Of Sands and Smiles

The footprints are still damp and sticky

The smell of salt twirls the crispness of that salad

The hat flaunts along the rays of sun

The colours burst in their beachy attire

The shade of the café brings relief

Aroma of croissant melting with vanilla cream

The beer bubbles by that pasta of yours

The nonchalance of work left over

Coz they asked us to ‘give time a break’.

The morning shower drips through your hair

The coastline breeze takes it away

The sun looks like a dot

Until the rays boast their mighty ways

The blue waters lure the hearts

To take a bath in the waves

The heart dances with joyous smiles

The skin loves how the waters behave.

The moon kisses the night blanket

With stars that gleam their love

The potato fries are fondly remembered    

And the feet get tired of walking

The lips sip on masala tea

With sweet silences and lazy talking

The running around, our hallmark

For how long could we be walking?

A million travels in a single day

pic taken from here

If books were to be written on life, there would be never ending volumes and many a revised editions. You know why, so don’t ask. I remember this quote ‘Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer’. Indeed. You remember she had a piggy bank she would add money to every time? That piggy bank got transformed all of a sudden. It morphed its boundaries, contours, shape, form and most importantly the content. There are value- able assets and lessons added to it every single moment of her life. Seconds at times seem like eternity, like getting dissociated from your body in that split second which gives you a high. And as you come back in your body with the same soul that always belonged to you, you still stay in that dis- associated moment of thrill, awe and magnanimity.

‘ I’m magnanimous, I’m Agni, I’m Hermes’ said a voice to him. That ball of fire resides in all of us. Many a voices try to extinguish it. If you have never felt that extinguisher blast out on you ever before then the voices can really bog you down. Imagine splitting yourself in to two pieces, where one hears voices he believes in and the other part just smirks and feels pity, for he knows that all you hear is medically termed as ‘auditory hallucinations’.

Split Personality Disorder it was once called. Is it a disorder really? Don’t we all experience splits of different kinds? ‘Reality’, now that is one fantastic word, I say. Who decides what reality is? Is it static or dynamic? Your reality, your world is any way in all the possible ways different from mine, so who gives the authority to Clinicians to decide what is real and unreal. Philosophical, isn’t it? Are ‘unrealistic’ or so called ‘ab- normal’ minds always crippled? Are geniuses always the ones who are fantastically brilliant? NO! The phenomena of splitting oneself from the reality narrate many a stories. The family, the people, the environment, in short the psycho- social dynamics speak through it. The unspoken pain, tears, the harassment, subjugation, whipping, throwing. It’s like a dream within a dream. You peel one layer; other emerges, until you reach deep down only to find there is nothing, yet every thing!  

The tryst with that journey has begun. A million travels beckon every single moment of the day……

Travel: A Haiku

So here am I again with a Haiku:) Joining at Haiku Heights where Leo gives the prompt as "Travel"

Travel

I flow like the breeze

Once here then there; places like

Magnet attract me

Halong Bay, Veitnam