...

Inspiration is the father of art and the soul its mother, for when inspired does the soul conceive a masterpiece...

Dawn breaks; The golden gates of Your kingdom 
You set ajar for the sunlight to pour in its abundance;
Oh how brightly it shines! Your face in all its royalty;
Your gaze on Your children, burning in them a fire
That sets aflame a zeal to live a life of fulfillment that comes from You alone.

Ai Khuda, Teri sultanat humesha rahe aabaad
Uss jaanat mein bhi aur iss jahaan mein bhi
Bus itni se hai fariyaad...

Tides fall low and tides rise high;
In solitude but dignified it stands
With waves lashing against it;
Not once does it fail to do the Karma
Showing the way to those in need,
Being the light when darkness falls;
That He in His goodness should make me
Like the brave lighthouse always standing tall;
Doing faithfully its duty, asking for zilch as reward.

Beauty lies in the detail.
Life just waits to happen, ne'er does it fail;
Embracing every external as its own,
With everyone or all alone,
It keeps growing, keeps forging ahead with Him as its holy grail.

Photography: Devendra Tambe

Lime and Lemony Limericks...

There was a time when she thought

That nothing was all she had got,

But then she grew older

And oh she grew bolder

And she gave all she did her best shot.

   

                    ***

She studied then with books and files,

Buried under heaps and piles.

Now her thought's taken a turn.

Now she knows how to learn.

And she hopes she walks with Wisdom for miles.

                    ***

She whiles away all her time.

She doesn't think it's a crime.

For the time she loves wasting,

Is a time that's worth tasting

And a time that's worth more than a dime.

                    ***

She loves trying something new.

If you'd try it you'd love it too.

The old ways are as boring

As the old man who's snoring,

So add some spice to your tasteless stew.

                  ***

She loves being inspired by feeling.

It gives her withered soul a sense of healing.

So she picks up her quail

And writes her own tale

To Him who listens as she is kneeling.

                 ***

I don't know what I want to be

Or what my future holds for me.

But someday I shall rise

Up from foolishness to be wise

And only then the big picture shall I see. 

                  ***       

Chuggy...

...in a brown cardboard box with dolls and bears it parked itself to the right;

The blue wooden train sat blue and unnoticed, hiding and out of sight...

Day in and out blue Chuggy had chugged, it had made little Michael smile;

Coo it had chugged, coo-coo had it blown its whistle for many a mile.

Not once had it halted and ne'er had it stopped its journey on the tracks of gold;

Huffing and puffing it had forged ahead till mommy said it would have to be sold...

                                                  

                                                  ******

One fine day when it had been chugging it spotted in its tracks a gap;

It whistled and blew to anyone who'd hear, but couldn't avoid the mishap.

It rolled off the track, and out of the door straight down on the steep wooden stairs;

Little blue Chuggy landed onto the floor and laid there for all one cares.

An hour went by, and then another one, when little Michael came hopping along;

He saw blue Chuggy all broken and shattered but went away singing his song.

Chuggy just lay there, no more could it whistle for its charge had gone all low;

So lost and lonely it felt and it cooed to revive itself from the blow.

                                                  ******

...so now it just lay there lifeless and limp in the brown cardboard box on the right;

For little Michael had neither for once turned his back nor with mommy had he put up a fight.

When blue blue Chuggy thought all was lost, it saw a shadow being cast over it;

A freckled little lad with hair as red as ever peered at him with his face all lit.

"Mommy", he said "look what I have found for my happy birthday gift,

a blue wooden train so happy and bright.", and out of there blue Chuggy he did lift.

He put the broken pieces together with love and blue Chuggy in his arms he nestled;

Chuggy was happy that it'd found a new friend and in happiness it gently whistled.

Little Michael had been so good and so dear, Chuggy missed him with out a doubt;

But Goodness had given it another who cared, so Chuggy chucked all its sadness out.

The Greatest Gift...

Of all the gifts Thou has given us, Love is the greatest; And oh Lord
our privilege to make Thee the center of our lives is a manifestation of this, Thy gift to us...


What is human love, only feeble and conditional,
it blooms today like fresh blossoms and tomorrow it withers away;
And even if it should be immortal my Lord, can it compare to that of Thou?
For Thou oh Lord foolishly lavish love upon us;
We stray away and live unrighteous lives but Thou continue to love us,
For Thy love oh Lord is patient and kind, it never comes to an end,
it bears all our sinfulness and hopes to save us from all that is not of Thee.


Our nothingness oh Lord cannot fathom this, Thy kindness to us;
For we see but only a part; The complete portrait of Thy heart for us
we shall see only when we rise above ourselves and share in Thy love;
An unconditional flow, like an eternal river so pure.


Bless us dear Lord that we, some day before we cross the river,
may share of this, Thy love and feel the ecstasy;
For even if we, for only a moment, love another with the love with which Thou love us,
our journey and purpose in life would be rendered complete.

Seulement Pour Moi

What a beautiful bond we share my Lord, You are the flower and I am the bee;

Aye I am drawn to You and You nourish me with nectar so sweet.

But Lord I abhor with great intensity when the other bees hover around You;

It's not the nectar that I fear I shall loose, but my flower I cannot share.

I sing to You a love song and I adore You like I do no one else;

But all of the others do the same my Lord, so how am I different from these?

Why then should you love me more than you do the others?

I understand it all with my head, but my heart, who shall explain it?

You see no difference in all Your lovers, they are all carved on the palm of Your hand;

But Your hand, oh Lord, is not where I long to be;

Make me then, the apple of Your eye and hide me under Your lashes

So that no one takes me away from You nor You away from me.

The others, they may call me selfish, but nothing do I hear or listen;

Solipsism has taken over and I see nothing but me, oh Lord I see nothing but You.

The others they have their flowers or let them go to other gardens;

I exhort that You are mine and mine alone.

Do not despise me or push me away for murdering my conscience;

The puissance I do not have that I would hold myself up;

Look at me alone today and some day when I am stronger,

I shall set You free to make Your home in the heart of the other.

The Last Walk...

I held your finger and the path seemed endless;
Small steps I took knowing you were with me;
And now as I walk the last walk, my hand hooked onto your arm
The path seems so short and I wish it would never end.

A tiara of fresh flowers rests comfortably on the crown of her head. Black tresses cascading behind her. A hint of moisture lurking in the depths of her bottomless almond eyes. She smiles to hide it all. The white of the gown can't match the purity of the moment. She glances to her right. He smile's a weak smile. She tightens her grip on his weak arms, the arms that have been so strong for so long, the arms that have lifted her up from the lowest of lows.

The first step again. The first of the many last steps that she would take with her hero. The holy temple resounds with angelic hymns. Church bells sing their own song. They rhythmically progress. At the end of the aisle waits a prince that would take his princess away for good. He would if he could lift her up like he always did and take her back. But sometimes there is no turning back and so he moves on. He knows she is happy and so he moves on. Tears push against the lids of his old eyes like the unruly sea pushing against the dams, but he moves on. He sketches a vivid image, with his mind's eye, of the tiny bundle of happiness that he once held. He wishes his embrace could be her world once again. But tiny bundles like her were meant to be given away and so he moves on.

A hundred pair of eye balls pierce their gaze on her. Another hundred mouths hush and whisper to each other. But she hears nothing. Numbness has taken over. Ahead of her stands the man she loves the most in the world. Beside her stands the man who loves her beyond compare. Why does she have to leave one arm to hold the other? Couldn't she get it all? But she knows she cannot and so she moves on.  The fragrance of her old man tugs at her heart. She knows, so well, that fragrance. The fragrance that accompanied the hug and made her feel everything could  be fine again, the same fragrance that accompanied the good night kiss she secretly stayed awake to cherish every night. In moments she would have to part with it forever. But she knew  that every flower withered away and took with it its fragrance. The vase had to accept a new flower with a new fragrance and so she moved on.

Before they know it they have reached the end of a beautiful journey. One last glance, one last smile, one last touch...

So fast I outgrew your arms, like an oyster outgrown by the pearl;
But no matter how old I get, I'll still be your little girl...

My girl Maya...

She walked into my life, with her laughter and her song;
She changed the person I was all along;

Every moment we spent together was as sweet as the notes of the lyre;

My pride and an extension of my womanhood- my girl Maya.

...and all of a sudden the noise in the ward gave way to deafening silence and my pain, it gave way to a state of higher emotion. All I could feel was nothing and all I could see was a tiny bundle wrapped in a white piece of cloth stained crimson red. She fit so perfectly into my arms, like she was meant to be there all along. I looked at her and smiled. 

She wrapped her tiny hand around my fore finger. Struggling to hold her head up she ultimately gave in and rested it on my palm. My lazy finger drew circles on her cheeks. Feeling ticklish she moved slightly. Maya wasn't exactly fair, her skin delicate and pinkish. I smiled to myself imagining the dark complexioned beauty she'd grow up to be. Suddenly she yawned, the milky odour made my nose tingle. No matter how widely her mouth opened, it was still so tiny. I caught her smile in her peaceful slumber. I wondered if she was playing in His garden right now. She smiled like an angel exposing her pink naked gums. A tear drop danced on the rim of my eye and slid down my cheek.

I tilted my head backwards and rested it on the pink nursery wall behind me. I felt her lips against my skin. She depended on me for everything. Her helplessness tugged at my motherhood. Though I enjoyed my new role, I thought of how I would raise her to be an independent woman, beautiful and powerful. Maya would create an identity for herself. She would never struggle to fit in. Right from her first steps she would forge ahead in life with freedom. A freedom that is born out of confidence. A confidence that stems from her trust in Him. In Him she would take her first steps. 

I reached out to the glass of water on the bed side table. I jolted forward and the water made a small puddle making the brown of the wood appear a hue darker...Vehicles were honking and the passengers in the bus chit chatting their way through the bright sunny day. I rubbed my eyes and tugged at my shawl. My watch told me I had rested for a good twenty minutes. I was happy I had had the dream. I saw my stop approaching. I quickly got up and moved towards the door. As I moved out of my seat I noticed a puddle of water. It made the green leather of the bus seat appear a hue darker than it was. I quietly  smiled to myself and descended down the metal stairs.

Idle Chat...

As I lie down on my back, sweetness melting in my mouth

Thoughts swim on in my mind causing ripples in its peaceful waters

The ripples continue to form and create a cyclone that destroys all that lies in its way

It destroys my peace; it destroys my chain of thoughts

Oh lord awake, awake from Thy slumber and calm the storms of my mind

For even the sea listens to Thee, the fish the swim at Thy command

What then is the anxiety of my heart?

For when Thou art for me oh Lord, who can stand against me?

Thou hold me in thy arms and show me my name carved in the palm of Thy hands

Thou knew me before I existed, such a deep bond we share

Thou knew me and recognized me when I never was

How much more oh Lord will Thou recognize and know me now

Ever tear drop that escapes my eye and ever thought that troubles me

Thou have a count of

Because Thou care, because Thou love, because Thou art who Thou art

The twinkle in my eye, Thou place it there in the night

So that the morning sun should shy away from the brightness of my smile

The smile on my lips, Thou place there when I’m sleeping

So that I wake up to praise Thee in happiness and grace

Such is Thy love for me, but I am so weak my lord

That I fail time and again to know and recognize Thee

I lived with Thee for nine months in my mother’s womb

But I have forgotten Thee and Thy tender love

Make haste my lord to shower me with Thy love

Make haste and send me Thy spirit in its fullness

That I may let Thou into my life, that I may let Thou love me more and more

I talk to them but they don’t answer me

I approach and knock, but they push me away

I hurt oh Lord and I hurt so badly, but I know Thou see it all

Thou let it happen for Thou have a plan, a plan for goodness and brimming with hope

I trust Thee my Lord for I know Thy skill, Thou art the most adept of all

I’m a lamb, I falter and I stray away

I come to Thee only when I need to graze

When I’ve had my fill of water and fodder

I go to other places, I wander and I pay no heed to Thy call oh Lord

But Thou art my merciful Shepard, Thou guide me still

Thou come out of love to find me and take me

Thou swing me and place me gently on Thy shoulders

I rest feeling secure with Thy arms around me

I know if the wolf comes Thou will face him alone

But no harm shall grope me and pull me down

They say we never met, they say we’re far away

But Thou oh Lord are right where Thou were

It is I who keep going back and forth

But Thou pull me closer in Thy love and mercy

I can talk to Thee my Lord for ever and ever

Time shall pass by me and I wouldn’t know

For Thou listen to every word I speak to Thou

Nothing I say goes unheard

But Lord in Thy mercy talk to me

Let me be the one who listens to Thy word

Thou have spoken to me oh Lord, many a time Thou have

But a deaf ear I have turned unto Thee

Aid me my Lord that I may listen

Listen to Thy word and keep it well

For it’s pleasing to Thee that I keep Thy word

And it’s a privilege for me that I get to hear Thy voice

Power of Love...

The warmth of love she hadn't felt, her heart had turned to stone;
With love He caused her heart to melt, He chose her as His own.

Like a stream that gushes down the mountain in search to be free;
And flows ahead with fervour intense to dive into the sea,
She lived every moment so full of life, she lived every moment like her last;
Little did she know her sweetest moments would turn so sour so fast.

The sun came up and dried the water, the stream could barely flow;
In no time she turned so empty and parched, or at least she thought so,
Her soul had turned so barren and bore no fruit in a long long time;
All she wanted was love in its fullness, oh my was it a crime?

Then came the rains like showers of blessing and filled her till she overflowed,
Then came the Master- the Friend so dear and she smiled so hard that she glowed.

Freedom begins between the ears...

Listen to your voice, it speaks so softly;

Let not vain noise stifle its message for you.

I really admire people who are sure of what they want to do in life. This is because they can do something I can't. I've never been sure of what I've wanted, be it the course I should pursue, the brand I should work with, the man I should spend the rest of my life with et al or have I?

Many a time though, I've felt that deep down I just know what I want to do and may be I just don't want to admit it to myself. Fear of the unknown- what if I fail, what if I find out it's not what I should have chosen? In the bargain, most things I've ended up choosing are what I shouldn't have chosen. What an irony!

I always thought dropping out of college for the love of music or being an IITian and an IIM graduate and ending up as a fiction author were things that happened to others. Women like me, very next door and very ordinary don't do or even think of doing things like that. But I must admit that I was wrong. Where I am today, I'd have loved to drop out of college! I guess, it's a feeling I've probably harboured for quite sometime now at a subconscious level. Finally, the boiling lava has hit surface. After all these years I've finally realized that I'm not M.B.A. material. I'm not cut out to sit in plush offices and crack deals worth crores. I am just meant to be me. 

I've always been some one who could never work things out on a macro level. The next door chic that I am, I can only perform and function on a micro level. Hoping all through out that my efforts create ripples that go a long way and extrapolate the benefit large scale. For instance, I can't convert a two lakh  event into a sixty lakh one. Rather, what I can do and enjoy doing is write an attractive tagline for the event hoping in good spirit that the event becomes a name that touches every heart it reaches.

I wish life was a movie shot that had retakes if needed, in contrast to 'the world being a stage' where you get to perform any scene only once . Alas, if wishes were horses, I'd have a ranch! Nevertheless, there is always a door that helps you break away, you just have to find it. And I've found my door. 

I open the door to my secret hide out and the sunlight, it kisses my face;

Smiling, I gently nudge it away to find myself in its embrace.

Confessions of an independent city woman...

I look into the mirror; lo what do I see?
A beautiful and powerful woman staring back at me.

Coffee brewing, the aroma wafts into nothingness. The washing machine churns a heap of clothes in warm water and soap. A limp sky blue kurta awaits its destiny to crispness. Suddenly the bathroom door opens and a moderately built figure steps out of translucent smoke, like an apsara stepping out of the celestial heavens. A baby pink towel wrung around her head entwines her black hair. A drop or two of water rests like dew on her forehead. She pours herself a cuppa and rushes into the bedroom.

The machine beeps to tell her it has faithfully done its duty once again. She has replaced her white wrap around towel with a loose vest and shorts. A jig with the iron box and she is into her gear. Hair tied into a loose knot, smack some gloss, contour the eyes and she is ready to face another day.

It's not easy being an independent city woman. Juggling the personal and the professional is a touch harder than juggling coloured balls at the circus.

You may have been independent as a child but a foretaste of adult hood can lead to indigestion if you have to taste it in copious amounts. Talking of taste, food issues are an issue alright. Let’s face it, biryaanis and pizzas will never satiate you like home made dal and rice. If you have to ruminate on the former every single day it's a pain; and it’s a 'big' pain. Junk food leads to concave bellies- jelly bellies and when you are twenty three and female it's a big no no.

Anyway, you somehow drag yourself to work. A long busy day (with lunch in the royal canteen, one would rather fast) and we're back home. Bai's, in my opinion, derive sadistic pleasure in seeing their employers (especially if she is female) in distress. A mountain of vessels in the kitchen sink and the bed sheets and pillow covers dusty enough to attract wild life. In moments like these our fairy godmothers have an uncanny knack of falling ill or making someone else in the family fall ill. All said and done, you can't complain because itna paisa mein itnaich milinga! 

You manage to do the vessels. Now at least you have a glass to quench your thirst with. Open the lid of the washing machine and the fragrance that your nose is privileged to enjoy is in explicable. Drying clothes using hangers at ten in the night and devoid of a grain in your stomach is an impossible task. You promise yourself that you would religiously dry them appropriately once you're married and a home maker. Negotiating with the guilt pangs on not being one yet, you dry them on the floor and switch on the fan. Regulator on full speed (guilt Nazi on the prowl again reminding you of the huge electricity bill that's going to show up at month end). After the war has been waged, you're too tired for an elaborate dinner. A bag of chips ('big' pain again) finds its way into your more than willing stomach.

You make an effort to splash some water onto your face and in no time you've hit the bed ("Dad, I really wanted to, but my hands are too tired to brush my teeth"). A string of thoughts ensue (I should have taken my one rupee from that rickshaw driver and I’ll teach that woman in the train a lesson tomorrow for sure).Snore. Dreams. Rejuvenation to face yet another challenging, nevertheless eventful day.

Footprints...

The fruit of Eden I did eat;
But the path I trod took me through hades.
I met the right man to cherish the moment;
Alas how I met him spelled the end.

We meet so many people in our life time. Most of them walk out of our hearts as fast as they had walked in. A few of these leave foot prints behind.

He sat at the bus stop biting his lips. The night long anxiety hadn't let him rest his eyes. Anxiety, she had troubled him all night and now mercilessly teased him as he sat in solitude. Not solitude entirely as he sat with a million thoughts swarming his mind. He smiled gently as he imagined the moment. A moment that would have to wait for hours before it manifested itself.

He stared out of the window. Rain drops trickling down his window. He slid it to breathe in sweet muddy breeze. The bus sped across the highway letting the cool breeze caress his face and play with the black flicks that so charmingly rested on his broad forehead. The sun was dozing leaving behind a frail trail of light. Light that shone bright enough to make his dark eyes glisten.

He got down the bus. A left gaze and then a right. Again a left. He had imagined not what he saw. A simplicity so sweet that it made him cringe at his vivid imagination.

She sat in front of him, eyes searching for something to look at, lest his gaze should catch hers. Their breath echoed against the silence so loud. The white walls took an oath not to bear witness. The fireflies sang their song outside. May be they sang to sweet nothings that played within. A thought, a smile and a word. They moved colour by colour on the spectrum of an unchristened bond.Before they knew it, a white was all that was visible. A white, so pure and yet stained.

He never saw her again. Some bonds were meant to last but a moment. Moments of happiness, they were all he had wanted. So intense. He had felt , he had lived. The foundation of feeling though had been weak. As weak as a house built on sand along the sea shore.

Sometimes we meet the right people in the wrong ways. The moment never lasts, as doesn't the bond. But the memories remain. The footprints remain etched on the walls of our heart. These people move out of our lives as fast as they had moved in. They move out nevertheless, and we are never the same.

Found...

I live not in a vacuum, but among creatures varied;
Yet I feel the solitude, the empty space stares me in the eye...

Mumbai. She came to this city when she was 17. Full of life, both the city and she. Like a two edged sword the city devoured her. Ruminated on her belief in herself. Yes, it had taught her how to be herself and given her the courage to practice what she had learned. But may be it had taken more than given.

Vehicles honking, dogs barking, rain chitter- chattering and birds chirping. Such is the city that even silence seems so loud. Yes, it is difficult to feel the solitude therefore. But she did feel it. There was everyone around her and yet she was on her own.

There comes a time in life when family and friends fail to fill the void. Eyes crave for a glimpse of that face, the face that fills the empty space. In vain the mind wanders, the heart wastes precious emotion. Then there are a few who come along. They come with their story, they come with their song. She dreams the septa coloured dreams again. A moment or more the feeling lasts. It goes leaving her like ever before.

In the silence of her heart she hears someone speak. She hears Him say, "Come to me". A candle, some solitude and His word. Day after day there is no evident change. But her mind is made up. She seeks not change any more. She craves for the company. Even though it takes a thousand years and forever she will not be moved. He was, he is, he will be.