Children of God

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By the time my niece was two and a half years old, we had bonded quite well. So, I decided to take her out on a walk one day. My niece – an adorable tiny creature walking alongside me and clutching onto my two fingers. As we walked, she looked at the world with her beaming face. Probably there was even a tinier person sitting inside her brain and recording all that she was seeing. On the other hand, I thought of how much this place had changed since my childhood. I had not been to this part of the town lately, the not-so-wide streets and the old house where I grew up.

With the town overflowing with population and creating chaos with its blaring vehicles & busy stalls, where do you take the two-year old?  The only place that I could think of was a temple of Hanuman nearby. It was the place that I used to visit when I was around her age. The temple was not really a popular one despite being very old. Probably that was the reason why I enjoyed visiting it back in the days. It was located in one of the side-lanes, little far from the main street. One had to walk down the kachha road to reach there. So I walked, marched, and matched my footsteps with those little feet. On our way over there, I showed her things that she might find amusing – a puppy, a kitten, a tall tree and a man with a long beard. When we finally entered the temple through its black-coloured gates, I imagined how my family back home would react to this, knowing only too well my relationship (?) with God.

I almost felt awkward. The way you feel when you stumble upon your ex at an event or a ceremony and immediately resort to an explanation. “I’m just here for the event, you know. What’s up, God! How have you been?”  But today was not the time to introduce atheism to my niece. As we moved inside the temple, I could see that she was already well versed with the dos and don’t s of the religious place. Where to take off your footwear, how to fold hands in front of the deity, etc. As we sat down in front of the deity, she looked up and asked me, “Why don’t you fold your hands?”  It had to be replied with a smile and me asking her, “I don’t know how to. You show me.” “Like this. See. Like this,” she gestured.

Afterwards, I showed her around the temple. I suddenly remembered that one of my schoolmates used to stay inside the temple premises as he happened to be the son of a priest working there. I looked up with a false hope as if he would still be around. His house was shut and wore a deserted look. Meanwhile, my niece was running around a tree in circles and pausing intermittently as if to check if I’m noticing her new achievement or not. It was reminiscent of the time when I use to run around this place with my sister. I loved chasing kittens and yes, also looking at this giant tree standing right in the center. My sister and I would try to guess its age. We could never reach consensus on the number but we did agree that it must have been older than any of our grandparents. I stood next to the tree and touched its bark. It was still standing strong. The wrinkles on its branches did give away its age but rather gracefully, like strands of grey hair shining on an old man’s beard. It was still holding a promise to touch the sky with its leaves on top. As a child, I always related it with a popular story of a young man who climbs the tree to enter the world of dreams.

I touched the tree with my palm and wondered if it still remembers me. I had learned in school that trees are living beings just like us and I had always wondered since then whether they too have memory. I wondered if the tree silently acknowledged its old friend.  I would like to think that it did. Maybe that’s the kind of solace every believer seeks. Hoping for a positive outcome and negating the doubts in their head about whether God really did hear the prayer. Maybe, it is all about hope in the end.  Maybe that’s why we don’t tell children that magic isn’t real, that Santa is simply their mom or dad tucking gifts under their pillow or that some things just cannot be afforded. Maybe God is another name for hope, and adults are his children who need to sleep well at night. They need not always know everything in its naked reality.

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Writer’s block

writers_block

This little place they call a writer’s block.

Would you care to pay me a visit?

I surround myself with it. I stay in it, and I sleep over it.

I have made it my home now.

Would you push open the old creaking gate,

And tiptoe down the spiral staircase to the basement?

The house welcomes you with an archaic clock.

It is stuck at the hour you said goodbye.

Don’t be fooled; they’re my eyes.

Stare at them long enough & your reflection will wink back.

The guestroom is adorned with a flame.

My lungs blow oxygen once in a while to rekindle its dying spark.

Hear that fluttering sound right across the hall?

A foolish child tied my heart to the ribcage,

said it was his paper kite that someone tried to snatch away.

I keep thinking that you’d come around.

I hear you re-read the drafts I scribbled long back,

Ask me who did I write them for?

But I just lie here in an empty bed,

And watch the wind play its dirty tricks.

Our memories ride on the paper planes,

And fly across the room in a frenzy.

Till they become the wandering clouds,

that disappear into the sunbeam.

The memories that you’ll become in years to come,

The memories that you already are.

Double Distilled Feelings

Write Drunk and Edit Sober

Double distilled feelings and

A complementary hangover of memories.

A wrinkled bed sheet smudged with cigarette ash,

And an ignored slice of barbeque pizza on the side.

A ceiling fan doing ringa ringa roses,

It struggles to throw the smoky thoughts outside.

Outside the window he was staring from.

High. Happy High. Sad. And hopeful at the same time.

There was something amazing about her.

How she came onto his rescue every time.

Encircling him into her arms,

And him surrendering himself into her.

A cold breeze brought the news of her arrival and

An orange Sun gently stole her away from his arms.

With her he felt most peaceful,

And yet chaotic at the same time.

The way she slips into his lap,

Let the scent of her hair envelop him,

And watch his resistance vanish like the smoke on the wind.

Gravity grows more jealous,

Every time her eyes lay a grip on his masculinity.

 Cursed was the man who was endowed with

A beautiful sentimental heart, tainted by a cynical mind.

Are you one of those people who press the elevator button twice or more, and truly believe that it will come faster?

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‘So, are you one of those people who press the elevator button twice or more in a period of less than 60 seconds and truly believe that it will come faster? I was one of you, and most of us are. In this Dolce far niente phase of my life, It was a cozy winter afternoon where I came across this question regarding pressing the elevator button. Within seconds, I found myself digging deep in the rabbit hole trying to know as to why do I (we) actually press the button and expect it to come faster? We have always subconsciously believed that the more number of times we press the elevator button, the faster it is going to come. Right? Wrong! Our subconscious self knows that the elevator has recorded the press and will arrive at its time, but in our material-driven, self conscious world we think pressing it again is going to help.

Maybe because most of us are so adapted to ‘do’ things constantly. We can’t stay still. We can’t do ‘nothing’. The moment we realize the elevator isn’t coming anytime soon, we start getting edgy. Then, we feel extremely edgy. Just even in a matter of a couple of minutes, we can’t stand just like that. Humans have been disciplined to prefer action over inaction. From the time we wake up in the morning right till we hit the bed at night, how many seconds do we just sit still doing ‘nothing’? Doing nothing is also an action, but at a different state; which we fail to practice most of the times. I’d also like to point out, we live in a society where being busy signifies importance and doing nothing is frowned upon. People are just a bit less busy than it takes to tell people they are busy.

This behavior is not limited to elevators, but also I could see people pressing the pedestrian crossing button over and over again, and we do it on our computers too while entering some command.

Is it because we want to take control over everything that is happening to us in our lives? It seems to me that we are too afraid to let go, sit back and watch things happen to us. It is too dreadful to think about this experience as something terrible might just happen. No?

Anyways, Is it wrong or harmful to press the elevator button twice or more? As long as it fulfills the purpose of making our brains calmer in that moment, why not just do it? We really know pressing the button MAKES NO DIFFERENCE and the elevator will come at its time. But yet, the more time the lift takes to come, the more number of times we press the button. It is said that we humans are the rational most beings on Earth. But has the hole over-flown now? Do you think we give way too much importance to rationality? I believe rationality is subjective and not one universal paradigm. And just calming your brain doesn’t seem to be irrational in any way or does it really? It isn’t about rationality.

It is about faith and trust. Patience is too cliché a word. I wouldn’t say it teaches us patience, which by itself it certainly does. But something bigger and beautiful beyond patience, it cultivates a culture within us, as individuals. We don’t need to take charge of everything that happens to us, because whatever is going to happen and can happen will happen anyway. There is thrill in giving (away) controls of your life. And we need to start trusting things, trusting the elevator, trusting the lift and trusting yourself for being able of developing trust. We need to shrug off our insecurities and simply trust.

Because the gospel, my friends, is that the elevator will not come early no matter how many times you press the button. Just press it once, and stay. Stay still and tell yourself that the elevator will be here soon, following its status, and in no time the elevator shall arrive! When I did this for the first time, I walked in the elevator with a pure and blissful sense of achievement. I felt calmer than I would feel otherwise. The main epiphany I had here is that being in control of yourself feels much greater and pleasant than trying to control other external factors. And every time you do this when you are waiting for an elevator, soon you’re going to get dang amused to see yourself feel free and lighter and cheerful. Trust me on this; it is one of the best feelings to see yourself develop a new habit that stays with you for life. The habits and cultures I’ve cultivated in myself at this age are the most memorable ones and are independent of any external pressure or brainwashing. I took the sole decision of it & it feels fascinating.

Just know what my sense of universe is trying to tell you, When you press the button of the lift , the lift is going to come, regardless of how many times you have pressed the button (You will get what you want). Also, if you keep pressing the lifts button twice or more, restlessly, it is Not going to make any difference and it will come at its time. (You will get what you’ve always got). I also just realized I have thoroughly and thickly endorsed dolce far niente in the lines I wrote above, unplanned so I believe it’s a pat on my back by the universe. Maybe…

About the author: 
Kiran Dave is a knowledge hungry, and a passionate lover of life. She believes as we love, we attract. She is fond of Expressing by the means of writing, practices meditation. She loves meeting people as she believes we all have a story to tell, and that there is happiness and inspiration that magnifies the positive level of your nature and psyche in everything we experience as Humans. Reading stories and current affairs of the world is one of her favorite amusement. She’s an aspiring scholar in the scope of International Relations.
Follow her on www.simplytac.blogspot.in