Open thine eyes!

Image Credit: Christ in the Wilderness by Stanley Spencer

When God himself has come down to Earth, why pray in the dark corner of a temple?

Behold, the God is in the wilderness, in the dingy mud of Earth. Why do you look for him in the immaculately clean colossal buildings? 

He has soiled his clothes and worn the grey of mountains and the green of grass. Why do you paint gaudy colours on his idols? 

He has let the nature bloom in his arms and embraced its thorns. Why do you have to offer him festoons, garlands and flowers?

He is in the eyes which choose to see the world as it is, stark naked and in-ornate. 

He is here with open arms, waiting for you to find him back.

My beloved, open thine eyes!

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 306

Spider

Spider has eight legs
The direction of movement,
No matter, is one.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "spider"

Look Who's Talking! No, really!

Is it not a pleasure to have the all-knowing on the hot-seat and play the host? Does not it give a sense of deliverance to know the answers to the multitude of unanswered questions that keep nagging us in solitude? All that apart, is it not an act of solicitude to interview the God himself just once and know what goes on in his life and mind? Yes, if I could create a TV show, I would invite the God himself and interview him. How would I invite God to confer on us his presence is left to your discretion!

I would perform my orisons before him as I start off the show. I would like to ask the following questions:

• When we plan for something in life and something else happens, does it make you laugh? 
• How do you feel when there is injustice in the world and it triumphs over truth and justice?
• They say that everything is pre-determined by you. Is it true?
• When do you interfere to change the direction of one's life? Or is that pre-determined too?
• Can you be with me in all situations just like Mr.B in Bhootnath?  
• Where do you stay? (This question will be off the TV show, of course!)
• How/When are you pleased?
• What is the purpose of a man's life when nothing we do is forever?

And probably more, depending on his answers. I hope he does not egress during the commercial breaks or chide me for bothering him with these questions.

But, dear God, I do hope that one day, I would sit with you for a cup of coffee and chat over these things. Please do come down once, for me.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘If I could create a TV show'.

Sing your feeling

Music was an intrinsic talent in an orthodox family and so is mine. My love for music bloomed at home. As a young child, I was not really a fan of classical music forms. I rejoiced filmy beats and melodious voices on Radio and Television. As I grew up, I showed caprice and did appreciate the classical forms of music too.

Among the multitude forms of music, I always prefer a soothing melody, one that is joyful when I am feeling upbeat and the one that is sorrowful when I am sad. Music has been my best buddy especially in times of sorrow and nothingness. And I have shared my happy moments with it too.

Image Credit: fungerms.com

For some reason, I cannot stand songs which have lyrics of no meaning or nonsensical meaning. The recent filmy songs fall into this classification. I do not know to what this kind of trend can be ascribed to.

Some songs like "Sheela Ki Jawani", "Mere photo ko seene se yaar" and some items songs of Kannada too, are importunate in my view and I cannot stand them being played near me. I sometimes feel I would have done justice to the language by writing a decent lyrics for the song myself, if given a chance. I struggle to vanquish this feeling of hatred towards people who do not respect the standards of a language and make any lyrics of song colloquial just to reach out for a mass audience.

Despite this querulous raving about the recent trends in music, myriad styles of classical forms are still emerging to celebrate the greatest gift to mankind - music.

KrisSHNa nee bEgane bAro, ADisidaLu yashoda jagadOddhArana - by Bombay Jayashree are few of my favourites.

Among filmy tunes, "Aaoge jab tum O saajna", "tunturu alli neera haadu" are the ones close to my heart.

Written for Indispire - edition 104 on Indiblogger.in

Monkey

Time skips like monkey
The only difference is
Monkey dies, time never.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "monkey"

Fortitude

photo by Caroline Knopf

As I cross the fierce ocean and stand here, I am absolved. I swam past all the tides and their uproar. I floundered through the dingy waters and struggled in the chilly nights. My search for gratification, deliverance ends here. This was the only thing I wanted to do all my life - to cross the ocean and stand on the other shore and look back. As I look back, I feel absolved. Absolved that I did not let my goals be crushed under someone's tyranny, someone's need to live their projection of life. Thanks to my heart!

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 305

Fast

"Eat your dinner fast!"
Your mama is very tired,
"She cannot feed you!"

She cannot feed you
Tonight she just wants to crash -
On bed and get sleep.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "fast"

Lost and found!

"Hey, you look almost like me! How is it possible?"

"My mom always used to say that she gave birth to twins. But, after she was shifted to a ward from delivery room, they found out that there was only one baby and the other baby was stolen. I have a strong feeling that you are my twin. I should take you to my mother, she will be very happy seeing you!"

"Really? I have a twin-brother and a mother? It was a predicament to live with the fact that I had no one I could call my own, all these years! I want to know I have a mother, I have a brother and they are real!"

"Come home, sister! I want you to meet my mother! Sorry, our mother!"

Devoured by mixed emotions of sorrow, happiness, gratitude and fear, I visit my mother with my twin.

I stood at the threshold of a small hut with thatched roof. There was something like a small clearing of ground that made their house a home. I saw an oily kerosene stove blackened with soot. Next to that, I saw an aging woman, her partly graying locks fell across her cheeks as she struggled to light the stove for lunch. Maybe, she could not be certified as a beautiful woman in beauty pageants, but she was definitely beautiful to a daughter. A daughter like me who had cried through lonely nights without my mother on my side; a daughter like me who had fervently wished that there was a beneficent fairy who could be my mother; a daughter like me who had been stamped over by reprobates because of which I remained a morose; a daughter like me who was not condoled with, in tough times. The word 'beauty' is very subjective, right?

"What are you looking at? She is your mother! Come on in!"

I stepped in and looked into her eyes. Yes, I saw unconditional love in them as they glistened with tears. My eyes reciprocated her feelings. She touched me. I was being touched by an invisible power that rejuvenated me from a vapid state of life, I could not tell. She could not believe that I was grown-up and standing in front of her in flesh and blood.

She burst out crying and hugged me. I had no words to speak. My twin joined us and we were family again.

Written for Indispire - edition 103 on Indiblogger.in

Urbanization

Adolphe Valette

The rich build sky scrapers. The poor remain in huts. The distance between them is seen at the horizon where the rooftops of huts meet the base of the skyscrapers. Though, horizon belies the distance and very easily. But, it must be exasperatingly painful to be there and know that in real.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 304

Slow

Play and pause of life,
Going through pain, it slows down;
Slips away when gay.

Slips away when gay,
I wish there was a rewind
To re-record life.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "slow"