Those few last days!

These last  days of the year, make me anxious.
For the time that is slipping by was precious.

Don't want these days to pass, want to hold on to them forever.
For the time that flew away so fast, will never come back ever.

Tried to live in the present, as best as I could.
Still the passing time pulls me back as hard as it would.

Growing a year older with not much wisdom on turning page.
For some still ask me to grow up and act my age.

Don't want to bid farewell to anyone or anything.
As I am content with what I feel and have, within.

But has anyone held time? It is not possible.
So, I shall also follow it, chase it and be sensible.

The Christmas Tree

My Christmas 🌲 tree is growing up so fast,
last year it was shorter than my daughter.
This year it has grown up past,
her excited face, head and laughter.

It's not just a tree with some ornaments,
some lights, clumsily decorated by little hands.
It is a living soul that brings joy and excitement,
a companion illuminating lives, in a way grand.

The twinkling lights, light you up,
like little hearts beating in unison.
The cheer and squeals it brings,
giving reasons for memories to be spun.

I hope it grows into a handsome 7 feet tall tree,
looking over the girl who looked after the sapling.
Wrapping up in its needles, my family's glee,
Keeping the souvenirs of memories in a string.

Life journey.

 Life is a journey, have heard and read a hundred times. The journey is unique. One of its kind.
People keep travelling towards the unknown all their lives.
Everyday they set different goals. They travel towards what they think is most important to them.

 Just like our own existence, our journeys are also absolutely  different from any one else's. People's priorities, their passions, their interests are as different as the patterns of the snowflakes. No two are ever alike. And these constitute and decide the path one chooses.

Life journeys are like the water flowing in a river, it never returns to flow at the same place. Life is like the fingerprint. It cannot be copied.
Still, we gauge our depths and distances covered with some body else's measuring tools. As a result even our units don't match.

The bricks of  our  journey's foundations are exclusive, they are laid by our birth, the people in our lives. Our pain, our sorrows. Joys and pleasures, our losses and gains. They are laid by our principles, our upbringing, our character and personality which is baked in the kiln of life. Making them distinctive.

Still we torture ourselves with harsh comparisons, making the mistake of comparing it with other's journeys.

Thoughts in captivity.

Holding my thoughts captive for a while,
for they are different from other's.

Like the Shrew, they need to be tamed,
till they learn to be more obedient.

Kept in captivity, till they refine,
learn to gracefully merge with society's norms.

Will set them free, when they can mimic pretence,
 will be able to pass on as acceptable, with ease.

Dusk

It's always hard to say goodbye to the source of light,
the one that spreads happiness, joy and delight.

Only hope keeps one going through the night,
waiting for the dawn to break, for morning  bright.

Waiting patiently for the warm sunshine to embrace tight,
the entire existence of one's being, making everything right.

The reflection.

Fascination with the heavenly bodies never ceases.
Whether it rises or sets, the golden glory always pleases.
The Sun plays games with clouds and water, eyes it teases.
Piece of sky captured in reflection, for a few fleeting moments.
Are the unforgettable, journey's trophies.

Expression of being.

Sometimes words are not enough to pacify.
Showing the presence of one's being is necessary.

Expression of a mental bond imperative.
Existence of attention needs to be declarative.

Holding a hand in times of need important.
Offering a shoulder to cry on, a reinforcement.

So shake off that inhibition and make your presence felt.
You never know who is waiting for that aura,
 to make their hearts  melt.

The Sunrise

Like the Sun, piercing darkness everyday, 

unveiling the face of morning,

peel off the layers of pretensions, one by one and bare the soul,
revealing the truest form of oneself.

Open up all the locked secrets of the heart and set them free,
attaining peace within yourself.

Fiery Fall-6

Colours everywhere, the mind mesmerized.
Eyes trying hard to capture all details, the memory failing to memorize. Wonderment at the glory of nature, if only one could summarize.

Beginning of the end

As I sat near the open window, in the morning, with tea in my hand, the curtains swayed gently with a cool breeze.
The remnants of an, all night rain, made the leaves outside shake off the droplets of water from them.
Clouds covered the whole sky with no sign of the Sun. The last of the September rains, receding after a final try at rejuvenating the Earth.

...and the leaves started falling. They had been changing to yellow from green. They had been turning ever so slowly, and now they fell.
First signs of Autumn approaching. Undoubtedly, Fall is always grand. It always takes the breath away with its beauty, its miracle of colours. Its magic of transformation, but the truth is, it is after all, the beginning of the end of a life cycle.

Time to let go, in anticipation of a new beginning.

Sleeplessness

Sometimes, late into the night, when nothing works, I music myself to sleep.

Earphones in the ears, at a gentle volume, the velvety voice of the singer, slowly stirs sleep into the veins.
The drums beat with the heart. The strings unstring the nerves.
The piano sedates the  reluctant sleeplessness, into the world of dreams.

Words slowly start slipping away from conscienceness, melody  breaks up as mind starts to doze.
Random thoughts swim incoherently, in and out of awareness.
Like the touch of an angel, worries, restlessness starts dissolving.

The silence of the night is wiped away, the loudness of the active brain dulled.
Eyes refuse to open again, finally sleep embraces, bringing the day  and night to an end.

Rugs of Sunshine

Warm, delicate, lace rugs of Sunshine.
Right under the feet, when the Sun shines.

Appear magically, only when the clouds part.
When the curtains are drawn, creating filtered art.

September-3

Fresh cool air, fills the lungs,
butterflies in the stomach, that unexplained joy brings.

Chill in the breeze, clears the head,
delightful morning dew drops, shivering buds.

No more scorching Sun, no more incessant rains.
No need for warm clothes yet, pleasant walks again.

Full canopy of trees, lush carpet rolled out of green,
greenary everywhere, like velvet cape of a queen.

Festivities round the corner, new memories to remember,
best time of the year, the month that is, September.

                            Photo Credits Go To Cdr.Rajesh(Retd)
                             http://www.thetransportjournal.com

Radha-Krishna

Rain

Time.

Time is passing by, like sand escaping steadily in an hour glass.
Burden of emotions making the heart heavier everyday.
No amount of future will bring back the past.
Which we let slip through our fingers today.

Those seconds are turning into minutes and minutes into hours.
Life is passing us by, while we keep delaying hours into days.
No amount of pride will bring back the past.
Which we let slip through our egos today.

Time doesn't wait for anyone, treating everyone the same.
It will be over before we realize, turning us to dust, just names.
No amount of owing up will bring back the past.
Which we let slip through indecisiveness today.

Grab it and make the most of it, uncork the bottled up rages.
Forget, forgive, hate, love, but just get it over with today.
No amount of regrets will bring back the past.
Which we let slip through indifference today.

Respect it, fear it, rejoice at the prospects it holds.
For time is time, it's elusive, it cannot be tamed.

The Monsoon sky

 Bluest of blues, the true blue. Trustworthy and loyal. A Royalty. Mixed with purity of white. The Monsoon sky.

Harmony-2

Temptations

Everyday, when we resist temptations,
we redeem ourselves.
Move one step closer to atonement.
Another step towards salvation.

We open the locks, one by one,
Of the fears which cage us.
Fears, which make us invalid.
And win them over.

We free the heart, one string at a time,
of all  the corruption.
Corruption, which selfishness births.
And cleanse it with kindness.

Monsoon -10

Contentment

When the heart is content, and desires nothing more, the soul is calm, without any resentment.

Anxiety falls away from the mind like a waterfall, quickly, mercilessly, violently, leaving calm in its wake.

Life meanders its way through mountains and valleys, flowing silently, gravely, turning into a lifeline for others.

When the heart is content, it accepts more, forgives more, is ready to sacrifice for others.

Anticipation of future doesn't cause fear, the past is happily stored in the pages of  mind's albums.

Life gets easier, everything is no more a battle, winning or losing doesn't make much difference,

for vanquished and victorious are both your very own.

Monsoon-9

Selfie of flowers in rain.

Monsoon-8

Finally, the sky poured open its heart,
rain falling like an outburst of joy and sorrow.
Making the existence lighter for a restart,
for a better tomorrow.

                Photography Credits Go To Zubin Oommen Ittyerah

Invisible

If only we could be invisible,
the winds bringing painful memories of the past shall not find us. Unsettling the calmness of life, with emotions superflous.

If only we were invisible,
the pebbles of memories of losing someone shall not hit us.
Causing ripples in the lake of present, with which we adjust.

Hiding peacefully in the serenity of oblivion, we shall be withering away our lives.
Instead, let's mourn and pay respect to the souls of people we loved.
Let go and rejoice at the passing away of bitter memories of the past.

Be visible again,
to welcome the breeze of new moments, turning into happy memories.
To welcome the wind which causes waves in the present, writing new stories.

Pre Monsoon-5

If only I had the skill and power, I would paint the perfect rain clouds for,

All the selfless rivers, flowing tirelessly, trying to fulfill the deficiency of water.

All the lakes, that are shrinking, exposing in years their beds that many had never seen.

All the crops, that grew beautifully till it was time for some rain water to nurture them further.

All the debt ridden farmers, whose hopes are tied to the timely arrival of monsoon.

Paint clouds which would deliver rain, neither more nor less than needed, no floods, no droughts but just the right amount.

" Just right" like Goldilocks's tale.

Pre monsoon-4

Monsoon is round the corner, when you can hear peacocks  screaming, first thing in the mornings, instead of cuckoos singing.

When ants work persistently and can be seen rushing to their hills.
When the Sun plays hide and seek throughout the day with the clouds.

When bolt of lightning cracks its whip without any rain.
When winds are stronger and blow away the dark grey clouds.

When all the old leaves have already fallen off and new ones start growing.
When the cracked Earth sizzles upon receiving an abrupt short shower.

When people remember to carry umbrellas to work but forget to bring them back home.

When the farmers scan the sky everyday and hope for the right amount of rain.

Pre monsoon-3

Waiting for the rest of the blooms to bloom,
the tender buds to break out into clusters of petals and sepals.

Delicately shivering in the wet morning breeze,
attracting bees and butterflies with their faint magnetic fragrance.

Waiting for the rest of the blooms to bloom,
the flowers to outnumber the leaves, the colours to contrast with the greens.

Bunches of reds, whites, pinks, tenderly bowing with their weights.
intoxicating the passer-by with their sweet scent and beauty.

Waiting for the monsoon, so that the Earth could come alive,
succeeding in imparting life, which only the magical rain water could give.

Waiting one day at a time, for the dark clouds to loom,  for that abrupt shower,
to turn into consistent downpour.

Pre monsoon -2

Waiting for the rest of the blooms.

Bloom -2

         
                                              Painting by Katyayani Sharma

Bloom-1

                                         Painting by Katyayani Sharma

Words

Words strung together like exquisite pearls,
Like a beautiful lucky charm for any girl.

Uncomplicated like a string of diamonds,
Simple, sparkling, splendid and uncommon.

Littered around like thousands of shells on a beach,
Hand picked separately, phrased together for each.

Spilling out from a pen, what heart wants to read,
like the very breath that all living so desperately need.

Words weave magic, sometimes the truth, sometimes a web of lies.
For words are words, it is actions with which a person is defined.

Summer bloom 6

Gulmohar (Royal poinciana)

Summer bloom-5

Amaltash (Cassia fistula)

Canopy of a tree, an umbrella of flowers, drenched in sunshine yellow, quenching aesthetic thirst.

Holy haven

Clouds laden with water, douse the fire, set aflame by the Sun.
The holy river receives the rain water, embracing it as its own.

Gently flowing , reflecting the sky, embedded with hot embers.
Dancing, jumping to the chants , vibrating in the air.

Meditation haven for saints and sages,
tranquility personified from long gone ages.

Rishikesh , name signifies, the one who controls all senses.
Embodiment of all virtues, Lord Vishnu, from where life commences.

                                      Photo Credit Goes To Shalini Prasad

To the young adult

They say, your inner thoughts are your most loyal friends.
Inspiring you, motivating you, giving you strength to carry on.

Unfortunately, they are your most dissuading foes too.
Discouraging you, demotivating you, sucking the strength out of your life.

Control your own thoughts for you can't control others'.
Instill positivity in your own mind, for you can't remove negetivity from others'.

let your own thoughts guide you, let the light inside your heart shine through.
Don't give others the power to penetrate your soul.

People are people, some love, some hate, some are calmly indifferent.
Their words, their actions should not be given precedence over your own.

You are who you are, for you were meant to be like that.
Cherish yourself, value yourself, be your own ideal.

No one but you are the protagonist of the drama of your life.
Be happy, be peaceful and applaud yourself.

Challenges

Sensibilities are challenged everyday by recklessness of people.
By actions or words or lack of them.

Empathy for others challenged everyday by incautiousness of  people.
By mirroring emotions or lack of them.

Sensitivity towards consequences challenged everyday by carelessness of people.
By maneuvering sentiments or by lack of them.

Caution should not be thrown to the wind. People not taken for granted.
Fondness not challenged everyday either by design or lack of it.

Summer Vacation

Days and dates don't matter anymore till the last day arrives, when we have to bid farewell and depart.
Everyone feels secure in the chaos of children screaming, running, laughing and sleep at night comes fast.
Time is divided between meal times only, am and pm is recognizable only by children's sleepy eyes.
Mindless gossip mixed with some serious talk  is exchanged during tea time, food becomes the primary priority for all.
Healthy food becomes non-existent, even fruits are consumed like shakes, loaded with sugar.

There is no privacy, no quiet hours, no usual tantrums of , I want to be left alone. Sounds turn into noise, noise into peels of laughter.
No reading or writing time, no grown up time, nothing but cartoons playing on T.V.
Elders get dead tired, while children have unbound energy. There are no sleepy afternoons, or nap times, everything is rolled into one crazy time slot.
There is so much to take in, so much to give, so much to share, so much to accept.

Nothing makes you feel more trustworthy than when a toddler for whom you did not exist earlier, addresses you for the first time, pulls your clothes  and asks you to take him for a walk.
Unsupervised baking experiments of children take place, when cakes are baked with salt, thinking they were using icing sugar and finally expected to be consumed with compliments.
Every other hour you are supposed to visit the park outside your home in the heat and convince children that they should stay in or else will catch some deadly disease due to the brutal heat.

In all, it is sheer madness, the madness which begins as soon as the  children enter  the grandparent's home and ends only with the goodbyes.

Tempest of Emotions

Tempest of emotions churning inside the stomach.
Unbearable pain which fails to subside.

Huge void which gets deeper everyday.
The absence of feelings arise.

Continuous pining for missing aura.
Dwelling within swollen heart.

Thoughts haunting like ghosts.
Clinging like vines.

Waiting for return.
Of presence.

Which imparts,
Life.

Summer bloom -4

Pomegranate bloom

Cherry blossoms

                                                            Painting by Katyayani Sharma

The Summer rain

Lightning flashes like swords of Gods, thunder rolls like drum beats. Gray sky turns pale pink with each strike .

Leaves upturn their faces towards the biggest show on Earth. The magic, the drama unfolds.

The parched, dry Earth waits to catch  the beads of water in its palm,  while the wind tries to sweep away the gathering gray clouds.

Lightning begins the game of hide and seek with shadows. The rain starts, one drop here, another there and suddenly a downpour.

Streamlets start flowing on the roads, commuters get drenched in seconds. No umbrellas in hands, people rush to take cover.

Puddles fill up immediately, dirt washed off, make things muddy. Pedestrians huddle under any shade they can find.

Sometimes hail accompanies, falling  from sky like white  unwrapped sugar candies. Damaging months of farmers' hardwork in minutes.

And the show suddenly stops...as abruptly as it had begun.

Winds win in blowing away the clouds, thunders move out of earshot. The Sun peaks out and lo! The rain is over.

Sun starts shining with a vengeance. The rainbow silently, colourfully tries to attract attention towards itself.

People resume their commute, dirtier than usual.  Hazards await, stray dogs shake themselves dry, inconsiderate motorist splash water as they speed.

Meanwhile, the clouds start gathering up again, defeating the force of winds. Blocking the Sun once again and the audience waits for an encore.

Dreams

Dreams are dreams, inconsequential, only, if they are just  dreams. So...
Dream a little, dread them a little, dare a little, don't let them gather dust.

Dust them, oil them, pull them towards meaningfulness. To pursue...
Plan a little, play with them a little, progress a little, fail miserably if you must.

Open up the mind, think outside the box, focus, don't let thoughts wander...
Wait a little, work on it a little, worship the idea a little, gift yourself your own trust.

Thus realize dreams, turn thoughts into truth, keep the window to your heart open...
Live a little, laugh a little, long a little, give life a loving thrust.

Buddha's Wisdom.

We are prisoners of our own expectations.
Inviting in our lives, misery at the cost of desires.
We were born free, once upon a time.
Devoid of anything but an instinct to survive.
Drawing breath, our only skill, to stay alive.

Building dungeons and cages around us.
To imprison our own happiness.
Illusive as it is, capturing sadness instead.
Staring at its painful face, searching for existence's worth.
Wondering about life's root cause for serenity's dearth.

Break the chains of expectations and set your mind free.
Let peace guard our hearts from desires.
Life happens at its own pace, no point rushing it otherwise.
Feel the gentle tug of contentment, as time slowly slips like sand from a fist.
Enriching your life with good Karmas, that is life's  singular gist.

Sketch by Mrs. Kanak Sinha

Dusk

A beautiful day drawing to a languid evening. The Sun retiring behind a hill. Preparing itself to rise and illuminate some other part of the world.

Virtual traveller

She spins a web of fantasies and gets entangled in them,
Web working as a safety net, for all the adventures that stem...

From touring far away lands, exotic locations, soaking everything in,
Crystal clear water, rising mountains, flora and fauna that hearts win.

Oceans of gold and sky of silver, ships of clouds sailing over,
 with treasures of stars, planets and moon seeming closer and closer.

Canyons, meandering rivers, volcanoes fuming smoke,
Sunrises and sunsets weaving fabulous lores of folk.

The world, a small place for her, fitting well into her collection of pictures.
A box full of photographs, a gallery filled with shares.

An ardent virtual traveller that she is, pictures are her imagination's fuel,
Threading pearls of memories together to form poetic jewels.

The dreamer

She lives in a world of her own, waiting for the future.
The future visits everyday, touches her and is gone.
She keeps living in a world of her own.

Throwing out bits and pieces of herself, into the real world.
A half conversation, a story untold, an idea being raised for so long.
Portions of herself surviving in both halves, people getting her all wrong.

She lives in dream world of her own, anticipating the unseen.
The unseen reveals everyday, making itself known.
She keeps living in a world of her own.

Sometimes confused, sometimes awed, sometimes disoriented.
Walks in and out of the maze of society, refusing to obligate.
If only she could wipe out somethings everyday, starting with a clean slate.

She lives in an unreal world, longing for reality.
Reality checks itself everyday, the truth is  shown.
She still keeps living in a world of her own.

                                 Illustration By Alankrita Sharma

The Staircase of life

Staircase spiralling up to the heaven or descending down to hell?
Taking you to the top or to the bottom of the well?

Reaching up for your dreams or treading on someone's dwell?
Lifting the spirits or making them scream and yell?

Helping someone climb or pulling down, only you can tell!
Laughing while climbing or crying when you fell!

Looking up in sweet anticipation or looking down with fear of unwell?
Initiating action or waiting lazily for the gong of the bell?

Climbing up or climbing down, hold tightly the hand of integrity, don't let your soul sell.
Protect it with trust and love, conceal it in tenderness and faith's shell.

And if you choose to reach the top, be like a beacon to the ships in the ocean swell.
Guiding them to safety of home, bidding troubles farewell.

Photo Credits Go To Shaishav Agarwal

Harboured Emotions.

Hiding behind mountains of words,
Or dams of silence,
Outbursts of emotions.

Harbouring the electric energy,
Dangerous for sure,
When breached.

Mend the cracks,
For safety,
Secure.