Oh to be alive

Innocent souls they were ready for another day,    oblivious to danger, they laughed and played. They knew not what it would mean to leave their home bay; they knew not their lives would be snuffed out and leave such pain. What’s come on us, where are we heading? Does loneliness indeed lead one astray? They say he was bright, but a loner too, did no one see what he was thinking all through? Kids in school, away from their moms, not a moment did it take to leave a void in those arms. Where do we get the courage to send them out again? How do I tell them be good, study and stay safe? There were heroes among those who died, just on the verge as they were of a full life. May such a heinous act not happen again, let’s put the guns away and teach our kids to pray, maybe there’s some truth in that, lost souls need to follow a dedicated way, they need to be loved too, not shunned away. It may not be the answer, it may not ease the pain...

They did what they could, to defile her that day, they violated and mutilated her body, then just threw her away. She fought back bravely, did not plead nor relent; she was alert and spirited, even as her body was grotesque with bleeds. There are millions like her, dying every day, she wrestled and she  grappled, to wish them away. Everyone was baying for their blood, wanting to narrow down to a kill, she did what she could, alive yet still. Where was the curse, where was the ire, why was the bestial in us, out with such fire? Where was it lost among the humans, the ability to respect and coexist? Whether it was a body raped or a lewd gesture, where did we go wrong, where did it begin? Impinging on freedom, debasing even blasphemy! Was it Iblis (Satan) and his tribe? Or was God still testing mankind? Questions sometimes rush through my mind. Questions to which there are no answers. Or perhaps we all know the answers but refuse to gle...

Her little palm curled around his fingers, she exclaimed in glee, I want this house with the garden, why do they, not agree? He had no answers for the little one, all he said was, what’s the  hurry? She piped loud and clear, we’ve done the rounds, looking high and low; everyone says the same thing, you know: you are  nice people, without doubt   we’d say, but it is against our policy, to have you live in the neighbourhood, is beyond everyone’s imagination and isn’t it understood? Another child, in another time, frolicked in her friend’s bower, she played in a garden of Eden, literally, for they had Jesus as their God, and hers was the fire God, you see;  Everyone was at ease, no one around did cower. Their other neighbours, were Nanak’s children; at the far end, were the ones who prayed to Allah supreme. Around the corner was a home with bells ringing, mantras emanating,  morning and eve,   yet all the n...

The world, apart from being a magnificent creation: a kaleidoscope of multi-hued facets and melodious to jarring sounds, is also perhaps peopled by beautiful human beings. One doesn’t find them easily, but often bumps into them when one is not really looking. My faith in humanity was restored in the most satisfyingly, amazing way recently, through people I didn’t know from Adam and Eve, to use a clichéd phrase. Just when I was beginning to think of myself as a misanthrope, there came, out of the blue, literally, or with a certain divinity, a chain of incidents that changed my perspective. In fact, not really changed, but returned it to what it used to be: open, trusting and acceptingly tolerant and well, forgiving. Just for a lark, I had decided to get henna applied on my hands and arms, as is the practice, in not only many parts of our own country but, also elsewhere in the world. It is considered auspicious and apart from beautifying, it is soothing to the eye. Also, the intr...

Dusk was setting in as she made her way through the fields with ease and expertise. This is where she had spent each working day. She really didn’t need the light of the stars to guide her. It was as if there was a compass embedded in her feet, or would one say heart. Every Sunday she had made this journey, as if a voyage to the end of the earth. For her it was her world. The village was always tranquil at this time of the day with an occasional loud banshee like whistling, from the new factory recently opened on the outskirts, breaking the peace and quiet. Walking through the village was akin to wading through layers, a labyrinth so complex that an outsider would certainly not venture anywhere alone. For her though, it was nothing short of a pilgrimage, a ritual, a habit, she could not let go of; a reason for her being alive:  A promise to keep, a commitment, something, about long ago.    She entered the neat little hut at the edge of the field and quickly fin...

The emperor’s clothes were a must see, eyes wide open, they thronged the streets, a heavy silence cloaked the air, when people realized, he was indeed bare! No one uttered a sound, this really did confound, why was no one calling a spade, a spade? What really was the case? Was he dressed, or even when one could see, something forbade, the truthful decree, till a child proclaimed in glee. Life is a lot the same, bared souls writhe in pain, the ones with a cloaked mantle,  happily sustain. Ironic or crazy, the divide is blurred by deceit, naked or clothed, it’s for you to see.

We often look for reasons to complain, wanting always to frown with disdain. Most pass through life, pompous and vain, often playing the blame game. Looking within is a rare strain, few have the courage to go against the grain. When they do, there’s not much to feign, ‘cause everything else seems so lame. They carry on in spite of pain, for they have nothing to lose or gain. Their sights are set on a different plane, everything else is unadorned and inane. Recognizing the spark within is the aim, winning or losing its just a name.

Red Riding Hood, was lost in the woods, every single day  she’d traversed this path, every moment  she had, memorized by heart, she felt she saw a shadow behind her, or was it looming  up ahead, anew? She shrugged her tiny shoulders, adjusting the hood, eyes on the path, quick she moved. She had been warned often of the existing slews, In her heart she believed and also clearly knew, there was no knowing when feeling overtook her, there was no telling how enamoured she stood.   She shirked it off again, holding her basket tight, as the winds blew through the woods. She reached her destination, with a tiny detour, she caught up with the shadow and let it slowly vanish as she rued. She faced the ghosts; she rollicked with the sleuths, she let them dance about her, as she meandered through the meadows. As she took it all in, at peace she was, there was in the air a strange calm. Fairy tales and other stories of ...

She sat by the cinders, her work all done, listening to the crackling sound,   weary hands, in the red glow she warmed, the sparks dying out slowly, she saw, waiting still, till they were gone. Cinderella, by the cinders sat,  content; but a tad forlorn. The world she knew was vain and contemptuous, her step-sisters and mum, devious souls. Crouch she did when they yelled her commands, deep within though, she had the cleanest heart. So pure was she, the cinders melted, molten surged, nothingness replaced the air by the hearth. A stroke of luck took her to the prized Ball, the fairy had said, this much and no more. Caught up in the moment she  didn't see the clock strike, as she should have before. Pandemonium, panic and back to clinkers she was, the proverbial prince had a relic from their time, it  didn't  take much for him to define, she was the one with the golden heart ...

Sometimes I dream, I dream a lot, I wait a while till I reach that spot. And then I stay, linger on fervently praying, for a delayed dawn. Could this be happening? I exclaim in glee, before I know, I just cannot see. Once the haze lifts, the limbs uncurl, I swirl around, meet up with that little girl. She looks at me with the same plea, where did you lose yourself? in the melee.

Meandering trails, nooks adorned, crisscrossing paths, destinations unknown, friendly strangers, devious friends. A sudden turn, a detour, along the alleyway, a little trapdoor. A lifetime caugh t in a moment, satiating, flashes clouded through a  lifetime, waiting to uncurl, lazily unfold. Wanting to break free, chained by centuries of norms, ties, tales untold, suddenly explode.

In the morning light, imbued with colors’ bright, were spangled remnants, an artist’s delight. Had Heaven descended on earth, or had little elves visited last night? Brushes in hand, swishing nymph like, hues, perhaps from paradise. Yellow, ochre, crimson red, As far as the eye could see they’d swept, in a tawny tide. Underfoot too were traces as they’d tiptoed through the darkness, nimbly moving, arranging with the tiniest detail in mind. Is this autumn when, the trees shed their leaves? Nature’s every colour, is sheer delight.

Jaded walls, tell interesting tales, of a bygone era, hidden just beneath the ramparts, are whispers of   battles and lovers. Reflected off the shimmering rooftops, is the glorious time, beauty, fame and happiness pursuing which then, was divine. Reverberations of the past echo through, the hallways; some stark, some sublime. The edifice today seems forlorn too, looking for answers, across the divide.   Ambling through with a carefree gait, a sound arrests her move, a fragrance beckons like a lamp, leading even further. A touch as light as a feather, brushes past her brow. In the middle of time and space, lives overlap forever.     

The sky was overcast, a light mizzle greeted me as I walked out into the open, wanting to experience moments from my absolutely crazy childhood and teen-hood (sic), to coin a new word, as it were. Breathing in the moisture in the air and waiting for the downpour, I meandered through the streets, reaching the junction that divided the two worlds: the natural from the artificial. For quite some time, it was just the most pleasant experience, soaking in the whispering sound, as the drops of water kissed the expectant leaves; the fields’ verdant with the first beauteous touch, just a light caress, beckoned me to explore further. And then all too suddenly without any warning, ever so naturally, there was a deluge, an overwhelming, overpowering, downpour and all I did was take it on and in. Whispers changed to a constant chant, a rhythm that was simultaneously soothing and threatening, a rude reminder of our current plight as a nation and the world at large. As I let the rain pour dow...

Random,  could also be called hit and miss or arbitrary, but thoughts are thoughts, no more no less and have misted up my mindscape for a long time…woolly at times, at times crystal clear, they whiz through every now and then. They are all at once animate, vibrant and suddenly foggy or frozen.             Thoughts they say should be treated like birds flying across the sky…one needs to just look at them and not interrupt them in their flight across the firmament…at best one could fly with them for a while, hover, dip, dive and fly away into eternity or return now and then like the migratory birds.              The mind, it is said, is like a projection of the universe or an inversion of it, there are several time and space zones interlinking eons to myriad experiences, weaving a tapestry that has a varying manifestation through every being.    ...

             Poets have waxed eloquent about the rain; the ever elusive pot of gold is only at the end of a rainbow. Chasing it is both a challenge and a dream. Romance they say is in the air, cupid showers his arrows in the most unexpected directions, striking many a desolate heart. Even Eliza Doolittle the ‘Fair lady’ was taught English by Professor Higgins, by taking refuge in the rain…only metaphorically: The rain in Spain is falling on the plain. There is always something hugely poetic about the rains. Of course it can inundate, cloud and cause havoc too, but as of now I would like to elucidate on the beauty of the rain.               Over a period of time the rain has meant different things to me. Sometimes a friend walking along quietly, knowing fully well that’s all you need; sometimes a playful child, urging you to break free and romp in the deluge; sometimes a comforting, overpowering, overwhelming ...