Thursday, October 1, 2015

A Halo of Clouds






 DAY I OctPoWriMo 2015










Across the unparalleled universe
Hope rides cozily
Along the changing seasons
Leaving symphonic shapes
Over the edge of a blazing arch
Often I wonder
Finding rhapsody of my thoughts
Clamoring through those floating
Legions of countless melodies
Obstructing my dark memories
Under the shadow of a moonlit night
Dreams find new beginnings
Silvering my dreamy heart.








http://www.octpowrimo.com/2015/10/octpowrimo-begins.html


Monday, June 15, 2015

The Humble Friend

He had the most contagious smile and a genial nature. I remember the first time I met him some 21 years ago. He passed infront of my house selling the luscious fruits in a huge basket on his bicycle.


As I was new to the place, I couldn’t speak Telugu and somehow managed to communicate with him. I stood near the gate and pointed out to the fruits which I wanted to buy. He understood me perfectly. After that he never missed my house as he felt my boni (first sale) was lucky for him.


Now also after years, whenever I meet him, that contagious smile still greets me. :)



I am participating in the #100WordsonSaturday on write. The above picture was the given prompt.

Sunday, May 24, 2015

A BOX OF PAIN

Sometimes, the mind needs food to get back on the creative path. A slight trigger is enough to do so. I have been going through a rough patch, for the past few months, and felt that nothing will work anymore. The darkness around amplified and smothered the soul to wander in a hole.Weaned myself away from the cacophony of gregarious milieu and wilted into a silence. Maybe this silence rang out the inner bells of my wandering soul. I immersed myself in reading and watching documentaries.

I started by reading an autobiography" A DROP IN THE OCEAN" of a prolific Dogri poet Padma Sachdev.A Padmashri and a Sahitya Academy awardee. What a journey she had! She left me spell-bound . A journey filled with hardships of losing one's parent at a young age, the agony of partition ,a broken marriage, displacement, fighting against a terminal disease,ostracised by the community for being daring enough to divorce her spouse. Amazing portrayal of an audacious personality indeed.
                                           
                                                                Image from Google

I found a linear connection with her autobiography. The parallels were indeed jaw dropping, considering the topography of her existence and myself. We come from two different worlds. She a mountain lass and I a sea urchin.The most important bond, which I felt connected us was the passion for words. Words weaved in sync when the heart gets wounded at a loss of dear ones or lost love. When autumn cries foul and the melancholy exalt into a suppressed groan.Her poetry brought out the ethos to the forefront with a force which I didn't know how to reckon with.

Her autobiography helped me to understand that  life can be cruel, and creativity still survives despite all the odds.One's existence is not measured in riches, when words build the bridges on the wounded soul.It is the flow of acceptance of all that comes in our way, which makes us what we are.


Box of Pain by Padma Sachdev
This head
That you see on my shoulders
Is not my head

It's a box of pain
It jingles like a jingle box
Pain moves in it round and round
Smoke rises
It smells
Like the smell of a pyre.
There are other pains too
Several of them
Some of memories
Some of secrets
That cannot be kept
Nor thrown away
Some pains of today
Some of yesterday.
But
There is another pain also
Which doesn't make a sound
Which is only there
This pain is of that suffering
Which I do not share with you any more.



Translated from Dogri by Shivnath


Saturday, October 18, 2014

Down Memory Lane with the festival of Lights


                                                         Image courtesy-. Konkani Speaks

Come diwali and life becomes hectic like a whirlwind romance. The heart pumps up to make way for goddess lakshmi’s arrival. The cleaning, dusting and all the sundry work associated with this festival of lights works through the bones of a housewife.

Inspite of all that stress, this festival brings joy and happiness in abundance. The whole family is together and the camaraderie that follows is indescribable.

My best memory about this festival goes back eons ago when life was a happy jolly ride. It transports me back to my carefree ways in my lovely village Cortalim in Goa. A tiny village full of beauty imprinted on its very soul. We used to have diwali vacations after the half-yearly exams. As it was a vacation time I used to celebrate the diwali festival at my grandparents house.

The preparation for diwali used to start a week before. I and my cousins prepared the diwali lamps at home with color papers. glue and bamboo and different designs to decorate the lamp. On diwali day we youngsters woke up early in the morning to start the celebrations. We kids were lined up by our grandmother and given a sound oil massage and later followed by a hot water bath. The first thing we had to eat was a few seeds of bitter gherkin. It is considered auspicious to start the day with bitterness so that we can relish the sweets later. In Goa we prepare a good many dishes with flat rice. Flat rice becomes the main ingredient in the preparation of sweets and namkeens. Not only flat rice, ragi is also used to make vermicelli. Flat rice mixed with grated coconut and fresh jiggery, flat rice in a bowl of coconut milk, flat rice with boiled potatoes seasoned with onions,curry leaves, green chillies and mustard seeds. The most tasteful flat rice is prepared from boiled rice which was grounded in the local flour mills. Not just a little but one or two gunny bags of flat rice! How we waited eagerly for the feast! My favourite were always the sweet dishes as I have a sweet tooth: D

Another wonderful tradition which is followed in Goa, is visiting our neighbours on this day. We kids used to carry a polythene cover while making these visits. The time we reached home from all that wandering our bags were full of all the goodies which were served by our neighbours. And for us kids it was a real fun to find our bags full: D

In Goa in some areas painting and terracotta exhibitions are held during this festival. It is called Chitrakari.  Once I got an opportunity to go and watch this magical display at my aunt’s place in Colvale in north Goa. Beautiful paintings, arts and sculptures were on display. We had to ferry across on a tiny island to be part of this amazing display.

What I like the most about this festival is lack of environment pollution.You might be wondering how is that possible during diwali. Well it is possible in Goa.We don’t burst crackers during this festival. Only light lamps and worship goddess Lakshmi devotedly.

Life gets more hectic once we cross that stage of childhood bliss. Now, diwali is more of a routine with family. Before it was an occasion we used to wait eagerly due to the joint family system. With nuclear families it has lost its zing.

I know life has become more practical now. But sometimes wishes floods the gates of nostalgia without any warning.



Friday, October 10, 2014

Hunger Pangs





With a piercing ache through his bones, he walked tall among the mortals. The hungry mouths waiting at home goaded him to sustain the pain and let him dance to the tune of destiny. His attire became his shield, to hide those pools behind that mascara. Tomorrow might never be the same, as fate cheats.






Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Embossed scars




The shared past haunted the soul everyday. 

Inspite of all the adjustments and compromises the age old ghost raised its head to bring more pain and shattered whatever little solace found in each others company. 






How I wished the scars would be erased along with time and let life breathes!






This post is in response to....

Unsaid words



She always wanted to know about his dreams. His life was a mystery to her. The way he carried himself with an elegant aura always left her speechless. What was going through his mind? What made him tick inspite of the harsher climes that life seasoned on him? 

Maybe those eyes of his carried too many secrets or may be, unknown pain which feasted in his heart when he took the drastic step.

She was too late and too young to understand those shadows in his eyes. The reverence she felt for him never allowed her to ask the inevitable.

This is in response to Wednesday prompt on write trip.


Monday, February 10, 2014

My passion

People do always wonder when I tell them that my biggest passion in life is to pursue knowledge in any form. For me there is no substitute for knowledge. If I am given an opportunity to rewind my life, I would certainly do it the right way this time without letting life's rough roads take me the other way.

I am very passionate about humanities. It ranges from history, geography, literature and world politics. This dream to pursue higher studies took root while I was a young mother of a four years old.I was already married for 10 years when I resumed the ropes of gaining knowledge  and set the ball rolling. With a determined spirit I could cross the hurdles and let knowledge lead me in the path of enlightenment. I am almost in my mid forties now and could round up my education with three post graduations.

But, the spirit of learning or gaining knowledge is not yet appeased. I have a deep desire to go for Ph.d before I hit my half century. I would certainly like to pursue Ph.d in literature in a reputed University in the United Kingdom, as this land of literature has always mesmerized me for ages. I would love to be part of Sheffield or Durham if destiny sides with my thoughts and my vagabond spirit.

Hope I cross the bridge when the time comes.

      Day-30 NaPoWriMo-2026 Prompt:  In his poem, “ Angels ,” Russell Edson speaks of these spiritual warrior-messenger-guardians as if they...