Black & Hue

The disjoined one lies in the morass. It lies still, but keeps squeaking… Snakes and crabs board often now, and that makes the giant recall how swiftly it sailed away masses of twelve to the other side. That abandoned savior on the bank of Ganges, it keeps staring the young ones as they pass by in front of its eyes.

The new and the small, but spirits big and held high in sky, it waves with the air. While the children bathe, it rests and prepares for the next ride. With pride in its youth, it takes the responsibility of the bygone savior.

Sitting somewhere and watching as the sun goes down, I observe how it takes away all the colors with it. The young and the old, the time has plans for each one of them.

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While it rained...

My eyes used to take me till the horizon where a distant tree met the marshy land. I could see people, though scarce in number and outspread on the field, working as farmers for the crop…The crop that would feed them and us. I witnessed how their hard work benefited us, they made grains available for ourselves to buy. Then, I wondered that someday my hard work would help others too.

Interlaced with their sweat, rain washed the land. They ploughed and ploughed, till the land was ready to produce. In the uninterrupted pelting of rain, maverick birds flew through the wind…Some flew against, while some steered along with the wind.  I felt caged with all my defects in the small room at the roof, while children played outside. It was water here and there, and everywhere.

I heard happiness. I saw it too. I saw secrecy in the ambience where each one conspired for a productive tomorrow. Farmers, birds, children, trees, and the God, they unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky. I felt caged, but they enjoyed. They enjoyed themselves to the fullest, mocking me of the pitiful captivity I was in. Real chains were not necessary, my own thoughts of my defects had made me a slave.

After clouds faded off slowly into the pitch black and while the rain continued, a wise owl obliged me by resting at my window. I don’t remember when my eyes closed and how I leapt into the house of a farmer. But before I could have completed my play with their children, the owl woke me up. He said that he has come to my rescue, to unchain me. ‘The key to your chains is in your point of view’, he said.

The next day was different. I heard happiness and I saw it too. But I became a part of the ambience now. Farmers, birds, children, trees, me, and the God, everyone unified themselves below the pouring cloudy sky, and we conspired for a productive tomorrow. The gloom of grey in surroundings was changed, because my point of view was changed. Keys to the most endured locks lie within us.

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In the praise of Lord Ganesha

I meditate on the glorious Lord Ganesha, clad in sparkling robe, omnipresent, endowed with four arms and a benign smiling face to ward off all impediments.

In all my good and bad, you make me aware of your presence. 
If death is about to come in the next move of the puzzle piece, I shall not be afraid to make it. 

I chant your name no matter what comes now, you will remain the king of all puzzles we were afraid of.

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In love...

From the patches of scorn,

You furbished a clean soul.

In light of the goodness I wasn't aware of,

You infused a healed life in me.

The warmth of your embrace will linger,

Till the time the sun shines

And the moon cools the planet blue.

I rejoice the cherished moments we spent together,
In them I found love…

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A House at the Grange

Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page. 

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Undertone

The tinge of fading redness

As the sea gallops the star in its heart…

The time reminds of my departure

To the land where I will nourish,

The life I could not live here on earth.

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Moonlight

Reddishness in the sky fades,

As the stillness in darkness ascends.

In the slight azure above horizon,

Birds return their homes together,

Flapping up and down their wings in twilight.

The calm and composure in the faint light,

Oozing out from clouds in flow,

Bathes the silent world with affection.

Its moon-face, a token of love for many

And a sign to embark into actions for werewolves.

For me, the face of moon reflects my heart.

I can touch my heart in reflection at lake.

A timid hush, as a comfort and healing

From the day’s tiredness is the moonlight for me.

Photograph Courtesy : Anshul Gautam's ViBGYOR

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The Open Window...

(Click on Image to Enlarge)

On closing my eyes, I fill thick brooded meshes in my lungs with air… I hold it for a while, pushing it a little further, until I can hold it no more. Freshness sprouting outside my open window descends deep down into me… Perhaps, its spring; I can see through the open window, trees ladened with new leaves and buds; birds chirruping, squeaking around in happy-playful mood. Jolly squirrel nests on the tree too, jumping from branch to branch. Sometime they stop by at the open window, staring at my partially lit face.

Can I be ever free? I have been captive under chains of my psychotic mind. Along every perspectived dimension in my mind, there jolts clumsy curiosity; the curiosity to arrive at a clue to freedom, a way to cut bars in the open window, to dissolve the tiny autumn within me and dilute it into the sprawling spring outside.

Tools made out of elemental love, I have used enough. Adamant chains tied around my torso don’t listen to them. In the environs of spooky silent nights, my imaginary friend visits me. He preaches to carve my tools out from hatred, assuring the success on blood soiled chains. Morally fed soul of mine ravages at this juncture; it still trusts in love, although yet to recover from past injuries bought in the love’s conspiracy.

The sunlight is warm, grazing over green trees outside the open window. At a certain time of the day, the Sun bathes my dark pestered room, throwing a shine of hope on my face. It’s the time when my friend in my shadow visits me. He shares his thoughts with me, conjuring me about life; What is life?

As the Sun rises up in the sky, friend in my shadow recedes, and he is away when its all dark again. He left me a note yesterday… When the Sun was bathing me in a spotlight of hope today at its time, I read the note:

“Life is beautiful outside your open window. Free yourself from the chains that never physically existed. Free yourself from the captivity laid by chains of your diverse mind. I am waiting, outside your open window….                                                  -Anshul"

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Photo-Snippets -> 'Nestling Happiness'

Happiness existed in small things,
In a world which was itself small,
But it could fly;
Dreamy leaps with fairy wings.
In that world, views were pure
And so were goals.
Sacred emotions
Without fear,
Life was a child’s play.

I wish, If I could get my childhood back!

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Photo-Snippets -> 'Bird of Passage'

I am a wanderer
Lost in the wilderness
Off the desolated road,
Into the sprawling realms.
On the brink, 
At the edge of my life,
The road will project me
Into an outer space where
Nix will be emotions.
I expect to meet someone
In that absolute emptiness;
My ultimate pacifier.
That shall end my Journey,
My never meandering.

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Stillness

I listen to the stillness
I witness purity at dawn
I listen to gentle rain
I watch the awnless lawn.

With my eyes closed
I try to feel
Sudden rush of chillness,
Stillness in weather’s appeal.

My bare feet lead me 
To the last bench I see,
No one is in park
Just stillness in bevy.

Only rain on them sound
Barky trees don’t sway,
Stillness have cursed them
Just still they stay.

It reminds me of a picture
Once I hung on my wall,
Black demons were all around
White man stood still in thrall.

What I see, Is it photo-frame’s ordeal?
Or is it me inside it, alive and surreal?
Demons have stolen all the colors
Caged me in arms of stillness.

I will push through
The stillness stilled,
Demons turn weak
Once the Sun is unveiled.

I run; fast and quick
Stillness freezes me at halfway
But I still can see and feel,
Stillness in the next picture on my wall.

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