Sheep

I am a fluffy ewe

That like a cloud loves traversing

Over the hillside and the dale

Winning some and losing few 
friends on the way.

Some call me wanderer

That makes me ponder

In life am I meant to

In one place stay?

The Coin Games

On the way to the Beyt Dwarka temple, Gujarat we came across these young lads whom we initially thought were swimming in the cold waters of the Gulf of Kutch to beat the summer heat.

But on observing closely and speaking to a few of them, we came to know that swimming in the dirty waters helped them earn their livelihood !

The kids asked the passing tourists to throw coins in this dingy canal and would then jump in the water to take them out from the bed. Given that the kids didn't want to collect the coins at a place while swimming to fetch more, for the fear of being stolen by others, they stuffed the coins in their mouths to the extend of almost choking themselves.

The passerby were amused by this activity and would keep shelling coins and betting on which lad would take out the coins next. While tourists enjoyed betting, these young lads shivered in the cold waters and  often fought and argued over a dime. I felt really sad for these kids !

Wish these street urchins can be educated and taught another way to earn their livelihood!

One of the kid showed us that he could climb down the pillar while the other could dive from the height. 

There is a prevalent fishing community near this site. Hope this kids pick up fishing soon !  

The boy in the center was initially unhappy as I didn't throw coins for him to fetch. But later he posed for me to click! 

Why am I cornered?

The Desert

The Desert

The White Salt Desert -  Rann of Kutch

Here I am my friend

In this full moon night

Standing on the shimmering whiteness

That was once a sea.

No water, no oasis, no shelter, no movement

Is this how life was meant to be?

She deserted me.

My endless prayers all unanswered

And days passed in daze.

I waited for her to return

Not seconds, not minutes, not hours

 But more than a thousand four sixty days.

The sandstorm stops

But I continue to weep and mourn

Questioning Him

Is this the life for which I was born?

So in the search for my answers

Inattentive, I start to walk alone on this hard salt

Trying to figure out what was my fault.

Now with an ocean of tears drying out

My wide-open eyes gazed

The starry night merging with the unending horizon

Where Hydra, Virgo, Aries and Great Bear continued to play games

I now see the whole universe smilingly looking down on me

 ‘Stars can’t shine without darkness my friend’, they say

In the middle of this white loneliness, I find my answers, I find my way.

In Deep Shit !

In Deep Shit @ Fes Tannery, Morocco  

Fez, the third largest city in Morocco, is home to the world’s oldest tanneries. These tanneries still follow the same techniques that were used during the 11th Century for converting hide into leather, resulting in attracting thousands of tourists every year from all over the world, who want to witness this centuries old procedure. 

The tanneries are one of the most colourful sites in this “Land of Contrasts”, consisting of hundreds of stone vessels which are filled with natural dyes resembling no less than a well laid tray of watercolors – red (poppy flowers), blue (indigo), green (mint), yellow (saffron), orange (henna), brown (wood) and black. Being a lover of colours and life, I detested the idea of visiting the tanneries just after Eid, when most of the workers were still on their fortnight long vacation, leaving the tanneries pale and motionless. But it was today or never, so I chose the former. 

When the work is in full swing, each of these stone vessels are filled up with different colour dyes (red, blue, green, orange, yellow, black etc). All we saw were shades of mustard and brown, given that most tanners were on leave owing to Eid.

Given that it was my first visit to a tannery, I requested one of the workers to walk me through the process, which he happily did. He explained, "tanneries basically process skins of animals and convert them into leather, which is used for making products such as bags, jackets, shoes, belts, wallets, furniture etc". But it wasn't as straightforward, unsoiled and uncomplicated as it sounds. So for all who love those expensive leather products, I thought of giving you an insight of the entire procedure myself. 

Animal skins (including camels, sheep, cows and goats etc) are first soaked for 2 to 3 days in a mixture of water, cow urine, salt and quicklime to help remove flesh and the still remaining tough hair. Yes you read it right - Cow Urine! This mixture helps in softening the hide. Once the hide becomes a bit soft, the tanners scrap away the hair and flesh. The hide is again soaked, this time in a concoction of water and pigeon droppings (contains high amount of ammonia), which further makes the skin malleable. 

Post dipping the hides in water and pigeon droppings, its now the tanners turn to get their feet dirty. The tanners, get into the stone vessels filled with this mixture and knead the hides with their bare feet to achieve the desired softness. 

Stench of decomposing flesh, cow urine and pigeon droppings filled the air, making it unbearable for me to stand there any-longer. One of the tanner had been closely observing my unpleasant facial expressions and efforts to block the stink by closing my nostrils with hands. He walked up and gave me some fresh mint leaves to smell to counter the malodour. 

While I was a bit relieved, this young guy in his early twenties before returning to his job, exclaimed "I know its difficult to breath here, but this gets my daily bread!" and proudly folded his trousers up to the thighs and jumped into one of the stone vessel filled waist deep with pigeon shit and started kneading the hides. I looked at him silently. Never in life I felt so small, and surely his views were much wider than mine! 

Man washes the hides before drying them under the sun

Once the hides attain the desired softness, they are dipped in dyes and dried under the sun. The leather is now ready to be sold to the craftsmen who convert them into those luxurious accessories.

Hundreds of hide dry in the sun, ready to be sold to craftsmen for making the final products.

All images © Pooja Kumar, 2014, email: poojakumar06@gmail.com

A Glimpse of Marrakech, the Heart of Morocco !

Morocco is the ‘Land of Contrasts’, they say

Let me show it to you my way:-

It has the vibrant red Sahara to the East with its sand dunes and ergs,

And to the West, is the Great Atlantic where many ships have submerged.

Turquoise Strait of Gibraltar to the North

Separates it with Spain’s Tarifa port

And to the South, Toubkal - Atlas’ highest peak

Which many are trying to conquer as we speak!

Despite of these variations, this place makes me feel at home

May be because it’s like the country where I have grown.

The inhabitants being Arabs, Berbers, Africans and Europeans

All of whom are ruled by the King

Casablanca, Rabat and Fes are it's most important cities

But Marrakech, a place very close to my heart

Is the one about which I would like to, today, sing

Marrakech, the Land of Gods, with city walls all in pink

Reminds of the glory of the bygone era and surely makes you think.

Standing near Koutoubia Mosque, the inspiration behind Giralda tower in Seville, Spain

The guide explains us about the once misaligned mihrab, the pink stone minarets walls

The floral motifs and the folklore, all cut short by the muezzin’s afternoon calls.

Koutoubia Mosque

On hearing the call for adhan, like others, I too take-off my shoes to step into the mosque,

To be told non-Muslims not allowed by law, even when there is only one God.

This statement certainly makes some noises in my head

But not to question the State law, I slowly drift away and start walking ahead.

After walking for a little while I reached a crossroad crowded with vehicles,  

To one side, drove a young couple in high speed in their black Mercedes new

And to the other, an old pair leisurely in their royal horse carriage drew.

While both paused for the traffic light,

 I crossed the street followed by the parking lot of horse drawn carriage fleet

Jamaa-el-Fna, Marrakech’s soul is the square where now I reach.

Jamaa-el-Fna, the heart of Marrakesh

Water sellers

It’s one in the afternoon, the place jam packed

With orange juice stalls, snake charmers, magicians,

Water sellers in traditional red costumes with brass cups and leather water-bags

Charging anything between five to ten dirham for their single photograph

Large green garden umbrellas dotted the square

Below which sat men wearing djellaba selling everything from fresh fruits to clothes to plates

While beautiful women in colorful kaftans and belghas, waited with henna cones to decorate.

Beside them sat an old palm reader, with his hair as white as snow

Holding loosely Misbaha (string of prayer beads), in his wrinkled hands

And waiting eagerly to reveal the fate of your entire clan

He tells me, “You are one of those lucky few, who follow the heart,

And I can assure that you’ll fall in love with this place before you part”.

In order to get a panoramic view of this majestic square, I climb up the stairs

Pulled out a corner chair at Café de France, overlooking this giant fair

And quietly listened the concoction of Chaabi and Gnawa music

And felt the happiness that filled the air.

Deep down inside I wished, if somebody could translate and explain me the verse

But then they say, music is the universal language of love that touches the soul and need no words.

The more I looked at this place, the more mesmerized I became.

While I was still lost in my thoughts,

A man in his thirties walked up to me and exclaimed, “You seem to be new,

Why don’t you come and join us for a bowl of stew”.

They narrated folklores of both hills and plains

About which I’ll surely write sometime later, cause there is too much to explain.

With the sun turning dark red and the night slowly crawling out,

The square became even more crowded, noisier and merrier now  

With the food stall owners calling out

“Come try and taste our famous beef, mutton, rabit and chicken breast

If you don’t like them at all, we’ll serve you some fresh camel’s chest”.

My newly found friends treated me with Couscous, Pastilla and Tajine

Each of which had some seven different kind of meats.

Here in a country that’s thousands of miles away from home

Their warmth and hospitality, makes me feel that I am a part of their own.

Once strangers, now friends

Warn me not to walk in this crowded square alone

“Coz in the shadows, you don’t know who’s your own.

In these hours of darkness you’ll lose your way

And in the end blame us that we didn’t say”.

“Fine, I’ll do as you say”

 Only condition being, “you all will, with me, some more time stay”.

I wandered there throughout the night with my recently found friends

Admiring the magnificence of hundreds of beautifully lit stalls,

Enjoying the musician’s tunes and the seller’s calls

And even this rainbow of chaos,

Managed to touch my heart’s right cords.

And with the muezzins final call of the day sounding across all Marrakech in unison

The noisy square for the first time became composed,

And with a heavy heart, we too called it a day.

Though I part today,

 Memories of Marrakech, the soul of Morocco, would in my heart always stay.

And finally, the swarm started leaving the hive

With a promise to assemble again tomorrow, with some more nectar for the soul!

Cafe de France, is one of the finest cafe located on the main sqaure of Jemaa-el-Fna

Colorful Belghas or "Balgha" are leather slippers worn by both men & women alike

     Dozens of fresh orange juice stalls dotted the square throughout the day

Food stalls are set up only at night when there is less heat, to prevent the food from getting spoilt 

Choose your meat  

Tourist throng food stalls to get a bite of Moroccan delicacies

                      
 All images and writing in this document © Pooja Kumar. email: poojakumar06@gmail.com

tag:<Morocco> <Marrakech> <Fez> 

The Ultimate Day

The Ultimate Day 

The setting sun, the returning birds,

The Muezzins calling from hundreds of minarets for its time to pray,

The cool breeze, the calm waves,

The silence that followed

After the streamer sailing on the Bhosphorus brayed.

My perturbed mind, continued to ride the tide

With unanswered questions from different parts of life.

One asked me of, “What I will be?”

A traveler, a writer, a poet, a banker or trader

Successful or failure in the time to be.

Another asked “Where I’ll stay, in my graying days?”

Will it be Ephesus or on the shores of the beautiful Paradise bay?

Then came the third, reminding me of friends

With whom I don’t know why relations have end.

Before I could delve into them more

A fourth thought came in, compelling me to think

Which I have tried writing in ink.

Despite of -  Whoever I be

Wherever I stay,

“What is that I would want to do on my ultimate day”?

Beautiful memories of friends and family flashed in my mind

All of whom, I wanted by my side

I guess that’s all that I need

And would want on The Day

No awards, no medals

Just some more time with them and the setting sun at bay.

Finally, I look at You (setting Sun),

You look at me

There I see you winking at me (becoz that’s what I’m currently doing, standing at the bay).

I smirk at myself,

And that perturbed mind, which rode the tide

Left all unanswered questions aside.

In the silence on this beautiful shore

Standing among Your creations galore

Never thought, the peace that I had been searching for all these days

Will in a moment come to me.



All pictures and writing (c) Pooja Kumar, 2014

Each Bubble A Dream

You know what these bubbles mean to me

Each one a dream that for years has lived with me.
Now with my years coming to a close
I'm blowing them out as I am slowly losing hope.

But then I see my little grandson,
Running towards me - jumping high, struggling yet smiling
And in his gentle tiny hands, trying to hold-fast my dreams.

All images and writing in this document © Pooja Kumar, 2014.

Life's Not All Black & White !

Sitting with my Cat

 I sit beside you looking at the sea,
Sharing my dreams and the person, I want to be.
They say, 'you are just an ordinary fisherman, with dreams too big to be true'
And laugh, mock, demean and demotivate me
About their intentions, I have no clue.

She too stranded me at the shore
Walking away hand-in-hand with a handsome blue-eyed guy
Who in Canary Wharf, owns four floors.

I was disappointed.

But then somehow, mom made me understand,
"Life's too short to cry for, whats not in your hands".

I mustered courage,
And just stuck to my plan
Working doubly hard this time and putting in my best as far as I can.

Today, while you sit with your man, looking at the boat,
My dear friend, I just want to say, this is only one of my thousands, that's afloat !






                     All images and writing in this document © Pooja Kumar, 2014.

Aazadi ke Udan

Pinjaro mein band rehne wale
Kya jane udna kya cheez hai.

Band khirkiyon ke peche rehne wale
Kya jane khuli hawa mein saas lena kya cheez hai.

Kal ke peche bhagne wale

Kya jane, aaj mein kush rehna kya cheez hai.

A Day in the Back-end World !

I sit in a room with grey walls on all sides

With what little source of sunlight, been shut aside

It seems to me just like a box

My heart is sinking and mind-blocked.

With no source of positivity, no sign of hope, I’m losing my identity slowly

Just like the wilting buds, in the stagnant water on my desk, which refuse to grow.

As the clock ticks eleven, people hurriedly flow in,

Praying this morning there is no mail in their bin.

The slaves clean the system, all dirty and stale

And make sure everything is in place before London’s morning eight.

As the clock ticks eight, no sounds heard now

The queen and her army are ready to take charge now.

Slowly and gradually as the day progresses

My hope for the future further digresses.

Then falls a bomb on the Indian ground

The queen’s officer doesn't like his mistakes that you've found.

"I am the officer not you", he would say

"Now make sure everything is done in my way".

He makes me change all ‘caps to small’,

All ‘small to caps’, just to prove he’s the boss.

We work in collaboration as a team, they would say

Only to do things always their way.

Annoyed by his ways, I can’t do a thing

And curse myself for being a part of this back-end team.

Finally, when I am out of this gloomy mood

I escalate it to someone, who sings a completely different tune.

“Come on Pooja, this is not back-end

Can’t you see we are working end-to-end”.

I thank God, for not getting me into the trap

And making me understand that there is a big thinking gap.
He is doing is job well and I'm doing mine
I might have done the same, had I been on the other side.

I return to my desk, and again start doing the crap,

Cutting, copying and pasting more efficiently, to prove this time I’m in his trap.

But deep down inside me, my inner voice is mocking and telling me the truth

How much effort you put in, this work will surely not bare your desired fruits.

And reluctantly, I sit down, looking at the screen

Pretending  to do things which to me really don’t mean.

My friend and colleague, sitting to my left

Understands my mood, and knows all times I’ve wept.

He knows it well that I’ve topped in college, and in previous jobs done well,

Only to be placed among the company’s best.

He understands that this place seems to me like a jail

Of which I’ve been trying very hard to get out but have almost failed.

He tries to console and motivate me, and says tough times would end

And in this gloomy gray cell, thank God I have a friend.

Thank God there’s a team that leaves at five

Only to remind me of the ticking time.

Three more hours left for this miserable day to end,

"No hang on Pooja", I tell myself,
Only two-and a half, before I go down for dinner with friends.

Finally, I work efficiently and try wrapping up my work

Missing the tea break and the gossips world.

The last one hour is crucial for the queen’s man,

Not sure, what he’s been waiting for all day, before revealing his plans.

And there rings the phone, that has been dead all day

Its half past seven, “I hope I’m not too late” 

“No, not at all”, I tell him,

But my inner voice nays “You are just in time to spoil my date”.

“All you have to do is update the changes that I’ve made,

That wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, had I been in your place”.

All I can do is grumble to myself,

Curse myself further, for working in this collaborative hell.

It’s already eight and the clocks have been ticking faster now

The cab driver has been calling to ensure, that I’ll be there before eight fifteen past.

I ask him to leave, and continue with my work.

Clocks are ticking even faster now, it’s soon ten-thirty and my phone begins to ring

This time it’s my proud mom, who motivates me further for taking all the pains.

It’s only on submitting my work,

An out-off-office mail tells me, that my officer would be “enjoying the next three days in Spain”.

His acts only belittle and demotivate me - for being a part of this back-end team

Disgusted and frustrated with this job, I walk down the floor

Only to pass charts at eleven at night that say “We are best in class for maintaining the Work Life flow”.

Romancing the Gods!

Born in a country, where people worship multiple gods and goddesses, blindly following a faith certainly becomes easy. Brought up by Arya Samaji parents, being educated in a Catholic school, grown up in a Muslim neighborhood and being the grand-daughter of one of the most well-known Vishwa Hindu Parishad ‘karya karta’ (worker), I for all people shouldn’t be the one doubting His existence. But that’s the way things are “abundance of anything loses its relevance in our lives”. Apart from being christened, Pooja (prayer) by my grandmother, I have had little if not no association with God till now. Worshiping and thanking Him for his blessings unquestionably comes reasonably down on my daily to-do list, surely second last if not last. And by the time I go to bed, I certainly am no exception to the rule; I am too exhausted by the daily chores to be able to complete the last couple of things. And, so I miss thanking Him, every day!

 “Come on Pooja, chill-out and relax. How much time will you waste preparing for a job interview, which you actually don’t care about”, I told myself as I lazed in a friend’s apartment in Chennai, waiting for the interviewer’s call. Having waited for over an hour, I told myself, if I am destined (that’s what we Indians leave most of our things on - Destiny) to work for this firm, I’ll surely make it, even if I answered the call from the bustling streets of Mylapore. So having full faith in my destiny, without a second thought, I picked up my sling bag, pulled out cash from my suitcase, hung my camera and hired an auto rickshaw for a fixed fair of hundred rupees straight from T-Nagar to Kapaleeshwarar Temple, Mylapore.

Mylapore, ‘the land of the peacock screams’ as it means in Tamil, has today turned out from the seventh century abode of peacocks into an extremely busy community centre. In spite of being in the heart of the most populous metropolitan city in India, this region comes out as a small temple town in itself. It houses the seventh century Dravidian style Shiva temple overlooking a huge tank which is surrounded by hundreds of small shops, selling everything from a needle to the most ostentatious jewellery and clothes.

As I walked past the lively market place brimming with activities, I crossed several hoardings claiming to book ‘darshans’ or a personal meeting (or ‘puja’ as they say) with the Gods but the amount of time He’ll spend with you, will surely be proportional to your pocket’s depth. While I mock at this very thought, from a distance I heard pundits calling out and promising to perform some special ‘pujas’ at the temple hall to free you from sins and guilt, helping make space for some new. They ascertain of having a special link with the Almighty and could get you a new more lucrative job or if you are still unsatisfied, even your boss’s demotion, provided you pay their desired fee. While this idea surely pleases me, and I smirk at the very thought- Oh people! What all can you do in the name of God!

Walking across Mylapore’s crowded street, I wonder, if the Almighty had been answering the prayers of the extra payers first, and that being the reason for my wishes just getting lined up. While still deeply absorbed in my thoughts, I am stopped by a shopkeeper selling Bhajan CDs and DVDs. Without wasting a second he boasts, “This is the only shop in the vicinity, selling latest Hollywood and Bollywood bajans”. I give him a perplexed uninformed look and contemplate, from when did Hollywood start producing bhajans? He seemed to have read my mind, and instantaneously played his latest collection; Bryan Adam’s strumming in the ‘Summer of 69’, to the lyrics of some Sanskrit Shlok. Being a die-heart Adam fan, I control my emotions and pretend of enjoying this ‘Shlok Collection’. While still upset with this concoction, I hurriedly stepped out of the disorganized congested shop, telling the shopkeeper that I will definitely buy a copy on my way back. Before he could press me any further, I add “in case the demand of this album unexpectedly picks up in the next one hour, ensure you keep a spare copy for me”. What a lie it was!!

Finally, I reach the entrance of the magnificent temple dedicated to ‘Kapal’ – head ‘eeshwara’ – God, i.e. head of God’s Shiva. At the entrance sat a couple of talkative old women, needle weaving jasmine and rose garlands for the lords. I happened to have an eye contact with one of them and she exclaimed “Rupees hundred for the garland and prasadam and your chapels (footwear) will be taken care for free”. Even before, I could utter a word of disagreement and bargain the price, one of them compellingly hands me a prearranged basket containing- flowers, a small mud lamp, packets of vermillion and turmeric and some prasadam and instructs me to pay her on my return. Though I was the smarter one at the CD shop for not getting into the trap but here this uneducated woman, who had been sharpened by her experiences in life, outsmart me. Ten rupees worth of stuff for hundred, aroused the entrepreneur in me, what margins I thought!  And here I was standing at the entrance of the temple, with a basket full of flowers in my hand – an offering to the Gods, which I had always detested and never done in my life.

Carvings on the Temple's entrance

The temple’s massive entrance gate was adorned with beautiful engravings of animals, birds, peacocks, and both devil and deities. I truly didn’t understand their significance there and unconsciously tried figuring out a link. With my eyes still glued onto the gateway, I walked into the temple, not realizing that I was heading into a sea of people who came towards me from the opposite side. There are very few days in life when you learn something new every moment, and this day truly was at its teaching best! In our journey of life, there are no sign boards directing us on the path to choose; but they surely were at the temple entrance which I had missed. While I walked ahead amidst my thoughts, I heard a coarse voice from behind abusing me “Are you illiterate and blind to be entering from the wrong side”. For a while I got annoyed, but without reacting I revisited the path undertaken, paused, stepped back and changed the course to reach my goal.

The temple was a crowded ocean, with fish swimming their way around. In spite of being crammed full, there was a sense of calmness in the place. Chants of Shiva! Great Shiva! filled the air. Being the time for evening prayers Shiva’s idol was placed on a chariot, shoulder held by a dozen pundits who took it around the temple. It’s believed that only the luckiest few get a chance to witness this sacred procession, which happens once a year and I surely was the chosen one. Once the chats ended, the crowd dispersed and quickly lined up at the door outside the Garbhgrah to individually pay homage now. I was confused. After several unsuccessful attempts trying to crane my neck at different angels to get a glimpse of the Lord, I finally decide to join the serpentine queue, mostly lined up with women both young and old. Standing in the queue I contemplated, “are women the ones committing the maximum sins and are here to ask for forgiveness or the ones with the maximum wants”. Reflecting on this weird thought, I smirked and introspected to find out the category I belonged.

Standing amidst devotes – some rich, some not so blessed with the materialistic well being and some differently-able, all I could see were content and blissful faces. Life is full of hardships, it’s a bumpy ride for each one of us, some fight alone while others choose to find support in the superpower and idols, which they called God. The smile on their faces and the sparkle in their eyes conveyed that their prayers would at least be heard, if not granted today. They had full faith in Him. Faith.

Amongst this humongous crowd, I seemed to be the only one so skeptical and doubting His existence or were there more people like me in this queue, witnessing this transformation? Seldom people seemed to be at peace with themselves or possibly that’s how I perceived things today. Perhaps because it was for the first time in my life, I had left everything on destiny, if not God.

My contemplation was interrupted by a push from behind, and the entire serpentine queue swayed like a twig in the wind, and within moments the happy content faces transformed into a race madly running after things. My calm mind was within moments flooded with thoughts of disgust and irritation as I failed to figure out the rationale why people always had a time crunch and rushed after things. Or maybe I am the only one in my genre who is out of the mind and is bombarded with misleading thoughts of peace, love and tranquility.

Even after the push, the line moved forward at snail’s pace. After an hour’s wait, I finally moved to the head of the queue and waited patiently for my chance. Never before in my life, had I seen people so desperate to get just a glimpse. While being pushed from either side, I wondered, “maybe this mad rush was due to this special occasion”, but I was wrong. Shiva, ‘the destroyer’ or ‘the transformer’, is amongst one of the most worshiped Hindu Gods and was told that the temple witnessed this mad rush every day, not once but five times a day, at the time of the ‘pujas’.

After waiting for an hour, finally, I was pushed in front of the Garbhgrah from where I saw the magnificent bronze statues of Goddess Karpagambal (Parvati) with Lord Kapaleeshwara (Shiva). The golden statues were beautifully adorned with the vibrant orange fire-crackle flowers, Crossandra or Kanakambaram, as they are commonly called. The vibrant colors of the orange halo bordered with white jasmine flowers, is still fresh in my mind. While one priest performed Aarti with a big fire lamp, another rang a bell and the third placed the offering from the devotees inside the Garbhgrah. The three priests flawlessly executed their assigned chores and demonstrated unflinching love towards God.

Whilst some people stood humbled and bowed down in-front of the Almighty, others chanted praises while the remaining tried influencing the fourth priest, whom I had missed noticing, for a better view. The picture of the place had hardly sunk in, that within seconds, a pundit literally grabbed and pulled the basket of flowers which I was carrying and offered it to the God. Even before I could react, the pundit gave me a disgusted look and exclaimed, ‘no money in the offering, what a miser you are!’ Though my mind was calm and quite till now, his remarks aggravated my annoyance apart from the constant pulling and pushing and I thought, if I want to romance Him, let it be only Him and not these self-appointed God’s middlemen.

I stared into his shameless eyes with disgust, nodded my head left to right - the typical Indian way of saying that this is wrong and you’ll be punished for this. Then I stepped back, and looked at the deity one last time, as if complaining for his act, and started walking down the ramp. On my way down, I noticed a blue board with instructions in bold white “Non-Hindus not permitted beyond this point” and I wondered from when did God started differentiating between people based on religion. Instead of being more calm and composed for successfully visiting one of the most worshipped temples in the city, my mind was now more troubled with thoughts of discrimination, donations and cheating.

Saddened, I just kept walking down. From a distance I could hear, the priest shooing away devotees, ‘move out, walk fast, there are thousands of people in the queue’. Yes, there are thousands in the queue and they will always be. Nobody wants to confront these God’s middlemen, because they have a closer connection with Him you know. Stepping down from the ramp, I wondered of what I should do with the ash which the Tartuffe priest repulsively gave me as His blessing. While others dutifully spread it across their forehead, it wasn’t meant for me. I just silently walked out, crossed the road, brushed my hands and turned for one last look at the mighty Kapaleeshwar temple. From a distance, I admired the picturesque scene - the temple’s silhouette, the setting sun, and the women still needle weaving the jasmine flowers whose sweet smell filled the air. Chants of Shiva, the sound of Conch and the temple bells at a distance was pleasing to my ears. There couldn’t be a more ideal place to calm and relax my senses, hadn’t the excessive commercialization swallowed away its soul.

Kapaleshwar Temple, Mylapore, Chennai

मेरी रूह की आवाज़

आज के ढ़लते हुए सूरज में भी इतनी तेज़ी है

कि उसकी रोशनी से जगमगा गया है रेगिस्तान का कण-कण

बैठें रेत के पहाड़ पर , कोशिश कर रही हूँ

कि समेंट लूँ इस रेत को मुठ्ठी में बन्द कर

पर लाख कोशिश पर भी , वह बैह जाती है

रुकती न मेरे हाँथ में सिमट कर

ठीक उस तरह जिस तरह

यह पल रुकता नहीं , कुछ देर भी,  मेरे लाख चाहने पर |

शान्ति है हर तरफ , दूर-दूर तक है न कोई

बस सरसराती ठंडी हवा , जिसकी थपकियाँ हैं रेत से भरी

छूती हैं वह मुझको और आँखें भर जातीं हैं

सोचती हूँ कि शायद यह तेरा संदेश मुझ तक पहुँचाती हैं |

इस सन्नाटे में भी एक अजीब सा है अपनापन

पहली बार सुनाई पड़ती है तेज़ – मेरी रूह की आवाज़ और खयालों का मंथन

“ मोह करती हूँ मैं क्यों इन भौतिकतावादी वस्तुओं से

खुशी देंगी मुझे जो ज्यादा से ज्यादा कुछ पल भर ”

इतना तो समझ जा , ऐ मनुष्य तू क्यों है नासमझ

भाग रहा है तू जिसके पीछे उसका है न कोई अन्त |

एक बार ठहर जा , बैठ जा , एकाग्र से एकांत में

महसूस कर  - हवा की थपकियाँ , यह चाँदनी , यह पहाड़ को

और इस रेत के बीच अजूबे तलाब में पानी के बहाव को |

कमा ले तू जितनी भी दौलत , न आएगी किसी काम की

पलट पाओगे तुम हवा का न रुख पानी के बहाव का

न कर पाओगे तुम रात-दिन , न दिन को रात भी

फ़िर भाग रहे हो तुम क्यों, चीज़ों के पीछे बेकार में

क्योंकि शान्ति मन की ही चाह होती है, अन्त में नर-नारी की इस संसार में ||   

                                                                                                                         -  पूजा कुमार