Wednesday, 19 December 2012

The Rape Capital

The Rape Capital doesn't allow me to sleep.

Humanity? Is that what we crave for? Does it even exist?

Every other day a woman is raped in this city. A few hours back, a girl was gangraped in a moving bus.
She is fighting against death. You and I will eventually forget this incident and move on with our lives but even if that girl survives, will she ever be able to live?

She wasn't raped because she was drunk. She wasn't raped because she was wearing skimpy clothes. She wasn't raped because she was travelling alone. 

She was raped because someone raped her. That someone is a part of your city. He walks in front of you, behind you, beside you. He follows you everywhere. He lives inside you.
Do we need another gang-rape before we start acting? Castrate the rapists in public. Why should we keep mum and tolerate gruesome brutality in the name of human rights? Human rights are not for demons! Justice delayed is justice denied.

Sleep blurs into memory and lies awake in the arms of darkness. Flashes of Breaking News knock at the inner folds of my mind. Transclucent dreams meet the night's inkpot and drift away into hateful nightmares. The Rape Capital doesn't allow me to sleep.

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Mahananda

Mahananda ke ek sire se
kayi kavitaayein judi hain,
Jo tumhe mujhse jodti hain.
Train ki chuk chuk mein bhi to
na jaane kitni kahaniyaan goonjti hain;
Jo khamoshiyon mein bhi
Mujhe dastak deti hain.
Kuch ansuni si kahaniyaan,
Kuch anchui si kavitaayein,
Jinhe maine likha hai.
Jinhe sirf tum sun sakte ho...
mehsoos kar sakte ho.
Puraane kitaabon ke panne palat ti hun...
Kayi safahon pe
jhurriyan pad gayi hain;
Siyaahi bhi
dhundhali ho chuki hai.
Magar in safahon ke beech...
in pannon mein dabe,
Kayi khaamosh gunche
mehfoos hain...
Jin mein aaj bhi
 hayaat ki khushboo muattar hai.
Aaine se bhi ab kya guzaarish karun?
Mere aks mein,
parchayi mein bhi to...
Bas tum hi tum nazar aate ho.

Word Meanings: Mahananda - name of a river; dastak - knock; ansuni - unheard; unchui - untouched; mehsoos - feel; safahon - pages; jhurriyan - wrinkles; siyaahi: ink; dhundhali - blurred; khaamosh - silent; gunche - flower buds; mehfoos - protected; hayaat - life; muattar - filled with perfume; aaina - mirror; guzaarish - request; aks - reflection

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Love Weds Arranged

This post won an Amazon Kindle 6" in the Indiblogger and Sony Entertainment Television 'Love Marriage or Arranged Marriage' Contest
Life is a bagful of experiences, filled with the souvenirs of new beginnings. Marriage is one such new beginning filled with beautiful moments. It is in fact a  voyage undertaken by two individuals. Through hope and happiness, smiles and laughter, love and affection, the two travel together, hand in hand through life's ups and downs. 
The two travel together hand in hand
Over the past 25 years, my perception about marriage has changed tremendously. But over the years, I have also realized a lot of things. Till a certain age all of us are unaware of the realities of life. But the only truth is that life moves on - people change and so do our priorities. Marriage is a vital choice - it is indeed life's most important decision.
Shaadi ke laddu
I recently read an interesting article on turning 25 and how things change after that. One of the comments left a lasting impact on me.

This is how it read:
'Here's the thing about 25. Do not marry anyone for any reason other than the right ones...Your spouse is the most important choice you can make in your life. Careers come and go, and passions wax and wane, but a spouse can be the number one determining factor in your happiness. Life is too short to be miserable, there's too much crap in the world for you to ever have to deal with it at home. Pick a spouse that (cliche alert!) completes you. Pick a spouse that supports you. Pick a spouse whose nose you can pick.'

Funny but true, isn't it? Life is already full of problems. So why would anyone want to come back home to deal with more? I know picking a spouse whose nose you can pick is a little tricky, but it shouldn't really matter if you actually love the person. It's all about affection.
Your spouse is the most important choice you can make in life
I see a lot of couples around me, who want to get married just because they have to. Many opt love marriage because they think their girlfriend/boyfriend is the most beautiful/handsome person in the world. Many others go for arranged marriage because they think their life would be ruined if they do not heed their
parents' advice. I fail to understand such people. They are still shrouded in the darkness of ignorance and immaturity.
Let their be light
Love marriage or arranged marriage is not really important since both have their pros and cons. What is important is life-long companionship and undying affection. Marriage is a not about hanging around and having fun. Nor is it something that must be done under pressure. Marriage comes with a lot of responsibility. Acceptance, love, forgiveness, patience, affection, and mutual understanding can actually make a marriage successful.
Marriage means acceptance, love, and mutual understanding
Before you take a step ahead, pause for a moment and ask yourself, is this what I want to do? Am I getting married under any kind of pressure? Is this the person I truly love? Your fate is in your hands. Nobody is going to decide what you want in life. You need to be sure of your decision. Love marriage or arranged marriage, as long as you are happy and satisfied, nothing else really matters.
Your fate is in your hands
Do not take any decision in haste. If arranged marriage is your choice, do think about your preferences too. Do not go for it blindly or without thinking. On the other hand if love marriage is your choice, take the first step and talk to your parents about it. They might have numerous issues, they might not even agree, but if you really want something, talk it out and make it happen.
Take the first step
If you have found your true love and want to marry that person, handle the situation wisely. Conversation is essential. Talk to your family. Be frank and express your feelings. If you are 100% sure, try convincing them. A decision once taken cannot be undone, so think twice before choosing your life-partner. That person should be someone who respects you and your individuality. Someone who loves you the way you are. 
Handle the situation wisely
And if you have decided to go for an arranged marriage and are getting married as per your family's choice, do not rush into things. This life is yours. Your parents can only be happy if you are happy. Have faith in yourself and your parents' decision. Look at the pros and cons. Do not hesitate to talk to your to-be-spouse.
Look at the pros and cons
Marry someone who you would want to grow old with. Someone whose happiness will mean the world to you. Whose wrinkles would never deter you from kissing her goodnight. Whose sagging body will never affect you from loving him. Whose pain will hurt you as much as your own. Whose happiness will fill you with joy. A married couple should not only support one another through thick and thin, but also learn to appreciate each other's choices.
Someone who loves you the way you are
A perfect marriage would be one where differences would never matter. Where love and arranged would marry one another in perfect harmony. Love shall be arranged, and the arrangement shall be loved. Here's a beautiful video that describes a perfect marriage proposal:
This post has been written for Indiblogger and Sony Entertainment Television's contest Love Marriage Or Arranged Marriage?

To participate and know more about the TV show, click on the picture below:

To see my post and vote for it click on the picture below:

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

Soliloquy of the Sea


Anukriti Sharma Photography

Mumbai stands in front of me like a chimerical paradise. I have seen it grow from a little suburb to a big metropolitan. People come here with potpourris of aspiration, and leave behind a trace of their existence. Like limericks of childhood, a few indelible life-stories dwell within the depths of my soul. Let me share it with you today.
Anukriti Sharma Photography
In this insomniac kingdom of dreams, lives a little girl who comes to my shores everyday.
Anukriti Sharma Photography
She lives near that promenade dotted with Mumbai's fitness freaks. Splashing her feet in my rippling waves, Choti sings many a songs with her little brother.
Anukriti Sharma Photography
Bholu - his only dream is to fly with the birds that flock Girgaum Chowpatty. They call him 'The Bird Boy'.
Anukriti Sharma Photography
At times I feel responsible for the death of the parents of these little children. Indeed, I am guilty. I brought those murderers to shore... the murderers who killed my Bholu's Aayi and Baba. From CST to Marine Drive, Choti's journey hadn't been easy. 
Anukriti Sharma Photography

On a cold November evening, life was hacked to death...and within minutes women were widowed, children were orphaned. I witnessed it all, yet could do nothing. My water was bloodied by the baseness of those terrorists as innocence was crucified.

Every evening before the sun goes down, armed with toy guns, these little kids hatch new strategies to kill Ajmal Kasab. I look at them and cry silently in painful agony.

Anukriti Sharma Photography

"Is baar nahin
Is baar jab woh choti si bachchi 
mere paas apni kharonch le kar aayegi
Main usey phoo phoo kar nahin behlaoonga;
 Panapney doonga uski tees ko
Is baar nahin...
Is baar ghawon ko dekhna hai
Gaur se thoda  lambe waqt tak
Kuch  faisley aur uskey baad hausley
Kahin toh shuruat karni hi hogi; 
Is baar yahi tay kiya hai "
~ Prasoon Joshi


(This time when that little girl comes to me with her bruises, I will not blow gently at her wound, nor distract her, I will let her pain grow.Not this time... This time the wounds need to be watched/ Carefully/ For a long time/ Some decisions are needed/And then some brave moves to be made.We have to begin somewhere… /This time this is what I have resolved)  

"This post has been published by me as a part of IBL; the Battle of Blogs, sponsored by WriteupCafe.com. Join us at our official website and facebook page.

Monday, 7 May 2012

Void

Void - Anukriti Sharma Photography
In the midst of loneliness and desperation lies a feeling called, 'void'
That is what she felt that day...
Not just that day, but for many days thereafter.
For months... for years...
The feeling remained stagnant.. as stagnant as the eyes of her little baby.

In a windowless apartment... she was all alone.
The area had been abandoned... only sooty clouds had been spared... spared of being burnt down to ashes.
After two days of incessant violence, they had left.

The rioters had left...
Had they? Really?

The stains of life had ignited a riot within... The fire wouldn't die down so easily...
Burnt - Anukriti Sharma Photography
She had lost her husband... He had been hacked to pieces in front of her very own eyes...
Her child lay naked in her arms like a piece of rag - dirty, deformed, dead.
She lay naked within the inner folds of herself...
Her clothes besmirched... Her hollow eyes devoid of tears...

Raped
Once, twice, thrice...
Over and over again...

By unknown faces,
Unknown objects,
Unknown men...

Benumbed,
Silent,
Void...
Why?
Do you know?

Sunday, 15 April 2012

City lights


...and to sin was a game... neither offensive nor malevolent.

I was losing myself... I couldn't recognize myself.

The looking glass no longer reflected me... it only reflected what others wanted to see in me.

In the folds of this blaring city noise... I, for a change was silent... I was numb.

The crystal decanter holds no wine...

Enclosed in my huge apartment, I was aware of desolation, aware of solitude.

As the perfume filled my dank parlour with bewitching balminess...

I felt a warm breath kiss the nape of my neck...

And I closed my eyes to ease away the bliss...

The string of pearls... touch the sleeves of my black dress...

Love, is it?

It is, isn't it?

I am ready to go...

Somewhere... where?

I do not know...

I am merely an effigy of my former self.

The warm breath was that of my former self.... my real self.

...torn between fear and desire

 it was there...

all along...

and yet

I knew -

It had eclipsed under starry nights...

Under the blaze of city lights.

Indeed...

Madness is the offspring of love...

Sunday, 11 March 2012

Rustic Roots

Mumbai's Girgaum Chowpatty - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Being brought up in urban India has its advantages and disadvantages. The seven cities I have lived in are like the seven swaras (notes) of sargam.(solfege). Urban spirit may have uprooted me from my rustic roots but my heart still yearns for a simple, happy life. I love looking at the vast sea, listening to the waves splashing against the shore. In a city which never sleeps, it is difficult to find people who can truly enjoy nature's abundance. Every one around me is rushing against the chronograph of time. A poem I read in school, perfectly describes the present state of modern life  -
Reflecting upon the beauty of nature - Anukriti Sharma Photography
"I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man." - William Wordsworth
Nature's essence - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Going out for a morning walk is a wonderful way to connect to the world around you . The half-asleep city dwellers, somehow manage to wake up to fitness and life in the early hours of dawn. Nature's bounty surrounds the area... Cool breeze tickles the leaves as they giggle merrily.
I travel through macadamized cobblestone pathways, to reach the mesmerizing Hanging Gardens. Young and old people climb up the stairs chattering in every possible language - Gujarati, English, Marathi, Hindi, Hinglish, and also gibberish. After an hour of brisk-walking I sit down on one of the benches beside an extremely cute old lady. Her grand-daughter, who is dressed in a baby pink track suit, comes hopping and escorts her granny towards the senior-citizen park. This little gesture of love reminds me of my own childhood and my dear Dadi(paternal grandmother).
Parrots - the view from my window, Mumbai - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Dadi's stories are still fresh in my mind. Even now I remember the sing-song way in which she used to narrate folktales in Bhojpuri to me and my sister while we used to lie snuggled in her arms. One of these tales was about a tiny bird bereaved of her little morsel of food which gets trapped in a grinding machine. Lamenting her miserable condition she asks everyone to help her out. She says that if she fails to get that morsel, what would she eat and drink? And also how would she fly overseas without food for her little ones? This is how the lines go -
"Badhai Badhai Khoota cheera
Khoota mein mor daal baa....
Kaa khayin, kaa pihin?
Kaa leke pardes jaayin?"
Rustic Roots, Bihar - Anukriti Sharma Photography
The sheer love in each of my grandma's tales was also present in the delicious pickles she made for us. Birds, tress, clouds and flowers became my friends... Through her figments I visited Bihar's unknown landscapes - smiling at every flower that bloomed there. Through her I felt attached to the land of my ancestors - I could imagine birds singing in delight, ripe mangoes bursting with ambrosial nectar. Her stories of farmlands and the crops that grew in the countryside kept me mesmerized, as I longed for more and more.
On a sunny afternoon in Bihar - Lalit Sharma Photography
Every afternoon she used to sit in the sun, telling us tales of my father's childhood - how his hard work and perseverance got him though civil services. My late grandfather lived for me through her narrative. The fact that I had not ever seen him never occurred to me, as he always seemed to be alive in her stories. The hard-times she faced, occasionally made me sad; but she quickly changed the topic to something fascinating. Her eyes twinkled with happiness whenever she saw me. She told us parables of our village in Aami and how ghosts and pandubis (water spirits) resided in Gangaji(Ganges). She would add spice to these fables by adding personal anecdotes and we would remain enchanted for hours! I remember how fondly she used to call me "Chotu" and how much I used to hate the name! Sitting in her lap I used to talk to her endlessly while she juggled the rosary beads in her hand. She spoke in Bhojpuri while I spoke in Hindi. Even though our languages were different, love connected us.
Me with my Dadi
Fourteen years have passed since she left us all. 6th March, 1998 is still fresh in my memory even though I was only ten when she died. Mitch Albom was right when he said, "Death ends a life, not a relationship.”

Childhood may have different connotations for different poeple, but for me it was the best time of my life. All my experiences have been not just 100% real but also 100% gratifying. Here's a little video composed, narrated and created by me to describe my 100% real experiences as a child. In a poetic manner(a poem written by me) it takes you through my memorable childhood memories(photographs).
Here are the verses for reference -

Childhood's 100% Real Experiences
100% Real experiences aaj bhi jeena chahte hain hum sab...
Magar woh bachpan ke dinon ka mazza hi kahan hai ab?

Bachpan ki baatein aaj bhi jab yaad aati hain...
Khushiyon ki saugaat ghar le aati hain.

Un dinon bas khilone hi the jo tootaa karte the...
Kyunki bhai-behnon se bhi hum bade pyaar se ladate the!

Ruthte bhi the, to turant maan bhi jaate the...
Aansu bhi chehre pe aane se pehle hi tham jaate the.

Melody, Poppins aur Lollipop se tha humein pyaar
Chupa ke rakhte the jeb mein na jaane kitne Kismi Bar!

Naani ki baton mein tha kahaniyon ka basera...
Jis ne tha hum sabke nanhe dilon ko ghera!

Das rupaye ki pocket money bhi lagti thi apaar...
Aaj kal to kam padta hai chahe jeb mein ho das hazaar!

Tinkle, Champak aur Chandamama ke saath samay beet jaata...
Mann khush ho jaata tha jab ghar pe mehmaan koi aata!

Humari choti si duniya mein na tha internet, na mobile phone!
Na aate the email ya sms, na bajta tha koi ringtone!

McDonald’s, Pizza Hut aur KFC ka kuch pataa hi nahin tha...
kyunki Us samay to Mummy ke haath ka bana khaana hi sabse sahi tha

Chidiya, Titli, Ped, Paudhe se thi gehri dosti humari
Aaj inke liye waqt kahan, hum sabki ab badh gayi hain zimmedaari!

Daadi ke haath ka bana swaadisht 'ol' ka achaar
Jisko khane ke liye mann lalchaata tha baar baar.

Aaj kapdon ke dher almaari mein pade pade ho jaate hain bekaar
Woh din aur the jab naye kapdon ke liye hota tha Durga Puja ka intezaar

Itne brands hain ki samajh nahin pate kaun hai behtar!
Sardiyon mein to sabse accha lagta tha mausi ke hath ka buna sweater.

Papa ke kandhon pe baithkar dekhte the duniya
aur Mummy ke aanchal samet li thi saari khushiyaan

Vacations mein ghar-walon ke saath tour pe jaana
Aur padhne se bachne ke liye dhundhna har roz naya bahana

Baarish mein bheegna, naachna aur gaana
Fir bimaar padne par sab se daant khana

Dadaji-Nanaji ke saath din-raat baatein karte the,
Aur bhoot ki kahaniyan sunkar sone se bhi darte the

Chacha Choudhary, Billu aur Pinky se thi aisi yaari...
Ke unki kahaniyaan mil baith ke padhte the hum baari baari.

Holi ke rangon mein ghul mil jaate the sab
Jis tyohaar ko khelna bhi nahin chahte hain hum ab!

Cycle hi to thi apni evergreen sawaari
Aaj mazza kahan hai vaisa chahe ho khud ke paas Ferrari?

Pedon se kaise fal churake khaya karte the hum..
Soch soch ke ab aankhein ho jaati hain nam...

100% Real experiences aaj bhi jeena chahte hain hum sab,
Magar woh bachpan ke dinon ka mazza hi kahan hai ab?
                                                                     ~ Anukriti Sharma
This post has been written for Indiblogger's "The Kissan 100% Real Blogger Contest" - Tell us about the 100% real experiences you had growing up". To participate or know more, click on the picture below:



You can see my post and vote for it here:
IndiBlogger - The Largest Indian Blogger Community

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

A Traveller's Train of Thoughts


"What I am:", Jaipur
"If I am not for myself,who will be for me?And if I am not for others,
what am I?
And if not now, when?" ~ Ganga Descends
Faint landscapes - Mumbai-Delhi Rajdhani - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Trees blur into the inky, violet-blue sky as I pour over the pages of Ruskin Bond's picturesque writing. I travel with him through the alleys of Landour Bazaar visualizing in my mindscape the 'livid purple' clocktower. Walking hand in hand we reach the market's dark, windy corner, where an old man sits 'hunched up over his charcoal fire, roasting peanuts'. Faint landscapes greet my eyes as I quietly sip piping hot ginger-tea.

Ginger-Tea - Anukriti Sharma Photography
My life has been a montage of experiences. Having lived in seven different cities, I have met a variety of people and travelling has always been a fascinating experience for me...
Rail experiences - Anukriti Sharma Photography
With each sip I think of people who have made my travels worthwhile... Would my trip to Lonavala be the same if there was no Lalita to bring me corn pakoras and 'cutting chai'? 
Lalita in Lonavala - Picture Credit - Aakriti Sharma
Would Kerala be as exotic, if there was no "Baby" to drive us through the land of spices? Wouldn't Varanasi's ghats seem morose, if "Mishraji's" Hindi poetry didn't enchant me while sailing through the Ganges? 
Sailing through Varanasi - Amarnath Sharma Photography
Would my trip to Goa be as musical, if I hadn't met "Prashant Malhotra" - a talented singer from Dehradun? Would Badrinath's majestic Himalayas seem so beautiful, if I hadn't met "Mamta Kulkarni", the little girl who sold beads to travellers? Would Kota-Delhi Jan Shatabdi seem the same if a newly wed couple (Ashu and Sangeeta) didn't narrate to me their romantic love-story?Every traveller I have come across shared something with me... something that connected me to him/her... And that something was - love for life. 
Me travelling in Train; Goa - Picture Credit - Rushali Khandelwal
A little three-year old peeps from the adjacent berth. He smiles at me and happiness spreads over my lips. A charming, cherubic face - beautiful smile juxtaposed against small dewy eyes. I play with him from a distance. The baby claps his hands and chuckles with glee. All I want is to make friends with him - talk to him, and let this interaction last forever... But a black coat comes in between and my train of thoughts comes to a standstill. He asks for ticket...I show him mine. It reads - Date - 26 February, 2012
Time of departure- 16:40
Train - Mumbai - Delhi Rajdhani Express
Class - 3AC
Passenger Details - Anukriti Sharma, 25F
Coach/Seat no. - B3, 32 (Side Upper)
The spotless white pillows - Anukriti Sharma Photography
I take my bag and climb over to my seat. Lying down on the spotless white pillow,I close my eyes and plug in the earphones."Anand" - Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye (Somewhere faraway when the day ends...) plays on my phone. The last few lines go deep within my heart - 
Sunset at Aksa Beach - Anukriti Sharma Photography
"Kahin To Yeh Dil Kabhi Mil Nahin Paate,
Kahin Pe Nikal Aaye Janmon Ke Naate"
(In some cases, hearts in love never meet,
and in others,old relations awaken to life..)
Wave-like memories - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Like a movie, thoughts flicker in the depths of my mind - Meandering down memory lane, I see an archive of fragments...forgotten tales, lost memories, beautiful people and enriching experiences...
....
....
.... .... ....
In conversation with myself - Anukriti Sharma Photography
July, 2010
I am back in Malabar Hills... At home
Mumbai...the city is drenched...swept by a ceaseless cloudburst...its drizzling since morning...the roads are jammed...high tide has anchored the sea...the temperature has ebbed... raindrops slip between my fingers...
the earth is wet... its smell is intoxicating, invigorating, inspiring...a cup of soup revives a few forgotten tales, poetry that was consigned to oblivion comes to life... I wish to compose them again...!
With Radha in Maharashtra - Picture Credit - Abha Sharma
December 5, 2011
I am in a scenic village near Nashik...
Tiny Tots - Gayatri, Omkar, Pappu and Amu - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Sharing chocolates with four tiny tots, who live in an unknown, sleepy village of Maharashtra... Omkar, Gayatri, Pappu and Amu... Having awesome dinner - home-made chicken curry garnished with love... cooked by a boatman's mother and served in a countryside hut... Pure bliss! What better way to celebrate my 25th birthday! Amidst innocent children, my country's tomorrow... In rustic villages... The essence of India. For most birthday means 5-star hotels and late night parties... But there are somethings money can't buy... the memories, smiles and happiness I take back with me to Mumbai - priceless!
Beth at home - Anukriti Sharma Photography
25 February, 2012
I travel through the fascinating streets of Mumbai's Colaba Causeway - a colourful place, dotted with shops of artificial jewellery, handicrafts, scarves and whatnot. I stop at Leopold Cafe, a well-known joint for foodies in Mumbai. I'm with Beth - who has come to India for the first time...  she is from my sister's University. I discuss a lot of things with her over huge glasses of Mango Lassi.
Cloudy land, Lonavala - Anukriti Sharma Photography
She has been a traveller... She takes me places through her narration... From the clear blue waters of Fiji I travel to the magnificient monuments of Rome... The cold snow of Rapid City brush under my feet as Japan's volcanoes come to life...
Golden Crimson Sunset - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Her kaleidoscopic description reminds me of a short story by Anton Chekhov. I feel like the young lawyer of "The Bet" who discovers the world's beauty through words written in books - "I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson."
December 4, 2011
Bhandardhara, Maharashtra
Green Maharashtra, Clean Maharashtra - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Having Tea in Bhandardhara - Picture Credit - Abha Sharma
I am with my parents at a tea-stall... An old woman clad in tattered clothes walks by... Her saree is tied tightly across her waist... thighs are bare. She carries a huge vessel on top of her head... she seems older than history... wrinkles obscure her indistinct facial features... people fondly call her "mad". They say she waters the plants in the area - from early morning till late at night... incessantly... Climatic changes can't weather her spirit... Nobody pays her a paisa for what she does... Nobody pays any attention to what she does.
Even Gods reside here, Maharashtra - Anukriti Sharma Photography
She is insane for the world. But for me, she is a role model... A woman who serves the humanity... If I ever go to Bhandardhara again and find green plants blossoming in the area...I will think about this old woman... her perseverance has germinated the seed of life in the area...
Nurturing the seed of life - Anukriti Sharma Photography
The train halts at Surat. I put a neatly folded fawn-coloured blanket on my lap. The satin edges seem like my experiences - beautiful against a rough life.
I take out a pen and paper from my bag and write down:
Tales of the open Road
Har reh-guzar pe chalne wale...
Mahv-e-safar hain hum.
(The one who walks on every path...
Such a traveller am I.)
Ahl-e-duniyaa hai badi khoobsoorat...
Gar waqt-e-karam hai kam.
(The people of this world are extremely beautiful...
But time for benevolence is less.)
~ Anukriti
Soon dinner is served... Chicken curry mixed with dal and rice reminds me of the delicious tales of Satyajit Ray. I think about all the people I have met so far... They have been such wonderful companions... I wish I could talk to them forever... Learn new things from them...
But then I realize...
Seeking permanence in a temporary life - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Isn't it strange-all our lives we strive for permanence - a permanent residence, permanent career, permanent happiness, permanent love... Not realizing that we are mere travellers traversing this world. Why do we seek permanence when life itself is temporary?The cries of the cherubic boy jerks me to reality. He is crying with affliction... I look at him trying to do my best to lessen his pain... His parents seem distraught. The family sitting opposite me, nudge one another and mutter in hushed tones, "Don't you see, that child is mentally challenged... "
A cherubic boy at India Gate - Anukriti Sharma Photography
Ruskin Bond's lines resound in my ears again as a tear trickles down my cheeks -
"If I am not for myself,
who will be for me?
And if I am not for others,
what am I?
And if not now, when?"
A tear trickles down my cheek; Picture Credit - Sambuddha Jash
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