I feel like a can of soda, juddered and then popped open to let the fizz burgeon out of the tiny mouth of the tin container, I feel like a storm cloud that has wandered across miles to finally burst into a downpour of hydraulic whiplashes, I feel like a snowball accelerating down the deep valleys of the Alps. I wish I could save myself from the efforts of trying to articulate my thoughts through these bombastic figments of imagination and simply label them like how a child labels his creations on a drawing sheet. It would have been so simple to tag your feelings – A for anger, J for jealous and S for sad. I feel like a tooth-paste that’s squeezed out of the tube and which cannot by any means be squeezed back. So it lies there, with that peculiar mint flavour lingering in the air, feeling hopeless having reached a point of no return. I feel like an inflated balloon that escapes the grasp of butter fingers and goes rocketing in the thin air, helter-skelter, void of directions, mindlessly running like a lunatic after a prison-break, like how Archimedes must have scurried out of the bath tub after his path breaking discovery and before he made life hell for physicists. I feel like a slice of bread that by the law of nature always falls on the buttered side. I feel like a licensed version of an operating system that is incompatible with the available software; slick, nice and expensive but useless! I feel like an expired strip of drugs that you forget in your first aid kit, like the old skirt you throw away when you clean your closet. I feel like a pair of old sport shoes, laces half untied that faithfully carry smelly feet on a trek, only to be disposed of thereafter. So much for loyalty! I feel like yesterday’s newspaper. I feel like the hero of a cartoon strip. I feel like a boomerang that comes back to square one, no matter how far it flies. I feel like a self help book. I feel like a poorly written piece with no paragraphs, like a song without melody, like a dance without rhythm and like a heart without a beat! Lifeless! I feel like a can of soda, juddered and then popped open to let the fizz burgeon out of the tiny mouth of the tin container, I feel like a storm cloud that has wandered across miles to finally burst into a downpour of hydraulic whiplashes, I feel like a snowball accelerating down the deep valleys of the Alps. I wish I could save myself from the efforts of trying to articulate my thoughts through these bombastic figments of imagination and simply label them like how a child labels his creations on a drawing sheet. It would have been so simple to tag your feelings – A for anger, J for jealous and S for sad. I feel like a tooth-paste that’s squeezed out of the tube and which cannot by any means be squeezed back. So it lies there, with that peculiar mint flavour lingering in the air, feeling hopeless having reached a point of no return. I feel like an inflated balloon that escapes the grasp of butter fingers and goes rocketing in the thin air, helter-skelter, void of directions, mindlessly running like a lunatic after a prison-break, like how Archimedes must have scurried out of the bath tub after his path breaking discovery and before he made life hell for physicists. I feel like a slice of bread that by the law of nature always falls on the buttered side. I feel like a licensed version of an operating system that is incompatible with the available software; slick, nice and expensive but useless! I feel like an expired strip of drugs that you forget in your first aid kit, like the old skirt you throw away when you clean your closet. I feel like a pair of old sport shoes, laces half untied that faithfully carry smelly feet on a trek, only to be disposed of thereafter. So much for loyalty! I feel like yesterday’s newspaper. I feel like the hero of a cartoon strip. I feel like a boomerang that comes back to square one, no matter how far it flies. I feel like a self help book. I feel like a poorly written piece with no paragraphs, like a song without melody, like a dance without rhythm and like a heart without a beat! Lifeless!
Honest lies
Dimpled chin and rosy lips,
Like the teacher’s pet in the nursery rhymes,
One last look and I knew she was mine,
My daughter whom I last saw when she was six
Quick bucks, he said he would keep her neat
I last heard from her on her 16th birthday
Said she was in a black limo, her gift for the day
Time passed on, like it always does
I saw her photographs in the antique frames
Hoping someday she would come running,
Throw her arms around me and say,
“Mama I love you, I thought of you every day!”
The day never came until his funeral,
When she was there to read his eulogy,
She hardly wept but I could see she was hurt,
Deep inside she knew, she would miss him so much
He never had time for his little daughter she said,
But he kissed her goodnight everyday to bed
When she was a teenager, he gave her allowance
A raise often came before she could ask for one
One day she spent it on a roll of cigarette
Today she realized she had made him infuriate
“I would never ask you sweetheart of what you want in life,
I know you would get it all, all right,
But if I may ask you, would you a promise keep,
Never lie to your father, not unless I sleep…”
And they both had cried that day by the fire place
He in the rocking chair, she wrapping him in her delicate arms,
“If ever I lie to you dad, it would only be to get mama back to you,
I miss her dad”; “I miss her too…”
And they both spent the evening fighting back tears
As they flipped through the pages of her scrap book,
“To our Sweetie, with lots of love- Mom & Pop”
Read the snap,
In which we kissed her on either cheek,
It was her last birthday in the old apartment,
Old friends, had come to say goodbye
And then one by one they had left, me too
Never to return until that day, she always wondered why?
She ended her father’s paean on a very touching note,
“Dad always said I would meet my mom, when he is gone,
And he was always a man of his words,
I know you are there ma, somewhere in this crowd,
But I am my dad’s daughter too, and I shall keep my words
I had promised him I wouldn’t lie, but to bring you back
And he’d asked me to be truthful until he is gone,
Today we meet again, on the occasion of his death,
And if he had just one more day,
I would have stolen him from you for a moment
And whispered, “Dad, just for you I lied under my breath…”
Unfinished tales…
Like how a caged bird yearns to fly in the open sky that seems to beckon it, enticing it with different hues- a yellow sapphire, a glistening gold, a shock of peach, sometimes a pale azure with puffs of cotton clouds, or even a blazing red, a vibrant pink with streaks of royal purple, and at night a dazzling black - so have I attempted with little success to write about the myriad experiences that have lately weaved colour in my fabric of life. I can hardly tell if I attribute this to lack of time or to an uncanny unwillingness to transliterate these conversations in the mildest syllables of life into something as real and as tangible as words themselves.
Not everything that these dull eyes see evoke a tear, not everything that these vexed ears hear provoke a thought, rarely has a human touch been so powerful and little are we blessed to see in a lifetime death and life being juxtaposed like the two facets of a die that is set rolling on the table while the rest of the world watches the die come to a staggering rest with little interest. The stories of the destitute and the ill are always told with brimming emotions to sensitize us towards their problems and it only follows that we develop this inherent capacity to sympathize with the ‘underprivileged.’ But for these same ‘underprivileged’ that have chosen to emerge from the abyss of social stigma to embrace a new life, like how a phoenix rises from the ashes, we are completely oblivious. The reason I believe is man’s constant endeavour to prove his supremacy to his ever-struggling inner self and blinding himself from reality. We live contentedly in a world we believe we live in. Are we any less impoverished then?
I doubt if all of us would be endowed with the opportunity to meet living legends with awe-inspiring stories about life that have never found a mention in history journals because these were not about sacrifices and philanthropy. These weren’t stories about a famous person going overboard to express his love for the nation. These were in fact stories of people who had to first search for an identity in the very world that had conspired against them. These were stories about human rights being sacrificed, hope being trampled by a dogmatic society, voices being stifled, and humanity being crucified under the juggernaut of mindless acts by the human race. The fight was not so much against others as it was with the self. It wasn’t about proving one’s worth but about convincing oneself that all is not lost. To find hope when the darkest hours cast their ugly shadows is one of life’s toughest challenges which only brave hearts can survive.
The vision of one man can create a renaissance and rekindle the fire of optimism and self-worth amongst millions. An iota of kindness can have such a powerful impact in the lives of many, imprinting permanently an indomitable spirit to excel. Befitting this realization is one of my favourite songs, “I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean…” Everything I’ve done, whatever little I’ve achieved, everything I see people striving for, the biggest names, the greatest achievements…suddenly seemed measly. The place carried an aura of purity, almost like they talk about heaven. It spelled the ‘garden of bliss.’ It was simple and soothing, where honesty of character and genuineness of deeds found haven. It was where the homeless found a family, where the blind understood the colour of love, where the mute learnt to express it and the deaf could listen to the heartbeats. Some things just happen to touch you like how a dew drop rolling off the edge of a leaf stirs ripples in the heart of a calm pond. This was one of those.
Birth of Bliss
Silence of the night
Lit by the silver moon
A perfect crescent
Hiding behind the purple clouds
Fireflies dancing a Macarena
Twinkling stars smiling back
A moist kiss of the fragrant air
And a tiny bud comes to life…
Like a brilliant display of fireworks
Shooting stars dazzle in the open sky
Cranberries shower in celebration
The stream rushes its way through the rocks
Twisting, turning and gurgling with joy
To see the embryonic beauty come alive!
Christened as the midnight child
Heaven’s own descendent dressed in white
The little angel opens its arms to embrace
Mother Nature, waiting to hug it tight
Clenching it to Her heart, she weeps
Tears of joy, as pure as the driven snow
From the lofty Himalayan peaks
Happiness that no words can tell
Enchanted, bewitched, there’s a magical spell!
And then her tender heart melts with love
Blessed by the warmth of the sun, she glows
A new day beckons her, she has miles to go
To color a life from Her palette of rainbow!
Defining moments…
The sun renders the Midas touch to a dying day, spreading soothing hues of gold over the balmy evening sky and a wave of spirituality strikes at the shore of one’s inner self. There is only a moment before the subtle tones of the evening turn into deep dark shades of the night. What lies between this spectrum, is that one defining moment which has the sublime power of transcending a tattered soul to greater heights of blithe…
A walk into the sunset with bare feet on wet sand, music of the waves along side, the chirping of the birds as they return home, baked silhouettes in the golden sky, the wind that smells of the saline sea, kissing her brunette tresses as she walks by, there’s something magical I feel tonight, she completes the libretto missing in the euphony of the flute vendor behind me…
Spinning pinwheels anchored to a pole, billboards with a shock of lime green, splash of vermillion, smoky white and misty rose! Little angels building castles from the fairy tales, tiny hands with the magic wand of hope and desire, dainty crêpe paper flags plugged on the top …childhood memories flash back! The unruly school-bus ride, long summer vacations, chequered uniforms, candies and colas, popsicles and surprise gifts in ribbon tied boxes, teddies and Barbie dolls, when wishes are commands, when you are the little princess of the good night tales, and there are dreams you don’t want to wake up from…
An old couple sharing a silent moment watching the sun sinking at the horizon, silver hair and reading glasses, parched scarlet rose in a dog-eared book, reflecting on life, seeing it all in a distance, misty eyes, clear memories, cherished times and bitter sweet fights. Chapters in the book of life, authored by two, read by many, unturned pages… given a chance to read it all over again this is where they would love to begin from, bookmarked by a mesmerizing feeling at the twilight hour…
Like a twisted kaleidoscope, at the break of every dawn, life gets painted with a new shade of emotion; at the turn of every age it gets repainted with a new outlook, acquires greater wisdom, finds a new reason and discovers a new meaning to it…and the quietest moments of life speak all about it!
The sun renders the Midas touch to a dying day, spreading soothing hues of gold over the balmy evening sky and a wave of spirituality strikes at the shore of one’s inner self. There is only a moment before the subtle tones of the evening turn into deep dark shades of the night. What lies between this spectrum, is that one defining moment which has the sublime power of transcending a tattered soul to greater heights of blithe…
A walk into the sunset with bare feet on wet sand, music of the waves along side, the chirping of the birds as they return home, baked silhouettes in the golden sky, the wind that smells of the saline sea, kissing her brunette tresses as she walks by, there’s something magical I feel tonight, she completes the libretto missing in the euphony of the flute vendor behind me…
Spinning pinwheels anchored to a pole, billboards with a shock of lime green, splash of vermillion, smoky white and misty rose! Little angels building castles from the fairy tales, tiny hands with the magic wand of hope and desire, dainty crêpe paper flags plugged on the top …childhood memories flash back! The unruly school-bus ride, long summer vacations, chequered uniforms, candies and colas, popsicles and surprise gifts in ribbon tied boxes, teddies and Barbie dolls, when wishes are commands, when you are the little princess of the good night tales, and there are dreams you don’t want to wake up from…
An old couple sharing a silent moment watching the sun sinking at the horizon, silver hair and reading glasses, parched scarlet rose in a dog-eared book, reflecting on life, seeing it all in a distance, misty eyes, clear memories, cherished times and bitter sweet fights. Chapters in the book of life, authored by two, read by many, unturned pages… given a chance to read it all over again this is where they would love to begin from, bookmarked by a mesmerizing feeling at the twilight hour…
Like a twisted kaleidoscope, at the break of every dawn, life gets painted with a new shade of emotion; at the turn of every age it gets repainted with a new outlook, acquires greater wisdom, finds a new reason and discovers a new meaning to it…and the quietest moments of life speak all about it!
Breakaway...
Silver stones hail from the skies
Moon drop bliss and my heart takes flight
To the land of love and lust
Of shooting stars and shimmering dust
Silent horizons jewelled with dreams
Ivory blessings pure supreme
Bathing in the warmth of smiles
A rainbow stretched across the miles
An arpeggio of life and destiny
I find, Everywhere I turn to see
There is life pumped in the wind;
I sense a spirit in its gait
I know I am almost there
Like the wind I know I cannot wait
I have seen myself grow, I have seen myself reach
Beyond the limits of self, beyond the ken of what they preach
Like a bird that finds its way in the vastness of the sky
I have spread my wings and I have learnt how to fly…
Moon drop bliss and my heart takes flight
To the land of love and lust
Of shooting stars and shimmering dust
Silent horizons jewelled with dreams
Ivory blessings pure supreme
Bathing in the warmth of smiles
A rainbow stretched across the miles
An arpeggio of life and destiny
I find, Everywhere I turn to see
There is life pumped in the wind;
I sense a spirit in its gait
I know I am almost there
Like the wind I know I cannot wait
I have seen myself grow, I have seen myself reach
Beyond the limits of self, beyond the ken of what they preach
Like a bird that finds its way in the vastness of the sky
I have spread my wings and I have learnt how to fly…
Looking back at these four years is like peeping into a bioscope because everything seems like in the movies, where boys turn into men and girls age with grace, where friendships bloom, where people come and touch your life in a way that you are no longer the same person that you were. Lives change forever! Friends and acquaintances, the fun, the fights, the doldrums, the arguments, the unanimity over trivial matters…you would miss it all alike. But what you would miss the most is just ‘being you’!
It’s funny how first impressions can be so deceiving. (I wonder how the ‘love at first sight’ notion even exists!) Maybe you were just being a little too judgmental and seeking refuge in yourself - the only self you knew or at least you thought so then. Fresh out of junior college with the school airs still gathering storm clouds in your head, you had definitions of what’s ethically sound and right and going against which would be next to the original sin. Lines of morals delimited your every single action and dictated all your thoughts. So it wasn’t hard to see why some titles were conferred upon the unknown faces that literally flocked the classrooms well before time. We had the bookworm, the bold, the beautiful, the arrogant, the confused, the sincere, the genius, the smart, the silly, the spoilt, the silent, the sensible, the aggressive, the diplomat, the effervescent all coming together to complete the mosaic of the freshman class.
Before you knew you were losing yourself to adapt to this cult of VJ Comps. It has a set of unspoken rules and unwritten traditions. It believes in the rules of the thumb to get around with things. Sometimes, rules of the other finger work as well. Boundaries disappeared and differences faded. Everybody had to take that crazy walk on the wild side of engineering life and run on its treadmill. Everybody turned out to be like everyone else. Cribbing about the same things, sharing the same sorrows, rejoicing for the same reasons, believing in the same rumors, whisking away the same fears, shedding the same tears, laughing over chestnut jokes, speaking the same lingo, and fantasizing the same miracles. Lifestyles changed. People did. Habits too. No longer was it about seeking the truth and doing the right thing. It was about simply getting it done and moving ahead. Been there, done that was the catchphrase.
The fine line between sense and sensibility was first redrawn and then erased forever. Confines of craziness and limits of laziness were redefined. The wackiest ideas of having fun were found. The pleasures in doing simple things were rediscovered. The barriers of age between maturity and juvenility were broken. When we sold our souls to the drudgery of life it was this madness that bought it back for us.
It’s said that all good things come to an end. I believe they don’t. They just see a new beginning. You know it’s time for one when suddenly you see yourself indulging in talks brimming with emotions. Your don’t delete messages from your inbox because you are afraid that you wouldn’t see those names flash on the screen again. You feel a sense of leaving back something when you have a look at the 'Kodak' moments. You sit and wonder if life would give you a second chance to live these moments again. You know the bitter truth. The people who taught you to laugh would go spread happiness elsewhere. The jokes would sound unintelligent and the worries would seem insignificant. But there is a time for everything and that was the time for it. A time that was as special as ‘special’ is. Never to return, just to be lived and relived through reminiscences.
I wish all my folks the strength to pursue and live the dreams we weaved back here. I also wish them faith to believe in themselves. I hope they don’t allow themselves to be blinded in the chase of things that would last for a while but instead sprint in the pursuit of true happiness. The days I spent here is my bit of happiness and I’m glad my folks helped me find it!
The carefree white bird in the cerulean blue sky
The toss of the vegetables in a chef’s pan-fry
The twirls of a ribbon from the gymnast’s wand
The skydiver’s weightless escape miles above the land
The hoopla whirling to fade colors of the rainbow
The groove of a couple dancing to the waltz so slow
The flight of a frisbee off a kid’s best shot
The aimlessly roving mind void of thought
The vibes on the dance floor to the music beats
The swing of a trapeze in the circus feats
The trail of a jet plane in the spotless skies
The ride on a roller coaster, the screams, the cries
The dance of victory and the football anthem
The liberation of thoughts and the lyrical poem
Hence defined - Six degrees of freedom!
Feel it
One of the most inspirational lines that I have come across says, “The more you plan, the harder destiny hits you.” Life is really like sitting at the roulette table and spinning the wheel…you never know just how hard you should spin to find the right slot! And when you do find it you just can’t get enough of it.
The element of happiness from the ‘happily ever after’ sometimes just secretly seeps into your ‘just another day gone by’ life before you even realize it and then comes that one day when you can fall asleep even on the other side of your bed because you just lived one of the best dreams that you’ve ever had. Miracles happen and they happen when you least expect them.
‘Happiness’ then ceases to be a mere state of mind. It becomes your raison d’etre and that tiny little spark kindles the massive fire of being passionately in love with life. It shows in the smile that creeps on your face for simple nothings. You feel it in the bounce that dictates your walk. You breathe it in the air of blithe all around you. You know something’s changed for good and is here to stay.
And then something larger looms on the horizon. You cannot wait till dawn. Tomorrow may never come. Today is all you got.
Time for retrospection…those little voices echo back. Nuggets of wishes that were once thought to be in the pot of luck across the other side of the rainbow are finally all around you…real, for true, to be touched and felt and spoken about. Is this how it feels to be in complete control of your life? Is this what fulfillment is all about? You don’t know…you are just plain happy. A true sense of unadulterated joy!
It reminds you of misty mornings when the sun comes up from nowhere and suddenly the haze disappears to reveal the hidden paradise. A beautiful landscape slowly develops. It was worth strolling through the mist, the leisurely walk in search of an open space. It was worth the wait.
The journey has begun through the woods. The twilight hour is yet to come. The songbird has still not returned to its nest. The path is less traveled. The leaves could be trodden. The gravel could hurt. But the path would unwind to reveal new secrets of the woods and finally lead the songbird home. There’s hope in the air and faith in the heart and the songbird is already flying!
Music in her soul,
A poem in her talk
Twinkling stars in her eyes
A groove in her walk
Essence of charisma
Honey sweet innocence
A fizz of enthusiasm
Grace and elegance
Fresh as a rosebud
Playful as a kitten
The most beautiful
Of poems ever written
Tranquility of the moon
Warmth of the sun
Depth of the ocean
Second as none
Songs of the valley
Hues of twilight
Dance of the raindrops
Flawless as white
Mosaic of moods
Pastel touches
Gentle mild thoughts
Strokes of brushes
Fairy from the tale
Angel from the Heaven
A fantasy come alive
Wonders Seven
Rare perfume
Fresh as a flower
Wild and free
Dreams like a lover
Childlike chuckles
Million-dollar smile
Happiness in nothings
Laughs for a while
Heart and soul
A sacred space
World of her own
Moves with grace
Whims and fancies
Lucky charms
Belief in miracles
Shooting stars
Unspoken words
Lyrical sonnets
Fragrant presence
Blossom of violets
The inspiration…
For the potter’s mold
The spirit…
Of the painter’s soul
She’s the lady
I dreamt to be
And woke up to find
She is me!
The fiery cherry-red globe,
Passionately combating the last strife of letting go
Burning with vehemence of lost battles
Allowed itself to be dropped in the lap of the sea,
Too insipid for feelings, too cold for emotions…
Unparalleled alacrity surfaced to embrace it
Eyes shut tight to hide the trickle of tears,
And arms flung open wide for a warm hug
No mighty waves soared; no turbulent tides arose,
Just serene ripples, as it soaked the fuming fury…
With tints of saffron desires and gold dreams,
As the purity of the sea, anointed it off its fears
The sunken sun and its reflection in the peach sea now meet
In harmony, a perfect circle, spotless and complete…
You are beautiful…it’s true!
Life is full of ups and downs, but the graph of life doesn’t follow a discrete path. Instead it traces the path from the peaks to the trenches with as much agility as does the fluorescent green beam on a CRO, especially on the ones they have been using in all the electronics labs I’ve had the misfortune of attending. And just like that gizmo, life too is difficult to comprehend. So it doesn’t take me by surprise when sometimes I wake up to a day to find the spice zapped out of my life- a bland day like someone forgot to add that pinch of salt in my cup of tea. Yeah, I know I should have referred a cookery manual!
Let me drift into that tinsel world where everything is perfect, because around here things neither have been particularly commendable enough to brag about, nor does the average life of an ordinary girl evoke any intentions from even a cartoonist (Laxman’s common man has already stolen the cake. It’s a man’s world after all!), let alone scripting a documentary that people accidentally would end up watching due to a title that turns out to be a misnomer. But then I know the feeling of being the ultimate fantasy of a painter’s imagination, or so I would like to believe. It was one of those ‘is this me?’ reactions that most women on the celluloid claim to have asked when the anti-ageing cream worked wonders for them. That brings me to the point of ‘beauty’ and all the hype that surrounds it; about it being skin deep. What does that mean? Adorable pancreas?
When was the last time that you turned your face away from a good looking girl, refused to smell roses on the way, found the black and yellow cab more enticing than a sleek red sports car parked next to it, shooed a white yodel with a red ribbon around it’s neck just like you shooed a half-hungry street dog the other day, didn’t choose a black and silver cell phone because even a pink and brown looked as classy, thought of calories before devouring the dark bitter chocolate pastry liberally sprinkled with tiny little chocolate chips and aptly titled ‘Devil’s delight’? There’s no denying the fact that what looks beautiful may not always be so, but since when has that held us from appreciating it?
The thin filmed soap bubbles that split white light into the hues of the rainbow when blown out of the loop and then sail on the breeze, wandering aimlessly, up and down, a new kaleidoscopic pattern and a new reflection on every little twist…don’t they make our hearts light just like them or spread a smile across our grim faces when we see children chasing these little magical bits of happiness? Isn’t this beauty too? How about that pale peach gown you saw in the store that day and couldn’t stop dreaming about? And then your unruly peeping neighbor lands up for your own birthday party in that exquisite apparel looking like a square peg in a round hole! But that doesn’t stop you from complimenting the finesse of the garb unless you have a tooth for sour grapes. Had it not been for the connoisseurs of beauty, art in its variegated forms would have never taken birth because art is the result of the holy matrimony of beauty and aesthetics.
Beauty has the power of appealing to all senses. A beautiful melody, a beautiful scenery, a beautiful feel of the pashmina shawl, a beautiful scent of some rare perfume…how often we find ourselves using these terms. Lata Mangeshkar, Princess Diana, Mother Teresa are all beautiful because they epitomize the beauty that appeals to the ear, the one that appeals to the eyes and the beauty of human touch. If beauty were skin deep, how would you have ever known that it even existed? We talk about ‘beautiful’ sunny days that bring with them a fresh start to new ventures and rekindle that iota of hope and faith. We talk about ‘beautiful’ moments spent with loved ones that are more than a just a day gone by. We dream about a ‘beautiful’ holiday on exotic locations. We also wish to be noticed and complimented with a ‘you look beautiful’ when dressed for special occasions even though we may not be any Britney Spears material or anywhere close. We talk of ‘beautiful’ gestures of someone helping the blind lady cross the road although what just passed by was your last bus back home. Then there are those movies that don’t fit into the stereotypes of eyesores but are instead a unique masterpiece of music sheet and canvas on screen where ‘beauty’ comes alive.
The ‘beauty’ of a silhouette in the sunset, of an autumn carpet of ochre and red, of a fiery turbaned villager against the sandy dunes, of the roll of the wheels of a limousine at the tongue of a red carpet, of a bride tossing her bouquet, of a baby chuckling with twinkling eyes, of sailing on a larger than life yacht, of the shine of medals and badges on a proud soldiers chest, the sparkle of a solitaire, the austerity of the village folk, the poise of a ballet dancer…the book of life has ‘beauty’ in it. And that is where Life comes from!
The velvet touch of the silken air
On a putrid ochre maple leaf
Lifts it for a waltz to the whistling woods
Amidst the mild perfume of sandalwoods
The frosty midnight breezy air
In the cold thick darkness of the night
With the smell of crackling cedar fed to flames
The canines somewhere playing wishful games
The balmy morning zephyr gently kisses
With the warmth of the peach sunrise
The tinkering chimes which offer a sweet euphony
That slowly fades in the day’s cacophony
A faceless enigma, unseen and ethereal
Yet full of Spirit, bounty with Life
Like Him, who would always be there
To raise us to new heights when engulfed in grief
Caring touches, gentle whispers, when hope dries up like the maple leaf…
On a putrid ochre maple leaf
Lifts it for a waltz to the whistling woods
Amidst the mild perfume of sandalwoods
The frosty midnight breezy air
In the cold thick darkness of the night
With the smell of crackling cedar fed to flames
The canines somewhere playing wishful games
The balmy morning zephyr gently kisses
With the warmth of the peach sunrise
The tinkering chimes which offer a sweet euphony
That slowly fades in the day’s cacophony
A faceless enigma, unseen and ethereal
Yet full of Spirit, bounty with Life
Like Him, who would always be there
To raise us to new heights when engulfed in grief
Caring touches, gentle whispers, when hope dries up like the maple leaf…
Tell me why should I save thee asked Her son to Mother Earth
‘Coz my son I’m parched and barren and of minerals there’s a dearth!
Heaps of unattended plastic, and tons of baloney
Clogging rivers that once flowed with milk and honey
Concrete jungles mushrooming having slaughtered verdant landscapes
And poisoned waters coloring the pristine clear lakes
The day isn’t too far when wildlife would be learnt through the encyclopedia
‘Coz who really cares about the endangered species, the flora and the fauna?
It’s a plight- the ripping boundaries that go running crisscross all across me
Scattered bits and pieces of tiny no-man’s-land is all that I see!
The craggy wrinkles on the dry skin of a dying mother ring no alarm
A spit here, a dump there, poaching here, fishing there, what’s the harm?
Although vicissitudes loom large about the future of dilapidated heritage sites
The air still trembles with deafening decibels and piercing flashy neon lights
Undeterred I witness- tremors, storms, eruptions and hurricanes,
My tears like the rains have dried up and my heart has hardened like the rocky terrains
Don’t pave my path to the gallows son; do vouch for my life son‘Coz what would hurt a mother more than being crucified by her own son?
The lady in her turquoise marine gown
With pale pink pearls from the ocean
The gentle swirl of her flowing robes
Like the rustle of waves in motion
Bathing in cool showers from the Heavens
Her wet long curls like a brook in the rock
The tiara bejeweled with beads of snow
Shimmering night sea- the sequins of her frock
Her reflection in the clear mirror pond
Flawless beauty as tranquil as its waters
A veil drawn over the face sets it aglow
Like how a fall of gushing water sunrays scatters
A murky blotch now on the turquoise garb
The robes marred with a slimy daub
The pink pearls slipped off, never to be found
The rustle replaced by the engines’ roaring sound
A spell of acid rains is all that precipitates
A sooty whirlpool in the sea now gyrates
The tiara tarnished, the snow flakes thawed
Dyes, dirt, debris have made her a slipshod
Bottle green mossy ponds, reflections trapped within
Ringed ripples – the silent cries of the wrinkled queen
O come, all ye slayers and bestow back her gurgling laughter
For she’s ailing, Latis - the Alpha of Life … the Goddess of Water
With pale pink pearls from the ocean
The gentle swirl of her flowing robes
Like the rustle of waves in motion
Bathing in cool showers from the Heavens
Her wet long curls like a brook in the rock
The tiara bejeweled with beads of snow
Shimmering night sea- the sequins of her frock
Her reflection in the clear mirror pond
Flawless beauty as tranquil as its waters
A veil drawn over the face sets it aglow
Like how a fall of gushing water sunrays scatters
A murky blotch now on the turquoise garb
The robes marred with a slimy daub
The pink pearls slipped off, never to be found
The rustle replaced by the engines’ roaring sound
A spell of acid rains is all that precipitates
A sooty whirlpool in the sea now gyrates
The tiara tarnished, the snow flakes thawed
Dyes, dirt, debris have made her a slipshod
Bottle green mossy ponds, reflections trapped within
Ringed ripples – the silent cries of the wrinkled queen
O come, all ye slayers and bestow back her gurgling laughter
For she’s ailing, Latis - the Alpha of Life … the Goddess of Water
When yellow dreams are shattered
Like a broken string of satin pearls
And the eye sheds a silent tear
Like the first dew drop of the misty dawn
When hope disappears behind puffs of clouds
In the clear blue skies
And everything looks surreal
The unanswered prayers, the truth, the lies…
When yellow dreams fall apart
Like autumn leaves fallen in the woods
And ripples of despair drown mighty wishes
And a storm of unwieldy thoughts ruptures the soul
Like when a thousand and one rain drops
Pound on the unyielding icy cold floor
The heart longs to hear a reprise of unsung melodies
The resonance of crystal dreams crashing no more…
When yellow dreams seem to be obscure
Like when spinning on a swing, this way and that
Like when counting the tiny sparkles in the night sky
Like when taking the wrong turns on forbidden roads
Like when watching through the molten air above the bonfire
Like when trying to count speeding poles on a driveway
Like when walking through revolving doors in a hallway…
...It's time to wake up!
Like a broken string of satin pearls
And the eye sheds a silent tear
Like the first dew drop of the misty dawn
When hope disappears behind puffs of clouds
In the clear blue skies
And everything looks surreal
The unanswered prayers, the truth, the lies…
When yellow dreams fall apart
Like autumn leaves fallen in the woods
And ripples of despair drown mighty wishes
And a storm of unwieldy thoughts ruptures the soul
Like when a thousand and one rain drops
Pound on the unyielding icy cold floor
The heart longs to hear a reprise of unsung melodies
The resonance of crystal dreams crashing no more…
When yellow dreams seem to be obscure
Like when spinning on a swing, this way and that
Like when counting the tiny sparkles in the night sky
Like when taking the wrong turns on forbidden roads
Like when watching through the molten air above the bonfire
Like when trying to count speeding poles on a driveway
Like when walking through revolving doors in a hallway…
...It's time to wake up!
It stood on the mantle, Trim and neat
It’s body a slender lilac
With white rose buds at its feet
An essence of violets dipped in dew
Coiled with ribbons in silver and blue
A wick so fragile in pale off-white
A figurine on the left
A medal to the right
It’s body a slender lilac
With white rose buds at its feet
An essence of violets dipped in dew
Coiled with ribbons in silver and blue
A wick so fragile in pale off-white
A figurine on the left
A medal to the right
Jeweled pride…
Crowned splendor…
Jeweled elegance…
Crowned beauty…
Crowned splendor…
Jeweled elegance…
Crowned beauty…
On the strike of a matchstick a spark ignites
Obnoxious fumes stifle the lilac air
The brilliant little flame
Embraces the off-white wick
Too reluctant to glow
At the hands of an ugly stick
With a black bead now ablaze
The fire gradually reaching the tail
Charring and drooping the body frail
Obnoxious fumes stifle the lilac air
The brilliant little flame
Embraces the off-white wick
Too reluctant to glow
At the hands of an ugly stick
With a black bead now ablaze
The fire gradually reaching the tail
Charring and drooping the body frail
Jeweled humility…
Crowned life…
Jeweled duty…
Crowned death…
Crowned life…
Jeweled duty…
Crowned death…
A burning soul, a scorching life
Slowly melting to meet the dust
The agonies of a conceited queen
Growing from worse to worst
Uneven trickles with ungraceful gait
Smeared the slender sides to settle in blobs
Blistered shapeless remains of a beauty that was
Slowly melting to meet the dust
The agonies of a conceited queen
Growing from worse to worst
Uneven trickles with ungraceful gait
Smeared the slender sides to settle in blobs
Blistered shapeless remains of a beauty that was
Smoldered pride…
Thawed splendor…
Smoldered elegance…
Thawed beauty…
Thawed splendor…
Smoldered elegance…
Thawed beauty…
The soft radiance of the flickering flame
The ribbons dazzled in the incandescent light
Even as they mourned the flawless beauty’s sad demise
As it continued to radiate the wrath around
Light everywhere but a dark shadow underneath
To which her life’s earnings she had to bequeath
And when the last bit of her went up in a spaghetti smoke
Her last remains were scrapped with the burnt stick that broke
And together they were returned to from where they came
Dust to dust and ashes of the flame
The ribbons dazzled in the incandescent light
Even as they mourned the flawless beauty’s sad demise
As it continued to radiate the wrath around
Light everywhere but a dark shadow underneath
To which her life’s earnings she had to bequeath
And when the last bit of her went up in a spaghetti smoke
Her last remains were scrapped with the burnt stick that broke
And together they were returned to from where they came
Dust to dust and ashes of the flame
Smoldered pretences…
Thawed masquerades…
Smoldered veils…
Thawed masks…
Thawed masquerades…
Smoldered veils…
Thawed masks…
Closest to Heaven is where I chose to be
So there I was between two palm trees
On a hammock swinging to the music of the wind
The breeze playing with my brunette tresses
And the palm leaves naughtily joining in
Now shadow, now light
In solitude I took delight
As the white sand stretched
As far as my eyes could see
The beauty untouched and as pristine as it could be
Footprints in sand nowhere to be seen
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
The stony gray rocks overshadowed the lazy lagoon
A slice of rapture to devour on a warm sunny afternoon
With a cocktail of ecstasy, mirth and bliss by my side
Raised a toast to the blushing bride
The fair sand as it stood in its white wedding gown
Pearls from the ocean
Confetti from the skies
Champagne from the sea
Music from the waves
A shock of fuchsia orchids amidst the bushes of green
A plumage of prismatic colors to crown an altar so serene
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
The emerald green waters and the clear blue skies
Met at the margin of the bay that my eyes defined
Where the pearl-white flock of birds with ruby-red beaks
Cried and leapt at the sun, warmed with its streaks
Ripples of water shimmering like the facets cut on a crystal
The school of fishes - a splash of colors spilled in the sea
The waters as clear and as virgin as they can be
The corals on the floor like a splatter of paint from His palette
The oysters in the sea like cherries on a charlotte
A place of which the poets sang and the lovers dreamt
But not a soul to be heard, not a face to be seen
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
So there I was between two palm trees
On a hammock swinging to the music of the wind
The breeze playing with my brunette tresses
And the palm leaves naughtily joining in
Now shadow, now light
In solitude I took delight
As the white sand stretched
As far as my eyes could see
The beauty untouched and as pristine as it could be
Footprints in sand nowhere to be seen
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
The stony gray rocks overshadowed the lazy lagoon
A slice of rapture to devour on a warm sunny afternoon
With a cocktail of ecstasy, mirth and bliss by my side
Raised a toast to the blushing bride
The fair sand as it stood in its white wedding gown
Pearls from the ocean
Confetti from the skies
Champagne from the sea
Music from the waves
A shock of fuchsia orchids amidst the bushes of green
A plumage of prismatic colors to crown an altar so serene
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
The emerald green waters and the clear blue skies
Met at the margin of the bay that my eyes defined
Where the pearl-white flock of birds with ruby-red beaks
Cried and leapt at the sun, warmed with its streaks
Ripples of water shimmering like the facets cut on a crystal
The school of fishes - a splash of colors spilled in the sea
The waters as clear and as virgin as they can be
The corals on the floor like a splatter of paint from His palette
The oysters in the sea like cherries on a charlotte
A place of which the poets sang and the lovers dreamt
But not a soul to be heard, not a face to be seen
I wonder if so close to Heaven someone had ever been?
The alarm crowed. A lusty king of the farmyard cock-a-doodle-do. He shut the mobile up. One hour and five minutes was all he had before his day began. He would steal five minutes from that. Look the other way he told that frowning creature in his soul. I do it all the time- a little corruption, a little bribery. I negotiate with the world 24/7. So why not an extra 5 minutes of sleep, he told himself and buried his head under the pillow. And so began another day in the life of an Indian…
Life lately had been very melodramatic for this thirty something with a hairline that seemed to recede at a rate more alarming than that of his stocks- a life more mediocre than his job, a job more demanding than his wife, a wife more cranky than his kids, his kids more ill-mannered than the dog next door, the dog more ill-tempered than his mistress and it’s mistress…Love thy neighbor!
Today’s date was suggestive of something that was as difficult to recollect as the last time he had had a breakfast on the table. So off he rushed, tucking the newspaper under his arm, a slice of bread in his mouth as if to assure the canine next door of brotherhood in the neighborhood, polishing his shoes by brushing them against his trousers, as his mobile guffawed at him with attractive alerts about tarots and hitting the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow amidst a host of reminders, meetings, memos and anniversaries. And what he had been trying to recollect for so long suddenly mushroomed in his mind that was fertile with a thousand unwanted, undesired but nevertheless unavoidable thoughts – It was time he bought a new season ticket for his daily commute! The penguin on his happy feet was close enough not to be evaded and though our hero’s scruples warned him, his hand involuntarily reached out for a crisp note as the paragon of truth smiled almost ironically on it and it was slipped with great dexterity and ease to the right person to instigate a nod of acceptance.
The other three quarters of the hour were peaceful amidst the gang enjoying over their daily game of cards, in dire straits dealing the deck with the forlorn hope that the tables would turn one day, the peeking toms, the zealots who tried to bridge the gap between the Heaven and earth with their operatic performances as pleasant as rubbing your nails against the blackboard, the blind man crying his wares, the ragged urchins with their delicate dirty hands tapping feebly only to be offered a deaf ear, blind eye, a scorn or worse - apathy, the white-collared people juggling their business papers and their phone calls, the college goers- the grown-up kids, people who haven’t met before and will probably never see each other again but still have more in common in that half an hour jaunt than any propinquity could boast of, with the railways bringing people closer literally, as they elbow, push, hustle and bustle their way, discussing why things are the way they are, with a feeling of being in the middle of every controversy strongly rooted in their guts, of being a victim of crimes they haven’t done and living a life they don’t deserve…a motif of variegated thoughts, beliefs and conversations to serve as an excess baggage to his workplace.
You have 13 unread messages…that is how he’s greeted there! He quickly scans his inbox to find a mail from a dear friend, who’d left in search of greener pastures. It speaks of missing the life he’d once run away from, of wanting to have conversations beyond the rigmaroles of the e-mail, with people you can accidentally bump into while strolling on the road, of wanting his kids to imbibe values that cannot be taught, of wanting to curse the system and yet be completely in love with it, to feel rejuvenated by the glow of the sweat on sultry days, to be at a place called home and feel at home for home is where the heart is! Our hero silently accepted the fact that you never know what you’ve got until it’s missing…so much so about a day in the life of India!
Life lately had been very melodramatic for this thirty something with a hairline that seemed to recede at a rate more alarming than that of his stocks- a life more mediocre than his job, a job more demanding than his wife, a wife more cranky than his kids, his kids more ill-mannered than the dog next door, the dog more ill-tempered than his mistress and it’s mistress…Love thy neighbor!
Today’s date was suggestive of something that was as difficult to recollect as the last time he had had a breakfast on the table. So off he rushed, tucking the newspaper under his arm, a slice of bread in his mouth as if to assure the canine next door of brotherhood in the neighborhood, polishing his shoes by brushing them against his trousers, as his mobile guffawed at him with attractive alerts about tarots and hitting the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow amidst a host of reminders, meetings, memos and anniversaries. And what he had been trying to recollect for so long suddenly mushroomed in his mind that was fertile with a thousand unwanted, undesired but nevertheless unavoidable thoughts – It was time he bought a new season ticket for his daily commute! The penguin on his happy feet was close enough not to be evaded and though our hero’s scruples warned him, his hand involuntarily reached out for a crisp note as the paragon of truth smiled almost ironically on it and it was slipped with great dexterity and ease to the right person to instigate a nod of acceptance.
The other three quarters of the hour were peaceful amidst the gang enjoying over their daily game of cards, in dire straits dealing the deck with the forlorn hope that the tables would turn one day, the peeking toms, the zealots who tried to bridge the gap between the Heaven and earth with their operatic performances as pleasant as rubbing your nails against the blackboard, the blind man crying his wares, the ragged urchins with their delicate dirty hands tapping feebly only to be offered a deaf ear, blind eye, a scorn or worse - apathy, the white-collared people juggling their business papers and their phone calls, the college goers- the grown-up kids, people who haven’t met before and will probably never see each other again but still have more in common in that half an hour jaunt than any propinquity could boast of, with the railways bringing people closer literally, as they elbow, push, hustle and bustle their way, discussing why things are the way they are, with a feeling of being in the middle of every controversy strongly rooted in their guts, of being a victim of crimes they haven’t done and living a life they don’t deserve…a motif of variegated thoughts, beliefs and conversations to serve as an excess baggage to his workplace.
You have 13 unread messages…that is how he’s greeted there! He quickly scans his inbox to find a mail from a dear friend, who’d left in search of greener pastures. It speaks of missing the life he’d once run away from, of wanting to have conversations beyond the rigmaroles of the e-mail, with people you can accidentally bump into while strolling on the road, of wanting his kids to imbibe values that cannot be taught, of wanting to curse the system and yet be completely in love with it, to feel rejuvenated by the glow of the sweat on sultry days, to be at a place called home and feel at home for home is where the heart is! Our hero silently accepted the fact that you never know what you’ve got until it’s missing…so much so about a day in the life of India!
The best time machine one can own is one’s self. It conjures up eclectic images from days of yore to make a collage so pristine, transcending the traveler above the joy of witnessing the reality while cruising through the lanes of nostalgia with it’s twist and turns on a magic carpet of memories. And when one whole year has gone by, you’ve seen much, witnessed another chunk of life, introspected on another dimension, known more than you think you know, touched many a hearts and lives without the slightest clues and been affirmed that we all are children in God’s garden, the musings that come along as the year wraps up embracing me in a blanket woven with warmth as the warp and bliss as the woof, it’s time to put it in words as the weather outside - the mentos cool breeze, the virginity of a brand new year in the air and the splendor of id ka chaand - only accentuates the fact that life is beautiful!
The year, as I see it through the rose tinted glasses, has been in one word - ‘more than fulfilling!’ There I go! Each passing moment adding a new hue to my personality, coloring me with all shades of emotions, sketching timeless memories that would last a lifetime and to crown it all, painting in myriad colors lessons about living without regrets, a chapter of 365 pages is now closed and all that is left are glances into it’s fluttering pages.
This was the year that tossed the pleasure of exploring new lands in my basket of joy, of visiting exotic locations and discovering patches of paradise, of how we are all the same and yet so different and you are what you choose to be, of realizing that what you hate back here is what you miss the most. A year that gave plenty of room to grow on a personal front, to hone skills I never knew I possessed, to cross the fine line that separates being afraid from being proactive, to learn to live with people of all temperaments and knowing that there exists a good and positive side to all, to know that there would be times that hit you hard on your face but the only way out is through it, to know that nothing can be more tranquil than being in harmony with yourself by at times letting the heart rule over the brain.
It has proved that nothing can be as eternal as trust and friendship and that it’s difficult telling them apart, that distance can strengthen relationships and make them fonder, that there would be these angels without wings who would glide you through the darkest hours, whom you can call up for no reason and have the best conversation ever, that everybody has secrets no matter how silly, that people would always remember how special you made them feel, that one day people would recognize you for what you were to them and not how you seemed to be, that actions speak louder than words, that miracles can happen on wishing upon the shooting star of faith and desire, that you get the most when you expect the least, that it is an amazing feeling to be appreciated for the little nothings, that you can give unconditionally and feel not a wee bit of loss, that you can be happy for others, that truth still triumphs, that you would be contented in the corners of your heart for being a nice person or for someone thinking so, that there’s only one thing other than crystal that grows more precious as it get clearer and it is your conscience and all it takes is confiding in your loved ones.
What's more, it has awakened the nocturnal beast in me, made me join communities that promise to connect me to millions of ‘friends’ (if only they could redefine that overused word), seen me being successful on my first ever attempt to cook something which is both edible and palatable at the same time, made me host my very first blog (oh! Do you know about it? Here’s the link http://shilpakendre.blogspot.com/), had my very first night out, was offered my very first job, …okay coming to what you probably must be wanting to spot on this ‘very-first’ list … sorry, no love at ‘very-first’ sight!
The hourglass has been turned for 2007; the dune at the bottom is a day old. The yester year ended on a positive and sanguine note to fuel yet another free trip around the sun for all! So here’s my little prayer to the giftie to grant more peace, bestow more love and make understand the meaning of universal brotherhood, to provide societies with the magic wand of education, to reduce nature’s fury, to make everybody feel less miserable, to teach everyone to be more forgiving, to make people more proactive, to bless them with tons of well being, to keep the mood cheerful so as to be able to ponder back a year hence and know that life just kept getting twice as much better with each passing day and that wishing that there were more than one 1st of Jan every year to ring out the old and ring in the new! (Swoosh...there goes a silly one...as they say, "Many people look forward to the new year for a fresh start to old habits!")
The year, as I see it through the rose tinted glasses, has been in one word - ‘more than fulfilling!’ There I go! Each passing moment adding a new hue to my personality, coloring me with all shades of emotions, sketching timeless memories that would last a lifetime and to crown it all, painting in myriad colors lessons about living without regrets, a chapter of 365 pages is now closed and all that is left are glances into it’s fluttering pages.
This was the year that tossed the pleasure of exploring new lands in my basket of joy, of visiting exotic locations and discovering patches of paradise, of how we are all the same and yet so different and you are what you choose to be, of realizing that what you hate back here is what you miss the most. A year that gave plenty of room to grow on a personal front, to hone skills I never knew I possessed, to cross the fine line that separates being afraid from being proactive, to learn to live with people of all temperaments and knowing that there exists a good and positive side to all, to know that there would be times that hit you hard on your face but the only way out is through it, to know that nothing can be more tranquil than being in harmony with yourself by at times letting the heart rule over the brain.
It has proved that nothing can be as eternal as trust and friendship and that it’s difficult telling them apart, that distance can strengthen relationships and make them fonder, that there would be these angels without wings who would glide you through the darkest hours, whom you can call up for no reason and have the best conversation ever, that everybody has secrets no matter how silly, that people would always remember how special you made them feel, that one day people would recognize you for what you were to them and not how you seemed to be, that actions speak louder than words, that miracles can happen on wishing upon the shooting star of faith and desire, that you get the most when you expect the least, that it is an amazing feeling to be appreciated for the little nothings, that you can give unconditionally and feel not a wee bit of loss, that you can be happy for others, that truth still triumphs, that you would be contented in the corners of your heart for being a nice person or for someone thinking so, that there’s only one thing other than crystal that grows more precious as it get clearer and it is your conscience and all it takes is confiding in your loved ones.
What's more, it has awakened the nocturnal beast in me, made me join communities that promise to connect me to millions of ‘friends’ (if only they could redefine that overused word), seen me being successful on my first ever attempt to cook something which is both edible and palatable at the same time, made me host my very first blog (oh! Do you know about it? Here’s the link http://shilpakendre.blogspot.com/), had my very first night out, was offered my very first job, …okay coming to what you probably must be wanting to spot on this ‘very-first’ list … sorry, no love at ‘very-first’ sight!
The hourglass has been turned for 2007; the dune at the bottom is a day old. The yester year ended on a positive and sanguine note to fuel yet another free trip around the sun for all! So here’s my little prayer to the giftie to grant more peace, bestow more love and make understand the meaning of universal brotherhood, to provide societies with the magic wand of education, to reduce nature’s fury, to make everybody feel less miserable, to teach everyone to be more forgiving, to make people more proactive, to bless them with tons of well being, to keep the mood cheerful so as to be able to ponder back a year hence and know that life just kept getting twice as much better with each passing day and that wishing that there were more than one 1st of Jan every year to ring out the old and ring in the new! (Swoosh...there goes a silly one...as they say, "Many people look forward to the new year for a fresh start to old habits!")