Jagriti Rumi

Moon Colour

A touch of the moon colour!
[Image from Pixabay]

A touch of the moon colour and this life will glow and slowly will it know of a love story so pure that has travelled a long distance facing boldly every storm that has become a norm, followed by all, the same ones who secretly, meekly hope for someone to rise, rebel and risk it proudly, showing the world that a heart beats in every being, a heart that falls irrefutably in love, in love with a smile, a gesture, the earth, the sky and the moon… all this life needs is a touch of the moon colour.


Ready for a MOON overdose, read more –

Moon!
The Moon is Singing White Light
In Slo-mo Towards the Moon
Moon, Moon, Moon, Moonlight
The Moon Talks
The Moon is Moving
Crescent Moon Lights


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It Counterpoised Me Again

Wallflower by Jovita Alvares.
[Source – ImranMir.com]

It counterpoised my anger and my frustration by allowing me to see the yellow wallflower, in all its glory, befriending a butterfly on a cold winter’s day. And when the clouds thundered and became dark, it reminded me of a wonderful painting, letting me feel the wild wind.

It counterpoised my hate and disgust by telling me that it is alright and by asking me to breathe. And then the rain shower, the autumn leaves, the wet earth, the dripping music, everything made me feel alive and better.

It counterpoised me again, the other half of me did it, and quickly I changed my gait walking on the same old path, quietly listening to the rain.

*


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Unpack Your Destiny

The journey within…
[Image by Victoria Borodinova from Pixabay]

In a green velvety suitcase inside a wooden trunk she packed it nicely, neatly, firmly forever.  

“I want it to be safe.” While the world rises and falls without any knowledge of it, she feels positive and shielded; her destiny is properly packed and locked.

Sitting cross legged she awaits the change, for the destiny to operate from underneath her crisp, fine, obvious thoughts, packed and placed in a corner.  

“I keep in touch of course, why are you being so sarcastic?” She laughs loudly for she is confident of her victory and rightly so, what will stand in her way when she remembers to keep a check on the package, clean the dust off the wooden trunk and pray that the suitcase does not vanish away magically.  

“Yes I remember, it is my destiny, I know…” She knows it all, yet she is afraid and waits for others’ approval and appreciation. Calculating the possibilities, probabilities, time and years she takes a step forward.  

She did pack a piece of the truth in that suitcase, what is wrong in it?

She forgot to unpack it, she forgot that the truth evolves, our understanding evolves. What is destined for someone is destined and yet it changes, that is the rule.  

The truth, the destiny unfolds when a mind lets it.  


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The Dancing Flames

 

Wildfire in Australia

The dancing flames did not stop
Devouring everything in its way
It swallowed the sharp screams, the weary wails
Engulfing even the smoke that rose
To colour the blue sky grey

And the trees… what trees?
There is nothing for you to see, but ashes
Soft, smooth and ghost like, it disappears
Into the smoky air, the air that you breathe
Easily entering your blood flow, to say hello

Quiet, quiet! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?
Lazy lawmakers, fawning, swindling from term to term
Idiots! Fools! Note it down, this is a warning
Our planet is burning, catastrophe is turning
Your way and the dancing flames of change will not stop

Random Sketches By R.K Laxman

 
 
 
 
It talked to me and I listened quietly… it talked about the rugged old path that awaits coming of the travellers… travellers who are in the search for a new land and a new sky, a fresh start full of hope; the smoothened grass and dry pebbles, the inquisitive birds and the pleasant wind, the old temple and the thatched huts all count the footsteps and welcome the happy hubbub.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It talked about the decrepit palaces hiding its mysterious past from the sharp gazes, waiting for the patient one to stop by. The glorious lives and horrific battles have so much to share.
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
The flora and fauna sang a soulful tune, absorbed in it and lost in the moment. The jungle painted the sky with leaves.
 
 

 

 

 

 

 
 
It talked about the people, their traditions, their beliefs and their stories; that look, that frown, that toothless smile, that gnarled nod and the dancing feet spoke to me and I listened quietly.
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
And I found out then, how magical the ordinary is.
 
 
 

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Violets

                                                 Violets—

                                         how precious on
                                         a mountain path
                                 
                                   – Haiku by Matsuo Basho
*
The violets, the lovely peaceful charming quiet perfect violets, helped me see the path that I had covered, the mountainous journey suddenly filled me with warmth and glow and I blushed.
I know not what lies ahead, but I am sure to see some violets.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

Coverage

[Image credit – Keith Ikeda Barry]

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.  

  Macbeth’s speech; By William Shakespeare

*

Signifying nothing, says Macbeth and says it passionately, firmly, with anger and despair. He knows his end is near. All the desires, great ambitions, strategies to win, greed to own it all, everything looks foolish now when he is facing his death.

Macbeth is helpless, he triggered this, he invited his doom and unable to believe it he cries out that, ‘it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’  

But it signifies everything, not only the perplexities, the complexities, the horror that the character faces, but also the routine dilemmas, confusions, ups and downs that any of us go through. And like Macbeth if we are in the wrong then we do strut and fret and also shout, ‘out, out brief candle’.  

The majority which is not as ambitious and as covetous as Macbeth, the majority that has tied itself down to the daily chores and their precious little things, little things that take big space in their hearts, they, my dear, commit follies differently, they strategise differently and thus, are fooled differently.  

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, it will signify the same when another Macbeth will take the centre stage.


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Satellite Constellations

Satellite Constellations.
[Image by Napoleon King from Pixabay.]

Look up Juniper, the sky is full of twinkling satellites. Bright, beaming and ever present, you do not have to chase the shooting star now. Just look up and the reflecting panel will bow down to you happily and fulfil your wish, before you can think of one. (9:15 PM)  

Did you not ask for high speed internet access? I know you did. We owe so much to these satellite constellations, our relationship is based on the true internet connectivity. Oh Juniper, you’re so far away and yet I feel you’re here with me. (9:25 PM)  

I mean the internet service provider, the company – True Internet Connectivity. (9:38 PM)  

Of course, what I said above about our relationship, I meant it symbolically too. (9:40 PM)  

Do reply when you get a chance. (10:40 PM)  

Shared a photo with you, is it not breathless? That is the nearest satellite constellation to my place. (11:47 PM)  

Nothing matches the real night sky. Bye! (2:08 AM)    


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Darling I am waiting at the Bosco Lane

The tavern was jam packed now and empty then, all too quickly for Rudolph to see the difference. He forgot if someone was waiting for him at home, if there was a home. A lane, called the Bosco Lane, troubled him a lot for he wanted to reach there, but failed to even stand up straight. Songs, laughter, shouts and madness carried on forever, when someone informed Rudolph about his old horse.
“To the Bosco Lane, charge, charge you old rat”, said Rudolph to the men who grabbed him and took him outside. The old horse was neighing and not enjoying the noise around him, he did not look happy. After tumbling thrice, Rudolph managed to grab the bridle, but failed to calm the horse.
What joy this sight brought to one and all present there. Passersby slowed down to take up notes and frown and shake their heads in disgust. Musicians added drama to the scene and Roxie started to dance.
Rudolph, suddenly feeling exhilarated, announced that he will charge towards the Bosco Lane and the crowd clapped, no one knew why.
Holding the bridle once again, he tried to climb the old horse and did so only after several attempts. The show was over and the crowd cheered and clapped when the old horse neighed loudly and threw Rudolph off its back. The amazed public started laughing seeing Rudolph lying flat on the muddy road and the old horse charging away, probably to the Bosco Lane.

In French

Cafe Paris
[Image from Pixabay]

The voice said something in French,

Why me, I thought, I am not French.

The music got loud, people started chit-chatting,

But only after listening to the voice’s French message.

Weirdly everyone stared at me and sipped,

Wine and coffee and wine and coffee.

I followed the voice on my orange moped,

Café to café, table to table, taking orders,

Confusing orders, for I did not understand

What the voice ordered in French.


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