Trip Mapped Out

“Travel is a fools paradise” , and what a beautiful paradise it is indeed ! To set out of home in search of paradise time and again is like an utopian chase in many ways . A world within our world and yet so different from our self created boundaries of routine, work, and comfort. To travel is to subject oneself to constant change. Every minute something new can happen and our body and mind has to be in tune to adapt to that change easily. And then the rewards flow in. All our senses get consumed soaking in the unknown myriad of experiences. The unknown slowly turns to familiar, it teaches us, enriches us and never fails to fill up the album of life with more beautiful pages.

In preparation to our travel, four suitcases ( two big and two small ) were brought down from the loft of our house a week before travel began. Chalk and Cheese popped out of the suitcases and grinned widely at me. What else did I expect, whenever and wherever I travel with the husband, Chalk and Cheese has to follow. I started the game and now I have to play along. With age our distinguishing personalities of being Chalk ( the husband) and Cheese ( the wife ) is mellowing down a bit. We are at last ( albeit , very late in life ) learning to give in to each other’s ways and choices, nonetheless Chalk and Cheese travel stories continues. We travel with Chalk and Cheese in toe, for they do not need a visa or passport to travel, they simply come and go in my imagination as they please.

Taking a summer vacation to sway in the breeze with the Tulips of Amsterdam, to drive through the meadows of Scotland and finally to set sail on the Thames and see the iconic Tower Bridge of London; this was my simple plan! There is always so much to see, but one has to choose from this bounty of travel box and see what suits the time, mood and most importantly, expenses of the individual. Chalk never says no to a good idea, and ( bless his enthusiasm) he promptly started making the flow chart of the journey on his black board !

Strangely enough as the day of our journey came closer, I started feeling a sense of anxiety and tension. A reluctance or fear to leave the comforts of home and venture outdoors. Though the worries were baseless and quite ridiculous but in my mind they were real. I shared my insecurities with my children, telling them about my endless ‘What ifs’. “What if we missed the connecting flights” ; “What if all my plants die in my absence?”; “What if I don’t have enough stamina to cope with the demands of travel?” ; “What if I do not understand the British accent ?” these endless questions went on and on in my mind. To my utter dismay my daughter instead of showing any empathy to my anxiousness, told me in a cold voice, ” Ma don’t behave like you are about to board a space ship and travel to outer space to meet aliens. You will be very much on this planet itself, please gather yourself.” The son had a more gentle approach to my worries. He was like ” Ma if you have your passport and money in place , all else will be automatically taken care of. Relax and start enjoying. ” Quite a practical advice by the young man. I promptly packed all the euros and pounds I could lay my hands on in my wallet. I double checked the passport and tickets, and told myself : ” Go Cheese, go, all is well”. Chalk of course was absolutely oblivious of my Cheesy state, his full focus was on the plan sheet, hotel vouchers, bus vouchers, etc etc.

We travel to run away from the routine and yet it is the same routine and monotony of everydays’ predictable life which binds us to a comforting cushion around us. And then to step out of this cushioned walls sometime feels quite an insurmountable task. No wonder, I call myself Cheese, I am always spreading myself in the warm arms of comfort ! Thankfully I have an absolutely dependable Chalk as a partner. He is a trained soldier to the core. Chalk knows not much about the softer feelings and cushions of life. Even if he feels anxious, ever, he doesn’t show it outwardly. I try to throw all my questions and anxieties into a box and shut it with a TSA approved lock ( in case I feel like worrying in a foreign land, later. ) and forget the combination number for a few days.

I am a meticulous packer. I carry all small and big items which I feel I may need during my travel period. I have this uncanny feeling that if I forget something I will surely end up needing it desperately. I know that it is easier buying stuff than carrying them around. But I am a very choosy cheesy person, I pack the way I like. I carry safety- pins to band-aid. I carry medicines that can suffice to run a mini pharmacy ! I never forget chargers, different socket points, umbrellas, plastic bags, pen, paper, books, kindle, iPad, sanitary pad, wet tissue, dry tissue….whew. In short, I travel with a mini home which I manage to fit in my share of one and a half suitcase.

Chalk on the other hand is a last minute packer. My tension multiplies as his shopping bags from Decathlon keep piling up one on top of the other. He remains calm, he can pack in an hour or less time. Whereas I need an hour just to pack my toiletries.

Chalk and Cheese are different in every possible way, and so are we, the husband and wife. Chalk with full good intentions goes ahead and pre books our seats on the flights to and fro from home. I am in total shock ! He has not booked even one window seat in any of the flights. Who spends money to sit in the middle and aisle seats, I wonder. Chalk has a simple argument, there is nothing to see from thirty five thousand feet above the ground , the sky looks more or less the same. Spoken like a true pilot, yes Chalk is also a pilot, besides being a firm chalky soldier. But Cheese is an artist at heart, mind, and soul. I stare at him in disbelief. He doesn’t know that the sky changes colour, from deep magenta pink to scarlet orange , from crispy blue to darkening gray. He doesn’t know the land below looks amazing during take off and landing. That the fluffy clouds floating besides the airplane always invite me to float with them into the far horizon, all this is unknown to Chalk. Chalk has robbed me from the only joy of air travel, gazing out of that tiny oval window. Now all I have to gaze at is at a screen in front of me , seeing one movie after the other. With a long sigh Cheese becomes cold and a little sad ; Chalk may call it ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ but Cheese knows better. She will certainly create her own paradise no matter wherever you make her sit.

Our day of departure finally arrives. We set out for the airport in the middle of the night, Chalk and Cheese and their four suitcases. After long hours of waiting at the airport, when our flight took off , my City Of Joy was dimming the night lights, preparing for another dawn. And we flew westward in search of new places, to make more beautiful memories.

To be continued…

Solitude

Solitude, you are the lone bird above, soaring high,
You are  the caged bird, desiring to reach the sky,
You are the first drop of rain, on a parched piece of land,
You are imprisoned, in an hour glass, like a grain of sand.

Solitude, you are in my mother’s eyes, waiting tirelessly for me,
You are in someone’s broken heart, weeping alone, by the sea,
You are in a little boy’s smile, when he sees the shooting star,
You are in the old man’s stride, walking homeward , very far.

Solitude, you are in the midnight silence,of a busy city street,
You are in those countless waves, thrashing at the rock’s feet,
You are in that crimson light of dawn, waking up from sleep,
You are hiding like a tiny tear drop, lost in the ocean’s deep.

Solitude, you are with a lone soldier, on guard, near the fence,
You are in a sailor’s heart, searching the shore with his lens,
You are on a poet’s mind, amongst the hills and meadows,
You are a silent prayer by the night, with a grieving widow .

Solitude, you are in the echoing chants of Gurbani, by the day,
You are in the evening azan, welcoming the evening to stay,
You are in the shlokas , flowing like music in a melodious voice,
You are sitting within the Chappell, tuning to my inward noise.

Solitude, you are in my absolute silence, you are in my chaos,
You are in my joyful reverie, you are laced with pathos,
You are in my drama, you are in my shameless fall and peak,
Solitude, you are my treasured companion, it is you I forever
seek.

On the verge

The cacophony of relentless hammering thoughts,
Kept echoing in her delirious, confused mind.
A deluge of words, but all twisted in tight knots,
Struggling to hold on, yet breaking in a slow grind.

She wanted to frame those words in beautiful lines,
But they kept escaping her, it felt just like treason.
She wanted to evoke her faithful words sublime,
But her words were gone without any reason.

She sensed she was forgetting to remember ,
Her days were no more clearer than her nights.
With each day she felt like a dying ember,
Fleeting memories vanishing in a bright light.

The people had flocked from far and wide,
They were eager to hear her speak.
They had waited long by her ailing side,
But she could feel, her chances were bleak.

Her eyes once twinkled with abundance of life,
Those empty eyes now searched their face.
Trying to remember her own story of strife,
To reach out once more for some lost trace.

In this vast emptiness one thought kept knocking,
Remembering a voice, a promise, amidst this dilution.
Perhaps he was a lie, her memories merely mocking,
Like her tales, he was but a figment of her imagination.

She kept staring blankly, his face drifting near and far,
From this pain of oblivion, no one could give her relief.
Now so lost, but once she was a poetess, a rising star,
And in her eyes now reflected deep empty pools of grief.

Waiting people ; their impatience, their restlessness ,
She could feel it spreading through her room.
Their failed disguise, their hidden distress,
Hushed whispers of the impending gloom.

Through all the pain of incoherent loss, she waited ,
She waited for him to reach her door, one day.
Through all her struggle of remembering forever muted,
She would not know, it was her words that had pushed him away.

Crystal Gaze

Crystal Ball on Waves. (Philadelphia Museum of Art)

A tiny room, the walls filled with colourful motifs of flowers,
A gypsy lady sitting within, like one dwelling in her bowers.

A twinkling ray of sunshine was touching the crystal-ball,
In that twinkling light of silver, it held secrets of one and all.

Dark blue eyes fixed on the crystal-ball, she sat across me.
Time had frozen, it seemed we were part of an endless eternity.

Waiting for her gypsy blue eyes to read my life in a crystal gaze,
My story was simple and yet the crystal slowly seemed to haze.

I was there to ask the questions,but the answers I almost knew,
To hear it from a crystal-ball, that my days were left but few.

Transfixed, for long I sat in a daze , my impatience hypnotized,
She was humming ever so softly , my own name I recognized.

Which lines on my face or my sunken eyes spoke to her first,
Who betrayed my story;  to quench her curious thirst. 

I smiled and she knew, I was not there to see my destiny,
‘Ke Sera Sera’ had taught me, the future was not ours to see.

In that crystal she fixed her gaze, I saw no magic or amaze,
Hidden behind those blue eyes I saw a fire burning ablaze .

In a halting voice she went on, things I was not ready to hear,
Letting go of life’s desires , to conquer and surmount fear.

My desire to drive away lonely hours of melancholic pathos,
My desire to fill those hours with laughter, noise and chaos.

If this be my last wish, let me hold on to them till I fall apart,
Tell the crystal-ball to rewrite my story from the very start. 

My gypsy lady smiled again, a soft smile, spreading on her face,
She let me out of her spell with gentle humour and grace.

The crystal-ball was once again gaining back its shine,
Bright and clear it was ready to read between the lines.

My love for life was not a lie, but it was time for goodbyes,
In the journey of realization I walked alone without any ties.

A Beach Day

I am your beach. I have come to share my side of the story today. No, I am not mute or dead. I am alive, I live by your side everyday, waiting for you, rejoicing with you, yet you do not know me.  When you walk on my sands and sing your favourite songs , I want to sing along with you. When the lovers sitting together gaze out into the sea, I become one in their togetherness. I witness all the love stories and the heart breaks you unknowingly share with me . You are not alone when you feel sad and lonely, walking in a melancholic mood; I try to tickle your feet with my slippery sand, just to bring a smile on your lips. Yes, you do not recognize me ever, but your tears, smile, laughter, talk, stay back with me forever. And in the darkness of the night, when everyone goes back home, I bring out my precious shells and within its heart I transfer all your secrets and toss the shells back into the ocean, to stay there forgotten, forever.

Hey, let me sway the pensive mood to something more interesting. Allow me to tell you my experiences, secrets and stories. But you have to promise me that whatever I share with you today will stay “tere mere beech mein”. No spreading beach rumours around the town. Let this be our secret pact, to be beach buddies.  

I will share a secret which no one knows. We, the beaches all around the earth stay connected. We know what goes on where. We have our own network system of communication. Take the sand for example, they are such big travelers!  And while sand travels, they carry tales from one beach to the other. The deep secrets and gossips of the thrashing waves brings us news from every ocean far and wide. And the unending canopy of the sky, reflects all our emotions. We just need to look up to the sky, our messenger! 

Holidays and Sundays people rush out to spend a day on the beach. They come in big groups and small, the families with their umbrellas, towels ,music, and their noisy children. Oh, these children, though I love them the most, but they keep digging at my heart. Why do they have to carry their little shovels, buckets and start digging out my sand ? I know it is a game for them, but it hurts. And what is this craze to build these sand castles on the beach? I just do not understand. If you ask me frankly, none of them look like a castle to me. But what do I know of castles, I am just a beach, waiting to be washed back again and again into the sea.

Have you seen the beaches in Goa? Oh, you must have, they are so famous all over the world. I hear that Goa beaches are always in a party mood, how lucky are they, seeing all the tourists, excitement, and partying every single day. Some say that the Goa beaches do not sleep at night. It could be a rumour,  I am not sure. Stories of the Goan beaches sometimes makes me a little envious. But being a beach has its advantages, feelings don’t last for long. Envy, joy, sadness, no matter whatever is the emotion, the sea comes and washes it all away. Leaving the beach sparkling clean, ready for a new day, always. 

The white sand beaches of Miami, Maldives, Railay and so many other exotic foreign locations, are beautiful no doubt but they are also the naughty beaches of our clan. How easily they flirt with the bikini clad pretty women and gorgeous looking men, lying whole day on the beaches half clothed,  making the warm sand sizzling hot with their presence!  I have also heard scandalous tales of these people covering themselves fully with sand, what a sight it must be. But it is okay, I am not very flirtatious by nature. On the contrary, I have a little religious bend of mind. What with all the Gods and Goddesses being immersed in the sea round the year, my beach mentality gets a little influenced. My tolerance and patience levels are better than many other beaches that I know of. 

I think you have guessed by now, I am your amchi Mumbai beach. I love being the beach of Mumbai. Like a mother I have seen Mumbai grow around my beaches over the years. But somedays I get tired of this burden of population. I long for those clean, wide, shinning sandy beaches of Mumbai from the past. Now, when people cover every inch of my sand on a Sunday evening, I feel like screaming out for some air. They come in hoards,  they trample me, they suffocate me, they throw around their empty bottles and packets on my face. After their merry making they go back into their city lanes. In that darkness of the night , I stand alone, crying tears of pain. I wait for the sea to come, to wash me clean, all over again.  But for how long will the sea engulf your discarded load. The sea is getting choked every day. I stand silent and helpless watching the sea changing it’s colour,  turning a shade of grey darker day by day. 

Tomorrow again the sea will come to wash me clean. I will wait for you once again to come and spread your happiness in every grain of my sand. I do not want to be a lonely, lost beach on an island, far away in the middle of an ocean. I want to be with you, in this city of yours. I want to hear you talk, I want to tell you my endless stories, to watch sunsets  with you and your grandchildren. For that beautiful future together, let us pledge to take care of each other forever.

A Beach

The waves had long receded, the beach was breathing free,
The tiny crabs drawing on the wet sand, a beautiful tapestry.

But the high tides soon brings the thrashing waves back,
Rushing in and washing away every trace in its track.

Shells hiding a life within, waiting for the waves to return,
Journeys back into the depths, where the deep waters churn.

Left back on the beach are some broken, abandoned shells,
Whispering tiny echoing sighs as the raging water swells.

Footprints on the sand are but guests, who will not stay,
What ever written on the shores soon gets washed away.

Day dawns, filling the beach with the glorious sights of life,
Sun set hours, twinkling stars, and the beach shuts its eyes.

The beach sinks in slumber, resting in the arms of the night.
To be awakened into another tomorrow by the sea gulls flight.

Beach and ocean, endless love, forever on each other’s side,
Sparkling sand and oceans blue, in togetherness they abide.

Melting

Mountain range

The mountain peaks at dawn, glistening like a white dress,
From my perched window, it seemed to be heaven’s address;
Melting in the warmth of day, the glacier softening its snow,
Meandering along gently forward, yet none could see it flow.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart , I felt some desires
melting away, like the flowing snow!

The sun softly coloured the western sky in molten gold,
I stood transfixed seeing the hues, which the rays had unfold,
Each ray of warm crimson, slowly melting into the deep lake,
Touching the core of every ripple, till it bled red with ache.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some deep seeded
anger melting away, like a pain waiting to go!

Evening Azaan from a far away mosque filled the air around,
The praise of Allah permeating and melting ; music profound!
I turned away from the window, and walked into my room,
To light a candle at my altar, to fill it with jasmine bloom.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some greed melting
away, with the ebbing echoes by the evening light!

The melting candle at the altar, drops of wax gently pouring,
In meditative silence I waited, to feel the heart beats soaring,
Soaring into those lofty realms where the mind begs to reside,
In the lap of nature, in a world without any forceful divide.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some attachments
melting away, in that darkness of the night!

The darkness of the night indulging the sparkling stars,
From dawn to night I stood and stared into a horizon very far.
I melted with the hours and followed the day like a sage,
I learned from every spec bestowed upon earth’s endless stage.

I gazed and gazed and in my heart, I felt some pride melting
away, in that humbling silence of gratitude.

Resilience

A story of a nation ,
Leaning on the mighty Himalayas and Hindukush,
Which fought to stop every invaders’ push.

A story of a nation ,
Seeing the world walk into its inner courtyard,
Believing in the silk routes’ trading facade.

A story of a nation ,
With resilience and valor trying to save its lands,
Saving its integrity from the tight grip of the British hands.

A story of a nation ,
To stand up with head held high, after each battle pain,
To uphold deep seeded resilience, time and again.

A story of a nation ,
Which marched for Swaraj with a steel resolve of tolerance,
Broken in two and yet celebrated independence.

A story of a nation ,
Often dwindling and crumbling into fragmented quarters,
And building again from those gathered mass of shatters.

A story of a nation ,
Where amidst unity thrives diversity’s endless scope,
Where hearts are filled with strong resilience and hope.

A story of a nation ,
Where a resilient populace marks its presence strong,
Swaying the national flag and singing the national song.

This is the story of my country, young but centuries old.
My nation is my pride, and has endless stories untold.

Sail Away

At the darkest hour before the dawn, I stood by the sea,
The waves were covered in a burnt-grey sky’s canopy.
In the darkness of that hour, there emerged a lone boat,
With fishermen swaying in motion, to keep the vessel afloat.
The winter wind made me shiver, but I waited in a trance,
Watching the men ready their boat, for the ocean-dance.

Fearful of the swelling waves, fearful of that sombre hour,
I wanted them to wait a while, till the day’s crimson shower.
I called out to them, or so I thought, in my fearful lost state,
They did not wait or stop for me, for I was not a sailor’s mate.
My whisper didn’t reach their ears, my voice did not carry far,
I stood alone with the sky and sea and a lonely northern star.

They were not my own brothers, from near or far-away life,
Yet I felt an oneness with them, I was akin with their strive.
In a heavy rhythmic motion they pulled their seasoned oars,
Pulling their tiny vessel far, far away from the sandy shores.
Their life, fate and friendship entwined with the waters-deep,
In these waves they learn to dance, to smile and to weep.

I stood by the shore, watching them sail away from my vision,
In to the deep, where sky met the sea, or was it but an illusion.
My heart kept echoing to the dark mist, to raise its heavy veil,

Pleading with the sun to rise soon,  then safely they could sail.

Their needs! mere and frugal,their hearts filled with pride,
For each new day they greeted the waves, to play and to ride.

Like a lover’s call the mighty waves thrash on a barren beach,
To woe a sailor and take him away, far from the lands reach.
They unite, hidden from our eyes, there where no one can see,
With no ties of the land, in the lover’s arms a sailor is set free.
In grey fathom less waters, they find rainbow colours hue,
The sparkling sun, dressing the sea, in diamond studded blue.

They sang in chorus, singing a song of faith and fortitude ,
They oared in symphony, filling hearts, with sublime gratitude.
I stood quiet, hearing their song, and seeing them fade away,
The sea was roaring, it was a call , every sailor must obey.
I stood numbed, seeing them go, bidding a silent adieu,
They lived a life of glorious challenges, gifted only to a few.

Void Within

When there is a void within,
No happy thoughts can knock.
When there is a void within,
Every smile seems to mock.
When there is a void within,
Roads neither meet nor cross.
When there is a void within,
All thoughts drown in pathos.
When there is a void within,
No garden bloom looks blushed.
When there is a void within,
Voices around are softly hushed.
When there is a void within,
Music brings melancholic tears.
When there is a void within,
Eyes brim with untold fears.
When there is a void within,
Sunshine does not touch.
When there is a void within,
Vision blurs in raindrop’s smudge.

Wake up and fill your void,
With purpose and delight,
Wake up and fill your void,
With the maker’s glorious light.

When there is a void within,
Seek another lonely soul.
When there is a void within,
To bring a smile, be your goal.
When there is a void within,
Fill it up with faith and trust.
When there is a void within,
Stand stoic against wind’s gust.
When there is a void within,
Flow like the river flows.
When there is a void within,
Grow like a tiny grass grows.
When there is a void within,
Sit with a child at play,
When there is a void within,
Splash the canvas with color’s spray.
When there is a void within,
Travel like the winds from desert to sea,
When there is a void within,
Let your soul soar high and set all chains free.