A Cup Of Tea...

An old gray cup tarnished and jaded,
with a broken handle and color faded
bruised by fate of time, ‘twas
my paraphernalia since I was nine…
As every dawn broke into my bedroom
Mummy would brew steaming sweet tea
‘n serve me with biscuits and spoon…
I would then peck my golden cup with yawning lips
by ‘n by savoring sip by sip,
relishing the honeyed tea in a china cup alloyed clay
It made me fresh like a morning dew, the entire day…

Today,
far far away in a Coffee day…
Baskin with a regal cup brimming with tea.
I swallow the sip lost in a reverie,
of the morning, tea, spoon and cookie,
Of the cup full of life and my cuppycake MUMMY…

Dayz @ ILP

Sometimes life isn’t moves as the way we like…and sometimes the words just spurts of the mouth even though one don’t like to speak…and few times the pen just dances defying our own emotions…
Yes, the Life here at ILP (Tcs training) is extremely torturous and boring…Right from waking up in the dawn at 6 to crashing off at night at 10 the heart n mind just crave to get freed from this prison…Each n every day starts reckoning on the number of days remaining for the completion of ILP…
But then my mind summons my instinct…the spiritual lessons that I ones learned…my heart and minds redirects me to the Omen… The omen of joy… The omen of living the life… The omen that the bad time awaits a Bliss…
In the hanker of the same omen I am still the same…I have jotted down this very poem or SO CALLED POEM coz its against my actual sentiments…but again this is the mind which sometimes acts against ones desire…This poem is just meant to make its presence in a competition at ILP…


A tiny minuscule seed
that was ones supple and fragile,
has now emerged to a huge tree.
That grows season by season.
TCS is that very tree and
ILP is its root of strong foundation.

As the seed ones fragile, so is our mind.
Instilled with theories galore,
needs a t ouch of professional kind.
In the garden of learning at ILP,
the instructor plants the seed
Of patience Of technology and Lifeskills.
By and by the seeds fructify and makes lucrative deals.

Situated afar from hustle and bustle
in a canopy of absolute tranquility.
Where the peacocks haunt and makes
the environs drenched in serenity.
Here at this beautiful place.
rookies hailing from different cultures unite,
shed their college traits and clad in
professional suites shines bright.

In ILP learning is not toil,
but an act of enjoyable discussions,
unlike the college days of experimentation and observations.
A tryst with the new friends, place and people,
it camoflouage the past and unleash a promising future...

But one day,
ILP will call it a day !!!
And emanate a nostalgic aroma
that will confront
to cherish these beautiful bygone day…

Those Bygone Dayz...

Those Bygone days I Cherish I love

Of the unpunctual morning and cornflakes.
When we would crave
for poha and fried chappities in morning break.

Of Manish, MD, Baphna and Kanad,
When would fasten the musical nuances
Into the pearl of harmonious ballad.

Those Bygone days I Cherish I love

Of the ecstatic Sunday cricket matches.
When the yawning faces would outburst into
Laughing running and diving catches.

Of the weekend late night movie masti.
When we cheered, roared and whistled,
While watching Fanna and Rand De Basanti.

Those Bygone days I Cherish I love

Of the candlelight, Old songs and wine.
When we would hmm and go carol,
Oblivious of destiny and time.

Of chatting hooting and floating in musical lagoon.
When we would sip the tea,
On serene Sunday afternoon.

How swiftly the seasons out,
That leaves a trail that lingers on and on.
Of fun Of frolic Of halcyon days,
That makes me love and cherish those Bygone days.