Jan 31st

Public Spaces

By Rajeev

There is a lot of hue and cry these days

about the rights on public spaces

Can’t understand why private citizens

Insist that their merry making

be done in public, that too on public roads!


Why not the merry making

In the privacy of a resort or one’s residence…

why should boys have all the fun?

appears a legitimate query

but then, both boys and girls

can have their fun in private rather than public


The same thing goes for religious celebrations

why not connect to your God one to one

in your homes or in  places of worship?

why insist on public processions on public roads

that give opportunities to the antisocial

to throw stones, to the manipulators

to sow discord among communities?


Fun and religion in private places

Instead of public spaces

So that society, read the ‘Aam Aadmi’

Is not inconvenienced….

Something to ponder, to consider?

some food for thought?

Jan 31st

An ode to ocean

By Veeru
In front of me
Infinite ocean,
Thought waves are gushing
in the mind-ocean !
scribbles on the sand
swept away of wave's longhand !
Rhythmic waves 
resembles music notes
proud waves raising
altitude in multitude
finally striking
the rock !
becoming pearl groups
singing sea-song, 
Sun raising
in the east horizon
after long battle with
dark-demon !
painting canvass of ocean 
on the other shore,
waves with her smile-crowns
streaming towards me,
When time stops,
when sea-song becomes
vibration of my heart
"Wave is form,sea eternal"
wave merged in the ocean
knowledge dawns on me! 
Jan 30th

काला तिल

By pranu
उसके होंठों पर वो काला तिल
उस झूठ की निशानी हैं,
कि वह मुझसे
एतबार नहीं रखती!
लाख छुपाएं पलकें 
झुककर तेरे एतबार को,
दर्द में भिंचे होंठों पर 
वह काला तिल,
आखिर दिल का राज 
खोल ही देगा!
Jan 30th

काला तिल

By pranu
तेरे गाल पर तिल, क्या गजब ढाता हैं!
चांद पर भी इक दाग है, सबको याद दिलाता है!!!
Jan 30th

खाली हाथ

By pranu
लोगों के दिलों में बसते हैं वह,
खिताबों के मोहताज नहीं होते!
दानिशमंद फकीरों के सर पर कभी, 
शौहरतों के ताज नहीं होते!
आंखों से निकलें वहीं नूर,
होंठों पर आएं वहीं दुआ,
दिल की बातों को 
बयां कर सकें ऐसे,
किताब-ए-जहां में 
कोई अल्फाज नहीं होते!
Jan 29th

Our Farewell Song To P.M.C.

By Dr John Celes

Our Alma-mater is P.M.C; 
Our Alma-mater, we salute thee; 
We are now full-fledged good Doctors! 
We start to serve, the sick forev’r. 

We will remember our College; 
Until we reach our Life’s end-stage; 
We had our days of much ordeal; 
We are now all so free, we feel. 

We had our tussles and fist-fights; 
Happy to have just won our rights; 
We had our days of rejoicings; 
Entwined in love, today this song we sing. 

We love our Teachers who taught us well; 
To be quite patient always in Life; 
And guided us in numerous ways; 
Showing us all, that there are better days! 

We look ahead to a future bright; 
Our past was dear, sad days, despite; 
We will miss this ev’rgreen campus; 
And the sweet songs that, Birds sang to us. 

Recreation did suffer although; 
Success in life always will show; 
Our stay in P.M.C. was so great; 
On the whole it, was a joyful state. 

We will miss P.M.C.forev’r; 
Farewell to our dear Alma-mater; 
We are now full-fledged good DOCTORS; 
Ready to heal the sick forev’r. 

Our Alma-mater is P.M.C; 
Our Alma-mater, we salute thee! 
Farewell, farewell dear P.M.C.; 
We will again come to see thee.

Dr John Celes


Jan 29th

The Medical Shop - Part 1

By soman

Faction: THE MEDICAL SHOP - PART I 05-02-2010 - by soman   (773 words)






She had few friends in the neighborhood, and had been doing a lot of reading (mostly Bengali literature) to while away her time. 

To be continued Often in life, we launch into something with certain expectations; what we do get however may be something totally different.


After I returned from a decade of incarceration in the sandy oilfields of Arabie, I cast my fortunes with a British firm which was in the process of laying a gargantuan crude oil pipeline stretching from upper Assam, through north Bengal, up to a central point of Bihar – a mere 1200KM in length. 

The project was scheduled to last 4 years, at the end of which I could look forward to another spell of freedom to resume wandering along the streets of Calcutta (or some other city) in search of livelihood – unless I facilitated a quicker exit by messing up my duties, a distinct possibility in a hectic project with time-bound targets. 

Any chance for my landing a permanent slot elsewhere in the interim, looked remote. 

I therefore decided, to be on the safe side, to be on the lookout for some alternative source of income for earning my bread. 

Being a bachelor, I was living in a lodge, sharing with two of my friends from Kerala. 

One day a friend told me that on the main road nearby there was a medical shop, situated in the unused garage of a two-story building which belonged to a wealthy elderly Bengali gentleman called Nirmal Dutt. The shop was hitherto being run by his son. Unfortunately the young man had died recently, and his father decided to shut down the shop. Subsequently however he came round to the view that the shop should be continued to run in memory of his late son. He himself was too old to take on the workload on his own. The son’s widow approved of the decision, but she came from an orthodox family; and her own father would frown at her taking on such a responsibility. As a compromise they decided to sell the shop to some “decent fellow” who would not cause problems of any kind – legal, financial, or domestic – on a ‘first call for repurchase’ basis. 

My friend and I called on the old man, and told him that I was prepared to take over the shop. His original demand was four thousand rupees, which included salami (under the counter for use of the premises), goodwill and cost of medicines in stock. He now scaled it down and compromised at three thousand, (as he preferred a Keralite, deemed to be less evenings (yawning most of the time), and no specialist qualifications to speak of. A cheerful soul, he was getting his pension and would hence be content with a low retainer. Customers mostly came armed with prescriptions from other specialists in the area. 

The pharmacist was adequate in his professional capacity, but of dubious integrity; and a dud when it came to accounting. The cheapest hand available, he competed with the doc in yawning. 

I was therefore obliged to attend to the shop myself after office in order to check sales, collect the day’s income, and place orders for the next day’s purchases. This meant going to bed past midnight, with only five hours left for sleep. 

The shop was just beginning to break even when one evening Kaajal, young widow of the previous owner, came downstairs to collect some medicines for her father-in-law who suffered from chronic blood pressure spiced with diabetes. I had not set eyes on her before, so I extended the usual courtesies by asking her how she managed to spend her time. She said she supervised the domestic help who came in the mornings, and then spent a little time to look after the old man - who was himself a widower. He had no other close relatives in the city. 





Jan 28th


By soman


June 27, 2011 at 12:04pm



Years ago my all-time favorite in tennis used to be Pete Sampras – affable, unflappable, no tantrums whatsoever; with a rich armory in his repertoire. Hence I was most upset when, towards the end of his career, he was dethroned by a Swiss ‘upstart’ named Roger Federer. At the time of receiving the trophy, Federer was seen to be weeping openly, and embraced Pete as a token of respect. I then felt instinctively that the boy had a good future. I was not mistaken. Learning from Sampras, he has had a glorious career since then and remained No.1 seed for years, just as Sampras had.


Top of Form


At the end of the game he was seen weeping openly; he embraced Sampras as a show of  affection and respect. I knew then that the boy had a good future. Learning from his guru, he has become and remained No.1 seed for several years.





Jan 28th

बिंदु रोशनी की

By Rajeev

शरीर रूप से देखे तो

तुम हो गोरा ,मैं हूँ काला

या मैं हूँ मोटा. तुम हो दुबला

देश, मोहल्ला, धर्म, जाति

भाषा. वेशबूषा सब है

शरीर से सबन्धित!


पर इस शरीर के परे

मैं  हूँ आत्मा

तुम हो आत्मा

सब भाई बहेनें है आत्मा..



अमीर - गरीब

अच्छा- बुरा

सब बाहर की बात है


अंदर तो, मैं सूक्ष्म बिंदु रोशनी की

तुम भी सूक्ष्म बिंदु रोशनी की

और बाप परमात्मा भी

सूक्ष्म बिंदु रोशनी    की...


तो देह्भिमान छोड़ने से

आत्मा अभिमानी बनने से

छूट जायेंगे सब भेद भाव

भाई भाई को, कर लेंगे पहचान ..


 NB: यह कविता बीके ( ब्रह्मकुमारीs)  की  पढाई से प्रेरित है।

Jan 27th

मेरी आँखों में मुहब्बत के मंज़र है

By Dinesh Gupta 'Din'

मेरी आँखों में मुहब्बत के जो मंज़र है

तुम्हारी ही चाहतों के समंदर है

में हर रोज चाहता हूँ कि तुझसे ये कह दूँ मगर

लबो तक नहीं आता, जो मेरे दिल के अन्दर है


मेरे दिल में तस्वीर हे तेरी, निगाहों में तेरा ही चेहरा है,

नशा आँखों में मुहब्बत का, वफ़ा का रंग ये कितना सुनहरा है,

दिल की कश्ती कैसे निकले अब चाहत के भंवर से

समंदर इतना गहरा है, किनारों पर भी पहरा है


वो हर रोज मुझसे मिलती है, मैं हर बार नहीं कह पाता

जो दिल में इतना प्यार भरा है, लबो पर क्यों नहीं आता

हम भी कभी नहीं करते थे प्यार-मुहब्बत के किस्सों पर यकीं,

मगर जब दिल को छू जाये कोई एक बार, फिर कोई और नहीं भाता


मेरी उम्मीद का सागर कुछ यू छुटा है

की जेसे हर जर्रे-जर्रे ने हमको लुटा है

कश्तियाँ सारी डूब गयी साहिलो तक आते आते

होसला जो बचा था तुफानो में, किनारों पर आकर टुटा है

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