People-Love-People

People. How they think love is so difficult, that love is not their cup of tea,
that love is that they will never bring themselves to. How they never unerstood that they were changed,
when they fell in love, that they were transformed into a better human being, that they were living each
day with even more zest. How they thought that falling always hurts.

People. They can lie to the world but not their hearts, that are always ready to endure the tough terrains, the crests
and troughs of this journey, that are willing to sacrifice for somebody other than self, that believes truly,
trusts deeply and cares selflessly.

People. They need love, they dont want it. They need the gentle touch of care, they need the assuring words of love,
they need the patient ears in silence. They need someone close with whom they can open up, against the canvas that they paint for world
to watch everyday. They want to give up, in front of someone, where they can lay with their open chests and dry scars, where they can
reveal the dark shadows that scares them, where they can fearlessly dance under the innocence, that usually hides within them.

People. They are far too soft inside, but they don't show. They can take risk, with many hearts, they can even take revenge on them.
But for that one heart, they give up their weapons and lay bare, lay weak, lay in their perfect selves.

People. They are slaves, of their own selves.

S - H - E

 

Everything was crumbling down. The downfall was expected, sooner or later.  Her mind spoke the bitter truth that she had accumulated over the years subconsciously inside her head, in the form of a fear from her previous experiences. It had been the best of her previous years, living the dream she had woven turn by turn, with careful consideration of each step that she had taken in building of this relationship over the period of time. And now what lay before her was a relationship that succumbed to the distances and misunderstandings that unexpectedly did more harm than it should have. She sat in her bathroom on the dry, white tiles with her head in between her elbows and her fingers clasped at the back of her head. She wailed, sometimes too loudly and then dropping her voice to silence in between breaths. Crying off the pain made her feel lighter but then it was equally exhausting in the end, that she gladly accepted to fall asleep and forget everything for some time for the least. 

 

She held on to the silence for a minute and went blank solely concentrating on the mind riff separating the two tiles and the dirt that stuck in between them. It was strange how you drift off and suddenly come to bring your mind to vague things with utter concentration for a jiffy and then roll back to your reality again. She got up, looked around and out of habit went in front of the mirror. She blankly stared herself for a second and then recalled what he had once said about her eyes being beautifully big and her lips being in their perfect curves and color, which suddenly dawned the reality upon her in bolts of emotional blows. She cried again and looked on at herself as she cried half unbelievably half animatedly. She walked out when she could no longer handle the mix of emotions that her own reflection teased her with. Falling on the bed she took less than five minutes to go in a deep sleep, her swollen sockets still trickled a tear on the pink bed sheet underneath her.

 

She woke with a sore throat and blocked nose, the cold bathroom floor was to blame. The light from the huge window had been blinding and irritating to her eyes that were still swollen with continuous crying her grief out. She looked around, sighed and quickly got up to draw them close. She comforted her eyes with the darkness against the heavenly morning light. Backing to her bed she thought of him, and the way he would cuddle against her into a spoon from behind, his heavy arms resting gently over her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. She wished she could talk to him looking into his glinting brown eyes, holding his hands to give him a sense of care through her touch, consoling and comforting him with not just her words but her presence and blow the cloud of misunderstandings away which had unnecessarily shadowed their four year relationship to an extent of giving up on it.

 

May be she could sleep some more and just let the pain subside some more yet again but thoughtfully and  involuntarily got up and walked towards the bathroom. A hot shower might be a healer she thought. So on, she opened her bathroom door with her lousy eyes and turned right to look into the mirror once again. She saw herself, emotionally exhausted, her eyes puffed up with overworking tear glands. The back wall had clothes hung onto steel hooks which she thought didn’t belong to her. She frowned and had a closer look at the mirror, with concentration, to what she just saw instead of turning back. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she got a wider view of her surroundings in the mirror. A halt in surprise would have been a delayed and expected reaction, taking in account her exhaustion from crying herself out, but she suddenly turned around to see two cots with two study tables beside each of them and two cupboards adjacent to the study tables. The toilet seat, the bath tub, the buckets, the taps, they were all gone! Actually her whole bathroom was replaced by a room that looked more like a hostel room set up for students. A bed was neatly made while the other looked like recently used with sheet left out in folds and wrinkles. There were books stacked at the far end of the table to her right while the one on the left had a couple of books scattered and a table lamp that seemed just too familiar. She couldn’t believe her eyes and was literally taken aback. She leaned against the door that closed all of a sudden with a thud.

 

 She looked behind her. Nope, this wasn’t even close to what her bathroom door looked from behind. It was wooden, painted white in oil paint. It freaked her out and she resisted the urge to go near the door to open it and find out what lay behind it or where she was. She wore a loose peach colored top and black short that were comfortable to get into for a good sleep during the warm May days but suddenly she felt cold and her thighs got covered under a layer of goose bumps. She was drawn to the green table lamp and slowly walked towards the table. Surprise turned into shock when she saw her name written on it, and she came to realize that it was the same lamp she had given him when he was leaving the town thinking it might help him during his late night study schedules. The reality fell upon her like a bucket full of cold water. 

She was at his place! 700 Kilometers away from her home, in his city, in his college, in his own room! Telepathy?, She asked herself wide-eyed in disbelief. Did any angels or fairies hear her making a wish? Willow wisps? Cinderella story? Time travel? She just went through any possible way that made it look sensible in the least bit. Is it even real or May I am just in my sleep and I am dreaming because you dream about the last thing you thought before sleeping. That’s how they say. She tried coming up with a satisfactory explanation. So I will wake up, it is just a dream, just a matter of time, I will wake up now. She closed her eyes and tried recalling the moment, the minute before she fell into sleep. Her pink bed sheet, the corner of the bed, her soft pillow and she tried getting her mind back, tried drifting into sleep if it was one or waking up if doing that seemed sensible. She focused not to concentrate on reality, on the window from where the morning light came in and that gave a lush view of the outside flora, instead of the blurred glass window of her bathroom. She almost thought she is losing her mind to nothing when she heard a voice from outside the door. She heard him. It sounded real, it sounded louder as he approached with only the wooden door separating him and her now. Was this really happening? Is this too a part of the dream? What will happen next? She couldn’t digest the sudden change that was unexpected and unexplained.

 

She fixed her eyes at the door without blinking and pinched herself to wake her up before the madness of her mind took over her very self. This can’t be real, I can’t be here, this doesn’t make sense.  The sound of the steps got closer. The voice grew louder and so did the thump of her heart out of both excitement and fear. Before she could think of what to do or say the door knob turned round with a click.

 

 

 

                                                                                                         To be continued . . .

 

 

 

A Little mouse

Tears trickling down the cheeks of a little mouse
Rolling down a distance of not much height
Years wearing off from the ones so low
It fears if it might not survive the night
Bars of prison in the rat trap
It bangs against the door so very hard
It bleeds thin but it bleeds within
Late wounds now turned into fresh scars
Seized under stress, wagging its tail
Somebody will save the little rodent
Thinking so, it waits and wails
Until the hell under breaks lose its vent
Little mouse had a terrible tooth
Lost in a flight in search of ruth
Little by little receding in dismay
Little mouse let the night take it away
In the end when the light went down
Mourning over that squeaky sound
When all rat pack followed back their trail
That's when the bars did finally fail
That's when the doors went down
And a little soul escaped to Underground

The Ring

The ring fit well but

She thought it was heavy
The ring circled close but
She thought it was loose
The ring shone white

She thought it should soon glitter
The ring that she wore
She thought wore her
The ring that protected
She thought bounded her
The ring of love and life
She thought was interpreter,
The ring of relationship
She thought so but didn't know
The ring was to make it better
She thought of responsibility
The ring was the circle of love
She thought as another circle of life
The ring was not so
She thought of vigilance
The ring gave away the suspense
She thought of betrayal
The ring defeated its influence
She thought of cold
The ring stood thick and bold
She thought but failed
The ring never did

Aesa Des Hai Mera

India is a developing country, where the people value secularism, culture, traditions and their contribution to the country’s diversity. Education to all is the prime aim of the country where it should be necessary to make the population literate and make them aware about the world around them for a better living. 

Better Living, what does it emphasize on?

          Job, Money, Property, Health, Good Life Partner, Settled Children, Easy Retirement;

                                                      Yes?! Is the list complete?

Today’s youth, who are in their twenties, have educated parents or at least parents who understand that the list of words above is incomplete without ‘Happiness’ and ‘Contentment’. Parents who know that this is not the time they had grown up in, not the era, where they walked with heads down and mouths shut against their own voices.

Hell yeah! We are warm blooded youth and we speak for ourselves. Today we raise our own voices to the pitches that ought to be heard loud and far. We do whatever we like on the name of experience and gain wisdom by exploring the depths ourselves.

There is one thing which makes us fall to our feet though, the same secularism that unites us.

Two people are said to fall in love within first sight or meet. But hey! In India, you got to ask the question before you let the cupid strike you,

 “Hi, Are you Hindu? Because I am one, if yes I can go forward and get a rose for you, because I like 

you.”

Or maybe

“Hey, I am sorry, I didn’t know you were a Punjabi, else I wouldn’t have proposed you. I want to break up”

Before the cupid hits your butt, you better question the identity of its arrow because that is how our secular country works!

We are Indians! We make sure, our blood remains pure, even though a Rajput and a Bengali, we know can have the same O+ blood group. ! We prioritize our custom and religion, which if a Punjabi marries a Tamilian, gets degraded. We ensure that our races don’t get devalued if our Muslim son marry a Hindu girl hence such marriages are BANNED!

We are Indians! Social and Secular! Proud to call ourselves united yet divided by the caste system that still ruptures the hearts of the generations that fight to overcome the strains and shackles with their love.

We are Indians! We sell our daughter, with exchange of gold, cars, flats, houses, furniture, expensive clothes and all that in the name of gifts. We call our daughters as Lakshmi and pray them for 9 days, when it comes to marriage, we go to the extent, to devoid them of even education that they are righteous to. We bring home our daughter-in-laws and within a year of marriage, we frequently start questioning about the ‘ghar ka chirag’ (heir to the family).  

We are Indians! We don’t let our children fall in love and marry the ones they know but constraint them to get in bed with a stranger! We let our boys roam the street and chain the girls to the boundaries of home. We blame the females as if they are black cats carrying bad omen and get them married first to get rid of them, because they are a hugely delayed responsibilities of time, that need to be shrugged off.

We are Indians! We are educated, experienced and stuck in time.

 We carry knowledge but lack wisdom.

               We don’t realize that a man, woman and 2 kids don’t always mean a happy home.

WE! The Parents of Today’s youth still struggle to change our notions and free our minds from the chains that we were bound in, when we were young.  We feel that our kids need to obey the same rules that we did because that was RIGHT! But fail to understand, that that was right THEN not NOW!

WE! The Parents of Today’s Youth can’t change our minds because we think it is against our dignity and it will make us weak to listen to our younger ones, who can’t be right as they are younger to us.

WE! The Parents of Today’s Youth can break the sticks if not bend them, by trying all emotional tactics that can bring down our kids to lead a similar life that we did, by sacrifice. We never had an option, not because we didn’t have a choice, because we didn’t make any.

We can’t be changed, because we are elders and elders are always right!

India is a democracy where people are eligible to chose their leader at the age of eighteen but can't chose their life partner at any age without the consent of their parents

Twinkle Twinkle little star; How I wonder what you are

"I am twinkle, a star..I let myself be, away from the cluster of stars that are moving away at immeasurable speeds. I am bright magnificent, burning within and brightening out. You see me twinkle high up there beside my companions but there are distances between us light years apart. I am alone but I glitter, I shimmer. I am the proud owner of my gas and dust. But 20 million years has passed, and I hear nothing and bear solitude. A little star had zoomed past before that brief time. Tinkle I still remember its name. It had asked me to join it for an adventure across the milky way. A Puny phase of dust I had told him. It was! A dust ball, shining just because it was too near me and I knew it would glow low once it was away. And what for should I lose my shimmer, my iridescent self, I had thought then."

"But for these 20 million years, I stayed and glowed but I thought if my burning alone was worth. My planets, my own children needed me but even they are no more now, and what shall I give life out for, my shine for. I wish sometimes I could zoom like tinkle and travel across these dark distances that I watch in wonder."

"Oh wait! Did I see it? Tinkle!! Is it you again?"

"Hey! Ya I move on and off this orbit, anyways I have to glide away so bye, may the stars of stars watch over you"

"Hey no wait! I am exhausting now, I want to see the world before I run out of my gas. I apologise for being pumped up with pride. I realise now, I am the same gas and dust as you are. We are from the same big bang. Please accept my apology and take me away. Let me see the milky way, let me pass across the darkness around me, take me to light , take me across the quasars about which you mentioned last time. I want to see the universe."

Tinkle radiated back even more than Twinkle this time.

"I forgive you Twinkle, come buddy, shed off the nebulae of your pride and ego, let out your fire and die like a hero through adventures of the space."

Twinkle is still there in the space and lives through the dust that always stays in between those dark distances

The Saint, Sane and capricious Insane

Why you get attached so much to someone. Heart you bugger! You beg for love, don't you?

Doesn't matter if it comes on self, you let your ego slip, you let your respect go in smoke.

You take it all in, you love the hit but it is only for a matter of minutes and then its gone and you now it, pretty well indeed.

Soul! You are mature, but you don't say a word. You murmur, that is why no wonder, 

seldom we listen.

Streaming water, can it be stopped?

O heart!, Stop making excuses to the limit of harm to yourself. You are no phoenix to rise every time you are ashed.

Mind, Please deal with it, put a collar, tie the heart to a pole.

No! Because you see the heart will fall in love with the pole too.

Oh sweetheart, the glowing bug of the night, don't flutter away. The world will cut your wings.

Behold this is heart, I break and bleed but still I beat.

Wavelengths

                 And what shall I tell you about me,

                        I am this little girl, born in a small town

                              Grown under the shades of love so profound

                                    Like any girl, pampered with dolls and dresses

                                        And houses made of planks and plastics

                                            With stomach that filled with taste and sleep that lapped in comforts

                                                                               

                                                           And what shall I tell you about me,

                                                Seeing the sunrise facing the dawn

                                       Departing from home in school uniform

                              Reading and writing and grabbing the lessons

                     Budding and building my self-esteem

              Looking at future weaving my dreams

                And what shall I tell you about me,

                      Seeking out a hand that holds on tight

                          A tender comfort in gasping and fright

                             A flight of freedom taking after all

                                  Through success and failures after seeing the falls

                                        That is when tendrils I leave and stand on my feet

                                                    And what shall I tell you about me,

                                     I have seen the world, ruminated a lot

                              What made me grow should have been my God

                        I am not imperfect rather I can’t be

                 Hence I try to aid and heed

                I know that the lessons have been passed on,

                        And I am naive to understand all

                              Yet I am what I can be

                                     My true self for the past and the yet to foresee

I speak a different Language

I don’t speak the language of the world. I have difficulty in picking it up and conveying it.  

Though I do express through my writings and poetry but no longer get the feel with some 

random alphabets arranged in an order that is supposed to make sense.

I understand the language of universe and expressing it in myriad ways, through gratitude, 

politeness, kindness, a smiling face, a happy gesture, an honest truth, a gentle forgiveness 

and so many other ways makes life so simple.

 I try to be myself but change into a mirror when a person comes before me, so as to blend 

with the world, with him or her.  But that is not me that is what they want to see me as. I am 

unique like they are in their own worlds. Only I know me, how I am different inside and 

outside. How I feel the presence of someone guiding me right, just so perfectly right. That 

guide also is me. Not a dual-personality syndrome, else everyone has one. Everyone has 

their guide inside them, mine doesn’t talk to me. It makes me feel. It makes me feel happy, 

sad, angry, glad, contented, proud, jealous, guilty, careful, cautious, and fearful also but only 

sometimes. It also speaks the same language, the one that is not spoken. I know it is pure 

and truthful because it knows me. 

 It is Me. And it speaks one language which we all get without words - love.

I see serenity, blue waters, clear as crystals, so transparent that I can see its bed. I forget 

everything, jump in the water and let my body float. My shadow forms on its bed. The sun 

softly closes my eyes and I relax drowned in my originality. 

When the night falls I lay on the green grass, somewhere on high meadows. I open my eyes 

 to the twinkling of millions of stars, blessing me with their power and light. I feel my origins 

happening long back like one of those in the sky right now and simultaneously I sense 

my tears reaching the brim of my eyes and passing over in the honour of the wonders I am 

able to see through them, by them. So mystical yet so simple, thinking so, my heart fills with 

the joy of realisation of the truth, My Truth. I offer my gratitude in the form of my ‘living’, well. 

image credit:Hubble, NASA

                                                                                                     

                                       'The Furnace' Burns Within Me

How the language of Universe guides You Right: I am Change

On the mercy of thoughts

  

  On the mercy of thoughts

 That ceases to cease in flow

 Like currents of a waterfall

 Going without ado. 

  Through the noises around the world 

 And the tunnels of talks and faith

 They slip past the day

 And emerge without delay.

  

  Knotting and pulping, sometimes gulping,

 Where inside the abyss to find self ?

 World shouts so much, the voice inside is invisible.

 Everything is contained, yet nothing can be held.

 If only one thing one gets, one yearns,

 That love to shush the mind

 That care to hold tight, what flushes out, gushes out

 Unceasingly.

  A hand to console, a hug to hold,

 When all the walls

 Of thoughts are breached.

 To take out a life and be nurtured

 A soul will be complete

 And all the material will mean the world.

I am a Change

Finally, I see past the mystic cloud of my ever altering personality as to who I really am. I am a change!

 I will walk in elegance at one place while shaking my legs at other. I will be sarcastic one moment and make a puppy face the other. I will love like never before and hate equally fiercely. I will be gentle with my company while scratch others with my well maintained talons..haha!

Yes, that is me. No, I don’t have mood swings yet I am a rainbow of myriad colours. I paint, I dance, I write, I sing and I am whatever I like not for any XYZ but for me. Sometimes I am sad, sometimes I cry where no one sees me other times I will infest my surroundings with these poisonous self-developed reverberations of happiness! 

Trying out something new, experimenting with my moods and my acceptance to the outside world, and constantly changing my reactions to being unexpectedly calm to otherwise repellent stimuli are few things that I discovered lately happening in life.

The silence was never more welcoming, though, and I would prefer that instead of a hustle bustle. A jungle with the sound of cricket is more pleasing than a continuous honk of vehicles. Yes, I want to discover places around me, but what fun is there in the expected. I don’t plan, or plan for the least bit. Change is abrupt and so be it, unexpected and surprising.

No matter how much fakes surrounds the globe and how many masks people wear, I am honest with myself. I don’t do harm to anyone and that’s what makes me going, truth.

No matter how many mistakes I have done, I have always given myself space to improve and make a better person out of myself. Though this doesn’t deter me from making much more because it is always a new experience in making a new, a new learning, and a threshold to another side of a lesson of life. I have made blunders, regretted over them but yeah moved on.

I know there is a long way to go ahead and this journey is going to be remarkable! I trust my instincts and they guide me right.



Listen to the Voice of World;The Whisper of Universe: I Speak a Different Language

Thick & Dark : Plead for Freedom

Bargain with me, and I shall gift you pain. I am no longer what you think.

 I am the dead walking in bane.

I am the soul to be freed, I am the rotten seed.

I am disgraced with my own race, I am a human

I am grudge, I am greed

I am a token, having tenure of misdeed

I am the craver of misfortune, be sad or bad

I lay the path to my doom,

My end that approaches me, at every corner, at every turn

Probably somewhere when I get torn

When I spill blood, when my flesh churns

When Ruth looses sense

When Lord remains stone

Oh haha! What? He is there? Where?

Inside us? Inside the beasts?

Does it grow like fungus and weeds?

Does it suck the darkness out?

Does it make us Human?

No! Then we won’t want that, we can’t be

We be beasts, make us free.

We are spotted, we are spoiled.

Make us animal, make us better

Make us wild, let us lose ourselves

To get tamed, to get named

And follow command,

But power shall destroy even you my Lord

Love ain’t the aid

Love will fade

Love will cascade

Love will invade

Free us of will

Free us, make us still

Let us rise in smoke or rubble to earth

Let us be eaten, let us be buried

For human shall not remain

So let the body strive

Only the soul shall revive