Basket of Dreams

when I started my blog. I was in a great hurry to find a place where
my heart and mind can rest. I failed to find the comfort that I wanted
from anyone around me, so I produced this blog. I named it "basket of
dreams" because I believe that we all dream in our heart of hearts.
That there are many things we want to say but we hesitate as there is
no one who has patience to turn a kind ear towards us or worst we fearof being misjudged. Similar was the case with me and one more thing I
love to dream and imagine. Most importantly I love to write. With all
these things in my mind I named it so and build it brick by brick.
"Basket of dreams" is the place breathing in dreams, passions,
fantasies and imagination of not only me but of all those people who
dares to listen to their soul.
                         By my good luck, I am able to connect to
strangers and loved ones. I know you people like my writings and i am
grateful to all of you. It will be nicer if you drop some comments and
tell me your opinions. "Basket of dreams" is not a place where we have
to think and write. It’s a place where your heart gets the freedom to
fly in a never ending blue sky.

The Bee Effect

                                                 




Just like a bee that flies and sits in the womb of a flower to extract honey, my mind too settles in the womb of my memories and extracts happiness that transmutes into a smile. With it there is a whisper of a word “beautiful”. This word “beautiful” comes to my mind because in the tragedy of my life I have come forth as a new person who is proud of herself for taking the courage to deal with her life alone. I remember myself to be a girl who used to be scared with almost everything.  Then suddenly finding my life’s support in others and now abandoned with everyone I found the real “me”. and this meeting with “me” has been really satisfying. And with the experiences gained I have come to know that I am the most beautiful human being who is a good friend, great lover and an amazing daughter. And all of this is achieved by me with no outside support. So looking back at the wars that I waged with the world I feel like winner. I have nothing but this nothingness has given me chance to know me. There will be downfalls and tears as they are the part of life but the most empowering thing is that I am going to be the Captain of the ship of my life. The storms will come and it will try to wreck the ship of my life but I will save it. I will put the anchor of undying faith in the seas of sorrows and steer my ship to safety.  

The Change

Yesterday sachin made his hundredth hundred and I did a message that no other shweta in this planet had ever done. A girl who always goes against the tide and who lives in extremes, surrendered finally before the powerful force called “the change”. She accepted her defeat and let the God triumph over her downfall. The heavens are celebrating and toasting after breaking the backbone of her hopes. Oh, I am drifting apart from the main thing- “that message”. Let us say that “that message” was a final adieu to her past life. A life which was the source of her living. A life which was in real unreal. She finally understood that she was trying to hold in her fist something which was long gone and is adding miseries to the one she love the most.

                            

                     But after what happened yesterday, is she going to stop dreaming? Is she going to stop hoping? No, never, even if it is going to cost her entire existence. She is going hope that one day the clouds of sadness will go away and the sun of happiness will shine over her. She is going to hope that the birds of dreams will chirp again on the branches of her imaginations and that her wishful acceptance of life will glide away the shadow of gloom that now looms large on her face.  

looking

Looking at the sky changing colors and the lush green of the earth my heart skips a beat. It reminds of the days when my life was as beautiful as these scenes. It is hard to believe how life turns out to be. It hollows down every dream and hope while you are left to paddle out your way through the sea of sorrows. I am trying my best and so hard that I almost rip my own heart in the process and hide from my past. Do I succeed? Yes, I do. I smile, I sing but the moment I let down my guards and I see my tear stained face, trying to get my attention and I feel what I have done to myself. I feel myself saying that I was wrong. I see the falling heart in the bottom of darkness and I realize that I have lost myself, completely.

"Brutes"

Cold, detached and heartless, these are the characteristics of not only vampires. I don’t know why they are alone categorized into “the beings of the dark”, when there are people out there harboring such qualities. I don’t know any vampire but I am well aware of the existence of human beings that are in competition of being worst than them. Elaborating on the subject I would like to shed more light on the characteristics of these kinds of people. Pretending to be highly sophisticated they look like pigs in cashmere coats, present in the world only to add on to its obscenity. I pity them because they are human beings only for the namesake; otherwise they are miles away from anything that is human.

                  Let us call these people “brutes”. Love, relationships, bonding, warmth, all these words don’t exist in the vocabulary of our “brutes”. They are so detached from feelings and emotions that they can never have the chance to experience the pleasure or the ecstasy that one gets when one knows what is it to be a human being and values it. No calamity or catastrophe has any effect on “brutes” because they are heartless. They enjoy being alone because they have never known what it is to be amidst your own people. Professing the principle of cleanliness, they are devoid of the most exuberating human touch. They don’t know what power a human touch has. They may consider themselves to be above everyone else. They may feel proud in not having any “fickle” human experiences but according to me there lies the tragedy of their lives. 

my syllabus

Belonging to an age where everything is gloomy, where nothing is there to look forward to I am surrounded by the writers assigned in my syllabus that punctuates already heavy atmosphere with there sadist thinking. I am sitting with a hot bottle, a cup of tea and a question in my mind that why the hell Orwell has taken so much pains to add our pains through his writings in already painful and hellishly cold lives of ours. No doubt that he is a great writer and a great thinker but what does he wants to prove through his novel 1984. His views on politics and political terms are not detaining any political party or political leader from not doing so then why did he spend his last years wasting on such a work. Here is not the end of my misery there are many other writers as I mentioned above, then let me elaborate my statement a little. There is a paper in our syllabus called “criticism” where we have writers divulging in criticizing each other. Now why should we read them? What they are teaching us that we should pen down are thoughts in never ending sentences. On the other hand is Harold Pinter, and his “birthday party”, so gloomy is the setting and everything in it that you seem to collapse the moment you reaches the end of it.

                     Summing up, I would say that there writings have shown that there is no escape in the world, that you are stuck in a planet that is deprive of anything good or inspiring or imaginative. Whose fault is that. I wont say that these writers are to be blamed who have excelled in their genres and I will be perfectly dumb if I would do that. Their writings represent perfectly the dark future after the two world wars. The needle of criticism is on the people who have decided our syllabus without using any brains. With the odd selection of our syllabus they have denied us a perspective of looking at the brighter side of this world and to feel at least a little proud to be humans.

the brooding

When I look people hurting those I love, I end brooding over their deaths by my own hands. But like hamlet I fail in executing them and I swear to god that’s too frustrating. I have been reading Rohinton Mistry’s short stories “tales from ferozsha bag” and I found myself in the shoes of the characters that he portrayed. I feel what it is to lose someone you love, I feel the pain of that son and father who metaphorically are miles away from each other, I feel what it is to accept the blunders that your children make. The emotional side of every person present in those pages of the stories was felt by me because I think I have seen them around and because I think I am one of them. The precipitate of all the broodings is that The frustration, the despair and the guilt breathes in every soul around, that There is no redemption and that there is nobody who knows how to seek it. It is heart ripping when you have to live with the past that breathes in your present.

                                           Most of the people feel that they have no emotions that they are the most practical ones who know how to live in the present but actually they have those unquenched desires peeping through their hearts every now and then. And what they end up doing is weighing them all with their mind's whisperings and hushing them up in the far corners of heart. That is pathetic. they cry over their pillow, at nights. They carry on with their lives, fighting every moment with their unsolved miseries. My heart also, one of the trapped, feels the same. The memories of past recedes and returns like waves moving on the great ocean of the heart. That hug, which told me the insecurities and desperation of his heart, is unforgettable. It said loud that I don’t want life without you. That moment is engraved in my heart so deeply that all the betrayals and knife like words seems nothing. Memories like this is unbearable to all of us, we pretend to smile, to let the waves of time erase the memories that once blossomed our hearts. We all lie to our own selves and we all are demons inside our hearts who wants to break through all the societal norms. But many of us fail to gather the courage to break them and fail to understand that there’s nothing wrong in achieving what you want the most. But everyone has their own reasons – one chooses to live with the gnawing past and other is forced to live with gnawing past.

being with SPIDERS

From past few days I am having these uncanny encounters with spiders. This eight legged insect pounce over me from I don’t know where. The first encounter was very weird, I was on my bed, reading a novel, and then from a thin air it descended sheeewwwwww paaatt. I think she liked being on my book because she sat there with her eight legs spread on the yellow page of my novel. She was yellow in color too with disproportionate legs and she looked helpless, alone and so small. So I thought not to kill it but let her enjoy in my room. I tilted my book from which it slides on my floor, smilingly; I went to open the window when I saw another spider staring back at me. Oh man, she looked vicious but I thought to ignore her presence. I was feeling sleepy as it was half past two in the morning. In the morning came the shock of my life. Aaaaaaaaah, I saw the skin of my shoulder swelled and red. I ran here and there, whole day, not knowing what to do than everything became blurring.  

                         After fainting, I woke up directly in the morning. Darning needle in the small horns of the morning, I saw my mobile tootling out. I found that it’s my friend calling. I almost yelled on him and had the feud on. I told him to take me to the doctor immediately. My brow was sicklied over with the pale cast of thought. At last he came and we went to the doctor. It was strange, odd, and eerie and everything that makes your heart totters. The office we entered was empty. But soon a man came; he had over baked oiled skin that was shinning under the sheen of yellow bulb. His outer crust was indeed of a nature to cause those beholding it to rock back on their heels with a startled whistle. He asked me to speak about my problem. Instead of speaking I preferred to show my problem with teary eyes. “its getting bad. Take these medicines and apply this ointment and meet me after three days. “He said while scribbling over a piece of paper. I understood at that moment that this is the end of all the kindness that I had for spiders.

The Man I Love

a hole inside your heart, a vaccume inside your soul, sometimes enlarges so pathetically that you try to escape every moment that brings you face to face with it. so, to fill that hole, that vaccume we restores to many devices like we hang out with stupid emptyheaded people, believing that they really care for us, that they are with us because they really want to be with us is fooling our ownself, because leaving two or three people or none, nobody cares, nobody does care about what you feel. this mirage that people we love do love us too is like hoping that one day your miseries will end forever. but here i am going to tell you about a person who has trained me to keep my world of fantasy intact and to live every bit of it.

one day, when i closed my eyes, he was there, standing. he was wearing black shirt and black trousers. his skin was in complete contrast of his shirt. his fair complexioned skin and his large, dark grey eyes that were studying my face with open amusement. it was quite strange to me. i could feel my heart pounding hard and my cheeks burning red under his foliant gaze. it seems, as if, all hidden contents were leaking and going out to him through the link of our eyes. no words did pass in that meeting, but we became friends and we kept meeting. it was beautiful to know that sometimes words means nothing, that sometimes you need not have to say anything to make another person understand. i was always curious about what he thinks about me because i had never met a person like him before. his smile is very fascinating to me, there is something in his smile - a kind of mischievous exuberance, more honest and more excited than mere happiness - that pierced me to the heart. The warmth of his hand upon my face was a delicious feast. But, suddenly my mother came,”wake up, its too late.” Again my dream was broken. Ya, it was a dream. It was a dream of a man I love which is going to be like this.

The Mysterious Meeting.

Udaipur has been a city that I love the most. The reasons are many and one of them is that it ignited the power of imagination in me. as a child when I used to look in the eyes of my father when he told us about his adventures and misadventures, I was hardly able to find the way back. He is a great storyteller and with his skills he helped me create my castle of dreams and fantasies brick by brick. I vividly remember, sitting on his lap, under the moonlit sky, listening stories of Rajas and Maharajas. The stories of many historic battles. With all his stories and narratives he nurtured the sensitivities of my heart and head.

                        One day he took to me to Pervez kaka’s home. My dearest uncle who loves children profoundly. His long nose and big round spectacles over the most kind and warm eyes are the most cuddling features in him. also, he is very aristrocratic and very british in his manners. When I used to go to his house I always got the feeling of britishness in the air and I loved it. With all the sophistication, he has a grand golden heart, that makes him the star of not only my life but of every kid’s life. Oh, I am diverting from main point which is the mysterious meeting  and it happened with pervez kaka’s mum. I was very small at the time of our "mysterious" meeting. But his mum was very old and wrinkled. She took me and my brother in her room which was dimly lit and had a sandalwood fragrance hung around the room. With her ancient hands she took out from the creaking old wooden cupboard huge books. Oh, I still remember that mishchivious sparkle in her eyes. She looked like a old queen from an old portrait that was about to pass on her most treasureous antiques. She came towards us, smiling and opening a whole new world of fairytales. They were beautiful and lively. With each page came the image springing before our eyes. We both were speechless. I knew at once that she will never let go of these books, who could? But to our surprise she said “take them with you. Read them and remember me.” we both stared at her unbelievably. When I held them in my hands I knew that one more reason to be an ardent lover of udaipur is added.

my best friend

So she called up. My so called best friend called up. Like a perfect bitch she started the usual crap. As nothing has ever happened. I know god is smirking in heavens as he feels victorious now. I can almost hear him boasting “see, I did you a favor , I took away all the lunatics from you. You should be grateful.” Ok, yes, I am grateful now, when I have seen the outcome of your deeds. Really people, god may have been merciless and cruel in just taking all that I had, but he is a saviour. He knows what kind of kid I am and in what disgusting situation I was in. he saw me wasting time in catering the idiotic friends who don’t have anything in the world to do but to aimlessly be obssessd with how they look and dying for the person who never ever have experienced any kind of emotion. God was brutual but he saved my life. He has taught me to see the difference in me and others. And now, I can clearly see that, all that I craved for once, is all bullshit. I hate every bit of it. The life I am living now is entirely different. I am living as a person I really am. I am proud of myself, that I have gone long way and have come up all with feathers in my hat.

                       I am miserable. But only when I look back and see what I did. What blunders I made. Things around me have changed. I am in the womb of ajmer, thriving and blooming. I have people that are real and loving. They are few in number but are extremely dear to me. the readers must be inquisitive why did I wrote this. The answer to this is that bad times comes not for bad purposes but to prick away the thorns and to bring you near  to yourself as it happened to me.

LIFE

the faces. the mind. the hollowness of every soul. everything around full of pretence, full of superficiality that it almost drains one's existence. i am far away from all this. no more a sentimental and emotional cow. i have come a long way and with whatever little experience in my life, is fully geared up to ignore the presence of the predators called humans. when i look back now, all i see is a useless girl trying to reach out for others. really, it was stupid. i was stupid in helping people get over their messsed up lives. its all over now. with no ripples in my life, its flowing smoothly without people and without god. recently i got hold of my old friend. i was happy that atlast i talked to someone from my past bad days. but after hanging up i realised that her voice was like a death knell and i dont want her neither she wants me. another day i was musing and found my mind hovering over what the "famous guy" in my life said to me that "one day you will realise that what i did was for your own good.that i left you because its for your own good self." a piece of crap. i agree, an easy way to run away, when courage is demanded.

life has been a great teacher. always eager to seperate me from all the "fake people". i am thankful to her for being so kind and cordial. with all the trials and tribulations, she has turned me into a tough girl who doesnt even give a damn when someone comes crying for help. i would like to raise my glass of tears for a toast to my dear teacher Life to whip me, to take away all my happiness, to take away all the people whom i loved and to take away all the feelings. i thank her to make out of me a complete cruel brute.

an excerpt from my diary

Its strange, I have become so allergic to people that unintentonally the careworn and loving people get hurt by me. surely, I have become malicious, melancholic and a monstor. Slowly and slowly,  I am showing gates to all those who wants to make me happy. These deeds of mine cause me pain too but times have sucked all sympathy and humanity from me. I have become a cruel brute, somewhere inside my heart the evil has grown so much that I cant avoid hurting others. The moment my friends approach me, my heart crouches in the corner, putting forth the shield. I am just unable to forget all the betrayals, how everyone showed their backs when I needed them so much. even when I try to trust, my past glares down all the courage I muster. I don’t know why its happening, why its bothering me so much. Its not that I don’t want any person in my life. The two three friends which have stuck to me through all my troubles, I do want them but my heart just repell every feeling. Everything seems like a lie, all the promises, swears, and their care. I don’t know why I make them victims of all my hatred and anger. Why I punish them for something they never did. Its strange

Rockstar UNPLUGGED

Recently, I was watching the new music vedios of rockstar on youtube and found some criticisms of it on the basis that rehman was not able to do justice to the rock music. I have myself heard rock music and had tried to follow it. So, somehow I have a little knowledge about it. Taking everything as a whole, I think Imtiaz ali has intentionally chosen rehman over others and rehman too, having sense of the taste of indians have put music  which doesn’t exhibit hatred, anguish or frustration but is more that gives the feel of completeness and cravig for the supreme. Also, he has shown through his music the spiritual journey of the lead character. As soon as the music sways in our ears, the soulfulness of it is felt. The enjoyment that is produced makes one restless, in the sense it inspires one to have ethereal aims.

                                        Ranbir kapoor has surpassed all the bars and has reached to a pedestal where he can be counted among the great heroes and the efforts of imtiaz ali behind it can be seen.  Ranbeer is almost like ascetic in the movie. He is just like a “modern saint” going through the narrow lanes, exploring and discovering the self, through music. the listless dressing and the monk like expression all the time, away from the world but still a part of it is well portrayed by him. The picturisation also heightens the effect that the director is trying to build up. I specifically liked the picturisation of quwalli and the song “jo bhi main”. Speaking individually of them, quwalli is composed in a manner that the feel of spiritualism can be easily felt by a common man and ranbeer in the song “jo bhi main” appears as fully in the spirit of it. The feel of the song is nicely carried by him, i.e; a sufi, fully in the halo of his god, unaware of the eyes, unaware of the effect he is creating in the minds of people. All in all everything, leaving the story (as I dnt knw) is heightning the feel that imtiaz ali is intending at.

Garib Nawaz

Here, I am trying to describe that can never be described. But I feel the want to share the experience that uplifted me, that nihilated the very sense of my being. I know words will fall short in giving expression that is so much divine. I remember my first visit to Dargah Sharif, it illuminated my soul in a way that whenever my heart suffers from various dips, it visualises in front of me. I remember how I didn’t want to go from there and how I ardently wished the time to stop. But I had to leave that pious place but intitutively I knew that I will come back. And Garib Nawaz did call me. I went for my post graduation in ajmer. I felt extremely fortunate to be there at last but still I was far away from him. All the tragedies happened to me there and My life became all topsy turvy. All the while I kept praying to him. I kept seeking for his blessings. I knew that he is troubled by my tears and soon he will do something and he did do something, hebestowed me with one of his angels who just guarded and guided me through. Above all he became the “goodest” friend of mine.

                                        Everything was cured as far as it could be. Now, I wanted to meet my real guardian and rescuer. The opportune moment came most unexpectedly. I was there, unbelievable, I was there and before my eyes was Garib Nawaz. Nothing existed, nothing at all, everything was complete. I was standing there desireless and fearless. My hands clearly trembled as I joined them in front of him. again there was the feeling of surrendering myself there and never to move a bit from there. Serenity and awe descended on me. I could feel his love and blessings on me. The tears blurred my eyes and I felt peaceful. The departure was painful while the gifts of his limitless fatherly love consoled me and I know that his generous and kind soul is going to be with me,  always watching and taking care of me.

twenty six words...

 His msg:

If I had ever hurt you by my deeds or words…knowingly or unknowingly…I am sorry from bottom of my heart…hope you forgive me…

My reply:

Apologising in twenty six words.

Summing up three years in twenty six words.

Showing the value of my love in twenty six words.

Is it going to bring back my innocence.

Is it going to bring back my dreams.

Is it going to release me from all the pains.

So easy it is to say sorry.

So easy it is to say I didn’t mean it.

So easy it is to say move on.

You are admired for leaving me in pieces.

You rised in the eyes of “your” people.

You are praised for following the words of your “dear ones”.

Temme, is your sorry going to bring back all that I lost.

If yes then I will forgive u.

If yes then I will take all and live with it.

Disillusionment:

India at a distance seems to be a country full of mystery and beauty. With  diversity in its every strand it successfully ropes in lots of admirers but when one comes closer to it. Then, comes an utter disillusionment. Seen from the closer quarters, one is able to see the cracks in the image of this ancient land. One can call it a perfect tourist country, as the conditions and situation fills the hearts with amusement and wonders. The mismanagement and the variety in food, religion,color, caste, dress,tongue and what not presents a very unique picture to an outsider. Its just not give amusement to a foreigner but it also gives him a realisation that  “nothing is like home”.

                         Still, there are some people who have stayed back and are enjoying the “Indian circus” daily. Corruption, poverty, carelessness and hatred towards eachother fill their souls with awe. They feel amazed to see this country surviving though crippled but still breathing. Others, who prefer to leave it, feels pity for the human race in general, living in india. They also witness not “unity in diversity” but “divisions in diversity”. The only unity they see is in hatred towards eachother’s religion. Not only in religions but also in castes and subcastes. Everything they once had imagined comes down falling. They thought of india to be developed but what they find instead  is potbellied baked merchants and buisnessmen in jeans and tshirts, feeling proud in calling themselves modern but in reality are still chained in old age superstitions and in safeguarding their family name.

                In a nutshell, india is a perfect example of disillusionment and so are its people. For the sake of family pride and name they can stake the lives of any number of innocents. It is the country full of  strange ideas and ideal. Still, it’s the country of my origin and I love it with all its minuses and pluses.

The Perforated Sheet

Aadam Aziz never had the chance to see Naseem. He saw her only in parts i.e, through a perforated sheet. He sees his future wife's face for the first time on the same day, World war I ends. this chapter called "Perforated Sheet" is present in the "midnight children" written by Salman Rushdie is a metaphor, told Anita mam. She said that it is a metaphor used to describe the human perception. Analyzing it further, she said that we, humans have the tendency to look at everything from our own mind set. Our approach to take on challenges and circumstances is circumscribed to our narrow outlook. We are unable to understand the whole design or the structure of god's plan. just as Aadam looked his future wife in parts, we also tend to love others in parts.there is never a complete or whole view of person that etches us to them.

On personal level, when i read it. To me it appeared simply an introductory note to the main characters of the novel. The explanations that mam gave came like revelations. There are so many underneath meanings in every corner of the novel that it became impossible for inexperienced people like me to unravel them on our own. Under the guidance of mam we were able to collect the embedded jewels of the novel. She began by telling us that the whole novel is in narrative form and that there is more than one reality. It is like a universal story. It begins in Kashmir which is depicted in its past glory, idyllic just like the Eden garden. Aadam, represents Adam and Naseem represents Eve. So it is another version of the story of the very first man and woman. Saleem who is the narrator and the protagonist, quintessentially represents India which is a centre of so many philosophies and beliefs.

A visit to PARADISE....

When he took me to his place, the gates of heaven were opened, the fragrant atmosphere gripped my heart. Through the narrow lanes when he guided me, I felt free and protected. His face shone like dewdrops in the first winter night on a young rose bud. The brows knitted in care heightened the grace of his face. He held me with his eyes and unfolded the wings of happiness of my heart. At the threshold of the pious land I felt my soul crumbling. beauty and purity reflected, wherever I turned my face. After getting the blessings when I moved in his house, He greeted me with the bowl full of relishing kheer. Every sorrow of my heart seemed to have taken a flight. I was immensely happy and contented. The peace that I had experienced there, has left an everlasting impression on my heart and is going to act as a buffer against the harsh realities of life.

Jai Hind!!

"Nanha munna raahi hu..
desh ka sipahi hu
bolo mere sung Jai Hind Jai Hind"

In my childhood days, this was one of the songs that used to fill me with immense patriotism for my country. but gradually when the pitiable condition of my nation and my incapability to do something descended on me, I preferred to fell back, to let the things be as they are. I adopted an attitude of turning my back to every wrong happening in my country because I knew that my voice like most of the times will be subdued.One day, I unthinkingly opened a newspaper and at the very front page saw a small man in white kurta payjama with right fist in the air. a volley of questions stormed my heart. I scanned the article quickly and found that this man is named "Anna Hazare" who is spear heading the anti corruption movement against the government. Now I looked carefully at the picture.Deep and honest pair of eyes were set in either side of a flat but concrete nose. I immediately took out my laptop and googled information about him. I found out that he has completely reformed a village. It is the true portrayal of Shelley's utopian wold. Everything is perfect in Hazare's village. watching and reading about him and his moral deeds, a hope is kindled that if people of my country will tread in his footsteps, forgetting about all the divisions among themselves than glory that we deserve will dawn on us.
Like many, I am standing in support of Anna Hazare and is all ready to stake my life for the welfare of my country. For me he is the reincarnation of Gandhi ji and I know that he will wade off the evil from our country. but now situations are worse, Indian politicians are ruthless barbarians, much more cruel than Britishers. I dont know when will everything turn out to be in common man's favor but the thing i am sure about is that if this revolution is sustained for long time than that day is not far when we will be happy to see our youth preferring India over other countries.