Swings of a rhapsodic mind

Some pictures refuse to vacate your mind , they stay etched to your memory and whenever you see something close to them, it triggers back that familiar memory of yours which on the first place never left you. It had stayed layered somewhere in a neat folder within you. As I take my pencil to doodle on a sheet of paper, I can't help but get amused to see the pencil mark transforming itself to something which looks like a bunny. I drop my pencil and my heart flies to that familiar picture, I see it all. It was during my university days when our academic building overlooked a pond which had a little island no bigger than a table top. Well, there were tufts of grass, one or two banana saplings and all those regular things you see growing by the road but it was something else which made the island attractive. It was home to a herd of rabbits. White as snow, they hopped and cuddled around whole day long  under the sun. It had become a ritual on my part to stand by the window during o...

The stars have lost a battle with the moon, They shriek with disdain. "We are in millions", they boast as they conspire The moon unaware of it peeks through lover's windows It has been with them blessing their barren hearts. The stars cast a dreamy spell blinding people's gaze. But the moon, it keeps people awake It finds itself in a poet's unsung verse Or in the lover's blotted ink stained letters. The night seems awake in its silvery touch Yet the stars, look how they detest it's gleam! Their envy causing them to blink But does the moon care enough! It has seen stories being born, it has bore the pain of loses But it kept it's gleam alive. For he knew, it healed bruised hearts He knew what he meant to the world He kept his gleam alive as the stars blinked and cursed!

It was a lousy April afternoon, the air back home must have carried the rhythm of dhul and pepa signalling the onset of bihu. He was far away from home but could his heart free itself from memories, bihu was not just a festival, it was an emotion. Flashbacks of home and his childhood came roaring as he cleared his way through a crowd which made him feel even lonelier, it was on such days out of all days when he felt the urge to run back home. The adult in him wanted to have a carefree life like that of a teenager back home. He missed his old dhul, it must have wearied away but the old photo album carried a memory of him hugging his dhul while he innocently flashed a smile showing his gap toothed cuteness. How he wished to bring those days back alive! The thatched kitchen gave away the rich smell of caramelised  jaggery and he would be awe stricken to see mounds of tiny perfectly rounded coconut balls dipped in a pool of jaggery which boasted of his mother's skilled ways. By tha...

The dim walls bared no hope, it was all deafening within Did you possibly feel my choked breaths? You must have, for I could feel your muffled sobs. Each time you rained tears over me, Did you not know I felt a hollow creep within my belly. Maybe I wasn't there yet, but I knew how your scars pierced your heart . Each time you were kicked, it lurched hard on me. But the moment you  hugged yourself to sleep, I felt at ease, I wanted you to know I was there for you. That it wasn't your wait alone, I was there all along. All I need is a chance, all I need is a chance to be heard. A chance to set all your wrongs right A chance to be a voice A chance against all odds A chance to be there for you in whatever you do.

" Wear a hizab", came the stern order of her grandmom whom she lovingly called nanijaan. On such days she often wondered, if her grandmom deserved all the love she had for her. But, did she have the time to think and reflect on it, she was getting late for school. For one last time she looked at her mother's eyes pleadingly. Ammi, perhaps had already lived the same story, she saw a faint glare of disdain in her mother's eyes for the hizab as she went to fetch it for her. That piece of clothing was supposed to save Naz's honour, but what she failed to understand was, why wasn't her brother supposed to wear one when he would be walking the same way with her to school. Two decades hence, she now realises that not only the hizab, she was destined to wear a price. A price of being born as a girl. A price which came sealed as her fate. A flashback: As she dresses to attend her classes, she falls in love with the freedom she had discovered after moving out of home...

I knew I was wrong, So I thought why not be her Mr right. I kept my wrong at bay To meet your right which lay the other way. I didn't take any leap, it was one step at a time I was forsaking which had long been mine. A shadow in me was learning to be on its own. It staggered, knee bent but it's spirit kept it high. The dark clouds seemed no more darker, The sun rays no more blinding, I was learning to be awake Learning to be alive. Just when I thought I could meet your right, Just when the story could have begun, Just when I was strong enough to be strong, It all snapped. Your right no more seemed right, My wrong no more was wrong. And I walked back, my spirit sunk, My heart barren, My wrong was once again mine.

History she thought, would never peep back. It's faded footprints shouldn't have kept her awake. The damp soil underneath her feet, quivered as she wept She was a free bird, an untameable one, Couldn't they just allow her to soar high? Why were her wings about to be clipped when she dreaded it most? She was born to pay a price, And walk the way that those faded footprints led to. And be a crowd and not a bird "Sweet child, that's the way of the world and there's nothing to reason why", mocked life.