Sunday, 6 November 2022

The Pangram

 

A quick brown frog jumps over a lazy dog

Remember to use every letter in every sentence,
my teacher said

The idea was very intriguing
I was fascinated with how every letter found its spot in the same sentence
Some appeared more than once
Some in unexpected placements
Nevertheless, there was a place for every letter

I extended this idea to everything around
Went to the garden and picked one of every flower
Some bright pink, some deep red, 
But some were also mellowed pastels
Nevertheless, I strung everything into one bouquet

How so obsessed could I have been
I added every vegetable in the same stew
Topped it with every spice from my mother's kitchen cupboard
I was so sure that everything has to find its place
And everything will find its place


I went to the temple,
No doubt, I knew every God had their place
Turns out, they didn't
Atleast we convinced ourselves that they won't
Extended further, not every believer had their place
Some barely managed a spot outside the temple
But some had their chance to be close up
And a lot somewhere in between


The funny thing about patterns is-
Irrespective of whether you are convinced or confused
You get to see more of it
My mind that was once convinced 
That everything has to have a place and will find it's place
Started questioning its possibility


Why is it that intelligence of a human mind
That managed to bring every letter in one sentence
Couldn't bring every prayer and every wish under one steeple and Shikhara
Why is that what is right and wrong
Is not always 'right for all' and 'wrong for all'

Why wait for a law to tell us 
That people cant be treated different based of their choices
Why wait for a day or week or month 
To remind us that without shades and variations the world would only be monochrome


Lets not mistake portions of the puzzle
To be the entire puzzle
And our puzzle has 8 billion pieces
Some pieces bigger and some smaller
But the puzzle will be unsolved
Even if one of them don't find its place


Things we carry


Remember those unanticipated evenings
on the shore, by the sunset
building sand castles
choosing names,
choosing people,
decorating homes little flags, porches and windows
building little dreams
rejoicing like it were real
Leaving the shore 
with sand stuck between the toes
even after the castles were washed away
over and over again
Handful of sand grains in tiny shoes
like it were held together by some super glue

Things we carry-
Little memories
super glued, like it will forever hold  

I, her own witness

 2002:

The girl loved everything grand and glittery
Sparkles, Christmas lights, sequins in frocks,
Houses with chandeliers,
Gifts wrapped in shining ribbons
She believed, the more flashy things are,
The better they should be
She believed bigger wishes are for special events
And deeper prayers are for bigger places



2012:

That teenager loved more abstract things
Heard words that could neither be touched, nor felt
But definitely observed and understood
She was caught in the
Outer spirals of this idea called success;
The mirage called
Happiness, freedom and self expression,
love, hate and indifference,
guilt, grief and greed
Knew every prayer was a detailed wishlist;
With specifics of what, when, how and who
She was sure it would all happen
Exactly the way she wanted, 
There weren't two ways to the same goal

2022:

The girl, hopefully with many years ahead still
Now has learnt
Some fancy things are like the aroma of freshly brewed coffee
And some wishes are crisply folded letters
Some concepts are yet to be questioned
And some prayers are a silent 'thank you'

She has learnt
Goodness of simple keepsakes
And some ideas that could be namesakes

She has learnt 
Some promises are to be fulfilled, 
Some are to be kept

She has learnt
Some sharp rocks smooth over time
That some mountains today stand where oceans once were

She believes things change, things evolve
She evolves
She = I, her own witness 

Saturday, 9 May 2020

Moments of Joy


Seasons & People


I didn't entirely enjoy rainy days-
Never wanted my hair frizzy
and shoes dirty
My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone

Wasn't fond of winters either-
Never wanted to feel anything cold
and drive through the foggy road
My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone

Summers weren't any different-
Never wanted sweat stains on
and step out in the sun
My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone


Summer of 2020 was a roller coaster 
We never wanted to ride,
The deadly virus- we fight and hide
Loved ones- my family lost in the blink of an eye
What wouldn't we trade to re-write the summer of 2020

My mother was right- we only appreciate seasons (and people) after they are long gone

Magic


There's something magical about first impressions- like petrichor

The scorching heat has left burns on my fingers;
And a crack on everything I held on to;
Every time I gather the courage to feel the last ounce dampness,
I'm left with shattered pieces of what once stood strong.

Why is 'warmth of heart' associated with comfort?
How should I know the difference between warmth and heat?
What should I do before the flame takes away everything?
Leaving nothing to salvage.

When everything is lost, there's the first raindrop,
Reaching out to everything I once held.
It wasn't the surprise of the first drop that was magical;
Nor the hope of louder showers.

Magic was in the essence it brought;
Rising through my nostrils,
Healing what was once dead,
Renewing everything that once existed.

Creating a first impression once again- just like
petrichor

Sunday, 29 March 2020

Black & White

Somewhere between biting winters and blazing summers is a spring to delight
Somewhere between bright days and dark nights is the warm colour of twilight
Somewhere between a parched land and unsettled floods are drizzles by the window side

But where is your betwixt and between in
Trust and doubt, 
Hope and despair, 
Integrity and deceit

How conveniently you sneak
Between those 1s and 0s, a million numbers;
Between a yes and no, a cowardly dodge and a hopeless silence;
You plead for a half-way and a middle ground
When all you do is straddle the fence?

Fiction often has a bit of reality,
But never enough to change the genre
A chain of lies and a bit of truth, doesn't alter the extent of certitude 
For those that are extremes, they have no in-betweens.

Friday, 1 November 2019

Mornings

There is something strange about mornings-
How is that the most gentle breeze
And a subconscious breath
Can prepare you for the toughest day

One Less

Judgment, speculation, and perspective-
Take none to heart
Until they who say
Have walked every path with you
Have crossed every hurdle with you

"You are not enough"
When they say
Park those empty words in the sideline
Until they who say
Know your every thought entangled
In every unimaginable way

"Look at her"
They will say
And when they do
Have both ears wide open
For you know,
Amongst a billion people with billion opinions
You can live with ONE LESS

Sunday, 23 June 2019

Undercover, conveniently

It's been almost 6 months since I last visited this tiny world of mine!

Sudden surprises can often lift the lowest spirit; just like today's summer showers, a well-rested weekend and a beautiful evening weather. It was then that I realized I was running out of excuses to get back to writing. What better to write than about what had put a brief pause to my writing

Over the past of years, my circle of acquaintances grew broader, over the past few months I've been following many many Instagram accounts and Facebook pages of amazing  poets, writers, and artists. Each one of them has been wonderful beyond words. Every time I came across such posts I started to believe in the power of words before than ever before. In less than a few lines, their words pierced through the skin- so strong and so very deep that they will never be forgotten.

When I was reflecting on this thought, it dawned on me that the feeling of being judged and the feeling of 'maybe I'm not enough' has engulfed me so tight that it's kept me away from what I've always loved; from what had been my comfort vent. I questioned myself a little more- am I truly not enough?

What a funny thing called life? We preach so much about following dreams, pursuing a passion. We tell every known fellow being and every unknown stranger to kill the fear of judgment, to shove opinions like they don't matter, to live life like we truly belong and what more! Big words and big advice! Nice to say, ain't it?

I've been no different, I realized. Right at that moment, I made a promise to myself and to the quenching rain that I'll put away all the excuses that I told myself when no one was watching, all the apprehension of not being enough and try just a little harder to be true to self!

Here's to the power of writing and power of emotions that once again showed me the dark harsh called reality. Yet, being the support system for trying better once again.

Saturday, 6 October 2018

Captivate

Beside the limitless ocean;
Beneath the wild blue canvas
A bliss so right to stroll along the shore
Just a moment, a pleasure
And a wonder to befriend

Beside the limitless ocean;
Beneath the wild blue canvas
Was a time when
Horizons weren't illusions;
Oceans weren't mysterious

Even after a zillion occurrence
Fascination never ends
To watch each wave break at sight-
Often a gentle kiss
Occasionally a grave misfortune

Beside the limitless ocean;
Beneath the wild blue canvas
A bliss so right to stroll along the shore
With every step, a trail left behind
And with every trail- a memory, a misery,
Tender grace of bygone days!

With its roar, expanse and abyss
With its might and majesty
You just can't stop loving the ocean, can you?

Sunday, 22 July 2018

Be My Sunshine, Will You?

Remember the summers stolen a glance,
I would toddle holding your gentle hands.
And the winters washed in a tide,
I would cuddle by your side.
Stories of childhood left to cherish-
princess, bears, lions, fairies and like.

Why couldn’t the heavens wait,
Just a little longer?
Just so I could listen to those stories one more time;
Just so you could feed me one more bite;
Just a day, for your little prayer to lighten my way;
Just a graceful smile, to brighten my day!

What should I give in return?
To have you with me for one more dawn
To hug you tight; to say, ‘Be my sunshine’
To kiss your soft wrinkled cheeks,
To see tears of joy shine in your eyes,
To truly feel complete with you in sight.

Nevertheless, yours has been a long journey
Filled with patience, perseverance and faith
Bless the places where you spread warmth and care
Now, rest in peace and be proud of the legacy left to share

I might not BE like you
But I hope, you will love me too.
Thank you for being reason
I still hope for life after death
Just so I could say, ‘Be my sunshine’- one more time!


Saturday, 13 January 2018

Pandora's box is real

Every principle, rule and norm
Was forced down my throat;
Before my mind learnt its form.
Every what-if and every why
was silenced before learnt to talk!

Every discipline, tradition and law 
Is settled;
Leaving nothing to debate.
Everything respectful and reverent
was meant to be obeyed!
 
Everything absurd and unknown 
Should remain so;
Probably a curse to explore more.
The myth of Pandora's box is true
was believed with unflinching faith

Pandora's box is real 
I still believe!
Unraveling the darkest mystery 
Will throw away everything;
the good, bad and ugly
While HOPE will still remain

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Words between her lines...

There are words she doesn't want you to read
They are buried deep inside her;
It stings and tears her apart
But she doesn't write it down

She doesn't want to be judged for the scream of her heart
There are stories between her lines...

There are words  that keep her caged;
that keep her chained
Like ghosts it haunts her each night 
But she doesn't speak it loud

She doesn't want to be ridiculed for the scars on her face 
There are words between her words...

She caged herself to show you the mirage,
She trampled her sentences till they no longer meant what it meant, 
She imprisoned her words to set you free.

There are words between her words 
There are stories between her pauses
There is a crushed spirit between her smiles

There are words between her lines


Friday, 1 September 2017

Why do I look for those like me?

I look out for people. Not anybody. But those; only those who talk, read, eat, pray and laugh like I do. Only those who think and dress and live like I do. Say hello!
I don’t know you, your path and valleys. I don’t know your nightmares, daydreams, wishes and hope. I believe, but, there is only one right way and that’s my way; maybe untrue, nevertheless strong. Bigoted!
No singular truth and universal false, I know. Still I will call you wrong. Laugh at you; your choices; your existence. Funny!
‘Love everyone, friends, foes and all alike’ my religion says. But I hate, reject, mock, shoo away and blame it all on religion. What would God be thinking? Laughing? Orthodox!
Stubborn, narrow, immovable, intolerable, inflexible, judgmental, conceited; sorry, there is no room for you. Mind is so full of self; holding on to things, judgments, attitude and opinions. Haven’t learnt yet to let go, haven’t learnt to clean up, create room and catch-up. Lonesome!
So full of self and still can’t love self- complete and full. I want to see me in you. Can’t say I love me, but I’ll claim to love you. Silly!

And yes! All of this and all of me is all of you. Certainly!

Sunday, 30 July 2017

Maybe, Just Maybe

What would it be like,
to never have made a wrong choice?
What would it be like, 
to really feel complete?
What would be like to sincerely say
"It can't get better"?

Maybe, just maybe;
There are no wrong choices
or bad decisions as you call it

Every 'the unforeseen' had to be fought
Every 'I wish' had to be overlooked
Every experience carved a newer you

Maybe, just maybe;
Every storm needed to be
Every 'Yes' was meant to be
Every parting ways had to be 


Maybe,just maybe
With everything you let go,
You lost a little of you
So that, when you finally look up
and see a part of you in the stars
You'd have learnt by then 
To say, 'It can't get better'

Friday, 14 April 2017

The Empty Swing

The sun sunk lower and the day light was fading away slowly. The heat of the summer breeze calmed down and the old fashioned windows made patterns on the floor as the dusk rays filled her house and she? She sat by the window sipping slowly from her cup of tea like time would wait for her. The ticking-off clock in the drawing room was her only companion. Such was the silence around. Out from the window she could see the empty swing almost still and almost rusted and worn-out. Rekha smiled to herself as she replayed her life 20 years ago.

“Wake up darling!” The first alarm goes for Aiyana. With a little tickle and a loving kiss Aiyana gets the first glance of her own guardian angel with her eyes half-open. Her name, ‘Aiyana’ meant forever- Rekha’s forever.

Rekha’s days are packed. Every minute knows it’s routine. She wakes up well ahead of the sun. Prepares breakfast that never has satisfied every member of the family, packs lunch in each one’s boxes, get ready for another hectic day at office, in between there is always a sticky spot on the floor, dirty laundry, dishes in the sink and then there was the biggest task; getting Aiyana ready to school.

“I’m not going today mama” cries Aiyana, “just this one day”. This is also part of the routine. After multiple wake-up calls and 10 minute snoozes Rekha manages to drag Aiyana out of her bed. Uniforms to be ironed, books that were all around the house need to find its place in her school bag, fill water bottles and snack, polish shoes and ensure homework is done. “Quick Aiyana! Eat fast! Finish your breakfast” she hurries as she ties her little hair, pulls her sock and in no time there comes the school bus honking.

Phewwwww! Rings a bell? Why wouldn’t it?

These morning circus scenes are no different anywhere. Moms, also known as commanders-in-chief set the rhythm going for each day, all year round, through the years so long. Special, aren’t they?

There were days Rekha wished for this uproar to end. She wanted a time when she no longer had to put toys back into the box, have undisturbed sleep at night and when she didn’t have to worry about what needs to go into Aiyana’s lunch box the next day and when she can have a peaceful time for herself. She was worn out from the monotony of her days.

But Aiyana was the cure to all her stress, heart-ache, tension and monotony. Evenings were their favorite time. Aiyana loved her swing. The bright pink swing seat fastened by linked chains on both sides would wait all day for the little girl to step on and sway up as her mom pushed her higher and higher. Every time the swing went up in the sky, Aiyana would make a squeal that was every grown-up’s envy, quite naturally!

From the day Aiyana was born, she became the centre of Rekha’s world and her entirety. Now and then Aiyana gave little surprises- first word spoken, first step taken, first drawing, first day at school, first ride on her bicycle and first of many other things. Through laughter, bruises, not-so-good days, parent-teacher meetings, sports days and graduation her little girl grew; grew right in front of her eyes and Rekha at all times felt that time had cheated on her.

Aiyana is now a confident young woman who was flown far away from her but much closer to her dreams. The proud mom broke inside when she had to wave good-bye. Her long-wished days were hers now. She could have undisturbed sleep, no more toys lying around, no more lunch box packing. But walls were never so gray. They were beginning to lose life without the laughter of Aiyana. So was Rekha.

The clock still ticks and the tea is cold. Rekha mind was filled with million memories, thousand thoughts and one person. The thing about memories is that no one would ever read your thoughts, feel your pain and see your smile and tear, but you.

A faint ring-tone shoved her back to the moment and her Skype said “Aiyana calling”

What would Rekha not give away to get back those days of morning circus scenes and evening fun of swinging her little girl?

At the front yard, the empty swing still waits.


Saturday, 3 December 2016

The Promise of Darkness

I heard a promise;
Promise for a blazing blue dawn,
song of birds,
fierce sunshine
and hustle called life.
I held tight to the promise.

But soon the sun died
and promises were forgotten.
I sat there in a grave-like silence
Floating on the gentle breeze
Blowing onto my face,
a scent of untold love-
love for self

When lights burnt out 
and the moon and stars hid
behind the dark, heavy clouds,
when all was gone
I chose to hold on, just a little longer
for darkness is here
with a brighter promise

My eyes began to see through the darkness
and heard it say,
"People will move away and move on
leaving room for more of you
be born again.
Flowers belong to the morning;
Thankfully not the roots.
You are the root,
penetrating into a mystery called depth.
May not be seen
nevertheless, its existence none deny"

Darkness and solitude
both have certain sameness.
In here is where you exist, my friend
you exist in all honesty.
Darkness is here!
Show to it
Every fear, every thought
and every tear.
Shed those layers of masks
that you still think shields you
from judgments, questions and reality

When lights are out, darkness exists.
But not forever!
Morning will dawn
with a newer promise for you




Saturday, 24 September 2016

To dad, with love

Back then was a time when
A 8 letter word was enough a nightmare
My little fingers struggled 
To place the letters in the right order
'To' - 'Get' - 'Her', 'to-get-her', 'together'
You taught me to take one step at a time


'Ask and you may receive',
I was quite sure of.
But in twists and disappointments
You taught me to say,
'Not my will Lord, but let yours be done'


'In moments life turns in ways
You never wanted it to,
If your mind is beyond the ability to reason 
And all you can do is trust,
Then do what you can', you said
This became my faith of life!


When cynicism and defeat left my feet cold
When dreams of distant destinations haunted me
You woke me up to sunshine
And let me make a new mistake each time
And when the sky fell down,
You taught me to say 'Thank You'
For the newer horizons I saw


You made me believe 
In Santa Claus and tooth fairies 
And that, fictions are ever so real
You taught me to trust 
But not be too naive


I'm stronger now
But even today and always,
Your gentle kiss the sparkle in your eyes
Awakens my spirits and 

Reassures that I'm enough!

Friday, 26 August 2016

THE MOUNTAIN TOP





●●●
Through the road that led to nowhere;
Through the sharp turns and narrow, steep course
I went to the mountain top
to witness...




To witness the wind's sharp breath filling my lungs
and the loud song of wind swishing to every corner 
and carrying me along
Maybe this is what they called 
' freedom from the mountain side'

Nature is what I saw; I remember well!
The tall unending array of trees, 
the silver stream, shades of green
                                    and lashing rain like bullets on the window pane

No, it’s what I heard;
the stillness, chirp of birds, 
and sound of crickets and whisper of offered love

Maybe it’s what I felt;
 the moist, mist and dew drops
And fell in love with it all



I shouted into the emptiness
The little brook, every gathering cloud, 
every sky scraping tree
gently said 'thanks for remembering'
'thanks for reminding' said I

No better poetry then nature
No better bliss than losing yourself in its abundance
●●●


'