I rest my elbows on the aluminum bars of the sliding window and lean out of the frame to face the street below. I hear the sparrows chirping. I see hues of beautiful green leaves swaying obliviously. As the soft sunlight touches my face and as the cool breeze capers with my hair, all I feel is freedom. I close my eyes and think what would it feel like to fly in the sky in the truest sense. I imagine myself like that sometimes, flying above the earth in my favorite orange dress, cutting through the air like an eagle and my hair unbound, fluttering graciously in the limitless sky. My heart glows at the very thought of it. My mother says I am mad to think of it literally. But I feel that we can always have the liberty as humans to dream, sometimes, without thinking of sane boundaries drawn across our imagination and jump beyond notions of a structured life and the vicious circle it loops us into. It’s a beautiful way to refresh our mind and let a bit of fantasy rule our lives, even for a little while, and let magic sprinkle around and make us grow out of our own self.
The sky was quite
and the grey clouds hung low,
the air was heavy and brought along a pungent smell.
That’s when she woke up with a jolt
She felt bile rise in her stomach,
and her chest felt so empty that she placed her palm there, to give herself an assurance of some sort.
A knot of emotions stuck in her throat,
tears rolled down on her beautiful cheeks.
She wanted to let out a cry, but she couldn’t.
Her heart thumped against the rib cage
It was hard to believe that it was a dream, it had felt so real
If there was anything of the nightmarish Narak that the Puraan spoke of then he should have been there…
We are not perfect.
We are flawed. And that too beautifully.
The perception of the people shapes our personality in their mind
And people can be wrong.
No one knows us better than we know ourselves.
We should not wait for someone to validate our existence.
We are enough. We are so enough in our self.
We need to believe.
And everything will fall into place.
You and I deserve to be, what we want to be. We have it all.
We can be everything. We are everything.
So put on your happy soul out there in the wild
and use every bit of talent that you have
to make this life what it deserves to be.
On the cold stone floor, I sit
meditating upon your name.
The mountains are my home now
And the cold breeze, the only visitor.
Nothing but silence prevails around
And I am not time bound.
There I see the blue light
emerging from your head to mine
As I recite your thousand names in my heart
All I want to be is your part.
So let my soul merge into yours
And the rays of wisdom find a way into my mind
Help me out of this worldly life
And let me embrace your personality into mine
But what am I now?
Only a lost being in the world of unknown
I search only for peace
And I have come to you for solace
So heal my soul and accept my being
And end this term of agony and grief.
There among thousands of books
She sat across the table with a somber look
Her eyes were filled with tears
I felt like going near
And holding that pretty face against my chest
And close her heart which was a gaping cleft
I wanted to whisper in her ears some words of cheer
So that she would smile and make her mind clear
Of all the hate and discouragement that resided in
So she could pick up those pieces and throw them in the bin.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her right eye
And I so wished at that moment to be with her and never say goodbye
But I was such a moron
Never really told her to hold on
I always doubted my ability to love her completely
And I lost her because I behaved naively
There she was leaving the Library with a diary in her hands
Only If I could take her in my arms and adjust her flowy hair strands
I was not at all able watch her go
And then I acted in sync with my heart and went with the flow
I ran towards her and caught her arm
Her eyes danced with sadness but had the same old charm
And as I gathered all the courage to hold her hand
I wished her to understand
That my love for her was pure
And I was so sure
That I would love her until someone shot the sun down
And at last, I saw her walking the aisle in a beautiful white gown.
She made her way to the sea front.Her hair flowing with the wind, her face so calm, unlike her mind.It was a pleasant day with a blue sky and cotton-like clouds hung above.
The smell of the sea with a waft of lily and the feel of the waves beneath her feet set her unrested mind to some peace.
The sea was her place. It understood her in a way nobody did. She found the sea enigmatic and it drew her. They had things in common after all. They both were paragons of emptiness dipped in songs of the past.
They loved having themselves as their company. Nobody would ever know how deep they were or what they hid beneath the trenches of their hearts.
They both wore faces of calmness and held themselves together.
They could be rough beyond imagination.
They had great powers within them. Powers that lay unused.
And one day, they would unleash their strengths and the world will stare in awe.
It was beautiful Sunday afternoon of May and the weather was pleasant and breezy with soft sunlight bathing the city in hues of yellow and golden. Dressed in my airy palazzos and a grey cotton top, I set out to visit one of the oldest book sales that takes place at Sundar bai Hall in Churchgate every year. Excited about the decent bargain I were going to make and also the time I was going to spend with myself sitting at the celebrated shore of Marine drive; I took a Churchgate bound local.
On reaching there I found myself in the kind of paradise every bibliophile would dream to be in. Surrounded by hundred thousands of books, the musty smell of old paper hanging in the air and lots of excited people walking the aisles of the hall. I took a lazy stroll around, waiting and reading the synopsis of books that intrigued me. I ended up picking 5 books and could not wait to start reading them one at a time.
I kept the stack of books binded together in a plastic film on the concrete promenade besides me and sat cross legged facing the sea and the magnificent skyline which was one of the most beautiful places in Bombay. I allowed myself a deep breath as I sat there comfortably staring at the sheer beauty and grace that this city beholds.
Lost in what I would nearly describe as meditation, I was approached by this lady and one look at her confirmed that she was not from India. With her shiny black hair falling just over her shoulders and beautiful brown eyes, she looked heavenly. I could stop but notice her perfect set of teeth and her brows delicately arched downwards. When she smiled at me I was reminded of my Geometry teacher in school and felt the same warmth as I would feel when I was with her.
I smiled back at her and greeted. She asked me about the place I bought my books from and I was more than happy to tell her about the book sale nearby to which she nodded thoughtfully. I could sense that she wanted to talk to me but was hesitating for some reason. After a minute of silence she asked me if I knew a publisher here. I told her I did not. Then she asked me a couple of questions regarding the people here and whether it was necessary as part of our culture to take something as a gift from someone who was visiting them from abroad. I laughed at that a bit because I myself would happily welcome a box of chocolates if nothing else.
The sun was about to take a dip and we sat there talking no further and sharing our silence. And as she was going to leave she told me excitedly in her firangi accent and rather good Hindi that she was wishing to publish a book in India and was finding it difficult to filter out genuine sources and that her book was on similar lines as The Secret but was unique in its own way. I found that really intriguing and I made mental note to buy it now that I had a conversation with her.
At the last of our chat she told me her name was Bindu Dadlani and was a life coach. I was impressed and it answered a lot of questions about the air of calmness that she had and the peace on her face. I still remember the feel of her soft fair hands in mine when we shook hands. I was smiling for sometime after she was gone feeling glad that I had met her because I simply felt so good. The first thing I did when I reached home was searched her page on the internet and there it was, full of articles on spirituality and finding the real purpose of our lives.
I read her blogs regularly and they have really helped me out of situations where I thought I had no one to go to. They have helped me grow spiritually and have a considerable contribution in making me the person I am today.
This is the beauty of Bombay. It beholds people from all walks of life, gives them fair chances to realize their dreams and all possibilities, real and imagined. I have met some beautiful people like Bindu who have given m a set of direction and helped me find answers to some of the big questions life has thrown at me.
The poet in me loved the mysteries in you
And as you let me into your world of dread and darkness
All I wanted was to hold you close to me
And let you breathe out
Every ounce of sadness that ever resided in your heart
And I wanted to be in a place with you
Which was far away from the right and the wrong of the worldly life
And I wanted to keep you there
So that we could follow a path of truth and life
Unshaded by this world of materiality
And I wanted to travel with you
Into the clouds and space
Far away into the universe
Where we could fill our hearts with divinity
And quench our souls with love.
I debate with myself
My own existence
I am in need and search of the purpose
The purpose of life for which I am born.
I want to be free
Free of attachments
Free of anger
And gain freedom from own myself
I want to be in a space
Where no right and wrong prevail
Where neither good nor bad exists.
Only and only
The light of our Souls shine
And liberate us from the ying-yang Life.
You know I had this dream last night,
Where it was you and me
I had never met you in reality
because you were just a dream
growing in my head and flourishing in my heart.
And I fell in love with you
Not the kind that they show in movies
But the kind that happens to you when you are 16 and stupid.
But it was all a dream
And reality played the game of blindfold with me.
You never existed
Just like the blue roses in the Kashmir Valley
That people thought about and wished they were for real.
The curtain of this expectation rose,
Not to the claps and cheers of my heart
But with the tearing and jeering of my soul instead.
And I lay there in my old torn crimson gown
Still waiting and hoping
For dawn to pour a bowl of sunshine on me
And I waited and waited a little more….