It is the sharp edges on every turn that gives your life an interesting shape.. You pray your God to cut those edges off and you get a plain circle. You finish your journey exactly from a point where you started..only to realize how worthless you life had been, and how witless your prayers used to be...

Every morning, I used to hear her restless bangles and restive anklets stretching on the bed.

The tingling of anklets, I heard them watering the flower plants in the garden, the sound fading and emerging again moving from one room to another dusting and arranging things, the sound that signaled a morning tea, while I curled up in bed.

The clinking of bangles, as they made chapattis in the evening, as they  flapped the wet washed clothes in the sun, and as they stroke my hair while I rested in her lap..

‘Anxious bangles’ that arranged my school bag whenever I got late, ‘affectionate bangles’ that oiled my hair after a long tiring day, ‘compassionate bangles’ that wiped my tears every time I failed in life.

A dozen of bangles and a pair of anklets, they sing the song of her love;

The song of love, that echoes in every corner of the house and every room of my heart.

I lie under the naked sky

Staring at the dark blanket with million stars,

A sailor’s guide, the nature’s pride

An astrologer’s goal, an enlightened soul

I see it as a mere hole,

Revealing a brighter world on the other end

And carrying the cold frost wind,

into my warm blanket

giving me chills of hope

that light was not so far

Next morning,

I will be on the brighter end

And the other world will lie in the dark,

Glaring at me through the gleaming holes

With the same hope of a light,

Into their dark world

We belong to different worlds

Where my sun is your moon

Your night is my noon

But at the end of the day

Like siblings,

We share the same blanket every night

Whispering to each other,

Through our tiny messengers called star

A message to not give up hope

Coz the light is not so far..

Everything around us follows a rule, a custom. The Moon, obeys the rule of a fortnight. The Sun obeys the rule of rising in East every day. The laws of Nature.. Life and Death, Day and Night...everything works in a pattern. And then there are rules of society, rules of worshiping your God, rituals of your community..  a list of rules that take a life-time to understand and follow. You do things because you are told to, or because others do that too, satisfying the demands of people, your religion, your society.  A midst all these rules, entrapped in all sorts of rituals, sometimes

I seek a moment of randomness, something spontaneous enough to occur in a pattern; that could carry me away to another world.

A world where the Moon has a will to appear in any shape, where the Sun doesn’t need to glow all day, where the nature is free to change its pattern, where death doesn’t interfere if life wants to stay, where rivers can take a halt when it gets exhausted, where God stays in our hearts, and humanity is the religion we follow.

The moment when you run out of words and even forget to breathe, or blink.. . It is not something you were not aware of. You had framed the sentences you wanted to say, that could make sense and justify everything. But when it actually happens, you are unable to move, or spout a word.. so you just stand still.. trying to absorb every detail of the moment.. only to recreate it in solitude.. with the intensity as strong as real..

 You live in that moment for days, and then it starts living inside you, like a slave, in the prison of your thoughts. Like a disease you never want to get rid of. Like a scar that doesn't fade with time. You are told that the moment passed is dead.. it can be remembered but you can’t choose to live in it. It would be like living in the coffin with a dead man you wanted to be with. But you choose to live in the coffin, because the dead man is you, and that moment is the only living thing left inside you.. the thing that beats inside you. You breathe in that air which holds the scent of that time.. The weather doesn't change for you and you feel the icy breeze of that night even under the sun. You grow old, but you see the ‘same you’ everyday in the mirror.

Your whole life is enslaved by a single moment.. a knot that ties all the strings together.. to keep you intact.. to keep you whole.. and you reach a point where you don’t seek love and affection, you don’t fear hatred or rejection.. you fear Freedom..