Sunday, August 13, 2017

Three unrelated encounters

1.

For
even if I try to paint you in black
I fail 
and the broken glass of unfinished wine spills colours all over.
I am falling.
D
o
w
n.
                                            p.
The direction is down not u
She held me tight last night.
It hurt as a tiny piece of a broken glass rubbed against my skin.
Wine spilled on the floor.
I watched the colours as they held me softly with someone else's arms.
I enjoyed the touch.
It puts me to sleep and I curl like a cat.
it found the glass and put the band-aid on.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
I felt lost for words,
I jumbled them like feelings.
Confused, attached, hurt, angry, lost, longing, peaceful.

Sleep came in the morning. 
A cup of coffee on the table at 6am.
Good night.


2.

We walked as the time went by,
Step by step with us...
Through the times that remain only in the memories of green pastures that we once had.
I saw them in a dream last night.
Green, wide, singing of freedom and equality.
They went past my window.
I saw the reflection of his face inside the cab. 
A leash on his neck,
as I waited for the wind to take me away from the choking noise of evening chaos.
The wind has not come as yet,
So I waited patiently for a bus.
They marched silently with a string through their necks and nostrils.
 I looked at them and they knew.


3.

Awake,
yet half dreaming,
Today
I shall, I shall, I shall,
I shall try not to spread the wings but,
but keep them hidden,
Keep them safe,
safe,
safe 
from the wind that could bring the storm.
Sometimes.
For a moment,
I allow you to catch a glimpse of the feathers.
Grey.
And then you fail to notice that it was time to catch my hand.
We get up and split the bill.
We both fly away with the memories of grey colour of the sky before the rain.

You are so beautiful,
And so are you.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

It was not a windy day

It was not a windy day,
and still somehow
My hair entangled in a kiss...

It was not a windy day, and so
there was no question whether the end of my sari would fly away...

It was not a windy day, and so
His hands were still,
and there was no need to take out the safety pin and keep it open and pointed and say 'no, I don't want to'.

It was not a windy day,
and still somehow
 my hair entangled in a kiss
 my hair entangled in a kiss
my hair entangled in a kiss
my hair entangled in a kiss
my
          hair
    entangled
                                 in
a
                        kiss...

I shut the weather forecast off.

Friday, March 3, 2017

That other world out there

They came uninvited.
         The sounds of civilization staring at me from outside the kitchen window.
They pumped the words into my body
         drilling an always-polite-response to the questions of my food habits:
'What-did-you-eat-for-breakfast-today?'

Pressure cooker whistled for the fifth time that moment and I began to scream out loud the elements of my diet in a reversed alphabetical order.
(Munch would have been so proud of me that day)

But...

(And this 'but' is vivid and precise in the curves of its lines)  But...

But...

But there was that other world out there...
But there was that other world out there that we spoke about so often over a glass of cheap wine
(Rs 130 a bottle if I am not mistaken)

It had the blue colour of the sky
and redness of the mother below my bare feet.
It had a tree outside the window
and a cat chasing the squirrel that was climbing up the branches.
It had a long evening walk by the river
and a night with stars engrossed in the music of the piano.
It had vast spaces to walk through
and a clay pot filled with words drunk lazily and without haste.
It had breath.

I breathed with my eyes closed
while a part of me stood up and closed the doors from the other side leaving the walls to shut down on themselves and collapse.

A seed sprouted in my hand.

Monday, February 13, 2017

About special needs

Living in the world where we all need to constantly move faster and faster in order to be able to cope with the demands of society and economy leaves a toll on each one of us. We tend to feel stressed with the long working hours, with being underpaid, with not being appreciated for our efforts, with not being seen as individuals but as parts of a larger system.
People with special needs may not be working in a corporate sector, they may not be lawyers appearing in court fighting for extremely important causes, or may not be striving to get funds for their own start-up, however the pressure they live under and the stress and frustrations that they experience can be equally difficult for them to deal with.
I recently felt frustrated after having been rejected one more time by the artist residency program, I questioned the sense of applying for something again and began to wonder whether there is any point in trying at all. Someone else might feel frustrated with not being able to recall the spelling of one's own name. Two different situations, two different people, yet perhaps the amount of effort we both put into our writing a good project and writing the name is the same? And perhaps both of us want to finally make it good this time and not to have to face the disappointment and frustration again.

We all have the same needs that need to be met for each of us to be able to live a thriving and healthy emotional life.

Few years back I was standing at the school corridor just after the lunch break. The bell rang and I was watching adults standing around a class 3 student who was diagnosed with a genetic disorder. She was walking slowly towards her classroom, too slowly and so the adults began telling her that she needs to walk faster. It was my first active experience of empathy as I was trying to imagine what this situation might have looked like from the perspective of the child. It must have been scary I felt. It must have felt scary and powerless to be standing among people twice her size and be rushed to walk with the speed that was too fast for her to handle.
It must feel equally scary and frustrating to be an elderly person being rushed to eat faster and spill less soup onto the table when the hand is shivering.

We all have the same basic human needs and one of them is ability to be seen for who we are as beings and not for the actions that we are able to perform with sometimes better, sometimes worse results. We all want to be loved and appreciated, we all need warmth, friends, sense of belonging.

I do not want my friends to judge me on the basis of how successful I am as a professional. A child with special needs wants to have friends to play with irrespective of whether he/she is able to score the goal during the football match. As a child I was never good at sport – I would always be the last person to be chosen by any team. It felt embarrassing and frustrating to be the last one taken into the team...every week of my primary school.

I live in a place where many people believe I do not understand the language they speak. It happened to me a couple of times that people would talk about me in a rude way thinking that I would not be able to understand their words. But I did... and it hurt. It made me feel like an object. People with special needs may look different sometimes or behave in a different way, however, it does not mean that they are completely unable to understand the tone of voice or words that are being used while talking about them. They do understand...

Life is often stressful for many of us. As humans we are very often programmed to experience negative emotions in a stronger way than the positive ones in our lives, even though the latter once may be actually be larger in number. Positive emotions are often experienced in a milder, more subdued way and so we need them more frequently. Perhaps while dealing with individuals with special needs we could try to concentrate on strengths more than on the weaknesses?

That class 3 student I mentioned a few sentences above... she managed to stand in the vrkshaasana (tree pose) in a yoga class one day... And that day the whole class clapped for her... She performed great! 30 seconds of balance! And I think she felt like a great achiever that day, the way you or I do after a performance, good session, promotion at work.


Monday, November 14, 2016

Kintsugi

As we sat down
in the state of
in
   be
       tween
                 ness
                         (Nescafe)

we raised
               our doubts
about the current state of affairs

(Donald Trump won the elections that night)

It is raining offers
of better future, or past
depending on one's point of view.


And still, we sat down
                looking forward
                or backward,
or perhaps sometimes not even looking at all
hidden
     behind the mask of
                unbrokenness
of our desires and ambitions...

We sat down
by the broken pot
mending its cracks with pieces of gold
not to hide them
but to find meaning
behind every mistake we have ever made.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

We were learning each other for the first time

I do not know what it was,
maybe the soundless words that asked me not to be afraid,

we were learning each other
for the first time,
and even though I was impatient

still
we were allowing the time to stretch
allowing the time to stretch
the time to stretch
to stretch

between words
between sentences
between smiles
between yesterday and the promise of tomorrow.

I was impatient
again
chased by uncovered memories
again
fearful of loosing
again
unsure of what it all means
again

until again-ness of the in-between-ness was almost unbearable
however,
we have been learning each other for some time now and so
unexpectedly
instead of falling
I began to shyly feel the ground beneath my feet.

Perhaps his feet were hanging above the ground for a very long time as well
?

?


?

?




and they
needed time to stretch stiffened muscles
slowly
and without rushing
so that
the fear of again-ness
would fly away.

We were learning each other
for the first time.
Slowly.

Monday, August 1, 2016

Rainy Day

In a descriptive mood
devoid of the penthouses touched
by the greyness of your sky

they entered (realizing that
to enter is a verb)
or
re-entered
into
those well known spaces
of tiny veins
that make my muscles clench
into a body of a fist
into a body crumpled under the gaze of other bodies
into a body that I might have forgotten
and
then
I pack myself
into cold shapes of lines
forming letters on an even colder screen
and
send myself
into you

not knowing what the weather forecast is like at your end
.
It rained here all day,
I slept with my sweater on.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Un.

For if I ever unwounded myself
                    the process might have been rather painful;
Yet,
If I
If I     could
trust   you
And
if        You
could  trust
me
.
.
.
in a jungle of dissected words
and meanings
.
If I could trust you and you could trust me
then perhaps one night
I would unstitch the stitches and show you the raw flesh and
perhaps then that night
a tiny worm of fear would climb up onto the cotton ball
that I would allow
allow you
to
to keep under the skin for a moment.

And then I would restitch the stitches until the next moment when
you could trust me and I could
un-trust my
insecurities
.
The process always remains unfinished
untill
one night
You
stitch
my words
into the forearm of your left hand.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

and no words have ever been spoken

If she ever...
                   ... it was because he would open the new horizons for her,
If he ever ...
                   .... it was because she would contain his skies in her arms before they would burst into small pieces again
.
.
.
.
.
and no words have ever been spoken...
instead,
they looked at them
.
.
both with their strange looking eyes
.
.
l
o
o
k
e
d
.
.

but one day a word run and touched his skin
..
and he run as the skin of his forearm remained touched by her...
...
she knew
...
he knew
...
and no words have ever been spoken
.
.
.
two trees
..

in an open field

...............................
and a field opened its gates to free the freedom trapped in them


Sunday, June 5, 2016

The Doors

The child was amazed with her new surroundings... for the house of the piano player had numerous rooms with their own separate landscapes - the house by the lake, the sea where he dolphins lived, the desert where he once walked and the oasis that reminded her of the past tense of her future memories. She wandered around the mansion and each door that opened infused her with tenderness that she never felt before. It would stay with her for long as it crawled under her skin and coiled in her sympathetic nervous system... She did not want to grow up but to remain there in the labyrinth of corridors that went it spirals to a point when her head began to spin...

She was standing on a thin line hanging from here to there or from there to here, depending on your point of you. Her hands up in the air trying to balance her steps as she walked slowly towards...  towards what? It did not matter. A wise man told her once to fix her gaze on one point ahead and allow the breath to lead her, and so she walked and each step seemed to be making her feel lighter as the coins of expectations fell one by one out of her pockets to the green grass below. The line was so thin that she almost got frightened for a moment that it might suddenly turn into something amorphous and the clearly divided spaces below shall become androgynous.
But do we need definitions? Divisions of roles that we play? Would you like to just play with me without knowing whether things are black or white? Forgetting all that you knew before and allowing me to be you and you me? Closer even than intertwined... liquid, fluid, penetrating those known unknown sides of each other. But where does one end and the other begin?

She fell. Her hands thrown to the sides as the body tried to fight the mundane forces of gravity. The sense of suspension.  Body in a moment. What would you do if you could capture the moment of existence and the non-   of it with your own eyes? The drop of sweat that already splashed but had not splashed as yet at the same time? Those moments when the real becomes so unreal that you do not know which side to turn your head to.

They sat together at the same time. Divided only by the walls of some fifteen hundred buildings that were given for rent each year. 11 months agreement. 1 month of discord.

He placed his fingers on the piano keys and the fifteen hundred seats hall became silent in anticipation. He raised his hands and as the fell down the strings began to tremble. Her eyes were fixed on a point ahead of her and the steady rhythm of her breath helped her to keep the balance as she walked on a trembling line.

He stood up and the audience began to roar with applause.
 She touched the tree.
He was packing his bags after the performance was over.
She looked back and smiled.

I closed the doors of the room on my left side. My head was spinning... so many doors closed and opened... so many walls in between... and yet...

He sat down tired after another show. The nth hundreth and nth fourth in his life. He took off his face off his faceless body and kept it on the hanger. He looked into the mirror. Unable to recognise the image he turned his head away. He shrug his shoulders and his hands dived into his pockets. he felt the cold touch of metal there. He took out a bunch of keys and with an invisible smile closed the doors behind him and threw the keys high in the air.