Reins of Happiness

The chariot of your life must have the right rein holder....
I beg to differ... its not about the right rein holder. It has to be only you for a number of reasons. The sole one being that you cannot feel anybody's happiness but yours no matter how compassionate and understanding person you are.

Its a simple logic that we fail to see... obscured behind the "ideal" and order, even the most simplest facts turn twisted. Live for yourself, live with yourself, and life will live with you for long. Some of us see happiness in what we achieve, some see it in what others achieve because of them, and some just are happy if everyone around them is happy. There's nothing wrong in existing that but that's all you'll ever do... EXIST. If you want to stretch your limits and break your own records then you have to prioritize yourself first. Your happiness, your work, your relations....YOU. Put it in someone else's hands, and it becomes theirs. You can't really blame them either for keeping their own head above the water, or letting you fade out of their days for a while just to get their work done.

So don't go around putting all your happiness in somebody. Don't expect that they'll fight your battles, run a race along with you for at the end of the day its each man for himself. He's bound to run past you and reach the finish line. Keep the reins of happiness clutched tightly under your palms and direct it to where your dream dwells. For a while if you are too low, give it to someone who is not taking over, but one who safeguards whats yours till you're back. Never to one whom you're most attached to because this is another mistake that we tend to commit. Keeping your hopes up high, expecting a person to live up to those expectations is a fall back of your emotions. They rise like the tide and the dams break under the pressure if they don't meet them and soon before you know it, the city you've built your whole life is flooded with those emotions. It then starts eating away every beautiful thing created, and you lose happiness in what really matters. So pick up those reins soon, and be the master of your own life.
The chariot of life must have you as the rein holder..... 

Blog or Book?

Recently, while rummaging for topics to write in my active blog, I kept going to the book I've already structured. What I really wanted to do was get that book going. But jumping to a publisher as a fresher is way too risky and in the creative world once its out there, its no longer yours. Blogs have their own advantages:
1) Allows readers to comment
2) Posting pages, bits of thoughts.
3) Checking the response and tracking it.
4) Building a gradual image in the writing world.
5) Freedom of expression and target audience.

Well, I thought 'All this is a safer way to see if my book is going to do well'. That's when I began constructing a new blog- Etched to Reality. This is my way of trying to bring the book reading experience to blogs. The different pages of the blog are my story lines. The posts are my numbered pages. So its like an e-book, but you have to wait to read every page. The story lines will come together, events created and characters introduced to give rise to a story.  A page on the blog lets the readers communicate with each other about the turn of events, what they dislike or like. This gives me the opportunity in reforming my book after a careful study of my audience through the blog. And when the story ends, the book ends and so does the blog. It shall be viewed like a complete book then.

With this idea, I've launched my blog today. http://portalstowords.wordpress.com/
Many contradict that blogs should be maintained as blogs not books, but I don't see the harm in getting the best of both worlds. Look it up, and let me know what you feel is just.
Thank you!

Fleeting Moment of Freedom- 2

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I smiled and pulled my lips straight when his expression didn't change one bit. I looked back at the man and he sympathetically gave the chit back. I left the dais where the buffet line was set and walked down towards him.
'Pass it here' Rahul motioned. He pushed it into his front pocket.
'No! Farheen will find it! Let me knot it back' I lurched forward so much that I tripped and stood inches from him. He didn't say anything in the awkward silence that filled between us. He just walked ahead, towards the exit doors making me follow him.
            Outside, dusk was browner than I pictured it to be. And a lot louder as well. Sigh, the world had gotten badder inside and outside the theater. It was hard to follow Rahul, he was like an agile fish swimming through the crowd, leaving me behind to fend for myself. Myself. Something within my reach. Independence? Not quite...but it still felt good. Soon I lost him and trotted off like a distracted lamb, stopping at all pretty shining things at the small stalls. Felt better. While I was immersed in my new found freedom, a little bit of fear crept. Much as I longed for this day, I didn't know what to do next. Wasn't sure if I wanted to in the first place.  The Grand Theater was the only place I knew. And Rahul was the only person I knew out here. I stopped in my steps and was instantly pushed about by the people bustling around me. The sky was turning dark and I couldn't see with the poor lanterns in the stalls. My eyes began to search frantically for his green shirt, his black hair, his brown shoes....it surprised me at how much I had observed him. And just then when the street lights came on in a row, I saw him beneath one of them. A message for help and his face produced the same effect. Then, again, his eyes bored into mine. And again, I smiled. Again it felt like someone had undid my corset. Again I could breathe. But this time, he smiled back.
             I could've turned back and fled. I could've tugged at someone and accused Rahul. I could've gotten my dreamed freedom, but I weaved through the people and took his outstretched hand.  He said nothing as usual, but he held it tight and walked me through to the jewelry shops. Rahul picked up a blue, chunky earring and kept it near my ears. I didn't understand what he meant by all this, didn't know what Farheen would do if he found out but at that moment I didn't care. He'd point to different ornamnets and all I'd have to do is shake my head in response. At one point, while he was buying stationary for the sets, my eyes spotted an anklet. I fell in love with it the second I saw it. It was studded with smooth pearls like the ones that Farheen rented out. I lifted my skirt a bit, and imagined them there. When the trader peeked at my scarred feet, I crossed them and covered it. Sigh. Rahul held my hand afterwards and once all the shopping was done, we walked back to our home. We stopped at the entrance and collected the bills, counted the change and then headed inside.

Right before we passed through the black curtains that cut off my gloomy world from the glittery world, Rahul pulled me back gently. He spread out my curled palms and pushed something brown into them. As my fingers clutched it, I could feel the minute bumps of pearls. It was the anklet. He didn't say what it meant, but I understood. It was my hope that I could hold onto, till his help came. I could've done a lot more with the fleeting moment of freedom, but I couldn't have found this love then ...

Fleeting Moment of Freedom

               That particular night, Farheen rushed us into the set of 'expensive' clothes and doubled our makeup. We knew someone special was coming to see us, otherwise rags were all that he could afford off stage. As for Farheen; all 6''2  of him was dressed in an eloquent sherwani with ebony embroidery. The kind that matched mine, or it was meant to be the other way around, I was not sure. Hell, I was never sure why he dragged me like I was a complimentary gift that came with him or why he had to coordinate our clothes. But I was sure like every other time that they'd praise him, for getting such a beauty by his side and other things I'd make my ears deaf for. And yet I was the envy of the girls surrounding me; they wished to be in my shoes. Fact was, they wouldn't dare want to once I removed those shoes outside our 'home'.
             We had 2 hours before the show was scheduled to start but my act had already begun. I smiled through the ache from the bruises that Farheen absently revisited while he introduced me to the guests of our grand theater. I imagine they'd be potential sponsors in our upcoming shows as talks on money surfaced and my mind drifted off everywhere but there. Not too long after I was in my dream world, he snapped me out of it by deliberately taking my arm around his. Posing to be his muse was the most disgusting thing and that thought throbbed throughout the show. While the cheers and applause died down, I ran my fingers over the warm velvet fabric that I had just worn. A deep sigh and I let go of it along with the ornaments that made me look like a princess. Ready to face reality, I looked into the full length mirror backstage and saw the real me. Another sigh.
          'Wow brother! Our collection is just off the charts today!" Zavier exclaimed counting the cash, one sly eye at me. I pretended to dust the files in the office whereas I secretly viewed the names of people locked up in different dressing rooms. There was no point, the security was too tight and if I opened a door I'd probably set off an alarm, yet checking it was a habit that kept me alive.
         ''Eh.... Didn't you eat yet? Go... Eat" Farheen said pushing an empty plate towards me. I politely nodded and walked up to the half eaten trays that he and his boys had left behind. I shoved it all onto the plate, and segregated the portions to make it look as if someone bothered to serve me well and then stared at the plate. There was hardly enough. I looked out the window that connected the office and the huge hall. The caterers were packing up, but it was still worth a chance. Not at getting food, but at getting a fleeting moment of freedom. I inched towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" said Farheen as he breathed his cigarette down my back. I pushed my hair back and replied.
"There's not enough food. They might have some left overs." He considered it for a while; chuckled.
"Haan haan, go. I wouldn't want you making me look bad. Eh Rahul, go with her." Rahul, one of his silent boys got up, rubbed his hands over his shirt and walked ahead of me.
"And listen! Get some shopping done for the show on Friday night" he said pushing some crumpled notes into my palms. Rahul took them from me almost at once.
              Out there the caterers looked at me like I had faded to grey in my early 20's already. Of course they didn't recognize me. I undid the knot of my skirt where I hid my hope - a scrap of ticket paper with scribbled letters pleading for help. I scanned for Rahul ... he was chatting with the caterers, hands in his pocket. I quickly moved to the man who was putting hot steaming leftovers on my plate and dropped in into his basket of rotis. At first he was puzzled, but then he grabbed it and inserted it into his pocket in a hurry. It felt like someone had undid a tight corset. I could breathe. I hid a smile as I looked at Rahul again. This time his eyes bored into me like black beads.

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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".