Apoorva in Amsterdam

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After summer

The lamps come on as I leave for my room, summer’s over now.
It’s still dark when I start my day, summer’s over now.

The walks in Amstel Park in May, the Cyprus sun that soothed us in June.
My memories – fond and distant, summer’s over now.

There’s still a spring in his step, and she still wears sunscreen.
Please. Nobody tell them summer’s over now.

That friend who couldn’t meet in July. The reunion cancelled in August.
A string of broken promises, summer’s over now.

But now we can order Thai. I can stain my blue sweater in the curry.
And burn my palette with hot Tom Yam. Summer’s over now.

Do you love less in Autumn? Does your soul freeze in winter, ‘Apoorva’?
Comfort your love with warmth in your heart. Summer’s over now.

To my future self …

A connected leader, you will be in future.
A leader who connects, you will be in future.

Your cynicism, you will leave behind. There’s no room for that.
A positive influence on your ‘friends’, you will be in future.

Think. By all means! And reflect all you want.
But a doer, a finisher, you will be in future.

The love of those who love you, you will carry in your heart.
Loving them, with kindness and generosity, you will be in future.

When they ask what purpose drives you forward ‘Apoorva’,
Say “creating beauty and joy”, you will be in future. 

A lyrical journey to Innovation

To succeed in this VUCA world, we need to innovate.
To create value, to earn margins, we need to innovate.

We look around the table, start with how we form teams.
To inclusion and diversity, we pay heed to innovate.

Bureaucracies won’t work, hierarchies won’t do.
A culture open and fair, we breed to innovate.

Yes processes are key, and discipline is a must.
But it’s always creativity, that’s in the lead to innovate.

There’s room for individual spark, folks derive their own meaning.
And it’s collaboration at the core, that we feed to innovate.

It’s about networks, and it’s about trust.
Command and control? We cede to innovate.

What leadership skills do we seek to promote then?
Visioning and coaching, we seed to innovate.

When texts and slides don’t cut the ice, Apoorva
Through the form of ghazal*, we plead to innovate.

*Ghazals are a poetic form. More about them here -> https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghazal

Adhooree Baat

मत शुरू करो वह सिलसिला फिर
जिसे छोड़ कर चले जाओगे तुम
महीने बीत जाएंगे तुम्हारा हाल सुने

अचानक भेजोगे व्हाट्सऐप पर कोई फॉरवर्ड
फेसबुक पर हैप्पी बर्थडे लिख जाओगे तुम
साल हो जायंगे तुम्हारा हाल सुने

फिर एयरपोर्ट की व्यस्त चहल-पहल में
देख कर अनदेखा कर जाओगे तुम
एक अरसा हो जाएगा तुम्हारा हाल सुने

वो एक बात अब भी अधूरी है
बिन कहे बह जाओगे तुम
एक उम्र हो जायेगी तुम्हारा हाल सुने

Tumhaare Saath

इस चांदनी सी धूप में
एक-आध घड़ी चुरानी है
तुम्हारे साथ

द पाइप के किसी छोटे से चौक में बैठ
चाय की चुस्की लेनी है
तुम्हारे साथ

सर्फटी पार्क की उस पुरानी बेंच पर
जिस पर गेस्टापो भी बैठे हों कभी शायद
कुछ मीठी बातें करनी हैं
तुम्हारे साथ

इस गर्मी का
(अगर इक्कीस डिग्री को गर्मी कहें)
आख़री वीकेंड है
फिर बारिश और सर्दी निभानी हैं
तुम्हारे साथ

उस अँधेरी ठिठुरन में
क्रिसमस के बेतुके इंतज़ार में
कुछ चीज़ें डिसकस करनी हैं
तुम्हारे साथ

In a train

Memories painted in water colours, in a train.
Flashes come back to me splashed, in a train.

“What’s the point of Marwar Junction? Just makes the journey longer!”
“So that you can have Aloo-Poori, in a train?”

They will sing of the Khwaja, and bring you closer to yourself.
Between Kishangarh and Ajmer, every morning – in a train.

What shall we make of this, and how long shall we endure?
A cop asked me for money near Dhanbad. In a train!

Kalka to Howrah was running late and we missed the party.
Celebrated New Year’s with boiled eggs and tea. In a train.

Papa once stepped off for water at what was only a whistle-stop.
My insecurities still live in Rajasthan. In a train.

That ride from Zurich to Geneva did make me wonder ‘Apoorva’.
How much further can you go from yourself in a train?

Sunday evening

The cafes are all bare on Sunday evening
A few awkward silences and a stare on Sunday evening.

You’ll find this odd but all weekend I think
Just how will I fare on Sunday evening?

There’s always a funny smell in the tram
When I step out for fresh air on Sunday evening.

Do they actually dim the lights, make them go pale
My eyes don’t find it fair on Sunday evening.

This world is about to unleash its insecurities
Positive thinking is rare on Sunday evening.

Emotional eating can easily go out of hand
You must take care on Sunday evening.

There’s more out there feeling the way you feel Apoorva
Would they lay it bare on Sunday evening?

Main hee

बचपन की उस तस्वीर में

माँ के साथ किताब पढ़ते

मैं ही था

गर्मी की छुट्टी में

दीवार के साथ क्रिकेट खेलता

मैं ही था

अगस्त १९९४ में अजमेर जंक्षन से

दिल्ली की ट्रेन

मैने ही पकड़ी थी

उस दिन सुबह जो जूते

मेरे पापा ने पॉलिश किये थे

वो मेरे थे

मेल्बर्न के मक्डोनल्ड’स में

नानाजी को निराश कर

बीफ बर्गर मैने ही आजमाया था

कॉलेज की सीढ़ी पर

पेंसिल से जिस पर तुमने लिखा था

वो जीन्स मेरी थीं

जोका में जेटी पर देर रात

जगजीत सिंह की ग़ज़ल

मैने गाई थी

मुम्बई के कामथ रेस्टोरेंट में

रोज़ दो पराठे और झालफ्रेज़ी

मैं ही तो खाता था

दुबई की बॅंक स्ट्रीट पर

दफ़्तर के ट्रॅफिक में

अक्सर मैं फंस जाता था

कल की मीटिंग में क्रोध पर क़ाबू कर

मेच्यूर प्रोफेशनल की भूमिका

मैने ही निभाई थी

र आज

आज जब आईने में देखा

तो खुद से पूछा

क्या ये मैं ही हूँ?

Memories

Love with all your heart
But understand that it may not be understood

Lend a helping hand
But realize that it shall sometimes be forgotten

Be a friend
But know that friendship isn’t always two-way

Create memories
And remember to erase them

Never again

Rejoice ahead of time – I will never again
Celebrate a bit too soon – I will never again

If it’s OK for you to see moms cry, and kids die
Then watch the news on TV – I will never again

Tulips might bloom again in Spring , the trees might go fiery red in Autumn
But take these for granted – I will never again

Our quest for cause and effect – has made our senses blind
I’ve read Malcolm Gladwell but – I will never again

She hurt herself in the kitchen, the dal burst in her face
Fantasize of food from home – I will never again

There’s no right, no wrong, OK! – but which shade of grey am I?
I used to speculate a lot – I will never again

They didn’t cut my wings – just discouraged me gently
Fly my flight of fancy – I will never again

Have you thought about yourself, your condition calls for it
You think a lot about others, ‘Mat – I will never again