Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Solitude is good company

I'm exhausted, tired
Nothing-ness laces its fingers through
Meshing with the numb void wired
The trap tightens bold and thorough!

Not in tune
I drift lone
As I hear the mellow croon
I look for the source of the tone

But, alas again disappointment looms large
The same story repeats
But, it strides boldly elegantly and in it barge
The stacked deck tips forward

Meandering along
The solitude is nice and warm
I'm not lonely
I rather like it alone!


Monday, September 26, 2016

Fight for yourself

I tackle, I fight, I smilingly dodge and also firmly stand-up
But does that mean it is easy?
No, it is not easy, it is draining, exhausting to step-up
It is not easy, not being a sissy!

You give it back, it is so great
Yes, it is, but that doesn't take away the hurt
The millions of pins that makes your nerves grate
Doesn't take away the humiliation or the taste that is so tart

I still feel bad, I still question, I'm still unsure
Tears of rage accumulate, humiliation still looms large
Desperate I look for a salve to cure
I tell myself to own it, control the urge

You will be tempted to be moulded
It is easier, easy to be accepted, to feel part of "them"
But, is it worth the burden to be shouldered?
In the long run you are your own gem!

Monday, September 19, 2016

Unchained

No chains to bind me
I fly undeterred
Nothing tethering me
Oh! it is good to let go of the shackles

Shackles of expectations
The chains of hope
The bindings of results
I let go of the rope

My brush paints at will
I walk unhindered
I climb because I want to still
I breath in the air undithered

If, buts and maybe
I'm friends with them
Hugging them close
I introduce them to
Like, do and innovate







Thursday, August 25, 2016

Despair

It creeps up stealthily, soft-footed
Waiting for a small crack
As soon as it spies it comes out of the shed
Slides in, widening the crack
Engulfing everything in a state of desolation

Crack comes the whip
Stunned and shocked before you recover
It has made a clean sweep
Till there is nothing to run to for cover

Stripped, you stand in its glare
Cowering as it wished
Oh how am I going to fare?
You wonder. Everything is but finished!

Grinning evilly, it enjoys your discomfort
It takes in your state of disarray
Trapped! it triumphs in its conquest
Now I can go in for the slay

Just as it sweeps in to extinguish the last of its prey
A burning searing pain like a sword goes in
Shocked, it cannot fathom this defeat
Just when it was about to savour the sweet taste of win!

Will strong and victorious had reigned high
Refusing the mere rogue to wreck havoc
With a content sigh
You turn and ride away, leaving despair in shock! 

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Nomads today and tomorrow...to travel is life and to stay is living!

I was reading an article about the Qashqai nomadic tribe of Iran. For centuries this tribe of nomads have reveled in the fierce nomadic way of life, growing independant, strong and refusing to anchor themselves to the confines of society. Now a dwindling tribe of just 400,000 members, their loyalty to their way of life is reflected in the way they live, their attire and the traditions (or lack thereof).

Strangely I could draw similarities between this nomadic tribe and the cosmopolitan urban society that I've been born into and continue to inhabit.

Strange...isn't it? The irony of the matter doesn't end there...The fact that this nomadic tribe which is a symbol of a independent way of life is dwindling because of traditional ways!

Where I live, my neighbours and the immediate neighbourhood and even the extended city, laments the lack of people to carry on the traditions. Next generations are scattered all over the globe, traditions places are just left to be carried by the older generations. Wrinkled faces, the veined hands and the greying tresses all point to one thing - tradition and old go hand in hand.

Strangely the Quashqai is the suffering from the same pangs of movement. Young blood is drifting away from the nomadic way of life to "settle down." Ironic as this is, the bigger question is why?
Where one rooted way of life becomes the shackles that hold you prisoner, and another free-spirited life is also symbolic of bondage?

Pursuit of the unknown is the perhaps the ingrained nature that refuses to stay put or to travel (as is the case). The need to put down roots is in some ways the same as the need to uproot. To travel is a life...exploring every corner of the world. But, to stay in one place is a respite from always travelling...forming a belonging to the place. One is the life and the other is living...and both changes with what you want!

As a third generation staying in a city while I revel in the familiarity of traditions...the streets where my grandparents have eaten and walked, where my aunts have tasted their "first" dishes and where I too have dipped my spoon savoring the same taste that is so much a part of my ancestry - the beckon of nomadic life is strong. The need to explore and travel, living off the land is so strong that am tempted to leave my roots and go explore.

Perhaps, I will... the key is balance... like the sweet is added to balance the sour travel/staying needs to be balanced delicately! 

Thursday, August 18, 2016

The journey

The twin salty lines slowly trickles down the smooth brown cheek, leaving a jagged fast fading trace
The eyes brimming almost sparkling looked at the cold white tiles
The mute sounds echoed around the small space
Caged, grasping for anchor lines

Free as the wind the smell of lightness envelopes in a warm cosy hug
The earthy fragrance embodies the ground, the light crisp of leaves patterned against the golden hues
Reminds of a moment standing still, a small tug
And it would disseminate into the azure blue

Trinkets of sounds bounce off the rocky jagged edge
The lilting tones are a soothing blanket to the numerous voices
Staunch pillars, standing tall, witness to the honor and pledge
High yet so grounded, the stillness of the slightly crisp air echo the peaceful choices

Gushing milky water flows over the murky ledge, sprinkled with mossy green
The sheer force and vitality tumbling across is spellbinding
Sadness, happiness, peace, uncertainty bows before this force unseen
Pulling out every sheer fibre of being from its hiding




Phases

She was a little girl, happy with how the sky smiled
The days spent playing, learning, tripping, falling, and mending skinned knees
Happy to battle monsters that hid behind the dusty corner, beside the abandoned boxes
Or lurked between the pages, or came alive as the wrinkled hands slowly weaved tales of sleep
Living a 1000 years was a happy blissful dream.. almost a treasure

She is a young girl, trying to follow the ebb and flow, the fine meanderings of life
Reveling in the pages that bring the world within her grasp
Soaking in the things new and old, capturing the essence of what she can perceive
Living is not bad, it is not a bliss it is a good thing

She is a lady, trying on her heels, directing the path she follows
Running, stumbling, grasping and pulling she finds herself
Books are her companion - guiding, supporting and pushing her forward
Living is but a existence merely, to live to last and to prove

She is a woman, standing on a vast expanse - should I climb that hill, or rather take the road through the woods
Walk or run...stand or move...pondering and processing
It is a never ending struggle
The pages are now soothing corks blocking the noise
Monsters now are friendly ghosts, whose visit bring on a smile, dark corners are a silent refuge
Living is a mere mechanism of breathing in and out





Friday, July 22, 2016

A "Dark" world

I was sitting in the bus, the rattle of tin against rickety structure almost lulling me to sleep. Over the comforting sound, I heard the murmur of voices. Two of my co-passengers were discussing, or rather ruing over their complexion- dark and how their mothers while expecting them did not eat right.

The faint threads of sleep immediately faded, as I focused on this rather "fascinating" conversation. In a country, where 90% of the population is dark skinned, this is a rather "common" complaint!

The question that arises is, why? Are we not proud of our legacy, ancestry? Why are we hankering after the white goodness? where does the perception that dark is bad and white is good come from?

There are numerous stories of dark-skinned girls who find it "difficult" to find grooms, or they have to shell out a "higher price" to compensate for their lack of good looks! The statistics and stories are appalling. It is not restricted like most things to girls only. While men are somewhat less affected, they too are conscious. Statistics would show about 80% of dark-skinned men marry fair skinned women. Reason, as in most case they are trying to whiten the next generation.

What is still more amazing, instead of feeling offended, shame is the more dominant or in most cases the only emotion! Why are we so conscious of something so natural as the nose on our face, or the sun shining in the morning.

Why for generations have we worshipped this whiteness, this fairness?

The evolution of science has lead to "whitening" "brightening" creams but have not evolved the mindset. Instead of discouraging they are enabling and abetting the mindset.

So, are we in effect entering a "darker world" or a "whiter world"?


Richer or Poorer?

As I sit reading a childhood favorite from the pen of Loiusa May Alcott, an overwhelming feeling grips me. It is like thin shot of liquid that pierces straight and settles in the heart.

What is it?

Reading about the simple times, am transported to a simpler time- the childhood. When woes were wiped with the coveted promise of an ice. When the thought of a favorite meal being cooked especially for you brightened your day and when the thought of a box of colors was enough to bring a skip to my step!

Repercussions for naughty deeds were banishment from the frolic of afternoon playtime, or forbidden to watch a favorite cartoon. Reading a book that is not in the curriculum often made the list of things that we categorized as pleasure.

Simple joys of a visit or an upcoming birthday filled the heart with sunshine!

So, where are those days. When did we forget the simple pleasures and the simple ways of life. Finding joy in a dish cooked with love. Regaling in the warmth of friendship that wrapped you in its cosy security. When did "friends" become potential benefit targets!

Oh! I cry for the loss of such simple pleasures. In wealth we have become so much poor! 

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Trapped

I feel trapped
My wings have been clipped
There is a dirty smelly hand clamped over my mouth
My screams have been stifled
Any sound is but a muffled grunt echoing hollow in my throat

In the pitch dark I sit, the swarming mist of black engulfs me
Clawing, scratching, climbing I try to escape
Long fingers reach out and grab me
Need, responsibility, duty and love
Cloaked in grey and black hues
They blot out the light

Light? But what is that?
Is it white, is it blue or is it amber
Warm or cold
Is it peaceful? Or is it void?
Is it love? is it the touch of kindness is it the need to bind together




Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Where am I from?

Well that is an answer, which comes quite easily to some and not so easily to some other. If we are to delve into the philosophy of the question: it defines who we are?

But, isn't that a rather spiritual question, pondered for ages by men of wisdom? Well yes and no. While the very roots of our existence, may reside in how the world came to be, and our growth from mere micro-organisms. But, if we take a look at this from another perspective- who we are in fact defined by our beliefs, principles, and our actions.

We yeah! we are after all what we like, do and have faith in!

Recently, I listened to an interesting talk by writer Taiye Selasi. In her speech, she points out the basic error in assumption and the consequent "idea" of a person, based on his/her nationality. Nationality, as she points out is a concept. And how can you belong to a concept? Culture, rituals these are what are better definitions of who we are. Not, what our passport says.

She points out that there are multiple people, who identify with the customs, beliefs of one place-but may need a visa to actually be in that place.  The concept of nations can be broken as the political lines and the power lines are defined. Interestingly, these also pre-define the concept of a person to others.

Oh, she is Indian, so she must be religious. She is Japanese, so he must know Karate. These are conceptions, which binds our mind and does not let us explore the various facets of each individual.

Sometime back, I read a book about this German-Japanese-Russian assassin. Born to Russian royalty, his father was a Nazi, German. He was raised in Japan, but fell in love and settled in the Basque country. How do we "define" this intriguing character? He who identifies with the Japanese way of life, is looking for Shibhumi (understated Japanese elegance), but is fascinated by the customs of the Basque country, which he calls home!

Home- is where we are from. Well true, a place where we feel at home is where we are from. But, it still does not explore the different facets of what defines us- our beliefs or our culture.

As an Indian, born to Bengali parents, I have been living in Bengal since birth. I'm local to Bengal, but is that my only identity? No, I've travelled to different parts and small corners of the world, and there is a lot I would still like to see. Through books, I've read about places and their customs- some as I recently found out during my trips- are not even known to the many  nationals of the country!

I work almost 12 hours everyday for a country, whose language and culture is very much part of my emotions. I've visited the country once, and I've felt quite at home in a quaint town, sipping a hot cuppa alongside a canal.

Food is yet another aspect that defines so much of what makes us unique. With a palette quite different from the fish and rice staples known to Bengalis, I also prefer the spice of Mexican, the light subtle flavors of French cuisine, the robust flavors of Italian food, or the lovely food from Africa. I'm equally "at home" when I bite into a delicious sweet cottage cheese concoction from my local sweet shop, and also the dark bitter taste of true Belgian/Dutch chocolate! While I savor the taste of toasted greasy flat flour breads with chunks of spicy delicacy within, I'm also fond of the light flour wrap, encasing strips of lightly roasted meat with a yoghurt dressing.

So, what am I? who am I.

As I remarked to a colleague some years back, on "not knowing something because I'm am a Hindu by birth"- I'm a human being. I love food, travel, books, music, and poetry from world over. A trained Indian classical dancer, I also groove to the beats of waltz and Rhumba. I'm not one thing, I'm shaped by all my experiences (virtually and other-wise) and my beliefs.

That is who I am!