Mehndi

Priceless

There were times when I have struggled a balance between my dreams of material wealth and spiritual happiness. Not that there were many possessions, a bare room that looked more like a scholar's study than a girl's bedroom but there was always a need to keep it spick and span.

There was this craving for possessions later always caused by an awareness of a lack looking at the wealthy and the rich. Then now, when it is possible to have possessions and objects that one wants, this strange heart wants nothing but to be left at peace, to know the wisdom of simplicity and of keeping away from needless clutter.

It wants not to learn the price of new desirables but to keep against its heart the priceless value of timeworn possessions, worn-out words, tired dreams and old loves of words, coffee, wine, music and  you.

Wisdom

You were a wanderer who left behind your hometown to start a new life, to prove yourself in the eyes of your near and dear ones. I was a dreamer who could listen with wonder to your ramblings and walk with you everywhere, one who could go places without leaving my favourite armchair. 

In the many years of absence, you and I travelled together across many exotic lands. From these wanderings, we have gathered so much of wisdom and have arrived at a place of mutual understanding. How we have changed in our lives holding close only values that which matter to both you and me!

In the long years you have been away, I have glimpsed you in many forms but not in real but I still remember your tenacity in sticking to your dreams and nothing else. For me, who have lately started following your footsteps, the world looks new and vistas inviting. 

May be this is not a dream at all but a piece taken out of tattered lives like yours and mine, but when these words come to fruition, it is more perfect than anything else heard, felt or seen.

Tonight

Tonight, it was your words, chocolate and butter, that made me drunk.Words that would bring back your bold gaze that could read more of me and weave a tapestry of desire.

I still wonder why I would spend hours in front of the mirror wondering at what you saw in me and go over in the mind, a flash of your childhood smile.

But all this magic faded away and we became two strangers fighting about what belongs to whom. Still it was your words, chocolate and butter, that made me drunk with delight, tonight.

Pic Courtesy:things sweet and wonderful to eat. wordpress.com

Fantasy: Propose Day of the Valentine week 2021

Years: Rose Day

May be it was part of my bravado to make  fun of love and how lovers feel when they meet after a long time.

Though the hourglass looks still, the days have fled so fast as if on wings. Here we are, the writer and the written, the wanderer and the dreamer, face to face, eye to eye.

I don't know where you have been and whom you have met but I would like to hear what passed day by day, hour by hour, second by second.

I might have to fight back all the tears of absence that have weighed my heart and you may have to slow down the countless words that never found a way to the lips.

But god willing, when that day finally comes,  I want it to remain still like forever and I want to tell you for sure that I know what a love story really feels like.

Tree of Life

1 January 2021

The New Year began quietly at 0001 while I was busy writing in my journal. This has been my habit for the last many years when I have found happiness in journalling about the passing year and the coming one. Unlike childhood, when the New Year began with prayers in the church with the Midnight Mass, the years since my marriage in 2009 have been blessed with midnight musings and nothing else. I have jumped like the proverbial monkey from faith to spirituality to religion to nonbelieving all the time and its hardly news that I don't go to church any longer. 

Writing in a journal often means that you are offering yourself, baring yourself completely without any kind of censure. In some of the diary writing years, I have thought of publishing mine but it never happened that way because I was too busy with many things and my journal writing endeavours mostly fizzled out before the end of January. 

This year I want to write a journal that is worth publishing and want to make consistent positive improvement in the six areas of my life namely physical, spiritual, social, emotional, financial and educational. 

true partner

Merry Christmas

Dedication

You are my other that helped me to grow, to learn more about life and even about my own self. You might be a person, an event or a book that has left an imprint on my soul.

You are my first love, this entanglement with melodies, the way my soul lifts up in the Hosannah or feels happy with the Magnificat or bursts out in a raga with the rains.

You are my ever existing dream of weaving together dreams, words and melodies into a book of poetry worthy enough to be engraved in a beautiful script and to be set before your appreciative eyes.

You could also be my love, the one that never found its way to express itself yet reaches out to you in words, gestures and memories wherever you are.

You are a lesson, a mistake, may be a chapter that I cannot forget, a memory that I cannot erase despite of all the bitter strife of these years.

You have taught me how to be, how to love yet not to lose myself and the lessons are not bad as you can see for yourself.

The Alchemist

Ecological footprint

One fine day

Were there expectations in your eager mind

As how exactly it is going to be like in real,
With you and me meeting each other to find
What the years have not taken away or heal.

Didn't your heart beat as loud as mine today
When walking down the street you saw me.
Not like in the days of beautiful togetherness
But like a pleasant surprise hard to contain.

For me, I saw you only for a few moments
But enough to keep counting even the time,
My face that cannot hide what it feels like
Or my words that might reveal what I want.

One fine day, this might become so unreal
This longing to have you beside me a lifetime.

Siesta

You and I share not just a life in common; 

Love of music, readable books and people, 

Fighting for rights of people in dire need

Of living a life together against all odds.

Dreams of sunrises, siestas and twilight, 

Our limbs entangled in sweet embraces

Your eyes that drink me up like coffee

Shared dreams of a life of togetherness. 

At times fantasies of idyllic happiness, 

That turn erotic at the slightest whim, 

Lips against lips, limbs against limbs

A longing to join heart, body and soul. 

May be a desire to lose myself fully in you

And get back to work after a sip of coffee.

@daydreaming

angel numbers

The Story of My Life

I have never seen the story of my life summarised in more poignant words than the ones on this coffee-mug at home:

 

  

Mary had a little lamb, a little toast, a little jam, a little pizza and some cake,
some French fries, and a chocolate shake, a little burger on a bun.
And that's why Mary weighs a ton. :-)

Bliss

The days of darkness are over finally.
I had waited for the dawn to come for long;
One little wrong word and too much veracity
Had killed this free spirit too early.

Thirst for knowledge and love of life lost,
The soul had shrunk as if pickled in brine
And lost its freedom, its love for life,
Become like an empty vessel thrown in mud.

Now you have brought so many joys and smiles,
You have changed the face of this terrain,
With your dash of luck you sail forward
Taking us both in your pleasant stride.

If I had not known this darkness, my dear,
I'd have never known the value of your smile.

Nostalgia

A flower of basil everyday

Plucked every morning and gifted, 

A gentle surreptitious stroke, 

On the palm of hand, 

A stolen kiss, 

Beneath the staircase, 

A glance across a crowded room, 

Caught and returned. 

A quickly scribbled message, 

And a faded rose, 

Inside a gifted book of poetry, 

Neatly kept, unread, 

Like promises unfulfilled, 

Long forgotten and buried, 

Those days of love, 

That are dead and gone.

The Wanderer

Your memory comes to me at the strangest of moments. I pause in the midst of things and smile as your thought passes my mind. Though it happened a summer long ago and I know that I am a fool to think that I lost you when I never had you in the first place. I cannot croon love-songs liked I used to nor can I waste my life wandering around searching for you in every crowd. But to get back my words, I know that I have to cure my funny little heart that has loved you with all its mighty silences of years.