Let the Love Begin

Take my hand and follow my way,

Let me tell you all that I want to say.

I shall softly whisper in your ear,

All those things I want you to hear.

Kissing your lips and caressing your skin,

I shall kindle your passion deep within.

Pull you close and hold you near,

I shall take away your pain and fear.

In the loneliness of night,
Be my candle, shine your light.

In the warm brightness of the sun,
Make me feel that its you the only one.

Make me your wings and fly,
You shall soar in my arms high.

Allow me to enter your heart,
Break down the surrounding wall.

Its time for you to hold me tight,
Feel me hard, and watch it fall.

I have been a prisoner don't you see,
Break my chains and set me free.

Let me release your soul held deep within,
You better be ready now, for I am, Let love begin.

A STAND ON IDENTITY

A post warranted from long, but somehow not finding the ravines of thought. Finally, it is here. They say, it is never too late.

This has been a question that has been asked through ages. Every individual despite the hard work of age and education needs to, time and again, define his own identity. But the grim question is, what defines “identity”. And hence, I wanted to make a stand on this aspect.

I was born in the silk city, famed as “Angh Pradesh”, the capital of the great warrior king, “Karna”. Maybe that is what drives my favoritism for satin silk sheets, as periphery of peaceful sleep. And yeah, bravery and standalone “friendship forever” pragmatism, is another stroke of my character. So, what defines my identity? The curse lived by Karna in his stand for friendship or the weaving of silk in pursuance to provide peaceful sleep to the world.

I think, neither. I have lived, shared bread and salt, breathed and enjoyed life with individuals from multi - city background. I have seen the enticing warmth of Hyderabad, the fashion parade of Mumbai, the spice and spark of Delhi, the sweetness of Kolkata, the serene beauty of Shimla and the pious reverence and heavenly abode of Kashmir. I think if there is one blend of all, it will be called “India”, and nothing reminds that more than an India – Pakistan match. An Indian is a born Indian. His attire might be whatsoever, his accent maybe whatsoever, his style maybe whatsoever, but an Indian carries India in his heart. His life maybe whatsoever, but every color of his soul and heart defines that character that upholds the spirit of humanity in priority.

What other factors need a remembrance? Oh, any discussion without the evaluation on the threshold of religion can never find resonance. I was in school, when I took bible as a story book and managed to read it in a night. There were stories of countries and civilization which were lost in the anger of God. And the question that came to my mind was, how a “God” can be most loving who destroys humanity at the whim of a moment. I had done so many mistakes in life, but my dad was always assertively advising, he was never tyrannical. And I lost my faith in Bible. Then started the frequent arrivals of the Muslim cleric. I learnt those “Surahs”. They did sound musical. But, then they made no sense. I couldn’t understand much. To the wishes of my parents I did learnt the basic, but “Al Quran” was an arcade that I never bothered venturing. Later, through one of my close friends I received, “Bhagwat Gita”. The Sanskrit shlokas jingled a music once again. But the contrasting change was that the learning of Sanskrit in school paid off. I was able to understand that “Karma” defines the fate and living of an individual. I could understand that “God” incarnates in one form or other, to safeguard the righteous, to punish the tyrant and to restore order. That made so sense.

But like mom’s delicacy, the best was saved for the last. And it was a “out of coincidence” seminar that I went attending on, “why learning Arabic was important”. The schedule to stick my ass for 20 minutes was lost into an ever memorable flow of logic that lasted for 3 hours. And the reason dawned. I was able to understand “Bhagwat Gita”, and hence it made sense. But “Surahs” from “Al Quran” were Morse codes, waiting to be deciphered. That started a journey to learn Arabic, master it, till I can, not just read, but understand and feel the miracle of Quran. That was when I learnt that Allah is Ar Rahman, and “Rahman” is not just merciful, but Rahman comes from Arabic word, “Rahm”, which is a mother’s womb, where a child partakes warmth, security, safety, benevolence, fooding and lodging without a wink of worry. That is the quantum of Allah’s benevolence.

And now I am back to my question. What or which religion defines an identity? And the answer is none. Because the gist lies in not the instrument of message, but the basic understanding of the message itself. And hence, a person’s identity is not a statistical data pertaining to his nationality, religion, language or culture. It is the understanding of him as a person. It is a venture that continues with the ever changing dynamics of a character. The sketch gets painted with every incidence as a stroke of brush, giving a new color to the identity. Perceptions are born of experiences. And experiences are our interaction and communication with the world around.

The world is not a perfect place, as you can always remark of "contrasting identities in the similar vicinity". Even the five fingers of the same hand are not same. But then, isn’t it logical? After all, life was never meant to be perfect. And hence expectations of a perfect individual is a myth. We are all imperfect in some way. That is what gives us the scope of improvement. Perfection can only be a state that two imperfect people find in being together.

There is so much more to say. But for some other time. It is time to write off.

WORDS

Stilled waters
of a stagnant pool
closed over time
by accumulation
of debris, isolated
from the pristine flow
of a mountain stream.

I have been idle
for too long.

Blackening clouds
of a gathering storm
on jagged peaks
may liberate
a self-imposed
imprisonment.

A mantis sways
by the side
of a trail
as a cooling breeze
sends murmurs
through a bamboo forest.

Untouched books
gathering dust
have been reopened.

Meandering egrets
half-hidden amongst reeds
take to azure skies
as I approach,
alone by a shore
with the sound
of lapping water

and the knowledge
of a blueprint
which leads to
massacres.

Poured over pages
of a diary,
that spawned
diatribes of hate,
until tired eyes
could no longer see.

These things
I have studied
then turned away,
there is no solace,
but the barrel
has been refilled.

ON A DATE WITH REALITY

We all have phases in life. Times when we want and desire something. When the surging wish to achieve is so forceful that it surges a cyclone in the heart and soul, to persevere. The hurdles are all blown apart. And we achieve our objectives. There are times, when we want something, and by default everything falls in place. As if someone is holding you hand on the canvas and painting it all. And then there are times, which test the resolve. Moments when things don’t happen as you desire, when failure is the song of the day and goes on and on for days. The scholars have called it, “testing times”. Maybe they are testing our true grit and valor, but more than that, it’s the time to take a look, deep inside, into our existence, into our ways of living and to make corrections in the way we have come across.

I am an ardent reader, by the gift of my miasm; I am a searcher, someone who tries to find answers to all the poised questions of life. And I tend to discover everything myself, rather than relying or depending on others. A born Capricorn, it’s the heights that I desire. But there is a confession I need to make. Searching for personal heights is like mountain climbing. I love that. But there is a great problem in that. When you are under the mountain all you see is the peak that you want to get to. And you strive, sweat and shed blood and emotions to get there. Once there, does fulfillment comes through? No. Why? Because, when on the peak of the mountain, the area of vision broadens deeply and you tend to see, all around that was left unconquered, that was left untouched, that was left inexperienced. You feel as if having come too fast and too early. So the satisfaction is not the feeling on the dish of achievement. What else?

The second most evident problem is once on top, when you raise your head above, the clouds obscuring the vision give way. And the vision is at its best. So, you tend to see far off. And the first thing that catches the eye is the other peaks that are out there. And you sit at the peak and gaze around, confused to the thought, on which would be the next mountain to climb. Time passes and finally by all means of exploration and assumption, you make a choice. And there starts another journey to achieve another height, another feather on the victory hat, another laurel to gather. And this is one common trait of all, Napoleon Bonaparte, Adolf Hitler, and Joseph Stalin. Sometimes, I wonder, why I wasn’t born with the genes of Gandhi or Tagore. And being as I am what have I achieved?

And the answer hits my thought. Life is not about the peaks we have climbed to, it is not about the personal heights that we have made to, it is about the journey. It is about the time, when however sure footed we feel, we slip and somehow keep ourselves from falling. It is also about slipping a foot low and then recollecting and climbing again. It is about the experience when we meet people, who guide our ascent, who hold us when we are about to slip, who await to motivate us when we fall. Life is all about the moments that we live and experience throughout this journey. What makes a man? The miasm affects his emotions and thoughts, the DNA decides his true traits, the Zodiac gives him a personality order (disorder), but are these what defines a man? No, he is defined by his own free will, his own truth, his own heart and the choices he makes. And this is what over rides everything else. So, if someone said that a Leo can’t be a person who would compromise, he better checks his pulse again. For if he is alive then there is no question on what a man can’t do. A man is known by the limits he may extend himself to. And that is what writes him and history.

I know, this world is but a stage and we all are but actors. We must play our part and bid adieu. And I am not afraid of the end, but yes, all I desire is to perform, to perform such that when I am gone, the act be remembered by my name and memories be afresh in the eyes and minds of those who witnessed the act. So, let not a zodiac or a personality test guide or impress your judgment. Let not psychology detain or dictate you the norms of life. Let none decide that. For, the right on what to choose and what to follow is yours and the decision between the right and wrong is to be made and consequences born by you. So let that be your charter and let there you begin.

WAS ‘BRIDA’ A CRAP AFTERALL

It was 2008, when I got the chance to lay my hands on the book, “Brida” by Paulo Coelho. The book talks about the existence of seven soul mates for each individual.  It says that in our lives, we all have to make choices, choices that decide our destiny. And to choose one meant losing all others. But why does it happen time and again that we regret the choices that we made. That individual, who looks so perfect for a while, displays the most deceitful of the character to make us actually think, if it is ever possible to gauge someone. Oh, I would be ready to pay any price for that. All I wish is that if there is someone who can feel the beat of the heart, who can understand the touch of the breath, who I can entrust my life with, who I can belong to, my journey would come to meet a sweet beginning. Seven soulmates? Damn, I am quite convinced that this journey of finding one soulmate is next to a "Mission Impossible". So does that mean, that every man who keeps emotions on a reverence higher than materialistic outlook, who believes in spending the preciousness of love until eternity and who lives in a "dream" of living that sweet, romantic, respectful and adoring married life, needs to be a Tom Cruise to achieve this "Mission Impossible"?  Wish I could hire Ethan Hunt's IMF team to find the one soulmate for me..!!

“But how will I know who my Soulmate is?” Brida felt that this was one of the most important questions she had ever asked in her life. “By taking risks” she said to Brida. ‘By risking failure, disappointment, disillusion, but never ceasing in your search for Love. As long as you keep looking, you will triumph in the end.” Nothing is completely wrong. Even a broken watch is right twice a day.

Ah, that was easy said than done. We all have limits to our resilience, to our patience and to our perseverance. The willingness to be honest, sincere and forever loving seems to fall apart, when all that I see around, are girls with materialistic ends. They have a hidden agenda in their hearts and mind, long before they start warming up. The benefits, the accessibility, the perks, all are calculated way ahead. Man, that’s why most of the Human Resource individuals are females. They have the best knowledge of evaluating what should be the compensation of a given act. Hell, with the emotion, who cares for that? The biggest joke of the life as a sweet friend of mine, “Rubeena” once said, “Men are like parking lots, the best ones are always taken”, and I feel, “Women are like the blood diamonds, the genuine ones are rarely detected”. And so the story always ends up in a sincerely romantic guy ending up with utterly materialistic high handed unfaithful wife, and a sweet and innocent girl with all her emotions and dreams to offer, ends up with a “player” kind, nymphomaniac, whose only definition of a woman is a slut on bed, and a production enterprise, a machine to raise children. Wasn’t it, Mohammed bin Laden, who had 22 wives and 54 children? A living example of the demoralization of the opposite gender.

I am thankful to Allah, that atleast my parents are not pouncing upon me to get married. But yes, the friends always point that out. Damn, who wants this single life? Doesn’t the romantic heart yearn for someone, who I could hold and watch as it drizzles outside my window? Do I not wish to walk on the streets of London, holding the hand of a girl, who I love and who loves me equally? Do I not wish to travel the best of the places that I always think of, from Florence to Valencia, from Montelepre to Venice, from Singapore to Bora Bora, I want to live my dreams in all. But, now I have come too far in life. Enough have I seen, witnessed and been prosecuted with, that I won’t compromise, I will not compromise until I meet the one who stands true to each of my expectations. If not, I rather be alone. One can stay alone in utmost happiness, but to be married and yet be lonely is a demise of the existence. But, I still have hope, and I shall still await. Why should I adjudge one for the behavior of all, and all for the act of one.

"But love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice, or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand-new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it, because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find it, even if that means hours, days, weeks of disappointment and sadness. The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us. And to save us." 

A ROAD TO ABERDEEN

It was chilly cold outside and I could feel the winds forcibly kissing my face all over as I walked out of the airport. It was a Sunday morning. The first thought that registered to my mind was the peacefulness outside. I was pushing my trolley towards the taxi tunnel. There were 20 people before me. A complete mix of origin and culture, the people standing in the queue stated the flavor that Aberdeen presents to the world. It was such a rich diversity. The girl just before me made some space to drop her handbag. She was from China; I could register the alien looks that she gave to the guy ahead. The guy before her was a middle aged man with a confident look and a calmness that made it sure that he was a local. Then right at the gate of the shuttle stop was a couple, too engrossed into each other. I was delighted to see the public display of affection. Oh, thank god, the people can display their heart and mind out. Suddenly I heard the purr of the engine. The taxi has started to roll, one after another. After a calm wait of 10 minutes, I got the taxi. In contrast to the cold outside, I was given a warm welcome by the driver, who greeted me with a smile. And we started to roll off. The astounding beauty and the calm environment were all that a heart yearns for. And Aberdeen is a promise to it, to the last words. 

It took me 20 minutes to reach the Youth Hostel, Queens Road. I paid off the driver and entered the building. I had done the reservation last Sunday and a friend of mine, Muizz, was waiting inside. While the receptionist was filling the details, I was taking a quiet note of the surroundings. Muizz, in a red jacket was reflecting the zeal and fervor of the place, a few strangers inkling their way in and out, drawing a colorful mix was registered. I turned my gaze back to Muizz, he was checking the entries, and making sure everything was to perfection. “Damn perfectionist”, it is they who keep raising the bar of excellence and others have to pay the price of it. There was a logo on his sleeves that caught my attention, Manchester United, the famous football team. Ah, here I am, now I would always have someone to team up, while singing the famous slogan song of ManUnited. Later, having put my luggage in the room, we decided to walk down to Union Street, the most happening place in the city. As I crossed a few blocks, I noticed the church and the offices of Pricewater Coopers and Simmons & Co. They all reflected a similarity, the background of this Granite City, well-proportioned stature, the accurate and symbolic construction. Drifting through my thoughts, I registered the shops and stores around.  “This is Union Street”, said Muizz. “Aah, so this is the place”, I replied back. And ever since, this has been the place of my delight.

Aberdeen stands to be the Granite City, busy with the bustle, not too crowded, never too empty; it has been a place of self-discovery. And a walk on the road to Aberdeen could never have been this fulfilling. It always was and it always will be.