Sugar!

It is time for us to get into the boat and sail through the waters, quietly lying down inside the small hull with our shoulders touching, beholding the morning sky - which surprisingly has no sign of any blue whichever direction we turn our heads to! Because the firmament is painted completely in white, full of clouds moving everywhere in its abject divinity; and it slowly starts to drizzle drenching our heart and soul. And that is how every memorable journey begins not knowing where the route leads to and the boat freely sails in the direction of the current - because the best thing about us is that neither of us would want to sit up straight and row in the direction we are supposedly expected to go - following a plan. Sometimes in life, control messes up the beauty that lies hiding in the smallest things that pile up to make the bigger ones. We should just be at peace and allow ourselves to be taken through the lotus farms, get scratched by the itchy leaves of the coconut palms planted by the banks of the river and play splash games with the flowing waters.

I turn my head to you and my countenance brightens a hundred fold in an instant. Surely yes - if I be the day and the night, you would be my sun and the moon. Because you are the first dream I remember waking up; you are also the music that mixes with the air in its right proportion - whispering sweet nothings into my ears. I am too scared to be tickled so much with your musings - so I distract myself but fail and fidget, and in an attempt to hide this I quickly turn my head away to the beauties of nature, but secretly enjoy the magic in the moment - sporting a poker face, trying to prolong it for some more time. There is nothing as lovely as the you and me warmth and the silence that holds our spirits together up so close even without we touching or kissing. I know things could get sensuous the next time I turn to you, so please do not look at me that way - your eyes moving down from my eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes, then to my lips again. No Sugar, please stop it now!

When you read this one day, I am sure you might wonder who this Sugar probably was! No, spare yourself the discomfort of breaking your head over this! Have no doubt, it was certainly you! Yes, all along it had always been you! Only you!! As I write this now, I have no idea where you are, what you do or how you might even look! Why don't you just close your eyes for a moment and think of the day I first met you. Just rewind and play it in your head scene by scene like how they do in the movies - how things happened and led us to the place where we currently are in today! Does it make complete sense to you now? Ah there, there - look at how you smile. Okay, I must be in office now and you at home probably on your day off - sipping your coffee, polishing your nails and doing some internet stalking on me to find out what kind of a person I really was before you happened. Sugar, it had always been you in all truth - even before you came into sight! Just that you were invisible, playing in my mind and soul all night and all day! Aw your sweet blush, how it manages to travel back in time - interstellar style; and oh boy, how it tickles me here now!

P.S. I know tonight's going to be special! :)

Critique On The Christian Religion

The intent here is to not create any kind of furore - for I am no atheist or a backslider who has fallen from grace. However, if you would like to judge me - you could please go ahead and do it the way you want. I have no problem, I shall only smile at you and walk past.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am completely disillusioned with religion. But it took some time for me to reach the state where I am currently in. To be honest, I started with religion at a very early age. My dad never stopped me from reading the Gita or the Quran. There were so many religious books at home - so I could spend most of my nights reading and writing notes on them. By eleventh standard, I had completed all the Vedas, few Puranas and other supplements - adding to the Gita and the Quran. But the Bible has always remained as my daily read till date. So it makes more sense for me to write a critique on the Christian religion more than the others.

First of all, why do we need a million organisations falling under a thousand denominations - calling themselves churches, each one fighting for its own survival wooing the believers with all of their membership, tithe and offering schemes! Even if all the arguments on the church revolving around fellowship and building each other's faith are duly accepted, why do we see everything else happening in the church except fellowship and faith? Why are there fights, politics, elections, unnecessary pride over tradition, theological battles and misunderstandings, backbiting, fake love and humility, judging, dogmas that go by the name of doctrines and all the other inhuman rules and regulations? Why is there no love? Why is there more emphasis on giving and sermons revolving around offerings pushed into the minds of the believers so they give generously - while the church does not want to give anything to the socially deprived? You might argue saying a swift no and that your church is doing a lot. What, to you, appears to be a lot is in real - only a handful of peanuts when compared to the enormity of social issues found in your vicinity! If every church had been an organ of social reformation and change, no one in your city would be sleeping on the pavement in hunger, abandoned! 'What is church?', a young man asked. The priest replied, 'Church is where God resides!'. If church is where God resides, is not a man or a woman with a heart full of kindness and love more rationally and meaningfully a church? Yes, by all means - because God dwells in the hearts of people. Why don't we just disregard all of these man-made systems dancing around religion and just become those people filled with love and kindness so we could go about lighting this dark world - in its real sense!

I know a lot of people who call themselves, healers. But sadly all of their magical stunts seem to work only inside an auditorium setup where there is music, choir, a huge audience to watch and howl, and of course - a few good cameras. Why is it that the god who is supposedly working through them goes dumb, deaf and blind when they are out on the streets seeing a leper walk towards them asking for alms? If God really worked through them, poor people dying because of weird diseases in all the slums around could have easily been healed - but that never happens. I know of reverend fathers who are child molesters, pastors and preachers who are into extra-marital affairs, and few evangelists whose intent behind giving poor people food and clothes is only to convert them.

There are also double standards that many have gotten so used to. On one hand, they would say that the razing of Babri Masjid by the Hindu Nationalists was wrong; and on the other they would shout hallelujahs if by any chance the Al-Aqsa mosque that sits right on the spot of the Solomon's Temple be destroyed by the Israelies in future. To them, the Palestinians who rightfully fight for their own land - are all so evil, and the Israelies who occupied the erstwhile British Mandate of Palestine with pure deception - are all so good. One group worships Mother Mary without knowing who her mother was, and the other group is too busy making fun of them. One group says wearing jewels is sin, one more says taking tablets when you are sick is sin too. Ironically, the religion that talks more elaborately about love has fought so many religious wars under the banner of cross - after that fool of a pope called Pope Urban II introduced the concept of Holy War at the Council of Clermont. Who could possibly forget all those religion sanctioned wars fought costing millions of lives - Thirty Years War, Crusades, French Wars of Religion, Lebanese Civil War, Second Sudanese Civil War, to mention a few!

Jesus Christ was killed because he questioned all the rotten religious beliefs and other nonsensical sentiments of the people of his times, and continuously tried to drive some sense into their minds with his moving speeches. His way was love and just that. He never started or even vaguely intended to start any religion of his own. The Christianity you see today is sadly Christ-less. It might sound slightly weird to you but I have to admit that I believe in Jesus - and that is why I am completely opposed to religion in every sense of the word. I accept everyone irrespective of their caste, creed, background, race, region, religion, language and nationality - as brothers and sisters. Yes - I trust only in love, and sincerely live with a hope that all my weaknesses would slowly be turned to strengths and that I would one day have hinds' feet to stand on love's highest places!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (I Cor 13: 4-7)

A Call For Tolerance!

I am distraught with grief, sobbing over the fact that the nation today is swarmed by divisive forces trying to mangle the most serene and balanced socio-cultural fabric that has always celebrated diversity. To the sore displeasure of many politicians and people who are soaked in excessive religiosity, the Dadri incident is very much an Indian problem just like how Nirbhaya was. They say that those vile looters the Brits sowed the seeds of division in the soil, but to me this bitterness sprouted much earlier comfortably hiding in the minds of men and women who have been taught those unscrupulous ethos of social stratification and order - from the law books of Manu Smriti. After this came the Mughal invasion - which got way too worse during the reign of that fool of an Emperor called Aurangazeb, adding to the wounds that had not dried yet from the already prevailing complications. We were a society that had long accepted divisions and were very much comfortable deranging our own lives with such lowly levels of obnoxiousness that goes by the names of caste and overdosed religion, so it just required the right trigger from those cunning Whites after the Mutiny of 1858 to help us blow this out of proportion in order to spell our own doom and that was how we gave birth to Pakistan, the fruit of our own hate.

There are two lies the right-wingers would love to feed you - one, that India belongs only to the Hindus; and two, that the Hindus are being made to behave like second grade citizens ripped of all the benefits because of the secular nature of the republic. Both assertions are gravely wrong. If you look back, there was never a ONE India - before August 15, 1947. We were 562 princely states with 562 different rulers warring against each other. Moralities and sensibilities have always evolved over time. And in a medieval setup where there were no pacts and treaties, invading another country was never seen as violation and the Mughal invasion luckily happened during those times in history. Unlike the Brits, the Mughals did not loot the country and run away - but they settled here, mixed with the soil and became sons and daughters of the land. Of the 562 princely states that were collectively called as India, there were a considerable number of them ruled by Islamic kings. So clearly with all due respect, India cannot belong to the Hindus alone - this nation is truly mother to every man and woman born here irrespective of their caste, creed, region or religion!

We are a democratic republic by all means. All our MPs and MLAs are picked by the electoral college that functions with clearly defined rules and regulations. The minorities do not get to vote twice or thrice during the elections so the results could swing their way. In 1949 - when the Sri Lankan Government stripped the Tamils of their nationality and the right to vote, they became second grade citizens. In the last 67 years of Independence, no government has ever treated the Hindus worthy of being called 'second grade citizens'. I personally see this is as an insult and offense of the highest order. About the remorseful talks on benefits, it stemmed from an institution called the Mandal Commision set up by Prime Minister Morarji Desai with an intent to identify socially and educationally backward groups in the nation - so funds from the government could be streamlined to uplift them. Faced with a lot of criticism, it was never implemented until Mr. VP Singh came to power in 1989. If you deeply analyze the report, there are more benefits listed for the Hindu backward castes than the religious minorities. So benefits being channeled only to the minorities is a blatant lie. The idea of caste-based and religion-based reservations, to me, doesn't hold any relevance to the current day setting of the state. What makes more sense is to quantify backwardness based on earning - that is how you would get to know who the real poor are!

In the preamble to the Indian Constitution, it is clearly mentioned that India is a Secular state. The Modi government is trying its best to erase that word from its usage, but fortunately being secular is not an abominable thing at all - it is in fact highly honorable! All the right-wing fanatic groups we see in the nation needlessly take offense at the very mention of this word. They fail to understand that without India being a secular state, diversity can not be preserved by any which way. They think that being secular is to give in to the demands of the minorities. As opposed to all of their pre-conceived wrongful notions, being secular, simply, is to respect the beliefs of others. That would mean to not impose whatever you believe onto them and to not poke your nose into their personal freedom. I respect the nobility in the devotion few people show towards religious rituals though I do not believe in religion, but that does not give me any right to forcefully ask the whole world to stop believing in religion altogether - reasoning that their very belief in religion provokes me to take the dagger and go kill them. That is exactly how a psychopathic retard would react, not a human in his right senses.

I was in Mumbai last week meeting with the children of the sex-workers from Kamatipura. I could tell you a thousand gruesome stories from there that would leave you sleepless - night after night. There are young kids trafficked and put into those cages, they knock, knock and knock at those metal doors from inside - sitting in the dark - hurting their hands and wailing bitterly till they finally budge to becoming a prostitute and allowing men to violate their bodies. When such heinous acts of human rights violation are happening in broad day light, all that people worry about is the imposition of a measly beef ban and killing of those who allegedly eat it - because somewhere it is written in the religious texts that cows are not just animals but gods - however chickens, buffaloes and goats are not gods so - no offense - you can eat their meat all you like and slurp their marrows down your throat. Pathetic, illiterate and highly inhuman! All these mongrels know nothing of love! This is a humble call to all the dear (Hindu and Non-Hindu) brothers and sisters of this country to please not get yourself dug into that quicksand of religious fanaticism, but to rise above all of these mundane issues that those right-wingers are cleverly trying to pull you down to. They do it for political benefits, because they have seen it in the past how hate-mongering has reaped huge dividends. Kindly do not give in! There are real problems in this world that you can concentrate your thoughts on - where every religion has deeply failed! What the land badly needs is love and not another religious riot!

The Revolution

The boisterous shrills from the underbellies of my mind repeatedly harps the taboo word - R.E.V.O.L.U.T.I.O.N. How and when would it happen and how long would it prevail, I do not know! But by any measure, I see it coming. Like a horrendous torrent from the mountains that would break the trunks of any giant tree downhill, it would come gushing. It would try setting right the paths that lie corroded with potholes spread everywhere. It would roar, shake the nation, intimidate governments, destroy the corrupt, free people from their bondage, lift the poor, bring down the ones that have given themselves up to their heart's pride and all the appalling vanity.

When the day comes, the evil would hide themselves in their dark dens. The plague would run amok in the land weeding out the venomous seeds from the grains in the garner. Then would come the wolves in their packs howling, setting fire on all the dens, leaving them rot to death - stained in their own lowly blood. Chaos would go out of control, pillars would fall, tsunamis would violate the coastlines, quakes would swallow the relics of the past. But after all this, there would come the calm and the serene quiet. There would be peace and order and harmony, and certainly - a blessed assurance that would soothe all the troubled hearts with the promise that there would no more be foulplay.

The system badly needs a cleansing. All we need is a band of sincere dextrous hands at work adept at showing love. We need men and women married to kindness. Those who do not fear death, the ones who are called the brave, the exceedingly wise who could effortlessly confound the brains of the machiavellies and the chanakyas, those who speak through their actions more than words, those who are capable of defying the societal laws of gravity that for ages had successfully fizzled out uprisings after uprisings with one powerful weapon called time. We need a phenomenon and those who - with ease - could put together all the equations and work out the massive explosion in real.

Swim Your Way To Life!

Caught in the whirlwind of frantic mesmerism, I decided to jump. Into the deep waters from the cliff I had happily climbed - not knowing how to swim. With music running in the back of my mind, its loudness hurting my brain, I tried to speak to myself. But truly unable to hear all the gibberish my lips were mumbling, I closed my eyes and launched myself off the cliff, expecting gravity to do the trick and get me down. Sink me deep into the blues of the ocean so I could never get up from the vastness of the waters into which I would lay engulfed and never see survival again.

But I did. Though my right leg dashed badly against one of those rock forms projecting outside, I survived. Though I lost a lot of blood because of the deep cut that ensued, I lived. Yes, again. I wonder how I managed to come up from within the seas and reach the surface of the waters - the warmth of the afternoon sun caressing the parts of my body seen floating outside. Truly I have no clue. Some things in life cannot be reasoned at all. The occurrence of such incidents solidly reaffirms the belief humankind has in God. Again, and again!

I waved my hands, moved my legs and swam for the first time. I did it well, because logic whispered into my ears that I should follow the current that was hitting the shores. Somehow I reached. It was tiring, took a little longer than the usual. Obviously, I am no Michael Phelps. But when I touched the sand in the shore, I kissed it. Kissed it again. And kept kissing it as long as I could, allowing my face to be thoroughly splashed in the slimy mud and dirt. After a while, the froth from the next strong wave that hit the shore cleansed me whole again. I got up, limped my way back to where I truly belong, to the simmering little things that add meaning and beauty to life, to the voice of the little children, to the burdensome tears of the shelter-less, the poor and the old that weep for comfort and relief, to the cold blanket-less nights and the nomadic run under the scorching sun, to the smiles that are genuine, to the butterflies that swarm around you making music as they flap their light feathers against the wind, to the meauing cats that lovingly scratch themselves against your legs and the barking stray dogs that you befriended with biscuits, to the hunger of the stomach that calms the hunger of the soul, and to my mum, dad and brother in the end.

Speaking For The Disabled!

                               

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around!"

- Leo F Buscaglia

After much pressure, one improperly framed question on disability was hurriedly included into the 2001 census - in the very last moment. It was a given that a considerable chunk of the enumerators did not even ask the question in the households they conducted the survey. According to the data released then, there were 2.19 crore disabled people in the nation - which accounted to 2.1% of the population. However the 11th Five Year Plan admitted that the figure could be anywhere between 5 to 6% of the total population. That certainly is worrisome statistic!

Undoubtedly, it is great news that the nation takes strides in development, but we need to ensure that - in the process - we do not end up creating more and more barriers to the disabled people. Because they comprise one of the poorest and most vulnerable sections of the society. It is no understatement if we mentioned that they are the invisible minority in the policy realm. Reason, budget analysis from 2008-12 reveals that we have spent only 0.09% of our GDP on disability.

We cannot really disregard the strong association between poverty and disability. Various studies confirm the high incidence of preventable diseases causing impairments. There are fundamental issues in relation to how differences are understood and responded to in Indian context, but one cannot overlook the contemporary hard realities of Indian poverty. So it imperatively falls on the State to up the ante in providing proper health care to the poor. It is only when we truly begin to develop deeper appreciation of the context and make efforts to understand individual and collective stories of the pain the disabled people go through everyday, we can open up the moral and political space for effective reforms - rather than putting in place fragmented solutions.

We need a new progressive paradigm to address the matter without any room for neglect or marginalization. We need to work out a framework that would - go beyond charity and acknowledge that disability is a cross-cutting human rights issue. We need a solid setup that screams out loudly for inclusivity which could only be achieved by careful re-structuring of culture, policy and practice - so individual differences are no more seen as problems to be fixed, but as opportunities to enrich harmony and embrace change. The era of being able to muster only a minuscule space in the minds of the policymakers concerning real pressing issues should come to an end - only then would the nation put its money where its mouth is! If we do not seize the opportunity to create an equal and just society, it would be a huge failure for a country that is on its way to become a global leader.

In Search Of The Moon!

The night goes in search of its moon; the moon searches for its sun; the sun doesn't have anything to go searching for, so it looks within to see if it could find those hurting black holes. No respite, so it hangs in there burning bright and brighter - waving its coronal tentacles, trying its best to not derange its demeanor. Quests are necessary, they give meaning to lives lived without taste and vigor. But dear, in this dark rainy night - tell me what has your troubled heart gone in search of?

Why do you always want to build your nest right above those deadly flames of fire? Why is that your thoughts run amok flowing like a flooded river? Just tap your heart gently and ask for yourself! Do you still not know that the reasons you keep feeding your mind to back all your actions are not really the reasons! Oh poor you, I see the precious side of it - how you have the heart of a small child! If only I could understand the search in your eyes, and the mysterious trail of your nomadic mind, I would gladly shoulder you all my life through the thick and thin, the bad and worse. For you are my lifeline, the taproot that holds my life's balance and the dew that could sorcerize every gaping portal of my inner being and then completely burn me down!

But this - I cannot bear! Why do you have to shed tears in the night - when no one notices? Why would you allow grief to grip your soul? Why don't you just rest your head on my lap? Am I not also your mother? Come, let me tell you a sweet story, sing you a lullaby and put you to sleep - so I could find peace - seeing how your eyelids give in to night's gravity and droop, and how your chest gently heaves as you enter your dreams - and thereafter find my sleep too.

What Really Is Love?

                                   

Love is fun and it is amazing, like little children splashing water on each other. It is deep in its meaning, that it confounds even the wisest of scholars. It is like the tastiest cheese filling inside a hot cheese-burst pizza that drips down your lips at every single bite. Love is solid, sometimes moves like fluid, but most of the time - it is found in the gaseous state, formless. It smells like flowers not found on earth, flies like how the albatross takes flight, and is as sour, tangy and spicy as the pani puri water that you gulp from the street-side shops down the road.

Love is not two people having consensual sex - it is more than the pleasures of the bed. Love is not sending text messages late in the night, because love cannot be contained in words and is not just of the night. Love is not taking the ones you like to the places they like - it is exotically home-bound. Love is not the deep french kisses - for love is the most tastiest, before the tongues could meet. In simple words, Love Is Action Defying Convention.

Love is noticing a strange kid in the railway station bitterly crying not knowing what to do - because she lost her parents in the crowd, and you don't want to leave the child all alone - so you stay with her till her parents show up and you finally see some smile on her lovely small face at the very sight of her mom who comes running. Love is running to help the collapsing old man, carefully placing him inside the stopped autorickshaw and going along with him to drop him at his residence - located in a place you have never been to before. Love is having a gentle evening conversation with the transgenders standing next to their rented brothel and taking them to the nearest A2B restaurant so they could eat good food - while the onlookers throw suspiciously disgusting looks on you.

Love is the real scars you carry because the stitches have left a long mark that would not fade till you die. Love is washing the clothes of all the thirty kids in the children's home everyday - because the caretaker woman who is paid to do the daily chores is pregnant with a fully bulged belly. Love is flirting with danger, not for the fun of it, but to prove a point to the ugly thugs that the poor cannot easily be treated that way when you are around. Love is an epileptic donating blood thrice in a month. Love is giving away everything, even if it would mean - to the last drop of your blood. Love is Precious. Divine. Magnanimous. Always Resides In The Hiding. The Most Beautiful. Modest. Sacrificial. All-bearing.

And very rightly - God is Love!

Let The Fever Go!

When he came back home from work, she was sleeping - shivering with fever - fully and tightly covered inside that warm quilt. He did not want to disturb her, carefully kept the parcel food he had brought along on the table next to the bed, wanted to go out and sleep in the hall. But something brought him back in. He wanted to check how bad her fever was - wake her up slowly, help her complete the food, then the medicine and put her back to sleep to the usual strumming of his guitar. But she woke up - all too suddenly - right when his hand touched her forehead.

He looked at her, asked her if she was okay. She smiled, told him that her fever would never go - if he couldn't help. He did not understand what she meant - at first. Told her, he was no doctor. Mandoos mandoos, she playfully teased him. He still could not get what she was trying to imply. Okay, have to admit - he was feigning ignorance now. Totally unable to hide it for long, he blushed the romance out. She triggered the wild riot right away, made the first move with the most unexpected kiss in the most likeable peck spot and the music followed.

The fever left her instantly leaving her to fall sick again - but now in intense love. With that severely naughty smile, he was running after her, chasing - wanting to pull out her saree fold that had carefully been tucked right below her round and beautiful belly button. She hit him hard. Aiii - with a shout, he left a solid pinch with the reddening mark on her wheatish waist skin. He held both her hands firmly, pinned her to the wall whispering sweet-nothings into her ears, then a few sugar bites on the lobes - I am definitely going to kill you, kill you with my kisses, he threatened her with much love. What happened next is completely left to your imagination!

He had always been that innocently upright person - keeping away from all such things calling them - cha cha wrongs and chi chi wrongs, but now the more he breathed in the fragrance from her jasmine-flower clad long hair locks - he was stoned, helpless, left only to more willingly do all those things he once considered chi wrong - in the most sweetly mischievous way possible.  Whenever they sat in the fields surrounded by the green of the mountain, and as the tunes from the flute and the tabla fogged the scene leaving refreshing dew-drops on the love-stricken surfaces of their minds, they just stared into each other's eyes in silence. The rest followed like magic - swelling her belly with their babies, one after the other. Lying on her comforting lap, he wrote her a poem that ended with a question - 'After thoroughly ravaging my heart, why do you even vaguely think that the gold, the wealth, much money, societal norms and other things would take me away from you; or that those vain things would pacify the ticklish unrest that gets sweeter by the day and grows intense by the night?' In reply, all that she knew to do was to remind him that they were already married and kiss him instantly - a little harder than usual. Then, they both laughed their heart out lying down there - gazing at the stars and counting each other's moles as the night once again covered them in its loverly warmth.

Like The Touch Of Warm Sunrays

Your soul speaks to you in its loudest voice when you are at the most quietest place of your life. Something takes you away to the worlds you have never been to, takes you out of all the precepts of societal clauses, makes you numb to all the decrees laid out by the men of the old. You close your eyes and all you could see is the ocean, the Sun taking its ritual dip in the evening only to rise up again the following morning - with its more vibrant rays. You open your eyes when you hear the owls howling, the mind in slight trouble - because they had taught you that the sound of an owl is sign for bad omen - but all you see now is the moon up above shining in its loveliness - moving in all directions you try to step away and run, and then there are stars twinkling everywhere lighting up the cloudless dark sky. It is time you whispered into your own ears
that every little thing your eyes could see has been made beautiful and perfect in its own
sweet way. There is no need to burden your heart with all the worries of the world. Because in its
time - like how the buds open up to become beautiful flowers, like how the touch of
warm sunrays sustains life on earth, it would all become fine, straight and alright - because
not one prayer prayed for the goodness of people goes in vain!

                                                                       The sound of the dice rolling on the table and the coins moving up and down the ladder board - sometimes bitten by the painted snakes, sometimes escaping them. You might wonder and ask yourself why not redraw the board and recreate the whole game without the snakes? But then, the thrill extinguishes with the disappearance of the snakes - the venom in its fangs actually adds meaning to the game played within the board. A close friend of mine always says that in life there are no accidents but only incidents. It might take some time to grasp the truth behind this saying, but as the ripples fade and the waters reach its stillness, and when you see your own reflection emanating from the surface of the lake, you will then understand - noticing to your  amusement that your countenance has actually grown in its august brightness. They say - if what comes out of a furnace doesn't shine, it isn't probably gold. It is verily verily true that
ordeals - when they end - always bring out the best in a person!

The beats of your heart!

I'm one of those lone wanderers who loves to go on long rides alone - just me and the bike. The moment I get up from my bed every morning, I mumble a short prayer - after which I say a brisk hi and good morning to my soul. I respect my private space. I like to sit in the quiet to spend some time with myself even in the middle of the busiest day. Last month, I covered two thousand kilometers in three days. Of course - on my bike, and yes - alone. On the second day, I was in Kerala - on top of one of the tallest hills of the western ghats. All through the journey, I was running and re-running scenes from my life because I had so many questions I needed answers for and I was on the verge of making one of my life's toughest decisions. But when I saw those clouds and all the jaw-dropping green around, I quit thinking. Yes, I went blank. The chilly mist was shaking my bone and marrow, and it was hurting me - but it felt strangely good. Something brought all those legions of butterflies in multiple colors towards me and the creaking sounds of the wild crickets were growing higher in their pitch. I smiled my best smile of the year standing there surrounded by that divine calmness of the morning. 

Those sweet whispers from my soul resonated in my ears adding beauty to the moment. It solved all the puzzles just like magic. I was immensely happy. The decision was made. I spoke it out - to the butterflies first that were swarming around me. Then, to the air that was refreshing the morning. And, to all the vegetation and the lovely green my eyes could see. I repeated whatever my heart wanted me to say. I said it aloud. Louder still. Then the Sun started coming up and its rays filled the morning sky. And I kick-started my bike, continued with the journey more happily. 

To be truly happy, you should follow your heart. You need to trust and blindly obey your heart. The whole world might toss you with truckloads of opinions both ways, but it falls on you to carefully train your mind so you listen only to the beats of your heart. Before you do any thing - you have to believe from deep within that you can do it, it should occur to you naturally straight from the deepest portals of your heart - or just quit doing it. See how the little birds learn to fly! When the time comes, they just jump out of their nests closing their eyes, flapping their wings - slowly and quickly and then slowly again till they find their right rhythm, and in the end - there they go flying and singing to the most beautiful places!

It might sound extremely illogical but it is absolutely true that your heart never lies. You could try a thousand tricks to misguide your heart to believe a lie to be the truth, but it wouldn't oblige. It wouldn't allow you to wrong anyone either, because compassion flows out of its all four chambers. How I wish the viles of the mind are completely doused as the human race continues to progress and evolve through history! We don't need great inventions anymore - all the advancements we have seen in all these years are enough! What we sincerely need is for all men and women to carry the fervor of the soul's warmth in their lives every breathing moment! When that day arrives, we would - in truth - see that utopian world where kindness, laughter, fun and love would be found in bubbling abundance.

Why I Like The Prostitutes More?

On the starry evening of that serious day, we were together. My dad and I. The cab was racing the twenty six kilometers to Coimbatore so I could drop him at the railway station, say tata to him as he boards the Blue Mountain train to Chennai, and come back to the hostel before the closing bell of the much silent study hour. In the cab - we talked about life, the universe and a lot of other things. But what awed my dad more was a statement I made when we discussed in length about the idea of marriage. I told him -"Appa, I wouldn't mind marrying a prostitute if that is where god leads me to!" Though I have been slowly reeling away from the concept of religion day by day, I have always been a firm theist. I was, then, a nineteen year old and the girth of my ideologies had already started bulging in shape with its toughness and strength.

So yes, I wouldn't mind marrying a prostitute! There are strong reasons behind this positive assertion. From all the conversations I have had with the sex-workers as part of the many activism drives, I am affirmative of the fact that they are all awesome women out there - caged by the curse of the disparities born out of the vehemence of filth and debauchery emanating from the very same society that we, as proud members, are party to. Everyone has a story to tell that would just move your soul and break your heart to pieces. In the world of a prostitute, the words - love, kindness and care - take an altogether different dimension and meaning that are much practical compared to the hypocrisies of the many households where you hear frequent theoretical rants about morality and upright behavior.

Prostitutes, despite the cruelties they are being subjected to almost every day, are modestly simple and honest about their lives. You have no idea of the shame, torture and abuse they have to bear from various cruel men who come often to jizz out the heat. The majority of the society sees them as scum, but to me, they are just like every woman - only that they are more beautiful. Yes, they have feelings; yes - by virtue of being women, they are more sophisticated than the men; and yes, they cry quick - but when they cry they do not do it to create a scene, twist the truth or solidify a lie. There is absolutely no falsehood in them. They present themselves as they are - without any underlined caveat. They do have their own value system - the more you observe and learn from them, the more you would be enamored by the depth in the character they tacitly showcase.

It is truly disheartening that the statistics behind the success rate of rescuing these wonderful girls from the red-light area is not so glamorous. There is a certain rehabilitation center in Badlapur - now functional but without legal license - because the government was pressurized to shut it down. Reason, the pimps who run the show have ministerial connections. You should go there and see it for yourself. Every woman rescued from Kamatipura tends to go back to being a sex-worker again because the society does not accept them. These pretty women, when they are out in the world, meet two kinds of people - there is a larger group that sees them with disgust and there is a smaller group that sees them with sympathy - both extremes from two different spectrum of thought. Imagine how dangerously unsettling would this be to their minds that are, in real, quaking like a fish freshly out of the already troubled gutter water. How idiotically unscrupulous even the supposedly good lot amongst us also are - that we tend to show that lax sympathy to people who are in critical need of compassion and acceptance!

There are people amongst us who would hide their deviant present, just to look good in front of the world - but quickly point judgmental fingers to taint others when they make a far lesser mistake. Believe me, there is no such cheap drama and vanity seen in these women. They are like pearls stuck inside the suffocating flesh of the sea shell. They need to be loved just like how any damsel in distress from those fairy tales would yearn to be loved by her knight in the shining armor who would valiantly come crossing all the seven seas to rescue his maiden and take her away. Away - into the woods, to a place where there would only be bliss and the story would end with the lines - and they lived happily ever after. From all the tenets of love that I have known over the years - a person's present should not matter much as long as she is sincere about what she does and regrets her mistakes, the very thought of giving even the slightest damn about the past to judge somebody's character is highly sinful by any standard, and appearances do not count at all - because a lovely woman is not the one who is flawless by the set norms of the society, not the one who has an attractive shape and skin tone, not the one who has a lot of wealth - but the one who by her magical strides simply adds beauty to her man's life by the truth she brings in to beautify the relationship. I bet all these women who have been forced to live their lives in those small dingy private rooms quenching the lust of strange men just to win their daily bread are quite capable of being those ideal women the heart of any young man would want to woo and take home - only if you could be wise enough to see the roses beneath the thorns.

We hear lectures on true love everywhere, our movies wouldn't sell without love, all the songs we listen to are dipped in love. But what is depressingly sad is that none of us would want to imbibe the essence of love into our souls and show it in action that one could truly love. It is time we got up from our slumber and lived our lives on a higher note, for a higher purpose - negating all hypocrisies and moral deviances.

Love should be the only transaction!

I am one of those poor souls highly disillusioned with the world. Sometimes I find myself totally at odds with what is happening around that I tend to blink thinking if my thoughts are ahead of its times or that the world is way too ahead of my thoughts. I find it extremely difficult to cope with even the basic rules on which the world is made to function. 

The very idea of working for someone to earn paper currency disgusts me. You have to go to a place they call office everyday, sit in front of that computer screen and do things that you dont really like, tolerate all the nonsense from fake people, play games, taint others to make yourself look good, do things your heart does not approve of and kill your conscience to win favour from people who hold power - all of this cheap drama to get that package that gets credited to your bank account end of every month. Oh yes, it disgusts me more to get myself sunk into the quagmire of hypocrisies that brutally murder morality with this socially acceptable sense of right and wrong.

Money cannot make me happy. You can pour a lorryfull of fresh cash right in front of my house and ask me to take it, no exaggeration - I would certainly hesitate and leave the place. There is more to life than dying suffocating deaths everyday stuck inside huge heaps of mechanisation and boredom.

Sometimes I envy the hunter-gatherers of the past. They, in their times, had lived the most wholesome lives. There had been much thrill and adventure. But somehow down the line, this decay and rot in the thought process has seeped into human history and has taken us a zillion miles away from the colourful affinity and blend we had had with nature. 

I have been waiting to make a move and cut myself down from all the connections of this world and go away. Go away in search of a place where there is no rule of money, where people are respected for their character, where there is much kindness and no self-love. In my pursuit, if I happen to not find any such place - I shall go to a deep forest, mix with the natives there, make my best effort to sow seeds to build the civilization of my dream and watch them grow to become that ideal society where love would be the only transaction.

Parent an orphan child!

There is nothing more horrifying in this world than being a child growing up without a mom and a dad. The child takes shelter and lives in multiple charity centers, not knowing parental care at all. There is exposure to constant hunger, torn and used clothes, poor personal hygiene and sanitation, and pathetic education. I have also heard of gruesome stories of few filthily evil caretakers having laid hands on some of these children to satisfy their uncontrolled sexual urges. They have to suffer all of this in silence - in addition to the excessive disciplining. Life has its own way of treating the innocent and the good in the most unbearable way.

The child cannot share too much of whatever she goes through with anyone. Trust is an altogether different equation - as her mind reads and memory knows. It is depressing to see a beautiful young mind that is meant to fly freely like a happy butterfly - kept under lowly subjection. There is insecurity covered in smile, restlessness masqueraded by the quiet and abuse that goes unnoticed in extreme obedience. People from outside come once in a while to see them, show them so much love - but they leave in some time to go back to their homes. Some children who want to leave as well, try to make their escape. But the world outside is more cruel than the world within the walls of the orphanage - and they land in deep trouble losing it all.

From all the time I had fortunately spent with the orphaned kids, I know for a fact that life on the other side is not so easy. There have been times children have cried their hell out to take them away. Few, after knowing that you can be trusted, open up and speak about sexual abuse. There are things that I have seen with my own eyes that have triggered new perspectives and shaped ideologies. My heart has ever since started beating to the honest wish that no one in this world should spend his/her childhood as an orphan. Every child deserves a home, a mom and a dad.

Time has come - to stop acting as though we never noticed any of this, to have some passion to do good, and get into real action. This is a humble call to strongly recommend the advocating of child adoption - across societies and cultures. One might find obstacles to this from the highly conservative lot whose minds are mostly corrupt with old love-less ideas of the past and other rants on practicalities. Keep them all out - when you make any decision rooted in love. To do something selfless and nice outside the restrictive rules guarding the circle of life - would make one special, bold and adorable. We need to stop limiting our causes to mere talks and allow love to guide our action.

How long would we love only the things that are our own? What really is the use of giving heavy lectures on love and other wonderful things - if we cannot extend our arms and have the heart to call the mean and the rejected things of the world as our own? Love goes beyond the inner craving that looks for 'what's in it for me?'; it goes beyond blood, race, culture and even national boundaries; it is driven by the ever-burning passion that cannot be quenched at all; it magnifies happiness and brings merriment to a weary soul; it gives without expecting anything in return; love embraces all, opens eyes, lights lives, rescues people from the shackles of bondage and allows them to be free and happy. They rightly say - there are no unwanted children, just unfound families! Please open your home and heart to a child and be blessed!

http://www.adoptionindia.nic.in/

Don't be sad!

It is very easy to fake your smile and happiness in front of the world. And it is very convenient to lie about a lot of stuff just to portray yourself to be a strong person on the outside. It might feel like liberating for a few minutes to resort to doing sinful things to momentarily get rid of that killing guilt. If you truly want to make an assessment of your self, go stand in front a mirror and look at yourself when no one is watching. Spend some time, contemplate, stand still and stare into who you appear to be. I am sure you would start crying after a point. Thoughts would cross your mind, distractions would accumulate, an eerie sense of all the hurtful feelings would pile up and take hold of you. Yes, it is such an annoyance to bother your mind with the past and be sad on the inside.

Ask yourself - how long are you going to skate like this? Why do you want to give in to passing pleasures hoping that you would get relief from all that keeps bugging your mind and heart - by doing things silencing the outcries of your heart? If you are sure what you are doing is not wrong at all - why do you want to hide them from the world? I plead with you like how beggars do to please be careful in not toeing that dangerous line. Think about the consequences and eventualities - they come after you and no one escapes them. It is time you understood - what makes you sweat is probably not the right thing to do. There are better ways to deal with sadness - however horrifying that could be. May be it will take some more time for you to understand. Or even longer. Or that you probably know it, but still have no option other than continue living your life the way you do - doing things that your soul doesn't really accept - so you clothe them in lies, sporting a numb conscience and pleading not guilty. You can probably think what one knows doesn't matter and what one can prove only matters. But dear, it is not about who can know and what they can prove. It is about you. Only about you. Tell me, why are you sad!

Are you sad because something makes you feel that you are so wretched and evil? No, you are not. Absolutely not. No one is a wretch and nobody is evil. You have to just open your eyes to understand and see how beautiful you really are - even with your flaws and shortcomings. You are an art - complete in its exemplary sculpt and perfection, but only with the tears that run down your cheek, the scars you carry and the wounds you hide. You wouldn't easily believe me if I told you - what you see as something ugly within you actually adds flavor to your otherwise sulking soul! Trust me, there is no one like you and you are special - viewed from every angle and every way. So don't listen to what people have to say, don't give heed to your own harsh self-critiques - please don't be so mean to yourself. There is a race to run and win. Beat them all and be the champ. Be always happy and say ta-ta to every inward disturbance and distress.

Tough times are necessary in life to make one strong. But you should not allow them to burn you down and consume you completely. I have been through depressing situations myself - hunger, bitter cold, being alone in a strange place for long, betrayals, riots, close-to-death experiences, accidents and a few more. I truly do not consider myself as a good person, there are so many pitfalls and I deal with all of them regularly - trying my best to overcome. But still, I have somehow survived all the tempests so far. The tree , thankfully, has not fallen down yet. In truth, we should be happy that we have to go through all these - or we would be living life in mediocrity without any real meaning and gratitude. Bitter times actually make you become better.

So why don't you forget yourself and the world around for a while? Why don't you just stop thinking and give your frail hands to me so I could hold them for a while with care! Why do you want to lie down in the muck like a dead frog! Get up from where you are stuck! Take a deep breath till you feel the warmth in your heart. Smile a little. A little more. Let me see that gleam in your eyes. Take comfort on my shoulders, so you feel the heaviness lighten. Close your eyes. Hum the first song that comes to your mind and see how all your burdens vanish like disappearing dew. Now tell me whatever is in your heart. I shall sit next to you and silently listen to all that you have to say - with words or without. I am not the type who advises on matters touching human emotions. Yet, I would only tell you one thing if you would like to do it for me. Yes!, you say and here I go - 'Place your hand next your heart, look at the skies and say - Thank You God! for everything - be that for good or for bad.' I am sure this objective assertion would fill you with peace. May you find your happiness and never let go of it.

Why!

Why do you look at me that way? Why do you crave so much to spoil my nights? Why do you want to electrify my heart and pull out the musical strings of love from its shy chambers? Why!

It is magical how desires stick to the heart - first caressing it all over and then making it bleed like flood from a broken dam. It is sweet how words pleasingly canoodle the heart - seeking permission to be spoken. The dreams that slowly open the eyelids, the nights that wet the lips, the dew that breaks the buds - turning them into flowers just before daybreak. Do these not tell you that it is time for me to hold your hands? Why, then, do you withdraw - but with a smile? Tell me why!

Something strange tickles me too much, goes away and then comes back again to play with me some more. My cheeks and lips are both adamant that they would only listen to the language of your kisses. Would you, so, please come close? Closer still. The excitement that fills the air for the first time, the obstacles to reach you that are built using lilies from the valleys - so the more I stumble and fall, the more it looks funny and beautiful, the gap that reduces inch by inch making the two pair of lips to meet in the end.

Ah, I fall prostrate as the most ardent fan of your breath-taking artistry! How do you manage to intensify the beauty of your countenance by a hundred fold day after day? Oh, the radiance that flows from you - fries my eyes and heats up my spirit. And the combo of your laughter and stare truly creaks my heart open, sending seismic waves to displace my tectonic plates that have been staying quite all this while. Why do you do this to me? Why! 

Strong As Death!

The death of a young boy. The eight year old who tried to cross the road to pass on the message that his mom had written down in a piece of paper to the pimp who lived across the street, found himself stuck under the wheels of a speeding pleasure car. There was enough blood spilt. Before anyone could reach there, he gave up his ghost. Indeed it was a dark, gloomy evening. 

The man in the pleasure car held a powerful position and was rich enough to silence the crowd - because people feared him. He threw them cash. Plenty of cash. We are in such dangerous state of rottenness that we wouldn't mind numbing our conscience and killing morality altogether in order to save our face. Money, as it goes, could buy anything. There is absolutely no value for life here. The man wanted to speed up the burial before news got out. So he gave his mother two lakh rupees immediate cash. There was no police involved. Only a handful of people were present for the funeral service which ended in less than 15 mins and the body was taken to the graveyard. Within two hours, one beautiful life was totally extinguished and there was no sign of the boy having lived in that place for 8 long years. People there did not seem to bother at all. There was absolutely no sense of loss, no one to mourn the death or shed at least a few drops of tears to comfort the prostitute mother.

We could easily dust off poor people treating them like dirt, with a sly 'move-on-who-the-hell-cares' attitude having no regret whatsoever and go on leading our fake lives like nothing ever happened. Woe unto us, I say, for we shall verily grow weary and drown - for our lack of kindness. Woe unto us, for our lives shall be filled with desolation - for being disrespectful of the lives of others. Woe unto us, for there shall come a dark time when we shall seek refuge in all places and yet shall find no help anywhere under the sun.

One might argue that there is nothing wrong in what the rich man did! He did recompense for his misdeed - paying in lakhs. What else do you want him to do? Well, there are two things one must not fail to notice. One, the rich man did not feel sorry for the death of the young boy. He just threw his money not with an intent to recompense, but to hush things up. Had no one noticed the accident, he would have probably driven away very fast without stopping. Two, he had actually come to that place to have sex with another prostitute. Rumour has it, that the mother who now weeps for her child was once the most famous of all the prostitutes and the rich man used to visit her more frequently to taste her flesh in the past - at a time when what hides beneath her bodice was more tender and firm. So, one cannot also rule out the chance that the rich man could probably be the real father of the child who he just killed. Yes, things get more dirty when we dig in the details. They say - you shall know a tree by its fruits and a man by his actions. But when our actions lack humility, conviction and sincerity, we cannot be justified by any means.

There was just one person who wept for the child all day and all night. The boy's prostitute mother. He was her first-born. There were other children too - four in total (now three) - from strange men. But this boy was her favourite child. He was an obedient son and loved his mom so much. The story goes that there was one instance where he almost bit off the penis of a man who was having sex with his mother. That was the only time he happened to see lewd things with his own innocent eyes. It was two years back. Though he did not understand much of what was happening, he was certain that somebody was hurting his mom and he did not like that. After this incident, she was very watchful of the boy not getting to know about what she did to win bread for the family.

She wept, wept and wept. No one could console her of her grief. She mourned the death of her child to a point where it affected her mentally and she was no more stable. Yes, she became hysterical, gave herself up to strange mood-swings, started yelling and throwing stones at people, did not take care of her other children, refused to have sex with men, brought down the business of the pimp who in turn hit her hard and left her to bleed from her bruises atleast once a week. Everyone started calling her - retard! She was subjected to public ridicule. Even at this sorry state, some strange kinky men would reach out to the pimp so they could have sex with her forcibly - beating her up so badly. When the children would enter the house, she would be sitting like a ghost totally lost in her thoughts, with un-explainable scars and bruises everywhere. No one could read her mind. Life was extremely harsh on her, that - one day - she decided to commit suicide. And she hung herself from the only ceiling fan in her house orphaning her three children.

She was given a grand funeral. So many people attended the service, spoke highly of the prostitute mother who took away her life mourning the death of her son. There were so many good things spoken about her. The way she used to give away money that she earned from prostitution to pay for the education of few of the school going kids from the slum, the kindness with which she greeted the elderly people and took them to hospital whenever they were in need, and the constant love she showed to all the disabled people living in the slum. Her grave was not a fancy one but a simple heap of mud, and over that stood a cross and a placard. The placard carried this beautiful Bible verse written in local language:

"Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame." 

Song of Solomon 8:6

Sometimes, the way the story of our life ends might not be all that great. Our minds could force us to think that we deserved a better finish. We need to quickly grow out of such depressing thoughts. Truly, it doesn't matter how we are doused. But it does matter how we burnt when the wick was still wet with oil.

What kills me?

There could probably be a million things about me that are completely wrong. Some nay this assertion and advise that my lifestyle has always been good - so I need not see myself in bad light. But a person's lifestyle choice, unfortunately (against all the societal clauses), cannot determine if one is good or bad. Being a virgin and not having touched alcohol or smoke - in no way - can tick and qualify a person to be good. Goodness, my friend, is not a bodily proposition, it is that of the heart. It depends on what is in your heart, and how your mind can come out of its inherent vices and get itself wrung over the rightful ways of your heart. I stand as an example to this. A bad example that people should learn from, and not admire and venerate. So yes - I am a sinner, a terrible one at that and there is no hiding of that truth.  I personally struggle with so many mistakes every single day. Have always petitioned in my silent prayers that I be purged of all my sins and be made a better person. Every night is a nightmare when your soul questions you on so many things. I have been constantly wetting the pillows of my bed where I lay my head to rest - with bitter tears, but still find no relief. Oh, that I have hurt! Oh, that I have failed to be prudent! Oh, that I have been utterly foolish! Oh, that I have lost the innocence of my mind! Oh, that I have lowered my stature! Oh, that I did not hearken to the outcry of my conscience and have not kept the integrity of my heart! When will these battles of my mind end? When will I find peace? All I wish for is that I move an  inch closer to being a nice person at the passing of every night and day!

I am generally known in all my friend circles as that crazy guy who lends a quick helping hand and takes risks for others, though I have truly not done great things for anyone. But whenever I have gotten an opportunity to do simple and small things to make people happy, I - to the best of my knowledge - have always suppressed all the menial human urges to expect favors in return. In all truth, I have never run with an intention to make anyone obliged to my quirks. No, I detest such thoughts. I am not shrewd enough to apply political sense to the things I do. However hard that I have tried, I have also not been able to be selfish or be safely diplomatic - the result of being habitual in doing things from the heart without applying too much sense and mind. I agree that these are not great things one should be proud of. Hell yes, most of these character traits of mine have landed me in deep trouble so many times. But the bigger problem lies in the fact that I have always looked for that basic sense of respect. Yes, I confess that I have expected people to show some respect - not the Mahatma kind of respect, but the simplest of respects any lowly human would rightfully deserve. That, I understand, is a very bad thing and has been one of my greatest sins. The desire to do good to others should come without having any expectation whatsoever - even in terms of respect and I have verily failed in that. I am trying hard to train my heart to grow up and reach that stature where even if I knew that I would be treated in a bad way later, I would still follow my heart and do good.

Anger is another sin. It blinds your mind from thinking straight, breeds ego, makes you wag your tongue little too much, increases fissures between people, and triggers you to sin willfully. If you know the trick, it is very easy to make me angry. There are certain principles that I take very seriously and follow. The trick is that if you happen to mess with any of those, you would see me reacting. But I would never tell anyone the actual reason behind the anger. This sometimes confuses people. Giving up on principles and striking a compromise is wrong. The only thing that can be done is to make myself slow to anger. Reacting to the wrongs ought to be the last option and that should be done only after being sure that the outcome would be positive. The best way to deal with such situations, now I understand, is to remain silent and just walk away the moment you see things that do not please your eyes. Fighting other people's battles even out of pure intention and honest concern can land us in deep trouble.

If you put me in a situation that is very sensitive and complicated, and that I have never been exposed to, I would tend to reach out to friends to sincerely take opinions in trust - just to be sure that I don't wrongly assume things and make mistakes. Here is where the mistake is. Right or wrong, you need to figure out things yourself. Or if you cannot get it, you should just leave it and go. Because, most of those who you call as friends are really monkeys from that cat story they taught us in kindergarten. They say things to you, go say different things to others, then judge you and put you to total shame. You will have no idea what went wrong where, and because of your inexperience in handling these weird complicated situations you would be pushed to say things that they themselves have trained you in. The mind-blocks they have created in you would have shut down your understanding of the matter. Only after the dust settles will you understand that the information you provided them was actually manipulated, twisted and turned, and that you have been thoroughly mocked and insulted. These monkeys have to be identified and ties with them need to be cut instantly. I have also quit myself from being open about so many things. Now I run for the corners to sit in the quiet with closed eyes. It is sad that people and their mistrust have silenced my soul, but there is much peace in not trusting anyone.

You don't have to beat me to kill me. Spit a few words on my face and that will do the work. Words kill me. Guilt kills me too. Guilt, in having hurt others. Guilt, in not doing the right thing. Tears also kill me because I strongly believe that only the most cruelest of people can make others cry. I am a weak person who can instantly die of self-reproach. All I pray for is that I should not be a stumbling block to the happiness of others. My sins are as scarlet and I wait for a renewing that would beautify my otherwise ugly life. To the kind God I humbly ask, that I may please be forgiven and be washed of all my sins.

Tell me what you want!

Show me the world and tell me what you want. I shall get it for you. If I cannot, I shall pack and go searching for it, and make this pursuit my newly-found purpose to live. Have hope, because on my return - you shall definitely find what you had wanted. Tell me where you would want to go. If it's too hard for you to pick places, I shall give you a list to choose from. Wherever your finger shall point, I shall take you there. I shall take you to places you have never been to and thrill you with much love. 

We shall swim in new waters. Climb the tallest of mountains and touch the clouds. Listen to the songs of exotic birds. Trek our way deep into the dense forest, camp there and smile over the sound of crickets. I shall fill your nights and days with much laughter and you shall put me to sleep singing those sweet lullabies.

When I look at you, into your eyes, and when my soul takes its glimpse into your heart, I shall instantly understand the desire that tickles your inner self, and how that you try so hard to hide what obviously spills out. Yes I shall wink at you, but would leave you at your peace and quietly quit the scene because time is not ripe yet to get naughty and likeably misbehave.

Come close and behold the mess of a person that I am from within. Search my heart and command all that you do not like -  to leave. And it shall leave I promise. Because you are so precious to me, change wouldn't be a hard thing at all. All the sweetness that I have lost over the years, I shall find in you. And my love for poetry shall reignite looking at the touch of class in the way you hold your pen and the way your lips make movements upon your loverly utterances.

Yes, I would 'certainly and only' like doing what you like. And I am the type that readily defies the whole world to get to you. Wouldn't wait to punch on a few noses or take a few deadly blows to prevent evildoers and whoremongers who lurk in the dark from pouncing on you. You shall know the tenacity of these words when we meet. By the way, there are two things, only two things that I vehemently detest: lies and greed; thought you should know. Oh yes, I also concede that you shall definitely like me more the moment you become friends with my mum, dad and brother. The very thought of your presence is heaven to me. But who art thou, where art thou, when shalt thou come, I lay wait!

Beautiful!

I am a happy man leading a simple life. Or rather, deriving happiness out of simple things in life. I have always disliked complications, confusions, flamboyance and the related sophistications that blind our souls from seeing beauty the way it has to be seen! The definition of beauty also is so very simple. Beauty, to me, is the state of your sight.

She is in her early twenties. An orchestra singer, dark skinned. Sings wherever she gets a chance, to feed her family. She has a bedridden father, a mother who is a part time maid. Hmm nope, not really a maid. But a dishwasher who goes to the upper-middle class households in the street whenever there is struggle for food at home. So I happen to sit next to her mother who also accompanies her daughter to wherever she goes to perform in the night. Because in India it is really dangerous to send a girl out at nights. We talked. Her mother and I. When her mother, with tears, shared the heart-rending story of how the girl strives hard to take care of her father, I instantly found her very beautiful.

The other day I went to see the boy child of this couple I know for long. This little child was adopted because they had no children after 10 years of their marriage. But it so happened that the adopted baby boy, when he grew up to be a one year old kid, was found to be deformed. Against the advices of their ill-minded relatives who forced them to return the child back to the adoption agency, they chose to not let go of the child, but decided to have him with them and take care of his medical needs. They proudly call him, son. I found the couple beautiful and the little one, now a two-year old, so very beautiful.

These two women clothed in white, who were both over 50, were walking without footwear. We were coming back from the hospital and I asked my dad to stop the car. Because I saw one of them struggling to walk. I put my head out and ask the other aunty, do you need help? The one who is in struggle replies in some language that sounded like Hindi. The other one translates in English telling, 'we are coming from Haryana. This is a padh yatra that we had both vowed, we cannot get in the car, we have to walk till we reach Kanyakumari. There are so many like us walking in the front and coming behind.' I was truly truly shocked. What? From Haryana to Kanyakumari. Walking?! I first thought it was insane. Gave them our first aid kit so they could clean the wounds on their feet. Then I saw their faces, they were filled with happiness and I really liked the audacity these women had in their faith to complete their vow. And they appeared beautiful in my eyes.

So yes, I was in hospital. Few days. Tests after tests. But I became a popular patient because of my fear for syringes. And I had to give blood all the time. Oh my god. My dad and mum, both should come and hold me, so they could forcibly take blood from me. I initially disliked this nurse who used to joke about me getting scared for this. But then we became good friends eventually. She is married to a chronic drunkard, has two little kids, talks about her household chores to my mum and I have no other option but to listen to two women talking. I started liking her because she was very genuine and couldn't hide her emotions. The final day in that hospital, mum gifts her a saree and she cries with gratitude. Those were real tears. Then she smiles, comes to me and teases me more with the syringes, and I shout akkaaa. She was indeed beautiful.

Though I am a happy individual, I have my fair share of weaknesses. Yes, I have no shame in admitting that I am a weak vessel. New vulnerabilities sprout every now and then. And I continuously strive hard to overcome them. I might smile on the outside but have this brokenness inside me that only I am privy to. I pray to God that all my shortcomings are soon turned to strengths. I am sure God will listen to my prayers. If not today, maybe tomorrow. Or maybe some other day. I shall wait. Because when that day comes, I shall appear beautiful too from the inside. What are we, but meek men and women trying to be of help to each other so smiles could be spread.