The Whimsical Musings

This is a dedication to all my friends, and batch-mates of MBA-Tech batch of 2009-14. There were times we played, Times that were great.. We stuck together till the end. There were times of drought, Times we fought.. We stuck together till the end. There were times of strain, Times of pain.. We stuck together till the end. There were times we got scared, Times we braved... We stuck together till the end. There were times we hung, Times when we sung.. We stuck together till the end. There were times we shared, Times when we cared.. We stuck together till the end. We shall stay together until the end This is not the end... Content subject to copyright. For permission to use any content, please contact before hand.

Here's my first Hindi poem/song. Tip: Read in mind with a chorus-like sound (a-la 'Bandeya ho' chorus voice). Get in the mood my chanelling negative memories and with hearing  song like 'Main Chala'. In the tune, the last syllable of each sentence would be extended. Har baar hota raha Tu yun sehta raha Ghaav pe yu malam, kab tak laga paayega.. Har modd, ek dard Zindagi k safar par Tu kya aur sehhh paayega? Keelon ke, bistar par Subah, shaam, raat bhar Iss tarah, tu reh paayega? Har baar hota raha Tu yun sehta raha Ghaav pe yu malam, kab tak laga paayega.. Aag-bhare koylon par ko iss lambe(..) safar Kya tu aur chal paayega? Sunte pal-do pal Cheekhein, raat bhar Chup chaap, tu reh paayeha? Har baar hota raha Tu yun sehta raha Ghaav pe yu malam, kab tak laga paayega.. Content subject to copyright. For permission to use any content, please contact before hand.

The pressures of work made his nerves loose. Suited up in hiking boots, The wolf rode to find his groove. Natures call seemed to be stronger than booze. The silver coin moon, Urged him to find his groove. In contrast to his usual suit tie shoes; The banker went to the forest, To find back his groove. The trip to the mother he always revelled. He seemed to rediscover, Something inside that he held. The wind tore through his his hair, tears in his eyes welled. The bountiful nature abound brought about, Something inside that he held. Only a mile more left, he could see his thirst get quelled. A night in the mountains would put an end to, Something inside that he held. He got off his bike, looked to the sky and loosened the collars and cuff. As Wall street wasn't the only street, He was the wolf of.. Content subject to copyright. For permission to use any content, please contact before hand.

How do you use your imagination? How do you create? It may be in the form of a painting With the shading and pastels on the canvas, in gray or color Or it may be with a pen The majestic words creating a vivid picture It can be photography As pictures speak more than a thousand words Or be an architectural blueprint Creation of structures unique, towering the palace of birds It may take the form of sculptures From pots to figurines, made from wood, marble and clay Or in form of martial arts Capabilities of the body, that might help you see a new day It might be a voice Rhythms, beats and symphonies making you go high Or having a look into the minds A way to explore what just happened and why It could be dance Movements that seem to unite body and soul Or it could be a program Lines of code that seem to make your life whole They are all art... Author note: Dedicated to my mentor, who was there to inspire me to create and teach me to believe in myself w...

Why are we happy? Why are we sad? Why do some things make us feel good or bad? Why do we build? Why do we create? Why doesn't knowledge just permeate? Why do we preach? Why do we pray? Why can't we listen before we say? Why do we get angry Why do we abuse? Why is it that we hate to lose? Why do we work? Why do we play? Why can't we just take a holiday? Why do we booze? Why do we dope? Why can't we just have some hope? Why do we want? Why do we need? Why are we compelled to feed our greed? Why do we kill? Why do we harm? What is it that makes our insides warm? Content subject to copyright. For permission to use any content, please contact before hand.

This story is as dark as Black , which might just make you stop in your track. There was a troubled girl named Violet , who was very fond of her little pet. It was a bunny called Indigo , who she never want let go. Today the girl felt Blue , as the cold wind outside blew. She went to the grass-field Green , but her bunny was nowhere to be seen. There was a vision of a blade colored Yellow , which made her fear for her lil' fellow. The blade in her hand she used to peel an Orange , made her insides feel strange On her bed-sheets the were stains Red , as was there lying her bunny dead. The color of her face became pale White , as a grin on her face grew wide... Content subject to copyright. For permission to use any content, please contact before hand.