Woman

Self

Not that I don't feel grateful for what you have been to me throughout the ages. Yet at times, my friend, I need to tell you that you have learnt to read between the lines in a superficial way, proving your brains faster than ever making an attempt to reach out and understand the meaning behind the words.

Sometimes, you need a lifetime to know histories, the wings that were broken so early by bearing so much that too so early in life. The indifference of loved ones, lacks that are spelt so clearly and in bold letters that you never had to undergo  shape the ones that you judge so harshly with your superficial understandings; but I can say for sure that you will never be able to do anything worth that is worth of criticism from others if you spend your time like this.

You know that I have been treading through these stations wearily as am a poor soul who lives with the little happiness that is tossed my way. Let me hold my treasures safe as you hold yours; for these are a refuge against a cold and broken reality. Together, we can create a new story, if only you are open for living in the present.

Love: Meera and Akash stories

“Where were you all this time? These months?” asked Meera. Akash said with a smile, “I was travelling in many lands, through deserts, over seas and oceans and learning more of life. “Did you ever think of me?” Meera persisted.

“All the time. You were with me every moment with every beat of this heart. When I crossed the rivers I took you in my arms so as not to wet you. When I traveled through deserts I kept you hidden in my heart away from the scorching heat. When I slept I dreamt of your soft hands caressing my face tenderly. Meera, you were with me every day and every moment.”

“You sweet talker! All the butter that you ate has gone into your words”. Akash burst out laughing. Meera pouted her lips. He was amused by her anger and kissed her. Then he took out his flute and played a melody she loved the most.

The evening sky was bright with a red light. The huge banyan tree they sat under was filled with chirping birds who were settling down in the evening. His melody calmed her and she sat near him with her arms around his dark body. Then she was strangely silent. “Why are silent today, Meera? Why are you looking at me like this?” She said nothing and went on looking at his face as tenderly as a mother would look at her baby.

“Don't ever go away from me, my dearest. Being away from you is death for me”, she thought of telling him. Her mind formed many more words but never said it aloud: “I love you. I need you. I promise you that I will love you, respect you and cherish you till the end of my life”.

“I am always with you, my beloved and I can hear your each thought, each sigh, feel your each tear too”, he whispered in her ears. “Then why do you go away from me?

He rested on her lap and played his flute. She moved her face close to his and kissed his eyes. Strands of her long hair were falling on his ecstatic face. His eyes were still like a calm lake. Then suddenly it started to rain.

The earth was dancing under the touch of rain. So was she dancing under Akash's touch. Neither of them moved and they sat under the banyan tree with the rain dripping through the branches and soaking them.

Akash got up to go and as he was about to go she ran to him. “Don't go away from me again” and started crying. His head was wet from the rain and she felt a strange desire to hold him close to her heart and never let him go any where.

After they made love, they rested together underneath the canopy of the huge banyan tree and dozed off.

But when she woke up, she saw that her beloved had left her and she was alone beneath that huge banyan tree. She sobbed “I am always yours Akash. Never to be touched by another”. Tears ran down her cheeks and in the twilight, her face looked so forlorn. Then, she recognised that it was just a dream and that her Akash was right there near her fast asleep. She snuggled against him and kissed the stubble on his face.

Dedication

January 1

The new year began quietly in the church during the holy mass. The choir sang the Ta Deum, to which I sang along quite gleefully. It was good to hear the sounds of the firecrackers in the distance. After the mass, I knelt down and prayed for the blessings that will come my way this year- blessings for my family and him, the one I love. I wondered where he might be now- at home or at some party with his friends.

In the evening, I got a New Year card from him- so beautiful that I went teary-eyed after reading it. wished him back. I thought of how I got friendly with him at work and from a complete stranger, he had become very close in a short span. Now, he is an integral part of my life and I feel that I need him to stay in my life. Regarding new year resolutions, I want consistent positive improvement in the six spheres of my life- physical, spiritual, social, emotional, financial and educational.

Diary of a Female Quixote

Silence

We stood before the altar of silence and I know that this was an amazing experience for both of us, for you who had stayed away from God, and for me, who have always revered the God of silence. Even, in those moments of silence, I have known that this was meant to be. Somewhere in my dreams, I have known a world like this, not in the exact details that matter in every way.

For the wise have written, it is written that whatever has to happen will happen. For a strange reason I’d never believed in this attitude and after coming here, am surprised to find whatever I’ve wanted put in a manner that I cannot believe my own eyes and this is really a wonderful way of understanding that life is kind towards you and me. 

For long, I went on defining you and me, as we are at this moment. You wait for words of praise from me, while I give silence; while I look for looks of appreciation from you, while you give inquiring glances. You speak at times, in tongues that I don’t understand and at times I do not want to comprehend at all what you leave unsaid with your silences. Yet I pause to listen, when your eyes trace my face for what I’m feeling. You say I bring sunshine to your hitherto drab life, that you have never known happiness like this and that these past days of togetherness are the best of your life.

I agree, though I feel the same, I keep quiet, for once uttered this might change into a cliché that needs to be repeated again and again, until the words become worthless like treasures from childhood. Instead I smile and keep your words safe in silence.

A cup of comfort

Your words taste like a sip of hot coffee
That I drink for comfort during my day
To soothe my throat, to bring some life,
To clear away all the weariness of spirit.

They pull me out of my tent of isolation
That I weave out  of every crisis I've been
They come out of things that hurt you most
To bring a catharsis always, laughter or tears.

They were about the troubles you overcame,
By finding relief in self-expression in words
Got comforted by strong shoulders, kind arms
And a strong loving heart you called home.

Far away or close at hand, this cup of comfort
Stays around with me like your coffee perfume. 

A Perpetual Wish

Have a nice Day!

Definitions

You, my lord, have many names and many faces. That's what I, who loves you like a devotee think- chanting your name every day and viewing you in each and every passing face. You are never seen only imagined as near me, with me and always in love with me.

Your stories have become legends; your memory like a burst of monsoon raga. No wonder the relation between you and m elude me like an unnamed scent. Once when in love or anger, you scattered my name across the land as a battle to be won. You barged into my space for a drop of love, for a little shelter from the cruel world.

Many a battle was won in silence; in those long months, when I faded away into insignificance and when your desperate words reached nowhere in real. Whatever the outcome, you and me were someday worshippers at some unknown sacred space. That's how the circles have remained as changing and dynamic forever.

Rebus

Miss those days
When people texted more than
Yes, No, ok, and what?
Sent meaningful long sentences,
Properly capitalised, spelt
(For the Purists only) 
And spaced meaningfully

There were friends
Who could match wit with wit
Anger with anger
Repartee with repartee
All in matter of seconds when
SMS Alerts were from people
Not spam sent from machines.

Miss those days
When people texted in words
Sent invites, reminders
Missing U msgs not just in rebus
like "need2seeu2moro" but
"I missed you a lot today, my dear
and want to see you tomorrow
Near the white plumeria.

Perfect Match

How long have we belonged to only to each other?
That day since we took a quiet walk of togetherness,
Though it is as though we have always belonged
To each other across the ages in a sacred sense.

Coffee kisses, pasta lunches, candlelit dinners,
Shared moments of togetherness well-cherished
The perfect wine that we tasted last and so deep,
Not first love nor the first riot of purple passions.

There might have been others before you and me
Countless love-stories that taught us heartbreaks;
The many roles that you and I played across lives,
The sense of having known each other all along.

But I do remember us walking around the holy fire
Quietly chanting mantras of eternal togetherness.

#deepveer

The Ibis Trilogy

The Ibis Trilogy written by Amitav Ghosh consists of the novels Sea of Poppies (2008), River of Smoke (2011) and Flood of Fire (2015). Constructed on an epic scale, this trilogy shows the interconnected lives of people across India, China and Mauritius, all united by the factor that they were colonies of the British empire. The fates of these people are connected to the trade of opium, which was produced in India as a commercial crop much to the ruin of the Indian economy and extensively sold in China causing addiction among the Chinese population.

The first book of the trilogy,  Sea of Poppies begins with the life of Deeti or Kabutri-ki-ma, whose husband works in an opium factory and is addicted to opium. When her husband dies and she is tormented by her husband’s brother (who happens to be Kabutri’s father), she runs away with Kalua, a man from a lower caste. To escape from persecution, they join a group of people who are transported to Mauritius as girmitiyas on the ship Ibis. The other people whose lives become interlinked during the journey are  Zachary Reid, Miss Paulette Lambert, Jodu, Ah Fatt and Neel. The first book criticises the British introduction of opium as a compulsory crop in the place of food crops ruining the Indian farmers. 

The second book River of Smoke describes the girmitayas’ life on the island of Mauritius and their adventures. The British and the Indian traders earn fortunes by bringing opium to China until the Chinese government takes steps to prevent the large-scale influx of opium. The government takes preventive steps against opium addiction and they seize and burn the imported opium. The traders become discontented at this and have to flee for their lives. Neel and Ah Fatt escapes from the ship Ibis along with a few lascars. Mr. Bahram, the Parsi trader who happens to be Ah Fatt’s father appoints him as his munshi. This book is set mostly in Canton against the background of the First Opium War and shows how the Chinese cannot live without opium. 

The third book Flood of Fire spans across British India, China and Mauritius, where Deeti and her descendants have established themselves as settlers in the plantation. In the midst of the First Opium War,a  ship Hind sails from India to China with Zachary Reid in search of Paulette and with Shireen Modi who wants to get back her dead husband’s wealth. However, Zachary Reid forgets Pauline and has an affair with Mrs. Burnham, who becomes a likeable character as opposed to the first book where she creates all kinds of problems for Pauline. This book depicts Zachary’s initiation into the ways of the world. 

The unknown

The Four Agreements

Love what you do

Hero worship

How would I put into words what I remember about you after all these years?
When I want to write about you, I see the chinks that I have found in your armour.

Yet the you of my imagination and the real you have grown so apart that I guess I would never recognise you if I saw you somewhere in real.
But this heart has loved you in ways that the one who owns you can never even imagine!

An evening

In the midst of this summer tedium,we meet again,
In the same old park where we used to sit around, 
Reading books and chatting for hours altogether, 
While the ancient tabeubia trees bore us witness. 

Once again, the carpet of pink blossoms is made, 
For you and me to sit and doodle with lifelessons-
The serious thoughts about the angst of this life , 
The trivial thoughts about the colours in the world. 

You are a strong shoulder that I had let go earlier, 
Your few words fill me with so much of happiness, 
I am the mighty wordsmith in whom you believe, 
The one who can conjure up new worlds in verse.

You and I talk of the serious and trivial meet again, 
In our old hang-out under the same ancient trees.