PLEASANT SURPRISE

Here’s  a pleasant surprise for you

How would you feel to know that I was present at your marriage ceremony even though we didn’t knew each other.

It was in the month of May 2015. For first time I had come to Shanti Nagar…where my father’s friend Rakesh Soni once lived. Now he has shifted to Pune.I hate the humid and hot climate of Mumbai in summers as I literally get drenched in sweat.

I had just come to the venue thinking it was a temple of Lord Ram and Godess Sita.But it was a temple of Saint Sitaram. At the same time there was a marriage ceremony going on.I felt the presence of someone very close to me.

Curiosity pulled  me towards the marriage pandal even though I was an uninvited person by both the parties.The feeling of someone close to me became stronger and stronger. 

I stopped. I saw you dressed in red transparent saree and blue blouse standing alongwith your sister.

I realised this just 3-4 days ago when I saw the photo your sister in one of your posts .She is an unique person and can be identified easily.

Your spouse wore a dark red sherwani.The remarkable thing was he hadn’t shaved yet he looked very handsome. The stage bore his name S—–H and yours written in yellow colour.

I could sense the feeling of happiness and satisfaction on your face getting married to a person whom you like most and at the same time a feeling of sadness for leaving behind your family… the persons whom you love the most.

I felt like I should walk upto the stage and  talk with you but since we were unknown to each other ..also I was a stranger and uninvited guest …somehow I controlled myself and walked away.

Yet happy to be a part of most important day of your life.

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Not just one life 

Not Just One Life 
Curled up in an Enid Blyton book, she didn’t hear her mother’s call for lunch. She was busy eating cupcakes in a flying cottage.

A pinch on her arm and the book snatched to be put away from her reach would bring her to her senses or so her mother thought.

Trying to solve mysteries borrowing from Famous five, Nancy Drew and Secret Seven always earned her a good shouting along with a speech starting with, “I am fed up of you” by her mother.

The missing button, the lost sock and the open window were the beginning of adventures to her.

She grew up but her fascination with books never outgrew her. Her mother continued to call her for countless lunches but the magical world of Harry Potter had engulfed her.

She continued to read.

She could shush anyone by saying, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

With her head held high, she gave the graduation speech to all her batch mates by saying that there were a thousand splendid suns shimmering outside for them.

She finally settled to work in a lifestyle magazine and smiled, could Holly have predicted it?

On a weekend, she was lost in her world of books when her mother told her that she was of “marriageable age.”

She clutched the book she was holding and widened her eyes. Could it be Mr Darcy?

Today she stands at her wedding, the towering wedding cake shaped like books and the stage covered with her favourite quotes from books.

She sees her flower girl and page boy dressed as characters from her favourite comic, Archie. The tiny Jughead couldn’t seem to keep his hat in place.

She walks confidently as her mother leads her down the aisle.

Her long ivory gown with intricate beading and the sweeping train with a splash of glitter along with pearls did turn heads but it was her mother dressed as Mary Poppins including the umbrella with the peacock grip that made the bride gasp.

As she neared the altar, her eyes welled up.

She was living a thousand lives that she had already lived through in each of her books.

She smiled amidst her tears and looked at her groom who had tactfully worn a wizard’s hat!

While her mother let go of her at the altar, she held on and looked at the strong fifty-year-old lady who despite being a single mother never let her down.

For many, it was just another theme wedding but for her it was her mother’s way of showing her that she would always be her mother’s book-crazed daughter.

She thanked her mother for the wedding of a lifetime with tears threatening to ruin her bridal makeup.

Her mother kissed her forehead and said, “For you, a thousand times over.”

Living alone does have its cons 

Living alone does have its cons.

The moment when you feel your feet turning into jelly, relax because it’s bound to happen.

After all it is a moment that could change your life because how you behave in the kitchen could actually decide whether your house will be in shambles or not.

You think of all the good times you spent in your house when your mother just asked you to eat and laid out a full plate before you.

You think of all the times you had a choice of dishes at home while now you are trying hard to master one.

You tentatively place the dish on the stove praying that it doesn’t explode and hit you on your face.

You maintain a respectable distance of say, two feet and try to gauge the spices lined on your walls by sniffing and prodding with a spoon.

You call up your mom, write up detailed instructions and hang up only to feel the fear rise again because how basic can your mom’s instructions be? She is obviously a natural at the kitchen.

You put a dash of this and pinch of that. You get inspired. You imagine yourself as one of the next Masterchef contestants and think to yourself, why can’t I experiment?

You add things that seem yummy waiting for that brilliant concoction to take place.

However fate taunts you. It refuses to be on your side.

The dish starts smoking up and you are afraid if the smoke alarm will go off. You really don’t want the people of your building running out of their flats.

You start coughing, turn off the stove and manage to find the switch of the exhaust fan amidst all that smoke.

And finally, you pick up that phone, report your failure to your mom who nods her head and tells you that she knew this would happen.

To get over the pain, you order amazing takeout and eat some of your favourite ice cream straight from the bucket.

Staying alone does have its pros.

You sit down to watch your favourite show and think, “Ah, what the hell? I am just twenty. I still have time to learn.”

If you are one among the many who enter a kitchen and look around at everything with wonder, then you are still waiting for that one streak of inspiration to strike you.

You are still busy marvelling at the number of ingredients your favourite dish has.

Someday you are going to dish up something that is pride worthy! Hang in there!

More thoughts about as to “Why do I write?”

There are tremendous healing power in writing, can work as a therapy, as the best medicine of broken heart. 

By writing, I don’t actually  mean it to be the work  of an author or a poet. 

It can be just anything, even insignificant. It doesn’t matter what you write, whether it’s a masterpiece, a heartwarming letter or simply a zig zag scribble in your diary.

 The thing that matters is, you are not carrying any more any burden of truth, spoken or un-spoken, discussed or un-discussed, disclosed or un-disclosed.

Writing  enables you to introspect. It’s only through writing that you realize how much you know or don’t know.

 It’s the only way to know the circumference of your knowledge or lack of it. It can even surprise you. It’s something like looking at a mirror. The only difference is, here the mirror reflects your inner image instead of outer image.

Writing enables  you to live in your dream world. You can fly into the world of imagination,  be the creator of it and see and show the world your own perspective. 

The most important thing is that, at the same time you can live here and control this completely. When you write about this dream, even if you come out of it at the end, a reality of this dream is always there with you, the written words.

Who knows, it can even be a masterpiece in course of time. Even if it doesn’t become a masterpiece, you can re-live this dream again and again whenever you feel like.

Writing  has the power to calm down your restless heart releasing all the tensions. 

It can enlighten your mind and soul. You can realize the power of your fingers when it brings out all the emotions from all chambers of your heart in the form of writing.

 Writing has got the advantage over a heart to heart talk, in the sense that, here you needn’t bother about the other person’s feelings and trust-distrust that much. It’s mostly your own territory where you are the king and the king maker, both.

Writing can make you forget your wounds, the hustle and bustle of this noisy world, your depressions, frustrations and saddest thoughts. When your heart breaks, when you lose your dear ones, writing can be the best consolation.  At times you may even forget your all hurts and pains in the joy of creation.

 

Relationship 

Its a relationship of togetherness

That even if you part for ever,

My heart still remains

With you, till the end of my life.
A relationship of pain

The pain

That’s so dear than

Thousands other pleasures

Of the entire life!
A relationship of longing

To belong

So strong, so intense

The way

The dying long for the life!
A relationship of trust

So blind, so unasked

That you want to pay

Even the smallest distrust

With the trust of your life
A relationship of

Giving and forgiving

That never counts the millions of tears dropped

Before forgetting the thousand wounds
The relationship that  never leaves you

Even if you move on or walk a mile or two

It comes flying back to you

Like a leaf of memory.
Its the relationship of love

Love, thats lasts over lives.

But if

It’s a relationship for lives,

Then why it changes?

Why it breaks?

Before the end of  the very life!
 

Life 

Life goes on and on 

As long as we breathe 

We realise 

The worth of life 

At the moment 

Just before we stop breathing 

Till We Meet Again 

Till We Meet Again

There was soft tinkling of bells soft musical as I moved slowly on the bank of the river. 

The river flowed lyrical with shimmering blue lights. I walked in petite steps my toes touching the sand grains delicately as the silver bells shone in the quivering moon light as they danced with my step.

I looked towards the river over to the mountains in the distance, the sky cobalt with tiny glowing points of stars looked remarkable. My eyes combed the depths for that star I wanted to locate. The star which would tell me the right moment when I would get the glimpse of what I searched.

Wind rustled the few trees as it kissed the leaves. The shadows danced with it on the silver banks. Black was what I was wearing and it flowed and shimmered with the darkness around me My hair were parted with the silver snake I had worn for as long as I could remember.

The sky was changing every instant as life does. I could feel that moment coming nearer. That star would tell me where to go. It had been a long time, many life times I had searched and had been searching for the guidance and yearned for something needed to complete myself. 

Bits and pieces of me from other existences were embedded deep in my mind and sometimes I could feel them in my soul. And in such times I would experience an incongruous need of those unknown waters to quench that strange thirst.

These times I would be more me then any other time. Me the fiery, me the agitated, me the angry, me the frustrated, me the agonized in a strange misery of certain hells and heavens that resided in my own mind ,with the nascent chaos of the first order, where simple innocence fought with complex knowledge to seek the truth. 

One day the child in me was petrified and then the other day the girl in me wandered to the brink of nothingness. Another day the woman in me yearned for someone.

I took those steps and again looked at the sky. There are few clouds floated wandering in the dark indigo of midnight and the star will be here any moment now.

As stared I hardly could blink, my eyes pricked as a tear formed under my eyelashes and slipped to glide my cheeks. It was still on my cheek when I noticed the faint white light of the star I was searching. Yes I looked at it…and then. I held my breath now or never. 

Suddenly the water parted as the river divided itself into two different branches I saw the path I had to travel. I walked treaded softly between the two waters on my both sides. 

As I entered the forest the huge trees cast dark shadows on the road and it was difficult to walk without light. I was unaware of how far I had have to go. The wind and the water made strange sounds. 

At last I came to an opening in the woods and towards my right were the mountains. I walked along not knowing but just following the star light. Suddenly as I reached the edge of the rocky mountain the path turned and I came to stand in front of a cave.
“Kiru…”someone called my name
‘Kiru I have been waiting for you.”
As I entered I could make out a light at the far end of the cave. The fragrance of incense filled my senses …camphor …and certain barks are burning in a silver bowl where she sat with her hair loose around her face.
The smoke in a snaky spiral, moved towards the entrance. I went and knelt in front of her.
“Kiru…you have come.”
‘I have been waiting for you…for…long time now”
I was too bewildered to talk.

 I look at her.
“We have met….” I hesitated.
“Yes we have in some other time and space and we will later on. Today I want you to take this.” she calls me..
She hands me a Silver Quill. I look at her with a question in my eyes.
“Magic ..”she laughs. You have to create magic with this.”
“But magic needs colors and wind and fire.” I tried to say.
“Yes you have already done that. Now it is the time to create magic with this.”
“How..?”

‘You will know.”

“And now..”
She calls me near her ..As she ties a black thread on my neck I know I am blessed and cursed.Blessed because I have been chosen, cursed because my path will never be easy. I will have to fight the devils. Wind howls around me as I try to look at her.

‘Till we meet again!”
I heard her voice trailing as I was swept on to the entrance of the cave and beyond it. Darkness came in all suddenness before I could save myself and the rain falls on me submerging, enveloping…
I got up from my dream struggling in my bed. Again it had visited me. I have seen it numerous times. But today I had seen it so clearly …what it had been then and what it was now. 

Till again we meet.
I am doing what she had asked me weaving magic with that quill, writing , weaving words, making them dance…I make people laugh, cry, scream, sigh…feel the longing, I am physical, emotional, carnal, wild, basic, raw, abstract, lyrical, brilliant.

 I weave a tapestary of colors and hues and the incessant words just spill ..and the nascent chaos inside my mind sometimes becomes a poem of love of fiery passions, longings which reach the depths of their souls senseless sense, seen and unseen the tangible, the visible, the elusive trying to find the finite in the infinite ocean of timelessness. 

Then people say am a brilliant writer magical ….as I compose enthralling scherzo in form of poems and stories.
Now you know I am creating this for her for me…I will do it I have to.
“Till we meet again…. as she said.

Mother 

Mother lives in you 

Always smiling your naughty smile 

In her pain she lifts you 

In her guile matching your style 

In her she holds you 

In it your crutch to glide ..

In her step to match every step ..

In your tears to fill her eyes …

For she is the warmth you feel in her …

In her cuddly lap 

To snuggle you ..hide ..

In her pain to hide your pain ..

In her world to bring you alive …

For she is the world she donated to you in her to build your life 

A feather touch in her fingers to feel 
holding your hand as  a gentle light 

In the stars of heaven to be the moon in you to rise

In the sun to spray in you the ray of life 

In the rainbows to colour to in dainty hues of life 

In her wings to fly you free …in its wind by the night 

In her wings to be your guide …taking you to far horizons .

In her rock to forever climb to touch new heights where the clouds dip in the mountains to reach in her to hide 

Your fears and fantasy of life …to touch you in her smile ..

Taking you to those terrains never explored full of divine to see the you sheathed in love ..hiding your life 

To open you to all realms of life …

In her love to delve your life

What is Friendship to you? 

It is waking up and wanting to be there for a friend who is stressed about work even when you are half the world away from each other. 

It is mid-night calls and early morning texts when you feel lonely and down.

It is the “Hi. Are you feeling better today?” text that you wake up to.  

It is putting aside your grad school work to listen to how your best friend’s day went.

It is love.It is accepting each other for exactly who we are and loving each other nevertheless.

It is confiding in someone knowing you aren’t going to be judged.

It is intellectually stimulating conversation about things you both feel passionately about.

It is laughing at the lamest of jokes no matter how stupid they are.

It is giving your best friend her space to make mistakes and learn from them,although you want to protect her from pain.

It is the good ol’ conversation about men.It is putting sense into each other when either overthinks.

It is respect. It is appreciation. It is being grateful that you have each other.

Friendship is showing up and being there, when you have million other things you can be doing. 

It is a choice.

What is Friendship to you?

I Shall Pass this Way But once

I Shall Pass this Way But Once
A little smile

Quivers on the lips

A leaf falls

A tree swings

Wind sings

Tears glide

Prayer echoes

From the

Depth of the soul

To a point of being pointless is sometimes the wisdom of the ages which we have to perceive. To contemplate on the transitory nature of all and yet be there to see the grace of beauty that lace defining moments is what life is all about.

And to think that we travel only in one direction forward and ahead. We can never turn back to the road we came. Our mind records the journey in detail, though no two minds have the same detail. Even if you have walked with a fellow traveler both will have different version to narrate.

The roads stretch in front of each one of us. We travel without any choice. Sitting and resting is allowed, but then we have to get up and walk. Time milestones have no meaning if you perceive the eternity of life. We have always been here and there, now and then. We might not remember but some ancient memories are embedded in the depths of our minds. At times we might recognize at turning on this road of life.

The road is one way. We shall pass here but once. It will then reside in our mind. At times when we rest, we might connect with someone we met on the road one yesterday of life. It could be a helping hand, a caring smile or some shared smiling moments. Painful memories are dull ache which remains even when the thorn embedded in the skin has been removed. Let it pass. Do not hurt yourself by pricking. Whatever it was it has gone away. Let it go. Just be with the happiness. As pain and pleasure are born in our heart and torment us in mind, we must calm it.

Life flows with us, in us and around us. See it to feel it. Near a river bank, just looking at the passing water fills me with wonder. Something changes deep inside. And oceans are a different story. A river has boundaries an ocean has freedom.  Together they teach us the boundaries of freedom.

So while I may pass this road just once, let me experience life in all glory. Let me not worry about tomorrow or mope for the yesterday.

The excitement of life throbs in each moment. The only thing we need to sense it is a child like mind and wings of imagination. Light the flame of hope and no dark night will scare you. Lend a helping hand to yourself be kind to your own self.

At some difficult point in my life, I found the art of keeping a visual journal very helpful.  A sketch book, colors, sketch pens and my words just flow. Whenever I can spare time I sit with my muse. Using the colors I play with experiences. Believe me the process is very therapeutic. After the entry is done it is laid to rest. Later when the impressions have had time to sink, I visit the pages. Each entry reveals a truth about one exact moment in my life. I meet some long lost friends to experience tranquility of sublime moments. Not all is just fine sometimes I can see the scars and tears. However, depicting these on paper helped to let go and just that is needed.

Words I write here are impressions, echoes, reactions and meditations. It hardly matters what matters is the art of putting them on the white sheet. Blue is a recurrent color theme on my pages. It takes on to Indigo. Recently, I find myself attracted to the color purple. Yellow and orange are mostly on trees perhaps representing flowers. Another element here is water sometimes serene; at times flowing. Nature brings out the thinker in me and is my muse.

Whenever I flip through the pages I am reminded of the point of time. I may pass the road once but can revisit with the pages. It is just as getting a magical key to the past.