Thousand Suns…

Her moist lips would always leave a mark on my facade,
She loved pressing up against me,
Trying to kiss me,
As I leant on for her,
Everything around would fade away,
The noises, people, eyes burning,
The hearts would beat in sync,
Faster than the tiptoeing horses,
That ran towards the horizon in the Greenland,
I would notice sometimes,
How a smile would appear on her face,
Everytime she came closer to me,
Her eyes shut as she lay on my chest,
My breathing made her sane,
She had told me a day we rested on the porch,
My eyes would sometimes meet hers,
The calm that I could see,
The ferocity some other,
It was easy getting lost in her,
The infinity of her long hair,
The sweet fragrance of her,
Everything about her reminded how can little things become important,
The little hairband, her kohl, the way she bit her lips,
She would always ask,
Why didn’t I speak to her,
Whenever we strolled through the woods,
A smile would form on my face,
The smile of satisfaction,
The way earth would whenever rain fell on it,
Filling up the valleys with messages from the heavens,
Subsiding the heat that had burned its fields,
Clearing up the sky,
Do I need to,
I would say as I held her hand,
And she, she would melt away,
Even though she glimmered of the thousand suns……

Light…..

The nights, the days all come back to me,
As I try to slither through the darkness,
Of mind, the heart or those billion dreams,
Your voice calls my name,
The sweet, serene and the melodies all,
My wings open to a majestic length,
The storm that’s keeping them packed,
Rains that moisten feathers oh so soft,
A distinctive light evaporates the dew of doubt,
The wind that keeps me afloat,
Takes me to places that make me soar,
And as I close my eyes to see you,
The light stretches my pupils to distances immense,
Your voice calls my name,
And the light guides me home……

बेचैनी….

कुछ अलग सी बेचैनी है,
मैं पूछता भी हूँ इससे,
पर ये बोलती नहीं,
ना जाने क्यूँ रूठी है,
क्यूँ बात नहीं करती,

कुछ अलग सी बेचैनी है,
सर झुका के बैठी है कहीं,
सिसक-सिसक के रात इसने काटी,
सुबह थक के सो जाती है,
पता नहीं कल रात इसने खाना खाया की नहीं,

ना जाने किसके ख़याल में खोई है,
किसका इंतेज़ार इसे है,
सुलग-सुलग के इसने ज़माने काटे हैं,
फ़िर सुबह सूरज देख के ना जाने क्या सोचती है,

कुछ अलग सी बेचैनी है,
शायद मेरी नहीं,
शायद तुम्हारी नहीं,
पता नहीं फ़िर किसकी है,
कुछ अलग सी बेचैनी है……

Her, the complete story…..

It was a dark night. The dogs cried as something vociferous had just passed by them. Their unrest was felt even by the sleeping babies in cradles, the mothers who were tired and slept along with them, woke up to the sound of their babies crying. They immediately took their baby out from the cradle only to comfort them, rocking them to and fro, close to their chest, a mother’s warmth can do wonders, they say. But the babies won’t stop crying. This happened in every house in the small riverine town. Lights were lit across the town as everyone got up. The men of the house took out their torches and lit them with the courage they had to, their families meant everything to them, their families wanted them to protect them. They called out each other’s name as everyone was familiar with everyone in the town. It was a small town, closely knit, strongly held. What it could be in the middle of night, asked Mr Krazinsky. Maybe an owl had set the dogs howling, assumed Mr Reggie. Or it could be “Her”, an old, ancient voice came from the back of the gathering. But wasn’t she killed Mr Roary, said one of them. We never found her body. It was if she had vanished into thin air, said Mr Roary. Who is “Her”? a young boy had asked. His mother quickly lulled his voice. Shush, come back here. Don’t you have to sleep? But mother, I want to know who is “Her”? a curious little kid had just stunned some elders. They were silent for a moment. The sight of her was in their eyes. This night would be a long one, Mr Roary had remarked. The mothers quickly took their younger ones and they all went inside the already dilapidated church, where their prayers were answered, where the lost were found, where the dead were departed. The other half of the community, the women, held their hands together and started to pray. O Lord give us the strength, give us the strength to fight the unnatural, the devil is upon us, he is catching onto us, protect our babies, protect our husbands, brothers and fathers, protect us, help us. It was almost as if they had started to lose hope, prayer was the only thing that was keeping them sane. The men closed the doors. Bolt the door very firm, they said, we will knock five times when we want you to open, do not open the doors even if anyone calls your name, we will be alright as long as you don’t open the doors. They took their torches and every weapon they could find. Pitchforks, shovels and Mr Roary took out his gun, the only gun in town. What Shall we do? asked everyone from the elders. Let’s join hands and pray to the lord first to give us the strength to tackle “Her”. Let’s first move to the river, let’s see if the dam is intact. They cautiously moved towards the dam that was built even before Mr Roary. I wasn’t born when the dam was built, he would tell the children when they would try to ask him about his dam, while he smoked tobacco under the shade of the enormous Mango tree, that too was there before him. The kids would call Mr Roary ” The White Seal” as his teeth all his teeth had fallen down, his beard touched his chest and he barely moved. He was seen on most days near the Mango tree or near the dam. As if his routine was fixed, his focus points were two. The men slowly inched towards the dam. One of them carefully climbed down the dam to check for any damages. I don’t see any, he shouted from below. Did you find anything strange there? Mr Roary had asked. Nothing Sir, the man said. Wait! Wait!, there is a piece of cloth here. How does it look?, the temperatures were rising, the cold of the night had slipped under their noses, sleep ran away like a frightened rabbit. It looks old, torn in between, I cannot see, there isn’t much light. It’s HER. Mr Roary screamed. She was here. Quickly Alex, Shut down the valves, we shouldn’t drink the water. She must have poisoned it. She is indeed the Devil, She doesn’t need to live, Death to the witch, Burn in hell, the crowd had started chanting. The dull, scared faces now had an immense energy. Let’s find her and burn her and make a memory of her that our future generations will never forget.

Mr Roary took his gun in his hands and addressed the gathering, Today we shall free the village from the fear of her, Today we shall begin to live in peace, Today we will make her day end, We will burn her and dance on her grave. Let’s follow the any trails, bring out the dogs, let them smell the piece of cloth and let them guide us to her. Mr Krazinsky brought his ferocious dogs from his barn. They were so strong that two men had to hold one of them. These two puppies from the same mother had grown immensely, Mr Krazinsky had been feeding them all kinds of meat even before teeth had grown in their mouths. Mr Krazinsky and the other men took the piece of cloth that they had found in the dam close their noses. The dogs already anxious from all the energy of the crowd, quickly sniffed the cloth and immediately started growling and barking. They sense something sinister, Mr Roary remarked as he loaded his gun. Let them loose, he said, let’s see where they take us. But Mr Roary what if they get lost in the woods, they are very dear to me and my little girls, Mr Krazinsky was concerned about the dogs. He had made them since they were too young even to walk. Every day they would run to him when he would come back to the house from work, they would lick his face and his hands and jump in happiness on his glimpse. His daughters would sometimes dress the dogs in frocks so pretty that Mr Krazinsky would smile ear to ear. They’ll be fine, Mr Roary assured Mr Krazinsky, after all they are so powerful beasts of nature. With a heavy heart Mr Krazinsky let loose their leash and the dogs started running. Quick, follow them, they will lead us to her, the crowd had started to run after them. I’ll sit near the church for the women need to be protected, Mr Roary remarked. Carry on Lads, he had said. But what will we do if we find her, Mr Krazinsky asked Mr Roary. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t let her touch you, she fears fire and the pitchforks will keep her at bay, Just catch her and bring her to me, I’ll know what to do, Mr Roary took a chair, took out his cigar and sat on the door of the Church. The dogs are getting away, a voice in the crowd remarked. Let’s go, Mr Krazinsky quickly started to follow his dogs. The dogs were loyal enough to sense that their owner was coming for them, they stopped at the entrance of the forest and waited for their owner. Mr Krazinsky patted their heads and they started walking, sniffing the air and the soil on the ground. The forest had been off limits for every citizen of the village because they had always feared of what was in the woods. Since they were little babies their mothers and their mothers before them had told them stories of giants that would eat human heads for breakfast or werewolves that would look like humans but would change into flesh eating beasts as long as dusk settled in. Nobody dared to set foot in the woods, they all celebrated life and the little joys of life. The forest was since a abode for the vagabonds, the outlaws that weren’t ever accepted in the society that the village had grown to become. There was no marking of any path, everywhere grass had covered the soil, the algae on others that were moist. Everyone started to chant their prayers as they slowly moved inside, following Mr Krazinsky and his dogs. Atta Boys, he would say every time they stopped for him as he was left behind. Slow Down Mr Krazinsky, the people following him would remark, you are going too fast. Be Quick, Mr Krazinsky would say, we have to end this today. They got deeper and deeper into the woods. The forest untouched by any human presence looked serene and beautiful. Wild roses had grown on the trees that had fallen, the river flowing was so clear that you could see the fishes swimming in it, the thick canopy of the trees almost didn’t let any moonlight in, although it was enough for them to see each other’s faces. I don’t think we will find her today, its already too late, she must be asleep, I too want to sleep, a voice remarked. Let’s go back to our families, we have kids to feed, a family to take care of, let’s do this in the day. Everyone had started to feel tired and scared. They all wanted to go back to their families, it was hard for them to accept that they too were scared from all this commotion. I am going back to my family, if anyone wants to follow, they are most welcome, Mr Littlefish had remarked. But, we have to find her before it’s too late, Mr Krazinsky said. Why don’t you carry on? You would be enough for her with both your dogs and the strength you have doing farming. I am just a shopkeeper, I Don’t know how long will I last in-front of her, Mr Littlefish turned back and started walking. Very Well, Whoever wants to stay and fight with me, let’s find her. Mr Krazinsky was stunned to see just a handful people standing with him. Only his most trusted allies, his friends who had been there during his thick and thin. We should go back Shawn, his friends said, it’s not safe, we don’t know what her powers are, we don’t even have a gun, they tried to reason with Mr Krazinsky. I understand your concern, Mr Krazinsky said, but I don’t want to live in fear of her for rest of my life, I don’t want to become Mr Roary. I am following my dogs and if my righteousness permits I shall be conqurous tonight. Mr Krazinsky kept on following his dogs, who never left their owner behind. A few steps in the forest and the dogs stopped walking. They had stopped sniffing and immediately ran back to their owner. What is it Boy, asked Mr Krazinsky as he looked towards his front. There was a house in the middle of the forest that was made entirely of wood, a small vegetable garden was carefully laid near to it, some chickens also sleeping in cages next to the garden. Help Me O Lord, I have found Her, Mr Krazinsky said as he took out his pitchfork and in a position of attention carefully started to move towards the house. His dogs having already sensed a danger followed suit. The house had no lights in it, as if it wore a mask to protect itself. As he walked closer to the house, he felt a tinge on his neck, a cry of the dogs and he fell unconscious to the ground. The smell of burning wood woke him up. He was tied to the tree outside the house and his dogs were caged. They had started to wake up and seeing locked up, started to cry. Don’t worry boys, I’ll get you out of here. That’s when he saw her. Dressed in an old evening gown, she had long hairs that due to years of neglect had entangled among themselves, her face had wrinkles and she could barely stand upright if it was not for the stick she held. Who are you and what are you doing here? She asked in a voice calm. Mr Krazinsky already in a state of shock, couldn’t believe what he saw. She was just an old lady who maybe couldn’t harm anyone. I have come from the village, we had heard stories about you, that you want all of us dead, that you want to take our children and make them your slaves, that you poisoned the dam waters so that the entire village could die and you could feed on their soul, you are the devil, you are the living image of the devil. The lady smirked at Mr Krazinsky because this wasn’t the first time she had heard anyone say that about her. Will you harm me, she asked him. I won’t if you will not harm me, Mr Krazinsky said. She picked up the freshly cut chicken and fed it to the dogs who quickly gobbled up the little cut up pieces. Do You want water? I haven’t poisoned it. She drank it first to assure Mr Krazinsky that it was safe. She carefully fed the water to him. I am sorry that I had to hit you and your dogs with darts. I didn’t know what you might do to me. I had looked around to ensure that you were all alone. Mr Krazinsky still couldn’t believe what he was hearing or seeing. It’s too late to be venturing in this forest. There are poisonous vines that will kill you in blink of an eye, jaguars that will feed on your flesh, she said while heating up a pot. We villagers had come to find and kill you, Mr Krazinsky told the woman. Very well, shall I untie you then, you have a job to do, she said as she grabbed a knife that lay around her. She came near to him and cut his ropes. Mr Krazinsky still weak from the tranquilliser couldn’t get up. If I were you, I wouldn’t get up. She said as she opened the gates of his dogs. The dogs came out wagging their tails and started kissing the woman. Mr Krazinsky was shocked as this was the first time his dogs did that to a stranger. The dogs quickly saw their master and did the same to him.

Here have this, What’s in this, Mr Krazinsky said, it’s just tea, she remarked.

Why didn’t you kill me, Mr Krazinsky was now curious as his whole belief system had started to fall.

You were the only one that followed your dogs and your dogs that followed you, she said. I haven’t seen a connection in time so long, she said. Moreover, the only thing I can kill here in these woods is time and my own mind. I have been living here for God knows how long.

So, the stories about are they all lies. I don’t know what you have heard or from whom you have heard it. They conversed.

How did you end up here? Why do villagers say those thing about you?

Well, my memory betrays me, it was so long that I had lived in a civilisation. But I do remember some bits. I had a father and a mother who thought way ahead of their times. My father was the first person to be educated in the village and he became a doctor. He could earn well and live in the city but he chose to work and help his fellow villagers. He set up a small clinic and very soon he was known around the village for his unconventional methods of treating people. He believed in prayers along with the efficacy of modern medicine. His supplies would come from the city on the horse cart, the driver of which soon became an admirer of my father. The driver had a daughter who he married to my father. My mother was a brilliant young woman and at a time when women were supposed to do the household chores, she learnt medicine and with my father started to work in the clinic. This seriously injured the ego of many around the village, especially the old priests that did nothing except making their subjects fall in the hands of God. I was my parents first born. My birth was celebrated in the village with a feast which wasn’t attended by any soul, as told by my parents. My parents right from the start had started to give me all their knowledge and very soon I was too an educated woman, way ahead of my times. Other parents started to keep their children away from me as they thought I would be a bad influence as I talked about stars, astronomy, the healing power of plants and why thinking logically is the way to go. As I got older, I could see how we were turned into outcastes and one day the water fell off the brim. I remember sleeping peacefully on the first floor when I smelled smoke. My father quickly came running and wrapped me in a blanket. He took me in his arms and we ran to the exit. Where is mother? I remember crying and asking him. He didn’t reply. The doors had been bolted from the front and they didn’t open. We will die, I shrivelled with fear as my father held me close to his chest. He ran off to the roof so as to jump. The villagers had surrounded the house and the head priest was chanting his verses. My father didn’t know what to do. He jumped from the roof of our house and broke a leg. Run Emily, Run, Don’t Look Back, Run to the forest. He screamed until his voice had turned silent. I could hear footsteps coming nearer and nearer. I ran and ran till I entered the forest, the villagers didn’t enter the forest for they knew I couldn’t survive alone in that treacherous forest. I was a child that time. But was intelligent enough to know that I cannot ever go back to the village. I was dead for them and they were dead for me. The first few days in the forest were difficult. I had to hunt for food and shelter but the forest was kind to me.

Mr Krazinsky had tears in his eyes as he heard her story. I am sorry. I am sorry for the acts of my ancestors and those of my fellow villagers. Nobody deserves to be deprived of the love of their parents, no one deserves to live a life so disregarding. I am sorry that we failed you as humans. We didn’t deserve you and your parents. Mr Krazinsky had broken down, maybe the effects of the tranquilizer hadn’t wore down.

It’s okay, she said. Her broken teeth had started to show from the weak smile she had. I have made my peace with it. She sighed. Why did you tell me all of this? You were the only one who asked me who I was. I have been always addressed to as the witch, the devil’s friend, the worshipper of Satan. Also, I absolutely love dogs, they have been my greatest ally in this forest. But not the dogs in your village, for some reason they do hate me. She laughed. I wanted to do so much more for the community I was born in but. She stopped. She didn’t want to explain herself more. It was enough suffering for one lifetime.

What will you do now when you back to your village? She asked Mr Krazinsky. I would tell them about you, you deserve to live your remaining life in a civilisation. I am humbled you think this way, but I believe this is what that’s best for me. She said. Please leave whenever you feel like, or the villagers might come looking for you. I don’t think they will. They still fear the forest. Mr Krazinsky sipped his tea. I’ll just take a short nap and then return back. Mr Krazinsky said. Then get inside the house, you wouldn’t want the mosquitoes to bite, they are poisonous. Where would you sleep, he asked, I have a place, don’t you worry. She closed the doors behind her. I’ll chain your dogs so that they don’t run away. Mr Krazinsky lied down on the cot made of wood and slept. The cry of roaster woke him up and it was already morning. I overslept, he remarked and went outside. He was stunned to find his friends looking for him.

Oh you are here, we were looking for you since the morning. They saw him. Wait, but what were you doing in her house. He is not him, she has taken his form. You Devil, you killed our friend, they started to beat Mr Krazinsky as his dogs cried.  Die you Evil Woman, May you burn in hell.

Mr Krazinsky had started to lose consciousness and soon he slipped into oblivion. Let’s put her into the house and burn her. They dragged Mr Krazinsky and sparked a fire into the house. Burn you Witch. Burn. Mr Krazinsky had started to feel the heat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Emily was there, she dragged her in through a smoke bomb she had made while she lived. She took him on hand pulled cart and deep down in the valley. Mr Krazinsky slowly opened his eyes to see the house burning. His friends dancing in joy, We have killed the witch, We have Burned the Witch, We Saved the village. Mr Krazinsky opened his eyes the next day and saw his wounds covered up. Emily was sitting there and making ointments for his pain. It’s okay, she said. It took Mr Krazinsky months to recover because of which he was now aware of the ways of the forest. I shall go back, my family still needs me. They won’t ever believe if you are what you used to be. I need to go, I want my family. Very well then, Emily said, you should leave. She said him goodbyes and Mr Krazinsky wore the same clothes he had worn the day his friends tried to burn him, he went to the village next day. The villagers were astonished. Mr Roary was standing there, Wait stop right there, he pointed his gun at him. Tell me who you are. I am Shawn, Mr Roary. But she had killed you. No Mr Roary, she only took my form, I was chained back in her other lair, he said. As soon as my friends killed her, I was free from her, but I was so wounded that I couldn’t move for days. Glad to have you back Shawn. Welcome Home, Mr Roary had lowered his gun. Mr Krazinsky straight away ran to his home. His wife had started to work in the fields and his daughters were working in the house. He couldn’t find his dogs. His heart sank. His wife as soon as she saw him, came running to him and kissed him. Her kiss felt like heaven. The daughters jumped on their father as he swayed them with joy. Where were you? What had happened? Are you Okay? They asked. I am fine, everything is fine. How have you been? Where are the dogs? Mr Krazinsky asked. We are fine now that you are here. They never found the dogs. Your friends said that the witch ate them. Mr Krazinsky was on his knees now. He wanted to cry but tears didn’t drop. I have to tell something to you, we are leaving the village. But why, his wife and daughters asked. Do you trust me? He said. With all our heart, they responded. So pack whatever is necessary, we leave as soon as we can. It was difficult to part with their land and the cattle as rumours had tainted Mr Krazinsky’s image. But he settled for anything he got. His friends came to see him but he couldn’t see now why he was friends with them in the first place. Done with everything, they started to move away from the land where lay their identity. Mr Krazinsky took their cart and slowly steered it away from the village as some came to bid them goodbye. The cart moved in the direction of the city but something came in Mr Krazinsky’s mind, he moved it towards the forest. There’s something I want you all to see. What are you doing? Asked the frightened wife and the daughters. Trust me on this. He said. He slowly took the cart to Emily’s cottage and stopped the cart at her door. His wife came down along with him. I want you to meet Emily, she was the one who saved your husband. Whatever you might hear or whatever you might have heard, she was the one who brought me back from the dead. His wife hugged Emily as both of them cried their hearts out. I want you to come with us, said Mr Krazinsky as he held back his tears. I would be honoured to. Emily said. Wait one moment, I have a surprise for you. She went to the back of the cottage, whistled and came running the two most special friends to Mr Krazinsky. His dogs had returned. He was now crying and sobbing like a little girl. You love them more than me, his wife remarked laughing hysterically.

 

 

How did you like this story? Please do share your opinions. I would be really glad to know how you, the reader feels about this story.

Tides….

The Moon had asked the Earth one day,
What do you see in me?
I am full of craters deep,
I cannot support life,
My heart is cold and dead,
The Earth smiled,
Pulled it closer and said,
The life on me will be enough for both of us,
I’ll warm you in nights cold,
My heart will beat faster for you,
A promise from you is all I ask,
The Moon was stunned,
For long she had been all alone,
My days will be yours,
Your nights mine,
The Earth had said,
You rise my tides,
And I bury your dead……

Clear Skies

He was a cloud,
Thunderous and white,
That had brought rains to places,
Droughts had devastated,
Green sprung up in places,
Deserts and storms,
But fate had other plans,
She wanted clear skies…..


camera doesn’t do much justice….

The picture above is from the terrace of my house. You can see Shivalik Mountains. The camera hasn’t done much justice to the view.

Snow capped mountains..

HER…..

It was a dark night. The dogs cried as something vociferous had just passed by them. Their unrest was felt even by the sleeping babies in cradles, the mothers who were tired and slept along with them, woke up to the sound of their babies crying. They immediately took their baby out from the cradle only to comfort them, rocking them to and fro, close to their chest, a mother’s warmth can do wonders, they say. But the babies won’t stop crying. This happened in every house in the small riverine town. Lights were lit across the town as everyone got up. The men of the house took out their torches and lit them with the courage they had to, their families meant everything to them, their families wanted them to protect them. They called out each other’s name as everyone was familiar with everyone in the town. It was a small town, closely knit, strongly held. What it could be in the middle of night, asked Mr Krazinsky. Maybe an owl had set the dogs howling, assumed Mr Reggie. Or it could be “Her”, an old, ancient voice came from the back of the gathering. But wasn’t she killed Mr Roary, said one of them. We never found her body. It was if she had vanished into thin air, said Mr Roary. Who is “Her”? a young boy had asked. His mother quickly lulled his voice. Shush, come back here. Don’t you have to sleep? But mother, I want to know who is “Her”? a curious little kid had just stunned some elders. They were silent for a moment. The sight of her was in their eyes. This night would be a long one, Mr Roary had remarked. The mothers quickly took their younger ones and they all went inside the already dilapidated church, where their prayers were answered, where the lost were found, where the dead were departed. The other half of the community, the women, held their hands together and started to pray. O Lord give us the strength, give us the strength to fight the unnatural, the devil is upon us, he is catching onto us, protect our babies, protect our husbands, brothers and fathers, protect us, help us. It was almost as if they had started to lose hope, prayer was the only thing that was keeping them sane. The men closed the doors. Bolt the door very firm, they said, we will knock five times when we want you to open, do not open the doors even if anyone calls your name, we will be alright as long as you don’t open the doors. They took their torches and every weapon they could find. Pitchforks, shovels and Mr Roary took out his gun, the only gun in town. What Shall we do? asked everyone from the elders. Let’s join hands and pray to the lord first to give us the strength to tackle “Her”. Let’s first move to the river, let’s see if the dam is intact. They cautiously moved towards the dam that was built even before Mr Roary. I wasn’t born when the dam was built, he would tell the children when they would try to ask him about his dam, while he smoked tobacco under the shade of the enormous Mango tree, that too was there before him. The kids would call Mr Roary ” The White Seal” as his teeth all his teeth had fallen down, his beard touched his chest and he barely moved. He was seen on most days near the Mango tree or near the dam. As if his routine was fixed, his focus points were two. The men slowly inched towards the dam. One of them carefully climbed down the dam to check for any damages. I don’t see any, he shouted from below. Did you find anything strange there? Mr Roary had asked. Nothing Sir, the man said. Wait! Wait!, there is a piece of cloth here. How does it look?, the temperatures were rising, the cold of the night had slipped under their noses, sleep ran away like a frightened rabbit. It looks old, torn in between, I cannot see, there isn’t much light. It’s HER. Mr Roary screamed. She was here. Quickly Alex, Shut down the valves, we shouldn’t drink the water. She must have poisoned it.
This is a small piece I just wrote after a long time, would really love your feedback on this. I’ll continue this story as the reader, you may want. Your inputs are highly valuable.

Hello There, Again…!!

It’s been long since I have been so active on WordPress. I was busy at many places so much so that my blog did take a hit. Writing everyday now has allowed me to know a people, I might have not known if it was not for this blog. I have been nominated for some awards lately and I was not able to give them the proper attention that they deserved. Awards are a fun activity on this platform that through which we bloggers can know about others a little more and introduce our own-selves. I remember getting my first award and I was on cloud nine. I used to think that there would be a big ceremony for me to be given an award. Good Times. Through this activity I got the opportunity to know some wonderful people who with in time I became really good friends.

Recently, some gifted writers did accord me a reward, a reward of knowing them more closely than ever. I would like to mention their names-

I had left doing awards a long time back, but it was really Cindy Georgakas  who pushed me really hard to do this. She is really a warm and kind person. Glad to know you Cindy. You really make this sphere a better place. 🙂

Coming to me, I have been around this platform for six years now. I have done a similar post in the past you might want to check out. Hello There..!!

Six years is a long time if you look at it. My starting years in blogging were mostly mundane and unnoticed. But they say good things do take time. I have sticked with writing since then and have gathered some very unique experiences over the period of time. I have met people on this platform as far as the United States of America and some citizens of my own country. WordPress is a world in itself and it does accept whatever or whoever you are. Your identity is your blog and how you treat others who visit you. People don’t judge you here for what you write or what you say. One is allowed to have their own opinion which matters a lot considering the outside world, your opinion might not be taken kindly to. One can be anyone here, a writer, a poet, an illustrator or even be a cook. Nothing really matters here as long as you are enjoying the journey. There is no competition here nor do people overstep their boundaries, because WordPress is a sacred grove for the all the recluses of the world. The voices take shape in the form of words and pour in our screens. People appreciate the written word here, not the appearance we keep for the outside world. You may even fall in love with the words of a writer or a poet or even a poetess because that’s the power of words. They can destroy you or uplift you. The choice is entirely yours.

Apart from writing, I try to indulge in playing my guitar. Although sometimes I even play violin and Harmonium. I have a penchant for learning new instruments and languages. I know five languages although I am fluent in only three. The next language on my list is Arabic, because I find it mystical and beautiful. Even the calligraphy in Arabic is so artistic that I sometimes just stare at the written words. Moreover, I like taking pictures and most of the times when I don’t have my camera, my Phone comes in handy. Every Image you see on my blog has been taken by me. This pandemic also brought a new hobby to my list of hobbies and that is cooking. I never knew I could love cooking so much. Although, I still cannot make round Chapatis.

I am answering here the questions was asked by my fellow bloggers. Hope you all find this worth your reading.


These Questions were asked to me by Rishika Kakar

  • What is your favourite book?
  • Well if I have to be honest, I don’t read that much. I mean to but most of the times other things take preference. I do like to be read to. But if I really have to pick one book, I’ll say it is “My Experiments with Truth” by The father of the nation, Mahatma Gandhi.
  • Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
  • I have many plans for my Upcoming ten years. The nearest one would be to be in a position such as to help others who might need my help. I feel empathy is the biggest gift given to humans. Being of use to the fellow humans and all the living beings around us is my biggest goal.
 
  • What did you want to be as a child and what did you end up becoming/want to be now?
  • I really wanted to be a pilot when I was a child. The whooshing sound of an aircraft passing through the sunlit skies always garnered my attention. I will be very soon joining the Income Tax Department in the Government of India. Although my goal as said above, is much wider than the current scope of my job.
 
  • Do you believe in fate and the Universe?
  • I do believe in the Universe and that every being has been set on a path that he/she in due course of time defines for them. I used to believe in fate and that a good fate or a bad fate may make you fall or makes you successful. But of lately, I have started to believe in the power of hard-work and how it can change your fate and the fate of all those around you.
 
  • What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
  • The first thing I usually think when I wake up is that if I have overslept. Haha. And also what would have been made for breakfast. I really love food and a good sleep. Jokes aside, my first thought usually in the morning is the one i had slept with the night before. I am a big overthinker and tend to imagine situations which may or may not happen.
 
  • What drives you to push through everyday?
  • I wake up every morning and i see the faces of people who i love and who love me. My parents, my brother and my two wonderful dogs. They smile at me and my day is made, it feels like I am successful in that very moment. I want to see them smiling forever and that makes me push everyday.
  • What does success mean to you?
  • Success for me would be attaining peace. The day I can say that now I shall rest, no need to compete or work really hard. I’ll call myself successful.

 

  • Your greatest regret?
  • My greatest regret would be loving too much sometimes. I tend to give all of me for people or none at all. There’s no middle. That becomes a conundrum for me, most of the times because when you give 100% to a person or cause, you tend to attachments.
 
  • What is your favourite ice cream flavor?
  • My favourite ice cream flavour is anything that has chocolate in it. And if it has choco chips, I cannot skip that one. I really like Mississippi Mud in Baskin and Robbins, Cookies and Cream in Amul and also ice creams with brownie in them.
 
  • Are you happy?
  • The climate around me had had me believe that happiness lies in the job of your choice or a person that you might adore. My this belief system came thrashing down when I spent some years alone, away from all my loved ones and in complete isolation. I have experienced much to understand this that happiness will never be a destination. It’s really about finding happiness in little things that we do everyday. Like in my case, I really like to sing and write. I never had any formal training. I always wanted a guitar. One day I just went to a shop a brought me one. Taught myself to play and still learning. Happiness for me is finding joy in small things. This definition might change in the future. But currently, yes I am happy. I try everyday not to be affected. But somedays bad days do get to you.
 
  • What is your favourite TV show?
  • This one is a tricky question. I have watched so many. My favourite ones would be old school romcoms, especially How I Met Your Mother and Friends. Moreover, The Big Bang Theory is an all time favourite. The emotional roller coaster that this show takes you on, is really liberating.

These Questions were asked to me by  Cindy Georgakas.

  • What do you hope to accomplish with your writing?
    Well I always have been very shy about expressing my emotions especially when it comes to speaking. Writing becomes my only way to best express myself. With my writing, I want to give words to the thoughts that go inside my head 😇and maybe other people’s thoughts as well.

 

  • If you had one day left on earth what would you do and who would you spend it with?
    I have always wanted to sing on the stage for the people who like me for what I am. As stated before, I am too shy to do that. If It was my last day on Earth, I would want to sing in a stadium full of people I love and those who love me.

 

  • Who or what is your biggest Inspiration?
    My biggest inspiration has always been my parents. I consider myself to be an atom of their talent and their thoughts. Most of my actions are directed to make them happy. But some aren’t . 😅😝

 

  • Why did you start writing?
    I am particularly new to writing. It was in 2014 when while writing something for my friend, my other friend noticed my writing skills. I had started this blog then only. I haven’t been away from writing since. The love and support of many people just like you has kept me going. 😇

 

  • What are you most proud of yourself for?
    I have grown and matured into a much better person than I was five years ago. I am really proud of that.

 

  • What is your most vivid memory?
    I have many. Haha. But my favourite one would be me and my brother coming back from school and throwing our bags on the bed and taking off our clothes and swinging it across the dining table, our mother running after us and dad scolding us. Also, sleeping next to my grandmother and the way she used to tell us stories. 😇

 

  • If you had to be any animal in the world, what would it be and why?
    I would really like to be a blue whale. They are some of the most beautiful creatures and they swim in the ocean. I have a phobia of the ocean and whales awe me with their calm nature. They don’t harm anything or anyone, just travel around the world. I could also be a flamingo. They travel hundreds and hundreds of miles and stay with their partners for their life. They are the most loyal creatures.

These Questions were asked to me by Nawazish

  1. Which country do you reside in?
    I Live in India. More specifically the northern part of the country, Punjab.
  2. A place you visit to calm your mind or heal yourself.
    We have a popular place around my inhabitation, called the Sukhna Lake. I really love visiting it whenever I get too away from myself. Also, I live near to many mountains, I prefer driving up-to them whenever I get the chance.
  3. Your favorite movie and why?
    I have many favourite movies. I have grown watching Harry Potter movies and still whenever its on, I cannot skip them. I really love the Harry Potter series. Also, some movies such as the Green Mile, Django Unchained, The Shawshank Redemption, The Shutter Island are also among some of my favourites.
  4. A memory from childhood that is very close to your heart.
    I remember whenever it rained, me and my brother would run to the balcony of our home and bathe in the rains. We loved splashing our feet in the puddles of water and making paper boats and letting them sail in the rain water. I also remember how we always ended up getting cold and runny nose, along with a strict beating by our mother.
  5. You prefer beaches or mountains?
    My love for mountains is evergreen. Me and my friends always run to the hills whenever we get a chance. We do love a good trek and the driving through the mountainous routes. I also sometimes do like beaches, but only if they aren’t crowded. Mountains awe me always. Standing so tall for centuries together, they let us pass through them, make roads on them, let us settle on them. My respect for them is infinite.
  6. What makes you really agree?
    It doesn’t take me much to agree to a point because I have learnt to stop arguing. If I find that a particular task requires me to be silent, I’ll stay silent. However, if you really want me to do something, get me good food and I’ll do whatever you want. haha.
  7. What do you look out in any relationship you form?
    I have grown so much in the years that now that I really care for in a relationship is trust, honesty and respect. These three stand above anything else for me. If there is trust in a relationship, you won’t need to look out for your partner because you know whatever decision they take would be the best for you and them. Respect is something that also cannot be ignored. I believe you respect a person whenever you find in him/her the qualities that you always have looked up to. For example, caring attitude, respect for those not so fortunate, thinking about others before taking any rash decisions. Honesty is one of the best virtues I find about a person. I have been told many times how I cannot lie and the people around me know this for a fact that I am very bad at lying. My partner should be honest with me, even if sometimes it means my feelings or hers would be affected because I believe the two partners in a relationship can and will come out of any differences.
  8. What would you change about yourself, if you get a chance?
    I have been told many times that I care too much. So much so that it affects me in ways that are destructive to me. It’s either 100% or 0% for me. I don’t work in between. If I love you, there is no stopping me from showing you how much you mean for me. You’ll be my world and I’ll be your moon, revolving around you. I am a hopeless romantic. This sometimes becomes overwhelming for some.
  9. What’s your favorite way to spend a day off?
    It would definitely be driving through mountains or driving anywhere at all. I love driving and visiting new places. Also, I love to decorate my home and if not driving, I’ll be making something that I had found lying useless around the house.
  10. Do you consider yourself to be an introvert, extrovert or an ambivert?
    I am an introvert most of the times. Until some drops of any intoxicants get in. I won’t talk to you in person as long as you take the initiative. This comes as being rude to some, but I am used to it now.
  11. Which was the last TV series you binge- watched?
    I binge watched Paatal Lok last. Really loved the acting of all the actors, especially Jaideep Ahlawat.

 

I really hope my answers were helpful.

I would really like to know what you, the reader feels about my answers.

Leave a comment down below and I’ll be happy to answer your questions.

Let’s have a conversation.

Thank You again to Rishika, Cindy and Nawazish.

 

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Change

The gods had turned down his request,
You shall not be allowed a death so chaste,
I was unaware, stupid and had a mast so high,
He begged with bleeding toes, cried with a sigh,
You shall walk the earth,
Until the day becomes dark,
The night red with your burning sins,
Rivers will stop to flow,
Civilisations turned to dust,
The crime you had committed on this soil so pure,
You shall repent for your days and beyond,
He listened, his mind had numbed that very moment,
For I shall reap what I had sowed,
Death, destruction and havoc I had created,
For fun I would kill a million sensations,
And on bodies of green my palaces would stand,
For I was a mind full of self pride,
As air has thinned,
Food has vanished from my plate,
I can understand what I have created,
A Devil that cannot be stopped,
Slowly rusting through the machinery of our clogs,
We say home can always be found,
But what’s a home without my friends so long,
So I shall exist until my days,
Exist with the guilt of a genocide that maimed the earth’s progressions,
For I am the curse that walks this soil,
For I will be the change this soil needs it all,
I’ll be worthy of heavens one day,
You’ll see O Gods,
For I’ll be the change this soil needs it all…..

रातें….

कभी सपनों से निकल के हक़ीक़त तो बनो,
इंतेज़ार में तुम्हारे निकाली हैं कई रातें,
कभी आओ मेरी हसरतें भी सुनो,
अरसा हुआ किए चंद बातें,
मोहोब्बत का सुना था कोई मुक़ाम नहीं,
यह बहता है तो बहता चला जाता है,
ग़र है लिखा मुक़द्दर में मिलना तुम्हारा,
अरे ज़रा तेज़ी दिख़ाओ,
कहीं बीत ना जाएँ तेरी-मेरी यें बाक़ी कुछ रातें….

Him and Her….

As his hands mapped the curves on her body,
Untouched, unkissed, unexplored by any being before,
She skirmished with her sensuousness,
The righteousness that had prevailed with her,
Just before this moment,
He slowly tried to moisten her fields,
Rain had barely touched her,
Barren, unkept, unused,
Water eroded her,
Brought floods, upheaval, destroyed her everytime,
She had closed her eyes,
Never before something had touched her,
Without an intention to unravel her,
Only to leave her in pieces thousands and more,
But his touch seemed different,
Or maybe the moment felt a little translucent,
She wanted to be touched,
Not because she needed it,
For long she had lived in a dilemma,
Her needs had been since buried six feet deep,
Her heart wanted it,
So did her mind,
The body allowed him to continue tethering her to himself,
The distance crept between them,
Until an atoms thickness,
Till the union of time and space,
Him too had started to lose his consciousness,
She was too powerful for him,
But he knew he could drive his sails through her storms,
Her needs had started to become his,
Her storms his,
In a way the Sun meets the Earth,
The Horizon turns red,
The stars twinkle,
And the Moon witness of them,
A fusion of two celestials,
An affair of the ages,
A story to be told a million times,
And maybe more,
Her and him,
Him and her,
The story of the day,
Her geography became his art,
Her body his biggest canvas…….

How writing everyday for a complete month has changed me….

Its been six years since I had started this blog. But I haven’t been able to keep up with blogging as many previous arrangements had to be kept in mind. It was in the heat of the moment, starting this July that I decided to give myself a challenge- a challenge to see if I could write for every single day of July. 30 days later and 31 posts ( adding today’s post), this was a roller coaster. I had believed in writers block, something every writer is dreadful of and in past have experienced it, maybe for sometime. However, when I took to myself to write, it really seemed not much of an uphill task. Being able to feel too much and think about too much, maybe that’s what made me write in the first place. The unsaid emotions that usually don’t escape my lips came to my rescue whenever I felt an urge to write. I am very vocal on this platform, more than anywhere else because this platform has made me feel at home more than any other writing platform. I have had the opportunity to meet so many brilliant writers and human beings over the course of time that the importance of this platform is much higher for me than any other. Many heartfelt conversations have happened in wordpress comments section, I have opened up to people and sometimes people have opened up to me.
This platform is much more than just writing or sharing your work. The exposure we get here as much bigger. I have had the privilege to talk to people of all ages and experiences which have helped me grow and improve for the better.

Coming to my challenge, I have tried to pen down my feelings in form of poems that are completely new. You’ll find a poem for each day of July on my blog. This experience has been really an eye opening one and indeed a liberating one as well. I feel extremely lucky to have come across even more people in this time period.

Will try even harder to bring even richer content for you-my extended wordpress family. 😇

If you want you may drop a comment here or may contact me via Instagram.

Thank you so much for all your support.

Your every comment and like means a lot.

Until next time, take care and stay safe.

Islands

He had made islands,
On the turf of his thoughts,
Some islands had lavish orchards and farms,
Others were dilapidated,
Dying, slowly sinking,
Stretched infinitely,
He would let many see his islands prosperous,
That had civilisations so great,
Thoughts beyond their time,
But never the ones,
That had cemeteries,
Dead roamed even in the light of the day,
Ghosts of past feasted on the fresh grass,
He was wary, sceptical, didn’t trust no one,
For many had seen those ruins,
And created their own monuments,
Maybe with time they will sink,
He would tell himself,
But centuries had passed,
Or maybe a thousand years,
He had forgotten when they even had sprouted,
When nights would be long,
His ship would slowly crawl back to those islands,
He would scream but none came for help,
No one knew the way,
The light would bring him peace,
Sometimes,
Or the guitar hanging on his wall,
Days passed by and his sails were about to fall,
A sailor lost in her own thoughts,
One day stumbled upon him,
While he had let his guard down,
And took him to the islands,
She had created,
The ones they had nurtured,
Centuries had passed,
Or maybe a thousand years,
He had forgotten how he ended up there,
When he saw his ship,
Tethered to the land,
The sailor, she said,
Let’s take this for a spin,
He anchored the ship towards the islands,
That had cemeteries,
Dead roamed even in the light of the day,
Ghosts of past feasted on the fresh grass,
And as the ship slowly kissed the shore,
He saw nothing there,
Cemeteries were buried beneath the grass,
That grew hundreds of feets high,
Little butterflies roamed around,
The sweet sound of birds singing had filled the ground,
The monuments had turned to dust,
The islands had healed,
He cried as she held his hands,
I never thought this would ever happen,
She cried too,
As she had forgotten her own islands,
What is today may not be tomorrow,
She said in his ears,
Dead eventually take their rest,
The ghosts vanish into thin air,
Lets go,
We’ll come back someday later,
Or maybe never ever,
She had said,
Let these islands finally rest……

The fire met the ocean….

As the winter set foot in the horizon,
The cold breeze of December gushing through the plains,
A song was about to play,
An act about to begin,
The routine was the order of the day,
But that day a vagabond wind had struck them in their peace,
A quick glance at each other,
All hell had broken loose,
The Universe shrunk,
So did their Space,
And as he lifted her in his arms,
Winter had started to retreat,
Just like when a Volcano meets an Ocean,
And turns her into steam,
The doors of her bedroom called their name,
Pulling them away from reality,
The present, the past, the future,
Time had lost all its meaning,
The room was their purple rose,
He carefully lay down her,
Onto the bed,
The bed that had their footprints,
Their marks, their scent,
The darkness had engulfed the sky,
Their room lit by their fire,
Shall I devour you tonight,
He had whispered in her soft ears,
As she lay helplessly on the bed,
She let escape a sigh of warm air,
That tickled his ears,
It was enough,
Enough to wake up thundering storms,
The sheets were a witness to the act,
The air had gone thin,
Senselessness and sensations ran amok,
Till they were out of breath,
They lied down besides each other,
As their breath started to come to them,
And looked into each others eyes,
The thunder grasped their hearts,
Swindled it through their chests,
And landed it on their lips,
That had locked for eternities in surreal bliss,
The storms had now subsided,
As she closed her eyes to sleep,
While he still adored her,
The greatest reward he could ever get,
Night slowly turned into day,
Their footprints still on the bed……..

Trees

Leaves by leaves fall from the trees,
The trunk gets older with the each passing day,
Wrinkles appear on oh so beautiful branches,
And a day comes when everything just stops,
Life tired of living,
Give up its breath,
The Earth eats it up,
Assimilated in its soil,
It just disappears,
Only to be remembered for a wholesome growth,
It sometimes is very difficult to forget a tree that’s so old,
Bore so many fruits,
Housed so many birds and squirrels,
In time in the nutritious ground the tree had left,
Some seeds turn into plants,
And carry on its legacy,
Nothing really dies,
Nothing has really ever lived,
Memories are transferred from generations to generations,
Energy changes form,
A birth here,
Someone closes their eyes somewhere,
It all happens at once,
And stops the same,
The smiles, the promises, the laughs and cheers,
They stay no matter what,
The plants that turn into trees soon after,
Will carry on the name,
The trees that lived a wholesome life,
And even those who left early,
In memories they stay,
In our actions they reflect……