To those who build walls


DSCF2174I have never seen
the fluffy snow,
the meandering rivers,
the undulating deserts,
the towering mountains,
the dark depths of the oceans,
the carnival of northern lights.

In short,
I haven’t yet
stepped out of my pond.

Some day I may.

But the walls they build –
they worry me.

What if, when I’m ready
the walls are way too high?

Remember,
I have never seen them.

Decision


What? Which?
How? When?
Where?
But, what if…?

The next moment
is obscure,
consequences
concealed.

I weigh harder.

At last,
blindly
I go for it!

What if…?

Ssshhh…

Face it!

Then,

enjoy

or

endure!

Dear Wilderness,


DSCF1962Can I be
out there
with you
all alone – just
you and me?

As the night murmurs
I shall listen peacefully.

Proud to grasp
the wind’s whispers,
I may nod calmly.

The fragrances,
queer and exotic,
sweep past
mysteriously.

And thus,
as the music
of the trees,
the wind,
and my soul
swirls and merges,
I live
I truly live.

Crossroads


 

At this point

I start wondering –

What have I done?

Have I been doing it right?

Is there an undo option?

Can I start all over again?

Where are the roads?

Through the gloom I grope around.

They say there is light at the end

But for me seeing is believing.

I am waiting for my albatross.

Or have I already killed it?

Am I being plagued by its spirit?

Yearning


Given up grumbling
And taken up yearning.
Yearning for the impossible.
Wait a minute – impossible?

My body is weighing me down.
The weight loss didn’t help,
The dropping BMI doesn’t satisfy.
I now relate better to the anorexic.
Not just a size zero,
but only zero weight would gratify.

The vast universe is calling
But with this demanding body –
a liability – how far can I go?
I don’t care about eating,
cleaning, rest – I’ve no time!

My soul, too enormous,
has been squeezed into this fragile form
Where he chokes, frantically knocks,
And moans in distress.

I beg him to wait
till I’m done with my chores.
Till tomorrow? Next year?
Till my kids have grown up?
I don’t know!
But he is in misery, he signals.
Every earthly moment kills.

The universe is calling!

I dream of blending in with it
Feeling its infinity with each atom.
Atom? Or just energy?

Whatever!

The universe keeps calling,
My soul is desperate
Awaiting deliverance!

Grumbler


Boredom gnaws,
but I won’t give up.

Determined,
I set out
on this journey –
from room to room.
This room, that room,
the other room – the end.

Still resolved.
Reading, cooking,
Cleaning, writing,
Creating – Repeat.

Yoga!
Yoga for relaxation,
Yoga for flat belly,
Power yoga –
Two sessions a day!

YouTube! Veganism,
minimalism, feminism…
Blogs, hmmm…
Facebook, ugh!

I open the windows
only to close it –
struck by the desert summer.

How long
shall I hang on?!

Digital Parting


They smiled,
Hugged,
Danced,
Ate,
Cried
Shook hands
Bid good bye
All to the camera,
And for the camera!

The digital brains
Brimming with images, memories;
The real brains and hearts left to starve
Craving images, sounds, feelings, touches-
The neglected, wasted senses.

Who cares!
We are all busy
‘Acting out’ our lives.

Waiting: Story 2


Occasion: School assembly – World Environment Day .

Anchor: Coming up next, a group song by H and party!

Well, that would be a relief. We were intrigued too – environment day… song? Soon H and ‘party’ were on the stage – H in the middle and two girls each on her either side. H had on many previous occasions entertained us with both her solo and group performances. And it began –  another typical school group song. The main singer, H, started with a song that did justice to the topic of the day. Her open, bold voice was a sure entertainer. Thus it went on.

So far, so good.

But soon the song ceased to ‘entertain’. H was still singing, but ALL ALONE, yet to be joined and supported by the chorus. It was almost half way into the song, but there was no sign of it being a ‘group’ song. We could no longer pay attention to H’s song. The other four girls stood rooted, perplexed, like the audience who by now were impatiently waiting for the other four to open their mouths. After all why were they there? What was their role? Were they simply accompanying H? Or did they forget their lines? Did they suddenly give up their plan to sing? Was it some kind of a sweet revenge on H? Was it the ultimate WE Day prank?

Within minutes the group/solo identity-confused performance was over. They were courteous enough to thank the patient audience before leaving the stage. Mesmerized by the nature of the performance, even the grade one students (most sincere applauders) forgot to applaud.

*   *  *

I knew the answer would come my way, and it did, shortly afterwards. H and party dropped by with the explanation. Yes, it was actually supposed to be a group song. They had all learned the lyrics. But due to lack of time they could not get a rehearsal together. The poor chorus had no idea when to take out their lines. And thus it ended up a solo! We had a good laugh.

Ever since, the English teachers of the school are found to be using this example for the Third Conditional (Gr.):

If the girls had practised the song together they would have ……… :) 

Waiting: Story 1


“Good! Next, you there, read out your answer, please.” F stood up and started preparing to read. Everything looked just fine, so far, but nobody knew those were the initial peaceful minutes of a slight thriller. Seconds passed by, and she was still preparing to read. A chuckle started to spread all over the class. The busy teacher became curious, and before losing herself to anger, confirmed F had been (physically and emotionally) all right. The friends had no evidence to prove it otherwise. F grew more pathetic and looked at her neighbour helplessly. The teacher, holding on to her last vestige of self-control, tried to encourage her to read. But alas, nothing happened! F was alarmingly quiet as if someone had accidentally pressed her mute button. She miserably gestured something to her friend who failed to decipher it. Already about five precious minutes from those final periods of the Term had been spent in anticipation of an answer that seemed infinitely remote. The  chuckling had by now given way to a perplexed, uneasy silence. Ms. J. , unable to take it any more, stormed out of the class passing this verdict – “Call me when you are ready!” The confused class almost let out a cry, shocked by the disconcerting turn of events.

***

Ms.  J. was at sea. Unlike many previous occasions, that day there was no homework defaulter, leaving no reason for the girls to worry about, or the teacher to take out her vehement sermon the nth time in two months. What must have gone wrong?

As Ms. J. sat there in her room, they arrived – F escorted by the beneficent school leader who of late had been sincerely carrying out her role as the helping angel for the ill-fated ones. “Teacher, she will read it.” Ms. J. readily agreed to the compromise. The angel was asked to leave. F looked desperate to let go the only shield against the  likely onslaught of the annoyed teacher. Having no time to risk that favourable twist, F was released too.

***

No other story might have had a smoother ending. The teacher got back to the class, F read out her answers and the teacher continued from where she had stopped as if nothing had gone wrong.

But Ms. J is still waiting – for F to explain it all to her, someday.

A Blessing For One Who Is Exhausted, by John O’Donohue


A Blessing For One Who Is Exhausted, by John O’Donohue.