Can I wish death upon them?

A letter to God... for His children...

Can I wish death upon them?
No, You say, I mustn't,
Calm the anger and horror,
Be patient, You say, be patient...
Even as people gather and kill,
Torture, poison, blind, paralyze,
Your precious four legged children...

How can You sit back and watch?
As cruelty inflicted by humans rises every second by a notch?
I beg, I pray, I plead with You to interfere,
To be the voice of the mute,
The power of the defenceless,
To do justice now and here...

I see their pain,
I sense their fear,
I whisper: 'Don't worry, Baba is here...'
But are You?

Part the skies,
Break the clouds,
Come riding on a storm,
Come, answer their cries...

You bestowed on us humans,
The power of compassion,
To aid You in Your Mission,
Yet, we've chosen the wrong path-
Indescribable cruelty has gained admission..

Animals and birds are hunted, poached,
Some die a slow death, the lucky ones are instantly killed,
Most do it with pleasure,
With a cruel inhumane smile,
Practiced skill...

How can this be allowed in Your world?
How can humans be so arrogant so as to forget it is indeed Your world,
That we are only a part of creation,
And not the whole of it?

The few who care are fighting a losing battle,
Who do we turn to?
The law? Leaves us more rattled...
So who, Baba, who?

Show a sign, or more,
Show us the answer,
As we knock at your door,
Bring in change,
Be Krishna on our side,
Join this war,
And let not evil prevail...

Am I wrong in praying for the
Safety of the four legged, the winged and the finned?
Am I wrong in believing that:
'Today He will come and show them that this cannot and will not go on'?
That 'Today He will descend,
Answer His child's call, plea, wish and dream'?
That 'Today He will reveal his true form and all the cruelty He will undo'?
That 'Today I will weep with joy as He says: Samastha jeeva sukhino bhavantu...'?

Come, Baba, come,
The world is crying out,
Destruction of life is everywhere,
Come and command compassion from all men,
Come, so I may never have to wish death upon them...

All I want is You

Aashiq Tera
Bheed mein khoya rehta hain…

The day ends,
Conversations have died,
I sit in my room,
By Your picture-side,
Your smile is constant,
And yet I miss it,
Your eyes have that divine sparkle,
I will them to blink, move a little;
Your robe, how I miss its gentle stir to the breeze,
Its orange hue, its fall, its crease…

Sometimes I cry,
Each silent tear a heart-wrenching wail,
Somewhere a song plays,
It tells a story of lonely days,
Some days, the sun shines in all magnificence,
I feel You, Your omnipresence,
In some places, I feel lost,
In search of You, I walk against the crowd,
Calling to You, sometimes softly, most of the times aloud,
For I know You’ll come,
Come back again,
To light the days,
To wipe the tears,
Dispel the fears,
And be forever near…

You will speak of every prayer,
Whispered in the air,
In the hope it would reach You…
You will smile at this child, intent and stubborn,
Wishing, wanting and willing nothing but Your return…
You will hold me in Your love,
A promise that to talk to You,
I will never have to look above,
For You will walk the same ground,
Your aura, Your might will abound,
And I will smile and smile and smile,
‘My Father has come home’
Will echo for miles and miles…
I know You’ll come,
Come back again,
You will end this strain,
For never have You denied,
My heart its desire,
And now all it seeks,
All it does aspire,
Is only You, my Sai, only You.

A Still Night

A still night,

And yet the leaves danced,

The inaudible rustle,

Made her look askance.



Jumbled thoughts poured forth,

As her eyes stared blankly ahead,

At the unmoving scene,

Recollecting the said and unsaid.



A glance sideways,

Feigned order through the confusion,

Desires paraded as wishes,

And reality as illusion.



The seconds’ hand ticked slower than usual,

The beam of a car light shone and disappeared,

Dullness again,

A sketch of still life.



A circle of dreams,

Surrounding, bewitching,

A longing for the ‘different’,

An attachment to the ‘same’,

Rewinding words,

Doubting claims.



The reverie breaks,

Her eyes dart across,

At the still night,

No more dancing leaves,

No rustle.



Time has moved on,

She shuffles through the pages,

They appear blank,

The lines empty,

The ink too faint.



She breathes in deep,

She feels the sting,

She pats her eyes dry,

But still,

Her memories cry.

Incomplete

She sat by the door,
The breeze tiptoeing about her,
Her memory danced on the green stretch,
Playing out its role of before...

The present a tangle of regrets,
The past a faraway world,
A life of 'could have',
An unfinished dream...

The cold set in,
The blinds a barrier to the warmth,
A ray trapped in a webbed corner,
Too far to touch her with hope,
And Too slight to temper the cold.

Her eyes lingered on,
At the play of past recollections,
The wrongs stomped in fury,
The rights exuded affection.

The faint shadows,
Blurred and hesitant,
Slid towards her distant gaze,
Companions through the past maze...

A sad smile appeared,
She paused...
The slideshow of memories,
Stung her eyes,
The iciness thawed.

She wept,
Silent, unmoving,
The steady trickle,
A story of hope and defeat,
Of love, loss and yearning,
A story... still incomplete...

The Real

Eyes stare out,

Into the blackness beyond,

A blur,

A memory,

A dream…

Broken, Burned

A blinding light,

The sign of awake-ness,

A smile,

A truth,

Real, Forever

The mistiness disappears,

With the welled up tears,

The curve commands,

And beckons joy near

The touch,

Surprises Love,

The eyes,

Piercingly warm,

Turn away the doubts,

The fear, the storm

Words melt,

Their meaning already delivered,

The grey no longer a looming cloud,

The lining already silvered

A speechless promise,

Sealed,

A soft kiss,

A long night,

Alone, not lonely

The coloured dream,

No black, no grey,

The elation spilling over,

No bounds, no seam

The real and unreal,

Merge, unite,

The present,

A gift from life.

Smile, it's today

MOWGLI - My angel :)

Sometimes I wake up,

Flustered,

The dream had broken bits,

Broken, yet clustered


And then suddenly,

Black-and-white comes wiggling forth,

Tail sweeping the air,

East-west, south-north!


Lips parted in a big grin,

And a pink tongue ready to kiss,

Smack, Smack, Smack it goes,

On my lips, cheek, chin, and nose!


I stretch and yawn,

I squint at the trickling rays,

I get some more kisses and wags,

Then, “Smile,” he barks, “it's Today!'

A small speck, that's all

..................................

I've often looked at ants carefully avoiding puddles, and wondered if that puddle were a sea or an ocean in their world...

Today, when I think about the world around me, I feel as small as an ant. I read the news, I watch telly channels flashing reports and I can't help but think that all those things that I'm disgruntled about hardly even matter.

In space, the junk of abandoned rockets, missile shrapnels and shattered satellites has reached a tipping point. One crash with a satellite and we could lose our communication networks. It sends shivers down my spine. Is this is a sign of the beginning of our end? An end that our own actions are responsible for?

In different parts of the world, there are oil spills that could wipe out birds, marine life. There are cyclones; there are earthquakes claiming hundreds and hundreds of human, animal and plant life. Our motherland is being tormented by plane crashes, blasts, terrorist attacks, and wars. There are rapes, reported and unreported, and there are honour killings. There are kidnappings, money launderings. Then there are government people. In Rajasthan, the corporation has left thousands of stray dogs – puppies, pregnant bitches and others – in the deserted desert, without food and water. They are caught with metal braces that cause their teeth to break and also result in other internal injuries. And then they are left to die in the sands.

In Pune, 35 dogs were recently poisoned by the PMC. The poison used was one that slowly attacks different organs and then causes death.

In Delhi, a cop raped a girl; in UP, two cops took obscene video clips of a girl, and drove her to commit suicide.

I can't even pen any more cases, because my stomach is knotted up and the cruelty makes me sick.

And I realise that I have no right to complain about the downs of work, the end-of-the month depleted bank account, the scratches on my car, the clot in my nail... Even if all my woes and worries were put together, they would never ever amount to what's happening in the world around me.

I'm just a speck, that's all. A small, tiny speck, much like an ant. A speck that's watching the ocean of cruelty drown and destroy the world it lives in.

It's time to sizzle

Beaches, bikinis and babes! Read on:

http://epaper.sakaaltimes.com/SakaalTimes/18Apr2010/Normal/Spice/page2.htm

Dancing Dots

I squeeze my eyes shut, but those colourful sparks no longer break the darkness. It's pitch black – there are no dancing red and blue dots, and no abstract circles. Instead, it gets foggy, a thick cloud of tears...

Sometimes life's like that. You can see the small circle of light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel's too long, almost unending. The darkness continues to stalk, and nothing you do can shake it away.

Sometimes happiness is like that. You see the other side of the fence, and your naked feet long to enjoy the coolness of the carpet of green grass... but, the fence is too high to cross over. The wires are too sharp, and sometimes, you get a jolt, a shock of Volts.

Sometimes smiles are like that. You can already feel the imminent joy that the curve will bring, but your lips are too dry. The chapness worsens as you wet them and the cracks get deeper. The redness burns inside, and the smile never reaches the eyes.

Sometimes love is like that. Deep down, you know it's enough to make up for the dark tunnel, the jolts and the cracks, yet you block it out, in fear that it won't reach you; in fear that an obstacle will block its path; in fear that it won't bring the dancing dots back...

The silence is deafening

I don't know his favourite food, his favourite restaurant or his favourite colour. I don't even know the colour of his eyes. But when I looked into them today, they were so grey and so lifeless. And the memory of meeting him flashed before me, and I recall his smile, full of mirth and mischief, a smile that reached his eyes.

I don't know Vikas well enough to be called a close friend, but I know him enough to know that he didn't deserve to die like that, in a blast of hatred and terror and cowardice.

A leg amputated, furious burns all over his person, failing kidneys... and what was his fault? That he chose to have coffee at German Bakery on February 13, at 7 pm.

The week that was, was of prayers for him. Those prayers are still with his soul that has crossed over. But his going has left behind a dreadful anguish in the minds and hearts of parents, siblings, family, friends – close ones and the ones like me. It will never go away.

My eyes will never forget the lifeless, far away look in his eyes, that I saw today at his funeral. And my mind will also never forget all those times I've met him and laughed and joked with him, oblivious to the fact, that soon, very soon, he'll only be a memory.

My emotions are troubled. They're confused. They don't know whether to feel deep sorrow at this loss of a lovely human being, or to feel justifiable hatred and uncontrolled anger at those who committed such a hideous crime, such an unpardonable sin...

It's been a week since blast, and a day since Vikas left us all, and the papers carry a headline: 'Even after 8 days, no breakthrough'.

I want to yell out to the ATS, to the government, to anyone who will listen:

'Will it even make a difference if there is a breakthrough?


Will the perpetrators be given a 'fair trial' like Kasab (26/11)?


Will I still hear explanations that a fair trial is a must because we're a democratic nation?


Someone tell me please: Are we a democratic nation for the citizens of India or for demons like Kasab and whoever is responsible for the death of Vikas and 14 others?


Will this terror ever end, or does our country want us to get 'used to' losing dear ones?


Will our Vikas ever get justice?'



My mind is constantly screaming. But still, there's only silence around. No answers. Only silence. And it's deafening.

FOR MY DEAREST BHAGWAN

This one's for Bhagwan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, only Him... for there is nothing truer than Him and I have no better Best Friend than Him...
Love You Baba...

Our boat was sinking, or so we felt,
We closed our eyes and before You, we knelt,
With a wave of Your hand, You calmed the storm,
In a flash of events, You took away the tears, the mourn.
We were drowning, or so we thought,
But the touch of Your hand was enough to bring our fears to a naught,
You didn't let a drop splash upon our person,
You came to save us, just when we were beginning to think our lot would worsen.

The darkness kept creeping on us, or so we assumed,
'Where is God when we need Him?' we fumed,
And then You whispered, 'Why fear when I am here?'
Our eyes opened, and there You were standing ever so near,
And we saw a light, of a most wondrous hue,
It surrounded us, and then became You.

We were falling, crashing, hurtling down, or so we imagined,
We could see the sinister rocks below,
We could hear our screams, the din,
We clenched our fists, and shut our eyes,
We tried to subdue our fear, our cries,
We tried to show courage, but in vain,
And in our panic, we even forgot to call out Your name.
Still, the crash never came.
Our eyes opened,
And instead of deathly rocks, we lay on a bed of love,
We looked straight up at Your smiling face above,
And you said in a voice of unmatched love and kindness,
'My dear child, You may forget me, but how can I?
I live for You, for Your happiness.
Even when you are not looking, I'm standing right there,
Even when you don't feel it,
You're enveloped in My armour of love and care.
Pain and sorrow are a part of life,
But look once towards Me,
And I'll give you joy that's unchallenged by trouble or strife,
For you may not know it, but I've descended to love you,
A love that's the deepest of deep, and the truest of true…'

Modern-day condolence?

A to B: “Lovely kurti... Where did you pick it up from?”

B to A: “Oh, thanks! Picked it up in such a hurry from Camp just today morning!”

C to D: “You have to, have to, have to come home and taste the chocolate mousse I've made. Have joined this new class...”

D to C: “Really? You toh don't invite me only. Gaayab hi ho jaati hain...!”

E to F: “Arre Neeta, ladki ki shaadi kab kar rahi hain?”

F to E: “God knows ya! She says she wants to focus on her work right now...”

Regular 'women' conversations. They have to be, considering the topics are clothes, cooking and a wedding. Nothing to write home about, right? Wrong.
These seemingly random conversations between two women-friends didn't take place at MG Rd or a parlour or a kitty party or a mall. They took place at a chautha (fourth day after a person's death). I know, because Neeta's 'ladki' in the conversation above is me.
I was aghast when mum recounted the hushed whispers she heard, sitting at the back of the hall where the solemn function was on to honour the dead. She herself was shocked that she was asked about my marriage at such a place and time.
It made me think and wonder why these women had even gathered for the chautha. Is it really just a formality, where they think 'Shakal toh dikhani padegi!” Whether you're whispering or talking aloud, sitting at the back or right in the front doesn't really matter here. The point is that that talk is sheer disrespect for the one who has passed away, and for his or her family members who are grieving the death.
Since when has offering condolence become such a farce? Have we become so caught up in the material world, that we think of what clothes people are wearing to a funeral? I didn't know that a chautha was just another social gathering, as if there aren't enough already. But I know now, and I'd rather not attend such a function than be party to such distasteful behaviour.
Agreed that it's in our nature to talk and gossip, but that gossip can wait till after you've left the function, or can't it? And if you have to talk, then why not talk about how the person for whom you're present at such a function touched your life? Why not talk about the good the person has done? Why not honour him or her by showing the family members that you're there for them during this hard time?
They say souls stay on for some days after death, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the ultimate purpose of a chautha would be to pray that the soul rest in peace. I don't think that knowing where a kurti is bought from or when I'm going to get married is in anyway going to help the soul rest in peace. But then, correct me if I'm wrong.

Nupur Chaudhuri

Looking inwards first

'Three Indians attacked by a gang of 70 teenaged Australians.'
The headlines screamed out on Sept 16, and the words are still ringing in my head. For some reason, I find it so very hard to associate this horrible, insensitive and racist behaviour with Australians. Only because I've lived amongst them and have been loved by them.
I spent a year of my life in Australia, I made Ozzie friends, I ate at their restaurants, I partied at their nightclubs, I studied at their University and I even lived with an Australian family, complete with an Ozzie cat and dog, who I'm sure found it hard to understand my accent! But the country welcomed me, and not once did I feel like an outsider. Their culture was different, but I was never made to feel like a stranger. Instead, everyone I came across expressed the keenest desire to know more about the land of India, to know if elephants really roamed the streets, and if we knew ancient magic, like the Red Indians.
It will be a year in December that I finished my studies in Australia and came back. Yet, the memories make me smile, and make me want to back. But can I now?
The very fact that it's now unsafe for me to go back to the country and people who made my stay so memorable scares me. It's the same fear that sometimes grips me when I'm travelling home alone at night, or am walking on a street dotted with groups of men.
We call the Australians racist because they've been hurting and telling Indians to go back to their own country. I will not dispute the allegation, but I want to ask what name would we give to the group of 80 men or so who attacked and molested a girl at the Gateway of India in Mumbai a few years ago on New Years' Eve? One girl fondled by 80 men. Do we call the men vulgar, cheap, maniacs, perverts, psychopaths or then plain and simple cowards?
Just like the 80 molesters knew that the girl would not be able to retaliate, so also the 70 Ozzies knew that the three Indians under their attack didn't stand a chance of giving back to them a piece of their disgusting, cowardly behavior. What then is the difference between them and us?
During the recent Ganpati visarjan, as I weaved my car through the different processions a day after the visarjan, the men whistled, hooted and insulted my dignity, and all this while the Ganesha idol, its eyes covered with a cloth, sat behind them. Is this, I ask, a better quality than racism, or sickeningly worse?
Today, I feel as unsafe in my city as an Indian man would at an Australian pub, bus stand or railway station. So, maybe it's time our men give answers for their cowardice before questioning the Australian racism.

Killing the compassion within

My family is synonymous with 'animal lovers'. Even mom's converted, and has been bunking her walks to take our dog out to play instead! So when a cousin dropped by and told us of the cruelly shocking way in which five dogs of her society, near Pleasant Park, Wanowrie, were murdered, we were naturally aghast.
The dogs were poisoned. They were tempted with food, a feast that led them to their death. I read in the newspaper some weeks ago that PETA will award Rs 10,000 to anyone who comes out with information about the killings. Thank God for animal rights activists, and thank god for money, I say. If not for the love of creation, then at least for the love of money, we might have someone offering information.
What did the dogs do that brought death upon them? They were vaccinated and spayed, and had no diseases. Their only fault was that they were dogs. They weren't 'stray' as they were being looked after by different residents of the society. They had never attacked or harmed anyone. They were friendly with kids as well. So what then must have irked someone to resort to the lowly act of murder? That they bark at odd hours of the night perhaps?
I have a family with little kids in my society; and when they were babies, they wailed at every other hour. Now I'm not particularly fond of kids, but I didn't sneak up on them and poison them! It would've been a horrid crime, wouldn't it? So how then can socially 'normal' people residing in a good area poison innocent dogs just because their 'barking' could be a nuisance at times?
Just because the dog clan can't voice its opinion, or take out a morcha to fight for dog/animal rights, doesn't mean we humans can exploit and play with their lives.
When will we learn that we are only a 'part' of creation? That we're meant to live in harmony with other forms of nature and not kill them for pleasure or selfish purposes?
I'm not saying I'm a saint. But I'd never do something so cowardly and so disgusting; something that reflects upon my race and tarnishes the intelligence and compassion we've been gifted with.
The anti-stray or anti-animal folks may say my view is absolutely biased. I will not dispute them. Biased or not, it's a view that condemns the act of taking away something that you do not have the power to create, and in this case, it's life.

For the city Maamas!

I awoke that morning, and was surprised at the dreariness that enveloped the city. The sun hid behind the thick, thundering clouds and and the rain pelted against the city and the wind whistled eerily, as if warning us of more to come.
I dragged myself out of bed, and soon was on my way to work. The car was soaked in rain, and the wipers worked over-time. I was warm and cosy inside though – the heater was on. And just when I was marvelling at my good fortune of having a four-wheeler, the traffic slowed to a halt. I peered through the droplets splashing on my windscreen, and noticed that the signals were out. “Drat!” I muttered.
Slowly, after four-five minutes, the cars ahead of me crawled on. And as I crossed the zebra crossing in front, I saw four traffic cops, their yellow raincoats drenched completely, busy directing traffic.
Caps covered their faces, and you could see them squinting ever so slight, while steadfastly doing their job.
And that's when I stopped marvelling at my 'luck', and was filled with respect for these men and women. Come rain or sun, they're always out there, amidst all the pollution, doing their bit in serving society. Just as I was thinking this, a biker, ignored their call to stop, and whizzed ahead, turning around only to jeer at them, as though he had accomplished something.
It's sad that we take our traffic cops for granted, sad that we accuse them of taking bribes when we are the ones who offer the so-called 'bribes' in the first place. Not once do we think that they are people who stand on the street, breathe in vehicle fumes and control a maddening rush. A job that I would definitely never be able to do.
Most people have a nonchalant attitude when it comes to dealing with traffic policemen. One too many times, I've heard friends chuckle and boast, “The maamu stopped me, so I paid him fifty bucks and he let me go!” Maybe now, after watching them stand for hours in the relentless rain, without even tree cover, guiding traffic so as to save us from traffic jam delays, they'll be respected more. Maybe we'll realise that they work not for themselves, but for this city, for us. Maybe we'll follow traffic rules more and make life a tad easier for them. Maybe our 'chalta hai' attitude will change.
I know mine has.

The Magic of my Sai

Just last week, a colleague said to me, “To get rich in this country, one only needs to become a godman.” This she said, referring to godmen in general, and Sri Sathya Sai Baba, in particular. About the 'particular', two things stand to be corrected: one, he has made this country far richer and in terms that go even beyond money; and two, for me and the 40 million people who worship him the world over, he is God, and not a godman.
When I say 'richness', I refer to love, happiness and hope. He only teaches about the path of love, and his service to mankind has brought joy where there was none; and has given hope to those who'd given up on hope itself.
A news channel spent all its Sunday hours in saying Sathya Sai is only a magician. I commend them for their insight, because he really is a magician. This magician has done magic that even the world's best magician can never master. He has transformed the hearts of people. He has made humans more aware of humanity.
While the channel's belittling of Sathya Sai was a TRP-raising stunt, I wonder why they didn't give a more wholesome picture of his 'magic'. To be more specific, he has started schools, colleges, and universities that offer absolutely free education. He introduced Education in Human Values (called Educare), that the UGC (University Grants Commission) has taken up at a national level, so as to promote these values which were hitherto lacking in our education system. He has started Super Specialty Hospitals that lack only in one department – the billing department. There is no cash counter in any of the hospitals, and to top that wonder, the visiting faculty are the best in their industry from India and abroad. He also took up the cause of villagers who had to walk miles and miles for water. His Rayalseema Water Project reached out to 731 villages in Ananthpur District (Andhra Pradesh) and later, water was also supplied to 320 villages in Andhra Pradesh. In 2004, the mounting Chennai water crisis was solved as the Sathya Sai Ganga (officially named so by the Tamil Nadu Government) found its way to the gates of Tamil Nadu. Then there's grama seva, that's on in full swing in every state and city, including Pune.
So why then didn't the channel flash these aspects of Sathya Sai's contribution to the field of 'magic'? Not newsworthy enough, eh?

I Promise me

I will not allow anyone to take me for granted.

I will never forget how important I am to Me.

I will never underestimate me.

I will not allow anyone to hurt me beyond repair.

I will let go of the past, because the past is never gonna happen again. It’s over. It’s gone.

I will live in the present only. The future’s too far off and too unpredictable to depend on.

I will learn how to say No.

I will never say no to love. Love is the only healing power.

I will never depend entirely on anyone, except God and me. I know together we’re an awesome team.

I will value every smile I smile.

I will never waste my tears. I’ve learnt how precious they are and how irresponsibly I’ve used them.

I will thank the Universe for everything that it’s given me. The good and the Bad. It’s me who’s asked for them, and the universe has given it.

I will not blame anyone else for my pain. I allowed myself to hurt.

I will never break a promise. I’ve experienced the pain of broken promises.

I will do whatever makes me happy. If the world doesn’t like it, too bad. It’s my life, not theirs.

I will be a Princess. And I will have a Happily Ever After with my Prince.

Free.

A thousand, maybe more, memories swirl in my head as I think back. I think of nothing in particular, nothing in general. I just think of life so far. And I’m awestruck at how I’ve changed.

One thing that always remained constant though was my fear of what lay ahead. The fear of getting hurt; the fear of having nobody; the fear of losing; the fear of being better but not the best…The fear of the future.

But suddenly, it’s gone. I’ll be lying if I say I don’t think of the future. I do. But I’m not scared anymore.

I don’t know whether it’s the loss of love or the gain of a new love, but one of them has taught me to live in the Now. To live for the Now.

My Life at the mo:
I don’t have a full-time job.

I’m 23 (almost) and am asking dad for dough. Heck, I didn’t do that when I was 16!

My savings are nothing to boast of!

I still don’t have that glass closet of heels, flats, pumps.

I’m running out of clothes.

I haven’t joined belly dancing.

I haven’t joined horse riding.

I don’t want to move to Bombay.

Pune doesn’t really have too many options for me.

I (still) can’t cook, except for chocolate mousse!

I sleep a lot through the day!

The only day I really, really, really look forward to and am wide awake for is Wednesday.

But everyday, every hour, every minute, every second, I smile.

:)

It's love. That’s it! I just know that’s it. For me, Love has always taken first place. But Love, as I’ve known it before, has made me fear, has made me pine, has given me pain, has made me cry. Love, as I’ve known it before, has made me worry about that love not being there anymore.

But not now. Love, as I know it now, makes me smile, makes me blush, makes me shy, makes me thankful, makes me satisfied,makes me love myself. Love, as I know it now, sets me free.

I’m not scared anymore. The constant fear has left me. Coz I know, whatever happens, love will always find me, love will always be there.

Being in love had always been a weakness. I like the use of ‘had’ in that sentence :), coz now, being in love… in love with him…is my strongest strength.

It’s crazy love, right love, happy love :) It’s one-of-a-kind love :) It’s the Him-n-Me love :) :) :)

Find: Happy

Her eyes stare out at me,
The desperation is clear for all to see,
The love has gone,
But in her, there’s another storm,
‘What will the world say?’ she asks,
And slowly, again, she crawls behind the mask.

Just what will the world say?
The world will question,
The world will talk about her stray.
People will give her the eye,
They’ll bring her down to her knees, make her cry.
She’ll hear taunts, she’ll hear rumours,
She’ll realize who was never hers.
They’ll rip her life, year by year,
Give her pain so severe…
She knows, she’s scared,
So she won’t ever dare,
To take that step, to be free,
To give herself the chance to experience ‘Happy’…

I tell her to live for today,
For yesterday’s gone, and tomorrow’s only a ‘may’,
They won’t give her happiness,
And so she’ll miss,
Her chance to feel, her chance to be,
Her chance to find out what is ‘Happy’…

I tell her to cut the string,
To throw the ring,
To, at her own behest,
Never settle for second best…

I tell her to realize,
That no one will stop her cries,
Except for her.

I want her to know,
When bad is over, there’s good ALWAYS in store.
Life has started, and life will end,
But in between, life gives the chance to amend,
She should grab it and slay the fear,
Of a new beginning, of finding another dear,
Only then, will she know and see,
Just what really is ‘Happy’…

I want her to look the world in the eye,
Without a flinch, without a sigh,
She doesn’t need them to reprove,
What only matters is that her heart approves,
Coz the world’s not gonna set her soul free,
Coz that will be,
Only when she gets back ‘Happy’.

Life will give you chances aplenty,
To know, to realize, to find and to keep ‘Happy’.
Take the chance before life passes you by,
For down the line, you’ll be asking, ‘Why didn’t I?’

My Miracle :)

Sometimes it takes miracles to believe again. For me, it just took him :)

I look out at people rushing through their lives; I watch the trees sway to the tunes of the breeze; I hear the birds chirp in myriad manners; and I feel the air envelop me.

I smile.

And think.

‘They can never make me as happy as he.” :)


Years before, I was asked, ‘Just what do you want?’

‘I want it to be perfect,’ I said.

‘It can never be,’ I was told, and rightly so, it never was.

Years later, again I was asked, ‘Just what do you want?’

‘I want it to be perfect,’ I said again.

‘That doesn’t exist,’ I was told.

I paused. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………………………………
……………………………
………………………
…………………

‘Maybe you’re right,’ I whispered.

But no, they were wrong! Perfect can be, and Perfect does exist. I know. Because it’s mine. :))

I’ve had miracles happen in my life. But this one, is like God showing off.

My miracle has eyes that only notice me,
Lips that only want to touch mine,
A smile that fills me with happiness,
A touch that makes me long for its caress…

My miracle cares,
My miracle is aware,
Of how I feel inside,
My miracle makes me confide…

My miracle completes me,
My miracle makes me whole,
My miracle makes me lose track of time,
My miracle is only mine. :)

My miracle makes me want to love,
My miracle makes me believe in the One above,
My miracle makes me want to value, cherish and give,
My miracle makes me want to live…



He’s perfect. We’re perfect, together.

I have no regrets now of all the ill-fittings I’ve been through, because I’ve finally found what was made for me and it fits Perfect to the T. :)