Category Archives: photo

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.

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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.

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.

I Am

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I am my life, my happiness, my joy.

My death, my pain, my despair.

 

I am my actions and their consequences.

I am who I chose to be, who I strive to be.

 

I am my own gift, my celebrations.

My fairy, my demon, my boon, my curse.

 

I am my best friend, my worst enemy.

I am my grandest and most disappointing love.

 

I am my dreams come true, my horrifying nightmares.

My conscious, my subconscious, my morals and ethics.

 

I am my best teacher and guide.

I am my explorations, my experimentations.

 

I am the God within me, the spirituality, the salvation.

I am who I am because of the creator who created me…

…with all that I need to be, just the way I need to be.

Trust

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Trust is the essence of a strong mutual bond. Everyone has their own perception of trust. It is difficult to understand and estimate it. The sanctity of a relationship can be easily compromised if there is slightest of breach in trust.

It is not a constant, it is a random variable. The value keeps changing with each action. The action could be the slightest of change in the whole equation.

Trust is also not a bank account where one keeps getting interest on it once it is earned and deposited. The Principal has to be maintained otherwise it keeps fluctuating.

It is like hard earned income, very hard to earn but easily spent or lost if one is not handling it judiciously. One needs to earn it, save it, invest in it, cherish it and finally enjoy it.

Morning Stroll 3

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The sky burst open like a volcano, spewing  lava in all directions, spreading, flowing like river of death. Consuming everything in its wake and its path.

It burst open like a heart, broken  into a million pieces, bleeding pain. Consuming the one whose was broken.

It’s just a way of looking at things,

for the sky exploded with warm gentle sunlight, spreading, flowing like river of life. Reviving everything in its wake and its path.

It exploded like a heart, into a million pieces, with joy that could’nt be contained inside anymore. Revitalizing, disburdning, whose burst.

It’s just a way of looking at things,

For even if it were lava, time turns the fields of destruction into most fertile lands.

For even if the heart were broken, time gives ample opportunities to heal and repair, turning it into flourishing abode.

It’s just a way of looking at things.

Morning Stroll 2

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Amber

A huge amber in the making, fossilized resin with tree inside.

Tree resembling a twig, a leaf, branches resembling veins dried.

Precious gemstone waiting to be formed, valued priceless.

Adorning heirlooms of memories, to be passed on to generations.

But only the resin being the golden orange sunlight, but only the amber our world.

The heirloom a morning cherished and saved, in the locker of our hearts impearled.