Crush!

Silence

Sitting for hours, on the wet grass,

I was looking at the yellow butterfly -

Flying from flower to flower,

Amused by the droplets, glistening on the tip of the grass.

It was a Friday afternoon!

I was waiting for you.

I mean, your touch.

The way you entangle your fingers between mine.

The way you tap my lips and look at my eyes.

I knew you would come soon!

I was staring at the stone,

With your name engraved.

Hoping... it brings our love to life.

Hoping... it heals our wounds.

I admit I live in a cocoon!

I looked up to the dark, nimbus cloud,

I was anticipating your arrival.

You came as a tempest with a lash of rain.

You kissed my lips and we were drenched.

I know, this silence is a boon!

Numbed!

I am often numbed by nature.

So many sounds, so many visions, so many colours indeed!

Oh, wait! These are not the terms of nature.

These weren’t given.

But, we created it…

Like we created the barriers, the boundaries, the fences, the lines.

Like we created the war-zones, the weapons, the woes, the wounds.

I am often humbled by the depth of the oceans.

The uncanny gaze of the blue sky

Often renders me speechless.

Oh, wait! Are they meant to be what we call them?

Are they the ocean, the sea or the sky?

Yeah, we named them…

Like we named our beliefs, our bodies, our religions, our sexes.

I am often numbed at the thought of uttering a word

When I realize that it will make no sense to the butterfly sitting on my finger.

I am often numbed by my ignorance

When I realize my intellect fails

To comprehend the philosophy behind the barks of my dog.

Nature, and of course life, is supposed to be a flow, I guess.

But, we are caught in the loops of the words

That we invented...

Like we invented the ideas of power, possession, and property.

Like we invented the ideas of mine, ours and theirs.

The Woman… I am

I am the body,

That’s been constructed and deconstructed

Hundreds and thousands of time.

The curve on my chest

Is an awe-striking creation,

Often provoking artists

To appropriate me as an art.

The dip in my waist

Is a matter of examination,

Often providing litterateurs

With premises to debate.

The movement of my arse

When I walk,

Ignites imagination.

The flow of my hair

When it flies,

Fuels desires.

I am often a lump of flesh

Without life.

Invoking curiosity to be touched.

The screams of my pain

When violated,

Validate my presence.

The scars on my skin

When burnt,

Prove my existence.

Through fire and the rain,

Through violence and the pain,

I harness my prowess.

I rise with a soul

That’s untouched.

I rise with a mind

That thrives.

The homogenous time awaits my ingenuity.

And I rise

As I was, I am and I will be.

Jasmine

                                                            Dressed in white
                                                                             with a beauty so calm...
                                                            Makes the mind embrace peace.

                                                            Fragrance so rich
                                                                              with a touch of love...
                                                            Seems the garden of Eden has come on earth.

                                                            Dancing with the wind
                                                                                in the rhythm of mirth;
                                                            And eternity reaches its ultimate height.

                                                            Below the shawl of
                                                                               the star studded sky,
                                                            The serene beauty wonders something...
                                                                               and the dew becomes her tears.

                                                            Woe touches her mind
                                                                               ecstasy surrounds her heart.
                                                            Fragrance rules the senses...
                                                                               and she shines in her glory.

Then... I Met Love

I was a kite,
With my strings tied
To the railings of the window,
That opened to the sky.
I struggled through the wind;
My skin wounded -
I shut my eyes in fear!

I was a kite,
Flying in the gray fair of clouds,
Then I saw a rainbow...
I did not know,
When my strings were torn!

Chiseling drizzles, frightening thunders
Unruliness ruled over.
My wings were spread,
My eyes wide open;
The ether throbbed my heart!

I was a free bird,
Steering my flight in the blue sky.
Then I met love...
Now. . .
I live in a golden cage.

A Sweet Dream

I had a dream
           in the dark of night,
Where I saw
           a faint ray of light.
I reached a garden
            with the carpet of green,
The kindly light led me.

The spirit of mirth
             touched my heart,
                          the flowers were glittering.
I heard the rhythm of peace.
My feet tapped on!
Beauty of fantasy
            reached its height,
                          the sky could not stop it.

My heart did speak a thousand words;
                           my lips uttered none.
I stood, bound with spell,
            innocence embraced me.
Fragrance of love, was in the air.
           I could breath in.

Garden of Eden,
The twilight sky,
All stared at me.
                  A dew drop fell,
                  My eyes opened,
                  But my mind remained astonished.

Where The Mind is Without Fear

The poem written by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), originally published in Bengali in 1910 and translated by him in 1912 comprise a part of the collection Gitanjali. This poem is one of my favorite poems that stands relevant even after a century since it was written. This poem illustrates a state that Tagore dreamed of India to be but our country still kept this dream intact without realization.


Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

When an Angel Manifests the Beast

It was not just another day. Yes, I say this because it does not happen daily when you witness the beast in an angel. The cosmic powers align to create a pseudo-black hole, to which the angel loses her aura. 

Her divinity is sucked. The fateful day reveals her basic instincts when her mind becomes the body. With the broken shell of aura, she touches the ground. The coarse soil hurts her. The angel, who was stubborn yet subtle; who saw things as they were yet who was dreamy, suddenly realizes her humane self. 

She discovers the traits she believed she did not possess. She fumbles at the sight of her bestial self. Her weak body acquires the prowess. At a moment her aggression takes over and she becomes all powerful; at the next instance, her prowess becomes her weakness and she breaks down. 

Yes, it is not easy for an angel to manifest the beast. It takes all, the body, the mind, and the soul. Thus the vicious circle encompasses life. Angel tastes the demonic divinity of a beast driven by instincts and she evolves being more divine!

The Nonsense of the Self

It's been long that I have updated my blog, so I decide to update it today. But what should I write? Something interesting!!! Oh no!! It is a loaded term...how do I define what 'interesting' is? What interests me might not interest you and what interests you might not interest me and this phenomenon can be applied to anyone and everyone and then nothing might not be interesting for anyone or the vice versa.

I give up!

I cannot write anything interesting. I am better with nonsensical things so I will dwell in that domain only. I will write nonsense.

When I read above, I realize, I am actually doing that. Nothing I have written so far make any sense; that indicates, I have acquired the skill of being nonsense even in my senses. My subconscious and the conscious minds must be acting in full coordination. Even I am unaware of the knowledge I have about myself, rather I have no idea about how much I know myself!!! But, who cares...the self will keep changing and so the limit of my knowledge will be extending...studying the self is such an eternal process. It's a laborious process too...it would need me to leave everything else and just be engaged with the self, with an urge to discover endlessly and head towards an ambiguous destination. But, this would become too selfish for the world I live in, as self is something that occupies the least important space in it. There are pecuniary matters and the materials manufactured by the selves, which become more important to ponder upon. Thus, one has to be selfless yet adept in materials to be good and suitable to live a prosperous life.

I wonder, what selflessness is! If there is no self, how does one exist? And when we are born we bear ourselves, that suggests we are born to be selfish!!!

Uff!! My nonsense is going on and it can go on endlessly...let me think of some sense now, if I can actually!

Mainstreaming the Alternative

The whole process of mainstreaming the alternative has a political as well as economic current running underneath it, but I wonder about the aura that the alternatives lose when they become the mainstream.

In my university there are many alternative paths through the bushes that cut the ways towards various places shorter. There used to be many more a couple of years ago. Yesterday, while taking a walk through a road, which used to be an alternative once and has now been concreted to provide "better" convenience, I realized that it does not retain its romantic yet scary essence anymore. I started lingering upon the thought that how the alternative loses its purpose when it is mainstreamed. It begins as a revolution to destabilize the establishment or just as an option to diversify the usual and then it gets stabilized itself, it becomes the usual, the establishment.

Beyond Reality

Oh it’s a line…no, no…it’s jumbled…there’s a hand popping out of it. Than, than. Dhishum, dhishum…the scrambled, twisted line is fighting with the air…

Sigh! My eyes are wide open now, but where’s the fighter, where’s the jungle? I can only see a ray of light from the night lamp. Hmm, it was my dream. Let me sleep again…it’s just 10 past 2 in the night.

Wow! What’s that? Perfume?? No, some fragrance from flowers…but I never smelled such a scent before. It is casting a spell on me. This land is so beautiful! Trees with orange and purple leaves, the foot tapping music, and the rainbow fountain; am I dreaming again? “No”, a faint voice whispered. “It’s real. The world beyond the world you see. It’s your vision. What you experience in your rat-race like life is not the only reality. There is much more to life.” I got up from my bed. Started walking through a road surrounded by orange and red Maple trees. In between, there was peeping out some purple Jacaranda trees. A perfect autumn landscape, just I have always imagined. But the road ends near water fountain. The music is coming out of it. “A musical fountain” I uttered, what else can be in store!” “Walk through”, a whisper again. Walk through the fountain! How am I going to do that? A deep breath, I entered inside the fountain. A cave appeared. Okay, I have to walk inside. I can see the light on the other side of the cave. A green meadow, encircled by flowers and tall trees. I can see blue mountains a little farther. Something is happening to me…I’m suddenly feeling so happy. Everything is seeming like magic. Two white unicorns playing in the forest behind, fairies dancing around me. Angels playing harps. It seems like I am living in a fairytale. I have never been so happy. The landscape is changing it colour, as if it is reaching twilight. Yes, it is. The semi circular Sun is peeping through the blue mountains which appear violet now. I remember this place. I have been here before. This is the place I have created. It’s mine. The painting I used to draw in my school. But, I lost it long time ago. I searched, but failed to trace it. It got lost somewhere in the pile of things. Wait, wait! Everything is disappearing. “No, please. I want to stay here. This gave me the mirth I have ever experienced”.

Sound of horns, uff! The walls of the same old room appeared in front of me. What a night! I smiled. Was it a dream? Or something beyond reality? It was just like a fairytale. “Life is a fairytale. It depends on how you perceive it”. It’s the same whisper. Who? Who’s that? “Just believe. Life is all about how you create it and how you believe in your own creation to make it real. It is magic, you just have to spell it properly”.