Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Blood of Patriotism

It was Fathers Day at School. Everything was set. Sophie was ready with her pony tail up, that favorite bow frock and her red cut shoes. She couldn’t wait to go. But, Mamma wanted her to stay back at home. She didn’t want to send her little girl alone.  But with her favorite frock, yet to be shown to her friends, Sophie couldn’t stay back. She began to weep. Mamma couldn’t see her tears. And, she decided to take her little girl to the school. She didn’t want her girl to face, this day alone. She didn’t know what to tell to her classmates.  But Sophie was not a bit worried. She knew what to say and how to say. But her Mamma had all the fears, if her little daughter would get hurt. She tried once again to keep her daughter at home, but Sophie was not ready to listen. She couldn’t wait anymore to show her bow frock and the pair of beautiful red cut shoes before her classmates.But, was it only for that? No..She wanted to speak. Yes, she was too eager to speak about her daddy, whom she could never see or talk.
They left to the school. The school auditorium was filled with daddies all around. The children were too restless in their seats. Everybody wanted to introduce their daddy to their friends. All were too impatient. Teacher called one by one to introduce their daddy. The seconds passed very slowly. And at last, Teacher called Sophie’s name. The children turned back and stared. They all were searching for her Daddy, who was not present. Where is her daddy? , a boy shouted from the back. She doesn’t have one, another one replied with a giggle. Sophie heard this.  And was she offended? No. Not at, all. She stayed cool and calm. She smiled up at her mom and looked back at her teacher, who asked her to go on. She slowly began to speak. And then, came out from the mouth of six year old little girl, those incredible words.  
It is such a special day but my daddy couldn’t be here. But I wanted you to know, all about my daddy. My daddy loves me so much. He told me stories. He taught me to fly a kite. He took me for movies. He shared me ice creams. He bought me toys. Though you cannot see him, he is with me here, by my side.
The children and their daddies present in the hall were wondering. They didn’t understand anything. To end up their wonder, Sophie continued...
You know, he was a Major in the Indian Army. He loved and respected our Nation. He wanted to serve India and her citizens. He always told us that it is better to die for our Nation rather than be killed in an accident. When he came for his last vacation, I heard him telling mamma to take care of me well, even if anything happens to him. And that day, Mamma cried a lot.
  He was ready to sacrifice his life for our motherland. Whenever, I told him JAIHIND, he told me that it is not just a phrase or slogan to be uttered and that, it is a feeling to be felt within. He often told us that he feel proud to be an Army Officer. When others called it Army, he called it as Life. Last year, he was killed while fighting against Terrorist Attack. He left us to save the Nation.  He sacrificed his life for our Motherland.
 Even though he is apart, he lives in my heart forever. Whenever I close my eyes, I can see him. I am proud to be his daughter. I don’t want to hide away from you or cry for his soul because he always told me that I am his brave daughter and here I am.. I love my daddy so much.
When she finished with her voice soft, she clearly conveyed the message that she wanted to convey.  And then for those few seconds, she closed her eyes…Yes! she closed her eyes tight and saw her daddy there along with the other daddies, who were present in the hall. And to the surprise, she witnessed the room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes, as she did. Nobody said what they saw before them. Nobody said what they felt inside. It was perfect silence. Perhaps for those seconds, even they might have seen her brave daddy at her side.
Hearing the daughters words, which was wise beyond her years, somewhere from the crowd of daddies, her mamma stood up in tears. She stood up for the love of her husband, who was not in her life. She felt proud of her husband who gave her a proud daughter. She smiled to herself and spoke to that man, who lived inside her heart. Yes, she uttered those words in silence.
 She is your daughter Rish... Your blood is running in her. ..Your blood of patriotism…

P.S:  This is an unforgettable Independence Day.  For the first time in my life, fever caught me on an August 15th. Better late than never and so do, I am here with a special post.  The inspiration to write such a story is a poem, which I had read recently. I just manipulated it to my story. Here is the poem.
Patriotism is not, watching a cricket match or those six medals of London Olympics or updating a Facebook status or writing a story, as I did...It is a feeling…a sensation which has to be felt inside. A feeling of affection that you feel when you see your mother after a long time, the care that you render to her when she feels sick and the bond that keeps you attached to her, however far away you go. Our Nation is our mother.  Let us stand together for her, despite all those happy and sad days. Let us love her with all her faults.      My  late wishes to all on this day of Indian Independence....

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

I confess, I am that girl...

I confess, I am that girl who climbed upon the topmost branch of tree to see the world and fallen down to the pit
I confess, I am that  girl, who walked through those parallel roads and ended up, reaching that dead end of the earth
I confess, I am that girl, who woke up early on a winter morning  to catch the sun and came back with some wispy clouds
I confess, I am the girl who made the paper wet with the blood of veins that poured out from the other end of the pen
I confess, I am that girl who cheated you and walked into a cave to hibernate my remorse
I confess, I am that girl who was carried away by the waves, barely breathing and barely alive
I confess, I am that girl who forgot the promises of spring and walked towards the beauty of fall
I confess, I am that girl who watched you standing  under a willow tree and turned deafened to the church bells
I confess, I am that girl, who admired the beauty of  those flowers and plucked it to  death
I confess, I am that girl, who stood on the balcony of my fathers house and gazed at the silent grave
I confess, I am that girl, who was born as a dreamer and turned out as a nightmare
I confess, I am that girl, who wanted to live with no regrets and regretted at the life
I confess, I am that girl, who got dark circles and wrinkles on the edges of eyes with endless nights
I confess, I am that girl, who enjoyed the chirping of those birds and caged them to silence
I confess, I am that girl, who got intoxicated with and drunk on sleep, never wanting to wake up again
I confess, I am that girl, who hardened the blood of creativity and caused  the swollen lymph nodes
I confess, I am that girl, who was the culprit of the crime and turned out as the victim of the fall
I confess, I am that girl, who killed the butterfly upon my own wheels and  lamented over its loss
I confess, I am that girl, who set out to uncover the shadow and discovered the darkness of light
I confess, I am that girl, who buried down the Words lifeless  and basked in the glory of faithlessness
I confess, I am that girl, who transgressed  ungracious and haunted by the forgiveness
I confess, I am that girl, who had fallen down on all that I had ever known
I confess, I am that girl, who confessed because it is the first medicine of cure
I confess,  because I am that girl, who possess a soul and who owes a heart..
I confess; I may stab, I may hurt, I may divert, I may take wrong tracks but, by the end of the day, however far I go, I will always row back to my home ...
to blog,
to write, 
to confess, 
to catastrophe and
 let it go off as words
out of my cage..

P.S : Does it sound weird? quirky? It has to and it is...

 The post has been selected for Tangy Tuesday Picks  by BlogAddas ...

Friday, August 10, 2012

Because they say, I am a Woman...

 Words can make you smile or it can make you cry. It can be true or  it can be false. It can soothe you soft or it can cause you bleed. It can hurt or it can play. And when it serves both the purpose, we call it Paradox. It can echo back to you. And so, I like Paradoxes just like that.

 Here is a paradoxical poem written by the woman in me. The source of inspiration being set from Paulo Coelho's   book, Eleven Minutes, here is my cup of tea for you..  Enjoy the play of words without forgetting to look behind the thoughts it leaves, after the reading. It is simple as ever but its essence is in its depth. So sip it to its last drop...

I am the pleasure...I am the pain
I am the logic contained an illogical
I am the enemy of my own friend
I am the rejoice of my own loss
I am the mother. I am the daughter
I am the smile filled with tears
I am the traveler inside those four walls
I am the ego of the self-less
I am the safety zone of  danger
I am the secret gossiped by Public

I am the loneliness of a noisiest street
I am the kick inside a forbidden fruit
I am the reality read in a fiction
I am the tear drop filled with smiles
I am the words uttered in silence
I am the weakness of the strong
I am the body without a soul
I am the virgin. I am the whore
        I am the insanity exhibited by the sane
 I am the heartlessness of the heart

I am the sin of a Saint
I am the peace born out of pain
I am the addiction of the De-addicted
I am the gravity. I am the threshold
 I am the intimacy of a stranger
I am the quarrel of the lovers
I am the resolution, unbroken
I am the mystery of meanings
I am the insecurity behind the locks
I am the rule broken by freedom

I am the beauty that is so ugly
 I am the wife who is unmarried
I am the angel. I am the devil
I touch, but I cannot not feel
I sleep, but I cannot close my eye
I watch, but I cannot see 
I feel, but I cannot cry
I speak, but I cannot mean
I walk, but I cannot move 
  I breathe, but I cannot live

I am a possibility but I have to be a paradox
I am an independent but I have to depend
I am permitted but I have to be a forbidden
I am near, but I have to be far
I am touched but I have to be an untouchable
I am the lover in love, but not loved
I am the wife, after divorce
I am the mother of my son, but desolated
I have everything, but I have nothing

I love, but I don’t love
 I want, but I don’t need
         I have to be what I have not,
Because they say,
 I am a woman
the woman in love, 
who never loved at all…
Yes, I am a Woman 

Saturday, August 4, 2012

They complete You

Sometimes, life overwhelms. You cant see the sky. You cant hear the sound of rain. You cant enjoy the tune of a beautiful melody. You cant listen to the dialogues of a favorite movie. You are getting into an abyss .Your heart is broken. Your mind is filled with dread, doubt and darkness…You have only tears that keeps you to know that you are alive.  You imagine that your life is gone, tragedy  is going to dig  your grave and  even that  last door of hope is closed,
then...they will come into your life...they  bring you out of those four walls..they walk with you on those corridors...they  drink with you those, infinite cups of tea..they  eat with you, from the roadside petty stalls... they  join you for those long distant walks...they  occupy you with long hours of night conversations (without letting you think of your ex)...they come with you patiently till the last shop of the street (when,they don’t even have to buy a safety pin)...they don’t feel jealous, when  others compliment you.. they  message you , immediately at the moment , you think of them...they join you in all that weird things you do (despite, it is right or wrong)...they  accompany you to night parties (even when they know that hostel warden is going to blast).. they  dare to spend a full day at canteen  with you , even when they know that you are bankrupt...they  come along with you to theaters , even it is the day before their toughest exam...they acknowledge your spontaneity...they  join you for any secret trips even if it is to another  Country...they stand  for you always, even if it risks their life...they get you through an awful lot, they never compete you …but always complete you.. they know your pulse

And then, the last door of HOPE and knocking become unimportant for you, because you know, They are there…They are the people with whom -  you amazingly form invisible connections,  share even your deepest and darkest sides and talk without any second thoughts. When medicines don’t work, a little company of them does, when your lover cant keep up your smile, a joke of them does, when the dinner cant keep you happy, one new comment from them on Facebook does …and we call them, F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
 In the long course of run, some strings would be broken, some threads would be entangled, some may not feel like being attached, some would be near, some would be far,some would be away.. you may not talk to them everyday, you may be too busy to reply to their text messages, you may not even think of them on your busy days.. but deep within, to the last chord of your heart, you know - they are just a text, far  and they will be there for you always...

All that, you can do is to nurture those precious ones with love and care. They define what you are made up of, your persona and ensure your Journey of Life, memorable. They keep you being at your best self. Yes, they keep up your sanity...It is not the money or power, but what really matters  is the reliable friends, whom you can depend on…They are truly the prized possessions you obtained at the end of your ride.They are precious..Keep them safe

              To all the dear ones, who had been into my life as Friends, 
Best Friends, Just Friends, Emotionally attached ones, Real friends, Virtual friends, Teachers, Neighbors, Cousins, Brothers, Sisters, Seniors, Juniors,  Good Friends, Bad Friends , Enemies and even those Strangers who passed my life, 
for some seconds…..

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