Silent Birth

quiet shadows beckon
the heart hears a silent call
a thought is born...


Ummm... are we allowed to use active tenses in a haiku? I keep feeling that these lines don't have the feel of a haiku... any suggestions, anybody?

First breath

My first ever attempt at Haiku... and hopefully, not my last...

lilting notes
ears that seek
a breath...

Don't know if it qualifies as a Haiku, though...

Ambition

Life ain't THAT bad..

... or is it? Umm... don't really know... but I'd like to think it isn't!

I mean, I've got a roof over my head, a well paying job (even if no work to do at the moment), a supportive family, independence, a cosy little place of my own, lots of books that still need reading, music to listen to, and friends I can fall back on... definitely sounds like a recipe for a decent life.

Sure, I'm bored and a little lonely right now, and maybe a little confused about where I'm going... but isn't the quest really what life is all about? I keep reminding myself that as long as I have a brain that's working and the will to enjoy life, what can stop me from making my life what I want it to be - happy?

Much as I know all of this, and believe it too, it does become a tad bit difficult to remember it always. But I've found someone, who never ever fails to reinforce my belief that life is not all that bad, after all... We just need to open our eyes and welcome the blessings we receive with open arms. Clare has a blog 'Three Beautiful Things' in which she posts the three beautiful things she finds each day. Its been a fortnight now since I found her blog (I've added a link to her blog here), and each day I wait eagerly for her to post her '3BT's as she calls them.

I did not think it was possible, indeed, I had rubbished the very concept, that anyone would be able to inspire me to such an extent. I've found pleasure in reading her blog, and solace too. I'm pretty sure her life can't possibly be as easy and as positive as she makes it sound, but I guess that's what gives me a boost - her insistance on focussing only on the beauty. She has started a 3BT movement of sorts, and its heartening to see the number of people who are involved in it. I've followed her and others' 3BT blogs for a while now, and thought of joining in. To be honest, I have been thinking about having my own 3BT blog for the whole week now, but resisted it for the foolish reason that I did not want to be a copy cat! Today, I've finally seen sense, and am joining the positive wave with Life ain't THAT bad. Wish me luck!

The day's only half done and I've already found three beautiful things. What are your Three Beautiful Things for today?

Cozy

Unable to sleep, I lie awake on my back, staring at the shadows the fluttering curtain makes in the light cast on it by the street lights. There is a very light breeze outside and it must be pleasant. Inside the house, it's a little stuffy. I wish some of the fresh air would get in and dispel the stale feeling the room has. I look longingly at the open window. The moon is struggling to get some light into the room through the curtain, but it is too feeble in comparison to the harsh yellow light of the street lamps. I wish someone would throw a well-aimed stone at the street lamps and extinguish the artificial light.

I bite my tongue guiltily at the vandalism I'm hoping for, and turn my head, almost afraid that he has heard my thought. He won't like it. But he lies on his side of the bed breathing regularly, his eyes closed and face calm, and I relax. His hair is tussled up and I suppress a desire to run my fingers through it and pretend to tidy it up. I don't want to wake him. He doesn't really like his sleep being disturbed, not any more.

The bed is soft. A little too soft, I think. The blanket is soft and warm and it feels heavy on my chest. My gaze returns towards the window. I toy with the idea of creeping out of bed and opening the window fully and tying up the curtain, so that the cold night can come in. But I decide not to. He likes it this way. Cozy, he calls it. This is how home should be, he says, cozy.

I close my eyes and pray for sleep to take me.

Mere Humnafas..

Mere Humnafas, Mere Humnawa,
Mujhe Dost Ban Ke Daga Na De
Main Hoon Dard-e-Ishq Se Jaan-Valab,
Mujhe Zindagi Ki Dua Na De

Mere Daagh-e-Dil Se Hai Roshni,
Isi Roshni Se Hai Zindagi
Mujhe Darr Hai Ae Mere Chaaragar,
Yeh Chiraag Tu Hi Bujha Na De

Mujhe Ae Chhorh De Mere Haal Par,
Tera Kya Bharosa Hai Chaaragar
Yeh Teri Nawazish-e-Mukhtasar,
Mera Dard Aur Badha Na De

Mera Azm Itna Buland Hai
Ke Paraaye Sholo-n Ka Darr Nahin
Mujhe Khauf Aatish-e-Gul Se Hai,
Yeh Kahin Chaman Ko Jala Na De

Woh Uthein Hain Leke Hom-o-Subu,
Arrey O 'Shakeel' Kahan Hain Tu
Tera Jaam Lene Ko Bazm Mein
Koi Aur Haath Badha Na De!


Be it Begum Aktar or Farida Khanum who sings it, such eloquence leaves me spell bound and moved every single time... the poet, of course, is Shakeel Badayuni...

Me? A Sportscar?? Naaaah...

I'm a Ferrari 360 Modena! (or so they claim!)

You've got it all. Power, passion, precision, and style. You're sensuous, exotic, and temperamental. Sure, you're expensive and high-maintenance, but you're worth it.

Hee hee!!

Ok, so I have no clue how they came up with this... I mean, c'mon! Temperamental? Exotic?? HIGH-maintenance??? Gimme a break!!

I'd much rather have been a Mercedes SLK, by the way... but the only way to be one would be to like going topless on a summer day!! (which, incidentally, is one of the questions on the quiz, and NOT something I came up with, ok! So quit sniggering!)

That does it... I'm going on a self quest starting today... More personality test results to follow in future edittions of the blog :-D

In the meanwhile, you take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz too... http://www.tomorrowland.us/sportscar

Death in the midst of life...

The Tree

The land lies stretched before my eyes. Empty. A lonely tree breaks the straight line of the horizon. I'm too far to make out what tree it is, but it stands straight and tall, almost proud. It's lush, but silent. And alone. The air is still. No wind whispers between its leaves. Its not yet evening, but the sky is heavy with clouds and the sun is no where to be seen. The clouds have taken on an unreal hue, and this doesn't seem like reality. More like a picture postcard, where an inept artist has tried too hard to make an impression, and given himself away in the process. But it is there alright, unreal as it may seem.

My tree stands there, looking a little pathetic. I already think of it as my tree - I know I'm going to keep coming back to it. Its one of those frames the mind's camera doesn't forget. I look at the tree. There is an air of half-expectancy to it. Like its hesitant to hope and just stands there unsure.

He touches my hand and I turn to look at him. Our eyes meet and he reads my thoughts. As always, there's no need to say anything. I smile and he gently tucks a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. He turns to look at our tree and my eyes follow his gaze.

Its stuffy here, I say half to myself, half to him. He doesn't respond. I turn towards him and my eyes stare into emptiness, into the vastness that surrounds me. Everything is still, and empty and I look once again towards my lonely companion - the tree. I wish it would rain. I know it won't. Not just yet. I walk on. Suddenly weary.

My Secret

I'm quite addicted to it, and on more occassions than one, I've pestered my friends to visit this blog:

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Its a very honest and frank site, where people send in their secrets on a postcard and these postcards are published on the blog. New secrets get posted every sunday.

I've found it to be hilarious, sad, thought provoking, heart rending, night marish, comforting - all at the same time. Reminds me that I'm not alone in this world. I may have my share of problems, but there are people who have worse problems and worse secrets than I do, and they are learning to cope with them. Gives me strength. Teaches me to let go and to have patience (both of which are lessons that are much needed). Most importantly, reaffirms that whatever today may bring, there's a tomorrow, if only I want it.

Why does sharing a secret make it more bearable? I guess its the thought that now that the secret is out in the open, the consequences can finally be faced and the burden of hiding it is off one's shoulder. And perhaps also because the confession acts as a filter - there will always be people who will stand by you even after your secret is out, the others will slip away.

What makes this blog unique is the compassion - no one is mocked at. We're living in a less than perfect world and and while everyone is busy celebrating heroes or berating villians, no one pauses to consider the souls tormented by secrets - big or small, people who have made mistakes in life and are trying to deal with them and their consequences. For once, here is someone who's willing to just listen and not pass a judgement, if only you'll reach out. There have been more instances than I've bothered to keep track of, when I've identified myself with the secrets posted here. And I'm sure there are others out there like me, who have too. Many of them reach out and share their experiences and how they've dealt with their secret. And there are others who didn't know how to, but have found solace in knowing that there is at least one other person in the world who's going through the same upheaval they are.

Anyone who is interested in understanding human nature and the intricacies of the maze that is the human mind would find this blog to be of immense value. The postcards have surprising insights to offer. And many boundaries are crossed in the process, for issues that one has ignored for long - consciously or otherwise, are thrust in one's face. Needless to say, this can be pretty unsettling for those with a weak stomach, and I stongly recommend that those who fall in that category should stay away from this site. For he that can take whatever life dishes out, read on!

Wicked!

Just finished reading ‘The Book of Wicked Stories’.

There’s something about wickedness that charms the heart. Perhaps the stories are a manifestation of what the heart really desires, but is afraid of. The cold blooded frivolousness touches a chord somewhere… ( Wait a minute! Isn’t it love and goodwill that’s supposed to do that? Ah Well..!)

The stories range from simple to bizarre – from everyday situations to unearthly incidents. And they all have a common thread running through them – a complete disregard for anything considerate or generous. An anthology compiled by Ruskin Bond, all the short stories have been picked out with an acute sensitivity – anything that is even remotely kind has been strictly avoided. The authors stand united in their wickedness and take the reader on an absurd journey of heart warming malice. All notions of propriety are discarded, save those that are necessary to remain within the boundaries of wickedness, and the reader finds, with an almost child like glee, stories taken from his heart and fancy, come alive in the pages of the book. For who can deny, that within every man, woman and child lives a devil – big or small, repressed or free – a devil scarcely acknowledged and mostly veiled. Hasn’t every being felt the prick of the devil – the nagging voice that tells him to abandon prudence and the guise of the saint and to do as his heart truly wishes – to take his revenges, to steal, to lie, to cheat, to heed none of the shackles of gentility! And to do all of this without a pang of remorse or guilt?!

A must read for all whose hearts are not pure white, and a fitting gift for me, from one who understands the wickedness of my black heart, only too well…