Morning...

In the land of snow

A blossom is found

And all the shivering creatures

Are drawn to it

The little ones

Have never seen this colour

The sheen of white

Is blinding... except now

The pink dot

Is some wicked monstrosity

Or some godly delight...

The older, wiser ones

Have known the beginning of spring

From a time long ago

Their tears wet the little bud

And nourish it

It smiles in its womb

This is a spring that will last a while

This warmth will melt the ice

Bit by bit

This morning breathes a new wind.

Bit by bit...

Playing Along...

A friend of mine gifted a pack of tarot cards today. The original Rider Waite. In a box she had painted herself... I must rephrase the first line to ‘a gifted friend of mine gave me a pack of tarot cards today.’ She’s amazing at it... and I know that because of the flair and the confidence she possesses while doing a reading. And the essence of knowing that flows from her while we are in a session.

 I still don’t know why she thinks I should begin reading... again... I looked at each card closely and knew that a part of me is still in awe with the depth and meaning they can possess. Got me thinking why I had ever left the practise of tarot. It’s not like I had had enough of it. I was just getting a grip on it, when I left. Thinking back, I guess I was afraid. Afraid of the amount of power I could see in it. Tarot reading brings with it a tremendous amount of insight. But at the same time, wanting or not wanting the power to understand/ influence someone’s life is another idea altogether.

 And then again there are so many people who seem absolutely comfortable with influencing others, even though it might not always have a positive effect. I look at politicians and feel like I may never be able to be one. Someone who will emphatically and passionately manipulate people to cast a vote for me. Which is hilarious since I do want to enter the field at one given point of time.

Brings me to a conclusion? Of course not. Maybe I’ll just have to take it one step at a time; begin tarot reading first and conquer the world later... Sounds like a plan... ?

Sometimes it’s good to believe that things happen for a reason.  Also conveniently positive...

P.S. anyone who wants to know about the mystery tarot-reading friend is welcome to ask. She loves doing it as much as I love talking about it.... cheers!!

Indorean Chronicles... phase 1

Every time I sit in a bus from Sehore (the place I work) to Indore, I always have a weird feeling at the back of the head. I know that somehow, something weird will happen to me. And it does. And it’s not always fun. I love to keep shut in bus journeys, especially if the ride is for more than an hour. But these trips always have bizarre incidents in store for me.

The first time I sat in a bus for Indore, I met a burkha clad woman who in the three hours of knowing me spilt each and every aspect of her life onto my tortured mind. Not the usual grumbling of a 25 year old, mind. It was a tragic tale of love and loss and child marriage to a senile gentleman. And divorce. And harassment. And getting the love of your life married to someone else. And the pain of living as a divorcee. It was all laid out in front of me, like a novel I had to comment on.

And frankly, I was offended. Offended not because she had come and told me all of that; I realise it was probably because she had never been able to tell it to anyone before. It was frankly too much for me to bear. I tried my ardent best to sympathise with her misfortunes; but I felt it was unfair that she expected me to pass a judgement on her life. And worse, to give her a solution. I was so affected by all of it. That the pleasure of having a fun weekend ahead of me was lost in the misery of her life. I remember the only thing on my mind then was ‘why me?’

I know I must be proud that I could help someone. But that was once in my life when I wanted to jump out of the running bus. Before leaving she told me ‘I never thought I’ll find a friend like this. Thank you.’ While I was thinking ‘I don’t remember her name.’ To be frank, I wish I never do.

Offerings...

Inch by inch

They rise

Claiming each bit of reason

The well anticipated stench

And slow burning,

Will occur again

As everyone stops to watch

The purging shall begin soon

And this newborn

Will be a bigger demon

My ego

Deserves a higher altar...

And a bigger sacrifice

 Each new day...

Brownie Points...

Once two silly girls liked the same innocently beautiful boy. The girls were best friends but they never fought over him cuz he was so beautiful and so innocent that it broke their silly hearts. Then the boy left one day, and the girls grew up...

Today I saw the same boy; he got married to a beautiful innocent girl. And I felt silly, again. In my complicated crazy world, the simplicity of that love was unendurable. Because I was filled with a pride I did not understand; still don’t. Every bit of my insensitive, unfeeling heart went out to those two; and if I could, I would’ve cried like a child.

Because love is simple enough. It’s us who complicate it. Seeing the 196 photos of the wedding that were uploaded, I saw the clarity in life biggest decision. I’m a diehard believer in marriages, and somewhere in my head I’m clear on how heartbreakingly non chaotic this one thing is. No big deal. I’ve seen love from a close range, mind. I’m not ashamed to admit that I have been in love. But I’ve never had the guts to tell that person that he was in liberty to love whoever he wanted. As I would love him just the same.... even though I did. Always.

For whats its worth- cheers. To a brownie with extra chocolate sauce...

introducing the untitled(s)...

I've never found the right platform to post this piece I'd written more than a year ago..... For the usual reaon that I dont know how people take things they dont know..... a different understanding of the world.... anyway I would like honest opinions.... and forgive its length....


p.s. some poetry does cannot be explained in a title....


Untitled #1

The preacher holds on

 to tiny fingers,

 as the child walks, unsure

 alongside him.

‘Can he hop?’ he wonders

 ‘Or jump up high?’…

 he is unsure

The lights that shine

in the preachers eyes

give him confidence

he knows he has to walk, alongside.

He wonders about his new friend

 how nice he is,

the preacher lets him play

all day long

in the garden of roses.

He warns him about the thorns

but never stops him

cries when he gets hurt

but never stops him.

Eating blueberries with him

right out of the tree

when no one else does.

And slowly,

The child knows to trust him.

“Can I marry you?” he asks one day,

“I think I love you.”

The man smiles gently.

“you are a young boy,

And I have passed my prime.”

“you don’t love me?”

“I do. But differently dear.

I love you as a son.”

“Then why did u cry

when I was hurt?

And sleep near my pillow

when I was sick?

Why did you save me

from the lion’s den?”

“I love you as a brother.”

“…and kiss me

when I was scared?

Why did you shoo away the birds

when I played with them

and hold on to me tight?”

“I love you as a friend.”

“Why do you cry each night

And ask god to forgive you…?

Why did you hurt yourself

the day you slapped me?

Why?”

Anger floods the preacher’s eyes, in tears

as he looks down at the child

who stares back indignantly

“Love should learn to count years”

He sighs

And leaves forever…

Chaos demysitified...

I've loved and lived the word for too long now. Every time I stop and try to make sense of the world around me and what I am about to do- it takes me to the same concrete understanding of the word.
A part of me left the city I grew up in to be rid of the integral chaos that rests in every little polluted inch of it. Mumbai always seemed to be a complicated affair; something I'd fiercely be in love with forever, but something I had to take time away from. The million people with their immensely knotted up lives, its beauty, greed, glamour, restlessness cascaded on to me till I felt like a little chip of all of it. I know that I'll always be proud of where i come from, and yet...
College was a much systematic part of this ingrained chaos. At the end of final year somehow I knew I'd be going away soon; away from my reality, a time bubble where I would sit and randomly contemplate on all those weird things philosophers try to find answers to- what we are doing? where will we end up? blah so on and so forth....
Funny, I never realised then that it was all in my goddamn head. That I had folded it neatly and crammed it in my almost bursting-to-the-brim brain and taken it along. I can still feel that chaos every time I get up in the middle of the night to a dark and silent room. Almost like the pillow I sleep on. But frankly it was a revelation. And I've been trying to work on understanding it for a while now. Hence the blog too...
I mess my room up each morning before I set out for work and clean it up when I come back in the evening; hoping that one day I'll accidently touch a nerve that will clear my head. This is the chaos I want to share. Lets see how you make sense of it...