THE JOURNEY

Life is a wagon

Slithering through two

Long rails-dreams and reality.

Too close, yet

Never do they meet.

One futile without the other.

Yet, they never

Stop to make peace.

They unfurl in front

Of you, beyond that

Whisper of fog-far away

Hiding swirls and snares

And what not on

Its never ending path.

Fate runs the wagon

Smirking at its

Clamour  and cries,

Tensions and tears,

Never glancing back at

That rare happy moment.

A lifetime torn

In between two worlds

Speeding past

In search of a point

Where they meet.

And just when that veil

Of fog falls, there,

At that point, a bit away,

You see them crossing.

Joining and smiling at you.

When you are about

To get there-

Fate pedeals the brake,

The wagon,

Comes to a screeching halt.

Then your soul-like smoke-

Rises up, wanders to that point,

And dwells there

Mocking at your

Famished self, laughing

At the mad race,

Which you are just done with.

ARE YOU AN ATHEIST

I've been asked this question for the second time this week. from two entirely different people from different age groups. "ARE YOU AN ATHEIST? "

Both the times ,the question came out of the blue, without me stating anything remotely related to atheism. But both the times, it made me think of what I believe in , have I ever tries tying my faith to anything supernatural or out of my reach ??

Well twenty-one years is not a long enough time to come to a conclusion as to what to be believed or what not to b believed

But I believe and I strongly believe in a POWER of CONNECTION (that is what I choose 2 call it) ; a really strong one which makes Jaani ( my 6 year old dachshund) wag her tail at me whenever I come home..the way we can read each others emotions from our eyes. I believe in the genuine worries of a mother who thinks her daughter is too rebellious for her own good . I believe in  the pride of a father who raised a confidant daughter. I believe in d purity of five-year-old Ibrahim's mind which found out that leaves talk in their secret language when it rains. I believe in Karthika's hugs and Farhana's dreams..I believe in their belief !

I believe there is a power of dedication in all works of art be it my amma's cooking , Neruda's poems, the innocence of Arundhati Roy's Esthappen and Rahel, the wide eyes of Disney's cartoons, Sabyachachi's sarees or Rahman's music...

But being born to non-practicing  Hindu parents -who'd be happy see me choose any religion, and raised in a Christian school for 14 years, where they taught me what is more important is being a strong individual who respects other's belief,  yet stand up for what they believe in..(my college however works on a different principle , but I never bothered to take a bit of it inside my head)  and being best friends with maybe d boldest Muslim girl ,I don't chain myself to any religious beliefs . I don't pray in front of a beautifully sculptures or stone idols or to any symbol or to any direction..BUT I respect everyone who believes in it and does it...and that exactly is my PRAYER.

Well...what is my label now? Atheist ?  Agnonist ? May be a humanist ( with a slight feministic inclination) or perhaps a religiously-unlabeled happy woman !! :-)

HOW I MEND A HEART-BREAK

These shreds of papers, these were

Your sound, your smell and your smiles

-Oh, darling loser-

The remains of my memories of you,

All scattered in shreds!

It does not deserve to be

Spun in my beautiful words

These do not deserve an urn

Neither an empty coffee-can

No..not even that garbage bin.

I set them on fire.

Like you did to me-turning

My breath into sighs-

The flames burnt away

The heart-break, which

Chocolates had earlier mellowed.

I pretty my eyes with kaajal

And off I go, shopping

For unwanted shoes.

Now that, will sweep away

The ashes left over..!

ESCAPADE

Make me a wind

Let me break the shackles

Let me fly

Away from you,

Away from the concrete jungle.

Let me soar past those men

Leaving behind all my sins

Leaving behind, the smiles,the sorrows

Leaving behind my head,

I'm tired of reasoning.

Let me carry my words

A drop or two of my paints

A this and that of my music.

The rest all left behind.

Memories poured into the empty

Darkness of the prevailing night.

Then I fly

I fly and fly

Caressing the leaves

Kissing the flowers.

And when I'm out of breath,

I climb on the softest cloud

And away I sail..

Till I reach that clearing

Amidst the pine trees.

I lay there on my bed of lush

Green shoots n velvety violets.

And then the music I carried,

Sings for me

I paint my world by sunshine

And spin my words by moonlight !

LAMENT OF THE PHOENIX

Why again? Why again?

Time and again , I have

Risen from my ashes..

And watching me ,you,

My sad little human, you’re

Fooled to think ,this

Is a blessed rebirth!

Know you what it is to

Burn your own being?

With it, I wish I could

Burn away my sorrows

Sins of the past million births

Tears, which welled up when

All my little ones flew off.

I wish I could burn away

All those lonely years

The age old thoughts ,from

The day, when time was born.

I wish I could burn away

The memories of those

Splendid falls and caverns

For there is nothing new

For me to see !

I wish I could burn away

All my songs, for there is

nothing new for me to sing!

And now, look at you

My little human,

You take birth with a

Promised closure.

You don’t know when, but you

 are given one-nevertheless.

And I, born before time

Lives on and on

Again and again

Singing this lone lament

I tell you-what you call

Eternity ,is nothing, but

An unwanted existence.

RED

Red was the color of the warmth around me

Which I thought, was my world.

Red was the happy spot between my mother's brows

Which smiled when she laughed.

Red was the trickle of pain ,

On my stone jabbed knee.

Red was the box pleated skirt,

Which dragged me to school.

Red was the beet-root curry ,which

Made me want to run back home.

Red were the friendship bands.

Red were the rakhis tied.

Red were those painful stains,

Month after month!

Red was the blush on my cheek

When he smiled.

Red were the roses he gave.

Red was the feeling when he left.

Red was the gulmohar on the college ground.

Red was the color of their flag.

"Red" was the name of the book she read.

Red was the bench we sat on,

Talking about it.

Red were the party lights,

Red were the streaks on

My dense black  mane.

Red were the Bloody-Mary's

Red were our 'high' eyes..

Red was the swollen love bite

Which he left on my neck .

Red was the mehendi on my palm

Red was the sindoor

On my hair-line !

Red was the pain

Red was the love.

Red was the blood smeared over

My baby, when I saw her first.

Red were the rashes on her bum.

Red was the candy she loved

Red was my lipstick which

She chose to mess with..

Red was the pillow I wept into

When she left to chase her dreams.

Red was the blood on the windscreen

After the crash.

Red was the walking stick I was given

On my comeback..

Red were a few of the pills I had to take.

Red was the fear

Every time I struggled to breathe.

Red rimmed were his glasses,from

Behind which,

His eyes kissed me

For the last time..

And now ,Red is the flame

Which is licking my being.