Voluminous.

Let me spare you the details.
It is either real or it’s all fake.
You can touch it or keep away.
Run or hide and stay aside.
But you will find it in your sight.
What when everything will be at stake?
Will then you not dare to go its way?
It is not until we hit the wall.
Do we realise the reality of it all.
Perhaps all is a dream, it could be a play.
Only for those who know the game.
Wide awake or sleeping deep.
Anyway we end up living it.
I don’t need a voluminous prose.
Might I say it is like the scent of a rose.
And once you get the hang of it.
The spark stays forever lit.

When you are young and tender.

Colours in their full glory.
Sounds in their own tones.
Smells that were beautiful
Would become a taste too.
The feelings were oh so precious.
My emotions, when they were full.
I could dance with joy.
Even if they called me a fool.
There was more inside of me.
A little more than I knew.
And they kept telling me,
How to be and what to do.

Do you think I cared?
Do you think I listened?
Do you think I agreed?
Why would I?
I was young and tender.
My heart was pure and open.
And so were my feelings too.
But I saw a world that,
Blossomed with a different root.
Everyone – bigger and stronger.
But worn out to the core.

I had questions. No answers.
They said a lot though…
“See? This is the reality.
You will have to grow up.
Follow me or follow them.
Make it all yours, make that jump.
Once its yours, you’re happy”
Was their a choice?
I danced on the new tune.
There was no other way.
And now I am still waiting…
To see them happy some day.

Uniform(s) – story time.

This word just speaks to the child in me, more so to my memories of when I was a school-going kid. Not more than seven years ago I was in high-school and all through my schooling, as a norm, I wore a uniform (that rhymed). Not to mention how easier it was to just get up and get ready because all I had to do was follow a routine, wear the same old but hassle-free uniform and I was done.

To make it fancy there was a special sports uniform representing the colour of the house you belonged to. Sort of like the houses in Hogworts, we had four in our school it was almost like Gryffindor and slytherin situation, but our houses were based on colour of roses. I was in the red rose house. So, I had like a red t-shirt, white shorts or pants and shoes. Others were blue rose, yellow rose and black rose. Cool, right? We did have inter house competitions; sports and academics, but nothing as cool or magical as flying-broom-Quidditch-match.

I still can not imagine how School kids manage to choose what to wear in the western world. I think it could easily begin with “what you wear” and go to “how you wear”, finally coming down to “who you are wearing?” at a young age. For us, considering the wide disparity among the school children and their backgrounds, uniform(s) made it all pretty uniform. Otherwise, with all the variety of people coming from various cultures representing their own religious beliefs and traditions schools would have looked like a festival ground. Colours everywhere! Real vibrant and bright ones. Hmmm distraction!

College and professional settings are different, you choose to dress as everyone else, there is a dress code if not a uniform. As a grown up you either learn to fit in or to stand out in your own way but it is neither as influential nor it is within the four walls like in a school-setting. For me having changed four schools and five uniform(s), it was fun. I was part of more than four houses namely; tulip house in the kinder garten, surya (sun) house in the middle school, later Gandhi house in the middle school and finally a red rose. Ah! stories and memories.

 

A piece of me.

A choice made here,
A repercussion there.
The intent differs.
A knife is a knife.
A hand could hold one…
To cut, to heal, or to survive.
And we can only question…
The actions.
But motives, the desires.
What if they are right?

Love heals all they say.
Love is what we need.
Love will fix the wrong.
But who decides…
What is wrong indeed.
In love do you submit
Or share?
In love do you force
Or accept?
In love, perhaps we just give up.

It is not love we need.
But something indeed.
What are we missing?
Humanity? Whatever that is!?
It is a part of me!?
A piece of  you…
Where ever you could leave it.
You won’t harm. You won’t fight.
All you do is share the light.
And see a portion of your heart in them”.