tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80133981901929508542024-03-13T14:00:31.567-07:00Through the looking glassAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18102637630823476481noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8013398190192950854.post-43117388059027985092015-03-26T11:55:00.003-07:002018-12-17T05:29:23.990-08:00Turning the pages of life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Sipping the tea from the cup of life and
contemplating how trivial issues could affect our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">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<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">An encounter with the sunshine:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Being enslaved in the chains of
drudgery and poverty, there was not even a sign of sigh on her petite face (maiden
smiling).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Her bright enrapturing smile could let
every person to forget all the problems and to wear that smile even in atrocious
situations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Getting completely engrossed in
conversation with maiden:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Me: what is your name?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">( the girl having a spark in her eyes, beautiful eyes trying to say lot more than
life)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Girl: Chahat (I was thinking how apt is her
name. She can inspire anyone to breathe in the air of aspirations.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Me: Do you like chocolates?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Chahat replied she cannot eat sweet (medical
problem). Her answer left me in despair. ( she was still smiling )<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Me: So, you like to go to school?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Chahat: I don’t go to school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I was disappointed at that moment. I was
still looking at her face trying to express myriad feelings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Me: So, what do you like to play?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Chahat: I don’t have time to play as I have
to come household chores. (I was in excruciating pain).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">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).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">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).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This is a very emotional moment for me and
is letting me to turn the page of my crinkly book of life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We should take pleasure of each and every
precious moment bestowed upon us by our city and feel the aesthetic effect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18102637630823476481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8013398190192950854.post-3823200577764457552014-07-29T05:57:00.003-07:002014-07-29T06:02:10.522-07:00Symphony of Rains<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sitting here in the dark aisle, fighting with these baffled
emotions….<o:p></o:p></div>
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A sudden thunder breaking
the monotony of silence…..<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, Blue inked rotten thoughts on paper….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Formations so grim, finding their way to get inked on this
blank sheet…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxoVQea5ZnJRj27pHa_HDWgzkAHalDODwSUc8UZYxwWheenIW7g_pCw5arENKOxt5XSg3_t3riw6Umi59M8uII-OxYX3LLn-BPtbPDaay3AeNv6c-Z6wtXKcPIK2cdHwuKZm2KVf2n8Z9-/s1600/rain-gutters-mountlake-terrace-wa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxoVQea5ZnJRj27pHa_HDWgzkAHalDODwSUc8UZYxwWheenIW7g_pCw5arENKOxt5XSg3_t3riw6Umi59M8uII-OxYX3LLn-BPtbPDaay3AeNv6c-Z6wtXKcPIK2cdHwuKZm2KVf2n8Z9-/s1600/rain-gutters-mountlake-terrace-wa.jpg" height="243" width="320" /></a></div>
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Water dwelling at the corner of my fingertips….</div>
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I wish I could just hold these moments tightly, dwelling in the eternity rain offers.<br />
<br /></div>
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And gently with the passing time, words which appeared so grim started making some sense….</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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So just give some time, forget what you had and listen to the surreal symphony of these rains….<o:p></o:p></div>
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Seep in this dusty aura of rainy mud in your body and fly away…</div>
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Happy Rains:)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18102637630823476481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8013398190192950854.post-38637820704622261962014-05-12T06:20:00.001-07:002014-05-12T06:20:56.629-07:00As pure as mother<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRmAqn451vPrChmC7axDTjBPkpbtRRIU-qROhjRKrcWGrhYbn1m5jCkFkAo3zfXaA4c52UsPw2fjGQVcqnDni1ixEy_jVk1b1pGyQYoeiVM8QWI22RRzTCQgiWjghYgD6mzfYrUTPJPMh/s1600/mother_child_79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRmAqn451vPrChmC7axDTjBPkpbtRRIU-qROhjRKrcWGrhYbn1m5jCkFkAo3zfXaA4c52UsPw2fjGQVcqnDni1ixEy_jVk1b1pGyQYoeiVM8QWI22RRzTCQgiWjghYgD6mzfYrUTPJPMh/s1600/mother_child_79.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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As an infant.....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As a child…….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18102637630823476481noreply@blogger.com0