Confluence.

The rippling of the river sent a thrill across her spine. Wasn't it the river that had so many memories about her childhood? Wasn't she a child anymore, considering that the memories don't trace back to more than three years ago? Or has she grown up much more than her body suggests? Whatever the case may be, she no longer is the same little village girl who used to carry a bag of roasted peanuts to the banks of river Ganga and sit on a log, throwing pebbles in it. It was her favourite time of the day. Away from home, the swampy slum that she always pictured in her mind when someone mentioned the word "home", where the running water with its gushing sound engulfed her soul and all she could think at that moment was how it felt to be swimming upstream.

She is scared of water. That is the reason why she finds peace when she is near it. Isn't it always this way that the thing that causes anxiety and fear in you also attracts you towards itself more strongly than something that you are usually more inclined to? Well, the phrase 'more inclined to' can be subjective though! Fear has this ability in it. It creates an aura of its own from which you cannot remain untouched, unaware and unplugged. Fear to cause change, fear to become the reason behind that change, fear to face something which may not be as fearful to anybody else as it is to you but to you it can mean the end of the world, fear to actually realize that it is significantly the most expected and unattainable thing to happen at that moment and still you cannot stop it and the fear to know that you're not afraid, you are just devoid of faith.

The ripples of the river water send a thrill across her spine......
There is no bag of peanuts in her hands. Neither is she searching and collecting smooth and round pebbles to toss in the water and nor is she sitting on her favourite spot in the bank with the pebbles wrapped in her dupatta. She is naked today, her clothes hanging from a nearby branch of a tree. The nakedness does not intimidate her shame anymore. Hasn't she been naked on many occasions, being scrutinized by the vulture-gaze of the Zamindars, to satisfy their lust in the name of service to the Gods? Yes, 'Gods' and not 'The God'. There are 36 crore Gods and Goddesses in this land. No wonder why a prayer of a Devdasi takes so long to reach any one of them in particular!!!

The nakedness is blurred. It may be because of the fact that the focus is not on her bare skin but on her soul. Her soul is naked, precisely. Misused, sold, exploited and yet sacred. She is a Devdasi. A maiden who had been married off to a deity in a ceremony which signified the beginning of a life where she can be a servant to the temple Gods, a courtesan, a dancer, a singer and also an artifice for sexual pleasures to the rich men in the village, role-playing differently at the same time. Where has the daughter, the sister and most importantly, the lady disappeared? Isn't it included in the role-playing? No. That will be preposterous and ludicrous! People would laugh if they hear that a Devdasi can also play other characters in real life! She has always been there for the benefit of the public. Good in an ironical manner.

It has been long since she left "home". It doesn't mean that the swampy slum does not come in the back of her head when she talks about it. It has always been there. It is a part of her. The place where she grew up for the first fifteen years of her life. The clay pots, the kerosene stove in the corner of the single-roomed hut, the dilapidated cot at the rear end and the small money plant in a plastic water bottle hanging from a wall supported by a couple of rusty nails. She was ten when she brought it from Kanai Mashi's place. She thought  money grew on it and one day they would be rich and Mother would not have to go to different homes at the darkest hour of the night. What chores are supposed to be done away with at that time, she never understood. The vessels, the stove, the cot, the money plant and Mother. That comprised of "home". Now, she lives in the temple grounds at the outskirts of the village, near the river bank. She no more has a home. Home is gone. Burnt down to ashes.

Today she is thinking of her husband. The one she was married to? Yes, that one! He had always been with her. Why didn't he come for her rescue when he was within her reach, she doesn't know. Was he even reachable? Or is it the orthodox doctrine which instilled in her the thought that he is divine and resides in her and not outside? "Embrace yourself and you will attain peace". Didn't they say embrace yourself and not all the other men? Invigorating indeed!

"Will I see him, meet him, embrace him, today?", thought she.

One step in the water and she knew she will find peace today. Peace, that will surround her with an aplomb light and lead her to her beloved. The rise in the rate of her heartbeat suggests fear but she is not afraid today. Nor is she devoid of faith. In fact faith is the most prominent emotion roving inside her guts. When the water reaches her lungs, she sees it. The most magnificent vision of all. A chiaroscuro! It is the manner in which the light strikes upon a picture, only highlighting the objects upon which the light is supposed to fall, illuminating the outlines of his divine body. For that instance, it looked like a painting in the shades of grey imitating the effect of relief. A relief that today she has not been disappointed by him, in him. The only colorful hues that are reflected are from the peacock feather on his crown. She hears a faint tune leading her to a tunnel of light. Is that a Baansuri? It is enchanting! She is truly a Devdasi now, in form and in being. She is in peace.

The Fellow Dark Passenger!

You can sense a fellow dark passenger, walking beside me.

The image of my own self crawling, wanting to run free.

Darker than the darkness known, he is like a shadow to me;

You can sense a fellow dark passenger, walking beside me.

The evil smile on his innocent face, is all I can see.

That laughter still rings in my ears, shaking inside me.

Identical he is in all features, except the inner soul,

For there is no escaping to the tumult carnalizing foul.

That was an evening I sure do remember,

Full of laughter in the solemn air.

The wind when blew on my face,

Resembled the caress of the wild sea.

It  wasn’t very distant a fact,

That the dress she wore was for me.

The sky that held the vast surrender,

When she looked into my eyes with glee.

Moonlit, starbright…she used to wish,

Would be the awaited night..

For there must be a billion twinkles in the sky,

To witness the beautiful sight.

She knew it was the beginning,

Because she was to die in my arms tonight..

And not the ending of a wonderful dream..

Moonlit, starbright would be this night.

You can sense a fellow dark passenger, walking beside me.

He has a hand wrapped in my arms, with the warmth of brie.

And when I look into the mirror at times, I know who is he,

He is the fellow dark passenger,

who at moonlit, starbright night…let her free.

“That Smile”

Diary entry- 23-01-12

“That Smile”

I had a bad night and I was facing a bad day too. But I never hoped that I would see someone today who would make me happy and sad simultaneously. Before I realized, I had a smile on my face as soon as I saw her coming from the front in a hoppity-hop pace. And I was more surprised when she returned it with ten times more warmth than mine. It made my smile broader and grateful. I was grateful that I saw her.

That smile! It was captivating. She was beautiful and happy. I knew she was. It’s said that when your feelings reach your eyes, they are genuine. But in her case, they were pure. They were purer that a dew drop on a lotus leaf in a foggy morning. I wish I had stopped her and asked her name! I badly wish I had! It is very rare that I remember a face for a long time which I hardly saw for 10 seconds. I am going to remember her face forever. More than anything else, it was her smile. It was the bright and warm smile that makes your day. She was hopping in the galleries, carefree and cheerful, humming a song maybe, with a crushed mineral water bottle in her left hand, and throwing her right arm in a merry-go round motion. At first sight she was that ordinary village girl one can see anywhere near the streets or rural areas. But I recognized she was special, special in her own way. She had that aura which attracts onlookers who are observant. I was one of them. Not everybody seemed to notice, but I saw her every detail.

A five or six year old girl or maybe a couple of years older but the malnourished physique explained otherwise. She was wearing a sea green salwar suit, with a floral print on it. Though she was shabbily dressed and had dirt all over her, she looked beautiful. The kind of beauty that emanates from innocence. I wonder, did she knew she was poorer than most of the people around her? I guess that was the secret after all!! She had two small ponies on top of her head, the kind that looked like two fountains arising from the scalp or more like the two fluffy and round rabbit tails above each ear. Well, that’s how they looked like, to me. Her complexion was almond colored, n her hair were brown;  just like when you don’t shampoo them for ages and they become all hard and fuzzy due to deprivation of oil from them. I did not notice her feet as I was too captivated by her countenance, which had a glow that I never had. That was her. She was a “SMILE”. It defined her.

I wonder did she ever crave for a doll instead of a crushed bottle in her hand. Did she ever wish she had a bright red and white frilled frock instead of that dirty dress she was wearing? Did she know that maybe she was the kid of one of those unfortunate people who come to the court when they have been exploited due to their underprivileged status or the daughter of a criminal, forced to commit a crime or a daughter of a habitual wrong doer? I hope when she grows up, she does not remember that she ever visited this vicious place called “court” where nobody abides by the maxim, “Justice delayed is justice denied and justice hurried is justice buried”. I hope that smile never changes and always reaches others’ hearts. I hope! J

Desperation in the purest sense.

When in a lonely room, late at night;
You think of the things that you had done
                 and the things that weren't right,
You focus on a subject but all you can do
                 is detach yourself from the desperation.
The desperation to woo life.

To sing, to laugh, to mesmerize a soul,
To dance, to rejoice, to reach a goal.
Everything becomes meaningless, when you can't decide,
Whether you want to withdraw or ride the tide!

When again in a lonely room, late at night;
The calmness inside you is all you miss
                 and the chaos is overtaking the best part of you.
You seem to dig in nothing but your life,
                 every sound of a heartbeat and the desperation to live.
Is the desperation in the purest sense......and you dive in it!

The Felicitation of a Human.....

The Crown of thorns was put on his head....
            with nails all around his palms....
This picture made hundreds of people....
            to sing the sacred psalms.....

He was the one who made people believe....
            that we are not mere social animals...
For the existence solely does not mean....
            it is the felicitation of humans.....

The purpose of it is not to gloat....
           over the fact that you are alive....
It is to make you realize......
           that there is more to life.....

The determination to pull yourself up...
           and fight the inevitable thing.....
That's what calls for the cheer....
           of felicitation of a human being.....

The day you look at yourself in the mirror....
           without an ounce of guilt.....
Is the day when you actually know.....
           that you don't need to quit.........!

And there was a poppy...........

And there was a poppy that wanted to blossom,

In the midst of dust and hue,

As it surpassed the glory of the winds,

It gazed upon the mirror of dew.

It saw thousand birds migrating from the land,

In search of a place to survive,

It waited and waited for the time to come,

When it would get a chance to thrive.

The mire of ignorance did not bother the bud,

That there may be a time when it would die,

Cold and choked, it fought through the storm,

To dry up in the bright sunshine that had befallen by.

And there was a poppy that wanted to blossom,

In the midst of dust and hue…………………………!!!!

I am waiting.....

I am waiting for the  blue to turn into green and red and yellow...
I am waiting for the sky to turn into a bright sunshine mellow..

I am waiting for my turn to visit the arch, where the good mother would shower me with gold and silver..
I am waiting for my turn to change into a dame, calm and beautiful but with not just a frozen heart..

I am waiting for the dew drops to form on the lotuses, in the awaited spring morning..
I am waiting for the little buds to blossom into flowers, as a bride of eighteen charming..

I am waiting for the seas to change their color from grey to green...
I am waiting for the tides to reach the horizon with a golden sheen...

I am waiting for my loved ones to know that I live for them..
I am waiting for my dreams to take a flight and go beyond the realm...

I am waiting for the gloom to fade away from the picture hanging in mid air..
I am waiting for the colors to spread the walls with happiness we share..

I am just waiting and waiting and waiting.....!!

Pinky swear!! :)

Pinky swear,

I’ll be there…

In hard times and good ones too.

When everything seems picture perfect,

And from nowhere comes a storm..

Hold my hand n I’ll lead you…

Towards the rainbow, serene and warm..

Pinki swear,

I’ll be there..

When the world despises you,

When you need a friend..

Close your eyes and you’ll see me..

Holding a sign at every odd bend…

Pinki swear,

I’ll be there..

To tell you that you look beautiful,

Even with tears in your eyes…

To tell you that you deserve better than this..

Better than the showered lies.

Pinki swear,

I’ll be there..

Forgiving every wrong step..

Leading to the mortal deal..

Forgetting that things went wrong..

When you fall I’ll catch u in real.

A tribute!! 23rd March.

He toiled and caused considerable mirth,
All at the same time..
He faced the criticism and the glory,
All at the same time..

He  played with his sister and cried with his mom, before leaving his place. He knew it might turn into his last visit, a visit to his home. A place where he learnt to walk holding his dad's finger. A place where he played hide and seek. A place where he could act as the king, however feeble and meek. But now he no longer is the bullied kid at school. He is a young and able soldier fighting for his motherland. He has a mother who waits for him, to return home and hug her tightly. He has a father who is proud to tell his friends that his son fights for his country bravely. He has a younger brother for whom he is an ideal man. He also has a little sister who sends him rakhi in an envelope every year. He is an ordinary man with an extraordinary might....to face the arms and the enemies with no regret or plight. He wants to celebrate all the festivals with his family. He also wants to eat the mom-made food from her hands. He craves his mom's lap for a peaceful sleep...which he hasn't got for a long long time. He wants to enjoy a game of chess with his dad and a cup of tea made by his sister. However disciplined he might be for his brother, in the inside he is his big brother, fighting over the issue that his mother loves him more than the kid...the kid whom they found in a heap of crap in the roadside. He loves to tease his brother for his dependence on his mother....but deep down in his heart he knows, if only he could be 'the one'. He brings a pack of bindis and bangles for his little sister, while returning from a war, even though he is well aware that he snatched that right from the widows as he killed a many more. For not his mother who gave him birth and made him all that worthy...but for the mother who gave him shelter, earth and identity.
And today when his pyre is about to go in flame...he wishes for just a chance....a chance to re-live his life with his family who waited for him to return. But more than anything else in this world, what he wishes for is a life, not just a mere life of a man but a "soldier" who can sacrifice himself for his motherland....a many more thousand times.

Will you be there???

 This one is for all the wonderfull people in my life....Muaahhhh :)

Will you be there?
 To hold me when I fall..?
 To ask if evrythng's alrite..?
 To say 'I am thr 4 u'..?
 To make me realize you really do..?
 To let me say 'I love u'..?

 Will you be there?
 To support me through the odds..?
 To spend tym with me when I need you..?
 To handle me with all my rage..?
 To sit back n listen when I am blue..?
 To smile at me when I look at you..?

 Will you be there?
 To tease me n then hug me when I am cross..?
 To hold my hands when I feel lonely..?
 To love me the way I am..?
 To fight with me when I am frustrated..?
 To seek my presence when I am not there..?

 Will you be there?
 To share our jokes..?
 To walk in tandem with all my tears..?
 To keep your head on my shoulder..?
 To sing for me when i forget the lines..?
 To dance with me in d rains..?

 Will you be there?
To stop and watch the sun go down..?
To wake me up in the mornings..?
To help me deal with my weaknesses..?
To cheer me up when I am disheartened..?
To snap at me when I speak rubbish..?

Will you be there??
Just for a lifetime or forvever...whichever is longer???
I wish....:)

The story of a girl

The maiden who lived in a crowded world,
Not just an account, its the story of a girl..
Story of a girl, her life in a rut,
Thinking of a change, afraid to speak up..

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her.

She hides from the mass, sticks to her whims,
Unaware of the tricks that the clock plays..
Ways monotonous, she dreams in this place,
Where people will not ever listen to her..

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her.

Hides her sorrows with her laughter...careless and carefree,
Lets the world think, she is happy as she oughts to be..
Waters the old tree and makes the small dame smile,
Surrendering to the fate of others all this while..

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her.

This is the story of a girl, simple n ordinary,
Is her existence for the folks so vile??
She searches and searches but couldn't find...
The reason to live across the miles..

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her...

And then comes an angel, who shows her the daylight,
Not just the doomsday but also the srtrife..
Figuring the mistakes she moves ahead,
Never to commit the wrongs again..

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her..

He teaches her to smile, to laugh and cry,
Smile that reaches her beautiful eyes..
She is happy and she falls in love with the angel..
The angel who is divine...there for her..for the time.

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Care for her, do look for her.

A sign to show her that she can stay happy..
To prove that she deserves to play the games..
She is here to live and not to slave,
To sing songs in the fields and play a little naive.

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Searching for her but couldn't recount.

And when she realizes it all over again..
The angel knows that his visit didn't go in vain..
A smile, the will, the courage to move on..
Always remember what he taught, is all he wants.

The ghost of times is wandering around..
Engulfing the maiden in an enlightening cloud.

Now she looks far into the horizon,
With new hopes and joys to come..
He has released her of the despair..
And now she breathes with an open mind.

The ghost is not troubling the girl again..
It has tried hard and went insane.
And it disappeared exhausted n defeated..
Because the angel took him away.

Goodbye says the angel, as he proceeds to heaven..
"You will always be cheerful if u forget the pain,
Forget the past, cherish the present..
Sure you will have better things in your way."

Ambiguity sometimes...

This one is for a sweet friend...:)

Sometimes our words are ironical, we say something but mean something else.
Do something but want to do something else..
And sometimes we are wrong...dunno..but at times..we are.
Things get ambiguous..sometimes.
There are two kinds of situations..good and bad..nothing intermediate.
Then what creates ambiguity??
No one knows..
 But things still get ambiguous..sometimes.
Forget the bad times and cherish the good ones..
What's the point in being sad about things that we don't have control over??
Because we do need to accept..
Things get ambiguous..sometimes. :)

IGNORANCE...

I want to see through the ideas, of others as well as mine..
To go beyond perceptions, known and unknown..apprehensive as well as unanticipated.
But...the difficulty to reason is the very fact..that people are ignorant of ignorance..
And I am ignorant...
Suffice it to say that things don't always go the way you want them to..
But there is always a choice, to smile and not be blue.
Someone somewhere is there..present.. for you, in the mist to support through.
Ignorance is not always useless...
And thus i am ignorant...

Dreams...!!

Harbouring few dreams, I entered this world of competition, of high hopes and great expectations..


Surviving an emanating gush of emotions,there was no way to run away..

Hovering through my mind, enough of the strife, tried to erase the bitter experiences in life..

Then after a second's thought, it occured to me, arent these chance events lessons for free??

Dreams of the past and dreams of the present, suddenly seems to be two different sides of the coin..

Weighing these terms, i realise the importance of both,

one that nurtured the hope and the other that encouraged to cope..

Memories drift across.......when i saw my old pic..

This is the only thing that, to me, till the end will stick..

Flickering through the old album, i wonder why we grew up???

As small kids we played around, boundaries never drew up..

Unaware of the word called 'stress', leading life of carefree days..

Somewhere down the glorious roads, I never imbibed that we would ever change ways..

Now, we are two worlds apart, but the beautiful memories are unforgettable..

Landed on a place completely new, hanging around are my dreams incredible..

Aspiration wid innocent cravings, thinking beyond the limitations..

Nobody knows where our fate shall take us, now its time to break old myths and notions..

When i opened my eyes, it dawned to me...dreams are not the angels that come when we sleep..

But they are the devils disguised as angels, that creep in our minds, and snatch our peace..

Not that they're evil in any respect, but are the arrows that sting our conscience..

They make us wander the unexplored territories, crossing the divisions, breaking the fence..

Dream is not a part of us, we are the ones who append from it..

We are the dreams and dreams are 'we', making our lives brightly lit..

Then after a second's thought, it occured to me, arent these chance events lessons for free???

Dreams!!!

Politics In Love ??!!

The things that I never knew, went past by my eyes..
The things I always adhered to, turned out to be lies..
The fairy tail endings which I loved believing in, time made me realise it was just a rusted bead in the sequin..
What is in front of us, need not be the reality..
Times have changed and so has the morality..
You can never know, even the sweetest smile can lie..
So give a turn around, before the feelings die..
An honest heart that cries seeing your priceless tears, in this fake world can banish your fears..
The only problem is, that such a heart is rare, ready to make you happy, ready to love and care..
But thats the craziest thing called LIFE, there's no winning without a reasonable strife..
Today's big rule is that if you want to succeed, the only way is, to trample and proceed..
But what about the teachings? The virtues and the ethics?
The only ace that works in this era...is nothing but politics...!!!