Music

It has a rhythm. Music touches our soul . Whenever I listen to it I feel happy. If this is music to me then I am sure that for a mother with her children crying for want of food neglected to them for days, for her the filling of empty bottles with green gram is music, boiling of rice, the bubbling noise is music. For a misunderstood person the “YES” is music and for me the hug I receive from my dear ones is also music. The beat in my heart comes closer to the other’s forming a new rhythm

THE DAWN

THE DAWN

The last star humbly took leave from the softly lighted , morning sky.He couldn’t make out whether he was awake or still playing on the frills of sleep. Dawn was calling him yet he remained on his bed with ruffled sheets. His numbed ears heard the ticking of the clock….the clock was his grandmother’s gift on his eighteenth birthday ,many years ago .the previous Year that he welcomed with great celebrations had weaned her from Time making her the darling of eternity. As clock struck six this morning she became a strip wading in his pool of memory.Until now he saw himself as her grandson her absence asked him who he was,he repeated “WHO AM I?”….silence.

Already the birds had left their self-made nests, children rode their BSA cycles dashing towards the tuition class. I too need to have my coffee at Seven reach office at eight have a break at ten lunch at one be back home at eight at night .Yesterday it was so infact it had always been so ,today it should be the same.He remained on his bed.

The golden rays of the sun tried to pierce into the darkness of his room ,but was blocked by the tinted window pane and also by those thick curtain which he bought for 200 Rs/metre from Bombay Dyeing.Lying on his bed he heard the newspaper ‘THE TRUTH’ landing on his polished verandah,this was followed by the clinging of milk bottles .He wanted to shut himself from all these noises ,he crouched making the sheets more ruffled.His eyes caught a row of mosquitoes taking rest after having their fill through out the night.He tried to shoo them away by clutching the curtain and then he saw through his dark window pane the blurred vision of dawn .He got up for it was beautiful and new .he rested his forehead on the rods of the window letting its coldness pass on to him.

On the DOOR POST

Let not your feet hesitate to step in ,

For I consider your visit a blessing,

i am because HE IS,

i exist as His creation,

yet let me sing in your ears this song,

its your eyes that give me my form,

your ears that give me,my voice

Moment..

The moment when my journey began- lies hidden,

whatever hidden becomes a treasure,so i have heard.A chain of seconds defined the way of my journey .While riding at times i took bumby roads and at other smooth clean roads ,which ever road i took i saw signal posts guiding me to the Path.I know the final destination and the last stop from where i will get the bus to final destination,but before that there are many places where i can take rest ,refresh myself ,may be take a sip of coffee...but when i am in such places i fail to see the long road yet to be treaded,and i take my inn as final .then the innkeeper comes on time to wake me up ,banging on my door and shouts "its time for you to leave".i always think that here i am i have done it but then there are many more way side scenes yet to be seen. Nowat this moment my heart reaches out to a thought that passes over my head ..i can hear the flutter of its wings ...it says that my destination is my begining and each moment is experiencing its presence and each person i met is a citizen of Destination .yes i want to live for this moment.

saawariya...gleanings

Saawariya ..a story of waiting and waiting.it narrates the incidents that happen to a lady while waiting for the return of her lover .the film carries all the feature of contemporary society ..the story told by a prostitute ..yes we are starting to listen to their point of view .gulab ji wants to be identified ,want to be addresed in her own name and our rock star farishtey ranbir befriends her without hesitation ..through the single lens of camera we get a glimpse of the sorrows and joys of sex workers .again through ranbir's dialogue audience realises that they too are human with goodness..(a string of justifying them?).with regard to the slow pace of the film we in the four walls of cinema hall,surrounded by darkness concentrating on the screen feels the frustration of waiting like sakeena .she waits for her lover iman ,ranbir waits for her answer ,sex workers wait for a better tomorrow ,lilian always waits for her son later for ranbir .all their waiting has irony for her lover has already arrived ,lilian doesnt know that ranbir has arrived through the window ..the prostitutes once they look at their fellow womens finds smile in playing with a ball. safety pin is another irony, elders think they can bind children with their authority yet Zakeena finds ways of breaking it, at last, she goes away never to return to the safety pin ..yes the grandma is surely blind.

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evening walk

There were four of them, standing as if waiting for a balcony ticket . The first one had its webbed claws on the threshold. After a long wait it gathered the courage to take the first step outside the gate, quickly followed the other three, but before the fourth step, it opened its eyes and saw the big wheels rolling over the tarred road . The sound and rush were too much for these peace-loving creatures they took a sharp turn and marched as if a company, back home.