Lady..

One can share a world with her

She will be there to aid it with beauty

Fill it with emotions notorious

Mark it with grace

If someone asks why she does that

She will nod and smile

But will never reply

Farewell...

In the darkness of dark

Radha stood like a corpse near the banks of Yamuna

That dreadful night she witnessed her Shyama leaving Vrindavan

And her world came to a standstill

Her silent tears secretly dissolved in Yamuna

And her thoughts wandered wildly

Memories of the once played flute filled her soul;

That music once enjoyed leaning on her keshava’s shoulder

Her fears came alive, and her face highlighted her lose

Now there is no Krishna, but the music lingers

And the swift Yamuna continues silently

Taking with her currents Radha’s agony

When I see I am nothing that is wisdom. When I see I am everything that is love. And between these two, my life flows—Nisargadatta Maharaj

There can be no better explanation than this that can console my poor Radha. People call her Radharani-- the Goddess, the princess of Krishna’s heart. But I like to visualize her as the girl next door – as a girl who is at the brink of entering womanhood. I imagine like any other girl of her age, she must have experienced the same emotional emptiness; would have underwent the same emotional turmoil on the departure of Mukunda (her much secured love interest) from Vrindavan.

 Though I did interpret my Radha in the above words I feel I have missed out on some crucial details. Or I doubt I was unsuccessful in rising above my menial ability to interpret an emotion as great as Radha’s love for Krishna. Our mind is so tainted and layered with worldly colors to think about something which is supreme, which is pure. Mind like any other space needs to be made clutter free and I am on my path to begin this exercise. What makes Radha’s love so distinguished, so special?

Nevertheless the fact is that her love was never selfish. It was unconditional. It was never limited only to her emotions and feelings because she knew it has transcended all the artificial demarcations set by mortal human mind; that it has transcended the concept of time and space and have attained eternal union with the divine, with her love forever. And that realization sets her free and makes her supreme. Hence even after leading a commoner’s life she attained immortality. She shares with the mortal world her extraordinary story of immortal love.

 It is said that every man has a woman behind his success and behind Krishna’s success I would undoubtedly say it is Radha and her love in the form of sacrifice. I salute the valor in her being. I also take secret pride in the fact, in knowing that she (Radha) deep inside, always knew is being guided by her lover in the path of knowledge, truth and love.

MEERA: THE MYSTIC

She left me amazed, with her love infallible

For Her KRISHNA

Her only LOVE

She dwelled deep and conquered his kingdom

LOVE being her sole weapon

Her love, her devotion was so true

That God had to bent, and had to share his name

She carried him along with her to eternity

Her voice deep and sweet praised the infinity, her LOVE

That forced the stone to melt

 HE had to condense himself to fit into her words;
In to the expression of love in her songs

HE never complained but felt rewarded to have a lover like her

Oh Meera! She would have been an ideal beauty

MEERA- the lover of the Great

Her long hair, big kohl eyes, and her beautifully carved lips

Every time I imagined her I found my imagination to be faulty

For she had colored herself in the Rang of her  Giridhar

Color of Shyam, the color of vastness, the color of infinity

MEERA- the aura of mystical love 
I tried loosing myself in her songs to find more about her LOVER

And was happy to rediscover my truer self

 LOVE

Realisation..

Me ..I am flooded by the ocean of love. I am surrounded by peace, peace infinite peace surrounds me. Peace permeates every thought of mine. I am surrounded by infinite peace; peace within and without. And it dwells within the circle of my love.

These are the words that I keep on repeating during the course of meditation. Yes, I have experienced all my problems vanishing rather dissolving in to the arms of peace for the spur of that moment. For that moment I feel I am a wave rising in the ocean finally finding itself submerged in to the ocean of knowledge. And my existence is in sync with all the beings, since we are all powered by the same light

The knowledge that we are an energy form and energy forms can neither be created nor be destroyed has really liberalized my thoughts. It has empowered me by creating an impression that nobody can deny my existence. I have neither a beginning nor an end and hence I can connect with all the powers of the universe.

I love stargazing. Right from childhood onwards a belief, (may be an irrational one) has been impregnated upon my mind. The belief that counting 11 stars in the night grants you the fulfillment of your wish. Now I don’t remember how many of my wishes have come true but somehow I feel connected. What I believe is that fulfillment of wishes may or may not happen, that is secondary. Infact by counting 11 stars everyday what I am really trying to do was to test certain assumptions, certain postulates. I was applying trial method to check the validity of my philosophy.

Since it is said that energy forms can neither be created nor be destroyed, but it keeps on changing forms. I was imagining that my loved ones who have left me have converted their energy to take the form of stars. So by gazing at these stars what I was trying to do was to connect with my people. I was searching for my little brother, my grandfather, to feel their existence, to feel their love and warmth and to remind them that I am still loving them and missing them and their presence in my life. The sudden twinkling of the stars at such moments makes me feel happy. I feel they are responding to me. They remind me about the infinity of my existence.

People may call them by different names Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto but for me they are my own. Now I see why beliefs are not always irrational. Counting 11 stars in the night do grant the fulfillment of our wish. Why because at that I am not looking at or counting 11 stars but 11 souls who have loved me. Now how can they see me unhappy? I think I have received my answerJ

Journey.....

I am drifting away like a leaf in the hands of air

Deprived of justice for myself

Time coaxed me & I bowed before it’s unbound power

The power so magical

That it could wield and prevail over a person

Instinct of survival sabotaged

My thousand likes and interests

And off I raised high into the air;Into confusion galore

Only to find me resting temporarily

In this unknown land, with thousands of questions in my mind

My journey continues

To find the secret of my existence

Just a Thought

A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching. – Swami Vivekanada

We never realise that each day we are adding a new flower to the string of our life. These flowers reminds us of the bygones, about the endless strings of incidents which may have presented us with happy or sad memories. It also reminds us of the enumerable events which would have surprised us; of instances where we must have behaved in a wicked manner, or may be in a gentlemanner.

What one has to understand is that all these happenings in life leaves us with a lesson . A constant reminder that each day we are garlanding our memories. With every new addition of a flower to the string; what we are knowingly or unknowingly doing is that we are surrendering our deeds, our action before the Almighty. And at the finish point, when the garland is complete we offer it to God ..and that becomes complete surrender.

HAPPY NEW YEAR :)

When some people term you as insane, we at some point of time begin to self-doubt, speculate whether there is any amount of truth in what they say. But I think this kind of feeling of indignation would be faced by some one who has the habit of self doubting. I feel one of the best way to relieve yourself from these kind of insipid thoughts would be to cultivate a hobby .At times it becomes a constant source of spirit raiser, even when you are ridiculed by the whole world and it helps in restating your waning confidence level, a reassurance that you have done your maximum even in the declining situation that you were subjected to.

I felt happy leafing through the pages of my diary and felt recharged living once again through my adolescence. Most of the times I could laugh at my own stupidity and the best part is that I realized that problems faced at certain stage of life remains no more a problem when you look at it from the latter stage of your life.

So live everyday to your best rather live every moment creatively, express your feeling on regular basis on a sheet of paper. Seriously one wont understand how magical it feels to leaf through the moments that you have once lived.. may be this is what is called Introspection.

Here I stand claiming literally that my life so far has been an open book. Turning back I feel like an historian, who have succeeded in capturing every moment of her life. I feel immense pleasure to share this achievement of mine with you all today.

Wish you all a very “HAPPY & PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR”.

Little Angel..

In a forest of hundred thousand trees, no two leaves are alike. And no two journeys along the same path are alike.

That night I could not sleep. I silently slipped out of my bed went ahead and unbolted the door which directed me to the balcony. Whenever I am low in spirit, the company of plants planted there helps me in uplifting my mood, but that day I was afraid that it would also not help me. All the plants in my garden on account of being watered in the evening were glistening at the touch of moon light. They radiated a rare feeling of pleasantness in that odd hour of night too. Suddenly I was engulfed by silence, a stillness which was disturbed by the sounds produced by night moths. My mind swayed along with the silent murmur of occasional breeze which also made the leaves to dance. That night perfectly symbolized “Celebration of life” at least for me. A point when we feel we are one with the nature. But my deep remorse that night prevented me from enjoying things as it was. I was sad, my love for my Little Angel, the tragedy that she faced alone, the very thought of it made me feel melancholic.

I still remember the day when my sister introduced her best friend’s younger sister as ‘Little Angel’ to me. Her sparkling eyes caught my attention soon, and from that day on for a year she became the companion of this 5 years old girl which I was then. She must be of three. A chubby baby girl with curly hair, rosy lips, tiny hands and above all she possessed a magical power to own all the hearts that looked at her adorable face.

Second time when I met her she must be six. She had grown into a skinny girl, a chirpy little girl who could be easily swayed off or persuaded, for she could do anything out of her innocent love for all those who would play with her. For her every human touch was touch of pure love, for she knew no falsity. Her innocent face was just like a new moon, very radiant and transparent.

And for the final time when I met her she was 15. I was taken aback when I met her. Unlike her olden days she had transformed completely into an introvert, who was living in her own isolated world cut off from friends and family. Her shining pair of eyes had completely lost its glow and it was sunken deep inside and remained tucked to the eyes socket. I tried to strike a conversation, but she avoided it at the pretext of lack of time preparing for her 10^th standard exams. I wondered at the transformation that this girl had underwent and thought in my mind that something is severely wrong with her. I suspended my thoughts thinking that it must be the examination pressure, but still I was not convinced.

After few days what I could hear was that this girl had committed suicide. We were totally taken aback. Even after passage of a week to this incident we could not understand what prompted this girl to attempt suicide. As police enquires failed to gather any evidence, they had to forcibly close the case. Keeping to the standards, onlookers started to guess, to contemplate various reasons behind this mystery, and the reasons varied as per the imaginative power of the people. Years passed, but that incident still lingers fresh in my mind as an unresolved riddle. Some where I desired to know the reason as to why my Little Angel committed suicide. I knew her well and that refrained me from believing in stories cooked by society. After her tragic end, her family shifted and we never met again. Years passed.

It was at this time by chance that I met Little Angel’s elder sister, my sister’s one time best friend. She invited me home and I was so happy to meet her again, that I was quick to accept the invitation. It was a fine Sunday morning, and I was there at their doors. At that time I felt like I was 5 again and a sudden anticipation that I would be welcomed with the same warmth and love which I experienced as a kid on visiting their home. True to my belief, they welcomed me with the same love and warmness. Before I could make myself comfortable, the long garlanded portrait of my Little Angel brought tears in to my eyes. I could not control the welling up of salt water and finally it flooded out. Might be my face had this question labeled on it as to why my Little Angel committed suicide.

May be Di could read the genuine glimpses of pain in my eyes that she slipped in a diary in my hands. A diary? I was left wondered. Slowly I opened it. Yes that was her, her life’s recording in her own handwriting.

The opening line read “History will Absolve ME”.

As I leafed through the pages of it, I found that write-ups written towards the end of her life were very disturbing infact intimidating. Some write-ups created an impression that some where down the lines she felt like a sinner and other write ups made me feel that she was victimized. Her last write –up conveyed something like this.

“ Innocence is a punishment. As a little child God blessed me with much beauty. My small little hands and fingers were so sexy that devil could not resist. My small little breast which was not even a spot then, could create so much of oomph, that I was treated as an object of desire, and my innocence at that tender age, was so raw that I could welcome all the undue advances made towards me by the devil with a smile. May be all this made me end up with this fate, that at the age of 15 I am left with many incidences to shadow box with. ..many sequences of which I have vague memories. Yes I have decided and that’s it. Let the devil gain. ”

After the reading the last line I was shattered, and it took time for me to pull myself back. I looked at Di and she too was sobbing. May be time had healed her, but for me it was a shocker. Later somewhere in the middle of conversation she mentioned that little Angel was victimized. She was sexually abused by one of the most trusted family friend as a child and she didn’t know how to convey her pain or cope up with the situation which ultimately culminated in her deciding to end her life and suffering. With a heavy heart I left the place. . Though I earnestly wished to make the world aware of the heinous crime that snatched my Little Angels right to life, till date I have refrained from sharing the mystery behind my her death with any one. I really don’t understand what stopped me. May be I didn’t wished to tarnish the image of innocence. I now realize that it was my lame trial to safeguard the picture of something which is long lost. In fact now I understand that such stories needs to be shared, to create awareness.

The other day I was reading newspaper and I came across a news item, the headline of which read as “Laws pertaining to Child sexual abuse”. Daily many cases are recorded and many such cases never see the light of the day too. I felt amused that laws pertaining to such an important issue are still been contemplated and in the process of finalization. Considering the fact that in future these laws may shape up, but what’s the point; parents of all ages, of all times are scared of revealing such incidents, they feel it’s a taboo. In such situations the only alternative before the parents and the society would be to suppress the issue. The matter doesn’t ends here. Sometimes parents are so very supportive that they don’t even like the kid to remember about the fact that such an incident has ever occurred in their life. And the poor kid grows up with a guilty conscience and lives a life of isolation. This is just one instance. In fact this issue has social, emotional, psychological and political dimensions to it.

My personal opinion is that in cases like these laws are dead. The law which didn’t benefit my Little Angel, which could not save her innocence, I believe, cannot protect any one. The intricacies of these laws would be hardly understood by the simpletons. What use would be these to those who could hardly spell the letters in the word ‘APPLE’. Their monosyllable speech can hardly translate the meaning of different touches and caresses. They are divine, for them every touch is touch of pure love; hardly do they understand the intentions of devil. It’s a big emphatic NO.. I feel sad, but we do have to think of a way out. Please don’t allow their innocence to be nipped at the very tender age. Let them grow in to a confident world where they can trust and value relations.

What I feel is that in such cases prevention is better than cure. Do take good care of your little ones. Don’t let them feel like a culprit, and face the consequences of something which they are not responsible for. It’s my earnest appeal to the society that no child should have my Little Angel’s fate; don’t let them have memories that would be reflected on their entire life.

Immortality

. . . as I am setting out on a journey to the other world, what could be more fitting for me than to talk about my journey, and to consider what we imagine to be its nature? How could we better employ the interval between this and sunset? Socrates, Phaedo

LIFE & DREAMS.. can that ever meet? Or just like horizon ,does that meets only in our imagination? I know it is pointless to argue about this whole philosophy. But then something that holds my interest is always dearer to me and in cases like this, the concepts of space, age nothing can hold me back from liking it. Just like fragrance can’t be separated from the flower, my thoughts; my thinking cling to me.

Can anyone actually distinguish a wave from the ocean. No rather ocean is the resting lap for the hungry tide. Similarly thoughts arise in us like wave, and may be with time it gets settled too, but it just takes a fraction of second for these waves, the thought waves to spring back to action and memories with all its profoundness gets back to you.

I understand we can't stop loving things just because somebody doesn't like you loving it. Though we may channelize our love for the time being but then we can't deny its existence. Time heals everything, may be with time it may transform and take another form. But it never dies and it will never die. If soul is something indestructible, experiences and memories too are immortal. With the passing of time all our experiences are transformed and merged in to something bigger and better.

Many are experiencing an emptiness and lack of meaning, and many consciously avoid thinking about their own death, a decision which fills the emptiness with fear. For how we view death is important, profoundly influencing how we live. The fact is that nobody is born and nobody is dying we are just changing our forms to transform and to evolve into something better. It’s a movement where one travels from love to greater love, from understanding to acceptance and from life to death to begin afresh.

Expectation..

Expectation..from childhood onwards we are trained in such a way that we are taught to meet our parents expectation. As we grow we are expected to meet the standards of our friend’s circle, otherwise you are isolated from the group. Then later in our life we are expected to meet the demands of our husband, children, relatives, society and who not and life passes in making plans to meet these expectations.

Though I am writing this write up I won’t say that I don’t expect anything from anyone. That would be blatant lie, and I don’t expect that I should lie or live a life full of lies. A person most of the time is scared about his image-their self portrayal, but for me these has never been a stumbling block. I have always lived life on my own terms and I am happy that I have.

What I am scared off are my own expectations. For past couple of months I feel that I have been harsh on my own self. To achieve what?? Some unrealizable goals. I have been pestering me, those were the days when I forgot to remember that I am failing before my own expectations.

I forgot the simple mantra of my life, my dream to live a simple peaceful life. Now I am back on tracks. I understand desire is the root cause of suffering, which has left me with one more desire to forget about the past and be happy. Live each day rather each moment happily and leave the rest to God. I am reminded of that song..

Maein Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Udata Chala Gaya

Barbadiyon Ka Shok Manana Fizul Tha
Barbadiyon Ka Jashan Manata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Uda

Jo Mil Gaya Usi Ko Muqaddar Samajh Liya
Jo Kho Gaya Maein Usko Bhulata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Uda

Gham Aur Khushi Mein Farq Na Mehsoos Ho Jahan
Maein Dil Ko Us Muqaam Pe Laata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Udatha chalagaya.

Maein Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Udata Chala Gaya

Imprints…..

Imprints of yesterday
Left me as a wanderer
My mind traveled back to yester years
Where I was free
And today I am forced to be free like me

Imprints of yesterday
Sparkled this competition within me
To compare and to evaluate
And eventually made me to love & hate things
For no valid reason, but yet it made me, my mind to do so

I was born free to wander
Today my mind wanders
But body is restricted from wandering
For they say I ought to behave like a woman
Trapped in her own self

Imprints of yesterday
God knows when it will be washed off
As an inscription on the wet sand
I await the touch of a wave
And I will be free…free forever

Did you bring “I” with you or not?

Am I facing writers block? I am not able to think. These days I am not even in a mood to lift my pen to scribble few lines. It feels like my words are getting rusted. My ideas are facing unnatural death. My veins are dried out of thoughts and I usually don’t feel like reading.

This may not be an unnatural phenomenon for many but for me, my world revolves around my thoughts, my dreams and an awareness that I am aware of these thoughts is what keeps me going on… so I thought of setting up an enquiry to know the reason as to why I am feeling this numbness; as if I am brain dead.

I tried sympathizing with myself, pitied me for the state in which I am, as if I am a different entity altogether. It didn’t work. I felt worse, just like a bedridden patient who is bored of the hospital environment. I felt claustrophobic and found me devoid of fresh air, I was missing my freedom; my blue sky and above all my mind’s canvass, where I can see,visualise thousands of my thoughts taking shape.

Today when I sit here, I don’t know I am just feeling that I am detoxifying my self and feel pretty confident, that still I can articulate my thoughts express myself ..my feelings. Still I can light up the dying flies of fire and ignite it and see myself dissolving in to words.. my only bridge to connect with my inner world. There is no ‘I’ here, it is all my experiences, my silent observations and recording of it. Above all it is through these experiences I earnestly attempt to understand, to grow and learn.

Stories…

I grew up listening to stories told to me by my father, grandmother and my friends. Being an introvert except for my sister, characters from these stories were my best friends. I could hold conversations with those friends of mine for hours together. Gradually with time all my friends vanished and I was left with stories which no longer made sense to me, but they still remained stories.

May be tomorrow my life itself may sound like a story for others. In fact every one lives in a story, may it be my father, mother, sister, friends, Lenin, Einstein, beggar , it could me any body on this earth, they all live in stories, because stories are all there to live in, it is just a question of which one to choose....

Tribute…

Let me not deprived of my youth,
Let me not deprived of my freedom
The nascent wings let it learn to take the flight
Flight to the new heights

In to the new miracles of the world
From the panoramic heights,
I see the beauty of this earth
The holistic view, otherwise distorted by men

Let me not deprived of my youth,
Let me not deprived of my freedom
The nascent wings let it learn to take the flight
Flight to the new heights

The Observant

I see the mind of minds
Seemingly easy going but very observant
It’s amusing to see how mindless it could get
With mind in all, what goes around
It has eyes of its own
A fantasy of its own
A world of its own
Above all an order of its own
I see the mind of minds
Seemingly easy going but very observant

Saath Rupiya

“Right to Education” becoming one of the fundamental rights in India is great achievement for Indian democracy. Free and compulsory education for children between age of 6-14. Great!!! The idea sounds too good to be practical. Of course there would be contradictory views on the topic, since it could be debated that none of the framers of our Indian Constitution were uneducated, rather they were all well qualified, but then why didn’t they give education its due place and respect at that time itself.

Now let me narrate a brief incident, rather another story for all those who love to hear stories .Train travelling teaches you lot. You meet different people with different attitude; obviously they all have different stories to narrate. It all started this way. I remember it was Naigoan Station. As usual I was busy reading newspaper. Suddenly I heard a jingle. Must say it was an unusual one.

“Saath rupee mein imported novels. Saath mein Sudha be aayegi, white tiger aayega, twilight aayega, abama bi aayega, koi bhi lelo saath rupey.” The idea of getting a copy of book, that too which are expensive just to buy for one time reading, here we were getting for sixty. Oh, it might be the pirated ones, I thought. For the first time when I heard this I found it very amusing. I was searching for the person who was selling this great works by good writer at rupee sixty.

To my wonderment I could see the heap of book, but was not able to spot the person selling it. Then I discovered two small hands holding it from below. There is no wonder why I couldn’t spot who was selling it. The boy must be 2.5 feet in height and he was carrying 3 feet in height of books. I called him near, just to strike a conversation. His flashy tiny white teeth and a welcoming smile attracted me. Madam saath rupiya, sirf saath rupiya mein imported novels, koi bhi lo, sirf saath rupiya.

I asked him to pull out a book, and pretended as if I was leafing through the pages of it. But actually I was observing him from the corner of my eyes, the living small wonder standing before me. He was busy canvassing other Madams, and everybody was looking at him with an eyes filled with kindness. He was quiet excited about his work. I returned the book and helped him in arranging it over the top of the bundle of the books that he was carrying. As soon as the train reached the next station he was very enthusiastic to get in to another compartment of the train, where again he started his “dhanda” as he called it. It was his boney time.

Must be when I was of his age, the mounting concern of my parents were loads of books in our bags that we carried on our shoulders as coolies. Their hearts were too weak to see their children carrying their bags. So we were accompanied with a bai who used to carry our bags. Our parents did all to provide us with the comforts. I remember me having ice creams daily on my way back from school to home.

Now look at the parallel, these boys in the era of compulsory education, with “RIGHT TO EDUCATION” been given so much of importance is doing what? Are their human rights not violated, or is it the case that these all tiny kids are not humans. I am confused rather concerned. They carry books but not to study. They carry novels but will they ever in their live be able to enjoy the literature? The names they cry aloud every day, what good does it makes for them. They may earn rupees sixty each day and may be double of it through out their life per day.

Democracy as usual would grow slow to its letter and spirit. But what I feel is we as responsible citizen of India we could help in better implementation of it. “Now how could we contribute to it, after all we are not responsible for what they are?” would be the rising question. Yes, of course it is not mandatory for any one to contribute. If we want to avoid doing certain things we can find thousand ways to shun it. But before passing the judgment, my request rather my appeal would be to just look in deep with in you.

Sponsoring a child’s education, how much will it cost per month? Hardly three movie tickets charge. Imagine the good that one would be doing by it. Awakening a child to the world of freedom and liberty; isn’t this a wonderful idea. If you want your name to be published some where for all the good that you do, then sorry, these kind of activities is not for those people, who pretends to be kind but who charges for their kindness.

I know there would be alternate view points on this issue. It doesn’t matter to me what people think over this issue neither do I want to influence their decisions. If any one comes forward voluntarily just to support, to sponsor even if a single child’s education, then I will think that I have delivered my bit.

Do think over it!!!

Me....

I drenched myself in the holy rain

And was calm and pure again

Contended to witness the peace

The peace that lies within

I met face to face with me

With every thought dissolving in to one

Just me and the clattering rain

Exchanging warmth and cold

Everything was perfect

Me and the dripping sweetness

Just a moment away and

I am the beauty, I am the rain

Communicating using SILENCE as a WEAPON

Various Situations:

· When you are trying to avoid some one
· When you don’t have a definite answer to give
· When you have an answer but know that by you expressing it can create havoc
· When you are submissive enough and are so terrified to raise your voice
· When one is concerned about the society
· When one has definite answer but wants the other person to wait wait and wait for a longer time for a reply till they die out of boredom.
· When you know all, and consider you wise enough not to answer
· Beautiful way to say no more interested
· It could also be a brilliant way to convey your thought
· To hide ones feelings that one knows exist but want to hide it from the world and more over from one self.
· Struggling ideas always finds refugee in silence.

What more could it mean?? It’s an open survey; any body who has an alternative perspective can add to the list :)

Travelogue experience…

Never felt like I was going to do this… Pen is far off, but I had my dreams to chase. I am always that way. .. a girl with dreamy eyes. With out even giving it a second thought I was all ready. I feel happy to be where I am sitting now.

Waking up at 4.30 in the morning was not an issue at all. It was hardly any thing compared to the zest that this trip brings to my life. A bus journey through the heart of the city which gradually drifts away its path, to merge it self with the peace and serene environment of forest; unlike the ever honking, fast paced city. My bus leads me in to a new world. The experience is of loosing yourself to attain a higher objective.

I was always attracted by the prospect of traveling, never found it bore. Ask me to pack my bags and get ready and I am there with all new vigor and enthusiasm. On the way to Dolvi, falls Karnala Bird sanctuary, where birds from far and wide flocks in with a dream of traveling far and wide, just to find a temporary resting place in the woods of this forest, a home for few days... being in this place allows me to identify me as one amongst them who have landed on this piece of land with lots of hopes and aspiration. I see my destiny has taken me far and wide. In this unknown stretch of land I no more identify myself as a stranger.

I am actually lost in the creative genius behind the standing of this iron plant, strong and sturdy; a structure with no place for weaknesses. Whenever I walk through the premises of the company I feel I am accompanied by an unknown force, a power which guides me with a desire to take me some where and I feel it is asking me to stay and remain close to it. I feel spirited and happy too, for the acceptance that I am receiving. I am able to interact with the environment as if I am interacting with one of my kin. Some relationships are that way; you never know when you get fond of it and how you get attached to it.

ISPAT Industries

Happy to interact with people, happy to identify myself as one amongst them. I remember reading the novel ‘Mother’ by Maxim Gorkhy, and the craftsmanship with which he had drafted the starting paragraph of the novel. The opening lines and the intensity of the idea hidden in his wordsv(I am talking about the starting description of the manufacturing units given by him), now I understand that.

How workers queues in and starts working, and how time slowly drifts to warmness of afternoon from the lap of peaceful morning and later the sun sets just to rise the next morning to remind them of their mechanical existence. Yes, the only thing that I found missing is the loud crying sirens, reminding one about the changes that have been bought in the work environment in these evolving ages of renaissance. I think a brief of that novel was some where layered deep with in me. May be I am reliving that environment, the melodrama which was set up and brought in to life by the Midas touch of Maxim Gorky.

My thoughts as ever are random, and I find beauty in that. I feel a sense of freedom and liberty. I guess I am enjoying the moment and that has increased my joy.

Random are my thoughts,
Random are my dreams,
Random has been my life till now
Randomly I have pooled myself
Have wondered many times how random is stability…
May be randomly I receive an answer for it :)