A grieving wife.

Recalling our cherished moments is not an option at all.
Your effortless smile & warm hugs are too painful to reminisce.

Wait. Let me recover from the catastrophe,
How did I lose the father to my son and the son to my father?

And to me, you ask?
To me, you were the face I always longed to see, months together.

But was my longing not enormous enough this time?
You have returned only as ashes and your red guitar pick.
Your precious, precious guitar pick.
It lies safely with me now.

It will remind me that you were more than your uniform.
It will remind our country that they lost a son who had a heart full of love & life.

It will remind the world that you were a thriving human as ordinary as a civilian and as extraordinary as a martyr and that your unwavering devotion to your duty did not imply that death is commonplace at our homes.

Life & Mortality; my renewed views

(This is penned after reading the book INNER ENGINEERING, ADIYOGI & internalizing some of Sadhguru’s teachings via the Inner Engineering Course).

Life used to be a mournful transience,

Much like the fragrance of a burning incense,

A series of bittersweet memories etched in my mind,

Interrupted by vague smiles embedded in my lens.

Now mortality is inevitable,

Every minute closer than the last,

I used to live in blissful ignorance,

Because time never seemed to navigate too fast.

I saw flowers blooming everyday,

And then I saw them wither away.

I observed the cycle of nature repeatedly,

Unaware that this witness wasn’t here to stay.

But now that I am able to perceive,

All that there truly is;

I breathe far more joyfully,

As I have begun to know life,

Just as it is.

The void within

Photo by Oleksandr Pidvalnyi on Pexels.com

The unsettling mind, the constant noise,
The rumbling silence & void within.

The melting masterpiece,
This work of art & perseverance,
Sweltering sweat & patience.

You are here now & then you are not,
Thoughts traverse through the fabric of your restless mind,
Like the countless threads across a handloom.
Zipping & zapping across your existence,
Hoping and praying for a moment of pure stillness,
To unveil the emptiness, the vulnerability,
The hapless core of immense plasticity
That is truly you.

The Relentless Parvati

O mighty rock, would you please speak to me;
Of how you are seated, where once I use to be?
And speak not of the things that follow a natural order,
As you and I have existed without any superfluous border.

You must recall how I would swiftly run past your side,
and you would ask if all this water was because I laughed or I cried?
I would smile at your pleasantry and splash around some more,
and tell you how I was yearning to reach my farmer’s shore.

I always brought to you stories, Of how I lived to give.
And of how I nurtured a little spirit into a tree and taught it how to live.
But now there are no buds who will ever bloom,
As you stand here in your glory sending my children into doom.

But mighty rock, please know that I am a mother too,
and I will find a way to my children despite what you do.
I will gush and I will flow through your tiniest crevice.
and you will come to fear my voice, my roaring laughter and vicious cries.

And if you try to stop me all together, O mighty rock, please do know;
There maybe a better friend than me, but there is no mightier foe.
I will uproot your concrete trees, and split your earth into two.
I will pave a watery way, To the golden sun if I have to.

And when I am again where once I use to be;
I will pardon you for all the horrors, But will you be able to set yourself free?

Fair UnFair

 

What is fair and what is unfair?

Where is that line? How does it look?
Is it as clear as the seashore – one step too dry, one step too wet?
Or is it like the horizon – deluded, confusing and subjective?

What leads to clarity?
An understanding of this abstract ray,
Or is it when one learns to skip back and forth without a cringe on the face?

How does one describe a successful relationship?
By the ratio of fairness to utter and absolute unfairness,
Hoping for the solution to make some sense,
Or by knowing that the solution is always one,
And the chemistry of the water of life has one part each of hydrogen and oxygen.

That life itself is more Grey than the greymost of skies,
Is more foggy than the highest peak during a blizzard.
And is more complex than the epicenter of a whirlpool.

Or is it when one knows that life probably doesn’t answer these questions.
Not in any pages, not with any experience.
For life perhaps doesn’t know how difficult our minds are.

Woman

A rain drop leaves the thundering cloud,
Is she running away or plummeting towards?
Is she finally weary of heaven’s autocracy?
Or has she always been an infidel lover of earth?

There at a distance, a flame lights up.
Did she happily burn herself to bring warmth to her lovers?
Or is she screaming because his atrocities make her soul quiver?

Somewhere an apple plopped on a mighty head,
Heck! She falls all the time.
Did she throw herself away to provide for him?
Or simply because her shoulders could no longer bear the weight of her crowded head?

Rain may decide to drop or not,
A wick whether to quiver and melt,
A fruit may be simply eaten on branch,
But at the juncture, she must decide.

She must choose a direction for destiny,
Either she must eat the guilt, drink the hatred and swallow with grace her fears,
Or she must jump from floor to ceiling,
Raise her voice and often others’ too.

Either way the choice is hers.
There’s not more dignity in coming out than staying within.

For each soul has its own reparative measures.
To be at peace, she must know for herself,
How to mend, sew and furnish her own mind.

Wanderlust

The car’s ignition lights,

And the radio cheers a lovely song,

As you wheel us towards that way,

We could be gone for very long.

The breeze that dances in my hair,

Laughs aloud when I sing along,

And there we are, once again on the road,

Perhaps this is where, we belong.

I now smell the warmth of no one,

I am sure, You can too;

For this is why we escape from  life,

The lonesome spirit pulls  us through.

Far up the mountain, I see a little girl,

I see she looks pleasantly above,

I follow her and look up from the window,

I see what she sees, it is pure love.

The breeze, the smell, the sky,

The song, the dance and the love,

They are all breathers of the country side,

Away from the city, far and above.

Sabbatical from Candy Crush

I was introduced to him 18 months ago. It was love at first swipe ! All those colourful, stripped and solid candies; popping, bursting and cracking up all the time – my joy knew no end !

I would spend hours with him. And when I wasn’t with him, I was constantly thinking of him. I would bring him up in mundane conversations. My friends often teased me saying, Charmie! I doubt it is candy “crush” for you. I believe it is candy “love”!! I managed to hide the blush on my face, at least I hoped I did!

I crossed level after level and our love seemed to cross leaps and boundaries blooming and blossoming together. When I would close my eyes, I dreamt of all the candies dropping into their tetris like formation. Mentally, I would evolve new strategies to win him over completely!

He was fond of me too ! He would text me on facebook if I hadn’t seen him all day. He would pop up on my phone to remind me how ready he was to have me. Such a darling, I thought!

But well, there were times when things got rough. Level 97 was one of the toughest time of our relationship. I even thought of giving up. I begged and pleaded my friends to help me out to sail through this unfortunate time of my life. My friends helped me as much as they could but most of them lacked compassion. Some of them even cursed me for trying to keep my relationship afloat by seeking their help. They cursed me for being with him at strange hours of the night and tinkling their facebook accounts with a small beep to let them know we were still together. Can you believe their insensitivity? Pfft! They don’t know true love, I inferred!

But like for everything else in life, the spring did not last forever either. Well, there is something you must know about him at this point – he tends to be extremely moody – I mean EXXTREEEMELY MOODY! I mean there was this one time, when he made me wait for a full week to move on ! Like really? Can’t you be kind or humane?  I mean, we have come this far, and here we are at 350 and you do this to me now? We sat up all night, trying to sort things out. I literally called my friends at 2.00am, 3.00am and again at 5.30am and asked them to help me out. I knew they would get mad at me or worse so think I have gone crazy, but I was desperate (and crazy) !

I got up from bed (not woke up, I got up) at 7.30am – helpless, depressed and tired. We couldn’t make it. No matter how hard I tried. This is the thing I hate about our relationship. Why must I do all the hard work all the time. I mean can’t he for once just make things easier for me? Just once? He loves me, I know but his mood swings are worse than women on their cycle!!

I headed to the dining table where the breakfast was laid out. My father was glaring at me from behind his spectacles. I looked terrible, I knew. My hair was messy, I had deep gray under eyes as if I had been punched in the eye and my head was in splits. I reached out for a can of milk and cereal. My father then looked at me with utmost sincerity and said, “Is it really worth it Charmie? Think again” I think he was sobbing. Secretly, I was sobbing too !

I put my breakfast bowl away and ran upstairs to my room. I got a hold of my cellular phone – and in an instant, just a moment – I deleted him from my life. Just like that! I sat down on the bed for a while to realize what I had just done – but I was determined not to go back to him. I showered, got ready and with a new found hope in life; I went on to work. I knew his thoughts would interrupt my work, but no !

A psychologist friend of mine told me, that for a habit to loosen its grip on you – you must go through 21 days without it and then you are all on your own – free from it all ! So I resolved and I was doing very well. My efficiency at work improved, I slept well these days. He tried to call me every now and then via facebook. Some friends even tried to set us up again. But no – I did not give in. I was strong and determined to move on and move on I will !

Days turned into weeks and soon I was on my 18th day off him. Then something happened. Even after our breakup, I would think of him when I would be travelling in the bus, sitting idle waiting for a colleague or while taking a dump for that is when we would be together, when there was no one else (and later no matter who else was there) ! Thus, I was keeping myself very busy and surrounded by people. But then on this ill – fated 18th day; I was called to office an hour early for a meeting via tele – conferencing with an England based company. I was to use my Boss’s phone to make the call. She left me with her phone (she was involved with him too. No, I knew. I was okay with all that !) and left for a cup of coffee. But now, all of a sudden, I was alone with him – tempted to know how he was keeping. I wanted to know if he upgraded his features, if he got newer candies, if he wanted me back and would just allow me to move on to 351 because he missed me so much. My fingers hovering over his icon – curiosity, temptation and lust acting together and just when I was about to go to him, the screen in front of me lit up with 10 English men staring at me as I shooed away the phone. I would have relapsed – thank God for the English – God bless the Queen – Oh! But isn’t my love’s father KING English too ?Nevermind – I saved myself from the disgrace!

On day 22, I returned home from work with a sense of triumph of having conquered 21 days away from him. I felt powerful like a winner. Yes, I did it! I told myself. I retired on the sofa next to my father who was watching TV. Or was he? I looked at him again. My super grim, cricket loving father was staring at his phone as India v/s Pak was playing on the TV. This shit never happens! I had to peep!! What! CANDY CRUSH SODA ! Like instead of candies, bottles of Soda clunk up ! What Candies and Soda! OMG ! And I fly up instead of falling down ! I couldn’t believe my eyes!!! I am going to go leaps and bounds again! I am going to have so much soda in my life!

And just like that, my eyes lit up again and my sabbatical ended. After all 21 days vs a year; one would say being single was never even an option for me!

The right path need not always be the hard one – Making a baby !

Last week we were travelling to Pavna Lake, a stunning weekend getaway just an hour and a half from the buzzing Mumbai. There we met a couple. A lovely, young Indian couple. The woman was 5 months pregnant and the couple was elated. This is their story.

We invited them to our room for drinks. At night; all of us were in somewhat high spirits (except the to – be mother of course), when her husband began to discuss the ordeal they had to face to achieve parenthood. He explained to us how they were not able to conceive despite all attempts since a year. He spoke of the exhausting rounds at the gynecologists and  obstetricians that left the couple with lesser and lesser hope each time they met somebody.

Harder they worked, further they got from actually having the baby. Every time they visited the doctor, the doctor said; “What are you doing so wrong? Are you drinking? Are you taking some pills?”. Another, rather crude doctor told them, “You are getting older by the minute. And by the minute, you both are losing your fertility!” Their sex life ironically suffered the most. The one thing, they never had any problem with, now suffered immensely. The harder they worked towards it, the more stress built up, romance got thrown out of the window and having a baby became a dying hope.

6 months ago, they gave up. One morning, the woman woke up and threw away all her medications. She went to work after a week’s sick leave and wrote a note to her husband. It read, “I can live without a baby but not without my life.” And that was it. They gave up all their doctors and medications and went back to their wine, beer and non – vegetarian diets. They even got a dog to fill up the void of the future. Soon love flourished, and intimacy took it’s own course to make a child grow naturally within the woman. No medications, a really bad lifestyle but a month later; she actually got pregnant!

So what ever happened to the ageing womb and the weltering sperm count? They went to see the crude doctor again who now said, “See. It pays off. All the medications, all the persistence.” The husband started laughing hysterically now as he said, “But Doc ! We were both drunk when we made our child !” The husband swore that the doctor turned red when he heard this and asked them to leave and they happily obliged!

So they dropped the hopes, they even chose not to follow the hard routine. The eased into their life. They made their life fun. They did the one thing their unborn child wanted them to do – To be themselves, stress- free, carefree, just like him / her.  And then the soul entered his mother’s happy body, to float in her happy waters, and to kick and move in her new found stress free comfort.

My happy ending to this story was when the woman told me, “It is so funny. We tried and tried and tried and we couldn’t make it. And now, this fellow right here, is an unplanned child ! ” she said while she nursed her swell.

The right path need not always be the hard one – Part 1

the dusty, murky winding path or the paved, clear, shady path?

There’s always a choice. Almost always, we all have one. Whether it is to call the truth the truth or to slip away by not saying anything at all. When a goal is clear, one is again faced with a choice. The easier, smoother paved road or the murkier, dusty winding road. Which one must we take? It is arguable but often stated, repeated and even quoted that the harder the path you choose to victory, the sweeter it will hold for you.

However, this is highly relative, subjective and all other words of diplomatic value. Isn’t it easier to drive to the hospital to see your sick child than to trod along? Isn’t it easier to donate a rupee to a beggar than to shoo him away? Isn’t the easier thing to do, perhaps the right thing to do. Just perhaps, maybe?

Hordes of argumentalists would advocate against me saying; I am confusing factual with abstract decision making and that my spectacles need a severe improvement because I am being severely narrow visioned.

Thus, allow me to take a broader example.

Let us suppose, I have been an artist all my life. I am to perform once again in front of an endearing crowd of hundreds. My song is a mighty crowd pleaser and I barely need to rehearse, but of-course, I am sincere. Hence, I do rehearse.

You, the producer of my show walk up to me and tell me, “Shake a leg, woman. The crowd loves you and would love to see you dance a little!” I smile outside and die within. I am no dancer.

However, I practice (since you hold my money). I practice straight for a month. I am nowhere close to Shakira. Hell, I am nowhere close to nobody. After a month long hard work, my act is still an imitation of the clown’s act from the town hall circus.

With my heels on, I trip on the day of my grand rehearsal. I control the chattering of my teeth and the sudden wimping of my legs. I think I am under prepared. You look at me from a distance signalling with a thumbs up! Are you one of those with blurry vision or easily charmed by an adult clown, I wonder.

I am quivering on the stage now. The curtains are just going to be drawn. And just when the spotlight falls on me; the glaring, blinding light; I forget the first step. What was it, I struggle under my puffed breath. The loud applause, the sheer noise in the audience; I feel like I am in a deep sleep. Unable to shake off the inertia of my rusted memory.

The microphones have been checked. 1,2,3,4; I see you now. You are staring at me. You wonder which ghost crept into me and when. You wonder how long I would stare back at you blankly. My cue has long passed. I have to either sing or start to dance. The crowd has gone silent now.

Yes! A hazy image fills up my mind. Oh yes! I have tap the left foot and swirl my waist. Oh yes, my heart; I feel it is smiling a little. I will dance and sing and shrug off the fear forever, I resolve.

I tap my left foot, it hurts my heel. That was probably a little hard, a little too hard; I think. The microphone tripod is under my foot now. I have set it in motion, I can see its perturbation in your eyes now. My microphone slips off the holder. Somehow I grasp it with my sweaty palm.

I am on my feet again. I stand firmly. I don’t swirl my waist. I do not move for the rest of the night. I sing, I sing with all my heart. I beat the chords I couldn’t strike with my unshakable voice. This becomes the best performance of my life. The crowd stands up. They love me.

I took the easier path, when it was the right thing to do. I look at you at the end of the show. You urge me to try again. I promise I will. But tonight I sleep well.

Triumph is triumph. It does not acknowledge the path chosen.