Nir-moh... Nir-vair...

Photo by - Endevourme

Last week, for the first time i went to Tirupati. We were five of us.
Some way, we forgot the tickets. So no darshan.
Running around for 5 hours, we were frustrated.
One of us said "GOD is busy da, we will try next time...".
A thought came to my mind,
"Well...I am not meeting HIM, OK for me.
But HE too is incomplete without me, so HE too is losing..."

Same week in my native...Palkhi is a big festival there.
Palkhi travels through my native. Around 4 lakh people come walking, along with palkhi, to meet Krishna.
Sometime in the afternoon I stepped out of our society and
...I was startled to see palkhi right in front of me!
Quietly, I stepped ahead, removed my chappals, and touched HIS feet.

I never believed in GOD in material form.
But I went to see HIM in that form,
I couldnt meet HIM,
I complained,
so HE came to meet me at my door...
I felt happy that HE understands me,
at the same time felt sad that i was so narrow minded.
Who i am? i come... i go..., hardly matters.
But at once I felt, 'HE knows...'.

I will call this whole thing a coincidence,
but the exact timing, and the way things worked out,
....well...i dont know...

On a rainy day...

Photo by - Endevourme

"Sir... remember me...?...", he came.
Damp, wet, muddy clothes, water in his hair.
He sat there for a moment, looked up at me , smiled, and said,
"Ganga-maiyya was a guest to us...
She stayed at our house.
She was bubbling like a married girl back to her parents house.
She danced within four walls like a child,
And how she will go empty handed ? - but my wife is still alive.
Walls have come down, nothing is left
everything we had she has taken away,
While going, as a memory, she has left tears in our eyes.
Now i am trying to go on, along with my wife ,
buiding walls again, taking out mud and clay....."

He saw my hand going towards my pocket,
he got up,... smiling.
"i dont want money Sir,
just felt some loneliness...
my home collapsed, not my pride,
just put your hand on my shoulder and say - just fight."

Looking Forward...

Photo by - Endevourme

After a long time, I will be going on a long break,
travelling back to my native.
want to take now much needed rest,
and to get rid of this worn out feeling inside me.
Travelling gives a time to think and to reflect.
Lot of things need to be sorted out.
Somehow ... i am tired.

This weariness reminds me a song from Moulin Rouge,
where Nicole Kidman looks at us, honestly,
her eyes full with tears.
a question on her face "why me?", .....

"I follow the night
Can't stand the light
When will I beginTo live again?

One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday

What more could your Love do for me?
When will Love be through with me?
Why live life from dream to dream?
And dread the day when dreaming ends...

I was a fool to believe . . .
A fool to believe. . .
It all ends today. . .
Yes, it all ends today
Today's the day when dreaming ends... "

Looking Back...

Photo by - Endevourme


These are scribblings from my old diary written long back.For me its like digging my own grave and bringing out myself.Warning:- The post is excessively negative!

My version of "The Matchstick Girl"-
Once upon a time there lived a matchstick girl. she was small, tender, fragile, innocent. she used to sell matchboxes to people and earn her living.
it was christmas. people were celebrating everywhere and there were lights everywhere. people were eating, enjoying cakes, drinks and icecreams with their families. everybuddy was happy.
outside, it was dark, icy and the matchstick girl had no blanket. she was shivering with cold. the day was bad and none of her boxes were sold. she had to earn to get even food for her.
she had no parents and her nanny was dead long back. the matchstick girl had no home.
after walking a lot, she saw an empty house and she entered it. the house was old and had dead remains.
she went inside and sat over the frozen ground.she started feeling too cold.
she took out a matchbox,opened it, took out a stick and scrubbed...
suddenly the four walls got lighted. the single stick gave her some warmth.
she reminded her old nanny. She used to give her cake.the cake...she saw a christmas cake on the wall.
big sweet beautiful, studded with candles, mermaiden with cherries, strawberries.
Suddenly the stick got finished..all was gone...there was utter darkness and cold,as icy as her feet.
the matchstick girl took out one more stick and lighted it. she got some more warmth.
she saw her granny. she was wearing beautiful clothes. her mom and dad... all wearing sunny clothes.
ah! now there was santa. he had lots of toys, fruits and lots of food.
again the stick went off and it was dark everywhere. she lighted another one...
...during the night it went very cold.
next morning while people were passing by the house,they saw a small girl,lying down, dead...
her face white with cold. still innocent. there were burnt sticks everywhere. still her face was cheerful, happy. her face still shining....last night, when she lit her last matchstick, suddenly a fairy appeared.
she had white gown, a magical star in her hand. she was like a princess, a goddess, just like the ones her granny used to tell in her stories. the angel came towards her, took her hand and took the girl with her.
the stick went off ...but now nothing was gone. there was light everywhere, shiny, smooth, silky, beautiful.
the angel took her and went away. now there was no cold , no darkness. her world was full of smiles, wonders,the material thingsshe always only dreamt of. it was warm, there was no pain.
the angel was holding her in her arms. she was everything, her mother, father granny,friend all things all relations she always wanted but never had. she always saw other kids enjoying and moving away with their parents, strong daddies, loving, caring mommies, nannies telling them stories, brothers and sisters to play with, friends to play with.now she had it all. certainly god never gives you more than you can bear.
he will relieve you as soon as he feels you cannot bear it.

Creativity:..

Photo by - Endevourme

Being creative is being like a child.
Its how a child plays games.
It will not plan anything and there is no sophistication.
Its rather a crude thing to do, raw and unordered.
But its a fulfilling thing to do.
It fills the emptiness inside.

In creation mind is focused,
on the present moment in hand rather than the outcome.
It doesnt bother about the result,
but wants to enjoy the flow, the fluidity,
spontaneous and easiest flow of thoughts.

It flexes things, bends, assembles and breaks.
It listens to itself, listens to surrounding and
just does things which seem more appropriate to itself.

Being creative is being alone and fully connected,
immersed at the same time.
Its movement comes sometimes with originality,
otherwise as imitation from nature,
many times
guided by intution and inspired by beauty.