MY WORLD...

They say life isn't a colorful fairy tale,
It is so full of dirt and way too pale.
Life is not full of mirth and joy,
It is not very beautiful and doesn't always coy.
But me, I'm always in my own dreamy land,
Where things turn perfect with a touch of my magic wand.
It is a graceful little pompous place,
Where things go on at a soothingly slow pace.
In my world, its always spring filled with flowers,
And I never get tired wandering in it for hours.
In my world, no fights for power or riches are seen,
As there is no place for the greedy and the mean.
Here, millions of people are not lain,
With endless screaming, suffering and pain.
There is no blood shed, no wars waged,
There are no masters, no slaves and no prisoners caged.
Here, there is no need to lie,
Nor is there a need to get sly.
There is no violence, chaos or commotion,
All that is here is unlimited freedom, love and passion!!!

IN THE HEART'S CORNER...

I sat at the window looking out of it. The evening forecast had proclaimed a rough whether and the weather was solemn enough to keep its promise. The winds were wild and it looked as if it would rain any minute now. The condition of the whether somehow, matched the tormented thoughts running through my mind. I pulled together my loose hair into a tight knot, simultaneously trying to pull my thoughts together too. I comfortably leaned against the soft cushion and continued looking outside. This was my favorite corner in my house. It had been since I was a very young girl. I looked around, drawing in the familiar sights surrounding me. The walls of my room are adorned with photographs. I had my books piled in a corner. And there was my study table, a witness to all my endeavors to become what I am today. I turned my attention back to the photographs that always reminded me of those sweet memories I'd compiled in the twenty two years of my life- my eleventh birthday, freaking out with my best friends, my graduation day, a fun trip I'd gone with my family and so on... I looked up at the tingling wind chime hanging from the window and smiled, sadly. I loved it, though the others in my family complained about 'the noise that thing makes.' I had always thought that it added a feminine touch to my room. Yes, this was my room, my favorite place in the whole world and this was my favorite corner, at the window, which I'd made with my own little hands, many years ago. I always sat here, thinking and humming the tunes of my favorite songs. Many a time, I slept into peaceful repose here. Now, as I sat here, brooding, a tiny tear rolled down my cheek. Why? I asked myself. Why do we get so much attached to things, lifeless things, in spite of knowing that they are not permanent?
I shook myself out of my reverie. I tried to reason with myself. Its not a time to be sad. In fact, I should be happy now. I'm getting married in a few days, to the man I'd wanted all my life. Yes! I should be happy and contented. of course, I'm happy. I'm excited about the new life that lay ahead of me. Somehow, the thought of loosing all that I'd owned all my life, the things, which I held very close to my heart and the grief that it had brought clouded my happiness and excitement. It'd never be the same again.
Will I ever be able to sleep in my bed again?
Will I ever be able to roam about my beautiful little house, singing loudly?
Will I be able to sit with my very dear family at dinner, laughing, as I'd done all my life?
Will I ever be able to sit on the porch with my friends, gossiping, cracking silly jokes and teasing each other?
No! It'd never be the same again. I let out a deep sigh...
Change is inevitable. I remembered what my mother told me once. Change is one of the most important ingredients of life. It is one of the forces that keeps life going on.
May be, its true! But then, why cant we welcome it open-armed always? Why do fee happy and sad at the same time? Well, I don't know the answer for that. All I know now, is that, whether I like it or not, 'CHANGE IS INEVITABLE!'




Inspired from my home in Dilsukhnagar, Hyderabad

JUST FOR THIS MOMENT

When I reach home after a tiring day,
I see you there, and your never-dying smile
So fresh, so pure, Re energizing and rejuvenating
Its then that I feel that I'm blessed
I'd lived all my life just for this moment...

When you're asleep, peaceful beside me
Far off in your dreams, you blush and you smile
So innocent, so naive, Relaxing and regaling
Its then that I feel that I'm blessed
I'd lived all my life just for this moment...

When I'm in a mess, all worked up
I feel your palm on my shoulder
So bold, so strong, Reassuring and restoring
Its then that I feel that I'm blessed
I'd lived all my life just for this moment...

When you embrace me, let me hold you in my arms
I close my eyes, enjoying your touch
So soft, so near, Reviving and reuniting
Its then that I feel that I'm blessed
I'd lived all my life just for this moment...

I'd lived all my life to see you smile
I'd lived all my life to feel your touch
I'd lived all my life to be loved by you and...
to love you!!!

HATE TO SAY...GOODBYE

You are special, mysterious and so much wild

You are packed with surprises unlimited

Life with you is like a miracle

And without you, it is lonesome and lull

I’d waited for so long now

Waited for your love…

Waited for you to open up

Waited for ‘us' to happen

I’d hate to say ‘goodbye’

But now, I can’t help it…

You seem so close to my heart some times

Yet, at other times, you look like a total stranger

But at the end of the day,

You make me feel so good

Make me realize the truth all over again that

You are my love, You are my life

You are my pain, You are my pleasure

You are my only hope, You are my destiny

I’d hate to say ‘goodbye’

But now, it is inevitable…

Its true…

I miss your laughter

I miss your tender touch

I miss your kiss

Miss all the moments I’d shared with you

I miss your love and…my life

I’d hate to ‘goodbye’

But now, I have no other choice...

BEST ENEMIES!!!

I looked on as the bright lights of the terminal gradually disappeared at a distance. As we sped away from the airport, a sadness swept over me, filling my inside. I felt as if I was loosing something dear. It felt funny. I had never felt like this before about my brother. I tried to focus…

We never had any pleasant times together. It was just that we grew up together, lived under the same roof and shared similar genes. And yeah…we fought, owing to the tiny age gap between us. And we ‘fought like dogs,’ my mother used to say.

A slight drizzle started outside and I felt tiny wet drops sprinkling against my skin. I closed the window and sat back again, thinking.

The rain…we played in the rain as small kids, jumping, splashing water on each other. But somehow, at last, we usually ended up crying or making each other cry. I smiled…remembering the day we fought in rain, doubled up in a muddy water puddle, in the back yard. When my mother found us, she gave us nice thrashing followed by a warm bath and a clean set of clothes. The next day, both of us fell ill…

When it was cold, we snuggled up, close to each other like little cute puppies. But once we woke up, the story repeated itself.

On his eleventh birthday, I had burnt his hand and as a revenge, on my birthday, which actually came only a few days later, he messed up my cake, before my friends came over. Wow! We were enemies!!!

We fought for everything. We fought for our parents. We fought for the TV.

As we grew up and became less violent, the only interaction we had too vanished. However, my brother actually started guiding me, helping me with my studies and career.

I looked at my parents-dad silently driving and mom with her eyes closed, a tiny tear materializing at one end of her eye: she is apparently thinking about her son, my brother.

I was startled and shook out of my thoughts by the vibration of my phone. Clearing my voice, I softly said into it, “hello!”

“Its me,” he said. The very sound of his voice moistened my eyes. God! I’m crying!

“Just wanted to say,” he continued, awkwardly, “I’ll miss you, sis.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I crocked and then less awkwardly I said, “I love you, bro!”

Well, he is my brother and I love him! Of course we never had any pleasant times together. Or did we?!


Inspired from a my best friend's experience :) Thanks Amu for sharing it with me. Luv U!!

THE FORSAKEN...

He was woken up by a dirty drop falling on his forehead. The drop originated at the edge of his thin and flimsy iron shelter under which, he took his refuge and fell straight on his forehead, causing him to start. He trembled involuntarily for a while and slowed down gradually as he succeeded slowly in gathering his bearings.
It was damp outside, owing to the heavy downpour the previous night. He got up and sat in his little hub, examining the bruise caused due to the fight he had the previous day. He yanked of the little insects greedily feasting on his blood and continued looking at the injury with an eye of an eager chemist. He got up suddenly, ran to the nearby pool of water and washed it. But the bleeding wouldn't stop and the pain only worsened. He regretted his earlier action. But, he remembered correctly. His mother gave the same treatment to his injury before applying the thick green balm. it didn't give this reaction back then.
He suddenly realized that it was time to forget about the pain, which only seemed to grow by the minute. It was time to get to work.
He worked strenuously till the sun shined bright, carrying the stinking garbage to the waiting rickshaw from all the houses in the neighborhood. The rickshaw puller, his boss, was a mysterious man-always seemed to be a very cheerful and kind man, dancing unsteadily with a sweet smell hovering over him. He wondered where the smell came from. The boss had another thing which puzzled him-a brightly burning, thin stick emitting smoke between his lips, which initially frightened him. He choked when the boss had blown the smoke onto his face. But, lately, he had started to like the smell and the smoke. When he had enough money, he would try the burning stick.
When he had collected enough coins for his breakfast, he bought a stale piece of bread and ran quickly to hide and eat it. Exhibition of such a hard-earned prize food would attract the big boys, who would snatch his only breakfast and beat him up like how they did the previous day.
His stomach growled. He felt sick in his stomach as he took his first bite and he felt pressure building up inside his mouth, ready to push his bread out. He resisted it and waited until it died off. The bread didn't taste good, like it did when his mother gave him. He gobbled up the remaining part and settled down for another nap. But, sleep wouldn't come. He remembered his mother's voice when she sang him to sleep.
His head ached and throbbed. He put his his palm on his forehead, just like how his mother did when he felt this way before. His forehead felt warm and sweaty. He got up again and ran into the open though he didn't feel like running. It was time for school. He stood at a place from where , he could see kids running into the school building.
They were different-a lot different. They resembled neither him nor the big boys. They wore shoes and socks. They wore clean clothes and carried big bags. He enjoyed watching them.
There was a school boy as tall as he was, standing there, his mother bending down. She was setting his well-parted hair. The school school boy's hair look very impressive. He raised his sweaty palm to part his hair like the school boy's looking at his reflection in the small pool of dirty water on the street. When he got convinced that his ruffled hair looked like the boy's, he let out a sigh satisfied and looked at the school boy again. He moved closer to them to hear the mother's instructing her son to come back straight to his home after his school. He felt happy . He could go where ever he pleased. He had nobody to instruct him. He was a free bird, a master of his own.
But, as the mother kissed the school boy, and waved to him, he moved still closer hoping to catch her eye. She turned back without even looking at him and walked away as he stared after her. He turned back and ran in the opposite direction as the school boy walked slowly into his class.

DAD'S ANGEL...

There she was, standing amidst the beautiful flowers, looking prettier than the flowers themselves.She is my only daughter-my angel, the most striking girl I had ever known."She is no longer a girl," my wife often remarks, mockingly, "she is a woman now."But for my eyes, she is still that little, milk-toothed girl, wearing a small red frock, two little pony tails tied up with two little red ribbons, waving to me, tearfully as she walked into her school.I can never forget the day, when I first took her tiny frame in my arms and couldn't help,but awe at her resemblance to my own mother (I had lost her when I was very young).I had been grateful to my wife ever since she had gifted me with this tiny creature- the creature that absorbed all my time and thoughts. I had planned with extreme care and sincerity and worked ferociously to make her future more secure. Working for her sake gave me an immense happiness and satisfaction I had never dreamed possible.I ardently wished to be the only audience for her first step, her first word, or in fact, her first anything.Much to my surprise (I would rather say I was shocked), in spite of the amount of time I had spent with her, her first utterance was 'mama.' Not dada! But mama! My wife beamed at her and I just stayed quiet.She was so full of wonders and surprises. Everything she did was an achievement-her fist day at school, her first trophy, her first bicycle ride, her father's day greeting card (I always took pride in it as she made it with her own little hands.)And I was her 'Super dad'!...the greatest hero in her life, and an 'all-knower'. I was her best friend. She was as proud of me as I was of her. She was the loveliest and the most adorable child any father could ever have. Somehow, I had failed to realize that this phase was transient. As she stepped into her teens, her world widened. As her world widened, I became more and more insignificant, though her place in my life remained undeterred.She kept secrets from me...She was reluctant to let me into her room, which was almost always filled with her friends. Before I knew what was happening, the distance between us grew. "She needs privacy." Her mother always seemed to understand her. It was at this particular time that she had gifted me, on 'Father's day", a beautiful photograph that we had taken together."I love you, dad," she said, tears in her eyes. I was elated to learn that she still loves her father. It was one of those rare moments when I had tears in my eyes. She added, "Super dads don't cry."We spent the entire day together and it dawned on me that her priorities had changed over time and it was quite natural. I started coping up with this change. Suddenly, my daughter was a woman.When she was twenty five, she wanted to get married (that was the biggest shock I had ever got)."She is too young, " I argued with my wife and the 'practical thinker' laughed and said, "I was younger than her when we had her. Stop being an over possessive father, dear." She tried to put some sense in my mind.Now, as my daughter stood amidst the flowers looking beautiful than ever, in her bridal wear, smiling at me I prayed silently for her, asking God to shower all the happiness on her. I never realized that she was beside me, when she whispered playfully in my ear-"Super dad is praying for his daughter. God bless him."


Inspired from the movie 'Father of the Bride'