The Seagull and the Turtle

A love story of the ocean

Rinsed by sea spray and white surf

Fuelled by sunlight warming the blue waters

Music created by the clattering sea shells

The seagull, beautiful and majestic

Born to be free

Flying to exotic shores

Addicted to speed, to solitude

A life filled with adventure but an empty heart

Until it meets the turtle

Swimming just below the surface

The turtle, wise and calm

Moving slowly, ageing forever

An aquatic explorer

A heart full of the ocean’s secrets

So much to share, to care

The seagull and the turtle

His passion and her patience

His impulsiveness and her sentimentality

His flight and her strokes

Wings and flippers

Perfectly in sync

Until one day

When the seagull in his relentless journey

Spots a foreign shore

Glittering, tempting

He is drawn towards it

Driven to explore

Farther and farther he flies

Leaving the turtle behind

She cries out for attention, he ignores her

His own mission is far more important

Excitedly he reaches his destination

Only to discover

The light that beckoned to him

Is but a swarm of fireflies

a family of insects, getting together for dinner

He is an uninvited guest, he cannot stay

So the seagull flies back

But the turtle has disappeared

She has dived into the deep currents

Unwilling to wait for him any longer

This time he waits, willingly

But she does not surface

And the seagull circles overhead

Calling out to her

His cries fall on deaf waves

And the seagull moves on

He lives a full and healthy life

He doesn’t die of sorrow

But the most tender, the most delicate feather

On his white body

Blackened and died

Unnoticed

The day the seagull lost the turtle

to the vast ocean.

Think

A flock of pigeons on your window ledge

Creating an absolute ruckus, waking you from your hard earned slumber

You sit up angrily, determined to shoo them all way

Ugly grey machines of noise

You flap your hands around like a madman

On a mission to stimulate an exodus

But just then a white pigeon arrives

Like the ultimate messiah of peace

A flawless pearl on a grey ocean floor

This beautiful guest changes your mood

And you stare lovingly at its luminous feathers

As for the grey pigeons, you choose to ignore them

In favor of their royal white cousin

Who has unknowingly saved the day for the entire flock.

But is the white pigeon aware

Of the spell it has cast on you?

Is it aware that it is white and unique and beautiful

Or does it feel left out, an outcast

Is it proud to be white? Or would it rather be grey

May be that’s why it has arrived suddenly amidst the grey flock

Determined to seek acceptance

Desperate to blend in with its friends

Unwilling to be treated like an alien

Ashamed to be colorless and transparent

Is beauty about being distinct or being well accepted?

No one is the ultimate judge

No one has the last word

Not even the creator

Because he has created us all with his own hands

And to judge us, to pity us

Would be to pity himself.

Travel Babble

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
A little wind in my hair
A little dirt coating my shoes
No idea what's behind the next corner
Nose buried in a map
As I walk around in circles
Until the guidance of a friendly local
Saves me from my foolish dance

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
Opening my sleep ridden eyes
to a new city everyday
A different flavor to savor
A different language to comprehend
Mobile, in motion all day
Until I feel that the bed I lie on
also has wheels and I'm on the road
Sailing in my dreams

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
Mountains, oceans, monuments, cows
Merging into one great unknown
and I get to unlock the doors
one by one, I get to unlearn
All that I heard and read
And which now I can see
Form my own images, my own memories
My eyes gulping in the sights hungrily
My soul digesting the new meal
Until I am finally full

Let me into your heart
Let me into your sanctum
I don't need a guide
I can read the signboards
quicker than you can erect them
Let the path become familiar
Until I can walk with my eyes blindfolded
and still find the way
to my favorite destination
I just want to travel into you
Is it too much to ask?

What is it about Hope?

What is it about Hope?
A stubborn intoxication
that refuses to let go of us
The hangover never goes away
no matter how many bitter aspirin pills
of disappointment we swallow the next morning
Hope clings on hopefully
and we think we'll have a brighter day
receive better news
What is it about Hope?
That even amidst a pile of destruction
we yearn for a newborn's cry
As we watch our heroes die
our dreams disappear
we quickly replace them with new seeds
and we water them everyday
move them towards the sunlight
urging the shoots to grow faster
faster than ever before
Is Hope the basis of being human?
Does a dog expect the next bone to be bigger
tastier than the one before
Or is consistency his canine trait?
Does a deer expect the water in the lake to be sweeter
or the predator to not spot him
as he takes sips from his own reflection
What is it about Hope?
That makes us more human
or less, since we forget all logic
and surrender to the optimism
The cosmic force of faith
The pandora's box of promises
Wise men become fools
and fools become wise
As Hope wraps her blanket around us
closer, tighter, warmer. 

Easy

Close your eyes
and see what cannot exist
but can only be imagined
Purse your lips
and taste the food
that would put ambrosia to shame
Silence your ears
and hear the song
that would make the angels fall
Stop breathing
and feel the pain in your lungs
like you've never felt anything before
Take a step back
An outsider's view into your inner voice
Sleep until you yawn
Run until you are still
Hate until you ache with love
Pull yourself together
until you shatter into a thousand pieces
And finally realize
It is always as easy
As you really want it to be.

The Great Balancing Act

Over the last fortnight, for the first time in my short career span of 1 year 4 months, I have had to work on weekends and on festive holidays- as I write this, I am currently taking a break from replying to emails in a bid to retain my sanity. I guess this may be a standard operating procedure for many jobs, but my work has never demanded such a schedule. Up until now. Having experienced it, I can safely say that :

1. It does not make me feel all-important and invaluable if I am woken up from my sleep and told that I need to get cracking on a report or the world will end even before 12/12/12.
2. If someone offers me higher compensation in return for my weekend peace of mind, I wouldn't even bother replying - I would walk away, shaking my head, Gangnam style.

The truth is that I can stay at office for over 10 hours on a weekday and work like a machine that's evolving into a sophisticated Transformer creature. But the moment I step away from a weekday, I switch off. Or for that matter, if I know that it is a declared holiday and all I am doing is sitting at home in my pajamas, I would still run around the house a million times - in an attempt to waste time before I commit the cardinal sin of 'Logging in'.

When we begin our careers, we have a thousand notions of what would or would not matter to us - it is only over a period of time, after being exposed to multiple scenarios, that we can really grasp what is of utmost priority to us. Experts say that it is imperative to have a job that we love but if that 'love' makes it difficult to tear myself away from it, wouldn't I be better off with a job I adored less? While we evolve in our personal spaces, all of us undergo a professional evolution process as well - where we discover ourselves over and over again.And I would disagree with Darwin here and say that in the professional world, it is not about the 'survival of the fittest' but the 'survival of the one who understand his/her priorities well and makes choices accordingly'. You could be earning a salary of 55 lakhs a year but if work-life balance is your greatest motivator and your weekends feel more hectic than your weekdays, you are hardly fit to be happy. You could survive but living would be out of the question.

Every time someone mentions the term work-experience, I do not think about the number of years that an individual has spent in an office or on different assignments. I think about the professional journey that that person has undertaken and all the self-learning obtained. Experience drives confusion away and at the end of it all, if you can identify your own needs with a little more certainty, that would makes you richer. And that's a retirement benefit that you can live on for the rest of your life.

Attention

Standing on a chair, on a table

Standing on my bed, on rock solid ground

Standing on a cliff, unafraid of the height

Standing on a carpet of clouds

This time I’m standing up for me.

Ifs and Buts make a sweet dream

But a Yes is a Yes and never a No

A Maybe could be an exciting proposition

But truth be told, I want it no more

This time I’m standing up for me

Words beckon you to follow suit

They lift you up and spin you around

But words are just a whisper in your ear

The gravity of action is what pulls you down

This time I’m standing up for me

Compromises, surprises - glorify the unexpected

But trust in the trust that you can rely on

Promises make you blind but you can never escape

the revelation that the illusion has gone

This time I'm standing up for me

There is no regret, I feel no rancour

You are who you were and will remain the same

But when your rules stop making sense to me

I'll take my red card and walk out of the game

Because this time I’m standing up for me.

An Ode of Gratitude

Against the black of the night it stands
With a golden halo around its head
Soft, pure, white, fragile
With a touch of blue and a shimmer of red
But its beauty is short-lived
As it painfully dies
Drop by drop, till it breathes its last
Leaving behind its warmth and a shadow of its golden light
No, it is not a martyr that I speak about
But one just the same
A sacrifice unmatched
Let me reveal to you its name
This poem in an ode to a candle
'An ordinary candle' - a question no doubt
Losing its life to light a thousand more
Yes, a candle is what I write about.

Note - Dug this out from an old diary, dated 2005. Happy Diwali everyone - may the light within you match the glow of a hundred candles and may you brighten this dark world with your radiance and warmth.

Vows Renewed

I met Dance. He said Hello. I held out my hand. He grabbed it and spun me around! And then we were all over each other - jiving, grooving, hopping, skipping, tripping,laughing. One and a half hours of adrenaline pumping, muscle cramping, head bobbing, sliding, bouncing moves. It felt good to be back in that familiar embrace again - and this time I am not letting go! Hip hop style - I am the newest member in the club. Let's bring DA house down people!

Circus

How many times have you ignored
those tall transmission towers
Pyramids of electricity
Tied to each other
with taut cables, cables which are still
as still as the wind allows them to be
The dancing birds try to create havoc
but the cables stay firm
How many times have you wondered
that those cables could create a tightrope
A tightrope for you to walk on
A trip round the world
Tower to tower
City to city
Country to Country
It would be like connecting the dots
A tightrope around the world
A journey along the earth's rotation
in perhaps less than 80 days
Hey don't be scared to lose balance
Just walk with your head held high
If you fall just whistle for the dancing birds
and they'll swoop down and pick you up
Restore you to your position
And your nerves of steel act on that tightrope
would continue
Unfazed, you would walk ahead.

If life was a circus
that would be my act
In a glittering leotard
I would tip toe along the cables
moving ahead, on the tightrope
circling the world, no safety net below
Just another day
Just another leap of faith.

Chicken Soup for the Soul meets Murphy's Laws

Goodness and virtuosity for me has always been defined by the stories I would read in the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series - narratives of unconditional love, selfless support, true love, forgiveness, fidelity et all made me believe that the world ran on such values. That no matter how negative an incident appeared, it would unfailingly have a happy ending. So instead of succumbing to the unpleasantness around us, we should always remain positive and selfless and honest and faithful. And oh yes, sacrifice our own needs for the happiness of others - that would undoubtedly symbolize the benchmark of true humanity.

I have nothing against humanity, in fact I believe that if all us made one effort each day to make someday else smile, it would create a long chain of kindness and the butterfly's wings would indeed create a warm, fuzzy storm. But sacrifice is overrated - while you think about the welfare of others, do make an effort to make yourself smile a little as well. Do make your friends laugh but save the best jokes for yourself. Because as Murphy so subtly put it, if something has to go wrong, it will. And if you are not paying attention to the complexities in your life, no one else will. I think parents are the closest to unconditional love that we can get and after spending our entire childhood bothering them, let's not do the same in adulthood as well. So let's not expect grand gestures from others around us to save our day. Let's pull up our own socks, tie our own shoelaces firmly, grab a strong umbrella and head out into the rough weather alone. And when you feel the raindrops on your face and the wind in your bones, you will know that you are your own soldier. And when you see your fellow human beings at the finish line - tired, cranky but all marathon winners, you will know that everyone has their own little army. Deep inside their heart. We are all superheroes in our own way and no one really needs to be rescued.

The opposite of idealism is not cynicism. Realism means to Get Smart - to mix in a little bit of Murphy's pessimism with the warmth of Chicken Soup and thus create the perfect meal. MasterChef style. Happy Eating everyone, don't forget to save the biggest bite for yourself. And do it proudly, without any sense of guilt or hesitation. As for me, I'll stop here because it ain't good manners to keep talking (or writing) when  one's mouth is full.

Hello

On a dark, cold night

When the last flame has lost its battle

Against the unforgiving rain

The sadistic wind

And died in a whisper

When the darkness

Hurts the eyes more than the brightest ray of light

So heavy in its blackness

So morbid in its finality

That’s when I seek you

I see you

Your smile

Piercing the opaque walls of the night

A glimmer of silver

A promise of gold

Your smile, twinkling like a jewel being uncovered

Lighting you up from within

Your light reaching me, touching me

My fire, I warm my hands and soul quickly

As your smile

Forms a familiar halo around me

And I no longer belong to the fierce, frigid night.

Skyfall

No, this post is not about the latest James Bond flick. Truth be told, I have never seen a movie starring Bond, James Bond. And I would be lying if I declared that I am not ashamed of that since I happen to devour all genres of movies as hungrily as I wolf down a delicious chicken steak. Maybe the man is playing hard to get and I need to earn my golden ticket to view his impressive frame on the big screen. Random musings aside, the movie title has inspired me to pen down what I will soon pen down. So it's my way of acknowledging that a larger than life billboard led to my philosophical thoughts.

If you ask me to name the most beautiful thing in the world, I would silently (and dramatically) point to the heavens above. Relax, I am not getting all religious on you, I just want you to take a good, hard look at the sky. The dynamic, temperamental,explosion of colors,picture of serenity - the sky. On a hot and sunny day, the sky is no less in-your-face than a teenager in a yellow jumpsuit who's set to dazzle your senses with her vibrancy (whether you like it or not). On a rainy day, the sky is glum and moody and if you stare at her hard enough, she'll bore a hole in you with her grey scowl and silver lightning. In other words, she'd act like a wife after the husband has really infuriated her. And when the husband has made up for his mistake, she'll adorn herself with an exotic rainbow just to remind him how lucky he really is. On a spring day, the  sky is soft, translucent, giggly, playful and every little thing about the universe amuses her to no end - in other words, she's Aishwarya Rai at a serious press conference. On a late autumn day, the sky is turning off her endless power supply, one switch at a time, to tuck into the shortening winter days and curl up by five pm with her favorite book, while the world slowly gets used to dark, foggy, opaque evenings.

Seasonal changes aside, take a look at the sky on one, single day. Any day of the week. Fresh out of a morning shower, she'll glow like a new bride and by nighttime, she's at her bejeweled best - with a crescent moon tucked into her hair bun and the silver, starry keyring swaying on her slender waist. But without a doubt, the sky is at its most beautiful at dusk, forming the canvas for the setting sun to work its eccentric magic. Strokes of orange, red, grey, pink - every color imaginable is splashed across the evening horizon's shirt. Try this exercise - count the number of colors and the shades of the same color that you see on an evening sky. If you don't run out of fingers and toes quick enough, James Bond will give up martini. And women. And fancy cars. And death/logic defying stunts. Hmm maybe there's a reason why I haven't been able to make myself watch one of his movies yet.

I looked up at the sky yesterday when I was leaving office. She was as exquisite as the pale forehead of my grandmother, an orange bindi dotting the center and grey, wispy. cloudy curls framing it. I felt blessed. And you will too. Just take a good look whenever you can and let your imagination run wild. And maybe then you won't roll your eyes and complain that it's merely been 'yet another ordinary day'.

Renewing the Vows

8 years of my life. Every weekend. My time belonged to you. And how well you taught me. A new trick every day. A new language to express what could not be uttered.And then the inevitable happened. I got bored. I moved on. In pursuit of experimentation. But I did not forget you entirely. Once a Yellow Venus, we'd meet. Reminisce about the old times, try to remember the old moves. Oh how we moved together. The flirting would get out of hand. 1-2 months of intense passion and then we'd go our separate ways again. But the reunions continued. Increasingly sporadic, declining in number. Until one day, we stopped planning the reunions. Someone would throw a party and we would bump into each other. A one night stand. Weary bodies the next day. energized souls. Always so much fun - we would, we could. I should.

So I'm trying again. To renew the vows. To put every artifact in my life on the bottom (or top) shelf and make way for you in the middle shelf. Where I can see you, I can feel you - reach out and touch you every other day and you can shape me again. I am taking it slow. You've grown so much, I need the time to understand how you've branched out. So many styles, one strong defiant persona - on a mission to get the world moving. 

Dance, you're about to re-enter my life. Welcome back.

Limbs moving in all directions

Feet acquiring a life of their own

Hands running to keep pace

The head bobs up and down

The curls flying in all directions

The heart is ready to leap out of the ribcage and land on the floor

The pulse, quickening with every sway of my hips

I am dancing, remembering, forgetting, living.

The music is too loud, it’s perfect

As it hammers away to glory inside my head

It drowns out the unnecessary noise within me

And I am so calm, so peaceful

Glad to have found silence within this chaos

My tongue licks my dry lips

Sweat drops sliding down my fluid skin

The feet move faster, the hands making waves in the air

The fingers, a mad blur among the psychedelic lights

The eyes stay closed, the ears stay open

The body contorting, twisting, adjusting

Driving out all the old creaks

Getting fitter and weary

Yes, the feet are aching now

The lips are thirsting for a drink

The arms feel numb

But my soul refuses to stop

Dance it will, till the end

And once the song ends, a new one will begin without a pause

And come what may

I will dance forever. 

How Free Are You?

I wake up bleary eyed, having stayed up till dawn to work on an official presentation. I grab a quick shower, skip breakfast and run straight to the conference room – the journey in between merely a tension-filled blur. I sit through the meeting, hearing only the first word of every sentence (or paragraph) uttered.  Time moves backward and two hours later, I am still at the meeting. Sleep is approaching like a raging bull and I hearing nothing anymore; not even the sound of my own twenty five year old stomach growling with hunger.

A few kilometers away, I, in a torn dress with a mud caked face, play on the dusty pavement. Men and machines of all shapes, sizes and colors zip by but my entire attention is directed towards the almost deflated balloon in my hand. I throw it up in the air, carefully tracking its descent with my eyes and open my arms to capture it safely. I am joyfully oblivious to any and every sound around me, including that of my own five year old stomach growling with hunger.

How Free are You?

Freedom – have I inherited it, do I deserve it or should I learn to earn it? Wise men say that freedom is the power to make choices and implement them. I made the choice to get an MBA degree and have a cushy corporate job. I am financially free and boy, the respect feels good. But, does that imply that my life is free from routine, deadlines and a serious lack of eccentric thinking? I can choose to marry for love, or money, but am I free from fearing for my loved ones’ safety? I can choose to wear any dress I want, but does that guarantee that an Eve-teaser on the road will not take a passing interest in me? I can choose to travel the world but do I have enough money to journey to the end of space? I can choose my own God but does that free me from a sudden bout of atheism? I can choose to pursue a higher educational degree but will that truly free me from ignorance? I can choose to be happy but does that free me from the memory of a sadder time? I can choose to own property but will that free me from the risk of theft or a natural disaster? I can choose to fight for my rights but will a lawsuit ensure that I will always emerge victorious? I can choose to vote for my own representative but will that help me escape from the unending political scams? And finally, I can choose to live how I want, but does that free me from lifestyle diseases, filial expectations and friendly advice?

From my random musings above, a few concrete points emerge. Freedom is not uni-dimensional, neither is it absolute. Freedom, usually, is also the sum total of opposing forces.  Any decision that I take upholds my freedom in one manner and annihilates it in another. The day that I give birth to a child, I will be free to be a mother but boardroom meetings may cease to be on my agenda.

Another interesting thought- The answer to ‘How Free Are You’ cannot be determined only with respect to external pressures – Society may give me my space but can I ever escape from the noisy debates that my Id, Ego and Super Ego constantly engage in?

In light of the above startling revelations, a generalized formula can be deduced for the purpose of calculating a personal freedom score, which I have coined as HFAY. The rather useful quotient can be calculated before or after any significant, life-changing moment, or whenever you are feeling particularly bored and have nothing better to do.

How Free Are You (HFAY) = Total Freedom Amount Carried Forward (from birth) + Positive Freedom due to New Decision/Event – Negative freedom due to New decision/Event – Social Menace – Stupid Inner Voice

Empirical research to support the above formula will be shown in subsequent posts which may never arise.

If freedom was a cherished ideal, why do laws and regulations exist? Why doesn’t complete anarchy equate Utopia? The bitter truth is that freedom went ahead and donned different avatars, when we weren’t looking. I have attempted to categorize the triplet under relevant nomenclature:

Oxygen Freedom (OF) – What is basic, fundamental and essential.

Chocolate Freedom (CF) - What we crave for but can do without.

Drunk Driving Freedom (DDF) – What we might enjoy but will definitely kill us.

The HFAY score can now also be calculated as the sum total of three different personal freedom scores as shown below:

HFAY = 100 * (How Oxygen Free are You) + 30 * (How Chocolate Free Are You) -30 * (How Drunk Driving Free Are You)

Each of the three elements can be calculated separately, according to the HFAY formula illustrated earlier. Please note that a weight of 100% has been allocated to OF because well, anything less than 100% would result in death of body, mind and soul. 30% weight has been given to CF because even though we can do without it, life wouldn’t be half as fun. And finally a negative weight of 30% has been allocated to DDF to remind us that this particular joyride is harming not only us but the lives and peace of others as well.

Whenever I spot an eagle soaring across the azure sky, I wish I had wings. But my human body has deprived me of the freedom to grow feathers. As a matter of fact, the greatest obstacle to freedom is ironically, life itself.