My Life's Biggest Award

Hello All,

Hope everyone is doing good. 3rd August 2009 is a date I would never forget. I would like to thank Ms. Aron, Senior Resident Editor of Hindustan Times Lucknow for giving me a chance to meet the former president of India, Hon'ble Mr. APJ Abdul Kalam. All in all, it was a great day and when he spoke, he had a mesmerizing impact on everyone present. But what followed a day after was indeed the biggest of honours. This is what HE has to say about one of my poems(you may see the poem at the bottom of this note) which is popularly known as Mamma Hold Me.

Dear Piyush,

Really your poem moved my heart and mind. It
is indeed inspiring. Particularly,

"The pain is like an angels call,
I see the smoke,
engulfing everyones life,
Mamma hold me"......

Dear Piyush, these poetic verses of yours are beautiful creation of
the creative mind.

May God Bless you.

Kalam

I remember, whenever Sunny and I meet, or whenever we speak about our songs or future projects, the Oscars seems like our ultimate possession, but let me tell you, this is indeed the biggest of the awards I could ever get in my life. These words by the man himself are more precious to me than even 100 oscars.

About Kalam: Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam, was the eleventh President of India, serving from 2002 to 2007. During his term as The President, he was popularly known as the People's President, and a poll conducted by news channel CNN-IBN named him "India's Best President".

Before his term as India's president, he worked as an aeronautical engineer with DRDO and ISRO. He is popularly known as the Missile Man of India for his work on development of ballistic missile and space rocket technology.. In India he is highly respected as a scientist and as an engineer.

Mamma Hold Me

The promises I
failed to keep.
Now only my eyes,
see me weep.
Tears getting lost,
in the smoke somewhere.
Black burning bodies,
falling here and there.
Mamma hold me,
Please hold me
Mamma hold me,
Please hold me,
Mamma hold me,
Hold me in your arms


I know that I am going to die.
With wasted soul
and never opening eye,
I know that I am going to die.
With wasted soul
and never opening eye,
The pain is like an angels call
I see the smoke,
engulfing everyones life.
Mamma hold me,
Please hold me
Mamma hold me,
Please hold me,
Mamma hold me,
Hold me in your arms


Please ask daddy,
to be brave.
Put mammas child,
on my grave.
Please ask daddy,
to be brave.
Put mammas child,
on my grave.
Look for me in, every child you see.
Kiss their foreheads and,
you can feel me.
Mamma hold me,
Mamma hold me,
Mamma hold me,
Mamma hold me in your arms,
Mamma hold me in your arms,
Mamma hold me in your arms,
Mamma hold me in your arms.

Regards and Wishes

Piyush Singh

Pic Courtsey : Shikha Sharma

Handful of Sky

I am writing this after a long time. Its been a while now and all that I have written was either meant for commercial use or to be used as my status messages on social networking websites like these. This is a poem and keeping our (Especially Sunny's) busy schedules in mind, I don't think that it will ever see the light of the day as a song. And for a change it is good. When I say that I am writing a song, everyone starts expecting more. For now, I would like you to just read it as words framed together in the form of a poem or whatever. In short, it seems like my story and that makes it all the more special to be shared with special people around. Thanks for all the love you have showered on me :)

Looking through the shattered panes
At the forlorn world so real.
Drowning in that sea of time
Searching for that little zeal

The varied hues of the world
That I have been painting.
A step beyond the insane sky
And they say 'I've been dreaming'

I haven't known whats wrong
And what you think is right.
Been living all this while like this
Counting stars through the night.

From where I am, I see the
Scattered beads of rosary on my floor.
Familiar faces wearing indifferent masks
And souls, always craving for more.

Every moment, once in a while
I surface for air to breathe.
Every moment, now and then, I strive
Strive for what I used to be.

Pushing myself way back into time
I feel its all getting in my head.
I try, I try to run and hide and failed
To see the traps that lay ahead.

Now when they gather around me
In black gowns and tears in eye.
I might be dead with eyes shut, But,
Still dreaming for my 'Handful of Sky'

Through the shattered panes
Looking at my 'Handful of Sky'

Been painting all the while
The picture of my 'Handful of Sky'

It may be wrong or may be right
But that's my 'Handful of Sky'

And I Dream for 'Handful of Sky'

Dream for my 'Handful of Sky'

(C) Piyush Singh - 18/04/09

I Need To Be Free

I have been longing for ages
Don't know where I belong
The freedom I wished I had
And the freedom for which I long

Woven out of familiar nightmares
With dreaded memoirs of yesteryears
Looking back across the sea of time
I see the red shroud my nation wears

On my way back to the 'present'
I met some familiar masked souls
Greeting me with their painted smiles
And sharing stories of births and black holes

Now when i take a leap, I dream
Dream of future matched to golden heaps
Staggered lanes across a field of gold
Where a farmer sows what he reaps

In a moment of the mighty hour, I dream
Dream to be in his garden, like a tree
In a world beyond 'give and take'
All I long to be is 'free'

While I wait for those wrinkled hands,
To lead me nto a nation that lives.
I hand pick a hundred dreams for us
Counting the words everyone believes.

Among the million smiles I dream of
I am looking for a million more
While the encaged Golden bird flutters
And sets on a flight of hope.

More than freedom I have
All I long to be is 'free'

In a world so strange
I wish I could be 'Free'


- Piyush Singh
15/08/09

Flight of Hope

Hello Everyone,
Its been a long since I wrote anything so this just to satisfy my literary craving and this one goes out for Shikha and it is a sort of my token of gratitude towards her. I know, I could have been a little more romantic than this and would have dedicated something nicer to her instead of this absurd piece of poetry. But this poem is perhaps a little closer to my heart so it deserved to be dedicated to her all the more. And, if you are thinking that this is some kind of lyrical attempt to one of our songs - Flight of Hope, I would like to tell you that this by no means is going to be the lyrical part of Flight of Hope. The song is an instrumental piece and it will be as it is for time to come. This poem infact, is more of an attempt to express the same feeling in words.

The link for the song is http://www.muziboo.com/sanour21/music/flight-of-hope

Here goes the written version of the Flight of Hope

Taking my turn looking at
the dreaded golden web.
Just when the spirits
were at their lowest ebb

With my tattered wings of desire
I made my way through
Entangled further in a strange past
of dreary darks and starry blues.

And then I looked up
At the coloured sky
Painted with shattered remains
of my dreams to fly.

For a moment worth million charms
I strangely felt ashore
Taking a step backwards
I plunged for my Flight of Hope

Flying through the naive skies
flooded with familiar warnings.
I lived on for another dream
Flying with my blood soaked wings.

The gush of wind under my wings
and the sight of mountains so high
I looked at the trail of destiny
As i climb higher over the sky

The flight continued as the wounds
of my struggle healed.
The pain receded with the
joy of the world concealed

It's never been easy I know
Going that distant mile
But for all I know is that,
I am on a Flight of Hope

I chased a dream
across the horizon.
While the shackles gave way
for my Flight of Hope.

As I took a step backwards
Plunging into a sea of desires
Onto a moment that lasts
Chasing my Flight of Hope


All I know is that,
I am on a Flight of Hope


While the shackles gave way
for my Flight of Hope.

- Piyush Singh (30/08/09)
www.piyushsingh.com

Bhaisahab, Rock Show Kya?

October 7th, 2006. I was excited for two reasons. Firstly-there were my people, both on stage and off stage. Don’t get suspicious when I say ‘my people’. Prestorika (my good friends) and the beautiful people from this awesome city who have tolerated me while my tryst with writing for over 3 years. Kudos to you all! Coming to second reason now, it was a well planned outing for me in that particular week and even I was getting a bit too bugged crashing on the couch and apparently was the potato replica there.

The venue was M.B. Club, Cantonment area and man; I landed there on time but wasn’t expecting my Prestorika folks to be there. I am glad that they turned down my expectations. Mr. Sidhu forgot his cell phone in Delhi so there was absolutely no means I could have made him aware of my arrival at the venue. Lokesh wasn’t valid in terms of cell phone, Vasav had switched off his cell and Nitesh was too busy over the phone to answer my call. Then, fortunately I caught hold of one of the guys from the organizing committee and I am glad he recognized me and let me in. He told me that ‘100 Octane’ (another band from Delhi) was also supposed to play after Prestorika and the band was busy in the sound checks. One strange thing, despite of the crowd, not many were obliged with the entry, they had dress codes, which said “No T-Shirts and Jeans- No entry”

Somehow, fortunate enough wearing a pair of ragged jeans and equally ragged T-Shirt; I, my bro and my cousin were let in. The stage looked awesome with my folks posing up there for the media. The ground was grand and it had everything to make it a perfect venue for the rock show but I still was wondering that why the organizers had chairs and somewhere garnished the venue with elite and executive sofas, but then my dear escort told me that it was for the elite people, IAS Officers who were keen on being the Page-3 celebrities in their part time. (Huh!)

Sidhu was still on stage and I yelled out his name, he turned back and he was more than happy to see me there. His happiness couldn’t be constrained in words and he started with “Behench**d”, f**k man, you have gained weight”. After exchanging some profanities and gentle words as well, he took me to the ‘console' where he told me that the gig was a part of ‘Forever NUMERO-UNO’ tour for three cities. Lucknow was the last leg of the tour. We were sitting on the ‘consoles’, Sidhu obviously a bit too disappointed with the crowd and still one and a half hours to go on stage was telling me about the other two shows. Someone put a ‘comma’ to our conversation and was keen to know about the show. All the time, right from the point he greeted Sidhu as “bhaisahab” to the time he formed a new band right there called ‘Forever’, I was wondering that how this guy clad in a blue formal shirt was allowed inside but then I realized what he was spoke far more interesting and smart stuff than his dressing sense. Here goes the conversation between him and Sidhu.

He : Bhaisahab, kaun kaun play kar raha hain?
Sidhu : 100 Octane aur Prestorika!
He : Pre-sto-rika?
Sidhu : Presto-rika!
He : Okay, Pre-historika!
Sidhu : Haan haan, wahi. Pre-historika!
He : Achcha bhaisahab, to yeh Forever kaun sa band hain (pointing to the tagline of the NUMERO-UNO that makes it Forever NUMERO-UNO)?
Sidhu : Actually woh Forever band aaya nahin, tabhi hum play kar rahein hain aaj.

We all were chilling out, just waiting for the ‘so called elite people’ to join so that we can go on stage at 8. It was nice to see those diplomats in a rather casual outfit, a way away from their regular three piece suit. They were made comfortable on the sofas in front of the stage. The clock struck 8 and there were Prestorika, live on stage. They started with an Iron Maiden number and placing ‘Sycopanth’ on the second slot in the track list. The crowd was all receptive, whatever small quantity of youth we had. I decided to help Sidhu out in the console, for two reasons, he must have been lonely out there and I thought I would get a better view. It was no sooner than the third song got over than Vasav requested all the metal heads to come right in front of the stage. That’s where he defied all the rules and Prestorika created a crowd which was their own far away from the elite.

With their originals like ‘447’, ‘Fuck the Politics’ and some wonderful onstage chemistry between the band members, it was turning out to be a splendid evening, for music lovers like me at least. The life at Console was pretty okay but every now and then one or the other gentleman would come and request us to add some dance numbers on the stage so as to bind the crowd, perhaps they were new to a rock show, perhaps new to any band performance (exception-ABOB). Someone came and asked Sidhu to lower the volume on the PA, unusual demands and unusual responses, but the show did go on. Confetti and pyros going up - all at the wrong time. Despite of everything, the guys rocked. Wading through ‘Breaking the law’, followed by the same old set of ‘Thank Yous’ to the audience (was it worth, am still wondering) and the sponsors, they ended their slot with ‘Comfortably Numb’ by Pink Floyd.
After a small get together and some photo-shoots, it was time to say ‘good bye’ to my folks for the day and by the time we were doing that, ‘100 Octane’ took the stage but didn’t sound appealing that day. They couldn’t have made me stayed there any longer. The day was over for me but still the second band was having a hard time at the stage trying to figure out and how can we make people stay who were right in front when Prestorika was performing. Lots of pyros and some awesome effects garnished with lots of style and attitude was nothing more than a mere formality to end the day.

While I was on my way back, I felt as if things could have gone beyond if only my city could have known how to pay respect to this genre of music. Being more respectful within ourselves, we respect artists, but not the art. We have reached the moon but we don’t know how to walk.
Forever Yours
Piyush

Writing Credits: Piyush Singh
Editing Credits: Aaishwari Chouhan

A Labour's Unknown Face

The Sun was out there waiting for me and as usual I was tossing from one side to the other on my bed. My dear partner wanted me to write on 'Child Labour' and I was just giving this topic a thought when... call it a coincidence, my cell phone remixed the regular beep and I was more than sure that Aaishwari must have messaged me reminding me about the write up, but to my extreme surprise, the sender’s name was displayed as 'Awareness' and it was in two parts. It went like:
Ban on engaging child as Domestic Servant or Servant in Hotel, Tea Shops, Dhabas, Eating Houses, SPA’s etc. (contd.)
Request you not to employ child below 14 years and help us make our State Child Labour Free –Commissioner of Labour,
State of Maharashtra.

I was just thinking about those mornings, which used to be relatively free. Being too lazy to cook something, I always landed up at the eating joints a block away. There is this joint which only served South Indian food along with added colours of ‘Gulab Jamuns’. When I moved to Kharghar, New Bombay, I wasn’t really keen on South Indian food. A year passed and when I settled more into the environment, I started observing things. my observation included everything, the food, utensils, tables and the chairs, and most important of all, the never fading smile on the faces working there. The only difference there was about the faces, the faces were all of boys who were under 14 and take my words, they were cute.

I didn’t even realize when I became so fond of them that the South Indian served in that joint became the only means on which I could survive. I would bank on every opportunity to rush there and see the daily happenings with a 'glass of coffee' in front of me. I would just watch them as they moved fast in between tables carrying the plates and the glasses as it was relatively a smaller place and most of the time it used to get so crowded that there were queues of would-be-eaters.

I became a familiar face out there. And as soon as I stepped in that place, all four of the boys would gather around me and with just a few exchanges of smiles they knew what I was going to order for food. Venkateshwar (one of them) would yell at Anna, “Ek mas-ss-aa-l-aa, ek ch-aa-i”. Sometimes when I used to ditch him with guesses, I would order ‘Uttapa’ and then he would yell “Mas-ss-aa-l-aa can-cel, ek Utt-a-pp-aa”. Then, if I was alone (that never happened), and if they were free as well (that also never happened), they will come up to the table where I generally sat and start a conversation.

There was this guy, who wore a T-shirt which was supposed to be of Ryan International School but only if he could know the meaning of the scrambled words written on his T-Shirt. I always found him cutest of the lot. He would come up to me and tell me tales about his days, and I would be no one than an active listener. He would tell about the girls he liked in my society, about the ‘off for a day’ he recently got but his favorite topic was to talk about my cell phone endlessly. Sometimes it would have been the Wallpaper or the ring tone or the sms tone, but he really liked them all. He would go out, click some good pictures and return the cell to me and then kept on reliving the memory till I give him my cell for the next time.

Way back in 1979, Government formed the first committee called Gurupadswamy Committee to study the issue of child labour and to suggest measures to tackle it. It observed that as long as poverty continued, it would be difficult to totally eliminate child labour and hence, any attempt to abolish it through legal recourse would not be a practical proposition. The Committee felt that in the circumstances, the only alternative left was to ban child labour in hazardous areas and to regulate and ameliorate the conditions of work in other areas. It recommended that a multiple policy approach was required in dealing with the problems of working children.

These are all words, written in black and white, I would rather go for the untold stories which he wanted to tell me, they sound much much sweeter and I am more than happy to listen to him every time. Even in my busiest of schedules I would try anything just to take out time and hang out there. Ch-aa-i after ch-aa-i, coffee after coffee, I started spending my holidays at that place, though I did not get much of holidays but I always made sure that 5 on 7 days a week, I land up there for dinner and I was always welcomed with a smile on those four faces, as if I was the remedy to their tiredness. Again the same miraculous tone and the yell ““Ek mas-ss-aa-l-aa, ek ch-aa-i”.

“The shackles are there on the body,
Dreams can never be tamed
The sky up above and the horizon unknown,
His wings can claim
The tears roll down and dry
With indifference in name
The murmur rises and dies
But it’s all in a game.”

Writing Credits: Piyush Singh
Editing Credits: Aaishwari Chouhan
Image Courtsey: http://www.catholicsocialjustice.org/

Lucknow : Here's One For You

Incidents, more incidents and this life is all made up of incidents. Being a keen observer it has always been easy for me to grasp humour from small things which happen almost every day. Though, I can guarantee that these things are not supposed to make others laugh. It has been an uphill task to seek humour in every small thing, but it’s worth it. People in Lucknow can beat anyone in this game. So, this one is for you my dear Lucknowites.

Lucknow so far has been known for its Nazakat, Nafasat and Tehjeeb. Yeah, yeah, you got it right, I am talking about the same place where every pile (relatively as high as Mt. Everest in city’s context) of garbage had this statement written nearby which says “Muskuraiye ki aap Lucknow mein hain”. By the time your eyes get accustomed to the font and this greeting sign, the pollution grips them badly.

When you look around, you will be surprised to see over loaded autos (tempos, called Vikram in this part of country) flaunting the pollution norms. It’s still hard to decide whether or not they use the standard device or not. They do have the statement “Euro II” which is meant to convey that the so called vehicle is following the pollution norms but the spelling leads to innovation with words and devices like “EARO”, “AERO”, “ERO”, “URO”, what all and what not.

The wonderful people are proud of this city. They keep on living on new hopes and new dreams every following day and they are more than happy; trust me when I say this. Be it tuned ka Kebab which costs as cheap as Rs. 3 per piece or the Thandai or the respect they give you when you take out your slightly advanced looking camera. They can even cause a stampede when some super star turns up. Innocent people with innocent expectations.
Let it be the Sari distribution camp or the prestigious Lucknow Mahotsav stampede, you will always find the victims’ kin sitting at the road side tea-stall and gossiping it all out.

Though it’s all in the roots, Nawab Wazid Ali Shah, while in the process of construction of Imambara, used to get it constructed during the day and would come up with people to demolish in the night. Strange, isn’t it? He did so as to get everyone the job and room to earn something since the area was under a draught that time. The delicacy which has been ruling the taste buds of many celebrities, to the extent of serving as picturesque and comparatively cheaper locations to many blockbusters, Lucknow says it all. It follows the essence which can get you to believe that really these people are ‘Bade Dilwalla’

It has been serving as a panorama of moods and shades with its literary background sunken deep into the history along with the artistic and aesthetic appeal. Generations have walked through the same and dusty road, without a sigh and without a complaint. People know what to expect and what needs to be enhanced. Despite being an architectural wonder, Imambara still echoes with the ‘Azaans’ and hundreds of head bow down at one go during this month of Ramadan.

Feasting and Fasting cover the city with a whole new appeal when Navratra and Ramadan come together. The shops brighten up the evenings with the lights shimmering at every nook and corner. Seasons come and they fly away but they have always failed to nourish the seed of hatred among people and they together, hand in hand come forward for everything, right from fighting an evil to adding to the garbage pile which still proudly sports that, “Muskuraiye ki aap Lucknow mein hain”.

Writing Credits: Piyush Singh
Editing Credits: Aaishwari Chouhan