The Peace I Choose.

 Image

If you were to hear,

If you were to listen,

Only if you’d excuse yourself and give an ear;

To the birds chirping you’d hear them cry,

 about the sky,

They’ll tell you how they choke as they fly

how you ruined their home making yours.

How the clear blue sky is dusty black,

How the wars have ruined everybody.

 

We’ll build houses and villas,

We’ll go countries and cities,

To find an escape.

 

Escape from the monotony of life and the purposelessness of it all.

Will you bury the money with you when you’re gone?

Will your platinum card or vip treatment open the gates of heaven for you?

 

Let’s dream about a day,

A clear morning, the sun shines bright,

You wake up and pick up the morning newspaper.

You read about the beautiful girls that have been welcomed on earth,

and the ministers going to people and talking.

No guns, no fighting, no votes, no elections, no marketing.

Just talking.

Sweet words of love and a breeze of flowers swish past you,

 as you sit in the open yard of your house.

House, the one you can call home.

 

Your daughter walks to school, fearless.

They teach her to nurture and make life, a fruitful one.

Men in the society are just men, not monsters of molestation.

The grass is actually green, and not artificially planted.

 

 

In such a world,

Mother earth, rejoices and blesses.

There are no floods, no tsunamis.

Rain, not acidic.

Just rain, pure and fresh straight from heaven,

And It doesn’t drop down on streets,

But on the ground, on earth. ‘Bhoomi’

Where it belongs, where it nurtures and brings new life.

 

The day the cycle of life, comes back

The day we all are one.

The day there is no money, no currency, no exchanges

That day will be “peace”,

Quiet. Tranquillity. Stillness.

 

 

That very day mankind will learn humanity.

 

 

 

 

A Parallel World Of Rape- Part 1

imagesIndia is growing, from a developing country to something.

The ministers and politicians say it’s towards a developed country, like the States perhaps? What has the States got that we don’t?

 Is showing the country’s progress on sheet of paper our only aim?

Is the rise in GDP all we can ever think about?

 

‘Every drop in the ocean counts.’ Today I shall prove how. It all starts from a single entity, from one drop. One Indian.

That’s all it takes to mess up an entire nation. Yes, I am criticising. From the time an Indian is born in today’s date all he/she ever looks around to find is struggle . Struggle my friend, Is great. It makes you a better person, teaches you to stand on your own feet. But wait, what are we learning from the struggle?

We’re learning how to cheat, we’re learning that numbers and figures on a piece of paper is more important than our values, dignity and purpose. From childhood, all a child sees is wrecked houses, unorganized system, bad roads. The only feeling he grows up with is hunger instead of love.

Then he is put into a school. A school that runs on donations and the MP of the state. He shall be given free education , so to say. Hey! The country has to improve its literacy rate doesn’t it? So there he goes into school where the teachers are dominated by the principal , the principal by the chairman, the chairman by the management and the management? If you can guess, A Politician.

That’s how, one little child who’s mind is bubbling with creativity and imagination,  The hands that are capable of creating wonders and reaching the sky beyond the rules made by the selfish mortals called ‘Adults’ are suppressed. His hands are tied and his mouth incapable of expressing opinion. Oh, did I mention we have the ‘Right to Speech?’

So this little child learns his math ( Whatever is prescribed by the board and whatever the teachers are asked to complete within a given time period).

He also has to learn political science, geography and history of the country, he ‘learns’ , he tries.  His fertile imagination allows him to think of what the badly printed text has to read…”Non violence, lush green fields, democracy…”

He’s lost.

Why? Because every time he looks out of books he sees murders, guns , trash everywhere and corruption.

So this little child looks back into his books imagines the India he reads about.

That is his version of a fairy tale. A good dream, one he’s never had.

Then of course comes, ‘Language’. His mother tongue, great poets, writers print their stories. He reads but doesn’t understand. The teacher shouts at him, the exams are approaching! He’s scared, and so he leaves the text book as a whole turns to a guide and the ‘questions at the back’ .

“Learn the marked ones, she said they are important!” He learns them, goes to the examination hall.  Realizing his friend was right, jots down all that he had learnt and there,  a perfect score!

His mother is happy, his father gifts him a pen his grandfather had once owned, in the ‘British days’. The society calls him ‘Intelligent’, he’s achieved what he had to.

Twelfth pass, ninety percent. Bravo!

The little boy who now sits deep somewhere in his soul is still eager, he wonders, imagines, thinks, analyses and wants.

The ‘intelligent boy’ took over the ‘little boy’.

He learnt his ‘political science’ so now he sits in air conditioned office taking bribes.

He learnt his language well and so he is  now the speaker in the parliament and abuses anyone who raises a voice against him.

He’s great, he’s successful!

But is that him?

Because the little boy still sits, wondering, hoping, scared because his powers had been subdued and abused.

That, is rape.

P.s – This is just one kind.

Open-ess.( Neurotic Writer’s Diary- Page 2)

“Redefining open minds
And if you ask me
The feeling that I’m feeling is overjoyed
And it’s golden, it goes to show then” – Jason Mraz

The world wants to know and read because they absolutely love gossip. Tell me if I’m wrong!

There are days when I wish I was quite, just numb, silent. Moments where it’s just our scents, closeness, and breathes talking.

I cherish those moments, they make me feel good. Like a cup of coffee or a smoke as you write, it  seems to enhance everything… but, in my general character I’m open.

A lot of people tell me it’s a great thing, I think that too but let’s not mistake it for availability because that’s just plain wrong.

Sorry but like many other dumb girls when my idea of ‘right’ comes into my life , I fall for it. My mind is a story book, my version of awesomeness.  I’m wrong at times, so ? At least I have a life to look back to. I’ve grown up reading fairy tales and watching movies where it’s okay to be yourself.

If I really had to look around and follow other’s way of living, my first kiss would have been in Grade 1 ( I was in International school of Paris) and by the time I got to my age,  I would have been screwed.

Or if I followed the systems of Dubai, I would have chosen to shy away from any boy and yet fantasize in my head.

So I chose to stick to the way I am, me. Open, open to truth, to friendship, love, experience and people!

My judgement about you is probably based on an incidence or two. A gossip maybe, but in the end we all  are right.

‘ Right, according to our principle of life.’

My right is open-ess. and freedom. The right to do what the moment begs you to before it goes away.

They’ll always be people against it, people who’ll pull you back and say be ‘normal’. That’s when I think, honestly what’s fun about normal?  I would probably suicide if I compared myself to normal.

Right and wrong are relative. You are the only one who is allowed to choose. If your inner conscience says it’s right, Believe it. Let go of the dogma, the trauma, of it being right and wrong and if nothing ? Stop judging others versions of it. 

P.s. This is a note to self. I’m extremely judgmental of my own acts. 

My soul’s only muse.

You’re my soul’s only muse.

The years sprint through time as I hide my inner voice. “Don’t be crazy”; I say. My soul listens patiently. It whispers back to me,” Your heart that loves other men is only muscles contracting they will cease to beat eventually and your body that lusts will wrinkle you silly!”

I ignore like I always do. We have to enjoy life don’t we?

 ‘But I’m eternal, I belong to someone who’s a part of thee.’

 

You’re my souls only muse.

When my mind says it’s okay, and my heart approves, my soul denies. It doesn’t belong to me. Words like love at first sight, imprinting and soul mates sound insane in today’s day.

Yet, two souls belong, and people fall in love. Not the world’s love, the true love.

Soul’s love.

It can match no physical relation,

And no touching sensation,

When even miles away you know he’s yours to be.

Like your world revolves around only he.

When you’re tailor made for a reason,

To stick around every season…

I’m a dreamer and I won’t deny

You’re my soul’s only muse, I can’t lie.

Maybe I’m a bit too cheesy and a crazy romantic, but you bring light through the spectrum of life. I’ll  probably never be yours, yet I’ll always be.

You’re the prism of my soul, turn the white monotonousness into seven colours of life. My only source of light. I don’t want to make you mine, I’m already a part of you.  Sometimes it isn’t gravity it’s you other soul holding you.

God descends in many forms, for me it’s you. ‘Like my personal brand of heroine.’

Cared for me like my father would,

Held my hand like a friend should,

Blessed me as god could.

 

My muse. 🙂 

The Neurotic Writer’s Diary- Page 1

The Neurotic Writer's Diary- Page 1

Most people prefer to keep secrets, big and small. Some like to discuss it with their friends far and close. And some like me? We tend to experience what we want to write (Not a very productive thing to do.)

I wouldn’t really call myself a writer but I’m on the path of it and that’s pretty evident. Upon great observation I came to realize that my life and it’s events and directly proportional to what I would write in the near future. This has, in fact landed me in deep trouble a couple of times.

I’m plain crazy, and that’s probably what gives me the ability to write. I recently saw this movie, even though her writing was just a part of the movie, it did really strike me.

The problem with our category of people or maybe everyone else too, ( not too sure) is that no matter what, whether we are extremely happy, an emotional wreck or just anything, we want to write it.

Why is that? Well, my fingers itch to write it down, and I’m not satisfied till a brilliant piece( my standards) is achieved.

I’d like to give narrate an extract from the movie;  This lady has almost fallen in love with this man and he too feels for her. With a very true heart he exclaims- ‘you’re a woman to love.’

Well, any woman would be delighted to hear that, and she was too. Later when things turned bitter she used the same tag line as her play’s title to narrate her short affair followed by a heart break. Here’s the difference :

For him, it was something that he would have wanted to keep as a little secret, something that was probably just  for them to know. It was equally special for her, except, she wanted to show it to the world. She wanted the world to know that ‘he’ told ‘her’( only and only her!) that.

There lies the problem, people like me want to shout it out to the world and later we are made to realize that’s it’s the wrong thing to do, that’s when my dilemma really begins!

To top it all we want our life to go not like a fairy tale but like a movie, drama, lot’s and lot’s of drama! What’s a love story without it, but what I forget is that, it’s my life! I’m ready to mess it up for a piece of writing in my head? That’s a little too much don’t you think?

I don’t really think there is much I can do about it. All I can do, is accept the fact that I want my life to be a neat movie in my head with well, a perfect ending. Is that too much to ask?

And to all the friends, brothers, boyfriends, crushes, bitches, best friends, sisters and family. Each one of you are really important in the play of my head’s story, you’re doing an amazing job! It’s me who needs to change just a little bit.

Signing off for now,

Will be back soon with another neurotic back stage scene.            

 

  

My Ten Year Old Angel

 

The more I believe in Angels

The more I see them all around me

In friends, family and acquaintances

It’s amazing how much goodness you can see

If only you believe.

I’d call her a little bomb . She’ll blow your mind with her comebacks and thrill you with her amazingly pure thoughts. A true balance.  Outspoken, brilliant, talented, adorable are just a few adjectives.  I’d love to call her a princess but for now she’s a tiny tom boy. Sometimes I see reflections of myself is her, the love for football and guy stuff, the dizziness towards shopping and girly things.Sister from another mother! Probably because we’ve been brought up around the same person!

Never the less,

She’s beautiful. Inside and out. Features of a beautiful woman peep through her face, and you can easily tell she’ll turn out to be a heart breaker of countless boys. A cascade of black hair which now are tied in a messy braid will soon come down styled to perfection. ( Honestly can’t wait to see her grow)

I first saw her when she was almost a baby. Even then she was capable of defeating anyone anywhere. Every time I speak to her it makes me think of the lord’s wonderful creations and perfections. How innocence can stick to true knowledge.

I may have many friends, but there’s always a special place for a few people.

What I love the most about her is the fact that every word comes right from the heart, because she’s still so pure and so innocent. The lord resides in each one of us, but in her he shines out.

 

She reminds me that  there’s still purity In the world, that beauty is precious and love is infinite.

 I thank him( god) for bringing  her in my life. And thank her for reminding me every day what gratitude feels like.

You’re a true angel. 

 

Mediocre me?

 

Nobody is Perfect, but we love perfection. Our words, thought, smile, hair, and of course grades.  Everyone hates people who crib and yet, I am going to do it.

So here goes, I chose a subject I “thought” I was good at. Eventually, I realized my priorities had 6changed and my perspective towards life as a whole. This obviously did not happen overnight but it did.

Unlike other genius’s who strive for perfect scores, I have always been chilled out about my grades . I would rather experiment, mix acids and write down my own formula than read it in a book and learn it. I had to see it, and of course feel it. I liked math, and so automatically I was the genius! Always two books ahead, not only because it made a lot of sense ( Two things join together make a particular shape and when dispatched made another.) My teacher loved me, and I loved her. She made logic , magic and magic logical ! It all connected and made sense.

But yes, all  good things do come to an end. Just 2 years later I landed up in boarding school where I knew not what a person spoke. Yes, Hindi. So, two years of trying very hard to master my French skills , accent and socializing. I found myself in a place where no one understood me, I thank my smile for getting me through.

It took a lot of tears and hardships to finally “fit” into a group of children who’s families had left them there for various reasons. My parents lived a continent away and so my entire focus was now on how to speak the language they spoke and how learn their ways of tying  hair into neat ponies and braids.

Just when I thought I was getting the heck of the independent ‘girls’ environment, learning pottery and knitting I shifted, yet again! There came another language, ‘Arabic’; Great.

There I  was now, from a cold country to a desert. Fine.  I had learnt to accept this word called ‘destiny’ and this thing which was called ‘mediocre’. No matter where I went, I was mediocre.

There would always be people who have been living in that place for the entire time they have been on earth and there would have been this one or two things they have always been good at. What about me? Who am I? Even today I ask myself.

My brother and sister have shifted relatively less, call it their ‘luck’. Every time I questioned my failures I was made to look around at my siblings, who too had supposedly ‘shifted’.

Maybe I’m stupid. Maybe I’m just mediocre.

I never really liked ‘creative writing’. It meant juggling around with words and faking up stories. I loathed the idea of it. Eventually when I started writing, I fell in love. Because in the mad ‘shifting’ and emotional wrecks that I had to face only pages stayed with me.

I no more wanted to be mediocre. Just extremes. It turned out that now as I focus on one thing, of the subjects I have chosen ( better said, made to choose) , I see that here too there will always be people doing more than you and you will see that maybe somewhere in another aspect you’ll fail ( My example- math)

So somewhere down the line , in the eyes of the world, in one field you’ll be the king and in the other a mere slavery begging to pass. Or you’ll just be Mediocre

“Nobody remembers mediocre”; Maybe it’s about standing out however you are.

Maybe, it’s about following what your heart says. Maybe being

mediocre to the world, but best of yourself. I don’t know, You tell me!

Goodbye – A warfare of thoughts

The brilliant day set, as the sun slightly bent to say goodbye. It provided light, hope, energy and certain kind of happiness to them as they stood hand in hand. Awing at the moment, he looked into her eyes as dusk greeted them. It’s always been a precious time, for the lovers and loners.

As darkness begins to crawl upon faces, with only street lights whizzing across, the feeling of togetherness heightens.

She mentally captured the moment; she would have to live with it for quite awhile. She adored him, and he knew.  But when will she see him again? Only fate knew.

For her it was bliss, his arms comforted her, and she knew she was safe. His shoulder always welcomed her head, because it fitted so perfectly. ‘Meant to be’.  He stroked her face gently, he did that when he wanted just a little more of her, when he wanted to convince his heart that the beauty real and his, only his!  The thought overwhelmed him and delighted his soul, because he always knew her as his.

His phone rings “of course”; she thought. He made her happy, and everything was perfect, but you can’t ignore life’s facts and after so many years, she had eventually learnt that. A sudden feeling of sickness was rising in her chest and burning it, as her stomach hurt with jealousy. She wanted to pull away, because the thought of another girl being in those arms being stroked and kissed the way she was? Absolutely terrified her.

He must be telling her the same things! The thought disgusted her. There’s nothing she could do, she loved him and she wanted him, he did too. Somehow, he sensed the feeling, and pulled her closer. Then another thought occurred to her, she thought about the other men she’s been with. They’ve held her too, told similar things.

She was mentally cross with him, and two thoughts later she decided to forgive him. Crazy love, she thought.

She could feel his fingers on her waist, begging her not to leave. But she was so confused; she didn’t want to be carried away by his scent and his love even though her soul craved for her every minute he was away. She wanted to be independent but for him she wanted to bend down and let all go of all her sanity.

He ended the call, it was just a minute long and so much had changed. She smirked at her stupidity. Both their parents waited for them as they stood stealing a few hours from the years in which they got to be together. Life, alas!

He told her sweet perfect words that even her boyfriends had never told, things and dreams she imagined him saying, now he did. She held on to his shirt, just to make sure it was all real.

Only if they could just stand there, even though it was in the middle of the metro station. She looked up to him, seemed like years she had had a chance to look into his eyes. They were still looking at her with the same intensity of love, which surprised her.

They had to say goodbye, even though they both loathed it. For a few minutes, he told her things about keeping in touch, hopes of meeting again, about life, fate, dreams. All those things with which she lived,

Things that convinced her all this time, but at that moment she was numb and horrified. The thought of leaving him made her heart ache, all emotions just stuck together, cluttered and jumbled like apple earphones.  He told her he loved her. Did he?  Would she wait for him to return? For fate to bring them together despite everything?  The thought made her restless.

He bent down to gently touch her lips, but she was so numb she couldn’t respond. He whispered to her and pulled her closer, convinced her he would be back just for her. The thought amused her, as he kissed her slowly because he didn’t want her to be living with the fear of losing him.  Finally, she melted to the softness of his lips and hands and gave all of herself as they held on to each other kissing passionately.

Sorrow, pain, aching happiness, gratitude all of it rushed through at the same time. He kissed her forehead, but she knew she had to walk away. Even if that’s with slow dreading steps because if she stayed, she’d want him more.

Want him in every way…

Run to her, his mind shouted,

Turn back, her heart screamed.

Get back, just one more time!

None did, time was running. They parted ways, just like they did long ago.

Keep Holding On To the Crazy Stupid Love.

“It’s such a shame for us to part,

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard”

– Coldplay

‘Life’; you can talk about it all you want but when you get the chance to really live it, the bliss is speechless.

As I write this, I’m empty yet full; full of love, gratitude, of amazement.

A red football, messy room, cupboard filled with crap, a computer desk with the latest of technologies.

8 years ago when I entered it, I didn’t know it would be my room more than his, didn’t know the rightful owner would become such an important part of me. My family, my home. ( No, we’re not married)

I realized family has nothing to do with blood relation, that a home doesn’t have to be a place you legally live.

That, love is beyond anything…

And, that one person can be everything. Your friend, your guide, your parent, your lover, your inspiration. Just about everything, even without saying it.

Even if you live miles away.

Changing so many countries, cities and schools, I try to forget the human tendency of a heavy heart and a choked throat every time you leave a place you love.

I guess, love is us.

And life, likes to play around and test our strength and endurance.

“When you try your best, but you don’t succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep

Stuck in reverse

 And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can’t replace” 

 

I didn’t realize our friendship would be such bliss; I was too small to understand that back then.

‘My best friend’.  Never really believed in the word, because everybody seems to use it and this is just beyond, beyond my conscious!

4 years of Xbox and teases, crushes and madness, of waking up a lazy boy. Singing to the songs of Akon and dhoom 2. Back then I had you all the time, over the years I forgot that. The only person I had to be jealous of was Jessica Alba. 🙂

Over time, my teenager madness came in and you were probably “the only man” at that point of time in my life. Just when I realized where my life was heading,

I had to say goodbye.

A goodbye, without a hug, without you being there, without tears. So much remorse and sadness.

Turned into silence.

Never thought we’d meet, but life rewards us for our patience and love. What you give you get.

4 years down the line, we didn’t keep all our promises but we kept our souls and heart. Who knew the friendship was hidden in us, even with the distance and silence?

 “When you walk away I count the steps that you take, All the words I need to hear to get me through the day” – Avril

Being with you reminded me what happiness means, togetherness and yes bliss. The hangover just won’t leave me (I’m secretly happy about it). The madness of being with you and just being myself is a treasure to keep!

So many precious moments’s to hold on to, but I’ll leave that for my diary to keep.

“ It’s the state of bliss you think you’re dreaming
It’s the happiness inside that you’re feeling
It’s so beautiful it makes you want to cry”

Cherishing it and keeping it in my heart is all I can do, I’m strong to the world but when it comes to the heart, I’m paralysed. Life’s going to test us all over again, see if we are crazy relationship is worth the wait. I’m sure it is.

There’s jealousy, happiness, madness, sweetness, love, sadness, fear and so much inside of me. Growing up has too many rules, too many restrictions. Falling in love now has its terms and conditions.

But this is our crazy, stupid, love (Loved that you said it)

God knows what it is, I don’t want to.

It’s beautiful, it’s so us.

People may come and people may go, we’ll go on ❤

“You’re not alone, together we stand
I’ll be by your side, you know I’ll take your hand
When it gets cold and it feels like the end
There’s no place to go, you know I won’t give in

Keep holding on
Cause you know we’ll make it through
We’ll make it through
Just stay strong
Cause you know I’m here for you
I’m here for you”

Keep Holding On!

I Found Paradise In the Crippled Utopian World- I found god.

Image The vastness of the blue bodies, randomly painted with colours of green and white here are there.  My planet seems perfect.  A Utopian world of god, paradise.

Now anger rules the innocent heart, she hates herself for who she’s become. For who she’s turned into. Anger blames people around her but is that really the cause…?

 

Where every word is care, every hand held is faith, every feeling is love! The place where the trees don’t bow in weakness, birds don’t lie on the ground dead, the clouds are not black and water’s not purple.

(Colours are good, if they belong in the right place.)

 

Lot’s of doctor’s appointments, tests and medications. They say, symptoms of this and that.  She’s deaf to the words now.  Lot’s of research on what could be, but even the internet doesn’t answer anything for free. Lost.  Scared. Shattered. Where  should she really be?

 

In that world there are no curses, no devils, no hell.   For tell me who defines good and bad, who really chooses right and wrong?  It’s all relativity.

Where love resides,  all is good. Where faith stands, all is well.  Where I live, is heaven.  That  utopian world, is my home.

 

She often wants to run from her in capabilities ,  for the lost  strength, for the fear gained. Her outer shell is too egoistic, too self centered , too small, and too naïve. She curses herself day and night.

Now, outgrown for her mother’s lap

Distant from her father’s embrace

Stuck.  In the middle of nothing but a gamble of discouraging thoughts.

 

Man can now fly in the air like a bird, swim under the ocean like a fish, he can burrow into the ground like a mole. Now if only he could walk the earth like a man, this would be paradise.”

She weeps, with everything she see’s. Hatred, remorse , guilt, for no one but herself. There are help lines for all kinds of abuse but self abuse is probably the worst form. One part of her curses herself  for all the failures and the other consoles her. HA!  Nature’s ways…she thinks.

That world would be great, that world would fulfill dreams, everyone would live, laugh , play.. At the end of the day it would be nature’s way and say. Cascades of waterfalls, , winds, trees, grace, love, friendship, beauty, grass, birds, clouds, sun, thoughts, everything just everything perfect! And most of all smiles, lot’s and lot’s of smiles.

On the verge of the end, she decided she just couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in front of the world and it’s people because she wasn’t beautiful, because she was unworthy and selfish.

Because jealousy had taken it’s toll. Convinced with the fact that her fairy tale was just an ugly mess, she took a bottle of morphine…

 

Rays of light streamed into the corner where she sat.

Someone held her, tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up and she knew some part of her longed for him.

(Bible :Isaiah 43:1  “Fear not: for I have redeemed you, I have called you by your name; you are mine”.)

Staring into his divine eyes, she knew she had found herself.

Giving her the comfort of a father

The lap of her mother

The hand of a friend

The love of a lover

Jesus stood, holding his child.

He whispered, this is your fairy tale, this is paradise, this is it.

From that day on she knew, that she had found her paradise in this crippled Utopian World, She had found God.

( Bible :John 3:16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him  should not perish but have eternal life”)