The Soulful Atom

A fable set once upon a time long long back in the future..
She was a mixed fruit jam of tangled and sorted angles, whom everyone admired..
But no one could handle so many tastes in one go,
They all had stomach for only one kind of flavor and so everyone said that the one who will, will be the luckiest guy on earth..
Slowly each one of them got their own, but only after having their small share from her infinite basket of mixed fruits.. Since they didn't have the stomach but indeed had a lusty greedy tongue.
They all cuddled together living the lives of their ancestors,
Living their past every passing moment..
She thought it was nice initially but started realizing that the past isn't for her..
So she broke free from the warm cozy circle and rushed past all..
Passionate fire in heart, eyes lit in rapture, lips curved in luster, a shooting star from earth, zooming past her future.. A bright vision in the sky..
Where she shall shine forever- the apple of everyone's eye lost in the past..

We are celebrating Gauri-Ganapati in Maharashtra at this point of time. And while I was visiting my granny to invite her for the haldi-kumkum (wiki: Haldi Kumkum, or the Haldi Kumkum ceremony, is a social gathering in India in which married women exchange haldi (turmeric) and kumkum (vermilion powder), as a symbol of their married status and wishing for their husbands' long lives) which takes place at every house where gauri-puja is performed, I had a revelation, which is also a question to all these generations celebrating this festival and the rest.

Lets start with what is gauri puja?
A google search says: "Gauri Puja - worship of Gauri - begins on the 11th day of the bright half of the Hindu month of Ashadha (June-July). It is believed that Goddess Parvati got Lord Shiva as her husband after performing the ritual of this worship and they lived happily ever after.
In fact it is the combination of two festivals. Gouri-Ganesha Chathurthi. Mainly the ceremony of birth of Ganesha. The previous day will be celebrated as the Gouri pooja. She is the mother of Ganesha.
The bride worships the Goddess Gauri by performing Gauri Pooja. The Goddess Gauri is highly revered as it is believed that she is a manifestation of Shakti, the mother of the universe and the power and energy by which God creates, preserves and destroys the world. She symbolises motherhood, fertility and the victory of good over evil. "

After this pooja is performed, all the married women visit each other and exchange haldi-kumkum. So while discussing about the puja, we also talked about inviting an aunt who is a widow. Since the ceremony is only for married women whose husbands are still alive, in earlier times, including all the other atrocities against widows, they were not invited even to celebrate such festivals. But now since times have changed they too are happily welcomed to be a part of festivities.

Now my question is people since olden times believed that the soul is immortal. So even when a man dies his soul should be alive, is alive. The marriage is said to be for seven births or even more, for ever. So it means that once married, how does the birth or death of the body matter? Aren't the souls married? And if so why would any woman be a widow or a man a widower?
So why are the widows treated so, if their husbands are still alive and exist in the universe? And if not then why believe in the holy union of marriage? Why get married if we do not believe in what it has to say? Why do birth and death make us do away with our beliefs then?

I may be ignorant about the other facts of these things. My doubts may even be childish musings. But why does the society and religions contradict their own beliefs?

There is much more to this question and many doubts are still being formed, but I had to put this forth. All views are welcome.. Please put forth your perspectives!

These are the thoughts which come to my stomach when its on the way home from office in the evening.. It growls and pleads to no avail and then sends the demands to the empty brain.. and I can do nothing but write it out and imagine..
Shrikhandachya golya, Masaledar chicken or butter chicken, butter nan, pizza hut cha pizza, pasta, palak soup, bread pudding (good luck), fresh gulab jamun (Manju kaku), Custard pudding (Mom), Rice and chocolate pudding (Mcleodganj), egg biryani (P.D.), caramel pudding (Hotel Pride), Harabhara Kebab (New yorker's), Red wine- Chantilli Shiraz (11 East street cafe), Kanda bhaji (Sinhagad), Puran poli (Mom), Amti bhat, varan bhat tup loncha, tandoori chicken, paneer tikka, cherries, strawberries, gul poli (Samartha), fish fry surmai, corn in white sauce (Gautam mama), Cheese carrot balls (Sonal), bhel (Kalpana), pani puri, SPDP, Cheese chilli toast, Chakli (Sahil) dipped in tea, bread butter...

And the list goes on till the brain can bear no more.. and the stomach gives up, moaning under the weigth of imagination.. The brain takes on the task of writing so as to ignore the weak signals it keeps receiving.. Until the home turf is in view.. hehe.. ;-)

Minuscule drops of water visiting the earth, splatter on the glass of the bus window..
Small circles in the sky turn into lost lines on the glassy earth,
Creating a mesh of fresh cold liquid, making me see the world though a watery lens..
Drops of water sit on my woolen jacket and form a cozy round cocoon around themselves,
Looking like diamonds studded in an undiscovered coal mine, or a beautiful lady's long dark mane..
Shining brightly and making me smile..
Some fall of the glass and some on the jacket,
Each carrying its on place and its own wisdom with it, within :-)

I like it.. The morning blues.. When I get up and then feel like sleeping again in the comfort of my warm cozy bed. Body pleading to do so, eyes supporting it fully and yet I make it get on. Everytime I come out of the bath having ten minutes extra on hand. The limping walk down the road, hoping for the wound to heal faster. The kinda cute known stranger at the stop. The first awkward smile :-) (was weird. timing!!). The air making its presence felt on my face.. Hair dancing to its tune and eyes close to take it all into my being. "It takes me higher, makes me fly" (Lift- Poets of the fall). I feel no need to protect myself against it like the others do. The hair, the skin, the eyes, none of it.. The pollution finds it place in my hair, unseen yet very much there. Studded invisible gems which will be washed off one friday morning, and the new ones will have a fresh place come monday!

The mom, the dad, later the bosses and the employees.. everyone going about their daily chores.
The vibrations of the bus,
The window pane which slides of its own accord, responding to the brakes.
The occassional smile appearing on my face.. I like it all :-)
The flyovers and the breakfast joints.
The traffic signals and the wise driver-chacha..
The emptiness of the mind, anticipating what awaits it today..
Not in the least worried or bothered,
Living in the present- in the blowing hair and ticklish face, in the sound of the bus and the sight of the passing vehicles.. So many of them!
Anyone like me in there, out there?
Early morning blues?? I like blue.. :-)

Darkness changes all.. The skies, waters, trees, streets, houses, humans and souls..
It loans everyone a certain depth, an identity which they have given it for sake-keeping.. the true self they dare not open in the light.. Or is it something which is not their own but they wish it was and hence borrow it from the night? Darkness helps them get out of the farce.. Why is it that they are scared of their real self? Which lies hidden away from the light? Beneath so many masks? Darkness is the saviour, helping them out of their misery.. Helping them breathe easily with their own dear self. Darkness deepens all bonds- earthly and unearthly.. So is it this blackened darkness which is their true companion? who knows them through and through.. and who helps them be with themselves comfortably? Why can't they just let go and let the light and the dark be one? Why is this self-inflicted conflict in place? Why the two faces? How would it be to bring forth the face that darkness likes and light accepts it? How would we know unless we do it? And why be scared since everyone is in the same league.. Darkness has us all as mistresses and everyone romances it.. So let us now have light as our keep and let it romance us.. :-)
Darkness prevails to help the lost souls regain consciousness and lose it again to light the next morning..

Long journeys back home.. The bus trudges along every evening through the same smokey highways snaking through lost routes cradled in the lonely cloud-ridden mountains.. The sky full of dark clouds snatching away the sleep which nestled in the eyes and clogged the brain all day through. Haunting and times much craved nostalgia traps the heart in a steely grip and leaves it warmed up in the cold evening wind.. Flights to the past and lands unknown yet familiar.. Some familiar but so untrue, unreal, non-existent.. and some of lost loves and tortured happy memories..

The monsoon, the light drizzle, the soft sunlight when the skies open up after the rain's much awaited war, the intoxicating smell of the dry earth wetted by the wild un-fulfilled romance of the rain.

The city slowly looms into view and brings back the warm senses.. A startlingly welcome sight.
Big stone houses oldest and yet the strongest, carrying with them all the secrets of the long forgotten past, living it everyday and yet experiencing the present..
Standing proudly majestic.
New conceret complexes, menancing and yet spell binding..
Mid-time buildings hanging shabbily in between.. Silently refused recognition..

The noises of the city,
The sight of vehicles,
The presences of people.. all kinds of them..
The lights, some mourning an unpleasant loss or perhaps basking in the glow of love recently made, some dancing around in celebration or in an attempt to forget some painful ancient wound..
The smells.. and the tales..
All so unwanted once upon a time, now gladly welcomed as a part of the self.. all sucked in, in the empty heart..

I love the city at such times, the times of home-coming.. of drinking up the poisonous past and the times of being strong and of carrying on.. The times of losing myself to the city and letting it takes its toll on me..
I love the city at such times.. so discretely and serenly, magnificently and beautifully, cleanly and without much fuss..
Kills the human in me and makes me alive..
Brings me back to life..