Meaningless

I have personally been through a very rough patch, devastating, infact. I lost my husband, my elder brother in a span of 5 months. They were both less than 40. Some other problems also cropped at the same time. In short, my life just seemed to spiral out of control. I ended up in a city I didn’t know, a place where I had no friends, in a situation where I felt totally helpless. I just did not know what to do with my time or myself.
What I did was “face” what had happened. It is easier said than done. I didn’t want to admit that just after 3 years of bliss, my husband had died or my elder brother who was like a roof over my head, had died as well. Notice that I say “die” not passed away, or moved on. Saying this even to myself was very difficult. But it was the truth, right? No point in shutting it out… there is NO way one can shut truth out. It creeps in through cracks, in bits and pieces, in shapes and forms that leave one feeling worse. Much better to let it in, and wash over you, in its entirety. Believe me, this “allowing” self to feel is a huge step towards moving on. I shut myself out. I cried. I stayed in darkness. I grieved. I fought with God. But, at the back of my mind, I was just strengthening my self to rise up, stronger and sure of myself. You know, one reads about the power of free will and choice, but till realization sets in, the concept remains just that, a concept.

Today, as I write this, I smile because I know now that the so-called meaningless things in life have more meaning for the one who can see. We all go through life, conditioned by society, family about what has meaning… a career, a beautiful home, money, to be able to travel to exotic places, and you CANNOT be single! (What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you seeing anyone? Sounds familiar?)… We hear it so much, read about it in glossies, see perfection sashay down ramps on TV, see people leading a lifestyle that one can only aspire towards. Somewhere, somehow, we start believing that OUR life the way it is is not good enough. We are not good-looking enough, fit enough, rich enough, interesting enough… and we cry inside, screaming “enough is enough”, yet no one hears, sometimes, even we don’t hear our “self” calling out…
And then, life is a drag; one feels like Atlas twice over, sucked in a dark vortex, wondering how to deal with it.
Here’s how: Let yourself feel, let yourself go, dive straight in the dark dank waters of negative thoughts. You need to confront each of these, before you can let go. I liken it to crossing a river; you need to swim across to know the depths, to understand the nature of the river. If you build a bridge, or row across in a boat, you will get to the other side, but without knowing what the river is like. I hope my example is clear. In short, embrace something close so that you can let it go. Paradoxical? Yes! But so is life!


Learn to reach out to others. There is NOTHING that has happened to you that hasn’t to anyone else and it will happen again to someone. You are not alone in your moment of happiness or pain. But its just that, a moment. And last but not the least, be grateful to life, to God, to everyone, even those people who hurt you or gave up on you, they enriched your life’s experience in their own way. After all, can one just survive on sweets? You need a balance. Is night anything without day and does day have any meaning without night? Remember to be grateful for this balance in your life. Treat everything in life as a lesson. Learn to ask yourself when in any situation, what can I learn from this? Believe me, you will find something! I am a different person today. I keep busy, am peaceful and like waking up in the mornings! I don’t have any secret formula to share with you, or some magical chant or potion. It’s just that I have changed my definition of what has meaning for me. A smile on a stranger’s face, the green of the leaves, the sky with its multi hued patterns, even a lone flowerpot on someone’s windowsill makes me smile. Life is beautiful, indeed, even with all its broken dreams and rough rides.

Zindagi...

hum khud hi hain apne

baaki sab log hain sapne

jo chor jaate hain kuch

sheeshe ke rangeele

tukde paon me dhainse hue;

zindagi bhi mazaq karti hain,

nikaalna chaho to rok leti hain;

kehti hain inhi pe chalo jahan tak

chalna naseeb hain; aur dard

uska kya, wohi to mere kareeb hain.

Colours...

I was clad in red just like you

My hands anointed with henna

My feet heavy with anklets

Bangles tinkling in my hands

Filling his heart with music

I felt his hand around my waist

And his lips on mine

For the very first time

I had blushed too

Under his longing gaze

While people milled

Around us for days

The colour, the celebration

The joy and the elation

posing for pretty pictures

standing in front of mirrors

It all has been mine

With grace divine

Don’t shy away

From me, friend

Do understand

That Just because

I now wear white

And you red bright

You turn your face

away from me today

Your today was mine

Just yesterday

my today could be yours

Maybe tomorrow…

Two sides of the

Same picture are we

It could have been you

Instead of me.

Forgiven, not forgotten ... a poem

Do you feel it now
As time wrinkles your brow
You were strong once
Full of your immortality
Your sense of power
Beyond measure
In a child’s agony,
You found pleasure
Do you now see
What you did
To a little girl, me
Scared and timid
Bruised and scarred me
While filled with lust
Kicked me while
I groveled in the dust
But He was there
Watching over me
Just as He sees you
Slump in your chair
He bought down
Forgetfulness
In a haze
Kept me cocooned
In a daze
I grew strong
While you grew weak
Time flew for us
As it does for all
I am an adult now
Not a girl small
I forgive you
For your deeds
But how do I forget
My heart bleeds
For terror unspoken
For innocence lost
For cries so silent
For screams so loud
That I hear them
Even today
While I sleep
And I weep
Tears of grief
For a little girl
Who called you Father

Prudence- with you are good judgement and a sharp mind.

Justice		93%
Prudence		93%
Hope		82%
Charity		71%
Temperance		71%
Fortitude		61%
Faith		32%

The Seven Heavenly Virtues
created with QuizFarm.com

F & B

Rain, mists and clouds
Beauty and her beloved
Walking down a narrow path
Treacherous but safe,
In the hands of her lover- Faith

Home...

What is it about home?
You travel all around the world,
yet long for home, the one place
you feel rested, at peace,
is it a place or just a feeling
that warms your heart?
Is it her smile of welcome,
when I trudge back,
weary and she opens the door?
Is it the cosy familiarity of my couch
in which I sit and ponder?
Is it the smell of onions frying
in the kitchen as she prepares dinner?
Is it the shadow of the tree
that falls across my window?

Or is it just me, belonging here?

LIFE ON HER TERMS... (a story or is it?)

She sifted through her table drawers once again; didn’t want to leave any memory, untouched before she left and of course destroying damning evidence, if any. She smiled, thinking to herself that she had actually never done anything which needed to be hidden or destroyed. She had lived her life, with dignity and her head held high. “An open book”, Opal” that’s how one dear friend had described her. Ah well, better to be open than closed; makes it easy to deal with people and be free, truthful. After all, an open book wouldn’t have any pages hidden, now would it?

Of course, in her life’s journey, her idealism had mellowed and now she knew that she could only be responsible for her thoughts and that s it. If anyone needs change, it has to come from within, and no matter how much you love a person, you are still not that person’s thinking. You can pray, ache, agonize for them but you cannot realize for them. Yup, that was not possible. She didn’t mind the pain that had come her way; there were plenty of good times to remember not just the losses, she knew that. But she also knew that to be able to GO ON, one must receive, and give and receive in return, This is the eternal scheme of things; the symbol of zero; full circle, the serpent eating its own tail, however one put it… this was how things were meant to be, how mankind was meant to be; not standing with their hands crossed their chest but each one holding another’s hand. She grinned, God! May that day come when we all hold each other, carry each other and hold out our hand to the man with the lonely eyes. OMG! That was a line from a Supertramp song. She laughed out aloud, thinking of how much she loved music and how even now it was seeped within her sub conscious, even now, when…

There was nothing in the drawers. She turned her attention to the little packet she had made. It had his handkerchief, watch, a picture of the two of them and a letter she had written while he had been away. Was she being Egyptian, she grinned, how does it matter, doing this is giving me peace now and that’s what counts. After all, wasn’t it time she looked out for herself? Her peace? Her space? Her life?

Her eyes grew moist as she thought again of how cruelly pages from her book of life had been ripped out. My dear friend, don’t you realize the jagged edges remain and that they cause pain which never goes away. Yet, how silly to expect compassion from someone who was brutal enough to tear her life apart in the first place.

She walked around her house, touching things here and there, smiling. Oh, before she forgot, she lit up incense in each room, because the fragrance was calming and while she was calm, she knew that when that front door opened, whoever entered would be anything but calm.

She entered her bedroom drew the curtains, stripped and went for a shower, cool water running down her body. She sighed with pure pleasure and scrubbed herself well. Taking the towel from the rack, she draped herself in it drying, her hair, her hair was long, thick and almost till her waist, that took forever to dry. She tossed the dryer aside. The weather was balmy; they would dry on their own. What should she wear? She stood in front of her closet, wondering at the perennial “what should I wear” feminine dilemma.

First things first, she put on a new pair of undies, and a bra which fit her very well. Then she took her favorite long skirt and pulled it over her head, reached out for an orange t-shirt. She grinned at her choice of clothes; she was always one for comfort, not fashion. But her one weakness, perfumes, esp. layering, you know when one bathes with a soap or a shower gel and uses a body lotion and then sprays on the perfume (all the same brand)… She had chosen Paris by YSL. No particular reason, she just liked it. She went and sat down on her bed, put the packet she had made on the side table, turning her head this way and that to make sure her bedroom was in order.

Then she lay down on her bed, took out the razor blade and slit her wrists.

Alone...all one, all alone

A small note of music echoes in my heart...

Or is it your laughter that I hear from beyond time itself?

... echoing down the centuries to finally reach me?

A smile plays at my lips as I reach out... to you

only to grasp nothing and as you fade away into the mists of time...

I wake up to the harsh reality of being alone.

A Rolling Stone...

I am new to blogger.com.
I have been blogging on msn spaces for over a year. But I deleted that blog by mistake (or was it??)... So, I decided to use a different "medium"?? What should be the word here? Channel, Website or well whatever... thoughts are from the same soil... A stone may roll, but will always remain what it is. Wow, heavy stuff!! Why doesn't that surprise me?

You see, I was born with a white beard and on my cheek was a solitary tear, as I knew even then the truth of life would be hard to bear.

You got that right. I am a poet (or I like to think I am).