Searching for Salvation

Call of the Eagle...

Some sights/images have a hold the power to create a hold on us. They evoke a host of emotions and perhaps remain with us forever, stuck in our minds, sometimes forgotten and often recollected. Sometimes in happy situations and sometimes in nightmares which leave us drenched in sweat, screaming in silent screams.
And there are some that will touch a chord with the artist in all of us. Last month my friend Nivedita Aluri uploaded photographs of the Yellowstone National Park. One of them happens to be a lonely eagle flying across the road with tall pines on either side. Somehow this image remained in my mind and it took nearly a month to complete this poem.

Sculpture...

When your heart breaks...

So there is this novel I read the other day, called 'If I could see you now' by Cecelia Ahern. Delightful novel, about children who see characters, characters who are not visible! So you might want to ask what is delightful about that, after all it should rather be a case for psychiatry, should it not?

May be, but why would a child want to create a character unless he wants company; unless she is being neglected; unless they are being abused. In most cases, I have read that these characters do disappear after a period of time, perhaps when the child has no more need of support or help; perhaps when a child gets bogged down by all that homework and all those tests; perhaps when children have no option other than to grow up. Is that why do we have so many depressed individuals? Well I am going off on a tangent here.

What I actually wanted to write about was this beautiful passage I read in this book, which I am posting below. It is about what happens when your heart breaks. When I read through this passage, I was speechless for the longest time, even thoughtless I can say.

Who has not gone through a heart break for one reason or another?

Who has not felt the need to scream, to shout, to hit and destroy; who has not felt the need to bang a door, run away, or break something?

Who has not felt the need to curse at the Gods, to cry hot tears till you run them out, to keep a brave smile when your tears want to escape and your eyes start burning?

Somewhere amidst this, a tiny organ called the heart is hurting, wanting to scream out. Yes the doctors tell you it is an organ with chambers and valves, a mechanical device that pumps blood day in and day out till the day you die. It is only your mind that plays these tricks. Somehow I am not convinced, especially after reading this paragraph:

When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think as it’s so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell.

But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain. If there is a noise, it’s internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loudly your ears ring and your head aches. It thrashes around in your chest like a great white caught in the sea, it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken. That’s what it looks like and that’s what it sounds like, a thrashing, panicking, trapped, great big beast, roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions.

But that’s the thing about love; no one is untouchable. It’s as wild as that, as raw as an open flesh wound exposed to salty sea water, but when it actually breaks, it’s silent, you’re just screaming on the inside and no one can hear it.

whose war is it?

The newspapers in the last few months have been reporting an escalation in kidnapping, shoot outs and bomb blasts either by the Maoists or by the Police force. Note that these wars are fought in forests and other terrains where the Maoists are old hands in hiding, pursuing or killing people. And most of the times, they have better weaponry than the Police force.


The Maoists seemed to have lost sight of their agenda. Or may be I do not know the entire story, but why would you want to kidnap an officer who is working to make people's lives better by listening to and solving their problems. For example, one of the officers was actually responsible for the construction of a  tar road, which was promptly destroyed.

On the other hand, the police personnel often behave like 'goondas' kidnapping and raping women and beating up people in the middle of the night. I guess if you are on the receiving end and don't know how or when or where you will be killed, then the animal in you just comes out and damn the consequences. 

But in this war, who is the villain, who is innocent and whose war is it?

Men in fatigues.

Men in camouflage.

Some. Call themselves guerrillas,

Heading people’s movements.

Some. Are in the government.

Pushing forgotten papers.

You say you work for the people.

And you say you work with the people.

The passion was lost long ago.

Now the forests echo with pain.

Fool hardy. Brave souls.

Circling each other.

Preying on leftover lives.

Kidnap/Raping.

Arson/Pillaging.

Gun shots/Bomb blasts.

Blown to bits, blown to dust.

What ancient drumbeats do you follow?

What soundless bugles do you hear?

What is the agenda?

Whose war is it...Who is the enemy...

The reason is adrift. The cause is dead.

Foolish Men!

You forgot the colour of blood.

You forgot those who wait.

With lamps lit.

At the threshold of their homes.

Chant of the Rain

A collaboration by Golam Wahedur Rahman and Bindu Babu. 

It started off with me commenting about the rain in Hyd, India and Golam wanting that rain in Bangladesh as well. Looking at Golam's dialogue, I wondered if we could collaborate on a poem. I asked him to begin first and he came out with this beautiful poem titled ‘He:’. It was quiet challenging to come up another to match his and I ended up with various versions. Finally I decided on this one, titled, 'She:'. 

He:

When the humid wind turned soothing cold
and the sweltering sun buried below
the dark grey clouds,

my wait to greet the rain - I could feel, 

would be over soon.
As Gods played Diwali in the sky,

Thunders, blue and white

appeared to my eyes.
I thought I could hear your song

and your sigh!

Yesterday you said, it was raining there,
and when I asked you for some,

You replied, 'But that I cannot share'!

Deep down I knew,

your love was too sublime
to deny me anything from your heart.
So when the raindrops smelled like you
I wasn't surprised at all, I was,

rather soaking wet

from the rain

and glowing from your love.

She:

I stand in the balcony

watching the downpour, watching for you.

As the rain dances down my skin

I wonder if you hide behind

these dark clouds,

playing with my tresses

while I shiver under your

lingering gaze.

My thoughts are like

paper boats sailing here and there...

and the wet chant takes me

to a buried moment.

Of incense and crushed rose petals.

Of candle light and soft kisses.

Of slow strokes and silken sighs.

Of thunder and faraway lightning.

I am drenched in those memories

and time grows heavy with longing.

I wonder if the caress of the breeze

carries my unspoken song!

For the wind blew strong

and the raindrops smelled like you,

I knew I had found my sanctuary!

I found you!

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.boostinspiration.com/photography/35-really-beautiful-examples-of-rain-photography/

http://www.boostinspiration.com/

Bob Marley...and all the men I know

What if we (as in we women folk) found that perfect man...he could be our friend, partner, lover, and husband and perhaps even a 'partner in crime' as my friend Poli Gupta says, :).

Wouldn't that be wonderful? It would be wonderful provided we are perfect too, but who is to decide what is perfection? What is the yardstick? Where are the standards? And ladies, knowing us, we would still end up picking a bone just for the heck of it...:D.

Just the other day, Poli, shared the following picture on her Facebook wall. I simply loved it. This picture I dedicate it to all the men I have known, from my father to my husband, to my brother, cousins, best friends, friends, colleagues etc. They are all special in their own way and I have cherished their affection, warmth and their caring.

And my heart goes out to some of them for their undying patience and loyalty to a nutcase like me.

Sigh! Sigh!!

Source: http://www.facebook.com/#!/whatweseee

Unnamed Letter

Over the weekend, I spoke to an old friend of mine. It was nice talking about college and friends from the past. Somehow the talk veered to assorted crushes, pretty girls and 'studs' of the college.

She suddenly if I remembered so and so and how I had a crush on him. Sigh! How can I forget him and what he did!!! Well it all began with this boy always staring at our group of girls in the campus. He was tall and cute and played football for the college...:) :)...Now we were all confused as to who he was looking at. Then one day he turned up wearing a red polo sweater and jeans and I could not take my eyes of him. The girls decided that he was just right for me. I must have sighed a hundred times making 'goo-goo eyes at him.

I nearly died when he walked towards me and smiled shyly. And then I died some more when he said, "I heard you write poems. I need your help. There is this girl you see..." He hesitated looking at my expression. He continued when I said go on, "Well, do you know so and so from 2nd year BArch? I was thinking of proposing to her..."

I still can't forget the looks on my friends' faces and how they howled with laughter every time they saw him in the campus. Well what can I say...it broke my heart but not my pen and yes, I did write that poem and helped him woo the girl...sigh! This poem is in remembrance of that event.

You wrote me a letter,

with perfumed ink

and your heart laid bare.

You said I was your dream

your fairy dust,

your magic!

You said I made

you breathe

and your heart beat!

You said I made you fight

and slay dragons

with your might!

You said I was your prayer,

your temptation

and your redemption.

You said I was your love,

your desire,

the light of your fire!

You said I was your drug,

your addiction

your obsession

You said this

and you said that.

And I happily wandered

through your words,

only to notice,

they were addressed to another.

 

An Insurance Call

Did you know that Heidi Klum's legs are insured for $2.2 million and Aquafresh has insured America Ferrera's teeth for $10 million (The Ugly Betty Star)? You dont believe me? Then will you believe me when I tell you that Tom Jones insured his chest hair for $7 million? Sigh, I see you do not. Then do click on the link below for details,

http://www.businessinsider.com/10-of-the-worlds-craziest-insurance-policies-2010-3

You will probably go through the same feelings of disbelief that I went through.

Insurance calls are common aren't they? They want to provide insurance for various diseases and against accidents. So, they all provide insurance for our lives and health, why, because the body is a "tangible" asset? But what about about our hearts and minds? What about heartbreak, disappointments and failure? Don't we all get hurt and more?

They will provide insurance for JLo's butt, but your heartbreak and mine aren't worth a paise...pathetic aren't we?

“We insure everything madam”,

said the voice on the phone.

“Will you insure my heart?” I asked,

breathless in anticipation,

“against heartbreak and pain?”

“And what about love and lust?”

“What?”gasped the voice,

 “Can you insure me against

foolish hopes?”

“Perhaps against never-ending optimism?”

“Excuse me?”sputtered the voice,

while I ran away with my propositions.

 “Do you have a policy against disappointments?”

“Or one for spill-over tears?”

“Wait, wait” wailed the voice...

“Is your premium high for

failures and setbacks

frustrations and regrets?” I continued.

“Hold on” cried the voice, “we don’t

deal with nutcases,” and slammed

the phone.

“Neither do I” I replied to dead phone,

“but I am only human.”