— mere funde

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Tag "Poetry"

A beautiful piece of poetry from the song Yeh Kahan Aa Gaye Hum from the movie Silsila. The lyrics of the song have been written by the brilliant Javed Akhtar. The song is also especially good.

मैं और मैरी तन्हाई, अक्सर यह बातें करते हैं
तुम होती तो कैसा होता, तुम ये कहती, तुम वो कहती
तुम इस बात पे हैरान होती, तुम उस बात पे कितनी हंसती
तुम होती तो ऐसा होता, तुम होती तो वैसा होता 
मैं और मैरी तन्हाई, अक्सर यह बातें करते हैं

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And yes – it is one of the most satisfying feelings to have been there and done that. The fact that I was allowed to take the entire talk on Intellectual Property was an added sweetener to the whole situation. The moment I stood up to introduce myself will forever remain etched in my memory, something like the daffodils.

And though I would love to be modest, I did a damn fine job at enchanting a lot of people.

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Some gems of poetry from hindi movies.

Likhte rahe hai tumhe roj hi magar
Khwaishon ke khat kabhi bheje hi nahi, nahi
Ainak lagake kabhi padhna woh chithiya
Ankhon ke pani mein rakhna woh chitiya

~ Gulzar, Hu Tu Tu ~

Chalte chalte mera saya, kabhi kabhi yoon karta hai,
Zaameen se uthke samne aakar, haath pakad ke kehta hai,
Ab ke baar mein aage aage chalta hoon,
Aur tu mera peecha karke dekh zara kya hota hai.

~ Izajat ~

Jab Nasha Tutataa Hai, Kitne Tukade Gire Hain
Hosh Chunane Lage Hum, Hum Bhi Kya Sar Phire Hain

~ Phoonk De – No Smoking ~

From: Random Thoughts

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Chanced upon this beautiful piece from somewhere.

rain.
it rained.
I
fell.
it
rained
I
loved.
it
rained.
I lost.
it
rained.
It
loved.
I
rained.
rain.

Source: http://www.mcwilliams.com/books/books/sur/sr1.htm

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We have shifted from our original location to a newer and uninhabited island of a place. Anyways, wanted to write down what is on my desk at the moment.

  1. A photograph of a girl jumping on a beach from Chromasia – with Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” on it
  2. ClocksColdplay
  3. Calvin & Hobbes
  4. Snap of STAR-PLUS at Indijoes (a lovely restaurant on Airport Road) in Bangalore just before the Rehman concert (which is another amazing story)
  5. Something there is that doesn’t love a wall – Akanksha
  6. Hugh Macleod
  7. IfRudyard Kipling
  8. DaffodilsWilliam Wordsworth
  9. Mending WallRobert Frost
  10. Sabka Katega – bodhiTree

Other than these I have a laminated copy of a Charles Swindoll saying and some work related stuff.

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Through bash.org:

roses are red
violets are blue
all of my base
are belong to you

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Madhusala by Harivansh Rai Bachchan is one of my favourite Hindi poems of all time. Below are a few excerpts from it. You can read the entire thing here.

मुसलमान औ’ हिन्दू है दो, एक, मगर, उनका प्याला,
एक, मगर, उनका मदिरालय, एक, मगर, उनकी हाला,
दोनों रहते एक न जब तक मस्जिद मन्दिर में जाते,
बैर बढ़ाते मस्जिद मन्दिर मेल कराती मधुशाला!।५०।

आज करे परहेज़ जगत, पर, कल पीनी होगी हाला,
आज करे इन्कार जगत पर कल पीना होगा प्याला,
होने दो पैदा मद का महमूद जगत में कोई, फिर
जहाँ अभी हैं मन्दिर मस्जिद वहाँ बनेगी मधुशाला।।५३।

कभी न सुन पड़ता, ‘इसने, हा, छू दी मेरी हाला’,
कभी न कोई कहता, ‘उसने जूठा कर डाला प्याला’,
सभी जाति के लोग यहाँ पर साथ बैठकर पीते हैं,
सौ सुधारकों का करती है काम अकेले मधुशाला।।५७।

छोटे-से जीवन में कितना प्यार करुँ, पी लूँ हाला,
आने के ही साथ जगत में कहलाया ‘जानेवाला’,
स्वागत के ही साथ विदा की होती देखी तैयारी,
बंद लगी होने खुलते ही मेरी जीवन-मधुशाला।।६६।

PS: A few spellings may be incorrect but there is only that much a transliterator can do.

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Read a lot of Neruda poems in the past few days. Here are some lines I liked.

Poetry

And it was at that age…Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

Saddest Poem

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Love Sonnet XVII

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

in which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close

~Pablo Neruda~

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