The surreal.


Then one day,
In a dim star- lit sky.
It dawned on her that it was all silver around,
And her eyes lit up at the brilliance.

So grand was the light,
That her eyes seemed loud and all white,
And the silver seemed a little bland,
But all colors still had a shine.

She smiled, and laughed,
And made it a big deal.
She joined the celebrations of creating history,
Cheering out loud, not one moment without an exuberating zeal.

So well planned was the everything,
That the setting began to feel perfect and real.
And only when the party ended, did it dawn on her,
That the silver was only in bargain of gold, a step down from the happy,
An entry into the SURREAL!!

- Stuti

Only when you do.


And while there was light and bright all around,
And glitter and shimmer too,
The moon up there felt a little lonely.

For it was only its territory,
To light up the dark skies each night,
And bring light and hope to those lost on the roads.

So it looked around for signs of the old days,
Still full of its light and brilliance,
And still ready to show off its beauty to the admirers.

When suddenly, it noticed a couple down there,
Enjoying a simple date under the moon lit sky, smiling and lost in beautiful thoughts,
Moon- light gleaming in their eyes, and light tears of happiness just around there.

Only then did it dawn that there will always be some extra light and fancy all around,
But you must shine no matter,
For it will nonetheless matter to a few, who smile ONLY WHEN YOU DO!

- Stuti

Karvachauth.


Before I present today’s poem, a little background on the theme.. Karvachauth is a celebrated festival in India and is celebrated with a feverish zeal by married Indian women all across. Popularly, the festival is about the wives fasting the whole day, without consuming any water or food, all for the well being and long life of their husband.  At day end, they break their fast, only after seeing a pretty full moon in the sky, and praying for the lives of their husbands to be as long as that of the moon. I feel, that interestingly enough, the moon on this particular day, looks even more beautiful than the other days :) Now here I write today, a poem on this warm sentiment, that somehow renews the faith and bond of these couples.

Pretty as she is,
She gets ready in the morning, like any other morning.
But today is special they say,
For it’s the day she will dress up and fast all day, for him.

With a zeal she shares with no other day she fasts on,
She wears her favourite reds-
Nail paint, saree, lip colour, and finally, on her head,
A red line of that vermillion powder called sindoor.

Patiently, she spends her day fasting,
Blushing every once in a while,
Cursing the next moment out of hunger,
And then suddenly again, smiling at her own self and plight!

It’s evening, and now she begins to get impatient,
Enjoying it nonetheless, she waits eagerly for the moon to show itself,
And enchant her with its beauty,
For it’s the moon that she will pray to, for his long life.

At half past ten that night, when she finally does see it there in the sky,
She can’t but stop looking at this orange white beauty.
When suddenly she is very aware of her husband looking at her,
Admiring her beauty in turn, appreciating her dedication, smiling lovingly.

Forgetting everything and anything unpleasant, if any,
He makes her drink her first drop of water in the day,
And then makes her eat her first morsel in the day,
And so ends the day, faith renewed somehow, LOVE STRENGTHENED IN ITS OWN BEAUTIFUL WAY.

- Stuti

Melodrama.


She learnt a new word every single day,
But today was different in a different way.
She played time all the time,
And now time seemed to have strung a chime.

The coordinated notes of life and world,
Unplanned roads, no story unheard.
A leaf so green, it looked pale now,
An answer so obvious, with no question, oh how!

So many colours, the rainbow seemed confused,
She picked a colour, though they all missed the classic hues.
She looked left, then right, and danced the road,
Not realising in the slight, that she carried but some load.

What added zing though, and some angle too,
Was a hope, a story, a reality – blessed and true.
Life is a melodrama, with notes high, low, and fake all at once,
To dance to them, and not shy away, is the trick, a choice, a NOTEWORTHY NUANCE.

-Stuti

Confident.


What gave her confidence, was a smile.
A confidence fuelled by a promise:
The promise though really, was only a big fat hope,
Eh! And no one actually told her that!
She hoped the promise would work,
She promised herself, a confidence in the planned.
So once sorted with her hopes of a good plan and promises of confidence,
She was there- ready to set out in that world they called a ‘stage’:
She was going to play all characters, or at least help others play their roles,
She would hand them their props appropriate to the scene and theme,
She would wear make-up and masks to animate the shows too.
All to make sure, that people who mattered, all smiled.
All to make sure, that there were enough people who mattered.
All to make sure, that the enough had been a good number, and was enough too;
All to make sure, that she could sign off peaceful, happy, and CONFIDENT.

-Stuti

Smooth as glass.


There she sits,
In a state of confusion, and suppressed panic.
There she sits,
Ruffled, shaken, jolted, broken.

She sulks for a day or two,
Then takes to crying.
Her vision blurred with pain and tears,
What remains it seemed, was only dying.

They wonder what it is,
But can only wonder.
They probe a little further, and then a little more,
Getting but no answers, only bemused parents, sisters, brothers.

All’s well, she assures them,
And that is that, and all that she will say.
They aren’t convinced, but they leave her to herself,
Trying to retreat to the normal, trusting now only their prayers.

Time, as they say, heals fast and plays its cards,
Her smile is now back- wide, and pretty, beating the pricks.
They say no lie, when they call her a warrior, fighting the odds, battling the evens,
Falling, but rising later nonetheless- smooth as glass, sure as a PHOENIX.

- Stuti

Nostalgic-an!


At the time when I started writing this piece for the blog, I started with the intention to write about ‘time’. But as I did continue writing, my thoughts were directed more towards the unavoidable feeling of ‘NOSTALGIA’, due to more than one reasons- the primary being, a blog post by my bestie (can be read here http://tanya-das.blogspot.in/2014/09/a-home-called-hostel.html?showComment=1410413176622#c6871874135258170274 ).

Though I myself and in my head, knew the definition of ‘nostalgia’, I still decided to refer to a dictionary for a better direction in writing this here. Surprisingly enough, it explained the word in just the same manner as I had thought it to be-“ wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one’s life, to one’s home or homeland, or to one’s family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time”. And in a more human, sentimental, and expression-ist manner, it can be defined as that sentiment or feeling that gives you the same shiver that it gave you at the time that incident happened. When attacked by this beautiful beast called nostalgia, you can suddenly feel the warmth of that hand on your hand, you smile at the joke that was cracked probably an year ago, your eyes become moist thinking of that broken pencil which but broke when you were in primary school, you feel the goosebumps of the declaration of your graduation results, and the sadness of the first job rejection! Such is the power of this one word sentiment, that it can suddenly send you on a roller coaster of events that moved you in your life, without that much debated invention of the time machine, and yet a travel back in time, only with respect to feelings and emotions.

Now a few days back, I met this gentleman, who I would like to term as, a nostalgia- critic. He said he believed in living only in the present, and that nostalgia made one weak. He claimed to be living only in the present, and that his life had no place for nostalgia or any emotion of the like. I respect his position as he put it, and yet do not agree with his line of thought. In my opinion, it is totally upon the person travelling into nostalgia, to make such feeling his strength. It is in fact a privilege that we have the opportunity to go back in time, and once again feel those moments, even if it sometimes means that we will re-live a fear. For me, nostalgia as I see it, is a feeling that strengthens, and not many can brave the emotion with a smile. For those who can, I call them- ‘Nostaligic-ans’ ;)

So here we go, my happy message to this world- Enjoy each moment you live, smile when you can and cry when you must, and just every now and then, do soak in that moment of nostalgia, for it will give you the strength to go that extra mile and create another moment to be nostalgic about!

A shade that somehow pushes me to an area of 'nostalgia'

A shade that somehow pushes me to an area of ‘nostalgia’

- Stuti

P.S. I hope my experiments by my own life translate into many moments of nostalgia in the future :)

Fear.


She fears the stars,
For they are too bright for her eyes.
She fears the moon,
For it seems too calm to be true.

She fears the smile on her lips,
For it means happiness, and joy.
She fears tears in her eyes,
For they said, it means unhappy notes.

She fears death,
For they would be gone forever after that.
She fears birth too,
For they will be competition and responsibility soon.

She fears beauty,
For it can fool the world.
She fears the not- so- beautiful,
For they do not see the beautiful in themselves.

So she fears this, and she fears that,
She fights it all, pacifies her heart.
She’s told that fear’s no big, its all only in the head,
Yet she fears fear, hoping that she FARES WELL.

- Stuti