Monday, September 05, 2011

LEARNING THE ART IN PARTS

As the life zooms past, new ways of looking at the innovation on the path of life become clearer to me. Why should the strategies of innovation be devoid of direct life-learning? One learns every moment and every moment of learning is quite humbling.Here are some trajectory-changers in my life so far. I thank them for affecting me positively, as I remember them on Teacher’s Day 2011.
Remembering Immanuel Suresh, my teacher at NID, an extraordinary observer of nature, human behaviour and more importantly an extraordinary human being, gave me the understanding to connect the seemingly unconnected. Prof. B. D. Mishra who taught me at IIT Mumbai (the multi-faceted talented man who represented India in Asiad in athletics, trekked with Tenzing Norgay to Mount Everest and represented India in UN on Population and Development) who exposed me to a whole new world of Futurology. I still remember the book reading sessions discussing Future Shock, Small is Beautiful and One Straw Revolution at Nescafe Stall at IIT Mumbai during the course. Together these two gentlemen fired the spark in me of diligent inquiry into the future. Current practice of Trends, Design Research and Strategy at Onio actually emanated here.
I also feel grateful to my first alma mater, IIT Mumbai for exposing me to wider learning through humanities courses during the study. Indian Philosophy, Psychology, English Literature and Futurology were some of my favourite courses. I felt enriched. I gained more from these and the side learning of guitar classes, reading books on grandmasters of art and science in the giant library, and by conversing with talented peers, than what I learnt in the structured courses of mechanical engineering.

I must remember Professor Ram Jaiswal at Ajmer, who was generous enough to give me water-colour and portrait painting training with no obligation. It was truly a wonder to see a master at work. I still remember the pleasure of pencil gliding and seeing the face of the person sitting in front appearing on the paper. Sketching is meditation. Sketching is a renaissance art that I cherish. While I was never a good student of Engineering Drawing at IIT, I think I was a good student at NID when it came to perspective sketching.
Prof. J. A. Panchal, who taught simple things at NID- model-making- “If you know three things perfectly- How to cut, How to join and How to distort- you can make anything”- were his famous words, stuck in my mind. He was a perfectionist and taught me to be diligent.

NID, my second alma-mater, taught me to respect the work I do. Every piece of paper I scribble on, every sketchy drawing I make, every word I say is ‘mine’ and it is no less than a ‘piece of art’. By building love and care in our own work, we slowly move towards perfection.
My schoolmate Chaman Singh Verma had beautiful handwriting. I always ended up trying to copy his way of handling the pen and did manage to move up a few notches.

Some teachers are so busy in everyday teaching that they have no time to reflect that they have transformed the lives of hundreds of students and students are indebted to them. Mr. A.K. Rehman, my maths teacher at St. Paul’s School at Ajmer, was one such man. In those times when IIT was not even heard of, in smaller towns like Ajmer, he was one man who prodded us to think higher and aspire for entering the portals of IIT (Indian Institute of Technology). Once I was at IIT(Mumbai), my life and perspective changed forever.
Valentin Manolov, a physicist from Moscow University, whom I met in a train from Ajmer to Mumbai, transformed the way I looked at spirituality. Super qualified ISKCON volunteers (some of them were PhDs in various areas) who were a regular feature at IIT that time, discussing teachings of Gita, did fuel the fire that Valentin Manolov started. Osho, whose writings articulated some more hidden areas of human life and para-knowledge, in contemporary terms. I still read the anecdotes, poems and stories spread across the Osho literature.

Renaissance master, Leonardo Da Vinci, whose sketchbook, I copied end-to-end a few times. Michael Angelo, whose biography –‘The Agony and Ecstasy’ taught me that you don’t need to live an‘extraordinary life’ to be the man that he was.
Sunil Handa, professor at IIM-A and erstwhile MD of Core Emballage when I interned at his company, was a real hard task-master and stickler for details. He did teach me that how a person who works passionately at the task at hand, ‘never falls ill’. Famous words –“50 percent of the time of your life must be spent in arranging it carefully, so that rest of the 50 percent can be enjoyed”.

Arup Dutta and Deepak Kamath, my wing-mates at Hostel-7 in IIT, were two walking encyclopaediae of knowledge from history to movies. From correcting my English accent to telling me the story plot of ‘The Good, The Bad, The Ugly’, these two gentlemen surely helped me evolve as I am today.
Vinayak Kini, my ‘weirdo’ classmate at IIT, who successfully runs a big business in USA today, who could write much better poems than I did, who freaked out ten times more than I did and still managed better marks than I did.

Genevieve Flaven, my collaborator on Trends Research and head of Style Vision, France- a magnificent trend researcher and power thinker, I did learn a great deal from her- from trend thinking to event organisation. Chinmay, my colleague at Onio, a great observer of human psyche did help me hone my ‘insight’ skill.
Prakash, my business partner, who has been a good friend all this while,taught me to have more faith in people, to accommodate more ‘greys’ while dealing with tough situations and to have‘leader leaves the last’ virtues.

My father- who still goes out for the morning walk at 5a.m. since the time I have come into this world. Be it any weather, guests at home or a return from a tiring journey- his morning walk has never stopped. I have never seen a more steadfast man than him. I have seen that how he retained the same persistence in publishing a journal ‘Economic Challenger’ for last ten years, despite several ‘challenging’ situations where it almost closed down.
Finally, Sonali, my wife, who helped me stretch my thinking from ‘timely’ to ‘perfect’ work and from ‘done’ to ‘the way it should be’.

Friday, November 12, 2010

SOME LIFE THINK

For a change, I thought it would nice sharing some value system that kept me afloat in tough times. Who, in this world, does not face family, money, workplace, emotional or value crisis? Being in creative industry, the impact of any of the crisis is doubled. One, you have to forbear it, two, you have to still work through your right-brain on everyday level. However, here is what kept me afloat in my tough times and still kept me craving for the new world.
1. Circumstances don’t define me: There are always times when we start questioning our own value system, the very thread that we nurtured over the years, the very relation that we were proud of, or the very work which we thought we pioneered. On top of this, in these situation, you find that there is no one to speak to. No one to reflect on the situation and remind us of the values and beliefs. What kept me going is the belief in the belief. I am different from what my circumstance.

2. Circumstance don’t remain the same: It is easy to fall into a trap of ‘bad luck’ or ‘destiny’ in the times when everything is going wrong. But passing the bad times, with your head in place and keeping the heart warm through one-to-one dialogue with self has been my recipe. I firmly believe that talking to others about my bad times, is a waste of time and only generates ‘pity’ and nothing else. On the other hand, if someone has been bad with me at certain point of time, that’s not only because of his nature but probably the circumstances made him do so. It is better to move on rather than hankering the negative energies through the life.

3. Jisme jitna zarf hai, who utna hi khamosh hai: Rivers are shallow and noisy; the sea is deep and silent. Avoiding loud and vexatious personalities help reserving the positive energy for better things. I have realized that at times, it pays to be silent at the cost of being called names. One need not appear smart all the time.

4. WORK is THE friend, father and philosopher: When every things seem to be going topsy-turvy, having a work to do, the one you like, saves you from a million problems. Once your mind is drawn into your work, you really forget about the body pains, social dithering, financial mess or loneliness. A best thing is, your work is the only ‘friend’ who expects nothing from you in return, rather pays you for every passionate moment you spend on it.

5. Honesty & Gratefulness: Old adage, but as true today as it was a million years ago. Call it middle class virtues or call it ‘moral science lessons’, but it is the real stabilizer in the times of turmoil. It pays to prepare the mind on this track, rather than picking it up once the ship is shaken. It surely does not appear the smartest thing express gratefulness to a client for providing a great opportunity to work on a assignment (else he will ask for a reduction in fee), but in my experience, this would endear certain people for life and others may try to make a fast one on you…which, you can make out sooner or later and disengage.

6. Everything completes the loop: My good deeds will come back to me and vice-versa. A belief that I don’t need other’s endorsements for the ‘goodness’ or otherwise, resulted in a sort of defiance at times. But it did payback when I really needed it. Help actually came from unknown, unforeseen quarters. I remember I had purchased a 70-300mm zoom lens for Rs. 3000, second hand from a person in Delhi while working for a company. When I took to studies at NID after that, I needed money. I asked a local photo-studio to help me sell this to get some money to support myself during that time. A customer did turn-up but refused to a single paisa more than Rs. 2500. I refused to sell it at that price. Two days later the same person traced me at NID and handed over Rs.5000. I paid my semester fee with that.

Friday, June 25, 2010

So long

Madhurima...
so long....
.....
.....
I have been shying away
draped in rags
humbled by the destiny
I am recuperating inside

When we departed
I was a busy trader
trading everything for better;
everything...
You said nothing...

When I drifted
I was a lonly leaf on water
floating lazily, aimlessly
with the flow
toward the fall...

When there was call
I was alone at sea
only giant sounds and tiny lives throbbing around me
How fearful it was!

Now that I am on my way back
with your sweet memories in my heart
there is some blankness in mind
an empty slate
to meet and write
another epic
all over again!!

How do I face you..
You the princess of dawn
in all fineries of golden glow
blind my eyes even at a glance
Leave alone coming क्लोसे.

Monday, April 19, 2010

search is on, hunt is not

cello player walks home
every evening, alone
lost in the thoughts of broken notes
lost in the lots and lots and lots.

young chivlery is all gone
gone is the haste of rising dreams
measured pace of wise is in
half you know but half is within.

great voices still call him aside
in the lonly part of concert ride
severe pangs are a part of him
pain free mornings are lost in the grim

brighter brighter is the call of the call
silent lover is pulling to the ball
cello is an old fashioned mill,
destined, one day, to be still

Who will unlock the white gates of guilt,
away from the ground but still on stilt,
notes of music are hard to die
hearts dry up, souls just sigh

great mournings are not my destiny,
concerts I play are, not my destiny
force my drift into the soulful oblivion
o great pope of yesteryears
beget me, and my womb in single apparition
as the morning sun begets the pearly dew on moist grass.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

तकदीर के दरया में मकाम नए आये हैं

सर्द सियाह रातों में दोस्त बने साए हैं

अब तक थी रूह बड़ी हैरां - ओ -परेशान

आवाज़ तलक बंद थी, कहाँ साज और सामान

ख्वाब जो दिल में मेंने रखे थे छुपा कर

उन ख़्वाबों से महकी मेरी शर्मीली शमाएं हैं ।

तेरी फितरत से न थी फ़ुर्सत तुझे मेरे मालिक

मेरी कोशिशें शायद न थीं बयान के काबिल

मेरी बंदगी न बनी शायद तेरी वफ़ा के काबिल

ऐ खुदा अब तू जो थोड़ा मुस्काया है।

मेरा खोया हुआ वजूद मेंने पाया है

Friday, November 14, 2008

More of bard speak

Long journey is long journey. Boring, frustrating, tumultuous and soul searing at times. Once I pass the intimidating gate, I know, there is no stopping. Yet there are waiting periods and buffers.. even inside the cabin, when I know it is just about few more moments, captain announces delays in taking off...anxiety mounts...palpitations of new world surface all over me...
Bard was alone in the journey. Bard is alone in the wait, surrounded by people unconcerned.
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Engine has started. There is some respite as the air-conditioner started as well. Anxiety of the journey is coming to an end. As restless souls get ready for cocooning, Bard is ready for the transforming leap into the new world.
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Plane turns and crawls towards the runway. Weary eyes and tired souls are looking at the endless emptiness that is dazzling with the million lights along sides. A single machine with hundreds of living beings inside is standing in readiness to fly at this long empty stretch of road. There are no hassles of traffic and no guides anymore. Bard is shivering with the strange sensation of deja vu. O Lord, may be divinity is next!
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As the engine picks up speed and the giant ostrich runs on the road alone, leaving all the guides of the ground gaping wide, Bard is holding the seat tight. "Am I flying or being flown?" The great question wanders his mind-space.
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Friday, August 01, 2008

Reflections of a flying gandharva

REFLECTIONS OF A FLYING GANDHARVA

Even amidst the nothingness of 33,000 feet above the ground, there are rough patches. No road is bump free. No river is smooth as silk. No relationship will flow like butter all the time. There are patches of turbulence. The great ship sails ahead, precariously balancing for some moments but not stopping…..
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When I have entrusted my wares to the ship captain, there is faith that it will reach the destination with me. What avail is doubt anyways? Ship is programmed and the captain is duty bound. There is redemption from worries if I believe enough.
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All those who care for me, came till the entrance gate. They can not see me off inside the aeroplane. Protocols of the world make you travel all by yourself. I have to find my seat and fend for the luggage space. Bigger the journey, lonelier would it be.
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At the alien land, I see the familiar voices…these are some fellow countrymen trying to figure out signage as I am trying. Lure of exotic lands, pulls many minds; I came to know only when I reach there.
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Once I am on plane, I am secured. I am assured of my journey and mind becomes calm. Body is rested and I fall asleep; As carefree as if being in mother’s lap. All the industry to catch a flight, gets you a mother’s lap to travel. O great mother…
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Clouds have a different world. They hang in nothingness and they are nothing as an individual. Still the life on earth depends on them. Life giving nothingness, the shining effervescence of the almighty’s power, I bow to your sheer magical existence.
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People sit next to each other, but do not converse. The clothes on the body bind there souls. There are knots to be opened and glass panes to be broken. When will the next plane to Bodhgaya arrive?
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With trembling hands I touch the alcohol on board. It is intoxicating and it is numbing my senses. It appears to be a luxurious trap. I am on board the fast flight and there are ‘luxury codes’ to be followed. I saw white swan flying below….free and swift…like the wish of the almighty.
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In the long course-way to departing hall, there are shops of either side. Enticing all to fill up the bags before they leave. Memories of the close ones, fill the travelers bags in no time. This is the time to weigh the options; who really needs your gifts.

Captain says the outside air is at -40 degrees. Machine is keeping the comfort of 25 degrees inside. When I move in these high planes, there are systems to take care of my mundane minimals.
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Once you rise above the clouds, one can see that all that dark clouds are but a layer, behind which there is a shining sun.
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Even if Sun is not currently visible fully, I continue traveling to east, Sun would be with me all the while.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Tamil Triumph

from an...unplanned.walk to Kali temple...I had to turn toward Ayappatemple....the rhythmic and intense chants with traditional instrumentswere captivating..South India has a purer and more ancientHinduism...After a night of reading Indian philosophy (for thepresentation)....mind was in a surmise, full day.Wish I could learn Tamil...I stayed for half an hour there...and wept...looking at the intensityof devotees...good vibrations...I am learning the language ofvibrations....yes..night 1.00 am I happen to read the name 'Mira bai' and couldn'thelp crying....I am inching closer to the unspoken prayers....one day i will becomeone.

Chanting on the road

Its looks like return!Along the way Bard has been through the tumultuous days. Rapture torupture, the heart went sore...Emotions bind, but uncontrolled emotiontires...Back to the old bylanes of sleepy town...Bard chants the couplets ofTukaram...loud and clear..O Lord...do you hear...Life is on a Columbus journey...only echo is my own sound..such asea...such a distance...such a tiny mole of existence...out to see theother end of the sight...every one travels alone..those who don't, geta different India.Bard does not meditate..meditatation brings fixation...how will Tukramand Gyaneshwar chant in karoake otherwise...

City walks

Bard is usurping into elite alleys, singing the melodies high and clear.
People are yet asleep.
It is cold outside; freezing cold…
His voice has a high pitch, resonating with hidden strings of soul.
Melodies, that are fierce and true, like the primordial sundrenching the earth with first sense of warmth.
Somebody has come running, to greet him on the road…
- Lookinbard

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Bard returns

Life's truth are easy. When speed kills, take a pause.When pause dithers your energy, push the accelerator. When you have no idea whether you are speeding or you are dithering, meditate. When meditation does not bring focus, drink two glass of water, and play with a kid for two hours, the way he wants...
Bard paints a easy scenario of uneasy methods. People in the village are all getting ready for the great revolution. Everybody is dressed in the best fineries. There is hum and there is glitter. Young are full of speed. Old are trying the catch-up. Children are just a tag-along. The great procession of prosperity is about to turn into a tornado. Who knows?
Bard is vigilent. Swift with the business, soft with the soul. There are great projections in his mind. But there is the royal protocol- bow. Who can stand the whirlwind. Who can take the blow and spring back into inspiring straightness?

When there is interspersed silence, he stands on the edge with a flickering lamp. There is wind...but there is light. There is hum, but there is calm. There is bard, but there is no one.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Pondy Muses

On the banks of Pondicherry beach, bard watches the waves hitting the rocky bank. Not every waves has energy; not every rise is powerful; not every hit is thundering; There are quiet patches in between the two thuds. There is a build up, that is interspersed with some light and some bold strikes of energy. Far beyond, the look is still serene, while the edge is turbulent.

My last birth was as a Tamil; singing the grand legacy of Dravidian songs, with might red soil and blue waters of the sea as a company. The reflective glances of the youth; method and simplicity of the experienced, grace and perseverance of the feminine power all are embedded in me. I nurtured the Aryan culture and saved it from extinction from the up north.

At Aurobindo Ashram, there is an aura of nothing ness. There is more serenity in the flowers on the Samadhi then the person begone. At least that is what the picture presented to me. No messages for commoners, only the learned, rather highly learned can dare to launch on to Aurobindo. For others, that is only an image of a seer and not the seer himself.

What can divide humanity more then having a ‘black town’ and ‘white town’ in India (erstwhile Pondicherry). Red caps of the police men are an oddity. Red is a scarlet red almost; does not come from the Indian palette. White man divides, brown man unites, and the black remain enslaved in the warps of time. ‘There should be no religion’, shouts the board in Aurovile; in the land of great Shankara who saw the unity in diverse existence (Advait). Such contrasts are possible in the land of the sublime; the land of essential; the land of eternal and the land of possible. Salutes to the spirit of India!

When the peace dawns, let me be meditating in the open sea stretches of southern tip. South is the east of India.

Monday, February 04, 2008

मधुरिमा कब तक

उलझेतारों से लड़ता कब तक,
एक अकेला जगता कब तक
रात गहराती नींद सताती,
सूने आस्मान को तकता कब तक।

एक अकेला गाता फिरता
गलियों का बेबाक सिकंदर,
सुर्ख लबों पर सूखे मंज़र
देख सिसकता जाता कब तक।

भोर हुई लो चली ज़िंदगी,
रफ़्तार पलों में सिमटी सिमटी
हर पल डर कर, हर पल मर कर,
चिर सत्य झुठालाता कब तक।

अब समय आ गया मधुरिमा,
आकाश तरंगों में जीने का,
अंतरतम के प्रबल तेज से
जर्जर मन को सीने का,

हर शाम क्षितिज के धुंधलके में
नत मस्तक हो कर करूं पुकार
एक देव, सिर्फ एक पुजारी
कुछ वचन पुष्प तुम करो स्वीकार।

Saturday, January 26, 2008

मधुरिमा 4

तुम मुड़ कर देखती हो
तो हृदय में आहात होती है
तुमरे स्पर्श से मेरी प्रार्थना के शब्द
बदल जाते हैं।
तुम नही होती हो पास
तो मेरा मन मुझसे दूर होता है।
इस तरह तुम्हारे प्यार का असर
है कि मैं अपने में नही समा रह।
लक्ष्मण रेखाओं के पार
सोने कि लंका कि तरफ
मेरे पर मुझे खींच रहे हैं
अब तक जो निष्चल था
Us पानी को झिंझोड़ रहे हैं ।
बस ये ख्याल रहे
लंकाओं को बांधना मुझे आता हैं
लांघना नहीं।

Sunday, January 13, 2008

मधुरिमा 3

हे मधुरिमा,
तुमने मेरे मन के अँधेरे और उजाले देखें हैं,
मेरे मन के आवेग और संताप को जाना है,
हृदय में बहती चिर यौवनी प्रेम सुधा को पिया है,
मेरे मष्तिष्क कि तीन रंगी धारियों को छुआ है,
मंदिर में जब सब नाच रहे थे,
सिर्फ तुमने मुझे रोते देखा है,
जब में खुद को ढूंढ रहा था,
तुमने मुझको पाया है।

तुम मेरा देव हो प्रिये,
मेरा अस्तित्व तुम्हारा चढावा है,
मुझ हिम शिवलिंग पर,
उष्ण गंगा बनकर उतरो,
बह जाने दो वो सब, जो अस्थिर है।

चिर काल के हृदय में,
शंख धवनी के साथ जब,
मैं जब नया जन्म लूंगा,
माँ, तो तुम ही होगी मधुरिमा।

मधु १

हे मधुरिमा,
तुम मुझ पर एहसान हो सृष्टिकर्ता का,
जो मेरी कविताएँ चुकाएंगी।
तुम्हारा प्यार मुझे लील लेगा,
इसका भय है मुझको,
तुम्हारे प्यार में कविता का जन्म ,
मुश्किल तो नही होगा, पर उसमें दर्द रहित स्वर होंगे,
जो पहले कई बार दोहराए गए होंगे।

ओ मधुरिमा,
तुम आंसू कि एक बूँद हो जो,
मेरे गालों से चिपटी हो,
(दोनों) असहाय हैं,
एक दुसरे के साथ।

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Saturday, January 12, 2008

और कुछ कुछ

अपना मिलन अभी दूर है,
मन मद में चूर है,
शाम गहराती जाती है ,
अजीब सी उमस है,
कभी भीड़ तो कभी तन्हाई सताती है

कभी कभी अनायास
मंदिर से भजनों की गूँज सुने देती है,
कभी यकायक तेरी नज़र से
मेरी नज़र मिल जाती है
मैं कुछ बोल नही पाता हूँ ,
कितने फासले हैं अभी तक,
कितनी तीव्रता है तेरी नज़र में,
कितना असहाय और बेबस हूँ मैं ,
कबसे इंतज़ार में जागता हूँ
और इसी आशा में सोता हूँ,
कब तेरे जलजले आएंगे ,
और मुझे बहा ले जाएँगे,
पटक देंगे मुझे मीरा के पूजा स्थल पर,
या तुकाराम के पन्द्धारपुर में,
या फ़ेंक देंगे मुझे आलंदी के जंगलों में,
जहाँ में झोली में पत्थर बीन कर,
तेरे मंदिर में फेंकुंगा ,
और फूट फूट कर रोऊंगा,
कैसा पागलपन होगा वो,
कैसा प्रेम होगा वो,
शायद मैं तुझे फिर
नज़र नहीं मिल पाऊं
तेरे चरणों में जगह ज़रूर
बना लूँगा

More

तेरी एक दृष्टि पड़ेगी करुणामयी,
रामकृष्ण बन जाएगा
जो रात दिन रोएगा, माँ माँ चिल्लाएगा ,
गली गली सोएगा, पगला जाएगा,
दिनों-दिन पूजा करेगा, ठोकरें खाएगा,
छत पर जा कर 'तुम कब आओगे' गाएगा
मष्तिष्क सुन्न हो जाएगा और संसाआर बधिर बन जाएगा
क्या तब तुम आओगे?
अंतरतम में बजेगी वीणा,
बाह्य स्थिर हो जाएगा,
अपने जन्म से सृष्टि के प्रारंभ तक,
प्रज्ञा के हर प्रकाश्मायी प्रसंग तक,
जब वो तेरा आव्हान करेगा,
अगिनत आत्माओं को छूकर ,
खुद जब वो पानी हो जाएगा,
क्या तब तुम आओगे?

जब ध्यान, प्रश्न रहित होगा,
जब ज्ञान वस्तु रहित हो जाएगा,
अस्तित्व कि परिभाषाएँ जब बदलेंगी
तत्त्व निर्गुण हो जाएगा ,
हज़ारों कबीर पैदा होकर,
लाखों मीरा तेरा नाम गाकर
मिटटी हो जाएंगी
शायद तब तुम आओगे

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Raftaar pe mera nagma

रफ़्तारशहर में, रफ़्तार कशिश है
ठहराव का आँगन धुआं धुआं है
कौन रुके और झांके भीतर
बेताब समंदर कुआँ कुआँ है

सुबह हुई फिर सूरज निकला
धुप वाही खुशनुमा खिली
सदियों से इंसान को जिससे
नई उमंग नई वजह मिली
अब देखो किस कदर धुप से
इंसान परेशान होता है
देर रात जो जगह हो बन्दा
देर सुबह तक सोता है

कितना कौतुक कितना दम था
हर मकडी के जाल में
नदी किनारे तकते बीते
कितने दिन यूँही साल में
कुछ और जोश था कम होश था
समय कुछ ठहरा ठहरा था
जलजले में बह गयी वो बस्ती
जहाँ खुदा का पहरा था

ज़िंदगी की खुशबुएँ दब गयी हैं रफ़्तार में
हर रस्ते पर जामे मुसाफिर, बिज़ली गुल बाज़ार में