Etched to Reality

A million eyes in a crowd,
The ring of my name and applause so loud,
As I walk down the velvet carpet,
My life is one that only a few will get.

Before my path was set,
I was just a murmur in a melody
And yet did they all bet,
With my every step, I'd create my own identity.

Every word etched, I'd try to turn to reality,
Every dream dreamt, I'd hope to become history,
And every precious tear shed,
Transformed to strength for what the critics had said.

Lunging behind the common fence
Did they not know about my past tense,
Said I had the world at my feet.
But who doesn't have the demons of life to beat?

For a girl who walks to an empty home,
Only the forbidden garden does she want to roam.
And for that girl living in a fantasy,
Skipping down the road of normality was easy

But I was not that princess in a palace set,
No, I didn't take my fantasy to be fantasy,
I penned my world to paper and turned it to reality,
Yes, my life is one that only a few can get.

True Independence

In a nation where true leaders led,

And into that same soil where they bled,

We wake, we live, and we've fled…

Leaving our pride for our soil withering dead.

Leaving prayers of gratitude and hope, unread.

Of the bonds that bound us into brotherhood,

Comes another day of pride in Gandhi’s nation.

Of the decades that slipped in mutiny unheard,

Comes every day, a chance for transformation.

And so, from prince to pauper,

And from royalty to peasantry

Have the same blood when it comes to us as a country.

So why bar with differences our caste, creed and birth proper?

The heroes in jail did not picture this,

When we as a nation now point at ourselves,

For the hindrance to that dream they dreamt,

Or our hibernating capabilities that we refuse.

It’s time we acknowledged our past,

The tragic yet triumph weaved into such irony,

That the reoccurring history’s pain still lasts,

Lasts in every grievous or glorious battle won and song sung.

So today, paint the hearts with the colours of dreams,

Fill the air we breathe with words of experience immense,

Feed those hungry eyes not with mere hope, but promise,

So that we carry each other into the gates of true independence

In every man, with the ring of the anthem,

Floods thoughts of that written history,

And soon our deeds shall merge into them,

And when it does, be sure that they merge with splendid glory! 

Forever Friendship

On then wake of friendship day, Chris burned his midnight oil making an intricate friendship day bracelet for his soul friend Anaba. His family held that these friendship bracelets carried extreme powers. It was foretold that any wish made while tying one would come true when it withers and falls off on its own. Chris didn't know any other way to say that he had given his heart to his best friend other than to do it Anaba's way. And so, he begun foraging for yarn weeks before, on the banks of Kalamazoo, where they dyed yarn and weaved it into clothes. Chris didn't weave, he formed the bracelet by knotting, sealing a wish within every knot. And when Anaba laid eyes on it, the fate of the two best friends was tied forever.

              Years later, when Chris and Anaba had grown out of their teens and gotten into the recruited army, thoughts of that tradition seemed petty against what they battled with everyday. There was just too much anger, greed and confusion for Anaba to hope that wish he made to come true. The bracelet frayed a little each day, each day they spoke less of the good times. It was not long before they separated ways and got posted to different regions for battle. But still, they would post letters checking on their families and kids and speak of a day when all this would die and they would go fishing with bare hands. One fine day, the letters stopped. Anaba replied no more, and no matter how much Chris tried to reach him, all the trails ended in despair. He waited patiently but at the tipping point he burst. He caught the train back to Michigan and stormed into the town he grew up in. Things had changed, the town no more wore the cloak of earth and it felt as though a part of him had been erased as well. 

           As he made his way to Anaba's house, a bad feeling crept over him. The air was too still, the river too silent and Anaba's breath too slow.  Anaba was ill with the pox and the priest didn't expect him to recover. 

''It would take a miracle to have him back with us'' Chris, by now in his mid 30's laid a warm hand over his friend in bed. Anaba's brown eyes shone with wisdom as he smiled back. Chris felt something under the covers and lifted it up to see his own work of craft. His friendship bracelet. He had almost forgotten about it, and now looking at it he felt his hope raise.

''Anaba, what wish did you make on the bracelet?  Surely you wished to live forever? Isn't that what a man wants?" Anaba smiled with a tint of sarcasm before his lips spoke. 

''What's eternity when a friend like you lives barely a century? No Chris, I didn't wish for immortality." Chris wore a puzzled and eye glazed look.

"Well then? What did you wish for?" 

"To not run from my life in fear or greed.'' came the answer. 

"Is that all Anaba? Did you not desire anything for our friendship?" Chris slightly felt disappointed but it wasn't his right to wish. 

"My dear friend, if I could I would wish to live beside you till you live, but this body gives up too soon. It cannot outlast the plans health has for me." 

Chris looked deep into his eyes... he had to understand the art of letting go now. And though it was expected of him, he couldn't master it before Anaba drew his last breath. 

            A situation shook the whole river bank the next day. The next dawn, his widowed wife walked into Anaba's room only to discover that Anaba's body was missing. But in his place was a wood carved soldier lying on two letters. One for his family and the other addressed to Chris. The letter read only a few lines, but it brought untold joy to him. 

''Chris, 

          Like I said, my body cannot win the trials of fate and be with you forever. But yet I long to. You have been there when no one was, and it feels as though you were made just for me to live in peace. Friends are, you are everything. That's why I wished my soul to be cast into this wooden soldier when my body gives up. So that you may keep me with you forever. And to repay what I cannot to you, may you pass this down to your sons and I will stay a guardian and friend for eternity.

Anaba"

         Many summers later, Chris rowed his canoe onto Kalamazoo against the sunset. The setting rays picked up the traces of greying hair as he rolled up his pants and waded into the shore. He placed Anaba on the crevice of the rocks and fished bare handed like they always wished they would. 

"We finally did it Anaba. Even though you gave up too soon, we still did".