Jagriti Rumi

Live and Rise

Summer night–

even the stars

are whispering to each other.

– Haiku by Kobayashi Issa

And they are whispering, twinkling blue and green, sharing the secret we all know… that love is in the air.

The summer earth blooms for it is in love, the summer sky sways for it is in love.

A promise is made with joy in the eyes by every soul, promise to live and rise.  


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“A Story Always Tells Another Story, You Know…”

I believe in the story!
Image from Pixabay.

And you will never know, I will never show, what I feel, what I need from you, no.

The salmon coloured light is bright in me and still, you cannot see. This colour is all over the space and at night the salmon coloured moon shines to tell you the same, but still, you cannot hear.

Oh no, I am not upset, I am saying it out loud for I know the story now. I love this story now.

Raphael took his bow and arrow that day and went to the jungle to hunt, like any other day. Raphael you saw that hare and you readied yourself, you shot and missed it.

What happened, why did you smile then? Ah, the hare was of salmon colour too, right? You smiled and ran your fingers through your hair, I know.

And you will never know, I will never show, what I feel, what I need from you, no.

Stop shying away… you from me and me from you. Cannot you feel the salmon coloured road on which we are walking? Miles apart and years away, destined to meet along the way.

The journey began long back, neither I nor you remember when. But it is sweeter that way, for there is a mystery and scope for the unexpected.

Raphael when the heart breaks, it takes not a moment to bring it all to an end. Raphael the tears only wish for love.

Fighting in the battle when you took a step ahead, so did I, struggling against the mean voices and terrible lies. The salmon coloured sky reached out to both of us then, I know because I believe in the story.

And you will never know, I will never show, what I feel, what I need from you, no.

We will hold hands and dance and clap and sing together, painting the walls around in salmon colour.

I am not afraid of forever, are you? Tell me this and more when we meet.    

*

Post inspired by Imany’s beautiful, soulful song “You will never know.”

Check out the official video here.

Read about Imany here.


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Thunderous Applause… And the Warli Drama Unfolds

 

And the Warli drama unfolds… thunderous applause… come and watch the puppets dancing, dancing to the tunes of folktales… look at, but beware, the bewitching dance movements will make you happy and take you to the wonderland. And you will dream the original dream. Ohhs and aahs and wows and wahs!
 
Hey puppeteer, where are the strings and where are you hiding? “I am over here”, said the puppeteer and added, “the strings are invisible and so am I, my dear.”
 
But the puppets were ready, the performance had started. Shush! Shush! The tale of a King heard never before by some.
 
“Where is my horse, commander?”, asked the portly King. “Sir, you’re riding it”, gasped the tired commander. The horse neighed and snorted.
 
Meanwhile his subjects went through their daily chores of dancing little more…
 

 

Let us work and dance and dance and work!
 

 

Seeing us dance, look the sun is smiling.
 

 

Look, how the tree dances!

 

 

 And the cattle dances. 
 My horse dances! He is happy (unlike the king’s).

 

 

Peeeepeeee-pepe! Dhumdhum-dhum-dhum! Jhunjhun-jhun-jhun!
 

 

The swing’s swinging.

 

 

Now the joyous peacock’s here.

 

 
It is a wedding and everyone’s dancing!

 

Uu-uu-uuuuuu! Dancing to the beat of life!

 

And the King in his kingdom, tired of the moody horse returns to his palace to attend a meeting.
Uu-uu-uuuuuu! The end!
The end? What type of story is this? It is the tale of a King heard never before by some.
 
Thunderous applause!


 

Read more about the Warli art here.
 
Photo courtesy – Google
 
Happy Earth Day everyone!
 

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The Wall

I cannot find my spectacles and I cannot see what lies ahead. Maybe I just don’t want to.

But I know this much that the wall in front of me is laughing at me. Oh! I know this much, I can hear it laugh, point finger, glare and burn; gnawing questions and harrowing answers and more burst out from this wall only and only to crush me, inching slowly to get my heart.

The wall purposely fooled me or so I would like to believe and having done so I refuse to accept or arrange for any attempts of reconciliation. Life is a mess and I refuse to look at it.

Oh well, oh hell with it all. I am not afraid of a wall. The unmoving structure knows not who I am. Huh! I have hammered several nails into this wall before and I can do so now.

But let me first find my spectacles and see what lies ahead. Maybe it is time I should.

Listen to your heart – Banksy

Photo credit – Banksy the Bindaas!

Raga Pranayama

When the Music is Good by Dr. Kirell Benzi.

Playing the Raga Pranayama in my heart and soul I am sitting inside this quiet room for so many days now and slowly this world has stopped reeling.

The shrivelled old self shed off its glories and achievements and regrets all at once, it was painful and I did die a little. Then all I did was to look up and breathe, close my eyes and breathe again.  

Now brighter, with no desire to compete with light or a sharper mind or the maestro musician, I sit simply playing the Raga Pranayama.

Yes, often my memory makes me feel overwhelmed, and yet something allows me to accept it all that too with a smile.  

And softly the wind brings a message from the meadows that the dandelions are gushing with joy and beaming for one and all; that the butterflies are coming carrying colours for you and me; that the stream is singing, sparkling sibilantly, shy at first, vibrant then. Oh it is lovely!

*

It is a new beginning, I am sitting in my room and everything has changed as I play the Raga Pranayama.

Dispelling the emaciated fears that had spread and frolicked in my mind, dispelling with the truth of this life force running lightly within and without… the fears just succumbed in the end and this I will remember, always, so that I too can share and struck a happy peaceful note.  

Voices together, singing this happy note, playing the Raga Pranayama will eventually rise above the gloomy cry of this malady.

Together we will rise and break that wall which was once built greedily by us. Hold on, hold on for it will pass.  

Play with me the Raga Pranayama in your heart and soul and let the life energy guide you.

That hazy glow you see when you close your eyes and breathe, that dot, it is the one that surmounts, it has and it will, sometimes with and sometimes without the shell.    


Raga (Sanskrit for “colour” or “passion”) is a melodic framework for improvisation and composition in Indian classical music. Read more here.

Pranayama (prana, Sanskrit for “life force” or “vital energy” and yama, Sanskrit for “restraint” or “control”), is a set of meditative practices designed to control pranawithin the human body by means of various breathing techniques. Read more here.


Also, listen to the magnificent Ragas that inspired me to write this post –  Raga Rasia by Pandit Ravi Shankar

Raga Brindabani Sarang by Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia


Learn more about Data Art by the fantastic Dr. Kirell Benzi, click here.

*


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Three Voices

Three voices in pink.
Image from Pixabay.

The three voices are saying the same thing.  

What is tolerance… the capacity to endure hardships and… and the willingness to accept beliefs, respect the opinions that are different from our own.  

Tolerance, they say, shows that you are educated for you listen, you debate and you rule out what is not plausible.

You stick to what gives you clarity and what appears to be true, true for one and all because we, the people, are walking forward together.

The boundaries are superficial.  

And so the intolerant idea that in its core aims to divide, to break, to segregate is a foolish one, it does not succeed in the long run.  

But oh, oh, we are complex beings, we are slow and we glow with pride or we moan with guilt and we disturb the peace, we freeze the disease in our minds and resist the resolution till the very end of the war.  

We the humanity and I the individual still do not know who is more powerful… powerful not only to survive but powerful enough to understand, to forge a balanced world, to see through eyes unclouded by hatred… powerful enough to show tolerance.  

The three voices are saying the same thing.  

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.

Aristotle

The highest result of education is tolerance.

Helen Keller

Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one’s own beliefs. Rather it condemns the oppression or persecution of others.

John F. Kennedy

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रंगों की तरंग/ The Wave of Colours

रंगों की तरंग

रंगों की तरंग

बस इतना कहने उठी

कि ये जो अस्मा है

रंगो के लिए बना है.

*

Translation –  The Wave of Colours  

The wave of colours

Rose to say

That this sky is

Meant to be coloured    

*


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Message from Women Screenwriters


Capsuling a journey that has a unique message for every individual who witnesses it, she wrote passionately for days and waited patiently for the culmination. High on the giant white screen a character narrated a story, another danced and loved and fought for it and won. In darkness this message spread like light.


She is currently preparing to capsule yet another journey.

Read to know the language of Hindi cinema spoken by women screenwriters in India – https://www.swaindia.org/article_dyn.php?q=T0RNPQ== 
Image courtesy – Google

Cor Cordium

Skylark in flight, paper, ink drawing by Ingrid Blixt.

What the heart knows it reveals without any second thoughts for it does not weigh its words. The heart never babbles, it speaks passionately for it speaks the truth.  

The heart speaks to a calm mind, to an honest voice, to a confident cry. The heart speaks fluently and soulfully.  

Powerful enough to move mountains, the heart often uses poems to express, to highlight, to show what the eyes cannot see, to declare and vanquish weaklings who betray humanity.  

I am thinking of you and your skylark song, cor cordium, you listened to your heart then and we are listening to you since.    


Cor Cordium is Latin for ‘Heart of Hearts’; it is the inscription written on Percy Bysshe Shelley’s grave to whom I dedicate this piece.


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Jailed

Golden Flower of Light
Four giant steps forward and six steps sideways, a room with no window, locked in it forever.
The thoughts buzz tirelessly, not letting the music of a quiet mind to settle.
The walls are painted daily, it shouts ‘I blame you’ boldly. But there is light, it comes from underneath the door, sometimes mixed with the chirping of the birds. It fills the jail with a happy calm light. It does.
And the key, kept on a tiny table beside the door, never moves itself to unlock the door. It just waits.
Amusingly, the happy calm light never ceases to be. It wishes us to breakout.