Lost in Thoughts

I grew up in a little two storey building with purple walls and white grills, overlooking the sprawling temple complex. Our small, square windows opened out to a sparkling pond with painted steps on one side and the precisely sculpted grey stone murals on the other.  Myths and legends to me came straight off the temple tower.  An authentic luxury.  Early mornings were marked with a large cup of steaming milk and s lokas slipping from within altars, streaming into the air. Our balcony was tiny and could accomodate not more than two. Further inconvenience was caused by the dozen young tulsi plants in their plastic tubs. I watered them graciously every morning and evening. A little too graciously. But it wasn't a problem. Father's shoulders were always free for his princess of five years. We would stand there, grazing the peeling pink walls and look down at the road.  The old vegetable vendor would come first pushing  his rusty green cart heaped with fr...

To me, every person is but a magnificent mosaic, perfect in their own imperfect sense. We break over and over again. Each time a different piece- a new shape, a finer edge, a bizarre shade. We break -in a million different ways until one point where everything fits in-Every one of those million pieces fits in, with such precise perfection that the final picture is nothing less than a masterpiece. A beholder's day-dream. The essence of that pleasure though lies in waiting. Of shedding tears but never dissolving; of breaking but never crumbling; of losing but never giving up. One day the sun will shine, the very rays that glared down at you shall light you up, lending every color of yours its own rainbow, you shall then be your own masterpiece. But till then learn to wait; to endure; to live...!

This is to all the women out there. A dashing fashion icon in teens, who invests painstaking effort to do her eyebrows right, spend hours meditating in-front of wardrobes to pick out the perfect outfit for the evening, work out rigorously to etch stunning curves into their bodies...Are you the same now...or will you be the same after a few decades? Would you love yourself as much?...Just remember, for a woman, true redemption lies in her own self alone.                                               Lost she was, amidst the brown and grey, The harsh grey of the mist that hung, limp and forlorn, The slick brown of the thorns that leered at her from where they lay, Hope dwindling with every step, not knowing where, she walked on. A bitter smile twisted her...