It is often a chosen few days of the year, such as one’s birthday, that make one feel different somehow. One of such days in the lives of many Indian women in North India, is the day of Karvachauth, celebrated each year with renewed faith in a lot of things and forces I may not be the right person to talk about. But the positivity and fervour that the day instils in these women (and as I see it, some men too!), adds a brilliant shade to the otherwise mostly- black & white, palate of life. I discussed this festival and also wrote about it last year, so for those of you needing a background, here’s where you go –https://expressedd.wordpress.com/2014/10/13/karvachauth/
Thoughts in my head this year around..
Ah you sweet dear beautiful moon!
She competes with you every Karvachauth to look prettier and nice.
And when she finally sees you in the dark sky, after waiting for what seems like decades each year,
She resigns with a smile, to your beauty, as her beau resigns to hers.
A festival celebrating love and rituals, hopes and promises,
The fervour leaving in the hearts that love, a feeling of ‘HAPPILY COMMITTED EVER AFTER’.
A thought for all to ponder on today. Your thoughts on this are most welcome :)
All’s well, that ends well, but does it? Does the sequence of events in the middle of ‘the beginning’ and ‘the end’, really not matter? I think it does. In fact, I don’t like endings! Am I a fan of beginnings then? No, not particularly. But I like to enjoy whats happening in that sweet and salty phase spanning right after beginning, and just before the end. For, that is when you have the liberty and power to model that clay to your fancy, then break it again and model it again to experiment (until you secretly approach ‘the end’). Does it then mean that ‘the beginning’ can happen only once? I submit my answer to this as a firm ‘no’! A beginning can happen wherever you wish for it to happen. Just get to the point, set your foot firm there, and put up a placard declaring ‘I begin’! It will not, and should not kill your ego to declare that you are just a beginner, in fact whatever be the age, you will feel young once again, and what will follow will be that lovely phase of getting things rolling. Some may argue that endings are important too. Again, I couldn’t deny that, because aren’t you entitled to your sweet opinion too? Here you will complain that I’m being diplomatic in my argument and writing, but here’s the deal, if I do not support the cause of a beginning and an ending, how will I love what’s in the middle of these two milestones? ;)
Only she could hear the music,
Some drum roll, some violins.
Only she could dance to the tunes,
Some free style, some practiced moves.
Her happy heart brought smile to her face,
Her happy face brought smiles to his heart too.
For reasons she didn’t know, she skipped around in her head,
For reasons he knew, he too jumped a trampoline or two.
Their unsynchronized reasons of happiness,
But synchronized by love perhaps?
Their unknown reasons of smiles and shine,
Secretly known to their hearts too well.
They’re too busy to halt and feel,
Their increased heartbeats, the change in their rhythm.
So the hearts play along, having their own fun in this-
As these two- she and he, play along with the magic that this RUSH IS.
She looks outside,
And the rainy smell of soil makes her happy.
She walks outside,
And the little girls doing their waltz make her smile.
She seeks to write a prose on ‘happiness’,
Or the ingredients nonetheless?
Albeit the knowledge her heart already carries,
And the constituents her mind already knows.
Her thoughts wander to words and idioms all across,
And her ideas want to be the most innovative with words.
So she probes a little more into definitions, and the art of writing,
Though already knowing what to know.
She writes, and rubbishes drafts each passing day,
And yet captures what she finally concludes-
‘Happiness’ is a virtue sans a universal definition,
It is simply that something, that makes one smile despite the varying tones and OVERTONES OF THE RESPECTIVE :)
There they see her standing in one corner of the station,
Staring at the ceiling, as if looking for a star up there,
Or probably staring hard in the hope that one would appear from nowhere.
She does some quiet calculations and then as if rubbishes them in her head,
She waves her hand too, as if a wand in her hand would do some magic,
And then quietly closes her eyes for a minute, sighing, not in disappointment though.
Some see her doing this same time everyday there, and one asks her what she really had in mind,
‘ Oh!’, she exclaimed, ‘You see that tile up there in the ceiling? So I look up there,
And remember my late father who was one of the workers at the construction site of this now- indispensable station. He left his mark in this world!’ RESPECT TO THEM! YES, THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO BUILT THESE PLACES TOO.
Hiding her face from a million eyes in the crowd,
She looks for that one face she has in her mind.
The picture in her head, she wipes a tear from her eyes,
As she silently surrenders, on not being able to find the one.
Two twinkling eyes calling out to her,
With emotions running high and low.
She sees it all on that face in her head,
Not knowing what to do next, not knowing what to know.
When suddenly she finds that face, staring back at her,
Not at all running away, in fact moving only when she herself does,
And then she turns around as somebody, she thinks he, calls out for her,
The face gone again, she smiles at how she looks today. THE SEARCH IS OVER.
She lives in that moment and refuses to move,
Very firm, right there.
She breathes every moment, and lets it all settle on her,
Breathing in all of it, content that she does.
They came and she saw them coming,
Still determined to stand against the tide they were.
They called for her, out loud there,
She heard them, not really understanding the meaning of all that was said.
This- her story, her plight, her life,
Surprisingly, she accepts and expects no sympathies or smiles.
Having no regrets to the slight, she strides on, slinging on her purse high,
Walking away, to yet ANOTHER MILESTONE, ANOTHER STORY.
Some say that time flies. Some have no time at all. And there’s this other lot of people who like to while their time away. I interestingly, was in conversation with time yesterday.
I had this peculiar dream last night, where as unrealistic and funny it may seem, I was in conversation with ‘time’! Nothing fancy, we talked about this and that, and then it suddenly decided to, like in most other cases, run away! Now while we were at it, Mr. Time, narrated how it experienced so many different characters in it’s course everyday, and that tonight it intended to interview me to no end, with only one question and wanted me to answer it in full detail, not leaving until it was satisfied with the explanation. The question was a pretty simple one, with no frills, and open ends for an elaborate answer- ‘Tell me dear, what does the concept of ‘time’ mean to you?’
Now to be very frank, this question left me baffled! For, in this world of twisted conversations, nobody had asked me such a simple and straight question in the longest time ;) So after thinking about this for a few minutes, I put my answer on the table with decent ease. Rather calmly, and with a confident smile, I said, ‘Time is magic, and that will explain it all!’. Satisfied, Mr. Time left with no further questions.
Interestingly, this conversation was not as simple as it seems here. It left me overjoyed with the realisation that magic is everywhere and that time truly is magical! I wouldn’t say that time is a commodity. Neither is it a virtue or a quality. Rather, it is an elastic concept which accommodates all- the past, the present, and the future too. When in love, and in company of loved ones, time would fly. When in pain, time would pause, and when in a rush, time would hurry too. Adaptive as it is, time wonderfully aligns all to a schedule like no other. All in all, time is a beautifully crafted, personalised, yet the most practical gift of magic to mankind.
The conversation last night left me happy as I thanked my stars for the gift of time, and the choice of being blessed by magic too. It is ‘time’ that bonds one to others, and it is ‘time’ that detaches some due to space.
The tick-tocks I thank,
For they chose me to make me smile.
The hands of time as if chosen to play from me-
A rhythm of life, a lifetime of tunes, some magic, some trysts, SOME TRIALS!
P.s. Time stops for none, and still patiently waits for you to find that special one ;)