All over the world you’ll find cultures that couldn’t be any more different but are nonetheless bound by a common obsession with good food. People and places might be shockingly […]
the news. the views. the juice.
When a Delhi journo joins New Yorker, it’s news
10 October 2013
India’s bankrupt politicians routinely detect a “foreign hand” behind every disaster that befalls the nation. The Indian media, on the other hand, has been somewhat blessed to benefit from foreign hands on the deck.
Caravan the defunct-fortnightly from the Delhi Press group which was reborn as The Caravan of longform journalism three years ago was particularly lucky to have Jonathan Shainin on its ranks early on.
Below is the full text of the email shot off by Caravan‘s executive editor Vinod K. Jose, announcing Shainin’s exit.
This coming week, our dear colleague, Jonathan Shainin is moving back to New York. Jonathan joined by the end of the first year of relaunched Caravan, and is heading home after a very memorable, and extremely productive 3 years with us. The time and attention that he has given to the stories he edited is remarkable, and if anyone ever pays attention to the institutional history of Caravan, Jonathan’s role will be remembered and celebrated with reverence.
In 2009 and 2010, from the period I call the “guerrilla operation phase,” the staff whose strength was in single digits, we have today come a long way with the magazine/brand becoming the outcome of a massive amount of collective editorial energy of 25 people.
The number of editors, and staff writers have gone up, and the family of freelancers and contributing editors have grown as well.
With Jonathan’s impending departure, more associate editors had joined close to a year in advance, and we are right now in the process of hiring more editors to increase the level and quality of attention a piece/writer gets. The more the torch-bearers of the particular Caravan editing and writing philosophy we produce, the more stable the space of longform narrative journalism in India becomes.
In the same vein, I also wanted to celebrate the small, but meaningful flame of good ethical journalism that Caravan was instrumental in doing, which to me worked hand-in-hand with the longform identity we created in the craft space; here again, Jonathan was such an uncompromising editor, and I wish everyone who comes and joins us/after us always build on the hard work/careful walking we have managed all these years, and between us, right now, we shall remind each other how we need to help each other in making the flame retain its virility, and get bigger and bigger if possible in the years to come.
I wish Jonathan a wonderful future ahead, both professionally and personally.
Vinod K. Jose
[Terry: Feel free to disagree but over these long years since my parents bought me my first subscription at age 16, I’ve
come to realize that all the news you really need to survive is in The New Yorker and WIRED magazines.]
Life is once, forever.
I like the sounds of the morning; the birds chirping, the leaves rustling in the breeze, the fishmonger crying “meene!”
I like taking long walks.
I like green groves and lakes and butterflies.
I like chocolates and ice creams and anything remotely sweet.
I like arranging and rearranging the books on my shelf.
I like taking a new road and not worrying where I’m going.
I like living in my private dream world.
I am very fussy about grammar. When I use words the wrong way, though, it’s called poetic license.
I like the wind blowing in my face. I like getting drenched in the rain.
I like making funny faces at kids.
Most of all, I like finding myself in moments like these.
There used to be a large white signboard in the manufacturing plant where I worked a few years ago. It stood right outside the R & D Centre, and proudly read: INDIAN CHURAL ROAD. No one knew what it was doing in the company. It just existed, by some weird quirk of fate, an amusing interlude to the dreary business of work. In the wrong place at the wrong time.
Exactly like me.
I remember the day I realized this wasn’t my cup of tea. It was the first month after joining and we were undergoing in-plant training. Things were pretty interesting in the beginning, what with getting to see how the assembly line worked and all.
One day our trainer asked us if we wanted to see the MX108, the company’s yet-to-be-released model. Everyone nodded enthusiastically and we set off to the dispatch yard, a good mile away from the HR department where the training was being held. He took us to the far end of the yard, where hundreds of brand new vehicles were lined up in the sun, and pointed to a shiny red pick-up.
I looked around me. It was a late November afternoon, and the chill had just started to seep in. The sun was halfway down the horizon, with its golden streaks playing hide and seek among the clouds. A gorgeous wind was blowing, swirling dust and leaves on the asphalt. And in the middle of the it all, a bunch of uniformed twenty-somethings stood oohing and aahing over an empty truck!
It’s not that they didn’t notice the moment. They did, but they had their priorities defined, and rightly too. Mine just happened to be different.
I wish I could say I quit the next day and followed my distant star. I didn’t. I hung around for a while, growing more messed up by the day; having a crazy time with some amazing people. Eventually when I did leave, it was without the faintest idea what to do next. Some good and some not-so-great decisions later, I’m finally in a place that feels more ‘me’.
So is this it, my perfect job? Who knows? I do know that the day I stepped in my new office and the editorial desk turned topsy-turvy because a mouse had run inside (seriously, on the first day??), I had an inkling I’d fit right in.
It’s not perfect, but it feels right.
And if I ever do become a motorcar enthusiast someday, (which is highly unlikely!!) I hope I’ll never pick it over a glorious sunset.
You taught me
To trade my sheepskin
Cavort with shadows
Hiding in the wall.
You taught me
To gaze in the mirror
And find myself.
- Monsoon – What Is The Monsoon? (theweatheruk.wordpress.com)
- Delhi facing longest monsoon in 50 years, says Met office (ndtv.com)
Bipolar, asexual, vegetarian, poststructuralist, pantheist nihilist. Professional poet and french toast connoisseur.|Welcome to a new friend: Ian Stewart Black
[Terry: Now, Mr. Black clearly knows his iambs from his pentams. This is like reading Tennyson. I bow to his incredible endurance. I couldn’t write one of these damn poems and Ian seems to have an endless supply.]
Ian Stewart Black
Bipolar, asexual, vegetarian, poststructuralist, pantheist nihilist. Professional poet and french toast connoisseur.
General penhandler, Sonneteer, Philosopher, Haijin, Writer and byronic hero… with a penchant for waistcoats.
I have readers from the UK, Washington, Ontario, Ireland, Australia, Wisconsin, Maryland, Singapore, New York, Ohio, Kentucky, Minesota, Korea, Illinois, British Columbia, Maine, Michigan, California, France, Georgia, North Carolina, Arizona, Bulgaria, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, India, Singapore, Japan, Lebanon, New Zealand, Thailand, Macedonia, Austria, Pakistan, Brazil, Norway, Serbia, Turkey, Spain, South Africa, The United Arab Emirates, Nevada & beyond.
A legion’s worth held mastery of death:
Immortal warriors and prophet kings
Arose from tragedy with sword in hand,
Divinely sheltered from the cold embrace;
In vanity, their legacies were sealed,
In monuments to glorify their names:
Each mortal soul became a deity,
Eternity was theirs alone to claim.
As decades burned away to cinders, ash
Descending from beneath immortal crowns,
The arrogance of those who cheated death
Belied the sunken eyes of mortal age:
Defiant in the hands of destiny,
Appointed gods and sons of Narcissus
May conquer all that rules the land or sea,
But never Death: for none shall master me.
For none shall master me thus many serve,
And countless beg before the tide of fate:
As they implore the ocean to recall
Its pitiless advance – they perish, all.
The silver-tongued and taciturn contend
Voracious waves that billow overhead,
Descending to the reaper’s murky depths:
The darkness from wherein no light returns.
As lovers, friends and worshippers beseech
An act of mercy from the stoic sea:
So too the bonds of man petition Death,
And neither care nor mercy find in me.
With such an act of love our tale begins,
And how it ends is yet a mystery;
By way of counsel, I have only this:
Your guide is Death himself – abandon hope!
With this renunciation of the love
The sundered pair had cherished all their lives,
The murky ghost of Beatrice dissolved
Once more amid the endless mist of Death;
The smoke in spirals wrapped its way around
The loathsome raider of our ancient realm:
Constricting him and seeping through his flesh
To work its rightful poison from within;
His frame began to wither, and his skin
Became as pale as drifting clouds that veil
A waning moon: a century befell
His body in an instant of decay;
As if to vindicate his wickedness
And justify his evils, he announced
“A life without a love is living death”,
And dissipated through Oblivion.
No gloried soul that walks upon the earth,
Nor gods and monsters live eternally:
For any fool may rule the land or sea,
But never Death – for none shall master me!
We wayward heirs
Are each an ember,
From the ashes of
A better world.
Cast over oceans,
At the mercy
Of the winds of fate;
And if we fall,
We fall together.
Incredible Pictures, Enjoy PICBliss
Thank you for all you have done The flag will be flown in your honour At Half mast | Catching up with SFoxWriting’s Blog
Respect those around you
It’s impossible to gauge how long they will be around for
This isn’t a holiday they are going on its work in pastures new
Occupation: soldier of war
High spirits brothers in arms all around
Quick lay down on the ground
Bravery is shown in actions
Mainly courage and reactions
Saving others is the aim
Putting yourself second behind everyone else no matter their name
Looking down the sights
The task is done its finished
Friends and colleges return home
We are gathered here today to pay respects to selflessness shown
Respect shown by those around
Tears from grown men
Medal, flag and flowers lay down
Thank you for all you have done
The flag will be flown in your honour
A Two-Coffee Morning……and a little perspective
by Kenneth Justice
~ I swear, this summer seems like the summer of craziness.
Is it just me or does it seem like the NEWS stories we read every morning have been coming at us with even more voracity lately?
This Summer it seems like every morning the news wire is filled with some really big stories from all across the world….
And with every one of these major stories….I wonder what the impact on each of our lives has been from the coverage?
–) George Zimmerman trial
–) Egyptian Revolt
–) Greece in major economic turmoil
–) Detroit declares bankruptcy
–) One of the biggest heatwaves in Great Britain’s recent history
–) Amanda Berry and other women saved from a basement in Ohio after a decade of captivity
The list is literally endless…….and there are so many things going on in Korea, Australia, India, China and the rest of the world that I couldn’t even begin to mention every one of them……
I’m a self-admitted news junkie. I worked in politics for three years during my late teen years, and ever since; following the local and world news is as much apart of my daily routine as brushing my teeth……actually, I bet I forget to brush my teeth more times than I forget to read the news!
And that’s why I asked myself the question this morning, how are we being influenced by the NEWS?
Let’s face it; the people living in Greece and Detroit are being directly affected by the economic situation they are living in…..
But someone living in Iowa or Australia aren’t necessarily reeling in economic pain from the decisions of politicians in Greece or Detroit….
But, we are influenced or affected in some way by the News coverage we follow……
Hundreds of years ago…before the Internet, before the telegraph, before the printing press…….men and women were limited in the scope of the NEWS they followed.
Perhaps you’d leave your farm and travel to the town meeting or religious services and there you would be given word-of-mouth updates on what was happening at the Capital City or the local province.
Travelers were a main source of news in the ancient world.
If you were on a sojourn through the world you would likely be given free room and board for the simple cost of sharing stories about the cities and governments you had passed through on your journey.
This rather cool phenomenon of a small town or family taking in strange travelers and sharing meals together was entirely centered around the sharing of NEWS.
Along came the printing press, the telegraph, newspapers, and eventually the Internet……and that face-t0-face social experience that thousands of generations of humans enjoyed slowly died away.
You see, there is a positive and negative about the way things ‘used to be’;
–) by only getting far-away NEWS from travelers….it allowed ancient peoples to be more focused on what was directly in front of them. It freed them from distractions that they couldn’t do anything about…….
–) The negative of course is that when there was major suffering or catastrophes in far-away lands…..you were getting the NEWS so late that it was unlikely that you would be able to help your fellow humans.
And all of that brings us to our day-and-age……
Our era is filled with 24 hour news media….
Wall-to-wall coverage of NEWS events that are not very often connected to our daily lives……
So how are we being affected by all this NEWS?
Let’s face it; we have the ability to know about the major catastrophes and crises that are occurring around the globe….but very few of us do anything about them….and more specifically; very few of us have the ability to do anything.
What can you or I do for the people in Syria where a civil war is raging?
The death toll in Syria is out-of-control!
So what good is it for me to read about it every morning (which I do quite religiously)?
How are we being influenced by the NEWS?
To be perfectly honest. I don’t have an agenda behind my question. I don’t know what the answer is to all the NEWS we follow.
–) I can’t throw a stone at the people who say, “I just don’t want to follow any NEWS because it is negative”
–) And I can’t throw a stone at the people who enjoy following the NEWS like myself.
But I can ask the question…..How are we being influenced by the NEWS?
Isn’t that a question I should ask?
Shouldn’t we be concerned with the influencing forces behind the media……shouldn’t we question whether or not we are being influenced for the positive or the negative?
Personally…..I wish we could start-up the ancient practice of inviting travelers over for a room and meal and an evening of swapping stories……
So if you’re ever anywhere near my territory…..stop by and you’ll get a comfortable bed and a delicious meal……
And of course a really good cup of coffee, which reminds me……
[Terry: I’d love to stop by, Kenneth. I’ve spent far too many years delivering news the other ways.]
The story of the awakening of a spent nation
I am Nirbhaya.
I am nameless and faceless.
My name stands for today’s India.
My face is the face of the ruled, oppressed and subjugated.
I was gangraped and murdered in New Delhi, the capital of India.
An India that is still fighting for azaadi, a second this time from brown sahibs – the political class and the moneybags who look after each other – who have replaced the white sahibs, who ruled once, but were not corrupt.
In villages and forests, our land and natural resources are plundered by this ruling class, be it coal or forests. The river water meant for our fields is diverted to their silly factories.
In towns, they even steal ‘spectrum’! They build buildings in collusion and allot themselves houses at cheap rates. They plunder everywhere. They stash money in swiss banks. They do money laundering and not one is caught. And they even use the state security!
It is time for azaadi, a second azaadi. Nirbhaya’s India chronicles the deplorable and plummeting state of this nation from June 17th 2012 with three sonnets (verses in 14 lines) for each day.
Feel free to quote these and to forward links and share. I have waived the copyright for the cause is too big and the time, too little.
These verses are dedicated to Nirbhaya, the gangrape victim who died and brought us, the educated class out of hibernation, on the streets, demanding our rights. She gave us the reason to join hands in protest. she showed us the power of people is supreme and the most powerful and moneyed will have to bow to it.
P.S. If you are on this site for the first time, you must start by reading the first post i.e. the foreword
4.45am Singapore time.
Yes she died. Really died. Finally.
And it was 2.15am here, but India cried.
The news, this one time was nightly.
For twenty six nights, not days thirteen,
She fought and still stayed composed
Psychiatrically. Her face that reposed
Faith in protestors remained unseen;
The face unseen, the woman nameless,
From some village, a bus traveller so less
Privileged than the ruling or moneyed,
Was enough to get India up and frenzied.
So my two-bit mind for all its confusion, is clear about
The fact that the rape was but a spark, to begin the rout.
But now the incident like a story,
Is through with its climaxing parts.
And Nirbhaya though an allegory,
With rapes-and-women-safety starts.
But when traced to deeper causes,
Raises questions that progressively
Culminate to answers regressively,
Beyond admin and judicial clauses.
On one side a societal unrest of classes;
A ‘lower’ man prevails on citied classes,
Through the biological force of rape,
Which becomes easy in a state with this inscape,
Where self-seeking representatives thrive on anarchy,
Promote class and caste divide, and rule as a squirarchy.
A telling statement from her grandmother:
‘They left this village for a better life.
Look what they’ve got’ sums up the bother.
When cities and villages blur the line,
While the economic disparity is stark,
Either by encroaching into rural hinterland,
To further the ill feeling in the depraved band,
Or when villagers move citywards to hark
Opportunity, but end up courting poverty.
And with the sleaze, the slums; still the anticity
Is lost among fellow strugglers and comes too late,
Till finally too fat a price has been mortally paid.
For sixty-five years, plaster peeling slums have gaped in this
From small dwellings, at long limousines, gliding into their plush
But to say it isn’t about women is silly
For that’s like saying for civilization
That it isn’t about being civilized really.
Further, blood rushes at the abomination
When someone vulnerable, delicate and lovable
Is brutalized, vandalized and desecrated
By some ruffians, who’re like animals created
To fill their base instincts go to lengths deplorable
And when the shock, ours and theirs
Is mutually so confounding that it stares
Then it’s clear we belong to different planets
To different worlds, to completely different sets
Proving that the way women are treated is a telling effect
Of hopeless root causes infesting a country wrecked.
So three sets of fourteen lines cover each day
From June 17th till December 31st 2012,
To show who’s the hunter, and who the prey,
Candidly reporting not intending to helve.
Going purely by newspapers, equally unfearing,
And of course by the cursed age and sentiment,
That prevails pending verifiable judgement,
Quite conscious it may well not be endearing.
Sure, rile and invectives illustrate the defeature,
But times as abusive, merit abusive literature.
So in this emotive veracity are pre election verses,
That double as a chronicle of an age full of curses.
But those blanks, if you find them obscenely hued,
It’s not my mischief; it’s your mind that’s scre_ed!
For the hitch is with our memory first;
We forget so soon, what all they did.
Then our forbearing makes it worse,
So even slaughter they get away with.
Though high maintenance and cumbersome
They are, to fathom, to know, or follow,
Thriving on ‘one more time’ that they borrow,
Yet portentously they beat their drum.
But now we won’t be duped dear reader,
Even if projected’s a holier-than-thou leader.
Now with folded hands when they scrounge for votes,
These chronicles will then come handy folks.
For us I’ve recorded in dates and verses,
So we’ll laugh and know who to bless with curses.
The day arrives almost innocuously.
Partial decontrol of diesel is the tale,
And Pranab dada adds piously,
Also FDI in multi brand retail.
So this is what it’ll be all about.
While the west gasps itself to save,
We’ll faithfully follow them to the grave,
Of that there seems little doubt.
Then RBI may raise interest rates,
On NRI currency deposits mates.
This should stop the rupee from sliding,
Before to Rashtrapati Bhawan he goes riding.
But suspicious still, let’s wait and watch,
Genuine measures or hurried hodge podge?
In Bombay, striking doctors are inspired
By Air India pilots who’re sitting at home.
And the city rains news again is mired,
As two youngsters drown on 24th June.
When Pranab seeks support of Didi Mamata,
Is he just being decent and sporting?
Or being doubly sure, coz it’s worth worrying,
For anything can happen in Kolkata?
The uncertainty is now felt everywhere
And even India Inc has its share.
Companies’re hoarding cash and reserves
Like bottles of pickle and jam preserves.
Now corruption’s exposed amid uncertainty,
So businessmen shut the f_ck up and sit pretty.
Now here’s another contradiction.
On one side there’s the policy maker,
And on the other there’s regulation.
But the policy maker’s also a taker!
An investor, he speaks in promoter interest.
Now that must mean better profit margins.
But the regulator has no such flings.
For him if prices are lower, it’s best.
Now whenever this is the tussle,
The government is forced to unbuckle
A few ministers from the cabinet,
For conflict of interest cannot in parliament sit.
The is the cursed phase businessmen rue,
But pretend when they speak, it’s all for you.
- New Mango Named Nirbhaya After Delhi Gang-Rape Victim (indiatimes.com)
- Nirbhaya’s India – Foreword (nirbhayasindia.com)
- Nirbhaya Case and Image of India (elaichiblog.wordpress.com)
- She hands over the baton – 31st Dec 2012 (nirbhayasindia.com)
- We should FIX things (kochipost.com)
- #India – The Neglect of Health, Women and Justice #Vaw #Womenrights (kractivist.wordpress.com)
Welcome to ooaworld
Welcome to ooaworld, featuring multimedia content including photos, videos, writing and artwork from ooa’s travels, currently traveling through Asia.
Indie Abroad provides study abroad students and other wayward souls with the information they need to dive headlong into their travels and emerge with limbs intact.
The world is a big place and there are plenty of non-stupid things to do in it, so if you have have any advice, stories or insight on international music, film, art, and culture and would like to submit please don’t hesitate to get in touch.
via About | Indie Abroad.
Some people (such as women and minorities who grew up there) will say that the Midwest is the worst place ever. But I have always enjoyed my visits to that […]
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- Why All Students Should Study Abroad (travelrelapse.com)
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I’m just wondering which broad all these guys are studying? –Terry
The Welcome letter as sponsor child
15 janvier 2012 par goanolimits2013
This is an extract of the Welcome letter for the Child Sponsor.
We are happy & pleased to welcome you as our new sponsor in El Shaddai. Thank you for sponsoring Kushboo Mullah ID 785 from Rainbow House. Kushboo is very fortunate to have you as her sponsor. For updates on our charity please visit our website http://www.childrescue.net or email email@example.com.
Your sponsorship is the start of a rewarding and fulfilling relationship, many people visit Goa regularly on holiday and are happy to see ‘their child’ growing up, making each visit a very personal experience. We now have more than 3,500 children in our care in many different States in India. The children in Goa speak English and you are able to visit and communicate with them, these children will have more than one sponsor. All the money goes in one pot and all our children are supported through this. Your money is helping all these children but you are connected to one in the Children’s Homes in Goa.
Our children love to receive letters and cards from their sponsors; your words can have a huge impact on their lives. Your letters and picture postcards are very precious to them, often kept in a special place and looked at frequently. They love to hear and see photos of your country and family. Your letters do not need to be long, a few simple words of encouragement is enough to let your child know you care and think about them. Write about things the child will understand and will interest and stimulate them. A few suggestions: Your family members, the area where you live, your pets, holidays, your sports and hobbies or any events you have attended, please include any photo.
Please be sensitive when writing about material aspects of your life, such as the size of your home and avoid areas suggesting visits to your country or what gifts they would like to receive, these can lead to jealousies between the children. Many of the children are not familiar with letter writing and respond in different ways so please be patient. They often love to draw and color pictures for their sponsors so these will be sent along with their letters. When writing please do not include your home address (not even on the envelope) as this may lead to begging letters. Always send your letters to the Goa office with the child’s name and ID number on the front; this will be forwarded to your child. Never post anything to the UK office for your child; we have no means of forwarding it. Remembering a child’s birthday can have a huge impact. For many it may be the first time they celebrate having never had a birth certificate before.
Dear Members and Friends ,
I am now in Goa for good , and taking care
very closely of the “Child Rescue” charity just
few miles from my new home.
You all know that have created a photobook
from my february photoshoot.
I have naturally offered all my copyrights to the
charity , and the sales revenues goes entirely
Better than a classic, but a bit costly hard copy
i have created the soft copy I-pad version also
available for I-pod touch.
The price is very low at 4.99 $ with only 2 $
going to the publishing platform (Blurb in US)
I need your personal support to buy one copy
and also possibly to “buzz” around you the
message in the social network new world.
Please use the permanent link
Environmentalists have often voiced their concern about the groundwater depletion in the NCR region. Mindless deforestation is aggravating this problem further. What can be described as possibly the last stretch of virgin forests in the NCR region, the Mangar Bani forests on the Gurgaon–Faridabad highway, also stand the risk of being uprooted.
The forests are marked by the divine presence of the five centuries old cult of Gudariya Baba. Locals believe that he attained enlightenment during his stay in the Mangar Bani forests and it is held that the place is in itself an old wise soul. Gudariya Baba’s teachings to his disciples included a warning that any harm by humans or even cattles shall invite the wrath of the wise soul.
As students of journalism at AJK MCRC, Jamia Millia Islamia, we are trying to bring the importance of these forests to the fore. Follow this space and check our updates to know more.
Your contributions are always welcome! Mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Sunil, the secretary of the Gram Vikas Samiti, a local development committee managed to get signatures from almost 450 villagers and stopped a tender that was issued for cutting the trees in the sacred forest.
Waiting for the Answer
13 Monday May 2013
Posted by aimi in LOVE
Well… in an hour or two… I will find out what M’s parent think of us getting married… because M is going to bring up the topic to his parents… since our plan is to get engaged in June. My parents … i mean my dad doesn’t know our plan but my mom knows that we are planing to get married.
I am not sure what normal in this process of … expressing intention to marry in Japanese culture or any other culture but…. it is pretty pretty…well.. big deal to the next step of our relationship…if we want to have a marriage that is accepted by both of our parents.
Time is ticking…. It makes me nervous…
Hello My Friend,
Who am I? Good question. Sorry to say but I am not sure I have the right answer yet as I am on the path of self discovery myself. Other than that I can definitely tell you what I do – Software Engineer in a large IT firm. I am friendly but also an assertive person who loves adventure and jumping is something that gives me thrill – whether it is sky diving or bungee jumping. I have got the travel bug in me and time to time I love staying under water – scuba diving, when I can. India is where I came into existence but my heart is purely global as I do believe that where you are born and brought up does contribute to who you are but I also believe that who you are inside creates a world around you. So I am in the process of creating the surroundings the way I am inside.
Why I am here – To join this online family where people believe in sharing
I am on my journey of life and want to share my thoughts and experience with you. I hope to take you through the same roller coaster I am going through at the moment. And believe me its head spinning thrill and heart dwelling deep at times. So rather than just writing about it, lets start exploring.
Lets create the dreams and turn them into reality.
If you are interested to know the adventurous side of me then visit my other post : http://talkingexperience.wordpress.com/2013/04/25/what-keeps-me-alive-want-to-know-lets-have-a-look/
Talking through experience,
What keeps me alive – Want to know? Let’s have a look
A Journo by profession, Lover of Nature, Literature, Arts etc.
via VigilKumar | About.
Million eyes gaze on your facade,
You make tranquil in our heart and sense
Transcend minds to ease mortal miseries
Bequeath myriad verse to rhymesters
Bestow maudlin tides to aficionados
Wherever ascending or descending
We glimpse the inimitable veneer
Rhythmic to synchronous revolution
You stoop to no one’s supremacy
No colorful charade in any milieu
You are primed of stone and sludge
But flesh and blood to us –
A very passionate soul of life
– Vigil Kumar
Cheery visage of chic flora
Captivates the cadence of life
Blooming garden of buoyancy
Surmises not the survival
Today is the aperture of
Rest of the lustrous days
Breathe the verve of bliss
Before the petals wither
Let the bouquet of fragrance
Blossom in pretty colors
– VIGIL KUMAR