Silence

Where did the blissful silence go?

Silence that made me think slowly.

Silence that opened a world of dreams.

Silence that made me speak to myself.

The tiny rain drops that were loud and clear,

In an evening of the blissful silence.

The cricket that sang and could still be heard,

The oil and spices that sizzled through the kitchen doors,

The kitten that would mew in the courtyard,

And the frog that made a noise on the stairs,

The bangles that made me feel granny’s presence,

The sound of water flowing while she cleaned the dishes

and wiped them dry.

That made me feel secure and happy at home.

That silence would make me lie down lazily,

Without caring for the world outside,

Without caring about the chaos of life,

That was the pleasure of being young,

When you still believed in promises,

When you still hoped for a fairy tale to come true,

When you still had a smile on seeing a box of candies,

When happiness was a cycle ride in the woods,

When a pocket full of coins made you feel rich,

When climbing a tree was the most amazing part of the day,

When falling from it would still not hurt,

When you lined up to hear the same story again and again,

When you still listened to your heart,

When the silence of your mind was not crowded

with reason, outcomes, targets and plans.

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To Winter

Oh winter your chillness can’t take the warmth of my mind

For it draws inspiration from the stories I discover

Stories in the fragments of my unsettled life

Stories in the innocence of smiles and depth of tears

Stories in the white lies and specks of hope

Stories in exasperation and reconciliation

For it draws comfort in the still words and long lines

The untold verses and dreams so divine 

The act of kindness and faculty of forgiveness

The charm of imagination and power of enlightenment

The grip of hands and caress of love

The colours of tomorrow and memories of yesterday

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Form of Art

To find beauty in plain,
To find romance in routine,
To find warmth in shades,
Is an art.

I think when mundane things become charming, when you find beauty where you thought it would never exist and the most routine job starts cheering you up, perhaps somewhere down the line you have found the underlying meaning. That you feel happy when you wish to be and that you see beauty where you want to see it. Perhaps this realization alone brings in the form of art. 


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New Dawn

Hold on the wave of tears
Settle down the roar of fears
Move on as if there is no turning back
March ahead as there is nothing you lack
Life is meant to go on
And there is always a new dawn ..

True Love

Every word I speak
Every line I write
Every time I breathe
I know I love you

#To love that is forever ...

Colours

The azure sky,
The blue sea,
The grey clouds,
The green trees,
The green lakes,
The golden sun,
The yellow flowers,
The brown lane,
The white pebbles,
It's a divine gift to see colours,
Why waste it on judging skin colours.

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Dead Poet

When I was alive, little did you know
that my heart endured so much pain
When I smiled cheerfully, 
little did you know my curved lips 
fought stream of tears oozing out of my sad eyes
When I sang a song with the best of my voice, 
little did you hear the melancholy wail
When I now sing from my grave, 
little do you know that I find solace only in my death

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Broken Hearts

"Our hearts were broken in the same places"
John Green

I know you can feel my pain,
because it is just the same.
Our hearts are broken,
in the exact same places,
with the fallen traces,
that can not be undone,
as we cling to the bygone,
But to have a partner in pain,
is the most precious gain. 

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Goes on

The wind will keep blowing,
The sun will keep shining,
Life will go on,
You come or go, I will exist,
Winter will come, spring would go by,
The birds would fly away,
The dust will linger in the air,
And life will go on and on ...

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It goes on

"In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on"

Robert Frost

People come into our life, stay and then move on, things happen, things change, things that existed no longer do and amidst all this, life just goes on. I have always revered my grandfather and he was a great inspiration. However he never liked gifts so when I got my first salary in 2007 I could not quite reckon what to gift him. Not that I had to gift him but I wanted to. Then I thought of his library where he has collection of books starting from encyclopedias,  to books on science and mathematics, also novels because being a Professor of Physics he also liked literature. So, I gifted him the third book of Stephen Hawkins, 'Black Hole and Baby Universes' because he had the first two. However for a long time I was not quite sure if he read it, until his death in 2013 when his desk and bookshelf was being cleaned. I found he had read till the last page of the book because he had underlined some sentences till the end, that he probably thought was important. I then moved to the first page where years back I had written, 

'Dear Aja (Grandpa), 

I owe you a lot, 

Yours lovingly,
 Miki'

It doesn't feel like he will never be around again and it was difficult to accept his sudden death, I spent my entire childhood in my grandparents' house after all. But his death taught me how to face death and how to go on with life, just like Robert Frost says, 'it goes on'. 

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Alone

"Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone."

Maya Angelou

Can anybody be all alone and survive alone? I think what Maya Angelou wanted to say was that everybody needs the human touch. It may not be a spouse but your parents, may not be children to take care of you but may be a friend to lend a shoulder, or may be your cousins or siblings who were your partner in crime. Life is so difficult to be lived without having some one to talk to, they may not even be physically present but even an internet chat would be enough. I have one such school buddy and we keep exchanging the quotes that we read over whatsapp. A healthy discussion follows afterwards, it feels really good to have someone of the same mental wavelength or the way she says we are soul sisters. Strange that our souls connect even if we are miles apart. She lives in Singapore by the way, but our conversation is more real than anything else. Then there is another friend whom I meet mostly in the weekends or week days if we find time to sneak out of office and pouring out my heart to her feels oh so relaxing! Office colleagues with whom I go for lunch are a true inspiration for my work. When we discuss our bosses, a meeting that over shoot its duration or a presentation that didn't go too well it feels so easy to relate to each other's life and half of the grief is resolved. I think no matter how difficult it is life will go on. A little human touch will make it easier though, that's why Maya Angelou says, "nobody can make it out here alone". 

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Write

When a memory wants to speak to you, write
When a dream wants to be unveiled, write
When your childhood wants to be relived, write
When adulthood takes its toll, find sometime to write
When the fear in you wants to explode, write
When the anger suppressed refuses to dwindle, write
When the love inside you mumbles, write
When hatred spreads its venom, write
When everything with in and around you finds words, write, just write ...

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When I Hid My Caste

When I Hid My Caste is more than a book, it is a saga of dreadful and disgraceful experiences of the Dalits. It revolves around the Maharashtra of 1950s and covers the life of Mahars, one of the many Dalit castes in India. It is a collection of ten stories which depicts the distress and humiliation of the Mahar characters.

The first story Prisoner of Darkness is about a Mahar woman Bano who and her only son are ruthlessly attacked by a mob after her husband’s death. While she is mournful the village holds her responsible for her own husband’s death. They see her as a witch who is manipulative and harmful. Their rage fails them to understand that she is nothing but a helpless and innocent woman.

Bohada is the only story with a happy ending. Mahars in those days weren’t allowed to play lead roles in the Bohada where the dancers painted themselves as characters from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. But in that Bohada a Mahar tries to steal away one such important role with his revolt and cunningness.

Streetwalker is the story of a sex worker who goes to any extent to meet her dying child. Even if she tries to work hard all her hope dissipates after she is robbed and finds out that her son is already dead.

Dassehra Sacrifice as the name suggests is about how a Patil proudly sacrifices a buffalo for Dassehra, while mercilessly attacking it. Mahars of the village fight with all their strength to keep the beast in control. The story depicts the fake courage of a Patil hiding his timidness while the four well-built Mahars heroically fight with the buffalo even risking their lives. It also shows the superstition of callous killing of an innocent beast for the Goddess.

Few lines in the last story When I Hid My Caste got me thoroughly shaken. Here it is ‘in this luck-forsaken country, human beings should not be born as Dalits. If and when they are they must bear such sorrow and such disrespect as would make death seem an easier option, making a cup of poison a Dalit’s best friend.’ It is strange how people’s conduct change when they discover you are of a low caste even if they were kind to you before. In this story the protagonist is beaten up by the same man who once considered him his Guru when the former had hidden his caste.

In this book Baburao Bagul has surfaced the sufferings of the Dalits comprehensibly and made us question the age-old beliefs. The way even educated Dalits were treated was pitiful. I don’t think much has changed even now, do you? People still ask your surname, people still want to know your caste.

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The heavens don't listen anymore

They asked for the fulfillment of rain,
But all they got was scorching sun.
They asked for small moments of zest,
But all they got was agony of loss.
They wished to see a silver lining,
But all they found was an agitated soul.
They wished to find a widening smile,
But all they found were tears of pain.

Perhaps the heavens don't listen anymore,
And have artfully closed the blessings' door.
I tried to knock at it, but out came no answer.
I am still holding myself at the threshold,
Who knows, perhaps the heavens may listen once more ....

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An innocent bystander

(An extract from my poetry)

Can I be an innocent bystander?
A guiltless viewer of victim
In a world that changes with lightning speed,
Where the mountains gradually crumble down,
Like ugly buildings shattering to dust,
Where the deserts grow wider and lakes disappear,
Where flowers wither away and stink,
The leaves breathe out dust and smoke,
Where children lose their charm and innocence,
And choose the glamour of gadgets over books,
Where we tend to lose our identity,
And follow an unknown and absurd culture,
Where we turn emotionless and
no longer judge with our hearts,
Where the brain is rotten and stagnant,
Sees nothing beyond what is dull or artificial,
And I cannot be an onlooker doing nothing,
Neither can be you
For a viewer of crime is a criminal too.

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I would send a message to space

I would send a message to space
That we live in this part of universe
We breathe our first and last here
We build houses on every bit of land
Covering the lakes, breaking the mountains,
cutting down the lush green trees
We build roads on hills, amidst the forests
We have bridges, skyscrapers, motor boats, ships,
automobiles, airplanes and even space shuttles
We are trying to connect,
But our icebergs are melting, 
rivers polluting and air stinking
Soon we will no longer love,
No longer listen to music or sing,
No longer dance merrily in the rain,
No longer speak words of wisdom,
No longer whisper sweet affection,
We are losing our souls and soon we will perish,
before we even realize.
So, when you receive my message floating through space,
Save us if you can.
Some last hope still remains before its extreme and
we are all gone like dust in the air ...

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To write is to feel

(An extract from my poem)

To write is to feel,

The brightness of the day,

The coldness of the night,

The shine of snow covered mountains,

The glitter of the sands in the deserts,

The glow of the moon,

The twinkling of the stars,

The sound of the river,

The roar of the ocean,

To write is to feel,

To write is to live,

As I live, so I write.

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When you are alone

At one point you slowly get tired of living alone

And that’s when you step out, trying to be gregarious

Only to realise it was always good to live by yourself

And listen to your heart than being in the crowd

And still being alone.

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Pages of life

When I turn the pages of my diaries that I have kept from time to time, all I find is hope, that I didn't let to die. I find phrases where I have written about my days of failure and then I find another that was accomplishment. I find I have written down the questions that popped up in my head out of curiosity and how they change with time. I can also find myself getting answers as I grow old. I find confusions and illusions clearing its way to greater understanding. I can read about the risks I have taken and the fear that came along with them. I find traces of immaturity and childishness giving its way to a welcoming adult. I can see broken promises, lack of commitment, leading to a much matured self. I can find darkness pushing its way towards light and fragments of desperation leading its path towards hope. There are pages where nightmares turn to dreams and evolve into reality bringing with it most fulfilling zest. I can see hope leading into more hope. These pages remind me of who I was, of what I have become and what I would like to grow into. Its like I have lived through these pages and they are the pages of my life. They remind me that I have sweated enough, transformed enough and lived enough without giving up. These pages tell me what I could do and what can be done. As long as there is hope and as long as I keep writing into them, I can pass the most toughest huddles. 

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Jane Austen in the Flight

My romance with reading has come a long way from text books to comics to pulp fiction and then to the everlasting and impressive classics, that would be from Pinky, Chacha Choudhury to Nacy Drew files to Dan Brown to Pride and Prejudice, The Fountainhead and books like Catcher in the Rye and To kill a mocking Bird etc. I have also tried the nonfiction after joining the corporate which includes not only the Fish Tales and fables like Who Moved My Cheese, One Minute Manager but also Winning and Lean In. I had read it somewhere that we must read sparingly but ardently because when we read with passion and chew the book figuratively we earn more than those who read a lot and yet never enjoy what they read or learn anything from it. I also came across the fact that reading is like telepathy, Stephen King explains it in his book On Writing where he talks about a book which he is writing then and which would be released after two years, in the book he describes what he is doing currently and how the reader would read it after two years, in a way he is interacting with the future. Similarly when I read an old book I am interacting with the past with the author talking to me from years back or centuries back may be even dead but it is through the evergreen book or the timeless classic the conversation is still alive. 

I feel the same way when I read Jane Austen, someone who writes from the 18th century not to mention she died in the year 1817 and that was two hundred years ago. I boarded the flight to Bengaluru in January 2018 and was reading her Persuasion from a kindle! Now take a pause here and think about Jane Austen who lived in an era where women wore long frocks or skirts, covered themselves with tiny little hats some where in the suburbs of England and didn't have the right to vote, didn't have motion picture, didn't have steam engine but horse carriages and lived before the two world wars created history. Could Austen have ever imagined that a woman of 21st century living about 5000 miles away from England after 200 years of her death would read her book from an electronic gadget in a device that could fly humans on the sky! This is only the power of writing through which a woman could speak to another woman who are separated largely by time and distance.

As I moved above the clouds, across the blue sky I read Austen's last finished novel (which I have not finished yet but very much determined to) it took me centuries back the lifestyle was different, her writing style was different and I also found that the language was different to some extent but the message was clear. Her voice which she had let out from her pen was whispering in my ears even from another era this brilliant female author was motivating me, asking me to live my life to the fullest, enjoy every moment of life, care for my family, learn from my mistakes for what a young girl does a lady can always rectify, never lose hope and most importantly believe in the miracle of love, that souls can not be disparate if they have to be one they will be eventually. She also taught me not to chase, the power to let go and not push needs courage, time heals everything and one fine day things will work out. I realized that acceptance and not regret can heal and that forgiving myself is more important than waiting for another to forgive me, then and only then comes eternal peace of the flickering mind. These were the words of wisdom a dead woman had conveyed to me from another universe. At that point she no longer felt dead, I felt Austen was right beside me, talking to me, smiling at me, holding my hand and encouraging me to be happy and content in life. I was no longer traveling alone I had found a seat mate in the seat that was empty few minutes before. Google taught me that Persuasion was published in 1817 the year Austen died and she was 41 then. So, a matured woman had spoken to me and given me company while my solo travel. 

I believe dear readers of my blog when you have a book you are never alone, come travel across the seas, beyond the time and find a companion in the author. Just open a novel that is never obsolete. Moreover in the words of my favorite author Ruskin Bond "when it comes to living, loving and dying there is no such thing as modern or fashionable. Because it is not time that is passing by my friend it is you and I"



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Love is for the strong

I don't owe you a commitment

I haven't made any promises

But when you dare to lend your hand

And ask me to step on another land

All I would need is the groundbreaking trust

To dare and leave all with the pinch of dust

To that day I await when courage would overrule fear

Because love is for the strong

And any kind of fragility would only get it wrong

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Let me be

Let moments define me not milestones
Let hearts feel me not brains
Let instincts lead me not intellect
Let the scent of flowers matter more than perfumes
Let me choose the sound of rain over the shine of coins
Let life happen to me in fullest before my demise

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Moments

There is a power cut
There is a flickering Candle
A crescent moon by the window
An unfinished book
A half cup of coffee
A fairly scribbled poem
Nineties song playing
And a pregnant pause of happiness 

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Memories

The present would gather into memories
It would let me narrate a platter of stories
Every time I would be alone
And all will be said and done
The memories would float into my mind
Those old happy moments would again make me kind
To live and leave memories is the only thing I find divine

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Time and Me

Time is a capricious thing 
When full of zest it seems to move fast
When drained in sorrow it seems to crawl
Sometimes hours run and I fail to catch them
Sometimes minutes halt and become unendurable
And then I realize it is the same time
But my changing moods play trick on me
And only if I learn to fix my vacillating mind
Can I rule the ticking of time

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Feeling

You never attempt to make me feel it
But I see it in the graveness of your eyes
Hear it in the stillness of your voice
Nurture it in the calmness of your silence
And that feeling makes me venerate you
Lingers with me every moment and casts 
an endearing spell on each seed of my soul

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Your Love

that your love for me can not be seen
for it comes with the rays of the sun
moves like the blowing wind
sizzles like the scent of jasmine
melts with the snow on the mountain
merges with the tides of ocean
that for me is true love
because I can feel it
even though I needn't know what it means

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Let it rain

Let it rain
And wipe away the mundane
Let it rain
And fill our hearts with content
Let it rain
And cast hope for a farmer
Let it rain
And bring smile on a child's face
Let it rain
And lash out hot waves
Let it rain
And let us live again

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Seclusion

The silence of the night
The freshness of the morning
The dullness of the afternoon
The serenity of the evening
Has only taught me one thing
That in these years I have learnt 
to live with myself more than 
anyone else in this world
And this realization has made
me happier than ever

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When we were together

When it rains I think of the 
droplets of water we tried to catch on the closed window
When the sun shines I think of the 
early morning talks we had over coffee
When its evening I think of the 
walks we had taken together
When night falls I think of the 
Television shows we fought to watch on the couch
When I walk by the sea I think of the
game we played splashing water on each other
When days pass I wonder if we would 
ever be together again for these thoughts to be moments

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Unknown

I stare into the space and think of the unknown
What peril lies in it I cannot condone
Through sufferings, trails and zest I dare to move ahead
And I think of You every time danger lurks at my face


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What I don't

What I don’t say, please hear
What I don’t mean, please understand
What I can’t have, don’t lend me
When I refuse, don’t compel
When I dream, just let me be

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Stories

When nothing works, read a story
When sadness grasps, read a story
When in a bad mood, read a story
When in dilemma, read a story
When little tiffs happen, read a story
To find solace amidst daily chaos,
Do nothing but just read a story

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Night

Evening crawls slowly towards night
Night falls and obscures the light
Each bird gradually ends its flight
My eyes begin to adjust to the dark
But deep at the bottom of my heart
There still lies an unknown spark

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Wander

Wander beyond the horizon
Wander beyond what mortals can view
Wander to satisfy the wander lust
Wander like the blazing grains of dust
Wander to discover yourself within
Wander for astounding moments to begin
Wander where loving memories are born
Wander where pain is steadily torn

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Food Time

Well taking the trend of my 'simple pleasures' series forward where I would write about the books I have been reading or the movies I have been watching or anything that adds to contentment, here is another. 

On Tuesdays I usually have sandwiches for lunch because we have the Toastmasters session from 12:30 pm to 1:30 pm. So, I get very less time for lunch on Tuesdays and I don't want to waste it standing in a queue for the food in the canteen. Now Toastmasters happens to be an International speech club, which is meant for Leadership and Communications. I never miss those sessions, in fact I look forward to them as they are an escape from my mundane office work. But I am not going to talk about Toastmasters now I will save it for another day. Today I will write about my food trip.  

Since I had just sandwiches for lunch I wanted to have something good in the evening snacks. But sometimes you get so held up in your nine hours I.T job that you can not make time for snacks as well. Luckily today was not one such days. I had some free time so I thought of having an early snack. I asked a team member to accompany me and we went on a food spree. It is one such days when you don't care about your strict diet or gaining weight, and you just let yourself loose. We went to try the street food. There are lot of hawkers who put on their stalls outside office and people dawdle around them all the time, right from their morning teas to evening snacks and cigarettes. We too go there when we are bored of the canteen food. Since it was only 3:30 pm we decided to have something light. We started with tea, the roadside tea stall sells very good masala tea in small paper cups and the very smell of it lifts my mood. I took few sips from it, closed my eyes and forgot all worries that were hanging on to my mind for quite sometime. Even in a crowded public place I felt at peace. The next trip was to the sweet corn stall. Now the boy there offers you two ways of having corn, either he boils the bajra for you with spices and you eat it directly or he rips off the corn from the bajra with a knife and hands it to you in a plate with masala and lemon. I prefer the later. So, I took spoons full of sweet corn and relished it, what a break from work! But wait I am not done yet, there is some eternal relationship between a girl and pani puri which we call 'gup chup' in Bhubaneswar. So, how could I miss that. The pani puri stall is a little far on the other side of the road. But you see no street snack is complete for any female without tasting her favourite pani puri. So, we took a small walk and gulped those pani puris one by one till the count reached ten. This is something which I would have called 'the pursuit of happiness' but we decided to end the food spree with some imli candies which I bought from a shop near by.

As I walked back to office I was full of joy. You see a break at times is important and a break from the regular food that you have is a delight. I had seen a board in front of a cafe once which said "We are what we eat". So, I think good food is good mood and we must always start good things when we have had good food. At least I haven't  got any good ideas when I was hungry!



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Family Time

Well taking the trend of my 'simple pleasures' series forward where I would write about the books I have been reading or the movies I have been watching or anything that adds to contentment, here is another. 

This December 30th I turned a year older, I am now in my thirties and the years just pass by like days. I have also completed more than ten years at work and I already feel like retiring. 

This December 30th I thought of spending only with my family. So, I got up quite early in the morning, got ready and put on my new dress. The dress that I had meticulously chosen from central, one of the malls I always hang out in the weekend. The colour was a bright yellow with golden work on it. I had hesitated to buy it but a  friend had insisted that I try bright colour. Putting that on I felt like eighteen again! Now the restaurants in Bhubaneswar keep changing, there was this place called 'Blue Berry' that sold many nice grills and I used to go there with my friends on Wednesdays and Fridays, the days when they had non veg. We relished Mexican grilled chicken sizzler, the seafood sizzler and the exotic prawn sizzler. However one fine day the restaurant completely shut down though it's sister restaurant called 'Wild Berrys' is still open about three kilometers away from it in the other side of our office. The new restaurant that has come up in it's place is called 'Go South'. A pure vegetarian one with all kinds of dosas and South Indian Thalis. I have tried the thalis twice and it is not bad. Since it's vegetarian, people go there on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays because those are the days people usually have veg here. In Bhubaneswar there are days for veg and non veg and there are restaurants to go accordingly!

My mother insists that we have vegetarian on birthdays because that is kind of auspicious. So, I planned to take my family comprising  of my parents, my maternal uncle and aunty to the all veg restaurant 'Go South'. Not so sure if they enjoyed but like a typical middle class family they were terribly worried about the bill even if I was paying. So, after a decent meal and decent bill we set out for twin city Cuttack, our ancestral place. My younger cousin brother was more than happy to see me. My aunty had carried a lot of cakes and chocolates with her which he relished. There was no typical candle lighting or cake cutting ceremony but my grandmother and my aunty each gave me a five hundred rupees note. I felt as if I was ten years old again ! Actually I always feel that every time I go to my ancestral place. My granny is about to be eighty years old and growing weaker but she is delightful. I still love talking to her and had an amazing time. After spending the whole afternoon there we went to the Chandi temple in Cuttack, where my mother and aunty were lost offering prayers and then finally we returned back to Bhubaneswar.

It was a day well spent with my family and worthy to be remembered because sometimes in the hassle of the job life and the outings with friends we often forget our aged relatives who won't be around always and do need our time.   



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