Yellow Chimes

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I wandered along the sun one afternoon
with quiet clouds, with unsung days of June.
A tall tree clasped in sunlight came into sight
Leaves shimmered as the wind whirled in delight.
I looked at the yellow chimes swinging on the tree
singing the song of love ruffled by the soft breeze.

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I wondered
 if that was all my eyes could see
if that was all my ears could listen
if that was the only beauty painted.


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I then laid my eyes on the broken chimes on the ground
that rested silently, unnoticed, singing the unheard sound.
The beauty was neither in the wholeness nor in unbroken
it was in the existence, in crinkles of all that had fallen.


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Kritika Vashist

(I have been slightly busy with work, despite of that I actually did wander, and I hope I could capture the essence fairly.)

Subtle Drilling Of Life

Can You Hear Me NOW rev

Today, like every day is weird and special in its ways. The constant voices in my head and the annoying noises outside has already stormed my brain, yet, for some unknown reason I feel like tapping the keyboard with all the energy I have, and to scribble this note with all those words that have been speaking loud in my head since morning. I want you to read, because I am sure this isn’t just happening with me.

Perplexed by my own thoughts, I went to my mother to ask a plain yet intricate question. Our mothers have always been better than Google and wise than any book. I asked her, “Is life a problem or life has problems?” Without much thinking she answered positively saying that, “How can life ever be a problem? Don’t you see yourself as a life? How can you be a problem? Life has obstacles, and there always will be, in some or the other way, so that you learn about the opportunities.” After she cleared my thoughts about life and problem she asked me, “What are you up to now?” Like always, I replied, “You know my tiny brain over thinks, everyday.” To this she said nothing. She is a mother after all. She knows it all.

So, today around 11 in the morning, the constant and ear bleeding noise from the drill machine not only gave me a headache, but surprisingly some wise thoughts too. (See here, the over thinking part is justified.) Even you would have got furious by the drilling noise during reconstructions. After a headache and temporary deafness, we would say, “I hate this. I hate reconstruction.” But then, everybody wants to reconstruct their houses some point in time; when it is done we would contradict ourselves and say,” Ah, I love the idea of reconstruction. Look, how everything shines and looks beautiful.” This is how we are living our lives as well.

You must have been wearied by the sameness in your life. After this thought, you would have felt exhausted even while doing nothing, and then you decided to change or prioritize few things so that your life gets a direction. But the important thing here is that, does it come easily? Does the work of prioritization that simple? Does moving away from old things to new easy? Does a reconstruction in your life easy? No, it is as painful as much as the noise of that drill machine.

The wall is our life, the one we try to build the way we want throughout our lives. Bricks are like parasites that stick to the wall. Just like the drill machine breaks each brick of the wall, and makes space so that a new wall can be build, the same happens with life. The drill machine is you and all the hardships, obstacles, loss, failure, depression, anxiety, fear, sorrow, incompetent, disappointment, defeat, frustration and weakness are the bricks that build up the negative wall for cowards. The noise that the drill machine produces while breaking down the wall is the pain of our hard work. If we want the drill machine to break all the bricks so that we can build up a new wall and paint it with the color of our choice, we have to bear the noise it produces. Similarly, if we want to grow by defeating all hardships that come in life, we will have to bear the pain of the hard work or else there will only be pain from regrets which are undoubtedly more painful. It wouldn’t be easy at first, maybe not the second time as well, but gradually we’ll become strong enough to break them down. That’s how our new wall will be build. That’s how our life will be what we wanted it to be and how we wanted it to be.

I just know that tomorrow when again I will hear the noise of the drill machine, it will remind me that I have to break down my old wall to build a new one where I can put all my happy pictures.

– Kritika Vashist

 

Do You See?

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Do you see that poor child
with sweat running down his face
standing under the blazing sun
selling vegetables
of his empty belly.
Do you?

Do you see that rich child
with aggression on his face
under the same blazing sun
shouting at the driver for not turning on the AC
of  his abundance car.
Do you?

 *

Do you see that dark-skinned man
with sweat running all over his chest
wearing a faded ripped jeans
picking bricks to build a house
of somebody else’s dream.
Do you?

Do you see that suited man
highly infuriated
standing some feet away
fluffing the dust
of his own luxury.
Do you?

*

Do you see that frail old woman
with body almost starved to death
at a corner of the road
trying wiping her face wet with tears
of loneliness.
Do you?

Do you see that young couple
with glamour faces, holding a food bag
taking out an extra burger
throwing in the dustbin
of someone’s daily meal.
Do you?

*

Do you see that crippled boy
with painful smile on his face
moving through the crowd
trying to sell an inexpensive pen
of his illiteracy.
Do you?

Do you see that school girl
with sadness on her face
complaining to her dad
for not getting her branded colours box
of someone’s darkness.
Do you?

*

Do you see that smiling girl
with satisfaction on her face
wearing a school uniform
trying to fit her foot in brother’s shoe
of pennilessness.
Do you?

Do you see that football fan
with an unsatisfied look on his face
complaining to his dad
for not getting Nike, but Rebook shoe
of someone’s labour
Do you?

-Kritika Vashist

(July, 2014)

Another Day

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Still, there’s another day,
to unfold the perspective,
hidden beneath your grief.
To chase the sun,
of laughter, you had forgot to see.
To unravel the philosophies,
of contentment, you once buried.

Still, there’s another day,
to fill your eyes with dreams,
That went down the watery grave.
To look at the moon and stars at night,
that teaches to shine in the darkness.
To ink your hand,
with words you love,
with meaning you find.

Still, there’s another day,
to drench yourself in the rain,
making you feel young again.
To look at the mirror,
telling you to meet yourself.

Still, there’s another day,
to know that you are a human,
and you do mistakes.
To know that pain is essential,
to realize the worth of pleasure
To give yourself a chance,
and breathe in a fresh air.

Still, there’s another day,
to forgive them for eyes,
they couldn’t see.
To forgive yourself for,
your voices you couldn’t hear.

– Kritika Vashist

Before I Sleep Tonight

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I’ll learn about all the possibilities of feeling euphoric without you, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll discover myself through perpetual scars on my body, that your storm gave to me, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll promise to give myself all the happiness I deserve, that got lost while I tried to give endless to you, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll wear a smile while I look at my perfectly kohl-ed eyes in the mirror, that earlier looked like a black brook, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll learn to give myself a chance to live with mistakes I do, the same mistakes that everyone does and yet complaints, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll love myself for being who I am, the same person you had once loved and the one now you hate, before I sleep tonight.

I’ll realize the fact that no one loves you truly unless they accept you with your flaws, anger, imperfections and weirdness, before I sleep tonight.

-Kritika Vashist