Namaste, I salute the divine in you Namaste, I bow to the God in you For there’s a bit of Almighty in everyone Namaste, I greet the good in you Two hands join together – firm, yet gentle Straight and upward, from heart to the temple A solemn opera, silent in prance It’s the Anjali mudra, a symbol of dance Welcoming and warm is the gesture of Namaste It will enter the heart and forever stay Not just two hands,…
i’m zooming through space. social media space. social, that’s what it’s being referred to as these days i think. i’m rushing about on two separate machines, my desktop and my handphone. there’s no time to breathe or pause as i flit from facebook to twitter to instagram to my forum, my blog, you know how it is. they keep saying older people stay away from such things. why don’t i listen to them? i am old people; i’ve seen thirty…
Write more. My new year resolution. Simple. Right? Or maybe I should take a resolution to keep life simple. Simple = Happy. Right? There is something about being in between. Walking home from your school bus stop. Driving to work on a rainy morning. When the season changes. When it’s midnight. When a year is about to turn into another. This sensation of being in between brings with it a sense of possibility. A chance at wrapping things up. Starting…
i want to pack up the night and take it with me… wrapped in its folds are stars and stories from afar afar and farther away, even farther than that, where where something of me lives, i’ve known of it long known? no, perhaps not that. knowing is so reduced lit with shining bright light, harsh and stentorian insistent, unrelenting, blinded by its own glory there’s the night, dark and darker still, calling me to those stars, those stories, and…
the sky is always there, beyond my computer. some instinct of mine, first thing in the morning straight after i wake up and make my way to the day, i come here to my corner and lift the latch of the window, push the frosted glass pane slightly, it swings back. and the sky is there. a narrow triangle of it, lacework of leaves and branches across, but still. along with the sounds of cars from the road and flyover…
i haven’t walked on grass in years. why do my toes wiggle and crush up as i type this? as though anticipating something delightful? memory of dew-wet bright green blades between my toes; something pokes, a bed of green and earth yields, my foot sinks into its springy comfort; and lets go, lifts up. the next step. but before that, a rush of breeze on the wet sole of my foot where a few strands of grass and little specks…
The scene opens up to this rosy-cheeked vibrant little girl running from her governess, running away from rules, towards adventure. She watches her idols fight against the background of rising waters and soaring hills. What strikes me is the vibrant colours, the shine and this little girl with shining eyes thinking of valour and happy endings. She listens to those stories her mother tells her and is convinced that all she needs is that one chance to prove herself. She reaches…
don’t drag me down to your controversy lift your eyes toward the sky within you from here, stand by me and sense your dream your paradise, your most exalted soul what’s beauty if it won’t even take you there do you see the evening light on the ripples? there, before you beyond the fastidiously carved quiet balustrade of noontime sun white i know, its brightness is somewhat dimmed, tinged with ochre and time, and conversations with the river…
They say change is constant So let there be some change It doesn’t happen in an instant It works at its own pace Keep the nostalgia, they’re priceless Discard the clutter, all worthless Redesign, repaint, bring in the freshness Introduce uncared corners to a thing called cleanliness Get up and welcome a change in your life Leave behind the doom and infuse a new life It’s alright to indulge in a little bit of madness Let change, the constant, lead you…
i must have been four when i saw the taj mahal. been back many times since then. i love the gardens, the fountains, the humongous entrance, the grace, the people looking expectant, taking funny pictures, the sange marmar… the white marble; finding out mumtaz mahal and shah jahan wasn’t exactly a fairytale romance didn’t spoil the fun (c’mon, he threw pearl necklaces at her in the meena bazaar, didn’t he… and if he didn’t, too bad for him). the…