Why worry?

​Worry is a total waste of time. It doesn’t change anything.

 All it does is steal your joy and keep you very busy doing nothing. Life is simply too short to spend it torturing yourself over outcome that may never come to pass.

 You will poison your life worrying obsessively even though you have no control over what could happen in the past or future.

 Live your present not wasting your precious moments that you could never recover. Remember, This too shall pass! 

You just can’t go on worrying all the time because it destroys you and your life. But there’s all the times when you think of worrying and you can’t help it, then just make yourself stop and think ~ it doesn’t do you any good either, right? 

Offer your problems, troubles to God. This is the perfect resort. Whoever know’s this is fearless, is free of worries and sorrows forever. Whatever you do, dedicate it to God.

 By doing this, you will feel free of stress and full of Joy. Keep doing what is desired of you, don’t expect anything in return. What happened was good, whatever happening is good and whatever will happen will also be good.

Run 

​Run.

Run harder.

Run because, walking is not enough.

Run because you can.

Not because you’re tired. 

Not because, you’re afraid. 

Run. 

Because you’re strong, you’re wild.

Run because this is the chance.

‘It won’t come, ever.’, you thought.

But, it did, and you stood, you lost.

But run,

This time 

As fast as you can.

Disappear in the wild,

In the thin air,

Vanish like smoke.

Go away because that’s the best trade.

Run because, you’re alive.

Because you want to win.

Because, this is the last chance, darling.

Because, you’ll be older next.

Afraid of the people,

Afraid of their words.

And of the spit, on your back.

Afraid of the shadows that’d follow.

Of the ghosts, that’d haunt.

This is the time, love.

Now.

Now, is the best thing, 

that could be.

Now, you’re the best.

The wild.

The strong.

Now is you.

So run, my friend, run,

Run away.

Turn a deaf ear to the world.

Wait, not for appraisal.

Not for applause.

Run,

Because, you’re the power.

Run.

Go. Win the toss.

Poetry Motive 

 The Poetry Motive

Just as all human behavior is motivated, we, as poets, have motives for writing. 

Poetry, among many things, is the art of saying the unsayable. This seemingly impossible challenge fuels my own motive, which is to express my deepest, profound feelings, expressed in my most personal poems, usually about my family and important relationships. 

So, a poem for me is an emotive device and, whatever its literary merit, it consoles me, keeps me going. What are your poetry motives? 

Having a goal as a writer will fuel your poems, whether it be overcoming hardships or simply finding new words to describe a beautiful sunset. 

There is no human feeling that is beyond words, unsayable, if you stay motivated and that will feed sustenance to your poetic vision.

When Angels Sing

​Don’t  know how I missed this story in childhood days.I used to read Amar Chitra Katha and  Chandamama in childhood days.


 When Angels sing
 

The weary traveler was totally drained out. He wanted to rest. His whole body was aching. He felt hot and thirsty. Oh ,for a drop of water, he thought. He wanted to settle for the night. Finally he came to a lake side. The lake had dried up with patches of water. There had been a drought in the place.

He found a suitable place to settle down for night. He got some water from the lake ate his food and tried to sleep under the sky. But he was feeling uncomfortable and hot. He just passed the hours. Towards the dawn he must have dozed .He woke up with a start. It was very early morning. The cool breeze was very soothing. There were some women who had come to fetch water. When he saw there were two girls. He thought he would go and ask for some water. He took his small mataka and started walking. A thorn pricked his sole. So he sat on a rock to take it out.

Suddenly his ears heard something. He stopped for awhile.

Yes it was the music notes. He could not believe his ears. He went to the spot where the two girls were standing with their pails of water. He asked for water. They gave him .He drank the whole of it. As he asked for more they looked surprised. They gave him more.

He went away .The girls again started filling water in their pails.

The traveler hid himself behind some trees to listen.

Again the same notes. He was mesmerized.

Both the girls started walking back to their house. They were Tana and Riri. They were the daughters of Naggar Brahmin a  community of Vadanagar.

Tana was the elder one. Beautiful,  innocent. Her sister was bright spirited and beautiful. Both of them were very good singers blessed with an enchanting voice..

They reached their haveli. In the afternoon they narrated the incident to their grandfather Dado.

He thought for a while ‘Beta this is not a common traveler he must be Miya Tansen

‘What?’ asked Tana

‘Yes remember the incident, we had heard.’ He said.

Some body had narrated the incident which had happened in Akbar’s court.

Tansen who was one of the navratnas was a great singer. There were many people who were jealous of him. He was asked to sing Deepak raga.

Everyone knew that this raga would make Tansen sick. The raga is supposed to generate lot of heat which harms the body of the singer. Akbar was convinced somehow and he asked Tansen to sing this raag.

Tansen sang Raga Deepak. He sang it beautifully. The deeps were lighted by his song. But he became sick.

‘Yes Dado’ Tana had remembered

‘This person is  Miya Tansen’ Dado said

Tansen was unable to bear the extreme heat .He asked Akbar’s permission to go on a pilgrimage. He was in search of a person who could sing the raga Megh Malhar. This would induce the rains which would cool down the heat.’

In the evening Dado met the traveler in the temple. He brought the traveler home.

They had a conversation .The traveler admitted he was Tansen.  Than he narrated the incident of the morning where he had seen two girls from the village filling pails of water from the lake. He told him about the notes of the raga he heard while the water filled the pails.

Dado knew he was talking about Tana and Riri his grand daughters.

‘Yes he said the two girls were offering the water to the diety. This they were doing so that the rain Gods would be pleased. They tried to fill their pails of water with the Megh Malhar notes. This was difficult so they went early. The girls were good singers.

Tansen thought for while. If the girls could fill the pails of water ,where the filling water had Raga notes than he had reached his destination. The girls were truly blessed by Goddess Saraswati .He felt his search had ended.

Tansen was impressed .He requested the girls to sing Megh Malhar for him.

So that day these two Naggar girls sang the raag Megh malhar .

Tana looked at her sister.

Both of them prayed silently.

And behold a cool breeze set in. Clouds came from nowhere. They had prayed hard for success. Something which they had not been able to do for many days happened

The rain poured down Tansen went out and stood in the rains. The heavenly rain cooled his body. It took away the heat caused by the Deepak raag. He was cured and healed.

Tansen got a new life.

Thanking and blessing the girls he went back to Delhi.

He had promised Dado that he would not talk about the incident.

But Akbar came to know about the incident

He sent for Tana and Riri and asked them to perform in the court

When the girls refused, .he sent his forces to Vadanagar.

Tana Riri were very unhappy to have caused so much hardship for Vadanagar.

Without telling anyone they went out to the well in the forest.

Holding each other’s hands they prayed for the last time.

The waters  of the well engulfed the innocent girls.

The Angels went to heaven

The melody was lost for ever.

————————————————————————————————————

This is a true story. About 60 Kms from Ahemdabad lies Vadanagar. There is a shrine of these two girls who sacrificed there life. Miya Tansen  composed a Raga in their memory..

Morning thoughts 

Today I got up a little early then usual. I like to get up early in the morning when there is peace and calm and I can hope for some moments of solitude for me. These are the few moments which I look forward to every day.

A cup of coffee and the my bedroom window  I am in my heaven. The whole household is sleeping blissfully.

 In this moment I am me I am no one else. I can touch the core of my heart. The early morning breeze is playing with my hair, as I take a sip of coffee and look at the sky.

The eastern side is bright and colorful. I love this splash of colors, the new soft light of a day. 

 The early morning has  became my closest friend. Every day I come to meet her and she is there waiting for me. To shower all the new colors on me with utmost softness. We ask each other how the night was for both of us. Was it anxious was, it disturbed was it angry.

And we tell each other our secrets. She complains of her moon and the moonlight which does not listen. I tell her about mine. Tell her why I was worried, why I thought of my granny, why I missed someone….

Sitting and looking at the sky I can see birds slowly waking and chirping and they make me happy. I wish I too had wings and could fly. Life would be so different flying at your own will and going high and soar along the wind touch some unknown horizons only to find some more of them. To sing a song like a bird in all abandon to be carefree To fly over the mountains far, far away to see the rivers flow and the oceans dance to the tune of this divine creator who plays a band so perfectly that not a tune is out of .

What should I call him a painter, a script writer, ….a father, a mother.

A nurturer, a friend….

He is perfect in every sense of the word, and you witness the perfect perfection in everything he does.

How could he think and create such perfections is beyond my comprehension.

How a tiny drop of water has the strength to become a cloud.

How a tiny seed has the whole program that makes it into a tree.

How a human brain can do so many things.

And yet……….

The most I marvel is the human heart. Not bigger than your fist it is this heart that makes us and breaks us. That loves to belong and wants to belong. That wants understanding and yearns for appreciation. That cries and breaks and aches. You may not know yourself but your heart knows you too well …a little to well and sometimes this heart can make you feel the guilt and remorse and so many other ….

And in the heart of your heart is a sanctuary where…. in this secret chamber are very precious memories of …..your life

Very fragile, very sweet some memories

Of your grandparent’s smile

Your mothers hug

Your first love

A dear friend whom you shared your childhood secrets

A rainy afternoon which was very special

An evening which you could never forget

A song which still haunts you with nostalgia

And somewhere near this sanctuary of the blooms of happy memories all of us. I mean most of us keep a cactus garden too.

With thorns of hurts

Cactus of bitterness

Rocks of guilt

Heaps of remorse

And so…. on and…and on

And we nurture this not so beautiful land in us very lovingly. Yes we do and we find a sadist pleasure in it too.

When we need is all love and hope light and smile we dwell in this dark world and go through these shreds and instances of our past life which we should let go.

I looked at the sky it was getting brighter. Soon the day would be here. A whole set of limited hours with unlimited demands. So much is crammed in a day that I hardly found time to be myself until the night comes and I lie in the bed thinking of the whole day gone by. But as I close my eyes to drift into the land of dreams I know the morning will be bright. I smile and look forward to meeting her again and share the peace and calm for the next day.

I dream of blooms

I dream of birds

I sing a song

I fly with wings

To unknown lands

Where I and me

Are friends

And this friendship never ends

 

Ricochet 

​The words meditation conjures up the images of hermits and sages sitting in dense forest in equally deep reflection. 

We have read stories about how they would meditate for ages and sit still for eons the birds would make nests in the knotted hair on the top of their head.

 You can see the mountains around and the forests singing the wild tune. The nature and the five elements create, nurture and destroy at their own pace. The hermits would sit still to observe the cosmic motion and commotion it creates. The order of chaos or the chaos of order whatever it is. 

The nature in the wilderness can be merciless, very fierce and can make you totally reflective, in the great heights of the mountains which are covered with white shawls of snow the trees with the leaves or even without them as fine silhouette on the backdrop. 

The seasons in forests are very intense. The five elements – space, fire, earth, wind and water the Panchmahabhutas as called in Sanskrit are literally that Mahabhutas-strong, wild, ungoverned, unsuppressed …Each plays its part to perfection, the earth blossoms, blooms when Sun touches her with love. It is amazing to watch the colors with infinite shades of green and yellows and crimsons rise of the barren landscape as spring paints with deft fingers. 

The blooms live the life in a day, dancing in the wind, soaking in the rains, and soaring to the space above and then go back to mingle with mother Earth. A life where regret plays no part neither do the feelings of envy, jealousy and competition. 

Rivers flow through the forests meandering their way through valleys and plains to flow to the sea. Silence in such places is echoes with spirit of the wild. 

The birds chirp and flip the wings, the leaves rustle, the twigs crunch and crackle, the water of springs hums a lovely forest song while the rivers sing a soft symphony. To sit among these trees and just to listen to all the surround sound is pure delight for the soul.

 No wonder our ancient mystics used to meditate in these places. That is one reason why many of the temples and pilgrimages are situated on the mountains, lest we should visit and see the grandeur of such heights.

All the rituals in every religion do have a sound scientific base even if we do not realize. The knowledge must have been lost under the dust of time.

 The instruments of rituals always fascinate me. The shining silver, the golden brass, the rich copper, the dazzling gold all have so many tendrils of myths and history around. 

Every household has these heirlooms. As a small child I would observe these rituals with keen interest and curious wonder. I asked questions which were answered with great patience by the elders. The clay lamps with cotton wicks, camphor and incense spreading the fragrance around, the flowers, the doob grass and leaves in the room-a scene which is etched in my mind.

 The flickering flame on the delicate cotton wick of a lamp has strange strength. I always feel blessed sitting near a clay lamp. The Earth and fire come together. It is an irresistible attraction which connects with the divine. 

Praying is essentially very personal. I can never pray in the temples which are in the center of bustling markets. You hardly connect with the divine. Such temples are all business centers, involved with the monetary side of life.

The temples which are isolated, ancient, in the deep forest intrigue me. Not many people can be seen there at any given time. But the atmosphere is positive and mystical. The myths and tales around such places are captivating. Here, the whole being resonates, bows, meditates in the silence of nature. For me God is Nature, the five elements.

Scent of a woman 

​As a woman, when I write this many may feel I am biased. I am just thinking from that angle of being a woman, and in a way they would be right too but I can only think as a woman. I know this blog will be read more than any of mine because women are intriguing creatures. A woman is a mystery, magic, myth and what not.

Here I will tell you what makes me “me”

What I like, what I believe in, what I would like myself to be in the future. I am unpredictable like nature itself. I sometimes am like the breeze fragrant and gentle and at other times like a dusty angry wind. Other times I can be like a temple bell and make the atmosphere tranquil.

Appearances do not matter for me and though I do like to dress up and I do take good care of myself I would rather feel the wind in my hair and get soaked in the rain then worry about the effects. I like to dress in casuals more than formals. Cotton is something I love and am finicky about clothes. The clothes I choose should feel right to me the cost are not the criteria. A simple material from the pavement market can make me exultant. I love saris and dupattas though now I hardly wear sarees or wear only on rare occasions. But nothing like crisp cotton – starched kota in different colors or even the light Lucknow Chikan or an elegant Chanderi. I love the tie and dye, mirror work, bandhej all from Rajasthan and Gujarat and the long skirts mostly in the color black and dark blue. White churidars and colorful lehriya dupattas are real picks for me in the summers. I love to dress up in white shirt and jeans for that Sunday which you spent with the family. 

Accessories are simple and I do not like to wear gold ornaments, but I am fond of silver and oxidized trinkets which seem just right to me. Glass bangles, I like to collect though I hardly wear them I remember wearing glass bangles at some other weddings in the family. But I do adore silver anklets, delicate with small ghungroos and toe rings.

Make up I like to wear on rare occasions not every day, what I love is the eyeliner and a dash of light lipstick.

My hair well I had long hair, but I never liked it…for many reasons now it is short and I mostly keep it tied but on rare occasions loose and let it dance.

The most important thing which I must have is the fragrance …yes I love perfumes floral natural, mild soft …and alluring. I really love buying perfumes and preserve and use them very prudently. But I have to have my daily dash of a mild perfume every morning.

Flowers Jasmine, Bela, Son Chapha I have them all on my terrace. I put them in crystal water bowls and keep it around the house. 

Kevda is another fragrance I just love. A small piece of the fragrant bark will make the atmosphere blissful.

Flowers are a must for me in my house, yellow, orange and other bright colors in the winter months . In the summers the white fragrant dainty delicate are just required to make it fresh and cool.

Coffee I really enjoy and I have a very special relationship with. Nowadays I love having coffee from a big mug presented to me by a dear friend. She has written in her hand ..”from someone who cares…” in black ink and when I wash it I am so careful not to let that ink go away. I have coated it with a transparent nail enamel to protect it.

Potter’s wheel is something I want to touch; some day I am going to learn pottery. I can look at the potter’s wheel for hours and hours and find it like a Zen meditation where I can easily experience the “Satori”

I am very happy with babies and kids and we get along well I learn a lot by just talking to kids. Children are great teachers. I feel that being a nursery school teacher would make so very happy. All the neighborhood kids are my great friends to the amazement of their mother’s.

Lazy summer afternoons with the khus curtains on the doors and windows I yearn for. When I was a small child I had spent many such afternoons reading many books in those cool fragrant rooms.

I am completely feminine. The yin in me is strongest. I am very happy to be a woman and I never want to compete with men. Why should I? When I am the magic! I feel this gives me the sense of peace which comes from being happy with my own self.

Inseparable part of me

He is the inseparable part of me

Even before

He was born 

👫👫

On hearing my voice 

He used to move vigorously 

In my mother’s womb 

👫👫

I felt his kicks on my face

When I placed my face

On my mother’s pregnant stomach

👫👫

His birth was

The most beautiful 

Happiest moment of my life 

My mother placed him on my lap

On the very first day he was born 

It was so nice to see him smiling with his eyes closed 

I had decided his name before he was born “Kunal”

👫👫

The baby resting on my lap has now grown up as a young boy to my shoulder height.

Our heads touch each other when we a playing a common game on mobile or laptop.

With him I like to play football and dodge him.

I take his studies and solve his doubts.

Running race sometimes he wins sometimes me.

We play chess too…most of the times I win sometimes I loose for his happiness.

He teases my friends whenever I am talking with on phone.

👫👫

When he feels I am deceiving him he gets angry. I run in the whole house with his angry face following me.

I hide behind mother for protection.He stops tries to get me but mother tries to cool him down.

Finally I come in front of him hug him tightly kissing his forehead …his anger melts down like candle.

Our poor mother! she has to sleep between us straight on her back whitout facing anyone of us..no choice.

Such unique is our relationship that we cannot live whitout quarrels but can’t live whitout each other.

I definately know he is going to have tough days after my marriage. He too is aware of it but says don’t worry he will be there for me whenever I need him.