Such a beautiful place to be, Home. The wind chime is filling the silence of the night with a melody. And the wind is cold from the rain last evening, gushing past the face so refreshingly, escaping swiftly from the spaces between the strands of my hairs. It’s so beautiful that i want to gaze at the night sky a little longer. Trying to observe the craters on the moon with my eyes and the color of the stars, sometimes realising that a star ia not a star, but an airplane!
I wish this peace for everyone, in every little thing of life that costs nothing. In things that you find beautiful, and in yourself!
God bless you. Good night.
She stood still there behind the doors leading to the porch. The bell now rang for the fourth time, ” jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..”. The echo of the music radiated to her spine. Her feets froze in the chill of the moment as she wondered if she was hallucinating or not.
Meera was alone at home. It was Christmas and everyone around her was busy celebrating. Meera had just finished baking a cake. She was excited, her sister was coming home in the evening. Her sister was the best friend she has have ever had. Sameera was four years elder to Meera. They were born in a rich Iyenger family in Kerala. There father was a cloth merchant. He would sell silk sarees, buyers for which included the elite, ministers, foreigners and celebrities. There house in the city was spread across a vast 100 acres. Mr. Iyenger had hardly ever had the time to invest in his two and only children. Sameera and Meera. With all the business that he had, the only thought that worried him was of having a son who would take care of it and expand it further. The birth of Sameera did not disappoint him so much as the birth of Meera as he lost his wife during Meera’s birth. In spite of anything, he was loyal to their mother and never even pondered over getting married again and letting another woman be the mother of his two children. He was, despite being the father of two, the most eligible bachelor, and fathers wished that there daughters’ may get married to him. Unfortunately for them, the fortune he owned never got into the hands of another female. Mr. Iyenger gave his daughters the best possible education and a lifestyle, only few could imagine of. He had got them both married in a single ceremony three years ago. Sameera was 24 and Meera, 21. The marriage had been arranged for Sameera with a rich businessman, one of Mr. Iyengers best friends son, where as Meera had settled upon to get married to her college friend having only a modest fortune to survive decently. Mr. Iyenger had first opposed the alliance but on Sameera’s insistence he had given up. Sameera had assured her father that Meera will be happy. Sadly, two years ago Mr. Iyenger passed away. The cause was established to be a heart attack. Most of Mr. Iyenger’s fortune was equally distributed among Sameera and Meera and the business was passed over to Sameera’s husband. The following year had been a quiet year in terms of celebrations and festivity. Sameera had however maintained a distance from the money that her father left her and preferred modesty. the money was locked in her bank account and the business was only an addition to what her husband was previously taking care of. Sameera’s husband, Ritesh was a college drop out. On his father’s perusal he had left studies to join his dad’s business and it had been for everyone’s good. Ritesh was magical with money. His business had outgrown the local market for silk in just three years and surpassed Mr. Iyenger’s business. Meera had however, changed her every bit of living style with the money she got. Though she never got over the humiliation that her father had disposed off all the business to Ritesh, not even considering Akul, her husband, a finance graduate from Michigan State University.
In the dead of the night
A bird flew from its nest
Flying free above the ground
No strings attached
No cage to capture
the flutter of its wings
In the dead, of tonight
The ink, that bleeds on paper
In the dead, of tonight
It spills itself on the floor
With shapes and sizes and colors
No strings attached
It leaves a blot on the paper
A reminiscent of its journey
Even when it dries.
Like the dying bird
After it had flown its highest flight
Oh! In the dead of tonight
Look out, for the glory
Look inside, for the life.
It flies. In the dead of tonight.
The snow flakes were falling lightly on the front porch and settling themselves comfortably in layers of white. She looked out from the window curling a few strands of her hairs on her index finger thoughtfully. From outside the window, he could see she was wearing a shade of blue. For a moment, he could imagine a celebrity in her, that one can see only in magazines, photo-shopped and oh! so perfect. The curtains fell back on the window as she returned to brew her coffee inside and he could now only see the dark brown of the curtains in the pristine white frame of the window. He couldn’t focus on shoveling the snow from his car any further. Small love story, he thought.
Grandpa says, it was that one moment that love happened to him. Grandma has a different version of it although, said Shanya to her younger brother and winked a cute smile.
Can you remind me of the same sky, the same shielded view of the stars, the same sparkling moon. The winds whispering in my ears, playing with the strands of hair. Will you let me close my eyes and stretch my arms and be in oblivion. Disappear for a moment, hidden in space, not exist for a while and feel my existence all at the same time. Smell the moistened soil and hold it inside for another while. Smell the jasmine blooming at night, and look at the drops of water trickling from its leaves.
Make me feel at home, remind me of myself. Rain, can you? Will you, Rain?
PS: by the way it does, always! Every single time.
Though everything is so very precious, there is nothing as precious as YOU!!
When the sky inspires, the breeze whispers a story into my ears, the stars look at me in amazement waiting for me to talk to them and tell them how was my day, and the branches of the tree in front of the house, they sync their movements like they are dancing to the tune of a song, the lamp posts scatter their lights in all directions, shadows falling on the floor making like-able patterns. Somewhere far away, in a land where it’s raining now, a small kid peeps out of the window gazing at the dark outside. With the moonlight, that is now, everything’s shimmering in the dark. Like a gold plated image on the paper. The tipper tapper of the rain drops on the roof sound like a Beethoven’s symphony, and the family is cuddling around on the thick grey carpet in front of the fireplace, that little kid who has just learnt to crawl, look at him, he is trying to run away to his brother near the window. The curtain just dropped back, i could see only this from outside. Perhaps, they are all singing together now. I can hear them laughing and giggling still. The garden, in front of that house, ah! just look at that. It’s smelling of earth. I can breathe that fragrance into my lungs forever. Look to your left, there is a cat too, hiding behind that red flower pot on the porch. She might just consider staying put tonight. It’s getting colder now, i am almost drenched. I should get back home before i catch a cold. Why don’t you let me hold your hand and i will take you back to my balcony. It’s pleasant out there, not that i dislike rains and winters. But you know, like i said earlier, this place, the porch of my home, where the sky inspires and the breeze whispers a story into my ears. I like being there the most.