Holding On

She could resist it no more,

Her eyes were too heavy,

They longed to leave the present world.

The pull was too strong,

A beginning awaited on the other side,

She was reluctant to leave the story she had this side.

It wasn't over yet, 

She couldn't leave yet, 

This couldn't be how it ended, 

She needed to know the end.

It was a losing battle, she knew it as much,

Wasn't long before she gave in, and was pulled into dreamland,

But not before tucking her reader in her arms,

Trying, as though, to carry her story beyond!

Perspective

Remember that conversation,
Of which you weren't really a part,

Cos twas between some others,

But you had no choice but to hear along?

Twas one such overheard conversation,

Between two pals who journeyed along,

A couple of seats away from me,

On a day not so long.

They were both young and exuberant,

Wanting to take the world by storm,

Both of them had high aspirations,

And dreams to have it all.

They spoke of their plans for the future,

Of grandeur days ahead,

The way their career would progress,

And mansions they would build.

Even as they conversed amongst them, 

I wondered how they'd both,

Face the challenges thrown their way,

How they'd play the game of life set ahead for them.

I glanced out the window deep in my thoughts,

And saw below the fluffy clouds, 

Beyond the rays that caught my eye,

The mansions and dotted landscape of flats,

All look like Legos scattered from the sky!

Listen

Are you a good listener, the preacher asked on a Sunday,

Do you hear what is being said and understand?
Do you try to piece together the context with the words,
Catch the nuances of what is left unsaid?

Or are you pretending to listen,
While coining a response in your head,
Rephrasing it a million times in your mind,
Wanting your response to sound the best?

Or are you even hearing, what is being said,
Listening? Forget it, is not even a part of your disposition,
You’re busy having conversations, with the noises in your head,
Leaving little ear for listening in to conversations.

Lift your head sometimes, he said,
Listen in to tales and connotations,
You might be surprised at times,
When you take time to be still, be open and listen!

My portion of the sky!

Don’t you feel you’re living in a concrete jungle,

With brick and mortar rising tall and high?

Often seeming to have a life of their own,

Springing up overnight where they weren’t before?

Sometimes in shapes resembling the next,

Oft one floor higher than the rest.

You hear the motor chugging, the drilling sounds echo,

The droning noise carries itself round and round,

Filling the air with a presence you just can’t ignore.

Don’t you feel your heart beat, in time to this tone?

There’s always work going on, something new being built,

You bet that’s another structure taller than the rest.

Are we any different from our predecessors?

Have we learnt any lessons from our ancestors?

Just beyond these concrete structures, the tombs you can see,

Of seven kings who reigned this land not that long ago,

Their only wish seemed, to be, bigger than the former,

And so, they built their own tombs magnificent and taller, than the rest.

Is it a wonder then, that my heart should sing,

When I see an empty plot right next to my inn?

It might be in line, waiting to spring,

A structure more grandiose than the ones next to it,

Till then I get more than the concrete jungle around,

Until then I have open access to a portion of the sky!

The Gift

It was a gift, a birthday gift,

One she'd asked her mother for,

Because her friends around where she lived,

Looked happy riding in one around. 

With smiles on their faces, light in their eyes,

They made it look easy to pedal back and forth, 

The wind in the hair and bells in the air,

Seemed to make them float around on those wheels.

Now she'd got one too, she was overjoyed,

The thrill of the ride would soon be hers too,

So thinking she took her bike to the streets,

With more enthusiasm than skill she possessed.

You guess what happened, I'll leave that to you,

In short, there was a lot of crying and bruised skin too,

Suddenly the much anticipated thing, 

Seemed to cause her more pain than the joy she'd presumed.

Later in the day, she wondered what to do,

Was it worth the pain to learn something new?

She sure wanted to feel the wind in her hair, 

She decided to persevere till she could smile through her fears!

The Phantom Friend

He had just a couple of days, 

To hop and skip and see the world,

With tiny wings he flew around,

Till he was sure he'd seen it all.

He wasn't sure, but thought he had,

Someone follow him close by,

Keeping up with his each step,

Silently, all day by.

Tried he did to peer and see,

Who it was that followed him,

Friend or foe he did not know,

Or was it just a flutterby?

Tired at last he called a halt,

Deciding to rest his tiny wings, 

And when he perched up on the wall,

He met his shadow, his phantom friend!

When life calls for Vitamin Sea

In the giant rush of all the madness that encompasses your life and the time that everyone wants a slice of you, there is always some place which is your refuge. That place which only our few closest ones know of. It could be the quiet corner in the library amidst those books which are not that frequented. It could have been that comfortable branch of the age old tree whose canopy leaves told you stories of days gone by while sunlight played hide and seek with you. If you were lucky, you’d have had a patch of a river bank where you could sit and watch the ripples in the water and practice your stone throwing skills, seeing how far you could skip those stones before they sunk.

If you were from the mountains, you’d have your own private view point where you’d have had a vantage position over the land and felt like the lord of all beneath and marveled at the various shades of the sky as the sun makes its journey in the sky. I’ve been fortunate to have had a glimpse of the solitude that each of these have had to offer. I’m partial to none of these, although, I do have fond memories of each. However, I for some reason, have always been drawn to the beach, the place as someone described where the land meets the sea and the sea meets the sky.

Being brought up in a coastal town could explain why the sea holds such a fascination. You might wonder, what’s so special? It’s just a mass of swirling water after all, washing ashore and then being pulled back like a well-worn routine, with grains of sand spread across miles of land which have the annoying habit of sneaking into your shoes and making it difficult to walk. The smell ain’t nothing much to write home about either.

I’d like to think that like mature wine or aged scotch, seaside is a solace that grows on you. You’d need to pick your time of visit with care as choosing to be in the beach in the middle of the day with the sun burning down on you or visiting late at night when the tide is high could be a bane. I’d stick with dawn or dusk.

The distinctive tangy smell of the sea is the first thing that greets you from over half a mile away before you reach the seashore or hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Once you are closer, the grains of sand weave through your toes, greeting you like friends who’re glad to see you back. Some experiences are best enjoyed barefoot, and from this point forward would definitely be one among them.

The point where the waves come and lap at your feet like they are eager to play, but not sure if you can keep up with them, is one of my favorite spots to warm up. As I walk along the waterfront with the waves gently slapping at my feet, I’ve often rolled on my worries and the waves have at times lapped them right off me! I’ve enjoyed taking a turn amidst the waves and letting it lift me up along with the waves. They come rushing to meet you, like a long lost friend and give you a hug that could lift you off your feet.

Even if one were to forgo getting wet or were not in the mood to play in the waves, you could just perch yourself somewhere in the shore and let the wind rip through your hair and let the voice of the sea speak to you. As author Kate Chopin once said, ‘The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace’. One could sit and enjoy one of the biggest screens of creation, all spread out, just for them and all without a cost! You watch the distant ships charting their course on unknown land and see a couple of fishermen ready their boats to set sail folding in their nets to catch their fare. In the meanwhile, the canvas of the sky change hues of glorious shades of blue mixed with red and orange which shimmer across the surface of the water with the Sun playing peekaboo between the clouds. Often in those quiet times, when I’ve enjoyed the show, like it’s been put up solely for me, I’ve felt most at peace with myself.

The sea often makes us feel really insignificant by its vastness and allows us to garner a fresh perspective on things which rue our life. Like writer Sarah Kay said, “there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away." It kind of gives the forbearance to give another chance to solve whatever it was that was clouding our day. If you were to give it some more time, you’d find the rhythm in the waves and they could help you set a tune alight in your heart as well.  

And as I’ve often gathered up my things and bid adieu to the sea, I’ve felt the sound of waves, the smell of the sea and the whistle of the wind, call out to me, asking me to not be a stranger and come visit again. The memories of a visit to the beach linger longer in our minds than the footprints do in the sand.