Halloween's Tiny Tales

"Jack-o'-Lantern 2003-10-31" by Toby Ord - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jack-o%27-Lantern_2003-10-31.jpg#/media/File:Jack-o%27-Lantern_2003-10-31.jpg

Grimacing at their pawns
As they gather upon the lawns,

Unwitting souls in the night,
Bow before Jack-o-lanterns burning bright.

The freezing yet tranquil river

Was not what made her shiver.

Chills ran down her spine

As it whispered, "You are mine."

He thought he'd had too much to drink,

Knees knocking as he began to sink

Into a growing pool of black,

None is safe when the shadows attack.

She slipped into the lavender bath,

The water seething with its wrath

As she lay there, in crimson,

Finally letting go of her gun.

He cajoles them each day,

While they sleep, while they pray.

More often than not, he finds a disciple,

A monastery, a demon, a rotten apple.

About the post:

I know I've been out of action for a while, was really tied up with some serious decisions and chores. Since this is the Halloween month, my favourite time for some good thrills and chills, I've whipped up some tiny tales to get me started for Halloween. More to come on monsters, legends, folklore and all things that scream Halloween.

Some people find it very odd that some of us get very excited about Halloween, not that it's a festival that's celebrated in India so I'd like to take this opportunity to share a point on the same. Yes, I know it is a westernized concept (but so is Valentine's, Mothers' or Fathers' day and all the rest), I grew up on a very generous dose of English cartoons (back when Cartoon Network was not what it has become in India now...feel sorry for kids now...I remember writing hate mails to them because I was so horrified with their cartoons at one point) and horror stories. Halloween is a nostalgic time for me and reminds me how wild my imagination grew around it, wild enough to weave stories that can thrill and chill, hence, I get excited and post things related to Halloween. So those who enjoy Halloween, hope that this post gives a boost to your Halloween howls :)

Of Devas and their games-Mahabali must fall

"Vamana1" by Unknown - LACMA [1]. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vamana1.jpg#/media/File:Vamana1.jpg

A great warrior king rose in might

When Lord Shiva blessed a rat that night.

Mahabali's mind was sharp as a sword,

Underworld, Heaven and Earth's new Lord.

Mahabali's reign was noble and just,

The Devas were not to be swept like dust.

Led by Indra, the defeated king,

To Lord Vishnu, they began to sing.

They begged him to intervene,

To balance the worlds, as once it'd been.

An 'Asura' King couldn't possibly mean well,

They refused to to rest until he fell.

Lord Vishnu acceded to their pleas

And took to the earth like a breeze.

Mahabali meanwhile chased after the stallion

Closely followed by his burly battalion.

The 'Ashvamedha' was underway

Well into the ritual's final day.

Abruptly, a child blocked the road ahead,

"Merciful Mahabali, spare me some land.", he said.

The troops threatened, the stallion neighed

But the young boy stood unafraid.

Mahabali sized up the boy, asking his name,

Sukracharya foresaw the entire game.

"Vamana.", the boy looked up at the 'Asura' King.

"A small request to you I bring.

Leave a morsel for me to plough,

Surely that much your Lordship can allow."

Sukracharya cautioned Mahabali not to relent.

"Land worth three strides of mine, by your consent!",

Vamana appealed again earnestly,

"Alright boy, have your way, let's see.",

Vamana smiled as he began to grow

Till he towered above one and all below.

The earth and the underworld in one stride

Mahabali watched the shadows wide eyed.

In the second stride, heaven was claimed,

"Where now, Mahabali?", Vamana exclaimed.

Mahabali lowered his head in reply

And Vamana's foot emerged from the sky.

It pushed Mahabali deep into the netherworld.

Without a protest Mahabali accepted his fate

As he stood behind Netherworld's gate.

Lord Vishnu granted Mahabali a wish that day

That once a year, on Earth, he'd be able to stay.

So Mahabali ascends every year,

As they sing praises and for him they cheer.

About the post: This post is a continuation to my previous one, although, it is a standalone tale in itself. This poem conveys the story behind the festival of Onam. It is celebrated in India, especially down South, among Malyali communities to celebrate the return of the benevolent Asura King Mahabali. The King of the Devas, Indra, ever protective of his seat in heaven turns to Lord Vishnu in order to defeat Mahabali. Lord Vishnu takes the form of a young boy, Vamana and restores the kingdom of heaven to Indra and the other Devas, sending Mahabali to the netherworld. 

Asura class of beings of the Vedic times, were different from humans and 'devas'. They were usually considered to be evil.

Devas were divine beings, usually revered by humans in Vedic times.

Sukracharya was Mahabali's advisor.

Ashvamedha was a royal ritual in Hindu traditions, to be performed only by kings. A horse would be set loose and the lands so traveled by it would be in the name of the king and would belong to the king.

Of rats and rulers

A hungry, feeble furry rat

Eyed the ghee as it sat.

Glistening, fragrant, hot around the flame,

The rat longed for it all the same.

Stealing a slurp with the tip of his tongue,

Not long before the temple bell was rung.

The priests chanted away

Prayers and hymns to start their day.

Lord Shiva mused over all their desires,

The noble, the thieves, the honest, the liars.

"How I wish one would rekindle that flame!",

Goddess Paarvati sensed the beginnings of a game.

"I vow to bestow all three worlds to that one,

Reviving the lamp is all that needs to be done".

Night descended upon the temple walls,

Soon the rats began roaming the halls.

The feeble, furry rat felt its stomach groan,

It scouted for crumbs all alone.

Once again it stood mesmerised,

The godly figures it curiously sized.

The aroma of the melting ghee

Made him as hungry as a rat could be.

It cared not as its whiskers got singed,

The feeble, furry rat happily binged.

Suddenly, it began to retreat,

No longer able to stand the heat

As the lamp lit up bright

Much to Goddess Paarvati's delight.

Lord Shiva looked at his wife incredulously,

"I can't bestow the prize upon it, surely you agree?"

The goddess reminded Him the vow,

"You must fulfill your promise now."

The rat with the singed whiskers

Woke up that morn amid whispers.

The ruler of the three worlds turned to flee,

But froze as they called him 'Mahabali'.

About the post: 

This poem draws from one of the beliefs about the origin of Mahabali, the benevolent Asura king who's reign is considered to be a golden era for mankind. He is revered by the Malyali community and the festival of Onam celebrates his return among his subjects from the underworld, once, every year. 

This tale in no way means to offend anyone or their religious sentiments and beliefs, I found this particular origin intriguing and hence my post. There will be more Onam related posts soon, there is another tale that I must share with you.

'Ghee'(clarified butter) is used not only for cooking but pure 'Ghee' is used in lamps(diya) by most people in India, especially for prayers and rituals as it is considered to be sacred, a symbol of nourishment and healing.

Invisible

A river of dread,

Questions swirling in his head.

His saviour nowhere to be found,

Beaten, he fell to the ground.

Tears welled in his eyes,

Not a soul to address his cries.

A murmur, they point his way,

Nobody listens to what he has to say.

Passing judgement comes quick,

Niceties just a parlour trick.

Declared dead before he really was,

Branded too soon as a lost cause.

About the post: I was thinking about things that can torment someone enough to give up his/her life. Self-doubt, depression and loss are each capable of breaking down the strongest of souls. However, what disturbs me is that we may be unable to see warning signs of those suffering from such agony, are we not looking closely enough, are we not listening, do we judge people too soon, do we even see them at all? 

Masking Reality

Help me, for I am lost as can be

I seem to be far from reality.

Between acquainting oneself I found

A question that left me dumbfound.

What can caste possibly add to me

The very interest in it I fail to see.

I thought we'd come far from that

But it still found a way in an idle chat.

A plastic smile plastered on her face

"Inter-religion", I said, in her slow pace.

Disturbing as it is but some still ask

Caste, religion, behind a progressive mask

Labels, boundaries, presumptions et all

The things that make us humans small.

About this post: I know it's been a while since my last update, sorry, was really caught up. This post is about a conversation I had recently, with a professional from the education industry. The said person decided to have a small talk with me and started asking me about family, background and so on.

She happened to ask about my husband and then went to know whether our marriage was an inter caste marriage. (This is surprisingly very normal in India, keeping in mind that our society is so horribly conditioned to the caste system that was prevalent long, long ago and most people are making serious efforts to eradicate this thought process). So anyhow, I corrected the said person with my reply.."An inter-religion marriage-Jainism & Hinduism". The reaction, ohhh, followed by a plastic smile.

As expected, the next question was, "So you haven't changed your name after marriage?". I very patiently said, "No." But that wasn't enough, she wanted more than a simple "No". Then I turned to this senior, very experienced person and said, "No, because I didn't want to and because it's a legal process, the changes don't happen overnight, it is a change of identity." I was shocked to hear that this person had no idea that name change after marriage, is indeed a legal process.

I felt so sad because this person actually engages with students and I'm scared of what they're going to learn. I wish I had a genie, my one and only wish would be radical change, before the "civilized society" crumbles .

Lost Dreams

She dreamed a dream like any child,

Begging for a magical wand as she smiled.

She dreamed a dream of her favourite toy,

The one that the war did destroy.

She dreamed a dream that starry night

While her brother kept watch, ready to fight.

She dreamed a dream unheard of,

A dream that made her family scoff.

She dreamed a dream unconstrained,

Her pleas were met with much disdain.

She dreamed a dream unlike any other,

She enrolled herself, much like her brother.

She dreamed a dream where they'd understand

As she chopped her hair, strand by strand.

She dreamed a dream she had long wished for,

Years roared by in the cursed war.

She dreamed a dream she had secretly tended,

She married her love once the war ended.

She dreamed a dream that scared her most,

They were still haunted by the Ghost.

She dreamed a dream she always did,

She watched the road, her eyes timid.

She dreamed a dream like every other wife

That her lost man returns to her life.

She dreamed a dream, she always cried,

For the memories that were denied.

She dreamed a dream like the aged do,

She looked away, her attendant withdrew.

She dreamed a dream of her childhood,

She dreamed a dream of all she withstood.

She dreamed a dream of her sons

Was their future too riddled with guns?

She dreamt her last, in that bed of oak,

Her everything lost in the ghastly smoke.

About the post: I had come across a theme-Stories of the Lost. This is an attempt on the same. Hope you found it interesting.

Arcane Rhapsodies - A tale of two cousins

Tropenmuseum, part of the National Museum of World Cultures [CC BY-SA 3.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The Prince, Ajatasattu, became his ardent devotee,

“Your father, our King, is unable to see,

He aids Gautam despite Gautam’s old age.

A Prince?! Huh! Where is your warrior’s rage?

A canary in this golden cage!”

“You desire to rule, do you not?”,

Little by little, Devadatta began to plot.

“I shall win, if the Prince takes the throne,

Gautam must die.”, he was maligned by that thought alone.

He wished to be the leader, the supreme one,

He lost his ‘iddhi’ as soon as this thought he spun.

But Buddha had himself refused to let him have his way,

Devdatta meandered along hate, he had lead himself astray.

Not only did he coax a son to torture his father,

But he weaved a plan that would lead to slaughter.

He would kill Buddha with some help from the King.

He spoke wildly, “Ajatasattu, great news I bring.

Soon, Gautam shall pass through your kingdom,

Position your archers as I say and He shall be overcome.”

The King nodded and did as he was told,

Not one but sixteen archers patrolled.

Each was given a different road to man,

One to kill the other, such was Devadatta’s plan.

About the post: This an excerpt from "Arcane Rhapsodies". It narrates the tale of two cousins, Gautam Buddha and Devadatta, who were so different from each other, in thought and action. Devadatta aspired to be greater than Gautam Buddha and form his own order of Buddhism, there are several stories that depict his envy and hatred towards his cousin, so much so that he tried to kill Gautam Buddha. Ajatasattu was his devotee, the prince of Magadha, who imprisoned & tortured his father and King at the behest of Devadatta. 

You can find more about the book here:

Arcane Rhapsodies on Goodreads

Arcane Rhapsodies on Amazon.in

Arcane Rhapsodies on Authorspress website

Kumbhakarna's Knot

Kumbhakarna

By Company School [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Mount Meru was much perturbed,

Indra sat sullen, all revelry curbed.

What could disturb the mighty deva so?

The answer only Indra did know.

He watched three brothers meditate by the fire,

Blessings of Brahma, they wished to acquire.

His sharp nose wrinkled with much spite,

Finally, his envy did take flight.

He rode the clouds, he struck the skies,

He couldn't let them have their prize.

He eyed the giant among the three,

A pious warrior of might was he.

This Lankan giant was so quick-witted,

Against him, even Indra dared not to be pitted.

The giant's mind was as sharp as his sword,

Ever loyal, he towered over his Lankan Lord.

Kumbhakarna's power had in time grown,

So much so that Indra feared for his throne.

Rain or thunder, neither could thwart the yagna,

And then Indra heard the celestial tunes of the veena.

He bowed before the Goddess as she played,

He begged her to come to his aid.

Saraswati merely smiled as her fingers danced,

Indra took leave, at the brothers he glanced.

They invoked Brahma with their mind and will,

One wish of each, He was prepared to fulfil.

And so the youngest, Vibhishana, did ask,

In Brahma's feet alone, he wished to bask

To receive Lord Vishnu, his holy sight,

Brahma nodded, much to Vibhishana's delight.

Kumbhakarna and Ravana exchanged a glance,

They grunted as they waited for their chance.

Saraswati too waited for her turn,

There was much that the rakshasas needed to learn.

Kumbhakarna who so desired Indraasana

Was taken aback when his tongue begged for Nidraasana!

He wished for destruction of Devas, Nirdevatvam,

But instead his tongue asked for sleep, Nidravatvam.

He gaped at Ravana with his twisted tongue,

The decisive notes of Saraswati's veena had been rung.

Ravana watched helplessly as Kumbhakarna fell,

He was horrified by Kumbhakarna's sleeping spell.

Brahma turned to Ravana for it was his turn,

Ravana wished for Kumbhakarna to return.

He asked for Kumbhakarna's boon to be undone,

And so the fate of Kumbhakarna was spun.

Brahma relieved him of the seat of sleep

But Kumbhakarna had sunk far too deep.

Too far consumed was he to ever be free,

The cursed one of the three.

Peace returned to Mount Meru once more,

Indra could faintly hear Kumbhakarna snore.

Relieved at last that he reigned supreme

While Kumbhakarna lay lost in a dream.

About the post: This post conveys the story behind Kumbhakarna's mysterious sleep. For those who may not know, Kumbhakarna is from a mythological rakshas (demon) race in the Ramayana, he sleeps for months at a stretch and has incredible power, being a giant warrior. He was the younger brother of Ravana, the mythical ruler of Lanka and the enemy of Lord Rama. He plays a significant role in the Ramayana. Like many others, he urges Ravana to return Sita to her husband, Lord Rama but he stands by his brother even when Ravana refuses to do so.

Deva- A celestial race in Hindu Mythology. Indra is the king of the Devas.
Brahma-The Hindu God of Creation.
Saraswati-Hindu Goddess of knowledge, music, wisdom and learning.
Veena-A stringed musical instrument. Goddess Saraswati is usually depicted with a veena.
Mount Meru-The Indian equivalent of Mount Olympus, the home of the Devas.

The Duet

"Website opening pic" by Atlantis7807 - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Website_opening_pic.JPG#/media/File:Website_opening_pic.JPG

A chance encounter, an old friend she sees,

Memories come and go with a breeze.

She turns away, shaking her head,

An unfulfilled promise, a vow, long unsaid.

Her thoughts turn to her children

She purses her lips, shaking her head again.

She couldn't dream of making them wait,

She rushes forward, she couldn't be late.

Someone calls out her name,

A voice that only fans the flame.

She could no longer contain her woe,

She runs back, she should've never let go.

Words spun into action as she sang,

With a thump, her feet would bang.

The 'ghungroo', the floor and her feet,

Everything else had taken a backseat.

The trio rallied on for long.

Until something disturbed her song.

A 'ghungroo' rolled loose and pierced her heel,

She winced as she began to kneel.

The knots had suddenly come undone.

For every time she had spun,

They went loose till they let her go,

Like she'd let them, ages ago.

About the post: This post features a woman and her passion for Kathak. I have touched upon it briefly in the next couple of lines. Very recently, while I was day dreaming, I heard a faint chime of 'ghungroo' from somewhere in the building. It went away as soon as it came but in my mind, I could still hear it and I couldn't let it go. From there sprung a story about a woman who gave up her friend, her 'ghungroo', her passion for dance as other things drew her attention. Years later, she finds her 'ghungroo' and that is what I have described in the poem.

Kathak is a classical dance form of India that often depicts stories or 'katha'. The prominent feature of this dance is the stomping of heels on the floor in a certain rhythm and tempo or to match it with instrumental music or only lyrics used for conveying a story or message, along with hand gestures (mudra) and facial expressions. It is performed wearing a set of 'ghungroo', as can be seen in the photo above. These 'ghungroos' jingle and produce a chime matching the force of one's feet and movements. Kathak and its instruments are incredibly complex to summarize in brief and hence, you should look it up if you want greater detail. As with any classical dance, it has a rich and vibrant history.

Arcane Rhapsodies-The Witch's Well

"John William Waterhouse - Magic Circle" by John William Waterhouse - Tate Britain. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_William_Waterhouse_-_Magic_Circle.JPG#/media/File:John_William_Waterhouse_-_Magic_Circle.JPG

She bit his hands until she was gagged,

He struck her, towards the forest she was dragged.

The moon was witness to the woman’s plight,

On the eve of that Walpurgis Night.

He unsheathed his sword, his eyes were cold,

She mumbled her last words, the future she foretold.

“I shall meet you again, reward you I must.

A soirée awaits, it begins, only just.”

His mighty sword dealt the fatal blow

That’s how the witch fell ages ago.

The valiant soldier wiped his bloodied blade,

The price of heresy, the woman had paid.

He said a solemn prayer by the sacred well,

One and all would remember the day she fell.

He removed her rings, her beautiful locket,

He shoved her into the well, the jewellery in his pocket.

With a glint of greed and a dash of pride,

Off he went, to his newfound fame he applied.

The Walpurgis Night descended soon,

Witches from across the land began to commune.

They revelled freely upon the Brocken heights,

They chanted their spells and finished their rites.

As the night began to draw to a close,

By the sacred well, a young witch froze.

They all gathered around the sacred well,

“Daughters of magic, we must invoke a sacred spell.

Our sister is taken much before her time,

The murderer must be punished for this crime.”

One by one, they said an ancient prayer,

Each plucked out one strand of hair,

Each wished aloud for their sister fair.

Each gave her part of their souls’ share.

That Walpurgis Night, the slain witch did rise,

Amidst her sisters’ mystical cries.

The arcane verses of the spell made her undead,

“Farewell till we meet again.”, they said.

The witches dispersed as daylight raced with them,

The undead witch cast a spell for a hem.

It stitched her wounds, it sewed her back,

But no spell or stitch could dispel the black.

About the post: This is an excerpt from my book, "Arcane Rhapsodies", the poem being "The Witch's Well". Will the witch exact her revenge? Hope you enjoyed this read.

You can find more about the book here:

Arcane Rhapsodies on Goodreads

Arcane Rhapsodies on Amazon.in

Arcane Rhapsodies on Authorspress website

Adieu

I was never one to say goodbye.

This time though, I surely did try.

Her breath I sensed,

My soul was cleansed.

Tugging at long repressed memories.

My skin was prickled by a pleasant breeze.

Something didn't seem right, I thought.

Something weighed me down like an invisible knot.

Little did I know how it would end.

The secret, with the sands, would blend.

Finally, the circle was complete.

The sand no longer tickled my feet.

About the post: Alright, you read my poem, now you should try reading it backwards, last line to the top. There is a subtle difference when the poem is read top to bottom and when it is read bottom to top. Hope you enjoyed it, I was just playing around with words. You are free to interpret it as you wish.  

Arcane Rhapsodies - The Pharoah's Display

"Menphis - Egypte - 500before JC - Troop of funerary servant figures shabtis in the name of Neferibreheb" by Serge Ottaviani -
Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

“Lord of the Lords, my Master and King,

Act I must, at his bidding.”

The Shabti had such inscriptions carved in its stone

They all plead allegiance to the Pharaoh alone.

The Pharaoh was still King, though he was dead,

The Shabti were to toil in his stead.

There were other interesting finds in the tomb,

Riches, artwork, scriptures of destruction and doom.

All was kept in the display as was instructed,

All in all, the Pharaoh had been abducted.

The curator smiled like a Cheshire Cat,

With a final look, he removed his hat.

He secured the doors and locked the display tight,

He intended to stay at the museum that night.

He lit up the fireplace and lounged in his chair,

It was all worth it, the price had been fair.

The tiring expedition in the sand dunes,

The scorching, long and dry afternoons,

The many bribes that had to be paid

To get the permit, officials he had to serenade.

The museum would soon be back on its feet,

His business would soon be complete.

He called his wife and checked on his boys,

He hung up soon and was rattled by a noise.

He turned his attention to a packed, wooden box,

Hesitant at first, he finally undid the locks.

He opened the huge box and peered inside,

“Misha, nowhere else could you hide?”,

He cradled his cat and petted its head,

“You know better than to disturb the dead.”

He examined the Sarcophagus hidden in the sand,

“Tomorrow, the Pharaoh travels far, as I had planned.”

The cat kept busy while the curator soon slept

Unaware that a gust of sand there swept.

He opened his eyes when the sand was hurled at him,

He woke up to find the room dark and grim.

He struggled to find his footing in the dark,

He slipped but finally he lit a spark.

The fireplace lit up with greater force,

He shook his head, his throat felt hoarse.

As he turned, he gasped, he was taken aback,

He was surrounded, they were all ready to attack.

About the post: This is another excerpt from "Arcane Rhapsodies", the poem being, "The Pharoah's display". Will this turn out to be a nightmare or a dream come true for the curator? 

Hope you enjoyed reading this post.

You can find my book here:

Arcane Rhapsodies on Amazon.in

Arcane Rhapsodies on Authorspress Website

Check out Arcane Rhapsodies on Goodreads

Arcane Rhapsodies- Enter, The Playwright

Arcane Rhapsodies

Poems by Navya Jain

That week brought Henry much surprise,

A critique reviewed him, sans any disguise.

"The actors and the direction had flair,

But for the playwright, I could not care.

Even Thespis could not consume the verses,

And so he did bestow his curses.

The playwright failed to please,

Elements missing from his melodies."

So it is that Henry found himself at a tavern,

Looking for ancient tales that he wished to learn.

He hoped to draw inspiration from his travel,

He wondered what mysteries he was bound to unravel.

He gaped as the minstrel played unknown keys,

Singing ancient, arcane rhapsodies.

About the post: This is an excerpt from "Prologue-Arcane Rhapsodies" from my book "Arcane Rhapsodies". An unexpected critique urges Henry, the playwright, to rediscover his creative light and so he begins his journey. 

A word on Thespis, Thespis is considered to be the father of Drama. We've all heard the word "Thespians", right?

About the book: ‘Arcane Rhapsodies’ weaves together some known and some unknown folklore, myths and legends from around the world.This collection of short stories(in verses) takes the reader back and forth in time, in and out of fables, open to the reader's own interpretation. 

Henry, a renowned playwright sets out in search of inspiration for his verses. Explore with him, the dark and the light, the seen and the unseen, the imagination and the reality that surrounds us and occasionally binds us. Sometimes there is more than meets the eye, so watch out and don’t hold back as you embark on Henry's adventure that is bound to leave you thrilled.

Publisher's page-Arcane Rhapsodies

Oh my sparrow!

"House Sparrow (Passer domesticus)- Male in Kolkata I IMG 5904"
 by J.M.Garg (Through Wikipedia)

Specks of dust lace the window pane,

I ponder upon this concrete jungle's bane.

I sip my tea, I steal a slurp.

Be still my heart, was that a chirp?

A glimpse of feathers, chestnut brown

One of the few sparrows left in our town.

I stayed still, I watched as it perched.

How many parks for it had I searched!

It twitched its tail and chirped aloud,

It stomped its feet , invoking a dust cloud.

The tuft of brown rolled about in the hole,

Flinging dust like a naughty troll.

Finally it hopped into the chimney vent,

Its home amidst the mortar and cement.

I moved to the kitchen like a cat

And soon I heard their raucous spat.

About the post: 

This poem is based on my chance encounter with a sparrow on an idle day. I was pleasantly surprised to see a sparrow make its way into the chimney duct/vent and what followed was incessant chirping for quite some time. I am yet to make a call for repairing the vent/duct but I do not want to displace the elusive sparrows (Please take note that the chimney is not in use so they are completely safe). Time and again I have come across articles that discuss the dwindling numbers and sighting of sparrows in Delhi NCR. I consider myself lucky to have spotted them around my house.

The Emperor's Taj

The Taj Mahal, Agra

In the wee hours of the morning,

The sparrows eagerly begin to sing

And I stay still, mesmerized by the splendor.

To the allure, I surrender.

A touch may sully the milky white,

Is it just a trick of the morning light?

I stir myself away from the thought,

Standing forth what I had ever so dearly sought.

I walk alongside, as the sun bathes us,

Dazzling like a jewel thus.

I care not even of the sun's glare,

Let one and all be witness to our affair.

Many hours do pass in my spell,

I watch the sun bid us farewell.

The rosy skies caress us too,

Little by little I see a different hue.

We blush as they watch us talk,

Even night dares not to disrupt this walk. 

Basking in moonlight, shines the pearl

In obeisance, the stars begin to swirl.

Our reflections mingle upon a feathery touch,

She splashed water at the man who loved her much.

The emperor's taj was no material thing,

Sans the queen, there was no king.

About the post:

This post comes after my recent trip to Agra. The Taj Mahal is one of the wonders of the world and famous for its architecture, origin and its sheer splendor. I was in the queue at 6:50 am in the morning and there was a huge line even at that hour. 

This mausoleum was built by Shah Jahan for his second and favorite wife, Mumtaz's tomb. If you read the poem, it describes the different hues that Taj Mahal takes with passage of time in a single day. Alternatively, I imagine that Shah Jahan must have observed the same hues on Mumtaz who was known to be very fair and beautiful. Maybe she was his inspiration for Taj Mahal, in more ways than one. 

Why?

Customs, ours and theirs, why must we have identical prayers?

Women are above any precious thing, then why such shame to them you bring?

Your daughter is your honour, why then are her wishes swept in a corner?

She is your pride, why then must she hide?

Your life or mine, why must we live by another's design?

The bride was teary eyed, why couldn't they be by her side?

The home of God stood razed, what kind of monster had there grazed?

They burnt, they shot, will they ever be caught?

They preach of goodness, is that why in some way they repress?

They always measure your worth, is that why we happen to be on earth?

The patient was beyond repair, why couldn't they mend his tear?

A flood of memories, I ache, I wince, words flow easily ever since...

About the post: Well, this one is totally random, a bunch of lines, each pertaining to some prevalent issues of the day. The list of why(s) is not exhaustive, just some random thoughts.

The Hunt

Unicorn seal from Harappa- The image is taken from columbia.edu

All eyes turn to the seal,

Secrets of a lifetime they conceal.

Beyond the weathered stone,

A shadow of a creature unknown.

Scamper it did at the speed of light,

A glimpse and then just out of sight.

That night, the men again did try,

At the King's behest, they followed its cry.

Onward they rode, chasing its hooves

As it leapt across the sinuous grooves.

It thrashed its hooves as it fled,

A pointed horn towered above its head.

It sliced the thorny trees as it raced,

The men dared not to return red-faced.

The Captain roared for them to split,

"Corner it so that he be compelled to submit!"

He lead a group down another way

And soon they heard an angry neigh.

The clouds clapped as they eyed the chase,

The night began to wear a blanket of haze.

A scent of a rainstorm lingered about,

"Speed up or its gone!", he furiously did shout.

The Captain grimaced, his horse he lashed

Crack of thunder, a lightning flashed.

The Captain reeled his horse the other way,

The fear began to have its sway.

He called for his men to retreat instantly,

He lead the men as they tried to flee.

Another flash of lightning struck the skies,

The men could not believe their eyes.

Black as night, white as light,

Red as blood, the unicorns prepared to fight.

The sound of hooves grew close,

Trapped were they by a hunt they chose.

About the post: I thought about this when I happened to read about unicorns. The Indus Valley seals depict a one horned creature that resembles a unicorn. I was pleasantly surprised to know that their origin can thus be traced to India. Ancient Greek accounts also discuss the legendary one horned creature, unicorn, which has long been a famous subject of European folklore and a favorite of Renaissance art and lore.