Kya woh koi majboori thhi, zindagi ko apnaa liya usnay
Deheshat may guzaaray har din har raat har pal-
Kya maut se purani dushmani ki kimat chukai usnay,
Kya qaid hi kabool thhi har din har raat har pal.

Kohray kay chaadar se lipta ek nanha podha,
Be-chain dhundh raha thhaa nilay ambar ko-
Sirf ek boond dhoop ki pyaas thhi usay,
Kaash ek jhalak hi mil jaati pal bhar ko.

Haiwaan say dikhtay insaano ki juloos may,
Fursat hi nahin aati nazar dum bhar ko-
Inhay kya pataa kya hai roshni ki mehek,
Andhere may hi dhundtay hai apni manzar ko

Aaj mijhay fir se kuchh naye kapde milay pehennay ko,
Burdhay darzee ki sooi ruki nahin is baar bhi-
Umr kay moti jaday in kapdo ko dekh kar nazray
Jhoothi taarif say thhaki nahin is baar bhi.

Nangay badan ko dhakta raha saalon-saal isi tarah
Khairaat ke yeh kapde pehen loonga is baar bhi.

A day full of farce. Since morning...rather, since midnight today phone started ringing and there were people calling me up from close and near , not-so & the dear, with a voice sharp & clear, all just to cheer me up since it was my birthday. Some were reminded by their mobile phones. Some had it in their diary. Some were told. Only a few, whom you can count (on your fingers) remembered it.. I am waiting for more wishes. Shall not be spared throughout the day. But as the clock strikes 12.00 tonight...will that be over? No, I suppose. There would be a new set of people. Ones who had missed the date. They would send 'belated wishes'.

Why do we have to celeberate birthdays? Why dont we celebrate death anniversaries with the same joy & happiness. Afterall it is all about a person shifting his base...that's it. Dot we do that when we have a friend leaving for abroad and will not be back for quite sometime. Dont we celebrate that with fun ?

It is almost two months and I haven't worked a bit. The world to me now is divided into two classes. The working class and the not-working class. I repeat...it's not NON-WORKING class...I said NOT-WORKING class. And under this category fall only the small group of people in my company. We dont work & we are being payed for simply coming to office, siting the whole day, playing games, listening to music, Orkutting & blogging but not working. Joined here on 14th November (Bal Diwas), and since that day had been treating this office as a prep school.
I wish the scenario changes and we get back to work or to be precise, start working and earn some business and as a result, earn some profit for the company. Afterall, it is a serious business. Media...radio...FM Radio...to entertain listeners with good music. But what could we do. This is a new station that is being launched. Our new office and the studio is getting ready at a location in posh Park Street. On the 9th floor this is gonna be a -state-of-the-art radio station in the city. Just cant wait any more. eagerly waiting foir the day we shift and START WORKING

This is one of the best sculptures I have ever come across. Situated in the lawns of a Premium Hotel in Kuala Lumpur, the actual-sized bronze composition shows a carriage, with a rider, is being drawn by five horses. The horses are ready to take off but at the same time one can see a huge obstacle underneath one of the wheels. But the stance of the horses and the rider too reflects as if no obstruction can stop them anyhow.

Suddenly I felt this whole composition as a metaphor of our senses. To me the five horses are the five senses we are always 'drawn' by. And when powerfully drawn, nothing can stop us, Not even the 'sixth sense' which here, to me, is the obstacle under the wheel.

Your reasons & passions are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

If either your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.

For, reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. Therefore let you soul exalt your reason to the height of passion that may sing;

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its owndaily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes,
 
- KAHLIL GIBRAN

Que Sera, Sera"
from THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1956)
words by Ray Evans and music by Jay Livingston

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother
What will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me:

Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.

When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart
What lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows
Day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said:

Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own.
They ask their mother,
What will I be?
Will I be handsome?
Will I be rich?
I tell them tenderly:

Que sera, sera.
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be, will be.
Que sera, sera.

Jaam-e mohabbat aankho se hi,
Pi lete hain dilwaale-
Ek nazar may mujhko par kar,
Jee lete hain dilwaale

Is it really that easy to read love in someone's eyes?