the last wisp of hope...

Long hair flowing down her back,

Dark as the night, soft as silk

The strange sheen in her eyes

Seems to reflect the starlit sky

Her head is bowed in resignation,

Her henna patterned hands are open,

Sending the very last wisp of hope

To mingle with the sweet air

The dreams fade away

Like the henna in her hands

The gold band on her finger

A harbinger of the future

But, she waits, as always

With abated breath

To see what the Lord has to offer

Yet another agnipariksha? 

Love hurts...like a bitch!

‘Loving my parents hurts because I can't be what they would have me be’.

I read this one liner by one of my favourite bloggers and it struck right home. I don’t think anyone but a rebel would understand this kind of pain. There are times I have bowed to down to my family’s wishes, but never have I come out successful. Oh! It has nothing to do with their decision or wish, but with me. I have never been completely happy till I have felt that what I am doing is right for me. That’s the strong headed, stubborn, mulish person I am.

One of the biggest decisions in my life has hurt my mother, to an extent that I can never forgive myself for. As I see her suffering, as she has through the past two years, especially the past few months, all I feel is profound sadness, guilt at the impact that this decision has had on her. The kind when the loss of someone or something envelopes you like a fog that simply gives you blinders.

Yes, I am marrying a Muslim. He’s a Dawoodi Bohra, the community known for its forward thinking, yet conservative in its own way. And the thought, the very idea, of me becoming part of this community, this religion, from one where I have never had to bind to the rules of my religion or community, where I have been my own free bird, scares the shit out of everyone. But, on my good days, I must confess, I feel, freedom is a state of mind, no? Love, too, is a state of mind. A common saying is when love flies out the window, reality comes in. But what if that love is strong, stronger than anything else? What if it is that love that has borne the understanding, the respect, the emotions that two people share? Why would it fly out of the window, unless we let it loose?

I have hurt my mother more than I can ever imagine to have hurt her. But I have faith – faith that it will all be fine. Through every step, every obstacle, every single barrier that has been put in our way, although I have cried, pulled my hair out, screamed, begged, grieved, gone temporarily insane, that faith, that strength to bear this all has remained. We have both endured everything we can of each other, we have been rude, we have fought, we have blamed and hardly left each other with options. He too shares what I feel, the pain, the emotions, the hurt, the guilt of hurting his family.

Yet, somewhere through all this crazy thick fog, we are merely two people walking towards each other, blind, yet aware that we are all we want, stretching out our arms, yearning for that one touch, that one magnetic field that constantly brings us closer and closer, till we meet as one soul, one being, one entity.

And, that is when the compromises (each of us has made and will make) fall off, that is when the sacrifices seem but like miniscule decisions, and the bigger picture, the wholeness of our love, our unity and our strength rises like the phoenix from the ashes, again and again!

surrender....

Whirling emotions, a vortex of desire,
intertwining of passion
the need to surrender
the need to take over
as the blazing sun sets and rises again
soft whispers, bold caresses
hearts racing, love surging
giving and taking
pining and breaking
shattering into a thousand pieces
the sense of whole, of complete

hope...

I had written this quite a few months ago and just found it in my drafts.....
posting it so that no thought, emotion or feeling of mine gets lost in the myriad complications of life



so many things i don't want u to be

so many things u are

so many things u want me to be

so many things im not. 

so much to change

so much to sacrifice...

nothing is as we want

there always is a price

where does this all end?

when do we call the quits?

how can we live and love?

how can we believe in us?

as life moves on and hopes and aspirations build

along comes fear, and pain and joy

hope warms the ice cold heart

i look toward what we may be tomorrow

i hope to see what we are today

the future looks far away and dim

but i hope that things are how we want them to be

a tribute to home...

What is it about this place we call home? What is it that a mere slur against the very name makes our blood boil… The place where many of us were born and many of us spent more than half our lives….what is it that a mere song or a tale brings back rushing moments of the joys and sorrows we felt?

Our escapades, our near scrapes with the authorities…the overnights, the walks along the airport road…the memories of meeting in Lulu centre…Annual day and Khareef festival—the highlights of the year…the numerous picnics, the field trips….the Jabals, the camels…bus rides…sports day… the choir!!

Yet, we yearned for our freedom, from the oppressive environment, and yet the heart craves to go back to the place where we once “were.”

A photograph, a place, a person brings back so many memories that tears well up and we ache to return home, return to the place where we first learnt to walk, where we made our first friends, where we made our best friends, where we discovered our talents, a place where we lost the people dearest to us, where we found the people dearest to us….

The bonds we created there were the strongest ever…people who dint matter then have become so much more important to us today…a random person from school adds us on FB and we immediately accept, an attempt to move closer to where our heart is…

Salalah, the heart of Oman, the oasis in the desert, our home… has become our haven, a place to heal, to recuperate, to bask in the memories of our childhood, to go back to the time when life was innocent and childlike, when we dreamt of bigger things, bigger places….we’ve reached where we wanted to…but our heart is still stuck where it was…

Some may call it a fool’s paradise, which practically speaking, it may be, but I’d (and many of us) rather be a fool than let go of my home…

sacrifice...

She walked with a quiet determination

Her fair feet kicking up the dust

The golden bells at her ankles tinkling cheerfully

Reverberating in the silence surrounding her

Slowly, she stepped on to the hot embers

Her soft flesh burning

Not once did she wince

Not once did she cry out

Her silent spectator—a mere distance away—looked on

And she looked at him, a fire in her eyes

A triumphant look

Quickly replaced by profound sadness

The fire licked at her body

But not one inch of her burned

She was a flaming goddess

Enveloped in the golden red flames

The time was up

Slowly and steadily, with an unwavering look

She stepped down and walked towards him

Her blistered feet silently sifting the dust

He held out his hand, she walked past him

Her agnipariksha—symbol of love and devotion

was over

Her sacrifice was made….

feelings....

I’m struggling with my feelings,

I don’t know what it is… a desperate melancholy, emptiness, maybe hope??

There’s the rock and the hard place, and then there’s me, stuck in between

And no matter how much I try, I’m probably going to die of claustrophobia…

So many feelings, so many thoughts, so many memories surround me,

The ink on the paper spreads, creating a pattern of swirling emotions,

I wanna laugh, I wanna cry, I wanna feel like never before,

I wanna dance, swirl in his arms, where there is just me and him…

There is so much I want, yet so much that comes with it that I don’t…

What is higher? My identity, my pride, the perceptions I have created through these years?? Or is all that matters just me and him??

But then, just me and him, is not all that matters to him…is it??

Is this even about us?? Is this just a fantasy of being in love, sharing intimate moments?

Or is it true love?? The thing that people live their entire lives to search for…

That movies and novels describe,

But these past 4 years have taught me so much more…

i can love, i have found love, and i believe in it... but is it enough??

Where does it all end? Where do I come to a standstill and choose?

A choice that will affect us all, whether it’s for the good or the bad…

But the emotions remain, my feelings still swirling in the pit of my stomach,

And I can’t think, I can only feel…

Maybe ill wish on a shooting star or ill kneel down and bend my head in penance at the altar

Or ill talk to God one on one

Till then, I can only feel…

these are places, familiar places...my dearest memories were made here.

the rain is lashing at the pavement, the wind creating havoc with the trees...

people hurrying past to escape the stinging water drops and rickshaws spraying them with the mucky Mumbai rain...

and I, a mere spectator, look back...to another day, another time, another moment...

when the air resounded with our playful banter, gleeful laughter, us taking delight in each other's presence... a mere look, a touch...

the pavements are still there, so are the trees...the people are still rushing by.

yet i stand still, a solitary figure, a victim of time, in the torrential rain--alone and incomplete.

A letter...

I look at you from across the room and see you gazing at me with intensity. And I wonder what’s going on in your mind. I ask you with my eyes and you reply “nothing.” But I know that there is something— maybe it’s love, maybe even hope, or perhaps regret at losing what we had. Or maybe just freedom from having to make any more decisions or compromises. I know the whirling emotions, the complex mess— I feel them too. I look at our friends, dating, married. And I feel sad, sad that we had the chance and we lost it. For whatever reason...I used to believe that we shared something special, something cherishable, but maybe I’m not wrong and its just not meant to be…

I try to detach, but I just come closer; I try to be indifferent, but become all the more involved. But maybe that’s the way it’s got to be—complex, crazy, and something of a nameless friendship…..

You...

The simple gesture of holding your hand, the sweet smile I see in your eyes. It’s a wonder I don’t fall in love over and over again. But then, I think I did when I last saw u-the proverbial birds chirping, winds blowing, violins playing, bells ringing.