Sunday, November 30, 2014

An almost perfect day

Yet another day that’s almost perfect,
Yet another time, I see the sun rising,
From the mountains that are far far away
It’s just so different and just another day.

You find what I lost, I lose what you find,
A jar of sweet treats, a box full of posters,
A show on the telly, music that I’ve heard,
It sounds all so perfect and looks so absurd.

A thought settles down and then floats away,
Of a winter that was just as full of lights,
A tad bit too noisy but as much surprise,
Sunny morning and then rain from the skies.

There was a wall of colors that I saw in town,
Walking down the steps, run towards the sea,
A blanket full of cozy, a window full of lights,
A little bit of wrong and a whole ton of rights.

It’s yet another day that’s almost perfect,
And why should I ever want it to be more,
We keep moving on our journey to far away,
Said so much and yet we have so much to say.


Saturday, October 11, 2014

Shooting star

Little moments, scattered sparkling,
Interleaved within a life span,
Searching for a half read book,
Stumbling into an old photograph,
Edges still a tad bit sharp,
Memories crystal clear in the mind,
Traveling between now and then,
Easier than you think it is,
And then as the minutes pass,
Picking up a drawing board,
A few lines drawn, thousands to go,
From yesterday into tomorrow,
Moments were gems and will be so,
As you live dreams, with open eyes,
No questions asked, none at all,
No answers needed before they are,
Run into what you can and may,
A friend, a tree, a shooting star.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

The blue piper

In a silver shiny carriage, away he speeds,
With a bagful of some very, very strange needs,
He’s got some merry horses, to lead the way,
To move he says go and to stop he says stay…

Every city that he goes through, seems to turn blue,
Blue kites, blue curtains and people go blue too,
He halts in the afternoons, near the place of trade,
The children all gather around and form a barricade,

And he stands up on some boxes and screams aloud,
Come here, come here now,
Take a box of this and that,
It doesn’t matter to me,
If you are very thin or fat,
I have the same prices,
For each one of you,
And whatever I offer,
Is sure to be new…

And then his tunes follow, with beats and the brass,
And blue turn the people, and blue goes the grass,
He smiles at them slightly, he has what they stole,
He offers candies & pepper in return for their soul…

And then he’s nearly done, the skies begin to turn dark,
In the crimson sunset, his shadows make a mark,
He drives away into the shadows, with the horses fast,
But you can hear the blue piper’s music, till the very last…

Come here, come here now,
Take a box of this and that,
It doesn’t matter to me,
If you are very thin or fat,
I have the same prices,
For each one of you,
And whatever I offer,
Is sure to be new…

Looking for tomorrow

Hold on, Hold on, give me a moment please…
Just a second of silence, just a minute at ease…
I feel so lost, from all these days trying to find,
From the lanes of the city to the corners of my mind,

Looking for a little bit of you in me,
Trying to figure out our mystery,
Somewhere beneath the grey shades,
Hidden away is a bright shiny key…

To our funny stories from the past,
When little things felt like a blast,
Like when you told me to hold my breath,
Giggling knowing I just won’t last…

And yet again,
We flew away,
Far away with the winds,
That caught our sails,
Felt like the gales,
Taking us to tomorrow,
Where we were told,
Happiness was sold,
In easy little packages,
And we found some for sure,
When we went through the door,
Looking for tomorrow…

Finding ourselves looking back,
At the yesterday we left behind,
Passing away like playful sand,
Hiding in a corner of our mind…

Hold on, Hold on, give me a moment please,
Just some more time, I have lost the keys,
In the lanes of the city, in a corner of my mind…
The keys to the yesterday that I left behind…

To our funny stories from the past,
When little things felt like a blast,
Like when you told me to hold my breath,
Giggling knowing I just won’t last…

And yet again,
We flew away,
Far away with the winds,
That caught our sails,
Felt like the gales,
Taking us to tomorrow,
Where we were told,
Happiness was sold,
In easy little packages,
And we found some for sure,
When we went through the door,
Looking for tomorrow…

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Spring Chasing

We  often travel from our homes to another city or country for a specific purpose, be it work or a hobby or to find something. On the way we tend to indulge in myriad of things & experiences; the food, the shops, the sights and the people. We eat, talk, buy, think, wonder, observe, sleep, jump, smile, laugh, cry, love, hate, yell and whisper.  We entertain and bemuse ourselves. That which leads the way is often forgotten amidst the hustle bustle of the way, the chirping birds, the cool breeze and the rough yet satisfying feeling of the way itself.

In many of those moments on the way we are not necessarily thinking of where it is that we were headed to. We might at times wonder of what our destination city would be like or what would the weather there be like; but a lot of times on the way we tend to think of things other than our specific purpose, our work or hobby or the thing that we want to find. If the journey is really long, the chances of getting caught up, in the many wonderful, nice, pleasant, scary, distasteful, bad or amazing experiences on the way, increase in ways that we cannot imagine. If the journey is as long, eventful and treacherous as our lives…

When I was a little boy, it was easier to always harp on what my dream was. You could start the day with telling your mother that you wanted to be a “fighter pilot”. Ramble it through the day, crashing books, spoons and sometimes your bare hands into tables, vases and walls. Make strange noises to feel the reality of the dream. “Whoosh”, “Boom”… you could believe in your dreams without questioning their feasibility, without attempting to ascertain the returns on your investments and without evaluating whether they were sustainable. You could finish dinner and yet be talking of the same thing. And utter those same words in sleepy murmurs. “Mai bada hokar airforce pilot banunga” (“I will be a fighter pilot one day”). The distance between dreams and tomorrow appeared negligible. Or perhaps it appeared to be too huge to worry about.

Along the way, those dreams metamorphosed into completely different dreams. That perhaps is understandable, after all the pursuits of life tend to change as we tend to discover the world and ourselves a little more every day. After all, very few of us would remember where they were headed to and for what purpose, when they started this journey of life. After all, we were so young back then. We have probably forgotten. It is perhaps that purpose, that original dream that I have been trying to remember all of these days. So that I can get on with the actual journey, reach my destination and be done with my purpose.

With every new day, new facts are uncovered. New things are learned, new habits acquired, new skills developed and new friends made. New possibilities emerge every summer, winter, spring and autumn. And every day I feel that perhaps I know my original dream better than the previous day. And that “new dream” slowly replaces the older dream and comes to the top of the list. So it is perhaps even understandable that somehow my dream of becoming a “fighter pilot” eventually metamorphosed into my dream of becoming a “software engineer” by the time I was 15.

It was not a simple caterpillar – cocoon – butterfly thing. It went through many distinct steps of the metamorphosis. “Army captain”, “Race car driver”, briefly “basketball player”, even briefly “musician” and when I was 15 “software engineer”. That was meant to stay for a few years. And yes I had my doubts about the universe, the cosmos actually wanting me to be a “software engineer” or for that matter even a “fighter pilot” but I came to believe somehow that it was what the universe wanted. Days went by and obviously a clearer picture emerged by the time I was in college. “Software engineer” was what I saw from far off but on closer examination it was actually a “tech entrepreneur”. “Software engineer” was probably just a train on way to reaching “tech entrepreneur”. And the pursuit continued since then with finer pieces of the puzzle coming forth from under the carpet. So I quit my plush job at the “world’s largest software company” and took a plunge. After all the “software engineer” train had to drop me off at this station. So all that is very understandable that somehow the dream became clear by the time I was 25, to be a “tech entrepreneur”.

What is not understandable is how our intensity to believe in our dreams, our capability, to be thinking of just them all the time, from waking up through lunch, dinner, till we hit the bed and even beyond, diminishes as we grow up. Everything can be doubted! After all there have been so many changes, so many new things have been learned and now that we have grown up with our maturity and what not, we certainly know that our current dream may also be just another phase in this large complex process of dream metamorphosis. What if our current bearing is not to the destination but just to another railway station? Such questions are no longer rarity when you start reaching 30. Some days, you start the day with “I am sure I want to do this” and end it with “What the hell am I doing?” You tend to ramble less about your dream and more about the feasibility of things that can be done. How much will I make? What will I get out of it? Does it even make sense? Thinking of it, it is not very different from haggling over the price of a leather belt at an airport shop (Yes it can be done!) – You get so caught up in that moment of potential gain that you forget where you are headed to. At times you might even change tickets on the way! You now know that can be done. It’s not like you are new to all this travelling and you will just sit quietly in a corner, thinking about getting there and getting your thing done.

Turning 30, I seemed to have hit some kind of a disastrously amusing and amazingly disturbing jackpot of creepy revelations. “This entire dream thing has no real meaning, this is just a big farce and actually we are here to make money, have fun, travel, eat good food, take photographs and post them on Facebook”. And you tend to think that you’ve been such a fool all of these nearly eleven thousand days of your life trying to figure the dream, trying to pursue the mini-dreams, all of that. The feeling seemed to continue for several weeks if not more. “Really? You really thought there was this big dream that was meant to be?”

Fortunately, I happened to find a cheat sheet towards the end of those few weeks after I turned 30. Like most profound insights in my life it did not come to me nicely packed in a single envelope. It came in pieces; of different sizes, at different times, through different posts and a few of them even in emails for that matter. It seems believable because some of the pieces have come from people far more intelligent, far more learned, far older and far more insightful than I can be. One of the final pieces was from Ang Lee (well in the form of an old essay that he wrote in 2006 after winning the Oscar for Brokeback Mountain). The summary of the cheat sheet is that your 30th birthday is like the 1st April of your life. And a lot of years before that the world conspires to pull off a big joke on you on that day. That cruel joke comes in the form of a number of insights, learning, suggestions, advise, realizations and creepy revelations. It tries to make you believe something that you have been made so gullible to believe over the past few years. It tries to make you believe something like - “This entire dream thing has no real meaning, this is just a big farce and actually we are here to make money, have fun, travel, eat good food, take photographs and post them on Facebook”. The trick is to know at the right time that it is not a revelation but just a cosmic sleight of hand.

The dream thing, you see, is for real. The metamorphosis is meant to continue till you discover your own personal original dream. You keep finding it and once you find it you pursue it. You are meant to hunt it down with zeal, with fervor. You are meant to ramble about it all day. You are meant to murmur it in your sleep. You are meant to think of it while you eat, talk, buy, think, wonder, observe, sleep, jump, smile, laugh, cry, love, hate, yell and whisper.  You are meant to think of it while you entertain and bemuse yourself. Life after all is meant to be a never ending dream!

The final piece of the puzzle which helped me finish this essay – the translation of the essay by Ang Lee can be found here -

Monday, May 21, 2012

इसकी फितरत

फिर से इसकी फितरत नज़र आती है,
खामोश सा है पर इसमें फ़ितना है बहुत,
कभी ये देखता है मुझको बेज़ारी से,
कभी हलके से मुस्कुरा कर बुला लेता है,
वक़्त! ये भी ऐसा कातिल सा ख़ालिस है,
बड़ी धीरे से सिराजो को बुझा देता है,
मै बहुत देर से बैठा हूँ इसे भूला देने को,
और ये है की हर बार याद दिला देता है,
फिर से आकर मेरे सामने आईने में,
मुझे कुछ और ये पीछे ही बुला लेता है,
ज़रा ठहरो और अश्कों को ठहर जाने दो,
बेहया हर बार ही मुझको रुला देता है,
कोई उम्मीद दिखती है जब भी दूरी से,
चश्म-ए-नवा उसको पास बुला लेता है...


Sunday, April 29, 2012

Coloured fingers

With the colours on my fingers, painting the winds,
Frozen at the brim of the abyss, shining and brittle,
All the needs, dreams, loves and hates of my searing life,
Hanging on the grey pedestals of would be rocks,
Just before it all started, when I was just a hope,
That someone clinged on to as her best moment to be,
Can't agree that this was all going to turn out like this,
But it did and the rocks turned out harder than reality,
The waves of my dreams smashing against them,
The bolts of my silent seething pain striking across,
The canvas of my vision, a little dull at the edges,
But bright, stark and sharp near the crimson center,
And thunders follow the lightning, a tuneful of damage,
Etching certain marks on me and others elsewhere,
Drawing out masterpieces from hopes and dreams,
With a rolling stone, cold cookies and steaming milk,
Little smiling faces, running on like flowing silk,
A fair barter for what was lost, whispers tell me,
Just before I felt the ice melting away on my  fingers,
And I could see deep down the abyss, a clear lake,
With no reflections of the chaos floating far above,
Just a silent cautious acknowledgement of its reailty,
Impelling me to step back and to turn around -
To look ahead to the odyssey ahead,  clear and new,
To let go of the yesterdays, with my coloured fingers,
And paint my own skies, fields and rainbow dusks.

- Anubhav

Friday, April 27, 2012

The dark horde

In the silent, calmly violent corner,
Of the deluded reach of my eyes,
I find a sudden uprising of sorts,
Bubbling little shapes of all sizes,
Seen from a distance like a horde,
Sounds of swords smashing shields,
Almost heard by the sheer upsurge,
And the vivid explosive changes -
Of their forms against the deep blue,
Backdrop of the late evening sky,
The sizes of their heads growing,
With every tiny passing moment,
Nudging the realization of their rush,
Towards me into my fading cognition,
A second here or there, I might say,
But surely it happened that they,
Were upon me with all their might,
I heard no sounds, just felt them,
As goose bumps forming over my skin,
They passed on, over me, through me,
Fading on the other side of the fence,
Leaving me staring into the blue sky,
Yearning yet again that tomorrow,
Around the same time of the day,
They would come around the same way,
And this time they will crush me...
I find myself on the verge of praying,
For them to be real for just one dusk,
To take me away into their dark rage,
Over and across the wet weak fence,
Into a star sprinkled night of substance,
To wait across the horizon for sunset,
And then to rush from the distant sky,
To raid upon another silent lost soul,
And show him the way to be one of us.


Wednesday, October 5, 2011

मैंने सोचा था की मै हूँ…

वो अर्थ नहीं जिसमे मै हूँ,
कुछ व्यर्थ नहीं, जब भी मै हूँ,
कुछ अभिलाषा है क्षणभंगुर,
कुछ दृढ़ निश्चय जब भी मै हूँ...

उन्माद नया, भय भी मै हूँ,
सच कह दूं तो लय भी मै हूँ,
पर कुछ सरल से राग न जाने,
कैसे खो देता हर दम मै हूँ...

पर फैला लो नभ भी मै हूँ,
सब संभव करता वो मै हूँ,
उन पलकों के पीछे - मृगतृष्णा!
मैंने सोचा था की मै हूँ...

- अनुभव

Saturday, July 2, 2011

ऐसा क्या इत्तेफाक

ये भी क्या मुमकिन है की तुमसे दाद होगी,
फिर से तुम पूछोगी, फिर नामुराद होगी,
माज़रा क्या है की आँखों में सहर होता ही नहीं,
अभी कुछ वक़्त है शायद कुछ और बाद होगी...

इतने खामोश हो, कोई फरमाइश इजाद होगी,
मेरी ख़ामोशी पर शिकायत की तादाद होगी,
और कह दोगे की इत्तेफाक से हम साथ में हैं,
ऐसा क्या इत्तेफाक की हर पल में तेरी याद होगी...

- अनुभव

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Watching by Anubhav Kushwaha
Watching, a photo by Anubhav Kushwaha on Flickr.

I often find myself watching myself from far above,
Wondering what is it that I am doing and why -
Am I forced to watch myself from far away in the sky?
Why is it that I am wearing a blue shirt and black shoes?
What is it I am looking for with my wide open eyes? 
Lost among people, places, dreams, duties & desires,
Seen within a shaded window somewhere at dusk,
And within another equally shaded window at dawn...
Why is it that I am not flying across the deep blue skies?
Why is it that I am not an ocean or a mountain or such?
Why is it I have so little and am wanting so much?
I wonder if I am watching myself or a shadow of me?
Thinking what it would feel like to be far away in a boat,
Or to be painting the skies with clouds in my hands...
Watching myself take leaps and stumble at small steps...
Realizing in retrospect of this place I have reached, where - 
Little dreams are not so little and big ones are so small.

- Anubhav 

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Dreams in ink

In a hidden world, there are things to be found,
A thought, a dream, a teddy bear or a broken hand,
Etching dreams on the white paper of memories,
With ink spills and beautiful curves spread across…

Red check marks reminding of the cold mornings,
With fresh apples, milk and bread to start the day,
And sometimes reminding of the hearts you drew,
On the small paper card which was thrown away…

Little circles of blue, holding hands, going around,
With some little shiny shoes and some not so shiny,
Yelling, screaming, laughing, crying and whispering,
Sharing hundreds of things wandering in little heads…

Green pencils draw the grass where you used to run,
Every evening with the hope to reach the pillar first,
Ink spills reminding of the moments when you did,
And realized that sometimes it meant reaching alone.


Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Fictitious reality

In the deep blue moment, a few minutes after sunset,
There is something wandering around the fringes of vision,
A subtle sound, a sullen thought of something that may be,
Or of something that might have been; something different.
But how often do we have a moment after sunset to pause;
And to think of what reality really is? Of what we really are?
Is it real? What is happening? Or what might have happened?
Is possibility a reality? Is hope a reality? Or is it all a dream?
A little bit of both perhaps or just a little bit of nothing…
I say, yesterday had meaning and then I say it didn’t!
Is tomorrow’s reality a reflection of yesterday’s dream?
When I touch; Am touched; Smile; Cry; I win; I lose;
When I was born to live and when I live to die, what’s real?
How different is reality from fiction? Is everything a dream?
What if someone is dreaming us and we are but figments –
Of an imagination gone awry? Would we ever know?
Living each day as it passes, counting, celebrating, mourning,
Waiting for the day for someone to say, “Wake up,
You’ve been sleeping for too long, dreaming up your life”,
When the moment comes, call it a good story and go to sleep.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Being Human

When you fly, don’t you feel like falling down?
Just once, to see what it feels like to crash,
To find the very bare grit rub against your shin,
To yell out in pain, to feel alive, to feel human…
To be human! What is it? Is it about winning? Losing?
Is it about changing the world? Is it about silence?
Or is it about whispering while holding hands –
Of someone that you know will not be around…
Is it about running fast when you feel scared,
Not stopping to look behind, running, breathless,
Fast as you can, to survive, to come back again,
To stand in the corner and be afraid once more…
Or when you stand in the center of the room,
Claps echoing in your ears, is that being human?
Feeling like the pivot of the universe, the only one,
Around which the world deserves to move slowly…
It is not about none of it, I have done it all -
And I can’t call myself human, I won’t die, I can fly,
Being human is about having just one chance,
Just one go at it - at happiness with a deadline.


Thursday, August 26, 2010

फिर इतना आकर्षण क्यूँ है?

मै दिन का शोर, तुम शांत भोर,
मै बहता जल,  तुम ठहरे छोर,
तेरी आँखे नम मेरी हैं कठोर,
मै टुकड़ो में, तुम एक डोर,
फिर इतना आकर्षण क्यूँ है?

मेरा जाता कल, तेरा आता कल,
मै बहका सा, तुम हो अचल,
मै श्याम पट, तुम नभ धवल,
मै छाया हूँ, तुम हो असल,
फिर भी इतना आकर्षण है,

तुम हो प्रयाग, मुझपे है दाग,
मै कर की मांग, तुम सरल त्याग,
तुम घुप तिमिर, मै व्यग्र राग,
मेरे भस्म से, तुम कहती "जाग",
अब भी इतना आकर्षण है...


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Now recruiting - New Team for LoL Season 1

Team Name:Vancraft Luftwaffe

Team Warsign - The VanCraft

Current team: 
1. DPS - Ashe - iolotusbobo
2. DPS - Teemo - stormryder
3. Empty
4. Empty
5. Empty
Leave a comment here if you want to join the team.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

आज ना होगा कल जैसे

फिर क्यूँ सोचे तू ऐसे ?
आज हुआ क्या कल जैसे ?
जब शाम अधूरी चुप बैठी
तब रहे अँधेरा चुप कैसे ?

बात बनी न जब शह से
मात करेगा तू कैसे ?
हाथ खुले हैं आँखे बंद,
ख्वाब बुनेगा क्या भय से?

जब बोल रहा हो जग लय से,
क्या शोर करेगा तू ऐसे?
तू रात अधूरी रहने दे,
सुबह शुरू कर बस जय से!

फिर ना सोचेगा तू ऐसे,
की आज हुआ फिर कल जैसे...