Art and Stories

Shiva- The Creator, Protector and Destroyer

The auspicious month of Sawan or Shravan as per Hindu Calendar (The Lunar Calendar) is devoted to the worship of Lord Shiva. Various tales circle around the significance of worship of Shiva in this month. This month is also connected to the arrival of South-West monsoons.

Radha Krishna- The Epitome of Love

Following the month of Shravan comes the month of Bhadrapada when Lord Krishna was born. The day is celebrated as Janmashtami.

And thus the month of August is filled with positive energy, festive vibes and celebrations.

The Messenger

One night when the moon was mighty and bright,
In awe by the lunation of this great celestial,
Lost in the whirlpool of her emotions,
Just when she heard someone sing,
A heavenly voice, Ohh so soothing.
She looked back and forth and to her surprise found a nightingale sitting by the window side!!
The nightingale became her new friend,
The fascinating creature travelled far of lands,
It religiously visited her on every full moon night,
And recited tales and poems of it’s sight!

It was the hunter’s moon that night and for the first time she heard the nightingale cry!!
Filled with agony it declaim….
“I am the messenger of mother nature,
I pity the mankind, for they will be the reason for their own extermination!
I pity them for they think they are invincible!
They are an evil in disguise!
They rant about their plight but fail to realize, their own karma’s are falling upon them!
They are the worst of creatures on this planet!
Ugh!! what more can we expect, they fail to make peace with their own kind!
They crash, smash and trash anyone to gain might!
But when the Earth rages out there will be none as ferocious as Gaia!!”

Writer’s Note:
This poem is a cry from Earth itself, it’s time we humans mend our ways otherwise Earth will soon avenge the mankind. The nature has always been our guide and saviour, but we humans are arrogant enough to ignore the screams of Mother Nature. We still have time to Save the Planet with some care, respect and love for the World and for it’s each being who has equal right to live a happy life!!

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The Blank

She can smell the essence of his fragrance,
But she cannot feel the touch of his arms,
He was there right next to her,
But all she have now is a Blank.

The more desperate the search is,
The farther he goes,
His words haunting her at midnight stroke,
Darling finally you are here; Let’s go Home.
The dark mist of grief, engulfs her deep,
Yes he was there right next to her,
But she cannot see him anymore!!

The pastels and blues, the bright hues, Once shimmered in her eyes,
But now all she sees is a blank by her side.
She is loosing her sanity, she is loosing herself.
Save her before she drowns,
Lend her your hand,
Be her mate and bring her soul back to life.

Writer’s Note:
This poem is dedicated to people who have lost their loved ones during these difficult times.
It’s hard to loose people and the hardest part is one cannot bid them goodbyes. The isolation is playing with people’s mind.
Please don’t leave someone alone during this time.
Be their light, be their smiles. Help them fight and spread positive vibes.

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Adi Shakti

She is enormous power, she is strength,
She is a protector yet she can cause immense destruction,
She is Anaadi, she is Nitya,
She is Adi Shakti, the Supreme Being!!

Writer’s Note
As we celebrate the 9 days long holy and auspicious festival of Navaratri, I decided to dedicate a piece of art to Goddess Adi Shakti, the First Supreme Power.

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Words – Cast of Your Mind

Have you ever felt you don’t belong to this space,
Or perhaps this isn’t your place.
Have you ever felt lost in this town,
Or perhaps it’s the crowd that turns you down.
Have you ever felt despondent by the mentality people hold,
Or perhaps they have turned stone cold.
Have you ever seen their duality,
Portraying to be nice but nasty is their reality.

Have you ever pondered what makes you distinctive,
Is it the luxury you own or perhaps the richness you flaunt.
Have you underrated the power of words,
Darling it’s the most expensive thing one can show off.
Some bitterly cold words numb your soul,
Creating a void, it’s hard to thole.
Words are a reflector of what you think,
Choose them wisely for your mentality is what they showcase

Writer’s Note

Your words speak tons about you. It depicts the psychological frame of your mind. It says what sort of a person you are!
Learn to use your words wise for they can make you a better person or they can make you regret for the rest of your life.

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Once again she opens the ‘Book of Life’,
Gazing at it with an invincible smile,
Glory, mystery, ambition, which tale will she recite this time.

She is made up of stories,
Stories that leave them awestruck,
Stories that float in her blood,
Stories as beautiful as petals,
Stories as ghastly as devils,
Her soul is the mosaic of every story the ‘Book of Life’ stores,
She is the blend of flavors, decorated by the experiences she holds.

When everything seemed haphazard and out of line,
Her stories helped her sail through the deadliest tempest of her life.
All those things that once mattered,
All the confusions and disquiets, will be over and done with time,
She savors each story she has lived by,
For she knows each being is built by different escapades in their life.

Writer’s Note:

What are we made of? Is it bones and blood?
No, we are made of experiences,
The learning we get each day makes us who we are!
But at the end it is upto us who we ought to become,
What you infer from these incidences can make you a different person altogether!

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Ring up the curtain, Shine some light,
You have been placed under the spotlight,
The stage is set, Remember the characters are always live.
There isn’t any script, You’ll never know what scene is next,
No edits, no retakes,
In this
theatre called ‘Life’.

No sooner did I realize,
I am a marionette puppet, life is my marionettist.
My power and strength are my phantasm,
The astral influence is not under my control,
Here time directs and karma rules.

I am not an artist,
Yet strolling through this
theatre I have learned to impersonate.
With my dazzling smile,
I can mask my emotions so perfect.
I have learnt to mimic my fears for my strengths,
My darkness hidden behind others sunshine.
Lost in this world of imitation,
Few shed their mask each night while the others have forgotten what their real self looks like.

Writer’s Note:

Life is full of experiences driven by uncontrollable situations. Here your real emotions are least valued, so to survive in this pretentious world we tend to become a part of this masked force. We hide our feelings and self behind fake appearances in order to gain those acceptances. Learn to wear out your mask before it’s too late, before you and your dear ones fail to recognize ‘You’.

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You know Ayisha I believe there is always a reason behind every person you meet. Either they come in your life to teach you or to learn from you or to bring the best out of you.

Krutika you and your philosophies!! Why don’t you write a book. “Krutika’s Philosophies.”

Ahaan!! Not a bad idea!!
Buzzz!!! (Krutika’s Phone)
Hello!! Yes coming, on my way.
I’ll take your leave Ayisha. Got to go! See you soon sweety.
I’ll see you in 15 mins Mayank.

“A car collusion”
The most dramatic manner people can meet and that’s how Mayank and Krutika met.
Ohh! What a huge fight they had but at the end they were destined to be friends.

During these 4 years Krutika had witnessed Mayank’s highs and lows. She became his confidant. He would tell her everything about, his past, his secrets and about all the new girls he went on date with.

There was something about Mayank that always intrigued Krutika. She realized Mayank hides his past and his insecurities beneath his sybarite attitude.
And so she decided to bring his friend out of this obscureness.

Coffee Shop
It’s always a great combination Mayank; a chilling winter evening and a hot cup of coffee.
Yes, absolutely! And a gorgeous lady like you.
Mayank you know I hate your cheesy dialogues. Better you keep them for your Girlfriends.
Err!! Let’s go for a walk.

They walked a distance when Krutika felt something gripping her waist and before she could understand Mayank grabbed her face and force a kiss. Krutika struggled, pushed him away and ran straight to her car.

The Forced
Krutika couldn’t get over the memory of that night. She was traumatised.
She constantly questioned herself.
Was it my mistake? Did I over-reacted?
Mayank crossed that line. She trusted him but her trust was now shaken.
50 missed calls and 100 messages.
Should she call him back? Does he deserve that forgiveness?
Mayank constantly pleaded Krutika for forgiveness and so she decided to give him a second chance.

Gradually she got over the incidence. It now became a faded bad memory. There conversations and giggles began again.

17th July, Mayank’s birthday, when Krutika decided to pay him a surprise home visit. The meeting felt like good old times. Gossips and laughters filled the room.
When suddenly Mayank grabbed her hand. Puzzled Krutika restrained. He forced her towards the wall. This time it was stronger than before. He slipped his hands in her t-shirt. She resisted, refused but he continued to molest her. He didn’t rape her that night YET SHE WAS RAPED.

Writer’s Note
It takes days, months or even years to get over sexual abuse, molestation, eve-teasing. When will they understand it is no fun. It is a trauma, a deep scar, sleepless nights, degraded self-confidence, lost self-love. Nothing can ever justify your malignity.

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Her darkness resonated the gloomy moonless nights,
Her hollow heart mirrored in her cavernous eyes,
She is apathetic, an emotional void,
A floating ghost, noting how the living live their life.
Is she a zombie?
Oh!! Beware she might be possessed!!

They performed exorcism,
Tortured her with elaborated ritualised ceremonies,
But none could succeed,
For the destruction was far beyond ones deadliest dream.

“A Sardonic Laugh,”
A voice that pierced the human ear,
Horror struck!! Each being was trembling with fear!

I am the Demon,
Born from her frights,
I feed on her terrors,

Nourished and flourished on her apprehensions,
Protected her from all you ghastly phantoms,
Your mockeries, your vicious assaults,
Your duality, your mendacity,
Have buried her in abyssal depths.

I am the Demon,
She loves me to the core,
For none can separate us, because she has surrendered her soul!

Writer’s Note

The demon in this poem symbolises our deep laden fears, that multiply if we nurture them. We always have two ways either to fight or to resign.
We judge others, ridicule them but do we have that right? Are we even aware about their state of mind or what all they might have suffered in their life?
Reach out to them and help them fight

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