May 18, 2012

Tales of Love..

    Love love love. The whole world revolves around this word. Doesn’t it?

    They say love can’t be defined. It can only be felt. And to each one, his own. The following is a attempt by me and a few friends of mine to interpret the word ‘Love’ and what it means to them.

Read on, enjoy. And don’t forget to let us know what is your take on Love!
_____________________________________________________________________

Kashyap Keni

“Whenever wherever if ever you need me,
A day when you fumble,
I'll be there.


When the tides turn toward you,
And the skies start to rumble,
I'll be there.


When troubles surround you,
And the demons have found you,
Or just when you stumble,
I'll be there.

If you can't help but fall,
Just give me a call,
I'll run to you come hell and all,
Together we tumble,
And I'll be there.

So your never alone,
Never ever,
I'll be there, forever.
Even when I begin to crumble.”

_____________________________________________________________

 Maithili Kamat Shankhwalker

       Are all relationships selfless? Is there any relationship which asks for nothing? And gives everything?

The answer to that is just one : parents!

       The relationship parents share with their kids! How long does it take them to start loving us? Not more than one look at the new born baby, and they know it's theirs! Even before we are born, they start dreaming about this important and very gentle phase of their lives, parenthood! It's the purest form of a relationship! They just want us to be happy! That is all that they think of! How to keep us happy, all throughout our lives! Seeing us cry, brings tears to their eyes, and so does seeing us smile! This phase is full of simple feelings of love, yet, they cannot be explained! The most beautiful and selfless feelings ever.

     Why selfless? Our parents cannot choose. They can't ask for the kind of kids they want. They can just love their kids unconditionally! No matter what happens. They try to make us better, but have they ever told us to change who we are? Unconditional. Are we the best kids on earth for our parents? Yes we are! They let us take our risks, make mistakes! But why? It hurts them the most when they see us fall! When they see us cry! But they want us to be responsible! They want us to learn! To live. They are our teachers. We see all their actions, know what they have done for us since the day we were born! Can we explain their actions? We can't, can we?

 1 month: Staying awake whole night with the little angel on her lap, singing, so that the baby can sleep well, peacefully.

 1 year: Holding her tiny fingers, they make her walk, while their eyes are filled with tears. 

2 years: She runs behind him, the little feet that run away from food.

 3 years: He wipes her tears when the spoon from her 'cooking set' goes missing. 

4 years: She gets him ice-cream when he has a bruised knee!

5 years: She guides her little hands through the ABC's...

6 years: He runs behind his princess, holding on to the back of her cycle, and suddenly withdraws his hands, praying that she doesn't fall..

7 years: Her lips break into a smile when she sees her little doll use her lipstick..

8 years: He decides to duck a little so that his champion can score a goal..9 years: her thunderous claps when her little dancer leaves the stage...

10 years: He quietly cleans the glass pieces of the vase, targeted by the cricket ball...all for his little cricketer. 

11 years: She works throughout the night on a project, while her daughter is sound asleep. 

12 years: A new bike followed by "you are the best dad in the world"!! 

13 years: Her first venture in the kitchen. The sweetness of a sugarless coffee. Just plain love. 

14 years: Unstable steering, his hands meet his father's, who takes control - his first drive. 

15 years: When she is granted permission to go out for dinner, even  before she asks for it..last day of high school..

16 years: Entering a new world, life, as the words "good luck" escape their lips..

17 years: Another phase of our life gets over. Higher Secondary. We cry because we won't see our friends again. But when we turn and look behind, we get reminded of the fact that our parents will always be there for us. Selflessly wanting us to keep smiling.

Our parents, the biggest part of our little world. Our love.

_____________________________________________________________________

Vinaya Chandiramani

     Love in four months? You’re probably laughing right now. But I’ll tell you, it was more than love. 10th September, 2009 is when I first saw him. Black (racist?) with little brown eyes, he was a tiny scared puppy – a mix of a Doberman and an Alsatian. A puppy, who probably ran away from home, reached my maid’s house, who promptly brought him here. It wasn’t love at first sight. But friendship, yes.

    I named him Sprite. My dad, however, wanted him to have an Indian name, like Gajanan, but he settled for Sprite eventually. Sprite and I became best friends in a week. He’d know as soon as I got up in the morning, I’d walk him a little and then we’d both sit and have our glasses of milk. He was just like a real person. He felt every emotion, except sadness. Sprite was never sad. I could talk to him about anything, and he’d know EXACTLY how I felt. When I’d cry, he’d put his little black head on my lap and lick my hand till I’d stop crying. He’d jump around and lick my face if I was happy. Every night, I’d hum him a lullaby and he’d fall asleep with his blanket. We shared food, and other stuff that will always be special to me.

    Then time came to give him away because we couldn’t take care of him anymore. A week before this happened, I sat with him late at night, and before I knew it, he’d fallen asleep on my lap. I didn’t wake him.

    Saying goodbye was too hard. Sprite-oo cookie, you were, are and always will be the best friend I’ve ever had. And if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

_____________________________________________________________________ Model : Pooja Pai :P

A feeling that brings a smile on your face.

- Me, Midastouch.

May 14, 2012

The Kitten’s Lair

    This ballad was much due to be posted on the blog. Experimenting with writing styles, I must say is fun! Seems like the more simple you keep it, the more of a smile it puts on your face.

Kitten

A call, all that I was waiting for.

Walk to the beach with her.

Dancing with the muddled integrals,

Sleep, my vertical asymptote to the heavens.

 

A call was all that came,

That excited voice, spirited bliss.

Not for the walk, but for a talk.

Or, was that a meow?

 

She’d found a kitten, downstairs.

With the golden ball of fur,

Was she always in love.

Loving her back was the kitten.

 

He cuddled, he scratched.

He shivered and quivered.

Love, cookies and some milk,

Put the squeaky purrs to sleep.

 

Never had she kept a kitten before,

In the laundry basket, hidden.

What if it dirties, I asked.

Paved way to her lovely giggles.

 

The kitten licked,

And it got heftily kissed.

They come once,

Get treated like a king.

 

A week or two, the kitten lived

She thought, or did she not?

A month it must be,

I judged from experience.

 

Of experience I talk,

A million pups and kittens.

Brought home with love,

Only to face my mother’s wrath.

 

Didn’t expect hers to be,

Any different from mine.

Oh, the call that was on,

Had to end. Bye.

 

The meows don’t end here,

For, there she called again.

The twilight talks,

Venus and the moon overlook.

 

Her mom, true to my words,

Didn’t love the sight of fur.

A little more milk,

And the kitten lost its lair.

 

The kids downstairs played,

The tabby nearby preyed.

With her, on her.

Mercy and care, she had.

 

The kitten soon found,

Her body was nothing but,

A wonderland, a playground.

Soft paws and scratches galore.

 

The kitten, an obedient child.

Followed her mother, the girl.

On the way up the stairs,

Twice or thrice.

 

Another call, in delight.

Another meow is what I here,

She loves him, and them all.

I knew by now.

 

I wanted to help,

I wish I could.

Time to let him go,

It inevitably came.

 

The watchman, a kind guy

I wish that he is,

Took him, his home.

Lair, was it regained?

 

The girl felt bad, cried.

I wouldn’t stop her.

For, I million times I have.

A million lost their lairs.

 

~ LeBiggerBang et LaMyth

27 January 2012

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Me, Midas Touch by Raj Kunkolienkar is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at imidastouch.blogspot.com
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