'Perhaps the tree is happy this way', thought the old man to himself, 'standing proud and tall, looking upon the world in the most graceful manner.' He knew that time passed slowly for a tree as old as this one. But as he looked closer he realized that the tree glowed with a surprising, unexpected radiance. Its entire being seemed to bathe in true wisdom and enlightenment.
The old man couldn't help but feel that such reminisces were a sign of upcoming senility, but reminiscing he was. Off late, the tree had become an obsession. He had played around the tree as a little boy, sat under it to study and think about the wonders of the world as a young man, and even brought his wife to this very tree, when it was in full bloom, pink and white flowers scattering the ground.
However, in all his years of acquaintance with this tree, he had never bothered to give a second thought to the tree itself. Now, as an old man, he felt as though he was a part of the tree- he felt its- no- her (for the tree seemed to be a she) essence floating around, finding its way into him. Somehow, in the most uncanny and almost literal way, his life had revolved around the tree.
He slowly closed his eyes as he took in the smell of the age-old bark, and grazed his fingers over the trunk. He almost felt like he was in love with the tree, funnily so. But, he couldn't help it; the tree brought back so many nostalgic memories. So many, many, for it was right in front of his childhood home, and he laid eyes on it once every day for the first seventeen years if his life, and once every week for the last sixty.
Love, it was. But it was a different kind of love. A love so complex, he hardly knew what he was feeling. A love attached more to memories, proximity and a strange admiration than to anything else.
A love that seemed to have broken all barriers between the animate and the inanimate.
Love. That's all we need. :)
/fin
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Alone
Perhaps
It is too late.
Time, fleetingly, passes on.
Grudgingly
I tread,
Leaving it all behind.
You reach out
Only in vain,
For this journey, I must make alone.
Slivers of happiness
Wisps of memories
Dance around me, in the warm summer air.
Tempted
I touch the tiniest bubble of hope.
It bursts.
Slowly,
Stealthily,
The truth comes crashing down.
And I know
It’s too late to forgive,
I have to forget
For this journey, I must make alone.
It is too late.
Time, fleetingly, passes on.
Grudgingly
I tread,
Leaving it all behind.
You reach out
Only in vain,
For this journey, I must make alone.
Slivers of happiness
Wisps of memories
Dance around me, in the warm summer air.
Tempted
I touch the tiniest bubble of hope.
It bursts.
Slowly,
Stealthily,
The truth comes crashing down.
And I know
It’s too late to forgive,
I have to forget
For this journey, I must make alone.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
And the future is a not-so-distant haze
Every second person I meet seems to gain some sort of sadistic pleasure by simply popping THE question at me- 'so, what do you want to do after 12th?' And I, being the unbelievably confused idiot I am, choose to do nothing more than just sit there, staring and blinking, as though someone has just asked me to name all the presidents in reverse order. Sheesh.
Yes, FYI alert, that is the most commonly asked question in my life. Fascinating, really. I feel like a princess/superstar. Or both. People are paying so much attention to me. All that's missing now is a tiara saying 'Help!' God.
And as if that one question is just not enough to send me into this whirlwind of confusion, this is quickly followed by, 'and which colleges are you planning to consider?' Enough to make me want to scream and say that I'd be honoured if any college considers me. No, the other way around simply does not work here.
Honestly, I've dreamt of being a writer ever since I was six years old. Most people say that as children, they wanted to be different things every day, but for me, this is the one thing that i was always sure of wanting. As I grew older and my horizons expanded, it moved on to 'a journalist who writes novels'. Even when everyone convinced me to do a professional course like engineering at the UG level, I was sure that after I got through with that it would be a straight road to journalism. It even sounded really nice, doing something totally professional and then writing for the rest of my life. I mean, what more could I want really?
I still want all of this, I'm sure it's the path I want to choose. But there's always this tiny thorn of doubt hiding somewhere, stopping me from saying this to anyone because of the secretive, startling unsurity of it all. Perhaps it's because I greatly doubt the credibility of my writing skills. Or perhaps I feel that people will think this sort of path is plain.. mental.
Talk about confusion.
Yes, FYI alert, that is the most commonly asked question in my life. Fascinating, really. I feel like a princess/superstar. Or both. People are paying so much attention to me. All that's missing now is a tiara saying 'Help!' God.
And as if that one question is just not enough to send me into this whirlwind of confusion, this is quickly followed by, 'and which colleges are you planning to consider?' Enough to make me want to scream and say that I'd be honoured if any college considers me. No, the other way around simply does not work here.
Honestly, I've dreamt of being a writer ever since I was six years old. Most people say that as children, they wanted to be different things every day, but for me, this is the one thing that i was always sure of wanting. As I grew older and my horizons expanded, it moved on to 'a journalist who writes novels'. Even when everyone convinced me to do a professional course like engineering at the UG level, I was sure that after I got through with that it would be a straight road to journalism. It even sounded really nice, doing something totally professional and then writing for the rest of my life. I mean, what more could I want really?
I still want all of this, I'm sure it's the path I want to choose. But there's always this tiny thorn of doubt hiding somewhere, stopping me from saying this to anyone because of the secretive, startling unsurity of it all. Perhaps it's because I greatly doubt the credibility of my writing skills. Or perhaps I feel that people will think this sort of path is plain.. mental.
Talk about confusion.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Ten things you are expected to do on reaching 12th grade
1) Gain a brain capacity the size of Jupiter.
2) Magically regain all of the previous years' knowledge, in spite of just scraping through eleventh grade.
3) Make detailed colour-coded timetables with a study plan of 25 hours a day.
4) Complete all your assignments and keep your notebooks up to date.(How?)
5) Draw margins for every notebook and suddenly make your handwriting super neat.(I don't own a ruler...)
6) Not have fun. (But...)
7) Give your phone back to your parents. (*piercing death-like scream*)
8) Set (good) examples for your juniors. (Pah.)
9) Gain impeccable organisations skills and make sure time management is second nature to you.
10) STUDY. (Oh no.)
2) Magically regain all of the previous years' knowledge, in spite of just scraping through eleventh grade.
3) Make detailed colour-coded timetables with a study plan of 25 hours a day.
4) Complete all your assignments and keep your notebooks up to date.(How?)
5) Draw margins for every notebook and suddenly make your handwriting super neat.(I don't own a ruler...)
6) Not have fun. (But...)
7) Give your phone back to your parents. (*piercing death-like scream*)
8) Set (good) examples for your juniors. (Pah.)
9) Gain impeccable organisations skills and make sure time management is second nature to you.
10) STUDY. (Oh no.)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Paradise Found
He held his hand out to her, palm facing the shadowy sky, prompting her to hold it. Unwillingly, apprehensively, she linked her fingers through his. "Let me show you", he whispered.
And, oh, the beauty of the place. Rays of sunlight bounced back and forth, blinding her eyes in the most comforting manner. Each long stalk of grass glistened where it caught the light, with big, round dew drops peacefully resting on the tips. She looked up at the sky, vast, clear, and panoramic; a boundless blue canvas, seeming to end only where it met the ground, forming a spectacular horizon. A bed of bright red poppies could be seen not far off, embedded between rows of pink tulips, the colours of love and life intertwined, pulsating a feeling unlike any other. She could almost feel the happiness vibrating from each petal, large clusters of joy emanating from the buzzing of the bees, replacing what could have been a melancholy silence.
This was so unlike the war torn world she had left behind. She made no attempt to blink away the tears that brimmed her eyes. To think she had once felt that she would go all her life without seeing this sort of beauty. Now, after taking all of it in, she wondered how she could have possibly stayed so long without viewing the true colours of the world, the vibrancy only heard of, never seen or felt in so many, many years.
This, she realised, was true bliss. Ecstasy. Paradise. The true meaning of life.
And, oh, the beauty of the place. Rays of sunlight bounced back and forth, blinding her eyes in the most comforting manner. Each long stalk of grass glistened where it caught the light, with big, round dew drops peacefully resting on the tips. She looked up at the sky, vast, clear, and panoramic; a boundless blue canvas, seeming to end only where it met the ground, forming a spectacular horizon. A bed of bright red poppies could be seen not far off, embedded between rows of pink tulips, the colours of love and life intertwined, pulsating a feeling unlike any other. She could almost feel the happiness vibrating from each petal, large clusters of joy emanating from the buzzing of the bees, replacing what could have been a melancholy silence.
This was so unlike the war torn world she had left behind. She made no attempt to blink away the tears that brimmed her eyes. To think she had once felt that she would go all her life without seeing this sort of beauty. Now, after taking all of it in, she wondered how she could have possibly stayed so long without viewing the true colours of the world, the vibrancy only heard of, never seen or felt in so many, many years.
This, she realised, was true bliss. Ecstasy. Paradise. The true meaning of life.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
On the cliff
She floats by, day and night
Long gown flowing, a magical white
Upon the cliff, in the silver moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Years have passed, since that day,
When the soldiers left, up from the bay,
Lingering on her lips were words she could not say,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Aboard that ship, her lover went,
To fight the bloody war, he was sent,
Leaving her behind, all alone,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
On the cliff, she stays each night,
Long gown flowing, a magical white,
Sparkling eyes wide, in the pale moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Long gown flowing, a magical white
Upon the cliff, in the silver moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Years have passed, since that day,
When the soldiers left, up from the bay,
Lingering on her lips were words she could not say,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Aboard that ship, her lover went,
To fight the bloody war, he was sent,
Leaving her behind, all alone,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
On the cliff, she stays each night,
Long gown flowing, a magical white,
Sparkling eyes wide, in the pale moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Change.
Gandhiji said, "we must be the change we want to see." We all exist for a purpose, but one unanimous thing is how all of us want to see some change, of course, in different magnitudes. Whether it is a seemingly insignificant day-to-day change or a noble change of achieving world peace, we all want it.
What is frustrating is not being able to implement this change. There are things happening around the world, every second of every day, people dying, lying, cheating. And all we do is sit at home and hear about them. We may feel strongly and may want to do something to change the way things are, but circumstances prevent us from doing so. This is probably what is most frustrating. I mean, there's something there, something you feel strongly for, something you want to change to make the world a better place, something you desperately want to do- but- there's a downside- you just can't. It's there, within your grasp, you reach for it. You know catching it will make all the difference. But you just can't. Period.
That's the big question- why can't we? We have the resources, the power, the potential, the creativity, ideas and intellect- and complete willingness as well, the icing on the cake. We have everything but we simply do not put any of these into use. Why don't we? Why don't we cross every hurdle and bring down every barrier to achieve what we want to and implement change and make the world a better place?
No. No one is asking for a fairy tale world with princes who fight off evil dragons and live happily ever after. No. Just a good, sweet, happy place. A world full of trust, love and friendship. Something worth fighting for. Something worth living for.
At least for this, we have to, got to, must, make a change- put in every last molecule of effort to alter the very mindsets of people and make them see the good in everything. Change them. Change the world. For the better.
What is frustrating is not being able to implement this change. There are things happening around the world, every second of every day, people dying, lying, cheating. And all we do is sit at home and hear about them. We may feel strongly and may want to do something to change the way things are, but circumstances prevent us from doing so. This is probably what is most frustrating. I mean, there's something there, something you feel strongly for, something you want to change to make the world a better place, something you desperately want to do- but- there's a downside- you just can't. It's there, within your grasp, you reach for it. You know catching it will make all the difference. But you just can't. Period.
That's the big question- why can't we? We have the resources, the power, the potential, the creativity, ideas and intellect- and complete willingness as well, the icing on the cake. We have everything but we simply do not put any of these into use. Why don't we? Why don't we cross every hurdle and bring down every barrier to achieve what we want to and implement change and make the world a better place?
No. No one is asking for a fairy tale world with princes who fight off evil dragons and live happily ever after. No. Just a good, sweet, happy place. A world full of trust, love and friendship. Something worth fighting for. Something worth living for.
At least for this, we have to, got to, must, make a change- put in every last molecule of effort to alter the very mindsets of people and make them see the good in everything. Change them. Change the world. For the better.
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