WritersWorld

Ambitious? Yes.

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.  

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

Weekly Newspaper

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


Not Alone

Forever glowing, the light within.
Image by Pexels from Pixabay

 

You are not alone.
 
Know this and take the way home,
Not to the concrete walls,
Or to those fairy dolls,
For Time is playing an old game,
New Faustus, but the end will be the same.
The dim light that you see within,
Which is wavy, translucent as linen,
Is there to guide you through it all,
To help you rise when you fall.
Forever glowing and reaching,
The peaceful piece in you.
 
So remember, you are not alone,
Know this and take the way home.
 

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


Towards

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ dared not to stop. For last time QJ couldn’t bear the pandemonium that started within when she dared to stop and nothing happened.

With fragments of that dollhouse in one hand and the key to its door in another, walking often becomes cumbersome and a dull routine.

Only lightning wakes QJ, though her afterthoughts always make an indelible note to herself to wake up before being struck. QJ later laughs loudly looking at her scars.

Lightning in full glory.
Image by Anja, from Pixabay.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ glanced at her umbrella. Tap! Tap! The umbrella changes its colour yet again, confusing its owner for a dash time.

Fill in the dash with a pleasant-sounding time period, a warm moment, and a lovely realisation. QJ wonders why she never tumbled while gazing up at the umbrella or the sky, maybe she should have stopped and asked the path.

Instead, QJ makes a funny face, fidgets, and gestures to no-one around her that… oops, she almost fell. Click! Train of thoughts leave a compartment at a station at this moment.

QJ ate dreams, but not the ones that came true. Work makes you hungry for more work, it makes you kind towards your dreams. And this is your prize.  

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ is joined by the others. All assuming it strongly that everyone knows better than them.

QJ didn’t agree or disagree for hours full of ages and once upon a time when she did, they all left her immediately to follow someone else.

Just a mangy, horribly plump in the middle, slow dog stayed with QJ. It smiled (or didn’t), but those remaining teeth, all-dancing in opposite direction made her feel that every 21st-century disease, malady, sickness was represented by that slow dog.

Hell yeah! QJ cried for the dog didn’t die, but just slowed down further and sat on the path, resting, waiting. Hell lingers.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ thinks about faces, veneer in fashion, layers, surface deep dialogues, and her reactions.

A trap! Superficial flamboyant messages received and sent. Afraid of any change, she blindly accepts repetition.

Walking towards nowhere in particular QJ takes out an empty map and begins to draw.

Lines start to run and form a track. QJ retraces her steps and finds her first direction.  

Towards the first direction.
Image by Oliver Mbrax from Pixabay

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


In Slo-mo Towards the Moon

Poem

A tide of thoughts.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

Walking towards the moon

In slo-mo and riding,

Hiding behind a tide of thoughts

In slo-mo, unaware, unconcerned

About the change that is happening

In slo-mo, now and always,

Carrying in bits the old me, turning

In slo-mo, hoping to see

Something better. Living the life

In slo-mo and looking into the future

Where things are picture-perfect, but moving

In slo-mo. Cracks in the present

For it isn’t that dear, until

In slo-mo I sit with patience and

Breathe, see, feel and realise

That everything is beautiful,

That our mind knows the tricks,

That reality simply is, just like the moon,

Towards which I am walking

In slo-mo, beaming quietly. 

*


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


Moon, Moon, Moon, Moonlight

Cheers, dear moon!”
[Source – Pixabay]

In the search of a moon Haiku poem, I found how beautifully a 21st century poet addressed to his favourite classic poet –

*

… lifting my cup, 

I asked the moon

to drink with me …

Li Po

*

And if Li Po had

got the moon in his mitts

what would he have done with it?

Cid Corman

*

Today, I decided, I will stay with these words and leave rest of the search for tomorrow.

*

Moon was its usual self,

I was the one, lost and fuzzy,

Moonlight still showed the way.

*


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


The Map to Miyazaki

Well, the map in my possession is incomplete, I still have to collect many missing jigsaw pieces- Ponyo, Porco Rosso, Pom Poko, and more. I am all AGOG!

Dominant colours– green, blue, white, yellow, and red – on the map, endless stretches of farmlands, mountains, rivers, sunny days, foggy evenings, starry nights, and cottony skies are fulfilling.

Colours reinstate the quiet you, making you sensitively aware. Wide EYES!

The map warmly takes you to different worlds; worlds you will strongly start to believe you belong in, you always did. Yes, each world on the map has that charm, each world is linked through MAGIC.

Magical creatures, seen for the first time as you follow the map, will become your close friends, the closest ones. Tell them your secrets to make them yours forever.  

Princess Mononoke. © Studio Ghibli

The map took me to the magnificent majestic world of Princess Mononoke. I confess I was afraid, threatened for my familiarity with and my memories of this life-journey disowned me and left.

Alone I walked, met many Kodamas and I walked ahead. Alone and FASCINATED!

This world merges evil and good, rights and wrongs, anarchy, and peace… thoughts and feelings of being in the centre, with a grand forest and a grand iron fortress, converging. I will return to this world, for I have to.

Do you know what Prince Ashitaka said to Lady Eboshi when she asked him what was he there for? Prince Ashitaka said, ‘To see with eyes unclouded by hate.’ GRAND!

Spirited Away. © Studio Ghibli

In the world called Spirited Away, I was with Chihiro all the while even when she became Sen… or was I? She kept swinging on the threshold, meeting and understanding the spirits and their realm.

With Chihiro I crossed the tunnel in the end, we turned together with a measure of hope, wanting, trust, and belief.

We left and the threshold disappeared, but the feeling stayed. The feeling is ALIVE.

My Neighbour Totoro. © Studio Ghibli

The map will take you, to your utter pleasure, both in the future and the past, in the known and the unknown, in their story and your story.

Gladly I followed the dirt road and reached the world of Totoro, My Neighbour Totoro. All I did there was dancing, under the huge tree in the Tsukamori forest along with Satsuki, Mei, Totoro, and two small Totoros.

Listen to the track we all danced to –  

Déjà vu, dreams, and fantasy fused together in this world and promised. A promise so DEEP, one never made before.

Oh how the dreams never end, how we build on and on… maybe for the dreams speak to us honestly without any guilt, without shying from LOVE.

Howl’s Moving Castle. © Studio Ghibli

I have been on Howl’s Moving Castle, what a wonderful world.

But I warn you, it is like being in a dream, a lengthy dream, one which tackles evil and disgust and the power game; where love and compassion dimly shine and darkness shakes you from within, leaving you weak.

If you hold on, Howl the wizard fights back and casts a spell to restore harmony and balance.

How well a spell can work? For how long will it preserve? Corruption spreads, how will it all end? Howl’s Flying Castle a dreamlike reality…

I left this world after learning how to make a castle fly – apart from Calcifer’s (the fire-demon) help, you need to nurture freedom within. VOILA!

The Wind Rises. © Studio Ghibli

And so the map showed me another beautiful world which was all about flying, The Wind Rises it was called.   Know that ‘flying and magic’ is a must in life. Abide by for there is magic WITHIN.

If you happen to forget yourself, truly forget yourself, may you be reminded as the wind rises, that you must LIVE.

Live to fulfil, to cherish, to create, to inspire, to love, to remember, to let go, to smile, to embrace the truth as it all ENDS.

© Studio Ghibli 

I will continue to make the map to Miyazaki as slowly it is being revealed to me how the dreams are unfolded, how the stories are made, what it takes to truly believe in it all, and what a treasure living is.  

Arigatou Gozaimasu!

© Studio Ghibli
© Studio Ghibli
© Studio Ghibli

P.S- My friend Tashi gave me the first piece of this map, the one that took me to the world of Princess Mononoke; this is the tradition, I now pass it on to you.


Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


Jeremiah’s Roomie Ferdinand Forgot Two Simple Things

Jeremiah wrote in the letter that Ferdinand must continue his journey across the five oceans, dipping when the moon rises and shinning when the tempest calls, stopping to explore the alien lands and fleeing if he sees a woman with snakes for hair or the trolls.
 
Ferdinand understood not much for he was not travelling to any place and was rather at home, sick and jaded.
 
Jeremiah further expressed his own adventure of a morning walk through the deep dark forest when he met a king cobra who nattered about this and that, about the tales of the netherworld and of a future when the sky was to fall down; who got to the point only at last with a fang-full smile and asked him to bring all the eggs of the cuckoo bird that lived nearby.
 
Ferdinand, confused, spoke aloud, “But Jeremiah goes to that park near the colony for morning walks…”
 
Jeremiah then mentioned in capital letters the highlights of THIS WORLD –
 
1) The raven flew away and the raven came back, we talked, ate and enquired, ‘who can change the track?’
 
2) Maria knows that Keith knows that Jenny doesn’t know, and now we also know.
 
3) For a few days we hosted the Police at the colony, ha ha!
 
Ferdinand sat straight, scratched his head, and tried calling Jeremiah – “the call cannot be completed.”
 
Jeremiah signed off his letter with the words – flying to Alpha Centauri, good you left your swimming goggles, peace-out mate.
 
Ferdinand got up, stood numb holding that letter in his hand for a few seconds, then haphazardly packed his bag and left the house. Bang!
 
He closed the door behind him, not replying to his mother’s alarmed shout, he dashed out.
 
 
Ferdinand forgot that Jeremiah is a writer, a writer by choice, profession, and living standards.
 
He also forgot his keys to the flat.
 
Now no one would be there to welcome him back in the city as Jeremiah was flying to Alpha Centauri.
 
Ssh! Writer at work!
Image by Cdd20 from Pixabay.

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


One, Two, TREE

One Two Tree, a short animation film
directed by Yulia Aronova
.

Gaily it began to tread

Gaily it danced ahead

Twirling through the rise

Twirling beneath the white shine

Rhythm in the advancing days

Rhythm in the Junes and the Mays

Forever a loving friend

Forever a bestowing hand

Warmth of the light so bright

Warmth hidden in all its might

Carrying gloriously the life

Carrying till the last goodbye

Gaily I began to tread

Gaily I danced ahead

One two TREE.        

Watch the teaser of this fantastic short animation film here.

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


The Answer Is Blowin’ In The Wind – Bob Dylan

It was her version of the truth and she tried to separate it from mere meanderings of the mind.

She walked ahead unsure if she had succeeded or not. Autumn winds brought along something that made her cry.

Alone, sitting on that bench, she asked herself about right and wrong. Pendulum like, silly, brusque thoughts!

Why did she participate in the parade? For letting the confusion rise and fall? For the questions to disturb and the answers to convey…  

She stopped and listened…       

A Living Legend.

Bob Dylan Blowin’ In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man ?

How many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must the cannon balls fly

Before they’re forever banned ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.  

*

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can a mountain exist

Before it’s washed to the sea ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many years can some people exist

Before they’re allowed to be free ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many times can a man turn his head

Pretending that he just doesn’t see ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.  

*

Yes, ‘n’ how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry ?

Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died ?

The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

*

Blowin’ In The Wind, the song.

Weekly Newspaper

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts


My Shimpu

Playing hide and seek, living-loving-laughing, collecting stones and moments, she picked a golden one. It flew away but left her hand glowing.
                                                  *                                                                         
Lovely golden-brown hair, a tinge of black and kohl-eyed (you beautiful one), he had a unique habit of watching the birds, following them as far as he could with his eyes (do you know this bird, hmm).
 
She thought he was a dog who wanted to become a bird. Happy by nature, he came rushing madly whenever she whistled (my gugglu-pugglu come here you); he knew it was evening walk time.
 
He loved the walks, the joy in his eyes, running fast like a deer, jumping cutely like a rabbit proved so every single day (run-run-run-yeah).
 
She found him notorious and innocent, funny and silly, crazy and cute, all (you are a clown, yes you are).
 
She can never forget how he once gazed at the moon; mesmerized by the round shape in the sky, wondering, maybe, when and how does it fly… he just kept looking.
 
Caressing him one evening, after the walk, she didn’t know what was to befall (you biscuit lover, don’t go now).
 
If only she had the faintest idea, a frivolous hunch, she would have never let him go outside the house.
 
That night he didn’t return, even when she whistled; she went in the dark, calling out his name, but no sign of him.
 
Early next morning, walking and whistling, asking any and everyone in the village, she wished to see him, see him come rushing towards her from somewhere so that she could hold him tight in her arms and never let him go.
 
Two months have passed and she still wishes the same. Her eyes quietly wait to see him.
 
She watches the birds more closely now. She wishes to fly.
 
My Shimpu (23rd Oct 2014 – 8th Jan 2016)
 

Weekly Newsletter

A weekly dose of stories! Get the posts from the Chiming Stories in your inbox and read it when you can. Subscribe now, it is free!


Recent Posts