Words of Maulvi ji

...one should not give too much importance to something that it looses its essence...

Woman with the Dead Rat

Wednesday early morning, on my way to work.

I was on my way to work, I had briefly stopped at a car mechanic. Dad had to get a few fixtures for the car. So while I waited at an open parking listening to AIR FM and enjoying warmth of the bright sunny rays, a woman poorly clad in rags walk towards my car. She is talking to someone…an invisible partner, giggling with a huge dead rat (the wild dead rat, almost 2 ft tall and fat) in her hand. She was swinging similar to the beat of the music playing in my car.
She swinged, danced and giggled.

The lady could have been around 32. Wore a gold ring and had the most beautiful smile. I watched her through my sunglasses. Everyone who passed her laughed at her with wariness. Everytime someone would smile, she’d go chasing them giggling, accompanied with her dead rat. The rat did not move on his own (as he was ‘Dead’) but as the woman swinged it…the dead ugly rat would follow a strange eerie rhythm. The woman crossed my car, so I turned back to look at her. I was curious. What was her next move, where was she headed?

The woman with the dead rat walked towards a nearby slum area where few construction workers were having their breakfast. They looked at her and her ‘dead rat’ and tried to shoo her away. The dead rat was decaying and had a horrifying stench! She giggled and giggled till her face turned red and turned to her right to exchange thoughts with her invisible partner. Few minutes later, the woman and her partner with their pet decided to walk away and not disturb, so she waved them a ‘bye’ with the giggle.

She walked backed towards my car and crossed it again. So I turned to look at her again (I was relieved as the neck didn’t feel anymore strain). She went near a fence and hung her dead rat on the barbed wire and instructed him to ‘stay-put’ and so did he. He had to obey his master with the invisible partner.’ instruction. She walked back and smiled at me. Waved a bye, giggled, crossed the road and with a single blink she was gone.

Sunday morning Change

One Sunday morning at Niti Bagh, I went spending time with my friend. We were sitting on the terrace while having delicious breakfast cooked all by ourselves. The sky was clear and the sun rays warmed our skin. While the soft breeze narrated its own tale and its whisk sang its own breeze. Silently we sipped our tea’s, munched our meals, when my friend decided to play some background music. And decided to play Tracy…Tracy Chapman and that too her favourite track “Change”. Though little did she know that Tracy has been very close to me...as I’ve grown listening to her and believing her to one of the most profound singers whose lyrics speak nothing but the truth. The lyrics narrate their own simple story.

So my friend asks me to listen to the lyrics and rethink about the situations and reactions around me. While Tracy sings...my friends decides to utilize her vocal chords as well …and the terrace suddenly seems a stage and us the performers.

The lyrics…which changes my perspective that sunny Sunday morning.

Tracy Chapman – Change

If you knew that you would die today,
Saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?
If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low you cannot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?
How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?
If you knew that you would be alone,
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?
Would you change?
If you knew that you would find a truth
That brings up pain that can't be soothed
Would you change?
Would you change?
How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?
Are you so upright you can't be bent?
If it comes to blows are you so sure you won't be crawling?
If not for the good, why risk falling?
Why risk falling?
If everything you think you know,
Makes your life unbearable,
Would you change?
Would you change?
If you'd broken every rule and vow,
And hard times come to bring you down,
Would you change?
Would you change?
If you knew that you would die today,
If you saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?
If you saw the face of God and love
If you saw the face of God and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

freedom through formations

I sit under sun and think to myself, where am I and what am I here for and why things happen if they do or don't. And I continue to do that for the next 20 minutes or so. Time passes by. And I continue to ponder as I enjoy the warmness of the sun and the bright blue sky.

I get up bring my paintbrush and begin to paint. First I lay the complete periphery before I begin my process of meditation to seek my answers. Well.. the paints flow and form their formations…speaking their own truth and I as a mediator continue to paint. I let the paint communicate their own story while I enjoy the process of visioning the colours forming their form. After 3 hours of lost truth.. I finally find my answers. Satiated I get back to my list of errands.

* Diary entry of an Anonymous artist

the doorstep

I sit in the corner of my room, the dilapidated little transistor plays its own favourite tracks and I let it play. It withers in its own periphery with the jarring speakers which speak out their own language and I let it. I sit there waiting and watching. Hoping it would probably play its own tune someday and talk out loud. But it doesn’t. the transistor plays its own songs living in its formulated, designed world and I let it be. I try to understand. I understand the notes it insists on playing but feel being distant. The transistor loves its own land and does not like intrusion. So I continue to sit in side of the corner, listening.

Few moments later… Flashlights from the rear view of my car, blaze by me. I’m astonished by the vision. It is disturbing yet intriguing, and somewhat makes me happy and sad at the same. The memories flash by, warning my presence. I try to retrieve, yet they flash. I’ve been transcended yet made to understand clearly. I decide to move away and enjoy my solace in the right hand side corner of my room, the transistor continues to play and I let moments pass by. Presuming this is my next doorstep.

* Notes from an unsolicited thought.