Laws

 An education in science has a way of making you believe that any complex problem could be broken down and understood in light of the laws that govern the universe.

Funnily though, I took my love for laws and simplification beyond the classroom walls. As I grew, I assimilated the vagaries of existence - death, life, tears and laughter and tried to make sense of it all.

Why are some born poor ? What did that lovely woman do to deserve this death ? Why should the innocent babies born in war ravaged Syria suffer? - there must be some law that dictated their fated I thought. I searched my way with self-help and spiritual talks that professed to know the deeper truths of existence. I went nihilistic for a while and thought that life was like the toss of a die, a random process that we cannot find closure in. 

They say suffering moved the Buddha to self awakening. Suffering pushed me beyond the comfort of my rational, unilateral mind. As I'm beginning to understand, life is beyond any law. It's an all enveloping, organic and unfathomable force that overrides human comprehension. Its not God, its not the lack of God. Its as majestic as the mountains and the oceans of this Earth, none of which I've been able to withhold in its entirety. 

Wondering about Work

How does it feel to be so unproductive, to meander, sleep and maunder about obvious nothings
To set an aim and not play the game and sulk away into sleep
To be the living embodiment of inertia, just a body of mass that refuses to plunge into work

How does it feel to compromise on one's under achievements
To be satiated with things being satisfactory
To not have the thirst and the unending vigour required to achieve the things that lie beyond
To be like a tepid water, dry and parched deep inside but lukewarm and content outside
Still, unmoving and unrelenting
Never willing to surrender
to the friendly clasp of routine and rigour


How does it feel to be okay with being mundane
A nobody in man kind's walk down memory lane
Wondering ever whether this body and mind can conjure up work
Work that will lead to surmounted benefits both for me and those around me
Will that day ever come, will I ever work and achieve the things I set my heart on ?

Why doesn't my heart pulse with the kind of joy that's required when I tread the path to my aim ?
Why do I passively behold the time ticking by and not play up my game ?
When will this misery of being lazy end and when will I rest after doing work that tires me to my bones and yet fires me up from within.

Feeling Full

There are days,

when I can't bear to look full faced at the mirror

without tilting my lips and swerving my hips and contorting my face into a grimace

There are days,

When my heart- like my body - feels heavy.

Those days I learn,

To expand my being beyond that feeling of dread

To become another kind of fat - fat on creative spreads

Fat on laughter and love

I slurp down creative juices and munch on thoughtful thoughts

I gulp and gulp,

Until I'm an obsessed-obese body,

Of things that matter beyond matter.

Irked by inaction

The soft reaches of my sofa,

It held me close

And the luxury of laziness smothered me

In warm embraces and flushes of sweet reverie

I enjoyed the bliss of restfulness 

Of having to do nothing and sinking into sleep

But a while later I tossed and turned 

The grumpy old clock stared round at me 

Twitching her needles and telling me it's time

It's time crooned the cuckoo bird

It's time giggled a blushing dawn

I parted away from my fling with indolence

Away from the kiss of comfort,

From the freedom of inaction that set me in a trance

I woke, to a better freedom 

Which let me flex my muscles and dart around daintily 

Which made me a small God as I bequeathed life onto creative creations I called my own

It was time,
To open myself to a day prone to problems

Ones that might tear asunder my peace and sanctity 

For its then alone that I shall come home a warrior, vested with her marks of valour.

Freedom

Seventy years of Freedom the speakers blared

Freedom from the British glare!

Are we really free ? , I ask didi 

(Didi, in her starched white pinafore stands next to me as the headboy hoists our tricoloured pride)

Oh yes Chinnu, yes we are free

Do you see a white squeezing us tight ?

Instead we are in whites
Rejoicing our rights.

'Rights to what didi ?' I mused

Rights to express and speak your mind

Rights to educate so we may break the shackles that bind

Rights that make us independent, rights that make us Indian

But wait a second, I said
Making her patriotic prose come to a pause
why wouldn't Amma let me run around in my chaddi ?

And leave my bed untidy ? 

Where is my right to cut class and play wild

And break the rules wrought on a child

Didi's brow furrowed into a quizzical knot

See, Chinnu that's not what's ought 

You don't get it, neither do our politicians 

Or the crony capitalists who make use of situations 

Freedom is nectar that our forefathers gathered 

Nectar that helps us grow as a country untethered

Freedom does not mean shouting blasphemy on media

Or throwing riots driven by rotten ideas 

Freedom, Chinnu is precious indeed

While it breaks us from colonial shackles

It chains us to the golden concept of a glorious India

That grows unfettered by the evils of caste and creed

and blossoms into a country with men of great deeds!

Jealousy

I can taste the acrid juice

That flush my insides when I muse

On the dainty damsels, 

Who sway their hips 

And pucker their lips
Whose gorgeous locks 

Knot men in flocks  

I can taste the acrid juice 

That flush my insides when I muse

On the men in power

Slithering serpents who make me cower

Their voices strong, their virtues belong

To the market place of idea

Where they strut in regalia

I can taste the acrid juice 

That flush my insides when I muse

On myself and the juice I produce 

The acrid juice of jealousy

It pours my mind with anxiety

I feel the voids, the lacks that

Make the cracks of my personality

I decide to take a dip and sip

The intoxicant called happiness

Happy for my present and 

Happy incandescent 

The acrid juice stings me no more

For I'm happiness galore!

Thoughts

I looked at the mirror with a flash of pride. I saw a beautiful girl, well endowed by Mother Nature. The girl was bubbling with life and spilling it over to other beings. Life was her paint board, onto which she splashed the many facets of her personality. She drew admirers like moth to flame and walked away from competitions winning over critical acclaim. The girl was shooting to the stars. She  was diving headfirst into unknown waters. She was the danseuse and her partner was life.

Darkness entered the room as I sat in narcissistic trance. The light that luminated my countenance was eclipsed by fear. The dark silhouette feared failure, it feared the evanescence of life. Deep within the desolate eyes, was a grapple for attention and a wish to stomp over others in the race for success. The mirror reflected a hypocrite - who preached equality, but saw to it that nobody intrudes her sphere of dominance. She grew by miring competitors. The horrific face appalled me, making me fling the mirror to the floor. I heard the crash of the juggernaut that I contained within - my ego.

My tears washed away the dust that prickled my views. I saw the fire that glimmered within me - the very flicker that was kindled in the hearts of all creation. I realised my position in the way of things, my offering in the tribute to creation. I was a sweet note in the melody of life. Together I coalesced with many other beats to create that unique symphony. Alone, however, I would've been a tune trying to establish its presence in the world.