A leg in 2007, a wrist ten years later. It was funny how every time his heart broke, a few bones volunteered to give company.

Probably to disguise the pain.

“Ah take a pain killer” they would say.

“We have seen worse times” they would convince.

Smile, is all he could manage. And some music, to drown the voice of his shrieking heart.


Seeing the bright pink petals,
The bee couldn’t resist
Flying in love and joy,
He rushed to the seductive petals

Moments later, exhilarated he danced
Kissed the flower, sucked the nectar
Drowned in pleasure he failed to see
he hadn’t arrived, but was brought

The beautiful petals swiftly began to close
Before he realized the delicious poison started affect
Unable to understand, he gasped for air
Strangled, he cried for help

Yes”, said the flower to the betrayed lover
“In the world I was born to kill
With fools like you love never gets over
The dinner is on me, your life will pay the bill”

Brooklyn Bridge

Today while sitting in an auditorium, wondering whether the real use of a podium is to hide the shaking legs of the speaker, I saw something written about Brooklyn Bridge in a friend’s notebook. Intrigued, I Googled about it a little and the next thing I remember is that my goosebumps were bigger than the Hulk’s boils.

So the story goes like this: There was a gentleman called John Augustus Roebling. He was an ordinary civil engineer and designed small bridges all his life. So when he started designing a first of its kind hybrid cable-stayed/suspension bridge about 500m long at a meager age of just 63 years, most of the wise men laughed at his stupidity. Well, they were proved correct when later that year, the old man crushed his toe in a small accident at the construction site. Although that problem was solved, but during that process, he developed a tetanus infection and died the same year in which he started the project to make history.

Here I would take a moment and try to think what would have I done if I was in the team. I would have thought sensibly and would go and look for another paying job. But our world wouldn’t have been the way it is if it was full of people like me. It had people like Washington Roebling, the son of the lunatic being talked above. He immediately took the charge of constructing a bridge that was impossible to construct. And he built it? No. That would just be so mainstream Hindi Cinema. Just so cliche.

There was probably something about the project that even God tried His best to stop it. Our new hero, 32 year old Washington got paralyzed at 33 with only a finger left to move. Yes the very next year. And the era we are talking about here is a century before Stephen Hawking. So no supercomputers to track his retina movement. Here I would again take a moment and try to keep myself in Washington’s shoes. “Why God why! Has Euthanasia been legalised yet?”. Fortunately again, people like me didn’t take charge of history. He developed a code so that his wife could understand what he wants to say by the pattern of his finger-tapping on her arm. That’s how our hero no. 2’s wife learnt complex mathematics and engineering from him. By a finger. As soon as she learnt enough, she became the voice of Washington’s eyes. She took instructions and gave orders and herself constantly supervised the construction for the next 11 years.

Finally the Brooklyn Bridge creates history and this is my humble tribute to those who just don’t give up!

Seemed crippled but he
Had the strongest intention.
Obstacles are there for thee
So you overcome them with determination.

Life proves you’re not worthy
Show her your fire.
The fire if burns you and transform to swarthy
Tell her who is the King of shire.

Impossible was everything before being done
Playing easy never that fun.
Those who tried and failed and again the cycle begun
Salute to every rose and gun.

Beginning of the end


जब सड़क पर सूखे पत्तों के ढेर को देखता हूँ तो. . .
जब उनका कर्च-कर्च कराहना सुनता हूँ तो. . .
एहसास होता है कि यह जिस यश पर इतना गुमाँ करते हैं हम. . .
जिन उपलब्धियों को अक्सर गिनवाते हैं हम. . .
बस कुछ ही पलों की मेहमान हैं वो. . .
फिर नये पत्तों के इंतज़ार में हैं वो. . .
जल्द ही पेड़ फिर हरा-भरा होगा. . .
पुराने की जगह कोई नया लेगा. . .
वक़्त नहीं लोग हैं गुज़रते…
छाया के लिए राही नहीं वही सूखे पत्ते हैं तरसते।