the faith and fury of the firefly

"Hope" is the feathered thing perched on the soul. It sings the tune without saying anything and never - ever - stops. And sweetest is heard - in the gale - I searched for the sore, which met the storm - Abashing the little feeling, the cuckoo could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - Changes that aren't for thee to rejoice with me A way of life that is second to none. What did I see except myself looking for longing? Will you join me in celebrating what I've shaped into a kind of life? I didn't have a craft or a model. Does my sass bother you? Does it exude a sense of doom? Just like the moons and suns, With the predictability of tides, As if hopes were bursting at the seams, Still, I'll rise to the collosal joy of thou. Does my arrogance bother you? Don't you find it difficult? You can shoot me with your words, cut me with your eyes, and kill me with your hatred, but I'll still rise and like And I smile as I've discovered gold mines in my own backyard of memories Something which is mine and am proud of… I'm a black ocean, wide and leaping in the tide, welling and swelling. I've heard it in the coldest land, where there is peace. It never asked for a crumb from me in the end. In a gleeful ray of hope, I propose that we celebrate not meeting. A glimpse was obtained via an interstice. I sat quietly in a corner, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The rushing rays of sunlight are not mine. Nonetheless, I fixed my gaze on thee in the midst of the crowd. I dance like a firefly staring at the burning stove on a cold winter night, perplexed at the burning stove, I meet the light In my rage, I realise the rage is due to fate and a stronger faith. Knowing full well that I will share in your joy far beyond me and us

Content ??

Theirs isn't anyone who does not have this aspiration and for most of us it starts creeping in during fag end of the year or the beginning on the new one. Yeah right am not trying to be different and I won't say that I don’t look forward to it if I do then would be senile. But but the desperation the anxiety the angst has settled like pearl in its shell deep in the ocean. Like a serendipity, well not deeming the rest and the other but one do feel some sense of belongingness and gradually some pride and a part of it . It was a few days back while walking in to a village- Titmoh, Deoghar District of Jharkhand on a day which is celebrated with full of vigour, passion and spirit. While walking in the village to collect some paper to get the errands of the account correct. I saw ladies dressed up with the kids all draped in new attire looking dapper. A lady was walking towards with me carrying a poly bag it was full of "Chura" and was handed over to me with a sense whether I would like it or not I would accept it or not. I was overwhelmed with this gesture and yet perplexed as the lady was a widow with very less fortune yet with a big heart. Completely taken aback with it I was thinking " she has a very big heart" and I thanked her gracefully as I could have done. While walking away I was feeling a sense of contentment. Another instance in the same village happened when a group of villagers were helped in their enterprising thoughts and deeds and they have excelled in this so far. And believe me they do not possess any of these acumen - enterprise, skill, business, stock and many more. Yet they believed in a thought, a vision and they worked around. Seeing their success was one thing to feel elated. But they had put the last nail in as well, they insisted to treat my entire colleagues over a dinner and count my words it was sumptuous for an urban sit in dinner. The confidence and pride with which they called for this dinner was equally matched with humbleness and gratitude which again was unmatched and while looking in to their eyes one could easily make out - its just a beginning. And this is where I felt deep within " aur kya chhiye tha"…..

Death Vs dearth of acceptance and mere acknowledgement of equity

Just for family/domestic aid, religious sentiments/supplements, words in public/deeds (miss) in private, guess where are we?? what are we have been seeing a lot in the recent days. Not that I wasn’t hurt but above all I felt insecure if I were to be a female in this society shall I not carry pepper spray or a chiily spray where men hover around ogle with Xray eyes and disgustful words/ touches, and may under some dark corner of the house/village/city/metro/ capital I am an easy prey to seen and unseen faces. My attire is to be blamed of my character yet I don’t see the same instincts in animals. Human beings are evolved animals where and why we not return and go back again to be the same and one. The so called feminist/ sensitive/ gender vocals who have been largely speaking for the gender equity/equality/empowerment and so on….. I don’t question them but I scream at those deaf ears. Wake up from within not to incidents that would spark and ignite and then it won’t even last a small fire. Let it burn than vouch for killing thy seek to kill the insight and clear the malice and start respecting. Somewhere down the line I don’t like the feeling of or supporting the death demand as I strongly feel its mere an upsurge to the current incident, uproar, disgust, hurt, resemblance, and an act which is incomparably heinous to its core.Yet some where I do not correlate myself with the idea of capital punishment while I recall the famous line of Rabindranath Tagore’s poem “WHERE the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments By narrow domestic walls Where words come out from the depth of truth Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit Where the mind is led forward by thee Into ever-widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake. “ The malice isn’t unfair is all that I want to express, yet somewhere deep within I feel where is the genesis of such outrageous act of insanity I fail to realise the truth of immediate flow of adrenaline that instigates act of masculinity, insanity, nymphomaniac, etc… how and why is I question such a feeling and act and so are we acting to it merely getting in to the flow of it not really getting down to basic of why and from where? I don’t oppose the capital punishment yet I don’t affirm it as well unless we – we all start to give respect that has been demanded explained, talked about, shared, and which is a congenital right. I strongly believe that we along with the protest shall also start and induce a sense of respect the way we address them the way we ogle at them, the way we think they are mere some object of use and abuse. Domestic lives that we all are part of (not hitting all with a single stick) is far beyond equity and equlity and may this is what allows one to step up and build a sense and belief that you can play, use, abuse, rape, hit and kill. A sense of portest that I feel shall also go down the line that prophses a beter life first than a better place to live and roam around. Give them what due just a respect may be adding to old few words but wasn’t able to hole on longer to the daily sops and prints and social media. Why? May be it yet tough to be the change than ask for one! Late but yet begin folks and friends

Off late in the recent turmoil that the nation is witnessing I was perplexed I thought, I dwell in a nation which has abundance of spirit that rise and shine on the days when we see others seems like we are yet a mob not a bonhomie that we are within the boundaries of the state. Are we mere perpetuators of the only essence that is see in us “Barbarism” which has its own tone some sweet, some sour, some blood shedding and some for mere survival? Under the sky that we used to sing anthems of nationality where a man was termed Iron (ferocious) and were those made of some ductile metals or they simply didn’t had any conscience of their own that they agreed upon a mirage “India” and gave up all that they have. How mature I fell us are today when I see all of us pelting stones on the leaders from all the spheres of lives how insanely how casually we live with them in our every discussion over tea or too intensely over booze. Where am I within all this a mayhem that is driven of national hatred that trespasses across mind, humanity, religion, class, creed and state? I wonder the school that used to teach us nothing on this and it the society the family the domain that we breed this greed and hatred. All more that I often see its more within the intellectual minds the scholars, accomplishers, laureates, academicians and the prophets of public mind those who rule the rust. And where is my beloved “Beautiful mind” that was just what it saw and through heart, unbiased to congenital dissent, a resolute that it used to be of a race of an apple eater I wished was better than today I wonder what word shall I coin for it. Within a span of time that I feel and if steal

To be or not to be

In a stupor where the words stabber and loose meaning, Yet thoughts keep wandering, all in the quest of cardinal existence Lucidness just overwhelms you, draining you between the two ends of being and not Questioning what the already drained hollowness Where to collect, what to lose, and what to take – hold something The existence, belief or is it simply a way of life, keep you on hold yet moves on On the sides by your side yet not yours, does it not bear existence? Is this state of civilized conditioning, where your just don’t score on wise words. Yet I do or choose to do all that a normal being or animal does, Sleeping oddly, I wake up with a sound in my heart my ears remain distantly close but feel colossal noise In this celestial periphery, I dig for the most familiar sludge under my foot Reminding thou and myself of a cuckoo, but the spring choose cold juggling on a firm pes and the indispensable carnal world of desires Abstain, restrain, and denial have all merged into one – me Opiniated reverberating above the boulevard of debauchery Amidst all of this, I ask, "Where and how do I put the right foot?" How should I tell my story without fear? Will the desire wrapped in the warmth of hope meet the angst and practical How do I get there? Where do I go to find answers to my desires, questions, and hopes? Like the dust under the rug, pages unfurred I feel I am not to be touched, not sooner, not later, nor anymore. And the flare withing yell - live and live for a glimpse? Ashes fray between the two shades, and all I do is duck in between Expression, emotions fraying all across trying to find their way, The stream knows, they will be met numbness, where I wait, where I wait

How far we are from the reality of the verve

Temporal and remotely disassociated with global gadgets like mobile networks, kits and kilns, face book status and jokes on sardar’s and some regular and unwanted mail or spam. I was swinging again in the lap of nature that nurtures the human life for another spell. A complete new location, a novel gentry , a managed to get a new adobe temporarily to avoid courting the stars which were radiating much brighter than anywhere else in the country but a village. Bouncing and bumping on the road which none of us would remotely associate with the context defined in our heads I zoomed over it to reach the destination. While hoping in the village in the first evening itself I was offered a dinner bash from a certain and strict looking character. Ate the first bite of the night with him yapped a lot about the life under the darkness and the sunlight the desires and the constraints. While my was back to host family I saw some lads looking and laughing and I smiled back thinking I shall be laughing with you very soon. The family head was faging biddi while another one was asking him to light the other one suddenly the song started playing in y mind “Biddi jalaei le Jigar se piya” the play and pause button was pressed simultaneously when I came to know about a mishap in the family and ritual kick starts from tomorrow. I told the family that I shall relocate as I would be another liability on them during the coming days. The idea was sternly and firmly rejected and I was asked to cooperate until the ritual ends and I had to live with them only it was a forced reluctance from me to nod in affirmation. Bided good night to the family who was keenly drooling at me what the hell is he going to do over here in the village a mix of anticipation, anxiety and sympathy is all what I was able to gather from corners of those intruding eyes. The next morning woke much earlier then I had expected the last self in me to have allowed me to saw the sun rising which the radiant rays not after a long period but it just the ambience that made the difference. A stroll came in to my mind wondered a few paces was thwarted with nature call, with the tranquillity I saw a few lads rushing towards a drain I followed them showing no hurry taking small strides with tremors inside. Finally the community drill was done with copied accumenship. A breath of relief I reached back the home walking through the farms some tilled some watered some left azar as it’s asking “mera number ka ayega”. The youngest one of the family who was studying in the city asked for a cup of tea to which I denied and then moved in to the village sat with different age groups of the family. Some were very old and the swirl of their head to look at me was so mesmerising as if I was witnessing a slow motion movie. While at the other places I had to smell the pungent smell of Biddi and then listen about the farms preparation and the problem of the village. Where the lads sat dressed casually on their bike of the tractor or on the temple steps pulling each other’s leg but on my arrivals it seemed to me mine was the longest that everyone could pull. Just an impression and I assumed how alike we all are in some respect. Suddenly one came with a new mobile and the crowd started to get acquainted with the technology and others also started the music in their mobiles. then I saw the family going to a farm I accompanied them for the ritual everyone was shaved and cleaned and a small patch of hair was left again I recalled how we used to be irritated with the small bush of hair left on head. They took shower at the well after the family members, relatives and friends took bath was called in for a lunch as a part of ritual I got familiar with a few more people and sat alongside testing the new kadi of “besan” and furry with which people were eating it I was surprised at my own small bites but I had lost the race already. The people asked my purpose the family torch bearers of the village surrounded me and I walked a few steps and chanting my purpose of visit. Suddenly a flurry of demands started coming roads, check dams, land levelling etc. I smiled and noted it all on my mind while thinking on my own constraints. The group had immense poise and the discussion led to some useful information and in the evening I hunted for laughing gang to get myself a few smiles as well. Shared a few moments of laughter with them it remineds me of how much I miss these carless laughs. The next few days were usual stroll with people to their farms lands found some spots late in the evening as the power was gone for days unknown. Under such gloomy darkness the people used to sit at a small general store which had solar light and used to be bright even without the light to the village. Sitting there for a few night chit chat I figured the shop was more of a “pan Biddi dukan” the piles of bidde packets used to vanish in a day or two to give space to the fresh ones. Also it was fascinating to see that all the families in the village used to take any small or big things in exchange of crop yield (soybean or Maize), a system in a shop that must be some scheme which I later on learnt it was promoted as the shop keeper also had some interest and was well connected with the nearest Mandi. Small kids carrying kg or 2 for some kitchen item and then he ogles and harps on the chocolate, sev and pingals I cherished a few pingles myself and used to share it with the children coming to the shop and got famous as a new pingle and chocolate guy. The stratification in the village was clearly missed in the common arena except the due weight age given to the Brahmins. The kaccha houses were illuminated on the night of ‘eegaraus’ resembling deepawali. The crackers a few went off but was pleasant to see the diyas glowing and the evening was lightened even without the help of wires hanging above. A few invitation of dinner and lunches were It seemed I was the guest of honour and once when I was offered pingle by a kid was so touching in the short span of my stay that I forgot to miss the touch of my laptop keypads, my ringtone buzzing on my mobile and my mailbox stating you 10 unread mails. The smokes of biddies were better than the old vehicle’s smoke which clearly shows that the future is black and the poor guy is pulled off the road as we don’t like to be warned. From the nature and nurture back to the world which having called a life of my own confused and was not able reflect was I alien there or am in an amusement park now. Suddenly my mobile rings and I smile and pick it up seems the day is rolling and inhale the fresh smoke of fuel my sense didn’t refuse it rather they were busy socialising as me over the call. Yeah it is a call though in waiting for all of us... till then keep talking or walking as JHONY WALKER say

Shades, fades & faces!!