Not all Novembers

Are Sweet,  not this November—

For everybody

Filed under: Life

Fallen soul

Plucking all petals of time, one by one,
throwing them in the dark well of memories;
I tasted freedom at last—
just when I thought,
a thorn pricked my soul.
Tangled with it were some moments—
part bonded; part liberated.
Pretending to be oblivious
in the twilight of awakening,
I deferred the deliverance of my soul till infinity.

Filed under: Poetry

talking to me

I felt uncomfortable in their presence despite my broader perspectives about matters which they viewed through narrow filters. Why should I need their approval?

My insecurities diminished my ability to accept things as they are: who I’m and and what I cannot be. I’m not looking for techniques that could make me a better person. I try to learn through small incidents that happen every day. Sometimes at work, quite often at home, and sometimes between friends. I don’t disagree that some negative patterns have been repeating in my life. If one form fades away, negativities enter my life in another form; if not from the main door, then from a window… Life is not a mathematical riddle, one can’t device a formula to solve it. Life is to be lived each day creatively without repeating old games. We should die every minute and take birth every time we die. The challenge lies in the act of dying. Rebirth is a byproduct of death, we don’t have to work toward it. It’s time for me to die, a beautiful life is lurking…

Filed under: Life

Loving moments

Rain drops make love to the foliage—
creating mesmerizing music.
Wet soil releases soothing fragrance
in approval of the nature’s offspring.
Wind blows in joy;
trees turn green.
In unison We all sing
Welcome Spring! Welcome Spring!

Filed under: Life

Venting Out…

In last two decades, or even more, I have experienced loneliness in different forms. The disguises of loneliness are many; both conceivable and inconceivable. It’s unbearable, no matter in which disguise loneliness attacks me. Its intensity is always focused, and therefore, exalted. It leaves me stranded in the state of anxiety. It’s awful: short breath, sweaty palms, a weird sensation in the heart region, agonizing emotions. My hunger for food and that for compassion are inversely affected during this state of anxiety. The desire for food diminishes, and the need for compassion rises. I experience a suffocating pain in the throat each time I swallow spoonful of wheat porridge. The twitch travels down to the diaphragm along with the wheat porridge. I stop eating. To feed myself with compassion I take deep breaths, but soon I loose focus. It’s so much easier to stimulate pain. Isn’t it?

In the long course of emotional ping-pong, for the first time I experienced a few moments of stillness yesterday. But those moments were smeared with strong indifference toward the pain that I, myself, caused to a loved one. In my struggle to deal with the individual pain, have I become ruthless with others?

Filed under: Life

Animated Oxymoron

You may not be as amused as I was when it happened; anyway, let me tell you about this incident. I was waiting for a friend’s arrival at the IGI airport in Delhi when it happened. The flight was late by an hour, so I was gadding about in the waiting lounge. My legs don’t like to toil without a reason, so they began to ache. It’s their way of disapproving an act they don’t like.  To make them feel better, I seated myself in the chair next to a woman from a Middle Eastern country. The woman was clad in a black burka, with only her face showing.  A huge suitcase, which is usually seen with international travelers, was placed horizontally across her feet. From the corner of my eye I could see light flashing on her snowy white face (these women always have good skin…and why not, their faces are always covered). My face turned toward her out of a reflex action common among Indians. I became amused when I saw her playing with her Blackberry/a high-profile GPRS phone—I still don’t know which phone it was. In techno matters I’m two generations behind, if not two world wars…She was chatting, I figured out. She seemed to be pretty comfortable with her gadget. I didn’t want to look curious or less-privileged, so I pretended to mind my own business and began staring at the LCD monitor installed on the wall in front of me. And then, only God knows why it happened: I sneezed! I sneezed so hard that it felt like a round of Kapaal Bhati pranayam. My diaphragm and lungs opened up and became the unobstructed channel of pranas. After the powerful sneeze, I said, “excuse me” in a soft voice, which no one hears from me during my regular conversations. Trust you me, I didn’t pretend. It’s one of my many reflex actions. After I said my phrase, I heard a word from that woman. “Excused!”, she said. That was it. I left the burka and GPRS oxymoron there and starting gadding again until my friend arrived.

Filed under: Life

The evening walk

Over the crown

orange clouds turn pink.

Under the sky

a heart begins to sing.

The emerald meadows

take flights of wonder.

In the crack between flights

a blissful life begins.

Filed under: Life

Set me free

Freedom of my heart lies
in the release of our soul ties

Filed under: Life

Facing oneself

Whenever there is an upsurge of emotions, the need to vent becomes stronger. Ironically, only in such a state one finds how alone one is; how impossible it is to explain in words or draw in pictures what is sprouting in one’s heart. And how impossible it is to show to those whom one has made the cause of the pain one feels. When all doors are closed except that which opens in one’s heart, one tries to transform the pain into learning; to become detached, but trials lead to suppression. One confuses repression with transformation and the veil lifts when it is ripe–when one finds oneself in a similar situation again… 

So when does the transformation begin?

Filed under: Life

What Should I trust?

What should I go on trusting: the serene sound of silence, well measured words spoken with care, or the tainted past? Are both real?

 

What should I trust: the desire of my heart or the reason of my suffering?

Filed under: Life