सपने

कल सुबह जब उठो तो सुनहरी धूप की गर्मी में कुछ पल नहाना

नमी में डूबे गीले पत्तों को सहलाना

नए दिन की शुरुआत का गीत गाते परिंदों को सुनना

बदल रहे मौसम के इशारे समझना

गर्म दिनों में सुबह की मंद शीतल पवन से अंतर्मन को पुलकित करना

पतझड़ हो तो गिर रहे पत्तों की बारिश में कुछ पल खो जाना

शिशिर ऋतु की ठंडी बर्फ से देह और मन को चकित करना

वसन्त में नन्हे पौधों से थोड़ी बातें करना।.....

जानती हूँ तुम्हारे सपनों की तालिका बहुत लंबी है

बहुत दूर तक जाना चाहते हो

सितारे छूना चाहते हो

पर उन सितारों को देखने वाला भी तो कोई होना चाहिए

वो ऊपर आसमान में टिमटिमाते चाँद और तारे यूँ ही तो नहीं बने

अस्पष्ट अँधेरी रातों में जाने कितनों को राह दिखाते हैं

अपने अस्तित्व को सार्थक बनाते हैं।

अकेले भागते रहे तो कभी थकोगे भी, कभी गिरोगे भी

कोशिश करना कि कोई हो जो तुम्हे थाम ले, उन पलों में संभाल ले

तुम्हे टूटने से पहले समेट ले, तुम्हे बिखरने से पहले बटोर ले

तुम्हे याद दिलाये फिर से मुस्कुराना

कुछ पल ठहरना

फिर से चहकना

फिर से खिलखिलाना

सपनों की वजह से पीछे छूट रही ज़िन्दगी को

फिर से थामना

फिसलते जा रहे ख़ुशी के लम्हों को

संजोना

याद रखना कि सपने कुछ पूरे होंगे

कुछ अधूरे रह जाएंगे

पर ज़िन्दगी के गुज़रते लम्हे फिर वापस नहीं आएँगे।

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Linking to Write Tribe's  #FridayReflections prompt

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” – J K Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Use this quote in your post or as an inspiration for one.

One Amazing Thing

"I screwed up my life big-time, a lot of ways. Did a lot of stupid stuff. But at least I saw one amazing thing."

------One Amazing Thing by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni


2013 was a blow. It was a year that filled our lives with much sorrow. It was a time of emotional ups and downs. Two deaths in the family and a birth. My father-in-law's sudden death was followed by an unexpected calamity - the departure of my only brother. I was expecting my second child, my daughter, whose arrival I could not in any way celebrate. I became cold in many ways. I started forgetting people's birthdays, something I had been very particular about since I always liked to wish them on their special days. I would hate when someone remembered mine, because all it reminded me was the last surprise celebration my brother had planned for me. I stopped praying. It seemed futile to sit with folded hands and eyes closed when there was no one out there to listen. I looked around and saw death, loss, grief, pain everywhere. I wasn't the only one to suffer. I would look at a solitary cloud floating in the sky and that would take my back to my brother. It was as if he was in it, flying freely while I stood on the ground searching for him, in vain. When on the road, I would be lost in the deep woods that bordered NJ freeways. They would beckon my spirit silently and I seemed to follow, hoping that he was there, calling me, waiting to talk to me.

But he was not there. He could not be.

I had to come back, empty-handed, always.

Life was utterly hopeless.

I had to find a way out. But I did not know how.

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Then one day, a close friend of mine called me. She was feeling very low. I tried to cheer her up on the phone, Later I wrote something for her. It was my first blog post - For You, My Dear Friend. It was from here that I named my Blog, When I Stopped to Smell a Rose. I did not know what would happen next. It wasn't as if all my agony had swept away. No, I still felt that void. I don't really thing it can be filled in any ways. But it did touch my core in an inexplicable way. My heart ached to write.

I had started on a journey almost unawares. I was clueless as to where it would lead me. But I was willing to be led. Some unheard voice guided me along. Some unseen hand nudged me gently and I started walking.

It was later that I realized a strange thing. I had posted my first poem, my first writing on my grandmother's birthday - October 15.  It was a strange feeling, an astonishing realization, a sign I willingly acknowledged as a blessing. It was an amazing thing to see that tiny speck of light amidst the bleakest, gloomiest part of my life.

I remembered all the birthdays I had celebrated with her, the cards I had made for everyone special to me, the happy moments that had given me so much precious memories to hold on to. Do you think I cried then? No, I cleansed myself of the heaviness of the sorrow that was crushing me.

I got up, and I decided to walk around, with others, to lighten them up, to cheer them up.
To smile.
To make them smile.

Through the foggy blindness of my pain, through the blurry denseness of others' misery, a hope sprung inside. And I decided to write.

I have continued. Somehow, despite occasional setbacks, I have continued. What started on October 15, 2014, has completed two years.

My blog has survived.
My hopes have survived.

The lone distant cloud still fills my heart with yearning and the deep woods still intrigue me.
But something stays put. Something holds me together. The healing continues.

All I need to do now is to extend a Big Thanks to all of you, my family, my friends, my fellow bloggers, who have tolerated me despite my irregularity.

I never thought I would be here. But who can, really, even if one plans. Do we ever have any absolute knowledge of even one moment of future. No, I don't think so.

But then, if we had the knowledge, would it be easy? The answer is again NO.

As I end the post, I want to share one more thing.
Last night, we dined outside. It would have been just like any other moment of eating outside but for one thing. Our table was next to a family who was celebrating an occasion. It was a very special one. The eldest member of their family, their mother-in-law, had turned 90! It was amazing to be part of this celebration although we were not part of the family. As we extended our wishes to the birthday girl, my heart was filled with amazement. I felt after a long time that birthdays are special!



Linking to Sanch Vee 's #FridayReflections  prompt

Did you think you’d be doing what you’re currently doing in life? Write a personal essay.

Simple Wishes.....

 

"What is that boy doing?" The little eager eyes were looking at a boy standing near a fountain in the middle of the park.

"He is throwing coins", her mother replied.

"Why?", she asked.

"It is a wishing well, dear. Some people feel that by throwing a coin in the fountain, your wish will come true."

"Can I have one, please?" The little girl started jumping restlessly. Her mother fumbled through her wallet and took out a penny. The girl grabbed the penny and rushed towards the fountain and threw the coin aimlessly. As the coin plopped into the water, she squealed with joy. She ran back to her mother. 

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"Did you see that, did you?" The look of pure delight in her eyes was priceless.

"Can I have one more coin, please?"

The reluctant mother took out another penny. Her daughter snatched the penny and grabbed her mother's hand. She pulled her close to the fountain. Then, again in a casual way, she tossed the penny into the fountain, waiting to hear the plop, as if that was all that mattered in the world.

Unmistakable laughter - pure and hearty - filled the air.

"One more, please.....one, only one.....please", she pleaded to her mother.

This time, her mother took out a handful of coins, and started giving them to her one by one. And she couldn't resist smiling at her simple pleasure. With every plop, there was a moment of a bellyful of laughter. After sometime, both the mother and her daughter were laughing their heads off.

"No more coins left, dear", Mother said. "Let's go."

"My wish came true Ma", the little girl confessed as they walked away from the fountain.

Mother stopped. "What wish?", she asked.

"I wanted to see you laugh, and the fountain fulfilled my wish. You were sad today. I didn't like that."

Mother was stunned. She was so little but she observed so much.

"You did not laugh at first Ma. But later, as I kept throwing the coins, you started feeling happy too. It is a wishing well Ma. We will come here often."

Mother hugged the little one tightly. She had never realized how much her daughter understood. As for the wishing well, perhaps, some wishes were meant to come true. Or perhaps, for wishes to be fulfilled, all you needed was a simple heart that never stopped trying.

Linking to #FridayReflections with Write Tribe and Sanch Vee

Chaos.....

For this post, I have written on Write Tribe's #FridayReflections prompt Chaos — how do you feel about it?  I have done a Free Write as suggested by Suzy Que in a previous post.

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Lot of prompts have been doing a round lately, and some of them have been really good. But for one reason or the other, I have not been able to write- have been either exhausted or busy. This time, the Write Tribe prompt on chaos set me to work...What is it that attracts me so much to the word? I don't know. When I think of chaos, I think also of creation. That's how it has been, right? Out of chaos has come our universe. The universe that we are trying to kill by our prejudices, by our recklessness, by our un-satiating desires. Oceans are dying thanks to the chaos caused by our senseless use of plastic. We try to keep everything clean only by shoving away all that is dirty here and there. But we pretend. We pretend to worry. We make and watch videos. We write and read articles. We like and share posts. We crib and complain over the chaos that is ruining us. But we don't accept that we ourselves are the cause of it all. Rational beings chaotically charged!

So are our thoughts. Where is the order inside our brains? Thoughts seem to burst rather than sprout. We act rashly. We give vent to our anger. We become intolerant because we think the entire world is against us, and hell-bent on hurting us. But we end up hurting only our peace and dignity. Waves of wild anger rise high and wreck our lives. What is left is only chaos. How will we stand again? We need to calm down. We need to stop hurling abuse on others. We need to become receptive. We need to open the gates of our hearts.

Gates - refugees are looking for open gates these days. Fleeing from the chaos caused by atrocity and injustice, they are fleeing to safer places. Many make it, many don't. There are kids who die. Alan Kurdi dies. Omran's picture is trending these days. I writhe in pain at the anguish in those little eyes. My heart bleeds at the sight of Alan's listless body. We are all responsible for their fate. How will we ever be forgiven? Who will grant us forgiveness? How will kids like Omran ever recover from the trauma that has devastated their houses, desecrated the innocence of their childhood, ripped apart their families? Who will bring peace to them? 

Little ones are supposed to smile. They are meant to be bundles of happiness. They are dying - the tiny seeds which were meant to bloom in a well-tended garden - a garden which has been uprooted. I wish some gentle breeze carries them to a meadow of love where springs of love flow. I wish they can smile again.

Smile - it is so essential. It is the thing that can counter chaos. A true, well-meaning smile. Not a sly one. Not a fake one. A smile that is as pure as the laughter of a child who is popping bubbles. A smile that is as chaste as the smile of a baby cooing in response to her mother's songs. 

Why have we forgotten that smile?

Why have we become so tumultuous and explosive?

Why are we ready to burst? 

Why do we love to bring chaos in other's lives when we hate to have it in our own?

My mind is in disarray.

Chaos takes over. 

I can write no more.

Linking to Write Tribe's #FridayReflections