Far Fetched Musings

I skipped, I stumbled while they smiled and frowned. I was a girl, not old enough to be a woman nor young enough to just act like one. It was this that went through my consciousness as I mindlessly skipped along the tollbooth tavern to the parliament and finally to the palace down the Royal Mile. But it was certainly not this dancing through my thoughts as I pulled a scrappy book out to write all my agonies sitting on a lonely bench in the Holyrood Park. All the while like me opposite sat the Arthur's seat whose glowing Ambers lay dormant now and forever yet so unlike mine.

The original  Ruskin Bond's A Face in the dark..... Mr Oliver, an Anglo-Indian teacher, was returning to his school late one night, on the outskirts of the hill station of Simla. From before Kipling’s time, the school had been run on English public school lines and the boys, most of them from wealthy Indian families, wore blazers, caps and ties. Life magazine, in a feature on India, had once called it the ‘Eton of the East’. Mr Oliver had been teaching in the school for several years. The Simla bazaar, with its cinemas and restaurants, was about three miles from the school and Mr Oliver, a bachelor, usually strolled into the town in the evening, returning after dark, when he would take a short cut through the pine forest. When there was a strong wind the pine trees made sad, eerie sounds that kept most people to the main road. But Mr Oliver was not a nervous or imaginative man. He carried a torch and its gleam—the batteries were running down—moved fitfully down the narrow fore...

 The Winter Fall on a Summer Spring  It was wrong he knew it, but she was only source of love he had ever found. She was the blinding light to his depths of darkness and the only redemption to his sinned soul. While he was a Daimon unbound she was a divine muse. All the omens objected their union yet the fate won against the many conspiracies of the universe. Hell! Their's was a match made in heaven and nothing could stop the winter fall on a summer spring.

 The Pessimist: A Million grieving people asked themselves "Why me, Why only me" and a million fallen stars answered gloomily, "Because you were once me".  The Optimist: A Million grieving people asked themselves "Why me, Why only me" and a million rising stars answered gleefully, "Because you will soon be me".

       The Crossroads            Riding on a mountain high,           with past regrets running behind          Chasing like an endless dream           and nothing can break me free.           No letters of Love on a new year night,          the play of Janus has led to my plight.           Two paths lying ahead, but I'm all alone,           Falling on the cross roads with my sanity blown.         No whistling with the wind chimes,         and Dancing to the beat,       No hopping in the rain and,           Burning with the heat.        Two paths lying ahead, But I'm all alone,           Falling on the cross roads with my s...

      The Last Mourning The Sun and the Moon were held within the cradle of his black irises as the tears rained down like the dying star dust pearls. 

  A temple, An Evening, A Stranger... It was at the fall of dusk as the chants and hymns echoed from temple walls. The gentle tinkling of her grandmother's anklets, the robust ringing of the bells as the priest gave the evening aarti although very juxtaposing felt very much like home. With the vibrant orange hue smeared on their foreheads and the small chain of pale jasmines knotted in their hair, she and her grandmother moved from the spiritual chambers on to the busy road. She stood near the street light scrolling through her phone as she waited for her grandmother to finish buying flowers from the street vendor.  Someone cleared their throat and she looked up from the lighted screen. It was a stranger. He cleared his throat for the second time and asked, " Do you know any music shops around in this area?" She shook her head and said no. He smiled and continued "I thought you would know because you looked like someone who was into music". She smiled and and sa...

  The Fairies of Fall The gentle breeze carried the wandering souls and ferried them across pavements and crossroads. A million tears came with their death to dissappear in the many mysteries of the Earth. And only then did the winter winds come by to remaind them all of the fallen Fairies of Fall.

  Because The Peak Always Stands Alone ... "What is your love like? Is it as constant as the northern star or as fickle as the changing seasons". "It is the summer that shivers when the winter burns and the spring that dies when the fall blooms", he all but whispered. She smiled and asked, "Will the peak get affected if what you told actually happens". He kissed her forehead and said, "NO." She frowned as he started to walk away but before she could react he put out his hand and continued..."Because the peak always stands alone".

It's funny how what the birds do from dawn to dusk is exactly what the humans do from their birth to death.  Build their nest, forage for food and strive to survive.

  My Grandfather... His dominant emotion is Lost. Lost in his thoughts, in his feelings, in his musings, and his miseries. He is stoic and aloof, he looks at everything with a serene expression and yet his visage imparts lostfullness while only his eyes show the depth of his thoughts and the passion of his heart. He is philosophical and when everybody is together he tries to hear and involve in the conversation but only those who listen and look at him will understand that he's already on the run with no chances of slowing down.  His anger is submerged under the waves of the lostfullness of his expression. His words are low and cold and when he is angry he is the most silent and with his voice never rising more than an audible whisper. When he is happy the currents of his joy spread wide and far touching everybody in his vicinity. The only expressions that run on his face regardless of the context and content are 1) impassive and Straight-faced - it is fixed even if he is angr...

  The Birth of Himalayas  The mourning Tethys heaved her  last suffering breath and from the  Sea's deepest womb came the  Snow's mightiest Range.

  Looking For The Moon I looked for the moon beyond the longest vines and the farthest walls beyond the darkest clouds and the brightest stars. The moon smiled at my ignorance. He simply told me to look beyond my prejudice of where I thought he would be. I looked beyond. He was everywhere.

 To Find Or To Be Found  She heared the calling, the sweet siren song from the sea, she turned a blind eye and walked ahead. The sand between her feet pulled her back but the wind above her eyes pushed her forward. The seductive waves crashed silently on the shore provoking her to uncover its deepest secrets. The curiosity in her heart was rising but her mind kept telling her of the many souls the vicious sea swallowed. Until she could hear the sound of her conscious no more, the calling turned louder and faster. Her will collapsed and she turned her back to the path that lay forward and the wind could no longer keep her on the correct road. The sand pulled her to the glittering water and the waves inched closer and closer. Days passed and years too but she could never find the secrets that lay buried in the deepest currents. But how can she find out when she herself became one of its secrets that is yet to be uncoverd by another foolish mortal. After all it is no hidden secre...

  The Greatest Mistake  A small mistake is a mistake, nonetheless!! To allthe souls I have wronged so far, I beg thy forgiveness. To forget the bitter concoction brewed for you and to forgive the bitter apothecary, I assure is not as easy as it looks like. But the grudge you hold will not become lighter by the passing second. Is it my greatest mistake to fanthom that I'll be forgiven for my unintended sins? No. But my greatest mistake will be the day l'll feel holy after being forgiven and thus them forgetting my petty existence.

  The Distant Night Sky   As the clock struck twelve I gazed out into the empty night just in time to watch the dotted crystals forming an ocean of illusions. And from them came a wave whose currents swept me towards the endless shores of memories. As I swam flashes came from the midnight blue that showed me smiling and strolling through the woods, as my sisters chased behind the glowing fireflies panting at their failing catch. Our three shadows blew with the forest breeze as we whistled with the distant wind chimes looking at the distant night sky. Suddenly I didn't want to reach the shores, for my anchor was strong enough to withstand the storm. The storm that would eventually wash me to the shores where the blinding lights would dissolve the feeble glow of the fireflies. Slowly, the tides of the ocean were replaced by the clouds of drowsiness and I drifted out of consciousness, not before whistling with the distant wind chimes and looking at the Distant night sky.

  The Hundred Manifestations   The person I was a minute ago is buried under a hundred other manifestations of my crippled reality. The same situation and the same person but a million different emotions and reactions. A fickle thing a mind is and a fickle being I am. I may be fake and I may be untrue but I'm also ever-changing and ever-growing. I may be a confused immature person but I'm also a blessed student ready to accept the mistakes that I've made. After all, a man learns from his faults and so will I. Time goes on, slowly silently and so will my foolish blunders fade away till there will be no mirages of myself from a minute ago buried under a hundred other manifestations of my crippled reality.

Stream of Consciousness   Was it correct on Rose's part to judge Scorpius by mere five minutes of their time together? Was it correct for Scorpius to not realize that he would have done the same thing if he was in her place? Is it so difficult to put ourselves in others' shoes or get under their skin? Was it the inability that led to their further misunderstandings or is it a trick of fate to let all the fights surface first so there will be a smoother ride in their future? The clatter of utensils and the whistling of the wind chimes, the tinkling of anklets, and the grumbling from my grandmother's throat. The world is full of color and beauty with eerie sounds and with even eerier thoughts. It is true that a silent mind is a devil's workshop. Our demons cumber the world we see in scales of white and black with nothing other than clashes of light and night. Yet how can we see the world as nothing other than the myriad shades of grey with everything so full of color? The...

 A Rainy Day   A gloomy peace the morning brought with it and the Sun for the sorrow would not show his head. The clouds were dark and looked ready to pour down. A typical day, the typical ranting of curses raining in the vegetable market and my typical routine of buying groceries. Nothing new, nothing cheerful and nothing exciting All at once, the lightning parted and the thunder blasted as they welcomed the new rain. The Market fell silent as it was spellbound with the beauty of their surroundings while the rain continued to fall without any thoughts of slowing down. All the bickerings amongst the people turned into an exchange of happiness and joy they felt because of the rain.  An old couple looked at the sky in gratitude and their eyes were moist just like the clouds ready to burst into tears any moment for they never witnessed such a sight in their lifetime. The children who were going to school stopped in their tracks and began making boats with the paper from thei...

 Solace in Sunset... I love the Sunset not because it is beautiful, but because it marks the end of the day and the fall of light. It's the time all the life in the deep darkness begins to come alive. The restless flapping of the wings, the controlled growls of the predators and the silent whispers of the black seeping into the myriad shades of crimson.  That is the Sunset I know and that is the solace I seek. I love the sunset not because it's the last I can see everything bright and clear, but because I will soon see everything that is meant to stay hidden. No more veils and masks and no more lies and mirages. There is only Truth, in its purest form rising from its slumber and, That is the Sunset I know and that is the Solace I seek.

The Perfect Statue... They said my face was blemished, my visage turned into a stone. They said my chest was too small, my heart turned into a stone. They went on and said more and more. More and more of me stopped living. Seasons changed and Constellations faded yet I stood still, with no life and no light. One windy evening a young girl passed by. She took a few steps forward but turned back and tugged her mother's hand.  She pointed at the dead rock and asked, "Is she Aphrodite". Her mother blinked back tears and smiled. "Yes", she whispered. But unlike the mother the statue didn't hold back its tears, for it was finally perefct...

  Neither Celestials nor Mortals   He was far too bright but his brother had no light of his own.  He was a loner, standing same all through the time but his brother was fickle, changing phases every other day.  He was a symbol of strength and courage but his brother was sensitive and fragile. He was the Sun and his brother was the Moon. Loved and ridiculed by the same people.  Powerful and godly as they may seem but they aren't any different from you and I. Because at the end of the day neither celestials nor mortals can escape the endless loop of imprudent judgements passed by feeble minded fools.

  At Peace... The solitary Brooksides and moon nights brought me more pain than peace. But a weekend with pipes and reeds was more noise than music. Silence and sound were two shores my soul oscillated between. I longed for company but I wanted to be left alone. A palace of contradictions is what my life is built upon and one day I saw a meadow under the hill where I wanted to be buried under. A little away from the buzz and a little towards the Earth. There was rustling and whistling but not loud enough to wake me from my slumber. It was perfect and I was finally at Peace.

 RED BLUE AND YELLOW His head swayed as gently as the summer breeze as dreams took over his consciousness. The red dripped from the palate on to the carpet just as the blue spilled on to the light brown envelope. Hours trickled down just like the silent yellow slipping down the paint brush. All the incoherent words running in his mind came to life in the form of rambling colourful Abstractions. She woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing, and the white door creaked as she opened to find out who it was on the other side. She heard her neighbour's hurried footsteps tracing back to his house before noticing what was left at her doorstep. An envelope with blue stains lay at her feet holding not a letter but a painting. A painting of a young woman in a field of red roses, wearing a sea blue dress, looking at the bright yellow sky. Smiling, he took her wrinkled hand as she continued telling their grandson the story of how they met with the faded envelope reverently held between he...

   Dedicated to Burning Wings I loved you, just as fireflies would love anything far and bright. And I still loved you, even if you were far and bright while I was a fragile firefly. If I could I would forever love you because you were my Sun, but Daedalus be damned, I was Icarus and my burning wings disappeared under the Graveyard of Fireflies .

It goes without saying that there are uncountable similarities between mythologies across the world regardless of the culture and geographic location they come from. Taking two of the oldest mythological traditions: Indian and Greek into account, there are a lot of research articles and essays written on the same. Some of the most common analogies from Indian and Greek mythologies are that of the BIG THREE and TRIMURTHIES, Krishna and Hercules, Trojan War and Ramayana. The analogy I'm focusing on today is between  Icarus and Sampati, the Greek and Indian mythical characters who are said to be each others counter parts as they both burned their wings and fall from the sky  as they flew too close to the sun.  Although I'm not against that interpretation, people tend to forget that there is another character whose story is similar, that is: Lord Hanuman. Comparing Lord Hanuman and Icarus,   is a road less travelled by. S o far I have never come across any acknowledgemen...

And The Star Lights Trembled ... Walking down the forest trail seemed longer than the journey across Styx and the mere thought of meeting him at the stroke of midnight when he was the most dangerous had her suppressing the shivers that ran down her spine. She clutched the parchment that came with the smell of the underworld so tightly she was sure it was one breath away from getting ripped to shreds. Her steps staggered as she found the chariot waiting beside a deep fissure that ran straight into the heart of his realm, their realm. A swish of robes was all that was needed to announce his presence and the moment she met his endless eyes as he placed a gentle hand on her cheek she heard the lives of the million dead souls shouting and wuthering under his fingertips. It was only then she felt the star lights tremble and they kept trembling until the dawn broke... * She-Persephone, Goddess of Spring and Life.  He-Hades, God of Death and Underworld.