Thursday, 15 August 2013


Image courtesy :

Aaj itna azaad hoon main ki raahein to bahut hai par manzil ka thikana na raha. 
Udta chala ja raha hai man apni hi dhun mein. 
Kadam tikte nahi zameen pe, na zehen mein rehta koi khyal naya.
Bus azaadi ki lat mein choor hoon, madhosh hoon. 
Na bandhan hai, na bediyaa jo roke mujhe. 
Dekho chala main kis ore khabar nahi mujhe. 
Par kya aisi azadi chahi thi maine
Kya aisi azaadi chahi thi ki manzilon ka thikaana na rahe? 
Kya aisa josh manga tha ki phir mujhe hosh na rahe?

Aaj phir ghulami chahta hoon pehna do bediyaan mujhe. 
Baandh do is kadar ki bhatku na in raahon mein. 
Is kadar ho bandishe ki josh mein to rahun magar hosh kam na ho. 
Itni bandishe phir rahein mujh par ki khyal rahe gairo ka bhi aur sochu na mehez zehen se; dil ka bhi istemaal karu.

Ghulami zaroori hai azaadi ke baad. 
Nahi to us udte gubbare ki tarah uche to ud jaaenge magar manzil ka thikana maalom na hoga. 
Ghulami zaroori hai insaaniyat ki, nahi to bhatka krenege galiyon mein aur sukoon na hoga kabhi. 
Ghulami zaroori hai mohabbat ki nahi to nafrat ki aag mein dil phir sulag jaega.

Dua hai, rahe azaadi hardum phir bhi aaj ek khwahish hai ki us azaadi ke saath mil jaae thodi ghulami mujhe jo in behekte kadamo ko sahi raah, sahi manzil dikha sake.

© Shreyansh Chouradia

Monday, 12 August 2013

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD ! : By Deeptha Rao
Once upon a time, very long ago, like very very long long ago, king Daksh had a daughter called  Dakshayini, who happened to be a reincarnation of Parvati. Unsurprisingly, she fell for our favourite God (Shiva) and married him, much to the disappointment of the good king, who did not fancy him to be a suitable son-in-law. Did they live happily ever after? I fear not. 

<despite the sarcasm oozing out of the author's every word, it is to be noted that she really likes this story>

One day, the king decided to perform a homam, and when kings decide to do anything, they do it with a BANG! Ergo, he invited every living being in the world to bear witness to his awesomeness except Lord Shiva. Needless to say, his daughter was more than a bit peeved at not receiving an invite. Despite her husband's warning, she left their mountainous abode to make her presence felt at her father's grand pooja.

On arriving there, her father, in one of his many fatherly overbearing speeches, insulted her beloved before all those present. Maddened with grief at finding her own dad so beside himself with hatred, she did what Indian women always did, she jumped into the pooja's sacred fire. 

<Hence, she was called Sati and millions of Hindus for generations to come used her act of extreme devotion to conveniently dispose of their womenfolk>

Lord Shiva, as we all know, is a hard man to irk, but irked he was when he found out his wife was dead. He arrived at the scene, beside himself with rage and after pulling out his wife's half burnt body from the sacred fire, he beheaded the now not so good king, opened his third eye, in general made quite a scene and set out to destroy everything in his path starting with Manmatha, the deity of love.

Now, the Gods were not too pleased with all the devastation, so, following standard protocol, they rang for Lord Vishnu to sort things out. Vishnu followed the enraged widower and cut off bits of Sati's burning body till nothing was left for Shiva to carry. 

<There are 21 or so Shaktipeethas in this country, for each part of her body where a fire never stops burning!!!!> 

Shiva returned to his snowy household, determined to meditate for the rest of his life or forever, whichever was longer.

But whatever happened to the homam? As we all know, it is an act of the greatest degree of sin to leave a pooja unfinished and king Daksh was feeling a little light in the head. The rishis hence called an emergency meeting and, on espying a goat nearby, whistled innocuously and edged up close to it and chopped off its head. Planting the goat's head on the king, they succeeded in completing the homam.

Thus, the Chamakam was born  (the reason the shlokas end the way they do is because of the goat's head and the goat-y way of talking!! eg. Godumashcha me, grihamcha me, mitramcha me, me me me me) 

[Author's note: 'me' here's pronounced as 'may', she did not know how to get the little line above the e to make this aspect of pronunciation clear to the reader.]


Saturday, 3 August 2013


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 40; the fortieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "MAKE A WISH"

On his knees, holding a sparkling metallic piece, Sameer knew it was the end. But it was irresistible. Greed had taken over. He knew that one wish cost one life of his clan. He was the last one remaining. He had everything but still, he wanted more. He couldn't stop himself.  He touched the metal, kissed it and made the wish. He fell down, dead; blood gushing out of his mouth.
As the police placed the corpse on the stretcher, something caught the attention of Inspector Vikram. It was a metal piece, soaked in blood. He picked it up and wiped the blood off it. Something was engraved on it. He looked closer. It read “MAKE A WISH”. He slipped the metal in his pocket discreetly.

Someone in the 'Dark World' smiled playfully.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 01
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