord till the music lingers,
So that it will reach to Thee.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Transition or Revolution?
For the past eighteen years I have been seized by countless questions. My existence. Why do I live? Does anyone need me? Where is my life headed? Will anyone love me for who I am? Questions, so many of them. Then one day God sent me all the answers.
I saw him standing there with a smile on his face. That very moment something inside urged me to delve deeper- into his eyes, his life. I judged that he is the shy kind and I will have to take all the initiative. As he shook my hand I felt something, couldn’t locate where, didn’t understand why. When he spoke I never paid attention to what he was saying, just heard his voice. The voice of a stranger, yet so familiar. I felt a desire poking at a corner in my heart. A desire unrecognized, but a desire. I wanted to know him better, spend more time with him. My heart skipped a beat when I asked him out for a movie and breathed a sigh of relief when h nodded in consent. The day was next Sunday.
I waited for Sunday like the dry lands wait for rain. I often wondered what we would be talking about. But in my heart of hearts I new that we’ll do just fine and day will turn out perfect.
Sunday came. Everyone said my gait had assumed a more of a “hope, skip and jump” character. Was the alacrity in my heart showing on my face? That day I seriously considered what I should wear and spent a couple of minutes more in front of the mirror. I completely ignored the fact that my mother was glaring at me.
There he was, standing where we decided to meet. For the first time I organized my feelings for him- cute and adorable. I spent the whole day with hating the fact that time was slipping by. I wanted to walk very close to him. At one point in time, when watching the movie, I really felt like resting my head on his shoulder. But I was hesitant, we had been together for just a few hours and he seemed absorbed in the movie to the extent that I felt kind of neglected. (By the way, the movie was The Hulk) He was far more interested in the food. Even after all the not so, chivalrous behavior I was attracted to him, to his magnetic being and I disliked nothing that he did.
Then came the time when I had to say goodbye. I felt a pang in my heart and something pushing the back of my eye balls. Those were the best nine hours of my life.
I waited for him to call me each day but reality betrayed my expectations- he didn’t. I was never angry but definitely sad. The old feelings of desolation and lonely existence enveloped my being. Though solitude had been intrinsic to my life, I didn’t want to accept it. The flame of hope was flickering and reality was blowing too strong on it. The date of his departure back to Tumkur came and went. Lost I locked up my feelings and put them on a remote shelf.
Normal day- nothing out of the ordinary- expectations at an all time low. I was sitting over the evening tea with my mother and my cell phone rang. Strange number, I thought. I answered it…..IT WAS HIM. I didn’t speak. My voice was choked with happiness. I was plain and simple ecstatic. I had a grin pasted on my face for the next 3 days. And the grin has now been metamorphosised into a permanent smile. He is yet to win the world but he certainly has won my heart, my life, my whole existence. And the day when he will win the world is not too far away either.
But my mind has not ceased to be the genesis of questions. Is he a magician? How does he have such an overwhelming impact on me? What makes me love him so much? Why do I trust him so much? What makes him different? Why does life seem hollow and meaningless without him? Why do I love him so unconditionally? Do I deserve him? Looks like God still has a lot of answering left to do. However, the fact remains, I love him- truly, deeply, madly. More than anyone, more than anything, more than my own life.
I saw him standing there with a smile on his face. That very moment something inside urged me to delve deeper- into his eyes, his life. I judged that he is the shy kind and I will have to take all the initiative. As he shook my hand I felt something, couldn’t locate where, didn’t understand why. When he spoke I never paid attention to what he was saying, just heard his voice. The voice of a stranger, yet so familiar. I felt a desire poking at a corner in my heart. A desire unrecognized, but a desire. I wanted to know him better, spend more time with him. My heart skipped a beat when I asked him out for a movie and breathed a sigh of relief when h nodded in consent. The day was next Sunday.
I waited for Sunday like the dry lands wait for rain. I often wondered what we would be talking about. But in my heart of hearts I new that we’ll do just fine and day will turn out perfect.
Sunday came. Everyone said my gait had assumed a more of a “hope, skip and jump” character. Was the alacrity in my heart showing on my face? That day I seriously considered what I should wear and spent a couple of minutes more in front of the mirror. I completely ignored the fact that my mother was glaring at me.
There he was, standing where we decided to meet. For the first time I organized my feelings for him- cute and adorable. I spent the whole day with hating the fact that time was slipping by. I wanted to walk very close to him. At one point in time, when watching the movie, I really felt like resting my head on his shoulder. But I was hesitant, we had been together for just a few hours and he seemed absorbed in the movie to the extent that I felt kind of neglected. (By the way, the movie was The Hulk) He was far more interested in the food. Even after all the not so, chivalrous behavior I was attracted to him, to his magnetic being and I disliked nothing that he did.
Then came the time when I had to say goodbye. I felt a pang in my heart and something pushing the back of my eye balls. Those were the best nine hours of my life.
I waited for him to call me each day but reality betrayed my expectations- he didn’t. I was never angry but definitely sad. The old feelings of desolation and lonely existence enveloped my being. Though solitude had been intrinsic to my life, I didn’t want to accept it. The flame of hope was flickering and reality was blowing too strong on it. The date of his departure back to Tumkur came and went. Lost I locked up my feelings and put them on a remote shelf.
Normal day- nothing out of the ordinary- expectations at an all time low. I was sitting over the evening tea with my mother and my cell phone rang. Strange number, I thought. I answered it…..IT WAS HIM. I didn’t speak. My voice was choked with happiness. I was plain and simple ecstatic. I had a grin pasted on my face for the next 3 days. And the grin has now been metamorphosised into a permanent smile. He is yet to win the world but he certainly has won my heart, my life, my whole existence. And the day when he will win the world is not too far away either.
But my mind has not ceased to be the genesis of questions. Is he a magician? How does he have such an overwhelming impact on me? What makes me love him so much? Why do I trust him so much? What makes him different? Why does life seem hollow and meaningless without him? Why do I love him so unconditionally? Do I deserve him? Looks like God still has a lot of answering left to do. However, the fact remains, I love him- truly, deeply, madly. More than anyone, more than anything, more than my own life.
Friday, February 2, 2007
I Am...
I Am....
An architect: I have built a solid foundation and each year I go to that school, I add another floor of wisdom and knowledge.
A sculptor: I have shaped my morals and philosophies according to the clay of right and wrong
A painter: With each new idea i express, I paint a new hue in the world's multitude of colours.
A scientist: Each day that passes by, I gather new data, make important observations and experiment with new concepts and ideas.
An astrologer: Reading and analysing the palms of life and each new person I encounter.
An astronaut: Constantly exploring and broadening my horizons.
A doctor: I heal those who turn to me for consultation and advice. And I bring out the vitality in those who seem lifeless.
A lawyer: I am not afraid to stand up for the inevitable and basic rights of myself and all others.
A policeman: Watching out for others welfare. I am always on the scene preventing fights and keeping peace.
A teacher: By my example others learn not to make the same mistakes.
A mathematician: Making sure I conquer each one of my problems with the correct solution.
A detective: Peering through my two lenses, searching for meaning and significance in the mysteries of life.
A jury member: Judging others and their situation only after I have heard and understood the entire story.
A banker: Others share their trust and values with me and never lose interest.
A hockey player: Watching out for and dodging those who try to block my goal.
A marathon runner: Always moving and ready for the next challenge.
A mountain climber: Slowly but surely I am making my way to the top.
A tight rope walker: Carefully and stealthily I pace myself through every rough times making it safely on the other end.
A millionaire: Rich in love, sincerity and compassion.
Most important: I am Me.
An architect: I have built a solid foundation and each year I go to that school, I add another floor of wisdom and knowledge.
A sculptor: I have shaped my morals and philosophies according to the clay of right and wrong
A painter: With each new idea i express, I paint a new hue in the world's multitude of colours.
A scientist: Each day that passes by, I gather new data, make important observations and experiment with new concepts and ideas.
An astrologer: Reading and analysing the palms of life and each new person I encounter.
An astronaut: Constantly exploring and broadening my horizons.
A doctor: I heal those who turn to me for consultation and advice. And I bring out the vitality in those who seem lifeless.
A lawyer: I am not afraid to stand up for the inevitable and basic rights of myself and all others.
A policeman: Watching out for others welfare. I am always on the scene preventing fights and keeping peace.
A teacher: By my example others learn not to make the same mistakes.
A mathematician: Making sure I conquer each one of my problems with the correct solution.
A detective: Peering through my two lenses, searching for meaning and significance in the mysteries of life.
A jury member: Judging others and their situation only after I have heard and understood the entire story.
A banker: Others share their trust and values with me and never lose interest.
A hockey player: Watching out for and dodging those who try to block my goal.
A marathon runner: Always moving and ready for the next challenge.
A mountain climber: Slowly but surely I am making my way to the top.
A tight rope walker: Carefully and stealthily I pace myself through every rough times making it safely on the other end.
A millionaire: Rich in love, sincerity and compassion.
Most important: I am Me.
In love with you
As the rain comes down on my nostalgic mind,
Pictures race past and thoughts fly by.
You come to me, dont know how, dont know why.
You touched my heart and the memory doesnt die.
I broke free from the shackles of pain,
and i danced my heart out in the rain.
Not a single prayer is complete without you.
When you play in my mind, I am out of the blue.
Thank you for everything you do.
My sorrows are rendered sweet, for this love is so true.
I dont love you on Fridays- but each hour, each day.
Gonna love you till eternity, come what may.
Its hard to fight the longing and desperation.
This strange feeling in me repells so strong.
Dont want to part, though heart-breaks are in fashion.
Wanna relive every hour of compassion.
Even death cannot do us apart, no matter how far you are from me.
I'll face every storm, break all norms and love you till immortality.
i can feel the ecstacy and the heat.
I can hear my own heart beat,
Coz i think i am hopelessly in love with you.
Pictures race past and thoughts fly by.
You come to me, dont know how, dont know why.
You touched my heart and the memory doesnt die.
I broke free from the shackles of pain,
and i danced my heart out in the rain.
Not a single prayer is complete without you.
When you play in my mind, I am out of the blue.
Thank you for everything you do.
My sorrows are rendered sweet, for this love is so true.
I dont love you on Fridays- but each hour, each day.
Gonna love you till eternity, come what may.
Its hard to fight the longing and desperation.
This strange feeling in me repells so strong.
Dont want to part, though heart-breaks are in fashion.
Wanna relive every hour of compassion.
Even death cannot do us apart, no matter how far you are from me.
I'll face every storm, break all norms and love you till immortality.
i can feel the ecstacy and the heat.
I can hear my own heart beat,
Coz i think i am hopelessly in love with you.
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