Shriyandhaa's space

The stories you share; not old,  Not aged;  But like worn seaglass - Smoothed by decades of storms, work, experiences;  But still shimmering all the same.  Your hopes higher than clouds,  Fuelling us to try harder each time.  Your knowledge that you impart to us,  And which you trust us to use wisely  Carry it on.  Older than before,  But as eager as always.  7 decades in this world And many, many more to come. Your age is now an indication  Of all the warmth, hope, prayers,  Love, care, affection, concern  You spent a lifetime giving away.  Happy birthday Babu Thatha!

  An elated feeling is a shoe so new,  The feeling is free, though our steps askew;  The shoe, unfazed is a comfort indeed  But soon on puddles and mounds of dirt -  Around which we shall skirt. A shoe once new and specklessly clean,  Drenched in dirt in the future foreseen.  Stepping into the shoes of another person;  Your feet might ache, or they might bounce high But at the very end of the day,  Your shoes will be the ones to carry you back home To assist in flight. The grooves we wear deep into the sole, The bruises we leave forever on one's soul -  Silently ignored, but the shape erodes; Rougher and rougher as the days go.  We run, we jump, we tread, we trip Yet the sole remains intact; until one faithful day,  The shoe gives away.  It's taken enough,  For once it was loyal,  But patience is tough.  Every mark you leave is permanent;  Not everything's a scour; it could leave a scar,  The one w...

  A tree can grow two ways -  It grows against gravity  Upwards, taller.  Visibly.  It can also grow downwards; Inside, roots spreading out deep.  In the dark, when no one can see.  You could get laughed at for lagging behind,  You could get laughed at for being too slow.  But what they don't know is that You ARE growing; but quietly.  On the inside.  It's called getting ready  To grow outward.  And none of that could truly happen Without that feeling of awareness from the outside.  Which is what a teacher is for.  Who helps you grow in ways you never thought to,  Who helps you find the light to learn,  Even when it's in a dark, damp place. Who stands by you when all else wouldn't,  Who holds you in place when strong winds blow.  A teacher is the constant force Appearing to push us off the cliff of knowledge,  But really pulling us into the world outside.

  A mirror.  When peered at, you see yourself,  Looking back just as intently.  There are fun mirrors,  Mirrors that make you skinny,  Mirrors that make you warped,  Mirrors that obscure you. A mirror that shows your past,  Is one where you reflect on how much you've changed.  You already know what's on the other side.  You know where the cracks and crevices are.  You know where it could be polished,  But remains untouched.  This is my mirror to the past.  It's been six years,  Of rambling, writing and reflecting.  It started out as childish stories,  Became rhyming fun,  Random write-ups,  Amateur poetry,  Currently at free verses.  Where am I headed to next?

  The rain fell from the sky,  Drenching all of us together.  I held the umbrella, waiting for them to join, They took it, and went away.  One or two of them turned to thank me,  But none of them stayed and asked me to join. I stood rooted to the spot, staring at the puddles,  Staring at my reflection, wavered by ripples. Raindrops or tears? I didn't know,  But I knew they'd left me all alone.  The sun, blazing in the sky,  I sit under a tree, hiding in the shade,  And they all come to me,  Sit beside me, sweet talk me,  Slowly push me away.  Until they're all crowded together,  Laughing merrily as I stare;  Left under the burning sun, back on fire,  Sweat or tears? I didn't know,  But I knew I didn't want to be right there.  The sky was beautiful, the sunset painting a scenery,  As I watched from the balcony, eyes wide with surprise.  And they all came to me, fooled me with charm, As yet...

  Time forces forward motion,  But my mind would like to stay in the past.  I would like to remain in the state  I always was.  I am the passenger  Who doesn't want to wear the seatbelt.  The present constantly accelerates, But my mind craves rest, in the past  Where I belong. That's where the jerk happens; A violent snap of the neck Or losing footing; Being forced forward,  While I look back. Falling through the gap Where my two selves collide.  Wishing I could relive it all just once more. Fumbling to keep memories close.  Falling, as they slowly fade.  One thing that never will fade Is the memory that I knew,  Very well,  That I was having fun.  The mere echoes of laughter,  Feeling of inner warmth,  Feeling of home.  Everyone else seems so light; They accept the change.  I might be a stubborn person Who refuses to budge; Who refuses to move  With the ever-increasing time, That decreas...

  A divine grace, brings miracles alive, In Him we must believe, by Dharma we must abide. An entity of patience, God and mercy, He showed us the way, even to those who couldn't see.  He strove for world peace, he strove to bring light  To the loneliest of hearts, to the darkest of times.  And today is the day we shall remember His star,  As He connected minds, near and far. Mahaperiyava, His title, renowned by the world, He knew, he was there, to pull us out;  When troubles tend to unfurl.  At 13, I might wish for many,  But at 13, He wished for none.  He gave up His desires to bring Dharma, At 13, He became the one. He is God's way of reminding that hope is still there ,  All we need to do is pray and believe;  God is everywhere.

  Reflections.  Reflections, in the mirror Reflections, in the water Reflections, in your eyes. Reflections, in memories.  Reflections, in your mind.  The reflection in a mirror is pure.  It is true.  But it merely shows what one is outside.  The reflection in water is wavered.  It is disturbed by ripples.  Still water, broken by the wind  Swimming fish  Or self.  An image, broken by us. The reflection in your eye is what you see. It is the reflection of something you know,  Something you've seen before. The reflection in your memories is what you remember Wavered slightly, or greatly  By imagination  And fantasies  And delusion. The reflection in your mind  Is what you understand.  Is what you interpret.  It is what you feel.  It is how you reflect on something,  It is your impression of a reflection.  As for a real reflection,  True to its fullest,  Does it really ex...

  Just a single drop of water,  In a huge downpour of rain.  What could I possibly signify; Other than vain? Would you notice if I disappeared?  Would you notice if I refrained,  From falling upon the ground,  Pattering down the lane? None of us matter at all; What purpose do we serve?  I'm just another rain drop,  There is more yet I deserve. Why must I go as well,  If millions, billions are of same verve? If millions, billions out there,  Are still there to be conserved? I might be worthless alone,  But what I have realised- WE are worth so much together,  The power comes from inside.  Every tiny droplet Contributed to the force,  And if I ever do feel so worthless-  I must know, although I am just one in  billions,  To many, I bring hope.