Calm yourself, close your eyes. Meditate. A vibration hits you. A circle is formed and your closed eyes can see it; luminous circle at the centre, full of life.
Don’t allow your mind to trick you and take you on a sensuous ride. Be wholly in that centre. Feel it.
Realise it and you’ll come to know the vastness of the universe, the music that the silence plays and the serenity present in every colour.
This experience will make you sublime.
You’ll then have a bit of universe, a bit of silent music and a bit of every colour in you.
At peace, you’ll make peace.
*
Meditation is one of the greatest arts in life – perhaps the greatest, and one cannot possibly learn it from anybody, that is the beauty of it.
Walking in the whiteness with silence around me, I kept searching. The moment stayed for a few minutes as I moved forward.
Caught in the fog I felt happy and I knew I wasn’t alone. The wet freshness flying everywhere made me alive.
With every step, I came close to nothing. The road was dark grey and blackish; it was also wet. The grass that was visible was blooming and beaming, full of life.
I turned back once, just to check. There was only nothing.
Rejoicing and smiling I walked steadily. I was dizzy. I don’t remember the reason for my happiness now. Probably there was magic in the air.
In this joy, confusingly, I was looking for something. Maybe that’s why I didn’t stay there for long and I kept walking ahead.
In a minute or so, I was able to see the surroundings; trees, cars, buildings, lamp posts, shops, people, and me.
The moment of joy passed so quickly that I felt I didn’t enjoy it properly.
No one teaches us how to relish things, to realise the moment. I thought I could have done better.
But no, I told myself, such things cannot be taught, feelings cannot be caught.
Kavya was searching for a book to read, only to pass that foggy evening. She was in her grandma’s house for vacation. Nothing but memories was left of her grandparents. A faint image entered her mind every time she thought of them- she is sitting beside them and her grandma is reading a book, they are on the balcony, soon she falls asleep, nevertheless feels the warmth because of their presence.
She was young now and restless. An idea came to her, she imagined herself sitting the way her grandma was sitting and reading, she felt that if she copied it she would get some of the serenity that her grandma had on her face. Strangely, Kavya could now see wholeness and contentment in her grandma’s eyes; calmness on her face; as if she is telling everyone to have faith…to believe; even the old monotone photographs of her grandma spoke the same whenever Kavya looked at them.
Finally, she picked a book and went outside on the balcony. Pulling a chair towards her she sat on it. She sighed…what for…she had no clue herself. Was it something in her life or was she simply missing her grandma? Maybe she sighed because we sometimes do, without knowing that we did.
There were two more pages to finish the first chapter, checked Kavya. She always did so. Kavya didn’t count herself in the category of the fervent readers, but among those who read because others read, because books are there to read and because they know reading is a good habit. There is nothing wrong with being in this category; it is just that you lag in one or the other way.
Trying to sit in a comfortable position Kavya got up and dragged the chair but while doing so she dropped the book. The book was old and some pages peeped out as soon as it hit the floor. ‘Oh!’ said Kavya. They say what happens, happens for the good. While placing the pages properly she found a folded piece of paper. Curiosity made her eyes big. She opened it; her grandma’s handwriting spoke to her. The words were few. It said ‘Just smile…it is the better way’ and under it were her grandma’s initials.
How quickly can things change, how strangely can people change, how fast the light passes in the darkness, right? Kavya couldn’t believe that she was suddenly full of happiness; spirited to do anything. She looked at the piece of paper once again and said, ‘Thank you grandma…thank you so much.’ She got up and left the balcony.
Indeed, Kavya didn’t finish that book but then she had something else to complete. The old book is back on the shelf but the message is with Kavya, which will stay with her forever.
This happens every time without any exception. In my mind I am all set to study, I assure myself that today I’ll finish the topic I started a few days back.
No dragging the subject or dreaming about my success that will outshine others. Or thinking about friends and the golden time spent with them. With such a hope I sit and open my books.
Soon the evil forces put their plan to action against me and the funny thing is that their plan is always the same; and then I shout, ‘Where is my pen?’
Puzzled by day dreams and decisions. [Image from Pixabay]
I don’t know how but I always misplace my pen and then I can’t find it. Behind the books, under the table, on the chair…where!!!
I feel like Oompa Loompas are assigned this job to first hide the pen and then reveal it sitting in the silliest and most obvious place. All this breaks my concentration and I again find myself incapable of completing my goal.
Sometimes I keep my calm but mostly I foolishly complain.
My friend said that same happens with her, especially during the exam days. One thing or the other comes up to distract us- the sincere ones. And then we laugh at our brazenness.
So anyway, this is a puzzle shared by all, I guess. What do you say?
[Source – a Hindi novel’s book cover; image by Jagriti Rumi]
Deep eyes for whom are you waiting? You look like a forgotten painting hanging high on a wall of an old chalet. I wish to talk to you…come alive; the mortal world needs a touch of your beauty. Just for a few minutes or even a second will do…come alive.
A blink of your eyes might melt million hearts; your smile could dance in the darkness and glow. Lost in the hazy splendour, talk to us once or make a gesture.
Hypnotising colours that you are adorned with has the power of bringing serenity. Share some with me; one shade of it in my life and I’ll be seen flying without wings.
Surely you are waiting for someone but what is the pleasure in it? A beloved resides in your mind or… a question?
The elegance in you speaks for you. It says you know the answer and that you are just playing Life.
Are you happy to be a pretty curse? I dreamt you are. Clever!
I am capturing your colours as much as my eyes can discern, your elegance as much as my mind knows and your love as much as my heart can hold.
You have made house in many souls and though you go on living many lives, you know that your wait is not over. You know peace, but you are waiting for it to complete.
Sitting by the window and watching the wind do its customary dance, Kent wrote a line in his diary and stopped. The line said, ‘I failed again.’ Dry leaves and twigs joined the wind hesitatingly…a bit shy but tending. Kent took a sip of his hot coffee. He flailed the pen in his hand and then began to write-
Again. I try and then I fail. I wonder how I have reached so far when all I can do is to fail. I sink low every time and it becomes difficult to make a comeback. The sympathy, the taking my side, the hiding my faults…I hate when people do this to me. It hurts me more. But I am the reason of the burden I am carrying.
After another sip, Kent again checked the rendition. He couldn’t hear it clearly but was sure about the charming song that the wind played. Huge trees rhymed along, they were so great yet so modest; nature knows some marvellous secrets that make it awe-inspiring.
I have nothing to say anymore. I wish I could visit Mrs Graceland’s house, the backyard and the trail that led to the jungle and the brook with leaves and twigs wafting in it.
If only I could sit there for some time alone. My heart would pour itself in the brook and I am positive that I could then breathe without feeling the knots. The jungle, the brook they don’t know that I have failed. They will not demand any answers nor will they console me. I will be with them and they’ll welcome me.
But with time things start eluding and you feel silent, empty and helpless; a mere bystander.
Kent’s sigh sounded heavy and blue. He searched for something in his room and finding it his eyes rested upon it; a wall clock that made him conscious and humble. He lost himself for some time. Coming back he looked at his diary and wrote-
I think I have failed in putting my thoughts in words. I am sorry dear diary. I think I should just stop writing and….
*
A green leaf in autumn. [Image by Jagriti Rumi]
At this moment he found a leaf knocking on his window. He stared for few minutes waiting for it to fly away but it didn’t. He stretched his hand reluctantly and opened the window.
Taking the leaf in his hand Kent watched the scene and without waiting for his permission the wind touched his face and made his hair dance. A smile came on his face naturally.
The power of the wind amazed him, the music enthralled him; he could feel the spirit, the liveliness that was abundant in nature. Peeking through his window Kent stood for long in that position unaware of the clock, the pen, the diary, the leaf and himself.
It was getting dark. He forced himself to shut the window. With nature you don’t know when the time passes and if you happen to know you wish it to go slow.
Sitting back on his chair and before he could finish his diary entry, he examined the leaf in his hand. It was green. It was autumn. It was a message. Life loves to live. Who loves life lives…happily.
Kent finished his diary entry.
I can’t believe myself but I am going to try again, maybe I’ll fail again. It doesn’t matter. I’ll never stop walking because I never know what is there for me on the next turn. I am going to die one day, I don’t want to die before that.
Cheers to the green leaf!
Kent
And now, listen to Vashti Bunyan’s album Just Another Diamond Day, this is one of Kent’s favourite tracks, one that he listened to after finishing his diary entry –
It’s time to go mad, I told myself. The world looks best through the eyes of the mad.
Even history tells us so. But it’s not more about the world than it is about myself. I have seen right into the eyes of the mirror and all that is visible is a question mark.
Now I’ll check it when I am upside down, if nothing, I’ll at least enjoy the inverted me.
I’ll fly from now onwards, at least I’ll fall. I’ll follow the bird and visit its nest. I’ll keep a secret diary and make sure that it leaks.
Secrets are good only until they are not kept otherwise they are dull dead details yawned away by themajority.
I’ll rub the window clean with my hands so that the dirt makes my skin shine in black.
I’ll spin round and round and stop; I’ll shout loudly and then add a whisper to it; I’ll befriend the thorns and love the cuts…. Is it too much?
What is too much? Do you know it? Who knows it? No one!
That’s the real fact we forget. So why not find it out, by ourselves. Yes!
If not now than when…waiting for another life to do all that we dream about? That’s a strange fantasy to believe in.
Because you are not given new wings in the next life, you carry on with what you already own.
This almost endless journey needs a mad soul…mad for the goal.
That’s why I will go mad, I need this energy drink to drive me forward. I’ll hear no one, I’ll not act anymore, I’ll just be present.
I’ll just be present… and also attend Mad Hatter’s tea-party. Image by Clker from Pixabay
Endless footprints following footprints/
When suddenly a few of them rise/
To bloom like a flower.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
Also, a humble request to the new subscribers to check the spam folder after subscribing. Silly (but necessary) confirmation emails often land there instead of the bright inboxes. Merci!
Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
P.S – Supporting a storyteller is good for the world’s health (and undoubtedly, for the storyteller’s health as well). Shower some love by sharing, commenting and subscribing to the Weekly Newsletter.
Gabbeh, the 1996 film, is a simple tale of a gipsy girl, her clan and the way their life goes on. Unfolding beautifully just like an artist painting a canvas, Gabbeh quietly touches the grand questions.
Ranked as one of the greatest British films of all time, The Lavender Hill Mob confides in the audience, letting them see, feel, laugh and think without tickling persuasively with a joke here and a punch-line there.
Godard… Breathless and Alive
A Tribute to Jean-Luc Godard, the Film Philologist who Reinvented Cinema.
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.
Silver cascade shimmering the night sky, music to the waves and surreal beauty to the eyes, the Moon loves the art of discipline.
It may be difficult to believe for the Moon’s splendour defies time, it stupefies the clock, it follows the path of a dreamer, but how could this be possible if the Moon knew not discipline?
In this moment, I am a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I am complete and incomplete, I am pleased and uncertain, I wish for nothing and I know I have to wait.
Because the distance covered reminds me of the hurdles I have crossed and the ones I could not, it reminds me of a throbbing past and a dreamy future and it reminds me of how much time is left.
Meredith and the Green Lake
Illimitable Splendour
A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true.
