An Old Soul

I am, an old soul

Stuck in the wrong century

Shying from the modern chaos

Overwhelmed and insecure

 By the magnitude of superficiality

Comfortable in my own company

I walk a solitary path

I meditate, reflect on, appreciate

Enjoy beauty of life, contemplate

Taking each day as it comes

Until the time I'm recalled

To unite with my fellow old souls

Copyright Renu Vyas

Complexities

Sometimes I feel we don't really know people. We feel we totally understand them, their thoughts, their views, and what makes them "them".

But do we ever really know them ? do we ever truly see what lies beneath the surface ? Sometimes, I wonder if I even know myself. I was a different person long long back, I'm different now. Am I who I should have been ? So what does that make me ?

We all have our versions, and it's okay if people can't love all of them...

Presence

There are some books that stay in my collection. I’ve read them lots of times, long back. The pages are worn out, yellowed with time. I rarely read them, yet I do not give them away. The thought that they are there comfort me..and There are some songs that I never delete from my music collection. They remain in my playlist always. I rarely hear them, but the thought that they are there gives me comfort. I do not miss them, and yet neither do I forget them.

And there are such people too....

तलाश

कड़कती धूप में फिर रहा

बदहवास सा, बौखलाया हुआ

अंजान मुसाफ़िर आवारा सा

एक शख़्सियत की तलाश में

Copyright Renu Vyas

Loving Myself

Thank you for once rejecting me

 It was the beginning of

My accepting and embracing

All of my flaws and scars

That make me unique in my own way

And falling in love with myself

Copyright Renu Vyas

Joker In The Pack

Life has always been for me

Like a deck of  playing cards

There are kings, queens and jacks

While I , the joker stands apart

I have watched on quietly

As life's hand after hand is dealt

And with each game that is played

Only worthlessness is all I've felt

People have rarely noticed me

Kept my opinions and wishes aside

I stayed on the peripheries of life

Compromising with my pride

I am to be used as and when

Things are not going so great

I do what is required of me

But my heart carries this sad weight

With a pained smile on my face 

I sadly gaze into their eyes

Entertaining the kings and queens 

while my whole being aches and cries

So you see, In a world so bright

I live all alone, night after night

I am the useless Joker 

Ignored by the orchestrators of life 

©Renu Vyas

वो और मैं

वो

एक खुशबू बन 

साँसों में मेरी 

रच बस गया 

मैं 

हवा के झोंके सी 

कुछ पल छू के 

बस बिखर गई

वो 

मीठी  याद बन  

दिल में मेरे 

घऱ कर गया 

मैं 

भूले लम्हे सी 

वक़्त के साथ 

बस गुज़र गयी

©Renu Vyas

I, A Broken Vase

I, a beautiful vase

Broken time and again

By those I trust

And those I love

And each time 

I gather my pieces

Joining them 

Carefully, painfully

While people judge me

On the basis of

My ugly cracks

Missing out completely

On the beauty

Of my strength

On my ability to 

Rejoin myself

And restore my trust

As love them

All over again

©Renu Vyas

मेरा मौन

हिदायतें सबकी सुनी

सबके कहे सुनता रहा

सहमे, चुप रहे लब मेरे

और मेरा मौन बोलता रहा

©Renu Vyas

तन्हां

आँखे उस का सपना देखे 

जो कभी मुझे मिला नहीं 

दिल उस खत का रास्ता देखे 

जो कभी किसी ने लिखा नहीं 

मन मनाए उस शख्स को 

जो कभी कहीं रूठा नहीं 

हँस लेती हूँ उस बात पर 

जो कभी किसी  ने कही नहीं 

और ऐसे ही रूठते , हँसाते 

अपने में ही ख्वाब सजाते 

खुद को अक्सर मना लेती हूँ 

की मैं भी तन्हां नहीं...

©Renu Vyas

माँ सी ही होती है मासी

माँ सी ही होती है मासी

मायके में मैं जब भी जाती

जी भर के वो प्यार लुटाती

माँ सी ही होती है मासी....

माँ की तरह ही वो बतियाती

दुःख सुख में बन जाती साथी

माँ सी ही होती है मासी....

गलती पे वो डांट लगाती

रूठने पर फिर वो मनाती

माँ सी ही होती है मासी....

मेरी याद उसे भी आती

हर पल ये एहसास कराती

माँ सी ही होती है मासी...

याद मैं उसको जब भी करती

आँखें उसकी भी नम हो जाती

माँ सी ही होती है मासी....

काश मेरे भी पंख होते

उस से मैं मिल कर आ जाती

माँ सी ही होती है मासी....

©Renu Vyas

Musings

You never know everything about anybody. 

You just learn what you learn, as you learn it.

The Sponge Life

Going through a weird fase in life where I'm beginning to feel like a sponge..a sponge that absorbs everything but is not supposed to react.

But what happens when it's capacity is full ? A sponge does not explode so I suppose it just dries with time and the cycle of absorbing starts all over again..until the cracks appear and it slowly disintegrates.

The only words that come to my mind are of Mehdi Hassan Sahab’s ghazal :

Sab ki sun kar chup Rehte hain 

Dil ki baat nahi kehte 

Aate aate jeene ke bhi 

Laakh bahaane aa jaate hain…

Kese kese log humare 

Ji ko jalaane aa jaate hain 

Apne apne gham ke fasane 

Humein sunane aa jaate hain …

In se alag mein reh nahi sakti 

Is bedard zamane mein 

Meri ye majboori mujhko 

Yaad dilaane aa jaate hain…

Revival

I was a parched, dry, dying flower

You became the rain drenching my soul

Reviving me, as I bloom exquisitely..

© Renu Vyas

Between Wake and Asleep

Early morning hours

In that state of half asleep

The thoughts more tender

The heart more bare

As my mind still hangs

To the edges of my dreams..

©Renu Vyas

Toothpaste Dispenser ? Really ??

When was the last time you gave a thought on putting the right amount of toothpaste on your tooth brush ? Have you ever been really worried that you may put more toothpaste than is needed or that you would get the amount all wrong ? well you need not worry any more ! It seems there is a “smart” gadget that can help you get just that "right" amount of toothpaste on your tooth brush !!

Yes, I'm talking about the toothpaste dispenser. Another piece of annoying technology that for me tops the list of useless gadgets.

I sit here and wonder, why would a company, any company, ask their employees to use their precious creativity and innovative talent to design a gadget that makes absolutely no sense ?

Maybe they felt that squeezing a toothpaste tube is, presumably, a lot of hard work and they wanted to do away with that task ? Or maybe the act of picking up the lid if/when it falls is very tiring ? Oh wait...now you don't have to worry about your spouse or child squeezing the tube at the center !! That way there will be less morning fights and divorce rates will go down and harmony amidst parents and children will be restored and life will be more peaceful !!

Really ? Do we really need a toothpaste dispenser ? This in my view is the new level of craziness and lazy.

Freedom of Expression

I do not have a problem with people expressing their views, in fact I feel everyone should have the right to freely voice out what they think and feel.

The problem starts when the moment we express our views ( and that too in a very polite manner ) the other will reciprocate with unnecessary sarcasm, abusive language and ridicule. They make it their goal to either convince the other that THEIR view is the only right view or silence the other.

It's your right to disagree with another but that can be done in a graceful way too.
And silence should never be taken as submission.

And debates are all about speaking, expressing, and hearing the other.
They are not about shouting, suppressing the other's voice, not hearing another's view point and in general creating noise.

Social media gives us the freedom to express and interact. It saddens me when I see people becoming abusive on Twitter, Facebook and whatsapp.
I guess John Stuart Mill said it well:

"The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error."
  - John Stuart Mill 

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is

When moments from past

Become the companions 

Of your today

Copyright Renu Vyas.

Non Existent

मेरे बोलों की आवाज़ किसी तक पहुँचती ही नहीं

मेरी शख्सियत को लोग देख ही नहीं पाते हैं...

मेरे अस्तित्व का कोई महत्व नहीं किसी के लिए

मुझ जैसे लोग अक्सर यूँ ही भुला दिए जाते हैं...

Copyright Renu Vyas

Shattered Dreams

Millions of dreams shattered

The death of each buried deep inside

So many graves, I visit each night

Copyright Renu Vyas

Odd Ones

I am an ancient square

In this modern circle of life

Awkward, mis shaped

And not fitting in

Copyright Renu Vyas

Letting Go..

Sitting by the sea side

I let my heart bleed out 

All its agony and pain 

One wave at a time....

Copyright Renu Vyas

Changing Shapes

I never really knew love

People only love 

If you mould yourself

To their expectations

Sadly, I am always

Changing shapes

© Copyright Renu Vyas

My Flight

I flew, leaving behind
My inhibitions for you
But you were not there
To notice my wings

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Silent Conversations

Sometimes in between our conversations

Deep inside, in those little pauses

Lies a whole new dimension

Where the silence speaks

A language of it's own

Whispering all that is left unsaid

You just need to stay quiet and listen

To the language of my heart

That only your heart can understand...

By Renu Vyas

The Amaltaas Tree

Proud and strong

There's a tree that stands tall

I gaze at it in wonder

Amaltaas it is called

Defying the heat

It's flowers bloom

Their mild pleasant smell

Like a heavenly perfume

They sway here and there

In the gentle breeze

Attracting all to it

Always ready to please

A sign of nature's beauty

And a symbol of grace

The Amaltaas never fails

To bring a smile to my face

Renu Vyas

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 ?