Unveiled

It’s been eleven years. Four thousand and seventeen days. Ninety six thousand, four hundred and eight hours. Most would not even bother with the maths, but it comes naturally to me. I have learnt, unlike many others, to rely on my instincts, for I fear I have not much else to offer myself. Everyday I awake, conscious of the fact that I’m not as privileged as I was, as privileged as I want to be. People around me have been and are going through so much worse, but that that does not lessen my sorrow. It only helps me to come to terms with my disability and acknowledge the fact that I’m not alone, that others are missing out on crucial aspects of life too.

Today is Monday, the 16th of September, 2016. There is one day to go. One day left before my life is turned back around, and I am not impaired anymore. At last, I will not feel like a broken chair, a crooked smile, a cracked wall, a splintered door. I will be a freshly baked cake, a brightly coloured flower, a jar of spilling sunshine. Tomorrow, on 17th September, 2016 my life will flip like a pancake, and I will cook on the other side as well. Today is the last time I will be as I wish not to, and the future holds for me that which has been waiting, locked up behind the doors all these years. What is it, you may ask. Well, you shall see. And so shall I.

Morning brings not the shining sun - well, at least, not for me. Instead it brings, specially for me, wrapped in bows of silver and gold, darkness. A black so dark and deep, it is as though it had had promises it did not keep, and now, its countenance is a window to the subterfuge of the past. A black so abysmally unfathomable that all thought and emotion is lost. I rise and shine - but nothing shines before me. The black tunnel I stand in is so extensive it may even be endless. At last, today, I will find an end to it. An exit, that will usher me into a life so new and chromatic. I shall know my world differently, much more vividly than I do now, as vibrantly as I want to, as kaleidoscopically as I used to - eleven years ago. It has been quite a wait, and its weight has been crushing me. Finally, I shall be at liberty, not suspended on that string that had me bound. Subsequent to the riddance of this hindrance, I will run into the open arms of my newly discovered self.

When I open my eyes again, I consider for a second my location to be the afterlife. How else could I witness that which I had not for almost my entire life? That which is so common for others, yet so distant to me? My world has transformed - it has jumped off a roof and landed on one toe, it has toppled over and been absorbed by the carpet, it has cartwheeled one too many times, and has eventually come to rest in front of me as a palate of colours. Half of this mesmerising palate is covered with a sky blue, and among that there are dollops of fluffy white. In one corner there is a piercing yellow, which I forbid myself from looking at for too long. A considerable amount of grey-brown buildings has come up since I last had the fortune of looking at the totality of life and structures around me. I behold meadows embracing rows upon rows of flowers. Colourful, bright, beautiful, demanding a gaze from each passer-by, commanding over any and everything they set their eyes on. I am almost unable to handle the overwhelming wave of images. After eleven years, colours are unknown to me - black has been all I could ever see, all I have seen for the major
part of my days. My entire life has been not the truth, but a veiled version of what really is. Now, today, this very moment, I see blues and greens, yellows and oranges, whites and pinks, reds and purples, teals and silvers, lavenders and magentas, turquoises and plums, browns and greys. I see boys and girls, old people and younger ones, cars and houses, shops and roads, grass and bugs, animals and birds, clouds and the sun. I see too much to list. I see too much to even remember.

I see.
After all this time, it is unbelievable.

I can see.

Clueless and Seized

It looks likes a storage closet and smells like a garbage can, and I am not even close to exaggerating. I think the wall is broken, or maybe it's the door, because either way, the cracks in the infrastructure allow meagre streaks of light into the room I am unceremoniously trapped in. ‘Trapped’ is the only word that qualifies to be used in the prevailing situation. What else feasibly describes my condition better? For some reason, I could be called disgusted, lost or annoyed, but not particularly worried and frightened, which surprises me as well. Locked up in an unknown, dungeon-like room, unaware of my whereabouts, oblivious to how I came to be here - I must admit, it is terrifying.

The search preceding my current one threw up nothing of much consequence, so presently I am taking another look around, hoping to come across something beneficial. None of my findings yet have been major breakthroughs; all I have found are broken jugs, old and yellowing newspapers and idle pieces of rubble. After a few odd minutes, I stumble upon a map stuck on the wall, above a workbench - no, it is not a typical treasure map or a map of this place with an exit marked on it! That would be remarkably straightforward. No, it maps another place, a rather familiar one. It is the plan of a house. Next to it, taped onto the bricks, is a list of addresses. The address of a house, a school, a music institute and a club.

I am now officially scared. My presence here has been planned for over three months now, judging from the colour of the grime-covered papers. Yes, it is a map of my house. The address of my house, my school, my music class, the club I go to.

Oh my God - what is going on?

An open letter to my countrymen

Dear citizens of this country,

This letter is hopefully the last place where I will be using the words ‘tolerance’ and ‘intolerance’, because I am beginning to grow extremely intolerant towards the two. Through this letter, I wish to pour out all my thoughts about the debate on the same and also the comment made by Aamir Khan, for I wish to be done with these two discussions once and for all.

As a 13 year old, I am expected( by my mother of course!) to be acquainted with the current affairs; but in the week gone by, I have officially failed to come across anything on the news channels except the blown-out-of-proportion comment by Aamir Khan’s wife asking him whether they should leave the country due to the rising intolerance.

What has really amused me is your reaction to what he said. And by  ‘your reaction’, I am collectively referring to the public, the media and the politicians. I feel sorry saying this, but I am beginning to realize just how bored you are with your lives and the amount of time that you have for worthless gossip. It also angers me to an extent when you say that it's you who have made him Aamir Khan. How about awarding him some credit for his hard work that earned him this place in the film industry and in several hearts, rather than attributing it to ourselves for accepting him as who he is? Just because he did not need to change his name like Dilip Kumar or Meena Kumari (my mother told me about them), it does not mean we did him a favour. We call India a secular country, and in a country which is so, a person definitely should not require to change his name just so that he can ‘fit in’, because that is not what the founding fathers of free and independent India had in mind.

Before I move on, I have two questions for you: First -how many of you have actually watched the show in which he makes that statement? Because most of you don’t even know what you’re talking about- it is all just hear and say! Well, I have seen it and I know that Aamir only conveyed to us what his wife said and felt, and he never even mentioned that they actually will leave the country! Second- isn’t it normal for people to fear for their lives in the current atmosphere of insecurity? Isn’t it therefore, normal for a parent to worry about the safety of his child? Aamir’s wife merely expressed a concern which I’m sure has crossed many minds in many-a-household across the country. Although, if any other person speaks on this issue, not a finger is raised, but since he is a celebrity, a mountain is being made out of a mole-hill. Every news channel, for three continuous days after he said this, held debates and talks and interviews. The tolerance-intolerance chapter had once again been opened, only because a celebrity, who also happens to be a muslim, expressed a genuine worry. Do we really believe that a comment by an actor can defame India?

The situation is quite ironic, actually. Rude remarks have been made by the public and several politicians against Aamir. The Shiv Sena has even offered to pay a sum of one  lakh rupees to whoever slaps Aamir(Oh my God!), and someone has already arranged the flight tickets for his family to go to Pakistan! This just goes to show that we definitely are intolerant! We are unable to even tolerate a conversation a family has, which actually does not affect us in any way whatsoever.

I have seriously been shocked at the amount of attention that has been given to this fruitless debate. It has been a sheer waste of time and space on the front page of the newspaper-and these intolerant acts must stop.

On a daily basis, we are subjected to bad roads, traffic rules being treacherously broken, noise pollution, air pollution, garbage in public places, lawlessness and more; that’s tolerance- putting up with things that we don’t like. But, being a secular nation, it should never come down to tolerating- it should be about acceptance. Coming to terms with our fellow citizens- their religions, practices, beliefs and thought processes- unless they are a hindrance to us- will contribute to the greater good- our country’s harmonious progress. So hopefully, goodbye ‘tolerance’ and ‘intolerance’! Literally.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Yours truly,

                                                                                                          Meher Joshi

                                                                                                         A fellow Indian 

  

P.S. Henceforth, I shall choose what I want to know and therefore stick to the newspaper, what with the bunch of you clogging up the news channels with your frivolous gossip!

Anya's Smile

Sweat trickled down the side of my face as the words the teacher wrote on the board swam all over its smooth green surface. I was so sleepy that I was sure if I closed my eyes for more than three seconds, I would only wake up the following month. I had only got forty-five minutes of sleep the previous night because I had to babysit my four year old sister as she cried for her favourite toy – a sock – which I searched for in vain. My sister had cried all night, my father was awake for work and my mother was too ill to help me out.

I rushed through the front door of my house to find my sister, Anya, crying again. Our nanny was unable to console her. I took Anya into my arms, and instantly she stopped crying! However, she resumed her wailing within two minutes. I let the nanny, Mrs. Mon, take care of Anya as I frantically searched the house for her sock two times over. I was unsuccessful. I ran over all the possible locations of the sock in my head. I wasn’t able to think of anything.

The last time I saw it, it was lying in the play room next to the carton of clothes which were to be donated. The only place the sock could possibly be was in the box, where it might have fallen by accident. I ran to the playroom, but the box wasn’t there…

For five minutes, I couldn’t get over the idea. The sock couldn’t be in the orphanage, I tried to reassure myself. However, I had to face the possibility that it was in the orphanage. I checked with my mother where she had deposited the clothes, sat in the car and drove off to get the smile back on my sister’s face…

The whole pile came tumbling down on me. I was in a truck, looking for Anya’s sock amongst a huge mess of clothes. A man sitting outside the truck told me I would find all the clothes which were donated and being sent to the orphanage inside. And here I was, covered in clothes from God knows where. Suddenly I heard a screeching sound as the truck’s tyres began moving! I was trapped in a moving truck under  a pile of clothes, looking for a sock!

After what seemed like an hour of tripping over clothes and searching, I found the red piece of cloth with swirly yellow designs that Anya had turned the house upside-down for. I banged my hand on the truck a million times, and was almost about to give up when the truck lurched to a stop. A man with a wispy moustache opened the door and let me go with the sock clutched tightly in my hand. I went back home.

Anya ran up to me and gave me a hug. “Ria didi! Thank you! I love you so much!” she exclaimed as she hugged the sock and flashed a smile of uncontrollable joy.

I stood there and looked at Anya, who is a part of me. I can’t imagine life without her, her happiness, her smile. All the trouble I went to was completely worth it. Anya’s smile means everything to me. Even little things are worth a lot.

बदलाव या ठहराव?

एक दिन बरसात के बाद,
मैं सड़क पर चल रहा था,
टकरा गया मैं किस से?
अरे, यह तो मेरे  बचपन का दोस्त था!

मुस्कुराते हुए वह बोला,
"मैं  तुम्हे ही ढूँढ रहा था,
छोड़ों अपना यह गाँव,
मैं शहर  तुम्हें  हूँ दिखाता !"

शहर  कभी न  देखा था मैंने,
चाह मुझे न थी,
मेरा ज़िद्दी दोस्त न माना,
मुझे बैठाया  एक डरावनी चीज़ में  , बुलाता उसे गाड़ी !

एक चाबी उसने घुमाई,
उस यंत्र ने जानवर जैसी चीख निकाली,
हाथ से एक  पहिया घुमाया,
और गाड़ी  दायें-बाएँ  मुड़ने लगी!

मेरी तो जान निकल रही थी
मेरा दोस्त था बिलकुल बेफ़िक्र ,
दो घंटे के अनजान सफ़र के बाद,
 हम आ पहुँचे  शहर!

१०० मीटर से भी ऊँची  इमारतें ,
हज़ारों, तरह-तरह के तेज़ रफ़्तार वाले
ये विचित्र वाहन  - गाड़ियाँ ,
और इमारतों में  २० - २५ माले!

मैंने देखा यहाँ  सब कुछ,
था चलता बिजली और मोटर पे,
 इतनी महँगाई थी, हों खाना या कपड़े,
इसके मुकाबले गाँव मे हर चीज़ मिलती सस्ते में ।

"दोस्त," मैंने प्यार से कहा,
"यह शहर नहीं मेरी जगह, अरे ना-ना !
तुमको यहाँ रहना है रहो,
मुझे कृपया मेरे गाँव वापस ले चलो। "

"अरे गाँव मे रखा क्या है?" वह बोला ,
"इस शहर मे सब कुछ मिलता है,
यहाँ करने को इतना कुछ है
उस गाँव मे सिर्फ खेती-बाड़ी है!"

"इस शहर मे अलग-अलग प्रकार का खाना,
गाँव में मिलता वही पुराना!
टेक्नोलॉजी ने सब कुछ आसान बनाया,
गाँव में बिजली के बिना  सब अपने हाथों से पड़ता है करना!"

"मैं जानता हूँ की तुम्हें गाँव की
कम सुविधायें नहीं भाती, "
मैंने उसे समझाया, कि कैसे, बिना बदलाव,
मुझे गाँव की पसंद है सादगी!


"अलविदा मेरे दोस्त, रहो तुम अपने गाँव में  ।"
"अलविदा मेरे दोस्त, रहो तुम अपने शहर में  ।"
मुझे वापस छोड़कर लौट गया वह शहर,
मैं मुस्कुराया, मैं खुश अपने गाँव में ।


*यह कविता मैंने पिछले वर्ष अपनी गर्मी की छुट्टियों में लिखी थी । अपनी टिप्पणियाँ ज़रूर छोड़ें :)

What a Wonderful Start

I am woken in the morning,

With the Sun’s rays streaming in,
The melodious chirping of the birds,
What a wonderful start to the day.

When I walk out to the garden,

Last night’s rain brings to me,
The smell of wet mud and leaves,
What a fresh start to the day.
 

The breeze runs through my hair,

The trees are dancing in the wind,
I want to chase all the butterflies,
What an active start to the day.

All these animals, all these trees,

The wind and the breeze,
And the Sun, the wet mud,
What a wonderful start to the day.

Who is a 'Mother'?

Who is a Mother?

I always wonder,

What is a Mother?

I always wonder,

What does she do?

Something special, is it?

Is her way of doing things,

Always so exquisite?

I don’t really know,

What it’s all about,

Just caring for your child,

Without any doubt?

What is a mother and who is she,

My Mamma has shown me!

Even she didn’t know till yesterday,

She was just born,

She started getting the feel,

When I was in her tummy,

As small as a baby corn!

This is the day, once again

She is rejoicing to be ‘Mom’,

Happy Mother’s Day!

You must have guessed who this is from!

My poem for Mamma on Mother's Day, 13th May 2012

Lights all over,
Everyone's mood is jolly,
Decorations are hanging,
Put up on every door's a holly!

Stars are gleaming on the tip,
Of every Christmas tree,
With smiles on faces,
Carols are sung with glee!

So Merry Christmas to you,
May you have a blast,
Every year when Christmas comes,
I wish that forever it should last!

दीयों से सजी दिवाली

साल के बाद साल, स्कूल को मैं वादा  करती,

पटाखे बिलकुल भी नहीं जलाऊँगी, 

पर पटाखों को देख कर मेरा मन डगमगाता, 

अपने आप को रोक न पाती ...

पर इस साल न जाने क्या हुआ, 

सबको दिवाली की दी बधाई,

बनाई रंगोली, जलाये दीये, 

पर एक भी पटाखा न मैं घर लाई ।

मैं अपने निर्णय पर अटल रही,

कोई मेरा मन न बदल पाया,

पिछले साल का फुलझड़ी का डब्बा था पड़ा,

फिर भी मेरा मन न ललचाया ।

वह एक फुलझड़ी जो मैंने नहीं जलाई,

जलाती  तो न जाने क्या हो जाता,

आ सकता था किसी को अस्थमा अटैक,

धुंए से ज़रूर किसी का मन घबराता ।

सोच लिया है मैंने,

बेहतर वातावरण में मुझे है रहना,

पेड़  मत काटो, पटाखे मत जलाओ,

पूरी दुनिया से मुझे है यह कहना ।

धूल - मिट्टी  नहीं चाहिए,

प्रदूषण न मैं सह सकती,

जब पृथ्वी स्वच्छ हो  जाएगी,

गर्व से कहूँगी - यह है हमारी शक्ति !

मेरे श्री राम स्कूल और हमारे पर्यावरण क्लब ने,

कुछ कर दिखाने की प्रेरणा मुझे दी,

अब और हिम्मत आ गई है मुझ में ,

अपने सपनों  को पूरा करने की ! 

Two Happy Feet

Crocs!

This poem holds a special place in my heart. At one point of time, I was crazy about crocs and ended up writing a poem on them :) The poem and my picture are now uploaded on the Facebook page of Crocs and have also appeared in their e-newsletter which is circulated in all Crocs offices across Asia Pacific !

Following are the links to my poem and winning story on the Crocs India Facebook page and their global site :)

http://www.facebook.com/crocs.india
http://www.crocsaroundtheworld.com/en/in/home

When you’re going to visit a friend,

Or sneaking out to play,

Crocs are what you need to wear,

Slip on and slip off each day!

When your party-wear sandals will break,

And it’s too hot for shoes,

Or, you’re playing a detective game,

On a wild goose chase for clues,

Running, playing, jumping,

Crocs are just fit for all,

Used for casual wear,

Or even going to the mall!

Crocs, Crocs, Crocs,

You might hear many people say,

Their popularity keeps growing,

Every single day!