क्या तुम मेरी किताब बनोगे?

मैं तुम्हे किसी किताब सा पढ़ना चाहती हूं, cover से cover तक|

धीरे धीरे एक एक पन्ना पलटकर, इतना धीरे कि आखिरी पन्ना मैं, आखिरी सांस के साथ पढ़ सकूं|
हर पन्ने को अंगुलियों से स्पर्श कर, मासूम सी खुरदराहट को महसूस करना चाहती हूं|
हर पलटते पन्ने की सहमी सहमी सरसराहट को सुनना चाहती हूं।

हर पन्ने की हर एक line के अर्थ की बारीकियों में डूबना चाहती हूं|
कुछ गंभीर सी lines के अर्थ का अनर्थ कर, कुछ खुशनुमा से रंग उड़ेलना चाहती हूं|
इसी बड़ी सी किताब की कुछ पुरानी lines चुराकर, हमारे लिए कविता लिखना चाहती हूं|

Lines जो जरूरी हो जीवन में, उन्हें अपने कलम से underline करना चाहती हूं |
और कुछ कुछ भागों में महज एक सहज सी नजर मारकर निकल लेना चाहती हूं |
जो अल्फ़ाज़ समझ नहीं आए मुझे, मैं बैठ तुम्हारी बाहों में, वो तुमसे समझना चाहती हूं |
कुछ पन्नों की हल्की हल्की बुदबुदाहट को देख, ज़ोर से हसना चाहती हूं |

पढ़ने में शायद मुझे जरा ज्यादा वक़्त लगे पर,
जानने भी तो हैं तेरे हजारों किरदार,
और मैं तो तेरे हर किरदार की कदर करना चाहती हूं |
कुछ चिपके हुए पन्नो को, पास रखी एक scale से तहज़ीब से, सुलझाना चाहती हूं,
शायद वैसे ही जैसे तुम मेरे बालों को सुलझाते हो

जब तुम्हारे सर पर चांदी के बाल होंगे, और तुम्हारे पोपले से गाल होंगे,
सलवटों सी जुरिया हर तरफ होंगीं
मैं खोल इस किताब के पुराने पन्नो की सलवटो से तुम्हारे चेहरे पर यौवन की चमक वापस लाना चाहती हूं|

मैं तुमसे इश्क़ करना चाहती हूं, आदि से अंत तक, और शायद उससे भी परे|

क्या तुम मेरी किताब बनोगे?

वो बारिश ही तो था............

हां, वो बारिश ही तो था
जो आसमान से उतर के आया था
और ज़िन्दगी के सुखे पड़े बगीचे में
खिला गया कुछ रंग बिरंगे फूलफिर लुटाकर अपना सारा खजाना,थम गया वो एक दिन

पर हां, अभी कुछ बूँदे अटकी हैं, यादें, पत्तो में
मैं इन मोतियों को सजना चाहती हूँ, इन्हें frame करना चाहती हूँ।
पर धीरे धीरे ये टपक रही हैं,
और ये निर्दयी धूप भी तो उड़ा रही हैं इन्हें।
फिर गुम हो जाएंगी कहीं हवाओं में, मिलेंगे नहीं
अब तो मौसम भी खराब है
मुझे डर हैं कोई हवा का झोंका
एक झटके में ना गिरा दे सारी बूंदें|

बारिश की तरह बरसते रहो, हम पर.... मिट्टी की तरह हम भी, महकते चले जायेंगे....!!!!

The Leaf and the Wind.

I am a leaf. My life changed ever since that day.

I was happy on the tree. The tree – silent, observant, full of life and vigor. It had withstood many storms.

It was a breezy morning; the sun was at its glorious state, just when the gardener came in our beautiful garden to nip the edges of the plants. But that day, to my surprise, he headed towards my tree with a chainsaw held firmly in his hand. I looked on with fear and anger knowing that I could do nothing to stop the menace. He climbed up on my tree and took nearly no time in selecting the branches to be chopped off and started with his job. I could see my family members being chopped in front of my very own eyes. I got detached from the tree and as I was falling, grief weighed me further down and I felt as if the loneliness was engulfing me. Broken and torn tree had nothing to say.

I tried to be positive and thoughts went through me – I need to see the world beyond……and then I felt a spark of joy…..I felt wind. It took me with it

I was close to the ground just when the wind came and took me with him. I couldn’t believe that I was flying high and low in whichever way the wind carried me. I was happy that I found a new friend, the wind.

I looked out across the broad, dawn-pink sky and down over the beautiful spring garden. The wind left me shimmering, fluttering. Wind gave me the freedom of motion. Without the wind I would never have seen the world below or from side to side. Wind rocked me to sleep and shook me awake. Wind made me dance.

 It was a splendid company; I forgot all about my worries and loneliness and flowed with him. Wind cared and supported me and somewhat stirred up a hope within me. There dwelled a wish to live, free and happy. The sun rose and set, days went by, we moved on. That day the wind felt agitated,  strived to be patient and struggled to control his temper. I could see the wind  throbbing in anguish. Suddenly everything went wrong, wind changed, I could find wind no more and the storm rose. This was a strong blow on me. A twig pierced through my heart making a permanent hole. I throttled with the feeling of dejection and solitude. The storm passed away. I was on the ground, hoping wind will come looking for me. He didn’t return to me, silence paved in to the atmosphere, endless questions that augmented within myself all remained unresolved and unanswered; it seemed all that was there had become a past, a yesterday.

I waited on the ground feeling weak and worn-out; the shadow of misery over powered me bringing the essence of noxious misfortune. My incapable heart pleaded for a glance of him. The world stood still, all its glory and harmony was left behind; everything appeared so prosaic and hollow. Few days passed I saw the wind, happy as ever, I cried “wind.. take me with you please.... I have no strength to move.........” The wind didn’t stop for me for he stops for no one; he just replied “I have no time for you; I have other things to do....” Then he brushed through the trees, rolling some new leaves, which are now his new friends. My eyes cried but without a drop coming out, my heart bled but without a spot of stain.  My heart was too heavy and wind couldn’t blow me away.

I was lost and could feel my life was running out with each moment that passed by. I lay on the ground motionless, thin and tired, the cold dark night approached; as the air grew chill, I began to take on the most magnificent colors. First a yellow cast and then little patches of red and gold began to creep across it. I had lost all the moisture, my skin had turned to pale dull colour. It was a process of gradual decay and I had to wait till the end. I felt my body dry up and start to crack, I went numb but my emotions were still very much alive. I was counting the last seconds of my life before I would enter the door of heaven and meet some of my family members.   I knew not what was the best suitable emotion for me at this juncture of life; should I be down with forlorn or rise above with ecstasy. I silently prayed for the last time, “May the nature witness our never ending friendship.... God bless the wind...... I will die but wind happily forever should live by..........”

My Midlife Crisis

My silver troops are marching on

Gallantly in all their glory

As I feel them in my crown

Each strand seems like saying

Come sit

I will tell you my story

The lines on my forehead

The freckles on my cheek

This extra crease around my neck

They embrace me in a warm hug

These wrinkles are the supreme artist baring his brush on the canvas of my life

With open arms I welcome every symbol, every sign

That celebrate each milestone of my life

The real estate in my backyard has appreciated

My chins have doubled like the most promising mutual funds

Somedays I am stiff and literally sore

As if my bones have been dipped in Revive

And sundried too

Raising my millennial kids has taught me

Nothing is impossible

It is all there up in the mind

Somedays I am laughing out impishly like a child

Teasing my sons

About their heartbreaks and crushes

I tell him I just had one too

They look at me with questioning eyes

But you know what

Midlife is the second teenage

Just that life has taught us how to smartly moderate

Because hormones will be brats

They will be upto pranks

While going or while coming

Suddenly it sounds so over rated

It might soon get deactivated

Somedays I am struggling

To cut out the cacophony, the noise of relations

Of responsibilities, judgements and opinions

The next moment

I can make and bake

Out of the same noisy dissonance

With all my demons, I have made peace

Instead I am now flirting with all my dreams

To love and to nurture

Was never an option

That is in my DNA

That is how I am very wired

I am the rock by your shore

If your waves are severe

I am your anchor, if you feel fragile or lost

But To guard my own self-respect, I know pretty well how to disconnect

I love to play, a myriad of my roles

But I can rise above each

To go on a blind date with my soul

But I am also sandwiched between eras

I am the connector between the generations

So I will uphold what I strongly believe in

But sieve out my pessimism and pass on just the best

Neither guilty nor apologetic, about the choices I made

Don’t call them my sacrifices

I am no goddess, I am no sage

And today 4 decades and more

4 decades and more in the bliss of my haven

My work

My offsprings

I celebrate every war every ceasefire

Every balance that I have made

I am a superhero

Giving away pieces of myself, a little at a time

I gave away pieces of myself, a little at a time.

I never thought that I would end up in an abusive relationship. Not me. No way.

I was strong, outspoken, and independent. I would never allow myself to be treated that way. It’s so much easier to say these things from an outside perspective. Everything is more complicated when you’re in the middle of it.

It wasn’t until years later that I was even able to admit that it was abuse. There were good moments, and happy memories intertwined with all the bad times. There were exhilarating highs and devastating lows. As humans, we have a hard time letting go of the people we become attached to; even when it’s in our own best interest.

It started out the way any other relationship does. We met and there was an attraction, a connection, a spark. At first, I thought he was shy: a quiet, romantic, and sweet guy. He was little older and looked more mature, and he gave the appearance of a hard-working family man. I had no idea that all those first impressions were just a façade. I was young and naïve, and my pure heart always focused on the good in people.

Everything moved pretty quickly. Too quickly. Looking back, I wasn’t in a good place when we met. I was already on my own self-destructive path. And unfortunately I knew it. Still the demons within me made me go for it.

Perhaps he had been drawn to the damage in my eyes; like a moth to a flame.

I was lonely, and desperate to fill the void in my heart. I ignored all the red flags and made excuses for everything. Maybe, he was just a little broken too? Maybe, I could help him; change him, fix him? Surely my love would be enough to do that.

I gave pieces of myself away, a little at a time.

In the beginning, I was motivated by love, but in the end there was only fear. I played right into all the mind games, and allowed him to be in control.

I told myself that the extremely jealous behavior and possessiveness were signs of love. I convinced myself that if I could just prove to him that he could trust me, it would get better. Every time I gave an inch; he needed a mile. I allowed him free reign of my life. Unlimited access to my phone, email, and social media accounts. As someone who already had a tendency to self-blame, I accepted that everything was my fault. It’s hard to explain, but his manipulation had a seductive quality. He would speak softly, and hold me while he told me the things that I needed to change about myself. He was just trying to help me be a better person, he would say. I could be so amazing—if only I did this, or didn’t do that. So, I tried to be who he wanted me to be.

It was never enough. He would constantly lie to me, rob me and still make me believe he had no choice. It was a sick and twisted game; and I didn’t want to play anymore. I was emotionally exhausted, and finally ready to move on.

This is the point where things started to escalate, but I felt trapped. He attacked my relationships with family and friends; convinced me that they didn’t really care about me. He was the only one who did. By then, I had three children, whom I did not want to part with. I was isolated. No family wanted me. No one cared. No one felt what I was going through.

I felt like I was nothing.

People often only think of the physical aspect of abuse, but it’s the complete mental and emotional break down of a person that leaves the biggest scars. The endless name calling. The consistent attacks on my personality and appearance. The destruction of everything I thought I was. I was already a shadow of the person I used to be.

If he knew he went too far, he’d show up with hugs and kisses. He’d put on a big show with real tears, and beg me not to leave him. He was sorry, he would get help, he would be better. He knew just what to say. He would pull at my heartstrings, and I’d take him back. Things would be good again for a while. I’d think I was happy.

Until the next time.

I was holding onto who we were in the beginning, and constantly trying to get back to that. It never occurred to me that I loved him for who I wanted him to be, and not who he truly was. The person I thought I loved didn’t exist. Every morning, I’d wake up and wonder what he was going to get mad at me for that day. I was constantly walking around on egg shells; carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders with three souls hugging me. It got to the point where he was driving me to and from work, and would show up randomly and demand to see my phone, hack my accounts.

I couldn’t breathe.

I think I finally realized that none of this was love. How could someone hate everything about me, but claim to love me? Ultimately, it was my daughter who gave me the strength to leave.

As if sent from the heavens, I was offered a lifeline. An old flame heard me. He reached out, and slowly became my confidant. He told me all the things that I needed to hear. That I was perfect, just the way I was. That I deserved better, and that he wanted to be my angel always. He offered me safety, and helped me to escape. His love was almost enough to mend my broken spirit. Unfortunately, after what I had been through, it was all too much, too soon.

We had it in us but circumstances, commitments and liabilities made us use our brains instead of our hearts.

Found many supports, different varieties. But hurt people, hurt people.  I gave away pieces of myself, a little at a time.

I always longed for those angelic words, it still tears me up inside the way I was treated by that wonderful angel. I will forever be thankful, and I hope he knows we both are sorry for not being close to each other.

I’ll never know if I would have eventually mustered up the strength to leave on my own, but that isn’t the point. I finally left for good, and never looked back. I’ve let this experience make me better, stronger, and wiser.

I couldn’t handle the thought of my children growing up thinking that the way he treated me was okay. I needed to break the cycle—for them.

I am happy and blessed today, but the loneliness tears me inside giving away pieces of myself, a little at a time.

My New Twenties...

Somewhere in the deep I have begun to wake up from a slumber. I have begun to look at the world in new ways.

My children are now grown up adults capable enough to manage themselves.

I have begun to realize there is more to life than the chores I have been endlessly doing since early 20s. I have spent my whole life trying to give myself to something outside of myself. I have spent so much time and energy on others, trying to prove my existence, that I forgot about myself along the way.

Time for myself was not even on my radar at any point. I had to accomplish so much and I have.

So I gave. I gave more than I realized.

And I began to realize I have been giving to everyone but myself.

It is around this time that I started looking inward. I started to wonder what my passions were and what interests I had. Sure I probably took some time for things I enjoyed over the last few years—but more to escape the craziness of households than real passions that made my heart sing.

Who am I? What drives me? What makes my heart smile?—All questions have become important in my mind. I start to venture into these conversations with friends.

What I see inside myself sometimes scares me. This strong desire to become more conscious about what drives me is bigger now than I have ever allowed it to be. I also get mad at myself for allowing my passion to just sit for all these years. I also get scared at just how strong that desire is. And sometimes I have no clue at all as  what my passions were, are.

This is awakening.

People on the outside looking at me might call this a midlife crisis rather than an awakening. I myself might refer to this as a crisis and not an awakening.

A crisis is defined as an unstable or even a dangerous situation where I feel unsteady in a world that I know so well, a world where I had all the rules and schedules figured out. Then, it seems, all that changes overnight. I am awakening to these strange sensations I am experiencing. I am starting to recognize or become aware of something stirring in me. Something deep and real inside of me.

When I was going through my separation, I was told I was just having a midlife crisis. It will be fine, I was told. And they were right, because I felt anything but like I was in crisis mode. I felt alive and free for the first time in I don’t know how many years! I felt like I was waking up from some deep slumber I didn’t know I had been in. I could feel my desires and passion stretching like they had been sleeping for centuries. Reaching up and out. Flexing their muscles. Screaming at me to be heard.

This all happened around that age. So maybe that age was the new 20. Maybe it was the time in my life that I should realize that I am an important part of society—not to leave my marks, but to discover what gifts I have to offer.

I found softer ways to let society know I have something to offer:

Myself.

I may look selfish to the younger generation and my kids because I am finally taking time for me. I am no longer feeling the need to manage schedules. I am doing everything for enjoyment and not escape. I am waking to all the possibilities of what I have and who I am.

I am ready to start and live my new 20s…hic..hic..

Be the rock…..

Beaten down and exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally too. Tired of holding, not only my life together, but everyone else’s. Drained and sad because I am conditioned to stay strong.

But who do I break to? Who do I fall to? Who do I call?

I fall to myself. I turn to the only one who has stayed by my side through everything—that is the beautiful woman looking back at me in the mirror. I am my backbone. I am my strength. That’s the hardest part about being a strong woman. Everyone expects us to have our shit together.

They turn to me when their world has gone dark. And they look to me when it seems as if all hope is lost. But I must be strong. I can’t show my fear. I can’t express the scared, tired, little girl that is hiding inside me, so I suffer. All while holding the world up as if I am some type of superwoman.

I suffer because I sacrifice every ounce of my being to make sure my people are cared for—that they’re happy—that I can be who they count on. But who holds me up? Sometimes it’s all too much. Sometimes all I want to do is break down.

Well, strong woman, break down. It is okay. It is okay for you to be broken. It is perfectly acceptable to break and cry in the middle of the day. It is perfectly okay to not recognize who you are. To feel lost, to be alone, scared, and terrified. It is, simply, just okay. You are allowed to break down. You are allowed to feel the pain, and you are allowed to feel like you cannot go on another day.

Once I have shattered, once I have cried and that Chambor kajal has smudged around my dry eyes, it is time to pick myself up —because I am the strong one. I am to hold my army up. I am the one to keep moving; people look to me for my strength and hope in life. I am the rock - whether I chose to be or not. Whether I see my influence or not. I am who my people look to. My experiences may have chiselled my heart, built my walls, guarded my trust in people’s actions and words. They may have shaped my demeanour, but regardless, those experiences have allowed my people to trust in me.

People are given a personal journey in life before they are born, and mine was to be strong. I have fought battles I did not want to fight. I have sacrificed things I should not have sacrificed. And I have, unfortunately, given up parts of myself to protect my people.

But you are human, my sweet, strong woman. You are alive. And you must remind yourself that you are allowed to feel. You are allowed to fight on, but you are more than allowed to just break down. But you must keep dancing and you must keep moving along.

There are beautiful things ahead for me. There are adventures with my name on it. And there is someone waiting for me. There is someone who is ready to, finally, be my rock. They are waiting to be my strong one. Ahhhhh……

But for now, forgive yourself for carrying the weight of everyone else. Just show up for yourself. Be your own warrior. Stop searching and find it within yourself.

I do not need these humans like I need my beautiful, soulful self. But they are waiting. They are ready to be my tissue, when I cry those cries. And they are ready to be my pillow when I fall.

Life sucks sometimes. But it is also a beautiful thing, as long as I let myself see it.

Find the beauty. Find the light. And just keep moving.

Be your rock, but don’t forget to let yourself fall.

Just don’t forget about you. You beautiful, crazy, strong, sensual, caring human.

You, strong woman, are what make this life beautiful. You are what everyone needs in their life. You are the reason for the sun, the moon, and the earth. You make the wind dance and the thunder crack. You are a force to be reckoned with, and you are strong like the waves of the fiercest storm. But you are also as fragile as the wings of a butterfly. You need time to feel and be reminded that you do not need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You are human. So feel it. Let it break you. Cry. But remember to breathe. Breathe it in, and let it all go.

Just don’t forget to stand back up.