The Painting

But I will always remember,
The smell of paint on your fingers,
And the canvas in your eyes,
As you painted my soul,
And stripped me of my disguise.

But not all that is art is beautiful.
With every stroke and every line,
My essence ceased to look divine.
I watched you be puzzled,
And then terrified.
For only when you understand,
Can you truly see.

But you continued to create,
As I waited with bated breath,
To see your idea of me.
However, it was not to be.
The scrutiny became tiresome,
And I itched to shift,
I yearned for reprieve.
So I moved and I changed,
Your painting, however, didn't.

But then you put your brush down,
And walked away dejected.
I saw your creation,
Left incomplete and desolate.
I watched it on my wall,
Pondered the significance of it all.
Hoping you would come back,
To finish what was left of me,
To finish what you had failed to see.

But as time passed by,
The painting remained unaltered, untouched, unmoved.
Until one day I realised,
The canvas was mine, soul and body.
I was free to paint,
Had the liberty to imagine,
Every single version of myself ,
I loved and hated,
Respected and feared.
To paint the parts only I was privy to,
The good, the bad,
The happy, the sad,
The beautiful, the ugly,
The bright and the dark,
The straight and the twisted,
The past, the present and the wishful future.
The canvas could be my emblem,
Of honesty and acceptance.
It was mine, it was me.

And so I walked out the door,
To finish what he,
Could never understand.
And he,
Could never create.

Wandering Souls

As of today,
Right now in the midst of days,
I wish to disappear without a trace,
To not be found and not be chased.

I wish to become naught,
But a wandering soul.
One which lingers in and around,
People's most precious hours.

I wish to feel their joy and excitement,
Their distrust and disappointment,
The hurt and the sorrow.
But once pierced by it,
I also wish to disconnect and float away.

For how enchanting an experience it would be,
To be aware and lucid,
To be deprived and fulfilled,
All together, at the same time.

The essence of my soul would wander,
Uninhibited and unrestrained.
It would fly across the galaxies,
Collide with a thousand others, unbound and free.

The sadness that filled me would be gone.
The peace and calm that I sought, mine.
I would not have much,
But the group of wandering souls,
That would always accompany me. 

Breathe out

Take a pause,
Take a minute,
Take a second even.
Close your eyes,
And breathe it all in.
Think of all the beautiful things in your life.

Too dark to see?
Find one joyful thought,
One patronus worthy memory.
Replay it in your mind again and again,
Till you feel how you felt that time.
Let that smile blossom on your face,
Be aware of the rush of blood to your cheeks,
The warmth flowing in your veins,
Allow the arms of joy to embrace you once again.

Now breathe the rest out,
Let out that feeling of wretchedness and despair,
Let the winds carry it with them,
Onto to the next scene of tragedy.

Take a day,
Take a month,
Take a second only.
Close your eyes,
Breathe in,
And think of the people you love.

Remember the ways you made them laugh,
Remember the way they made you feel.
Think of those who might need you,
Who wouldn't want to live without you.

Now imagine them being gone,
Imagine the emptiness you would feel,
And let this imaginary pain rip you apart.
Feel this pain and sense of loss.
Remember this pain and sense of loss,
For you will be the one causing it,
If you give yourself away.

So breathe out,
Open your eyes,
Look into the cold glass reflection.
Put that mode of self destruction down,
Walk away from the smashed mirror.
Go fall into the arms of someone,
Who wouldn't want to live without you.

Four Years

Mid-way through our more than usual giggle fit, she abruptly stopped, looked up at the ceiling and said, "My tickets are booked. I leave in two weeks."

The room went eerily quiet as we let the news of her leaving, sink in. It felt as if the walls of the room we shared, were also quivering with fear of abandonment, of being left behind once again. Now the sound of our laughter was nothing more than an echo, resonating the inevitable lack of it. We lay next to each other in silence, struggling to find the right words, knowing it was a useless endeavour. No words could soothe this feeling of dread, of not knowing what the future held.

I rolled up next to her and held her. For a brief moment, it seemed as if my gesture was not to be returned. But then her small, soft arms slowly cradled me and warmed my bones. We held each other tightly, as if we were trying to prevent pieces of us from falling off, trying to prevent us from falling apart. Just like we had for the past four years. 

Floating Lights

There's a light inside of me,

Which lights up the path to my goals.

It shows me who I need to be,

To reach them and fulfill my roles.

It goes where I go,

It's my guiding light and my hope.

It makes me good and true,

So if it wanders around you,

Know that you are too.

When my belief in the world falters, 

It tells me stories from souls around the world,

And my opinion is once again altered.

Everything it tells me is all I know,

And that is how I learn and how I grow.

When from my path I have strayed,

It does not sound the alarm,

Just tells me to carry on and not be afraid.

For only when you get lost,

Will you remember the right way.

When my heart is breaking slowly,

My light fills the gaps and comforts me.

When my heart has healed sufficiently,

It leaves between the unstitched seams,

Left behind for me to breathe through.

When life gets boring and monotonous,

The once stable light,

Jumps around 'cause it's time to move on.

Time to find things that might break your heart,

Because they will make you feel a love that might tear you apart.

But maybe that's the best part?

This light inside of me,

Is my companion and my soul.

It teaches me of karma and peace,

Tells me to be patient and bold.

The world is dark and filled with sadness,

But all it needs are our lights and kindness.

Mother's Day

Preeti Rao Lali. Many people claim to know her and her story, but most of you really don’t. One day, I will wrote a book about her and her journey, because it’s a tale worth telling people about. But today, I’m going to shine some light on one of the many faces of the uncut diamond that she is.

I don’t think most people know what an amazing mother Preeti Lali is. Other than those who are close to me and her, no one gets to hear all the antics she and I get up to or the amount of bullshit we take from each other.

Relationships may come and go, but for everyone, their relationship with one’s mother is a never ending journey. And I am not talking only about the unconditional love that parents are capable of. I am talking about the relationship between two growing individuals who happen to be bound by the sacred bond of unconditional love.

She and I had a rough start, I basically hated her, well as much as any 6 year old can hate his/her mother. She was, for all intents and purposes, a single mother raising a 5 year old pathological liar in a foreign country, couldn't really blame her for being hard on me. Oh but I did blame her, for a long time. It was when I turned 13 and started showing signs of being emotionally closed off and non-communicating, that my mother decided to really sit up and change our relationship. And within the year, our relationship had gone from mother-daughter daily tantrums, to being each other’s closest confidants. 

My mother takes the parenting style of ‘learning from her mistakes’ very seriously. That’s why, at an early age, she told me about all of her biggest mistakes. If I was not already mature by the age of 13 that sure did the trick. It may not have prevented me from making almost the exact same mistakes, but it gave me the comfort of knowing that the woman I idolized today, had gone through something similar and that made her approachable. Because contrary to most teenage beliefs, I knew she meant it when she said ‘I understand.’

At the age of 51, my mother is the most modern and forward thinking mother I have met till date. She is liberal, vocal and unbiased. She talks about things that were tabooed in her time, such as alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex, homosexuality or colour and gender discrimination. She and I have extremely honest and open discussions about these topics and our personal experiences related to them. And at the end of them, we have this weird sensation because we realize that according to the norm, the things we have shared with each other, are highly inappropriate, given the nature of our relationship that is. I have yet to come across a mother-daughter relationship as honest as ours. 

My mom, my amma, is my best friend. She is my task manager and my trouble-shooter. She knows something is wrong the minute she hears my voice over the phone and she will always want to talk about it endlessly. I am thankful for our relationship no matter how inappropriate some people might deem it. I am glad that the minute I have career or relationship problems, I can come to you with them. I am even happier that I can do the same for you, because that is the unique thing about you and me, I am your best friend too.

We fight, say nasty things to each other which are horribly effective because we know one another’s weak spots, but then with each fight, we grow and understand each other better. We have helped one another grow more than we realize. And with each passing day, our relationship dynamics change ever so slightly, but never for the worse. I have watched you become the beautiful human being you are today, and I watch you better yourself every single day. The strength and determination you have shown in your life is commendable, and I can only hope that when people say, “You’re so much like your mom.” that they’re right.

Happy Mother’s Day. 

Waste

Her mind is nothing but a bait,
And I find myself with time to waste.
And as we have not yet found our goals,
We're all degenerates without a soul.
Because only a soulless human,
Would waste time instead of living.

Young Love

What do we not understand?
That love is all consuming and insane and grand?
You think we have not felt the craze?
Drowned and encompassed in the fiery haze,
What is life but a maze within a maze.

Her

As she watches him fall asleep,
There settles in a sense of relief.
She can now undress in peace,
And not have him judge her piece by piece.

Save me,
I'm drowning myself.
I feel my hand on top of my head,
Pushing and shoving it,
Under the water bed.
I open my eyes under,
And I can see the world as clear as water.
The death and the slaughter,
The misery and the abuse,
They all stupefy me, for what is the use?
My life flashes before me,
The one with comfort and ease,
The one with affordable laziness and peace.
The pretty picture changes,
And so do the lives I see,
For who, would want to be me?
I see lives of others who wouldn't want me to believe,
Because their lives are many nightmares together weaved.
But there is a ray of light,
A beacon of hope.
For they were made to survive,
They were made to be brave.                              
They fight their monsters, fight their demons,
So why the hell can't I?

Creative Dry Spell

I feel uselessly calm,
Seem to have lost my charm.
The words don't fit me anymore,
They don't seem to be comfortable anymore.

The solace I found,
Is long gone and not around.
We used to get along,
But now we feel like strangers,
In a deserted storm.

I miss you and the warmth you brought,
You were dependable when others were not.
I feel stagnant and empty,
Lonely and crowded.

I no longer have you, my escape,
I cannot find a world to slip into and fly away.

A book may help,
Help me gain some stolen peace,
Provide a planet on which I would sleep,
And dream the dreams that once came so naturally.

But a child's imagination,
Is more precious than any stolen world,
Or a stolen word.

Feel the wind in your hair,
Watch the glitter get swept away.

Listen to the sound of your dress,
It sings softly, "Swish swish swish".

Follow the feel of your heels,
It's the rhythm of confidence and steel.

Tuck that stray strand of hair behind your ear,
Feel your earrings against your face.

Twirl the ring around your finger,
Trace back the veins on your hand.

Be aware of every glance that comes your way,
And know that your beauty is not an illusion,
Not a distant dream,
Not your personal fantasy.

It is real and is palpitating,
Within you,
And your soul.

For Grandfather

Slipping through my fingers,

Like water on ice,

I'd like to see your face one last time.

The light and the sunshine,

Shone out of your eyes.

Like an ever blazing fire,

You were a guiding light.

The world was beautiful through your eyes,

It looks dark and damp now with your goodbye.

Candies and ribbons,

Those were just the benefits.

The best bit,

Was meeting you.

The ability to make me feel,

Like the most beautiful girl in the world,

Is given to only a few.

You treasured it,

I cherished it.

Now you're gone,

To a place far away.

I hope you attain peace and happiness there,

And watch me during the day.

Because at night, in my dreams,

I'll meet you there.

And when I come I hope you'll be glad,

In yellow ribbons I'll be clad.

Dancing Together

Writing is always inspired by something found in the most unexpected places. I found a beat, I wrote on that beat. 

The stars are out tonight,
For all of you and me. 
Lets go out tonight,
And just try to be. 

For all the times we were,
Dancing all alone. 
I am here with you,
So you don't have to dance alone anymore. 

Maybe this time we'll see,
What life was screaming 'bout. 
Maybe this time we'll know,
What all the fuss was about. 

And all the things I think I taught myself,
I feel there are some left,
I could learn from you as well. 

One day our time will come,
To go out the door.
Dance on the floor,
Till we cant dance no more. 

On that day, that time,
I would like to be,
Right next to you,
Dancing till we're flawless and blue.

Homosexuality: Tabooed in India

‘Public discussion of homosexuality in India has been inhibited by the fact that sexuality in any form is rarely discussed openly.’

I read this line on Wikipedia when I googled ‘Homosexuality in India’. (We really have a Wikipedia page for everything today, don’t we?) The reason behind me, googling this is the fact that it just isn't talked about in this country.

Recently, I saw this interview of Saif Ali Khan on The Front Row. And it jogged my thought process switching it onto a completely different lane. He talked in the interview, about how we Indians aren’t honest. That we portray this image of our country  being progressive because the people are now more open about affection, love and sex, all of which are inter-related and that we are a power house because of our technology and our dwindling economy. This image is an illusion. We aren’t allowed to talk about sex in public and are definitely not allowed to make public our affection for one another, what with all the cops tapping on our car windows. He talked about how our cinema isn’t honest about what love and compassion are about. We live in a society which doesn't accept people for who they are.

In such a society, is it really a surprise that there’s a law which makes homosexuality illegal? When the straight ones aren't given the right to hold hands in public peacefully, the sexuality that is apparently ‘correct’ and ‘natural’ (according to the cuckoos), how can we expect this to be ‘tolerated’?  Love, sex and freedom, is tabooed in our country.

I was part of this ridiculous incident once, something which hasn’t really been talked about or thought about in the way I have recently. My friends and I were one afternoon sitting in a coffee shop in Pune. We had newspapers on the table and had just looked through an article about an adult star being part of a new film. This led to a discussion about her involvement and whether this was something the public wanted to watch. Now my friends, including me, have a tendency to get a little passionate in the midst of a discussion and as a result, our voices were a little louder than they should have been. As a result, the table behind us, with three people, overheard us. One man on the table started to talk very loudly, so as to make a point, about adult starts and making comments that linked them to my friends and me. There were specific comments that were made, intentionally directed at us. Our male counterparts on the table, protective as they are, realized this and turned around to address them. This led to a completely unnecessary and heated argument which comprised of the man telling my friend that she looked like a bedbug and her parents would be ashamed of her if they knew she was part of a discussion such as this. There were threats made to us that they knew Sharad Powar and we were asked where we lived and so on and so forth. This ended with us all being told to leave the shop.    

In such a situation, where our freedom of speech is being taken away by our own people because the subject at hand is not deemed ‘decent’, what is one to do? The problem lies within us, within our society. Our concept of love, passion and what it entails is flawed. And this avoidance has led to ignorance. People are misinformed and misguided. We grow up believing that everyone is not equal. We find reasons to discriminate. If we, the people of India, cannot find our humanity and gain perspective, what is the government going to do? If the way of thought isn’t changing, how will the law?

Did you know that our most beloved and cherished historical texts support homosexuality?  Hinduism has taken various positions, ranging from positive to neutral or antagonistic. Rigveda, one of the four canonical sacred texts of Hinduism says ‘Vikriti Evam Prakriti’, which means ‘what seems un-natural is also natural’ which some scholars believe recognizes the cyclical constancy of homosexual/transsexual dimensions of human life, like all forms of universal diversities. The classic Indian text Kama Sutra deals without ambiguity or hypocrisy with all aspects of sexual life—including marriage, adultery, prostitution, group sex, sadomasochism, male and female homosexuality, and transvestism.

There is a basic rule book, which everyone is supposed to follow. A rule book written by all the wrong sorts of people. This rule book is not dictated by our government, it’s dictated by society, by us. We make the government. We are the government. So what are we doing? We need to sit down and question our humanity and our principles. Question your parents and your grand-parents; let us figure out the problem here. Figure out why this is happening to our country and to our people. Didn’t God make all humans to be equal and have equal rights? Aren't we all his children? They are not mistakes! And if they are, then we all are. 

Hot Chocolate

A sip of hot chocolate,

Does more for us than we can know. 

In the cold nights when there is little light,

That warm cup of brown feels just right. 

With every sip from that steaming tower,

You feel it's overwhelming power. 

That warm stream down your throat,

Helps to set sail to every bad memory boat. 

Every muscle and every nerve,

Loosens and gives you the comfort you deserve.

The chocolatey milk encompassing you,

Wrapping you up in a cozy blanket all new.

And as you sip at it slowly,

You feel 4years old, vaguely. 

As if time has found a way to turn around and glance,

Glance at you in your mother's arms,

Sleeping, while your fathers lullaby disarms. 

The drowsiness that now settles in,

Becomes more forceful and compelling. 

Compelling you to leave all your worries behind,

To let go of the weariness and to become kind. 

Let the warmth and comfort of sleep and dreams,

Send you to a land filled with fantasies. 

So put down that mug and put down that book,

Get into bed, get under the covers, close your eyes and look.

Because a sip of hot chocolate,

Does more for us than we will know. 

Time

Turn back the clock please,

I just need some relief. 

Rewind it a bit or a few years,

Back to those couple of beers. 

The sunny happy times,

When we hadn't drawn all those lines. 

Lines that shouldn't be crossed,

Or else everything is lost.

Bring back that time to me,

When we were full of happiness and glee. 

Time that darn precious thing,

Can't even compare it to rare and expensive bling. 

Tide that impatient thing,

Waits for no one and acts like a king. 

Maybe if we made different choices would we see,

It's not about who you want to be. 

It's about those decisions that get made,

In haste and silliness destroying all the plans you laid. 

If I met god today,

I would ask him for one thing for every day. 

A second chance to make those choices again,

A chance to stop and enjoy the rain. 

To let the person know,

That the storm ends. 

That the sun can shine again. 

To at least let the person know,

Where the future for him is going to go. 

Post Nh7 Withdrawal

Let's go back to that time,

When we felt young, free and fine. 

When all that mattered was the here and the now,

People have forgotten that feeling, how?

Let's go back to that time,

When everything was sunny, bright and it shined!

With the music engulfing us,

There was absolutely no drama or fuss. 

The excitement and the passion,

Lasted only for a fraction. 

Lets go back to that time,

When the feeling of ecstasy and the high, were all mine. 

When the artists and audience were one,

Each one became the other one's sun. 

The trance and the atmosphere,

So captivating, one forgot all their fears. 

Let go back to that time,

When all inhibitions were left behind. 

No control and no power,

Individuals sprung and blossomed like flowers. 

For it was that time of the year,

When everyone shifted to fifth gear. 

Let's go back to that time,

When there was an absence of lines,

Oh! How for that time I pine. 

The Jazz Blues

My favorite part of the year is here! Nh7! And in that spirit and mood, here's something I'd like to share.

It takes over you, feeds on your soul,

But replaces it with so much more.

As the first note strikes,

You feel a change in your psych. 

With the guitar strumming and the beautiful drumming,

Your heart starts running. 

Every beat, every pitch,

Is so very rich. 

Her voice fills the air,

Like magic, she traps you in her lair. 

A wonderful spell is cast,

One, you feel, will forever last. 

The sound is so glorious,

You feel surprisingly victorious. 

A melody so sweet,

It's where the Gods come to meet. 

The overwhelming feeling of awe,

With energy so pure and so raw.

You near your own emotional climax,

Ever so slowly, your patience starts to lapse.

As the end of the solo begins,

The feeling of withdrawal sets in. 

Take a moment there, my friend,

Stop and let it sink in, till the very end. 

These moments are sacred and rare,

Cherish them, for their loss if more than you can bear.

One Day At A Time

One day at a time,

I'll push myself across the finish line. 

The day will come when it's done,

And it will feel like the burn of a rising sun. 

The ashes of an old cigarette,

The last drops of rain,

Will feel like an old debt,

But there will be lots to gain. 

As the world turns to rust,

You feel the lingering lust. 

The lust to discover something new,

To watch life from a different view.