From Your Valentine-3

The morning is only hours away and the need to see her has become so strong almost like hunger or pain. The first time I saw her she was so fragile and sick. Those days, I was not a prisoner as I am today. I was a priest who was condemned to exile for marrying off young lovers. When I was sent to live in the prison under Asterius, I took all my belongings- my books of learning, my secret potions and even my Arabian horses. 

I was taken to the bedchamber of the sick girl. There was a smell of decay in that room and when I looked at her closely, she was a frail creature with huge eyes and a feverish look. But on speaking to her, I felt that her eyes had lost their focus and she was unable to see me. Then I remembered the recipe for a herbal potion that I have read of and my next few days were spent in preparation of that cure for her illness. 

My first suggestion was a change of her rooms to somewhere with more light and sunshine. She was given a room on the Eastern side of the castle. For days together, she was my sole thought, my reason to be, the only delight in a confusing world of high ideals and disillusionment. I was at her side, observing her and how she became better day by day. 

My room was on the Western side but every now and then, I would cross the yard to come and see her. There was a strange delight in being responsible for a person’s well-being. Then, I remember the day when she opened her eyes and saw me. She mumbled some words of recognition at her mother who stood by her. When her father visited her, she was at a loss for words. 

There at times, when I wonder, had I been a layman and not a priest, I would have loved this girl who said my name Valentinus quietly and deliberately. She did not address me as “father” like the girls in my church nor did she give much thought to the fact that I was a priest. May be she knew what Emperor Claudius had in mind.

From Your Valentine-2

I was born in Terni in Italy. My childhood was a happy one with loving parents, plenty of siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. I was the eldest in the family and I wanted to become a priest so that I could serve God. I loved reading the Bible out loud and also had the power to create potions and concoctions. 

On becoming a priest, just like the others, I did my share of baptisms, marriages and deaths. I was celebrated for my singing voice and my solemn speeches. However, I got into trouble when Emperor Claudius came to power. He was of the opinion the soldiers loved their families more leading to less attention to the duties of the nation. This made him antagonistic towards the instuition of marriage. Oh, I did disagree. 

There was Anna and Simon who were in love for years. Moreover, they could hardly wait as Anna was already in the family way. They were betrothed to each other since the Lupercalia when Anna came of age. The church took mercy in the matters of the heart and a special license was issued to get them married. It was at that time that the Emperor Claudius made a declaration of compulsory bachelorhood for all soldiers. According to him, men married so that they don’t have to go for war but stay around in the village looking after their families. 

What happened the next week was a secret marriage in the church attended only by the bridegroom and the bride. Looking at them and the simple ceremony of exchanging vows, I felt I was God in the Garden of Eden making a match between Adam and Eve. I blessed the couple and their unborn baby with a special blessing and sent them home. 

It was that night that I received an order from my Abbot asking me to leave the place immediately. In the letter, it was written that the Priest Valentinus was asked to enjoy his stay with the jailer Asterius in his castle for a few days. It meant in a veiled manner, a place of exile away from home till I was called back. But before, I left what I did was to gather some more young couples and get them married in God’s name.

From Your Valentine

The rose is red, the violet's blue,

The honey's sweet, and so are you.

Thou art my love and I am thine;

I drew thee to my Valentine:

The lot was cast and then I drew,

And Fortune said it shou'd be you.

From Your Valentine 1

The month of February is the month of festivities, the time when birds find their mates and that of the Lupercalia, the festival of the god of fertility. For Rome, this is the time when the mobs crowd the streets and there are festivities everywhere. Yet for me, this is the month when I have experienced the optimum happiness in my life with a tinge of regret especially when I have to come to terms with the fact that my days have become numbered. 

It is very cold and even my bones can feel the chill of this night. I don’t know what hour it is. But the little glimpse of sky that I view from my barred window, it looks dark blue with a glow. Looks like it must be three hours past midnight. Not that I was a reader of the skies but judging from the months of captivity and the hours when the watch changed in the tower, I think I have become adept at it. But there is something very special about this day as it might be the last one I might see. This day I go to face my death in the gallows before the huge crowd gathered for the Lupercalia this week. 

There are occasional shouts and celebrations from the streets. Just like every year, this year too many young men will prove their valour in the competitions held before the emperor. The women will be showered with the ceremonial blood from the sacrifice of animals before the god of fertility near the caves of Romulus and Remus. Then, there will be the choosing of one’s bride from the urn of good fortune. Julia will also be chosen by some warrior or the other. Even the thought makes me angry as it brings to my mind a very unpleasant memory of having to tend for her for days on end and then having to leave her side on new orders from the Emperor.

Happy Birthday Wordsworth

Summer Tedium

The summer heat sizzles and burns, while one longs for the rain. On the way back from work, I look at the water drizzled in the orchards and dream of soaking myself in the river back home, in the village that I grew up in.

On the roads, one looks at the heaps of green and ripe mangoes, watermelons and ripe guava. In the lazy evenings, you smear sandalwood on your body to cool you down and drink tall glasses of spicy buttermilk to quench your thirst.

My heart reaches for you in these eons of absence with a longing that I have never known before, dreaming of the times when our love was a constant source of happiness. Like one longs for the rains in the scorching heat, one longs for your presence in this long summer tedium. 

Perfect

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.

Hiraeth

It was as if a long-forgotten dream had flashed right in front of my eyes that evening. A glimpse of that last day in December when you I saw you last, the day we spent hours at the bookstore just because you wanted to buy me a book, the last time you had held me close and the day you left so as to make our dream true.

What I saw was none of these but an opulent durbar, the dancers and the audience who were screaming praises of my own name when I looked at my demure queen with a quiet pride knowing her to be mine only. There she was, smiling at me. Though veiled, the silhouette of her cheeks could be seen against her red veil. 

As we walked side by side, the crowds roared. We climbed those ancient steps and looked in the huge mirrors as if it was part of an old dream, as if two broken pieces were put together in a perfect shape for an instant. With a strange wonder, I recognised an old home, a place of no return, one that I lost long back return as we stand chattering inside a palace that gives a strange sense of having lived here long before.

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

 With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

 

The Invention of Wings

There were several books that I read last year but the most memorable among them is Sue Monk Kidd’s The Invention of Wings published in 2014. The book, which was was selected for Oprah’s Book Club 2.0,  is set against the background of nineteenth century Charleston in North Carolina and deals with the story of the Grimke sisters who fought against slavery not just in writing but in practice as well. 

The two sisters Sarah Grimké and Angelina Grimké were famous for their abolitionist thinking to slavery as well as for their fight for women’s rights. In the history of the United States, Sarah Grimké was famous as the first woman to have written a comprehensive feminist manifesto Letters on the Equality of the Sexes published in 1837 and Angelina was the first woman to have spoken before a legislative body. Moreover, they wrote together the pamphlet American Slavery As It Is , which was an anti-slavery bestseller until Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published. 

The Grimké sisters spoke extensively in public against slavery and Sarah even taught her slave to read. However, these women had to struggle hard because they were much ahead of their times in their ideas of racial equality and gender equality. They faced plenty of opposition in the society that they lived in. Sarah even taught her slave Hetty to read and for this both of them were severely punished. 

The novel The Invention of Wings opens with Hetty Handful’s mother telling that “there was a time in Africa the people could fly”. She tells Hetty that this was how they had lived in Africa but lost their magic once they moved away from their homeland. She explains to Hetty pointing out her shoulder blades that these are what is left of the wings that she once had and that some day she will get back her wings.  Through her stories and her cleverness, Hetty’s mother Charlotte , who is a seamstress for the Grimkés instills in young Hetty’s mind, the desire to find her wings. 

The novel alternates between the narrative voices of Sarah Grimké and Hetty Handful. Sarah gets Hetty as a slave when she is twelve years and they bond quickly. Sarah is educated and wants to become the first female jurist but her dreams are dismissed as nonsense as she is a girl. In her childhood, she had a witnessed a slave being maimed and this leads to a speech problem in her. She is banished from Charleston and when she comes on a visit to her mother, she helps both Hetty and her sister Sky escape from slavery. Though it takes her many years, Sarah helps Hetty to find her wings.

Reading Meghadutam

 

May be it was the shape of his beloved's favourite beast

Bent down to butt a riverbed that inspired him to poesy.

May be it was the memory of his lover's sandalwood body

Or the grief of separation from her that made him sing so.

Whatever the reason might have been for him to compose,

He thought of her long hair without adornments or flowers

Drawn together in a single sweep in the long absent months,

He sang this musical erotic message promising rejuvenation.

He thought of her beauty that made him err in his daily duties,

The early hours of the morning when he spent hours with her,

Which he didn't want to forsake and plucked the holy lotuses,

Which he plucked before time to get punished for a long year.

When the rain bursts on her, he wants her to remember him,

Who in the eight months of absence longed to be with her!

Magic Lamp

We all feel good when our wishes turn true at the right time before your heart has given up what it wants. The moment you rub the lamp, a genie appears and all your wishes are granted. It could be material gains, live of the one you want, energy, knowledge- whatever be your desire, may it come to you when you need it. 

Though you grow up and become hurt by the adult world, most of the time we keep with us, a child's perspective and what used to entice us a child. Journeys, adventures, people, books, movies and what not used to thrill us. However, in the adult world, this sense of adventure is diminished for mst of us except for a few who has managed to keep intact the mindset of a child. Growing up, we all recognise the ugliness of the world that we have around us. 

Life is strange and what matters to one person may not be interesting to another. Yet, there is Providence bringing you to what you want. May all your wishes come true when you want it and may you keep safe your belief in all the good things of life. 

#magiclamp

#aladdinmovie

Magic Lamp

 

We all feel good when our wishes turn true at the right time before your heart has given up what it wants. The moment you rub the lamp, a genie appears and all your wishes are granted. It could be material gains, live of the one you want, energy, knowledge- whatever be your desire, may it come to you when you need it. 

Though you grow up and become hurt by the adult world, most of the time we keep with us, a child's perspective and what used to entice us a child. Journeys, adventures, people, books, movies and what not used to thrill us. However, in the adult world, this sense of adventure is diminished for mst of us except for a few who has managed to keep intact the mindset of a child. Growing up, we all recognise the ugliness of the world that we have around us. 

Life is strange and what matters to one person may not be interesting to another. Yet, there is Providence bringing you to what you want. May all your wishes come true when you want it and may you keep safe your belief in all the good things of life. 

#magiclamp

#aladdinmovie

Words

Words leaped out of neatly bound and well-written book a long time back and became miracles in dark nights. Some writer, whose heart dribbled with love set these words on paper, wove them in silence, with infinite longing and pure love.

Though I longed to write with the same magical touch never knew this fire till you came at midnight and peeked in my dreams with a smile. Awake from your dreams, I wanted to tell you, with words like focused arrows on what ate my heart when you were not here with me.

All the words, sighs, tears and smiles were spent on what you meant to me though you were not mine to own or to possess. Like a child with a favourite toy, I try to form with words; different games that might back to me, at least in an imaginary realm.
This heart wants not to please the mob; only to sing about what it remembers the most of a long-lost love. These songs have no art; they speak of the loss in not having you beside me. They have neither rhyme nor rhythm but only a wild beat of words that are quaint to the ear, yet in their own way, fresh-faced.

Words come, with its thousand limbs, entangled meanings and nuances, like a sudden burst of rain that creates ripples in still water, while the great green forest holds watch over with its mighty silent wombs of understanding, from that moment when you came in my midnight dreams.

World Water Day 2022

Confessions of a Shameless Egotist

All these years of book reading has left me kind of dumb, slow to understanding practical things that my friends and my relatives started to view me as a kind of unrealistic idealistic philosopher-like woman who cared not much about dressing up or looking good or cooking that by the time I was twenty I was disliked by relatives who wanted me to be less studious and by friends who wanted to talk about what other girls talked about. 

I don’t remember being welcomed with warmth in any place except with my one friend of years, whom we will conveniently call Anna, who is just my opposite, very practical and good-natured that even without any effort she is liked by whoever she meets while I stare blank-eyed wide-eyed and finally sleepy-eyed at people who seem to give unsolicited advice about studies, cooking, career and God knows what else.

But with all my obstinacy in choosing my life and making my own decisions I never reached any where, nowhere, in fact with all big big words of idealism and rebellion-Love, Freedom and Creativity. In this also there was this mad act of stupid decision making as if the whole life depended on something or the other or someone or the other and nothing else but love mattered but at some point of time all these romantic ideas crumbled and gave way to a kind of stark realism that was even more harmful. 

I wonder is there a relationship between reality and fiction? Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. I never believed it until I saw one day that a person whom I know died in an accident. That single person had caused so much of confusion in the minds of people, quarrels, fights, pains and that too all in the name of God. 

Believe me; nobody can give me what such a small stretch of time has taken away from me. I lost a lot of my original enthusiasm in doing things that I once loved to do and the focus I had regarding what I wanted to become, my belief in people and to some extent my belief in God. I became a kind of recluse who refused to open up to people and tortured myself by considering pleasure and happiness as a sin against religion. 

I was sitting idle at home, doing only household chores when I wanted to do something worthwhile. That’s when I started reading all the stuff that I had written over the years, the chronicle of my life during the past two three years. Since childhood I have found books as interesting and since fifteen writing absorbing. I have never ventured anything beyond a few lines in my diaries. 

Personally I believe that the most controversial book is one truthful journal that you write for yourself. Not only controversial, it can be intriguing as well, for you delve deep into your memory and reconstruct your own life as if you were viewing another’s. These journal entries give some sort of insight into my own nature. 

My belief in God and life has changed. As George Eliot says “Joy is the best of wine”. There is nothing in the world like getting up in the morning happy to see the sunshine peeping through the windows, sipping a cup of coffee and humming to yourself all day while doing chores. That’s where I have stopped, seeing God in being happy with myself and the world. 

World Poetry Day