Mosses on the Stone

When I wake up early morning, and stand at my balcony with a glass of apple shake, sipping in the fluid and watching the morning sky and the feeling the rise of the mighty Sun. The winds blow hard these days and the gushing wind brushes against my face. I wonder what if I didn't want be a millennial girl, who makes her won morning shake, cooks her own meals, drives to work and packs a bunch of fries while returning back home, what if i wanted to be a swan, a white large swan in the wild grass and marshlands or a country side lass who grows spinach in the winter mornings and coriander leaves and hums her favorite hymns that her grand mother taught her since her childhood.

 I wanted to be a village lass who lived by the hills and the vegetable fields. The winters be so cold and the coriander leaves spread the fragrance of the winters. The cows and the buffaloes mooed at the winter morning tunes. I would love to dip in the waterfall in the forest, and the wet cotton towel around my hair would drip the waters of the mountains. I imagine walking by the forest roads, carrying an earthen pot of cold water back home. On the way, I meet trees filled with blossom, yellow flowers that smell like heaven. I collect them and wear on my hair, they smell days and nights like the starts twinkle in the dark sky. I cook meals while feeding the herd of sheep that graze at the nearby meadows. The big banyan tree that shades my courtyard, plays hide and seek with the sun rays, and the white flakes of clouds.

I watch the sunset and the scarlet sun that slumbers in the horizon, to give way to starry nights. I light the evening lamp, and sit beside the flowing river. Hear the sounds of lapping waters and the rustling sounds of wild grass. I float the lamp to the river, wishing it would reach the heaven, for those who rest in peace there. The beauty of stars and the dark sky would steal my heart away.

As i sleep to the closure of the day, I sleep with no stress. I smell the haystack and sleep to the spirits of life and glory.

I chose not be the woman who walks collecting the yellow fragrant flowers, but the one who sips in her artificial happiness from mornings to nights and she is thus trapped in her own desires, greed and lust. How she wishes she could break away the glass of apple shake and dive into the cold waters of the waterfall inside the green forest, and smear the peal  droplets, till she quenches her thirst of attaining bliss and solitude.

Those misty nights

Taking my memories back, is always my favorite plot to write a blog. Memories heaped up during my late childhood and early teens, can accumulate a stairway to blissfulness and tales. I had an interesting growing up days, not so grown up yet a life filled with adventures and experiences to pen down. I was 14, when I performed as a dancer in local shows. I always aspired to be in show business and had been engaged in various sorts of art forms, but life had a different vision for me. That transported me to where I stand today.

It was a misty night of late November and the city is cold. I traveled for performing to a different town.Away from home for the first time. We were given a dorm where there were about 20 beds. This was my first time experience to live in nights such this. People who travel would know about Hyderabad and its gemstone attraction- "Ramoji Film City". I and my mother always had a vision of me becoming a dancer and travel the world spreading the culture and rich heritage of India. And so following the dreams I joined a troupe of dancers, and that landed me to Hyderabad.We went for a show and as a part of a huge troupe, I played a negligible role in the show. The life of a simple girl who travels to achieve her dreams. There were other girls who were hired and they stay away from their parents for years together. They wake up in the morning, and run for their shows , entertain the visitors and come back home tired at nights. I joined the show for a week's time, would have been back in seven days time but these dancers live in the days and nights of performance, lights and a agile life.

November nights are my favorite. They smell of winters and the leaves, trees, flowers all smell of cold and happiness. November 2008, i witness a different sight of struggle and survival. The lights were not so soothing around me, they gleamed of the struggle of those women who toil days and nights to serve a plateful to their parents. Life is stage and lights and audience. I couldn't survive the life, i moved on to pursue a different career later. Yet, the evenings, where those ladies wearing make up and glitters on face, to mask despair and port happiness to the world.