Tanhai ki kahani

तन्हाई की भी है कुछ विचित्र कहानी
पात्र हो कर भी हो जाते है गुमनामी
अतीत के कुँए में एक एक कर होते दफ़न
इक अथाह ख़ामोशी की ओढ़े कफ़न

हम अकेले तनहा हो भले
खुद पे ही हँस रो लेते हैं
खुद से ही बातें कर लेते हैं
खुद में गीत गुनगुना लेते हैं
कभी आड़ी तिरछी लकीरें खींच
उनमें रंग भर कुछ ख्वाब सजा लेते हैं
औ' अपने वीरानेपन का जश्न मना लेते हैं

Vaishali's Mystique

प्रेम पथिक या पथभ्रमित 

तू प्रेम पथिक या मैं पथभ्रमित,
युग युगान्तेर से निरंतरित ,
रही ये कथा सदा अनकथित  .

अध्यात्म साधना थी या ज्ञान सुधा,
क्या चक्षु पिपासा थी जिससे मन जा बंधा,
रह गयी ह्रदय में सदा ये दुविधा .

कुछेक छ्रण रहे जिन्हें कर हृदयंगम,
क्या संगम....क्या विहंगम ,
वो मोह क्या कभी हो पायेगा भंग?

The Onsetting Winter

कुहे भरी इक भोर 

आज सुबह की सैर दे गयी एक अलग ही मजा,
पर कइयों के लिए कम्बल छोड़ निकलना था इक सजा.
कुहरे की सफ़ेद चादर थी फैली चारों ओर
स. गा. जै. उद्यान में भी बिखरी महकती कुहे की भोर .
पेड़ों से ओस की बूंद ने टपक जब दी इक सिहरन ,
कदम यूँ बढते गए मानों अनदिखते पर बन
झील किनारे था कुहरा और भी गहराया
पत्ता-पत्ता था कुछ सकुचाया, शरमाया
ठण्ड ने दी थी आज पहली दस्तक
मानों मौसम के बाल गए हों पक
बक्से से निकाल उनी कपडे लोगों ने ली ओढ़
पर बाड़े अन्दर गैंडा जा धसां और मिटटी कोड़
जिराफ भी नहीं आया नजर पत्तों पर मुहँ मारते
था सपरिवार जा दुबका छोड़ अपनी शरारतें
घड़ियाल की टकटकी लगी आकाश की ओर
कब छटेगी, कैसे हटेगी ये कुहे भरी ठंडी भोर
कि कैसे सेंकू अपनी पीठ की ये मोटी खाल
निकली न जो धुप तो होगा बड़ा ही बुरा हाल
साम्भर, हिरन ने भी नहीं लड़ाई आज अपनी सींग
डर से जा दुबके कि कहीं न जाये ओस से भींग
उधर पंडुक, हारियल, सारस सबकी बोली थी बंद
कि तभी छटने लगी कुहा अलसाये सूरज से मंद-मंद .
अरे ओ सूरज, क्यों दिखाता तूं अपना इतना भाव?
थोड़ी देर ही सही पर कुहे ने कम नहीं दिखाई अपनी तावं!
ज्यादा सयाना और बडबोला न अब तू बन
थोड़ी गर्मी ला लोगों के ठिठुरे चेहरे पे खिल मुस्कान बन.

The Wonder festival of Bihar-'CHATTHA'

The Nostalgia-
 I am always under swept with a feeling of nostalgia hearing the sweet, sonorous songs of Chattha, bringing in me a surge of past memories-with the setting in of the kartik month, every household seemed to be in the grip of this Chattha fever- the making of ghats for offering the Arghya to the Surya Dev. A team of young volunteers under the patronage of a mukhiya armed with spade, khurpi set out for the ghat to clear the space by weeding out the overgrown grass,then forming stairs like the Vanar Sena of Lord Rama while another group started the cleanliness drive and the large mounds of garbage just vanished as if never existing before. Every nook and corner spoke of spick and span. At home, the women folk cleaned wheat grains with the microscopic lens fixed in their eyes to discard every broken sick looking grain of wheat and outcame the healthy smiling wheat to face the process of washing, straining drying and finally to be grounded to flour in the chakki. The market was flooded with the soops and dauras and all the seasonal fruits and all of a sudden food inflation seemed to skyrocket, the buyers helplessly bargained for the soops, coconut etc. but the seller remained unmoved like Shylock. The roaring price failed to dampen the indomitable spirit of the Chattha devotees.

 Evening Arghaya





                                                                . Mr.Dabang-                                                                             

Mark the fear in the child's eyes scared by Mr. Dabang-

- People mocking at the holiness of Ganga with their unholy/unhygienic actions

 The religious fervour...?

- I, with my sister-in-law

The Charkhiwala surrounded by eager children-

 A joint family worshipping the Sun God-

This year, I spent this festival at my sister-in-law's place. The ghat was on the bank of the holy river, Ganga. On the first day of Arghaya to the Sun. we started quite earlier at 2 PM so as to have the choice place to keep the soop and daura. We got our desired place and were beaming with broad smile and an expression of deep satisfaction on our face as if we were the winners of the one day cricket match. We were still basking in the glory of our heroic deed when a dada type man arrived and scared away a small family of just four persons- the grandma, her son and daughter-in-law and her grand son.This dabang dada kept standing all through the arghaya like a scarecrow. His was a large family of eight to ten members and he kept himself posted there as The Great wall of China. And then, what I saw, filled me with repulsion-the devotees doing datoons, rinsing their mouth with Ganga water and spitting in the same holy river..... crashed all the holiness, ............leave their sense of hygiene and sanitation. Education still seems an untrodden path for them....
.But one thing was quite noticable.....this festival had erased the line of social, economical discrimination. It was nice to see all of them bathing in the same river, offering arghaya to the Sun God ( Nature) with boundless faith, Would that this fervour could be seen in our efforts  at our work front too..........! For full six days the whole state is immersed in puja and nothing else. Every other work is set aside and puja comes to the fore. It becomes the saga of Gulliver's Travels as enjoyed by every age group- old, young or children. The last or the seventh day, the whole town seems to be sleeping/ yawning after a week's hard toil, the streets and the roads wear desolated look with none of the veg. vendor to be seen far and wide. Is this the true worship of Nature? 

जुनून

इक अदृश्य सी दीवार के उस पार खड़े हो

हमारे दर्द पे हँस लेते हो

जले पर नमक छिड़क लेते हो

हमारी मुस्कराहट पे मर तो जाते हो

पर हमारी हंसी से जल जाते हो

कभी इस पार आ खड़े हो तो जानो -

गर जो मुस्कराहट के पीछे नम आँखों में गम है

तो दर्द के पीछे दुनियाँ भर से जूझ जाने का जुनूं है .

CRISIS-TRIAL OF OUR SOUL

मधु-आत्म परिचय 

मैं मधुरिमा का लघु स्वरुप 'मधु',

क्या दूँ स्वत: मैं आत्म परिचय 

मधु से हुए कई अवतरित लग नए प्रत्यय 

बच्चन की रचनाओं में तो मधुशाला की मधुबाला,

(इस पार प्रिये मधु है, तुम हो, उस पार न जाने क्या होगा)

परन्तु, 

आज किसी ने कहा हूँ मैं विषमय मधु प्याला .

तो उनको हैं मेरा शत नमन ,

जिन्होंने किया जो मेरा नविनामकरण.

अब तक सोच भ्रमित थी -

हूँ कहीं मैं मधुप्रभात की मधुरागिनी 

तो कहीं मधुयामिनी की शीतल चांदनी.

हूँ कहीं किसी अधर पर ठहरी मधु मुस्कान 

तो कहीं किसी कंठ से फूटा इक मधुगान 

कहीं मधुपतझर बन लाती मैं मधुमास 

तो कहीं मधुश्वास बन जगाती जीने की नयी आस.

आज,

कैसे जला अपनी मधुकाया दूँ मैं औरों को मधुछाया 

कैसे मिटाऊँ उन विषादों को बन कर मैं मधुमाया.

किस मधुबर्षा से सिंचित करूँ मैं प्रकृति की ये ताप,
किस मधुहास से मुक्त करूँ मैं नियति का ये शाप .

किन मधुस्वपन से आज भरूँ मैं ह्रदय के ये छाले,

जब मधुरिमा को मधु से अवतरित ये रूप ही चुरा लें 

अस्ताचल सूरज 

वो  अस्ताचल सूरज,

ढला सारे तेज को तज.

शनै: घिरती जा रही संध्या,

मानो हो एक मौन बंध्या 

कातर दृष्टी ने मांगी उत्तर 

क्या कल का दिवस भी जायेगा निरुत्तर ?

जीवन की सरिता के तल पड़ा पत्थर,

सुख औ दुःख से मंज बना पारस.

छु जिसे कई लोहा हुआ सोना ,

पर वो खुद तो रहा घाट का ही पत्थर.

मूक बधिर सा खोज रहा ये उत्तर,

क्या कोई मूर्तिकार गढ़ेगा मुझेमें इक नयी मूरत?

TWILIGHT- The Parting Day

Twilight sends off the parting day,
Like a man's hair turning grey,
Sets in to kiss the dark hours,
And from Heaven peace showers,
To weary souls all wrought,
 With slogs that the day has wrought.

MITRTA

इक अदद मित्र चाहिए 

कितनी अजीब बात है-

इर्द गिर्द पहचाने अनपहचाने चेहरों का इक सैलाब है,

पर, आज मुझे मिली एक अदद मित्र ढूंढने की सलाह है.

मित्रता के बाज़ार में अकेले असुरक्षित हैं वो खड़ें,

पर, क्या खूब, मित्रता की अहमितयता आज मुझे पे ही जता गए 

सो, मित्र ने ही मित्रता से आज मेरी कुछ  पहचान करा दी,

मित्रता के बाज़ार में लगे बोली से हमें वाकिफ करा दी.

उधर मुस्कराहट की कीमत क्या लगाई गई 

इधर मानसिक बौद्धिक क्षमता जाँची परखी गयी .

मित्रता की तो पूरी बखिया ही उधड़ गयी,

जो उन्होंने जिंदगी के फलसफे पर बात की.

हमदर्द, हमसफ़र बनने का जब दम भरा,

मित्रता का मानों जनाजा ही निकल गया.

 जिसे है रंज मित्रता के घाटे नफे की,वो तो खुद ही है खाली,

मुझ से ही ले चढ़ा गया मुझपे उधार, कितनी ये बात निराली 

हमें भी जिंदगी से न कोई गिला, इस हाथ दिया उस हाथ लिया,

वो जो खुश है इस भ्रम में तो उस ख़ुशी में बस साथ हो लिया

The Captivating 'VAISHALLI'

Who knew that the mere glimpse of this marble beauty some five years back would bring me back to this place! It was 26th June and the school was to reopen on 28th after summer vacation...it brought a saddening feeling and my heart started sinking at the very thought of losing my freedom and once again dragged to the chores of school. But the very thought of visiting Vaishalli brushed aside this passing gloom...and then it was me and my car...got the tank filled and set off to my destination just 55 kms away. Weather being nice had no problem in reaching there except a little traffic jam on the Mahatma Gandhi Setu....reached Hajipur....took to the left and then Lalganj and from there to Vaishalli.... a small village, surrounded by banana and mango groves as well as rice fields, has an impressive past...driving through the shady trees creating an arch forming a green umbrella over head and greeneries on both sides of the road was in itself a pleasure.It seemed I was in a green tunnel. From faraway I could see the dome of the Shanti Stupa...reaching there I found out that it really justified its name with its peaceful and serene surrounding. I climbed the stairs and saw Buddha in different poses- preaching, meditating, addressing,and mahanirvana forms. The view of the landscape from that height was simply breathtaking  Vaishalli is one of the earliest republics in the world (6th century B.C.)It was at Kolhua that Lord Buddha preached his last sermon. A life-size Lion Pillar beside the brick Stupa was erected by the emperor Ashoka in the 3rd century B.C. to commemorate this event. A hundred years after the Mahaparinirvana of the Buddha- Vaishalli hosted the second great Buddhist Council.Two stupas were erected to immortalise this event. The dark clouds had gathered till then and there rose a high wind. I took some snap shots in a hurry and then we were off to Kolhua excavated site. It had started drizzling and driving through the hamlets, banana and mango groves I had a nice glimpse of the pastoral life- the kachcha houses or huts, a few pucca houses too, the plain villagers, children having fun and enjoyment, the weekly 'Haat-Bazar'. the quiet life reminded me the lines by Alexander Pope-"Happy the man, whose wish and care
                                            A few paternal acres bound,
                                            Content to breathe in his native air
                                                                   In his own ground."

I reached Kolhua in just half an hour got the entry tickets and set out to explore the past....I just ambled  on the nice cobbled pavement , sat on the old antique wooden bench relishing the whole view completely lost in its enchanted beauty.The drizzle had dispersed almost all the local tourists except me. Every bit of speech dropped and the silence seemed golden in that solitude. Evening had started setting in and the a row of birds flew over eager to reach their nests. I too, with heavy steps took leave from that place-a place far from the madding crowd with beautifully mowed sprawling lawn, evenly cut hedges, flowering plants, the discplined Ashoka trees, well placed old fashioned benches and the soothing tranquility was picturesque enough to leave an everlasting imprint on my forlorn mind and heart. The back journey was equally pleasant though somewhat lost in the recollection as well as dreaming of some other chance in near future.

BUDDHA IN DIFFERENT POSES

A GLIMPSE OF THE PASTORAL LIFE

.

Har Divas Ka Ek Vihan

हर एक दिवस ढल होता अवसान 

पर पुनः होता एक नया विहान 

नित प्रकृति की यह आँख मिचौनी

औ सुख दुःख की पसरी छावनी
जिसमें मानव नित बुनता मकर-जाल
पर नियति दिखाती अलग ही चाल

मोह माया के नागपाश में वह विवश

तिस विवशता पे देती प्रकृति विहंस 

पूर्वजन्म से पुनर्जन्म तक जोड़ा सम्बन्ध 

तिनके-तिनके बिखर गया छंद मंद

पर हठी मानव ने फिर भी न मानी हार

आज पुनः चला समेट कुछ यादें दो चार    

A Visit To The Ruins Of Vikramshila

Bemused by my own longing to be a free roaming spirit I took a break from the ongoing paint work of my flat to avail myself of the this newfound opportunity of venturing into the remnants of the once glorious centre of learning- The Ruins of Vikramshila
.Once decided, everything started falling in line- ticket booked, painters to take a day or two off and finally reaching the PNJB on 28th May with racing pulse and beating heart. The train arrived rather late making me a bit impatient and then dashing to the foot rail into the chair car snugging into my seat. My co-passenger, a fat fellow in his 50s looked like somewhat a disinterested and dissatisfied lot always grumbling at the improper functioning of AC, worried at the counseling and admission of his son in some technical institute and then making grunting sounds in his throat at the snail paced movement of the carriage cars.Ah....!a poor soul unaware of the ways to enjoy the small, fleeting moments of happiness in life. And, there I was.... too excited to heed to these nondescript things lost in my own little world of imagination.
Train reached Bhagalpur Jn. an hour late. I spent my night at my friend's parental place and the next day was up at 6.00, drew the curtain aside,looked out of the window- the weather seemed to be on my side with soft, gentle wind and partly clouded sky. The hired car arrived at 8.30..a light breakfast and then we were off to our destination meandering our way through many a small hamlet enjoying the bumps and jerks on the zigzag road. The driver quite confident at his knowledge of the geographical location of the said site, though to me, seemed to be a forgetful fellow who to impress us, the newcomers and he in the role of a host , took the wrong way stating that it was shortest route to the ruins, had ultimately to surrender reaching the dead end of the road and again had to take the back route with his crashed self-confidence, smarting under our strict instructions to ask the passersby.......finally, we reached, car parked and entry tickets taken...all prepared to delve deep into the mysteries of the VIKRAMSHILA- also the centre of learning of occult sciences

The sky was pristine blue with light, fluffy clouds, and wind a little high in that almost desolated place. It just took my breath away to see the panoramic view of the green fields covered with lush green velvety nature's planted grass dotted with shady lined trees and in midst the ruins lying in the backdrop of the famous MANDARGIRI HILLS. Only a few local tourists were there now and then to pose against the silent ruins for snap shootings. We sat on a wooden bench with an arched back under the cool shady and lush green Ashoka tree savoring the unmarred beauty of the spectacular scene letting the cool wind loaf and play around us mischievously. A local guide explained in brief the history of the place. I took a few snap shots and then climbed down the stairs transported into the world of tantra and mantra.

Located at about 50 kms east of Bhagalpur(Bihar),the ruins have been excavated at Village Antichak and the process is still underway revealing a huge square monastery with a cruciform stupa in its centre, a library building and cluster of small votive stupas. To its north, a number of scattered structures are there including a Tibetan and a Hindu temple. The entire area spreads over an area of more than 100 acres. It was one of the two most important centers of Buddhist learning during the Pala dynasty, along with the Nalanda University and was established by king Dharampala(783 to 820), was also named as Vikramshila Vihar by the Tibetan monks. It had more than 100 teachers, 1000 disciples and produced many eminent scholars to spread Buddhist learning, culture and religion. Subjects like Philosophy, Grammar, Metaphysics were taught here but the most important branch of learning was Tantrism. The main stupa built for the purpose of worship is a huge brick structure laid in mud mortar which stands in the centre of the square monastery. Votive stupas are miniature stupas erected by devotees in gratitude of fulfillment of desires.
I kept hanging around the place as the serenity and the tranquility of the enormous structure cupped in between the verdant green hills and fields had an intoxicating effect on my forlorn mind and body. The wind wild whooshed past and time seemed to coagulate there. Neither of us wanted to let slip any moment, any scene unrecorded from our mind...so engrossing was its charm!
But then, we were running out of time and had to bid adieu to it. We also visited the site museum where a number of antiquities of different materials unearthed in course of excavation are displayed.

I then took my way back through that serpentine route feeling rejuvenated, fresh with a vow to make another such visit to some other sites in near future.

Yaadon, bhulon ka bhawanrjaal

यादों, पछतावों, भूलों का ये भंवरजाल,

निगलने को आतुर फाड़े सुरसा सा मुख ,

अंधकूप के अथाह अंधकार से 

वो आर्तनाद, करुण क्रंदन,

शुन्य को चीरता वो निस्पंदन, 

व्यथा भी खुद से व्यथित, 

तब भी तो ना हुई द्रवित.

दुःख सुख के दो अकथित छोर, 

जीवन के छिर सागर का मंथन,

किया अमृत औ' गरल का पान,

छलित दमित सारा मान-अभिमान.

अंधकूप से दिखता टुकड़ा सा नीला आसमां,

मन की तृष्णा ने दी बांहें पसार, 

चाही कहीं से करुणा व प्रेम उधार,

थाम जो ले चले दूर भवसागर पार.

Ye Kaisi Vidambna

ये कैसी विडंबना कि-

यूँ तो लगाते है सभी भारतमाता की जय जयकार

पर उसी भारतमाता की भ्रूण हत्या कर देते हैं उसे चीड़ फाड़.

यूँ तो सरे आम स्त्री शक्ति की लगाते है गुहार,

पर सरे आम ही माँ बहनों की कर देते हैं बलात्कार.

यूँ तो कंधे से कंधे मिला चलने का करते हैं दावा, 

पर हर सीता की अग्नि परीक्षा, द्रौपदी के चीरहरण का फूट पड़ता हैं लावा.   

यूँ तो शक्ति पीठों पर जा चढाते है पुष्पांजलि,

पर उसी शक्ति को दहेजाग्नी में झोंक देते है श्रधांजलि.

गर ये त्रासदी रही पाताल की कालिमा सी अंतहीन,

तब तो हर कलाकार है मो.फ.हुसैन सा घर विहीन.

एक कलाकार की मौत होती है उस युग की मौत-

एक साहित्यकार की मौत होती है उस समाज की मौत-

एक फनकार की मौत होती है उस सदी की मौत -

सो न डालो कला को कटु आलोचना के बंद पिंजर में 

न ही निष्काषित कर कतरों उसके पर 

विचरने दो कल्पना को अंतहीन गगन में 

स्वछन्द, उन्मुक्त निर्भय औ निडर.     

Tum Kya Ho

तुम क्या हो? 

तुम अब में तब हो

तुम कहाँ में कब हो

तुम सब में रब हो.

तुम चित्रकार की कूँची हो, 

तुम शुभ्र, सच, शुचि हो,

हर ह्रदय में बसी सुरुचि हो.

तुम कलाकार का सृजन हो,

तुम कवि ह्रदय का गुंजन हो,

तुम नाटककार का मंचन हो.

तुम बांसुरी की मधुर तान हो,

तुम पक्षियों का कलरव गान हो,

तुम नित नवीन विहान हो.

तुम प्रहरी सीमा की जीत हो,

तुम करुण ह्रदय के गीत हो,

तुम निरंतन में अंतर रीत हो.

तुम शिशु की निश्चल मुस्कान हो,

कर्मभूमि के अडिग किसान हो,

सारे अवसादों के अवसान हो.

तुम निराकार में साकार हो,

तुम रण क्षेत्र में धनुष्तंकार हो,

पर हाहाकार में भी शान्ताकार हो,

तुम कण-कण में समाहित हो,

तुम पल-पल में प्रवाहित हो,

इक मधुर निनाद, संगीत हो.

तो, यह न सोचो तुम क्या हो,

तुम हर सोच की इक बयां हो. 

Mujhe Wo Yaad Nahin Banana

  मुझे वो याद नहीं बनाना-

 जो अतीत की दीवारों में चुन दी जाये,

वो गूंज नहीं बनाना -

जो वीराने में विलीन हो जाये,

वो काँच नहीं बनाना-

जो चुभ कर इक टीस दे जाये,

वो तश्वीर नहीं बनाना-

जो दीवार पे धुल की परत पीछे छुप जाये,

वो सूखी पंखूरिया नहीं बनाना-

 जो किताबों के पन्नों के बीच मिले

वो शमा नहीं बनाना-

जो अपने ही परवानो को जला रौशन करे,

वो मोहरा नहीं बनाना-

जो शतरंज की बिसात पे बिछ पिट जाये 

पर, हाँ -

मुझे वो मशाल जरूर बनाना-

जो थकते, गिरते, भटकते क़दमों को इक दिशा दे जाये. 

Chal Gayee Nidra

रात विचारों की जननी है और निद्रा हमारी दिन भर की कठीन मेहनत का पुरस्कार. फिर भी यह निद्रा कभी-कभी  हमसे जिद्दी बच्चे की तरह रूठ जाती है. जितना मनाओ वह उतना ही हमे से दूर भागती जाती है-

आज निद्रा फिर छल कर गयी,

रात बस आँखों में ही कट गयी.

कभी कस्तूरी मृग सी कुलाँचे भरती,

यादोंके गहन वन में खो जाती,

छलावा बन मुझको छल जाती.

कभी तितली सी फूल-फूल पर जा बैठती,

मुठ्ठियों में कैद करना चाही तो कांटे जा चुभे,

आँखों का काजल आंसू के साथ रात्रि की कालिमा में जा मिले.

  

Pall Of Gloom

I want to sleep through this pall of gloom,
Enveloping me slowly in its demonic doom.

Wake me up, just wake me fast,
At the daybreak from the night past.
In my dream have I heard someone murmur
A call, a step has voiced in my deep slumber.

Let that call and that step stay,
Let my steps pace with that away.
Let my lips whisper back the call,
Let my whisper to him reel and roll.

My steps have started faltering,
My breathe has started fading,
Ah! hold me close unto I breathe my last
Ne'er ever through this world alone I pass

Raktabhit Gulmohar

The red murmur of Summer




प्रचंड होती ज्यों-ज्यों ग्रीष्म चहुओर

त्यों-त्यों प्रखर होता रक्ताभित गुलमोहर, 

नख से शिख अब अमलतास के फूल 

वृक्ष की शाख-शाख पर गए हैं झूल,

वो नव किसलय अब वसंतोप्रांत

है धूल धुसरित और क्लांत,

विकल ह्रदय वर्षा प्रतीक्षित 

आस भरे नयन नभ पे लक्षित,

उठे संध्या में जब मेघ घनघोर 

पवन बहा ले जाती उन्हें छितिज छोर,

प्रकृति के शैशव पर चढ़ा ये यौवन 

गिन रहा अब पतझर के दिन मौन.

A Prelude To Spring In My Balcony

 Spring arrived this year with a bounty of new life in my balcony. Though it was a long wait yet a visual treat when a pair of squabs came out of the eggs. It was a sheer delight to see them quivering and cooing. But, a repair work in the kitchen and frequent intrusion of laborers in the balcony on the pretext of getting their tools might have given a fear or insecurity to mother pigeon and to my dismay, one morning, I found them missing. Perhaps, transported by their mother to a much safer haven.

The Heavenly Morning Tea

My maid and I have our morning tea together. I, with my newspaper and she with her endless mumblings on her mundane job without taking care of it that I am too engrossed in my reading to listen to her. 

A Siesta At Hyundai Servicing Center

It was the second free servicing of my car at Hyundai car servicing Center, Patliputra on  16th. I reached there rather late and thus had no option left except to wait in the customers' lounge as the day was cloudy with a few showers of rain. The drudgery of this long wait for 4-5 hours gave way to the lethargy and let one gentleman enjoy the afternoon nap while to me it gave an opportunity to sketch him in his off guard.   

A Trial Run In Water Colour

Pursuing our hobbies gives us profound satisfaction. I have always had a fascination for sketching , water and oil paintings. I had done a few oils long before. These days I am trying my hand at water colour painting. The only thing that overcasts my spirit is that I didn't follow discipline in Fine Arts in my school/college days.I know I have overdone the colours here but at the same time I also know that this way only I can learn.

A pair of squabs

Pigeons have become quite adapted to urban surroundings. And, my balcony seems to be the safest place for their maternity home. The year 2010 witnessed the hatching of baby birds so many times from the eggs laid either in the flower pot or A.C, top in the skylight.My morning tea becomes so refreshing with the chirping, hopping sparrows on the twiggy branches of overgrown Shami plant.
This December, the mama pigeon again laid two eggs in the banana flower-pot. In the beginning, she seemed scared in my presence but later on, she  perhaps formed the opinion of my being the most innocuous creature in that surrounding, So, she kept on hatching her eggs shutting her eyes to my presence.
I left for the In-service course on 22 Dec with the hope of seeing the babies on my return in the new year.And, the first thing I did after my return on 3rd Jan was to open the balcony to see them. Wow...! they were there, a pair of squabs nestled under the wings of mama pigeon.The next morning I left for Bangalore and when I returned on 9th, they had become naughty little ones all the time cooing softly when fed up by their mama.
You can see the mama and papa pigeons sitting together listening and enjoying the cooing of their young ones. Yeah, children are the greatest gifts of God and to me, these baby pigeons the fabulous gift in my solitude.