Thursday, 17 May 2018

Walking In Her Own Style

Sara never thought of running the race. She lived in the moment, carrying all emotions in one potli, always responding quickly to the dancing wind.

Pausing or stopping was also not her aim. Sara believed in action, her genre was action.

That tarot card reader did say that her stars were tricking her for fun and times will change, that she should be ready to fight. All Sara felt then was that a glitch is a glitch.

Time changed and Sara started running the race. She didn’t realise it for a quarter and when she did, dismayed, she tried to pause the world.

A year passed by on the calendar and Sara at last acknowledged it. You know she had to, her neighbours burnt firecrackers all night on the New Year eve.

Sara understands the race better now, but she still loves walking in her own style. When an obscure voice asked her what next, she confidently said, ‘wait and watch.’

(A Potli means a packet or a bag.)

Saturday, 21 April 2018


The beach was audible to her in intervals. She walked bare feet on the sand and still didn’t smile. Rhea had muffled thoughts, a cluster full of it, covering her face. And that is why she couldn’t see the beautiful, starry canvas right above her. The sky didn’t twinkle, the waves didn’t play music for her. Like a ghost, locked in some tragic seconds, she moved slowly, that pale thing or maybe the world moved around her, and she stood still.

But the beach was audible to her in intervals. And she unconsciously moved towards the ocean. The interval ended, but it was too late for to be locked back again… a wave rushed towards her and caught her. Rhea took a deep breath and looked down, her feet were wet, the waves danced forward and backward. She smiled before she could stop herself.

Rhea could now hear the gushing ocean, see the sparkling stars, feel the cool wind and the cool sand. She started walking, this time not shying from the waves. She sauntered along the shore, opening her arms and welcoming the wind, the waves and the night sky in intervals.  

Saturday, 7 April 2018

Not Alone

You are not alone
Know this and take the way home
Not to the concrete walls
Or to those fairy dolls
For Time is playing an old game
New Faustus, but the end will be the same
The dim light that you see within
That is wavy, translucent as linen
Is there to guide you through it all
To help you rise when you fall
Forever glowing and reaching
The peaceful piece in you

So you are not alone
Know this and take the way home

Friday, 30 March 2018

What Is So Grand In The Way Dragons Fly?

Eyes gaze at the grandiose being, follows its path, amazed and overwhelmed by the unbelievable. What is so grand in the way dragons fly? It is just in its element, it is its utmost self.

The dragons are awed by every mind that is familiar with its stories. Fire breathing, winged, snake like, four legged, cave dwellers, treasure keepers, proud and wise. Flying high above the clouds, quasi-free from bondage, they come back on the ground to quench their thirst. They don’t kill for joy, they understand the laws of nature.

Mythical or not, dragons are glorious creatures. I say mythical or not for a storytellers’ imagination is an entity in itself, very much alive, though in thoughts, formless and fluid, but true. Found in a story, the dragons thrive in this other realm.

Storytellers gave something more than just a pair of wings to the dragons, that something is splendour and beauty. Thus, right in the thought there was magnanimity and ferocity. What else is a dragon if not a magnanimous loveable beast? Ah, here is what sprinkles magic in a dragon’s story, they are loveable beasts. Our storyteller friends didn’t suffer, at least, and I thank every heaven, from poverty of mind; they dared to imagine and realized that nothing is more powerful than true love, not even a dragon.

So rhythmically every dragon’s story is about love; a hero either fights back or fights along the dragon and wins back her love/ life and is showered with unheard grandeur. Always a talk of antiquity, dragons are, but worth noticing is not the ‘antiquity’ bit, it is the ‘always’ bit. Always remembered, locked in the heart.

But what is so grand in the way dragons fly? It is just in its element, it is its utmost self. Exactly, it is its utmost self. Like the storyteller who thought of it with utmost concentration, power, passion and love. Maybe just for a few minutes the storyteller was in her element, she was her utmost self, and thus, she gave birth to the dragon.

These legendary creatures ruled the sky once upon a time, and they still do, just travel to their realm and witness how majestically they fly.  

Photo courtesy - Google 

Sunday, 18 March 2018

In This Moment

I am complete in this moment. Not in parts, the picture is clear now, the puzzle is solved. I breathe in quietness and the quietness decides to stay. Nothing binds me, I stay stationary, yet I flow in space. The cacophony dies smoothly and turns into a wave of delight. I hold this wave and throw it on the ground breaking it into a rainbow.

Towards the light I walk and the light walks towards me. We will meet one day, the journey begins in this moment.

Walking In Her Own Style

Sara never thought of running the race. She lived in the moment, carrying all emotions in one potli , always responding quickly to the da...