Let Me In

Slight lift of eyebrow
Glimmer of thought
Semblance of smile

Dainty flick of wrist
Quick mental whisk
Salty dew drops

Shared tender love
Tendrils of affection
Kisses, make up

Aching heart heavy
Mourns memory loss
Time robbed us both honey!

picture from internet

Lethal Injection

She was feeling suffocated.  Her body was shriveling. “Oh My God, he is going to kill me! I have to fight! I was born after a great struggle.  I will fight them tooth and nail”.  

She came into her own after many a blood shed.  The quiet streets became her stomping grounds.  Anyone vunerable she found,  she overcame, cannibalized. Slowly her tentacles spread everywhere.  Her victims felt like death warmed up.   

The hush could be sliced with a knife!  Everyone watched with bated breath.  After extensive testing a lethal injection had been prepared with no side effects.  Specialists had gathered to watch.   

“My rule is over”. 

Headlines blared.  Medical breakthrough.  Aids vaccine found.

Victor’s Dream – Part One

Victor’s Dream
Shomu was a lovable child who loved his family very much.  Being eldest, he wanted to grow up hurriedly and give his Mother whom he called Amu and (dad)Baba, a hand.  Early on he became aware of their daily grind to provide for his two brothers and him. 

Baba was a cobbler and polished shoes also.  In his skilled hands even old worn out shoes got a new lease in life.    His mom sewed and repaired for the neighborhood on an ancient machine which was diligently oiled and kept fit.  The three children attended the local school as their baba wanted them to find another profession as cobblers had meager earnings.

Shomu always considered himself a winner and often wished he could change his name to Victor.  He was very fond of this word which he had learnt in his English class.  Slowly the family started calling him Vicky to please him and the old name Shomu was forgotten.

After school, Vicky would run home and help his brothers with homework and his beloved amu with household chores before joining his baba.  He relished polishing shoes and make them shine.  Baba would indulge him but only after ensuring that he had finished his school homework.  Vicky would whistle happily and shine shoes to his heart’s content.  He always got a bit more in tips than his baba.  It was mainly his happy face and cheerful manner that pleased their clientele. 

Vicky had just turned sixteen when he was forced to run his baba’s shoe repair business alone as they’d lost him tragically when a bus with failed brakes mowed him down along with others in its path.  After a lot of hue and cry the bus owners had given each victim’s family a large sum of money.  Vicky’s amu had quickly banked the money for her sons’ higher education and in case there was an emergency.  Vicky joined night school so that he could work in morning to help amu manage the house.  He also ensured that his brothers studied hard and did not get into bad company.

Sen Dada was a regular customer of his baba and now Victor’s. He was in the lottery business.  Each month he’d jested with baba that he should buy a lottery ticket as he’d surely win.  Sen Dada always told baba he was a lucky man indeed with three obedient sons and a hard working bahu (wife).  Baba had remained impassive and always refused
to buy a lottery ticket that cost Rupees twenty.  Now again, Sen Dada tried to sell the lottery ticket.  But Victor stuck to his guns and shook his head and continued shining the shoes.  The shoes literally glistened and Sen Dada could see his face in them.  He was delighted and decided to gift a lottery ticket instead of paying for his shoeshine.  Victor in a weak moment accepted the ticket, breaking his baba’s rule.  He apologized to baba in his heart.

 

On his way home, Victor stopped at the nearby Durgabaari

and placed the ticket in front of Kali Ma asking for her blessing.  He also told Kali Ma that as far back as he could recall he had always felt like a winner and maybe this ticket would get his family out of poverty and a better way of life.  Then he sped home.

 

The lottery was a bumper one and the prize money was a whopping fifty lakh rupees.  Every Calcuttan who could afford twenty bucks had bought a ticket.  The momentum had built up and the excitement was palpable and could be cut with a knife.  The madness and razor edge excitement was akin to the one when India played cricket with their arch enemies Pakistan.  Next morning was the drawing day. 

   

Sen Dada always kept ten tickets for himself.  Now he held nine as the tenth one he had gifted to Victor. 

The numbers were announced and everyone rushed to buy the evening paper as it carried the results in print.  Victor had been so busy whole day long that he had completely forgotten about the ticket.    Suddenly he heard sounds of drum beats approaching as a group of ten of so of his friends and family approached with Sen Dada leading them.

 

Dada came near and embraced him like a son.  He said, “Victor, you are indeed a Victor.  Your ticket has won the prize money.”  Victor’s mouth fell open.  Then pure joy coursed through his veins making him giddy with happiness.  He pulled the ticket out of his pocket and it matched the numbers in the evening paper.  Suddenly Victor uttered the words, “Where should I keep it, what should I do?  Where should I keep it, what should I do?”  He kept muttering these sentences over and over again.  Victor had lost his mind after his victory!

http://www.binaguptapoetry.com/vicors-dream-part-two-1106.htm

all pictures are from the internet disclaimer

A Journey- a Connection

A Journey- a Connection

 

Sometimes, certain journeys are like a renaissance painting, a bit blurred but pleasant on the eye and soul soothing.  Such were the trips we’d made consecutively a few years ago during our visit to India.

My sister has great faith in this particular Devi shrine in Himachal and both times she was delighted to have us n make it a family outing.

We piled into a Tata Sumo van in wee hours.  Bro-in-law’s  best friend Jay likes to drive.  After invoking  Hindu god Ganesh and   goddess shakti also knowns as “devi” we were on our way.  Jay is a diehard fan of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan hence out of his copious pockets he withdrew some tapes and we were treated to some soulful sufi music.   We were entranced.  The mood was set for the trip.

I have absolutely no road sense, so will only dwell on what my mind captured on these trips.  On our way after several hours, I recall having a sumptuous meal at a  (roadside diner)   Dhaba.  Then we were climbing the mountains and the hairpin curves around white limestone/sandstone cliffs were rather daunting.  Luckily none of us was nauseous and then we had halted midway up the mountain at a Shiva shrine inside a cave.  This was a natural cave temple of Trilokpur containing a stalactite and stalagamite dedicated to Shiva. High on the ridge of the cave we saw the ruins of a palace and baradari (audience hall). Ihe Shiva temple was very ancient and we had to bend very low to enter this shrine.  Outside, there was a lovely waterfall(banganga) and I felt this is how mount Kailash would be with Ganga flowing out of the Shiva locks as he meditated.

  After paying due obeisance we were on our way reluctant to leave as it was very peaceful high up in the mountains. The Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys of lower Himalayas. Ancient Hindu Temples like Bajreshwari Devi, Chamunda Devi, Baijnath Shiv temple and Jwala Devi ji dot the country side. The valley, sheltered by the sublime Dhauladhar range, is green and luxuriant. It provides a tremendous contrast in nature.

I recall visiting the various “Devi” shrine during these trips. The one place that completely enchanted me was this ancient shrine of Mata called Bagalamukhi.    The Bankhandi temple is located on the Dehra-Dharamsala road, Kangra. There had been a rock fall and a good portion had fallen inwards inside the cave itself.  The inner sanctorum was intact and the caretakers had built a small entrance and veranda around it.  Belief had it that whatever boon you ask there will be fulfilled.  My sister firmly believed in it after a narrow escape and her husband had promised  the Devi that he would return to give thanks and hold a langar (lunch)for the local children and their families. 

After due respects everyone was busy mustering up the locals and preparing for the langar feast.  I absorbed the peace and tranquility of the place.  It was incredible.  The aura and the vibrations were amazing.  Mercifully there were no crowds and in fact at that time we were the only ones there.  I was allowed to sit in the inner sanctorum and the bliss was tangible.  I closed my eyes and meditated.  I was transported.  It was almost an out of body experience.  I was floating and drawn towards the deity. Peace descended on my bruised spirit like a soothing salve.  The Mother had taken me in her arms and removed all my hurts absorbing them and filling the void with love.  I was in a blissful state.  had journeyed within and without. This shrine’s power was quite potent and I felt it fully. I cherish this experience holding it close to my heart.

*In Hinduism, Bagalamukhi or Bagala is one of the ten mahavidya goddesses. Bagalamukhi Devi smashes the devotee’s misconceptions and delusions by her cudgel. She is also known as Pitambara in Northern Parts of India. (wiki)

**Kangra HP, rich in culture and history is sheltered by the massive Dhauladhar range of mountains and this majestic mountain range surpasses all others in its grandeur The history of Kangra valley dates back to vedic times, more than 3,500 years ago. It finds mention in the Puranas the Mahabharta and in Rajtarangani. Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys in the Himalayas. The famous Bajeshwari Devi temple is located in the town.  Kangra town is situated at the confluence of the Baner and Majhi streams, overlooking the Banganga torrent famous for temples, forts and now a speedily emerging as a business centre. There are two other important Hill stations in district Kangra known as Dharamsala and Palampur. All in all, Kangra with a numerous important temples is a great destination for people looking to go on a religious holiday escape.

Dharamshala is full of Buddhist air and McLeod Ganj is Dalai Lama’s official residence, and home to several Buddhist monasteries and thousands of Tibetan refugees.  We got a taste of mini Tibet here.  The shrine of Budhha was very majestic and peaceful. (Source-internet)

pics. from internet

The Molting

The brothers were happy that they had discharged their duty well.  They had found a super arranged match for their only sister.  After the loss of their parents in the Tsunami in Thailand, they hastened to settle her.  She had been spoiled by them all and even though a free spirit, she was unworldly.  Hence anchoring her to a worthy groom was crucial. Providentially they found a successful doctor from USA as her match. Their anxiety was over.  
 

 
Maya sat curled like a red ball waiting for her newly minted husband.  She barely knew him as things had moved too fast and all events for past month were a blur.  Her heart was still grieving for dad and mom.  Now grief jostled with trepidation, excitement and fear.  She was still a virgin even though was cognizant of the birds and bees.  Her heart was palpitating.  Suddenly there was a scuffle outside her door and then her husband Yogi was pushed inside by his family and the door locked from outside.  Maya curled further.  Yogi gradually came to her and asked her to wear a comfortable nightdress.  She quickly nodded and changed in the adjacent bathroom.  He was already under the sheets waiting for her.  Turning off the lights she crept in.  Then began the assault on her body.  He grabbed her and raped her without any foreplay.  She was taken aback and bit back her angry tears.  Soon he was snoring and she was sobbing heart broken.  All her conjured visions of a Mills and Boon romance had bitten the dust.  Her shamed spirit covered itself.  Her hometown Mumbai had become alien. Her tender heart became numb-
A frozen block of ice.
 

 
Honeymoon at home in USA was also a nightmare.  His passion was insatiable whilst her dreams had fled.  Away from her old moorings she was lost.  Friendless and penniless she was at the mercy of this devil, her husband.  Her mind was boggled.  She had to save herself and keep her sanity happen what may.  Pride forbade her from confiding in her kith and kin.  She bided her time.  The dulled stars in her eyes now shone with a resolve to rise above this degradation.  Besides carnal assault she also had to suffer emotional domination.  In self preservation, she began to live and survive in a beautiful parallel world created by her mind.  When the going got tough, she fled into her personal wonderland.  This proved to be life saver and helped in maintaining her sanity.    
 

 
Conditioning did its job well and she fell into the groove of a dutiful wife and mother of twins.  The arrival  of babies gave her a new lease to life and it changed for the better.  Still she felt enslaved as she had no voice of her own.  Her opinions did not matter.  He had the final say.  Now this autocracy made no new bruise on her psyche.  Now during sex, she would conjure up the latest heart throb from her morning dose of soap opera stars and it became bearable. Other times she tolerated it as though swallowing  that awful cod liver oil in childhood.  She showered all her pent up love on her children and tried to bring them up to the best of her ability.  She continued doing yoga which was a second habit from childhood.  This helped maintain her body and soul.  Her spirit stayed numb.
 
 
Dr. Yogi Desai was young and handsome and was not averse to fooling around with his staff.  Late nights and emergencies made him stay overnight in the hospital and often he was away on medical conferences as well.  The twins had started nursery school and now she had free time.  Maya was quite imaginative and soon started writing short stories for children.

As a lark, she sent them to some local “Parent” publications and they got accepted.  In fact they were well received and she was encouraged to send more.  Emboldened, she sent out feelers to local papers to be a columnist.  She was told to get a degree in journalism before venturing in this field.  She determined to do just that.    She finished a journalism course online and got her degree.  Yogi paid for this without a murmur.  She was proud of herself and celebrated it with her twins.  Yogi had no time for her and was only interested in his kids.  In the interim they had applied for her US citizenship and she was now a US citizen with a valid passport and she already had a driving license.
She was somebody in her own right.  

 
Again she sent out feelers to the local and national rags and was accepted by a couple.  She would send in sensitive social and topical pieces and soon her Pseudonym Nancy Dee (Nancy Drew derivative) became respected and other papers sought columns from her.  She started making good money.  Yogi was not happy.  He did not like his wife growing wings and daring to come up from air from underneath his heavy foot.  She rejoiced, he sulked.  
 

 TV channels had started hiring doctors and news staff from Asian countries.  One of the major channels sent her an interview letter and she was beside herself with joy.  She went ahead and made an appointment.  The gods were on her side.  The twins were already in junior high and doing well.  His parents were with them for six months and so she had no worries.  The interview went well and she became the anchor of channel CPS.  She had arrived on her own steam.  Now was the time to molt.  She was ready to revolt.
 

 
Quietly she went to see an attorney and filed for divorce papers.  Yogi and his parents were stunned.  The twins had been gradually prepared by her and were stoic.  They were close to both parents but preferred mom.  Yogi fought for the custody of his children.  The court asked the twins and they opted for their mom.  Finally Maya molted skin of slavery sloughing it off and regaining her own self for self.  Her mental and real world fused to become one.  She was at peace.  It took sixteen years to come out of her marital slavery.   She had decided who to let walk away, who to let stay, and who to refuse to let go.  No one would ever dominate over her ever again.  She would call the shots for herself.  Her brave spirit would not let her indulge in a meltdown when the going was tough.  Now she allowed herself the luxury of thawing.  She wept away rivers for all the ignominies her battered spirit had borne.  she was cleansed.

(p.s.: this is based on various horror stories heard over the years from various transplanted blooms from India.)

 

***   ***   ***

 Fire is the test of gold; adversity, of strong men.
Seneca 4 B.C. ? 65 A.D., Spanish-born Roman Statesman, philosopher

 

Freedom is the open window through which pours the sunlight of the human spirit and human dignity.
Herbert Hoover American, President

There are no constraints on the human mind, no walls around the human spirit,
no barriers to our progress except those we ourselves erect.
Ronald Reagan  American, President

The human spirit needs to accomplish, to achieve, to triumph to be happy
It is inevitable that some defeat will enter even the most victorious life.
The human spirit is never finished when it is defeated… it is finished when it surrenders.
Ben Stein American, Actor

Never underestimate the power of dreams and the influence of the human spirit.
We are all the same in this notion: The potential for greatness lives within each of us.
Wilma Rudolph American, Athlete

Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.
William Ellery Channing American, Writer
 

Words alone cannot fully convey the realities of the soul or the greatness of the human spirit.
William Shirley British, Politician

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