Tuesday, August 2, 2011

And after a long time, its cricket !

Ian Bell is a good batsman. Thats all he is. He is not an umpire. He is not a match referee. He is not the sole authority on the cricket field. At some point yesterday he decided he was all of these things. He assumed that the ball was dead. Him and him alone. His batting partner, Eoin Morgan didn't. The bowler didn't. The fielder who had thrown the ball in didn't. And the umpires didn't. Yet in a supreme display of arrogance, Bell trotted over to his batting partner, who looked most uncomfortable about the whole affair since he had just put his bat in the crease after attempting to warn Bell, and knew something unfortunate was about to occur.

Make no mistake, the error was Bell's and Bell's alone, nothing but sheer stupidity. But it gets worse from here. Ignore the indignation from the English, who almost drowned twitter out with calls for Dhoni's head for, well, doing the correct thing. As the umpires asked Dhoni if he wanted to uphold the appeal, they also turned to the English batsmen and asked them to wait on the field until a decision had been made. Bell's arrogance took to the fore again and he marched off, seemingly as oblivious to their request as he seemed to the entire run out fiasco. Note that even at that point the umpires had still not called Tea, it was Bell who took it upon himself to declare the session over. Bell was actually stopped just before he left the ground to his obvious disgust by the fourth umpire, who politely reminded him that the session had not in fact officially ended.
The most petulant and a serial offender in the English side, much like his father before him, and rewarded with T20 captaincy - this is the same bowler who is the only international cricketer to have conceded 6 sixes in an over in a T20 match - Stuart Broad, took it upon himself to step into his father's shoes and check if VVS Laxman had applied Vaseline to his bat. The English seem to think this sort of behavior is amusing, its a bit like throwing jelly beans on the pitch, its all in good fun when you're not at the receiving end. Insinuate that an Englishman might be a cheat and you'll get the response the Pakistani team received after their counter accusations during the spot fixing brouhaha.

Andrew Strauss and Andy Flower chose to approach Dhoni during the Tea interval and ask him to reconsider his appeal. This has been described as "most unorthodox" but the more simple way of describing it is that it was way out of line. You cannot go to the opposition and ask them to play in a manner that suits your players after your very players are solely responsible for an incident because of their stupidity, and especially not after the mob you're leading onto the field has already acted so disgracefully. The trouble is, nobody seems to be telling England that they're behaving terribly. Oh no, quite the opposite.

A match full of controversies. And finally India LOST ! :( 

Friday, July 1, 2011

Kuch Kaho na....

She was in his arms. fighting with her life. she is sure that she is going to leave the world soon. she is sure that she is going to leave him soon. she is sure that she is going to be dead soon. she is sure that she is going to be no more in this world soon. 

He is just moving his hands slowly in her head, deep inside her hairs; so slowly, so gently. so, that she might not get hurt. He is sure that after some time she will not get hurt forever. He is sure that he will be left alone in the midst of the crowd. He is sure that he will feel lonely. 
And at this senario he wants to listen something. and he expresses his feelings in this way. here it goes:

सौ जन्म का साथ अपना
साँस का धड़कन से जैसे, 
आस का जीवन से जैसे,
रूप का दर्पण से जैसे,
झूठ  के परदे ना ढूँढो
सच कहो ना.....
कुछ कहो ना.....

एक दूजे के लिए हम,
हाथ में कंगन के जैसे,
पाँव में पायल के जैसे,
प्यास में सावन के जैसे,
झील सी सिमटी ना बैठो,
कुछ बहो ना....
कुछ कहो ना....

जानता हूँ थक गयी हो
उम्र के लम्बे सफ़र में,
साँप से डसते शहर से,
भीड़ के गहरे भंवर से
वक़्त कुछ कहता है, सुनो ना....
इतना डरो ना......
कुछ कहो ना.....

किस तरह लडती रही हो,
प्यास से, वीरानियों  से,
नींद से, रानायिओं से,
मौत से और ज़िन्दगी से,
तीज से और तन्हाईयों से,
सब तपस्या तोड़ डालो,
अब सहो ना.....
कुछ कहो ना....

सांस थी सहमी  सी,
धडकनों को एक डर
इतना तनहा और लम्बा
ज़िन्दगी का ये सफ़र

पल से पल तक जी रहे हैं
तुम ही पल पल आस हो ना
एक पल तो और ठहरो,
एक पल और साथ दो ना....
कुछ कहो ना...... 

Monday, June 20, 2011

If I could !

First of all, I wanted to know ur reviews about replacing the blog name from "when heart speaks" to "A smoke & a cup of coefee". Actually, from some of the days there is raining in almost all the major zones in India. And believe me its quite romantic. And I m finding my smoke with a cup of coeffe quite lovely than earlier. That is the technical reason behind changing the blog title.

And here it goes a romantic composition of words. These were roaming throughout my thoughts since quite a few days ( actually, from the day the rain started falling these feelings became more stronger). Not taking too much time here it goes finally:-

If I could just embrace you once,
And feel the warmth of your arms.

If I could lock my lips with yours,
And seal the deal of romance.

If I could look into your eyes,
And see the same passion raging wild.

If I could have you by my side,
And whisper sweet nothings to you.

If I could entwine your hands in mine,
And walk along the sunny seashore.

If I could be with you for a day,
And that day would never end.

If I could, I would let you know.
My dear, I would never let you go
If I could !
[ Image Courtesy : ]

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Life inside an empty ciggerette packet

Drama, poetry, lust, gluttony, sex, frustration, depression, restlessness and those smokes of desire swirls like venomous snakes. The night is dark, the urban haze is creating cacophony. The shadows of death linger on. Heart burns slowly, the brain getting seduced involuntarily. Hallucinations, forgetfulness becomes your only acquaintance. You keep walking through the misty valleys, unknown territories, and those strange boundaries.

You take a long drag, puff out your agony. You aren’t born lonely, you are molded my destiny. You may not be the saddest but your sadistic way makes you an escape. You crave for smiles and love but your mind never accepts the approaching brightness. You love to stay amid darkness. The smokes slowly fade down in your room but the smell lingers on.

You aren’t frightened by skeletons; you become an urban ghost. Your infatuation becomes your love. Your cough accompanies you everywhere, every time. You just need no reason to inhale dusk. You become active after a short fag, your heart quivers but your mind smiles. Your fingers stink, your body becomes cold, and you still love to arouse yourself with those finished sticks. The butt! You love to kiss it. You aren’t satisfied till you reach the end. Your wait for the next never diminishes. You can go on and on. Nothing soothes your soul more than those killing white air. 

You talk about pink moon; you never miss a chance to appreciate those inglorious thin long pieces of desire. You crave for them at night, you can’t work without them, you become helpless, you crawl like a dying insect, and you never give up. You hate to see those burned cigarette butts resting unattended and those used match sticks dirtying your preserved melancholy.

Suddenly, the wind changes direction. The haze becomes fire. There’s no life within an empty cigarette packet but we hardly try to peep inside…

And though, nobody is complaining. Why should I ???