Oh to be alive

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.    ...