Tale of my city

A tale of my city.
I left my city coz destiny had other plans for me.
My soul remained entrenched in city life.
My city...That's where I draw my inspiration.
The first time our glares met, I was fascinated by its immense beauty.
There is no one like my city.
She's soo beautiful and flawless.
Outsiders think otherwise..but, who cares?
Some call her Kalbadevi, for some it's Maximum city.
She's The Queen's necklace.
A world of two extremes.
My city, my life has been there.
In it, I play a very important role.
I lived there, I cried and shouted her.
I rock in my city.
My city taught me the essence of daily struggles.
Local trains, vada pav, sea face romance, monsoon, yellow-and-black cabs, the slums and the skycrapers.
After years of parting, destiny thrust me back with a bang in my city..
..but, only for a few days..
Amazed I was...
How my city never changed.
It is a world in itself...
I struggled, ran like a mad dude to catch the train and nab a cab..shouting Taxi, Taxi...
I lived my life in my city.
Here I live, dream and danced till the wee hours.
My city gently reminded me where I should be.
I am again not present in my city.
Ahem! Ahem!
Here, promising myself to be back where I belong.
My city, my life..Here..where I studied, I work...
Some call it an obsession..
If you haven't guessed my city..
It's Mumbai.
I love my city.

P.S: The poem has been inspired by the Mumbai anthem by Mid-day. Cheers to my city.
www.facebook.com/MumbaiAnthem
www.twitter.com/MumbaiAnthem
www.themumbaianthem.com

Dreams and the loose strings

Dreams are made of imagination.
It is a lot like love.
We dream to fall in love and we end up falling in love.
They are often the loose strings of the musical instruments.
The greatest dreamers are those crazy beings whose joy knows no boundaries.
Dreamers are the craziest lot who refuses to be bugged by society's standards.
We believe we can.
There can't be a better reason to dream.
We dream coz we dare to think, we dare to believe in ourselves and have the belief that we can turn our dreams into reality.
In our way, we may encounter many morons who will pull us down.
We just need to smile at them.
It's our way of telling them how idiotic and sore losers they are.
We dare to think differently.
That's why we will reach the top and they will not.
It's our attitude that matters not theirs.
Else, we would be in their places reflecting on the theory of impossible.
Dreamers are no unproven theorems, rather winners.
Dreams may take a hell' long time to turn into reality.
At the end of the day, dreams will always triumph.
We need to constantly challenging ourselves.
Practice this exercise to remind ourselves that we dared to dream.
Always dream big.
It's a lot like love.
Many great love stories are the by-products of dreams.
Keep the faith.

Good Morning.
Love

Identity, triumph and love

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

In the small town of Ravijain there lived a small boy Prakash whose parents were labourers. Despite advice from relatives the illiterate parents believed in education and toiled hard to educate their only son. Sometimes, they would sacrifice their food so that little Prakash can have a proper meal and that he is properly educated. They belived in him as the rest of the villagers laughed on the parents."They are losing their time educating him while he should have helped them ploughing their cultivation. In this village nobody attend school. Can't they see that they are wasting money educating."
Prakash grew up and won a scholarship to study in Bombay-the city of dreams that villagers have only dreamed of all. After all, it is a scholarship offered by the government of India. His father would proudly tell everyone that his son is going to study at the famous Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) in Mumbai, the city of dreams. It lead to envy in many of them whose sons and daughters secretly nurtured the dream of moving to Bombay and earn lots of money.
It's been six years now and Prakash has graduated as a civil engineer. He earned an annual placement of 10 lakhs at Tata steel. He is proud of his achievement and even more of the sacrifices made by his parents so that he can make a decent life. Often, he would think of his parents and what they must be doing in the village. Till he met, Ankita who was his classmate at IIT. Ankita moved to Muscat from Shimla when she was 6 and returned to study in Bombay 12 years later when she turned 18. She is the daughter of a rich media baron. Class divide did not came between and soon they fell in love with each other. Class did not matter. After all, they are both education and has landed in plump jobs.
"Prakash, won't you call your parents here?"
"Ankee, you mean here in this flat. I mean we stay together and as it is they are village folks. Do you think they will understand us and our lives?" 
"Mujhe kuch sunna nahin hain. I am dying to meet my future in-laws who educated you and made sacrifice so that one day I was able to meet you. Very few people from the village and that too illiterate people would make an effort to realize the importance of education. By the way, have you realized that they are far away from you and must be longing to see you? I know that you cannot go back to this life. But, sometimes, they can come down to Bombay and we can to Ravijain. "
"Ok let's sort out the things. Ankee do you think your parents will accept our relationship. Your parents are very rich and as it is if they happen to know that you are in a relationship with someone who belong to a modest background."
"Hello dude. Don't worry about this. It's my life. I am independent and earning good money. They can't dictate terms to me. I've got train tickets to Ravijain and we are leaving tomorrow morning to meet your parents.
Prakash and Ankita left early morning for Ravijain and reached the village after 26 hours. From there they took a place and Prakash spotted his house faraway from a distance. The house was made of slab and he can vision the tiny room where the three of them would sleep. The house was surround by rice field which belonged to the villagers. There was hardly any moving soul or the sound of a vehicle zooming unlike Mumbai. 
"Ankee, you must be bothered by the dust, isn't it?"
"Yeah it's quite dusty. But, I'm enjoying it coz it's the village of my baby," she kissed him on the right ear.
As they entered the house, they saw a slim and tall woman drapped in a blue saree sitting on the floor.
"Maa". Like a school boy Prakash leapt towards his maa and she stood straight, tears in her eyes,"Beta, Me and Baba was longing to see you," She hugged her son tightly.
"Maa,where is Baba?"
A feeling of sadness crops the lady and a twinge of tears falls down on her cheek. She maintains a stoic silence.
"What happens Maa?"
"It happened two months back. The entire village was flooded and Baba was in the rice field and the water washed the entire village and he was swayed away. The whole village looked for him and two days later he found his body."
Ankita moved towards Prakash and held the palm of his hand tightly. Both Ankita and Prakash asked Maa to accompany them to Bombay. She flatly refused."This is my village and will die in the village. But, I am happy you came and go back to Bombay and make me and Baba proud. I know he is happy that our sacrifices has not gone in vain. One day you come and make me visit your city. Waise mujhe bahu pasand hai." Ankita and Prakash touched the feet of maa. They left for Bombay on the same day.
 

Mumbai

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The count down starts. 34 days from now on I shall be in maximum city. It's been a long wait and it's worth the wait. I left Mumbai on September 22, 2007 as I bid farewell to the city of dreams. I left the city, heart broken and shattered. My heart broke on that day as tears dropped on my cheek. I had to leave the city. I needed a break, cutting me off from the local trains, yellow-and-black cabs and turned my face to love. I loved and lost. Chanda told me, ya dude do get out of the city. You need a break. Honestly, I suffered from a terrible break up and staying in the city would mean thinking of the past things that hapened to me.
In a sense it's been good. Lotsa things changed for better. I was able to surmount the heart break. I've come clean inside. I shall be in the city for a week. I can't wait to kiss Mumbai and everything that matters. I can't wait to board the local to Andheri, hang out at Churchgate, Marine Drive, Colabo. Mumbai rocks. It is the best city in the world. A city that never sleeps. I love the city and when you are not with someone that you realize its worth. Mumbai,my city, my love. A city that never cease to amaze me. Our never say die the spirit. It's amazing and intriguing how we bounce back after every bomb blast. The people are amazing. There is never a dull moment in amchi Mumbai.
I'm already making plans as to where to go on Day 1, where to eat, whom to meet. It's like running into the arms of your muse. Mumbai is my muse and shall always be. Our love is forever and ever. It is an adictive place. Since I have few days leave I shall try to do the maximum in the city and looking forward to meet old chums, make new friends and sip my Capuccino at Barrista and hang out at Bandra Bandstand. I'm back with a revenge and it's time for em to triumph in Mumbai. How things changed for me in a short span of time and shall witness the change that's happening in the city. I shall witness the fast paced life.
Do commuters still rush in the early morning to catch the local train to their workplace? Of course, they do. Do you guys still have chai at 1 a.m at Churchgate station and savour your bun with jelly. Most definitely. What kind of stupid question is that? Or the cutting chai at Rajabhai Tower, university of Mumbai and the walk from university to Colaba..the crazy run of cabbies and hordes of onlookers at Juhu Chowpathy and the coffee at CCD. These were the golden years or so I may call it. It was a crazy life in Mumbai and it's still..I'm sure for crores Mumbaikars. The struggle for a better life and to make the moolah. It's never been easy in Mumbai.
They say a life time is enough to assess the power Mumbai has over its citizens. One life is not enough to know even a third of Mumbai. Do you still recall running from one place to another to hunt for a flat in the city. SoBo..too expensive, Bandra not in the budget, Virar you can't stay and Andheri is the only decent option. It has new shopping malls budding up and the solution is always the BEST buses and the local trains if your college or workplace or film studio is located in the South or West. I still vividly remember studying in the library at Kalina campus and dashing to board the train at Santacruz, It's 8 p.m and as you juggle you way in the jam packed local, you tend to count the number of stations to reach the last stop as you are dead tired. No problem if you manage to get a seat you open your bag to read The Economic Times. As the train slowly approaches Churchgate station, you get down cautiously if you don't wanna be pushed by commuters who are waiting to enter the train. It's a crazy run. Yet! We adore the city.

It's a love-hate-love relationship we share.
Sometimes I get so fed up with you that I wanna leave everything and go.
But, only to realize how much I miss you.
Yoy are my special city.
You are mot just a city.
After all, you wear the Queen's necklace.
So vibrant, full of energy.
No wonder lakhs converge everyday to rest on your shoulder.
Like a dutiful mother you carry our burden.
We suffer in your lap yet we prosper.
Some of us finds love, while other suffer break up.
Yet, our love for you knows no limits.
As I ready myself to find solace in you,
I can't tell on the amount of excitement to be with you.
I wish that we shall unite for better and worse.
Love you my city.

My amchi Mumbai.