Where?!

 Where did the mail vans go ?…

The wishes stayed …..

Where did the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow go?..

The rainbow still shows…

Where did the fun in jumping in puddles go?…

The puddles still fill up…

Where did the silly laughing at random jokes go?…

The jokes are still cracked…

Where did the fun in long drives go?…

The roads still span out…

Where did the joy in climbing a tree go?…

The trees still stand tall with welcoming branches…

Where did you disappear?…

I still look in the mirror & wonder…

The Moon

 The storm passes & the calm returns,

Night falls, day breaks;

The roller coaster too goes up & down,

We breathe in to breathe out,

Water simmers to a boil,

Flowers wither to bloom again,

The sun sets to rise again;

Through all of this the Moon stays in the sky smiling on…..

The moon knows thats how life goes on….

Smile on …. As long as you have your Moon you know its all going to be good ;

Theres no other way that its meant to be;

Its all meant to be good & will be good … said The Moon :)

Aqua ……

 The musk , the aqua the tones of perfection spread through the house when he walked to the main door picking up the keys ready to drive into a night of fun and frolic. The perfect pocket square and the well polished shoes were never a patch on his well selected cologne.

However, the calming aroma of his aquatic tone perfume never calmed the storm and terror we lived with. The tones of the sea breeze ( a breeze we never felt but only read and heard of) was never strong enough to cover the shrieks of our mothers voice calling out to be spared his beating and abuses. The stillness still lingers with a whiff  of his amazing cologne lingering with the terror of his abuse.

Many years go by , life deals its cards we all play along and well hitting the ‘Jackpot’ is still a fantasy. Paths diverge and intersect and then someday all hell breaks lose.

Here I am praying for the whiff of that cologne to linger on for a while longer. Knowing the trauma and pain it caused to me and my most cherished ,yet being my mother’s daughter I still prayed and cared.

God is kind as always and we had a miracle. I was joyous and grateful. Then I got a gift a gift most cherished as in  his eyes I was always non existence . A nail cutter a Pink nail cutter .  Never been my colour of choice but yet it was beautiful because for the first time in forever it was a gift given with love. It was not the bicycle I won in a contest and was presented to me as a present , it wasn't the watch I was told Im being given because I stood first in my class ( the watch was a Diwali gift from office and exchanged for mine as he didn't need one). This Nail Cutter was for me with all the love . 

Made me angry at that time as comparisons come naturally to us selfish beings. However, I was happy in some weird way.

The gifts kept coming, the soaps , the shoe shines, the wet wipes, the socks, the tooth brushes, the nail files and the kitchen towels.

The recent ones were soaps that were my favourite at one time but when I got them as a “special” gift something snapped and I suddenly realised the aroma will always haunt me and suddenly I questioned myself why is Aqua my favourite…… 

Y.O.L.O ( You Only Live Once ) BUT.....

You only live once BUT life gives you seconds: second chances, second thoughts and second helpings.

Life is not about just once life is about this once and more to come. Life gives you those nasty phases then it gives you seconds. It gives you a second sibiling, it gives you a second chance at making up for the low grades in school, it gives you the chance and choices to love again , to feel free again, to be yourself again.

Life gives you alot more than you realise. From true friends to true loves, from size 0 to size 10 life gives you all. 

From the start till the end, life is always giving us choices and chances , its upto us what we do and how we see it.

You Only Live Once BUT life gives you more than once .....

Rubik's Cube

" Life's a Rubik's Cube, don't try and solve it. Sit back and admire the colours"

"Life's a Rubik's Cube, If Rubik could solve it , so can You".

WHY?

Why does the heart love what is not good for it. Why do the eyes long for that glimpse which is merely an illusion, why do the ears wait for those words which hold no meaning and are not true. Why do these arms crave for the warmth of those that will not comfort them for too long? Why is the there always that one person who will always have your heart. The pain of love is that sweet poison that will last forever. Love is the hardest to let go off be it first or the last, love lasts forever…..

The comfort of being lonely is like the comfort of the pain of that dagger that has been in your back for so long now that the pain has become a part of your existence.
The desire to trust has been lost in the attempts of trying not to.
Running has become a part of the routine, what we run from we don’t know. One day we look back and see that we have run so far that we don’t know where we belong and who we truly were. We long for that child within us to smile and laugh in a world that has no sorrows. To walk light and proud like the shoulders have no weight, to walk in the sand of life freely without worrying about dirty feet. To soak in the sun fearless of getting burnt, to jump into the ocean of love without any inhibitions.
It is so easy to mend a broken toy, how does one mend a broken heart.
Time they say heals all wounds but who will take away the scars.
The deeper you dig the more dirt you find, this is a superficial world a life based and judged on what lies above , commodity is the magic word. Riches, sex and love have become commodities to fulfill desires and wants, we have forgotten about needs and requirements. The world has become a selfish and ruthless body and I’m struggling to cope with it. This is not a world I dreamed of it is not a life I wanted, however who we to decide are. The path is chosen we are puppets attached to invisible strings. We think we are free and powerful. We are so wrong and so far from the light.
Ask the tree under which Buddha became The Enlightened One what knowledge is, ask the swan what beauty is ask the owl what wisdom is. Ask the turtle what pace is. Stand in front of the ocean and you will know what great is. Stop gloating in the warmth of your own existence look at the horizon and you will know how insignificant your being is.

THREE BLACK BAGS

Broken bangles, scattered hair,
Smudged colors all over her face,
Tears left their mark ages ago,
SHE thought SHE was loved,
SHE thought SHE was brave,
Now she leads her life like a used rug
That just lies in a corner
What did SHE do to deserve this
Cant SHE run, can SHE never save herself……………………………………….


“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage, excuse me miss, are you alright?” The Customs Officers’ voice echoed in her ears as she shook herself back to reality. The airport looked like a happy place. She was happy, unlike the last time she was there. Once again she was leaving the country, her mother, her home, her family. This time it seemed different, she felt free yet at the same time she felt numb. Life was full of beginnings and endings, however, the two go hand in hand and are always linked by that thin chord called hurt, pain, desire, wounds and scars left behind by the latter. Who would have known this better than her, at twenty two life had taught her to think like a middle aged person, life had made her learn and react. It was playing games with her, it had taught her the art of being comfortably numb, so numb that it almost confused her to the point of being dazed.
Exactly a year ago she had packed her whole existence of twenty one years into three black bags. Her parents had chosen a suitable match for her and she, like a good daughter, had agreed with their choice. She was excited, like any bride to be. She was a little worried. She had wanted a career, a different life than what she was going to be living from now on, but she was happy, that’s the way life was meant to be from what she had seen.
Her mother had brought her up single handedly, with an alcoholic father being of no help. She had been taught to be fiercely independent and had been made to work towards a career. Suddenly none of this seemed to matter anymore, she was now to be a good daughter and then after a good wife.
Her only fear, her only worry was, “what if he is like my father? What if he doesn’t love me? What if he mistreats me?”, all this she made her self believe could not happen to her as well. God would surely not be that mean again. Her mother had suffered enough, maybe this marriage would help sort out her troubles as well. Money was never a problem in her life, it was the lack of love and she hoped and wished that her husband to be would fulfill this need, the comfort factor, the feeling of being looked after, the feeling of being respected and above all, wanted.
It was a grand wedding, everyone was drinking, dancing and making merry, everyone was happy. However, something was missing, something just did not feel right. It was time to leave, time to say her goodbyes, most newly wed brides cry before leaving their parents home, but her eyes were dry, she was numb, uncomfortably numb.
They had now been married for a week, she was yet to see him smile at her, she was waiting to be hugged with love, she was waiting to be touched with affection and caressed with passion. She had always imagined her first time to be magical and full of passion and love, maybe she had read too many love stories, and maybe she was a dreamer. Maybe all this was just a paragraph that was put in stories to make them sound good. This surely wasn’t what reality had in store for her. Sex was a task, she was made to feel like an object, one not of affection, her body was admired in a fashion that made her feel sick. Every touch made her soul want to cry out for help. She had lost the most preserved bit of herself to an animal, love was a myth and life was now a burden.

“Leave, get out now, leave my house now”, this all that she got to hear from him. Just because she was not ready to share him she had to suffer his abuse, his torture. There was no one to help, nobody to confide in. Each smile was a façade, each giggle was put on. Her eyes reflected the sadness in her soul, the pain in her heart.
The move took courage; she packed her bags with the bare minimum and left. Was it all over or was it yet to start? “This too shall pass”, said her mother, whose comforting embrace pulled her back to life. Insanity was knocking on her door only she knew how she was avoiding it. Death was welcoming her with arms wide open, only she knew how she was ignoring it. One slight cut and it would flow out of her in a stream of deep red, this torturous life. Something kept holding her back, she didn’t know what.
Blames, names, mean and horrible games, it took all that she had to end it all. It was finally over. She was free, free from the binding chains of a torturous marriage, free to live again.
She packed her life to start over again, in her Three Black Bags. Life was beginning again. SHE had saved herself.
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage”.
“Oh! I am sorry, these are mine.” “Yes these THREE BLACK BAGS are mine”.