Invocation

What is it to be free,
To be independent?

Underneath the sky full of stars,
witness my land full of freedom,
where I walk carefree, with my head held high -
Free of fear, rape, and molestation,
Of the baseless justification,
And that hateful identification.
A land full of familiar faces,
Beyond caste, beyond races,
To take pride without prejudice -
In whoever, I Love, still, unafraid,
In whatever I eat, grass or dead meat,
Free to chose what I speak -
for what I seek,
to hear, deep within my heart;
is that blissful call of freedom!

But, do you know,
what is it to be free,
To be independent?

Where our fathers, won the battle, not long before,
The land of Nehru, Gandhi, Bhagat, Bose and many more -
Bestowed, to us, this land full of freedom.
War is over, yet, what is it,
That we, still, keep waging? This silent wailing?
Born of this rage, a droplet of hatred,
My brainwashed brothers!
While Kashmir burns,
another Dalit is set to fire,
another state stands divided,
yet, another angry Naxalite
flaming this invisible ire,
bracing, yet, another fight,
and embracing the hands of invisible independence.

But why?
Why did we trade our freedom?
And to whom?

This Illusion of choice -
The rigged election, yet another fiction.
A fable, anointing a handful of proud pigs,
This illusion of choice -
Disillusion of divide and rule! While,
My brothers of Khaki and the sisters who smile,
The sons of poverty and daughters die in distraught,
While these battles, that are still fought,
This illusion of choice -
Voting for this, The choice of hatred over peace,
The invisible boundaries that still divide us - awhile -
the freedom of fancy coveted lives we live upon.
Divide us, and they shall rule.

Wake up!

Here and now, Unite. Quit this inner fight.
Get up, Stand up,
Stand up, for your rights!
Look beyond, these invisible shackles, the bondage
Look beyond, Men behind those masks, coming of age,
to sell us out,
sinister schemes, bogus bills, hypocritical hypothesis -
that become The Blind Law,
and us? The proud law abiding citizens.
- A trap, a loop, a labyrinth of lies,
and then, this here is their version of our freedom!

But do they know,
What is it to be free,
To be independent?

The symbols, anthems, this fake preach of patriotism,
Taxation, reservation, my constitution, this holy inhibition,
Speech, politics, blasphemy, to set me free?

"Go to work, have kids, send them to school,
obey all rules, follow the fashion and pretend all's cool,
act normal, walk on the pavement, watch the Television,
trade your youth, save for the future, remember the vision,
keep your eyes close, cover your senses and obey the law,
it's alright! A brave new world, without any flaw.
Now, repeat after me:
We are free, We are free, We are free..."

And all this while we raise the flag
and sing the anthem,
decorate ourselves with the tricolor,
remember our heroes and forget this moment,
our chests out in adoration, in pride,
and minds shut off objective fiction.
Year after year, the same,
the nationalistic kills the idealistic,
And that's the end of this game,

The game of freedom. "We are free, we are free, we are free..."

But, did you understand,

what is it, to be free,
To be independent?

***

[About]

As per all recorded evidence, India gained independence on August 15, 1947.

70 years later, the question remains the same,

What is it, to be free,

To be independent?

***

OFS 92

For Usha Devi, knitting was more than a recreation. For the past thirty years, each morning, with lips full of prayers, her hands swayed like an artist – that effortless motion guided by her heart's pure intuitions. Knitting was perhaps the purpose of her life.

One of these mornings, with a disdainful look, she denied permission to her son to visit the annual Kullu Dusshera Mela.

"Nine killed as a bus to Kullu Mela plunges into a valley." The news reader screamed.

With lips brimming with prayers that curved into a wry smile, her fingers resumed the ritualistic passion.

#99words
#OneFrameStory.

Born off nothing, a knowledgeable void,
No caste, creed, religion or sect,
neither identification nor dissection of the Self -
until, you made this innocent heart of mine devoid
Of that one true love and universal respect;
by pouring it all - all that you preach,
brimming my empty vessel with all that you teach . . .

Thankfully I know now how to stretch my palm out
Or fully fold them in supplication,
I know now how to cover my head with a fancy cap
or just join the fancy chorus with my thunderous clap,
And sometimes I shout out, after them,
my prayers and those sacred mantras;
But for whom I know not, not at all.

Thankful to you, I know who I am,
or at least pretend to classify
my identity within the realms of your false stories;
I have known to walk the holy path,
without knowing where does it lead to;

And I have memorized my holy scripts,
by hook or crook, even swear by the holy book -
without knowing the underlying esoteric meanings.
And I know my fatwas, the despicable seven sins,
the rule of Karma and all the exaggerated drama;
But, still, somewhere fail to tame the animal reigning deep inside.
And sometimes you forbid to indulge in my harmless cravings,
instead insist it's my duty to kill, against my inner will -
So, I bathe my hands red over your invisible promises;
But I feel lost - losing the long battle with my inner Self!

Here I am! to confide in you, The Unknown,
With whom rarely do I now feel acquainted;
rather seldom blinded by the invisible boundaries -
that divide me from my brothers, and thy blessing hand;
obscured under too many stories, symbols and a plethora of golden rules.

And once a while, they command me to celebrate
and rejoice these dictated moments of freedom, so I pray -
Dear Father,
Tell me there still is the ray,
that shimmering rare ray of hope!

Wake us from this illusion,
Our favorite accepted delusion.
During these moments of festival,
when we are compelled - To bow down and be pious,
Pretending to bask in your glory,
while recounting your true eternal story -
Come out and show us a sign,
Ring a bell in our deaf ears,
for those years of creation and manifestation
shall not flush into darkness and extinction.

Father! I pray to Thee - to set us free!
Send The Prophet; to us;
May the harbinger bring to us;
the one true message you want us to
bask in; for now; and for time immemorial -
this festive, awaken us, oh heavenly Father;
deliver on to us, thy true message of Love!

Eid Mubarak!
Courtesy - Cheena

* * *

[About]

Coming of age, a disillusioned youth goes to his innocent past and questions the "teaching" of his religion.

Religion and all the belief system surrounding it - festivals included - are human invented devices to interpret and understand the infinite Love of the cosmic universe within the boundaries of our imagination.

But have we truly understood what we openly preach and believe with such unshakable belief?

Do we really understand our Gods, the rituals, the sacred mantras, the fancy dogma and all the hidden symbols and rules,

or do we simply consummate the inner power and empower ourselves with judgmental wrath and spit it out blatantly on our brothers at the behest of religion?

Think!

This festive, let us all wake from this deep slumber to embrace the blinding white light of effervescing universal Love!

Do you remember our

first kisses flying during the fiery first date?

I do, too, Like 'twas yesterday,

that same funny feeling, when Honey

you breathed close enough to be my breath

soaring my dreams really high

with my veins underlaid beneath your kiss

as our naked souls laid under the fuzzy monsoon sky

and how we rode through the roadway of bliss.

And now, when those eyes call us old,

Look - We did it, you and me -

for the warmth of our love, hasn't turned cold,

when no one came, for us, we set ourselves free.

Staring at my eyes, she

for the last time shyly hid

her wrinkled fingers entwined with mine,

as her ring - our symbol of love

still continues to shine

like the twinkling stars above.

And although,

"Our days might not last forever,

the countless memories shall outlive us."

[About]

This poem is narrated through the eyes of an 'old' couple, who have basked in each other's never ending love for a long time to have experienced each other's blissfulness.

Love is the answer, for those who have truly found it.

And although our physical bodies might not sustain this endless vibration, the countless memories that we curate and experience with our loved ones will surely last across through the timeless boundaries of life.

Some days I like myself chained

to the false dreams

that sway me to the shores of nowhere land,

while some days, barefoot, I put

my favorite white dress on,

and as the sun keeps shining high

like the waves that keep soaring higher,

I feel the breeze break my chains to release 'her'

from the shackles of lies, all the while

I wet my bare body and dance in style

to the highest clouds of my imagination

to feel it all, all that is -

while this illusory freedom, from the kingdom

of imperfection

casts away like a picture in perfection.

About the Poem

Beach. An amalgamation of the endless water dancing to the wild tunes of the breezy air around, the infinite Earth kissing the sole of your bare feet, with the omnipresent Sun setting the perfect mood for the moment. Beaches make you go crazy - don't they?

This poem is about one of those moments when you let yourself lose while discovering your true self at the beach.

Do share your experiences in the comment section.

Beach Please!

Dwelling in darkness, living in fear,

"Oh dear! Where are you?"

Her weary eyes beseech him to stay

for just a little longer. . . Ah!

Those momentary pain of separation,

of devoured expectation,

only to make her stronger -

until that strongest moment,

wherein she became

strong enough to sway away

The doorway to freedom,

of those unchained desires -

to step out, out into -

the overwhelmingly brimming

bright light's spectrum!

* * *

About this poem:

I like late night scribbling random lines to an intriguing image prompt, like the one above. This was a part of some online poetry competition on one of famous social networking sites.

The words oozed out as an ode to those entrapped souls with self-inflicted wounds - keeping themselves 'chained' to some one else's expectations or unfulfilled desires. The idea is - only after a major setback and failure that enough courage is mustered to sway away that imagined doorway to freedom!

The Journal's Journey,
so far:
[[ click on the link to read]]

1. The Prelude.

2. And So It Begins!

* * *

. . .

It was only after one of the existing flatmates returned back from a foreign trip, that the thought of searching for another base to stay dawned on me.

A roller coaster search ensued!

It is true that the recent technological boom has filled our lives with convenience. I browsed through several websites, installed many applications on my smart phone and started short-listing accommodation options.

Dilemma gripped me on several occasions.

I remember my search quest was a couple of weeks old when one of the weekends I decided to book a cab to visit one of my college friends, who stayed in a hostel-cum-service apartment, located on the outskirts of the city.

It started to drizzle by the time my cab halted at the gates of the majestic building. I paid a hefty amount to the cab driver for the hour long journey from one corner of the city to the other and called my friend.

Moments later, I was silently following Varun who issued a visitor pass for me. Both of us exchanged nostalgic pleasantries as we entered the main hostel compound.

Something made me gaze at the skies.

And then, I was mesmerized.

I gasped at the symmetry of the majestic building on entering it. Every corridor was carefully lined with overhead lamps and neatly marked floor markings. On each side were wooden doors neatly labeled with room numbers.

With every walk round the corridor, peaceful vibes embraced me. The cream colored walls, although dull at appearance, had an appeal of a thousand stories in itself.

My heart pumped with excitement, waiting to unravel what hidden messages did the walls hid?

After visiting several "disturbingly shady" paying guest accommodations, this one got my instant attention.

I heaved a long breath and turned my steps towards the reception area.

The past couple of weeks taught me that beautiful places like this always came with a hefty price tag. Owners would demand ten months of rent as advance security deposits, that too for unfurnished apartments. Where I stood, every room was so neatly furnished.

The chirpy guy at the reception briefed me about the do’s and don't s of the place, the facilities, the surrounding spots, the vacant areas and finally disclosed the dreaded price tag.

I screamed in excitement as I reached out for my credit card - for the rent, including the deposit was well within my budget!

Minutes later I was assisted to my deluxe room. My luggage safely transported.

I remember spending the first couple of days unpacking and decorating my room. Decently sized, it came with an attached washroom, a small kitchen equipped with a mini fridge a microwave oven and a cute little balcony that gave a splendid panoramic view of the ever changing Bangalore skyline.

I decorated the balcony with Tibetan prayer flags that I had bought from Himachal Pradesh. Every color bearing a different meaning would flutter with cool gushes of wind.

I would peacefully sit to meditate in the balcony whenever my sweet soul craved, the wind-chime making sweeter tones overhead.

What else do you expect in lieu of under ten grand monthly rent?

I was sold!

I soon started sharing my room with Varun, after his existing roommate shifted. He was staying here for more than two years. He described his stay at Uniworld as life changing.

Social meetings over glasses of beer or rolls of grass was a common sight. It was an adorable sighting.

No two days or nights were same there.

Little did I know, my brief stint at Uniworld would transform old acquaintances to closely knit bonds of friendship. You start realizing the importance of friends, who slowly take up important spaces in your life, often filling up old voids of emptiness. There were times during my stay when these newly made friends garnered memories precious than my own family.

Friends away from home become your family.

A few months old, what started as a friendly acquaintance, converted to the inseparable wolf pack. We would scream in unison at the slightest of occurrences.

Every smallest of the event in any one's life was celebrated with eager happiness.

If not, every weekend was decorated with fond memories, so vivid that flashbacks were needed on the weekdays to recall the happenings over the weekend.

We laughed, we danced, we tripped, we cried - did so much in so little time.

From spending sleepless nights to watching the first rays of sunrise, together.

A journey of a thousand moments, spinning and re-living one at a time!

The fact that Uniworld provides you the exact kind of space, facilities, vibes, resources, surrounding people and location you require to cherish and outlive your life!

Due to such exciting incidents or phases in your life, that pass with such great ease, you start realizing that time is just a quantitative measure of the moments we fill our lives with.

* * *

And as I complete writing this blog post - that I started a couple of months back, but couldn't give a definite outline to it - I question myself that, isn't the sole purpose of each of our lives is to paint this empty canvas bequeathed to us, with the best and exquisite of colors, so that when we look at the painting of our life, from a greater distance, we sigh at the sheer magnificence of the artist.

...

.Epilogue.

...

The intricate forces behind the subtle movement of the life form are designed such that it doesn't pause; no matter what wave you sail while surfing the vast ocean of life.

Life changes; or at least the set-setting around you change. Faces around you change, the swirling energies surrounding you change - that collaboratively contribute towards changing the thoughts your mind digests on; eventually bringing a total change in the objects you keep manifesting around you. You are the true creator of your destiny. The changes that surge through your life, at the behest of your destiny or coincidence - whatever you believe in - are solely conspiring to help you achieve that you subconsciously wish to weave!

Change is truly the only constant.

Like, as I was bidding goodbye to this place, turning back and sighing with a heavy heart - for the last time - staring blankly at the walls of his place, I had called Home for so long,
little did I know, I was destined to meet Bhole Naatha!

**To Be Continued**

Invocation

[Poem] An Ode to Freedom.

[MicroFiction] A Stitch in Time.

| Poem | Eid Mubarak!

|Poem| The Wrinkled Love.

| Poem | Beach Please!

| Poem | The Doorway to Freedom.

#BangaloreDiaries: One World, Uniworld!

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