God’s Love

Not those still lean or beginning to shrunk.
Battling their sins or sweating in sun.
Dreary in love, or un-ending tasks.
Bestowed upon them, since dawn embarks.
A reloading roster that keeps them on.
Depriving the creams & comforts they spawn.

But revels in roses, consuming their wine.
Smiles each day more & grows just fine.
Stays top en-listed, in golden pods.
Sleeps happier than ever, in coziest abode.
what offered them, so far & rest,
he offered and wills to, only the best.

Neither writes nor reads,to burden their head.
Neither solves the problems of genius instead.
Lives each day more to live it just more.
Not to progress somewhere or proceed in any meaning.
It’s not the former, who now stand en-raged.
But god loves those who swell with age.

God's Love

God’s Love

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The M-town Song

An Ode to Manipal, the rains & the freedom, through countless memories of Manipalites.
~In my humble opinion, some of the Manipal experiences are incomplete without the Summer stay~

( slideshow at page bottom)

 

 (1) Semester – I  

In  microcosm of life’s grand revel,
Nostalgia protrudes at higher level.
It skips an odd heartbeat,
It is too abstract to tweet.

 (2) Semester – II 

To comprehend, an abundance of cherishes.
Or contemplate on striations of regrets.
To redeem in throes of realization,
Or simply slack, in a mediocre retract.

 (3) Summer-I 

Through the ever changing sky, in those days.
A philosophy of life was reflected, in multiple ways.
When clouds & town-sun, be brightly a-blazed.
Most dull of souls, be then sprightly engaged.
Such times run away, too fast in few moments.
Whether bitter-sweet, but sung in a rising crescendo.
To the higher octave, it burgeons akin a Beethoven.

 

 (4) Semester-III 

Sober through remainder it spreads.
befalls & fades like a farewell rainbow.
left no more such days to stow.
Neither any tropical sun would glow,
nor many thundering storms now blow.

 (5) Semester-IV 

But it sings sometime, in an odd background score.
Fallen behind the curtains, of a new lesser decor.
shines through its silhouette, outlining the sheen of memories.
Whether bitter-sweet, but sung in a rising crescendo.
To the higher octave, it burgeons akin a Beethoven.

 (6) Summer-II  

When the younger days are slipping, now further away in ages.
& tiresomely i flipped back, to the old diary pages.
Those ripe & yellow, their smell enliven a million things.
& some of them were personal, so it silently brings.
In the microcosm of every broad-bold pattern,
Lays a melody, formed from most abstract notes.

 (7) Semester-V  

It simply skips a heartbeat –
To comprehend in abundance,
To cherish or regret,
To redeem or retract.

  (8) Semester-VI

When the sky changes its color,
When the rain pours its fervor,
When the wind sweeps, through broad-leafy trees.
& them flavors a life, nesting in a Shangri-La harmony.
It transcends across the seen & yet to be.
Whether bitter-sweet, but sung in a rising crescendo.
To the higher octave, it burgeons akin a Beethoven.

  (9) Summer-III  

Now a night sky remains, all in our sober tomorrow.
But in glory of M-town song, whether joy or sorrow.
Through countless moments,
Through priceless picturesque,
Every-new passing day, it ripens in a Technicolor.
Every-new shelving memory, it bemoans like a yearning lover.

  (10) Semester-VII  

So i will revere to the M-town song.
Let it reach to a chorus & enliven another moment.
Let it sing more to the less of us, to replete our very voids.
Let it orchestrate a niche, like an old cult ritual.
Let it flow through pages, lapse tenses in statute-spiritual.
Epitomes of this spirit, when our superfluous is hew.
The people we met & those things we did hold true.

 (11) Final Project-I

So let it give me a sight,
Let it memoir tonight,
Let it bring back delight.
Whether bitter-sweet, but sung in a divine crescendo.
Let us rhyme, sing & groove to the M-town song.

~Convocated, Graduated~

IMG-20150515-WA0000

~ Fin, Prost!~

-Vishu Mishra
July 10, 2015

~ (MIT, E&E, Batch-07′ )~

Cherish & Share this ode with every Manipalite.

~Photos courtesy : KMC-Alumni -Shuchi Kataruka | Pics Dated : June,2015 ~

~Watch the Slideshow for more pictures | Thank you for visiting|~
~Regards & God-Bless
~

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The M-town Song

The M-town Song

A Warm Welcome

A Warm Welcome - humor story

The Story-teller : ” Humor me..”

 

‘aah..hope dad ain’t mad over my communication past year’, sighed Ankit.

Holding this thought for a second, he then knocked on that big-black familiar door of his home. It read ‘flat no. 28 – Sharma’s Residence’.

He hadn’t seen home for a while, reading the name plate thrilled him. He planned this trip out of the blue and tried best to keep this a surprise visit. He was worried over his fiance’s reaction to his secret plan and then jumped over pondering about his parent’s joy on his visit. Before he could smile and knock, door’s latch made a cranky sound and it opened to the inside.

There Stood a big black man attired in a grey suit, holding the door knob. Sneaking a view through the half opened door unveiled a crowdy gathering and loud party music.

Stumped to the event, he took off his earphones and spoke ,

“Is there some party going on??” asked Ankit to the bouncer (the door man).

“yes sir! it’s a ‘home welcoming party to Mr.Sharma’s only Son”, said the bouncer.

“Huh! But I din’t say anything about my arrival ,then How come?”,surprised Ankit tried to step inside the hall.

The bouncer stopped him, “sir! may I see your invitation”,he requested.

“WHAT!! you’re gonna ask me invitation to my own house?,I am Ankit! Ankit Sharma! The SON!!”.he said loudly, ridiculing the stupidity of his question.

“and I am sure sir! you have your invitation!”, replied bouncer, much calmly.

After few verbal exchanges, Ankit showed his ID but it din’t impress the gate man.

A long fussy debate got over with a bribe of 1000 Rs and ankit finally walked inside the hall.

He murmured  ,“ Damn man! money to enter your own home, what stupid crooked security, am gonna make him apologize by night”

he placed his bag beside the door, as asked by the bouncer. Then he took one of the slippers from shoe rack and placed his travelling shoes in place. He started moving around, scanning this loud and crowdy room. He sees his father at farther end of hall. He waves to his father who waved back with a smile.

Sanguinely, he pushed through the drunk and dancing crowd, got some red wine spilled on his white shirt.

Ignoring the spill, “Hey Dad! Surprise!! I am home! ”,he rejoiced.

However, his facial efforts kept accentuating and he started looking un-natural and uncomfortable to the passive reaction of his father.

“Hey buddy! Any confusions? Must be Ankit’s friend right? you should meet my son Ankit! He’s standing next  to the Dj control! change your shirt dear! It stinks with wine spill!”,said Mr. Sharma, who then waved at another guy and left.

Ankit got stupefied to this bizarre response and stood blank for a moment. Something hit him in the head, as if either he travelled in time machine or suffered a brain wreck. Not thinking further, he looked around for the DJ control, to find this other Ankit.

He got desperate and pushed hard through the crowd. However, his physique didn’t agree to his anger, got tripped over and broke his glasses.

“Damn! These people must be really happy for my return! They are celebrating and wrecking  all over me”, he murmured.

he started crawling on the floor and finally reached the DJ control with mighty efforts. A man helped him to get up,

“hi! I am Ankit! I just came back from states, nice welcoming party, isn’t it?!.

And you’re..?” ,said the DJ.

“ ummm.. i.. am.. Ank..Ankit too, never mind”,said Ankit, now feeling insulated to this stupid scenario.

“oh! You must have been a friend of dad, never seen you before, a distant relative, are you??”,he said, lowering the sound of speaker.

“what the hell man! This is my home! Who are you and what is goin on..”,Ankit erupted with anger.

The man at DJ asked him more questions-he  questioned his identity, his job, his relations in india and added royally to his frustration. Further, adding worsely to Ankit’s annoyance- the DJ man would lower the volume while asking questions and increase it while Ankit would try answering any of them.

he (dj man) laughed at him,again and again and again..

“Hey man! I can’t make any sense of you! I guess the music is too loud! Why don’t u change that stinky shirt and wear a t-shirt from the many lying at sofa!”,said the DJ with a naughty grin.

“Strange deejay guy ,must be stoned on weed or something,everyone is effing stoned, am gonna scold everyone after the party”, said  patience god Ankit.

He then readily moved towards the entrance door, only to find his bag missing.

“Hey man! Where’s my bag,it had lot of clothing and gifts inside”, asked Ankit to the bouncer.

The bouncer din’t care to engage in any dialogues with him. Ankit too wasn’t planning to piss off the big guy. He shook his head in irritation and finally picked up one of the t-shirts from the sofa and changed.

He then moved around to search for his mother. Meanwhile, a man in crowd shouted to catch his attention, “Hey! Boy! Get me another drink and some snacks, will you”.

Trying to gratify himself as the party host , Ankit took the man’s glass and moved to the kitchen, “Rude guests! Where did the self service go man! Indians need pampering, always!!”

“hey mom! Thank god you’re here”, he looked left to his shoulder and smiled.

The old lady smiled, she nodded and intimated him that she can’t hear him.

He got agitated and shouted again,

“hey mom! Thank god I found you. surprise! I am home!!”,again putting lot of efforts in facial expressions.

The lady took a pencil and wrote on paper, ‘Nice to meet you son.I can’t hear,I am temporarily deaf!’.

”oh!! what happened Mom”,asked worried Ankit.

She wrote again-‘You must be one of my husband’s  associates, he  has pulled off a great deal in first quarter  and  he is celebrating with this nice party, isn’t that great!’,she smiled.

He lost the conversation at that very note and got completely out of his mind, “WHAT the hell is going here!”,he yelled.

He moved out of kitchen, crawled around the wall’s corners, trying to reach the DJ’s desk. He got stumbled at one of the mirrors, only to find out that he was wearing a t-shirt that read-‘gladly at your service! ‘King’s kitchen’.

“what the hell man! i ain’t a bloody waiter here!”,he shrugged furiously.

Having had enough of party, he stormed to the DJ floor, took one big speaker and broke it pieces.

The whole crowd looked shock and awe. They stared at him for a moment, then each one in the room took out their giant headphones and disc players, plugged in and started dancing like crazy. They were literally mocking ankit and celebrating over his frustration.

He looked around with a whacko face, his mouth was wide-open. He madly looked at each one of them and shouted- “mad house!! MAD HOUSE ,MADD HOUSEE ,I AM LEAVING”

Instantly, a man pushed him to the centre, where his father stood with his cousin brother and fiancé,

“the DJ is my brother, it was my idea to give you a sweet dose of reminiscence”, winked his fiancé.

“Never lie to your fiancé sweety and never leave your mail box open, I saw your bookings a week back”, tongue in cheek, she smiled.

“yes, and you must keep in touch regularly, or we will throw you more surprises” , laughed all-  his father ,mother and his cousins.

“Okay! Okay!  I am sorry, I know I know, but please don’t give me such train wrecks”, sheepishly smiled an apologetic Ankit.

Everyone burst into laughter and joined in to cut the cake which read-

Surprise!!! ,If you want to evade one-KEEP IN TOUCH!! 😉

yours loving,

family & friends”.

Ankit understood everything and said – “ohhh!!! And it makes sense too, wow! hahah”

and the whole place burst into another laughter.

“Yes! I promise, I will take out more time out of my busy schedule”,said a sincere Ankit with smile.

“ if you din’t notice,you couldn’t have made it more classy! you  chose your surprise visit on 1st of april. I am sure it’s by default of-course,

aah..you’re so forgetful and clueless sometimes sweety”, smiled and winked his fiance.

She then blew the cake candles with him and then the actual welcoming party started. This party was pretty warm.

 

 

A Warm Welcome - Humor

A Warm Welcome – Humor Story

The Journey

I realize day in & out
that a power gets feeble within
when most beautiful things un-prosper
& most delightful hopes spur-down.

It agitates my fear of lasting,
those beautiful most, are brevity.
I once had a feeling most sanguine.
now it enervates me, all nights i sleep.

I live wih a code,un-deviated.
faith is rewarded, earnesty grows fruit.
though life wear me out every second,
day by day, hour by hour, i count.

There’s a graveyard of dreams i pass,
some die at gates, others dint last.
I learn my lesson with every step.
those who din’t quit may only pass.

There’s a cruel test to an artist.
& a torrent of opinions hold you.
& most dear people leave you.
There’s a journey most difficulty drawn.

I am a poet.
I am a sketcher.
I am dancer.
I am a writer.
I am an artist, an evangelist,an idea & a dream.
I will prevail.
~Dedicated to all people who have a fight against the common notions.The journey towards art is daunting and needs a great will power to endure.you can tag your artist friends in this,most welcome.

 

 

vishu mishra

09-06-2014

 

The journey

The journey