Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

 "Have you learnt your lessons my child?" "I'm trying. Each day, to move ahead, with grace. I will keep learning." "What about anger?" "I have none left. Everything that has happened has brought me here. Life has been fair." "And hurt?" "I still hurt, sometimes. But the pain has been subsiding. Everyone who has hurt me has done so because I allowed them to." "Have you moved on to the present?" "I have my Lord. I prefer not to dwell in the past." "What about judgement?" "I judge no one. I have flaws, others have flaws too. I have light, others have light too. It is not my responsibility to ignite their light, it is theirs. I am only concerned about my growth now." "What do you speak of compassion then?" "Only offer help when it is asked for. Only offer love when it is accepted. Kindness is for everyone. There is no need for reciprocation there." "What is your

  ( View from Chumbi Mountain Retreat, Pelling ) Looking for the mighty mountain,  We make our journey in haste. One stop, then another, Packing in so much,  Like a lion hungry for years. With vomit splashed in moving cars,  And boys who get the runs. But Kanchendzonga the majestic,  Evades from our view. Rain drenched streets greet us,  With fog and cold. At last,  The sun shines, but he is nowhere  To be seen still. Nostalgia  Brings back memories of childhood,  To be fifteen again, squealing in delight,  A bumpy car ride uphill in winter,  Catching the sunrise in snow capped glory. Is it so difficult to spot you? Will you hide like a scorned lover so? I cannot make a film like Mr Ray. Family that travels together,  Always squabbles together. Come on, just once, let the sky clear up. Reveal those icy secrets to searching eyes. We forge ahead to another state,  The road leads down to the river,  The sun sets, we say our prayers,  Stars string out like rosaries. A quiet hymn from the m

  She waits patiently every day At the corner of the road,  Hoping someone would notice. Maybe see her faded silhouette,  Believe that she really is alive. She is not a speck of dust and wind,  Conjured by the all engulfing cloud. Neither a spectre, now here,  Now shrugged away in disbelief,  As the blood stops flowing in Their veins, their faces pale from fear. 'Look at me. I'm standing here,  Watching the cars go by me. Every day I stand here,  At this bus stop where people  Move on to newer destinations. Won't you stop to give me a ride?' But no one does. No one believes  She exists at all. No one hears Her silent frustration, her tired calls. Is she a figment of imagination, A castle wall, a fool's paradise? Is she a tortured soul, beckoning  Unsuspecting men into unsuspecting lies? No one knows who or what she is. She is the one who doesn't exist,  The one that can never be described,  Because words can't capture  What is never really missed. The girl i

  At a restaurant inspired by all things Shakespearan, I found this quote. The painting probably depicts the balcony scene from 'Romeo and Juliet', but the lines are not from Shakespeare.  They are from a poet called Bayard Taylor. Such misrepresentation is quite common with a lot of things related to the Bard. Is he as good as he is hyped out to be? Maybe not. But the beauty of his work lies in the varied themes he so painstakingly explores. There is nothing more romantic than Shakespeare's sonnets that a lot of non literary folk are unaware of. The Oedipus complex, depression and psychological intricacies captured in 'Hamlet', guilt and its trauma in 'Macbeth', the wordplay and subtle wit in his comedies, that again most people avoid reading. My favourite play of his is 'King Lear'. I remember reading it in college and shedding quiet tears because it tugged so hard at my heart strings.  Coming back to 'Romeo and Juliet', the most popular in

  I was walking around,  Minding my own business. Also looking for the snake,  That had been spotted today. And suddenly I felt a cold draught,  Hitting me straight on the face. I backtracked a bit, hey what was that? I felt it again. I looked around. An outlet, a pipe, a shadow spot? Now, now, could this be a ghost? God knows why, but the word  Has been stalking me the last few days. Ghosts of girlfriends past,  A really ridiculous movie! Is this what you wanted? To live in a house that is haunted,  By the ghosts of you and me? Cohen lines always make you ponder. I shuddered. I really don't want to  Deal with ghosts right now. Once I lived in a real haunted house,  And that was no fun at all. We packed up our bags,  And ran out of town.  Okay, so how do we solve,  This new mystery? I stood at the junction  Where I felt the ghost. I closed my eyes and let it sink into me. The wind blew across and flapped my skirt. The sky grew pink and looked like candy. Soon the cold draught was g

The storm is coming, Dark skies and cold winds. Would you rather tuck in Or put a chair outside the porch? Let me light a candle,  And tell you an old tale  Of the boy who lost his way. Out in the dark moors, Of a desolate land far away, Lived quiet Sabayah,  with his pet raven Grey. One stormy night, He was stuck on a hill, With nothing but a thin shirt, And a small bag containing bread. The sky howled and screamed, Rivulets of water lashed his face. Sabayah was soaked cold to the bone, But not once was he afraid. His mother had warned him,  Don't go to the hill alone,  The wolves will hunt you,  When you turn your back. The hyenas will fool you,  With their maiden like laughter, The snakes will bite you, When you sit down to pray. He hadn't paid heed, He was too stubborn for his ways. But one thing he was always,  Was brave. The trees glistened  With shapes that looked like faces. The grass rattled with strange noises. 'Who's there? Who's hiding To pounce on me, r