Making waves

An endless sea with waves

Reflections of the blue water,

Just the right amount of ripples.

God was in a playful mood today.

Image: yours truly :)

Looking for home

"Amma, come inside, you're going to get drenched" she cried.

Pulling her Amma by her arm, she dragged her in the shelter that they were using temporarily. Of course, it would not do if the rain continued to be so harsh. Why had the gods no mercy? Where would they go?

Pushing her thoughts aside, she started to collect the meager belongings scattered around. A few clothes, utensils and pots. Wrapping them in a bandni cloth that her grandmother had given to her. It had been her fifteenth. "Gayatri, this is for you, especially today, you are now a big girl. Take care of your Amma. From now on, I want you to keep this chunni against your chest. "

Gayatri had only known the message hidden under her grandmother's words a month later. She had passed away in her sleep. After her death, things had changed all of a sudden. Her grandmother was respected in her village. After her death, a few vile men had pushed them away from the village. To her utter horror she had learnt some harsh truths. Gayatri had been born out of wedlock. A fact that was kept from her all her life. The gossip mongers in the village had obliged her with a few details. It was only due to her grandma's shelter that the villagers had let the mother- daughter stay on. After her death, they seemed to have brought out their hatred out in the open.

Her Amma had been mentally ill for as long as she could remember. The reason for her illness was unknown to her. She had asked grandma on countless occasions. 
"Why does Amma behave so? What ails her? "
"Patience my child, give her patience. And love above all." She had replied.

And patience she had given to her. For seven long years. They had wandered in places, village to village.

***

A thunderous noise brought her out of her thoughts. Lightning and thunder had been pouring along with the water. The sky seemed blue and grey and black.  Much like her mood. Stormy, wild. A small shelter of white plastic, under a tree, borrowed from a nearby shop. Of course the shop owner didn't know.  She would return it while leaving this village. She always did.
It had begun to flood a little in the surrounding, Gayatri was getting worried. Her Amma was shivering. Her conditions had deteriorated in the past few months.

She needed a blanket, and quickly.  Gayatri felt scared, but she couldn't let it affect her. She had to think quickly.

"Amma, here, take my chunni. Stay inside. It'll keep you warm." Saying so she ran out in the rain.

Gayatri walked for a good ten minutes in the rain. Scouting around the village for a sign of somebody who could help her. She could have sneaked a blanket from anywhere, but she dared not get caught today. What would happen to Amma then?

Lost in her frenzied thoughts, she dashed into something, rather someone. It was a little boy, no older than fifteen.

"Hey, can't you watch where you're going?" Cried out the boy. "Now look, You've made me ruin my shirt. Maa will surely give me a good hearing," he grumbled scratching the mud off his shirt.

"Somil...where are you running off to. Come back here this instant." A small voice could be heard in the distance.The boy's eyes lit up, with a look that spoke of guilt.

Soon after, a girl appeared on the horizon. She looked tired, as if she had had a great run. Though she carried an umbrella, her Green dress was soaked in the rain. Gayatri thought her to be around two years younger than herself.

The girl came near the boy and twisted his ears.

"Aah" the boy yelled. "Forgive me. I swear I did not throw paint in your room. It must have been the servant."

"Somil, you can't escape this time. You've ruined my room. I won't let this go this time. I will tell papa today!"

"Please dear sister, have mercy on me. Am I not a good brother to you?  I promise to clean it up soon," wailed the boy. He was now rubbing his ears in pain. They had turned to be a rather dark shade of red.

As if suddenly realizing her presence, the girl looked her way. Gayatri was stunned to see her eyes. They were the exact same shade as hers. Light golden, like the shade of honey. She was staring into her eyes.

"Namaste, I'm Stuti. Are you new to the village? I haven't seen you around here before," said the girl.

"How do you know.." stuttered a bewildered Gayatri. How could the girl have known her? Would she turn her in? Had she been caught today?

"Oh come on inside first, you're going to shiver to death in that rain. Don't worry; I am not going to harm you." Stuti reassured her with a warm smile.

Looking at the apprehension on her face, the girl continued. "My father is the village chief. I often sit with him. I know most of the villagers. We don't have very many families here."

Gayatri finally spoke out, "I can't. My Amma, she needs my help. She's ill. She needs a blanket to keep her warm. "
The girl seemed to be lost in thought for a while. "Somil, go grab some food and blankets from home. We will be waiting here under the tree. Be quick." Stuti ordered the boy. "Come let us stand by the shade of the tree. Somil shan't be too long"

Gayatri hesitated for a bit, but finally gave in, for Amma's sake. Soon Somil had returned with the necessities. The three of them started back towards the shelter Gayatri had constructed. They hurried inside. Gayatri covered Amma in the blanket whilst Stuti lit a fire inside the shelter, to keep them warm. The rain had ceased for just a bit now. However the lanes were still partly flooded.

"We should take you back home," Stuti said. "Perhaps the rains may start again. It seems like this storm won't cease so easily."

"No I couldn't possibly take more help from you. You have helped me and my Amma already more than what we deserve. We shall be moving out of here tomorrow. How could we possibly repay you?" Cried out Gayatri.

"Don't worry about that, I will have thought that she's my mother that I've helped. I have done no such favor to you. I will stay for a while."

Amma had stopped shivering now. And Gayatri began preparing some warm food. Somil sat by Stuti talking to her in a hushed tone. Gayatri fed her Amma the dal and roti that she had prepared in the morning. On seeing the handicap, Stuti asked,"whats wrong with her? Where do you come from? "

"My Amma, Sudha, is her name, suffers from a mental disease.  We come from a village far from here. You may not know. "Gayatri replied. She was yet to trust the kind stranger.
Stuti asked further, "do you have no family at all then? "

Gayatri seemed taken aback by the direct question. Quietly she whispered, “no."
And no friends, do you have no friends at all? Stuti asked in a compassionate voice.
Again Gayatri replied, "No."

Stuti looked at her with a strange look upon her face. It was almost as if it was hard to believe her. She didn't speak any further though. Gayatri didn't talk further too. She was a woman of few words.

Somil was sulking in a corner, unaffected by the entire exchange. He had begun to grow restless. Stuti then stood up to leave. "You may keep the blankets. I shall return tomorrow “she said.

Gayatri quietly shook her head in response, and soon both brother sister had gone, leaving Gayatri behind with her thoughts once again.

It had stopped to rain too; it seemed the gods had finally had some mercy.

***

Later that night, Stuti sat with her father on the veranda stairs. As she recounted the day's events to her papa, she remembered the old woman and Gayatri. She told her father about the girl. How she had refused to take help from her.

She had admired the courageous girl, and her love and devotion towards her Amma. She planned to take her father to meet the two in the morning. Perhaps they could provide them with some permanent shelter in the village.

"What did you say are their names child?" asked her father.

"Sudha and her daughter Gayatri."

On hearing the names of the two women Stuti's father was stumped. He was lost momentarily in memories from a long time ago. Memories that involved his long lost brother, Sagar. Sagar had run away from home at a very young age, in pursuit of a young woman. He had never returned after.

It was rumored that the woman was with child. The woman's name was Sudha. They had run away together and a baby girl had been born. Torn by anger and hatred for his brother at that young age, he had never bothered to find out where he went afterwards.  But it was soon found out that, Sagar had died in a tragic accident. Leaving his young runaway companion and baby girl with nowhere to go.

He hated the very thought of the woman who had lured his brother away. A reality that had caused his family to never be the same again. His family was torn apart. Sagar was the older child. He was the one who took responsibility. The perfect son.

After Sagar had left, his parents had not been able to cope with the fact that their son had run away. Stuti’s father had tried his best all his life to please them, but to no avail. The news of Sagar’s death had left the family shattered even more so. Both Sudha and her child were held responsible for his fate. Their name was a taboo in the house. His parents were living a dead life.

Stuti’s father had decided that he would find the heir, that he would find Sagar’s child. Perhaps his parents would be happy with a little bit of Sagar. Over the next few years he had tried to find the whereabouts of the two, but they couldn't be found anywhere.

A couple of times he had been able to trace them, but had been too late in reaching to them. His family had been blissfully unaware of his search. The names of Sagar and Sudha were still a taboo. With those thoughts in mind he couldn't sleep that night.

The very next morning, Stuti and her father were seen going towards the outskirts of the village. The flooded streets made it all the more tedious. It seemed to take forever for him to reach his destination. Finally, in the distance he could see the hut like shelter that was constructed. He allowed Stuti to call out to Gayatri, but he could hear no reply.

Peeking inside the hut, he saw an old woman lying on the blanket. Curled up beside her was a young Gayatri. They both looked terrible.  He could understand why his daughter had wanted to help the two. They looked like they needed it a lot. Glancing around the hut he realized the miserable conditions that they lived in.

Stuti called out to Gayatri. Gayatri was slumped over her Amma's feet. Clasping them tight. To never let go. In a frightened stance.

She stirred up, her eyes looked puffy, tired. The warm honey eyes met his. The eyes of his brother, Sagar. 

An air of nostalgia hit him, memories invading each second that passed by. The last time he had seen him go.

He'd found them at last.

His brother’s eyes, his brother's child.

***

Flooded

It rained that day,
You wore white.
A shadow of darkness underneath.
My heart was flooded.
It wouldn't stop, the water had just begun to flow.

**

A stream of tears,
Flows in the distance.
It's sound suppressed,
By sobs,
Sounds of stone,
And echoes of memories.

**

Gushing out of nowhere,
Does it meet,
An endless futile pool.
Droplets drown themselves.
It was perhaps nothing but water to you.

**

Dried that droplet,
Marked against her skin.
Salty cheeks again.

**

Balms of the night

I found today,
What It felt like, to have lost again.
I never thought I could feel so.

The wait unbearable.
The silence that follows after.
A mere smile would suffice.

Could I possibly,
Have stopped myself from thought.
For its 2 am and I'm lost.

Lost in a certain darkness.
I stare into nothing of importance.
I stare into space.

My mind refuses.
Tiredness doesn't settle in just yet.
My body, a witness to the day.

Thudding can be heard,
Was it my heart? Was it my soul?
It's calling out to someone.

Can you hear me?
It says. Can you hold me?
The plead goes unheard, lost again.

Darkness envelopes me.
All sounds seem so faint.
Thoughts invade me thereafter.

Refusing to settle.
Like a dust storm it scatters.
Bits of stones everywhere.

Anyone at all?
I'm not okay, it says.
Can you calm down my mind?

It's calling out.
Calling out this night.
Yet darkness engulfs my body again.

It Captures me,
Numbs me,
Finally sleep Soothes me.

Age differences

She huffs and puffs
Deadly speed!
Sweat trickles down her forehead.
"I'm alright", she pants.
Determined she pushes herself to the limit.
"Do you want to go faster?", the gym trainer asks.
"No more, "she says.

A girl stands in the corner.
Watching all that took place.
Perhaps she could walk faster,
Than what the lady 'ran.'
Yet here was the woman panting away.
Humbled, she realises,
The magnitude of old age.

Notes on remembrance

A dainty flower,
Lingers
In your hair
Tucked by a pin.

Black mane
Adorned in white.
Memories.

I remember your fragrance,
Each time I see that flower.

**

Image: Google :)

My first day on Indiblogger

"You should write a blog."

"Why don't you blog?"

"You're using your writing skills wrong."

"Dude, just publish online!"

**

Just some of the sentences my friends have used over the years that finally made me make a blog.
Well the seeds were sown and I did follow their advice.

Okay so I made it, what next?

I'm a rather private person. Seeing that I share very few things with people around me. Well okay when I do talk I can go on for hours about books or music or other things that have caught my fancy. But I don't really let out my inner person too often. Well I do, but only if you're lucky.

The idea of sharing what I felt seemed rather weird to me. I didn't even believe in my writing back then I think. So I made a blog and posted stuff anonymously. In the beginning I'd post old peotry that I had accumulated over the years. Gradually a few new ones too. I didn't want people reading just yet.
It was like I was waiting for a miracle to happen. Now that I think of it I was being quite silly.

As I was pointed out once, what's the point of a blog when people aren't reading it? So one fine day the following conversation took place with my best friend.

"You know how you're always pestering me about my writing?
Well I started a blog." I said meekly.

"Omg! No way." She shrieked. "Send me the link."

Flash forward a month later. I ask my friend, "so, did you read my blog?"

"I'm sorry I didn't, I'll read it right away," she apologised

There went my heart. It dropped down low.

Well that was the fact. I've tried that on a couple of other friends over the past few months. Getting the same response,  or something along the same line. I thought to myself,  well that's alright,  I never did indeed write for anybody but my own self.
I wasn't ready to let people read my poetry just yet.

Just forward a few more months later. All of a sudden this urge rose in me, to share.

Now I can't exactly point out to a particular moment but it was like a tubelight went off in my mind. Okay so what, I'm just a little slow like that. But that was my moment when I knew that I want people reading my poetry. Perhaps connect with it. Share it with people they love. Even if it touched someone's heart somewhere I'd be happy.

A few months ago, I remembered reading a blog which had a star sorta badge. I don't know why that fascinated me but it did and kinda got stuck in memory. So here I was hunting for that blog late one night.
(It was 3 am I think)

Few minutes later there I'd found it! Indiblogger it was. I quickly googled it. (Well thats how we get answers,  don't we all?) Signed up for it.  Made an account, submitted my blog. Done and signed off.

The very next morning I got an email that my blog had been accepted even though I anticipated it to be at least three to four working days. Hats off to the team for being so speedy! I would say I did jump with joy when that happened but I'm trying to sound like a sane person here( hush hush).

The very first day, and within an hour or so I got my very first comment. Sikes! Someone who appreciated my poetry. I think I just died and went to heaven. Hehe. The wonderful gooey feeling made me want to turn into mush. What could I say? I think I was finally opening up!

I just wanted to thank Indiblogger for this amazing feeling. Hence the inspiration for this article. For everyone else, well I hope your journey has been better than mine.

Happy blogging! :)

Note: After writing this article,  I've been staring at it since an hour, contemplating if I should publish it. Oh what the heck!

You and I

A few takes on you and I.

**

Perhaps you and I
Weren't meant to be.
Just one of the things I tell myself
To pacify my heart again.

**

You and I
Unlike any other.
Yet seemingly alike
To others
That live, in the same fate.
Of being together.
Yet being apart.
Perhaps now I know
Their plight.

**

You want to know my words
Yet here I am, hiding.
How can I tell you anything
When my words tell all?

**

I imagine you often,
Going about your day.
Silly things you do away.
Although one thing's far from reality.
It is the occurence of my thought in your heart.

**

The horse's arrival,
Marks the dreaded confrontation.
For you and I,
Shall part tonight
With nothing but hunger
In our eyes.
Father shall see it straight away.

**

I close my eyes,
And find you within me.
You and I
Together again.

**

You'd pull out my hair,
And call me names.

My heart broke,
As did my doll.

Best friends once,
You and I.

Now,
We go separate ways.

**

Answers in words

I am but a woman
Slipping along my words
In a single piece of thread.
Binding them with meaning
And chaos.

That which hides in me
Behind the clothes
Beyond the perception.
Hoping to bring some calm
And peace.

Words flow out of nowhere
As long as there's unrest
A storm erupts.
My pen begins to flow
And continues in depair.

The day it shall cease.
I'm not certain.
Perhaps it shall be
When I find the answers
And more.

Valentine's day

A groggy morning it was.
The sky overcast.
Clouds of white and grey
Yet sunshine seemed
To pour in from someplace.

Right on the coffee table,
Besides the papers of the day.
Sat three red roses
Bundled in a white thread.

It was ma's favourite mug,
That held them.
Water filled to the brim.
Yes, it's valentine's day.

**

Image: Ma's Roses :)

Red.

This time around,
Words bled.
Same as before,
They twirl around her face,
The perfect face
Of deceit.

An ornament in red,
Against pale skin.
Like the raging fire ,
That engulfs in her,
All that remains uncharred.

How is it that words,
So cunning, yet sweet,
Imply such desires,
Making her see
Red all over again.

Heartbreaker!

I'm going to break your heart in two.
Or maybe more pieces.
Don't you know that yet.

Yet you stay, stay to bleed,
The shards shall stick in your body somewhere.
You haven't put up your guard yet.

I'm going to be the reason,
The reason you shall shed tears.
Don't you feel the water in your eyes yet?

Stay away from me.
As far as you could go. Running away.
You haven't started walking yet.

Deafening words of silence

The implications of words
Not known,
Until the hour of parting.

It was thought to be,
Easily accepted.
Whatever happened?

Like a drug she craves,
One touch,
To soothe all cravings.

Shivering in delighted ecstasy,
Alone again,
Hours ticking along slowly.

Building up hope of a miracle,
Just something,
To kill those anxious thoughts.

Was it those words,
His words,
That drowned all dreams.

There seemed to be noise,
Utter chaos,
But it was all within.

She thought she knew before,
This silence,
How wrong was she!

It was only known later that night,
How truly,
Silence can be deafening.

Departure

Little by little
My soul flies away.
Deep in the shadows,
Of wonderland.

Leaving me behind.
Only a little broken,
Only a little hollow.
Bleeding down again.

Pieces of myself,
Wander away
Till I am alive.
Till I am no more.

***

Inspired by the image I found online :)

Home

Where is my home,
I wonder far too many times.
Seeking that shade someplace.

A place where I could go,
When my inner demons refuse to settle. A place where I could be, without questions, without reasons, without doubt.

A place where all at once the world seemed to be at peace. A calm that was not a calm before the storm, but a calm that chilled me to the very last bone of my being.

A place where I could paint a rainbow in my mind, without ever wondering where it led up to. A place where I felt happy, that would suffice my heart, and all of its wantings.

For far too many times have I wondered,  was it home when you hugged me? When I knew you were nearby?

Had I not be cautioned to make homes out of people? The worst kind of shelter, the best kind of relief?

I'm abandoned once again today. My home that was, a special place, in your heart. A home built on love. Our love.

Should I wonder where home could be? I feel shelterless and bare, For now my home has moved away.

The president's fleet

All halt young men!
All halt passerby!

A symphony of whistles blow,
All at once they cry.

It seems that time has come to a still.
It seems to be a special day.

The roads are blocked by policemen,
All scurrying along their way!

The fountains erupt in song,
A beautiful sight to see.

The path is clear and leading up,
Cleanliness was the key!

When all at once a sound is heard,
An all but desperate cry.

Make way, make way,
Stay out of the way.
For the president shall be arriving!

A convoy of cars pass by in a blur,
We stood there struck in wonder.

When traffic resumes, a honk blows closeby.
I'm left with thoughts to ponder.

Different faces

"No more, mom."
She cries in vain.

"What harm will it do?
Just one more beta."

"What harm", she shrieks?
"I shall surely die."

Leaving the last piece on the plate,
She skips away.

***

"Is there more? "
She cries in vain.

"Do you think there is?
Leave some for bhaiyya."

"What harm", she thinks.
I shall surely die.

Leaving the last piece on the plate,
She moves away.

***

Same city, different faces.

Reminders

Touches so fragile.
Hardly seem to be there.
Yet were.

In some time floating,
Between dreams and reality.

How is it that you seem so far,
When you're with me as I sleep?

How is it that you go away,
When my eyes open so.

When the day seems to only begin,
You remind me of your presence.

In ways I could never imagine,
In things as unimportant as folding clothes.

Perhaps when I'm doing an ordinary task,
Your scent lingers in the air.

As I travel through the days,
You accompany me through silence.

And I hug myself to sleep,
Dreaming that dream again.

Touches so fragile.
Hardly seem to be there.
Yet were.

4 am thoughts

For it was 4 am,
The moon had been agreeable.
The stars seemed faded away.

The turmoil, the angst,
The feeling of rejoice.
Bittersweet memories invade.

Wondering what was to be.
A sweeter memoir of love,
Buries all thoughts in vain.

Captivating those eyes,
Entranced by the night sky,
All but fade away.