The Progress of A Pilgrim- A Journey

  Like all plays and movies directed, written and acted in, by great directors, writers and actors, The Passion Play was not just directed by The Divine Director but rather was written and acted in by Him. But yet there are an interesting mix of charectors in this Play. Whether it's the Sleeping Peter and his friends or a Judaa selling his Lord and Friend for a few pieces of silver or a Pilate a judge who pronounced a miscarriage of justice for some trinkets of Roman Admiration or a Herod who thought of Jesus as magician and an entertainer, the women who wept when Jesus walked to Calvary, or a Cyrenean forced to carry Someone Else 's burden, or a Veronica wiping her beloved's Face or a Mary suffering silently with Her Son, a John weeping and beholding his beloved Lord dying on The Cross, a Magdalene weeping at The Crucified's Feet, a few onlookers mocking The Son of Man, a thief stealing Heaven, a thief seeking an easy way out, and finally, a Roman Centurion crying out ...

  The entire Holy Week may be summarised into a single word, Fickle-mindedness. In a strange act of humanity, an entire history changes. Today on Palm Sunday we see the entire city crying out Hosanna to a Carpenter's Son seated on a donkey. A man who lay His Feet as a Babe in a donkey's food trough, a manger. He hasn't a crown of gold or rich clothes to wear and not even a place to "lay His Head". But yet people have seen Him raise Lazarus from the dead, exorcise demons, raise a dead girl to life, heal a man born blind, cleansed lepers, heal a man who couldn't walk for 36 years, feed 5000 men, and cleansed the Temple with a whip made of cords. "They had seen all that he had done in Jerusalem". Now they know, He is their King, The Davidic Messiah, The Son of David. But wait....Is this "Hosanna to The Son of David" and the "Blessed in The Name of The Lord, is the One Who comes" the culmination of The Kingdom of Jesus, Son of Mary an...

  When the death of a loved one occurs in the family, Death becomes our teacher. God The Master of masters, the Teacher of teachers uses the very thing He once used on our First Parents, to show once again how vain the world is. The riches we accumulate, the properties we own, the relationships we hold dear, the status that we so endear, the 'loves' we 'love', the 'hates' and 'grudges' we hold close to our hearts are all so vain. In the end, whether we turn to ashes, or we become the feast of maggots and worms in the grave, our very existence is just that, dust. Scripture says, "In the morning man shall grow up like grass; in the morning he shall flourish and pass away: in the evening he shall fall, grow dry, and wither." (Psalm 89(90): 6). No relationship, no possession, no job, no riches can satiate man. Because as St. Augustine writes, "man was made for the O Lord, and his heart resteth not until it rest in Thee" (De Confessio, cha...

  Bangalore, a City of history, lakes, gardens and bakeries has legends and stories that date back almost into the Vijaynagara Empire. However, Bangalore gained herself The Halloween of Fame somewhere down in India the 1700s when the British East India Company came to trade (and the rest is history) Hidden in Central Bangalore, in the 18th Century Frazer Town, at an age where Indian owning a bakery was quite unheard of, a Mosolem gentleman, Mohammed Suleman founded a bakery in 1902 A.D. To avoid any ridicule, the Bakery was named Albert's Bakery. 120 years have passed but the Bakery remains an old Bangalore foodie's hotspot. What's interesting about the Bakery is that it was initially a godown and by 1921, The Bakery was in full-bloom. From British Tea Biscuits to Bheja Puffs, (Mutton Brain Puffs) to Mayonnaise Bun, Swiss Rolls, Banana and Grape Muffin, Chocolate Croissants, Coconut Cherry Cookies, Khoya Naan and so on. What's so special about the Bakery? "Simple a...

  Ae kaffan, aj achanak Teri yaad aaya hai, Shiddat se banayi hui mehel  chodh tujh mein samaa jaana hai.  Kal kisi ke beta toh kisi ke baap hua karte they  Par aaj jas dan in rashton ki pahiliyon ko suljhane ki khwahish khatm ho raha hai. Sari shamae bujh to gayi hai yaaron, ab khwahishon ko aaraam ki zarurat aan padi. Maut se dar ab na lagti hai, andhere mein gum hone bari aayi hai Jinse zamana hamesha darte hain, aaj achanak unpe mohobbat aa raha hai. Ae shamae tumhare bujhne ka waqt aa gaya hai. Ae kaffan aj achanak teri yaad aaya hai. #ponderingsoftheheart #grimpoetry #shayareishq #poetrylovers #poetryofinstagram

   Kuch log Ishq ki mohtaj nahin hote janaab, dhoke ki dank jo khayi hai, Kuch log apnon se lagav nahin rakhte janaab, apnon ne chot gehri pohchayi hai. Rishton ki baat humse na karein, na mohabbat ki kisse sunaye, Zindagi ne aisi chot diee hai, bharosa se bharosa uth gayi hai. Hume bass karna nahin aati hai, aage barhna hi fitarat ho si gayi hai, Rastein bade haseen hai par raatein badi kathin hai. Hume humsafar ki saath nahin chahiye janaab, akela chalne ki bimari hai, Upar Suraj aur Chanda, aur niche rahein bohot si padi hai.  Humse mohabbat na karna, maine mohabbat se alvida keh chuke hai Gulabon ki kantein hi gulab ko chot pohchati hai, Hume akela age badna hai yahi humari bimari hai. Ae kaffan teri or har chaurahi bad rahi hai, Bass uss akhri bar nili asman ke niche tera hona hi meri qwhahish hai.  Maine Ishq se ishq nahin kiya, bass ae kaffan intezaar tumhari hai. Kab rahein qhatm hogi, bass yahi Khuda se meri minnaten hai, Jo saath aapne jeete jee chori hai, ...

  Ekbar Jannat ne Dharti se pucha,"Ae Dharti, tere saath mera naata kya hai?" Dharti muskura kar kehti, "maut ki naata hai" Jannat dobara puchi Dharti se, "yeh kaisa naata hai?" Dharti dobara muskura ke kahi, "tu maut ke baad hi naseeb hoti hai, Aur mujhme log jeene ki tamanna nahin rakhte hai" Humare rishton ke saath bhi kuch aisa hi naatein hai janaab. Dank sabse zyada apne hi marte hai fir bhi inse naatein nahin tut-te hai. 

  Beauty of old cities like Calcutta, Madras (Chennai), Delhi, Bombay (Mumbai) or Bangalore lies not in its modern humdrums, the present but rather in its forgotten history. I have always found purpose in history and literature. What makes me love these classical cities are the stories that they tell. Today, in our Bangalore Diaries,  let's talk about The Opera House.  Decked with Roman arches and columns, and built in the 1930s, The Opera House was home to Shakespeare's plays, French and Russian dances and operas. For years, this beautiful building served Bangalore's erstwhile Anglo Indian, Goan, Desi and British elites. In its final days, it was home also to a magnificent movie theatre.  While gone are the days of the Lords and the Ladies, this beautiful architecture still tells us stories of a bygone era. With a lot of modern changes this erstwhile Opera stands to tell us like a grandpa, the stories of the erstwhile Brigade Road and Church Street.  Hey, but t...

  Part 7- Wildlife, Sceneries, The Return  “The forest makes your heart gentle. You become one with it. No place for greed or anger there.” - Pha Pachak As we bade  farewell to the chilly winds, the beloved people of Ooty and the glory of the Blue Mountains and descended towards Bangalore, we flew through Madumalai Forest and Tiger Reserve and Bandipur Wildlife Reserve where we were welcomed by the playful elephants and the majestic peacocks with out spread blue-green tail, dancing with tune of rain drops falling on the grass and trees and the music they made.  But then, a hopping herd of deer welcomed us and in their play, took away my tiresomeness of the long journey. But, wait.... as if that wasn't enough a band of monkeys welcomed me with their joyful chattering.  Yet surrounded by fog and showered with raindrops, it felt magical as if I was in Ancient Ireland with the fae folk.  After this, and a sad farewell to the beloved animals, and a long journey,...

 Part 6: Treks, Temples, Churches, Food & a Farewell  "I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world" - Mary Anne Radmacher When I started going on these trips,  I never knew it would become a habit. And good habits should be inculcated,  nurtured and grown. My trips have helped me see a world where there is joy and happiness in small things, something a corporate minded would seemingly call "useless" or derogate its importance.  But that's where travel comes in. It shows us that as humans,  we're all to an extent suffering but we need to smile and seek as well as find happiness.   My last day began with a visit to the Cathedral and it's adjacent Shrine of The Blessed  Sacrament, where after a quiet reflection and The Holy Rosary,  I visited my favorite South Indian Restaurant,  Ruchi on Garden Road, where I indulged into a treat of Poori masala or Bhatura and mashed potato sabzi. Next, a trip to an...

Day 5: Chai Sutra: The Tea Trail of Ooty "Not all who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien My day began with Rosary and a trek through Elk Hill to visit the legendary Murugan temple housing a colossal statue of Murugan Swamy (Kartikeya), the god of war and bravery and the first born son of Shiva. Surrounded by pines and oaks, this trail took me half an hour's trek and Blessed with some beautiful views. Strong winds and showers of monsoon rain had made the trail not only beautiful but also dangerous but for a adventurer, when has a steep dangerous road stopped men from exploring the unexplored? Having explored Elk Hill and its charming views, I walked through another picturesque trail to The Government Rose Garden which is home to more than 500 different species of roses. Washed and purged by the heavy showers,  these roses danced in the wind as if to an unheard hilly folk song.  Next hopping on to an auto, we travelled to Doddabetta Peak,  the highest  point of Tamil N...