Me Doll

Me Doll

The immensity of the night sky,
In her lovely black eyes,
The fixed pale pink smile,
On her porcelain skin,
The newly woven dress,
Adorning her carefully crafted body,
Perfect she was—My new doll.

A patient listener to my chatter,
A silent guest for my tea parties,
A companion for my rendezvous,
Never did a day go by,
Without her by my side—Reassurance,
Yes, she will be here no matter what,
She was mine—My exciting doll.

New things I had discovered,
Friends, books, and school,
And under the bed she lay—Insignificant,
The once curly hair, tangled with dust,
The dull eyes, the faded smile,
The torn dress on her frail body,
There she was—My worthless doll.

It had served its purpose,
Amusement for a couple of months,
Did it need to be cherished?
Placed on a pedestal for admiration?
Did I love her?
Did I value her enough?
After all, it was just a doll…Was it not?

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Fallacy

Fallacy

Seconds ticked away.
Time dissolved.
What appeared—
was not.
What was not—
had appeared.
An original perspective.
A single occurrence.
Washed away the splendor.
A thought, an action, a word.
Innocent, pure, meaningful.
Had I revealed—
That which had been buried?
Or had I buried—
That which wanted to be revealed?
What was on the surface,
Was just the beginning…

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Like “Raindrops on Roses”- Things that make me HAPPY!

Like “Raindrops on Roses”- Things that make me HAPPY!

The giggles of babies, the way they squeal with delight when you tickle them, the way they put their arms around your neck and their head on your shoulders when they are really tired, the way they clap their plump, dimpled hands together when they discover something new, their wobbly steps when they are learning to walk for the first time…

Sitting next to the window, listening to the pitter patter of the raindrops against the glass, the way it fogs up the window, the breeze lifting the tree branches, curling up with a good book on the sofa, with soft music playing in the background, “Maula Mere Maula” or “Javeda Zindagi”, listening to the steady beat of the tabla, the plucking of the sitar strings, the sorrowful sob of the violin… No, I’m not the kind of girl who would want to run out into the rain and “play in it”…

Singing certain paragraphs from songs over and over again, until I’m completely sick of it. My most recent obsession is the song from “Na Tum Jaano Na Hum”

Tum, se mujhe pyaar kyun hogaya.
Tum, na mile aur mein khogaya.
Tum, meri khwaabon se jaa na sake.
Tum, meri baahon mein aa na sake.

And of course… the paragraph that I haven’t gotten sick of till date, is from the movie “Dil Apna Preet Paraya”, sung by Lata Mangeshkar (simply superb!)

Ajeeb dastaan hain yeh.
Kahan shuru kahan khatam.
Yeh manzile hain kaun si.
Na voh samaj sake na hum.
Kisika pyaar leke tum.
Naya jahan basaoge.
Yeh shyam jab bhi aayegi.
Tum humko yaad aaoge.

And as geeky as it sounds, I love the feeling I get when a program I’ve worked on for a while compiles without any errors and gives me exactly the results I want. It’s definitely the best reward for those painstaking hours of thinking up algorithms, lining up brackets, making sure you haven’t missed any, and spending hours in front of the computer until you think your eyes are going to pop out…

Hmm… there must be a lot more things… but so far, these are the things that I can think of… :-)

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Trail

Trail

Lost, I wander,
Listening to the soft crunch,
Underneath my feet,
A step backward—I hesitate,
To gather the bits,
Never once, did I recognize…
It was a wasted effort,
To piece together my past.

Lost, I wander,
The gentle wind whispering,
Stealthily into my ear,
“Ramols, liefsbe, ulesva”,
Riddles to solve alone,
Never once, did I recognize…
The answers to those mysteries,
Are lessons of my present.

Lost, I wander,
Toward an unfamiliar path,
Squinting, I struggle to see,
Treasures sparkling behind the trees,
Hidden away in a foreign land,
Never once, did I recognize…
The faint glimmer welcoming me,
Is truly my future.

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Gurdwara

Gurdwara

We knew we were definitely going to get lost, but we hadn’t anticipated that it would be as soon as we got of the train. My friend and I were searching for the Gurdwara in Richmond Hill, New York. In our search to enter the “House of the Guru” we asked directions from an Indian storeowner, who had a bit of trouble speaking English, and we couldn’t understand what he was saying. And, naturally, we got lost again. We walked all the way to 101st street, when we realized that the neighborhood looked nothing like where a Gurdwara would be situated. So we reluctantly walked up to an old Punjabi man sitting on the park bench and my friend asked him in Punjabi if he knew where the Gurdwara might be. I couldn’t follow the conversation yet again, because obviously, I didn’t know any Punjabi. But I was pleased by his friendliness. He walked with us all the way to the Gurdwara, which was located nearly where we started off!

It was the first time I ever stepped into a Gurdwara, and I found it absolutely wonderful. The serene atmosphere, the calm voice reading from the Guru Granth Sahib and the magnificent Khanda symbol. I followed my friend up the carpet, watching her every move, trying to cover my head with the duppatta, making sure I didn’t look like a complete fool. I donated some money, bowed down in respect, and when I looked up again, my jaw dropped open in pure wonder. From up close, the setting looked so much more beautiful. Flower vases sat on both sides and the yellow lamps next to the flowers reflected off the silver Khanda. The silver fringes on the yellow sheets that covered the Guru Granth Sahib glinted under the light, making everything seem much more grander. Next to this, was a small stage with a microphone where the Keertans were sung, and on the wall behind the stage was a marvelous picture of the Amritsar Gurdwara.

My eyes darted back and forth across the room, taking in as much as possible and at the same time listening to my friend as she explained the history of Sikhism. Then we walked over to the next room to have some Langar, which consisted of Roti, Sarso-ka-Saag, Raajma, Fried Chenna and Rice (which was the tastiest I’ve ever had!). The room had pictures of the ten Gurus, each superb in their own way, painted with bright colors and formal expressions. I was in awe at every little thing I found. I compared everything to Hinduism, how a few things were similar, and how many were different. It made me think about my beliefs, my teachings and made me appreciate so many more things that existed in this exquisite world.

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