Friday, 24 February 2017

You Only Live Once.

We humans are not complicated, really. We make ourselves complicated. Everything is tiny before us, but what makes it seem huge is our mind, it is but our ability to over think that makes our lives and our selves difficult.
I agree, every person deals with things differently. These 'things' can be problems, feelings, fear, or whatever you want to name it!
But let us take a minute to realise that we are given just one life, and what good is it going to bring us, to keep our thoughts within? Can we not find an easier way to explain our thoughts and feelings to people who really care? Can we not live a life less complicated? I know, it takes courage, I've been there. I've given myself the 'talk', you know, "Suffer in silence!", But that is not how you should be dealing with things. Find a way to come out. If not say, you can always write.
Life seems so much better when you have someone wanting to just listen to what you have to say. Speak it out, empty yourself, you don't need that extra baggage of fear, guilt, sadness.. you don't need to think too much about anything at all.
I'm sure, there has to be too much within, but just put one step forward. And you will be surprised to see yourself walking your way to peace. Don't wait too long for until you realise it is too late to take that first step.
You're hurt? Let that person know why!
You love him/her? Say it!
Worried about a test or an interview? Prepare well, and trust yourself.
You don't have to leave people guessing what you're mad about, or whatever that's bothering you. if they care, they'll ask, don't brush such things away. Talk!
Fear is not going to help you get through, only you can do that! You just need to put that one step forward, because You Only Live Once.

Sunday, 21 August 2016

To infinity and beyond..

Now, I sit with her on a lonely bridge, across the highway, talking things out, sorting this mess out of her head, as she puts her head on my shoulder, and ask softly, "What now?", her eyes shut. I put my head on hers, and say, "I'm still here with you, always have, and always will. I will never let go, trust me, my love." she lifts her head up and looks straight into my eyes. Her teary eyes, and quiet lips, describe helplessness, but, I wonder why. We are still together, we sit together, hand-in-hand. I embrace her in my arms and tell her "Do not look at me like it's over, it's not.We may not be the same persons that we were some time ago, but our souls remain connected, our hearts beat together. I loved you then, and I love you more than ever, now. I see no boundaries, we are free of all restrictions and worldly fears; fear of not being accepted, fear of losing one another. But, now, you're here with me, and I'm here with you. You belong to me and I belong to you. Isn't this what we really wanted?" I look at her and smile. I see a trace of smile on her face, sparkle in her eyes, like stars. I wonder if she ever looked so pretty before. She pounced on me and hugged me like nobody was watching. But, wait, nobody can see us, anyway. This hug, her love for me, makes me forget everything. Nothing, but our togetherness, matters anymore, not even the accident that had taken place on this highway some time ago. The accident might have taken our lives away, it sure has killed our bodies, but this was the accident that brought us together for eternity. I promised her, that I would love her to infinity and beyond, and I'm one such lucky man to keep such a promise. 

Friday, 22 July 2016

Movie Review - Udta Punjab

#UdtaPunjab is a movie worth watching. I don't understand what the censor board didn't want the audience to see! This is not just a movie, but reality, which is portrayed so creatively. To watch Udta Punjab is to walk on the streets of Punjab for two hours and thirty minutes, that may seem like forever.
Alia Bhatt completely convinced me in a role that is so unlike her. Her portrayal of a young hockey player who is sexually and mentally abused moved me to tears. This is, undoubtedly, her best performance so far.
Shahid Kapoor, Kareena Kapoor Khan and Diljit Dosanjh didn't seem like actors at all. To me as an audience, there was Tommy, the singer, a drug addict (Shahid Kapoor); there was a doctor who worked for the rehabilitation of the drug addicts (Kareena Kapoor Khan); there was an inspector who strived hard to discover the roots of drug supply, and expose all of those involved (Diljit Dosanjh). Alia Bhatt was on another level altogether. Each and every actor have justified their roles, making this movie worth watching!

Friday, 17 June 2016

Woman with wings!

Forbidden wings she possessed,
Alarming the wannabe superiors.
Laughing her fears out,
Launching herself like a missile, but
Enormous wings that once spread wide open -
Now, are caged like wild bird that she was within.

Another puppet, she was, in the show,
None stood against, but applauded instead.
Glowing in the dark, she danced,
Even though her self was falling apart;
Like death happened to her soul, not her body.

Monday, 13 June 2016

A Shared Story.

The dew drop just started its small journey from the corner of the leaf toward the pond. Glistening in the sunrise behind the drop wavered its way to the pond surrounded with moist waves of cool breeze nearby.
A pond set on top a picturesque mountain. There stood a lonely banyan tree. The tree had lived a really really long time and had seen time move on with its slow churning movements across life cycles.
On each direction the trees branch stretched out, there were multiple views. Multiple views and multiple stories stretched out across its laborious memories.
Multiple stories did the tree bear, for many sung the songs of the village, of men and women, of animals and of family under the shade of its branches. The children looked at the setting sun over the horizon and their eyes gleaming with luck for they could see nature's magic.
The water in the pond was an abode to the tiny fish, which swiftly swam across the pond, delighting the onlookers. This was the place that had to be searched, for many Arabs had wasted their lives in search of treasure. Seldom did they realize that the true treasure lies in the beating of the heart with joy and peace.
Folktales were told during the nights under the tree and in front of the burning wood, the animals in the stories came to life and tried to teach mankind to live the life, the one life that they were blessed to have - even the fiend of the folktales became the children's hero.
Who knew that some day, the tears would dry and the eyes would be left barren! The same eyes that once sent little drops down the cheeks of children who watched the unleaving of the golden leaves from the branches of the magnanimous banyan tree.
The eyes were now void of tears, attachments receded and the innocence lost, for the times, now changed. Children grew up, and were no longer fascinated with the folktales that they loved at some point in their lives. They are all set to leave the village today, to leave their families, to discover themselves elsewhere, to learn new things and to attain success. They, now, chose the city life, promising their families for a better future, and a better life. They bid adieu, leaving not just the village, but also leaving hopes in the hearts of their families, hopes of seeing their children soon. Now, the banyan tree has also witnessed their departure.
Strong wind blew, like the nature already predicted something, but this was a storm, which failed to stop them from leaving; and they left, not looking back, at their families who brought them up, lessons that they learnt, stories that they shared, and the village, where they grew up.
Days, months and years passed, but none returned. The families only received some money in the early days of the month.
Today, people gathered around the banyan tree once again, but this time, for a different purpose. This time, people gathered, not to sing the songs of joy, but to sing a song of lament.
A better life and a better future, were promises left unfulfilled. Life in the city for children, and life in the village for people became monotonous, where the city worked, and the village awaited.

Writers; Dexter, Panda and Junior.

Saturday, 11 June 2016

A fallen, broken doll.

I'm sitting in my room, playing with my dolls. Today, one of my dolls was getting married and all my other dolls have gathered to congratulate her. This is such a happy occasion, I have a bright smile on my face.
"Sagrika?", a call from my father; his voice, very loud. I was frightened by his voice and accidentally dropped my doll, and now, it lays down broken. If I had to look at my broken doll any longer, I would end up crying, but right now, I must rush to where my father is.
I see him seated in his room, who is accompanied by my mother, my little brother who is playing with some wooden sticks, my mother's sister (my aunt) and, oh, my uncle, who is wounded.
My father walks towards me, kneels down and says, "Sagi, do me a favour, will you? Go to your room and pack a few clothes of yours, we must leave this place..", I can see tears in my father's eyes. He shuts his eyes immediately, and after a while, he opens his eyes, looks at me, and says, "- this place, our little paradise... we must leave and never return. pack only a couple of clothes, I'll buy other things for you elsewhere." He looks confused, unsure of things; I look at him with several questions, but I dare not ask him any. I do not want to leave this place. My school, my friends, my dance classes.. How can I leave them all behind? I turn around and walk towards my room. I shut the door behind me, my back against the door. What's happening? I think to myself. I cannot figure out anything; but now I have to do what I was told to do, 'to pack my bags'. I pull out my favorite bag, that has a design of a beautiful peacock, and colorful beads. I pick out a few clothes of mine, randomly, lost in my memories with this place. As I tie my bag, and to check for it's weight, I stand up, and underneath my feet is the fallen, broken doll. I look at it, as if I were that doll. I leave the doll there, and walk out of my room, where I find my entire family, with a few bags, ready to leave.
There is a ruckus outside, and my father looks petrified. When I look outside, I see Meena's house in flames. I've screamed the loudest within myself, but I couldn't manage to utter a word. I see my fights, my friendship and my time spent with Meena in a flash. My mother lifts me up and embraces me, like she is trying to hide me in her arms.
We dunk and move cautiously, trying not to be noticed by anybody. Suddenly, Samreen aunty, my mother's friend, comes before us along with her husband. She looks concerned, but my mother tells her to back off. My mother feels threatened; but why, I wonder. Samreen aunty looks shocked, and says, "Chandini, how could you ever think that I'll bring harm to you and your family? I'm here to help you. Attackers are just around the corner; come to my house, I'll keep you all sheltered there until it is safe to leave." My mother puts me down, and hugs Samreen aunty.
We're, now, hiding in the house of Samreen aunty, in a dark room. I do not understand why do we have to leave our own house and hide just the next door. My younger brother starts to cry, and my mother hushes him to sleep. I'm so confused, my father said that we must leave this place forever and never return; but why? Who wants us out? Who harmed Meena and her family and why?
Silence has sealed our lips and fear ruled our minds and hearts.
I'm tired, I feel so sleepy, but I'm also hungry. I nudge my mother and say, "Ma, I'm want something to eat, I'm hungry; and also sleepy. Give me some food and then I can go home and sleep, please?". My mother hushes me quickly, placing her hand over my lips, like she doesn't want me to talk. Then, she slowly whispers, " Honey, I'm taking you to a better place, where rooms are bright unlike how it is here; and there, I shall cook all that you like, and you can eat all of that as much as you want to. But, for now, darling, please go to sleep." She hugs me and places my head on her lap, slowing patting me so that I fall asleep.
I wake up with a bang on the door, 'This is Samreen, open the door, it's safe outside. I think, it's the best time you leave." We collect our things and open the door. My mother hugs her friend like she's never going to see her again. They look at each other with tears in their eyes, and they hold each other's hands, firm. They don't say a word, but it seems like they didn't have the need to say anything. We say our goodbyes to Samreen aunty and her husband, and leave. Outside again, we make our way to some place safe, carefully, cautiously. My parents, aunt and uncle, look like they haven't slept at all, like they were too afraid to blink, even. But what's scaring them so much? I wish I knew. My brother is fast asleep and my father is carrying him. My uncle is trying to walk with the support of my aunt, seems like he is suffering terribly in pain.
We've reached to a railway station now, where there are several people waiting to leave the place for good. So many people, I see, as if the entire city is wanting to go elsewhere, all together, at the same time. The railway station is so crowded that it's hard to even enter the main gate. After, what seemed to be like an eternity, we finally managed to reach the platform. My parents, my brother and I boarded the train, hardly finding a place to stand initially, but we somehow managed to make some place inside. My uncle and aunt were the last ones to get to the train and suddenly, I hear something loud, like a thunder, and I hear it again. I try to look outside, unable to get a complete view. I can only see my uncle and aunt collapsing on the ground, and the train started moving forward. My father screams in anger and my mother is holding him back, she is crying her heart out.
The train is moving away, from a place where I was born, where I played with Meena and other girls, where I learnt how to dance, a place that I call my home. We are also moving away from bloodshed, from hatred and from death. But, should we be running away from death? We have lost everything, is it worth living anymore?
The train stopped, all people leave the train. We have now come to a place that seems like a land of aliens. I have never seen this place before. Where am I? In silence, we stand together, looking at a new place, like we're suddenly given another life without being warned or even asked. In silence, we try to drink this change of reality, that struck us hard.
Today, I complete my sixty fifth year towards the other side of the border, the other side of separation. So much has happened in these sixty five years - I was married at the age of 17, I lost my parents at the age of 23, mg brother got married and chose a different life for himself. I had given birth to 5 children, I lost 4 in different accidents while they were still young.
All of this is painful, but, one such incident that still breaks my heart into tiny pieces, is the separation, the partition. All of these sixty five years, I have just been breathing and not actually living. I have seen my life being turned upside down, and I could do nothing about it.
Today, I live in a rented house, trying to make a living with a job like stitching. But, what I really am doing is that I'm waiting; waiting for death. My soul has always been on the other side of the rope, and my body is here, just breathing, existing.
Even today, I see myself as that fallen, broken doll. Fallen hopes, broken heart, that's how I define myself, that's how I have been existing, and that is how I will continue to exist.

Tuesday, 7 June 2016

A cup of coffee.

It has been quite a long time that I haven't seen my friend, Zoya; I quickly fetch for my phone, unplug the charger and dial her number. I hear the ring, and in no time, she answers, "Hey, What's up, girl? Long time, no see", I hear her giggle. I smile and respond, " I'm doing good; I was just thinking how long it has been since we met, let's grab a cup of coffee? There's so much we need to talk. " I mutter, and I wait for a 'yes' from her end. After a short pause, she says, "Well,  I'd love that, but, um.. You see, mum isn't really keeping well.. So, you know.." And suddenly she goes from um... to all excited, and says, "oh, why don't you just come over to my place? I can make coffee and we can talk as much as we want to, what say?". Okay, that seems to be a nice idea, so I say, "yes, that will do, I will see you in about thirty minutes."
I get up, grab my scooter keys and head towards the main door. While I climb the stairs down, I quickly leave an SMS to my mum's and dad's number, which reads, "I'm meeting Zoya for coffee, leaving the keys under the mat, I will not take long. Bye." Now, I start my scooter, my Dio.
After twenty-five minutes, I stop outside Zoya's residence, and quickly call her again, she has probably understood that I have reached, so she doesn't answer, instead, she turns up at the door, looks at me with a smile, and tells me, "we have a doorbell, just in case you didn't know!" I smile back at her, lock my scooter and hug her. I've missed this girl so much.
We walk in and sit together, and she tells, "if you know how lazy I really am, you should know that I would prepare instant coffee." She giggles, and I roll my eyes at her. Never mind, I like coffee any way. We talk about random things while we stand in her kitchen. Zoya loves to decorate things and she's ridiculously good at it. I see her decorating coffee as well. She adds one tablespoon of coffee powder, about three tablespoons of sugar and pours milk, finally. I like how it smells and to make it look better and she adds a little more coffee powder as what she calls it to be her 'finishing touch'. We take our coffee mugs and sit together in her bedroom. I rise when I realise we didn't get a spoon to stir the coffee. As she sees me getting up, she asks, "hey, what happened?" Doesn't she want to stir her coffee? I look at her with a raised eyebrow, and with a sarcastic tone, I tell, "I don't know about you, but I like my coffee stirred well, before I drink." She looks at me like I just casually told her I would go murder someone now, and she says, "why do you want to stir your coffee? Don't you see, it looks good like that?" I give her the are-you-kidding-me look, I fail to collect words to express what's in my head and I say, "what?!" With both my eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Isn't that what life is all about? I think to myself. Life is, nothing but a cup of instant coffee, which we 'suppose' would taste good if it 'looks' good. This is a delusion, and we start working towards making our lives 'look good', and we fail to realise that the mixed taste of the sour and sweet together can make our lives taste like a cup of amazing coffee. The mixture of bad and good makes life beautiful, and this simple mantra, which is assumed to be complicated, should be, not just known, but also understood, in order to enjoy a good cup of coffee.