THE INDIAN COMMENTATOR

For Rishik-II Image Courtesy: Google When I found the smile on your lips, Like the first bloom of the home garden, The chill of the dews, The solidity of the wave, The fluency of the air, I am reminded of what was lost, In the depth of struggle, And gained at that moment, With the first bloom, With the chill of the dew, With the power of the wave, With the translucent air; Joy.

Image Courtesy: Google Images A new series of i-poems are here, written for a little angel, Rishik, the son of my friend, Aachal Sharma. She lives in Germany with her husband. February 28, 2012, is Rishik’s 1 st birthday. This series of poems which I will publish in my blog in five consecutive days, are a birthday present to Rishik. I wish the family happiness and bountiful blessings.   The title of this series  is...... "For Rishik" Scroll down for the first poem of the series… Image Courtesy: Google I     Love I find myself on the face, Of the door of your eyelids, And learn I am loved.

Image Courtesy: Google No one likes to be a kidnapper, if the chances of getting money are as open and adventurous as that in a freelancer’s life. No one likes to be a terrorist by choice, if the principles of life are as alluring as that of a freelancer’s; believe, write, live. Plagiarism, is not usually a choice, it is a trap. Every artist or writer knows how important it is to create a new product; the importance of this awareness is equal to that of the conviction not to steal. No one likes stealing, until or unless it becomes the only option. Plagiarism is stealing of a work—intellectual property—or in academic terms, the unacknowledged copying of a writing or work of art. It is either ignorance or the lack of care that causes the unacknowledged copying of materials. This can be harnessed if one keeps a check list for the editing of the final draft. You can very well control whether all the sources are mentioned in the written work; an article or content for websites. ...

Ghost Rider 1 Image Courtesy: Yahoo All is well that ends well. This cliché is true with the Ghost Rider’s second coming. In Ghost Rider 2: Spirit of Vengeance Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider is hunting for evil in the Eastern Europe . He doesn’t seem the real Johnny Blaze in the old Ghost Rider . He seems old. Of course, Nicolas Cage’s age is reflected here. I liked the first Ghost Rider , the skull on fire. The second edition has skull on fire too, but a bit different. The differences are impossible to point out, at least for me. May be the second part is shown more real and needless to say the first part was more stylish and fun even though the reality principle was breached frequently. After all that is all what a fantasy requires, the courage to revolt against reality. Or may be the changes in the appearance and feel of the main character are due to the change in director(s). The first Ghost Rider was directed by Mark Steven Johnson and the Spirit of Vengeance by Mark...

Image Courtesy: Google The reason to write a word is an angel’s call. You are that angel; you—the reader. You say, or I think, once or at any point in time, any one of you might walk in and read a page, a word, or a period I have written or a space I have left untouched and say this is it, this is the moment. The anticipation of this moment is what makes a writer write. But this, what one calls inspiration or motivation or what ever, thought vanishes at the first sight of an unpleasant day in the family or with wife, if the writer is married. The significance of forming a part of this chain of the cosmic connectivity gets transformed into a vile energy to triumph over the trivialities of the family, in the clash between the people he or she had thought of dying for, but who at the moment trying to slaughter the writer at any cost.   This fight lasts until the writer has exhausted almost all his energy. Then what remains in his battered mind is the frustration of spending ...

Being a freelancer is being a free man. It’s a state of being where one is no more pressurized under the sulking comments of the boss. Instead, in the freelance world you own your talent, your life, and your self respect. As a freelancer you can sell your works or services to one or several different organizations. Freelancing can be of diverse classes. Some offer photographs, some paintings, some art works, and some others their writing skills. And with this categorization being identified, let me confess, Bountiful Word belong to the last category. We offer freelance writing. Sir Walter Scott in his work Ivanhoe , the novel that told the story of a Saxon young man, who fell out of grace with his father due to his affiliations with the Norman king, mentioned the word freelance for the first time. Then it was a hyphenated word, “free-lance”. In the novel the word indicated, the lance who declared himself aloof from any lord’s service. The word traversed its path in the sea of time...

“Love is depth and without self-consciousness one is sure to be drowned.”—Anu.   Courtesy: Google Images  VI Once a drop of dew fell, Upon the watery surface, Of a lake, calm; Shattering the moon into— Shards of souls: I swam across, Upon the driftwood of words. With this poem, A River of Words disappears in the sea of your minds, readers. I am grateful for all the encouraging reviews and comments on this latest series of i-poems . 

“Love should compliment freedom; but when it binds may you find the courage to be free.” —Anu. Courtesy: Google Images    V I die in this poem, And resurrect in each— Of its words.

“The boulders of emotion are blockades to the path towards the depth of the Universe, which begins in our souls.”— Anu.  Courtesy: Google Images IV What is written is not poetry, But what is felt.

“Love is the name of that bright sun, which leaves every other source of light invisible, including your eyes.”—Anu.  Image Courtesy: Google III I stand upon the bridge, Between hope and loss. They say I am a word, With meaning, though invisible, In the garden of unwritten signs. 

“The benefit of single life is the depth and brightness one observes in the dreams about love.”—Anu.   II The burn of the love unsaid, The tear in the extreme intimacy, The obsessive comfort of the hopelessness, The miracle of life, Hope, joy, smile and you; All are poetry. 

“Are you in a relationship?” A friend of mine asks. “Are you in love?” He says he has proof of facts. There is a certainty in his eyes, and a mocking gesture in one corner of his lips. I can see what initiates the question; the pleasure of digging a writer’s personal life. He says he read all my works, especially my love poems and particularly likes the series of i-poems entitled The Unsaid . I smell danger. Here I am, a single and not in a relationship yet, ‘accused’ of being in love! I can see a misunderstanding breeding in the air. So I tell him the truth, “Yes. I am in love.” There is a gleam in his eyes, which suggests the happiness of victory. I continue, “Would you like to know the name of my lover?” “Oh no, dear. I was just enquiring. But you confessed everything without hesitation. Well, there is nothing wrong in being in love, by the way,” he has that same smile, I noticed.   “No, my friend. You should know. You are very close to me, close enough to talk my heart o...