Saturday, 13 December 2014

through children's eyes...

With my heart going through waves of light-to-heavy emotions, I watched this documentary film a little while ago - 'Born into Brothels' - a film by Ross Kauffman and Zana Briski. I like to see and understand all kinds of worlds... and this was of a kind... a world through the eyes of children. 
I was listening to innocent little children speak their minds and express their hidden dreams. I was amazed at their laughter despite the harshness of their lives. I was touched by how they coped with the reality of situations around them. And, most of all, I was saddened that they were deprived of education and opportunities; and how a little external help could actually take them to unimaginable heights of thrilling experiences.

Yes, they learned a bit of photography and their photographs were in exhibitions, widely appreciated. You should've seen their excitement, it's heartwarming (and heart wrenching at the same time).(Or maybe you've already watched it and I'm the one who's late.)

I quote here two lines of two children that touched my heart the most:

“There is nothing called ‘hope’ in my future.”
“Nobody here understands anything but money.”

And, my own lines that emerged as I watched the film... especially those children's eyes:

a far away look –
those eyes narrate a story
of a life not theirs

Thursday, 11 December 2014

lying down silent...

lying down silent
preying - no more a business
feeling gentle, meek
overtaken by peace, love
this world looks a lot different

Image courtesy: 

Saturday, 12 July 2014

She was only ten

He had come to get her;
it was time for a vacation -
a break from school
in the cold winter.

She brought him dinner
from the school mess –
gesture of a host
to a guest-from-home.

“It’s delicious, dad,” she said

and tears flowed down his cheeks,
saddened that his daughter
had been eating such terrible food.

“Thank you,” he said

and she smiled,
perplexed to see those tears.

Her first winter vacation…

and no mother at home
to greet her,
hug her,
kiss her,
feed her.

No special food.

Her father - he did his best
and soon,
mom faded into distant memory.

She was only ten then,
but a grown up girl,

She was the-woman-of-the-house!

Her very first winter vacation -
it passed
and nothing was missed.

Not anymore.

Her Light

Into her light, they entered  -
the windows of her soul 
open for them; and
into darkness, they threw her, 
as if they now owned that light of hers.

Acceptable it was to her 
that  they couldn’t create their own light;
but, disappointingly, they stooped so low 
as to take away her light -
depriving her of her own creation, 
that had taken years of pain and sweat.

If only she had the courage 
to close her soul’s windows 
to them forever…
The truth was 
she would always keep them open, 
out of compassion…

And maybe some day, 
that light will shine through those windows -
enough for her and them -
their lives being lived harmoniously;
her life back to a whole, 
with invigorated fervour of dreaming,
like everybody else -
they theirs; 
she, her own… 
and everything falling into place.