The 6 year old secret

The secret is out in the open. Interestingly, the parts which are open have been well thought of, before they were weaved into a yarn, the individual strands carried a strength and the capacity to be able to be interpreted in ways which were ‘felt’ to be right. 

The gaps between each writing have been long, guess the real world soon became worthy of living than the virtual one! The colours in the mandalas define the beauty that is with- in. Colouring in them is so addictive. A blank mandala is very inviting. It calls on you to make some meaning out of lines. The beauty is that it’s the colours which define them and who adds meaning to the colours? I’ll leave it for you to answer! 

The sound of the sufi music is enchanting and captivating. The notes mimic to the feeling with-in, akin to finding God in the form of love. In moments as graceful as these, even tears do not know how to express themselves. It is moments like these that we define as memories. Perhaps this is what mindfulness is all about. Being in the moment and truly feeling the quietness, stillness, calmness and the beauty enraptured with-in and with-out, with-in as an individual and with-out as a couple, the intra and the inter personal. 

The good we do has a way of coming back. The whole life is a mandala, isn’t it? A circle? And we are our own masters drawing and deleting and working and re-working on the space with-in, that which seems with- out, but is actually with-in us! 

Maybe my heart was yours

Much before I knew I gave it away

Maybe our strings were entangled

Much before my thread knew its say

If it was all worked out at the life’s own bay

What did the Sun have to do

By gleaming it’s powerful rays?

Maybe your words were waiting

For me to write and for you to read

Of all the writers and readers who ever read

On couches, sofas or their beds

What was it that I said

Which in many ways led?

Us to be like butter and bread

Two souls well fed

Being each other’s shed

On days as hot as red

Leading us only to be wed!

Mandalas coloured by me!

Wishing You Well

Aakriti:)

Sometimes to self- discover you might self –destruct

When there is a catastrophe creating havoc inside, there are two choices. One to let it pillage and take away everything you built; the other to let it pass and wait for the sun to shine. Faith is as mysterious as life. It tests you just when the clouds are the darkest of the greys and the nights the darkest of the black.

The waterfalls have been full all this summer. It’s surprising they never get tired of flowing. The earth, the skin, beneath it feels the fall’s anguish. To the poet, the water-falls are a heavenly beauty and to the one falling it’s a dreadful trench, from which there is no escape. It’s like one of those dreams where you keep falling with no ground to catch you. But guess what saves you? Reality! “Thank God it was just a dream!”

Memories have a way of being created and making their presence felt. Have you ever wondered what would have happened had you never been to that place with that special someone? Your brain could have saved itself for something else? The catch is that even if it would have saved, it would not have been that special!

As for the matters of heart, the poet says it’s never had a mind of its own, thus the confusion the man lives with. To rely on the mind of a body is very different than to rely on the mind of a heart. How different do you think a heart and its mind would have been? Perhaps it would have been double trouble for the one living with the four! Isn’t it?

The words in the diaries have lost their vigour, like earth’s crack opening up to proclaim a draught. And far away in another land people die of floods. How can earth be so empty and full at the same time? It’s a way of betraying and destructing itself at the same time! And then after months or years, sometimes, the grains of the soil revive only to yield acres of crops to feed those who deserve. Indeed, earth is where we all come from!

Touch

That shirt of yours, dear Love

Glides on my skin and rests at my waist

Your fingers lock in the strands you untangle

Eyes closed, I feel…..you

As I walked towards your home

A rush gathered, bursting my veins into a rainbow

The colours splashed onto you in an embrace

Pink looked gorgeous on your lips

Your sweatshirt can’t replace you

It feels me, in your absence

Knows not how I long for that touch

The one that melts dark chocolate into luscious berries

Neither touched by you nor me, yet eaten.

P.S: Prompt 'touch' given by a friend:)

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?

My watched steps

No matter how I wish to express,

The way I always do,

I see others respond to what you say and do,

I wish to say what I feel,

Words from my heart to you,

But something stops me,

I don’t know what it is, nor do I have a clue!

The space which you give me, when around,

Seems all closed when others surround,

Apprehension, inhibition force me to back out,

And I’m left feeling helpless,

I say what I don’t wish to!

How absurd this society is,

Making us do what we had never wished to,

Caught in the webs of relations and obligations,

We hate those who love us,

And whom we hate we tend to woo!

As I watch my steps,

Unaware who they listen to,

Me, my inner voice or the society?

The latter we made ourselves,

Not to lead, but to follow!

If ever I feel reticent,

And you sense the awkwardness in me,

When the ‘world’ is gone, and alone we stand,

Freely ask what I had to say,

And in my eyes you had seen,

Perhaps then I may not recall,

If I was frustrated, anxious or angry,

Just give me a hug filled with sweet warmth,

And let me erase all memories!