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yourdailysongrec · 8 months

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Hai Rama

youtube

And an excellent live version of it.

youtube

#music #indian music #this song is so sexy #hai rama #Hariharan #Youtube

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moth-tea-merchant · 11 months

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Ever have a key toon slot and then go "hay this name would be funny"

i no longer have key toon slot

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #eod #detective rama #hay i needed a bladswrd anyways

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chaidrivenwhore · 1 year

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oh to be a dancer performing in front of an audience, not breaking eye-contact with your lover as your bangles clink and the flowers in your hair begin to unravel.

and when you approach your lover, they kneel down and tighten your anklets, fingers lightly caressing your skin and their eyes full of love.

(in other news, someone tell me that i'm too lovely that they can't control themselves 😭)

#div and her bs #desi <3 #so i was listening to hai rama and my brain came up w this scene???

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bollywoodmascotsblog · 2 years

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Sagar Joshi is a very Young Indian film director who works in Hindi Cinema Industry. Joshi started his film career with the film Keep Safe Distance as an associate director and executive producer. Later his debut as the director with the short musical drama Chaal Gazab Hai.

#Biography #CHaal Gazab Hai #Rama DHanraj Production #Sagar Joshi

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tejonmelero · 4 months

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Hay árboles en las montañas y ramas en los árboles.

Te adoro pero no me conoces.

Fragmento de la novela ligera "The Dreamer un the Spring Boudoir".

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besos-y-lagrimas · 1 month

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Toda vida humana tiene sus estaciones, y no hay caos interior que dure eternamente. El invierno no dura siempre. Y, aunque a veces, cuando las ramas siguen oscuras y la tierra se resquebraja con el hielo, esa primavera y ese verano llegan, llegan siempre.

—Truman Capote.

#escritos #citas en español #citas de amor #sentimientos #vida #frases #tristeza #invierno #oscuridad

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huellas-poeticas · 8 months

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《Canción de invierno》

Cantan. Cantan.

¿Dónde cantan los pájaros que cantan?

Ha llovido. Aún las ramas

están sin hojas nuevas. Cantan. Cantan

los pájaros. ¿En dónde cantan

los pájaros que cantan?

No tengo pájaros en jaulas.

No hay niños que los vendan. Cantan.

El valle está muy lejos. Nada…

Yo no sé dónde cantan

los pájaros -cantan, cantan-

los pájaros que cantan.

Juan Ramón Jiménez

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krsnaradhika · 3 months

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Quick note : Hindus did not demolish the Babri masjid. We deconstructed it. There's a difference in there. The report of KK Mohammad Sir and he himself in multiple interviews say that he stands with the OGness of Rama Lalaa on his birthplace. The mosque very much did have temple remains and the appearance of Rama Lalaa in there wasn't a right-wing move. The supreme court of India has anyway given land for the mosque at some distance from the janmabhoomi so it's a win-win for both the communities now ig. All the butthurt people crying over the deconstruction should also note that Rama Lalaa isn't some non-violence icon of our religion so kindly shut up. Saying that - "He wouldn't have wanted the temple because a mosque stood there once and y'all broke it" is plain stupidity because he himself said - "Janani janmabhoomishcha swargaadapi gariyasi." Both his mother and his motherland are more dear to him than any heaven. Shri Rama did hold up weapons in the favour of what is right when fighting numerous demons and proceeded to threaten the ocean into drying it lest it doesn't heed to him, after a three day penance. The prev governments here were very minority appeasing. One of them even got as far as to saying Shri Rama was fictional when we have plenty evidences of him being a venerated ancestor of ours. All of them fell on their fours when Rama Lalaa won his case in the supreme court. They don't give a shit about the majority sentiments here being oppressed (Hindus have a history of being oppressed even when we're in majority, in our homeland. Are we debating on that now? Oml). Babar should not have done what he did, so yeah like Hindus were just taking back what is rightfully ours. (For the sake of secularism and brotherhood, shouldn't they be understanding our sentiments as well? It has to go both ways, no?) We have been waiting for around 500 years for our god to come back to a palace from a tent and the pseudo-liberal meltdowns are personally very enjoyable to me. You should prolly save those tears for Mathura and Kashi case too. Ram mandir kisi ke baap ke paison se bana nahi hai. Hindus contributed to it. Temple towns were a thing in ancient India, still many of them exist in the south because the north has suffered voraciously due to invasions, never forget. No tax money has been used in the construction of the Rama temple. Hope that helps.

#hindublr #ramablr #i love seeing the left having meltdowns lmao #cry all you want #par mandir toh vahi bana hai 😊

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sepulcher-of-the-light · 7 months

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Otras miradas buscándote en el cielo en noches como ésta, no las hay en la vida; acaso un hombre único descubre en tu belleza el ardiente artificio y extrema soledad.

Other looks looking for you in the sky on nights like this, there are none in life; perhaps a unique man discovers in your beauty the burning artifice and extreme loneliness.

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elbiotipo · 3 months

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te juro pero te juro que lo mas consistentemente gracioso de este cóctel mutagénico que llamamos votacion de la ley omnibus es que el que les esta poniendo los puntos es PICHETTO. LA COLONIA DE AMEBAS COME CEREBROS BUROCRÁTICAS POLITICAMENTE MAMONISTA DE LA REPUBLICA ARGENTINA QUE VENDERÍA A SU MADRE POR UN ESCAÑO APOLILLADO EN LA RAMA INSTITUCIONAL MAS PODRIDA. ESO ES LO QUE LOS ESTA DEJANDO EN RIDICULO. AJAJAJAJAJAJAAJ

Aclaración que ODIO a Pichetto y no hay que rehabilitarlo, pero él es lo que Milei más odia, un político gris y burócrata que le gusta la rosca y las formalidades y la política (no porque tenga ideales sino porque es cuadrado y es lo que sabe) y se sienta ahí a discutir normas y leyes y chicanear otros políticos porque es lo que nació para hacer, es la burocracia misma. Es la CASHTA. Y lo sabe, y sabe que Milei lo odia, y eso le encanta.

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ramayantika · 8 months

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Tere Rang

“It’s going to be a Krishna song for the dance competition once again, right?” said, Ananya, inserting the last juda pin in her friend, Vilasini’s hair.

Vilasini, a seventeen-year-old science student in class eleven was all set for the senior’s inter-school dance fest that was to be held at her school. She wore a dark blue lehenga with gold embroidery that shimmered under the lights. Her best friend, Ananya, had taken the responsibility of getting Vilasini ready for the competition because, she was good at stage makeup and hairstyling, a skill, Vilasini was yet to acquire perfectly.

“You know me well, Ananya,” said, Vilasini, her face donning a faint shade of the setting sun.

Ananya looked at her friend’s bashful face, whose eyes had immediately moved down to the floor at the mention of Krishna, the god, the charmer of hearts from a bygone era. As she braids flowers into Vilasini’s hair, she wonders how did a girl from today’s time fall in love with a God when people barely utter a prayer under their breaths.

Krishna… the name itself was beautiful. Though Ananya was not that much of a believer in gods and goddesses, she happily supported her friend in her beliefs. For Ananya, Krishna was not a God, but a great historical character, an important figure to learn from especially in today’s time. Sometimes she offered flowers to the Krishna murti at her house after a lot of pestering from her mother, but she would spend a lot of time reading stories and articles about him.

Vilasini, on the other hand appeared to be a modern generation saint. She spoke softly and so slowly in a gentle voice that made everyone feel as if a divine aura surrounded them. For Vilasini, Krishna was her life force, her breath, and her purpose for living. She woke up with Krishna’s name on her lips and welcomed sleep with only Krishna’s name on her lips.

“You remind me of the saint poet, Meera, do you know?” Ananya said, after finishing her work on Vilasini’s hair left beautifully open with a half bun pinned with jasmine and rose flowers.

Vilasini turned her head from her reflection towards her friend. “No one can be Meerabai in this generation. Not even me, even if I try to.”

Ananya smiled and shook her head. Checking the last details of Vilasini’s makeup and hair, she said, “Fine, but I am damn sure, you will look the prettiest contestant there.”

Smiling, Vilasini replied, patting the creases on her skirt, “All thanks to my talented sakhi here.”

“I like the way the word sakhi sounds. So gentle and beautiful.”

***

Vilasini’s performance was the last one in the list. Ananya had decided to stay with her friend instead of joining the audience just for the sole reason of helping her friend for any last-minute mishaps and to maintain her friend’s confidence.

Tapping her feet, Vilasini asked, “Will I be able to perform well? There have been so many good performances before me. Also, I have a very simple song. Will anyone be interested in watching mine anymore after all the splendid presentations?”

Ananya looked at the boy dancing on the stage on Hai Rama in a bolly-hiphop fusion style. Turning her gaze towards her friend, she said, “Sometimes, the most simple things are the most thoughtful ones. Have faith in your practice and Krishna. And just like you always do, dance for your Krishna, for him alone.”

A minute later, the boy was done with his performance, and the audience erupted in cheers and applause. The host, one of Vilasini’s classmates, then announced her arrival on stage and signalled at the small back room upstairs to start playing Vilasini’s music.

“All the best, Vilasini. Go win the stage and your dear Kanha’s heart,” wished Ananya.

Vilasini nodded at her friend and muttered Krishna’s name under her breath as she took a twirl to enter the stage on the beats of the sitar.

Alai payuthey kanna en manam miga alai payuthe…

Vilasini’s fingers show the movement of waves as the song goes on to depict how her mind flows like waves when she hears Krishna’s melodious flute. The golden embroidery on her lehenga glitters under the yellow stage lights on the ceiling. If her voice alone was enough to bring tranquil in her listener’s hearts, her dance was captivating to catch everyone’s attention. No matter what they were doing earlier, all their eyes and other senses stand still on seeing her move on stage like a swan.

Nilai peyandru Kanna , shilai polave nindra,

Neram avathu ariyamale miga

Vinodhamana Murali Dhara , en manam…

The blue dupatta twirls around her and covers her face for a second before moving away like a sea wave gently going back from the shore. As the blue veils falls off from her face, Vilasini sees a boy seated in the corner of the audience, looking the most striking and attractive amongst all. Her breath stands still as she portrays a woman standing like a statue after being lost in the lovely cowherd’s music.

Her ghungroos produce an enchanting sound in sync with the beats of the song. Her body sways to the music as light as the branches of the kadamba tree. It appeared as if Vilasini’s soul danced on stage and not only just her body. Ananya smiles at her friend’s performance when a flash of gold passes her eye on the opposite side of the stage. Blinking her eyes once again, she lets out a gasp when she sees a long peacock feather on the ground.

There is no one on the opposite side of the stage except the host who is on her phone.

Telinda nilvu patta pagal pol eriyuthe , un dikkai nokki yen iru puruvam neriyuthe…

Kanintha un venu ganam kattil varugudhe , kangal sorugi oru vidhamay varugudhe…

Vilasini’s heart races as a strange yet divine awareness fills her being. Her beloved is right here. She can’t see him, but feel his presence. As she mouths the lyrics while performing, a small lock of hair escapes the clutch of the clips pinned to her hair and lightly tickle her left cheek.

A soft whisper teases her ear, “Why search for me elsewhere, when I exist right in front of you priye?”

Ananya notices her friend’s mouth open slightly, as if she heard something else other than the song. The moment lasts for only a mere second and Vilasini is back to her performance. Her expressions change from being a shy bashful girl talking to Krishna to being a passionate heroine desperate to see her lover. Vilasini’s large doe-like eyes turn watery and they move around like a deer in search of Krishna. Ananya observes the vulnerability in her stance. Her friend was far beyond the music. She was in a mystical realm of divine love and longing.

Kathitha pathathil oruthi manathai

Enakku alitthu mahizhtthavaa…

As Vilasini points to her lovely alta-dyed feet, her eyes spot another dark foot adorned with a gold anklet just beside her. Before she could stare at the foot that had fallen in step with her, she feels someone hold her arm and turn her around. The touch, light as a feather, and warm as a lover’s.

Her body bends gracefully to the side, her fingers laced together and arms raised up, with the neck slightly bent downwards. When her eyes travel up, she sees the one, whom she had been desperately dreaming about since childhood, her one true love.

“Prananatha?” She murmurs.

“The one and only,” says, the dark beloved lord of her heart. Pretty feet around, which lie two beautiful gold anklets. A golden yellow dhoti and a royal blue uttariya over his shoulders, broad arms laden with golden arm bands and the signature peacock feather on his crown, the darling heart thief of Vrindavana bows at her.

No long does Vilasini care about the audience. It’s a wonder if she even cares about herself anymore. Her limbs move on their own accord, or perhaps on Krishna’s accord. Ananya senses something strange near her friend, and even near herself.

The energy in the auditorium has changed. Teachers and students sit still with their senses lost, eyes all dazed and drowsy as if witnessing something hypnotic in front of them. The judges don’t write the scores, their pens now resting on the table. Ananya wonders if someone is actually even breathing or not.

Oru thanitha vanatthil anaitthu enakku

Unarcchi koduthu Mughizhtthavaa…

“Man, is she really hugging someone on stage?” mutters, Ananya, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion laced in her features.

Vilasini’s slender arms curl around her beloved lord’s neck, as she takes a round about the stage. Her feet daintily move around, their pace slow as if time itself had slowed down to let Vilasini absorb the moment. “I have waited for this moment all my life, Krishna.”

Her song album doesn’t have a flute tune, but what limits does Krishna have? He plays a sweet mellifluous tune from his flute that has enchanted the world since the third cycle of time. Vilasini’s nimble fingers caress Krishna’s curls as he dances near her, his smile enchanting and disarming like a sharp arrow aimed straight towards her heart.

“I have had too many women falling over me, but I wouldn’t like you to fall down for me physically here on stage. We have a performance to show.”

“The world does not matter to me anymore. Only you do,” says, Vilasini, her voice, only a mere whisper.

KaNai kadal alaiyinil

Kadhiravan oliyinil

Inai iru kazhalena kazhikkavaa?…

“The ever-flowing waves keep meeting the shore, and the sun sheds its light to the whole of mankind. How long would it be until my friend finally starts to acknowledge my presence?” Ananya hears a manly playful voice near her ears, causing her to jump a little in fright.

To Vilasini, if the lord of the Universe appeared in the form of a young charming boy with a lovely peacock feather and a gracious smile, then to Ananya, he appeared in the form of a glorious king decked in silks and jewels, befitting his royal lineage and handsome charm.

“The fuck?”

“I thought you would have realized me by now, but i realized that you actually did not. Here I am to finally show myself to my sakhi.”

“When did I become your sakhi?”

Rolling his beautiful dark eyes, he sighs, and says, “Years ago, when you were merely a six-year-old and your colony children did not include you in their games, you came to me and asked me to be your friend.” He pouts, and gives her a mock glare, “Batao meri mitrata ke yahi din aagaye…?”

Ananya blinks her eyes rapidly. “This is a literal prank now. Tell me who are you?”

Placing his hands over his hips, the lord of Dwaraka says, “The world’s famous and naughtiest prankster.”

“And you are also there with her…?” Ananya pointed towards her friend.

“Ask me where am I not?”

The stage lights change from yellow to bluish-green, making the darling of Vrindavana look even more ethereal. His eyes gleam like a diamond’s lustrous glow and Vilasini’s eyes go lost in his tender gaze. He raises his arm, and Vilasini lifts her fingers to graze his wrist when he gently holds her hand and makes her sway around him.

Kadhari manam uruhi naan azhaikkavo?

Fresh tears drip down her eyes as she takes in the beauty of her beloved. She could dance for him to his tunes forever and ever until one day her breath flies away and she merges into her love, her God. Krishna’s eyes gleam on catching sight of his devotee’s love-filled eyes, and Vilasini’s eyes gleam with happy tears on finally finding her God, her life.

A dazzling scene unfolds in front of Ananya’s eyes. Krishna yellow robes and Vilasini’s blue lehenga sparkle like a scene from a fantasy movie. When their hands meet, a red aura forms around them, and when their feet brush against one other, a soft white halo forms around them. She doesn’t let her eyelids fall for even a second as realization dawns on her about the concept of Jivatmaa and Parmatmaa.

“Now do you see?” Dwarkadheesh asks.

Ananya hesitantly lets out a breath, afraid that even a slightest of movement would disrupt the enchanting vision in front of her. “Yes, everything.”

Is it some illusion or is it the naked truth? How does one even breathe or move when the lord of the senses, the mastermind behind all, comes in front of you and smiles like a dear old friend from the past? What is God? Is he a friend or a teacher? Is he a child or a lover? Did the poets from the bygone era write such colourful poetry of lovelorn nayikas, searching for their dear Kanhaiya after experiencing the same emotions like the two girls facing now? I do not know about the others, but Krishna is like water. Just like water takes the shape of the container it is housed in, so does our Kanhaiya gladly conform to the shades of various characters we see him as.

One is an observer, marvelled at the glorious sight. How can she go back to the world now?

One is a participant of the colourful play, a mystical performance of the universe, a dance that can never completely be given justice in description. It can only be seen through the eyes and felt by the heart. It cannot be danced by the body. Only the soul dances. She never belonged to the world.

“Priye do you see now?”

And the dancer blushes like a bride, her voice breathy and low, “I now see it all, Prananatha.”

************* **************** ************* ************** *********

This was requested by @purplelandsworld

I deviated slightly from the request because a crazy krishna dream struck and i began listeniing to tere rang and Alai payuthey so i really really reaaly hope you like this one. This one is a little different from what i usually write byt anyway i hope you find it nice

Also you all i had been waiting to get this written down from a long time but kanhaiya here made me busy with college work. Now he finally gave me my college so here's a little token for him from my side

And before some of you come up to me saying haww this is indecent and krishna isn't a netflix look if it were indecent krishna would never let me write it. Besides all of it have also been my own scenarios to keep me happy with krishna so kindly do not interfere. And this fic was inspired from a really pretty dream i saw and god krishna took my heart away even in the dream then so i added some of those parts in this one too.

tagging: @shut-up-rabert @ketchup-jar-ka @krishna-sahacharini

@krishna-priyatama @jessbeinme15 @arachneofthoughts @kaal-naagin @reallythoughtfulwizard @thegleamingmoon @ma-douce-souffrance

#samridhi writes #krishnab #fics #stories #gopiblr #krishna #krishnablr

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hum-suffer · 24 days

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This is why you should always have your headphones on: Hai Rama from Rangeela

#im not a gatekeeper darlings go and enjoy

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esuemmanuel · 9 months

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Creo que nunca dejarán de causarme decepción esos seres humanos que sólo ven en mí un objeto que supla sus vacíos o les tolere sus miserias. Me causan, además de decepción, repulsión, pues me toman como si fuese únicamente un pedazo de carne que abre esta ventana para saciar una necesidad inexistente en mí, pero muy presente en ellas; esa de pescar, de buscar, de atraer a otros seres similares a ellas con el mismo objetivo: masturbarse a través de la palabra (aka sexting). Qué falta de respeto me parece que el hecho de ser escritor y poeta de tinte romántico o erótico se desvirtúe de manera tan grosera y mundana. El erotismo es también una rama del arte y, como tal, también nace del alma, pero siempre habrá gente que lo confunda con un acto por demás sucio y carnal cuando es algo sublime al ser esbozado en poesía. Si bien respeto a quienes usan las letras para lograr el cometido de satisfacerse la carne, aquí en este espacio y con su servidor eso está fuera de tema. Mi razón siempre ha sido la de expresar toda mi complejidad mental, emocional y espiritual en la hoja, y ésta conlleva tocar todos los temas humanos que me conciernen como ser humano que soy (y la sexualidad es parte de eso). Sin embargo, no por el hecho de escribir erotismo significa que esté buscando con quien explotar ese tema, para esto hay lugares y Tumblr no es para eso. Ojalá más respeto al escritor y al poeta de alma sincera y menos agravio a su persona por ser un mero soñador.

I believe that I will never cease to be disappointed by those human beings who only see in me an object to make up for their emptiness or tolerate their miseries. They cause me, besides disappointment, repulsion, because they take me as if I were only a piece of meat that opens this window to satisfy a non-existent need in me, but very present in them; that of fishing, of searching, of attracting other beings similar to them with the same objective: to masturbate through the word (aka sexting). How disrespectful it seems to me that the fact of being a romantic or erotic writer and poet is distorted in such a rude and mundane way. Eroticism is also a branch of art and, as such, is also born of the soul, but there will always be people who confuse it with a dirty and carnal act when it is something sublime when sketched in poetry. While I respect those who use the lyrics to achieve the task of satisfying the flesh, here in this space and with yours truly that is out of the question. My reason has always been to express all my mental, emotional and spiritual complexity on the page, and this entails touching on all the human issues that concern me as the human being that I am (and sexuality is part of that). However, just because I write erotica doesn't mean I'm looking for someone to exploit that topic with, there are places for that and Tumblr is not for that. I wish more respect to the writer and the poet with a sincere soul and less aggravation to his person for being a mere dreamer.

#gracias por su atención #thanks for your attention #esuemmanuelg #el hombre de la soledad #escribiendo en soledad #escritores en tumblr #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #poetas en tumblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #pensamientos #poeticstories #2023

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caostalgia · 1 year

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Hay flores,

árboles

y un jardín en conjunto.

Un columpio que mece el aire descuidado,

pájaros que desgastan las ramas.

Una casa vacía,

llena de prospectos de personas perdidas.

La madera desgastada,