I've shifted

I've shifted my domain name/URL.
It's now


http://hiranyaaditi.blogspot.com 


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Lucky Buddy

It is believed that Crickets bring luck. Especially if found within anyone's dwellings.

My new little buddy isn't a Cricket, but it stayed around vertically clinging to a step in our staircase, and was a wonderful model, no fusses at all!
It curiously looked around, and struck some pretty neat poses for the camera (I took a lot more than just two photos, but didn't want to scare it away by getting too close). It stayed for a long while even after I left it alone, which was not before I stared at it for a long time, and made some loud exclamations of fascination and joy every now and then. I think it quite liked the attention, to be honest!

Although I've got to admit, at first from a distance I did think it could be my 'Lucky Cricket', I figured out it wasn't even from the same family of insects. But then I'm never going to say it isn't lucky.
Because:
Who wouldn't want to be showered with affection as someone's lucky charm?
(especially when you're such a charming guest, friendly and fascinating)

'Destroying Angel'

This is my take on the 'Destroying Angel' mushroom, identified as Amanita virosa by the Scientific community. It is supposed to be entirely white, but I thought I ought to add a little more colour in for fun. =)
Inspiration: Curiosity about it's common name.

Medium: Oil Pastel and pencil on paper.

Beauty Is You

Beauty isn't what they say it is.

It isn't in how people look like what others expect.

Nor in how people let others 

Mess with their face, body and head.

Beauty is how you move your fingers over 

Something you love truly.

Beauty is in the way you walk,

When you know you're heading there.

Beauty is your feet that are darker and dirtier

Than the rest because you walked barefoot

But you don't really mind, because it tells you

That your feet are a part of you.

Beauty is your hair on a breezy morning, 

Loose, free, without a worry in the world.

Beauty is how your face shines when 

You're saying a nice thing to another,

To cheer them up, from your heart.

Beauty is everywhere in your body, your originality.

Beauty is in everything that is unique,

Beauty is you.

Because there's no one else like you.

And there never will be.

Cheat Secure

I wonder if in the school for con-men and sales-persons (yes, I'm pretty sure they go to the same place), they have a lesson, hailed as the most important, on "Playing your victim's conscience/heart".

It sure must be worth all the money (which they probably tried to steal back, but you can't teach a teacher, can you?), because once that lesson's learned, you're a step closer to earning yourself a place in the boulevard of the treacherous.

For example: One merry old trick in the book, that never actually gets old, is to pretend to be struck by some great (emotional) calamity, if not a health-related-one, and grab sympathy, and all you can while you're at it. And mind you, most of the time, in this actually-not-so-bad world, there are millions of kind hearted souls who get swindled off not only money or equivalents, but any future motive to be nice to any one ever again.

And the creme-de-la-creme, who are the toppers in this dingy-but-large classroom of the deceitful know exactly what strings to pull. These people are oh-so-gifted, that they can grab from the fellow heartless, in their own game.

And let's not forget, the true-royalty in this scene, now these guys ought to be given an award, because they learn their tricks from movies (the one's that make us go "Dang! From right under his nose!"), that they stole from the guy who sells pirated CD's, and watched it in someone else's player!

So, now, the great question (Drum roll, please!), what can we do? Is there any way to save ourselves from being disheartened and losing all respect for this world, people and kindness? To ever be 'Cheat Secure'?

Nope.

Not unless we all refuse to interact, listen, or shower an act of kindness on anyone who walks on this green earth.
But maybe, just maybe, that's a little too drastic.

The other way to be... unaffected personally, according to the wisdom of those of eons before, is to forgive, and understand that someone might have had a need, and we were merely suppling the needful... (well, hopefully, put to good use! Cross your fingers!)

Forgive, because the world is a wonderful place, and although some or most things don't appear fair, in the grand scheme of life, all is fair.

So...I guess it's time I stopped cribbing about my own... should I say "Lost, and hopefully useful to someone else?" articles, which trust me, it's a long list that made me very unhappy at various points, but what better time to forgive than now?

*****

(Note #1: If you've found your criminal, and you do have enough evidence, I'd suggest getting a lawyer.)
;)

(Note # 2: The rest of us can feel like trees! Who returns anything to trees? They don't even need us humans to supply the carbon dioxide! We're lying to ourselves and them when we say we "supply" something they produce on their own, or other animals can do as well. Let's feel for them while we're at it!)

Conscious change is a prerogative of the living.

The best kind of phone conversations are the ones in which neither says a word, but you're content because you know the other's there for you.

A friend asked me "Why should anyone be patriotic?",

 and I said "It's because it tells you that you belong...".

"!" is "i" inverted.



So throw the ego upside down, and watch the fun!

The Ungiving Soil

[This poem was published in an anthology of poetry "Celebrating Creativity" released at the Hyderabad Literary Festival 2010, held in December, where I was the youngest participant poet; and I was given a wonderful opportunity to share my poem with highly established poets from across the country. It was well accepted.]

The Ungiving Soil:

                                                                              

Betrayed by her husband,

Who said he’d help her,

She felt all alone in this world,

And was about to give birth to a child.

He felt the pressures of this world,

Loses and undeserving pains of drought and debt

And sent himself to heaven,

Or hell? For leaving her like this.

She was with some friendly neighbours

They tried to comfort her

And the awaited hour approached

A few moments later, a baby’s cry.

A girl! The new mother should have

Been happy, she had a girl like

She had secretly wanted before

And she cried like every new-born’s mother.

But these were tears of sorrow.

The neighbours saw not this,

But took it for the usual, and left before sunset.

She was alone with her baby to admire.

Her sole companion.

Guilt, anger, sadness, love.

She was overwhelmed by emotion

As  she saw her newborn angel

So beautiful, her own, with a new life.

“You don’t need a blanket,

You are wrapped with a sheet

Of sadness, loneliness, and struggle.”

She whispered, as her tired hands

Covered the child with a cloth.

“I can find you a flower, though scarce,

To adorn your neck or hair.

And I can tint your cheeks only with mud”

She said, as she stroked her tenderly.

She gently massaged the calm child’s legs

“Keep them strong to move forward”

And she put her hand against the small one’s

“And be strong, stronger than we were.

“For your legs will be chained by poverty,

And you must drop your dreams

Down an empty well, forget them and

Live on, with the mission to survive.

“Your only friends can be the

Sun and the Moon, but they are

Also eclipsed in the sky,

Though they won’t leave you for long.

“Most are born with the universe

Having plans to give you plenty,

But you my child, with no fault of your own

Seem to owe this world your all.

“’The daughter of a Coward’ you

Will be branded, and if you

Aren’t tough, you may even succumb to

False promises and painful illusions of ease.

“And my hands are rough, for I too have toiled,

Where shall you get any comfort?

The dry land shall merely bruise your knees,

And the plants are rare, rarer their fruits.

“This world isn’t fair, but harsh and cold

It rains everywhere else, in abundance,

But here, it only leaves you fatherless!

What can I alone do for you?

When I have nothing to give?”

She looked at the child now, her eyes were closed

And she was still like the darkness enveloping them.

“Close your eyes to this world,

My beauty, you deserve much more.”

The mother covered the child,

And held her closer. A single tear

Left her, and it was the last thing she

Could give the demanding soil.

The neighbours returned with some

Food for the mother.

But it was clear she needed no more

From this ungiving soil.

To the bloom, We're mere spectators!

I've got to admit, no number of photographs of, as cliched as it sounds, but "Greenery", and it's blooms, is too much!

The fifth photo is of a flower that particularly caught my attention because of how merry it seemed at being upside down!

In the last one, I caught an ant climb up the Staminal Tube of this brilliant Hibiscus and I thought to myself "Wow!" because these ants can smell the tiniest amount of anything which is in their opinion edible or sweet, and that's the entire mechanism for pollination. It isn't a surprise to anyone who knows a tiny bit of Biology, but who's to kill the joy of watching it all unfold off the pages of your textbook?

Words below the Flame

As the yellow flame kissed
The faces of the old couple,
Adding to the warmth,
One smiled and looked down at the candle,
Gifted by the other,
The clay base on which it rest
had engraved:

"If I could choose again,
I'd still choose you"

[Imagined, looking at...]

Whose Will is it?

[written February 2010, and published in the anthology of poems "Poet's Paradise" released at the International Poetry Festival 2010, in December]

Whose Will Is It?

He gave his entire life to it, his love and hours,

But his own eyes saw it fall apart and break.

Tarnished and hurt was his heart,

As he bent over to examine each part.

"How could this happen, What did I ever do,

To deserve a failure like this?"

With tears flowing down his face, he picked

The smallest piece, and gave it a gentle kiss.

"With you I shall rebuild, and prove to the Gods,

That whether they will it or not,

I will taste success, glory and all,

And never will face another such fall!"

He spent all his energy, and twice as long,

With a burning thirst, all to prove he was strong.

With his wounded heart and tools soiled

By a past failure, all day and night he toiled.

With a passion from his heart and soul, every pain he bore.

When he was done, not another like was ever made,

It was near perfect, and would be fawned and famed.

It was a hundred fold better than the last he made.

"Oh Gods! I have done it! I proved you wrong,

I can do it all, I am strong!

We don't need you to decide whether it will happen or not,

Leaving us mortals with uncertainity at every shot!"

The Gods just smiled and whispered to each other,

"You see this one, have you seen another?

When he failed once, it was for him to be inspired

To do better. After all, his success was what we desired!"