Scars and Scarves

 Scars are lovely. They are a proof of many things. They are proof that you have lived. And Healed. That you have been in a battle, or at least an incident. And that you have fought and you have survived. I think that if you have scars it means that you are a brave, hardworking person. Who has endured wounds and pain and has kept on going anyway. I think that it is better to have scars than to have a smooth, untouched, unfettered surface of a skin... that endorses beauty products. If anything, scars enhance your beauty. Especially if you are a woman, in a battlefield of men.  Especially if you have earned it fighting a battle. And even if you have lost the battle, you still have your scar. You have won that scar. And you are still alive. It means that you still have another battle in you.
Scarves are lovely too. They prove nothing really, they do nothing, other than comfort you of course. Or caress you on a windy evening. Carry your tears and maybe snot. A scarf has beautified  your neck, and it has tied your hair. You are not just an accessory. In the grand scheme of things you are a memoir. A favourite colour. A gift. A symbol of strength and beauty. A scarf sometimes carries blood .. when used to to tie a wound. Sweat.. if it is tied around the forehead when working in the sun. A scarf around the wrist could mean loss and pain and vulnerability. Still, it is also a symbol of strength and solidarity. Because, maybe, that scarf is hiding a scar behind it. And maybe when that scarf flies off into the wind, the scar shines. It shines into the night that you will survive and the next morning, it will be the morning itself.   It will be the gift you have given yourself. Another day. Another flight. It could be another scar, or a scarf fragrant with your breath. And your breath will still linger in its folds when you decide, enough is enough.  And you pick up that scarf and tear it to tiny pieces... As many pieces as your heart broke into when he left. Or when they did not believe in you. Or when your hard work did not pay off.  And all those pieces will fly off into the breeze as ashes of your long lost love. You thank the love and you thank the ashes. Most of all you thank your scars. For they will always be the remainder and the reminder of what you have endured and what you can endure. You do not need to carry the ashes any more. The scar is enough. The scarf will take care of the rest.

Soul Money

Yeah we sell everything
Love, marriages
People, jobs

Work is worship!
Marriages are made in heaven!

We sell worship, heavens
Souls, about souls?
Do you sell them?

We buy them.
Sometimes for a good price!!
You sell them to us.
Yeah that's how it works.

That must hurt!

Oh but it doesn't!
Not once
You won't even know
When the barter happens
When love exchanges hands

We won't warn you either,
Of the side-effects -
Just a sharp longing maybe
For the rest of your life, maybe
But that's all right, we sell quick-fixes too

But that's unfair!

Oh come on, it's all part of life
You've got nothing to lose
Your game, your rules
We simply just sell and buy

How much?

You will have your due
We'll hand it on a platter
It'll look great, feel good
It'll solve your troubles,
Right after creating them

Troubles?

You bit the apple, didn't you?!

The One-Flight Stand with Touching Lives and Temple Pilots

The Wait

‘Eat nothing two hours before the flight’, they had told us. So we ate heartily when we had the chance. He met us just before we were due to fly. The flight was going to be delayed, he said, due to the winds. We ate together since we had the time. That was a great chance to get to know each other. 

The Temple Pilots were taking the bunch of our Touching Lives' team paragliding! So there we were, the group of us, excited for our first taste of the sky. Sachin, a core team member of the Temple Pilots, greeted us, ate with us and accompanied us to the hill where we were going to take off from. Excitement was present from the very beginning. The road to the hill was narrow and tough. The driver took us there safely and we waited for the wind to settle down. The wait too was beautiful as we sat with a big group of flyers, new and experienced, staring into the valley, mesmerised by the sights and thrilled to bits already.

Soon it was time. One by one they strapped us in and we were out there in the sky, for real!!

The Flight

Insane!  It felt insane to leave the ground and reach for the sky. Really, actually, scientifically, up in the air! Flying. I shouted for joy and for my life. ‘Everything is alright.’ Ankush, my instructor, said to me. I was myself again in a second. ‘You can let go. It’s alright.’ he said, encouraging me to un-clutch my hand from the belt. So I let go and stretched my hand out into the wind. I looked around me. The mountains and the sky were right there. Just as they were before we took flight. But they were different because I was flying. ‘So this is what you do for a living!’ I said to my instructor. ‘How cool!’. What a stupid thing to say when you are up there in the air. I said it all the same. He did not reply. I am not sure if heard me, I hope not!

I had just begun to enjoy my flight, when he said, ‘Let me know if you’d like to do dips.’  

I was like ‘Shit! This is awesome!’ Then, ‘Sure.’ I said casually. ‘Let’s do dips, in a couple of mins.’ 

He asked me in a while. ‘Are you ready now?’

(I was like, ‘Hell Yeah!’) ‘Yes! I am ready!’ I said casually and then shouted. 

The dips were soon followed by ‘a 360’ whirl in the air. That was more excitement than I could take. I was shouting again. This time it was more out of excitement than for my life. Never have I felt this safe before.  Never have I felt this alive before. Never have I been so close to the edge before.

The Goodbyes!

‘But it is it nearly dark already!’ she said. Tanvi, she was the bravest of our lot, I thought. For she had done it, in spite of her fears of leaving the ground. I had hugged her soon after. We were happy to have flown, and more so to have done it in the company and trust of such amazing people, The Temple Pilots. Sachin and the other pilots were like gods to us at that point - the gods who conspired to fly us. The adrenalin rush was still throbbing within us, while the photos and videos and thank yous and hugs took place. On our way back to the car, we were settling down to the orange ink spread out above us. The sky had decided to drench us in its favourite colour. What a beautiful sky it was. What a perfect way to say good bye.

But wait, it was more than a goodbye. More than just a one-flight stand. It was a pact. The skies will wait for us, until we return. The gods will conspire to fly us again. 

Cracks

Photograph by  Chinmay Dave

No matter what you do or say

Or don’t do or don’t say

There will be cracks and breaks

We will not mend them

Or stop them

This brokenness

Will be our stories

And the light from within our soul

Will come out

Through the cracks

In our personalities

Writing: The Madness Continues

Writing is a curse
Writing is a crime
Writing takes you to places
You know you can never find

You want to break the barriers
Set by rigid minds
Or then they might just be
The byproducts of time

But writing will make you want to
Reach beyond time
Beyond walls
Inside minds

That is when it becomes a curse
That is when they shine
The moons and shadows
Of unseen pasts

Graves ghosts knights
Believe it or not
They are all alive
You become a walking scene
Of war  rape  crime
Passion madness

Kindly acts
Walks in the park
Cloudy mornings

The testimony is yours
To give or to keep
They will always haunt you
Question you taunt you

The more you write
The more you see
The more you think
The less you see

The worry
The hurry
The agony
Of one story

One line
Few lines
Word by word


The madness continues

Bukowski On Writing

I recently discovered this. Bukowsi on writing. I come back to it, every now and then. It provokes my creative impulse. Tells me to trust my instincts more. Also, it is beautifully narrated by Tom O' Bedlam. Enjoy!

So you want to be a writer

By Charles Bukowski

“

If it doesn’t come bursting out of you

In spite of everything,

don’t do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it for money or

fame,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don’t do it.

if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,

don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,

don’t be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don’t be dull and boring and

pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to sleep

over your kind.

don’t add to that.

don’t do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don’t do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.”