ChirpyQuill

 Sometimes, It's hard to render emotions in any form. One is lost in translation between the emotional and rationale side of brain when one feels the throes of these emotions. The paroxysm of it all.. Oh it shakes the very foundation of you. It's so heavy and yet you feel so hollow. Then, you look at the person in the mirror; you  hear a sonorous voice inside you, not so loud yet but a faint whisper which says that you haven't come this far to come only this far. That's when you pull yourself back from the edge and you rise. That's when I put on my running shoes and run against the tides in mind. 

  A friend and I were discussing the reason certain societies get left behind, while others succeed. East and West Germany, South and North Korea, India and Pakistan; being some examples, where the same people bring forth vastly different outcomes over a period of fifty to seventy five years which is basically 2-3 generations, when left to marinate in the systems that they chose or were forced upon them.  The cases of Germany and Korea are rather straightforward. Democracies versus authoritarian regimes in the guise of communism in both cases. Also market driven economies versus top down planned economies. The case of India and Pakistan is a bit unique and more interesting. Both have by and large market driven economies. Pakistan has pretended to be a democracy multiple times with the army holding the reins of the “democratically” elected leaders. The “establishment” essentially a polite way to mention the one who shall not be named (The Army) primarily decided the fortunes of the coun

 एक बूँद में डूब जाऊँगा यूँ तो आँखें इंतज़ार में रहती हैं तेरा चेहरा देखने के लिए,  पर समझ नहीं आता के तुझे अलविदा कैसे कह पाऊंगा,  यूँ तो तेरे साथ चला एक कदम भी मंज़िल लगता है,  पर तेरी उम्मीद के सहारे यह सफर अकेले नहीं कर पाऊंगा,  यूँ तो तेरे पास होने से रूह ज़िंदा महसूस करती है,  पर तेरे पास न होने का एहसास इस दिल को कैसे समझाऊंगा,  यूँ तो एक समंदर लिए बैठा हूँ अपने दिल में, पर कभी लगता है की बस एक बूँद में डूब जाऊँगा,  यूँ तो मंज़िल नहीं इन राहों की जिस पे वक़्त ले आया है,  पर नहीं पता के इन राहों से क़दमों को कैसे मोड़ पाऊँगा 

  That feeling…. That feeling that had notes of our hearts met, What a melody it would’ve been, That feeling that had we’ve been on this path together, What a journey it would’ve been, That feeling that had our emptiness found each other, What a completeness it would’ve been , A glasshouse exists in a corner of my heart, There lives an eternal love and we never grow apart, In the glasshouse, we dance forever free from fate’s clutches , In the glasshouse, the soft edges of soul come alive with our gentle touches, In the glasshouse , wrapped in the wings of love , our hearts find a home, On the lighted pathways of magic gardens, we freely roam, That feeling that had the walls of this glasshouses been shattered, What a reality it would’ve been           That feeling....  

An Ironman, by any other name… would screw your happiness just as much!  Especially on Race Day.  Which normal human being chooses to wake up 3 am, drink a protein shake that he made ready last night, use bathroom, get dressed, put a timing chip on, make another beetroot shake, use bathroom again and head out by 4 am to secure his place in the closest parking lot by a cold and vast lake, where he plans to jump in, and swim non-stop for 2.4 miles shortly thereafter. Hahn?  If this is not madness, try jumping on the bike as soon you come out of the water, wet and all, and keep biking away for 112 miles straight and over 5000 ft of elevation gain, from nowhere to nowhere in a hurry, eating and drinking on the bike itself, so as not to lose time in the rush to reach exactly where you started from.  If that was the end of the story, a confinement to save others from you would make sense. But the reason I recommend a padded cell is that as soon as you got off the bike belching and nauseated

Much is made about friendships. That they are important, that they are so fun, that they matter and outlast every other bond one might have such as marriage or even with siblings and cousins. We make movies about friendships, have songs dedicated to them. We even have a day dedicated to friends called “Friendship Day”, I understand. I wasn’t aware of it, until today, when I got some social media messages to the same effect.  “Happy Friendship Day” it said.  While many of us are clearly blessed in this arena, and I count my blessings for the same, what about those that don’t have friends. It is such a stark statement that my hand even paused a bit before punching in the letters. No friends? How is it possible? What’s wrong with you that you have no friends is an instinctive response. Yet, it is true. A large swath of people young and old live with absolutely limited    or no friends. It may be their age and age related confinement, it may be some unique circumstances like moving a lot w

 I am the great seer, I am Om, I am the silent prayer, I am immovable, I am the Himalayas - Bhagavad Gita verse interpretation. You see, the Himalayas, are not a mountain range. The Himalayas are an emotion. They are a vibe. They echo the very sound of the universe. And how do I know this, you ask? I had the good fortune of spending ten blissful days wandering and seeking those magnificent mountains, resplendent in their full monsoon glory.  When I started penning my thoughts about my time in the place closest to the heavens, I wondered if I should write a day-by-day account. I decided against it. Because up there, close to "Shangri La" time isn't neatly broken down into twenty-four-hour segments. It's delineated by each mountain you climb, each valley you traverse, every dew-glistened flower you see, and ever so significantly, who you experience it with.  The Annapurna Circuit Trek was the hardest thing I have ever done. Nothing has come close to the level of physica

Birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated Flees do it. They are all sad sometime. Humans too for that matter. If you never got sad, you perhaps aren’t human. So you can stop reading and continue your joy-ride. I speak for rest of us folks.  There are just as many colors of sadness, as there are of happiness. But who wants to talk about happiness. It will only irritate some of you. You just got off seeing your friend’s Instagrams posts and you are already a bit triggered, I know. So many effing happy people. Let’s talk about someplace less discussed and equally visited. Let’s talk about colors of sadness and the romance of marinating in your own juice. That too. So a tragedy happening to ourselves or those we know or care for makes us sad. A personal loss, someone putting us down or criticizing us, missing of a cherished goal, by us or a loved one, including a favorite sports team draws us down in some strange way. So many different contours of that special place we visit sometime, aren’t

Dear Society! Scene 1:  A couple of dozen 13 year old girls, my daughter included, are playing Lacrosse in the school grounds. It’s late May and sports season is in full throttle. So is the 80 degree heat. These girls are sprinting from one end of the large field to another, making their plays, taking and giving passes and scoring. They could out-run most boys in their class and have strong athletic teenage bodies. Some may pursue athletics in college, other will go into medicine, law, engineering, politics, social sciences.. what have you. They will also run households, bear and raise children and be the economic and social engines of the society, right alongside men.  Scene 2  A few dozen women are celebrating a festive time together hosted by one of them. They are all decked up in traditional fineries, loving the warmth of this “all women”, fun get together where they are laughing, eating, touching and appreciating each others fine clothes and jewelry. Generally having a gala time t

  10 days before.... With just an hour left for the deadline, I start pacing the floor up and down awaiting the call. Rewind a few minutes back when a random search on my inbox yields an email with subject line "You have been Selected from the Waiting List for The Jersey City Marathon & Half Marathon Marquee Event at Newport". I have never even remotely won anything when it comes to raffles or lucky draws, so how did I get this lucky...In hindsight I should have just bought a lottery that day!!😊 So, the phone rings and our Sincere Coach S calls. Now Coach S is very technical and data oriented. If your weekday runs don't add up to 1.5 times your weekend run, he's not amused. And here I was going to talk him into guiding me to run a half marathon in 10 days after missing 3 weeks of peak training with my last Long run being 5.5 miles. Coach S:You are already signed up for Brooklyn(still 6 weeks away), why do you want to do this? Me: Because all my friends are going