Travel we do

Before we reach the Arms cradling love,
the heaven-enwrapping tassels of the angels
and the embracing bosom of Mother Earth
we travel and seek in the darkness, we do,
The love, the glory and the pride...
Convoluted and corrupted, is what we get
*For we see through a glass darkly,
and the truth, before it is revealed to all,
face to face, we see in fragments.
Before we make Earth our Mother again
And the journey from our life to Her Motherhood
is but a moment....
though travelling through which, is an Age....


* taken from the Bible 1 Corinthians 13:12

Tears

Oh Tears! I say... Yes you....

You've been with me all these years, haven't you?

You were there, rolling down my cheeks, consoling and warm

When my soul left my side, leaving me guilty and unarmed

You went through my body, like the lump in my throat

You hugged me like my blanket when the nights felt cold

You went through my breath with the melancholic sighs

You stayed embedded in me, like crystals in my eyes

Now look! How my eyes shine because of you!

Loyal you've been, and you're still seeing me through.

Tears! Will you leave ever, leaving me alone?
Walk away like my world did, and be gone?

I fear the loneliness, which is ever so close
It is taking me into its shadows, and I lose.

Alone as I get more alone, I lose my soul.
I've fought battles and won, only to lose it all.

My strengths depleted, my support is but weak
I stand alone, and friendless as these words I speak.

A foreign land weakening my will
How I fight, I don't know still!

May be it is you who still stands by me
without you, I am as lonely as I can be.....

The God called "Tequila"

Tequila- the small, water-look-alike liquid. It was a cold night. I didn't know that the hippie-heaven Goa could be so cold. I sat freezing on a bench at the party, with a sore throat, sniffing nose and Out-of-Place persona. I just didn't know anyone there. Only the bar counter seemed inviting. So I walked up and took a shot. Now, I'm glad I did.
It was fire going down into my ice-cold belly. I needed that heat. For sometime it took away me into a comfortable and known zone. I took 4 more. And I went and sat back on the park bench in the party. Loneliness was now inviting and peaceful. I sat and observed. I felt warmer and happy. I wasn't high. I was away. I was cut-off. My friends were all there, in front of me. But I wanted to sit away. I know I can be weird.
The EDM, the dimly-lit garden and coconut trees and the thought of being in the land of sun-and-sand. It could be likened to heaven- hmmm some what heaven.
It didn't last forever though.
I could feel the effect of the tequila wearing off, like a magic potion losing its desired results. I felt the cold wind and I could feel the mosquitos biting on my calves. I had somehow become immune to the sounds and noise. But it was wearing off and I could hear the badly-dressed sluts, asking their one-night-stands to remember their names. Odd and Annoying and Spectacular.
I do not know the side-effect effects of the Tequila God in the lost state of Goa.
But I wasn't being able to breathe. I gasped for air and somehow got reminded of the loneliness again. My feet kept moving to the EDM, but the head swarmed through space somewhere.

Alone in the crowd, when I thought I would be the crowd. I felt like a High God in my strange elements, away and aloof. Under the coconut tree in Goa.

Only consolation I found was in typing this inane article on my cellphone. The desparate urge to write came with the big gasps of air. I needed to survive with in these words I wrote.
Next night, I lay sipping hot coffee, watching really cute firangs in the candle-light, listening to the soulful voice of Celine Dion, telling me about these "Precious Times", while i gaze on the starlit skies, lying on a comfy hammock- I'm living!
I know this is what life should be. Life will be such.
Home away from home.
I know I will sit back on my arm chair when I am old and reminiscise about the day in the years to come.
Viva la Goa (with due applause to the tequila).

Dear Mumbai

Scared and scarred with the recent upheavals, I know you still run busy and hectic with life.

You have been the final destination of my cloudy dreams, and I have always chased those little butterflies right into your heart. Some I caught and some I lost.
I have fought battles. Some I lost and some I won.
I found love in you, and I lost them here too.
I got my heart broken in front of you, and I mended it with my own hands living with you.
I became a woman in your womb. And I learnt to love myself.
You taught me to question and search for the answers.
You taught me never to give up hope even in the bleakest of times.
You have made me angry, frustrated, and build with in me a sea of volatile strength, which grows each time with each loss.
Never had I experienced the pinch of life and stumbled on way.
But I did that walking on your streets.
You pushed me and bullied me around and you made me stronger than most,
You have shown me the stars and held my feet to the ground.
You have shown me the glamour and stopped me from joining them.
You taught me never to cling to the brightest of the lights, because they will fade sooner than I know.
You have taught me so much and I can’t put words to all that.
You have tried and tested me and made a warrior out of me.
I grew to from a naïve kid to a rebel to a thinker.
I grew from a masochist to a lover of life, from a cynic to a hopeful.
I learnt to take chances and I learnt to live more.
I survived you and I survived in you.
I lost, I learnt, and I grew.

Now as I sit here today, I know I will be bidding you farewell with in a decade of days.
I know, I will not be missed very much, and that is a part of your charm.
You can live without any one, but no one can live without you.
I know I will visit you in the years to come only to witness passive memories, because I will dwell on them when I leave you.
I will witness changed souls and distanced relationships. And somewhere regret the changes.

But I will not regret the times spent together, and the joys you have brought me in all these years.
And I will not regret the tears I cried, because every pain has very much made me what I’m today.
You made me what I am today- A woman, a thinker, a rebel.

Thanks for making me fall in love with me and for everything else left unsaid.

Lots of love and God bless!!

Goodbye!

Ipsa

The blood bath in the city not so long ago, has left all of us scarred and desolate. Yes, we saw all the crying souls. Our hearts feel torn. We feel the lump in our throats and the anger in our blood.

So many questions, posed to our “leaders”. Slack and inept, incapable and slow- our leaders.
But why blame them- WE elected them.

I don’t want to blame anyone, anywhere- no blame-games, no unnecessary criticism, and no expectations from our so-called “leaders”.

I blame myself alone, for electing such nincompoops and spineless characters as our policy-makers.
I blame myself, for only lighting a candle and taking a peach-march at the immense loss of lives.
I blame myself for breaking rules in this country.
I blame myself for bribing the traffic cops, the peons, the “babus” in the govt. and the rest.
I blame myself for not paying my fine, when I’m caught at the signal, breaking rules.
I blame myself for evading taxes, and hoarding money
I blame myself for lying.
I blame myself for forgetting my role in making this country what it has become.
I blame myself for not contributing to the country as much as I can.

Our leaders will be only as good as we are, so I blame myself.
Do you?

I’ve been writing quite a bit. I think you notice that there’s always a new article or poem up on the blog, nowadays. I know they seem depressing and melancholy- completely wretched- The overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

But that is the only time I can put pen on paper and actually feel the writing.
I’m a hapless writer of happy thoughts, unless it is sarcasm which in way can be looked upon as a comic relief.

Now you see there have been quite many writers who write happy. It’s the flimsy feeling of “glad” which doesn’t seem to go deeper than a smile. It doesn’t strike a chord inside, not at least with me.

Happiness doesn’t have many varieties to it, again if you pay close attention. The range isn’t too vast. It is sadness which runs so deep that it is difficult to fathom its bottom, ever. It can reach scales which can’t be replicated by happiness. If you’ve seen an ice-berg, the tip is vast, but it is only one-tenth of what lies below. The tip is happiness, and what lies below is sadness.

I’ve made it away of life. Something feels missing and wrong, if sadness doesn’t find its way into my day everyday. It doesn’t become an inspiring day.

Ok there! People- don’t look at me like a masochist, I’m not that. I love my life and I don’t hurt it. That’s why I have to write everyday.

It works like taking out the daily poison from the system. It is the cleansing the emotional system. It keeps the circulation of thoughts proper, and those hyper nerves get a garbage bag to store the tension. You can’t expect clean waters when you’re cleaning that dirty laundry. Similarly, writing (at least mine) can’t be hopeful and happy, if I’ve been taking out the negativity. It is like brushing your teeth every morning and like taking a bath. It has to be done at least once everyday.

Too insane, is it? But I can’t help that. You see, it is an insane world. To survive it and survive it everyday, thoughts need to be worded. There already too much fitted into that brain and heart. Let’s not choke it further with thoughts.
Take them out, give them words. It works like therapy. Psychologists aren’t mad when they ask you to write everyday, if you get thoughts- good, bad, ugly- whatever. It is a healthy habit.

So don’t get so worked up. It’s happy world still !!!

Looks like another day

The rain doesn’t pour
The noise doesn’t ring
The waves are quiet as ever
Looks like it’s another day for me

The glistening sweat on my tanned skin
The trampled, dusty roads to tread
More so, without songs in my heart
So it looks like another day for me

Sleep dims burdened eyes
Waiting endlessly for hope’s kind eye
Hungry heart, songless day
And it’s just another day for me

I look around for inspiration,
For days which uplift my soul
A door which would creak open
Another day for me.