Bon a Voyage

How wonderfully enticing those words seem – ‘ bon voyage’ and yet there is a strange glitch of farewell involved. More you feel like getting out of those clutching roots, more they pull you with all their love and horrorful intensities. You look behind at the shore where you are comfortably given space and yet you feel out of place – far off from time.

You try to get immersed inside sand, to not see the sea and avoid all your desires, only that, every passing breeze from the ocean – unlayers that crookedly wrapped sheets of sand and fill your noistrills with that familiar fragrance of surfy sea with all its salty adventures aand explorations.

You clench your noise and shut your ears. Your lungs gasp for just a tiny flair of that sea – sensation. Round and round you sing the same songs – of past glory to bring some satisfaction. More you try to fit in, more it begets dissatisfaction.

Not that the comfort on shore is unwanted or the love disrespected. But that craving and meaning of one’s own entity seems lost. Emotions get disbalanced and you get struck at the boundary of senselessness and sensations.

You promise yourself secretly of future endeveurs and try to gel with the present.  but you can’t digest the strange so called ‘common’ expectations and requirements of you turning to normal. You suddenly become a stranger in your own land with people outcasting you for your dreams and passions. You crave to be in your raw self – outstripped of all masks – those social botherations. You seek your solitariness and those distinctive notions.

The most significant benefit of living with numerous cultures is ‘acceptance’ i guess. You accept it to be different and respect it for that distinctiveness and vice – verse. None tries to change the other. none expects, none bounds. But a free relationship of mutual exploration and wisdom beyond the rigidity of facts and figures – is attained.

Alas! All but your own people understand this. They’ll accept everything but you wandering and then they blackmail you to end their own existence all together – if you even try to attain all shades of nature and culture. They just can’t accept your multi – dimensionality and force you to remain in your stereo-typical single shade that has defined them all through ancestral ages.

You understand and respect that shade and their decision. If not kept intact and under certain dimentions what would distinguish each land from other, what would become their definition? Only that, you also see that rainbow inside your soul and spirit. Its just impossible for you to cut off your other shades and become single dimensioned again. That shade is your sub –set not all and the other shades to them – seem an intervention.

You see each passing ship and discuss your various longings. None seems bold enough to become your belonging. You crave to be strong enough – to be on your own. free to explore and learn – every parchment , every stone.

And yet, that glitch of your roots which hold your life line, which compels you to stop and follow their guideline.  You continue to stare the endless sea, those millions of stars, with a strange realization – of having a promiscuous Wander-Heart.

And there, at the brink of the periphery, appears a lonely ship – abandoned by its owners, with dents of time’s whips. Maybe this is meant for you – your personal fairy. Just like you – through storms it has survived – it can’t be a simple story. So you wait for it to glide towards you in the evening sky. with a promise to visit again – you tell your roots –another goodbye. And deep in your heart ponders only rhyme – Bon a Voyage my girl, this is your time.

 - mystical wanderer

The Birth of Anglo-Saxons

                THE BIRTH OF  ANGLO -SAXONS 

Imagine a wild tribe thousands of years before – living right beside a raging northern Baltic sea – at a time when man didn’t know – how to swim. It’s a journey of man’s fear transforming into a man’s conquest with will and determination. 

Three Germanic tribes – Jutes, Angles and Saxons – decided to outstretch their dimension and travel. Travel to faraway lands of Europe – to conquest and triumph. Aim was eternal – power, possession and position. A journey – initiated by Jutes, followed by Saxons – the swordsmen finally merged with the power of most conquering tribes of the world – the tribe of hook-men – Angles. Together they formed Auglalond – the present day England.

So, was it only about beastliness or wars? Was - Images of hardy fishermen and swordsmen with nothing but ships, sea, armaments –their only entity? What about their humane side – morality - emotions?

Well, historical divas vary from the characters of literature. History captures actions, literature brings out the intentions. So, the history portrays some births, some deaths, murders and conquests. But literature includes those days of glory, their race and stories.

It is in such pieces of literature that one gets to feel poems like Beowolf, sea – fearer, wanderer and understand their worries and treasures, their worst fears, their pleasures.  One sees man’s fears in the mythical dragons of beowolf and deep heart-felt emotions in the poetry of Caedmon and Cynewolf.

Imagine a social-activist born at that time – Alfred – with his motto – whilst i live i wish to live nobly, and after life to leave to the men who come after me – a memory of good works.’ This man when was at an age to celebrate martyrdom, he preferred to learn latin and translate every good manuscript of latin into English. One of his life’s aim was to educate all Englishmen enough to read and write in English. He was the creator of first English prose. He created navy, ensured law, rewarded wanderers with good foreign religious manuscripts, and employed every poor scholar into teaching. Though he didn’t create much literature of his own but he did translate several significant historical manuscripts – including ‘Bede’s history’ , ‘consolations of philosophy’ and most significantly ‘the saxon chronicle’ – which became the oldest historical record known to any European nation in its own tongue.

Though the literature was limited and most of it didn’t even survive. But whatsoever little reminiscence of that once ancient palace are visible – they all sing out those past’s glories. Days, when man was the same – with all moralities and folly, only the foes  were different – sea and its story.  And yet, there love too was the same. Sea, dragons, myths and mystical names. A century of monumentalization of journey, gradual decay and then a sudden apocalypse. There – a new war, a new conquest – The Norman Conquest.

That time gradually got shoved deep inside the layers of conquests and time, but, whenever a page or two get turned, a hurricane with splashes of thunder outrage outside. And there one sees, a world so same, yet, in different time – with sea and ships in romance and fights. The couple trances in numerous forms  - many nights, many dawns. That world though seems full of fights. But there happened man’s priormost flights. The world of Anglo–Saxons with all its bravery, sea and dragons. 

  - mystical wanderer

to that man out there

To that man out there

You

The one in white shirt

Yes you look handsome to me

And i want you to approach me

To come and charm me with your skills

And take me somewhere we can talk

Or maybe i would like to look at you for now

And then decide what i want

But won’t it be good

To melt in your arms

To have your strength

Ride around mah palm

And kiss you long

Long enough to be out of breath

And unstrip that leather boundary

Distorting that evening charm

There beside some sea waves

You me wine and palm

With we playing in surf

Doing things not so calm

But wait

Atleast look at me

I know you

now you are stealing eyes

i saw you seeing me

i want you to see me

not  you – the one beside

but you

 the one in white

o.k i won’t see you now

anyhow i was not

but won’t it be good

to hold you in mah arms

and let you touch

those strings inside

of giggles and joy

that are usually shy

and jump and glide

with you beside

and feel your steel

on either side

and succumb you

right inside

but wait

where are u staring

not in your phone silly

here is the ride

and where are you going

not so soon

you can’t be shy

wait

i have no choice

should i talk

it feels so naive

but wait

don’t leave

ok i would say

our first hii

but am i not a girl

i should be shy

to hell – those rules so sly

i will move

to mah desire

but wait

where are you

ok that was coy

i know you knew

oh! Why so shy

ok then let me say

to myself

atleast

a bye.

    - mystical wanderer

No, Not Tonight!!!

   No, Not Tonight!!!

I won’t break down tonight

This night is that rare insight

Of hills and valleys side by side

Of  that faith and will beside

Of it being a long journey

made shorter with time’s agony

To live or die - in my hand

time - so like sand

That slips out of my palm like fish

More i clench it more it gets vanish

Sudden light long darkness

Control on life becomes - mess

Choice is mine to participate

Or merely observe

Life is to create

Death – a halt of nerve

A tiny pill, a steep jump

A sharp cut, a hard bump

A moment and there goes life

And there monuments my strife

Why be rigid and kill my options

Nature has both moons and suns

To love both is the beauty
Silly godot silly its prosody

Still its the ray of life

Keep it or remain in strife

So i choose to live in this moment

Right now despite of dent

And there dent enhances my glory

A beauty spot, a hidden story

And here i change my name to ‘change’

And here adds every ignored range

Of things unreached and things so desired

Of things never wanted and yet so fired

And here becomes a whole new – i

Confident, happy, aware, with no wry. 

   - MYSTICAL WANDERER

 - MYSTICAL WANDERER

ये धुंधला सा आस्मां

ये धुंधला सा आस्मां

ये धुंधला सा आस्मां
वो ढेरो तारे
तुम्हारे ही हैं
ये दुनिया हम सारे
वह खिलखिलाती सी धूप
वो मुस्कुराती चांदनी
ओस में लिपटे फूल
वह शाम की सादगी
वो लफ़्ज़ों का चुपके से आना
वह लबों का गुनगुनाना
जुगनुओं की चमकती बारिश
खनखनाती हवा की भोली साज़िश
वो दबी सी हसीं और खुद से बातें
वो मीठी सी चाहत, ढेरों मुलाकातें
तुम्हारे ही हैं वो दिन वो रातें

कहते थे लोग सब बदलता है
इश्क़ भी कहाँ हमेशा चलता है
मांगते थे दुआ हम सौ बार
सिर्फ तुम्हे और तुम्हारा प्यार
खुद खुद से
बन बैठे थे जैसे
वो वक़्त और तुम
सब अपना था कैसे
नहीं जानते थे
की वक़्त इस मोड़ ले आएगा
जी भी न  सकेंगे
मार भी ना पायेगा
शायद उस लम्बे जाड़े से पहले
पतझड़ इस बार भी ज़रूर आएगा
तुम ही बताओ कल का सवेरा
नया क्या लाएगा
क्या तुम आओगे फिर इक बार
वो आँखों में चमक
लफ़्ज़ों में प्यार
वो जुबां पे तुम्हारे
हर वक़्त हमारा नाम
वो बाँहों में तुम्हारी
रहना सुबह शाम
ये धुंधली सी यादें
वह ढेरो सपने
तुम्हारे ही हैं
हम, तुम्हारे अपने

 - mystical wanderer

the wisdith replied

     

  The Widsith replied

Over the years of my wanderings, I was often asked, ‘prey, what lies in these wanderings? Stay at one place. grow and last.’ I tried and tried alot. but this wanderlust always conquered at last. The pleasure of lonely travels and the fact that they never last. That feeling of a constant change, led me everyday to a new range.

There is a strange ecstasy in travelling – of reaching new places, meeting new people and being a part of various divas of cosmos. There is bliss in nature that no city, no wealth can equate. There is happiness on hills that no city heights can provide.

That feeling of being on the top of the peak with nothing but blue and grey milky way above and snowy mountains around. The realization of a negligible micro entity in a gigantic universe. Yet, at the same time one feels proud of being there and not others but you – right at the top – being a spectator of the magic of the cosmos.

One attains an entity and loses it all – right at the same time. You feel small in front of a vast world. But you also expand and enlarge to the dimension of limitlessness- of eternity. You feel those elements around and they click with the ones inside making you the cosmos itself.

And I replied, ‘prey tell me, when has the water been still? When has the air stood still by? I feel strong like earth from inside and yet i love to be on a constant motion with that fire inside.’

Hence I take another step – out in a new land, a new get by. I love to dress up differently, as I feel like. More places I go to, more I realize, the impermanence of beauty, the mortal human life. It is bliss to be detached from stability, yet remain stable inside. It feels like home while travelling, of endless roads and destination – sky.

 -   Mystical Wanderer

listening to the sea

                  

                       THE CALL FROM HOLM

Sitting beside a lonely shore

I heard the sounds of millions

Of years that had gone by

And years yet to come

Every wave crashing on shore

Had its own surreal voice

Of battles and swords and those in love

Stories of martyrdom and time’s child

 It boiled with salts of pain at disposal

Calling me home as i stood by

More i tried to return

More it made me chide

The city and civilization

Those people – all i burned

And those charcoal ashes with images

Of a saint with wilderness – i shunned

And deep into the womb of ocean

I kept treading deeper into it

Amidst waves of time rolling by

And shells with time on freeze

I tried carrying a pebble or two

In memory of world i had bid farewell

But all i got was golden sand

That slipped out of my mortal hand

With waves i got one

In waves remained that golden sun

In sounds of past to be repeated

In cycles of nature – on run

And one we became in the abyss of ocean

With all those hopes and dreams

The times with people and solitariness

All submerged into the dark sea.

 - mystical wanderer 

The Story of Beowolf

               

   The Story of Beowolf

At the onset of mankind’s first poetry – the first desire got its world of words – words which turned it into a reality – deep inside the sub – conscious of its creator and those that proudly bored it all to be truth.

The first poem entertains the desire of a man to find a cosmic child – orphaned by his mysterious parents, owner of courage and armaments – enough to make him a warrior and an aura to lead a destitute land called Spear Danes.

Imagine a ship all loaded with warrior’s possessions.- those armours, shields, swords and right in the middle of all – a little baby – all alone, still strong enough to become the future king of a land where he had floated all alone asking for both – a shelter and love, years before. And after a long, peaceful kingship, that glorious baby now turned to an old man – Skylde meets wyrd/fate – ‘that speaks but once to any man’.

‘sad - souled they gave back its gift to the ocean,

Mournful their mood as he sailed out to the sea.’

And then followed the real hero of the poem – beowolf – to rule that land of danes which had cosmic blessing upon its head. Skylde’s son beowolf was equally heroic. His comradeship helped him triumph over three disasterous , demonic, mythical sea- dragons in his entire life time. His steel rings, iron cladded body and will of steel helped him conquer the horrors of mankind – may it be sea or their worst – nightmares.

The death scene included the old Beowolf  with a dragon’s just demolished body beside, a large amount of hidden mystical treasures. The fire dragon was killed, but Beowolf was having his last word with Wyrd.

‘for the time that Wyrd controls. Mine own i kept,

Nor quarrels sought, nor ever falsely swore.

Now wounded sore, i wait for jot to come.’

His loyal comrade Wiglaf was too grieved for the death of his leader that treasures found seemed insignificant as compared to what he had lost. Goth’s people had a huge loss and the poem concluded with Beowolf’s praise – the ideal king of the mythical worlds.

‘they left the riches, golden joy of earls,

In dust, for earth to hold; where yet it lies,

Useless as ever.’

Like all imagination is an after- product of reality and vice – verse, it is not known whether the mythical legend had its roots somewhere or not. Maybe, Beowolf was the proto-type of king Alfred. Maybe it all happened in realas analyzed by the chronicler chochilaicus (year 520) who travelled up the Rhine and considered the poem a dedication to the gigantic nephew of Hygelac who did perform heroic feats of valor and had a marvellous feat of swimming. Maybe the poem belonged to those magical, mythical, northern legends of Beowa, a half divine hero with also a monster – grandel in it. Or maybe the three dragons were mere representations of men’s fear at the time of its composition – the fear of sea, anxiety to conquer it and to win over one’s will.

The authenticity of poem has equal weightage like that of a historical myth – slowly becoming truth for future generations or a truth for future generations or a truth gradually becoming a myth as reality changes with time.

But yes, without using any imposed adornments or poetry techniques, the beautifully justifies heroic poetry adhering numerous humane emotions and desires. Its a land where the mother dragon is emotional enough to avenge his son’s murder, state people ready to die for their leader and kings – all devoted to their land and people.

The background, a common host and hostile – all become – The Sea – which both challenges and becomes the beginning and concluding Eden in the lives of its heroes.  Call it Sea, holm, brim, upmounding, the swan-rode, the whale path, heaving battle pain or merely their call and answer – Sea was the origin and Sea – the conclusion of all anxieties and desires of that Anglo Saxon race.

The music of poem ends with the death of the brave king but its rhythm of waves are intact – still echoing those sounds inside the walls of every shell that had heard that song of the sea. All it needs is to place one’s ears to the edge of the wall of the shell and it unleashes those hidden stories  still playing with the shadows of mythicism and reality.

   - Mystical Wanderer

वो दो मुठी आसमां

नहीं चाहिए हमको तेरी दुनिया
तेरी आस
लौटा दो बस हमको
वो दो मुठी आसमां
वो झरोंखे भर सी सांस
नहीं चाहिए तेरी मोहब्बत
और फिर तकरार
नहीं चाहिए हमको
हर पल बदलता प्यार
नहीं चाहिए वह ढेरों सपने
फिर एक बंद दिवार
वह तेरा गुस्सा
और मेरी हार
वो ढेरों बातें
हज़ारों प्यार
वो लाखों सपने 
नहीं चाहिए हमको
वो दिन 
वो रात 
लौटा दो बस हमको
वो दो मुठी आसमा
वो शमा सी बात
हर शाम 
प्याले से जाम
हम आज भी पीते हैं
लेकिन हर पल
शायद कहीं और ही जीते हैं
नहीं चाहिए हमको
वो ख़ुशी
वो खिलखिलाहट
लौटा दो बस हमको
वो दो मुठी आसमां
वो भीनी सी चाहत
नरम से गद्दे पर भीगी सी मुस्कान
वो सपनो भरी आँखें
वो फिसलती सी जान
वो  रातों की धुंध
वो उजला सा चाँद
लौटा दो बस मुझको 
वो दो मुठी आसमां
वो जीने की चाहत .

 - mystical wanderer 

woh gardish si baarish

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

Na jaaney ye ansun kahan jatey hain

Man hi man mei khotey jatey hain

Haan, nahi they kabhi hastey

Par rothey bhi they kahaan

Phir kyun tum yun aaye

Aur bney hamarey jahaan

Hum toh khush they

Ki khush hona hi nahi ata tha

Ansu bhi nai atey they

Nasamajh sa jana jata tha

Janey kab bney hum saye

aur odtey chaley nakaab par nakaab

humei laga humney badan utaar kar rakh diya

rooh bhi de di aur jism ko bhi jala diya

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

par pathar se tumne jab humko yun toda

ansu bhi nikal diye aur murda bhi na chora

hum reh gye ek adhoori si rooh ke saath

ansu giraney ki khwahish toh hui poori

par zindagi reh gyi kuch adhoori

ya shayad kuch palon mei zindagi si ji li thi poori

hastey rotey , pehle kareeb fir doori

adhoori si kahaani toh tab hoti jab woh khatm na hoti

par kahani toh shuru bhi hui aur khatm bhi

bus pata hi nahi chala

kab kahani hmari hasti bn gyi

pata hi nahi chala

kab mai usmei dhasti chali gyi

resham si dor kaath ki maati

hasti, roti, gaati, muskurati

maan liya tha tumhe apna jahaan

kar diya tha sab kuch tumpe nawa

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

phir kyun saja kar yun kheechad uchaal diya

phir kyun tumney humko ye sila diya

kehtey they ankhon mei bhar kar pyaar

har roz tumko karengey pyaar

us chaand ko dikhatey they kabhi hum tumhe

ab kaise dekhein bin tumharey hum unhe

woh chaand woh tarey

woh ab bhi saath hain

na saath hain woh rahein

na ab saath aap hain

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

Har dua mei aj bhi aap saath hain

Na saath hain woh sapney jismei hum tum saath hain

Rooh jaanti hai us rooh ka raasta

Kaise samjhe ab ye badla sa waasta

Kabhi ankhein tarasti thi ru -ba-ru ke liye

Ab badaltey hain raasta na dikhney ke liye

Gar dekh liya tumhe is baar

Kaise samjhayenge isey iski haar

Kasie btayenge ki pyaar pyaar nahi samay tha

Woh sara sansaar mehez ek chal tha

Kaise saamna karenge us rooh ka

Jo aaj bhi ye maanti hai

Ki ankhein kabhi jhooth nahi kehti

Aur sansein yun hi nahi tham jati hain

Jo aaj bhi un bahon ko dhoondti hai

Jinka mehez ek sparsh

Rooh tak ko hila deta tha

Woh ye nahi samajhti

Ki waqt badalta hai

Log bhi

Aur shayad

Unke andar ki woh saari bhaawnaein

Jo kabhi apni si lagti thin

Par ab woh door hain

Bahut door

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

Par ab bhavnaein bhi ati hain

Aur gardish bhi

ab unki yaad bhi ati hai

Aur hum chale jatey hain

Unse door bhi

Nazdeekiyaan aur phir doori

Woh pyaar

Phir majboori

Hum toh Banjar ankhein rakhtey they kabhi

Gar gam bhi they atey toh kehtey they sabhi

Shayad inhi se ansu bantey hain

Shayad inhi se dil beheltey hain.

 - mystical wanderer

those inner pangs inside social gyre

at times staying inside your shell feels so good. no need to interact with anyone. no need to pick calls or pay heed to any of those unwanted suggestions. just cancel out all those awaited meetings - full of expectations from the other side. Be with yourself. Sleep for hours if you want. Cry, be rude, stay quite. Let out whatever you have inside. Listen to the music. Yell if you so want. Or just walk amidst stars and think for hours. Let people say whatever they want. Don’t pay heed or revert back if so required. Become invisible in your own surrounding. Leave ‘what would they think’ feeling for later for a while.

Keep yourself closed in your room without a bath until you feel like. Go for those empty long strolls for hours alone with nothing but music on headphones. Put your phone on blocked mode or keep it switched off – as per your mood. Pamper your misery- lust with all devotion.  Don’t talk to anyone. Keep a hard plastic face at all times. Melt inside under those pillows. Let your tears out intentionally by playing those sad slow songs again and again that remind you of something or someone no more in your life.

Do whatever you feel like to feed your melancholic thirst but yes, when it is all over, well, get done with it. Get up, give yourself a clean bath, dress up and fuck the world with bursts of happiness. Well, obviously, such sudden mood changes are not possible every time. But your will to turn the knob can work wonders, believe me.

All you have to do is to pay equal devotion to your happiness-hunger. Our natural state is a state of joy and cosmic bliss. Our moods and emotions are mere covers. All we have to do is to let us be free of those covers and realize our real selves – so pure – so free.  All we have to be is - happy.

So break all those dusty shackles of time and social impositions. Feel free to be happy as that is what you are made of. Love and joyfulness are the only elements that create us. Rest all are mere colors in that dish which people are intentionally made to be adapted in a particular fashion. That space called normative and society is nothing but a general utopia to provide a standard parameters against all realities. It is a mere human attempt to hold the centre in the middle.However, with each freedom attained, every smile, even each of those thoughts free of social constructions – well – the circle shifts. If not for all then at least in the circle of that one source - that gave birth to such feeling.  

So get up. Its your time to smile and shine as you know that above you is mere dust of time. Wipe off all those notions and dust off their pros and cons. Begin with your own beginning and end each of your life’s  meta narratives  - the way you want. After all, to be a writer and actor of your own story is one powerful feeling. You have the power to make all twists and turns the way you want. And those that come on their own – well they become external forces – to be handled by your head’s external affairs sector and your deep inside – remains calm, secured and at peace.

Isn’t body a micro country in its own way. It sure is. And being the parent or master of our little cosmic countries, well, it is our duty to safeguard them and ensure their prosperity. So what are you waiting for? I am sure, there is no harm in smiling out to the world one day and prove it all wrong with its so called normative notions. Even better is to prove none wrong but do what one feels right. And what could be better or more right but to be happy and spread smiles upon those faces around us – all worn and tired by obliviousness of those attacks of time. Make time your friend and it would begin to laugh with you on its own.  so be happy and keep smiling. I am sure melancholy would become a distant memory then – only to be laugh off or written those mocks upon.  

- mystical wanderer

woh bheegey pal

Aaj phir maangney ko ji chahta hai

Raastey pe hamarey jo bhi ata hai

Poochtey hain us khuda ka pata aur doori

Kaisi kashish kaisi majboori

Yun toh sheeshey sa mukaddar hai hamara

Chamakta hai yun jo muththi mei ho jag saara

Ek ahat se toot jata hai par yun

Woh awaz janey ayi fir kyun

Pathar si rooh kaanp uthati hai sau baar

Ata hai dar pe jab mera yaar

Karti hai saans yon hawa se batein

Ati hain mujhko jab teri yadein

Bheegi zulfon mei teri chahat

Woh dabi si hasi woh dheemi si ahat

Ankhon ko hauley se labon par lagana

Woh rooth ke jana aur daud ke ana

Raat ki khamoshi mei teri parchai

Atey hain ab bhi jab hai tanhai

Janey kya fusfusa sa dete hain

Ankhon ki neend le lete hain

Yon toh zamana hai saath hamarey

par door hi lagtey hain ab bhi sarey

khud se kareeb toh hum they kabhi

khud hi ko dhoondtey rehtey hain abhi

na raasta na manzil bus dheron chaurahey

janey kya kehti hain humse rahein

bus pukarti hain hamara naam

jaise har sham woh shama aur jaam

khinchey chaley jatey hain un anjaan rahon pe

suntey jatey hain har kahani un pyalon se

jo bhar na sakey humko toh tod hi diya

katran sa bana kar yun humko chor diya

lauta do woh shamein woh ratein

woh pyaar bhari ankhein aur pyaari si batein

keh do ki tum kabhi they hi nahi

shayad maine woh akhiri pal jiye hi nahi

par sach tha woh pyaar

aur sach ki thi takraar

aur sachi hai ye pyaas

tumhari ahat tumhara ehsaas

aaj phir mangney ko ji chahta hai

dar pe hamarey jab bhi koi ata hai

gar kuch nahi toh humei hum pa jayein

un chaurahon se door woh thandi si chaany

raat ki chaandni mei bheeni si muskaan

woh ganey ki dhun mei ghultey se kaan

janey kab ab khul kar muskurayengey

jane woh kab is gali ayengey.

- mystical wanderer

catching that dusk

And there are days when you simply decide to be one with the nature...you step out in those last songs of sunlight and it welcomes you spreading gold upon your diva. You smile with joy to just be outside - out in such blissful weather. There after a windy ride you step inside a festival of flora at a time when sun is all red and so are you.
There begins a smooth transcendence into the mysterious world of magic.right before a solitary lake you see the sunset out of those rings of smoky clouds. There fly the white birds in silky shrouds. You get up only to find yet another boulevard of palm trees.
And there awaits another picturesque of swans and ducks shining amidst that liquid silk of golden water. You see life trinkling in those curves that dance and twist amidst oval waves. And finally you change another card and find the ace right in your palm. 


There in the valley of hilly green you find your perfect reflection. Huge blue lake below huge blue sky turning to charcoal in the ambush of desire in the abyss of reflections and shadows. There dusk takes its last breath. There you lie in the concave of hilly grass to watch those last traces of silver left in the still bluish black sky.
there begins your journey back to the world of lights and you keep moving far far out of darkened lanes. you succumb your desire to lie there on grass forever and leave with that final touch - that feel to be in the lap of nature. 

 - mystical wanderer

Those songs of past

Nostalgia at times has strange sensations. It has visions, smell and temptations. You sort of feel those times deep from your sense and spirit. Those endless journeys, various places, different themes, that one touch, those various smiles... aah!!! The fact that they are past. And yet, the photographs have them all intact – as if frozen deep in the crystal pure layers of ice.

With each passing lyric, every string of music, you hear them – the songs of those times. But then you have no choice. You convince yourself and pass your time – only to create some new songs – with the latest rhyme. Alas! The words are limited and emotions are few. All use them for each other’s lieu.

Same cycles repeat with new enthu each time, same emotion, new rhymes. But this head sure is one funny thing. It links all opposite stars into a neat constellation. And scientists get crazy till eternity trying to understand that one fixed order that was all some mind’s creation. Astrologers too make some own interpretation and them - follows - the religion.

 Notions like morality and external forces enter next – all products of various heads clustering to a huge box of puzzle pieces – all trying to make some sort of sense – all showing a part of some dream picture. However, you land up with a heap of your favourite pieces as you denied to take part in the race and make the puzzle that was almost solved in front of your eyes – just to win. Now you have a choice – either to wear your hybrid set of pieces like mementos and be broke and jobless or go out and get whatever is thrown at you for others’ satisfaction.

But you succumb to neither. you go on upon unknown ways only this time, without a destiny. You know that cosmos has this maze designed all specially for you. Your task is to go on – at each step – more aware, more learned, more thankful. You win, you lose. You undergo all lights and fuse. But your task is to keep moving and being thankful. More you smile, more smiles come to your way.

Just forget your past for some time. Give yourself a vacuum break, flow with the flow. feel it like a holiday , only a holiday where you don’t have to mind working. Rather more you remain busy, happier you will be. Enjoy every freaking stolen minute in between work.  Be happy despite of that cult inside. Take magic herb if required. But be happy. Laugh, sing, spend time with your loved ones, run in open fields, cry in you have to but make sure that you don’t get graved below the layers of time. Just hide yourself into your very own world for some time. Far off from that world that was once your comfort zone. Enhance your limits and grow – grow up beyond all dimensions

 Become one with the world. Entire cosmos makes us to be what we are. feel the power of those natural super powers and let them unite with the cosmic around.  You are the cosmos. Feel it. happiness resides inside. Do what you feel like. Just be happy and world will be a happy place. trust me.

 - mystical wanderer

I am who I am. should I?

At the time of my puberty i developed into a person who believed in being who she was. ‘i am what i am and i will remain the same no matter who comes or what happens’. Life became a huge battle for me then as the world was not able to digest my honesty and ultimately i used to suffer. Not that i had regrets but the pain of your closed ones in pain just because you were so honest or you wanted to remain who you were.

As i grew up into who i am now, i realized that life would become a war if not coordinated with the ambience. Just like various puzzles need various shapes of blocks to become complete, in each of my life’s picture, i was expected to change my mould in order to gel in. With me getting stubborn to remain in the same shape, it would have been impossible for any of my pictures leaving apart one or two, to become complete and a picture perfect.

Hence, i learned the art of fluidity. In order to be one with the cosmos, you need to become cosmos. And the cosmos has many shades. Each role has different color and this is what life is all about – costumes and skins. Its like music where every quarter hour has different raga. It is like sky, where each climate and time has a unique and vibrant shade.

Life can’t be lived only for yourself. One has to become selfish enough to make the world as one’s self. Only then one begets happiness. What fun it is to be in a vacuum when there awaits waves, wind and all those tiny emotions where love lies with all its intensities.

True, there is drama but isn’t life a theatre too. All you need is to live like in an act and to act like in life. Success awaits you then with all its pleasures. But mind ya, don’t forget to shed your act’s tears. They are significant too. 

open your arms. the world is yours and you are the world. the entire cosmos is waiting to hug you back. listen to its music and dance with all of its moods in all of your shades. explore yourself. get lost in the ecstatic mystery of moon drowning in the shades of red night.

- mystical wanderer

shades of moonlight

                         her world of shadows

She was dressed in all white but a silver striking sheen going through her spleen from her neck till her hip. She had confident back and a thin waist. Her bulges shivered upon the ecstasy of violin in the background. She was all erect ready to prance with him in a loose shirt and comfy trousers.  They waltz together under a shed with paintings around and a wooden table often used to have fruits , pasta, wine and milk. Loads of chocolate and cakes. But now was no time for eating. It was their time together. her and his. He was abstract – like those immense visions of watery sheets she had seen while in meditations.

Her blue hot denims had those dessert roughs and surfy greys. Red peeped out of the fabric whites of her bosom. She was aroused – aroused upon those gentle tones that were falling in her ears. And there were add ons too. A river’s sound in the background. Or was it a sea – merging into her salty senses and tangerine spirit. She wanted to gulf it all – the thrill and excitement of it. and there were mountains too – right in the shadows of her smiles. The garden shed sure was her very own space – out in some other country-  in some other skin and body.

The colors of her visions had strange insights. She had the power to flow and be lost from every eye-sight. She was earth and she was the river. He became rock at times. At times he gave her shivers.  But the story had not just he and she. There were spirits involved. The spirits of the cosmos. Those eyes full of wisdom in some mountain darkness. those destiny’s energies all set to harness. Those spirits were many – like one in every particle. And she knew the voice of all. those that pretended to be dead. And those that pretended in every stall. It was an act that was happening. But spirits had life - Each of them - In various permutations and combinations.

Deep under the sea she had talked with all – those rocks that were alive, those particles that were dead high on stalls. But here on stage, she had to support them. Them – that were acting amidst them who were unaware that they were acting.

But here there were no pretentions. She was in her own dream world. In her world of shadows – shadows that were real.  out on stage she was a moon but he was the sun. He emitted. She reflected. He never reflected. She never omitted. But here in her world she had another moon. she was the moonlight – out shining upon those cliffs, mingling with numerous waves, peeping through those historical monuments, trinkling right upon the face of a girl lost in her moonlight diva.  Maybe he was better in her world of shadows.

    - mystical wanderer

that layer of city

                       

                          that mask of happiness

So the city at times can simply transform into some other city... buses become bright blue... sunny day seems like a blessing... an aura of sea nearby enters noistrils... and songs of freedom beat along with the racing city... car becomes a block of shadows... you become yet another shadow getting one with nunerous others from that nostalgic past as well as future of dreams...a possible horror also dances in glimpses. but you decide to stay happy atleast from that outside mask of social desire... and you talk nonsense along with spurs of laughter...

you become the jolliest and silliest around and yet people catch those occasional hints of pain that steal out of your otherwise dry eyes.. you feel like closing your eye lids and getting lost in that darkness inside... you crave for your world of shadows....that world where you need none but you and your thoughts...

but it never comes....more people, more expectations...your time and entity gets split in a multitude of wish fulling identities... you keep living for others while desiring to live with your own wish whom you love the most - your own self... but maybe you love others more...else, why would you prioritize them... but you are still not satisfied...does that mean selfishness....is it cause of selfishness that you undergo such intense mood swings... maybe.. maybe not....

a glimpse of the mystical world of maya

                                   The show

so the story of creation begins like this. a man gone crazy while tripping in a forest. he plays a trick and tells a story. of hills, of rivers, losses and glory. he names all objects around - animals, humans, things and sounds. and right beside - he sees that fire. he laughs and calls it - the mother fire. many sparks flew then out of that light. numerous on crawl, numerous on flight. mother earth loved her creations. father jal was right beside the forest - a huge ocean - ending at an end with a girl dancing in rain upon the crashings of its waves. the girl had visions all around. of those that he said and those in time's round. 

she saw the universe with milk in air. she saw those wings and down they stare. under numerous stare she takes a hot bath. on hills, amidst valley she sees that path. towards her forte of life in dark no strife. just she with shadows. amidst snow and meadows. with clouds she talks. all prancing she walks. without her clothes. only smiles. no frothes. but colors and lights. in fire all plights. but she and her visions. yet he with ommissions. two poles - miles apart. common goal - heart on dart. opposite they stand. yet both on sand - a mixture of will and need. many desires, yet this creed. the polar attraction. the destiny fraction. 

Man laughs at his lies of of created history. she sits beside the cosmic glory. but in between this time and its game. a dark hole of pain and fame. the desire, that dream, those tears, that stream. and life goes on. on dusk. at fawn. in rounds of illusion. those stories in fusion. of that she saw. and that he made. of four tatvas under karmic shades.

and then he plots a nice story. he imagines a creature with an elephant head. he calls him ganesha and writes a point - ' all good things would begin from baby ganesha '. he imagines an old old man with a white beard , sitting upon a lotus flower. he calls him brahma. man credits rest of his story to brahma. 
so man's brahma creates wisdom in the shape of a female - saraswati and marries his creation/ daughter to give birth to a new world of maya. the lotus had a lush green stem that ended in the neval portion of another creation of forest man. he names him vishnu. vishnu's task was to take care of all actions and reactions in brahma's world of thoughts. right beside was his wife - lakshmi - the one responsible to take care of prosperity in the new world.

As if to balance it all , a man made out of the world of deads was created. shiva - all smitten in ash, lost in deep meditation. but he had other sides too. his work was to ensure destruction in order to regulate regeneration of a new world constantly. and there right beside him was his wife - shakti - the mother nature.  the same mother nature who had that man portraying her and that girl getting one with her. 

Together along with many other thoughts' creations, the man forms his story. in order to validate he links all natural phenomenons with history and mythology. he gives birth to an institution called religion. he creates politics and his second political action is the institution called marriage. and hence maya excels with such notions. 

And yet maya is all but these conceptions.maya is rather an escape from these constructions. in maya are dreams, desires, hopes of salvation. in darkness lies the most enlightening light. in forest lies that fire with cosmic sight. and she is the cosmos - in part and all. and maya is her name with face of troll.

                   <<<<<<<<<<<maya>>>>>>>>>>>>