The price of love.

I have been in love with him since ages, for each time he leaves me in solitude I live a hundred years each day and uncountable memories each night.

They say, every sunset brings a new light but for me, its just another hundred years to survive before a blanket of memories- his memories, our memories traps my soul.

An irony it is! The world moves on so smoothly, unperturbed and nonchalant, while your own life suffocates and breaks every second.

The wind blows at the same pace, people laugh and love, clock ticks, trees grow and hearts beats but for me, my little world exists within. Surrounded by his memory. The words he said, those smiles we shared and an immense pain his absence has bestowed on me.

For some days, there is just numbness and coldness. Frozen and still inner self. And suddenly the volcano erupts! Too strong to be overpowered by a fragile heart. My fragile heart, on which you poked your hurts night and day, consistently and lasting forever...

No matter how hard I try to ventilate my mind, opening the windows of thoughts and emotions for other things, things that mattered and reflected concern once but are now opaque and nonchalant of even themselves. You, precisely anything and everything that has an essence of you, only has the power to hit me, shake me, wake me!

How and when in this saga of my existence did 'you' become such an omnipresent and imposing part? That little by little I see bits of my own self crumbling, shying and dying out and away.
Tired of waiting for you. Too exhausted to fight. Too meager to exist. 
Is this the reason why they call love so overpowering? I am not sure but this reason seems to be true.

I have been over shadowed by this giant called love who gripped me in his comforting hands taking me to the top of the world, high and higher till everything around became far and misty except a gush of cool air and the euphoria of being among the stars. And suddenly, this giant dropped me! Yes, he dropped me and I hit the floor lifeless. My heart lay bleeding, eyes moist , mind so confused and chaotic while my soul almost succumbed to irreparable damage. They were right when they said that 'its not the fall that hurts but its that sudden stop in the end'.
This sudden inevitable stop.
This piercing realization that neither the sky could save me nor did the ground.
And even when I lay on the kiss the floor thrashed like an insect, the giant still over shadows me.

Everything comes with a price. But the price of falling amidst this euphoria called love can't be paid off by mere mortals like me. Not in an entire life. He was right when he said 'love is priceless'. Indeed it is.

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Sense of an ending...

Tears rushed through her lonely eyes

remains of a lost faith

piercing depths of her soul

this eerie sense of an ending

Cracked lips unable to tremble

silent sobs synchronous with beats

flowing like red in her veins

this eerie sense of an ending

A mayhem of incessant voices

murmuring from nowhere to nowhere

wrapping her like a volcano

this eerie sense of an ending

Crawling stealthy breath after breath

conspiring with time and mind

numbing her from toe to head

this eerie sense of an ending

Tightly gripping every muscle

twisted cords of realization and remorse

shaking her reason of existence

this eerie sense of an ending

Attaching firmly beneath her skin

million cells of painful memories

shielding all hope and happiness

this eerie sense of an ending

 Enveloping even her shadow

like the calmness of a night

terminating life moment by moment

this eerie sense of an ending. 
 

Right to imagination - A book in every child's hand!

"The stories of childhood leave an indelible impression, and their author always has a niche in the temple of memory from which the image is never cast out to be thrown on the rubbish of heap of things that are outgrown and outlived". - Howard Pyle

Books and stories carry in them a sense of ever lasting nostalgia. Reading and listening to the tales has been the most treasured and beautiful moment for most of us since childhood days. Isn't it? 

Cinderella, snow white and Rapunzel's dreamland, the adventures of tom sawyer, Panchatantra, Akbar-Birbal's tales of wit and wisdom, Nancy Drew's mystery missions- these and many more story books are my most prized possessions. They made me learn as I grew and gave power to my imagination and expression. Am sure your experiences are much the same. 

But don't you think that every child deserves the pleasure of experiencing the joy of reading a good book? Yet not all are fortunate. Stats shows that about 300 million children all over India have NEVER held a book in their hand. The happiness of sitting cuddled up in bed and enjoying the adventures of Arabian nights eludes them. Fairies don't accompany them in their dreams with any magic or miracles. 

This is not 'just' about right to education or literacy. The cause in question is simpler yet significant, that is a book in every child's hand. No matter which language or expression, how big or small, cheap or expensive - a story is all that matters. 

THE PROBLEMS :

1) Good books today are basically available in Hindi or English. but with 22 official languages and about 1600 dialects. How can only two languages suffice?

2) Cost- Big publishing houses sell books at expensive prices which cannot be afforded by most of the population.

3) Literacy rate is still low specially in the states of Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh , Bihar and Jharkhand so spending time or money on reading is out of question until proactive steps are taken to build and sustain interest among children.

4) Lack of quality education - Research reveals that 1 in 3 school going children cannot read fluently. Children who are unable to read are unable to learn, as they can't understand what is being taught to them. And that contributes to high dropout rates in schools.

5) Awareness - There is extreme ignorance about all such issues so the movement fails to pick up momentum.

6)Apart from this, the ever increasing population only tends to create a huge gap in the demand supply ratio.

With these issues in mind a non-profit organisation called Pratham Book was set up in 2004 as a part of Read India movement. PB was established as a not-for-profit public charitable trust to reach children whom the market ordinarily would not and, therefore, to democratize the joy of reading.
There are still very few publishing houses willing to provide affordable content and that too in multiple English languages.

Pratham Books logo

Pratham books have come up with some extremely creative and innovative solutions to cater the problems in hand. Some of these are :

1) Selling books in sachet form that is, a four page book for just Rs.2. An amount which any young reader across the country can afford. Around 8 million such cards have been sold.

2) Bilingual books - books in two languages at a price of one. They also help children to learn a second language, and in the non-English medium world, bilinguals are being used to learn English.

3)Creative commons - they have put up many books in several languages under the Creative Commons license. This creates a multiplier effect where the books get converted into new forms and many derivative works get produced. So there is content available for iPads, iPhone, e-readers, audio-clips and digital content for the visually-challenged. 

 4) They have also started a new venture called 'Annual World Storytelling Day contest' where readers can remix their illustrations to make new stories. This exercise has given them over eighty new stories. It works beautifully on two levels: by using the same illustrations to make new stories they have reduced the cost of producing content and for a single publisher, coming up with 80 new books would have easily taken a few years, not to mention the costs.

All these and many other innovative approaches have been welcomed and have received an enthralling response. In the last 6 years, pratham books have published over 215 titles in up to 11 languages and have spread the joy of reading to over 15 million children.

Their mission is simple -'Indian content for Indian children'. Proving books which are both linguistically and regionally relevant. 

Now coming to the most important aspect. WHAT YOU AND I CAN DO? 

1) Know and share - Beginning from the basics, this is indeed the most important facet for tackling any issue. Get aware and let people know. Be it verbally, through print media, technology like E-mails, social networking sites, blogs etc. 

2) Read 'them' a story - Just to create interest and open a world full of imagination in front and fantasies for them. Your single story can change someones life! In the words of B.F. Skinner 'we shouldn't teach great books, we should teach a love of reading'.

3) Gift a book to someone today - Words and actions should go hand in hand for a practically productive outcome. We all have children around us, identity those who need it the most maybe your maid's daughter or the rag picker on the road and just present him with the pleasure of reading and learning.

4) Go to a nearby village or areas which await the joy of reading and distribute them books. photocopied or picture or pamphlet books. They need not be expensive or with long stories.

5) There is huge content available on the net which means you have access to stories on your laptops, ipads, mobile phones etc. Download and share it around.

Or you can JOIN THEM DIRECTLY BY :

1) Read about them @ Pratham books

2)If you would like to be a part of Read India Movement as a writer, illustrator, publisher or volunteer, email then at info@prathambooks.org or click here or more details.

3) There are many other ways in which you can help like library in a village, fund a book, teach for India etc. Check it out here @ Engage

As I mentioned before its not just about the right to education but the right to imagination! 
Before ending I would like to leave you with a thought

children are like water

bottle them up and they stagnate

let them run wild and they make a mess

guide then and they

bring life to all they touch!

Franklin Templeton Investments partnered the TEDxGateway Mumbai in December 2012.

Hear Rohini Nilekani (founder chairperson of Pratham Books) talk on the same issue in the video clip below. Youtube link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHqFGA78sEU

They Showed me the right path....

When it comes to learning and growing not just in age but wisdom too, I think that my own suffering have been the greatest of all teachers.
As Charles Dickens said 'suffering has been stronger than all other teaching and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but I hope - into a better shape'.
No pain we suffer goes useless. It teaches us patience, humility, compassion, faith, confidence. Its only after shedding tears that the road ahead seems clearer.

It is also true that in these moments of trouble and trials does our real attitude stand out. Being a medical student I come across tens of patients and their despaired family members each day as they are scattered throughout the hospital. Each one of them waiting to get rid of his agony and distress.

Last month I had been posted to a government hospital in Delhi as a part of my 3rd year curriculum. I was supposed to collect the blood samples of 'bed no. 12' - female ward that day. So with all the necessary instruments like syringe and collecting vials etc. I made my way to the ward. On reaching the bed to my surprise the patient, a girl of about 17 years was surrounded by other inmates of the room.She was narrating them something and they all laughed. And the wards which are usually a gloomy place was filled with laughter and zest.

As I took her blood samples I tried to strike a conversation with her. (We are even taught to do the same with any patient in order to divert their attention while pricking a needle).
She told me that she was a student of class 12th and had secured a good 90%. She aspired to be a doctor and had toiled hard for the entrances the whole year but this unwelcoming illness made her miss all the entrances which meant she would have to wait for another year to be able to get admission in a college.

After taking the samples I ordered her to take rest and not talk much. She spoke again 'laughter is the best medicine, isn't it? I am helping myself and others get well soon' :)
I was amazed at her spirit and determination. How subtly did she made me learn that not only being happy is indeed the best medicine but its our outlook to things that makes all the difference.

Life in the capital city of India is so fast paced and busy. There is no time to stop and stare. A slit- throat competitive atmosphere prevails everywhere. I travel by DTC everyday and undoubtedly catching a bus is an extremely tedious task. You are pushed and crushed.The drivers halt the buses way ahead the directed mark. People literally want to grab and kick you out to 'edge' a place in the ever increasing number of commuters.

It was amidst such a scenario one day that I saw a lady in her 60's trying in vain to clutch the bus door handle.
But then suddenly a guy in his 20's who was standing beside me on the bus stop ran and not only shouted on the driver to stop the bus but also climbed and helped the woman get into the bus. The lady was moved to tears as she blessed the boy and thanked him.

As I and many others witnessed this incident, not just today but almost everyday I held my head in shame. And realized that its easy to crib and point out mistakes but to see a change we need to create it.

As we walk forward to shoulder bigger responsibilities we should never forget the lines learnt back in pre-school days: 

 "little deeds of kindness

little words of love

help to make our earth an Eden

like the heaven above".

And lastly an incident which was the first one to come in my mind when I read the topic.
It happened about 15 years back when I was around 7 years old but as they say that some incidents teach us lesson of a lifetime and no matter what they remain imprinted in our memories forever.

My uncle was about 65 years old then. He was a man of great principles and a thorough disciplinarian.
He would often come to our house and take us for shopping or to nearby places. We obviously liked him dearly.
On one such day, he decided to take us to the nearby book shop.The shop was a 20 minutes drive from our house.
While coming back in the autorickshaw we got stuck in a huge traffic jam. Uncle had an appointment at 5 PM and realizing he was already late, as he had to drop us and then go to his place he paid off the auto and decided to walk us to the house for it was only a 5 minutes walk from there. Since mobile phone were not common in those days so he had no way to inform anyone.

As we walked, suddenly a large stone on the road made uncle lose his balance and he fell down getting severely injured. later that week, he left for his heavenly abode.
I still remember his words that 'what better could it be to die for those morals and principles on which you have lived your entire life'.And uncle truly did that.
Now whenever I am running later I remember his punctuality and make it a point to at least inform the person waiting for me. I strive hard to live on and sustain my principles and beliefs just like him. And I am sure that when he sees me from up there he smiles and is so happy to know that I learnt what I saw and inculcated it in my life too!

I am sharing what 'I Saw and I Learnt' at BlogAdda.com in association with DoRight.in.

For you, my friend :)

Cruel and harsh

Life is strange

promises of forever

in seconds they change

I fell apart 

like autumn leaves

down in the valley

dreams buried deep

and slowly but surely

life pulled me up

God seemed to hear again

faith re developed

I woke up again

to new beginnings bright

a stranger from distant land

caught my sight

in initial phase

I failed to recognize

our relation groomed

in its own stride

little by little

he touched my soul

his caring gestures

and ways unknown

I am healing now 

of my past pains

with your support

infinite strength I gain

You are a blessing

God's choicest gift

I will forget you not

even if our paths drift

you hear me steadily

night and day

you held my hand

in the summers of may

I can never repay

the unconditional love

its a heavenly bond

from paradise above

in you I trust

with you I fight

you judge me not

just suggest me right

I feel protected

a feeling divine

in your thoughts

I forever wish to be entwined

its true they say

life's ironical equation

you gain some. lose some

mathematics of relations

even miles apart

today or tomorrow

I can look up to you

in woes and sorrow

no words seem apt

no verse precise

which will explain

your place in my life

a promise eternal

I wish to make

never ever my friend

will this bond break.

P.S. This poem is a dedication for someone whom I can safely call my 'best friend'. He is also a blogger and when it comes to blogosphere I guess people know him better than me (specially girls;))since he churns out absolutely amazing love stories ! 

Apart from that he is a great person, the 'too good to be true' kinds. Even when I irritate him like hell with my absolutely random and at times mindless stories he will listen so very patiently as if he were genuinely interested. Remain the same and continue to listen to me :P

I know this poem depicts not even a tiny part of who you are but still can't write better so please accept it :)

And this post is special for one more reason - It is my 100th post...taaddaaaaaa *drum rolls* :D

A note of thanks to all those who read and appreciate, believe me every single word of yours matters. When I joined blogging I never thought I would be able to carry it for sooo long but the constant motivation and love encouraged me to share what all my heart embodies here on 'Embodying Emotions'.

THANKS A LOT FRIENDS :D

OK since its sounding more like a 'self proclaimed winners' speech (which are always so irritating AND boring) I stop here and now. Will be back with a new post soon. Till then hasta la vista dearies :* :))

Leaving you with few lines that I felt will some up all those 'genuine friendships' in the world....

Snow

Late in the evening 

snow begins to fall

little insignificant flakes

drapes mountains and homes

lush, pure and calm

like a sea painted white

serene as it flutters

gentle as in sways

In a valley exists a town

a little unheard one

with a dim lit cottage

wildflowers and soft grasses

amidst the mountain range

sits a girl besides the window pane

snow ruffles her dreams

that's her belief

in the loneliness of nights

snow flickers like hope

delighting her yearnings

sharing lost dreams

the silence of snow

talks of untold desires

on petite white flakes

swings endless mysteries.

Its a climb....

I know people change. Change so subtly that is takes days to believe the existence of something that was imperceptible before.

I know people turn their back.I have seen them hiding their faces like the evening sun which dips ever so slowly somewhere in the horizon and darkens all that's around, while you stand patiently for the dingy light to be thrust upon.

I know people back stab.I have felt them poking those incessant punches on me like the merciless winds in a vast, hot, sandy desert which away extracts all moisture and vitality and depresses one deep in the restless sand.

I know it because life blessed me with relations and thrust upon me the intricacies of dealing with people. People who promised to never change and relations which were as sturdy as huge mountains. But nothing can change the nature of change for it has to change!

And its no more surprising yet an irony as to how the most toughest of glasses shatter easily. Promises that define our being, are our strengths and hope dissolve as soon as we lean onto them perfectly.

I know it because I have leaned onto such promises completely and in a few moments there was a loud thud. so loud that it lost its audibility maybe. For nobody heard anything. But I know it because I felt the silence.

A missing part.

A dissolved promise. 

A dead relation.

Its at times surprising as to how relations build up. The sweetness tends to be dissolved in innumerable and never ending expectations. 

Expectations that climb a ladder of shattering hopes and broken promises.The trouble is we cant do much about it. Its spontaneous. No matter how tough you appear to be, you are bound to expect and be disappointed in return. I know it coz I have had my share of shattered hopes and expectations.

And not just for once but innumerable times.

I wont label my life as one of extraordinary pain or change but yes, I can proudly say that I have had my share till now. No wonder there is more to come. For the pages of destiny cant go blank.They have been filled with an ink that outlines my life. The fact is that I don't have a choice , neither does life have, we both are being played upon by something superior. For 

"he who makes my woes for me

will think about my woes

my brooding over them would be

a greater woe than those" :)

a love not forgotten....

Twenty stairs

a perching bird

I stand here

behind the church

one misty morning

you caught my sight

I still remember

that blue shirt with red stripes

again we met

in a party

destined it was

began our story

time flew off

in its habitual way

silent whispers

yet volumes they'd say

parched roads turned lush

wildflowers bloomed

moon crescented much

as our love groomed

I knew not

we created memories

someday it will

be my prized victory

you stole my soul

reasons unknown

my heart still yearns

distressed, forlorn

the places we strolled

the songs we sang

those long happy drives

on city's outskirts

and then suddenly

you had to leave

a bitter reality

to believe

called you were

to the war-front

axing my dreams

you walked off dear soldier

the day you returned

I was euphoric

running wildly

untrammelled and free

you stood there

a proud warrior

your smile shone

charming like ever

but..who was she?

I stepped back to know

maybe his mistress

the crowd implied

still and tizzy

I stood and watched

our past memories

dismantled and dislodged

you held her hand

and went inside

people followed 

ignoring my plight

you took oaths

of marital bliss

the church bell rang

uncertain of my grief

long years have passed

seasons flown and drown

oft-returning birds

yet a sturdy me

still stands there

twenty stairs

a perching bird

unforgotten you....undying love!!

 

PS : The image above is what inspired me to pen down this poem!

the arrival of spring.....

It was a Christmas eve.Chilly winds and jingle bells clashed time and again to create a festive music that left the air cheerful.

The entire town was busy preparing for Christmas. Trees were adorned with colourful balls, bells, silvery stars and holly leaves in a ritualistic fashion. Children passionately awaited the arrival of Santa Claus who was believed to sleigh around bringing goodies and gifts.

Somewhere in the same town amidst all the festivities was a house...a small dark house.The crescent moon flowed silvery light on the glass window. A sound of weak coughing could be heard every now and then.

It belonged to an old , bed ridden lady living her final moments.

There was nothing dinky...with ragged curtains, unplastered walls , a bed with squeaking legs and some neatly kept utensils in a corner. The fireplace looked neglected, as if not been used for ages now and the only light was due to a candle kept nearby. It was a cold, bitterly cold winter.

"water...water.. " cried the lady. Struggling to breath.

A little hand poured water in a steel glass and with a spoon dropped a drop or two slowly in the ladies mouth.

"no more" said she and closed her eyes again.

This house belonged to two other creatures.

A little boy of about 12 years and a caged bird.

"jingle bell...jingle bell..." they heard a sound which symbolized it was finally time for Christmas, a time to celebrate and make merry but this house remained dark and silent. As if the God of festivities had forgot to paint it red.

another bout of cough...

"Today is Christmas eve and i long to meet my parents , my fiends" said the little boy to the caged bird.

"its been 4 years since i saw them" , he continued in the same unvarying habitual tone.

"my friends and siblings would have grown up like me. celebrating Christmas. I also want to go, let me go, let me go.."  he cried in a pathetic voice as if pleading to his own self.

the bird sat still and hushed, maybe it too sympathized with the poor child and desired freedom for itself.

"water my child...just one last time.." came in the horsed breathless voice.

the boy startled and in a fickle of an eye dipped a spoonful of water but alas! the breath had stopped and the heart had given up on beating.

the little boy stood there motionless and cold.

darkness grew intense and candle flickered confusingly on which place to project the light.

"we wish you a merry Christmas.."  another group passed by singing carols.

after a few moments of absolute stillness..the boy got up and grabbed the candle in his hand...and cupped the flickering flame. He moved towards the cage.

"you are free dear birdy and so am I...its time to celebrate freedom..and welcome the commencement of a new journey..." he said in a snivelling tone..and let open the cage...dragging his footsteps..he too walked through the door...

they were all free....the lady, the boy and the bird....'but when one journey ends, another begins......'

PS : And am finally back to my blog....although am not apologetic for staying away coz padhai bhi zaruri hai na :P but will surely be devoting time to this space of mine..hope to see u around folks! :))

Its A Night....

It’s A night. No, not one of those lively good nights neither is it a gloomy one. It’s not an unusually darker one nor is it stormy. Its just one of those random nights..a comfortable mist of clouds, some stars and a moon. Nothing special nothing remarkable. Yet I am attracted towards it. There is something about the eerie silence that compels me to stay awake. To live it in its whole essence...to let the darkness dawn a little more…warding off the surrounding light, blossoming in full, with the moon and stars.
Its 2:14 AM precisely in my watch. Tranquility prevails. Maybe an occasional sound here and there and a periodic ticking of time but nonetheless it is serene.
The world lays in deep slumber with shadows guarding the moon and all that is hidden under it.
"Can it see me too”? I wonder. experiencing it...letting it seep within me...the darkness, the coolness, those gentle breeze that bring easterly winds of water? 
I hope it doesn't. Coz I m at peace. Hiding in its bosom and dwelling in my soul. I don't want to attract attention. I m me, in my own skin. Enjoying this night. Enjoying the things that are a part of everyday world. If I care about anything right now. Its those miscellaneous mysteries.unresolved.unperturbed.
The moon. It is silvery and the tints are beautiful. Shades unwind in it to show me the days bygone, some memories, people, places...all projecting in those silvery hues. All known to me yet i gaze in amazement.
Surprisingly stars don't attract me today somehow.
''Am I moonstruck"? A voice asks. "Of course not! Has there to be a reason for everything"? I protest to quieten it up. But somewhere I know, it knows too. That I am. I am here, sitting amidst it for my dreams. To know them. Those miscellaneous mysteries. To get them solved.Perturbed.
Now I desire the night to see, I seek its attention. I don't want to be embodied in it like everyone else. I want to grow and then outgrow those murky blankets of darkness, like the moon.
Finally I witness my dreams. Not all, not few. Just a glimpse but a vivid one. It’s not a fantasy neither serendipity. Its ecstasy. Pure divine ecstasy to me.
This night is mine. I am cuddling it up and ready to fly off in my delightful dreams!!

haiku challenge day-18

an era bygone

once buzzed with fishes and men

now coldly wretched

written for the

haiku challenge day-16

sees the portrait hung

remembering you dear mother

I write this haiku

PS : kindly read my post one love..one time??? NAAH!!! and provide me with ur valuable feedbacks. thanks so much :)



written for the