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?

Agape

A self-portrait captured
In the window’s reflection …
Streets refreshed, cars in repose,
As the breeze sweeping by …
Your absence is there deep within,
Even in the hustle of life …
A smile graces my lips in this bustling race
Thinking of you ….
Contemplating ….
Life carries me well forward
With an unconditional love for you …

Agape/ greek
(n.) The highest form of love. Selfless, sacrificial and unconditional love; persists no matter the circumstance …

Gaman

Between the lines of a muted conversation,
Unspoken tales form a quiet foundation …
Heartbeats echo the stories concealed,
In the silent spaces, emotions revealed …

‘Don’t wake me …
I’m not dreaming’ …

Gaman/ japanese
(n.) Gaman is a Japanese word of Zen Buddhist origin which means ‘enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity’. The term is generally translated as ‘perseverance’, ‘patience’ and ‘tolerance’ …

Melancholy’s Song

The shadow cast
On that starless skies,
Where murmurs linger,
Subdued goodbyes …
A tune of melancholy’s song,
In thy heart where echoes long …

Oh this melancholy,
My silent guest,
A tear-stained story, unspoken, and so blessed
The weight of contemplation
In shades of gray,
In twilight hours, grips its sway …

A canvas painted with dull hues,
A whirlwind of memories, tattered and bruised …
Through hazy veils of nostalgic dreams,
The world in silent sadness gleams …

A poet’s pen on pages bare,
Twisted verses of a sincere prayer …
Thy melancholy’s tender art,
Nothing but a symphony of hurting heart …

Yet, in the depth of still despair,
Belongs a beauty, rare and fair …
A gentle solace for the mind
In the shadow of the ancient find …

So let the tears of misery flow
Like mists on a window’s glow …
For in melancholy’s gentle grace
There lies a balm for life’s embrace …

Kashmir

Love

Define love. It’s patience and sacrifice …

Solitude and Love

Without solitude, Love will not stay long by your side.

Because Love needs to rest, so that it can journey through the heavens and reveal itself in other forms.

Without solitude, no plant or animal can survive, no soil can remain productive, no child can learn about life, no artist can create, no work can grow and be transformed.

Solitude is not the absence of Love, but its complement.

Solitude is not the absence of company, but the moment when our soul is free to speak to us and help us decide what to do with our life.

Therefore, blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with, something to judge.

If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself.

And if you do not know yourself, you will begin to fear the void.

Paulo Coelho

Jian Bird Creates

Missing You is Love

It’s
quite
a feeling
normalising
missing someone …
Missing you is love …

Don’t you think so?

Raabta

It’s happening
She hasn’t met someone
She hasn’t seen someone
But she’s falling for that someone …
It’s happening

Unreal yet real but not as real as it is …
Quite inexplicable and yet very true it is ….

Raabta/ urdu
(n.) inexplicable connection with another soul …


I have been suffering from the viral fever of the season for the last two days and this fever is quite different from what I had experienced before. So yesterday even in my feverish head and body, my mind felt to write something, that went like, ‘The cosmos is within us, the dance is absolutely amazing, let the universe find the questions you have, the answers you need” …. Then may be for a second or two, I felt hallucinations … may be or may be not … sometimes high temperatures do cause such things, right? However, I’m all fine with the fever still going on … So today, when I was going through those yesterday’s musings, I dropped the idea of writing further about the cosmos verses one, and really felt passionate about writing this one …

Raabta

So simple, yet I hope you like it ✨♥️

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Enchanting Kashmir’ has a hypnotic bell that keep ringing in my heart and soul … so you may find a lot of videos and images that I so dearly keep sharing … 😊

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Onsra

My heart is full of many things to say to you
But I feel speech is nothing to you at all …

I believe
We shall surely see each other someday
Though I’m afraid I wouldn’t deliver the observations
So far I’ve made ….
The emotions that’s touching me these days,
In moments so weird ….

I believe
Love is an act of forgiveness
A tender look that may become
So sad
But what do I do out of it?
My tender look is my
Strange habit ….

I believe
My undefined patience
And the passion of my angels
Give me much relief
Cause I know you …
Although you show your indifference
But I bet it’s only out of love,
Not hate …

Then suddenly
I get this bittersweet feeling of onsra, that whatever little we have is coming to a close

My heart is full of many things to say to you
But I feel speech is nothing to you at all

Tell me if I’m wrong ….

Onsra/ boro
(n.) the bittersweet feeling of loving for the last time, or realizing your love won’t last

Cherished – A Painting

Cherished

I am with you without speaking much
In an intimacy that’s only mine
As free to wander in the silence of the long highway road
As the way the trees shimmer orange, red and yellow in the sunlight …

I am with you without meeting you
In a sacred heart that’s only mine
As a veiled woman would enter a paradise
As God takes care of my every weakness within me …

Ecstasy

At night

I slept well …

I saw you in my dream!

That’s surreal

This moment of joy is gifted by God ….