:-)

I am what i am, and what i am is wonderful !!

A liitle bit....

a little bit of this, a little bit of that
a little bit of everything, what life is all about

a little bit of yellow, to make you smile,
to take away, all your cares for a while

a little bit of white, to bring you peace,
which in moments of pain, is all you seek

a little bit of blue, to make you calm,
when the storm in you, could do much harm

a little bit of red, to fill you with love,
to set your heart serenading, to the music of love

a little bit of green, to give you hope that will last,
today will be better, no matter how the past

a little bit of black, to shield you from evil,
to let you know its ok, to shed a tear or two

a little bit of joy, a little bit of pain,
a sprinkle of sunshine, a sprinkle of rain

a little bit of everything, to kindle your dreams,
a lot of hugs to make your day, send good spirits in your realm

The kingdom of dreams - part 1

It was a chilly night. The weather was getting worse since the past few weeks. The local papers were filled with warnings of an oncoming snowstorm. But oblivious to all such matters, he was busy packing his bag for the school next day. But while his hands performed the mechanical action of clearing his table and stuffing his bag with books for the lessons next day, his mind had started wandering. By the time the last book went into his bag, he was already miles away in the territory he found himself very frequently. The kingdom of dreams, which seemed to attract him like a bee towards honey, was as if alluring him.

As he lifted his bag, his elbow accidentally hit the pencil stand at the edge of the table. The metallic clink of the tin pencil stand as it fell on the floor, brought him back to reality and he was suddenly aware of his mother's voice calling him for supper. He hurriedly scampered out of the room and seated himself at the table before anybody had a chance of screaming at him. He wasnt very hungry but he was afraid of his dad's violent temper which would fare up if he refused to have his food and so he decided to stuff whatever it was for supper, into his little mouth as much as possible, without evoking any unpleasantries.

All he wanted was to gobble up his food and head back to his room. The children's story hour would soon be aired on the radio and he did not want to miss it for anything. It was his sole escape from the dreary reality of this world. He had found this broken radio on his way back home from school one day. He hadnt spoken about it to anybody else. After fiddling with it for a few days, he had got that working. Though it didnt give the best quality sound, it was nevertheless a relief to hear it rumbling in the background. It was his sole companion in times, when woken up by the intermittent sounds of quarrel between his parents, he wished to blank out the voices.

With one eye fixed on the clock over the mantelpiece, he waited expectantly for food to be served on his plate. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could head back to his solitary abode. He also wished that his mother had not prepared a capsicum dish. He hated capsicum and knew that it would be all the more a dreadful task to gobble up the food when he was not even hungry. He secretly hoped that his mother had coooked something else. He wished they could have chocolates and icecream and cookies for lunch and dinner just as the characters in the story he had listened to a few days ago. But then he also knew, his parents couldnt afford that lavishness anymore.His father's unemployment and their poverty which seemed to increase by the passing day was not unknown to him. But he did not want to think of all this now. Later, he told himself.

Humming a tune

anand ya jeevanacha,
sugandhapari darwalaava
paavyatla soor jaisa,
onthantuni oglaava

jhijuni swataha chandanane,
dusryaas madhugandh dyaava
he jaanta jeevanacha,
praarabdh ha olkhaava

Dont know who wrote it. It has been the title track of some marathi serial which was aired a lot many years ago. I fell in love with the words, the moment i heard them !

Never mind

Today morning as i sat down to pen my thoughts [pen my thoughts? how funny it sounds, oh never mind, who am i kidding!], i seemed to realise that my mind was blank. It was devoid of any thoughts [Constructive and something which i can write about to be precise. I call that a blog thought]. I couldnt believe myself. I mean, i havent felt this tranquil blankness [no blog thoughts] for quite some time and its sudden unwarranted appearance baffled me all the same. As i strained myself to think of something, i could hear a thought knocking [Yes, there is supposedly a door in there somewhere that lets thoughts in!].

Wondering what it could be, i opened the door [Hypothetically of course]. It popped its head in and said "Hello there. I am a thought messenger [henceforth referred to as, TM] and i seem to have a message for you."

A TM? What in the world was that supposed to mean? All this was a strange experience and blank as i was, without much ado, i let the TM in.

"You seem to be having a little problem, as i see. No more blog thoughts eh?. Well i know whats happened to all of them. They have all gone on a vacation.", it said.

"Vacation? What an absolutely absurd statement! Thoughts cannot go on a vacation. I mean they do not go on a vacation", said i, hesitantly.

"Oh no, they very well can. They have a life of their own, you know. And afterall, dont they deserve a break from all the hard work they do for you", said the TM.

"A break? Hard work? hello? am i missing something here? Am i actually hearing you say all this or have i lost my mind?", i could feel that this conversation was steering towards something totally devoid of any logic. But nevertheless, i could not but help being carried away.

"I dont believe you at all" i said.

"Well, then think of something, any blog thought would do" said the TM [Well actually it was more of a snigger].

"Of course i will, in due course of time, i mean" said i. [I must be going crazy. This is not happening. Its a dream]

I closed my eyes and strained myself harder to concentrate on some thought [Hoping all the while that a darn thought would be back from its vacation! I had actually started to believe all this thoughts going on a vacation thing]. But i must say, it didnt work [Maybe the thoughts had gone to a far away land. Distances do matter, you know].

Not a single blog thought. As i opened my eyes slowly, i could see the sneering and triumphant look i got from the TM [Maybe it was thinking, you wanted proof, you got one, missy. And then another thought , more of a question, popped in saying, can a TM have thoughts? but then i wasnt impressed with its appearance as i was hoping for something better.]

"Where to?" i asked a little more baffled than i already was.

"Where to?" repeated the TM.

Now this was getting on my nerves. "Where have they all gone to for a vacation?" i questioned.

"Oh, that's confidential information, you see", said the TM jeeringly.

And then all the same, it got up, opened the door and left [Not fair, you owe me a good bye and i still have questions!].

But there i was, all alone, nothing to write about and nothing to think about. But i know this will pass soon.[As soon as my blog thoughts return, from their vacation, that is]

And yes, thoughts do need a break ! So if i dont make a post for a few days, its all coz my thoughts have decided to abandon me for an italian sojourn or some funfilled abode or maybe they have headed right for the cricket world cup! [Cant think of any darn good places too!! Not my fault in the least.]

Pitter Patter

pitter patter pitter patter
little drops of rain,
here a drop, there a drop,
on the window pane

the blades of grass glisten with joy,
as touched upon with love,
the gentle breeze whispers a song,
as it passes by

the flower spreads its rosy charm,
as it spots a bumble bee,
the raindrops on its petals,
fills its heart with glee

the air is fresh and it is filled
with fragrance that is sweet,
the birds, the bees, the animals,
make haste to find retreat

the clouds that hid the sun, depart,
brightness fills the sky,
far away, a rainbow forms,
and life begins again !

Once upon a time...

I remember when i was 5 years old, i had this habit of asking my dad to tell me a story every night before i went to sleep. I would refuse to go to sleep, until i had my daily dose of a bed time story. And funnily enough, my dad used to recite me the same story every night. The story about the monkey and the crocodile. How they were friends and how the crocodile one day decided to decieve the monkey and eat it but was outwitted by the monkey. Though the story was the same, he had this magical gift of spinning a beautiful yarn around it to make it interesting every time i heard it. I also have a faint memory of one night, when i was throwing up my usual tantrums, complaining to him how he fooled me with the same story every night and told him that i wanted to hear a different story. He gently patted me on my forehead, moved the strand of hair from my face that was tickling me and in his usual soothing voice, said, "Once upon a time, in a jungle far away, there lived a monkey". And i forgot all i had wanted. I once again drifted in to the magical world he had created for me and eventually dozed off. With time as i have grown older, there are no more bed time stories. The mystical land of stories seems to have been lost or maybe i have drifted too far from it. But the memories have stayed with me. And so has this one story which never failed to enchant me with its simplicity !

A queer observation

I have noticed that when i am very upset and try to pen down my thoughts, they just seem to pour down and i just go on writing. All the gloomy words in the dictionary find their way in and it makes perfect sense to 'me'[The word in quotes to be read as upper case, large font and bold and preceded by 'Only']. So much so that it seems to me as a masterpiece of some eternal philosophical writing [herez where i snigger], which, i am proud of having attempted. There is also this faint glitter of boastful hope in me which pretends that i will cherish this so called creative attempt for the rest of my life [Herez where my eyes well up with tears, tears of joy at having finally found the creative streak in me]. Well, if not for so long then mayb atleast for a long time to come. But the moment i am out of the gloom and try reading my thoughts again, i am lost [This is where i have the bewildered look of a puppy which suddenly finds itself lost and out of its territory]. There is nothing i can relate to. I tend to dig into it to analyse what that so called masterpiece was all about? [This is where i look worried and scratch my head hoping to find an answer] whatever i was going through, was it really that bad or was it just my imagination playing me a fool? [This is where i strain myself to remember what it was..yes i think it was this..or maybe that..oh bugger, i lost the thought again. That was so very close !!] Everything was supposed to make sense, but then how come it sounds so much like the melodramatic version of some heartwrenching play? [herez where i sneer and think, a play eh? Wait till you go through this again] But then come again gloom and it all fits in perfectly. [See, i told ya, my creative streak pops its head again] I try relating to it once again with the same intensity. I find this all, a bit too funny at times...[He he he]

Minglish..a marathi poem in english

Bebhaan dhundh waara
karto asa ishaara
Bedhundh naach re mana
phulwoon tu pisaara

ka waat paahshi tu
swapne kharepanaas yenya
kshan ek haach aahe
maanoon chaal re tu

swapnaatlya khuna tya
janun jeeva dole
jag he tujhyachsaathi
marooni haak bole

The yellow spot called sun

Picasso once said...

There will be artists who will make the sun appear as a yellow spot. But there will also be artists, who will make the yellow spot appear as a sun.
The ultimate goal of life is to make sun out of the yellow spot. Arent we, the artists of our life ?

Hmm....

I see her on my way to work. She is there everyday. Walking aimlessly. Dressed in complete rags. Her hair, unkempt and disheveled. She walks two steps forward then stops, turns back and walks the other way. Repeating this for quite some time. This is a daily ritual. All of a sudden, she mumbles something to herself and nods her head irritatingly, as if in an attempt to disapprove any thoughts that must have crossed her mind that instant. Then the very next second she smiles. The most innocent of smiles. Some beautiful and happy thought seems to have found its way into her life, if atleast momentarily. The sight of her kindles many a question in my mind, to which probably i will never know the answers. These questions make me sad. Who knows, the answers could have been even worse. There is a strong gust of wind which sweeps the dried leaves on the path and dust into the air. A tiny particle of dust enters my eye. I close my eyes and dab it with my fingers thinking, damn the wind. I open my eyes. But she is not in sight anymore. She is gone , as if the wind swept her away. But the questions have made up their mind to stay. I say a little prayer for her and walk away. But i can already feel a gloom settling over me. I try to force out the unpleasant feelings, i try to think happy thoughts. It is awfully quiet on the roads. or maybe the clutter of thoughts in my mind has shut down the external voices from reaching me. As i walk further, i see a squirrel scampering about near the roadside bushes. I see a thicket of the wild Datura, the colour lavender catches my eye. It has always been a colour of my liking. The thoughts seem to have subsided just like the gush of the wind. I take a deep breath, smile and move on to face another day !

A wishing well

In a country far far away, lies the bend of a road. The road is beautifully surrounded by a little pond on one side and a dense row of daffodils on the other. The daffodils sway to the rythm of the breeze. A butterfly flutters through this dense thicket hopping from one flower to the next. An occassional drift in the direction of the wind seems to confuse it, for it hops back and forth so as to match its own pace with the rythm of the swaying daffodils. The soft streaming sunlight glistens as it touches the surface of the water in the pond. It appears as if the sunlight has brought down the stars with it to the earth. And just where the road bends, hiding in the deepest of thickets is the "wishing well". It is called so from the ancient times, though no one seems to recall why exactly it is called so. Maybe there is some tale behind it for being called so or maybe not. I would never know. I have passed this well on my way once a couple of years ago. Back then, i had this urge to drop a coin into it and make a wish. But somehow i never got around to doing it. I simply walked past it. Many a times when i feel i can no longer go on, when my heart is filled with despair, i just close my eyes, picture this wishing well and i find myself in the thicket of the daffodils. I just drop a coin and make a wish. It makes me feel better, my heart a little lighter. My heart is once again filled with hope and warmth that the glistening sunshine has to offer, the serenity at the sight of the rythmically swaying daffodils and the colours of joy that the fluttering butterfly seems to dispense. I certainly seem to have found my wishing well.
Do you care to make a wish?

A chilling encounter

It is a chilly day. The kinds when you want to head for the smallest patch of sunshine to gather as much warmth as you can. The wind blows intermittently with avid gusto sending shivers down my spine. I try to walk fast, at the same time trying to avoid the gush of the wind which seems to enter from the tiniest of the openings of my overcoat. There arent many people on the road. It isnt the pleasantest of days for anybody to be out. I long to get home, to the warmth of the heater. But home is still a long way to go. The stretch of road seems unending. And through the corner of my eye, i see him. He is walking on the other side of the road. He has some shade of orange on him which i catch a glimpse of. I cant say or be sure what it is. But i am not interested in that. I see him match his pace with mine. Occasionally when i glance to the side he is walking on, i can see his eyes fixed on me. I try to walk faster. And so does he. An unknown fear grips me, i panic and start to look for an easy exit on to the highway. But where do i go, all the roads are the same. And he seems to be watching my every step.I need to cross over to the side where he is walking and then i need to turn left where the road bends. But this mere act is now filling me with dread. But i have to do it. I cross over. He waits till i cross over and then resumes walking behind me. I am panic stricken now, for i can feel him closing in on me. And then....he stops right ahead, facing me and says.."Would you care for a flower, miss? Its two a Pound." And then he smiles and hands me two bright orange, fresh flowers. And i see what that something orange was, which had caught my eye.. I grab the flowers from him, fumble for a pound in my overcoat, hand it over to him smilingly and walk away....

Silence.....Hush !!

Have you heard the sound of silence?
It speaks to you, if you lend a ear!
It speaks to you of bliss and peace,
It speaks of us, of you and me.

It speaks to you of the streaming sunlight,
Through the deepest darkest woods,
It speaks to you of the crowning glory,
of the dawn and dusk, if you care to see!

The stories change each time you hear them,
It speaks of things you never knew,
Sometimes it is the mundane moments,
that creep in and become anew!

Sometimes it is the winds and wallows,
Sometimes it is the hail and snow,
Sometimes a purest heartfelt laughter,
finds its way into the tales that flow.

It speaks of life, it speaks of death,
It speaks of every breath you take,
I am always in awe of all its stories,
as it weaves the moments into eternity!

A fond memory

I remember that as a child, i loved puppies. Maybe i still do. But i am also scared of them. But back then, in my childhood that is, i had an imaginary puppy. This sweet, cute little dog was my best friend then. It had no name, or rather i preferred to call it by a new name everyday and it would respond as diligently as ever, as if it knew its name for the day, even before i had thought of it. Somedays it was as white as a fluffy cloud, somedays it was that light shade of brown glistening in the sun and somedays it was as black as the shining night. It could look like anything that i wanted it to, but it was the sweetest thing on earth for me. I also remember running around the neighbourhood, climbing trees and racing against it. Though now when i actually think about it, i am sure that the onlookers must have found it very wierd. To them it would have appeared as a little girl running around all alone, racing against herself, talking aloud. But even if they did find it wierd, they never let that out, maybe they just didnt want to spoil the little fun i was having. I would even play the traditional game "teacher teacher" as it was called in the bygone days. The puppy was my student. I wonder if little girls still play this game? Anyways, i dont know if all this "imaginary friend" thing is way too wierd, but i really care two hoots even if it is. To me, it has been a fond memory which brings a little smile on my face whenever i think of it. And thats all that matters. I dont know what triggered this memory , but i am thankful to whatever it was. It has made my day :-)

Nostalgia..

"I always knew that when i will look back at my cries .. i will smile. Never knew that lookin back at my smiles will make me cry."
I dont recollect where i read this, but the words have been with me ever since i read it....

Perfection...naah

Perfection is boring..yes indeed...this has been my realization of the day..To come to think of it, if we all had perfect lives, we wouldnt have any need to experience varied emotions at all...we wouldnt feel pain nor would we have the feeling of longing for a loved one..there wouldnt be a need to feel so..perfection would essentially breed in a monotonous epilogue..things are interesting or they rather intrigue us, compel us to have perceptions, only because they are not the way we want them to be..if everything was exactly the way we wanted, would we even care to spare a moment of thought for anything at all? I used to think of myself as a perfectionist..now i know y i was soooo boring..maybe i still am..but now atleast i have the option of changing it! Imperfection is not bad..in fact, it is not bad at all..i believe, it is all the imperfections that make life interesting and worth living. After all, perfection is not our business..lets leave it to the masters and enjoy the imperfections as they are meant to be...
But then, again, its just me, my point of view and everybody else can happily disagree !!!!!

To come to think of it, there seems to be a lot of "would"'s and "wouldnt"'s in my so called above realization..so that makes it two realizations in a day..how very profound [:)]

Just like that !

I seem to be experiencing a kind of 'Deja Vu' moment

Random musings....

random thoughts,just this and that,

fluttering through my mind,

to dwell upon a thing or two,
patience it does not find !

i look outside the window sill,
hoping for a sign,
the trees sway to the gentle breeze,
upon the mountain land.

the fading day will bring with it,
the hues of dusk alight,
the rising moon, the twinkling stars,
will creep into the night

once again this weary soul,
will take the path back home,
to gather strength for another battle,
to lose some, to conquer some !