“पिघलती आयतें”

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चाँदनी रात के तले
मेरे जिस्म के पन्नों पर

जब तुम्हारी उंगलियाँ
आयतें लिखती हैं

मेरे जिस्म पर छपी हर तिल
तुम्हारे लब्ज़ों की, बन जाती है चँद्रबिंदू

तुम्हारी भावनाओं की स्याही
टकराती है मेरे दिल की धड़कनो से

लब्ज़ बहते हैं फिर बेबाक
मेरे जिस्म के हर उतार हर चढ़ाव पर

लेकिन तुम्हारी नज़रों की हरारत
हर लब्ज़ को पिघला देती है

और फिर तुम्हारे लब
उन पिघलती हुई आयतों को पी जाते हैं

तुम्हारी गज़ल बन जाती हूँ मैं
कहती हूँ धीरे से तुम्हारे कानों में
बहुत करीब आ कर….

“फिर से लिखो न मुझ पर तुम….
एक कोरा कागज़ हूँ मैं, देखो न……तुम्हारा….”

~ विभावरी

Perfectly Imperfect

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There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in – Leonard Cohen

What would you do if you are given a piece of blank canvas, paintbrush and some colours? Would you just keep it blank or would you draw some lines, sketches or would you paint it wildly and make it a painting, a piece of art, your own version of a Masterpiece? The choice is all yours. We all have one life but how we live it, what we do with it, is always our own decision, our choice. We can make our life a piece of art or just live a life which is very mundane, colourless and resembles a blank canvas. Of course, there are many contributing factors how our life turns out to be, such as cultural, geographical, environmental, and the opportunities we are provided with in our lifetime. However, we can make art even from scrapes. We can collect all the bits and pieces of our unique life experiences and create something beautiful out of them.

How would you define art? Does it bring you joy and happiness? Do you try your best to make it as perfect and as orderly as you can to make it a perfect piece of art? Is perfection an important ingredient of a perfect piece of art or art is imperfect? Have you ever wondered if imperfection and spontaneity can create a beautiful piece of art?

Since our childhood, we come across constant messages of perfection, excellence and brilliance. We are told that any flaws, cracks or defects are undesirable and should be avoided and rejected at all costs. All the various religions and the philosophies of this world talk about how to live your life and how to reach that near perfect stage as a human being on this planet. Anything or anyone short of being ‘perfect’ is seen as a failure. We have all come across perfectionists during our lifetime. We all have at least one perfectionist in our family. Perfectionists seek perfection in everything they do. It is great to be a perfectionist but then life teaches you that life is not perfect.

Our modern day society is obsessed with perfection, perfection in all spheres of life. Perfection is sought at any cost. We as a society want to be physically perfect, we spend billions of dollars on our visual image. We torture ourselves to be without any blemish, without any scars, without any flaws. The cities are awash with humungous billboards promoting flawless, blemish free, prefect models. We want to live in perfect houses with perfect furnishings, perfect cars, perfect vacations, perfect kids, perfect pets, perfect jobs, and perfect everything. These days you can even have a perfect death, you can buy a designer coffin bag for yourself with a hefty price tag – there you go – perfect in life, perfect in death! You could be the epitome of perfection, with money you can achieve perfection more or less. The only pitfall with money is, it doesn’t guarantee you inner peace, contentment or happiness. It is all superficial and soul destroying.

One day, when I was juggling with this ‘perfection vs imperfection’ thoughts, I came across the Japanese philosophy of ‘Wabi-Sabi’. It emerged as an antidote and reaction to the dominant extravagant and luxurious ways of living in the 15th century Japan. It is defined as the Japanese art of imperfect beauty. It is the art of finding beauty in imperfection, in all things imperfect – living or non-living. It is about accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay and death. It is uncluttered, slow and simple. It celebrates life in all its natural stages. It worships cracks, scars, crevices, marks, so called unsightly spots of all kinds and accepts them whole heartedly and finds beauty in them. In today’s world of perfection, it is a breath of fresh air. It is everything that the dominant modern culture is not.
Wab–Sabi values simplicity, modesty and authenticity with an acceptance of the old, of the worn out, and of the asymmetrical. In wabi sabi, you understand and embrace the idea that nothing in this world is permanent, perfect, or complete. It also emphasizes the fact that life hardly ever works out the way we plan it.

Wabi-Sabi is soothing and calming. It is a serene philosophy of acceptance. It teaches us to accept the natural cycle of life. It teaches us to accept the natural process of aging and different stages of life with grace and gratitude. In a nutshell, ‘Wabi’ basically focuses on elegance which is understated and simplicity which is rustic. It encourages practicing of minimalism. And when you derive pleasure in the imperfections, it is called ‘Sabi’. Wabi-Sabi has a deep understanding of the transient and fleeting nature of this life. It teaches us to embrace the fragility of life and how to love life in all its shades. It teaches us to respect the mark of time and weather. It trains our eyes, heart and soul to seek beauty in unexpected places. You start seeing beauty in melancholy, solitude, in an old men’s toothless smile, in an old woman’s grey hair, in fading autumn leaves, in a broken earthen pot, in an uneven drift wood, in the pages of an old book, in the wrinkles of an old man’s forehead, in the rawness of emotions…..and many such so called ‘imperfect’ things.

Our fast paced and perfect modern lives often lead to stress, anxiety, depression, sadness, loneliness and other mental health issues. Wabi-Sabi can help us in slowing down and to find meaning and fulfilment beyond materialism. It can assist us in deriving joy from the imperfections around us. It also encourages us to practice mindfulness and to count our blessings and to celebrate each moment of our life.

There are seven aesthetic principles for achieving Wabi-Sabi: tranquility, freedom, subtle grace, naturalness, asymmetry/irregularity, simplicity and understated beauty. The art of kintsugi is an excellent example of Wabi-Sabi. In this art form, a cracked pottery is filled with gold dusted lacquer to highlight the aging beauty and damage rather than trying to hide them. The fault is always highlighted and featured. Wabi-Sabi perpetuates the belief that imperfections are essential for a full appreciation of the broken object and this transitory and ever-changing world.
The art of Wabi-Sabi doesn’t require wealth, specialised training, special skills, special abilities or talents. Wabi-Sabi is about acceptance and appreciation of what you already have including all your imperfections. It’s about loving yourself as you are. Wabi-Sabi makes you a ‘perfect’ all accepting, patient, kind, resilient and a beautiful ‘Artist’ of this imperfect world. It allows you to be yourself. You understand and learn how delightfully liberating and joyous it is to fall in love with yourself – imperfections, scars, flaws and all. You realize how beautiful it is to be totally and perfectly ‘Imperfect!’ Imperfection is beautiful becomes your mantra.

हसीन

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मुझे हादसों ने सजा सजा के बहुत हसीन बना दिया
मेरा दिल भी जैसे दुलहन का हाथ, मेहंदियों से रचा हुआ ❤

A Half Remembered Song

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Some forgotten memories, a half remembered song, a bit of faded red, a bit of faded green, a whiff of some forgotten perfume, the sensation of a forgotten touch, the intensity of a lingering gaze, the scent of an old book,…….yet another beautiful moment in time, when memories sing a sweet lullaby to you…

Mothers & Daughters

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“Pregnant with Twins!” When the news finally sank in, I desperately prayed I would have identical twin girls. Being a mother of a beautiful boy, all I now wanted was a daughter.

I consider my own mother to be one of my best friends. I can talk to her about anything and everything. As a woman, she understood me beyond words, pauses and awkward silences.

Yes of course, as a teenager, we had our fair share of heated arguments. And despite our personality differences, she was the first one who understood me when I chopped my long flowing tresses after a bad breakup. She did have her hands full at times but calmly took it all in stride.

When I became a young woman, it was my mother who understood the pain of a young woman in love. She understood my desperate need to drop out of the dentistry school and my desire to go to far-flung Australia to pursue an entirely different career. After becoming a mother myself, I can understand how difficult it would have been for her to let her little girl go out into the world by herself. Every long distance phone call must have been a sigh of relief for her.

She lost her own mother when she was only three years old. She never had the same freedom as I did. She was intelligent, artistic, creative and very talented. She could have gone places if she had had the same opportunities and education as me. When she was first pregnant with me, she chose to give up her much coveted National Institute of Design acceptance in Ahmedabad because I had become her top priority. My father, being a progressive and supportive husband, encouraged her to pursue her dream but for her I was the dream. She wanted to make sure that her daughter got all the opportunities, education and freedom in life that she was denied.

I fondly remember that my mother used to sew beautiful dreamlike dresses for me and my dolls. She used to help me with my school projects and homework. She used to prepare delicious and nutritious meals for me and my siblings. All my friends used to look forward to my birthday parties.

After moving overseas we have become even closer. We both cherish our long conversations on the phone, our heartfelt letters, and small thoughtful parcels to each other. I have noticed that as I am getting older, I am becoming more and more like my mother and have much better understanding of why she did what she did in her life.

When I became a mother for the first time, my mother became my guide, my philosopher. As a woman she understands all my aches and pains. She was my pillar of strength emotionally, physically and mentally all throughout my pregnancy and afterwards.
As a family, we celebrated Mother’s Day in March although many others in the world celebrate in May. Mother’s Day, while now more commercial than ever before, is still a celebration of motherhood. When my 8 year old boy and my twins (a boy AND a girl!) bring home little handmade cards, and other crafts for me, I feel a sense of euphoria. They are pridefully displayed in my home, these declarations of ever so confidently “mumy I luv u”, with colourful little hand prints and wrong spellings.

Now that I am a mother of three beautiful children, I want to be just like my mother. I want to be my daughter’s best friend. I want my daughter to achieve her full potential and all I want to say to her is, “Dream BIG, Princess”, just like that Disney song that I often watch with her. When it comes on I notice her big twinkling eyes and an angelic smile on her sparkling face. Corny?  Sure, but oh so cute and appealing, especially to a 3 year old girl! SO, I repeat, “DREAM BIG, PRINCESS.”

“The Cubicle”

 

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“So, you are back again my friend!”

“Ah, what made you come this end?”

 

The lights are stark white and bright

Enough to cause your soul dark blight

 

The carpets are ashy and grey

It will be a slow and painful slay

 

A daily dry drudgery at your dreadful desk

You will be reduced to a robot so grotesque

 

The keypads are making noises

Tik, tik, tik, tik those tiny sinister voices

 

You are dressed up so neat and chic

To stare for hours on end on the screens so bleak

 

Your heart will shout relentless screams

They will shatter one by one, all your dreams

 

A fake and a constant smile

To keep you going for the endless miles

 

Your spontaneity will be curtailed

Your creativity will be derailed

 

A million thoughts will run across your mind

How can you escape such a soul less grind

 

But there is a thing called ‘mortgage’

To keep you forever amused and engaged

 

You have to consider your kids and their future

So don’t you yet become a comfort creature

 

Open your eyes wide with strokes of mascara

Look around, there are younger and prettier ones in this icy cold terra

 

Watch that mature woman with sky high heels

Her back is obviously breaking and is definitely out of keel

 

They all seem happier than usual

But watch out, the masks are peeling and now visual

 

That young one didn’t sleep last night

She is a single mum, fighting tight

 

Her doctor prescribed her some ‘happy pills’

And consoled her, you will eventually learn the drill

 

A steep career ladder she has to climb

Losing your soul in the game, is no crime

 

The survival of the fittest is the mantra

It is a very orderly and well-mannered janta

 

Your resilience will be rewarded sooner or later

Just don’t question things that matter

 

Type away and carry on

Soldier on and battle on

 

Happy days are around the corner

It’s a black comedy not a white horror

 

So laugh your heart out

Harbour in your mind no doubt

 

It’s a safe haven with excellent working conditions

Please don’t tamper with those “Happiness Index” definitions!

~ Vibha