Hidden Lies...

Words were exchanged. Smiles all around. None reaching the eyes. How do I believe? What I see as compared to what I feel. Small unthinking guestures to great shows of affection. I am lost being a human. There seems to be constant contradictions. Each chasm left empty to be filled by meaningless words and thoughtless gestures. Where did it go? Love is still nowhere near the horizzon. Slowly need diminishes and gets lost in the anticipation of the unexpected. I love you therefore I need you. How can I bring those words to my lips? Selfless love unsurpassed by unwavering belief. When actions are supposed to be louder than words. I live in the labyrinth of sweetly hidden lies.

A love poem...

Do you know how much I love you?

Every time, each breath I take, I love you
Every where I see, what ever I see, I see my love for you
Every raindrop, every ray of sunshine, it is my love for you
Every flower, every leaf, seems to bloom with my love for you

You have no idea, not even an inkling of how much I love you

It is with your name that I begin my every prayer
It is with your name that I end my prayers
It is our face I see when I blink my eyes
It is your voice that whispers to me in the breeze

I can never feel your absence in my life, my love
You are the ever reigning pain in my heart
You are the tears my eyes weep
You are … every where…

Hope... change...

It seems as if there is not going to be any change after all. The great wait for change, dangling on a flimsy ray of hope. It is strange how even now I expect some change to happen everyday. I know there is a kind to reassuring stability in daily routine. The same motions, the same people, the same work. But still this reassurance that life is going on is not enough for me. I keep on wishing with the fervency of a little kid for some change to happen. But change seems to have decided to just let me be.
I want a change to happen in my life. To make it more worthwhile. I feel that I am cheating life. Maybe I will not be able to handle it. But a different sun to shine on my day, different rain drops falling on my face, a different kind of anticipation, something to look forward to. Someone to share the joy of that expected change with me. Now that is something else. Maybe just all this wishing and expecting makes me immature. But I want it. I want to rise everyday and and not just run my routine in my mind but to anticipate and look forward to the day. Just waiting for some kind of a miracle to happen, the turmoil that goes through my mind, is very painful. People see the smile and no one cares to look behind the closed doors. Better leave it all there, to rot in a void of emptiness.
Then I wonder sometimes, who cares? Nobody. Every time we find a reason to smile and laugh, just think how it would feel if there was no one else to see you happy. The hope of changing this life drives me on, towards another day of staid routine. The light at the end of the tunnel keeps me going. That the tunnel itself might never end, this thought gnaws continuously at my mind. But I go on...

Antics of Anticipation!

It was like reaching up towards the top most shelf, raised on my tiptoes, stretching to the limit. All the nerves taut like the tuned strings of a guitar. Each breath crept in my lungs with the tenuous labour of a crippled dog crossing a busy street. My eyelids had forgotten to blink. My hands refused to hold on to anything firmly. My throat felt as if it was rubbed by sandpaper. My brain failed to register anything apart from the dull thuds of my heart beating somewhere in my body.
And then it was over. The moment of anticipation had come and was gone.
Things seemed as dull as they were before. I had expected them to turn colourful and maybe, into some thing different. But such moments come and go. Moments, wherein we feel that our worlds might take a turn for the better.
Better, no.... but atleast it did not take a turn for the worst!

Prayers and Miracles!

Life has become so fast and hectic that many of us have forgotton to pray. Not the kind of prayer which requires elaborate rituals but the kind where we voice our soul's pleas or thanks in words. Words are magical. They are the energy of thoughts converted into energy of sound. Words are powerful. We do keep on saying that it's only words, but believe that those words too have their own power to change many things in your surrounding and lives. The words that we formulate in our prayers are magical too. The soul speaks to the higher power that manifests all things in our lives. Prayer is a medium to touch that miraculour power.

I recieved a forward mail today which was very unique in that it did not have any silly pictures or graphics or warnings or pleas. It just had a few lines of prayer. Very simple and heart felt words asking forgiveness and giving thanks. I too have forgotten about this simple fact that whether it is chanting any mantras or reciting a rosary or singing a hymn, it is a prayer. The thoughts of the soul put in words, making it powerful and magical.

So today I have decided that I shall pray out loud and hear those words through which my soul speaks to the Almighty.

Eyes of the Beholder!

Deep as oceans! Fathomless as the sea! Whirlpools of desire! There are a lot more phrases that are used to describe human yes. It is often said to be the window to one's soul. It is like the pages of the book that can be read by anyone trying to do so. The eyes say and mean much more than what words can convey. All that is needed is the eyes of the beholder. That moment when cupid shoots its arrow throught your heart, the first light is seen in the eyes. The fire of hatered to the smolders of desire, all visible in the eyes.
There have been times when I have doubted the sincere words said by the person I am talking to. And then I have just to glance at the eyes and read whatever truth is openly laid out there. I have seen people's eyes give away what their words had tried to hide. Love, hate, passion and boredom.
Making eye contact with the person you are interacting with, can help you read the situation better. It will prevent one from just reacting to the words and a lot of unwanted wastage of our own words.

Some lost poems.. revived...

Dandiya Night

The twirling skirts,
The drums beating,
The dancing lights
Feet moving in tune
Eyes full of joy
Body swaying
Smiling faces
Sorrows forgotten
Worries pushed away
Dancing away till dawn
Intoxicated by the music
A chance to be together
Forget the differences
Culture mixed with contemporary
A beautiful kaleidoscope
Of colour, music and people!




A Lonely Dandiya Night

I watched them dance
A myriad of color and face
The lilting music
The sound of tapping foot
Girls whirling
Swishing skirts
Boys lost in the throbbing beats
Gaiety and joy
Warn the night air

My feet moved
My hands swayed
My eyes searched
For those eyes, deep ocean of passion
For that smile, blinding the noon sun
Faces all around me
All known, yet unknown
A merry crowd all around
Lonely, so very lonely
Like the moon in a star filled sky….


My Dog


Three black dots on white
Two beautiful expressive eyes
A twitching nose smells expectantly
The swishing tail moves like a pendulum
My tired body refuses to move
But love tugs my heart
No words spoken
Yet I hear
Getting up at last,
For my most faithful friend…

Time....

Time…

The wrinkles tell a tale of their own
The sagging shoulders are bent
Carrying the years of responsibilities
The fingers are gnarled
The nerves showing horrifically
The lips droop
No longer willing to smile spontaneously
The eyes, glazed and myopic,
Surrounded by shadows and bags
The words are mumbled
The tongue moving in the space
Having lost all the companions
The legs can’t stand anymore
While the ears refuse to hear
The silver mane tells it all
The years gone by…
As finally age tightens its grip on life
All that remains…
Snatches of memories…

First showers... !!

So the rains are here... this unceasing downpour on this city of no sleep. I live on the outskirts of Mumbai. This is the city of Thane, city of lakes. Fortunately I live very near to nature,i.e., on forest land. The rains are amazing. The hills in view from my balcony got transformed overnite. From dusty to dark green. Okay so there are problems going to and back from work, but the rain drenched city makes up for all the traffic jams. And the variety of rain wear... from shoes to umbrellas... just great. I travel by the company bus. So travelling is not such a headache as it would have been had I travelled by the public transport. People get in the bus at many stops. And today was the same except for this amazing sight which has prompted me to put it somewhere to be remembered by.

A young girl got in. It was drizzling, not pouring. And she took the first prize for rain attire.

She wore jeans and a jogging top, which was more like a vest. over it she had a transparent raincoat. She carried an umbrella, the kind we see in black n white movies only. She had three bags. And she wore on her head, yes she did, it was a frilly shower-cap!! The sight is so precious, I can never forget it. A white shower cap with little blue flowers all over. I first thought that she might have forgotten to remove it, but it was not so. She sat on the seat beside me and neatly folded it and kept it in one of her bags. I have not suppressed my laughter since my school days. Everyone I turned too was smiling.

The best part was when while getting down she put it on again, in the office premises!!

Well, if that was not silly ... I wonder what she will put on tomorrow.

Dillemma...

I have friends of both genders, males and females. I am more closer to a few of my guy friends that females. The reason? I don't know. For years now, I was very comfortable with the guys. In fact, I was literally told a few times that I was not a girl, but a guy. I never ever felt sexually threatened among my friends. We were just that friends... I could cry like a girl and still be taken seriously. And they could always fall back to me when they did not understand what the females of their life meant when they said something or if they even wanted my opinion on what their girls would think or like. Life seemed very calm and quiet. But then there came this friend in my life, who really made me feel all womnly and attractive and stuff like that. He told me that men and women can never ever be friends. I disagreed for a long time till it turned out to be true. The years of friendship was caught between the platonic plane and the other side. It was sad. Losing a friend. But then for me friendship transcends all this. Can one be friends still after sharing a passionate interlude in bed? I still have to find people, men and women who have gone through this and are yet friends. The whole equation changes. The physical closeness that happens should actually get friends closer but it does not. Possessiveness, expectations.... and a lot more baggage get added.
So I am on the lookout, to find if friendship survives outside bedroom escapades??

Truth?

It is such a dilemma... There was no fight, no hard words.. Just a sudden silence. A silence which is deafening and blinding my soul, my senses. Having come to rely on some one's presence so heavily and perhaps taken for granted all the support and love. I guess the way to teach through pain and punishment is not working. The monster still looms large, the knight has left. The tiny sparks of joy, like the fast-drying morning dew.. vanishes in the sun. Where is the shade, to rest my scorching self, lost amidst the plightful, pitiful cries.
Prayers.... for strength.... for who likes weak friends?? No body!!

Women’s Day….

Woe – men’s Day!

The whole world full of men and women love to dedicate a full day to the woman. I feel it is very magnanimous on the part of all humanity to keep one day out of the 365 days as women’s day. WE, the women, literally strut ourselves and feel blessed on this day. All the TV channels show women oriented programs based on health, life, profession etc. We are shown, on this one day, that the woman, the progenitor, is a very important factor of the existence on this planet. A special day for the special woman of our lives!

Then I wonder what about other days?

As I have seen, the life of the average everyday woman is as goes. Every day, early in the morning, she gets up to ready her family for the day. The breakfast, the tiffins, the lunches till dinner time – she is the master chef. And then nowadays, she also has to earn for herself and the family. Now she is the co-contributor of assets for the family. So in the office, she works hard. Ok, so there are exceptions…
But then 95% of the female staff really work hard. Then comes evening, again she dons the apron and picks up the knife. And later, after all the cleaning is done, she turns into a siren of love for the man of her life. Yes, she needs only one day to be celebrated.
She is incomprehensible and in coherent and most of the time talks of irrelevant things, I have heard the intelligent men complain. Whether it is her time of the month or not, she is so full of complains and whining, not to mention her tears which are so cheap, they flow at the drop of a hat. She is impractical, of course she is. Just look at her juggling all the many lives she leads for others. Yet when she does think of herself, she becomes the selfish bitch. She is weak and needs help most of the times. Why can’t she think for herself? Women!! She is no doubt given the right title of being ‘the better half’.

And it is right that she is celebrated only once a year, other wise it would all go to her head, then who would look after the mundane day to day requirements of the family? She would develop an ego and self respect to match a man, and then the poor world be thrown out of gear. We would miss out on all the heroes. How? Well they wouldn’t have anybody to save and be the hero. The woman would be free and that would really be dangerous. She would be able to control her own future and that is unimaginable and disastrous. As we all know, in this 21st century she has already begun doing all these things and the world order has come in danger. So now to appease her we will celebrate ONE day as her day and keep the world peace out of danger.

Romeo, Romeo......Juliet too!

When Juliet fell out of Love…..

It is just fine for Juliet to fall in love, but she shouldn’t fall out of love. She did fall head over heals in love with Romeo, but then Romeo was standing beneath her balcony. They hardly had gone out for a date. The only time that they had was when they met amidst all the fighting and stuff. No real date or Juliet is sure she wouldn’t have agreed for the secret marriage and all that drama. Yes, she had fallen for the drama which had shaken her out of her mundane monotonous existence. But now it wasn’t much different yet. She had not imagined the way she would feel getting up and look at the same face every morning. And what about that irritating habit Romeo had of farting loudly every morning. Sigh! Yes, big sighs. The day to day existence was wearing her out. There was no dearth of parties and outings, but then the drama was lacking. Romeo had now a beer belly too. Where is that drama and that rush of adrenaline? Juliet sat wondering and thinking. These were not reasons enough to fall out of love, Juliet thought. But she was surely falling out of love. Many times she even wondered if all those who fell in love considered the hazards of living together. People who are in love should live apart. No need to see how the love of your life brushes his teeth or how dirty he leaves the bathroom after finishing his bath.

Did every one face this after landing from the cloud nine of love? She was contemplating Romeo’s eating habits next. How sloppy he was, she thought. And their love making had been made of fairyland stuff – in her imaginations. Now it was as exciting as peeling onions or chopping them rather. It is really bad, the falling out of love part.

When Romeo fell in love…..

Damn, she had looked beautiful and ravishing in the moonlight, on that balcony. Romeo always imagined that scene from the days past and it made him sigh. The present was not much alluring now after the marriage. He had given her all the luxuries that she might need. He was going to get that new car too that she had taken fancy to. She was the whole reason he was striving so hard. Her little thoughtful gestures were endearing to him. He remembered how he was skeptical of marrying such a lovely lady. He had wondered if she would be able to cope with the day to day requirements of a married life. He had spent a whole week wondering if she were really as fragile as she looked. But she had already stolen his heart then, and now she had his soul too. He was falling in love with her over and over again, everyday. The little things she did, even watching her brushing her dainty white teeth was mesmerizing to him.

Every time he touched her, it was like falling in love again and again. After all this risk that he had taken to make her his, was worth it. No one around him owned such a beauty. He was proud of himself.

Alone or lonely??

A chasm of difference, whether you are lonely or alone. You can be alone and happy. Or you could be with someone and lonely and sad. I enjoy walking in the crowd and yet being alone and peaceful. And there have been times when I am with the people I love and care about, yet I have been depressed. It happens so often when alone , I can get in touch with myself, talk to myself and be the listener too. I debate over topics, over what to have for dinner , what to wear... We all do. And then I don't get hurt by the comments made by myself, about me. Some call it schizophrenic, but I love being alone. It is anyday better than waiting to be heard in the crowd and hoping and praying that the loneliness passes you by. But then later on, in the grips of loneliness, longing to be alone and peaceful.

Scattered ...

It is very difficult to appear as a whole. A whole person, with rational thoughts and sane words. I find bits of me scattered throughout the timeline that I have lived so far. Some bits of me left out there, attached to different memories. The first time I got to go out alone with my friends, that sense of ultimate independence attached with that moment! I still cannot get that bit of me out of that space and time. Then that bit of me that was left when my heart first broke... I still cannot find that piece to fit in to the void that still remains. And then those parts of me that are floating in the memories of those friends and pals. So many bits and pieces! How to be present in this moment and to live this moment to the fullest? As I still wonder and ponder about this problem, yet another bit of me gets embedded in this blog, hoping to be read and understood. People come and go, some take a part of me willingly and with fondness. Yet there are those who have torn away at my wholeness, perhaps unwittingly or may be deliberately, I cannot say. Sometimes the sheet of my conciousness gets riddled by holes, different parts and diffeent memories drift in and out of those holes. The pain of hurting a loved one, the joy of beholding a new life in myself, the anger of losing out on life, the guilt og letting down, and the sorrow of a lost love. All these things and more I attempt to hold together, in the futile attempt of resembling a whole...

Unbiased judgement...

The past colours flow into the present to tint the vision of the viewer. How can anyone be perfectly unbiased or non-judgemental? No one can, only saints maybe. Whenever we meet someone, the first impression formed itself is biased. Look at the person's shoes... and the clothes! What about friends and friendship? Is this seemingly 'above all' relationship suffer from the pain of judgement? We confide in our friends, the black, white and the grays of our lives are often laid bare in front of out friends. We lay bare our skeletons and our closets. At night, we sleep peacefully, covered with the quilt of trust. Sometimes this trust scares me. Of being so naked and vulnerable and to trust so much. But then that is what God made friends for. To place out implicit trust in them. Just as a toddler trusts its mother... this is the kind of trust that is there. But then no one has seen the screenplay of God.
But till then, I for sure, hope and pray every night that I may never judge so much as to be judged... that my vision of my loved ones be free of the stains of their past... May the Almighty give all my friends the same vision.. Amen!

SAD!,,,but what are friends for then?!

It is really sad to see a life struggle in the unending quest for peace or joy, whatever. In this maze, everyone going around endlessly, searching for the exit. And in the quest for the ultimate exit, we come across fellow-beings. These help us move along more 'smoothly'. These beings are friends! They help u see the old, drab and dusty daily living in a a new light! They help u notice and take care of yourself. They are like beacons of lights, in a stormy sea. God promised to save mankind and then He sent his son to save us. And when we killed His Son, He fragmented Himself and gave us friends. But even there He put a catch - deserve a friend! Learn to keep them like pearls in the oyster. Or they will be lost in this sea of life. So treasure your friends, who knows the Almighty might be watching you through them...

Lost...

I wanted my blog to be a place where I posted good positive posts about day to day living. But it is turning out to be a place where my emotions spill out in form of words. As I travelled home today, with the sun setting over another cold day. The passing scenery if it can be called a scenery, looked the same as yesterday or the day before. The same highway, the same travellers, the same earth. As yesterday, this day too has passed. The timelessness of time! I wonder over this phrase. Each moment is supposed to be different, yet each is same in the sense that each passes away , never to come back. Each moment lost! All this life around me, passing in the same way, lost in the pursuit of living! Does that make sense? I look around me for something to hold on, something to anchor on. But all around I see flailing arms, each trying to hold on, hold on to something that was never there.But in this world of nothingness, where each and everyone is silently pleading for help, is this for real? Selflessness-the word itself is self-ish! So my dearest loved ones, whenever we are each alone in our loneliness, let us reach out to each other. Maybe that is the whole point of not feeling lost!

To Kartik

A mind as sharp as a sword
Words cutting edge
Heart, a melting pot of emotions
Understanding yet cruel
Care sheathed knife
Cutting off fear, procrastination
Unknown but all knowing
Stranger yet a friend!

Hurt in the time of Love!!

No matter how hard I try to be a neutral person, the one who is affected by nothing, I end up being hurt. I have tried and failed miserably not to be hurt by friend and foe alike. The ppain which begins with a few words and ends up in a torrent of tears. Whether the words were meant to be arrows or not, they pierce the senses nevertheless. I make my self understand, and hope that the tears will lessen the hurt, but it still does.

Khalil Gibran, the great Lebanese poet, has said that hurt and sorrow creates an emptiness. But we can fill ourselves with joy only if we are empty. So I let myself be vulnerable to hurt, to love, to life. I want to experience everything. The pain of harsh words, the crushing feeling of betrayal, the softness of a childs kisses, the sensuality of a lover's carress, the anger of helplessness... Everything... Cause I know only when I am empty, will I be filled and overflow. What we choose to fill ourselves with defines a successful life. So I embrace the tears, for the Sun of love and joy awaits me on the otherside of this night.

deja vu?

The road seems familiar. There are the same turns and cul se sacs. The steps that I am taking are not steady. The same questions pop up at different intervals. A whole chapter seems to be ending, but without any 'The End'. Everytime I pull my defences and shields all around me, to be secure and fell protected. But there always remains that crack, a tiny leak, which allows the monster of insecurity to seep in undetected. I become aware of that horror and helpless too. There are words and assurances all around. But they seem hollow. They echo around the empty shell-like structure that has been erected within my heart. Be brave and face it. Face what? A shattered mirror. Every piece reflects the broken image which I am so desperately trying to project. Its the same story. I will have to pick up the pieces and try and stick them together, only to have another come and shatter it again...

Death and the Living!!

It has to be all wailing and sobbing when anyone passes away. My neighbour, a 50 year old man, passed away due to liver failure last week. It was not that shocking as he was very ill. Since early morning, my neighbour's house was crowded with relatives and friends as he had passed in the night. I was expecting the wailing and loud cries to start any moment. But they never came. The level of reactions was different amongst the different age groups. The elderly were very quiet and by elderly, I mean the ones above 75 years of age. The middle aged and the 'less' elderly were disscussing topics from business to the prices of vegetables to the traffic jams. The younger groups were busy on their mobliles, chatting away to glory with their regular friends.
I avoided going to pay my condolences that day. The family was busy serving refreshments. To an observer who had no idea about the happening it would seem as just another celebration.
For two days, it was the same scene. Uncles, aunts, Grannies...
Just I was about to feel guilty about not having visited my neighbour, I met her. I immediately said how sorry I was not to have talked to her earlier. I was feeling awkward and totally at a loss for topics. But it seemed that she had chosen the topic herself. She began with the details of the evening of the D-Day till he was cremated. There was this faithful side-kick with her ( I call her that as she was filling in with the appropriate sighs and words, at the appropriate time). Luckily, my tot, who was annoyed at being kept from her cartoons for so long, began pulling me inside our flat. I left my neighbour, with the look in her eyes which said ' wait, I have to yet tell you the other minute details'.
Later, as I sat pondering over the chat, I realised how she had put herself into the automated gear, ready to explain to everyone who came to her, in detail about the most common question 'How did this happen?'
Has death become such a light-hearted topic for us? Being a bit on the spiritual-side, I know that the soul is immortal and all that stuff... so will the poor fellow's soul be tormented when It sees the indifference of the Living!!