I LONG TO BE WITH YOU

I long to be with you

My daughters pretty

Petite ones

for sometime nay a long

time

gossiping giggling galloping

over

the hill tops with emerald

verdure

gliding down the slopes

into deep forests

with the rhythm rhyme

of

golden time.

Come now my daughters

for

Some time nay a long

time

frisking frolicking rolling

rocking

into the arms of your

papa mummy

 I live your childhood memories

Whenever I get time to

roam about

in my thoughts

           your mummy is equally lost

in memories dear

ones

     winning the gold medals for

interschool games

local papers screaming

with banner headlines

“SISTERS BAG GOLDS ‘’

come my daughters

for

some time nay a long

time.

to drive along the Boulvard

road

listening to the Kashmiri

folk songs

while skiing for

hours

on the placid waters of

    Dal lake.

 

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MY LOVESOME LOVE

Here she comes my lovesome love

 Frenzy frisky frolicking

with

dewy dove eyes

Wide and wonderous

As blue skies

 The beautiful highland lass

Trudging over the mountain pass

Wading

through the shimmering waters

Jumping barefeet over the boulders

On to the verdure so leafy green

Intersperse flowered

long stretches divinely designed.

The yellow sun gleams

Through her long tresses

on to

her glittering visage

radiantly glowing.

 

 Here she comes my lovesome love

to

Greet me into

her glistening arms.

In the tight clasp

Swaying me down the steep

thick boughs

redolent of pungent

earthy love.

Slithering her fingers into the

Crevices contours

Of my soul stirred

nudity.

 with smacking lips

she entices me

to

ecstasy love making.

                                

 

 

 

 

I LOVE TO ROAM

I love to roam about in the

forests

dense and dark

beams of Sunrays

breaking

the hush and stillness

glowing the prospectus

for a

while

The   birds Thrush, Finch , Bulbul

Cooing lilting music

To my ears with a

smile

I love and like

talking to the tall

pine trees

Swaying in the cool

breeze

Of the rustling leaves

lunging to recline on long

shadow

enjoying the beauty of sprawling

meadow

I love to scale mountain

Peaks

Treading upon the slippery

foliage ,crimson dust

with great fervor and lust

the marvels of Nature

unbound and unknown

thrill me with delight

away

from the throbbing

mad crumbling

cities

I love to embrace the scintillating

beauty

of the quivering notes of my

thought

embedded in the chasms

of enchanting heart

radiating hope of eternal

love .

MY DAYS IN RISHIKESH

On November 19th 1989 I stepped carefully from the State bus ,my right hand firmly holding on to the bar ,after negotiating the broken rickety foot-hold, I eased myself down. I heaved a sigh of relief once my both feet were well on the ground , a task ,though simple one, was done without any incident.

I was not old ,barely in middle of forties ,but the fatigue stress of corporate job had intensified the telltale of the years on my face.

The Rishikesh bus stand was familiar sight ,crowded as usual with passengers thronging the place making unusual  noise with push and pull for getting into and out of the buses.

It was return of the native for me as I had spent nearly a decade from 1973 to 1983 as corporate manager in the Glass unit in this beautiful town.

Joining the Glass decorative unit as General Manager I headed for the waiting car towards the picturesque town .

The car went past the busy streets ,much more crowded than years gone by , slow stream of cars ,honking of buses and trucks ,drivers shouted at one another.

 

Ashrams_on_the_banks_of_Ganges_Rishikesh

Temples on the  bank of The Ganges River

The town was still beautiful , standing on either side of Holy River Ganges, the placid rippling waters causing a cool breeze that fetched freshness to the torrid looks.

The sacred river flows through the city originating from Shivalik hills in Himalayas and flows into the plains of India . A small town ,encircled by tall Himalayan range of emerald forests ,with string of Temples ,big and small, stand along the river banks, a real treat to one’s eyes.

The tourists make a beeline for Char Dham(four ) sacred abodes, Badrinath ,Kedarnath , Yamnotri ,and Gangotri passing through the gateway of Rishikesh.

The Hindu pilgrims are of firm belief   by visiting these places they seek salvation to heaven.

The car sped past the traffic and made way towards the TAPOVAN ,the site of our Decorative Glass unit.

 

We entered the gates of the Factory and Dr Lall , the M.D greeted me with a broad smile .

“welcome Kaul Sahib back to home” He said extending his warm hands for a handshake, which I took graciously.

“Thank you sir.it is pleasure to get chance to work with you again for an august company like BILT.” I replied politely.

 

“we are schedule to do decoration for beverage bottles for both Pepsi-cola and C o c a-cola and you have to do a lot of planning for decorating 500,000 bottles, mostly 300ml, per day.” D r Lall continued.

“ it depends on various factors . By the way what is production now?” I enquired anxiously.

“ About 100,000 bottles for various Indian customers. We need to reinforce infrastructure to enhance production and quality to cater to two giant multinationals .” Lall said with an air of finality.

“ I know you can do it . All I promise you will get my support and free hand to handle Plant affairs .” He continued emphatically.

“I shall put in all efforts to come up to your expectations” I replied back.

The meeting ended.

We went across the beautiful L a x man-J h o o l a for a sumptuous lunch at famous CHOTTIWALA.

“ I must thank you Lall Sahib for such a fabulous lunch. I have enjoyed every bit of it.”

“ Never mind , it is ok.” “ the next fortnight is crucial for us as both of the top executives of Pepsi-co l a and Coca -cola are visiting our plant here in Ta p o van for approving our plant operations . I want you to move swiftly on this so that we bag the full orders . By the way Kaul Sahib do you know any one from these two cos.” Lall Sahib asked anxiously .

“ Yes I know a couple of important guys from International Coke as well as Pepsi. But they are very professional sir and would be very strictly judging our skills of both operations and quality tests. We should get both orders but I need some immediate equipments for the laboratory for international testing of decorative bottles. These are very important” . I replied affirmatively.

 

“Discuss with the Purchase Manager and procure immediately whatever you require. Do not wait for my sanctions. I am going back tonight to Delhi and leave everything to you. I must have both orders . I trust your communication skills should be additional factor for our success. Good luck to you” l a l l sahib shook hands with me and proceeded to Delhi ,leaving me to fend for myself to accomplish the task as effectively as possible.

 

Needless to say we succeeded not in getting the full orders from both Giants but also in making huge profits for the company in the long run.

My second stint in R i s h i k e s h was very successful in all aspects and now a myriad of memories flow intermittently  to bring a moment’s peace to the soul and body together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AMIDST THE CHINAR TREES

Vividly I remember

Walking

Amidst the Chinar trees

The cool breeze

sweeping

overhead me

crackling twigs leaves

Underfoot

I scurried through

shimmering shadows

Pungent

with Autumn air

The golden leaves

sliding all across

in a forest of

downy flake

I view long stretches

Of lush verdure

With excitement and

Pleasure.

The snow melt gurgling

streams

Coursing rocky boulders

Causing

a  musical churgling

the kashmir birds

kasture ,bulbul, bill-bi–chur

  huddling in herds

chirping in symphony

 a lullaby.

  A siesta

      under the sprawling trunk

       on golden downy hay

     made my pretty

day .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOVE IS LOVELY

When you smile loudly

With brashness but

Proudly

Love is lovely

And is lovely

your smile spreading

glistening Sunshine

and your each guffaw

with peals of laughter

tantalize all nerves

swaying soothing symphony

the full curves

love   is lovely

and is lovely.

The musical lullaby

Of the growling clouds

drizzling drops soothe me

to sleep .

love is lovely

and is lovely

In hand and glove

we move to emerald

verdure

in sweet embrace

for a tempestuous

pleasure

love is lovely

and is lovely.

 

 

 

MY STORY.

Living for 44 years in wedlock has been sweet sour relationship, though arduous at times, but definitely a joyous journey a milestone to cross and be proud of.

It is love begets love situation and never ending story of anger , arguments , but nevertheless ceaseless memorable moments of courtship with resonance of love romance and passion.

Way back in 1975 I worked in Pune , obviously a difficult predicament I was in to travel to Srinagar every now and then for selecting the right girl to be my wife.

On the face of it ,looked stupid even those days to come from such a far distance simply to say yes or no.

But my father, being an astute resolute person, was in fact keen to seek my consent to the selection of the girl in waiting before proceeding ahead.

I undertook this uncomfortable voyage twice and finally gave in. I told my father to handle the job on his own.

“ Dad “, I said ”you are fully competent to do this for me and my consent is always there. I trust you and mum.” “All Kashmiri girls are good gracious and educated .so there is no problem as such” I continued emphatically.

“ ok my boy ,so nice of you to say so. But the task for me is more difficult now” He laughed heartily.

My father , a tall , be spectacled six footer of swarthy complexion was endowed with great sense of humour.

An educationist of repute, being in touch with young students , he was very much young at heart too.

Moreover he had love marriage with my beautiful small sized angel mother.

My mother was my grandfather’s bosom friend’s daughter . My father loved my mother very much and eventually married her.

Soon after I received a photograph ,exceedingly beautiful one of my wife.

The chiselled features with deep set doe eyes , demurely innocence made me simply to fall in love with the photograph who is eventually the queen of my tender heart.

Interestingly the photograph framed in exclusively silvery designed frame adores my working desk in my home office.

I just conveyed my consent in a jiffy through trunk call to my father .

I could imagine my consent might have done wonders for my father by relieving him from the stress that had compressed his mind for a long time.

My father recounted me the girl’s family background and I would say “ok ok” least interested in knowing that and hung the phone instantly.

I and my younger sister were yet to be married.

Father was keen to see me married so that he could relax with responsibilities taken off his shoulders.

My two elder sisters and two brothers were married already.

The eldest sister ,whom we fondly called Bengashi was great inspiration and help to my father. She was very upright ,modern woman and had full authority to take decisions regarding home affairs without any hitch.

Elder daughters were always a center of power and authority in a Kashmiri Pandit family to negate or accept any decision to be taken. So my sister, with affable magnetic personality ,was the most loved one of all the children.

I travelled down to Delhi in a train and flew to Srinagar by plane , very unusual at that time, to see my heartthrob.

Srinagar

Beautiful    kashmir   Dal lake

As the plane descended on to Srinagar airport ,the resplendent nature with snow capped mountains glittering through the bluebonnet skies, opened up a breathtaking view of the Paradise on earth ,my beautiful Kashmir.

The marriage date was fixed as 19th October .

My father ,a social reformer and ardent activist forebade any money spinning Celebrations like “Gandhun “–engagement and “Durbati”—special lunch organised by maternal side .

Marriage was an elaborate saga , as expected of   typical Kashmiri marriages those days with great fanfare.

Ceremony Groom’s house

The ladies invited dressed in co lo u r f u l attires , sang Kashmiri songs ,to the tunes of Kashmiri music with the twang of their noses , ‘ Wanvun’— a melodious refrain sung by a group of ladies. The guests were served with pink salted tea (sheer chai) in the midst and end of the singing throughout day and night ,

Finally on the D-day I was center of attraction , being decorated as Groom by my uncle ,  fondly called ‘Babuji’,who helped me to tie the turban with specially stitched ACCHKAN for the occasion. ‘Babuji’ was connoisseur  of our family loved and respected by one and all.

Before the marriage procession I stood on the ‘Vyoog’  —Rangoli , a decent decorative designed pattern of dry colours and the eldest Aunty gave nabbad a sweet hard dessert to nibble at . I and the Guests (Baraat) proceeded for bride’s house in several cars .

Those days the craze for marriages was at high pitch.. The guests and all others enjoyed to one’s fill.The participation used to be with  great zeal and fervour.

Reception at Bride’s place

 As soon as I and my Baraat (marriage procession) reached Bride’s place ,just at stone’s throw from our house, the relatives of bride greeted us by blowing a conch shell.

Here again as per ritual I was to stand on the ‘Vyoog ‘and the maternal uncle of the bride brought the bride out on to the Vyoog where I was made to stand.

The mother of the bride performed puja with lamps made of wheat flour and fed us both with the Nabad – the hard sweet dessert , and the purohit performed the Dwar pooja   before leading us to the Lagan (marriage ) mandhap – the auspicious place .

One more typical tradition of Kashmiri Pandit marriage is the performance of POSH PUZA , not performed in Hindu Indian marriages .

We were made to sit in comfortable posture , a red cloth was put on our heads and all relatives of both families offer flowers to the chanting of Vedic hymns .

The newly weds are regarded as Shiva and Pa r v a t i and worshipped as such .

Now I could see my bride dressed in beautiful sari and bedecked with ‘Dejaharu’   an ear ornament with golden tussels that pass through the the middle cartilage of the ear. The holes are pierced in Kashmiri Pandit girls at very early age of 4 or 5 years .

The ‘Dehjaru’ is having same sanctity as ‘Mangal sutra’ for Indian brides.

At this late stage of life the myriads of memories trickle down the mind and heart and I gleefully watch my wife Shara for hours together ,still beautiful and glittering like Summer’s sunny morning,thus enjoying every bit of the fleeting moments .