Lovey Dovey

O Princess, O Sweetheart,
My apple pie, my lemon tart,
Google you, I’m feeling lucky,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

Your hairfall, Your confusion,
Is no temporary but all season,
You are tea leaf, I am plucky,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

Your shyness, Your red cheeks,
All flat, What Macho, What Geeks,
Movie You, I Vicco Vajradanti,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

You wake up, its my sunshine,
When off you doze, its my night,
I’m like a cold, You Vicks Vaporab,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

So slim are you, still worry weight,
Let me have last bite off the plate,
I stain yellow, You White of Tide,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

Your anger makes me laugh,
Never full, all half and half,
I melody, you are chocolaty,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

Romeo Juliet died together,
People say they love eternal,
But I want to live with you coz,
You are my Lovey Dovey.

India’s Daughter: TRP Lust

Arguments, counter arguments and then some. This has been going on over the BBC documentary India’s Daughter. It has boiled down to the clash of two leading media houses. Both wanting to outdo each other in TRP race.

The media house who was to air the said documentary has begun rally in support. Rival news channel, has gone to town all bonkers against it. The sad part is, this war is not ideological. These channels could have easily switched places, and would have justified themselves too.

This is TRP race my friend. Documentary will get more eyeballs now, in this internet age. All those who didn’t knew about the details of interview, will know now for sure. So all the campaign against it will backfire. But who cares. As I said, it’s not ideological.

The flouting of norms and ethics has become a passe. What else could be expected of Radia-taped journalists. Why add to the horror of the victim’s family by airing the face and views of a monster. Who cares. As I said, it’s not ideological.

As long as the TRP’s are coming, it’s all good. Someone has the pressure to reach No. 1, other is under pressure to remain No. 1.

The irony is, I too seems to be in on the race somewhere, by writing this. Sigh!

Pending Amount 10/-

I am travelling to Mumbai in train. Got stuck in traffic and was able to catch the train just in time, that too owing to the magnanimity of Indian Railways; train got late.

Anyways, I somehow caught the train huffing and puffing and soon was fast asleep. TT came, I woke up and got my ticket checked. Went back to sleep. Sometime later, he came back; asked for 10/- pending amount. I thought, what the hell!

I asked him to explain me what he meant by pending amount. Matlab bhada hua kiraya, he explained. I was perplexed. As an avid news follower, I didn’t read about any fare increase. Poor chap himself didn’t knew much. I asked him for a reciept. He told that he is collecting now and will create receipt for everyone in the coach together and will give it. I thought for a second and then gave him 10/- pending amount. I want to sleep some more, hence it wouldn’t matter if he gave
reciept or not.

I also don’t know what this increased fare is all about. I only remember the smugness on face of Finance Minister, Mr. Jaitley when he said, Middle class should take care of themselves. So I took care of myself. Going by such clandestine increase in fares, and no acche din on the anvil, dont worry Mr. FM, come elections, middle class will take care of you and your party too.

PS: As I suspected, No one was given any receipt.

I miss you

When sun shines, I miss that smile,
Drop of rains, I miss those tears,
Wind blows, the breath you blew,
My heart beats, I miss you.

Come Diwali, I miss that burst,
Friends around noone to trust,
When night falls, I miss the blue,
My heart beats, I miss you.

Sometimes when I feel so dull,
I miss your efforts to cheer me up,
That cute face, that eyes pursue,
My heart beats, I miss you.

Day last when I was angry,
I dearly missed that soothing touch,
Calm me down, all anxieties flew,
My heart beats, I miss you.

Wins in life, no worth to me,
When none around to share with,
Fun is lot but happiness through,
My heart beats, I miss you.

Same food I eat, same air I breath,
But find myself on alien terrain,
So far away from land I grew,
My heart beats, I miss you.

I miss the eyes, I miss the cries,
I miss the hair, I miss that care,
I miss the mist, I miss the dew,
My heart beats, I miss you.

India’s Daughter: Phonies back in business

Controversy surrounded the documentary India’s daughter has brought all phonies back to action. With their opinions and commentary on various media platforms.

I read a piece by a self proclaimed eminent person, who was in news about controversial death of his wife till very recently. According to him, the ban embarrasses India. Cool! So a ban on a documentary by BBC embarrasses whole of India. No Sir, it’s you who feel embarrassed. You who feel economy class flight traveler are cattle. We can just imagine what you would think of Train travelers; Bus travelers. God forbid you meet a person who don’t have any money to travel, you would I am sure choke to breath the same air. You feel embarrassed as you would be asked questions by your friends across the world and probably in BBC.

Your phoniness knows know bound. Stop crying for British Broadcasting Corporation, come down to earth and do your bit for your mother India. But no, you would enjoy and feel embarrassed in the company of global elites, while we who are worse than cattle, are subjected to this torture of your blogs.

A lot of such his/her highness are raising voices across. Like all other issues in India are already resolved. Please work to make India a better nation, not to grab airwaves. I am deeply saddened by affairs of media. How have they fallen! The race for TRP has corrupted them beyond repair. I can understand actions by a foreign media channel, foreign reporter, who did things to make money at the expense of India. But why our own media wants to do the same to our own nation is beyond understanding.

I urge our national media not to fall prey to sensationalism. There are many issues in countries across the world. Find such issues and make equally outrageous documentaries about those countries. You will find me standing by you. For the sake of nation, spare your own country.

Holi Hudanga: Shri Dauji Temple

Forced to get up 6 in the morning, I lethargicly got ready. A customary post marriage trip to a temple around 2hrs drive away. Shri Dauji Maharaj Temple near Agra. Lord Dauji, the brother that Lord Krishna grew up with. Dauji is commonly known as Balram.

Early morning coupled with Holi hangover made sure there was no traffic. A smooth toll road and a futher bumpy ride later, we reached the destination. Corruption aside, I feel toll roads have done much good than harm to society. Anyways it’s a discussion for another time.

My mother went nostalgic about Tonga rides she had taken along the same lanes long time back. As we reached near the temple, we saw a lot of barricades and policebandobast. Apparently, today was day after holi and in this temple, holi is played today with God. Holi hudanga, with flowers, colours replete.

A lot of foreigners were mounted atop rooftops, with cameras and recording equipments. Festival of colours in itself, has a global attraction. And such age old customs of Hudanga are more so. We did the darshan and
a quick exit, not wanting to get coloured.

Uncondition Love

Some people say I am angry,
Some say I am stupid much,
Few find me too arrogant,
Special few uncondition love.

Some people say I don’t listen,
Some say I disrespect a lot,
Few find my hardness in heart,
Special few uncondition love.

Some people say I am filthy,
Some say I am self obsessed,
Few find devil inside too dark,
Special few uncondition love.

Some people say I am useless,
Some say I am no human,
Few find me unfathomable,
Special few uncondition love.

Some people say I am vagrant,
Some say I am uncouth jerk,
Few find me unreasonable,
Special few uncondition love.

Those people who find negative,
I say it’s all okay my friends,
For every hundred there is that one,
Special one uncondition love.