LIGHTS FROM HEAVEN

I remember almost breaking my nose falling from our giant mango tree. Well, I deserved to fall...coz I was stupid enough to climb tree trunks in the dark. My explanation – chasing fireflies!!! To be frank I wouldn't mind falling all over again if it meant catching hold of one of those beauties. As a kid the fascination I had for fireflies was beyond my fascination for anything I want to acquire today.

The giant mango tree we have in our house used to be a treat for the eyes at night with hundreds of fireflies decorating it. I would chase them till I hurt myself or till my mother hurt me (the latter was more common). On one of the lucky days I would even see them in my room. When I would eventually catch one of them I would close my palms on it and just admire the beauty of God's tiny little creation. As a kid, I always thought that fireflies popped out of heaven...how else would you explain the light??

The other day I was reading an article about fireflies being on the road to extinction, thanks to unfavorable habitat.

The article explained why the mango tree remained dark the last time I looked at it. There I was, standing beneath the massive trunk. My eyes craving for fluorescence, my heart aching for re living memories...re living the Good ole' days...three words that never cease to bring a smile on my face. Alas...All that met my eyes were darkness of the darkest kind...

Thoughts and memories can be reflected in writing...depth of these feelings cannot...intensity of these emotions cannot...

Maybe this is the way of life for our generation...witnessing the loss of everything around us...everything... but us...This isn’t about fireflies...This is about every little thing that is the very essence of life...we lose these... We lose the essence...

I hope to open my eyes one day to the sight of fireflies greeting me...telling me they were not done yet.

Something tells me my hope is in vain...

For now, I can see the day when I’ll tell my kids stories about little flies that glowed with light illuminating everything around them...They would surely ask where the fireflies went..

"Well, they went back to heaven...right where they came from", would be my answer.

LESSONS – 1

DRIFTS

I drift into modes….
I drift into thoughts…
I sit back… Aaahhh…comfort….
I smile…thinking I’ve hit jack pot…I lie down…
let the pleasure of knowing I’ve got it all planned sink in…
Hmmm….my eyes close …(please don’t!!)

I drift…yet again…
OMG…not the thoughts again…
Never the less….lemme think …
Where was I??..Oh ya…I’ve hit jackpot…or…have I???
Is it piss? Pouring down my pants??? Ha….I wish…
It’s the pleasure of knowing I’ve got it all planned…
I sit back… yet again… minus the comfort
And learn yet another of life’s valuable lessons…

When you hit jack pot…STOP FRICKIN THINKIN!!!

COME...WALK WITH ME

Come along, take a walk with me
a walk down a trodden lane
this walk may give me the answers
this walk may break the chain

I dare not take this walk alone
I dare not, lest I get scared
I've never taken walks alone
I've never ever dared

I know I've been there before
coz it’s all coming back
I can see the pandemonium
like darkness through a crack

Help me with these first steps
The trip ahead is long
Talk me thru these first steps
or maybe... sing me a song

What do you see round the corner?
coz I think I see light
Just can’t wait to get there
It’s been a really long night

I'm feeling a lot better now
I'm glad I took this walk
Thanks for all your songs
and thanks for all the talk

You've been there through the dark
Now stay with me while it’s bright
Then I'd know your not leaving
coz then it'd never be night..

Now that we've reached this place
Please… don’t let go of me
Coz I've walked right into your heart
Right where I want to be..

WHERE ARE THE KIDS?

I remember feeling restless in class. Looking at my watch every other second, cursing at the hands that told me there was still time.

I would run the instant the bell rang. Smelling the air of freedom at last, running to catch the first bus I could. The conductor never liked me, or any other kid who used student concessions, but I dint care. The hate was mutual. I’d jump down the bus, run home, throw my bag and run to the place I loved. The lush green ground that spread far and wide, the dark brown pitch in the center, the guys sitting on the neighboring fence (this was the fence to my house by the way...my mom never appreciated this...I could never understand what the fuss was about)...

I would be tensed as to whether I’d get a chance to play. The first twenty two lucky ones could play. I remember not being that good, cutting any chances of reservation in the team. The joy if I got to play, the dejection if I didn’t. Emotion in either case was strong for the 14 year old in me. The little kid who was tired of the bag of books that was just a little less heavy than him, the prick who loathed special classes (and normal classes for that matter) , the clean bath's, the homework and everything his mom thought was good for him.

Today I miss the nasty prick. I wish I cud meet him again. Maybe I could find him in the kids who have taken over.

I was back home after 5 years of college. I had my evening tea and walked out, seeing if I fall upon anything interesting to pass time. I walk through the ground once again. This time, there was not a soul in sight.

Where were the kids?

I saw them in the end.

I was wrong about finding myself in them after all. There they were, fiddling with their fancy gadgets; hi end mobile phones and mp3 players, all the joys of the world in the palm of their hands.

What went wrong? What changed them?

They do not know the joys hidden in the heavenly green ground that is waiting for their running feet …or they just choose to ignore.

What ever the reason, I pray for them, I pray for their lost innocence. I pray for us.

Most of all… I pray for the little boy in me....the boy who wants to play.

EMPTY SPACES

Why do we use spaces on the World Wide Web to unleash our thoughts? Why do we shed all our inhibitions here? The good in us, the bad in us, the never ending nothingness that covers the best years of our lives. It’s all dumped here...on the black, green and blue pages we call blogs.

Why do we prefer these spaces to people?

I say it’s because it’s too damn easy...

The complexity we've gotten ourselves into...the world we've made for us...the fake plastic faces we've mastered...the immensely talented actors in us...we are the architects of our world where we seem to think we care. But do we? We do not mind the tear drops that finds its way onto the l's m's and o's of the keyboard. But even one drop gets heavy when it comes in vicinity of people. People who supposedly understand....we still think we do...we know the truth. We all do. Yet we do not stop. Ultimately we realize it. Then we turn to these blank spaces.

These spaces do not understand us. These spaces do not care...but at least these spaces listen.

We write...with the faint hope that maybe we'll find the understanding that we crave for...after all...these spaces are common to people. People we are scared of. May these spaces bridge the distance between us...and leave no spaces. Amen.

And thus I am turning to the World Wide Web with my trash...because I’m no different...we are all the same…