Unknown trail

tracks

I was uncertain, but kept going

walking the trail with no clue

leading me, where to?

Was I certain of my destination?

No,

I was uncertain, but kept going.

Destination a blur,

journey unknown,

road new,

but was I certain

no,

But I kept going.

Certain was I of my steps;

steps,

little first, then

bold and courageous

I had taken for the first.

Certain of my determination.

Certain to walk the unfamiliar.

Certain to find an end.

With certainty I became less uncertain,

but I still kept walking;

I still kept going.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/build-your-own/

I woke with a thump

I’m a morning person but my habits have changed a lot since college and I try my best to get up early in the mornings. However, there are days when I can’t get up early because of sleeping late at night due to work. But I like to get up early in the mornings. I love to catch the sun as it unveils itself and spreads its light all over wherever it travels. I love the birds as they fly like office goers, the only difference being we pack our lunch with us and they travel to have lunch. I absolutely love the freshness of the morning sky.

These are the things that I love about any mornings but in order to catch this essence of morning I need to get up early (which I have not done lately). The truth being when you work or are awake till late nights you simply can’t get early enough to catch the morning essence. The only thing that makes my mornings, morning… is a cup of tea. As the aroma of the tea lingers all over the kitchen it tickles my nose and brings relief to my sleepy mind.

I had an abrupt morning start today. It was certainly early than usual.

I don’t mind the visits of birds and pigeons, they are peaceful and besides this I like their chirping sound. However, I do mind squirrels, I tell you they are mischievous, at least the one that visits me (quite often) is. It comes early in the morning at the break of the dawn and starts nibbling on the wooden frame of the window. The more I ignore the louder its nibbling sound gets. Now that I’m up but too lazy to get out of bed I clap loudly thinking it might scare it away. But it is not scared. I still lay determined not to leave bed. After a while it again starts and this time I literally jump out of bed with a thump and try to make some noise. Finally it leaves…leaving me up and awake.

What is the first action performed…hitting? What was the first thought…killing or harming, words… cursing? What was the first emotion captured…anger? I like getting up early but not with the thought of anger seeding in my mind and later seeping and tainting my day.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/new-dawn/

I’ll fly like a bird

I have seen the birds flying in the blue sky. I have seen some gliding high, very high, some flying so low that I could catch them and keep them.

I wonder if they fly because of some requirement or is the body that is build to function in this manner or it simply loves to fly. It is very difficult to fathom, as a human being.

As humans, we are inspired by the birds when we see them soaring up in the vast expanse of the sky. I have never been able to ask any bird if they really enjoy flying. I have never been able to decide if they are tired by covering their journey of life in small flights, say per km. I have certainly no knowledge if they enjoy flying or just seem to be doing a mundane job of theirs. It’s difficult to know if they really think so much before a take off.

I have always seen them as free creatures- stretching their wings, flying in a distant unknown land, free from the earthly bounds- and maybe that’s why I want to fly like a bird, someday. Every human, maybe once in life, has a deep desire to acquire a pair of wings and take off to a mysterious land… be a free soul.

Come to think of it, I’m sure it would face certain hardships in such a lifestyle of- doing nothing, flying, sitting, chirping, eating and sleeping in trees or their nests. But when it spreads its wings all charged to meet its new day, ready to fly, claim its freedom for yet another day, discover an unknown territory or claim a known patch of sky or land once again, it knows no bound. It is possessed with a sprite of flight.

But I’m sorry, I don’t see all this. All I see… is a bird on a flying adventure… a free soul to a mysterious land/ sky. And that’s why I fancy them, I imagine to be like them.

So, as the new day awaits me I’ll borrow a set of wings. I’ll fly, venture out the new day with a new spirit as my wings of courage fan out and help me to claim a patch of blue sky. I’ll fly each day with a smile that chirps, ready to meet challenges of any sort.

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Standing still

This is how fray appears to me:

rocks in conflict with the waves

These rustic and rugged looking rocks tell a tale of conflict with water currents and winds. This conflict is responsible for shaping them and yet they are not completely worn out. They stand still- as if they have readily accepted a challenge- waiting for more to come their way, ready to be torn, ripped and split into many pieces…but until then it decides to stand still and upright.

torn banana leaves in conflict with wind

Have you seen banana leaves, I mean the fresh ones. Once the leaves grow big they are all ruffled at the edge giving it a rather shabby look. As a child, I used to think someone might have come in the night and torn the leaves apart. The gentle breeze wearing an invisibility cloak was responsible for these ruffled edges on the banana leaves spoiling its soft gentle look and giving it a torn and tattered look. My guess is, they will stand still until the leaves have lost their sheen and have soiled away with time.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/fray/

Harmony prevailed until…

The incident of Daniel Pearl had terrified me completely. It was the topic of talk when I was in school. Although, I had not seen the video but had heard people talking of this incident. It was in the news but I was kept from listening to it (for reasons my parents didn’t want to share). I was too young to weave the political or economic intricacies of the horrific incident. I had no clear thoughts on the matter because firstly I was unaware of the situation and secondly I was completely engrossed in my studies.

Today, the incident of James Foley has again shaken the world. Today, I can understand the political and economic details of the situation but I can’t understand the human aspect of it. I tried hard to find answers not only regarding this matter but also what has been happening in general all around the world. So much of political and social unrest, economic downfall…In my quest to finding the answers I found myself entangled in questions.

Why do we hate? Since when did hate become more important than any other thing? Do the emotions of love, kindness or compassion still exist? Is it wise to blindly follow-other people, your mind or your heart? Are we humans or beings that have become so incapable of feelings? Where are we heading to? Since when did cruelty substitute kindness? Some might think or say, “why should it bother me,” but why not? Is, another not a human being?

Earth was a beautiful place or is a beautiful place, too difficult for me to understand right now. With so much happening we can only say, “Earth was a beautiful place and there once lived human beings. There once existed love among all beings and harmony prevailed in the universe until….”

A Flower Pot

One week has passed by and I have not seen him. We met last Thursday at Café Coffee Day, one of my favourite joints. I like their coffee. The aroma of fresh coffee which is rarely absent from the very moment you enter the cafe, stays till the time you are there.

I was waiting as he came. I could feel his presence even before he appeared in front of me. I suspect that not because of some deep love but because of his strong cologne. I had started loving it as much as I loved him. He smiled at me and sat in front of me. I tell you, his smile and only his smile has the power to brighten any of my dull days. We ordered two coffees and a banana cake.

“You said it is important. What is it?”

“Well I’m going to my hometown. I’ll be back in a week’s time.”

“But why are you leaving in the middle of the semester?”

“It’s my mom, she is not well.”

“Oh!”

Silence – the uninvited guest- had made its entry and was going to stay for a while with us.

Although, I was sipping the coffee I’m sure internally I was sobbing. Each sip that I took seemed bitter in taste. Strange I had always loved coffee and its taste. It was for the first time, today, that I could actually taste its bitterness which I didn’t like much.

We paid. We moved and started walking.

Our paths were the same and steps matched each pace. Hand in hand we were walking but there still was silence.

We went to Lisa’s Flower Shop. It was our ritual before parting away he would give me a flower of my choice.

“So, you’ll be gone for a week,” I asked gloomily.

“Hmm!”

“Then why give one flower, I think you should give me seven- one for each day- to remember you.”

“That only seems fair,” he added with a smile which for the first time had an element of sadness in it. He picked up a purple orchid, one of his favourites. Then he gestured at the lady. All I could see was that they were talking while I was looking at the white daisies.

He was carrying a flower pot which had a beautiful purple orchid in it. Some were yet to bloom and would be due to blossom in a day or so.

“Here, take this. You could have this to remember me.”

I was so happy but my emotions of sadness were still covering me up. Although, I remember to have worn a faint smile which could be overpowered by tears that could stream any moment due to the smile or sadness which was too difficult to guess.

Today, is day five and I already miss him so much. The buds that were due have finally bloomed. Its petal; so soft like a baby’s blanket. I water it. I talk to it and have made friends with it.

I take my camera and click its snap. Upload it on FB and tag, “Thank you.”

An Outline

In capturing silhouettes I realized that they appeared like shadows-dark, except they were not shadows but were outlines of what truly is.

Silhouettes that I gathered for this weeks’ photo challenge are below. Hope you enjoy, cause I enjoyed taking each shot.

Strong tree trunk

When I had clicked this I had no idea how it would turn out. It was a cloudy winter day and the sun was setting. What I saw was a soft pink murky sky. I think more than the sky I liked this tree, which is just a bare tree trunk, but it displays a very strong outline. It seemed somewhat artistic to me, so I captured it.

 

Beach in Goa

This might not be the best of the shots that you have seen but I liked the beach shot. I remember I had raced to capture the sun set but was late and hence decided to capture something. And this was that something. Inspite of the blue sky and the sandy outline the dark palm trees caught my sight instantly after I saw the picture in the processed form.

 

Tree reaching to sky

I love the flower on this tree; I don’t know the name. The flower is a bright deep red and its texture is fleshy. It normally blooms during the summer months. When I saw this tree with my favourite flowers blooming on it I wanted to capture it. But as you can see the sun had decided to set and what I got was an outline of the tree. I was a little disheartened not to find my favourite red flower in the shot but was happy to have captured this tree instead. Somehow it shows the desperate desire of the tree to reach towards the sky and touch it.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/silhouette-2014/

Calling for objects

No, I have never named any of my things. I do have names for my frequent guests like: Lizi for a lizard; Cawcoo for a cockroach; Pijgee for a pigeon. However, a rat remains a rat and so does a honey bee.

I don’t go naming the objects in my house. No, I’ve never done that…ever. So if I’m looking for my blue coffee mug I’ll say, “Where is my blue coffee mug. Where are you, I had kept it here the last time. Come out, show yourself. Where are you hiding?”

Yes, at times I have internal dialogues with myself that is how sane I am. But baptizing the objects in my house is a little too much for my sanity.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-names-the-thing/

Image

Texture Palette

green grass waves crating texture

The breeze gently touched the long grass in this field and made it dance with it. It showcased shades of greens in its every fold.

 

water patterns

It’s not difficult to find the impressions of footsteps by the shore but impression created by water that had just passed away from this sandy patch made me click this. I liked the pattern created which gave it a very soft texture, one that can be created and recreated again and again.

 

relics of past

This was an old chapel building. The relics of the past,which was once new and smooth, now takes a rough and stern texture.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/texture/

 

A Moment of Happiness

Girls play with dolls and boys…well they keep running around with their toy guns and fighter planes. I always wanted a baby sister and it seemed like that moment had come. My parents announced, “You’ll soon have someone to play with.” I was not keen to spoil the mystery if it would be a boy or a girl and so were my parents. I kept praying for a baby sister, my mom kept praying for a healthy kid.

Finally the day came and my prayers were answered. I had a baby sister, someone to play with. I was so overjoyed with this news and instantly had planned my life around her…playing with dolls, kitchen sets, shopping, wearing makeup and do all the girly stuff together. I thought commanding at times would also be fun.

Without any delay when I saw my father going to get my mom and little sis back from hospital, I requested him to take me along.

There she was, sleeping quietly in a crib beside my mom’s bed. I was so amazed to look at this tiny thing. She was just like my doll but seemed more lively and fragile than her. My mom looked very weak as if she had gone on a hunger strike. She took my dad’s arms and walked feebly towards the car. I on the other hand jumped inside the car. My sister was curled in my father’s other arm.

I asked my mom, “Can I hold her; can I take her in my arms.” She looked at me with love twinkling in her eyes. She might have been concerned a bit but I could tell that she was already happy to see me welcoming the younger one. I took her in my hands looked at her small face, eyes that were no less than strokes of two horizontal lines divided by a small little nose and her lips were a pink that I had never seen before. She yawned with her eyes closed. I looked at her small fingers closing in a fist and opening as quickly as forget me not leaves-opening and closing from one’s touch. I looked at her tiny feet that were smaller than my own palms. Oops! There came a speed breaker and we all jumped. I thought she would bounce like a ball but I had held her tight I could not let anything happen to my living doll. I got scared and gave her back to mom.

Oh! Look she is sitting. My god! Look at her she is walking, she is running, she has a tooth, she is speaking…say ma…ma, say da…da all her activities progressed in time.

Years jogged and the little one started to reach my waist. Oh! I tell you she was my tail. She kept following me everywhere like ‘Mary’s little lamb’ from the nursery rhyme. That was admirable. But then there were days waiting for me that would test my patience.

I reached home from school. After lunch we all took a small nap. Then in the evenings when my mom would be busy preparing dinner I would walk into the kitchen looking for something to eat. I knew the cookie’s container was kept in the first shelf (a place where I could easily reach) so I followed my feet and my hands would assist my desire to fill my stomach. “How could this happen,” the cookies are less. I had just eaten two or three yesterday, how could it be, would be my thoughts. I would run to mom with the box in my hands, ready to complain.

“Who finished the cookies? They were mine I had saved it for later.” My mom would look at me and say, “Well! You know you have a little sister now. You’ll have to share it with her.” Very defensively I would keep my point, “I know but can’t she be slow. I had left it for later… for me.” My mom would finally conclude the whole discussion by saying, “now go finish this and I’ll buy another packet.”

They did tell me that I’ll have a companion to play with and I was absolutely ok with it. What I was not ok with was sharing my cookies, chocolates, room, colour pencils. I saw all the attention had now shifted from me to her. I was a little jealous on receiving this ignoring treatment. With time passing by and us growing I had learnt to share my things with her.

I thought that I had the biggest heart as I was sharing things with my sister and I was happy about it. I thought that I had built this quality but I was yet to be tested for it.

I remember a summer vacation when I got back from playing; I would have been roughly around ten or eleven. I entered my room and guess…what did I see? My mom had taken all my clothes from the cupboard; all my frocks, skirts, t-shirts and tops were peppered on the bed. I knew this sight. I thought my mom was cleaning my cupboard. She gestured at me and said, “Look at this blue frock. Shall I give it away?” I looked at it and said quickly,” but that’s my favourite,” so she kept it aside. I could see her folding the clothes and piling it into two separate columns. It was not difficult to understand that the pile to my left was staying and the one towards the right would be leaving.

When all the clothes were sorted out I asked my mom, “Why are you giving away all my clothes.”

“Because, they don’t fit you anymore,” would be my mom’s reply.

“But can’t she wear it. All my friends have their younger brothers and sisters and they wear their clothes.”

“Yes, but she is too small to fit into your clothes.” I knew that I could not argue this because there was a vast difference between us.

My mom took my hand in hers and pulled me towards her. She asked me to sit on her lap. She started whispering into my ears. “You know you should share your things not only with your sister but others too. Don’t you want new clothes? (To which I would nod my head slightly). Then you should give it to others who are less fortunate than you are. They would be happy to wear your clothes. If you’ll give one you’ll probably get two, don’t you want that.”

Now who would not want to have new clothes? Getting tempted at this deal (one for two) I would quickly say, “Yes.”

Over the years I have learnt to share my things with others. There were days and times when I would not feel like giving away my favourite clothes. I waited for it to be torn and faded. She would understand my attachment and tell me that it was in the giving that you’ll spread happiness. She said that there was no point in giving torn and tattered clothes as they would not serve the real purpose for both- you, giving and the others, receiving. The act of sharing would be a total waste. I still remember her statement. “Give things that are still in usable state rather than torn or tattered. Because if you give something which is beyond repair you are not really helping the other person. And yes, not to mention that you would have failed to bring a smile or add a moment of happiness to their lives. “

Years later I read this book “the seven spiritual laws of success”. What I found was something that I had been practicing for so many years. It spoke about the laws of success and one of the laws discussed was “Law of giving and receiving.”

Yes, my mom had already taught me something which Deepak Chopra had mentioned in his book. It is always in the art of sharing that you’ll find satisfaction. Sharing means giving and giving means parting away with things. That can be hard at times but the process can be learnt. I think it is not only giving that matters but this act should have a loose end. By loose end I mean free from any expectations. Giving and receiving work together; when we give, we also receive (may be less or more that doesn’t matter). Giving could mean time, money, positive energy, love, care, clothes…and the list could go on. When we give we just become a part of this huge process. We start receiving more of whatever we give.I had learnt that it was in the act of giving that we receive more. It is in this act of sharing that we find satisfaction and happiness.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/memoir-madness/