Stories Along the Path

Toruna walks almost every day with her son. These walks are special for her, a time to breathe, notice, and listen to the stories unfolding around. Every face, every moment on the street seems to whisper something to her heart. Walking makes her more thoughtful, more aware of life’s small wonders and struggles …

One evening, on their way to the park, Toruna noticed a tiny woollen cap lying on the road. She stopped and told her son, ‘Maybe a mother was carrying her sleeping baby on her shoulder, and while walking home, the little cap slipped off without her noticing. And then when she reached home and saw it missing, she must have felt sad, that cute little cap of her dear child is lost!’ Her son smiled and said, ‘You’re such a storyteller, Mom.’

They both laughed and kept walking.

But Toruna’s eyes continued to wander, always finding small stories hidden in everyday life …

Near the park gate, she saw twin toddlers quarreling over lollipops, their mother watching with an amused smile. One of the twins looked a bit grumpier, & Toruna observed the mother gently scolding and laughing at the same time ….

A few steps ahead, a woman in niqab (a veil on her face) walked alone on the footpath.
She seemed quiet, almost wrapped in her own thoughts. Perhaps she was returning from a long day at work, thinking about bills, groceries, and what to cook for dinner.
Her steps were slow, her shoulders slightly bent, as if she was carrying more than just the weight of her bag. There was a sadness about her, the kind that comes when life feels heavy but must still move on. Watching her, Toruna remembered that she would be going for Umrah soon, and wondered if she might wear a niqab then too. The thought lingered as she walked on …

Near the park bench, Toruna saw a dead butterfly, its wings still beautiful, though still. She picked it up gently and showed it to her son who looked at it with curiosity, helped her to put it on the height of the side wall!

As they were walking, Toruna observed that two elderly men walked slowly side by side, leaning on their canes and talking as if the world belonged to only them. Their laughter carried softly in the air. Toruna thought about how friendship, even in old age, keeps the heart alive, how sharing stories can make time feel lighter … she wondered what might be the topics of their laughter!

Then, not far from them, a young girl crouched near the edge of the grass, feeding milk and biscuits to a few stray cats. The cats purred and brushed against her legs. Her sweet smile warmed Toruna’s heart, a small act of kindness in a noisy world …

A little further ahead, a young mother struggled with her two small children, one crying, the other running away. Toruna smiled at this sight of this young mother, remembering her own early days of motherhood. How young she had been, and ever since then, how her children had become her entire universe …

She and her son walked side by side, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. These walks had become their little ritual, good for both their minds and hearts …

That evening, they noticed a young boy walking slowly around the park. He looked a bit overweight and tired. Toruna said, ‘I’ve been watching that boy for a while.’ Her son nodded, ‘Yes, he comes here often. I’ve seen him too.’ Toruna felt a sadness for him. ‘I hope he feels better soon,” she said, ‘Life gives everyone some struggle that other people can never understand’ ….

As the sun began to fade, they left the park, stopping by the nearby general store to buy a few things before heading home. Toruna smiled to herself, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come again,” she thought, and surely, the path would have more stories waiting to be found …

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Have you ever wondered, how many stories pass by us each day, unnoticed?

Turona’s Mountain

There was a small village at the foot of a mountain. The village was called Shantipur. In that village lived a little girl named Turona. Every day, Turona would gaze at the big mountain from afar. In the morning, the mountain sparkled in golden sunlight, and by evening, it glowed in a soft reddish hue …

One day, Turona decided she would climb to the top of that mountain. Everyone said, ‘It’s too high, you won’t be able to.’ But Turona smiled and replied, ‘How will I know if I don’t try?’ …

The next morning, she set off with a bottle of water, some fruit, and a notebook. On the way, she grew tired, her feet ached on the stones, yet she didn’t stop. Sometimes she sat down to rest, listening to the sound of the wind and watching the birds fly …

Finally, after noon, she reached the top of the mountain. Looking down, she saw how beautiful her little village was, green fields, tiny houses, and a silver river flowing gently through it …

In her notebook, Turona wrote, ‘The joy of reaching the highest place only comes when you refuse to give up.’ …

Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelled of freedom, and inside her heart, there was peace …

She realized that the real mountain wasn’t outside, but within her. And that day, she had conquered both …

How we used to write short stories when we were young! I remember how every night I’d make up stories to tell my little sisters before they fell asleep. I used to jot down bits of them in my notebook too. Often, I’d go up to our rooftop with that notebook, gazing at the distant sky until my thoughts drifted away. I wanted to write, and sometimes, I did. Other times, I simply got lost in my own imagination!

I’m sure it happened with you too!

Anyways, now tell me,
What is the ‘mountain’ in your own life that you’ve been afraid to climb?
Or tell me,
When was the last time you tried something even though others doubted you?

Already Enough

Even when the path is unclear
You keep walking
Trusting that each step will find its ground …

The world shifts around you
But your courage stays steady as breath …

There is no need to rush
No race to win
Just the unfolding of your becoming …

Every doubt carries a lesson
Every pause a gentle renewal
Every moment a seed of strength …

You are here
You are trying
And that is already enough …

What It Is

It is madness
says reason
It is what it is
says love …

It is unhappiness
says calculation
It is nothing but pain
says fear
It has no future
says insight
It is what it is
says love …

It is ridiculous
says pride
It is foolish
says caution
It is impossible
says experience
It is what it is
says love …

What it is by Erich Fried

Love this poem and read it many times. Do you love such poems?

I love many of them …

First and foremost, allow me to share Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43, ‘How Do I Love Thee?’

It begins with the iconic lines:

‘How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways…’

These two lines alone contain volumes of meaning, and I find myself revisiting them often …

There’s another poem, I love, and that is ‘Hope’ by Emily Dickinson

‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all’ …

I may not be good at recitation, but I have a deep passion for reading and appreciating the intricate artistry of language. The way words are arranged to evoke emotions, convey wisdom, and capture the essence of life, love, and nature resonates deeply with me. It’s in these moments, amidst the twists and turns of expression, that I find myself enamored with the beauty of language and the emotions it encapsulates …

See, when you read ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost, won’t you just love this famous poem?

‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep’ …

Here’s another eloquent excerpt from the renowned poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost:

‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.’

This poem resonates deeply with me and holds a special place in my heart, as I often find myself reflecting on its message of making pivotal choices that shape one’s journey.

I have a profound admiration for another poem, namely ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’ Its expression conjures the sense of companionship, as if the lover is spiritually present, ensuring one is not alone:

‘Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky’ …

Isn’t it beautiful?

I’m certain many of you appreciate these poems. There are numerous others, but I’d like to share just a few of my absolute favorites with you all, such as ‘Leisure’ by William Henry Davies:

‘What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare …
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.’

To selectively share excerpts from the poem is my means of conveying:

Please delve into the poems I’m presenting here—
read them when solitude surrounds you,
read them in the company of your beloved,
read them among friends,
read them with strangers,
read them in tranquility,
read them amidst chaos …
but above all, I hope you
read them in their entirety …

Read

Sharing one of my recent painting video from ‘Chaos’ series. Hope you may like it. Also I tried to read the poem ‘What It Is’. Hope you would like listening to it as well ….

And also please do share here about your favourite poems …..

Linguaphile

Poetry has taken over a poem
Time is on my side
Thrilled to watch me try ….

Poetry has taken over a poem
Love is beautiful and wide
Whose music will never die …

Poetry has taken over a poem
Moment is now and happening
A tale being told in the sky …

Poetry has taken over a poem
Stillness fills up empty spaces
Answers my every single why …

‘All poems are poetry, but not all poetry is a poem’ ….

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Linguaphile​
(n.) a person who loves language and words

What words do you use to express your love for them?

Jijivisha

The cosmos is within us
The dance is absolutely amazing
Abundantly fabulous …

Imagination is great
For the knowledge we possess
The inner child returns to find
A new era of time …
Becoming a wild free soul, fabulous …

The soul has the rhyme
From the time it’s born …
Listen to the Talisman of your own,
Daydreaming in this cosmic energy,
Travelling to the worlds, fabulous …

Let the universe find
The questions you have,
The answers you need –
All are dwelling inside
Waiting for a spark to
Find its magic, fabulously powerful …
A new pathway to excellence…

You belong to the mysterious space
Your dreams are coming back to you
There’s a song called cosmic abyss
From the beginning to eternity
The eternal flame, that’s fabulous …

Jijivisha/ hindi
(n.) jijivisha is the intense desire to live (or continue living) in the highest sense of being …

A humble video of JBC Paintings Prints on white ambush A4 paper (300gsm).

I hope you’ll like these.☺️✨🤲

♥️

Towards You

It wanders towards you – my heart

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Fluent in Silence – A Painting

So,
if you are
too tired to speak,
sit next to me
for I, too, am
fluent in silence.”

The Girl on the Front Porch by Ron Arnold

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Tell me, are you fluent in silence?

You’re …

You’re
My prayer and
My faith deeper than the deepest ocean …

You’re
My certain without reasons
My happiness without doubt …

You’re
My ballad, a musical dancer …
My chaos in search for an answer …

And you’re
My rainbow through the clouds
Now, here and wherever we’re …

Dwelling in the Eternal Love

Wanted to meet you wearing my white Kanchipuram saree in front of Taj Mahal …

Now you’re coming to the hospital
To see me …

It would be quite an unexpected sight …
But my heart is pounding at the very thought of it …

– Hello, are you okay?
– Yes, I’m okay.
– I’m sorry.
– Why are you sorry? There’s nothing you could’ve done. It was supposed to happen the way I was so clumsy on the road
– Why were you …
– Umm. I’m sorry …

I couldn’t tell him, my heart was restless at the very thought of meeting him for the first time ever …
So I was a bit unmindful and acted clumsily, and silly on the road and there the accident happened in the middle of the midnight …

– Hey, don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’m coming to you.

Instantly there’s this faster beating of my heart at the very sound of him saying, ‘I’m coming to you.’

I wanted to meet you wearing my very traditional Kanchipuram white saree.
It’s as elegant as Taj.
I feel gorgeous in it.
I have been keeping it aside the day we planned to meet in front of Taj.

Now you are coming to the hospital
and I m wearing this dull hospital gown!
How ironic is that ….. !

Oh, no! I think I could see him.
That’s got to be him …
How am I sure!
Why not …
I have seen him so
Many times in my dreams …
I know how he walks, how he looks, how he would talk to me …

Oh no! I dreamt of conversation over coffee with him …
Now?
What will I have with him?
Or is he bringing soup and fruits for a patient (that’s me)?
Unfortunately ….

He’s looking here and there …
Not sure of the direction, I guess …
Should I call him?
Tell him to come straight over here …
I’m just behind this long glass door and
Precisely just follow the directions from where faster loud heartbeats are coming…
That’s mine
How can I manage my heart palpitations?
I can hear it…
It’s unmanageable …

Now, yes he’s near and has found me …
Waving his hand in a friendly smiling manner …
I’m just feeling shy even to wave back a little bit …
As if I have become all still!
My heart is beating so fast
And I do not want him to see me like this …
Nervous and blushing
Hey, but I’m sick …
My heart rate can be high
And I can blush a bit
Fortunately ….

There’s this beating in my heart, and
It sounds like you …
You told me when you would meet me,
You’ll recite my favourite poem, and that’s
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
“Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky”
Now you won’t be reciting the poem …
Now you’ll just sit in front of my hospital bed
And talk this or that …
As if I would be in pain listening to your recitation, you would think …
But trust me, I won’t be in pain
To listen to you …
Now
I don’t know if you can hear me properly
Cause at the back of my mind, I’m hearing you reciting, ‘Let us go then, you and I’ …
I also feel to just leave this place
You and I …

How boring this place is
For two strangers to meet for the first time …

– Hey, finally, I’m able to see you. How are you now?
(Your thoughtful words for me)
– I’m just fine. The doctor said I can leave by 3 pm …
– Really? That’s awesome then. It’s already 1 pm. Should we finalize the papers and payments etc?
– Oh! Don’t worry! That’s already done. I just can wrap up all the papers and medicines.
– Where’s your lugguge?
– There’s a locker for the patients without attendance. So they kept those there. My hotel pickup car will soon arrive …
– What? No ways! I’ve my car and you’re coming with me. I may drop you there. You’ll finish the checked in at your hotel and then take some time to freshen up. Then we’ll go for an early dinner, I mean if you would feel fine. Or we can meet tomorrow again. Don’t worry.

While he was saying all these words there, I was thinking all in my mind,
‘Then I’ll wear my white Kanchipuram saree for the dinner with him which I wanted to wear to meet him for the first time in front of Taj Mahal.’

He saw my blank look and suddenly I heard him asking,
– Don’t you trust me?

There my heartbeat paused for a bit and I told him,
– I trust you.
– Did you listen what I said?
– Yes, I did …
– Good. So all’s settled then…

Finally we’re getting into cozy conversation…
A quiet conversation
Dwelling
In the eternal love …

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To be continued ….

Tell me, if it were you written this dialogue style poem, what title would you use for it?

I’m just curious ….

A Melancholic Music

You are like a music
Which creates melancholic
moods inside my heart …
A melody that lingers, night and day …
I take time to listen to it,
I find myself enchanted;
When nothing seems to ease my restlessness
I listen to you, my music
To walk the long journey of life
Even though it only creates melancholic moods
But you are like that music to me
Loving, healing, heart-touching
Connecting my soul to you
Forever and always ….

Apharwat Peak, Gulmarg

The Moonlit Night, Tonight

Srinagar, Kashmir

I’m so lost now …
Seeing you
In the breeze of the moonlit night …

That faraway moon brightens our long conversations so much,
That it feels
Like we could talk forever
In the deep of this moonlit night …

I’m so lost now
Looking deep in your eyes
As you whisper sweet nothings
In the breeze of the moonlit night tonight …

A Symphony of Love …

Pahalgam, Kashmir

The paths and the valleys are glowing
There is magic in mountains and waterfalls
The air is reciting the story of our love ….

There
I felt shy when you came near to me
The breeze could hear the breaths of my silent shyness … but I couldn’t …

Here
My unheard songs are echoing across the mountains
Even though I’m feeling a bit lonely
Without you ….
Yet this loneliness has a fragrance of you
Our love has hopes for tomorrow
This distance looks good to me …

The paths and the valleys are glowing
There is magic in mountains and waterfalls
The air is reciting the story of our love ….

Grey isn’t What I’m Meant to be …

Life is somewhat grey
Everywhere
Just monotony
Lost and lonely …

Don’t you know?

Only when you stay
Life is colorful ….
A hopeful glow
Echoes of brighter joy
Birds sing cheerful songs
Rays of sunshines warm my cheeks
My yellow dyed dreams return …

Now it’s grey
Everywhere …

When will you come?
Without you, I feel grey ….

Don’t you know?
Grey isn’t what I’m meant to be …

A Home

I haven’t met you
I haven’t seen you
But often I feel a home in you …

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Where the glacier meets the sky, the land ceases to be earthly, and the earth becomes one with the heavens; no sorrows live there anymore, and therefore joy is not necessary; beauty alone reigns there, beyond all demands”-

Halldór Laxness

A Postcard from Kashmir