My Merry Wish

It is a dusty path lined with trees , dotted with gates to houses. I reached much earlier than anticipated and now I was taking a stroll in the village, in Mararikulam town.

Today is Christmas.

I had decided to book myself a homestay in the village (closer to the beach) rather than a hotel in the crowded town center. This is a fishermen’s village and the beach is only 400mts or a 15 min leisurely walk away. I was in Kochi the day before, attending festivities of a friend’s engagement. Lots of people and lots of good food so the morning after i.e. today, felt a little quiet, a little dull, and hence the walk in the 10am sun.

The road (if you can call it that) was an unpaved path, cutting the village in two. This is a dominantly Christian village, another reason for me to book the stay here. I wanted to feel the local festivities hence the walk in the 10 am sun. Oh wait, its almost 11 now.

I have a boat-ride planned on the backwaters for later and didn’t want to park myself on my bed. If I did, I would fall asleep (less sleep last night) and would most definitely miss the boat-ride, and hence the walk in the 11:15 am sun. Oh wait, still 11 am.

I wondered aimlessly looking at the simple but beautifully decorated houses. There are no plastic trees here but real ones. Not a Christmas tree but all kinds of trees and the people have decided to decorate and give love to any tree punctuating their yards. Colourful paper ribbons, balloons and cardboard stars looked like flowers and roots to the trees’ already colourful elements. Ah so how lovel…. “Happy Christmas”.

What.. Who.. Where.. I turned. A boy in red tee (I think red, it happened in such a flash) ran past me on his bicycle. “Happy Christmas” he declared to me with one hand up in the air and vanished as soon as he had appeared.

“Happy Christmas to you too”.

Me, still amazed was left with ruffled dust and a smile on my face.  

 

 

My moment with Love

 Why are there so many people? 

The first thing one notices is the crowd. Numbers and numbers of people and then suddenly you get a glimpse of it through their heads.
Its impressive yes but too many people around.
You struggle to find a spot to click a nice picture but there is always someone photobombing you.
So you decide to walk around and start noticing the details, the symmetry and the sheer size of it.

And suddenly it starts to turn red in the sky and sun starts descending..
Everything changes.
The shadows change.
The people start packing up to leave.
You and your mate decide to sit and take in the beauty.

IT IS  BREATHTAKING.

The way evening sun lights up the monument is delightful.
You are one of the last few tourists left, so you decide to leave too. On your way out you turn back and find an almost tourist free shot.
You quickly take out your phone to capture it and then you realise, you are at Taj.

The Taj.

The Taj Mahal.

And it answers your first question.
That's why they all are here, to find their one alone moment with it.
My moments with love, the way I had imagined it to be.

My one moment with Love.

Who are these men?

Wrote this long ago in wake of another assault on a young girl in India. Who would she trust now? Filled with sadness and anger, I wrote this to ask "Who are these men?" who commit such acts of violence against another human being.

Who are these men?

Do You know them?

Do I know them? No I don’t.

Then, Who are these men?

The ones you know are fine,

They win all the time.

They never commit a crime.

But then who stole my shine.

Who are these men?

Who stops my way.

be it night or the day.

When I cry, who claps away.

Do you know them?

Do I know them? No Way!

Then, who are these men?

My father dotes me,

bought me the dress.

My brother irritates me,

loves me nonetheless.

Are these men not related to any?

Who are these men?

Please tell me and find me them

So I could ask a Why

Who taught you this playfulness?

And why not to just ‘Die’.

Who told you to hurt me

And smirk when I scream

Was that some written sonnet

Or was it a long lived dream.

Who are these men

Who teach you well and never to be ashamed

Who are these men who show ‘Love’ to me, but are never to be named.

Who are these men?

Do you know them?

Do I know them?

Do I?

I do.

Freedom.

I ask them why must I not be sad,
For I feel bad.
I feel empty 
and devoid of any churn of a happy thought.

They say, don’t be sad. Smile and be rad.
Hide your bags with glasses so dark
for your eyes give away
your sadness, where it left the mark.

Am I not free to be sad?

I ask them why must I not love him,
He makes it bright, where it was dim,
He makes it worth 
my life and breath.

They say, he’s wrong
and we do not belong.
for he is the same, 
Its Adam and Eve who came.

Am I not free to love?

I ask them why must I bow,
There, not here. Then and not now.
I want to thank the god for life,
I want to do it the way I know how.

They say don’t irk him, for he is God.
His love requires the priest’s nod.
He’s like a bull of might and power 
not a feeble girly flower.

Am I not free to pray?

When would I be free to be
To be with me, to love as mine.
Do I need to be God?
Is freedom only for the Divine?

Am I free?