Humane serendipity


Do you remember that scene from the soap ‘Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi’, (*cringing*) when the protagonist – Tulsi – found out about her husband’s affair, and then ran into a park wailing and howling? No?

Well, the part I am referring to, and is important for this post, is when a foreign lady finds Tulsi crying and offers sympathy. She enquires as to reason behind Tulsi’s tears.

At that time, I remember feeling embarrassed for Tulsi that a stranger is consoling her. I was a kid back then.

Today, I realise the humanity in that action. Having been through such episodes (no, no cheating husbands here, though) where strangers have offered comfort in whatever way possible to a crying me (not shamed to admit that I cry), it seems like a poignant action.

The first time, I remember being startled and, to be frank, suspicious about the nerdy-looking guy’s intentions. “What if the mp3 player he was offering to me as a balm had a bomb in it?” I wondered back then.

Weird thought, yes. But then, that’s how our city upbringing hones us to frown upon politeness and such sweet actions from strangers.

Yet, I remember feeling guilty about the doubt, and mentally thanked the guy. I wish I’d showed my gratitude better, in a more public or open way. That is another thing we are stopped from doing. Showing open gratitude or emotions.

Even today, many experiences later, it somehow feels like a very special serendipitous situation; like the universe anticipated my grief and sent a saviour.

The religious will call it the Hand of God. Some may call it Karma — a result of some good deed either in this life, or in the previous lives.

If the latter were true, I have undertaken some major good deeds in my many lives!

Either way, it shows that simple actions — no matter how small — may cause great outcomes. It made me understand the power of time and gratitude, of timely actions and reactions.

Free prison


A tiny pinprick of light pierces my darkness,
Utterly magical; I am entranced.
Hear, my ears, the sound of lock and key,
Unwanted, dangerous, addictive freedom beckons me.

Finally the blood will stop flowing,
From my nails that scratch the walls,
Alone in the depths of my prison,
I find freedoms at my beck and call.

Hear me jailer, don’t let me go,
For I found magic in the darkness,
Together with love and sheer happiness,
Unlike any cage of freedom;
Just let my blood free,
Just let it flow.

No, don’t open the door, don’t let in the light;
And yet you enter, O jailer, into the prison of my red;
To take my rotting bones,
And clean away my blood.

Here I am watching you, from the corners of my den.
Free atlast, from the clutches of my dust and skin;
Free from the pain of yore;
Wrapped in the stillness of time, free to bleed again.

The fall


You kicked.
I felt a lurch, a tug deep in my gut.
First came relief. Voila! I can feel again,
Then seeped in the pain.
Away from the forces of gravity,
And other laws of Newton.
I could feel the wind in my hair.
As I felt the body fly through the empty space.
Empty. That’s how my heart feels.
An out of body experience, I could see myself.
Falling, flailing, crying, fighting; all while aflight.
Then with acceptance came peace.
Something never unknown, but still not known.
A smile dressing my lips, tears of joy caressing my eyes;
If someone catches me while I fall, I care not.
Through the fall, I just rose;
Rose up, stood up, and smiled.

A storm is brewing


A storm is brewing;
Run, escape, you all should.
Who knows the consequences;
The storm is beyond all control.
A vortex of thoughts, feelings and musings,
It is gaining force and strength.
Stuck in a jail of its own making,
The storm is craving freedom,
And freedom it shall have; walls could be broken;
But peaceful—no, it shan’t be.
Churning, churlish, it ebbs and flows;
Its intricate web of pain and pleasure.
Peace may well turn violent,
And violence and madness could bring harmony.
The waves are lashing; in it lies beauty.
O spectator, beware of this art;
You could easily be at the bottom after the crash.
These words can hit you hard;
Restless thoughts it can cause.
They say after the storm comes a new beginning,
This one may be never-ending.
So run; run amok, please;
And let me curb this storm;
This storm that is my chaotic mind.

Life is a stage…

Life is a stage set by the universe for you. All you need to do is perform the play — your own unique version of the play. And it’s fairly easy too; the universe gives regular cues. It’s up to you to either give in to stage-fright and worry about the audience’s reaction, or give your damnest best performance exactly the way you want it.