To be or Not to Be

To be or Not to be

Hope deserts the soul

Love, a faraway dream

To be or not to be

A defeated being’s scream

A sinking heart

And a dying spirit

A path not traveled

A life not lived

Dreams undreamt

Realities unseen

Unexpressed love

Unfelt feeling

So much yet to do

So much to see

So much yet to say

So much to be

If your life is not

Just your own

How your death

Could ever be

It’s a fight to the finish

Finished it has to be

But a finish without a fight

Never was the way, never will be

It’s a moment of impulse

It’s a moment of defeat

It’s that solitary moment

When you give up and quit

That moment needs a hand

To hold on to

That moment needs a voice

To cling on to

Just let it go

That moment… that thought

It just takes a belief

That it too shall pass!

Think of those eyes

For whom the world is you

Think of that scary emptiness

The vacuum… you’ll leave them to

Yes, you are born alone

But die you never will

So many lives you touched

Will be lifeless and still

Be brave my friend

Hold on to life

This is a gift to cherish

Pass it on and make it worthwhile!!!

This is a poem I have written for Write Tribe as part of the World Suicide Prevention Day awareness program. I have encountered two suicide cases  in my life, and I have seen what despair and remorse they leave back. I feel guilty that I could not help those souls to go on fighting and not quit. But if this reaches a single person contemplating "to be or not to be" and it jolts him back to living, I will consider it worth my life.

Shiva

Ode to Mother Earth

Mother Earth Reflection

She has been there, with you, for you, since the start,

Nourishing you and nurturing you with all her heart,

She was smiling when you opened your little eyes to her,

And held you in her green arms when you walked with her.

The walk to school would not have been the same,

If not for her green guards standing tall,

The summer afternoons would not be so much fun,

Without those plums and mangoes and her breezy prowl.

The morning freshness waited each dawn by your window,

To wish a good day ahead for you,

The chirps, the floral breeze and the first sun rays,

Enchanted the morning song just for you.

The first rain drops of every season,

The first rain call of the frogs around,

Spotting a rainbow, walking in the rain,

She gave you her gifts of love in abound.

These are memories now of the past,

When she gave you the best in bountiful,

That was then and this is now, time has turned

She is now shattered and pale, who was once colorful.

You basked in her warmth, slept in her lap,

Exploited her to all extremes and turned your back,

You were but a selfish son and a careless father you will be,

The coming generation will curse you, and so it has to be.

The changes took baby steps and gave you warning enough,

But you turned a blind eye, in your lust to be first.

The soil is eroding, the land degrading; the air has polluted stealth,

The ice is melting and sea is rising to get the kiss of death.

Your children will be the witness; they will see the mother die,

They will have no company, no fish to swim, no bird to fly.

All they will have is an unanswered question,

All what will remain is an unheard cry.

Wake up now, its now or never,

You can no more turn deaf to the tremor.

The mother earth is calling for you,

It’s your turn now to return the favour.

This is a poem I wrote on Environment day. Posting it for the .indiblogeshwaris-that-tuesday-thingy prompt.

Shiva

Birds of Feather

Birds of a Feather

Day 2*** Picture Location – Lodhi Garden New Delhi *** Cameraman – Yours Truly *** Muse – Birds in motion

Birds of feather …. Flying high … Free spirited … Always in motion …. Nimble and fast

Me as a kid would never miss my 5:30 pm routine. I would leave all that I was doing and rush to the balcony … It was time to wave goodbye to the chirpy beings … always in flocks …flying together …calling it a day. Every day I would imagine their lives, how all of them would go back home after a whole day of toil and enjoy a relaxing evening with their families. And then my mind would go to their kids at home. How happy they would get when they see their Mumma Papa come back at dusk. And I would always envy them, because their parents never got late, and my father would.

What serenity they left behind … Just a moment before that those synchronized voices would have filled up the skies, it seemed as if  they were calling all their friends who were still at work, asking them to shut down computers and go back home ...after all there is something called work life balance J. One by one all would fly and before you would know they would have all boarded a bus, and the bus would leave for its destination, precisely as the sun clock struck. And a deep, soulful silence would follow.

This was like a ritual for me … and it did fill me up with so much happiness. In my mind I had also made colonies for them, how birds of my area would be going somewhere far for work and would come back to the trees in front of my house, and how all those I saw going ,would actually be staying in a posh  location in the center of the city .. well those were the rambling imaginations of a little mind …but they actually gave an alternate reality to an otherwise mundane life.

I always wanted to be a bird … they used to intrigue me … How could they just fly so easily and I could not. They were so free, so limitless, so freewheeling, so liberated and so lucky!!!

But as I grew up I realized, who stops you from being one. Let your mind free … Unbuckle the tenterhooks.. Break the confines and just Fly !!!!  Be a bird, but never forget to flock together!!!

Shiva

I am celebrating the Write Tribe Festival of Words and will be posting every day for seven days, starting 1st September. The theme for the Festival of Words is “seven“.  I have decided to post 7 photographs made by me which I hold very close to my heart. 

Colours of my life

“Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. ” 

― Oscar Wilde

What is life if not a spectrum of colours... Colours that define it, colours that fill it and colours that make it "picture perfect"

 For different people colour means different things... For the little ones all around us colours are their first lesson of association and identification, on which they are tested by all Uncles, Aunties and Didis round the clock.- "Tuktuk, want this icecream... but first tell what color it is?" or "Laddo, go get Uncle the Red box"

To a teenager, on the cusp of falling in love..."Roses are Red, Violets are Blue"

For the old lady you meet in the park every morning, doing "anulom vilom" , white is her colour..the colour of divinity.

For me the colours define the people in my life, people who fill my life with their presence, their vibrancy, their variety, their characteristics and their expressions. Rather I should say, those colours define me.

It has always been a challenge for me to give introductions... whether on the first day of college, or in a "informal" intro to the seniors, or in the ice breaking  of those boring training sessions, or in interviews... each time I was asked to define myself, my likes, my dislikes, my dreams, so on and so forth... But are we really an island in ourselves better known by only two coordinates, coordinates that define us in isolation. I have always failed to believe in this and hence always failed in giving straight from heart and complete introductions in my life.

So here I attempt an introduction about myself for the first time in its true sense. I am nothing without the people in my life, the people who make me realize that I am. Come to think of it, how do you know you exist... because you take in a chemical element O₂ inside to give a compound  CO_2, or because you see yourself in the eyes of the people around you. Well! its a no brainer, all of us know the answer.  "They are so you are". So here I will showcase the colours of my life, what they make me and what I make out of them.

Brown is the colour which marks my identity. It is the colour of my mother. She gives me the earth and the ground to hold on to. My roots, my beliefs, my values all I got from her. Brown is the colour of soil that reaps flowers, cactus and fruits with equal care and nurture...thats what my mother does too. My imperfections, my follies, my mistake all take shelter in the never ending fields of her pastures. I learnt to stand tall from her.

Orange is the colour that keeps me warm and hopeful. That is the colour of my father. All I know of hope, optimism, cheer, glee, joy all I owe to this man. His life was difficult(Well ..who's isnt) but did I ever see him droop in sadness..never once. He is the balancer of my world, who brings with him the strength and the disposition which can give any trouble a run for its money. I learnt to live (in its real sense) from him.

Pink  is the colour that brought love in my life. It is the colour of my two brothers. Yes, they are the ones who made me realize what "Love" is. My first encounter with a selfless unconditional love happened by design (of God) with the twin angels of my life. Yes! God felt one would not be enough for me, so he showered me with two at one go. But his strange ways...gives some - takes some. He sent them without a voice to this world. But you know what, they came with a note in their palms which read .. "Your voice I already sent in advance one year back- Love God". Ever since that day, it has been an unbreakable bond between the three of us. They bring sensitivity, friendship and love to my life. I learnt to love from them.


Yellow  is the colour for all the beautiful people in my life whom I bumped into by accident, by chance and not be design. This is for all my friends, the ones really really close to me. Names are not important, they never are.. the ones for whom I write this, will know when they read it. That's the thing about friends.. you never need words and at the same time you never fall short of words. There is so much you can tell them, you can listen from them..everything need not make sense too. And in those critical ICU moments of your life, when words fail, they never fail you. Yellow is their colour because they bring sunshine, they smile and the world looks better, they brighten things up and clean up the "shit" in your life..that's why colour yellow. I learnt to smile from them.

So that pretty much sums up my spectrum.. that is what I am ..a myriad of colours that mix with people and people that mix with colours. Its confusing and thats why its beautiful!!!

ps - So what do you think is my colour?? :)

The Ping Pong Ball

 The closest to my heart poem written by me till date ... makes me happy :)  Felt like sharing with all.


                                                   

The Ping Pong Ball

It goes up and it can fall,

It is intriguing for one and all,

How you take it is all your call,

Life is but a Ping Pong Ball…

To every Pong there is a Ping,

For every song, someone to sing,

For every cloud a silver lining,

All that matters is the way of looking…

The game begins with a cradle and you,

You make the rules and break them too,

You learn from each hit and miss,

And growing with the game is nothing but bliss…

When it gets tough you get going,

If the tide is rough you just keep rowing,

The game is on and the ball is rolling,

When you get the serve just go on scoring…

  

Try hard not to miss the ball,

But if you do, don’t feel small,

Back in your court it will be in a while,

When it does make the most of the last mile…

The harder it is hit the higher it goes,

Bounces back with power against the blows,

Free yourself from the fear of falling,

As you are almost there, where success comes calling…

It goes slow and it goes fast,

All you have to do is to last,

Last till the game is on,

And make a mark before you are gone…

                                                             Shiva...

Prisoner of our own device!

Prisoner of our own device

This world was a peaceful, quiet and sensible place to be till the time a crazy person got a crazier idea to come out with the craziest invention of his time - The Omnipresent Mobile Phones..

How I remember and miss those days of selective communication... when a land-line connection used to be a luxury and only the affluent "haves" of the neighborhood  had it. So distinct are those memories of my childhood, when my next door aunty ,"Micky ki Mummy" , stood yelling at the top of her voice at her staircase which was just adjacent to our balcony, broadcasting to the whole "mohalla" that Bittu Bhyya from Lakhinpur had got engaged and his mother, Shyama Behenji,  will call again in 15 minutes to talk to Jijaji , in this case my father. And soon after this announcement there was a flurry of activity at our place. Papa was but of course not allowed to step outside the house in his loongi ( Translation for Gen Z -a wrap around skirt for Men, don't get weird ideas), so he was ordered by the Big Boss of the house to change in a decent attire and that too in a time bound manner before the next shout from next door. By the way, "Micky ki Mummy" was an excellent cook and made amazing ladoos, so in hope for one, I always used to tag along as an attendant to my father, who was on a "Phone call Mission"

PCOs, whatever the full form was, started mushrooming everywhere in early 90s. Every entrepreneur with a little money and big dreams, thought this was where the world was looking and investing in this venture would take care of his next two generations at least. Little did he know that PCO had already found its nemesis in a thingy called mobile and it was a already an everyday use thing far ahead in the West.

Remember those queues in-front of that small shady PCO cabins, which became a commonplace hangout for the goondas of the galli, who used to tip the PCO man to reveal the phone numbers of Poojas and Nidhis of those days. 

All this while, I was busy growing up, and by now was a college goer. And thanks to "No Mobile " could easily bunk classes and hang out with friends late in  the evening, in the name of extra classes. There were no every hour tracker calls from Ma inquiring my position, location and status, making me feel like she is M and I am her James Bond. Looking back I feel it was no less than a miracle that all the group outings , well those days our reach was only till zoo and crocodile parks, could be easily managed without any sms, calls that were wrongly missed, and missed calls that were wrongly received to track each others coordinates. No matter how many people from how many different logistic combinations, we all used to gather just at the right place at the right time. 

Alas! those days were numbered. And here came the so called Hitec, technosavy highly communicative world breathing on mobile phone networks and beating to the keypad heartbeats. I have no qualms to accept that I hate this device to the core. It has overshadowed the man's existence. Now people feed the number of the person in their handsets and then ask them their name to save their number. A phone call even if its a wrong number, is any time given more priority to the friend who is sitting in front of you waiting for you to finish your calls and spare some moments for him.

The patience meters of the human kind has touched its lowest best... one missed call and your mother might just register a missing complaint for you in the nearest police station, one engaged tone at 11:00 pm in the night and it might just cost you your girlfriend, one "out of network" message and your boss might job rotate you for insubordination and the list goes on. 

For the lesser mortals like me, who have this knack of losing anything and everything, it is one notch even more worse. We live in this every minute trauma of the possibility of forgetting your "lifeline" the phone at the shop counter or public washroom or if nothing else in the"never-ending & all containing" deep pockets of our handbags.

I dread this device so much that my idea for a dream destination is no hi fi international picturesque get away but a place in nowhere where I have a justifiable reason to be "Out of Existence " (Read Out of Network)...