Icy's own world

With trepidation mixed with stoic joy

I inhale another breath

That is lifeline to another

Seed to which has germinated

Pity this clock moves so painfully slow

 
The poet in me sets the dreams to reality

Stringed to an endless melody

Painted in my own flesh and blood

As bountiful rivers of love pour out of me

To awash the creation

The soul claiming an identity

To call one my own

 
As the golden hues metamorphose into silvery tones

My profound thoughts always sweep past time

I steal shy furtive glances across my expanded form

I hear distant music which is churning of my own

Heart in rhythm with another’s beats

And I await the moment when a soul bares itself

A face looks up at me in sublime satiation

As it continues me when I am gone to far off lands

Tell this world tales about me

For next some time I feel that my blog will be stagnant with hardly any updates.  The reason being my online activity is heavily restricted due to health reasons, which is frail, frail, frail. My energy levels don't support me that I can look at my own blog and I am also finding it awfully difficult to even update my Psychology website and forum. I wish to convey to my commentators that I feel bad about not reciprocating the comments and visiting their blogs since I consider it awfully ill-mannered not to reply, but it is beyond me these days since I hardly ever open my own blog.

I am biding my time and waiting for my mood levels to surge again so that I can resume my blogging with enthusiasm. Every day zillions of thoughts and words form in my head but they remain unspoken, silent, unwritten as if I am hoarding them as a treasure. I shall come back when words seek their outlet. Till then au revoir.. I shall be looking at your blogs when and how conditions permit me.

Cheers and Happy smiles!!

At long last, I have put down the War and Peace book that I was reading for some time. As always it happens, reading a book is like a spiritual journey for me, it completely absorbs me as I feel one with it. My new dwelling place becomes the world of the book as my thoughts, imaginations, dreams transcend reality zone. I live another life with the characters, sighing with them through their turbulent moments, laughing their laughs and sharing magical mysteries with them.

As the journey nears its end, I start dreading the moment; yet tend to rush through the pages, as the tension palpates with each delay. For me it is essential that before I finish the book in entirety, I must decide on the next as my standby because the process of finishing the book leaves me completely orphaned and insecure. So I must have my security vault laid down before me. The next book is now already in my hands – The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinback. I read this book when I was in school and somehow Tom Joad always stayed in the mind. In fact, for last some years I have keenly desired to shuffle through the pages once again and understand the trauma of a bankrupt America hit by Great Depression of the 1930’s and the flight and travails of migrant farmers to the oasis of California orchards. And now here I am, already relishing each bite of the pages!

My state of mind is quaint.. there are words overflowing seeking outburst yet I remain coiled within myself. I feel paused in a moment but the same moment is pregnant with rigmarole of emotions, upheavals, fears, and joyous rapture. It is something I cannot explain. I am enjoying the silences and spending time looking inwards, yet I am at complete ease with people around too.. I am not judgmental nor vociferously vituperous in my words, the tongue lashes out no more, rather taken oars in its moorings.

My sea of solitude stretches far and wide yet loneliness is never on prowl to seek a victim out of me. I am my own salvation, unsuspecting of any doom I live ecstatically each moment, whether anguished or uplifted.. whether tantalizing or sedately valium. Demurely I prevail over these cataclysmic yet paused moments.. I seek no subterfuges for my inactivity, as weather plays its tricks on my heart too. I cascade with the seasons and nurture my gracious senses on each sound and smell that wafts out of the air around and within me.

Life has offered me a lot, what I have desired as well as what I haven’t looked out for. For me, material pleasures is never the barometer of intrinsic satisfaction rather it is the privilege of being loved and cherished by the people around me. I must say I have been fortunate in this regard in ample measures. The canvas on which I paint my life each day is sprinkled with hues and shades from gray to vibrant, yet no colour ever scares me as I prefer to understand the ambience, depth and nuances of each shade.. Inner fears may lurk yet it is never the preferred proposition to cede to their onslaught since my securities manage to keep them at bay and suffuse within myself new sense of well-being. Every tear rejuvenates and lightens the loads within my innards and dislodges the hard steel walls that I may erect from time to time in my heart. The mists in the eyes remind me the joy of laughter and silence as they dispel the darkness and spread wide open the apparitions to filter in new light and realms of thoughts.

My new surroundings are just as good as they can be! First time we went to have a look at my new abode, there was a beautiful peacock with its brood of six to welcome us. The place has so many trees, red-brick structures and birds chirping to wake me up in the morning. There are still few numbered days to shift there yet but I feel the new environs have accepted me as I have accepted them. I feel nature always chooses me, it brings me to itself and I am sure it will be great experience to live in this forested area :)

The moon gazes lovingly, washing the green lawn in milky pearl glow. The giant trees, casting long shadows on the moonlit grass, silhouette against the benevolent sky, which is clear with hint of not so far-off spring. These are the trees I have known so well these years. I have come out of the warm rooms to beat the cold chill to which I have surrendered and to which I want to rebel by taking a vigorous walk. My steps warm me up and I can feel the blood rushing in and my frozen fingers opening up with the heat of my physical efforts. I forget my being and lose myself completely to the train of thoughts that find pace with the steps.

Today, it is the time for reflection and contemplation. In less than a month’s time, I will say au revoir to this cocoon and in the remaining days I want to pay attention to every detail. I have lived a life, gone through a gamut of experiences and watched many a sunrise and sunset here. It won’t be an exaggeration to say that this house has seen my metamorphosis from a novice to complete domesticity. The gossamer mornings, languid noons, orange sunsets as hundreds of gray pigeons perch on high-tension criss-crossing wires to find rest after hard day’s work against the clear skyline, reading books sitting out buried in the chair in the shade of the guava tree, all have been so special. It is here I have written many a blogs watching rain and the spectacle of roses blooming out side the long glass windows is something I will take in my heart. I will miss the “sunshine room” where the first sunrays filter through the glass panes and light up the hearth and lift my spirits as I bask in the new day with tea and newspaper against the backdrop of guava-laden tree peeping through the glass. It would entice hordes of monkeys who would jump around, chewing on the green fruits and littering much around. I have watched their antics so closely as I have seen parrots nibbling on the choicest citrus. The grapevine is another story.

There have been so many cataclysmic moments in my life that have been defined here. It has been a witness to many tears, laughter, mirthful dalliances, thoughts, dreams and many experiments. It was here that I started blogging and all my words have literally grown in these lush surroundings. Here I have learned about farming in the form of vegetable gardens, planting saplings, fruits as guava, mango, lemon, pomegranate, black jamun trees abound here.

Alas! This spring will come sans my presence and the nightingale will not be heard as she chooses perch atop the highest branch and sing joyous songs to the blue skies. In summer I shall no longer be a witness to the silent ochre regeneration of my favorite tree nor inhale the intoxicating jasmine as it flavours the nights. The monsoons will rain and replenish the plants I planted around here and wash the grime off the trees and burn the red brick-lined pathways anew. I will never forget the lilies as they shoot out of the green with the first rain and swarm the lawn in yellow delicate hues.

But I am a happy person and I understand that another groove is waiting for me and it won’t be long before I make it my heavenly abode. From this home I will carry the joys and longings cloistered in my heart and give them another fertile regeneration in the next. For now I wonder if the clear track my walking feet made in this long lawn by crushing the nubile grass will also sprint back to verdure with the first shower of monsoon!