THE ISLAND

Have you ever felt like an unguided, unoccupied ship whose anchor has been released and it is floating on the surface of the sea. Sea which is unfathomably deep. Sea which has no intentions to cease its horizon. Sea where no island is to appear any time soon. 

The patterns of our life sometimes make us feel like that lost ship. All we need is a resort and some will , not to accept the abduction of our soul. No matter how much busy we have turned into. No matter how much invested we are in our one single life whose time is running out.

There are things to be done. There will always be things to be done. They just don't get finished. Instead, they try harder every time to finish us. It all depends on us us, how slyly we manage to escape this feud. Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes our fight becomes mundane.

The relationship between the boat and the sea however speaks of loyalty. Though its path seems aimless, but still it floats, in hope, in search of solace.Eventually it gets that. And the pleasure possibly is multiplied only because of the yearning, because of its lost trails.

So sometimes, plains of consistency play dull and gloomy while discords play the symphony inside the head. With that symphony, we survive till an island appears again....

For the one we love like always....

We love you Dadi, we have always and we will forever.

How far have you gone?

That no one can see through.

But we all have a bit of you,

That still smells like you.

We all crossed the stairs of age

By just holding your hand.

Today when you are not here

We still wonder how do we stand.

We know you are here

with us to guide and to bless

How fair we play our roles

in the life you instilled in us........

We all are your kind reflection

The one we have in mind.

The one you shared for years

The one you left behind.

Satyameva jayate-3

I was searching for a metaphor for a situation where one fears a lot to step forward towards the thing he has strongest urge for because of his tenacious attitude towards having a peaceful and calm life for the people who might get affected. What you do, what you not and what you intend to do are influenced by the people you care for that keeps you in the perimeter of righteousness. But who has to decide that who is right and who is not? With different mindsets backed up by the different bringing and brought-ups, society is surviving with a number of divides. Particularly India where freedom to think and express is still a far- fetched aspiration of young Indians, suffers with the consequences that are stealing the soul of an efficient nation.

Domestic violence is an activity that tears apart the very meaning of home which splinters into lodge of sorrow, discontent, depression and despair and is mainly a trademark of men in the affected sections of the society using power over the ones they consider weaker. The question of superiority among manhood and womanhood has been in the debates since ages and since ages people have changed, generations have come and gone, revolutions have ushered, transformations have happened: few results appear on the surface but  core of the social thinking is still in the claws of Patriarchal dungeon. Indian society today has a shining skin having all such qualities a developing nation should have like independence, self realisation and self-confidence. The new generation has also matured to understand the loop holes where to work on to make India a healthy and better India. But despite all these accomplishments, in the ground realities there is one fossilised thinking or we can say a rigid subconscious approach in every Indian to compare and decide responsibilities and roles of other people in their lives. This domineering mentality of disdaining and looking down at partners is nothing but a cursed consequence of Indian tampered culture that has number of incidents, anecdotes and rituals that nowhere justifies equality that is humanity.

In many homes where the child has been growing up seeing mothers feeding the family, running since morning till night to keep everything in place and just right and still becoming the victim of the bashes of the man who has to relieve his pressure from the outside world somehow, may turn the child into two kinds of persons: one who thinks that it is the right of the woman to keep her man happy that will make her home happy or the one who becomes silent enough to confront any injustice further in his life like the victim did for his sake. In both the cases such a child is not going to be an architect of inspiration: neither for himself, nor for his family. And this is what is happening in almost every second home where we have multiplying number of victims and induced victims. And if really enduring a pain helps to heal the wound then make sure that the wound is not contagious.

Beating up women of the house, tormenting them through the indifference and scornful abuses and then justifying it with some excuses proves that the person is mentally sick, impotent enough to discover his real manhood that really is defined in terms of supporting the women in their lives, sharing their needs and understanding them in the same manner as they are being understood and taken best care of. The cases Amir showed today seem quite uncommon to a large section of the society that can never think of such situations where their lives would be controlled or adjudged and not shared and that too after the most promising event of life,marraiage.The sufferers are the victims of this deadly thinking that  one has to be better to make the other and the relationship 'best’. The rage of this false ego and illogical non acceptance of equality kills the peace of family and fails to salute humanity that has parity in every sphere of life.

All we need is to get this into mind that love comes when we share and hatred comes when love is just demanded. I remember the lines of the social activist on the show that let us all move on to look for life-partners that are real men. If you are not happy, feel it and listen to what your heart is really asking you to do because life is what you make it. Respect yourself, respect your life, have respect for each other and then making choices would become easy and the relationship that ways would be exemplary and a beautiful communion of understanding and gifting real pleasures."Dont drag and bear the burden of not listening to the life whisperers and falling at the feet of ego, envy and hatred as  you crawl towards the end of life because no one wants to be alone at the end."

gone in the wind...

Rust and dust lied deep inside;
rusted were his steps
and
dusted were his thoughts.
To douse the flames of failure,
he tried to pull out  himself
from
 his life getting bigger and unmeasurable,
and leave behind
the agony, the fluster and acerbic stress.

He was crying with his reflections since long
but today

was mum
without any hitch and fear and dismay.
like a silent sea
 without any urge to touch the moon.
Wished to end up things in a better manner soon
and experiment one more time.
but surrendered
before the gale of his instinctive voice,
that tried hard to cling to the things slipping away,
listen to the lullaby heard long back,
and say

To  all those whom he loved and still does,
he is going to wither and break down into pieces
get wet in the mud of divine and then write down

the unheard words.
To look down again  and ask,what wrong did he do?

and
he walked away in silence

 without saying a word,
without the consent and without any prophecy.
must be hard for him

to leave people and meet the infinite
but is harder for all those 
who are left with the  poverty of his destiny.

Many facts in life are unbearable and too bitter to live with especially then when our strings are attached to some of their corners.We are left with no choice other than keep on standing and looking at the things that just happened and robbed all our peace and the fact that we couldn't stop it makes us further weak and helpless.This write is dedicated to all those souls resting in peace(I guess)who had also no choice but walk away from this biased and illogical life that might have created umpteen confusions that they preferred to leave the wale of tears than to confront them.But whatever they did and thought and decided no less made feel us forlorn and deserted.Their absence is felt.

The lost times

The lost times-1
I am scared of the vintage.

For what I am speaking will remain in whispers.
For what I am writing will soak in papers.
The light in the picture is the light of the past
that had a life but not today.
The stories untold and events umpteen
are lost somewhere in the heap of dismay.
I must have lived somewhere in the yore
and living again with no instinct.
The day will come when I too will be gone,
leaving behind my dust in synch.

The lost times-2

The world that lived few years back
is still alive with faces changed.
Eyes stare and smiles so powerful
to knock the door of peace forayed.


Look at them,their glimmering faces
speaking of the fun they once had.
I can find me among one of them,
with the same expression and a dusty clad.

my lovely little gods.....

The love that our children pour upon the people they love the most is like ambrosia with which we can live forever throughout our lives with a smile on our face.The way they care ,the manner in which they express their feelings for us and the art of their pampering us make them the greatest artist and loveliest sight.It seems too easy for them to get happy and sad all at once ,it appears quite simple for them to make somebody everybody for them where they could forget everyone else.For that time being we feel to be at the top of the world when we are their everybody and we dance and sing and play and jump and lie down in our own world which turns out to  be entirely different and aloof and cheerful.When they laugh aloud and continue laughing till the breath goes off , we feel we have made god laugh.When they come to us and do things they don't usually do like a really happy and gleeful man,we feel like blessed. When in every occassion they choose to hold our fingers and sit and eat and sleep with us,it is like being the most special and the most important person.When among their tiny friends they introduce us with pride kissing our cheeks and hanging their hands around our neck,it is like getting the divine reward.When everyday  they wake up and ask for our name at first,we feel like having the greatest parts of our moments.But time of depart comes when they need to  revert back to their routine without us, ripping off the hearts .Both of us cry and sense the lonelinness that cannot be compromised,neither negotiated.It is like moving away from my little gods towards the grey colourless life where their chirping and jauntiness is missing. It is quite real when we say we can die for some people with whom we live the happiest life.................blessings to them.... my lovely little gods..

disguised blessing.........

when I place my cobwebbed head  in the warm lap of my mother made cosy with the soft cotton sari and sleep a while,I wish to be there for ever and smell the divinity of motherhood for which I cadge.
I got to know that the little birdies live with their families till they are illiterae of flying .Once they learn,they leave their nests forever and under predestinarianism,fly away in the azure to get one partner for making a new nest.Human nature is also similar,difference is that our sky is small and even after leaving our nests we pine for getting back there.

Twenty years are less for the people who have nurtured the saplings till they grow into plants to walk away.It is harder indeed for the plants also  to see the transgression of their planthood into treeism making the skin of the stem dryer and tougher from outside keeping the  memories of the yore green and alive though.It is hard to adjoin new people in life which invites a lots of confusions as well in regards to our duties,our spending time ,our reliability towards the people getting older.Everybody repeats the same story of same plot in their respective lives where people live,play,grow old and then leave.In between, lies the experiences and stories to narrate to the world where our fragments float making up the memories and resemblence.
Paulo cohelo used one concept of power of a moment where sometimes in an event we feel that same things,same imagery , same activities have been earlier also experienced and in that case we could predict what next would happen.This refers that the particular moment has some intention which needs to be realised and that is the reason it comes in front of us till we do.Till I read him I thought I was the only one to experience the thing and referred it as of a magical and gifted essence.But if it happens to some more and they pay heed to it I think we would start seeing an alchemical change in the art of our living...
Drowsiness sometimes before turning into full sleep whispers some nice thoughts as a precursor to our dreams,just now it did and I want to freeze it "when something/someone goes/go away and we feel it/he can't come back at all,we can strive hard to crawl upto the point nearest to them and the tattered reflections may reappear............

we are here.....right here

Far along the brink of horizon

I found an island,green and rich

Searching for the dwells ,had I move on

To see the world I want to clinch.

 Far above the bed of clouds

I found an azure,clean and frost

Looking for the souls had I move on

To lure the self with what I lost.

Far beneath the skin of earth

I f got one space,warm and dark

calling the names had I move on,

to be a part of cryptic arc.

Far far inside thy self

I got one door,open and trite

with the retroes had I move on

to get inside and find the might.

All were there,with hands and toe

talking they,words not clear though

they looked the same with a distinct limn

happy was I or was old man of the sea

I cried but they laughed aloud

since they were free and I was like shroud

a shroud of life that needs a cover

a shroud of death that makes alover.

They came closer and held me tight

I closed my eyes and stood upright

when curtains lifted they were gone

I felt blessed,rich and bonzer strong.

My days…………

ries,malin

 

I close my eyes to look at the years,

Where childhood stays in happy gears.

Hopping in the woods and lying on the ground,

Talking to bird lings and learning their sounds.

Playing new games and making own rules,

Driving my boat across the pool.

Swinging in the air and dancing on the tune,

Climbing on the trees and crying for the moon.

Pampering the dolls and sitting on the throne,

gossiping alone with a meaningless tone.

Riding the cycle like a king on the road

Feeling proud of every thing in my bode.

…………………………………………………………

Bickering with friends and making them cry,

Bringing back the smiles and winning the sky.

Looking at the stars and dancing in the rain,

Flying with the kites and whistling with the train.

Pleading the cuckoo for one more stay,

Carpe-diem.Yes I seized my day.

Beyond the sky and beneath the field,

Gazing at the trivial and building a shield.

Steeping the ice creams and licking of hand,

Shouting at the waves and saving the sand.

Giggling with pals and sleeping with dreams,

Bluffing the bigs and fictioning screams.

……………………………………………………………….

The time has gone but the child remains

In the corner of the heart, in the memory lanes.

Where he stays like a shining star,

To remind us- who, why and what we are.

The star is smiling and so am I,

I close my eyes to get back my sky.

Sky full of rainbows and glare of the sun

With rays of hope and clouds of fun.

Each day brings up a brand new story

But the same old zeal, same old glory.

……………………………………………………