We were in a world of politics and pollution, drama and dilemma, chaos and calmness, the very opposites that did attract each other like the unlike poles of a magnet that we used to play with as kids. We were in a world where we couldn’t tell desire from love, apathy from hate, but. Something felt just, right. We were in a world where we controlled time and the universe around us by just gazing into each other’s eyes. We were in a world where resurrection was completely possible, ever since we died a little every time we smiled at each other. We were in a world of busy schedules, crowded trains and cities that never slept but, when I felt the warmth of your skin slowly caressing mine as I laid my head on your shoulder and we interlocked fingers knowing they’d fit perfectly, I let out a deep sigh. Knowing that nothing until now had felt like home. 

-s.r

Well, I shall not use the term demise. But, When you’re gone, It’s is hard to not weep in reminiscence but, I will try.

You, like a phoenix re-emerging from this very own ashes, have conquered this mortal life handed like a lolly given to a child, to you. And with this notion, I am inspired. 

You, like a Willow tree with branches of wisdom hanging towards the earth for us mortals to gather, have done your duty. And by this, I have a thirst for knowledge.

And you, like the wind that carries the summer leaves from a forest to a town that marks the birth of a new season, are carried away, transported from this journey of life to another. 

You are one with the galaxies, the skies, the mighty oceans. You are one with the dewdrops and even the little fish in the pond. You are one with the almighty.

And I shall try , my love.

For you are one step closer to me that you’ve ever been. 

~s.r

Instruments

“And I could listen to you play the violin for as long as the sands of time touched the waves, gently. 

I could listen to you play the flute, for it sounded like drops of rain not falling on the soil, but in love.

I could listen to you play the guitar, for every chord you struck was a canary that invited me to the evergreen forest.

And, I could listen to you sing, for every word you uttered, your inhale and your exhale was like the wind that passionately held me like a mother carrying her newborn,  across the oceans and seas, showing me things I’ve never dreamt of ”    ~s.r

“oh, how I yearned to just hear your mellifluous voice. Like a vagabond waiting and waiting, patiently with hope that could overtake the skies , for a soul of righteous conduct to not hand him over the world, but a roof or a handful of rice.”

~s.r

Destiny

do not weep in love, my dear.My carbons turned diamonds, and I, the universe.

The air, to a breeze, to a wind and to a hurricane

And eventually it dies away.

There is purpose in emergence and demise 

and if everyone around you, has attained peace.

you shall wait patiently, for it.

S.r

I am the tiger.

Dear humans, you stand as tyrants before all. You have become the predator to the prey. 

A night to the day.

A tall to the short.

A strong to the weak.

An escaped to the caught

A canine to the beak.

Humans, how clever are you? Through all materialistic things, you combine power and wealth. 

For the one thing that sets me apart from a zebra is not stripes, but the strength.

Over the years, biology has explained how well the ecosystem is balanced.

But a man hunting down a beast, since when did that happen?

You must have heard of the saying, “A tiger doesn’t lose sleep over its opinion of sheep”.

But, have you ever bothered to hear my screams and cries when your dagger wounded me so deep?

My majestic face may show no mercy. My elegant body may seem an illusion, yet I am just a prey inside.

My eyes don’t merely reflect your emotions, let me know you, show me the things you hide.

For years, I wandered like a nomad, searching for harmony, peace and love within my kith and kin.

And finally, I found this solitude, within.

Doesn’t your conscience prick you poachers every time you kill me?

What has the world come to, killing your fellow living beings, how cursed are we?

The project tiger in India brought about a difference in forests, reserves and relief.

But, did it bring a change in your minds and clichéd beliefs?

Humans, please open your eyes and look around you 

We are dying at hazardous rates, isn’t there anything you can do?

The forest animals have feared me for centuries, shivering with a shrivel of a leaf under my paw as I’d walk.

But then, one day, all my power and strength crumbled to nothing when I saw my own siblings with 3 bullets, through their heads being shot.

Friends, let us see it this way, imagine you are in my place, being mercilessly killed for strolling in your habitat.

Would you like it? Being deprived of your very right to live? Or just sit back, fake a laugh and clap?

Friends, you are all blessed with a wonderful gift, the power of speech.

We are indiscriminately killed , look at you yourselves and preach!

I shall vent it out now, aren’t you all ashamed of yourselves, selling our flesh and skin for a briefcase of money?

God forbid, aren’t you all sinners, souls from hell, a place where it’s never sunny.

Alas! I have nothing more to say!

Walking through the forest , free of torture and the wrath of humans, when will come my day?

I shall be feared, my confidence and posh shall enhance my demeanour.

And I for sure, will await that day. For, I am the tiger.
– S. R

Faith or fate?

We, humans, the result of many billion years of evolutionary success, probably god’s greatest creation, stand like tyrants over all the other creatures whether in body or in brains. We, in fact, could be the most feared , as well, by our ability to camouflage and adapt to almost any situation. As daunting as we can get, there are days when we question ourselves. Are we with the crowd? Or are we not? Is that good or bad? There are voices within us and around us which may or may not have been heard. One within or among us could have a life changing idea. One within us or among us could be the future of the country. One within or among us which could change the way we look at everything in life. Well, what is stopping us? Is it the fact that we fail to believe in ourselves, our potential, our capabilities, our capacity? Or is it that we don’t believe the ones among us, who are made of the same blood and flesh as us, and are descendants of our ancestors? These questions we need to ask ourselves. And yet, there are some others, who believe that one day, the world itself will turn a new leaf and become the ideal one everyone dreamed of. This , indeed is sheer optimism and positivity, but, the question is, is it realistic? Is it something worth waiting all our lives for? It is true, it’s not the people, everyone’s going to remember but it’s the change , it’s the creations, it’s their contribution to the society that’s going to be remembered. Oblivion is inevitable. But faith, on the other hand, isn’t. As these wise words have been said before, faith is a house with many rooms,and continuing to have belief even in the smallest of things would get you through the day. It could be god, it could be people, it could be on nature, it could be within. But, fate, another belief, is waiting for destiny to play it’s coins. It is quite believable. But , it’s quite believable to have its own believability questioned. Is it worth it? So the point is, there is a thin line drawn between faith and fate, and what stands between them is ,you. So, what does your belief lie in? Faith or fate?

So long

~s.r

Talent.

Everyone in this world is born with a talent, a gift, a flair, a skill. In fact, what we can possibly categorise as talent, itself is largely extensive. It maybe a medley of art, dance, music, physical abilities, communication skills, a good ear for everything and so on and so forth. Talent may run in the blood or people maybe naturally gifted. But, like Rome wasnt built in a day, none of us can become aficionados in what we are looking out for unless and until we take the time, put in a great deal of effort, with determination, grit and passion, nurture it into something beautiful, which has been a part of us and always will. The truth is, talent is what makes us a part of one crowd and stand out from another. 

~s.r

Oh, snap!

Capture. Click. Flash. Focus. As we read these words, the first thing that hits us is, photography. What does photography mean? Why is it so addictive? I myself , am a shutterbug. Im extremely passionate about photography. No, not the new age updates like selfies, selfie sticks , and more. But the very fact that, you can capture a moment, an emotion, a situation, a time, that you will never ever experience again is quite a fascination. Photography. One word. A million moments that cannot be put in words. In fact, it isn’t about clicking a picture with an expensive camera and posting it on some social media. It is so much more. I, as a person enthusiastic about photography, absolutely love taking pictures. Not of myself. Of people.Their lives, that day, that time, that moment, that instance that made them laugh heartily,all in one picture. Time flies, and when we just happen to sit and scroll through them, every picture speaks volumes. Each of them have a story of their own, an unspoken tale, an unwoken dream. An unheard emotion. And this picture would bring back a million memories we once created without knowing how much that would affect us and our lives. One picture speaks of the loved ones who were once there by our side, now gone. One picture speaks of the lovely community we once were in, now which looks like a totally different place. One picture speaks of the people we once were best of friends with and what a time we had with them, now drifted apart. This may be overwhelming in both ways. But, at the end of the day. It’s only in a picture when we can relive our memories, moments and little instances. So, photography has so much in it, not that everyone realises. So, capture moments, click with everything around you, focus on creating memories and at once every little thing is back in a flash, which is indeed, priceless. 

So long.

Ecstatic pandemonium

pleasant walks through chaotic streets

clouded skies, greyish blue, kept you on your feet

little shops selling sweetmeats and a guilty pleasure,chai

abstractly stiched curtains swaying, a spirited dye

calling out ‘tamatar, bees rupiya’ in a twisted desi tone

temple bells ringing at the mark of dusk, well known 

little girls in well groomed braids playing in groups

Women , after a tiring day, at twilight, selling fruits

little bazaars set up with items at a peasant’s price

small crowds of men, sitting down fo a game of dice

by the second, the atmosphere getting intense then

the Sunday church hymns joining along, amen.

ice cream vendor make an entry in a short while

children, upbeat and exuberant, in a single file

And then all of a sudden, everything going on comes to a pause

The sound of pitter patter, metaphorically, like an applause

and oh, the joy the young lads found in water puddles

the weather, a blessing from heaven, just right for pakora’s and cuddles

amusing antakshari and dumb charades, during the pour, to kill time

letting out the inbuilt, and golden talents , watching with a glass of soda and lime

and then, few anxious about upcoming tests, under a dim yellow street lamp

post rain smells bringing out the pluviophiles. Serenity found in places, most damp

and then starts the bhajans and soothing music from households, in sleep

the sound of the cricket most prominent, and the pellucid waters of the river, so deep

And, moonlight creating peculiar images on house floors

Inhabited by the purest souls, there wasnt a lock on the doors

The originality of the innocent spirits spread the good vibe

The childhood days to remember, on hearts , are inscribed

 involved modern appliances or tech know how, none of that sort

visitors to climbing through the greenery filled hills to visit and old fort

perks of rains being holidays, pleasant weather and blooming burgundy flowers

water dripping into litlle yellow buckets from spacesin ceilings, hour by hour

All took a minute to appreciate the beauty of nature’s best

for india’s frenzied streets are tradition and culture’s crest .

~s.r