A flight to remember

Emerging from the clouds,

She dives into the crisp air with vigor ever so loud.

Chirping with the winds en route,

She enthuses in it exuberance.

Racing with the water gushing below,

She forges ahead into an expanse ever so mellow.

Swirling through the lush foliage,

She sways the daffodils in a rhythm ever so divine.

And shoots up in the limitless sky,

Gliding over the hills,

The entire valley lay stretched before her.

She takes a brief stoppage on one of the trees.

Curious by the arrival of this new visitor,

She is bombarded with questions by squirrels and bees.

“where all has she been?”

“what all has she seen?”

“where will she go from here?”

And she sets off again cutting through the air,

Above the oceans and the seas,

Not knowing about the future yet to see.

She closes her eyes relishing this mystical aspect of life.

And she opens her eyes,

Only to realize that it was yet another dream in disguise.

A dream which was reality in the past,

And a distant memory in the present.

She gazes upwards from behind those steel rods,

With a tear in the eye and hope in the heart.

Women- prisoners of god or prisoners by men

A poem which I had read as a child intimidates me even as an adult. The poem is a harsh reality and talks about something which is right before our eyes and yet we put a blind eye to it. The moral dilemmas and ambiguities that today’s women are facing raises very interesting thoughts to ponder over.

The lady in the poem is a victim of oppression by the hands of her husband. She has become weak, physically as well as mentally. Her bones being old and fragile are left with no strength to carry on a struggle. The mental trauma which her marriage has given her has turned her into a nervous wreck. She works by day and weeps by night. Fear is always on her mind, afraid of the dark reality which has constantly hounded her life. Her bleak might, always on a lookout for someone to understand her plight.

Now her husband is no more and she is all alone with only memories to reflect upon. Her entire life has passed before her eyes and after all these years only two images come to her mind. As she holds a paintbrush and sways it around the canvas, she draws two tigers. They appear to be prancing across the whole picture. The tigers are in sharp contrast to her. Elegantly they walk and display a sense of bravery. Pride is reflected in their roar and tremendous strength in every battle they fight. To be like them is an impossible dream that she is nurturing. Contrary to the fearless tigers, she feels scared and alone.

If a woman is willing to consciously make the choice to let go of her old stories of doubt, unworthiness and insecurity, she has the opportunity to move into a level of self-acceptance .This is true empowerment. As we lighten up, we discover that taking flight is much sweeter than squirming around on the ground.

Next she draws a ring. The ring symbolizes bondage, a life of a captive, a prisoner. The fruits of this beautiful marriage ring were sour and painful which she had to bear her entire life. She could not fulfill her wish and break the ring. It wasn’t that easy. She would be looked down upon by the society.

And one day she would die, her hands lying motionless and still ringed with ordeals that she was mastered by. The tigers would be set free. Free to rule over the world, proud and unafraid. She accepts her state in the wake of a hope that the others to come after her won’t be destined to a similar fate as hers.

The very existence of woman is precious and needs gentle loving kindness. No hammer, no chisel and no axe in this midst of chaos or turmoil will force her worth to the surface. Only patience, love and gentle persistence will help her in mustering up courage and to go for it! Courage is not the absence of fear; it is feeling the fear and doing something anyway.

Even in today’s date where our country boasts of modernization, economic upliftment for women, reservations for them in institutions, there are many women who act as a silent spectator and are traumatized and oppressed behind those four walls of their house. There are many like them, each living life in misery and unaware of all that life has to offer from its treasury. It is at the domestic level where the problem lies.

The true essence of freedom lies in the basic fact that both the sexes live together on equal terms. Change is the need of the hour. If we bring about the change, we need to have the innate intelligence to live the change. Society needs to understand her silence and solitude. Let the winds calm and leave behind a crystal clear blue sky.

If more encouragement is given to them and the male acts as a support rather than obstruction for women, then there would be no need to break the ‘ring’ and the society would flourish in terms of equity. 

Being living in a world of non-living

The world is divided into two parts- living and non-living. The former one can feel, show emotions while the latter one is incapable of experiencing anything. What if the non-living could feel and sense? A whole new perception towards non-living things could arise. What follows is an instance which depicts one such possibility.

He runs after me in the streets, and then kicks me hard from one end to another. My round body fumbles over some stones but I dare not mumble a word. It hurts and with no shoulder to cry on to, I weep in silence. How I wish there was someone with whom I could share my feelings. As I bounce along the street to reach another person at the other end, I divert from my path and take shelter under a car parked on one side. As I lie in isolation I think about the time when I had first met him. He purchased me from a nearby shop with a smile on his face and gleaming eyes. With the authority of owning me I accepted the fact that he could do whatever he feels like with me. I wish I was living.

I am the favorite of children and even elders like me. They lick me merrily in the summers as I provide them relief from the hot weather. I am proud of myself as I support the people just like parents support their children.

At a distance I could see a 10 year old boy coming towards me. With delight he enjoys me and I couldn’t be happier to cater to all. Accidentally I slip from his hands and fall on the road. He looks at me indifferently and doesn’t look back for the second time. And I am left to melt alone on the streets and soon no trace of me or my feelings would be left. I wish I was living.

Had these instances been reality, we would have to take into consideration the feelings of minutest of things. And as such the feelings of us humans are difficult to handle, utter chaos would have occurred.

    

One day at school

The best of being in class XII is that there is no need of going to school as most of the study is done in coaching classes or by oneself. But then why is it that I refuse to miss even a single day of school?

I woke up with first rays of the sun and checked the clock half-asleep and half-awake. “7 o’clock, shit!” I exclaimed as I jumped from the bed. Hurriedly I cleansed my teeth and took out my school uniform from the wardrobe and changed as fast as possible. All set, I picked up my school bag and most important of all, my comb, which stayed with me 24X7. What? You know even one lock of hair misplaced can create a bad impression on girls. I rushed through the living room where mom was reading the newspaper.

Mom: and where do you think you’re going?

(I came to an abrupt halt)

I: school of course.

Mom: I don’t understand (helplessly). Why do you go to school daily when no serious study takes place? You even have your coaching classes in the evening. Why are you overexerting yourself?

I: I know mom, but today’s day is very important.

Mom: each day is important according to you.

Ignoring her comment I hugged her and ran outside towards the bus stop and caught the bus just in time. Exhausted, I took a deep breath and slumped into one of the seats. “Ah! Mom would never understand” I thought to myself.

I entered the classroom and occupied my regular seat, last row and corner most one. The classes passed one by one as I eagerly waited for the recess. “Only one class to go before recess” I consoled myself. Kukreja Sir entered the classroom with his usual angry expression on the face and carrying a fat physics book in his hands and an old tattered bag on his shoulders. To me he seemed as an old salesman carrying a shoe box in his hands. “Thud”, he placed the physics book on the table and laid my imagination to rest. “Just one hour of ordeal more and then I would finally be able to see her”, I thought and sought refuge in thoughts about her. I felt myself drifting away from the classroom and to a time when I first saw her. She was walking down the steps with a book tightly held to her chest. The childlike innocence on her face seemed to be demanding love and affection. The sunrays passing through the window and falling on her brown hair, making them shimmer. Her white satin-like skin, ‘ah’, it was a magical moment. “Aaah!”, I cried as pain shot through my back. I looked upwards and saw Kukreja sir standing right in front of me.

Kukreja Sir: Are you here or where?

(He speaks in offbeat English)

I: no sir, I am here only.

Kukreja Sir: What is your father?

(Puzzled by the sense of the question)

I: Sir, what does that mean- “what is my father’s name” or “what does my father do”.

Kukreja Sir: You fool; don’t you know the meaning of “what is your father”?

(I was appalled, whether to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. But was rescued by the recess bell)

I rushed to the canteen where she usually lunched along with her friends. I entered the canteen and hustled through the crowd, while cautiously looking for her. Ya, there she was near the table fan and surrounded by her friends. I occupied a place from where I could see her clearly, without her getting to know about it. Her tresses were moving here and there due to the fan and she was busy sipping her cola. Her friends were laughing and chatting but she seemed completely engrossed in herself. And her…………, “Hey! What! Get aside man”, I said in my mind as someone came and stood before her, blocking my view. After about a minute or so, the person moved aside and proceeded to leave. And there she was, with a rose in her hand and a smile on her face. She got up and left the canteen along with him.