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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