Rain - Showers of Blessings

It is raining in Pune today. A much needed relief after the hot spell we have had.
I have always loved rains. I know a lot of people who say they feel depressed when it rains. The grey clouds seem drab to them but to me they add an element of mystery.  I absolutely love it when it rains. For me, rain means rainbows, long drives on deserted roads away from the chaos of the city, paper boats and the laughter on children’s faces as they jump and splash around in the puddles. It means hot “Pakoras” and some ginger tea as I sit by the window watching the water run down the window panes.

I love the sound it makes.. the constant rhythm that is regular only in its randomness  fascinates me. After a while you cease to notice the noise that surrounds you and realize that rain has its own kind of silence, the kind where you can get lost in your own thoughts..the silence that invites your imagination to wander to all those places.. there is a privacy in rain..one just has to connect with it to feel it.

I love being out in the rain too. That soft satin touch on my skin invigorates me and I love the way it envelops me in itself, washing away the negativity and debris of daily life. The world seems so much more cleaner after the rain. The colours become more vibrant and alive, the landscapes get that surreal quality that is so appealing and the heavenly smell of wet earth.

For a person like me, who appreciates the beauty of nature, and all the blessings that comes with it..rain  is life in all its varied forms. It is sheer poetry and the nostalgia of all that was or could have been.

I know it may sound weird to some but I love thunderstorms too. They give me this euphoric emotional release. They make me feel alive.

Yes, I love rains.

कल रात वो लड़की बहुत याद आई...

कल रात एक सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आई 

मैं चुपके से फिर एक बार अपने बचपन में लौट आयी. . 

मिली मुझे एक बार फिर  वो मासूम सी परी 

थोड़ी शरारती , थोड़ी नादान , पर बातों की खरी 

बुनती थी सुन्दर सपने , रहती खयालों में घिरी

ज़माने की सच्चाई को वो कहाँ कभी समझ पायी 

कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.. 

मन हुआ उसे झंझोड़ के मैं हकीकत को बताऊँ 

आँखों पे पड़ा सुनहरा पर्दा  खींच के हटाऊँ 

ख्वाबों की हसीं नींद से उसको मैं जगाऊँ 

पर लाचार, ठगी सी, मैं कुछ भी तो ना कर पायी 

कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.  .

दिल चाहा कि उसे मैं अपना परिचय दे आऊं 

उसका हूँ मैं ये आज, ये उसको भी बताऊँ

कब होता है सोचा हुआ, उसको ये समझाऊं 

ना कह सकी कुछ भी तो फिर इस आज में लौट आयी 

कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.. 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

  

Port Moresby – My Home Away From Home

My School Photograph

I have written about so many places and things here on my blog, but for some odd reason,  I had put my memories of Papua New Guinea on hold. It was as if my mind had somehow blocked them.

Today I came across a few old photographs from my life in Port Moresby and it was as if a floodgate had opened. I felt like a fragile sand castle on the beach, that’s carefully built walls crashed and got carried away with the high tide of memories. My brain working overtime remembering all the lovely moments from that time back home..hold on..did I just say back home ? Yes, however much I might deny it, deep down the only place that ever felt like true home in my heart is and always will be Port Moresby.

I remember our house in Boroko. The houseboy Penny who defined the word loyalty, his wife Lucy who was a wonder at most things and a very gentle soul. I remember  the Hibiscus, gorgeous bougainvillaea, stunning sunsets, moo moo parties,  long dresses with bright big colourful floral  prints, the bird of paradise , the women always carrying their little babies in slings with baskets on their heads, Pidgeon English, beetle nuts,  red teeth and warm smiles..

I remember Skyline Drive In and seeing Clint Eastwood on the big screen for the first time and falling in love with him (that is until I saw John Travolta In Saturday Night Fever and Grease at Wards Cinema..sneaking off with my friends from school).

I remember Paga  Hill and Koki Market.  Shopping at Steamships and Burns Phillips, the long drives, the curves at Three Mile, Crystal Rapids, Brown River and Sunday outings to Ela beach..the heavenly smell of low tide..collecting shells on Taurama beach and putting the larger shells to my ears to hear the sound of the sea in them..

Mr.Riles

I studied at Port Moresby High School and made some great friends. I remember our Principal Mr. Terry Riles ( who I connected with once again after some 30+ years ). I remember how much I hated my French class though loved the English one with Mr. Jackson (and I had a secret crush on him too..haha), always looked forward to the school trips to Pari Village with my favourite teacher Mrs. Carol Kidu. I remember the lovely school dances, the plays, and the horrible detentions, and the awesome meat pies at the school canteen (and the tolly ice). I remember the 3 day school camps, the long hikes and being stung by Jellyfish.

Whenever I think of Port Moresby, the two songs that come to my mind are “Pearly Shells” by Nora Aunor and “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” by John Farnham. I would give anything to go back to that time in Port Moresby, but like everything else in life, times change..thank god I have these great memories  that no one can take away from me..

A Winter Morning

I wake up in a slow daze

Expecting the morning to be bright

But it is grey, drab and uninviting

And it feels just not right

My bones groan in protest

My body registers pains and aches

My mind says "get up and get ready"

Yet heart whispers "let sleep overtake"

So I snuggle back in my blanket

Wondering why the day is so cold

Then I shrug and tell myself, maybe

The Sun too like me, is getting old

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Housewife

Once there was a woman who hardly existed. Her presence was so ubiquitous that people always took her for granted. She fought to give herself some visibility but slowly and gradually she became invisible. Her personality slipping slowly into obscurity.

She was the woman who gave love, and cared for all unconditionally and yet she was never the center of focus. It was as if she was meant for the sidelines. The person your peripheral vision could see but you never really noticed because people prefer to stay focused on the center.

Her efforts more often than not went unrecognized and yet she chose to put others physical and emotional needs before her own while remaining invisible all the time.

She was a housewife.

Ruins of Dreams

In a life full of demolished dreams

I find myself

Among the ruins

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Perfectly Imperfect Me

I log onto my Face book page and see a friend’s photographs that she has posted while on vacation to some place that looks great. My eyes stray to the comments section below.

“Such a beautiful couple…made for each other !” writes someone.
 “Aww..adorable children..such a perfect family !” writes another.
"Gosh, you guys have such a perfect life !" comments another.

I sit here and wonder..is there really such a thing as a perfect person or family ?

No, let me clear this, I do not feel any kind of jealousy or inferiority towards that friend, but I would never want to be called perfect. To label me as perfect would be to burden me with expectations that I would have to live up to. It would be saying that I am flawless and without any fault whatsoever. I have no wish to be put on a pedestal.

I refuse to believe that any person can be perfect. Everyone has some flaw or another. I am certainly not perfect nor do I aspire to be that. I have my flaws and my scars. I have my share of skeletons from the past and issues in the present, and who knows what the future holds in store for me ?

I have come across people who will go to any lengths to show their beautifully decorated perfect homes. They will post pictures of their vacations at exotic destinations. Those awesomely edited perfect poses. An image of an impeccable, perfect family and life. And yet, I am well aware of the insecurities, the internal struggles, and the pressure of living up to social expectations that they hide behind their “perfectness”.

I am not a perfect woman. I do not have a perfect life, family, home or career.

Instead of a pristine wonderfully decorated house, I would rather have a home that makes me feel comfortable, where I can put up my feet and curl on the sofa with my favorite book in hand. A house with an orderly chaos. A family that would laugh and yet argue and cry together. A life that would be blissful, joyous, and yet beautifully messy.

I do love looking good, what woman doesn’t ? but I would want to look good for myself, wear the clothes that I feel compliment my personality rather than what the latest fashion or trend is.

I would prefer to share my insecurities and vulnerabilities rather than keep them all buried and hidden inside to keep up with that perfectly happy look. I am happy with my flaws, my scars, my differences and my imperfections because they make me who I am, and make me unique in my own way.

I am not perfect but I am perfectly imperfect and I would not want to be any other way. This is the me I love and this is the me I would want the world to see.

The Witness

The moon is a witness

Of our love

And our denial   

        

       - Renu Vyas.

Appearances

I fake all my smiles 

As I stand tall and proud

Yet only I can know 

How alone I am in the crowd

My feelings hold no meaning

My voice is seldom heard

All my internal anguish 

Cannot be described in a word

I long to be accepted

And I yearn to just belong

Yet I remain that wrong note

In life’s beautiful song

But I refuse to be pitied

So I always laugh out loud

I fake it and I fake it

Till I make it in the crowd 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Widow

She is scorned and looked down at

Always disgraced and stigmatized

Treated as a worthless woman

Who failed to save her husband’s life

Never invited to religious events

And often shunned from social life

Her presence considered inauspicious

Isolated, with no one to hear her cries

She has so much to share and say

But her views are just not heard

So she stays a sad and lonely figure

And swallows back all her words

They treat her shabbily forever

And restrict and confine her life

All through this they calmly forget

That she is still very much alive

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Cassata Ice-cream and Memories

Hubby: Let us order some ice-cream after dinner.

Son: Sure, Mom..What flavour should I order for you ?

I am about to say “cassata ice-cream” but then I stop and wonder..where did that name come up from ? do they even serve the cassata anymore ? I grab the menu card and take a look and with a pang I realize that the cassata is not even on the list. There are so many flavours listed, an assorted array of bewildering yet glamorous sounding names that I do not even understand. And so I finally end up muttering feebly “Vanilla or mango”…

But as I eat my ice-cream, my mind is flooded with my childhood memories and the emotions attached to them. Back in the 70’s and 80’s, the cassata was the most expensive ice-cream on the list and it was every child’s dream. The mere thought that we would have a cassata after the dinner at a restaurant (which in itself was a rare treat) would be the highlight of the evening.

The cassata ice-cream moments are as clear as yesterday in my mind. It is a memory indelibly etched to remain forever. I remember the huge servings of the three layers of the tutti-frutti, strawberry and vanilla sprinkled with assorted nuts, the shutting of my eyes as I felt the sweetness melt in my mouth….

Those were the times of a less complicated era and the simpler pleasures of life. Nostalgia..how it hits us when we least expect it..

The Woman That Was

Forgotten by all, lost and lonely

She became invisible and unseen

 People would look right through her

But not hear her silent screams

They talked to her, they passed her by

But failed to see her tears

They talked of all the comforts she had

Yet never noticed her fears

So she donned a mask that always smiled

And hid all that she really had been

She retreated deep down in herself

And the real “Her” was never again to be seen

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wishful Thinking

Today I received 

Your letter

A letter that was 

Written for me

By me

Through you

A conversation

Between you

And I

That never was...

Schizophrenia 

Of thoughts 

 Jumbled to form 

In-coherent emotions 

In the form of words

But regardless

 It was still a letter

From you to me

Written for me

By me

Through you…

 © Copyright Renu Vyas

My Silly Poem

Very, very long ago

And once upon a time

I wrote a silly poem

That had no rhythm or rhyme

The words were really silly

And made no sense at all

And whosoever heard it

Would either cry or bawl

They would all yell at me

And ask me to please stop

But I refused to believe

That my poem was a flop

I made many copies of it

And stuck them on pizzas and pies

But then no one would eat them

And they would attract just flies

So I read it to trees and flowers

And I read it to the skies

I read it to imps and fairies

Who I felt were more wise

They pondered and wondered

At what my poem meant

They had meetings over it

And many a weeks they spent

But since they never understood

They decided not to take stress

They accepted and awarded me

And declared my silly poem the best

  © Copyright Renu Vyas

Where has the laughter gone ?

"Always find a reason to laugh. It may not add years to your life, but will surely add life to your years."

Please don’t be misled by the title of this post. I am not sad and neither have I lost my sense of humour. I still have my sense of humour intact, but I don't laugh out loud like I did years ago. There was a time when I laughed in pure unadulterated joy at the smallest of things but now I don't find things as funny as I once did.

In fact when I look around, I see that overall people don’t laugh so much anymore. It is not that we are depressed, well maybe sometimes we are, but most of the times it is just that we are so distracted and caught up in our chaotic everyday life trying to make ends meet, trying to beat deadlines, multitasking,  and living up to expectations that we do not notice the funnier side of life. We are never fully present in the moment.

Most of my phone conversations with my family happen with me working at the same time doing this or that.

Another reason could be that for something to be funny there has to be a surprise or unusual angle attached to it. Sadly most things do not surprise me now as I get older. There is a sense of “been there, done that”. It is not that I am becoming blasé but I just don’t find things that funny anymore.

When was the last time you really laughed ? and by laughed I mean that loud belly aching laugh..it seems it is missing from life these days. It is as if we are living without truly being alive.

Love Immortalized

Instead of carving you

In wood or stone

I preserved your memories

In my heart 

And captured every aspect of you

In my poetry

Immortalizing you

Through my words

  © Copyright Renu Vyas

Those Moments

Somewhere in between

Soft midnight conversations

Your cigarette breaths

And my coffee stains

I fell in love

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Paper Existence

I am all the words

That reside in my poetry

Come, embrace my paper existence 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

बस यूँही.....

कभी कभी दिल चाहता है,

 यूँ'ही कोई क़रीब आये

 न कोई सवाल पूछे, न ज़वाब मांगे

 बस  बिना कोई वजह यूँही

सर पर हाथ रख के कहे

 "सब ठीक हो जायेगा....."

Just Like That

 Sometimes, all you want 

Is for someone to be there

No questions asked

 No judgments passed

To just put their hand on your head

 And say in that caring tone

"Everything will be alright.."

Pain & Poetry

There is a pain hidden

In every poem that I write

And there is a poem hidden

In every pain that I feel...

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Canyons Of Past

I am like a meandering river

That flows through

The canyons of my past.

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Drowning In Poetry

I would rather spill ink

Instead of tears

And drown in poetry

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Voice Of Silence

Amidst all the hustle and bustle around

I overheard today

The voice of silence in the crowd 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Memories

“Meine shayad tumhe pehle bhi kahin dekha hai…”  croons Mohammed Rafi softly in his melodious voice on the radio. I stop and stare at the radio. Waves of inexplicable nostalgia wash over me.  I haven’t heard this song in years and suddenly I am overcome with a torrent of memories. It is like a flashback of a different place and a different time.

Some songs when heard after a long, trigger such vivid memories that transport us back in time. They bring back emotions long buried beneath the debris of our everyday life. It is as if they are entwined with memories of certain people, places and seasons. Some songs bring a smile while others make us shed a tear quietly. Such is the power of songs and music.

What songs bring back emotions from your past ? Has a song ever caught you off guard and brought back a tidal wave of memories ?

Cloak of Anonymity

Leaving behind cacophony of life

I reach out and embrace peace, solitude

A welcome cloak of anonymity

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Dear Time...

Dear time, stop for a while

Let me revel in my today

And with my past reconcile

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Closure

The fragments that you left behind

Of a once shared day-to-day life

I gather and store all bit by bit

Yet they still hurt like splinters in feet

© Copyright Renu Vyas

New Beginnings

Standing quietly in the rain

Letting words wash off pages

Turning blank the book called "Me"

An urge to re-write life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

कुछ सुन्दर यादें मेरे बचपन की ....

कुछ सुन्दर यादें मेरे बचपन की...



वो गर्मीयों की छुट्टियाँ। वो पानी छिड़क कर ठण्डी की हुई गर्म छत की सौंधी खुशबू, घर के सारे लोग और तारों की छाँव, वो रात का खाना छत पे खाना, खाने में मोगर रोटी और कैर के आचार का होना... खाटें लाइन में लगाना फिर देर रात तक फुसफुसा कर बातें करना। रेडियो पर हवा महल, बिनाका गीतमाला सुनना ।

वो गली के नुक्कड़ से चवन्नी का बर्फ लाकर शरबत बना कर पीना,
कोट पीस/चौकड़ी खेलना...किराये की साइकल को बारी बारी चलाना और वो साइकल की चेन का बार बार उतर जाना...

वो माँ/दादी का स्वेटर बुनते वक़्त पास बुला के नाप लेना, और दिवाली पे नए कपड़ो का आना..वो बड़े बुज़ुर्गों का पटाखों के हिस्से करना और वो एक एक पटाखे के लिए लड़ना झगड़ना ...

माँ का नारियल तेल को धूप में रखना और फिर सर में लगा के दो चोटी बनाना, बुआ का उस चोटी के लिए रंगीन रिबन लाना..

कुछ सुन्दर यादें मेरे बचपन की ....

Happy Wedding Anniversary Dear Husband

Seeing your face first in the morning

And at the day's end, each night

Gives much warmth to my heart

And brings so much delight

You're my motivation and inspiration

And everything in between

You're the reason for my sun to shine

With you around I feel like a queen

You have not just been a husband

You've been my guide and friend

This beautiful life we share

I pray just never ends

You've supported me in all I wished

Without you I know not where I'd be

Your presence in my life

Completes and fulfills me

So thank you dear husband

For being my life's best part

I pray with all of my love

That we will never be apart

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tick..Tock..Tick..Tock

Tick tock......tick tock…...

Ticks on my internal clock

Tick tock….tick tock……..

Nothing makes it stop

Tick tock…tick tock…

How annoying is the sound,

Tick tock…tick tock…

I wish time would turn around

Tick tock…tick tock…

Memories flash before my eyes

Tick tock…tick tock…

I wonder at how time flies   

Tick tock…tick tock…

It takes all my years and days

Tick tock…tick tock…

Hazy moments are all that stay

 Tick tock…tick tock…

Will I get to say a final goodbye

Tick tock…tick tock…

Or will I just fade away and die 

Tick tock…tick tock…

 I’ll remain a name in the past

Tick tock…tick tock…

A mere speck in a world so vast

Tick tock…..tick tock….

Ticks on my internal clock

Tick tock….tick tock…..

I just wish it would finally stop

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Finally In My Fifties !

I turned 50 recently. Somehow it felt like I had reached an unseen milestone in my life..and yet, I sit here and think, what actually did I achieve in all these years ?

I had a great many responsibilities bestowed upon me right from the age of 17.  I have no complains. I have had my share of happiness too but my role in life and the responsibilities that came with it had me grow up too fast, too soon. Being considered an adult at just 17 meant life was filled with commitments and responsibilities, and these demands often left me feeling weary and stressed out.

But now that I’m 50, I’m free of most of those responsibilities. My children are grown up and Hubby and I have a lot of time on our hands. I always used to think that being fifty would make me feel old and a lot of people DO tell me that I’m getting old, I certainly don’t feel it.

I feel fifty is a comfortable age to be in. It’s neither young nor old. Yes, I’m no longer young but then I’m also over those tiresome 20s 30s and 40s where one worries about one’s actions, appearance and presentation. 50s is the time where you become comfortable with what you really are. You stop trying to please others all the time. You can start living for yourself and do what you like, however childish, silly or stupid it may seem to another.

So what is it that I would love to do now that I’m 50 ? Oh nothing great like studying rocket science trust me ! Here is a list of all that I wish to do now.

Laugh out loud if I feel like it at every silly joke that I enjoy instead of that delicate soft smile/laugh that ladies are always expected to indulge in.

Be impulsive. If I feel like a pizza, ice-cream, samosa or any such thing I will eat one ! I will dress up the way I want and when I want ! (yes that includes wearing pink !) If I feel like singing a song sitting behind Hubby on his bike I will sing and not worry about those passing by ! A small jig when I hear a good news would be great too !

Talk nonsense. Yes well I’ve had my share of the so called intelligent conversations and polite small talks that bored me to death. I am entitled to talk nonsense. It can be fun (for me at least and that’s all that matters right now).

Maybe I will stop avoiding puddles on the road ? I always wanted to go splash in them so why not !

Eat out of the box or jar without anyone telling me its not proper.

Stamp my feet in anger when I don’t like something ! (I have always wanted to do that but just never got around to it yet).

Cant think of anything else for now. Anyone got any other ideas or suggestions ? Hehe :P

Inner Voice

Listen to your inner voice

And do what it tells you they all said.

How do I explain to them

There lives a whole society in my head.

© Copyright Renu Vyas

जब कि तुझ बिन नहीं कोई मौजूद

फिर ये हंगामा ऐ ख़ुदा क्या है..

Mirza Ghalib

The Unwritten Postcards

All those places we visited

Through our conversations

And all the beautiful sights we saw

Through our shared dreams

I have a colourful postcard

For every place we’ve never been

Hundreds of postcards

And a few dozen unwritten letters

All stored away safely

In the dusty drawers of my mind

I take them out sometimes

And breathe in that smell of yours

Which was never there

To give myself a reason to breathe

As I imagine us once again

At all those places we never went

And to envelop myself 

In a comforting, yet false relief

© Copyright Renu Vyas

What Is Your Fear ?

I am claustrophobic.

Claustrophobia is an anxiety disorder in which the sufferer has an irrational fear of having no escape or being closed-in. It frequently results in a panic attack and can be triggered by a lot of things.

It is not necessarily the small spaces that trigger the anxiety but the fear of what can happen to the person if confined to that area. Some things that trigger anxiety issues with me are:

Elevators, tunnels, basements or underground rooms and spaces, movie theatres, subway trains, hotel rooms with windows that do not open, public toilets and in some cases medical devices like MRI scanners etc.

It is not being in a small space that bothers me – it is being effectively trapped in that space that leaves me feeling breathless. I hate elevators. That terrifying moment between the elevator stopping and the doors opening feels like forever to me. I feel like I can't breathe when I am in an enclosed area. The fear of being enclosed or stuck up in any place with no easy escape triggers a panic attack in me. If I am in a room and there are too many people, I start to feel the beginnings of it. Crowded stores are one of the worst for me. I often have to step outside. Feeling held down or contained in any way triggers it instantly.

It is difficult for people without this affliction to even begin to understand this condition. There have been so many instances where I have been ridiculed when I take the stairs instead of the elevator or when I check the hotel room that I am to stay in for windows that open out to a balcony.

We all have a phobia or two in life. Some fear the water, others heights etc. but I feel we should be more tolerant towards those people.

What is your fear ?

Circle of Life

Life is a circle

We all eventually end up 

At the point we started from

Sometimes together

And sometimes alone

Sometimes In parts 

And other times as whole

Be it as dead

Or very much alive

But return we do

Eventually ending up

At the point we started from

Life is a circle

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Perfect Synchronization

She lives alone

In her tower of Solitude

Speaking only in 

Soliloquy...

While I perform

Each and every day

In this meaningless act 

That we call life...

Each playing a game

Of hide and seek

With the other

Yet in perfect

Synchronization exist

My alter ego 

And I

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Indifference

All those feelings that went unexpressed

All the words that were left unsaid

Desires that remained unfulfilled

All that we could have had

If not for your  

Indifference 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

अब तक दिल-ए-खुशफ़हम को हैं तुझ से उम्मीदें

ये आखिरी शम्में भी बुझाने के लिये आ...

(अहमद फ़राज़)

All That Was Mine...

Where ever I may go in life

And whatever I may see;

The thought that always haunts me is

Do you still remember me ?

In all the crowds surrounding you

Do you search for my face ?

Though it never truly was beautiful

Nor held any poetic grace

Do you too ever hide some tears

And grieve for what we lost ?

Or do you ever sit and wonder

What your absence may have caused

Do you sift through memories

Of all the times we shared

Whenever you go by a temple

Do you offer for me a prayer ?

Do you look through the letters I wrote

And notice the words left unsaid

Or do those words hold no meaning to you

And the emotions already dead 

Do you miss the way I listened

To all you ever had to say

Or do you remember the urge you had

To hear me each night and day

 I wish you would return to me

Each emotion I shared with you

My dreams, my love, my every smile

So that I may forget you too  

© Copyright Renu Vyas

मेरा कुछ सामान तुम्हारे पास पड़ा है ... सावन के कुछ भीगे भीगे दिन रखे हैं

और मेरे एक खत में लिपटी रात पड़ी है....वो रात भुला दो, मेरा वो सामान लौटा दो .....

- Gulzar

My Shadow

It follows me around

Day and night

Sometimes it is visible

Other times out of sight

A silent spectator

Of all that I do

It haunts, it stalks

Keeps an eye on me too

Never utters a word

Nor does it judge me

Like the unseen conscious

It follows silently

Sometimes it scares me

As it looms dark and large

Appearing, disappearing

Vivid and stark

Yet sometimes reassures me

Its presence like a friend

That shares life’s ups and downs

And remains till the very end

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Acceptance

Life is like a puzzle. Sometimes it does not make sense and yet we are left with no other choice than to accept what it hands out to us gracefully, even when the pieces of the puzzle don’t fit.

Add to it the complexity of human relationships and you are left with an even bigger puzzle. I have realized that life seldom turns out the way we want it to. As I walked the path of life I learnt the hard truths that the world does not act as per my likes or dislikes, that no one is perfect, that life is not the bed of roses I grew up believing it was, that however much I may respect or love, it may not get reciprocated. I bear the scars and the pains.

And yet, life surprises me at times in the most beautiful ways possible. It makes me see and experience joy and beauty in the most unexpected of places. With age, I have learnt to accept my fate and stopped trying to change what is. No longer do I try to change the world and more importantly, I no longer try to change myself to please others.

I fully and completely accept myself and by doing so, I have gifted myself a beautiful emotional freedom. I am now able to connect the dots. The puzzles and confusions all start to make sense.

I revel in this new found state of acceptance and bliss.

Zindagi tere gham ne humein 

Rishte naye samjhaye 

Mile jo humein dhoop mein mile 

Chhav ke thande saaye…

- Gulzar

Emotions

Evoking new passions

And feelings sublime

He undresses my heart

One emotion at a time

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Broken Woman

Fate is but 

A fictional concept

And I

Merely a character

In a predestined story

A slave

To society’s rules

That slowly

And systematically

Breaks down

Day by day

My individuality

And spirit

And I

Tired of the fight

To break free 

Succumb

With a numb mind

And battered heart

 And embrace

The chains quietly…

One more win

One more soul

Sacrificed

At the alter

Of the society

© Copyright Renu Vyas

रंजिश ही सही..

There are some songs that cause you to pause, listen intently and to embrace. These are the songs that bring a tear to your eye, not because of their sadness, but because of the strong emotional resonance they evoke. Ranjish Hi Sahi, written by Ahmed Faraz and sung by Mehdi Hassan is one such Ghazal.

Music rises above all, be it religion, beliefs or borders, as does our affection for it. Mehdi Hassan was a great musician par excellence. His voice had a wonderful quality, and a uniqueness of its own.The beauty of his Ghazals is that one never tires of them. In fact, the more I hear them, the more they cast this hypnotic spell over me.

Today, as I sit and hear his Ghazal, his magical voice enchants and intoxicates me... gliding effortlessly over my senses, as my heart stays spellbound…experiencing a myriad of emotions from this level to that, like a flower bud that unravels and unfolds gently, layer after layer into a bloom....

रंजिश ही सही दिल ही दुखाने के लिए आ

आ फिर से मुझे छोड़ के जाने के लिये आ

अब तक दिल-ए-खुशफ़हम को हैं तुझ से उम्मीदें

ये आखिरी शम्में भी बुझाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

इक उम्र से हूँ लज्ज़त-ए-गिरया से भी महरूम

ऐ राहत-ए-जां मुझको रुलाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

कुछ तो मेरे पिन्दार-ए-मोहब्बत का भरम रख

तू भी तो कभी मुझ को मनाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

माना के मोहब्बत का छुपाना है मोहब्बत

चुपके से किसी रोज़ जताने के लिए आ

रंजिश ही सही...

जैसे तुम्हें आते हैं ना आने के बहाने

ऐसे ही किसी रोज़ न जाने के लिए आ

रंजिश ही सही...

पहले से मरासिम ना सही फिर भी कभी तो

रस्म-ओ-रहे दुनिया ही निभाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

किस किस को बताएँगे जुदाई का सबब हम

तू मुझ से खफा है तो ज़माने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

Simple Joys of Life

Early morning is my very own unique, calm time. Hubby and I are both early risers. For us, it is the time when we enjoy our first cup of tea while the world outside dozes.

This first cup of tea is made by hubby, always. For us, it is not just about making tea but it is a ritual. It is the best part of the day for us, the time when we get to spend a half hour of quality time together before the chaos of life takes over. This special time makes a difference and gives us both that positive kick we all need, to get through the day.

The whole process of making that first cup of tea, though it may seem a simple act to some, is awesome for us. That faint sound of the brewing tea, the freshly ground ginger that he adds to it, the heavenly smell, the warming of my hands on that cup, and finally the hot tea soothing my throat accompanied by soft quiet conversation is an experience in itself. And yes, there are times when we don’t need the conversations too. After 32 years of togetherness we are perfectly tuned to each other’s silence and comfortable with it. Just the joy of sharing that half hour together over tea is important for us.

For me, this first cup of tea is a time to reflect. It is a patience, a meditation and a celebration.

déjà vu

Sometimes we visit certain places we have never been to in our life, and yet we get this nagging feeling that we have been there before. We remember certain routes or turns, doors or windows or other details and it leaves us feeling anxious, nervous, uneasy or at times as if we belong there.

I think that perhaps once a person dies he or she is reborn as new person. God wipes out our memory so we know only of our present life. Sometimes I get such a strong sense of familiarity or déjà vu  that it makes me think that maybe it's a memory of a past life that God forgot to erase and it's seeping in through the cracks.

There have been certain places where the feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed me.  A sensation that this has happened before overpowered me in its realness. Though at the time I wasn't prepared to mull over any genuine philosophical or profound meanings, now I feel that maybe it wasn't just my brain playing games on me but my spirit or soul recalling from a past life.

Sometimes I wake up from sleep with a deep sense of longing. An obscure, undefined sense of longing. I find myself wishing I could go home, and an unknown sadness fills me knowing that I'm longing for a place that does not exist. But somehow I know it is real, it is where I belong, but where exactly is that home or place ? I already have a beautiful home be it my parents place or my hubby’s. I have had a wonderful childhood and a good life for which I am eternally grateful, and yet in my subconscious is that unknown place.

All my life I've felt as though there was something more, a bigger picture, something humanity just wasn't understanding. I wish we could dig up our past lives from the vast unexplored regions of our mind.

Simple Definition of déjà vu by Merriam-Webster
"The feeling that you have already experienced something that is actually happening for the first time, something that has happened many times before, something that is very familiar.
The illusion of remembering scenes and events when experienced for the first time, a feeling that one has seen or heard something before."

The Agony of Saas Bahu Sagas

I know I have written about this before but I could not resist doing so again.

There was a time when one could turn on the TV and enjoy a good show like Waghle Ki Duniya, Malgudi Days, Nukkad and the likes, alas, people like Ekta Kapoor have ruined the fundamentals of TV viewing.

TV shows these days are so far away from reality. I have nothing against family dramas but at least there should be something one could relate to. They are so disconnected to reality. There are joint families living in houses so big they would put Ambani’s Antillia to shame. Moreover, most of these places are named “Shanti Niwas” and yet they are the least peaceful places on earth.

All the men are billionaires and yet one never sees them working (or taking any family decisions for that matter. That part is left entirely to ladies). The rare times they do go to office is to call a meeting and give power point presentations (yes trust me they will discuss ALL projects on PPTs). These successful businessmen can be duped easily by a rival in which case they lose all their money, property etc etc and with the help of their womenfolk regain them back eventually.

It is mandatory for either the mother-in-law or the daughter-in-law to be evil. If the mother-in-law is evil, her daughter, son-in-law, brother and sister will live with her and assist her in all the plotting. If the daughter-in-law is the villain then her mother, brother, sister etc. will live with her and do the same. I guess they have more rooms in their house than The Taj Hotel.

The lead characters will marry more than once and have children from more than one partner. The families will be deeply religious and light “diyas” morning and evening each day. If god forbid one day the diya extinguishes, the husband is hospitalised or will be no more. But one need not worry, eventually those who pass away do come back with a new face, a different height, weight, complexion and voice (I guess plastic surgery can do more wonders than I knew of). Of course, those who don’t die may suffer from amnesia or coma or some such medical condition. Bottom line is they DO comeback and NOONE really ever dies (beats The Walking Dead doesn't it ?).

When you are absolutely sure the show has covered it all and has nothing new to show, there will be a leap of 10-20 year. The characters will still look the same in appearance, and the only way to distinguish between the older and the younger generation will be the spectacles. Henceforth, the whole drama will begin all over again.

And lately, the “daayans”, the “pisaachinees”and the “nagins”have entered the whole saas-bahu saga. You have a lead female character turn into a fly, another fighting the “kaali shaktis”with taaveez, trishool, bhasms etc. and people visiting tantriks frequently for this or that.

I sit and wonder, where is the likeability factor in such shows ? I honestly don’t believe any person with a logical mind would want to see such stuff. These shows cater to people who cannot use their time effectively (yes I’m aware of the brickbats coming my way).

Spider Webs

Memories

Are like spider webs

Delicate, fine strands

All interlinked…

For every strand

You break away

A few more remain

Linking to the part

You are out to destroy…

Never to be erased

They remain hidden

Dormant

Like a spider web

That hangs

In a forgotten corner

Of your mind and heart

Waiting patiently

To be called forth

Or to come out

In the form of 

A flood of emotions

Unleashed, unexpectedly

On an unsuspecting

Heart and soul

© Copyright Renu Vyas