tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43504527712460293582024-03-06T07:40:16.808+05:30Screams 'n' Murmursashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-35642493917192868232015-06-06T11:12:00.000+05:302015-06-06T11:12:16.909+05:30Faraar!Khud se hee faraar, ab hona chaahtu hu,<br />
har gam ko inkaar, ab karna chaahta hu,<br />
dil mey chhupey se ye jo armaan hai,<br />
un sabko mehsoos, ab karna chaahta hu.<br />
<br />
Phir kaisi hai ye dor, jo rok deti hai,<br />
kaunsi hai woh aawaaz, jo tok deti hai,<br />
aur chalta rehta hu main is raah par,<br />
ye raah, jo khud mey mujhko kho deti hai.<br />
<br />
Is dor ko tor, us aawaaz ko nazarandaaz,<br />
khud se hee faraar, ab hona chaahtu hu.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-10222042317611277652014-07-17T22:33:00.001+05:302014-07-17T22:41:23.593+05:30Reason for GleeA merry thee,<br />
a somber me,<br />
Thou shalt laugh<br />
'n' I shalt see,<br />
to borrow a reason<br />
for mine moment o' glee.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-46144388761791717372014-07-17T22:12:00.002+05:302014-07-18T10:44:15.098+05:30The TimesGone by are the times,<br />
gone by are our times,<br />
sure to come back again,<br />
if only, we stop looking back.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-57285459914506659502012-03-19T20:02:00.000+05:302013-04-19T16:11:31.201+05:30Him in Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EKHzNmg6dhp6szaH9wNb4XOq8jFzDa-hMaQ1O90fK3WTO2TZb_15rJCzECsQLMeV66zLmKk_IPdbbqOQyo93CbB-XmvcM7JkDzCX5XCDF8Aka7_ulxzRayf5iR9Q-Sf85BZDg1H1hLkt/s1600/Untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EKHzNmg6dhp6szaH9wNb4XOq8jFzDa-hMaQ1O90fK3WTO2TZb_15rJCzECsQLMeV66zLmKk_IPdbbqOQyo93CbB-XmvcM7JkDzCX5XCDF8Aka7_ulxzRayf5iR9Q-Sf85BZDg1H1hLkt/s200/Untitled.png" width="134" /></a></div>I hold on to him, <br />
the him in me,<br />
as though this me <br />
was never supposed to be.<br />
<br />
I hold on to him, the him in me,<br />
a clean soul, a spirit so free<br />
and I try 'n' try to just let go,<br />
but the me in the end does always bow<br />
before him -the me of years ago!<br />
ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-19742282927443678912012-03-09T11:10:00.004+05:302016-04-24T19:01:55.066+05:30What's your good name?<span style="font-size: 100%;">“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare once famously asked. However, had he been an Indian, he might have asked, “What’s in a good name?”</span><br />
<br />
<div><span style="font-size: 100%;">Does it strike a bell?</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">No? Well, no offense, but chances are that if you are an Indian, you too use the phrase “What is your good name?” or at least do not find anything wrong in it. Well, how can it be wrong, when referring to some one’s name as “good” is a mark of utmost respect? </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">A polite and gracious way to ask some one’s name! Well, the truth is that it is not! Simply put, it’s wrong English!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Until a few years back, I too was guilty of using the so-commonly-heard phrase in India. It was one of the sessions on communication which I attended in my office that brought about the revelation! The instructor animatedly described the reaction people from outside India would generally give, when asked for their “good name”. Some of the reactions are as follows:</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">“My… what???”</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">“My good name???</span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Are people supposed to have a bad name as well?”</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">“I don’t have a good name or for that matter a bad name! Just a name!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;">“You mean my family name? My nick name? I am confused!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">A quick Google search for the dubious question also affirmed the same. You see what I am getting at? The phrase simply doesn’t exist in Queen’s language and thus makes no sense for the people from English speaking nations. </span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">To be fair to us Indians, let’s do a bit of analysis. As you would have already guessed, it has to do with some of the Indian languages that tend to give respect to a person’s name. The basis of it lies in that many people here lay a lot of emphasis on the newborn’s name and make sure it is in agreement with what astrology/numerology tells them. The name is supposed to influence one’s destiny. Thus, an appropriate name is supposed to be quite auspicious. In fact, if you go for literal translation of Hindi phrase “Shubh Naam”, it gives “auspicious name”. </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 100%;">But “auspicious” probably got substituted by a more general and easy-to-pronounce-and-remember “good” and hence “Good Name”!</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Although, when it comes to speaking in Hindi, it’s one of the most polite ways to ask for somebody’s name. And it sounds beautiful!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">This does in no way justify the usage of the phrase in English, which is relevant mostly in Indian context. It however puts things in perspective and helps us understand how sometimes a figure of speech having its origin in cultural beliefs of a community breeze into the usage of a foreign language.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 100%;">So next time, just ask “What is your name?”, and if you want to sound polite, you can always add the word “Please”!</span> </div>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-33692531281184282352012-02-27T12:52:00.003+05:302012-02-27T12:54:38.437+05:30A heaven, here!<div>Separate from the one above,</div><div>A heaven on earth we need today,</div><div>You go there when you're born,</div><div>much before your deeds -good or bad,</div><div>and never know the evil's way.</div>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-33420455673869908412011-07-17T13:36:00.001+05:302011-07-17T14:43:54.106+05:30Think for yourself<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "><div>A friend in need</div><div>is a friend indeed,</div><div>but what when your need</div><div>is the cost of his own need?</div><div><br /></div><div>Many a song sung,</div><div>many a poem penned</div><div>-how, in hardship, the friendship persists</div><div>alas, in songs 'n' poems, it only exists.</div><div><br /></div><div>think for yourself -is the need of today,</div><div>deceive and trample, even if you may,</div><div>riding the right to wrong your friend,</div><div>for your need is the only need in the end! </div><div><br /></div></span>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-73600553342916591632011-07-01T00:16:00.022+05:302011-07-02T11:14:29.329+05:30Distance and You<p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigUKBV1Qc_bceed0Hu2jfhlRuc-f5H0uBvyPpatZK6pd0DAnINtbcsXDJ0QVx63M6Ux9jaXJY1iF04FyG9xLuGjKoyd2n7yI2A5BhBwISFBZ_uyR9CFxJluE1LDRgltiaSJT6RcvgO0JY/s1600/5010795697_99c447dda3_m.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624463308255268258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigUKBV1Qc_bceed0Hu2jfhlRuc-f5H0uBvyPpatZK6pd0DAnINtbcsXDJ0QVx63M6Ux9jaXJY1iF04FyG9xLuGjKoyd2n7yI2A5BhBwISFBZ_uyR9CFxJluE1LDRgltiaSJT6RcvgO0JY/s200/5010795697_99c447dda3_m.jpg" /></a></p><br /><span style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse" class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sometimes I am afraid</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">to come closer to you,</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">- only a step towards your heart</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">or a stampede of my emotions at large?</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">Sometimes I am afraid</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">to go farther from you,</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">- only a step away from your heart</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">or closing of doors that may never open again?</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">And sometimes I am afraid</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">to remain at the same distance from you</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">- only a growing urge to be closer to your heart,</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">or a loosening bond, that we may not even realize?</span><br /><br /></span><span style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse;font-family:arial;font-size:x-small;" class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Photography by Pankaj Anand</i></span><span style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse;font-family:arial, sans-serif;" class="Apple-style-span"></span>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-59553875157967155652011-03-22T01:41:00.016+05:302011-09-28T19:07:52.695+05:30zindagi hai pattey ki tarah<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="font-style: italic;">Trying my hand at hindi poetry for the first time.... :P</div><div><br />yeh zindagi hai pattey ki tarah, </div><div>hawa na ura le jaye, dekho zara</div><div>jis tehni pey hai leh raha rahi,</div><div>uska daaman na chhootey dekho zara.</div><div><br />thandi tez hawa chali lubhaney,</div><div>aur mohh mey patta bhi chatpatane laga,</div><div>rookhi sookhi tehni mey kya hai rakha,</div><div>socha nayi zindagi dekhu toh zara.</div><div><br />phir chorh diya jab us tehni ka aanchal,</div><div>aur tez hawa mey mast behney laga,</div><div>na koi bandish, na khushi ki seema,</div><div>na kisi ki chinta, na khayal zara.</div><div><br />phir tabhi hawa ka rukh badla,</div><div>aur diwaar se takra tab patta gira,</div><div>besahara, tarapta aakhir ye ehsaas kara,</div><div>kyu na rakha astitva ka mol zara</div><div><br />yeh zindagi hai pattey ki tarah, </div><div>hawa na ura le jaye, dekho zara,</div><div>jis tehni pey hai leh raha rahi,</div><div>uska daaman na chhootey dekho zara.</div></span></span>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-51566279331915648382010-04-04T22:22:00.008+05:302010-04-06T11:04:15.682+05:30The Turmoil in the Sea<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84wZEzUlYchFoY44XIxEyrILFyWZ8G7TWVd8Ag348crL-2QNmeFhIWOXluAvQPOGxfnpCfvrco8wOnD8VLAQFS7_h2VecKmx5RvPqAOMk-rSAS108l9ilbU1GcRpIVj7g-lp0Lw22kRO2/s1600/245.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456893296485690706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 439px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84wZEzUlYchFoY44XIxEyrILFyWZ8G7TWVd8Ag348crL-2QNmeFhIWOXluAvQPOGxfnpCfvrco8wOnD8VLAQFS7_h2VecKmx5RvPqAOMk-rSAS108l9ilbU1GcRpIVj7g-lp0Lw22kRO2/s320/245.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The sea sees it<br />again and yet again,<br />the turmoil that occurs<br />within and the pain.<br /><br />The sea that rests<br />in a corner lonesome,<br />sometimes expresses,<br />with storms gruesome..<br /><br />The storms will subside<br />again and yet again,<br />not the turmoil within<br />and neither the pain.</div><p> </p><p> </p>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-58272704040340833642009-04-25T16:15:00.004+05:302011-07-02T00:55:59.880+05:30The Role Model<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s not everyday that you come across someone totally strange, whom you meet for just about five minutes and who leaves a lasting impression on your mind. An impression which makes you believe something quite opposite of what you had always ‘known’ as a fact. Such was one fortunate winter day when I was out shopping with family, hunting for jackets and coats, in one of the popular, hip </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-GB">South Delhi</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-GB"> markets.<span style=""> </span>My brother and I had been trying different shops and had bought a jacket each, but finding good coats was proving to be a pain in the neck. My father, as always, was in the lead, guiding us from one shop to another. Just as that, we followed him inside one of the shops with relatively larger floor area, the whole of which was, curiously enough, occupied with just blazers and coats. There was this huge variety of them and we did not know from where to start. Just then a young guy, smartly dressed in a neat suit, approached us. His kempt beard and left-ear stud added to the rich look he already possessed. He could well have been the owner of the shop or some ramp model; such was the personality he reflected. But as he spoke, I realized that, in spite of his calm, courteous manner, he was an attendant. A look around the shop and I realized that the shop kept the same high standard with its other employees as well. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Dad checked the price tag on one of the coats that caught his eye and asked my brother to try it on. My brother put on the coat, while my dad approvingly said that for 4k it seemed a coat worth the price. And then something happened which felt as if a bomb dropped. As my father spoke, the attendant was quick to point that the correct price was Rs. 40k!!! Apparently, dad had overlooked one zero. Embarrassed, my dad explained that he had misunderstood the price and frankly told him that it was beyond our budget. My immediate instinct told me that there was no need to have given the guy this honest an explanation. I was now expecting him to turn into one of those typical, high-nosed, spoilt salesmen who give you an unrelenting ‘you-don’t-belong-here’ stare in such situations. But something quite different happened. Seeing my dad uncomfortable, he spoke quickly again, but with a genuine smile this time… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">“It’s perfectly fine, sir. People like me can’t afford even a 4K coat!”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">And to top it all, he sounded apologetic. I was surprised. No, I must say I was pleasantly shocked. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Well, he had had many options. He could have kept quite or he could have behaved in a manner that my instinct told me he would. Or he could have gone overboard by taking sadistic pleasure in making us feel more uneasy. But he did none of these. Instead he preferred to put us at ease. And he did it in such a respectful and friendly manner, that it made it possible for us to make a decent exit from the shop a few minutes later. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I realized that there are still some people in sales business who do not just carry out their duties in a perfect professional manner but also take extra pains to ensure that the pride and honour of the customer is preserved. I don’t think I would ever forget the remarkable humility on part of this person. And yes, although not a ramp-model, he is certainly a role-model for thousands of other salesmen like him. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Kudos to you buddy!</span></p>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-43321635429099949042008-09-27T22:41:00.010+05:302012-03-14T13:31:55.477+05:30Nothing Less, Nothing More<span style="font-style: italic;">A Passing Thought...</span><br />
<p>Standing here, i see,<br />
just many a door,<br />
which one to choose,<br />
which one to ignore..<br />
and when i choose,<br />
and open a door,<br />
then i realize,<br />
that to the fore,<br />
lies yet another door.<br />
This way the life,<br />
may seem to bore,<br />
but fun lies in<br />
making the choice sure,<br />
that i guess is life's core,<br />
nuthin less, nuthin more!</p>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-89322960797962065612008-08-18T22:30:00.005+05:302008-10-20T14:49:40.721+05:30Connecting with Nature<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSU2SBXjsnmOq3XW4Z_hVm1kcalHQhJj1OwReDW1tCXwy5YAeD5Hr15WkTDcXHRLUup2hYgCm45GlePc6GRfYaO7QFJBovvdbSLJ8ZCVMylI9aAx7KLgqoL8yNQHAmTSoIdHhmracbs6sq/s1600-h/DSC00261.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237194698622096290" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 224px; cursor: pointer; height: 189px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSU2SBXjsnmOq3XW4Z_hVm1kcalHQhJj1OwReDW1tCXwy5YAeD5Hr15WkTDcXHRLUup2hYgCm45GlePc6GRfYaO7QFJBovvdbSLJ8ZCVMylI9aAx7KLgqoL8yNQHAmTSoIdHhmracbs6sq/s320/DSC00261.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >I remember as a kid, papa would sometimes stop the car at a particular intersection-island near our home (one of those triangles that we see at signals for pedestrians) and buy me <i>daana</i> to offer to the birds. I would be scared at first but as I threw the grain on ground, birds mostly pigeons would come out of nowhere, neatly land and much to my relief without hurting me, would quickly consume all that was offered. They say it's a good deed to feed birds, but back then I was oblivious to this. I would only be amazed by the huge number that would descend, each taking in one <i>daana </i>at a time in it's little beak. In a minute or two they would clean up the whole place and would look around, as if waiting for some more that might be in the offing, their throats still moving trying to digest what all they had gorged. And then suddenly they would all take off, scattering themselves happily in the sky. At this point I would realize the pleasure and the freshness that spread within me.<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:100%;">All this was long forgotten until one recent vacation when I came back home, maa told me we have started putting <i>daana</i> to pigeons on our building's roof. At that time I could faintly recall my childhood experience. I decided I would bring them their breakfast the next morning, but could not manage to wake up on time. The entire vacation passed and I completely forgot about my resolution. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">I have again come home for a few days, and </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;"> today, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">although wanting to sleep till late, somehow got up early. I was looking for something to do, turned on the computer, and just as I was settling down in my chair, a whiff of fresh air made it's way through the window and hit me. I could not resist going out on the terrace. I appreciated the potted plants with beautiful flowers lovingly nurtured by maa. I then decided to go on the roof to have the city's view. I climbed up and as I was observing the city's skyline, I saw some pigeons come one by one, and perch on the roof's ledge. It then occurred to me that these hungry creatures were mistaking me for papa, who had yet not returned from his morning walk to feed them. The </span><i style="font-family: courier new;">daana</i><span style="font-family:courier new;"> container, a tightly sealed jar, was on the roof itself. I opened it unsure of how to go about it. I took out some <em>daana</em> in my hand, and threw it on the floor. The pigeons that were waiting hopped down from the ledge and started eating it. I threw some more and then some more.. and then all of the sudden the whole sky above me seemed to be filled with the pigeons.. This blue blanket was soon on the floor, busy juggling the grains in their beaks, competing with each other and so unmindful of my presence. Or maybe they just did not consider me a threat. So there I was, standing so close to them, mesmerized by what I saw. I had never imagined that these little birds would make such a fascinating sight. And the childhood memories rushed back, reminding me of the same delight I felt then.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >I guess nothing is more serene and beautiful than watching the nature's less privileged creations living with equal zest and determination as we humans do. And this experience is certainly an humbling one.</span>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-67202133091467400572008-04-24T23:34:00.001+05:302008-04-30T20:28:13.486+05:30Life, a Sports Car<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPsupXIDC2bOK4247_9vwJHJgdg8LlwIJiep5NBadNBU3q7xuhODFbiutqBZ1qZu4FmxbOKiEv45QQaHZGVzXaFuPk0M_WKln1KwLdUdGyLHONbUpUqf3aHrqwE0A1dZaxDIBc7aRUWAz/s1600-h/f1cejan_leadin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPsupXIDC2bOK4247_9vwJHJgdg8LlwIJiep5NBadNBU3q7xuhODFbiutqBZ1qZu4FmxbOKiEv45QQaHZGVzXaFuPk0M_WKln1KwLdUdGyLHONbUpUqf3aHrqwE0A1dZaxDIBc7aRUWAz/s320/f1cejan_leadin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192879981186941794" border="0" /></a><br />Reality, a maze tough,<br />soul in deep slumber,<br />driving a leaking life<br />mind a hopeless driver.<br /><br />Past, a coach cruel,<br />follies he does remind,<br />memories, the racers rough,<br />impossible to leave behind.<br /><br />Dream, a destination far,<br />distant on track lonesome,<br />love, the fuel scarce,<br />desperation to find some.<br /><br />Heart, a map hazy,<br />perception of direction rare,<br />Oh, the path ahead,<br />hand, unsure with gear.<br /><br />Amongst emotions: enemies great,<br />Faith, the friend consoles,<br />gives hope, courage and,<br />life, the car rolls.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-21296267120047099652008-01-03T04:15:00.000+05:302008-01-03T15:21:21.168+05:30The Perspective<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPGx39rbLc9MMrcxAppamJeNZpqxMXTUJfpgCYe3C0q_jvciyveiz8abGCzGzrCHdnNrF6iXbge0J3k-opqCp2b-UHfbZ7JQz9zutUU53OV5HyqOVyHwmHxdnWjzzMBKD9lvyDyqaX8aN/s1600-h/Dsc01207.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPGx39rbLc9MMrcxAppamJeNZpqxMXTUJfpgCYe3C0q_jvciyveiz8abGCzGzrCHdnNrF6iXbge0J3k-opqCp2b-UHfbZ7JQz9zutUU53OV5HyqOVyHwmHxdnWjzzMBKD9lvyDyqaX8aN/s320/Dsc01207.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150812309876913394" border="0" /></a><br />Take a hard look at this pic.<br /><br />On right is an almirah with a mirror on it; and on left an open door leading to staircase. so its like watching what is behind my back and what lies ahead in the same frame -something like putting past and future in the same perspective!!!<br /><br />And to come to think of it I took this picture on Jan 1 this year, it might be a coincidence telling me something...ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-42646296912104706422007-12-26T23:26:00.001+05:302010-04-09T23:25:01.344+05:30The Horizon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6j2QfYggHxFmJ8j2ZdhIhv0jgDxhf7OfLyf9bTOwM8c5eTV83Of0yOioJW5QG8UZx7qu9B2JN36xex669wBZM2igsZ4ACzJGBidbi_MRGPLc3_RWmToE8u_NrDyltJR7yHG1TIxlJVn4g/s1600-h/horizon-path.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6j2QfYggHxFmJ8j2ZdhIhv0jgDxhf7OfLyf9bTOwM8c5eTV83Of0yOioJW5QG8UZx7qu9B2JN36xex669wBZM2igsZ4ACzJGBidbi_MRGPLc3_RWmToE8u_NrDyltJR7yHG1TIxlJVn4g/s320/horizon-path.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148931367604335794" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br />Far beyond the horizon i see,<br />lie my dreams, my fantasy,<br />yet so uncertain the path i follow,<br />vague roadsigns, promises hollow.<br /><br />Pass i many a meadow,<br />those tempting springs,<br />the flowers that glow,<br />-nature's bait, they call me n lure,<br />and I stray, when I resist nomore.<br /><br />Come back I on the path again,<br />nomore of those pleasures vain,<br />stumbling, falling, even if I may,<br />witness shall be the sun of the day,<br />when i'll reach the horizon i see,<br />and realize my dreams, my fantasy.</div>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-66268656698090656342007-10-19T16:12:00.002+05:302012-03-14T13:36:30.861+05:30Bombinder Jaisi Koi Nahin!!!<span class="sb12" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)">all u guys out there eyeing a hot chick read this first...</span><br />
</span><br />
<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOx2lQCEYGBDYAnI-WFLDKp-OlkpNVgZX5d-DK2tUZKTvtBFDbOKuC0zHXKiAuhWYm1dQLUPoDIgBbG-EnXwHTb6pZWb5lex0XUNfr2CjcP_whV1LexQWmy1YxuRsCx7Pt2qfrcco4rtRN/s1600-h/face.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148937689796195538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOx2lQCEYGBDYAnI-WFLDKp-OlkpNVgZX5d-DK2tUZKTvtBFDbOKuC0zHXKiAuhWYm1dQLUPoDIgBbG-EnXwHTb6pZWb5lex0XUNfr2CjcP_whV1LexQWmy1YxuRsCx7Pt2qfrcco4rtRN/s320/face.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="sb8"><P>I wanna share this really ‘educational’ experience with u all. It’s about a girl called Bombinder. If u r wondering what kinda name ‘Bombinder’ is, then lemme tell u, it was supposed to be a hypothetical one till we’d know her actual name (that now we don’t have any intention of knowing it, is a different matter!!!). Why the name? –cause she’s as hot as a bomb and she is a surd. So the name!</P></span><br />
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<span class="sb8">Bombinder is a health freak. Every time I & my friend Lappu go to the Goofers’ Park, we see her either jogging or exercising. We were in complete awe of her and soon both of us decided to pataaofy her. One day she was jogging, when Lappu (being an enthu kinda guy) went up to her and xpressed his feelings 4 her. Bombinder wasted no time in heating his face with a firm slap. Just then, her big fat Papaji... (Bombinder has a typical surd Papaji who also comes to Goofers’ Park) ...her big fat Papaji came outta nowhere, held Lappu tightly from shoulders and shook him so badly, that since then he has become a nervous wreck.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="sb8">But, I didn’t give up. So another morn, while she was exercising and Papaji wasn’t around, I prepared myself like any one-man-bomb-disposal-team would do to diffuse the hot n dangerous bomb –Bombinder. I approached her from behind…she had just started the bending exercises. I had prepared myself 4 everything but…..</span><br />
<br />
<span class="sb8">I had come very close 2 her, her back towards me, just then she bent again and a different kinda bomb exploded that took me unawares……She Farted!!! And shattered my illusions as much my smelling senses. Gasping 4 fresh air I turned back, my heart filled with disgust and sorrow.</span><br />
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<span class="sb8">So, herein lies a message 4 all u guys out there eyeing a hot, bomb-like Bombinder BEWARE!!! –she might turn out 2 be a different kinda bomb altogether.</span><br />
</div><span class="sb8"><br />
(<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">This is my first ever blog that i wrote in 2004-05 on rediff: </span><a href="http://friendlyghost_fg2.rediffblogs.com/"><span style="font-size:+0;">http://friendlyghost_fg2.rediffblogs.com</span></a>)<br />
</span>ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-214565585732843012007-09-27T21:17:00.000+05:302014-04-13T10:10:16.991+05:30The Elusive Warbler<title> The Elusive Warbler</title><br />
Nursing a broken heart,<br />
this body of a recluse,<br />
where's love, is it there?<br />
the dilemma does confuse.<br />
<br />
The sunsets, day after day,<br />
have that uncanny resemblance,<br />
the mind churns, the heart sinks,<br />
in sorrows' deep assemblance.<br />
<br />
Like that elusive warbler,<br />
happiness still eludes,<br />
and this sad hunter,<br />
rejected, dejected broods.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350452771246029358.post-24030143090913486462007-09-27T20:32:00.002+05:302010-01-04T19:56:35.189+05:30The Unknown SailorPossessed by a power unknown,<br />'n obsession to see it thru,<br />he sailed the tides, and winds he braved,<br />and vicious sharks too.<br /><br />Tho' he ran the show,<br />the glory wasn't his,<br />for, the sailor who steers the ship,<br />on the deck, amongst 'brave',<br />his presence is oft a miss.<br /><br />And the ship finally reached<br />and he got 'em their destiny,<br />In joy they danced n shrieked<br />on island of treasure, glee;<br />n forgotten, ignored behind the celebrating crowd,<br />the pleasure, for him, was not to be.ashish goelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07915840108755143705noreply@blogger.com5