the journey...

My contribution to Cafe Writing - May/June project - Option #4

A regular Monday morning
I muddle along
the crowd walks past
I wander around

faithful to my instincts
I board the train
dare to travel
wherever it takes

not much to ponder
I take the plunge,
brain seems to wonder
is this who I am?

spontaneous decision perhaps
I am hit by the buzz word
the "bear run" ends
not in the capital markets sadly

the wheels start to move
going direction uncharted,
leaving behind its trails,
the journey is the destination

A dream or reality?

My contribution to Cafe Writing - 2008 Holiday Project (Option two)

I lay on the soft sand, admiring the distant stars and the crescent moon. It is a beautiful night accompanied by the roaring waves singing a lullaby and the salty breeze sweeping my rambling thoughts. I wonder whether I would be visible from the twinkling bright star at the horizon. I'm at peace hearing the clinging of the wind chimes hung from the tender branches of the coconut tree. The magical feeling of special someone caressing my forehead puts me into deep slumber. My dreams kindle my imagination at a steadfast pace. Riding the canoe, I reach for the deep ocean, with the waves pushing me forward. It's getting darker and the voice of the seas slowly taper down.

The land is no longer visible but the bright star seems to appear closer, just an arm's stretch from the earth. I jump, hoping to catch the star in my tiny palms and carry it back to light up my land. Playing hide and seek with the clouds, it twinkles happily and makes my ambition more alluring. The majestic waves looking at my plight push me higher and closer. "It's reachable and I can do it", I assure myself. With no care about the time, I keep trying hard. The distant sun sets ablaze at dawn, letting the bright star go to sleep and waking me up from my purposeful dream.

The first drizzle

My contribution to Cafe Writing - Sept & Oct Project

dark clouds beckoning to pour down
mist traveling from distant mountains
Cool breeze adding to the glory
I stood there contemplating

A tiny droplet caressing my palm
announcing the arrival of monsoon
injecting a fresh stream of energy
I stood there motionless

glad to have caught the first splash,
the murmurs of threatening thunder
passing cryptic message from the heavens
I stood there in awe

hot cup of tea awakening my pallid senses
rivulets flowing swiftly by my side,
swooned by this magical evening
I stood there feeling blessed

A quest

My contribution to Cafe Writing - May & June project

Aroused by the pure rays of the sun
wakes up to the mellow voice of the cuckoo
with no need to scurry, admires the beauty
of the shades and colors of morning sky

devours the tunes of enchanting temple bells
the fragrance of burgeoning jasmine bushes
every reason to feel zealous about the dawn
unscathed by the hustle and bustle of metros

nerves her to hit the road yet again
in her embellished bullock cart
waving hands to the men and women
of the distant green fields

a nomad by choice, wandering through life
befriending toddlers and children on her way
humming to the tunes of the rustling leaves
in quest for her destination, nowhere

A rare phenomenon

My contribution to Cafe Writing - February project Options #1 and #6

Option #1 Timed writing - wrote this piece in 9 minutes and didn't edit it.
Option #6 Fiction

You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover’s arms can only come later when you’re sure they won’t laugh if you trip.

~Jonathan Carroll, Outside the Dog Museum

Eyes speak a thousand words
a glance depicts hundred emotions
The whole world transported elsewhere
Every wake moment in deep thoughts

outbursts of temper to dear and near
white roses look extremely colorful
vision towards a distant gaze
day dreaming a daily routine

unusual smile painted on the face
music feels so divine and pure,
catching up on sunrise
not a difficult job anymore!

memorable symptoms
worth a treasure
beginning of love
a rare phenomenon for sure!

Garden of peace

My contribution to Cafe Writing February Project- Option 5 Poetry

From December to March, there are for many of
us three gardens:
the garden outdoors,
the garden of pots and bowls in the house,
and the garden of the mind’s eye.
- Katherine S. White

Immersed in beauty of nature
amidst varieties of flora
A hot cup of tea in one hand
and a fountain pen in the other
blue ink waiting to give shape to thoughts

serendipitous weather for the afternoon
seated on a wide hammock
ends tied to eucalyptus trees
standing tall, despite the cool wind
chirping cuckoos, respite from noise around

white rabbits and kittens
playing with joy in harmony
jasmine bushes spreading fragrance
blossomed red roses augmenting beauty
the proud hosts of my garden

reverberating hums of honeybees
colourful shades of butterflies
flapping wings of seasonal birds
footprints of ever active squirrels
the frequent visitors of my garden

mellifluous music of the flowing stream
Time doesn't zoom past here,
moments meant to be treasured
bringing the almighty near
My dream garden of peace

A snowy dream

My contribution to Cafe Writing February project - Option #3

Words to be used - astonished, conclusion, drown, gilded, hands, magnify, snow, time

a serene valley
where time stands still,
Holding hands together
we stroll towards the end
of the long winding road

the first glimpse
of the pristine white layer
a wish being fulfilled
experience worth the wait
a perfect moment with my love

astonished by the pure snow
drowned in its splendor
we stand there unfazed,
admiration with awe
the glory of the Himalayas

golden rays of the sun
slowly gilding its presence,
magnifying its grandeur
the snow clad mountains
conclusion of eternal beauty

Miracle of the dawn

My contribution to Cafe Writing Option #4 - Poetry

“In silence and movement you can show the reflection of people.”
— Marcel Marceau

Days and months pass by
with speed of light,
a blink is all it takes
No time to stop by,
to reflect and ponder
an hour is all it needs

Eyes wide open from
a deep distant slumber,
The dark sky and the calm street
the fiery red ball
about to embark on it's daily routine
A tranquil awakening of the senses

Thoughts wandering,
yet crystal clear
conscious deep breaths
inhaling positive vibes
battering eyelids close,
opening a whole new world

A meditative state
a slowing heart beat
immerse in mellifluous chants
experience the silence
the serenity of the dawn
the soul moves, the body still

Tiny Giant

My contribution to Cafe Writing -Option three : Can you picture that?

I'm amazed by the clear blue skies, the vast oceans, the huge mountains, the planets and the distant galaxies. When compared to this entire spectrum of evolution or God's creation, whichever way you prefer to take it, how tiny and miniscule we, human beings are! But the one nature that makes us think that we are the biggest in the whole world is a small 3-letter word "EGO". It is an inherent nature to be egoistic, just that the magnitude of this nature varies from person to person. I get to observe this nature in many people on the roads these days - "How can a Santro overtake me? Let me show the power of my Mercedes", an example of a 4-wheeler driver's pride or ego. "How can that guy drive on the pavement and bypass the traffic? I have every right to do it", a motorbike zooms past, proving his ego. Rushing through every minute, the working professional thinks that the 9 AM conference call is more important than the old lady crossing the road and cursing her for her slow speed of walking. These are some examples of incidents that I observe every morning which makes me feel disgusted about this whole egoistic attitude shown by us.

Our ego and pride makes us feel bigger than others. But there are other such issues called as "problems and worries" which magnifies and portrays a larger-than-life image. We become smaller in front of those issues and start to believe that we could no way tackle them or get past them. Eventually we become the slaves of these constant worries and our lives are dictated by these issues.

Contradicting in nature, ego and worries can make us feel bigger or smaller. When we realize that we are "tiny giants", then we would be humbled by those huge planets and galaxies and face those problems and worries with confidence and guts.

A new phase

My contribution to Cafe Writing - January project (Option #2)

Words to be used - breathless, change, elusive, pensive, reflect, surge, tide, vibrant

An elusive discomfort,
A necessary vacation
The wooden beach house allures,
The shores of the ocean beckons

I run towards the tides,
Struck by the vastness, breathless
A pensive look at the horizon
A reflection, nevertheless

The vibrant colors of dusk,
myriad hues of shadows
the sun goes into slumber
for the moon to come alive

A clear sky with sparkling stars
A surge of fresh inspiration
The dawn of a new phase
The change of a year

Seven traditions

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option six)

I would like to relate the word "tradition" with the different festivals that we celebrate throughout the year.

1) Diwali (festival of lights) is our favorite festival that we look forward to every year. We buy new clothes for everyone in the family, put a small mark using vermilion on the edges and place them in the Pooja (prayer) area, on the eve of Diwali. It's a traditional way to thank God for the new clothes.

2) Another special festival is Saraswathi (Goddess of wisdom) Pooja, the ninth day of Dussehra (a 10 day festival in October). We keep our textbooks, pens, pencils and other tools in the Pooja area and then offer prayers. The textbooks remain in the Pooja area for the whole day. As kids, we loved this tradition because of the fact that we don't have to study the whole day.

3) Bhogi is an interesting occasion in the month of January. During childhood, I used to love celebrating Bhogi with my grandfather. This day is marked by burning old and unwanted stuff on the streets early morning and playing a set of small drums. My grandpa would bring all sorts of junk items from the nook and corner of the house and dump them into the fireplace. We used to be astonished with the amount of junk he has been collecting over the year. As I grew up, I became aware of the extent of pollution this tradition was causing and I stopped celebrating Bhogi. Nevertheless, those times that I had spent with my grandpa were memorable.

4) Bhogi is followed by another festival, Pongal. Though this festival is celebrated in a grand manner in the villages, we, the city dwellers miss all the action. The only ritual that we practice is to make Pongal (a sweet dish made out of rice, pulses and jaggery) and shout "Pongalo Pongal" while the dish starts to boil. I've been continuing this habit ever since I started cooking myself.

5) Do you want to see if you have committed any sins in the past year? Then Vaikunda Ekadesi is the perfect day to get those estimates. We play "snake and ladder" that day and whoever falls as a prey for the big snake is the one who has committed many sins. Interesting, isn't it? I still have the traditional snake and ladder board and the special dice that we roll to play this game.

6) The best festival to satisfy your tastebuds is Krishna Jayanti that falls sometime in the month of August. Lots of sweets and savories prepared over a span of three days and stacked neatly in huge boxes!! The waft of the sweet smell would pervade the entire kitchen for those three days but we couldn't taste those preparations until the prayers were offered. I also liked to create the imprints of baby footsteps to mark the arrival of Lord Krishna.

7) Last but not the least, I love the entire month of Margazhi (between Dec 15th and Jan 14th) for the perfect cool weather and the divine renditions of Thiruppaavai in the nearby temple early morning. I used to make colourful kolams (designs made in front of the house using rice flour and colours), wearing a scarf to beat the cold and listening to the songs being played. I used to maintain a book full of different kolam designs and always wanted my kolam to be the best in the whole street. This habit is almost gone these days and I wish I could revive it someday soon.

Tradition

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option five)

I loved this challenge. I wrote this poem in 9 minutes (between 10:01 AM and 10:10 AM) and haven't edited it. I know this is not a good one but I hope I will get better at it soon, with more practice.

Tradition
not something that you follow
not something that you crib
not something you adapt
not something you adjust

Tradition
a binding love force
a proud realization,
turns monotonies into
fun and laughter

Tradition
celebrating festivals
family time together,
meals and delicacies
on a certain platter

Tradition
something to remind
for years to pass by,
something to carry forward
for generations to come

Tradition
defines one's character
with principles and values,
designs a game of life
with expectations and surprises

Tradition
loved by everyone
but rare to accept,
will to follow
but lazy to admit

Tradition
Converts diversity
into unity
Converts singleton
into groups

Necessary ritual

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option four)

"Sumi, where's my coffee?", Shyam's first question in the morning as always. "On the dining table", replied Sumathi, his wife. He savours his coffee with another of his can't-live-without habits, reading newspaper ofcourse. Shyam has always been an early riser. Sharp at 5 AM, he is awake and bustling with energy. His next course of action is to walk to the nearby CM Park and jog along with his friends. He likes to observe the different people who visit the park and their mannerisms - some prefer to walk briskly while some others prefer to take a lazy stroll. Being a regular for the past 28 years, many of them recognize him and offer a smile.

He quickly gets dressed up after coming back from the park. He heads straight to the Pooja (prayer) room to offer his daily prayers. "Breakfast ready", Sumathi's voice echoed from the kitchen. After a sumptuous breakfast, Shyam leaves for office, waving goodbye to his wife. The clock struck 8 AM. These 3 hours are preprogrammed into his system. He knows exactly where he will be and what he would be doing. Such was the schedule he has been following for the last 28 years. He is very happy about this and always believed that this jump start every morning has been the secret behind his success. He is a senior manager at a reputed multinational bank.

It's a different story today. Although the schedule is the same, it doesn't give him the jump start as it used to be. He is happy about his retirement and glad that he gets to spend more time with his family. But he is wondering what he is going to do starting from tomorrow. No more excitement, no more monthly paychecks, no more jump start routine. Sumathi completely understands his feelings and doesn't want her hubby to get a post-retirement syndrome and become depressed.

Sending good-bye emails, meeting his friends at office, settling all the financial matters and a big farewell party - the day that just swooped past him in a jiffy. He returns home with lots of gifts and good wishes but a feeling of emptiness inside.

Opening the door, he realizes that his house is completely dark. "No power? Sumi! where are you?", Shyam enters the living room. He notices a candle glowing in the store room. There is dead silence and he is starting to get freaked out. He enters the store room. "Surprise!", shouts Sumathi from the corner of the room, switching on the lights. He's in fact expecting this surprise from his wife and knows that there will be a cake in the middle of the room, having known her for the past 30 years. But that's not the case this time.

The room is looking colourful, with the two opposite walls in splashing red. A painting board is standing pruodly with lots of brushes and paint colors around in the corner where Sumathi is admiring her hubby's reaction. In the other corner, there is a huge book shelf with classics that Shyam used to love reading once upon a time. He also notices that his computer has been shifted to this room from his study. "Who told you that you are retired, Shyam? Your work from today onwards is to renew your painting hobby and also get immersed in classics and other books that you loved to read. I want to see you here in this special room every morning at 8 AM. All right?", Sumathi expresses her wish to her dear hubby. Shyam is happy that he doesn't need to give up his necessary morning ritual. Just because he is retired from the bank, it doesn't mean that he is retired from life! He is now looking forward to restart his painting hobby after 28 years. Life is colourful again, thanks to Sumathi.

A new beginning

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option three)

Sun rays at dawn
piercing the skin
awakening the senses
touching the soul

Bird flock from the nest
aiming for a new horizon
The blooming white jasmines
adorning my flower garden

A cool breeze
through the window
the wafting aroma
of fresh coffee

Gift of a new day
not a mere ritual,
but a miracle of hope
microcosm of peace

Not to be ignored

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option two)

I have the power
to face boldly
the commanding heights,
the worst fears

A small stature
but a larger than life image
one single move
can make the enemy rage

Not to be ignored
I trip the opponent
I initiate the first move
I win close contests

Arsenals of attack
can become useless
So many options
at my defense

One step at a time,
my king in his prime
in the life game of chess
I'm the impeccable pawn

A moment that could have been

My contribution to Cafe Writing - December project (Option one)

Does her effulgent smile claim that she has the whole world's happiness? One might ponder. Her glistening eyes and the joyful look on her face might reemphasize that she is the happiest person one has ever met. She is returning home with lots of stories to tell her dad. Her new friends, her class teacher, the black board and the different colour chalk pieces, the school bell, the text books and pencils - she wonders where to start. A new experience for the 3 year old, Shrishti. It's her first day at school.

Her dad, Prakash is a postman and wants the best for his daughter. Shrishti is his only source of happiness in his struggle to get ends meet. He has faced many twists and turns in his life but today, the turn he takes towards RC Road prove to be a bad twist in little Shrishti's happiness. The speeding car, with no respite for traffic signal hits his bicycle and he collapses in the middle of the road. His vision starts to blur and memories of his childhood starts to kindle. How his life was shattered after his father's death! He has to live for Shrishti. He cannot see his little daughter suffer.

Sparks of conviction and will power bring him up his feet. He gets up and looks at the world staring at him, with no one to offer him a helping hand. He has been delivering mails for so long but today, there is no one to deliver a message to the nearby clinic. With blood oozing from his left side of the face, he starts to walk. A little girl in her bicycle comes by that way. She is appalled by the observing crowd and rushes towards Prakash with her handkerchief. Some of them, clearly embarrassed offers to take him to a doctor.

Lying on the hospital bed, he prays that nothing serious has happened to himself and he can get back to work soon. He sees Shrishti standing next to the door, with tears gleaming from her eyes. She walks towards him and brushes his hair softly. The magical touch of his daughter feels a bliss to Prakash. Seeing her smiling face, he knows he is perfectly fine. "Dad, this is the picture I drew in my class today", she showed a piece of paper proudly. The happy moments are back but on a different note, those could have been stolen by the rash car driver.