Ubuntu.

In an age where most of us have lost touch with the life and rhythm of magic, the cycle of the year is a sure way back into the Center of Life. 

This tale has been told since generations. Its that time where out of the greatest darkness, the light of the world is reborn. Here forth, the light grows and the hours of darkness will begin to slowly lessen. 
Marking open fire to this darkness, even though the days were smaller, there was hope and joy lighting up the house. Gathering around for that story, the fairy tale, I'd glow up in the light of the stars. As I grow older, I take my mother's place as the storyteller, and it's my turn to tell you the tale of generations. 

It's a story about the inevitable cycle, the journey of birth, growth, fulfillment, decline, death turning back to birth. Darkness has forever remained a puzzle, a riddle calling out for an answer by itself. An impression on sight, a slight tickle to awareness as it fled by, darkness came along with premonitions of its own. I never feared it, I'd always say instantly. Somehow, it made me appreciate the daylight so much more. Someway, it made light breaking through cracks seem so magical and beautiful. But people didn't see it,  they grew accustomed, they came on accord with this change. So they missed the darkness taking over.
Darkness deepened. Chaos and mayhem drowned the town. Stumbling around the dark, people began to lose sight of just about everything.
A woman, neither old nor young, longing the shimmer of the light in her eyes, in memory of the lights, saw what no one in the land saw. Her children, neither bairn nor big, had that light in them, that light which imbibed her own soul. But it was growing tougher by the day to fight the dusk. So, to return that light in their soul to her children, she committed herself to set out on a journey. A journey to travel in search of the light amiss and implore it to return to the land it once inhabited. With no conception of how long it may take, she wanted the children to take care of each other, to love each other, and remember her love for them each day. 
Despite the agony of leaving the two behind, she set out into the cold lonely winter night. Walking past the dreary dew dipped grass, she sang to the light she remembered. Dimmed by the richness of the night, the stars and the moon in the heaven above sang in her glory, her journey. Rejoicing in the thought of finally seeing the light again, she finally reached the outskirts of the land.
But what welcomed her was more of an appalling image of bedlam. Dug up fields, lost animals, uprooted trees, she saw houses being dismantled and everyone in a rush, in desperate hunt for something. That was the land of lost gold. But there it was, right in the middle of everything, the patch of green, a single bare-branched tree. And midst below the tree was the summer sunrise to the world, unnoticed, unseen by the peers in the dark. This wasn't hers to keep. Before moving on with her quest, she spotted someone out there. With the eyes of a dreamer, he seemed to be building a house, a home. She defined the hazy ray of glimmer to him, making him promise to do up the entire land as his home.
Asleep beneath a tree in the woods, she dreamed of the moon descend down from the heaven and bury itself deep below a tree. She awakened to dig up the ground to have found a crystal pear, at which point the villagers raided in and shattered every last bit of it. 

Finally awake, out of her dream, in hope for an answer, she found herself step into the underworld of dreams and imaginations. It was different here, even the darkness felt warm, nothing like the world above. She walked in deeper, she saw flower buds snug in, just as she tucked her children in. The rivers and streams so pure, flowed through crystal rocks. The stones, so gorgeous rivaled the most beautiful of sunsets and gemstones. Past all this, she walked till the center of the earth. In that dark cavern, in the purest of watery depths, she saw the luminous light. Gazing, in the heart of the shining halo, she saw, a child, the most wondrous and innocent one. Just as mothers do, she smiled at the sight of the child enveloped in the light. The child smiled back and she heard as though a child's voice whisper, "I have waited for you so long! How glad I am you have finally come."

~It's a story about Grace. Grace, it's a gift the Spirits bestow on all of us, whether deserving, or not. It is that unexpected, unmeasured gift of Love. 

Stories.

So, that's how it starts. In a random phone call, middle of the night, all teary (maybe crying, hopefully laughing).. but however, it led to this, couldn't be that bad.

It all happened a couple of days ago. A bright sunny day, the clouds had finally given way to sunshine. She sat pretty with the sun shining up her face. With the glitter in her eyes, she soared up towards the horizon. Somewhere on the way, the doors to a home opened up. Most as soon as she found solace in a perfect corner, is when the war broke off. It must have shattered her heart to not be accepted with open arms or an open heart. But the keeper had to establish boundaries. It was a necessity, more of an involuntary thing. It's that feeling of your space, your zone being invaded and the lengths you'd go to to protect it. So that's what they both did. She protected herself with a smile, that's all she has. And the other arguing the mind and heart, trying to understand this newcomer- to share home.


~All our stories don't always have a happy ending. Freedom, acceptance and revamping; takes time and grit.

The bird was a passerine. 'Is' a passerine. She flew in that day and decided to stay. The not-dog Hazel fought while the little mocking bird sat up the window sill. It was quite a sight really, seeing them play catch and cook around the house. But she refused to budge and leave the house, or fly off. Some of us are nesters. After half an hour of rigorous chasing and fighting amongst the two, they finally decided to take a break. All this mostly went about in my room itself. We made a video of the not-dog trying to fly up to the funny-bird plonked on the paddle.
Well, end of the day, we are all friends and I stay with a not-dog and a not-bird. One still lying lazy next to the bed, and the other still sprawled idle on the paddle.

Ría.

Blank. Absolutely blank.

And there are such times too. Funny how we keep harping on never having our minds without a thought in it, and still find ourselves with that dazed expression staring into nothingness and space. What’s that one specific thought setting you into the transition of trance. (It’s a question.) That one last thing you seem to recall before driving into the sunset.

So, this is new. You can write with a blank mind too apparently. That’s a first. What’s it about, all the chaos and rush around that’s making words pour out. Past nights and storms, dawn came around eclipses.

~Change is my constant. 

PC: Gauree Sharma.

Infinity.

Stages in life, one must see, feel, think and get par.

One. Start the dream. Step into the purity of it, the vividity merging deep into each sense. It's there to take over, to break past what's real. Helpless, willingly, hold the hand and walk.

Two. It's on the way there. Somewhere. With eyes closed, and a shy smile spreading through the darkness, it condenses that sparkle.

Three. Life, becomes the dream itself. The sunset, the sunrise, even the midnight. Heights taken, clouds shrouded, its the catch to the blind fall. Roll in into arms of colors, patterns and lights.

Four. Tap on the bridge between visible and invisible. Even the dense nightfall brings out its fireflies. Magic, is all around, bridging that gap.

Five. Fairy lights, slow dancing in the burning room. All elements ablaze, the chill in the water doesn't break the fervor in that fire. Mirrors reflecting the union, the collaboration.

Six. Walk down the aisle (the dream is coming, for you and for me). Magpies carpet the way. Daffodils carve stones. Sun drops down snowflakes. Names are written to evince.

Seven. Infinity is to infinity. Seep into the state of trance. Its taken over completely, without a cell to breathe. Belongings, are already declared.

Eight. The last kiss on the lips. Dreams as these don't end. It grows. Its growing. Raising its child. Hustling through the thunderstorms to keep that child breathing.

Nine. Slip away. Soul-mate, the prodigy. Years of patience, and its here. The joy, the elixir beyond, free of the poison. Life, breathing slowly into dream (and it awakening the life in me).

~These eyes still inhabit glass castles, dreams, magic, fairy dust and a Prince Charming. Tears still haven't welled up in these eyes. There's nothing for keeps, so these live in memories what came by, and dreams and illusions of them. Look closely, and one may find what they never should. Stare as much as they wish not to. Mirrors shimmering in the dark, these eyes will always smile. For that dream.
"Da cosa nasce cosa."

All roads lead to just one heart. Mine.
Fall in love with it, and it'll keep you alive for the rest of eternity beyond this life.

Solipsism.

~Words.

It's probably just this time of the year.  Maybe it's all just in my head. Maybe a bit of it is out there. Even though I do see most of it. Isn't seeing believing? Maybe it's just me.

Stare into distant space; recalling memories, remembering experiences, the adrenaline rush, the push, even the pull. Uncomplicated dreaming, there were times one would just sit and wonder and maybe knit togetherness. Maybe, who am i to say or think or need or want. But that said, we are all here living for that just one thing- 'uncomplicated dreaming'. In your head, and in mine.

Acoustic version out, starving for restart.

photo credits: Sharanya Sridhar

PS- I complete a year here. With tears of happiness and sorrow still trickling down strong, a lot was lost and more was gained. I cherish what i had, and love and treasure what i now do have. I stand here wishing things maybe a lot different, but i'm just so happy being here, standing where i am, my space, I'd never change a thing.
Staring into distant space, still, even today, recalling so many memories.
I'm dreaming about what's next.
It's time.

(I'll be here.)

Destination.

"Life is a journey, not a destination."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson.

~I fall short of words just merely thinking about the journey so far. Decades, years, months. Moments. So many I think, I was sure I felt I lived my life in. I was so so sure, and yet, at the next turn was something that absorbed me in.

Just so many times in the past few days last month I'd open the page and try, honestly, to get those right words, frame the picture perfectly. I'd hope you'd see what i don't say. That's about it. Today, i don't have anything to share. Today, i don't have any tales to tell. Today. Today, i'm all about excitement, amazement, reckoning and expectations.

dark side of the lens.

*counting days.

Dreams.

Day 45.

In my footsteps- Chapter 2.
Remember the first article on 'In my footsteps'. A happy proud thought. Here's another one in dedication by the same author as last, my little one.

Dreams.

Dreams. A magical place where one finds an escape from the harsh reality of life. A place where you find joy and happiness, peace and contentment, or perhaps, terror and pain. It's a beautiful concept. Even with the eyes closed, we are able to see a world so mysterious, so marvelous, yet when we wake up, it so happens that we are unable to recall those moments.
After a long day of hard work, when one falls asleep, the mind relaxes the body by the amazing pictures of the subconscious. What we see, what we hear, the smell, the touch, everything our mind stores in the subconscious, revealing its secrets only in the form of dreams. A troubled mind would many a times cause a nightmare, in which the person lives his fears. Terrible dreams, beautiful dreams, dreams of pain, dreams of happiness, the nightmare of losing someone or the excitement of falling in love. What you think, what you feel, is what you see in your dreams. Dreams are merely messages from the subconscious mind. A person, guilty of some crime, would have troubling dreams. A person, content with his life, could have a peaceful dream. Students my age? Well, we just have exam terrors! Dreams, or actually nightmares, of missing an exam, sleeping through it or falling ill. We see what we fear. We see the fear coming true, but its only imagination. Its the time we let our imagination run wild, having no control over it. That's the beauty of it, not knowing what will happen, the unknown is what makes it so interesting. The mystery is what makes it magical. Yet, some people do practice controlling their dreams. Its called lucid dreaming Risking their lives, as there is a danger of complete paralysis, the person tries lucid dreaming so as to gain control of their dreams.
Dreams are, many a times, absurd, completely random. Suppose, as an example, you might just have a dream of playing football with a bunch of ghosts, or perhaps, jumping from tree to tree, like Tarzan. You could even sit and chat with Newton, under an apple tree! It's all up to your subconscious. If your subconscious is in a good mood, well then, happy dreams, but if in a bad mood, get ready for the worst roller coaster of your life.
Dreams are not only caused by the subconscious mind, but we, consciously dream a lot of dreams as well. The aspirations, the desires of our hearts. A dream to be happy, a dream to be successful. The dream we see with open eyes. We study, we work hard, why? To achieve what we desire. We aspire to be successful, to have a happy, content dream. A joyous life is everyone's dream. We want to be something in our life, maybe like our idols, maybe someone different. Some want to be doctors, some pilots. It's their dream. A mother's dream is for her child. A dream where the child is secure, safe and happy. A father's dream is for his child's future. A student's dream is good grades, therefore a good college. A lover's dream is to be united with his love.
Dreams are beautiful. Dreams are dark. Dreams are scary. Dreams many a time, leave a mark. A mark on us, a mark on our minds.Dreams are nothing but a figment of our imagination. The ability of our minds to think something so beautiful, so colorful. We all have a dream, we work to make that dream come true, and when it does, our heart alone knows the exultation it feels. Dreams are like books. I believe, we live two different lives. A life so harsh tat it makes us weary, and another, of magic, mystery and uncertainty. Dreams are both, conscious and subconscious minds which are uncertain, vague, but are equally endearing. To dream a dream with open eyes, to think of the success, the happiness, excites us. Dreams we see with eyes closed are equally terrifying. They are terrifying, for we don't know what to expect. It's the fear of the unknown that excites us, thrills us. Like books, these dreams take us to places completely new, places made up or maybe places we desire to go to. Similar to books, we find a mixture of feelings in them, sometimes joy, other times pain.
Dreams of the future, of the past. Dreams of oceans, or deserts vast. Dreams black, dreams blue, dreams of all beautiful hues. Magic is withing your mind, your heart. Beauty is within you eyes. Dreams are, well, a composition of all these, and the element of mystery. Let the imagination run wild. Dream and make your dreams turn into reality. Live the dream and feel the contentment, the satisfaction. Walk towards the dream, clutch it in your fist, and show the world your achievement.
Dream, because dream are life. The numerous different lives you live, everytime you dream. Dreams are escape from the madness of life, yet in dreams, we live an unknown life. A life based on imaginations, a life based on our feelings. A life we don't fear, because we know it's not real. Or maybe what we are living right now, this life, is merely a dream and when we die, we actually just awake from a long slumber. Interesting as it, it depends on the mind, what you think of dreams. Dreams, forever, shall be a mystery, as life is.

-Ananya.

Unnoticed.

So, back into bedlam. It's a day of chaos, catching up, clutter and customizations. But then again, it's a Thursday. Aren't they just meant to unload-load.
A space where students are panicking running to their exam centers, and teachers to last minute hope for them. Also, sharing space the love-hate relationships of your work environment. What you think of offloading may just be taking you towards overloading. Just a scenario. So what between this hustle bustle, this mid-week braindeath. Oh! Did I forget to mention emotions of anger, exasperation, depression flavored perfectly to go with the want and desire to kill, murder, slaughter, maybe even die. Due respects to each one.
Anyway, turn around, there is a place called home where hopefully sun's shining and poppies are blooming. That long drive back. That tiring journey and walk through the forest. That frustrating sound of honks gelling with incessant chatter over someone else's shoulder.
Wonder. Ponder. What of guarantees.
~So, after struggling through a tough Thursday turning me down, I have the never-ending train ride to look forward to.
No, seriously.
But talk of bumping into bliss.
Sometimes, we, you and me don't realize how a day comes crashing onto us. How the turn of events in your life affect, influence and change the others. That vicious cycle of cause.
Dad says, "its always your choice". And that's how I came to believe of it.
In that packed train of people, some on phone, some amongst themselves..some unpleasant, some silent and others mostly just indifferent..there was this one in a corner. Nothing special about this one, just plonked on the floor clutching to a bag that seemed important. Trapped in my own web of thoughts, I happened to glance over. Found myself greeted with a warm smile. That's it.
That's all it took to repair the broken pieces of a tiring Thursday.
That unnoticed stranger.
The countless days of happiness.

Ceramic dolls.

Day 36/40.

Ethically, these aren't days and issues to be included and made a part of one's happy-days. But somethings are better recorded and a word spread out than kept buried within. Days, more often than not, do set into the dark night.

Silence. Withdrawal. Anger. Humiliation. Shame. Retirement.
Emotions overwhelm at sights and expressions. Stories untold, hampering progressions and one pulls out all other.
It's how my blog's always had tales from my days to share and known. So, what do I have today. I have one from the haystack you have been a part of. Surely you are unsatisfied with the country's political situation today. What are you doing about it? Of course, how are you not disturbed about the financial condition of the country. How are we resolving it? Certainly, aren't we deeply upset about the economical setbacks. Who's going about coming to a solution, or even trying? Tell me what you voice out.
Crime against women. 45351 molestation cases. 24923 rape cases. 9173 sexual harassment cases. Reported. 24 percent conviction rate for rape in India. 20 years maximum prison sentence for rape. Step out of the circle of violence. 98 percent of the victims know their attacker.
Disturbing facts? Did you report from your share.
Put this statistic into perspective, any women around you, your mom, your sister, you friend, niece, cousin or even the one right across the couch, one out of three is sexually assaulted or been harassed.
That's all bad.
That's all a fact.

So, my question. How is it that we raise the issue and commit to it.
It's just something I wanted to raise. To readers, to people in general and get an answer along with a panorama widespread. To build upon, when it happened in my vicinity I did what was in my power to put a stop to it. To support further, I had the reinforcement of authority to voice it out as loudly as one could. In hope, in optimism, the ones out there take an example, as I did.

“I wish I could have saved her,” he says now.
~Nirbhaya case.