Thursday, 26 March 2015

Turning the pages of life

Gazing at my not so good  looking features in the mirror , criticizing  my looks for  not being the perfect ones,  myself  not being the epitome of  personified purity.
Sipping the tea from the cup of life and contemplating how trivial issues could affect our lives.
Sitting there at the metro station of Janakpuri, looking at the silhouette of the flying pigeons in the crimson tint of the setting sun, I was flipping the pages of the book, thinking deeply. I could see the vivid pictures of the year old memories as I turned the pages. I was deeply engrossed in my thoughts, biting my nails, thinking about Delhi. I was busy in introspecting about my myriad visits to seemapuri slums
Few days back, I was walking through the dingy lanes of SEEMAPURI slums, lined up with ill lit houses with rickety doors and windows. I was simply trying to feel the trauma and hardships, rag pickers living in the slums would be facing every single minute, trying to embrace their pain knowing that it is simply impossible to undergo the same nightmarish dream they are living in. Suddenly my eyes captured something, something unusual, out of all dull faces, a face so vibrant.
An encounter with the sunshine:
Few days back, I met a little girl, her smile was as serene as white. Talking to her, completely mesmerized by the vivaciousness, she imparted. Her passion towards life was simply surreal.
Being enslaved in the chains of drudgery and poverty, there was not even a sign of sigh on her petite face (maiden smiling).
Her bright enrapturing smile could let every person to forget all the problems and to wear that smile even in atrocious situations.
Getting completely engrossed in conversation with maiden:
Me: what is your name?
( the girl having a spark in her eyes,  beautiful eyes trying to say lot more than life)
Girl: Chahat (I was thinking how apt is her name. She can inspire anyone to breathe in the air of aspirations.)
Me: Do you like chocolates?
Chahat replied she cannot eat sweet (medical problem). Her answer left me in despair. ( she was still smiling )
Me: So, you like to go to school?
Chahat: I don’t go to school.
I was disappointed at that moment. I was still looking at her face trying to express myriad feelings.
Me: So, what do you like to play?
Chahat: I don’t have time to play as I have to come household chores. (I was in excruciating pain).
The teardrop, which had been dwelling in my eyes from so long, could not hold the strands of my eyes any Longer. Teardrops were parting their way down my eye lashes (overflow of emotions).
Meeting chahat and listening to her saga left me thinking that how we get sad about trivial matters. We must take inspiration from chahat , who  is combating every moment for her survival(still  with a smile on her cute face).
I visited most gloomy part of delhi but that this incident created an imprint on my heart. It has given me so much, a moment of ecstasy my city has given to me.
This is a very emotional moment for me and is letting me to turn the page of my crinkly book of life.
We should take pleasure of each and every precious moment bestowed upon us by our city and feel the aesthetic effect.

Tuesday, 29 July 2014

Symphony of Rains

Sitting here in the dark aisle, fighting with these baffled emotions….
 A sudden thunder breaking the monotony of silence…..

Finally, Blue inked rotten thoughts on paper….
Formations so grim, finding their way to get inked on this blank sheet…
I wish emotions could make their way down the body in the same way as every little drop of rain finds its way, offering a perpetual happiness to our senses .The same nerve wracking happiness a girl experiences when the person she loves gently sways away touching her hand.

Water dwelling at the corner of my fingertips….
I wish I could just hold these moments tightly, dwelling in the eternity rain offers.

And gently with the passing time, words which appeared so grim started making some sense….
So just give some time, forget what you had and listen to the surreal symphony of these rains….
Seep in this dusty aura of rainy mud in your body and fly away…
Happy Rains:)

Monday, 12 May 2014

As pure as mother

As an infant.....
 During my early days, lying there in the cradle, a concoction of baby lotion, baby cream and undigested curdled milk could be smelled in the air everywhere around me. The tiny bells hanging down the corners of my cradle making sound incessantly as they were thumped by the breeze, forcing every molecule to reverb. These commotions would bring smile on my petite face. Suddenly, something a sound so bleak would bring back my ghostly fears as an infant, after listening to those sounds, all I did was crying.
Then, a white pious figure ‘Ma’ would descend from heaven and would hold me tightly, so that I could hide myself in her bosom ,singing lullabies, a voice so calm, so pure, notes flowing like poetry. That surreal serenade could even defy the beauty of the song by the morning lark .The serenity of the song gently gave me away in the arms of sleep, taking away all the fears.
As a child…….
All I could remember about my life as a child is being tightly held by a beautiful figure draped in a red Kanjivaram sari. Those kohl eyes, eyes expressing the world to me. Those eyelids held the hands of myriad feelings in the form of tears. The veil on her head revealing the red vermillion filled in between the partition of her long beautiful hair. The red tint, sign of her marriage to my father. Those lips singing lullabies all night to make me sleep. Those features accentuating such fine beauty. Now as a young girl, I wish if I could have a pinch of the beauty you possess ‘Ma’.
Even after twenty years, you are still the one who holds me tight in every situation. You are my perennial flow of affection, love and every emotion, life has bestowed upon me. I could never forget that gentle touch as pure as white which could soothe my heart every time.