Sparks From The Past

The torrential rain increased from a slight drizzle of pattering rain drops to a full-fledged gushing stream. The water ran like rivulets across Tasha’s face. Yet she carried on sleeping soundly for the day had been too weary for her. The rivulet made its way down to her neck and to her hoodie soaking it thoroughly. It travelled down towards her scarlet shorts, her slender legs and finally seeped into the small piece of cardboard she slept on.

“I’m afraid we can’t keep you here anymore you are a danger to both yourself and our family” her step mother had said without any emotion. How her voice grated against her soul. Her step father had supported her, “You’re an unnatural being…unnatural to the point of being inhuman and we cannot grant you shelter here for fear of safety for our family.”  That had been the last straw her step father alienating himself from her. He had always been there for her…picked her up after her first disastrous attempt at trying to ride her bike. That’s when she had lost control, hot tears streamed down her eyes…her soul burning within her that everything she had been familiar with all was a lie…she had screamed and let loose her fury…she shook that quaint little cottage down to its foundations…loosed it from the earth and flung it away as far as she could…she wrenched the pathway from the ground and flung them aside She screamed and cursed at them and had run out destroying the whole street that was once her home…

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Silvia stood up on the strong leafy branch of that old oak she had climbed and looked out towards the horizon for her tabby Kin. Her lime green dress billowed in the strong wind. It was getting windier and windier by the minute and she had begun to worry for a storm was brewing and she could feel it in her bones that this was going to be no small storm but a huge one.  The sky was rippled with hints of amber, russet and deep crimson… The sky looks like a bleeding painting. Oh Kin where are you? Hurry fast the storm is brewing and I know how helpless you are when it rains… she let out a deep sigh her golden hair fanning out behind her.

Silvia belonged to an ancient clan; members of which had electricity of high quantities flowing through their bodies and could generate and dispel any amount of electrical charge to others and their surroundings. Their history is muddled for their heritage goes back even before the earth came into being. Some said their ancestry was not so far behind and they were merely descendants of gods and some denied their existence. The Sähkölaitteet however were unperturbed by it for they had always been discreet of their powers. Silvia was the daughter of Ormund and Helvettica both masters of their powers. The Sähkölaitteet’s ancient enemy were the Greek gods of wind and rain.  Ninety thousand years ago there was a war between them and The Sähkölaitteet had vanquished them and taken control of the wind and rain. Now one by one the Gods were reappearing at a time when they were at their weakest. As the years of peace started rolling by, many of the clan’s members were lulled into a sense of security and decided to renounce their powers in exchange of a normal life. Silvia’s parents had also done the same. And so when Ridai paid them a visit they couldn’t defend themselves and Ormund had left Silvia in the street so that at least she may be saved. Ridai was not a pure god…nor was he a demi god… they never called themselves anything. All that the learned knew were that he had the gods in his ancestry and knew that there were many of them. Ridai’s true form was that of a human body with that of a snake but magic ran deep in their blood and so they could blend into the world of humans as if he were one of them. Now 20 years have passed and the baby has grown to a strong young woman.

Silvia smiled and waved towards Kin as soon as she saw him running towards her as fast as she can bearing a large sapphire ring. Silvia slid down the tree and nestled next to Kin smelling her fur, caressing and hugging her. How I missed you she said to her orange and black striped cat…Kin purred in happiness she had missed Silvia a lot too.

Silvia had sent her to her old childhood home to salvage the large sapphire ring that she is carrying now. It is the only crest of her ancient heritage that she has now and the only proof that she is a member of the Sähkölaitteet. For twenty years she had been on the streets and now she finally knew her heritage as her mother’s spirit had appeared before her few days back and had told her of her heritage and gave her some tutoring so that she may be able to utilise her powers better.

Her mother had appeared to her right in front of her rather than in a dream so she would believe her better… Her mother had said, “You are not as alone as before. There are rising stars of other tribes too who will help us in our quest and vengeance. Take heart and look for a mover…she you should follow however young she might be.” A mover? She thought, who is a mover? What does a mover do? What tribe could she be from? And to add to my woes I am only aware of my own tribe and not any other….

Thus the day passed…Silvia and Kin around a small campfire…the little area protected by the magic that Silvia’s mother had taught her; their features glowing a warm honey drenched in the firelight.

Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.William Shakespeare

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Omiaos looked towards the stars trying to decipher what future of him the hid. Oblivious to the attention they were getting the stars continued twinkling in the charcoal black night as if to say that he were no more significant than the next sand grain. “What news my friend?” he asked of Ridai as he strode in briskly in his human form. Smirking he turned himself into his original form and said, “Ï believe we found a mover. It is in fact her sheer power that betrays her presence and I daresay we are much much more powerful than her in strength as well as numbers.”

Omiaos turned his bull head towards Ridai and bellowed victoriously, “I am sure this time we will be victorious.There are none who have our experience and sheer spirit of youth will not always prevail…The end of the tribes has come and we the Qaqilal shall rule again.”

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True To Yourself

Tum logon ki, 

is duniya meinHar kadam pe, insaan galat

Main sahi samajh ke jo bhi kahoon

Tum kehte ho galat, main galat hoon phir kaun sahi..

Marzi se jeene ki bhi mainKya tum sabko arzi doon 

Matlab ki tum sabka mujhpeMujhse bhi zyada haq hai

Saadda haq, aithe rakh

In this world of you people,
at every step, a human is wrong..
whatever I feel is right and say,
you call it wrong, if I'm wrong then who's right?
Should I send you a request
for me to live with my own wish?
means you all have a right on me
more than I do..
(it's) my right, put it here (give it to me)
~Sadda Haq

We bleed for society. We chain ourselves to a machine like existence where our feelings don't matter but only duty and customs and rituals matter. We bleed for a world which does not care even an ounce for us as an individual. We're supposed to live in this ideal world where everyone has a flawless set of values even if there is no evidence of it whatsoever around us. We should constantly restrict our identities and turn machine like.  It binds us like a bird chained to the ground...A bird is meant to fly not stay on the ground in sadness wondering at the flight of eagles against the azure sky and why shouldn't we be true to ourselves and break our chains? We long for flight...for freedom yet we suppress it in the hope that it makes us a better person...it actually makes you no different I fell you're just betraying yourself. I like to believe that however close we are to someone in the end we only have ourselves and how can we betray something like that?
  I used to fight being myself a long long time ago...I wanted to be someone else someone different than who I am...Needless to say other people saw right through me...I used to fight like hell enraged and in denial and after so many many years acceptance has made me tranquil...The world will try to break you...shake you...Sometimes even the ones you love and care for will desert you...much worse stab you in the back but always know that whoever you are whatever you maybe ...deep down you will always love yourself...

mann bole ke

rasmein jeene ka harjaana

duniya dushman sab begaana

inhe aag laga na

mann bole

mann bole

mann se jeena ya mar jaana haan

Heart says that..

customs are compensation (like a fee here) for living,

this world is enemy n all belongs to someone else..

burn them..

heart says..

heart says..

to live by the heart, or die...

Human Beings? I don't think so

A lot of comedians, when they have a bad gig, will blame everything but themselves. They'll blame the crowd, or the room was wrong, it had a weird vibe, or the promoter promoted a weird atmosphere.

Allan Carr

Sometimes I feel as if we’re in this huge battle of civilizations. All clamouring for attention. Each one trying to establish that it is the finest no matter the cost. The Orients and Asians scream in defiance to Western Civilization while the so called Westerners cunningly try to dominate the world. And the Middle East is not so much as bothered; it prefers to stay behind the walls of its own traditions and principles…

Why do we have to live in such a tumultuous world where egos and our carnal and animalistic tendencies are given free range? A simple example, the TRPs of crime shows have gone so high up its a little disconcerting. And there are way too many to choose from forensics to the more perverse psychological thriller. The media feeds on negativity.be it crime shows, soap operas or reality TV…all scream negativity. In soap operas the mother in law always harasses the daughter in law, in reality TV there has to be a lot of flaring up cussing and fighting. And I wonder why we can’t behave as normal, sensible, responsible and mature human beings. Why do we have to always have to disagree? We HAVE to disagree about each other’s views, needs, religions, opinions and all the numerous little things…I could just go on and on about them. The point I feel is not much in disagreeing rather than the game of upmanship where a particular individual or group wants to establish their dominance over the minority. We love getting our egos stroked but I wonder why be so primeval about it…so beastly. We always scream out at the top of the lungs that we’re better than animals but then again why should we behave like them? I mean can’t we act more like actual human beings rather than a lack of animals with no sense and just accept each other? 

Mirrored

2nd Place

Kaleidoscope

The City...The city of dreams....cars flashing by, the buses honking away, the pedestrians jostling away, some trying to attract cabbies by offering to be ferried to long distances. Oblivious to the hustle and bustle surrounding her Shikha managed to get a short nap in the bus.

She was on her way to a cafe in colaba to meet her friend Emma who was in town after a gap of two years. She was not only looking forward to a hot slice of gossip, she wanted a scrumptious chunk of the brownie too, which Theobrama is famous for.

She was still heady with the aroma of hot chocolate she was imagining when she was jolted awake as the bus rumbled ahead. Still groggy she looks at her watch and realizes she is half an hour late. She shakes her head a little to clear her eyes and then realizes she isn't late she's half an hour early.

As she sees the Prince of Wales Museum approaching she decided to walk the stretch. She hops off the bus. Thanks to the humidity there are pearls of sweat trickling on her forehead. She sighs…

Like a compass needle she points herself to her north, the café. Looking at the green signal of the square, she waits patiently. As soon as it turns red, she walks towards regal.

As she looks at a poster of ‘’Smurfs’’’, she laughs off to herself as a memory comes flooding along. It was her first date and the two of them were so naïve and awkward around each other he had spilled her blueberry smoothie in trying to kiss her.

As she moves towards café Mondegar, a beautifully decorated horse cart crosses her path; she remembers her childhood horse cart rides with her father.

Shikha’s life not only comprised happy and light moments but her life was also shrouded by the stygian darkness of sorrow and pain. She has a dark side that no one has seen. Her mask of lightness and happiness is slowly disintegrating as her mind recalls the incidents lurking and hiding beneath her conscience. The ones she had supposedly forgotten.

Shikha is taken in by the gaudy bright bangles on a jewelry stand. She admires them for a while before a certain memory starts clouding her senses. When she sees equally gaudy and loud lipstick she could feel an elusive memory struggling to come to the surface. It felt like déjà vu. Towards her left were beautiful hand crafted sling bags. The tiny mirrors on the bag reflected her eye somewhere, a nose somewhere and somewhere an ear… Looking at her isolated abstract reflections, she remembered that her nose once had a huge ring on it. Her ears used to be weighed down by heavy rings and her eyes used to be constantly covered in thick black kohl.

She shakes her head to clear her mind, a habit of hers. She continues her walk. She comes across a book shop next to which spreads out a glares shop. Black, brown, green, yellow, her eyeball moved from one pair to another and stopped at a pair of aviators. She shrinks into herself and feels as she’s been violated….all over again. Voices thunder in her ears, cheap sleazy comments made to her over and over again. She could again feel the hungry gazes of men on her skin as a pedestrian brushed by her.

She comes back to her surroundings and moves forward. She thought it was ironic that a simple walk that started out to kill time turns into a walk in the deep alleys and dungeons of her memories.

The roadside clothes shops reminded her of a time where she was brutal to her own self because she too was treated that way. How her clothes were ripped off time and time again.

Realization dawned and one by one her memories fell into place like a cohesive jigsaw puzzle. She remembered what she had once been before and how she had fought hard to save herself from its vices and bindings. She had once been a prostitute. Her lips smeared with thick red lipstick. Her eyes used to be blackened with kohl. Her eyes were a loud pink. A large nose ring and ears weighed down by heavy jewelry. She used to wear extremely short revealing clothes.

Her mind was flooded with the feeling of heavy redemption. This was where she had flown fleetingly to freedom from cafe Leopold to café Churchill. This was the spot where she had struggled with her pimp and set herself free. And as she ran again to relive that moment of delirious victory she lauded herself on her courage to set herself free from the men who had tried to enslave her to the carnal pleasures of any man.

Reality hits her like a rainbow after a stormy day as she stood outside Theobrama. She thinks back to the previous Shikha and looks down at Shikha reborn. Now she hardly wears any make up at all and instead relied on her naturality. Gone were the days of revealing herself now she only wore tasteful attire. Gone were the days of enslavement she only listens to her heart now.

Now she is an independent woman who is so because of her courage to cast of her shackles and let in freedom. Shikha is a true woman. A true enigma. Her enigmatic past has been shrouded in the depths of time