Mangesh Padgaonkar Uncategorized

Lunch with Mangesh Padgaonkar : Delicious moments of my life

With Mangesh Padgaonkar and Ravi Paranjape


Almost all of us believe that spices and cook come together to make your food delicious. Mangesh Padgaonkar made me think over this. Now I say, spices, cook and sprouting discussions make your food delicious. As always, I was once again fortunate enough to have lunch with two great personalities, Mangesh Padgaonkar, one of the greatest poets Marathi language ever produced and Ravi Paranjape, a great painter of today’s time. I was working with a student group in our college and under the same entity, we had organized a poem reading reading session by Mangesh Padgaonkar. Ravi Paranjape was the guest of honour.

As expected, the programme was really hit and  the entire audience was mesmerised. I was attending such a session for first time in my life. I was  completely satisfied with the session but god put something more in my plate. After the session, we took both of our guests out for lunch. As I had already spent some time with Mangesh Padgaonkar on the day before, I was very much keen to listen to his first hand comments on  life. I had heard an old record where he delivered a talk about Osho. Other speakers who spoke in the series were Prof. Shivajirao Bhosale and Va. Pu. Kale, both of them very successful writers. Listening to these lectures was my first interaction with all three of these personalities. Shivajirao Bhosale and Va. Pu. Kale spoke irrelevant. Thoughts of Mangesh Padgaonkar were authentic and penetrating. This had doubled the respect for him.

The lunch was full of discussions. Mangesh Padgaonkar and Ravi Paranjape are old friends and hence, started with their familiar topics. The topics shifted from poetry to Old Monk to the life of poets and hardships faced by them in old days. He was telling us about the great poets of their time- the tremendous passion and the burning desire which these people had in their hearts. Whatever he was speaking, was touching my heart. The reason was simple; he was talking from the bottom of his heart. His views were his own views and not the borrowed ones. His experiences and memories were still fragrant.

In course of discussion, he told me,

“When I was young, I used to read out poems for few rupees. I wanted to see the world and roam around, but had no money. Right now, I have lacs of rupees with me, but its all useless. I cant use it anywhere…..”

I could understand the feelings by observing his 84 years old utterly expressive eyes. I was touched by the authenticity and simplicity of his shaky voice. I gave him a typical smile- which we use as a shield to escape such moments. While I was dragged into a whirl of thoughts, Mangesh Padgaonkar was back to his piece of fish, enjoying it to the fullest.

Previous article in this series-

My moments with Mangesh Padgaonkar- part1

My moments with Mangesh Padgaonkar-part 2

Mangesh Padgaonkar poems

My moments with Mangesh Padgaonkar 1

Some people are very special. We have great ideas about them in our mind. For us, to meet them is just a dream. We just carry some ideas about them which define them according to our information and image built up in our minds. And then, some day, suddenly you come to know that you are going to meet such a person. Then you very closely observe him, get absorbed in him. And then, you find how lame all your imaginations were, how poor all your conceptions were.

Mangesh Padgaonkar is one of the most legendary poets we ever had. I have loved his poems and his words very specially. Those words of Mangesh Padgaonkar created many minute impressions unknowingly on my psyche and have removed chips of my psyche to give me glimpse of my being. suddenly, god (In form of my friend Akshay) created an opportunity for me and I was in a position to spend one entire night and one complete day with this one of the most adorable persons.

Mandar Karanjkar with Mangesh Padgaonkar

The impressions of his presence are still tangible. I know, this is time to sip the aura of Mangesh Padgaonkar rather than writing a post about it. I know, right now I cannot write anything about these intimate moments. So, I am just starting it. I will be sharing all my close observations, many arising feelings in upcoming posts.

poems Uncategorized

Come, sing and dance…

Open those sleepy eyes and just have a glance,

Why keeping away, come sing and dance…

All world is rejoicing, why are you out of tune?

Put hands in hands and just be a commune…..

This world is burning up, you are also a spark,

Just fall down, without holding a single bark…

Bubbles come and burst and go,

just come and give yourself a throw……

In this world, woven out of non existent threads,

Just leave all the trades….

Each drop is evaporating, you are also in the que

Everything will collapse, in the time due…

The boat is already sinking, Dont miss the chance,

Come here at once, come, sing and dance..


At your feet, no hope remains…….

In the world of desires, fear remains, At your feet, no hope remains….

This is the net, born out of hopes, The one leaves hopes, up copes…

The one who is afraid, of going down, Will not enter, His town…

One who can float, in the sea of uncertainty, will have certainty in plenty….

leaves grow and dry, without fear, Why am I afraid, all in tears?

Those who give hope, I trusted them a lot, And finally, found a broken pot…

At your feet, no hope remains, just pure bliss, in all the veins….


Do Two Exist?

I cut each and every curtain, which does not exist.

I look inside each and everyone, who does not exist.

Then I ask apparent myself,

Do two exist?


I go behind each and every mirror.

I search light inside each chandelier

Then I ask apparent myself,

Do two exist?


I feel the beauty of each and every person’s breath.

I feel the silence after each and every death.

Then I ask apparent myself,

Do two exist?


I separate each and every thread of the sheet.

Then I watch each and every dot of the thread.

Then I ask apparent myself,

Do two exist?


Each particle of this universe,

sings my song for hours.

Then I ask apparent myself,

Do two exist?


Who cares?

The weaver is on the road, to weave clothes for the abode,

Who cares?

To solve all the complications, to remove all negations,

Who cares?

To show everyone the bliss, to show them what they miss,

Who cares?

He tries to bring the glory, tries to make happy every story,

Who cares?

Remaining are the few days, then he will be on his way,

Who cares?


What is this?

The strange smells around, The never heard bells around,

Something beautiful is bound, just to happen….

This internal peace, the greener than ever trees,

It just means, something is going to happen…..

The never seen lights, the never reached flights,

The farthest kites, are flying in the sky…….

This very light, was never so bright,

and yes, no internal fight, what else I want?

Everywhere just abyss, just full of bliss, can you tell me?

What is this?? What is this??

( Poem by Mandar Karanjkar written on 9th April.)

mysticism poems

Are you?

In the hills and the skies, I was searching….

You were very known, yet unknown……

I was catching you moment to moment…the more I caught, more I lost….

I was looking for you….

In shadows, in mirrors, in temples…But, now I ask…

Who are you?

Where are you?

I again go on inquiring….

Deep within myself…deep within everyone else…..

Deep in the shadows…deep in the oceans…deep in the mountains, I do not spare valleys…..

Now, all questions are dropped and remains just one….



The Idol Worshiper

Let it be Handmade

Or a mind made Idol,

I am a worshipper,

And I need an Idol…

To hang up the loads…..

Which I can’t bear….

To not to start the journey,

Which I fear……

I go on changing,

So the Idol does….

There is only journey,

There is only fuss…..

I have created this god,

Because I can’t face myself

And now I am slave of Him,

So, now no blame on my Self

If I throw this Idol,

Who will take my sin on his head?

With whom I will console myself?

When I am on death bed?

mysticism Not for single reason osho philosophy

Give me the Fire…..

The first time, for asking something…

You gave everything; without being asked

Just like an egg….sufficient with what it needs…

You showered though I had no capacity to contain…..

You poured though I had no will to contain…..

But I flowered….With what ever percolated……

I have heard…more grass,more water….

more water,more grass…….

The grass is growing….along with the bushes….

Bushes of ego…..bushes of lust…..

When I cut bushes,cut is the grass….

I know, I love the bushes…..So I cry…..

Why should I love them? though they are the reason..

reason for everything….

You gave everything….but today I accept…..

I lack something….The fire…..

I am cold….just like a furnace….which never burnt….

Today I ask for something……

Something which I dont want….but what I badly need…..

Give me some Fire…..

Give me some Fire….