The poet in me always comes to the fore when talking of love and romance, and virtually anything to do with life in general. I define what I see by what I believe to be in the heart of things. Take for example motor racing which is so special to me, for your information, watched every event there has been for motor racing in India, now motor racing is a fine art that requires the reflexes of a gazelle and the strength of a Leopard. What is oft forgotten is the art, the very way the machinery and man become as one to overcome all odds, its an artists dream and if you see through it, as I do and see the poetry behind all sports.
When I was a young kid growing up on the streets there was this feel that we had to race our cycles because it was the in thing for kids to be doing, to be BMXing and jumping railings and tearing madly down bends and hairpins. It was madness galore and in the back street alleys that were teaming with halwais' and raddi paper wallas as also the chacha bhatija fruit sellers, we had a torrid time manoeuvring through throngs on the alleys. One gentleman, his name I still remember distinctly, Chandan Bhai, would offer his samosas even as we raced down or was it up Siddiqui street. Ram Nivas would be selling jalebi's which I particularly liked and that was always a distraction, to this day, if I lose a race I attribute it to Ram Nivas.
The busy streets left a vast influence on me, I felt it calmed my nerves by taking my nervous energy away and giving me something as close to an Arpizol as any activity or place would. When I moved to the calmness of Lutyen Delhi, though nice, I felt I would have been better of if my office was based out of Chandni Chowk. I am street man, live by getting my mind to work in any situation, sitting standing or sleeping, and its hard to imagine that everything is alright in the calm of the night when there are no noises or feels to tell me so, as a matter of fact, the days especially the winter ones can be worst than the most silent ones I have experienced from where I come from.
Petty thoughts are left far aside as I dwell into the reason behind my frayed raw nerves and I sing out loudly :
" Jeeney ko mango toh yahan jahan milta hai,
Kuch na kaho, kuch na bolo, bus sun lo, bus,
Is dil mein bhi hain kuch khwaishey,
Abhi pura hona hai baki jiney"
Kissi ko bin kahey yahan pey jahan milta hai,
Aur kayi cheekey unsuni ho jaati hai
Yeh kya hai silsila zindagi ka,
Shayad karvan mein juudo tho hi nasha milta hai"
Times, they are telling me things now, don't tell me you heard the same thing I did too
When I was a young kid growing up on the streets there was this feel that we had to race our cycles because it was the in thing for kids to be doing, to be BMXing and jumping railings and tearing madly down bends and hairpins. It was madness galore and in the back street alleys that were teaming with halwais' and raddi paper wallas as also the chacha bhatija fruit sellers, we had a torrid time manoeuvring through throngs on the alleys. One gentleman, his name I still remember distinctly, Chandan Bhai, would offer his samosas even as we raced down or was it up Siddiqui street. Ram Nivas would be selling jalebi's which I particularly liked and that was always a distraction, to this day, if I lose a race I attribute it to Ram Nivas.
The busy streets left a vast influence on me, I felt it calmed my nerves by taking my nervous energy away and giving me something as close to an Arpizol as any activity or place would. When I moved to the calmness of Lutyen Delhi, though nice, I felt I would have been better of if my office was based out of Chandni Chowk. I am street man, live by getting my mind to work in any situation, sitting standing or sleeping, and its hard to imagine that everything is alright in the calm of the night when there are no noises or feels to tell me so, as a matter of fact, the days especially the winter ones can be worst than the most silent ones I have experienced from where I come from.
Petty thoughts are left far aside as I dwell into the reason behind my frayed raw nerves and I sing out loudly :
" Jeeney ko mango toh yahan jahan milta hai,
Kuch na kaho, kuch na bolo, bus sun lo, bus,
Is dil mein bhi hain kuch khwaishey,
Abhi pura hona hai baki jiney"
Kissi ko bin kahey yahan pey jahan milta hai,
Aur kayi cheekey unsuni ho jaati hai
Yeh kya hai silsila zindagi ka,
Shayad karvan mein juudo tho hi nasha milta hai"
Times, they are telling me things now, don't tell me you heard the same thing I did too
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