New Year!

New Year!

And comes the end of another year, in its sophistication
In its incarnation, in its reverberation
In its silent accord and louder blows
To those lost flames and one that still glows

There will be another, there will be anew
A chapter once more and hope galore
Bid adieu for it being so true, for it
Showed us that mirror, shook us to the core (could it?)

For all those dying, for those being killed
For many other hungry, for millions deprived
Deceived and lied, raped and cried
Humanity on trial, and desire of no more to abide

To those lost ones, to bonds severed few
To those faded memory, and made some new
Dusts of past on canvas, future hidden beneath
Let’s wipe it once again, and shine on our view

Stand afresh, stand all together
Hold each other, sing to life and love
One chance more to think, a chance again to act
Raise a toast to New Year with promises intact.

There will be another, there will be anew…

By: Praveen Parasar
Date: 31/12/2013

Soul-cry!

Soul-cry!

 

One day they will cry and shade nothing but self-blood

One day they will feel their own nerves numb

Nothing better than a mute and deaf lost in the rubbles of sin

One day they will die strangled of their own greedy string

 

One day they will cry and hear its echo to be haunted

In the voice of those Childs murdered in their dirty war

Waged for nothing but their own greed, filthy intensions

But, one day they will have their heads beneath their foot, damned

 

One day their luxurious suits would have nothing but

Faces of those dead and buried, to hang upon their golden wall

Faces of burnt, bombed and shot amidst their lavish hall

But, one day they would have no ground to stand, when stained sky would fall

 

Deserved it those people, were no better than rats and insects

Being born in wrong place at wrong time, what else they did expect

As they have said for years and years to proof and deceive

Money makes them all friend when comes the point to cheat

 

Oh, what grief it inflicts to think of those dead

For no reason, or some as they say, does that matter even?

Life being so cheap, death so costly

They sell more armories to kids having nothing to eat

 

Blame it, blame it on good heaven, all hail hell

Pray the devil, hang the gods

Let the death rejoice and life to brutally die

As they taste the children’s blood like chocolate pie.

 

By: Praveen Parasar

Date: 25/11/2013

 

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

"Time travel seemed more a reality to him, one in which he traveled to his lost old days; to dig out the layers, of what he has been made of, Penning out each detail carefully before flying out to the future imagining what it would be like, if it could be. He often did that, every time he walked vaguely in early mornings or late evenings by silent parks or empty streets, he felt like being in a different time, some that he could not remember belonged to where, when and how. probably present moment served more as a hotel room to him where he could refresh himself only to get back to his such to and fro journeys or may be just cursed for not being in a relationship with present moment of no more than that of one night stand, loved to sleep with behind hidden doors in the dark nights, but only to be away holding hands of past and future in the light of dawn, yet to return again by the dusk to her arms bruised, broken, lost. "

A Quest!

A Quest!

As it saw its prey wandering leisurely around

Unaware of those hungry eyes watching

Hovering across, waiting for that moment to strike

One that carries life and death together, similar yet distinct

Is it the illusion of doe, or the reality of eagle’s claw?

Is it the shattered pieces of mirror, or a face being painted to lie?

Is it the sadness in those teary eyes, or of those dreams made of nightmares, a far cry?

Is it the inability to stand up to truth, or a mere fear to face, accept, or even defy?

To define, to pretend, to scream, to defend

Mocks who, victimizes whom, who falls apart, and wins who

Wiser to appear, bravery to fake, smiley to kill, colors of fear

How long it could hold on standing upon that shaky land

To fall beneath, all tired and broken, but not before point of no return

Where fire of truth burns, scares own shadow even

Accepts if carries a soul, yet to have nothing to offer but to die

Alas! Another life being lost, another life being tried.

By: Praveen Parasar

Date: 23/10/2013

Tragedy of wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of wanderer:

“You are a dog! She said him with a sense of wit holding to her heavy breathes, while he was laying over her with his tongue out licking her soft skin leaving marks of his saliva over her body all over, like lining a trail mark of a journey to a unknown land where he wished to go back again though not knowing what it had in store for him. The words hit him like a tiny throne of acacia nilotica while walking along a faded ridge, yet he found himself unable to react but kept exploring her geography, like in a search of some gold hidden beneath that palpable ground or Actually he did find himself no better than a dog that moment. Feeding on her tongue, sniffing her breathes, licking her skin, moaning on every movement of her, he suddenly smelt his own saliva and sweat. He saw himself being petted in her eyes. He hated himself that moment.”

It always ended this way, he being in a sense of guilt though he enjoyed it. What was it, he did not understand, or maybe he just did not want to, for he was being fed to his lust without being exposed or made up like an idol placed in a temple to be worshiped in the light but only to be drenched in her sweat in the darkness. He had become a prisoner of his own obsession; lustful desires were haunting him even in the sun-light through his own shadow walking close by. And suddenly her skin felt like a web of spider he was being caught into, only to be eaten away, Raw and he watched himself die painfully!

   

~ Praveen Parasar

Mix-Veg Dry Curry - Recipe:

Mix-Veg Dry Curry - How to Prepare - Recipe:

Preparation for four people

Ingredients:
1. Potato  - 5/6 pieces medium size
2. Beat-root - 2 Medium size
3. Green-Capsicum - 2 Medium size
4. Spinach - 200Grams
5. Tomato - 2 small size
6. Onion - 2 small size
7. Coriander leafs - a little for pudding

Spices:
1. Cumin seeds - 1/2 table spoon
2. Cinnamon - few small pieces
3. cloves  - 3-4 pieces
4. mace - few small pieces

5. Bay leaf - 2-3 pieces
6. green chilly - 1 or 2 pieces as per taste
7. salt - 2 table spoon/as per taste
8. Turmeric power - 1/2 table spoon
9. garam-masala powder - 1 tablespoon
10. cumin-coriander powder - 1 tablespoon

Preparation:

1. Boil the potato and beat-root and cut in 4 pieces each
2. chop the onion in thin long slices, tomato in thick long sloice
3. chop the
 spinach in smaller size
4. cut the capsicum in medium sizes each

Cooking:

Keep a deep pan on LPG gas-stove and put 6-7 spoon of mustered or refined oil and let it get heated, once hot put the spices in it one by one and mix them properly for 1 minute. put the onion slices into it and let it fry till it gets light brown in color. put the tomato slices in it along with capsicum pieces and mix them properly and leave it for another 1-2 minutes on medium flame. next mix the spinach along with potato and beat-root into it and mix them properly, add the salt, turmeric power and mix them evenly. leave the pan covered for frying for another 2-3 minutes (keep checking in between) add the garam/cumin-coriander masala into it with a light sprinkle of water and mix it again. and leave it to be fried for another 2 minutes. once you start getting smell of spices out of it after 2 minutes of frying add coriander leaves, turn the stove off and keep it covered for few minutes before serving it hot. enjoy the vegetable extravaganza :)

Useful Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Indian_spices

By: Praveen Parasar
Date: 30/11/2013

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer!

“Every single note that popped out every time those fingers fell upon rusted metallic keys bringing out sound of love and sadness, he felt a word popping out of his skin drenched in his own blood. Disguised he thought of them, yet could not help but carry it to the nearby bed of roses, only to lay down beside, watching her half-asleep, half awake, nodding lazily to his lips, kind of assurance that she has not yet deserted him to the thrones below that bed. And he could not help but to watch her amidst that never-ending solitude; as the night grew darker and melancholic, as she fell asleep as sound as that veil of darkness young night had come holding upon, as those roses dried out faster than his heartbeats (being beside her!) made way for thrones lying beneath to shatter his dreams, tearing out his skin, making him bleed and to find his words floating through. And he remained clueless of that face ever-again, bleeding whole night; bleeding words of solitude, yet holding onto that pen, not to get drown. Alas!”

~ Praveen Parasar