Author Archives: unbridledexpressions

Shiv-Shakti

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September-2

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The sky is getting clearer, clouds beginning to disperse with winds of change.

The wind is getting cooler, Sun beginning to shine more often over mountain range.

Days, evenings not somber anymore, grays converting into vibrant landscapes.

Wetness drying up, no more downpours, colours popping up like lady’s drapes.

Relief from heat, break from the rains. Seems like the Earth is ready to exhale.

September

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Bunches of red, contrasting with greens of leaves.

Little flower umbrellas, sheltering insects from grieves.

Cool September breeze, giving respite from the heat.

Making flowers blossom, getting ready for Autumn greet.

Veteran leaves turning yellow, saying goodbyes ready to let go.

Magic of Autumn hiding within each fold, forests waiting to transform in motion slow.

Monsoon 7

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Brilliant white surfaces when washed with rain water.

With just a hint of yellow to break the monotony.

Facing ,turning towards the Sun.

Soaking up the warmth after a wet humid spree.

Dragon fly resting peacefully, unaware of the beauty around it.

Green leaves, waiting for their turn to take center stage.

History

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History peeping coyly through windows of far forgotten forts, palaces and temples.

Doubtful of how it is remembered, how it is twisted, how it is incorporated to attract, serve tourism.

Standing its ground for centuries, committed to the river that once embraced and washed its feet now swallowing sins of people. Being worshipped so that it would keep cleansing their souls while they pollute her.

Remembering the tenderness with which the sculptors chiselled each design, caressing, worshipping each goddess they carved.

Rustle of the silk of Queens, following their feet. Soft tender, adorned with heavy tinkling anklets.

The sound of the brass bell just before she entered the temple. Remembering the fragrant, colourful flowers she offered  with her eyes closed and soul awake, pure, in reverence.

The blinding reflection of swords shining mercilessly in the first light of the Sun, metal and water of river turning into gold alike.

How it was, how it is remembered now, how was it written by whom? How it was kept true and intact, how it was changed! History like an old lady remembers helplessly, peeping through the windows of palaces, forts and temples.