Grasp

Posted on June 14, 2013 by Guria
Grasp, and hold on tight, 
As I set out to explore-
Find the world, as it brightens 
And day is born of the night

Those first footsteps
Those gurgled first new words
A whole new world
Sight, sound and flavor

Visions to behold, in awe
Laughter to learn, in joy
Running feet, covering ground
All the world, all mine to own

Explorer, I was, that I am-
And you held out your hand
With a finger to hold on to
And there the journey began.

Posted in Creations, Sketches, Verses | 13 Comments

Birthday Wishes

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Guria

It was his fourth birthday. As far as numbers went he officially was a toddler today. But by human standards, he was quite the grown-up. He might not be the smartest one around, or the most experienced but he lived, he breathed.

Nothing was the same as it was four years ago. Then, he had just started taking baby steps that had quickly transformed into bolder steps till he could choose to run or walk as he wished. He would speak his mind, no matter who listened and who didn’t. He made friends, some fleeting, some everlasting. But the scenario kept changing bit by bit over time. Four years is not a long time, yet it was enough time that nothing would be the same as the beginning.

Today he sits back and wants to be able to speak again. His fingers itches and his stomach growls with all the unspoken words suppressed, struggling to escape out into the world. But for the means. The means for him to escape into the world, to weave stories, to speak aloud is busy elsewhere, wrapped in a triviality called life, enamored and trussed by time- forgetting that few of the best things that had happened to her, was him or because of him. She didn’t even remember it was his birthday today…

She did realize he was growing old, and not of age, but of stagnancy. The mind was still there, so were the stories, and so were the tools, only she never came to join them.

But at the end of the day, when even the last hour had passed in his country of birth, she brought a candle, a sliver of shining. She might not remember his birthday, neglect him, trap his words in but she’d never forget him. You cannot forget the one you have birthed.

Happy fourth, Maverick Misfit! I might slow down, even disappear from time to time but I will never let you die…

Posted in Bloggers | 11 Comments

"…and the world was silent again"

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Guria

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “…and the world was silent again”

With the ticking clock…

The blood soaked through the stained and yellowing bed sheet. But it was of little notice to the small throng gathered around the bed, all intent on the writhing woman in it. The feat had to be carried out in the middle of the night away from the prying eyes of the nosy villagers. The old, decrepit woman, invited to join the proceedings as her presence would render ‘comfort’, pinned the woman down on the bed with her thick, bloated body while muffling the cries with her pudgy hands. Yet another younger woman, shrewd and lean with brows that appeared to be permanently furrowed, held the legs of the woman apart for the quack to have better access. The quack was bent over between the legs of the woman absorbed, working with a longish metal tool while the husband and his brother stood behind him watching, and alert for any required intervention.

This was the only solution there was. It was destined actually. Ever since the fancy city doctor, with a little incentive had divulged that in another five months or so, they would be the proud parents of a daughter. The husband had spat on the shiny, marbled floor as his only reaction to the news.

***
The man sneaked out carrying a small bundle under his arm. He fidgeted with the little burden and stealthily walked deeper into the night. He had thought hard about it for the last three nights and settled with the decision to drown it. And sooner the feat was accomplished the better it would be. So, tonight when his tired wife went off to sleep after feeding, he picked it out of the make-shift wooden cradle and wrapped it in his shawl and tip-toed out of the house like a thief. He didn’t need this burden in this time of want. He’d wait till his wife could give him a son.
***
“Shit! I think she passed out…”
“Whaa..?! Let me see…”
The second man groped about the forlorn body of the girl lying spread-eagled on the ground.
“Dammit, I can’t find a pulse…” After a heartbeat, “I think you broke her neck, you idiot!” he cried.
The third man spoke up from behind them. Agitated he paced the muddy, leaf strewn soft grounds of the woods, “And I didn’t even have a go at her. You rascals took too much time devouring her”
The first man retorted angrily, ” What are you getting at? It’s my fault… You have any idea how long I have been without a fuck? Do you?” 
The vehement reply was lost on the second man who was contemplating, distracted. Alive or not, there still was a female body.
When he told his companions of his startling idea, they protested vehemently. Was he out of his mind? They were not animals. Okay, may be they had gotten carried away but what he was suggesting was preposterous!
The debate lasted a few precious heated minutes. But the cravings got in the way, till that was the only option they had left.
The lifeless body wasn’t spared the humiliation either.
***
“I am talking about the Chauhan’s in the Kothwal district. I heard they have a daughter. She will be around fifteen years of age. What do you think?”
“Will they agree to a marriage?” 
“Who cares if they agree or not? My boys will just get her!”
“But you have three sons!”
“They can share. In fact, we will all share.”
“You can’t. You can’t! You will kill her.”
“Probably. Then we will get another one.”
***
“She ran away! Can you believe it?! She actually ran away!”
“The father must have had a hand in this. She couldn’t have done this on her own.”
“Flog the father, lynch him for all I care… How dare he?”
***
The little girl held her mother’s hand and looked back at the shrinking landscape that had once been her village.
“Don’t ever come back, Chhutki. Never!” Those were the last words her father had spoken to her. Before he had bundled her mother and her into the goods train in the dead of the night.
“You are too precious to perish with the animals that roam in this land dressed as humans”, her father had cried that night. It was that night when the five men had barged into her home, and had brutally beaten her and her mother, while doing unspeakable things to them, things she had had no inkling of.
“This will be not be the only time. It will happen again and again”, her father had continued crazed and crying, “Till you die from it.”
And then he had looked at his little girl. “A daughter is supposed to be a father’s jewel, a blessing. But I wish, no father has to go through this…”
As if steeling himself for that he had to say next, he had taken a deep breath and held his wife’s hands and said in calm voice, “Run away Sarla, leave, go away. It has to be better than the hell that is brewing in this land. There is no hope for us here. They are not men, they are beasts “
“We will perish”, he had said in his deep voice, “For a race that knows not how it treat its women, a race so brutish, myopic, foolish and sick- there can be no other destiny.” He had prophesied.    
***
A few years later? Or months? Or was it mere weeks?
For miles, as far as one could fathom of that land there was little life. The scenery was brown and dusty. All that had been was burned to ashes or crushed to rubble. Nearby, a lone hyena tore and snapped at what looked like a rotting, days old human carcass while a wake of vultures hovered nearby for its turn.
The women were gone. The children were gone. The men had been left alone with their rising bloodthirsty, feral and beastly hunger till it could no longer be contained, or be content only as forced inmates of a prison and it turned towards each other. And finally it imploded outwards. As the only inevitable outcome. A war. The last man was felled, unknown to him that it was his own warped idea of superiority, of dominance that won the war.
Finally there were none left.
The circle was complete. The spirits of the fled, the escaped, the raped, the brutalized, the murdered- avenged.
A tinkling laugh resonated through the dry and still air like the crack of a bullet, as if delighted at what remained of the greatest species on earth. Mocking and merciless, it whispered into the winds, “I told you so“. The sound carried the stench of the dead and the bitterness of it echoed over the arid plains, amused and knowing, before it dissolved into nothingness.
And then the world was silent again.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Shilpa Garg, Vipul Grover; Participation Count: 11

Posted in BAT, Causes, Contests, Creations, Novelette | 25 Comments

"The Wife"– My entry to the GetPublished contest

Posted on December 28, 2012 by Guria
Even with the best of intentions, the pressures of grad school didn’t allow me to submit my full story. But just being short-listed to write the whole story was a wonderful honor in itself. And one day, I will finish this story that is so close to my heart. One day, definitely.
The Idea
There were so many love stories floating around. Everyone had a story to tell. It seemed so difficult to pick one out of all sweet and bittersweet tales that had weaved lives together. So, I decided I would tell the story of that one woman who never felt the need to tell her story…
The first time she had met her husband was at their wedding, when she lifted her eyes from behind the betel leaves she held in her hands, moments before he garlanded her. That was also the first time her family saw the bridegroom. All they knew was his name. But then that was her father’s doing. “You know more about a man by what he does and how he does it, than just by looking at his face.” Her mother had wept inconsolable tears, “My daughter, my youngest daughter! How could you just give her away to a man you’ve never met? How? All these virtues you talk about, what if if he is disabled?” “A man who battles the oceans of the world cannot possibly be physically challenged”, was all he had replied.
A story set in old Calcutta of the British-ruled India, it was a simple union of two individuals to who it was duty to get married to the one chosen and accepted by their families. Rebellion never entered the picture. It was only a wayward thought, fleeting and ephemeral, in the heart of the young bride that resonated in the mind of the harried bridegroom as anger. No one liked getting off the ship after eight long months, wanting nothing but a warm bed that wouldn’t sway and maa’s cooked food, and being told to hurry. “What in the hell is this rush for?” “We can’t wait for the ship to dock… We just received a telegram from your uncle. You’re getting married, man! Today!”
You could look from afar and think, the story was simple. But the love that was, or would have been, if not for the machinations of that grand, whimsical puppeteer called Time, who pulled all the strings, and cut them when it pleased, was a love incomplete and yet unparalleled to all the stories that I knew of. The contentment that glowed in the tired eyes of the old woman only threw into stark relief the deep scars left on her soul by a love that had lived momentarily before being snatched away.

What makes this story ‘Real’

To see a person smile in peace, when you’ve lost almost everything of meaning to you- it teaches you something, and only if you are worthy of learning it. The woman in the story is my source of strength. Her life is an inspiration- and her love, a story to be told and repeated if for nothing else but to reaffirm one’s faith in that, that love exists. It is a story that I will always remember and the one that I always wanted to tell. Because she never would.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal andHarperCollins India.

Please go over to Indiblogger at http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/357 if you like the post (and of course, you’d like to read the whole story) and vote for me, by clicking on the heart. Thanks, Guria. 

Posted in Contests, Love, People and Relationships | 6 Comments

The Forty Rules of Love: A Compilation

Posted on December 23, 2012 by Guria
Being who I am, the result of centuries, of ancestors, of traditions, heritages and most of all, faith (not religion)- Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak, a book, a simple book spoke to me. Even before I reached the end, with every turning page I felt rejuvenated, reincarnated. I understand that no one may understand. But that is not important. What’s important is that if I am lucky, it will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Here are the forty rules that unfold through out the story bearing possibly only the essence of what Shams of Tabriz passed on to Rumi. It might be unreal, it might be fiction but the beauty reflects from every syllable. Read them not at one go but randomly and slowly, savoring each as they unfold.
The Forty Rules (Shams of Tabriz): 
  1. How we see God is a direct reflection of how we see ourselves. If God brings to mind mostly fear and blame, it means there is too much fear and blame welled inside us. If we see God full of love and compassion, so are we. (p.30)
  2. The Path to the Truth is a labor of the heart, not of the head. Make your heart your primary guide! Not your mind. Meet, challenge and ultimately prevail over your nafs (the evil or egoistic part of your inner self or soul; false ego) with your heart. Knowing your self will lead to the knowledge of God. (p.40)
  3. Each and every reader comprehends the Holy Qur’an on a different level in tandem with the depth of his understanding. There are four levels of insight. The first level is the outer meaning and it is the one that the majority of all people are content with. Next is the Batini- the inner level. Third, there is the inner of the inner. And the fourth level is so deep it cannot be put into words and is therefore bound to remain indescribable. (p.50)
  4. You can study God through everything and everyone in the universe, because God is not confined in a mosque, in a synagogue, or church. But if you are still in need of knowing where exactly His abode is, there is only one place to look for Him; in the heart of a true lover. (p.58)
  5. Intellect anad love are made of different materials. Intellect ties people in knots and risks nothing., but love dissolves all tangles and risks everything. Intellect is always cautious and advises, “Beware too much ecstasy, ” whereas love says, “Oh, never mind! Take the plunge!” Intellect does not easily break down, whereas love can effortlessly reduce itself to rubble. But treasures are hidden among ruins. A broken heart hides treasures. (p.66)
  6. Most of the problems of the world stem from linguistic mistakes and simple misunderstandings. Don’t ever take words at face value. When you step into the zone of love, language as we know it becomes obsolete. That which cannot be put into words can only be grasped through silence. (p.66)
  7. Loneliness and solitude are two different things. When you are lonely, it is easy to delude yourself that you are on the right path. Solitude is better for us, as it means being alone withut feeling lonely. But eventually it is best to find a person, the person who will be your mirror. Remember, only in another person’s heart can you truly see yourself and the presence of God within you. (p.72)
  8. Whatever happens in your life, no matter how troubling things might seem, do not enter the neighbourhood of despair. Even when all doors remained closed, God will open up a new path only for you. Be thankful! It is easy to be thankful when all is well. A Sufi is thankful not only for what he has been given but also for all that he has been denied. (p.73)
  9. Patience does not mean to passively endure. It means to be farsighted enough to trust the end result of a process. What does patience mean? It means to look at the thorn and see the rose, to look at the night and see the dawn. Impatience means to be so shortsighted as to be able to see the outcome. The lovers of God never run out of patience, for they know that time is needed for the crescent moon to become ull. (p.74)
  10. East, west, south or north makes little difference. No matter what your destination, just be sure to make every journey a journey within. If you travel within, you’ll travel the whole wide world and beyond. (p.86)
  11. The midwife knows that when there is no pain, the way for the baby cannot be opened and the mother cannot give birth. Likewise, for a new Self to be born, hardship is necessary. Just as clay needs to go through intense heat to become strong, LOve can only be perfected in pain. (p. 86)
  12. The quest for Love changes us. There is no seeker among those who search for Love who has not matured on the way. The moment you start looking for Love, you start to change within and without. (p.87)
  13. There are more fake gurus and false teachers in this world than the number of stars in the visible universe. Don’t confuse power-driven, self-centered people with true mentors. A genuine spiritual master will not direct your attention to himself or herself and will not expect absolute obedience or utter admiration from you, but instead will help you to appreciate and admire your inner self. True mentors are as transparent as glass. They let the Light of God pass through them. (p.88)
  14. Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come? (p.101)
  15. God is busy with the completion of your work, both outwardly and inwardly. He is fully occupied with you. Every human being is a work in progress that is slowly but inexorably moving towards perfection. We are each an unfinished work of art both waiting and striving to be completed. God deals with each of us separately because humanity is a fine art of skilled penmanship where every single dot is equally important for the entire picture. (p.102)
  16. It’s easy to love a perfect God, unblemished and infallible that He is. What is far more difficult is to love fellow human beings with all their imperfections and defects. Remember, one can only know what one is capable of loving. There is no wisdom without love. Unless we learn to love God’s creation, we can neither truly love nor truly know God. (p.110)
  17. Real filth is the one inside. The rest simply washed off. There is only one type of dirt that cannot be cleansed with pure waters, and that is the stain of hatred and bigotry contaminating the soul. You can purify your body through abstinence and fasting, but only love will purify your heart. (p.111)
  18. The whole universe is contained within a single human being-you. Everything that you see around, including the things you might not be fond of and even the people you despise and abhor, is present within you in varying degrees. Therefore, do not look for Sheitan outside yourself either. The devil is not an extraordinary force that attacks from without. It is an ordinary voice within. If you get to know yourself fully, facing with honesty and hardness both your dark and bright sides, you will arrive at a supreme form of consciousness. When a person knows himself or herself, he or she knows God. (p.112)
  19. If you want to change the way others treat you, you should change the way you treat yourself. Unless you learn to love yourself, fully and sincerely,  there is no way you can be loved. Once you achieve that stage, however, be thankful for every thorn that others might throw at you. It is a sign that you will soon be showered in roses. (p.135) 
  20. Fret not where the road will take you. Instead concentrate on the first step. That’s the hardest part and that’s what you are responsible for. Once you take that step let everything do what it naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow. (p.136)
  21. We were all created in His image, and yet we were each created different and unique. No two people are alike. No two hearts beat to the same rhythm  If God had wanted everyone to be same, He would have made it so. Therefore, disrespecting differences and imposing your thoughts on others is tantamount to disrespecting God’s holy scheme. (p.140)
  22. When a true lover of God goes into a tavern, the tavern becomes his chamber of prayer, but when a wine bibber goes into the same chamber, it becomes his tavern. In everything we do, it is our hearts that make the difference, not our outer appearance. Sufis do not judge other people on how they look or who they are. When a Sufi stares at someone, he keeps both eyes closed and instead opens a third eye- the eye that sees the inner realm. (p.141)
  23. Life is a temporary loan, and this world is nothing but a sketchy imitation of Reality. Only children would mistake a toy for the real thing. And yet, human beings either become infatuated with the toy or disrespectfully break it and throw it aside. In this life, stay away from all kinds of extremities, for they will destroy your inner balance. (p.153)
  24. The human being has a unique place among God’s creation. “I breathed into him of My Spirit”, God says. Each and every one of us without exception is designed to be God’s delegate on earth. Ask yourself, just how often do you behave like a delegate, if you ever do so? Remember it falls upon each of us to discover the divine spirit inside and live by it. (p.181)
  25. Hell is in the here and now. So is heaven. Quit worrying about hell or dreaming about heaven, as they are both present inside this very moment. Every time we fall in love, we ascend to heaven. Every time we hate, envy or fight someone, we tumble straight into the fires of hell. (p.182)
  26. The universe is one being. Everything and everyone is interconnected through an invisible web of stories. Whether we are aware of it or not, we are all in a silent conversation. Do no harm. Practice compassion. And do not gossip behind anyone’s back- not even a seemingly innocent remark! The words that come out of our mouths do not vanish but are perpetually stored in infinite space, and they will come back to us in due time. One man’s pain will hurt us all. One man’s joy will make everyone smile. (p.207-8)
  27. The world is like a snowy mountain that echoes your voice. Whatever you speak, good or evil, will somehow come back to you. Therefore, if there is someone who harbors ill thoughts about you, saying similarly bad things about him will only make matters worse. You will locked in a vicious circle of malevolent energy. Instead for forty days and nights, say and think nice things about that person. Everything will be different at the end of the forty days, because you will be different inside. (p.211)
  28. The past is an interpretation. The future is an illusion. The world does not move through time as if it were a straight line, proceeding from the past to the future. Instead time moves through and within us, in endless spirals. Eternity doesn’t mean infinite time, but simply timelessness. If you want to experience eternal illumination, put the past and future out of your mind and remain within the present moment. (p.216)
  29. Destiny doesn’t mean that your life has been strictly predetermined. Therefore, to leave everything to fate and to not actively contribute to the music of the universe is a sign of sheer ignorance. The music of the universe is all-pervading and it is composed on forty different levels. Your destiny is the level where you will play your tune. You might not change your instrument but how well to play is entirely in your hands. (p.221)
  30. The true Sufi is such that even when he is unjustly accused, attacked and condemned from all sides, he patiently endures, uttering not a single bad word about any of his critics. A Sufi never apportions blame. How can there be opponents or rivals or even “others” when there is no “self” in the fist place? How can there be anyone to blame when there is only One? (p.225)
  31. If you want to strengthen your faith, you will need to soften inside. For your faith to be rock solid, your heart needs to eb as soft as feather. Through an illness, accident, loss or fright, one way or another, we all are faced with incidents that teach us how to become less selfish and judgmental  and more compassionate and generous. Yet some of us learn the lesson and manage to become milder, while some others end up becoming harsher than before. The only way to get closer to Truth is to expand your heart so that it will encompass all humanity and still have room for more Love. (p.244)
  32. Nothing should stand between yourself and God. Not imams, priests, rabbis, or any other custodians of moral or religious leadership. Not spiritual masters, not even your faith. Believe in your values and your rules but never lord them over others. If you keep breaking other people’s   hearts, whatever religious duty you perform is no good. Stay away from all sorts of idolatry, for they will blur your vision. Let God and only God be your guide. Leran the Truth, my friend, but be careful not to make a fetish out of your truths. (p.246)
  33. While everyone in this world strives to get somewhere and become someone only to leave it all behind after death, you aim for the supreme stage of nothingness. Live this life as light and empty as the number zero. We are no different from a pot. It is not the decorations outside but the emptiness inside that holds us straight. Just like that it is not what we aspire to achieve but the consciousness of nothingness that keeps us going. (p.266)
  34. Submission does not mean being weak or passive. It leads to neither fatalism nor capitulation. Just the opposite. True power resides in submission- a power that comes from within. Those who submit to the divine essence of life will live in unperturbed tranquility and peace even when the whole wide world goes through turbulence after turbulence. (p.292)
  35. In this world, it is not similarities or regularities that take us a step forward, but blunt opposites. And all the opposites in the universe are present within each and every one of us. Therefore the believer needs to meet the unbeliever residing within. And the nonbeliever should get to know the silent faithful in him. Until the day one reaches the stage of Insan-i Kâmil, the perfect human being, faith is a gradual process and one that necessitates its seeming opposite. (p.309)
  36. The world is erected upon the principle of reciprocity. Neither a drop of kindness nor a speck of evil will remain unreciprocated. Fear not the plots, deceptions, or tricks of other people. If somebody is setting a trap, remember, so is God. He is the biggest plotter. Not even a leaf stirrs outside God’s knowledge. Simply and fully believe in that. Whatever God does, He does beautifully. (p.330)
  37. God is a meticulous clockmaker. So precise is His order that everything on earth happens in its own time. Neither a minute late nor a minute early. And for everyone without exception, the clock works accurately. For each there is a time to love and a time to die. (p.333)
  38. It is never too late to ask yourself, “Am I ready o change the life I am living? Am I ready to change within?” Even if a single day in your life is the same as the day before, it surely is a pity. At every moment and with each new breath, one should be renewed and renewed again. There is only one way to be born into a new life: to die before death. (p.336)
  39. While the parts change, the whole remains the same. For every thief who departs this world, a new one is born. And every decent person who passes away is replaced by a new one. In this way not only does nothing remain the same but also nothing ever really changes. For every Sufi who dies, another is born somewhere. (p.343-4)
  40. A life without love is of no account. Don’t ask yourself what kind of love you should seek, spiritual or material, divine or mundane, Eastern or Western… Divisions only lead to more divisions. Love has no labels, no definitions. It is what it is, pure ans simple. Love is the water of life. And lover is a soul of fire! The universe turns differently when fire loves water. (p.350)
Here are the compiled Forty Rules to/of Love that I read, wrote and tried to comprehend with the hope that understanding will blossom completely one day. The philosopher in me that stays retracted into its shell deep within in this “real” world came out with each word- the story of Shams of Tabriz and Rumi- I finally chose solitude (didn’t resign to it) to do a little bit of soul-searching. To the devout, understand that this is not about religion, any religion, it is about that all-encompassing thing that we underestimate known as humanity. It is about spirituality, and the God within- call it the power of being, intuition, conscience, your soul or just your alter ego.- but it what is in all of us, the theist, the agnostic, the atheist, the believer, the non-believer, the illuminated or the disillusioned.
Treasured for nothing but my own joy associated with reading and re-reading Elif Shafak’s masterpiece, I’ll sign off with a favorite paragraph from Rumi’s chapter.

Bountiful is your life, full and complete. Or so you think, until someone comes along and makes you realize what you have been missing all this time. Like a mirror that reflects what is absent rather than present, he shows you the void in your soul- the void you have resisted seeing. That person can be a lover, a friend, or a spiritual master. Sometimes it can be a child to look after. What matters is to find advice: Find the one who will be your mirror! For me that mirror is Shams of Tabriz. Until he came and forced me to look into the crannies of my soul, I had not faced the fundamental truth about myself: that though successful and prosperous outside, I was lonely and unfulfilled inside.

“It is time for you to unlearn everything you know.”

Posted in Love, Observer, Philosophy | 8 Comments

On to Oblivion…

Posted on December 21, 2012 by Guria
The acrid smell of smoke that even while burns every pore of your being it crosses, is the elixir of the soul which never learned how to exist without.

The first drag hurt. Sputtering and coughing, the tears threatened to escape. Almost, almost. You had to do what was only the logical next step. Take another drag, deeper and longer. And feel it assault your innards. Breathing was secondary. 

Another shot of undiluted tequila, colorless and potent, soothed, drenched and killed every life on its way down.

And for an unexperienced, naive innocent they were still not vices enough. Still not strong enough.

For the head that wouldn’t reel, wouldn’t succumb to oblivion and persisted. Some rebels are born, not made, especially the ones who have never broken a rule in their lives.

Resist and persist. You could almost still hear the faint shattering, like tinkling of a million shards of glass and the cry reverberating, buried and trapped deep within. Oblivion never came.

Instead a laughter escaped the parched lips, mingled with loathing and pity… 

Let’s don that garb on again and greet the world in joy, and let that creature slink back into its cave.


P.S. Holiday cheer coming up after! G.

Posted in Observer | 5 Comments

Murakami and Memories

Posted on October 16, 2012 by Guria
I’d never thought of a life as chapters in a grand novel, till one fine day when I heard the crisp turning of a page and saw the beginning of a fresh new chapter. But I couldn’t write it down. I could see there were words, hazy and illegible for now but breathing and real. There were incidents unfurling, hues changing and feelings deepening, growing and complicating and I didn’t know where it began and where it was destined to end. I still don’t. 
And then I came across these words. 
They explained what I couldn’t even to myself, but with every word I gathered more hope for myself and that dormant wish to be immortalized in my own words… maybe, one day.

Even so, my memory has grown increasingly dim, and I have already forgotten any number of things. Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I’ve forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud? 
Be that as it may, it’s all I have to work with. Clutching these faded, fading, imperfect memories to my breast, I go on writing this book with all the desperate intensity of a starving man sucking on bones. This is the only way I know to keep my promise.
Once, long ago, when I was still young, when the memories were far more vivid than they are now, I often tried to write about her. But I couldn’t produce a line. I knew that if that first line would come, the rest would pour itself onto the page, but I could never make it happen. Everything was too sharp and clear, so that I could never tell where to start – the way a map that shows too much can sometimes be useless.
Now, though, I realize that all I can place in the imperfect vessel of writing are imperfect memories and imperfect thoughts. The more the memories of Naoko inside me fade, the more deeply I am able to understand Naoko. I know, too, why she asked me not to forget her.  Naoko herself knew, of course. She knew that my memories of her would fade. Which is precisely why she begged me never to forget her, to remember that she had existed. The thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow. Because Naoko never loved me.
Excerpt from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami 

Maybe one day, I will look back too, and rediscover, realize and then pen in words that I don’t know how to today.
But like he also said,

Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they’re also what tear you apart… (But) no matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories…”

I can never let the memories be washed away. One day I will write about us.

Posted in Life, Observer, Philosophy | 4 Comments

অপারগ

Posted on September 10, 2012 by Guria
যাকে ভালোবাসি, তাকে দূরে ঠেলে দিতে জানি
পাছে সে আমায় পর বলে কোন দিন একা ছেড়ে যায়ে ।
যাকে পাই, কখনো রাখতে জানিনি তায়ে
সে ফিরে ফিরে বলে, থাকব না তোর খাঁচায় ।
যে নেই, তার স্মৃতি চারণায় ঠাই
থেকেও থাকেনি, জানিনি বাঁধব কি করে তাই ।
আমি অবহেলা- ভালবাসা আর ছেলেখেলা-
রাখতে শিখিনি, বাঁচতে শিখিনি,
শিখেছি চলতে নির্দ্বিধায়, অবলীলায়-
না করে জিজ্ঞাসা, না দিয়ে বাধা
যেতে দিয়েছি চলে, যে চলে যেতে চায় ।
দিনের শেষে, হারিয়ে-বেঁচে, শুকনো চোখে,
ছোট্ট হেসে, সবার শেষে, অবশেষে-
আমার সকলই দিয়েছি ভাসায়ে ।   


Posted in Creations, Life, Soliloquy, Verses | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Walking in the rains…

Posted on September 10, 2012 by Guria
I was walking in the rain. 
With the little drops of water 
Pinpricks of salvation 
On my upturned face 
The wind roared and raged 
Like a lover’s hand 
Through my hair, caressing. 
And inexplicably, or naturally? 
I thought of you, remembering 
Your lips as they smiled against mine 
That last time you’d held me 
Loved me, cherished me 
Made me feel. 
And my lips curved in a smile, 
Wet, warm and wanting 
Lost in a time left far behind 
Oblivious to the rain. 
Moments before the pain set in.

Posted in Creations, Heart, Love, Me, People and Relationships, Soliloquy, Verses, You | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Broken

Posted on July 17, 2012 by Guria
You aren’t happy.
Neither are you sad.
You are just stuck in a limbo,
With hands tied behind your back.
You want to smile
But the effort’s too much;
You wish you could cry
But the time has all gone by.  
You wish someone would turn back 
And not need words- 
Someone who could understand, 
What the world would not.

Posted in Abstract, Creations, Darkness, Heart, Me, Philosophy, Soliloquy, Verses | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments