Fractals


Image Copyright – Tikuli

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

there is still

a hint of autumn

in the breeze

fragile as a whisper

a quiet reminder

of something fleeting

***********

    winter pruning

            I nip a thought in the bud

                 **************

“What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore– And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over– like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?” Langston Hughes

what happens to the dream deferred? does it become wafer thin? Does it perforate? Does it encrust and fall off like scabs? Does it smell of moth balls? Does it spawn a warped double? Does it trickle away and dry up?.

 

                    ***************

I said, “I have been put in the box before death.”

He said, “but you are a Hindu, you go up in flames when dead.”

I said, “I go up in flames every moment of living too.”

 

**************

the motionless day

grows dark inside the room,

the winter breeze

slithers through the window,

a spider dangles on a single

strand of web, thin branches

tremble and weep, but you,

on such winter days, are

the scent of lemongrass

not wanting to leave

the teapot

**********

The parting isn’t hard really ,

it is the wretched sense of abandon

in unfinished conversations,

in lost fragrances, in heart’s great void of silence,

in places that have a putrid sense of familiarity-

coffee shops, cheap hotel rooms, bars,

in old telephone diaries, in hunger

that food cannot lay to rest, in words

frozen mid air, in the crumpled pieces

of paper filled with gibberish, in the taste

of your skin, that’s hard to let go.

The constant abandoning

in that abject indifference, the obscure silences

that tie my stomach in a hangman’s noose, wherever I go,

whatever I do, whoever I am with. It’s always there,

 morphed into everything familiar and unfamiliar, and

when I look into the mirror, I see it in my eyes.. looking

at me with the same look of abandonment I saw in your eyes

when we last kissed before the distance between us stretched like melted cheese

Dreamscape, Imagination, Mindgames And The World Within


Everybody has a secret world inside of them. 

All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable  magnificent wonderful   stupid   amazing  worlds.

Not just one world.

 Hundreds of them.

 Thousands maybe.

Quote copyright-Neil Gaiman

Dreams make me endure the reality. Imagination lets me stay sane. The world inside my mind is where I retreat at times when the world becomes too much to bear. That is the world I live in most of  the time.  A private dreamscape, a virtual reality world where time has no meaning. Where the five senses work magically unrestrained. It is a world where dreams get realized, even the wildest of them, where passion are fed, love blossoms, fears take shapes and walk around. Where there are deep crevices full of secrets, dark alleys where thoughts stumble upon each other, strange voice glide past each other, there are ditches that reek of pain. A world where ghosts from the yesteryear wander freely rising from the graveyard of memories buried over the time.  It is a world where I am invented and reinvented driven by uncontrolled fantasy, a world where stories are born.

 A world with constellations of wants and needs, hopes and dreams, laments and longings,  a surreal universe of uninhabited stars yearning for life. No emotion is superfluous there, everything is an all engulfing whirlpool. Everything is larger than life. Raw, naked, stripped off all inhibitions,  everything free of boundaries reality imposes. I live here, in my enchantment. protected by own fairy tale, by love. Here time is different, unmeasured. It’s sunsets and sunrises painted in celestial colors. It is a world where I can smell, touch , hear, see everything that can not be smelled, heard,seen or touched in real life. I can give each object, each person, each place any dimension, any form, any kind of existence that I desire. The boundary between the animate and inanimate is in itself animate ( says KS) and it holds true here. Here I am the master weaver, craftsman, a dreamer, a storyteller, a lover with a raw sort of vulnerability, a woman I try hard to be in reality and manage only a fraction of it and sometimes I am just me, a form, unchained by sexuality. A shape shifter.

Here love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke. Bodies are chiseled and carved in shape of desire. They feed on each other passionately, ravenously, sensually in the midst of all the silent noise that surrounds them, unaffected.Here love is not flowery, poetic, measured and hesitant. It is fierce, pulsating, graphic, full of fluidity and madness. Nothing comes close to the love we make inside our head. Ethereal, adventurous and wildly stimulating all at the same time.

The mind also has a dark world lurking to suck you in. It is devious. It can rage passionate fires and it can also drown you in the deepest of oceans full of pain. Shred you into tiny pieces, cut your veins and bleed you to a slow death. It can ravage your heart, nibble on it or tear it like a carnivore, it can throw you off-balance and hurl you down a narrow, gaping hole. It can strip you naked and whiplash you till your skin burns crimson, black and blue. The wounds it gives don’t heal, they come alive and spit lava. It cuts you down to your size more effectively than reality does.

Then there are dreams, you won’t understand if you aren’t a dreamer, lucid dreams filled with pieces of super reality which ooze out as revelations, a world within a world. A gobbling kaleidoscopic. It is amazing how we are tricked into believing reality of these world within by our mind. It is the creator. I think my mind has highly optimized memory channels which store data for later review. Vivid, lucid dreams where one is in control of that which in fact is just imagination, is something not everyone possess.

It is here that  the reality’s image is mirrored in absurdity & strange connections, I try to link them till I the find the pattern I seek. The process is continuous.

There are callings, revelations, symbols, voices and spirits. leading to inner deeper layers of this world which is a merger of dreamscape and imagination. One lives and dies and lives again here. Time travel becomes a reality. past, present and future merge. Mind becomes a canvas where every micro second the patterns change. The fine line between imagination and dreams becomes even finer with people like me.

And if you thought that is the end of it, you are wrong.

There are those demonic depths of mind where world as sensitive as a lunatic’s mind form and dissolve. Where revenge is plotted, throats are slit, where occult resides in its most primal form. Sometimes one is sucked by it at others it remains quietly breathing under the more calmer serene layer. The paradoxical existence of both and our ability to create a balance is what life is about, in real world or in the mindscape.

These are not the only world within, every moment new worlds are conceived in the mind womb ready to launch forth at any given time and take control. Everything emerges from three base emotions – Love, Hate and Fear.

Everything one runs from is in the head lurking in one of the worlds inside.

If I could just stand one night alone in my mind…. The thought itself is orgasmic.

Musings Of An Unquiet Mind


Silence of woods on a spring day

The heart is restless today. I am trying to calm my unquiet mind. A longing to escape is growing within. Escape to a world within. I rummage through an old diary tucked away among some forgotten pictures and notes tied with a lavender ribbon. Slowly I shred them and let the pieces of a long gone dream make a tapestry of words on the floor. Razor sharp edges of crisp paper even after so many years? I thank the person who invented email. READ, DELETE, TRASH AND EMPTY. Letters written on paper are difficult to destroy. They somehow manage to leave a mark. Burn, shred do what ever. They stay.

I discover these jottings at the end of the diary . There is no date . I copy it all here. Just as it is and light a funeral pyre for the memories rotting along with the pages.

Smudged words, blotted patches of ink crazily crisscrossed paragraphs.

I don’t need them now.

I need a  silent escape. My blog is the only place I retreat to at such times. I allow myself to flow with the words copied from the diary.

Silence of the woods on a spring day.

When the breeze sings the  symphony of pure silence and the sunlight filtering through the tops of the trees and lovingly touches the ground. The beautiful, magical dance of the flawless shadows on the forest floor surrounded by a mystical aura. Time floats free in the endless woods.

The silence in the rhythmic music of a mountain brook or in the  rustle of the leaves as the  tall elegant trees  sway like the dervishes  in a soulful dance. A green silence.

The fading moments of daylight dissolve into twilight bliss. The forest melts into an ebony haze. A soft misty nothingness is filled with serenity’s song of silence. Nocturnal darkness takes over silently seeping through the very soul of the forest wrapped in the essence
of luminescent splendor.

In nature – trees, flowers, grass – grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…we need silence to be able to touch souls .Silence …to listen to the silence between the words, between the lines, in the gaps, to absorb, to become one with what you are doing.

Meditation or dhyan , silence of the heart and soul …It heals ..Creates a stillness and calm within …

It is when we are silent, we open up to life and it does the same for us.

Maun …. Embodiment of joy.
We do not always realize the implications of the quietness we unconsciously seek and enjoy when we take a walk in a solitary meadow or in a forest or on a mountain. By occasional contacts with silence, our nerves are soothed, energy is regained, and the total effect is bracing to our bodies and minds.

I enjoy being silent even if I am part of a noisy group, it’s not a forced silence like when you are alone.

For me keeping quiet and being silent are two different things.

When silent, one’s mind should be trained to become empty …you don’t even talk to yourself even in the subconscious …it’s a wonderful feeling which completely de-stresses you.

Once you start to enjoy silence you learn to listen to the unsaid, sounds you normally don’t pay attention to.

It increases your power to listen, makes you in tune with self and your surroundings.

Listening is a dying art.

Most of the time we just hear the various sounds without paying any attention to them. Being “maun” is also a method to enhance your will power . We always want to escape to a peaceful place looking for ‘SHANTI’  but that shanti lies within us, we just have to look inwards.

Silence is also very beautiful, I have experienced that by being completely silent I become one with nature and that’s a wonderful feeling. It has a calming effect on soul.

Silence has helped me take many major decisions in life, to do things in the right way guided by my inner. It has improved my concentration power and though still I need to work quiet a lot on it, it has tremendously helped me discover myself. So SILENCE for me is self discovery and a very important part of daily living.

For me

Silence is not

lack of words

lack of music

lack of curses

or  lack of screams

Silence is not  lack of colors

or voices

or bodies

or whistling wind.

Silence is Not  lack of anything

Silence is resting,

nestling in every leaf, every root, every branch of every tree,

it is in the breeze that nibbles at these leaves

or sometimes swooshes around them

Silence is the flower sprouting upon the branch

In the drizzle that tickles them

or the pouring  rain that drenches  them to the core of their being

it is also in the still air that hangs around them on a hot sultry day

Silence is the long winding forest trail  fragrant with the intoxicating aroma of sweet pine

Silence is mother’s song to her  newborn child and  her  cries for her stillborn one.

Silence is the roar of ocean waves and  the sandpipers dancing on the shore.

Silence is the vastness of  green rolling plains and it is a blade of grass.

Silence is the flight of a solitary eagle

A colorful kite soaring in the vast blue sky

A dog curled up under a shady tree on whose trunk furry squirrels run up and down.

Silence is sound And silence is silence.

Silence is love, even the love that hides in hate.

Silence you share with someone you love, so cold, so sharp, you could cut yourself on it. There is nothing so hurtful, nothing so bare and forlorn as the silence that falls like swords on two people who no longer know what to say to one another, and it is the kind of silence that tells you that you are no longer of any importance to that person, who really is no longer even there; it is a silence that renders you invisible.

Silence that hangs heavy in the air. A dark cloud of silence. Where the words strain to touch the  fabric of  someone’s silence. When words become strangers , the thoughts freeze and we are rendered speechless – silence of death of loss.

Silence of pain , physical, emotional pain that’s leaves you numb.

Silence of the suffering heart.

Silence  is  the eyes of poor, hungry children

It is the lover’ s sex exhausted fall into sleep.

It is the call of morning birds.

Silence is the lucid moonbeams kissing a wild flower.

It is a word, a hope, a flickering flame of candle at the window of a  home.

Silence is everything –

in the renewing sleep of Earth,

the purifying dream of Water,

the purifying rage of Fire,

the soaring and spiraling flight of Air.

It is all things dissolved into nothing

Silence is with you always

Sometimes as Shanti sometimes as khamoshi and sometimes as a mook cheekh ( a silent cry) a silent cry of a woman.

.

Early Morning


Just a few  drops.

On the back of  hands

At the corners of the eyes

clinging to the strands of unruly hair

sliding down the red tip nose and burning cheeks

smudging the red letters on the pages of an old diary

and blurring the faces in the picture

mixed with a few cups of bitter-sweet black coffee served with two spoons full of  arguments .

Accompanied by muffled music of halfhearted strings, half-truths, told and untold lies ,

the drops silently left their random places and traveled to the sky .

I guess that’s when the sky became overcast

and  it began to drizzle .


Shadows of reality .. When things go wrong


Yesterday was a strange day. I planned it all out and ended up with a trail of incomplete tasks. It began with a forgotten mug of  morning coffee and led to burnt toasts, cold soggy breakfast, broken glass, unfinished chores, teary eyes and a broken heart.I made a simple meal that seemed unfit for human consumption and quietly tucked myself away with the laptop in the darkest corner of the bedroom.  The worse awaited me there as I opened my mail.

Sometimes one is put in a situation where you are either dammed or hanged and there is no middle way and no escape route. I stared my the hazy screen and tried to clear the mist rising in front of my eyes blurring the words I was reading.

With a sigh I closed my eyes and thought about what relationships mean. Is there any place for trust, longing , compassion, understanding, faith, caring or are these words  hollow and empty.  crucified  by the scheming minds or turned into slaves by those who never seem to go beyond the apparent . What is love ? What is lust? Passion, longing ? Why is it that a man  or a woman  gives in to desires that are illicit and murders the basic feeling of mutual admiration and love-making illusory dream castles over the graves of  what could have been a solid foundation for an everlasting bond.

Why sometimes the heart escapes and we lose all control over it and the devious mind laughs at our misery making it even more difficult to pull the reins and bring back the wandering fool. we make different choices and end up in the same way. Caught in the crossfire of my own emotions began to bleed.

There was a time I believed . Believed in the romance , in friendship, in connectivity, in words both said and unsaid  but now  it is a bit difficult to digest. People change colors to shame a chameleon at least he does it as a defense mechanism, they manipulate, twist and turn the events to their requirement, don’t shed a single tear of remorse for their doings and continue with their lives parading as victims in the eyes of the world and the world sees the drama unfold with blinkers on and nodes in endless sympathy for the wrong-doer while those truly affected silently wipe their tears and walk a lonely road only to fade away with a hot flush.  I snap my fingers till they hurt but the star-dust is gone. The show over and the magic gone.

Reality check 1.

No one can be trusted not even your own self unless you have a full control over your heart and mind which is practically impossible.

Memories however insignificant now  create a deluge where you find yourself being sucked in and you struggle and fight and go ever deeper into the darkest areas of your life. Areas which haunt you and torment you which question you for creating them in the first place.

The past stands before you like a demon with a million tentacles ready to pounce at the slightest movement.

The darkness of those vacant spaces is scary and even more scary is the lurking presence of something, someone from the past.

Past which has continued to walk beside present tiptoeing silently unheard, unseen but ever-present.

Rain torn days add fuel to the raging fire. Strange as it may seem. Water as fuel for fire. As surreal as the life itself .

I stayed in the dark for long… uncertain of the light and now the light has blinded me . My fears come true as the smoke clears and I see the amber from the cigarette butts slowing eating away into the fabric of life. I had forgotten to stub them. Now all I have is Ash.

Burnt out … at least to some extent if not completely.  The warning bells rang loud, they seemed too obvious and went unnoticed or was it that I chose to close my ears to them. Blinded by Love .. not just that.. even deaf  and when two of the vital senses collapse the third one does overtime. .. words like wild river break the banks and flood.. only to destroy.

Somewhere between the lighter shade of black and darker shade of white  I was blinded.

“L’amour fou, the irresistible force that thrusts two people together and  impossibility of their ever becoming one!”- Luis Bunuel

Can’t place where I read this but it stayed in my mind etched forever.

We question, we doubt, and most of the time are uncertain of ourselves more than the other person  and before we get our bearing right we are done.

I was a dreamer who tried to write epics with fire in the air till yesterday when the dark engulfed me and the air wiped clean all that I had so lovingly composed.

Phone rings, conversations take place and in the end each one thinks what he /she had achieved .

Be careful what you wish for , careful of what you desire badly, careful of what you give up and what you get in return because when the world begins to crumble the fall is much deeper than you anticipate . What you think is the beginning might be the end and the end just a new beginning. Who knows what’s His game plan and we are just the pawns.

Now as I watch the fading shadows around me and reflect upon what went wrong I am clueless. Somethings are best left undiscovered because the more you stir a dying fire the greater are the chances of some spark turning into a flame and that could be the last thing I want at this moment.

Life has bared and untangled all the threads I hold dear and smacked my face with those I don’t. At least the hidden is revealed , naked truth of what we refer to as ever lasting relationship.

Wednesday 7 PM


The heat is unbearable.  I am going through a strange phase, I do not know what to call it. A feeling of restlessness is creeping in. The summer afternoons make me dizzy with thoughts. It’s been some time since I discovered that my body was not at ease. Doctors are the last people I would want to visit but I had no choice. The comfortably numb feeling was now becoming a bother. The tingling sensation in the limbs continues to remind me that I need to take care, pay attention. A warning.

Life is strange. I have suddenly lost interest in everything. Everything seems strange , fake. I want to shed the masks I am wearing. I have began to question relationships, emotions, intelligence, my very own existence. What am I doing here , why am I alive  dragging my sick body, mind and soul around for nothing? Have I lost my way and the purpose of living?

My uneasiness disturbs the stillness of the afternoon. There is only one sound that overpowers the inner chatter is the hum of the AC outside the window.

I am beginning to hate noise, sounds irritate me. I want to escape inside a cocoon. My hair uncombed and disheveled stick to the nape of  neck. I want to chop them off. Go bald maybe. I am as crumpled as the sheet on which I lie watching the fan struggling to circulate some air in the stuffy room..

I snatch a bottle of chilled water from the fridge and gulp it down ,  it cools my inner but the uneasy feeling continues.

Standing at the window of my ma’s 9th floor apartment I stare blankly at the concrete jungle out there. The building remind me of deserted graves in a forgotten cemetery. It is depressing for the first time for graves never depress me. They have a way to communicate but the sight of these high-rise builder flats,  old crumbling houses drain me.

I pull the curtains. A memory of a loved one is nagging me since morning. I woke up with a dream and a bitter taste in my mouth. I know you will find your way to this page. Silently .

I want to cut out the noise, zone out  drift away. I shoo the memories away. Intruders from a distant foreign land. I wince as a sharp splinter of a dream goes deep into my heart. I remind myself to stay alert and not get seduced by the distant calling and yet my heart rebels. I have developed a taste for getting bloodied and bruised.

Incomplete , mute stories of two hearts living in two different worlds.

love.. romance… lust… I understand the last. Love as I saw it sucked the soul from my body , romance was a smoke pattern on the walls of my mind. Lust .. yea that is real. very real. Unsaid but felt strongly. Camouflaged yet visible like an undercurrent. Lust never lasts. It never can be a bond between two souls. It is like a bush fire.

I never asked for explanations. I know the reason we parted.

Virtual world is a strange place. unknown people wanting desperately to connect with each other, seeking love which has  a hollowness attached to it. Yet we give it , let ourselves flow with the current, hearts break, disillusionment , hurt, we knew it all and yet we give it seek more. Addicted to the something so unnatural.

I saw you , an image, an enigma ( yes you were) , I was trying to disconnect with real and move to another realm. got sucked into the web. You were like a tiger on hunt. I feel this now. Slowly moving in the shadows, distracting the prospective prey to get away from the herd. You had set your eyes , eagle eyes, on the target. circling around till the moment was ripe. No you did not want to kill. You are not cruel. you were amused, you wanted to play. It is rare but not uncommon. Tigers play with their prey, make it comfortable, make it run, tire it and then pounce on it ripping it’s soul out of the body. You played very well but unfortunately lost the grip.In a twinkle of an eye I realized the hollowness of the thing and yet ….

I saw my  mistakes, errors of judgment, your failings, my fall…all so clear now. All the excuses  made for you when others pronounced you guilty are now vacuous billboards along the stack of drained words.

Resentment crows over the dusty horizon, a sour taste, a feeling much beyond hatred.

What’s that feeling?

I am trying to figure out the deafening, demeaning silence in my heart but am unable to comprehend it yet.

I look back and watch the strange threads of lust love and hate  tangled and knotted . A crowd of memories of you jostle and fight for space,  filling and overflowing from the gaping spaces.

The dust filled sky is silently watching the turmoil. I can taste  as the dust sits on me. you burn me like this summer sun. blisters .. incurable and painful.

I have lost the relevance in your life just as the smoke patters on my heart walls have dissolves into the air making it even more stuffy in the room.Shadows marked across the heart…

I am listening to the song on my mobile.. in the end it doesn’t really matter. There is a maddening urge to throw it all out and disappear.

The mind cautions the heart against rummaging in the bottomless depths of human emotions.

“Beware the flood-gates of human passion”.

Who is listening… ? Have you even connected to someone who transcendent into the very fabric of your life. Someone whom you have never met , nor will ever maybe, who is just  known to you . Someone virtual not real and yet he is there in every little thing that revolves around your everyday life. An enigma , an reputation you have created. He may not be aware of it for it is you who wants him to be there in every waking , sleeping moment . You weave your life around him , that image  which has began to seep through your senses. You become that person as he takes the hold on you completely.

Why and how can a person who drifted from some distant land, distant space occupy your each living moment? Why is it that I am unable to detach myself ? Why is it that even after such a suffocating silence my heart strings play the notes of his song. Why is it that his presence haunts me day and night?

Why does the heart aches for something so utterly impossible? Why do I seek him  knowing that he is just a mirage in the vast  desert land? Is it ego that holds me captive to grudges and memories or love  or longing or just a need or am I lingering on to a relationship feeding myself on the pain and agony? What am I looking for? Is it a blame game I want to win ? How does it matter  who is right or wrong? What will it change ? What will I achieve ?Why the memories that brought a smile and warmed my heart slash through my heart now ? How can a sweet moment turn so bitter to bring a taste of bile in my mouth and yet I treasure it ?

Why I need an explanation ? Will it mend the broken heart or bring back the freshness of love with which it all began? It rips me apart to let go so I hang on to the nurse the open sores silently I close my eyes experiencing the throb , the ache , the hurt. Self inflicted trauma.

Unfulfilled dreams, a feeling of loss of something which I doubt was ever mine. A longing for someone who does not exist in life. A virtual fatal attraction. A giver turned into seeker. That’s me.

Why do I yearn even after receiving such hammering from him?

Too often sincerity is an under-rated virtue in modern life.

Some people  leave a void impossible to fill.

I have a feeling my soul is spent and I have nothing more to give to give to the world.

My love tainted.

The torrent of emotions screaming down the insane moist greens like a dive bomber inflicting greatest damage and then a calm.. gentle , seductive  blend of heaven and hell.

The post started on Tuesday and has lingered on till today. ..passions flow unrestrained.. they need  to flow ..they will  till I find myself again.

Life After Death : What’s Your Plan ?


Heaven, Hell or Someplace Else????

We all talk about where we will eventually go after death and as I was chatting with my kids I realized that all we wanted was to lead a great life on earth and let our spirit find its own destination. This is what I felt about the choice between heaven and Hell.

I never want to leave this beautiful planet. I want to stay here as a spirit and make my presence felt on the earth for the people who love and care for me and especially for those who dislike me yet say sugary things on my face and cuss words, the moment I am out of sight.

I want to be here for all those so-called priests, shamans, healers and other exorcist who are minting money by supporting the superstitions and beliefs of the masses by practicing witchcraft and exorcism. Maybe I can be reborn as a witch and haunt these scoundrels who fool innocent minds.

In India and many places around the globe, even after such development people are still rooted to age-old superstitions and rituals which make them do long expensive pujas (religious ceremonies), beat the pulp out of women for being a living witch or to remove  presence of a bhoot (bad spirit) from inside a person instead of treating his delirium and fits, clinically. Many people die due to this lack of awareness.

As a free spirit I want to sojourn among the beautiful mountains, valleys and all those secret hideouts and much desired “you will not go there ever” places.

Being a spirit is going to be great fun too . Imagine the endless things one can do without being noticed. I leave the list to your imagination. That is one more thing one needs to set free.

I strongly believe in reincarnation and also that we wander across the timelessness in soul groups. I would rather make a cult called ‘Souls on wanderlust’ and conduct soul tours on earth.

I do not want my obituary to say “so and so went for her heavenly abode. May her soul rest in peace”.

I doubt if there is any peace in heaven.

I do not believe in this Heaven and hell concept but even if I did, who wants to go to Heaven anyways? If ever there is a question of choice I would any day prefer Hell. I guess atheists are not welcome in heaven for all that we know.

Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.

Here are my reasons for my preference.

The heaven is too crowded with people who are confused whether they want to be there or elsewhere .Most of the people there do not fit into the rules and conditions laid for heaven goers. Almost all in the list of ‘went to their heavenly abode’ list have a dubious record on the earth .Everyone seems to be heading for heaven regardless of what they are .Imagine the list of people you will meet if you stay in heaven. You could not see eye to eye with them on earth how will you survive in heaven? It sure seems like an absolute madhouse to me.

Heaven is surely plagued by chaotic conditions with a heady mixture of saints and angles and our esteemed personalities from all walks of life .I marvel at the way God must be handling that entire crisis above that has shifted from earth during ages and is still continuing.

I often think if there are boundaries and LOC’s in heaven too, for hell is the same for everyone irrespective of religion caste or creed, Heaven on the other hand is seen differently by different cultures, religions.

There are so many Gods and so many views.

What is life without a dash of color in it! Imagine people roaming around in white robes surrounded by cherubs and holy men singing the praise of almighty 24/7 .That’s music to them. Not my kind of place.

Indian side of heaven will have more gods than people and there will be continues struggle for a little space for each one. Gods dresses in fine silks and laden with gold and diamonds. A scene straight from some Bollywood movie. There will be bhang (cannabis plant leaf), dope and sura (local liquor), apsaras (women), exclusively for our Gods. Won’t that break heart s of many living there? How frustrating.

At least in hell there is no such system .It is each one to its own and there is always scope for home improvement .We can always make it a better place to live in. The best part is that I will be ‘greeted by loved ones’. As far as the raging fires and boiling oil drums go, I think that’s a publicity gimmick by those who stand for heaven, just to attract more people.

Heaven is no place for honest fun-loving people. Too many rules .Too much ‘holier than thou’ attitude.

No bars, no clubs, no adventure and no sex, no romance. The place seems to be worse than our earth. The pleasure factor is totally missing.

How we going to live man?

To all those who will say that the things I mentioned will end with the body and the spirit does not seek pleasure or experience pain, I want to ask one question.

If what you say is true then, why this over powering urge to crowd heaven? The unending rituals, ‘one good deed a day’ and that entire eye wash that we do to attain nirvana and ensure our place in heaven. Why not settle for hell or some place else? Why not just enjoy our stay on earth and let the soul take its course after death.

This discussion is endless and controversial too. I, for one, do not want to be a permanent resident of any of the two places .Though hell would be a place to come back to in case of emergencies. Most of the time I want to tour with my ‘Souls On Wanderlust’ (SOW) buddies and I am sure there are hundreds willing to join me, they just need to connect with each other. So, I am not going to heaven, see you in hell buddy. Hey do not forget to join my cult.

I already have two members.

This seems to be a great job for a jobless person like me .

Nostalgic Memories : The Moon


The incredibly beautiful mysterious moon held me captive along with the night and the earth as she glided in the sky with a star studded garment trailing behind her. I watched as if in trance. The magnificent full moon, unusually large and low, was drifting carelessly behind the fluffy night clouds.

It was not just another full moon night for me. Lying down on the terrace, overlooking the majestic Himalayas, it brought back memories of someone special of all those happy times spent together. The solitary moon was as lonesome and alone as me despite being surrounded by millions of stars. I wanted to talk to her, to reach out and hold her. Her watchful gaze held mine and I let its cool calm light envelope me lovingly in its embrace.

My train of thoughts took me down the memory lane, to my visit to Kinnaur and the moonlit campfire on the last night of our stay there. Six friends, a little lad and lots of happy unforgettable moments together, as the sparks from the fire flew to meet the moon which had slowly glided past the nearest mountain and was hanging on one of the open branches of the tall trees which surrounded the campsite, as if to be a part of us.

It was one of the most romantic, intoxicating nights, pregnant with strong emotions and memories of my love far away. I wondered if he too saw the orange mystical moon that night through his window and thought of me just as I did. Walking away from the laughter and chit chat, I walked to a boulder near the edge. I wanted to be part of the silence.

The entire place was under some spell and my heart ached for someone special. I wanted to share the moment with him, to be wrapped in the warm embrace and live the dream we often shared. I let my thoughts reach out to the goddess of the sky and wished upon the bright evening star which accompanied her, hoping that some day my wish would come through. Rising I stretched myself, taking in all the positive elements from the cosmic magic around me.

I could hear the faint rustle of the leaves and the happy gargle of the river Bapsa flowing like a silver serpent in the valley below. I smiled to myself and felt awed by the beauty that the nature held in store for us. Instantly I felt warm all over. I smiled and went back to my friends.

It was getting cold and the soft sweet breeze from the Dhauladhar Mountains was becoming a bit strong, so I cuddled on a rocking chair on the terrace wrapped in my Angora wool shawl. Nothing could make me spend the beautiful night indoors.

The moon and I share a very special relationship and I often seek solace in its company. It invokes the spiritual side in me and makes me connect with myself and the universe around me. I often sit and meditation under the light of the full moon. It has a very calming effect as if all the negative energies are drawn by the glorious moon, leaving me refreshed and cleansed from within.

I began to reflect on what the moon had taught me in all its different phases. True love happens only when you are not consumed with yourself. When you are full of your own sunlight, you may do many good things, but not love. Become a moon, and you can contain and love each other.

The full moon means being full with the one another. The feeling of incompleteness allows you to become the most complete. It made me humble and let go of the ego and taught me not to get consumed by it. I learned not deny or eradicate weakness, difficulty and pain, to acknowledge it despite the pain. It helped me to be illuminated from within and to stay calm and serene even in the most difficult of my phases of life.

My fascination with the moon was not just limited to the romantic; every phase of the moon ignited my imagination in some way of the other. How much my thoughts had changed since I was a teenage girl charmed by the moon’s darker side. I always thought of werewolves and spirits and it evoked some strange energy in me.

Every surrounding brought out a new aspect of the moon. The many shades of the moon, the sea, the mountains, the city and the open fields and their special bond with the moon above transformed my inner self in different ways.

Even today I make it a point to connect with the moon and become a part of its mysterious self when I need inspiration, love or just peace.

whispers of wind and the raindrops


The trees are drenched with night dew. The winter sky ash grey. It is a wind kissed Sunday here in capital.There is a slight drizzle and the leaves shiver in anticipation of a cold bleak day. I scan the world from my balcony. Some street dogs sleep huddled on a plie of damp fallen leaves, baby squirrels run around looking for some warmth and food. A few birds brave the chill to venture into the wet park.

The tip of my nose is frozen. I rub my hands to generate some warmth. The cold wind swept my freshly washed hair sending a chill down my spine. I opened my arms and inhaled the fresh air. I should have been inside ,cuddled in the warm blanket with a mug of hot coffee. What am I doing standing outside in bitter cold , rooted to the earth?

A magical pull of nature I guess. A longing to be connected with the universe. To hear thw whispers of the wind and the desire to get soaked by the silent beauty around me.

To play with the misty curtain and drink in the dew from the bright red roses in my flower pots. I close my eyes and listen to the fusion of morning sounds virbertaing through the stillness. I try to still myself and breath deep inhaling the mixed fragrances around me.

I feel a warm tear roll down my cheek and then another. I let it flow. A sudden rush of emotions and a release I guess. I open my eyes and run my fingers through my damp hair. On the wet window pain

The other Me and Myself


I am a dream weaver. I am alive only when I dream. I am a haunting melody echoing in the woods, the lonesome moon princess gliding through the marbled floors of the night.

I am the twilight rain, Silent, mysterious. I am the mist that slowly descends over hills, rivers, valleys, woods and towns. I am the flush of the morning and the crimson hue of the sunset sky.

I am the dew nestled in the womb of delicate flowers, a raindrop hanging from a glistening new leaf. The soft green moss on the white smooth pebbles, I am solitary wild flower dancing in the spring breeze. I am the new folded April bud on winter- haunted tree.

Under the splendor of the starlit sky bare feet I dance on the shifting sand dunes. Music fills my soul, music that no one else can hear. Sounds of silence fill the empty spaces in me.

*******

Night wraps everything in its soft blanket. The orange moon slowly drifts past my window and lingers on, resting on its elbow on naked silvery branches of the tree. We lay silently, our bare bodies soaked in its lucid beams. Consumed.

The only sound is of the rhythmic beats of two hearts beating as one. Your moist scent fills me completely. The moon decides to move on, and slowly a heavy darkness envelopes us. I can’t see you but your scent lingers around me speaking to me of your presence. I inhale the mild aroma of lavender that drifts with the night breeze from your soft cotton shirt.

I close my eyes and enjoy the mixed aromas, the scent of the wood smoke, the gardenia blossoms, your skin, your breath, your sweat.

I taste, drink, smell and take you in. I rejoice in our togetherness, in the scents that bring you to me.

I turn and gaze at your sleeping silhouette in the dim moonlight and feel warm all over once again in the cold of the winter night.