Path

Interviewing A Busy Ant

Poem
To the right, a bit left, eh, is it fine now, here, I will pose, click now.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

Death, destruction, war and earthquake,

Out of these

The path to earthquake site we take.

We are on the move, us ants,

Closer to the ground, we can,

And we will sense tremors and flee,

For it is natural, O giant ban,

“You mean man”, oh, yes, sorry;

We will help the broken, the crushed,

We will liberate the dead.

*

Look that’s my uncle, aunty and foster paa-paa

Walking in a line, and my sister is at the top-aa (of)

The horizontal pyramid,

Our grit strategy, forward march, pebbles, and pray,

March, pebbles, pray, for all who died.

*

Ants’ reverence pheromone, invisible, strong

Makes a trail that we then track, and tread along

It, until we reach our… “food?”,

No, you want to be on that trail mat?

“Man”, eh, if yes, silly fool,

You must change the track, straighten your hat,

Tap your shoes, turn, leave, then take a right.

Us ants are on the path to the earthquake site,

“But why – last question!”

For it is natural – earthquakes come and go,

Wars don’t, it’s a destination

For some; unfair bullets hide and kill and lo,

No cliques ever enter the battlefield,

Or maybe they do;

A handshake to shield

And seal, a business deal.

*

Look, us ants are moving in speed,

The earth is muddy there, but we’ll lead,

“You’re doing a good deed.”

Good? It is only natural.

*

*


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Zigzag Lines

Flash Fiction
Thai Mural
(Source – samforkner.org)

Running lines, zigzag running lines fuel the mind often. Like lost in a busy city, burning with shiny lights, where no one knows whether it is day or night, I am lost walking, running, gliding on a zigzag path.

Neither snow white wintry nor swoony soft summery winds can be heard here, who knows why.

All I can hear is the hub-dub of my heart.

Trapped in this maze, facing dead ends and memory monsters, I solemnly walk ahead. And after an endless time passes by, I walk out of the maze. Exhausted, yes, but hopeful, why, for I kept walking.

Looking back from the mountain top I can see a cloud of zigzag lines, an imprint of time, a link between battles and victories, between a structured confusion and a messy exuberance. Ah! It goes on and on.

My heart is eager and my mind alert for the future to reveal itself.

I am not afraid anymore for the zigzag lines are transparent and always in a rush.


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Ambitious? Yes.

Flash Fiction

The flowers are ambitious by nature.
Image by Marisa04 from Pixabay

Gori knows not where the path leads to, the wet air, the dusky flora, and the mysterious tunes do not guide either.

Soaking in the newness she walks forward.

And why is it that we always choose to walk ahead, why does not the uncertainty collapse us?

If we stop to rest, if we feel defeated, if we turn back embarrassed and ashamed, we still reach, in some time, at the glorious hour of a beginning.

The tired, wounded, and sullen eyes once again look up, once again fathom the depth, once again find the path.


Taking the rope bridge, climbing the echoing mountains, crossing the glassy rainbows, Gori saw that valley where her loved one awaited her.

The gush of wind cheered her, the dew heavy leaves blessed her, the clouds played the drums for her.

And why does it seem that the whole world dances when we dance and the whole world moans when we moan?

How come we hear the call when there is a concrete silence around us, when facts dispel hope and when dejection raises a toast?

In anger the head is alone, when rejoicing the heart holds it all.


The illusion rudely reveals the reality and Gori faces the brazen cold marshland.

What happened to the beautiful valley, to the lover’s promise, to the perfect dream? Hush! The monster rises, its shadow darkens Gori’s faith.

Thundering sky strikes with lightening that Gori catches with her bare hands. Heaving, she runs towards the monster.  

Why is life so epic, so grand, so ambitious? Why do the storytellers talk about ‘once upon a time’?

If the legends appear amused by the mundane, then how many of us are at folly for it is the ordinary that becomes extraordinary?

The tales have never ceased to be melodious, we live perpetually enchanted.  


Gori starts walking, leaving behind the triumphant air, gravity shining on her forehead.

She resumes the journey as a narrow track becomes visible to her now, a solo night jasmine tree on the way, showers her with its flowers, Gori takes its fragrance along.

Gori knows not where the path leads to, soaking in the passionate silence she walks forward.  

Are the night jasmines very ambitious to wait for and shower a victorious warrior and not anyone else? Yes, they are.  

*

Shine-shine, you two!
[Source – Pixabay]

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Meredith and the Green Lake

It was not the depth of the green lake that stopped Meredith, but the quietness.

She threw a stone, sending ripples in the lake, which emphatically made the quietness more evident. This silence scared her, for she could hear her mind talk ceaselessly.

Sitting under a tree, Meredith gazed at the path she came through and saw a tiny bird, green and yellow in colour, happily hopping near it.

Her childhood wish to become a bird made her smile. She took out her diary and wrote –

Like a bird I’ll fly

One day

When the chains will rot

At 7:45 dot

And if the spirit remembers

Out of deep slumber

That I can –

Searching for a word, Meredith happened to glance at the tiny bird that was now hopping near the tree. She then observed that the path through which she came had vanished.

She got up and looked around as if the path would walk back and settle where it was laid before.

Confused, she took a few steps in the hope to find the path. Was the path just in her mind, she thought.

The tiny bird hopped towards her and then flew away. Meredith noticed, to her amazement, that there lay a fresh track – the steps that she took, formed a new path.

Meredith felt her heartbeat increase; she then walked towards the lake. Ponderously she turned and found the fresh path stretched to the point where she was standing.

Amused, she walked ahead, giggled and hopped, only to stop and write in her diary –

That I can choose to either

Follow or make a new path

Meredith picked up a stone, threw it in the lake, and beamed.

It was not only the lotus flowers in the lake but the music it played that left her mesmerized.

Beauty of green lake and lotus. Image by Prawny from Pixabay

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Hum Along

That feeling of sadness when you realise that you could have done something else, something better but you cannot because time has defeated you, leaving you alone with the mighty Fate.

That moment when your heart is full of love and your mind full of confusion and you hesitate to take a step forward; sometimes you console yourself and sometimes you scold yourself…all you are left with is pain.  

Pain is known to everyone who knows love, hope, desire and ego.

Why don’t we get rid of this pain and live happily ever after?

Maybe because we need pain…just to understand the importance of everything around us, to learn to value every little thing.

Maybe because pain teaches us to move forward, it gives us only one choice which is to change with time.

If seen in this light, pain helps us to realise our transient nature but not to lament over it, rather cherish every second of it and to make the best of it.

Yes, this will mean to be ALIVE always but this is just how we should live, shouldn’t we?

Why be in grief when neither the reason for the grief nor you, the sufferer, will stay forever? What stays is the wish to live life to the fullest.  

Keep walking, keep humming.
Image from Pixabay.

I am walking on a mysterious road… what passes me enters me and then it vanishes, leaving a feeling within me, giving me pain and hope… I walk ahead in the search of love… I cannot see the path, just one step after the other… it is thrilling… the silky air around me is what I can feel and the music of the cosmos that whispers in my ears, telling me to hum along.

So be it! Hum…. 


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On A Foggy Day

Whiteness rules a foggy day.
Image from Pixabay
Walking in the whiteness with silence around me, I kept searching. The moment stayed for a few minutes as I moved forward.
 
Caught in the fog I felt happy and I knew I wasn’t alone. The wet freshness flying everywhere made me alive.
 
With every step, I came close to nothing. The road was dark grey and blackish; it was also wet. The grass that was visible was blooming and beaming, full of life.
 
I turned back once, just to check. There was only nothing.
 
Rejoicing and smiling I walked steadily. I was dizzy. I don’t remember the reason for my happiness now. Probably there was magic in the air.
 
In this joy, confusingly, I was looking for something. Maybe that’s why I didn’t stay there for long and I kept walking ahead.
 
In a minute or so, I was able to see the surroundings; trees, cars, buildings, lamp posts, shops, people, and me.
 
The moment of joy passed so quickly that I felt I didn’t enjoy it properly.
 
No one teaches us how to relish things, to realise the moment. I thought I could have done better.
 
But no, I told myself, such things cannot be taught, feelings cannot be caught.



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HIS PATH

The sun was fiery, it was a blazing fire. And the path was fiery. The moon was serene, it was peaceful. And the path was peaceful. The trees canopied the earth, it knew all the secrets. And the path knew the secrets. The rivulet played music, it amplified the magic. And the path was magical. The soil was alive, it was the love of the plants. And the path felt the love too.

The traveller was walking on this path, barefooted. His feet could feel the path. The wind was also telling him something. The music he heard was intoxicating. Trees above him silently told him to stay, relish the hidden secret, because what is hidden could be found. He agreed and changed his path. A rough fresh path took him deep in the forest. He settled in the lap of a gigantic tree.

Lush greenery tickled him, relaxed him, and made him quiet. Time was moving but he had no knowledge of it. With eyes closed he was slowly seeping into the life around him. He could now feel their pulse. Some creepers were crawling on him. He was ignorant of it and soon was at bliss. The nature took over him. He became one with the nature – green, thriving, beautiful and tranquil.

A day came when he was overwhelmed to such an extent that his third eye opened. It spread a ray that was fiery, serene, quiet, magical, alive and full of love. That day his body became dust and we know nothing else as words, language and intellect falls short when magnificence takes birth.

The Window is Open

I don’t know where the path is leading,
Broken footsteps lost the meaning.
Shouted calmness to me,
Something of nothing everywhere to see.
Work, work…don’t just think,
Cry baby, doll face…my hands still pink.

 

Numb and dull still very much vain,
After all we humans reign.
Conquer the war, do it, do,
Push and pull if you can, pass the zoo.
Hello dear, how are you??
Fake greetings all so true.

Shy shy me, I don’t speak much,
Step on the quiet, world is such.
Move on, keep going,
Not living, just moaning.

Can see the sunrise, but I choose nightfall,
I hear the light, let me make a call.
Tall shadow, my mind reads,
Tear the earth and plant seeds.

The window is open.
Image by Anne Meadows from Pixabay

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