ripe but not quite

a million tears shatter
the sky
that was my brother
that was my father
i am born to run
i am born to give
love is a million heartbeats come together
you are my lover
you are my mother
i am born for you
i stand here for you
a million dreams running in my head
there was you
and that was me
i am born to roam
i am born to dream
but these dreams are mine alone
as i carry the multitudes in me.

tonight

summer night showers
green grass tickles my feet
as you do my heart.

playing footsie by myself.

what could have been but is not.

i waited.  but your footsteps did not echo mine.  I've been a different person with each space i occupied in Delhi, this city of myriad moods.  the mellow winter warmth thawed my frozen heart.  innocence and sweetness.  a hushed bliss.  exploring and discovering new words, colours leached from carnations, sunflowers suffused smiles which you tied around those months streaming in a wavelike ribbon behind.

it was sort of like holding the big shiny moon hidden in my tightly clenched fist.  we should have just let the free-fall be and then the tranquility would have been ours...we would have danced in its glow.  

rendered silent now by its loss.  if only things were different we would have laughed and played in the calm majesty of the present.

now that the present is lost and the past....how do i make sense of myself; how do i collect the chards of a broken image; how do i make my hurt better?

i am the waters of a flowing river.  there are not cracks in water, yes the ripples will be there but the calmness will return.

breathe.... and let go.

self-deception

deception is not always deliberate.  i woke up this morning with memories of a lost love, of a love which is still moist and warm, which can still breathe life into the dark recesses of my mind.  They say you must make space for anything new to take root; that a new love shall want its legroom.  Here, now...where is the space for it to deepen and take root.  Shall it then abandon hope or stay and live with the old?  or shall it weep for the sweet juices of an earlier love which still remains and whose luscious secrets are plenty?  shall they rot together or will a new harmony be born?

c'est la vie

i try to sit still, control my breathing and embrace my delinquent thoughts.  vexed. with myself. things are changing around me, the sun is regaining its colour, no longer a pale invalid but healthier, more robust now...the breeze is at times the exact degree of your warm breath.  I envy the seasons their knowing of time, their purpose, it all leads to somewhere... to a newer place with a regularity which is ancient, timeless.  I on the other hand, an errant lost soul, time passes me by but i don't reach a state where beginnings lead to fullness and endings to closure...for me its all a continuum...i feel i am becoming a river which only knows how to flow and right now i am carrying a lot of debris along.   I have no clue to my purpose, no idea of my destination and I don't even know if there is any goodness in being so...all i know is that it is so and that you shall always bring me sweetness to my heart.

of sufi shrines

hands raised in prayers all around me, doves circled the golden dome. peace and hope wafted from the incense sticks as i heard stifled sobs around me.  

over the weekend i visited ajmer sharif with khairul, my sister in law and some of her freinds from her office. Ajmer Sharif is a sufi shrine in rajasthan. and earlier in the evening today i visited Qutab sahib, another sufi shrine in delhi with my mom and khairul.  

i am not really into visiting shrines and honestly up till now i did not understand why people do...but maybe i am begining to get a handle on it now. the reason i suppose is that you allow yourself to be immersed in a space which is afloat with the power of faith. its a space blessed by angels and for me to feel that I had to suspend my cynicism and i stopped trying to 'put a brave face on'; i allowed myself to cry and it was that release or whatever but the vibe was gentle and so soothing, that the tears just kept on rolling. faces shone with tears and humility...absorbed in pain they clutched to hope, even if it was frayed and trampled upon. when you come to a shrine, you put yourself in a space where the air is soaked in prayers and adoration of the divine.  

the rose sellers, the fakirs (alm-seekers), the khadims (guides)...all clamour for your attention. even though you are standing in a crowd you are consious of only your own heart's voice. words float in the air and you catch a few strings and like signs from above they touch you with utmost gentleness and you feel you are blessed.  

i believe god is everywhere and not just in 'religious' spaces but places like these where millions come and pray, where every inch is stood upon and prayed...all that energy come together and bounces aoround and seeps back into you and all of that is because of that sufi who just prayed and prayed and prayed and loved the creator in a way which is beyond my comprehension; such piety, such love transcends time and space and that is what blesses the likes of me who go begging...its not the sufi but god who blesses those who come and lay respect to his lover.  

the qawalli singer at qutub sahib sang about the universality of pain and I realised just how commonplace are my desires and how often my prayers are answered. These sufi shrines have been here for centuries and people don't come here just to get the work done, so to speak but i think it is to reaffirm hope in a higher power.

of demon and fairy thoughts

just one more day to go and then this year is over.  a new year and i will find new thoughts, its important to have new thoughts.  they keep you young, they keep you smelling fresh.  some days you just can't find anything new to think about and the old thinking patterns, old and unhealthy reactions, take hold of you, toss you up, pin you down, motionless and inert.

BUT if you can move even a single muscle, if you can make even that tiniest move then you can break that stranglehold; if you just shower and wear nice clothes you will feel better.

the universe, this life is not to our design. it seems we are playing a role in another's production and we could have done it so much better, so it seems at times...perhaps yes, perhaps no...there is only way of finding out:  design the next 15 minutes with whatever material you have at your disposal and you will have your answer.

of all the many demon thoughts i have, there is one fairy thought which places me firmly in the seat and pulls me through: "...I'll be fine inshallah..."  

Dear God

i am pleased. liar.

are you smiling?

and what about the hurt that you bear?  that you hide?

i hide my nakedness in your white woven wool, it scratches my skin as i fight to retain it from the shameless winds.  

i'm standing on the roof, the blue skies above me, the white washed walls beneath my feet.  i begin to climb down the stairs but stop to see women wrapped in white surrendering to Allah in prayer under a swaying palm.  

Make it easy for me, I pray.  I bow.  Just the way it should be.  Just the way it is meant to be.