Showing posts with label in search of a fairy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label in search of a fairy. Show all posts

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Of Stars and Dying Souls.



I have looked up at the stars with longing in my eyes. Even with envy at times… wishing I could possess that glow in my heart… that infinity in my reach… For what does a restless mind crave but recognition. And what does a dying soul need but peace. That blazing light in the heart…


The glimmering hope of darkest sky
O’ stars I wish I still could fly…
Like I soared in my childhood dreams,
Like I will the day I die…


I have a dying soul, yes. It’s stricken down with tardiness, contempt and callousness. It always has been. Common human stuff… can’t help it. It regrets the day I was born. I have often heard myself mutter out loud for no apparent reason --- “Not Again, DARN IT!”
I believe (though suspicious) it could be the voice of my soul. After all who would be happy getting fried over and over again? (APART from the brainwashed chicken souls of KFC who believe their only ambition in cosmos is to burn in animal fat. Yes, it’s gross. And God of course, who keeps getting grilled in the fire of logic. “Oh no! Not again, DARN IT!” Could be his pet phrase too… (But that is, if they both exist.))
   


Just to be clear, I’m not subscribing to any belief systems here. Those eternally doomed chicken souls should deal with their problems themselves. My dying soul’s repetitive “not again…” is a mere reflection of deep inflicted desires about finding peace through change. I’m a revolutionist after all! We all are! We all want change according to our own perspectives. Some tend to be for personal benefits, most for common good. Yes, it's true. I speak from experience. A little introspection will prove it you. Man is, after all, a social animal.
 But then comes the downfall. All our noble ideas go through self rejection, eyebrow arches, hesitation, subjugation, repeated tramping and treading and finally vanish into oblivion. What survives, is the world we know of and see as today. No wonder it is dying too. So am I. So are you. And so is our collective soul.


But don’t get me wrong. I’m not the physician here, nor am I the way seeker. (Yet). I neither have the medicines nor the prescriptions. I’m merely the death news bringer.

Yet I choose to bring the message of hope.

There has been enough digression in the name of religion and tomorrow. Every thinking man must make his own religion. Be the God of him. We must give our ideas a better dimension to take form in.  Shake off this delusion that we are sheep! We are spirits, divine and free. Nothing can hold us down. Ever.

I've never doubted that one man can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that has!


These human bonds restrain my wings,
Though silent, stifled --- my spirit sings…
A song of hope, a song of fire
A song that burns on reins of sin.

And as these flames take heights anew
My imprisoned dreams can reach out too…
The sickness burns and burns the pain;
The world seems better, so does the view.




I look up at those stars with a longing in my eyes. Wondering what they might think of us mere mortals. They must look down to find the lawlessness of the universe, our ignorance… and start to wonder how the chaos in our lives passes on as just fine.
They won’t be very wrong…

But I’ve been thinking about the meaning of revolution. The beacon of change. Maybe it is a hope beyond me, but I find peace in my dying soul. A force which seems to strengthen it.
And the idea alone pushes me towards that light in my heart …and infinity in my reach.



    I know not much if Gods could care,
And make us what we are --- divine.
But I have looked up to see those stars…

And oh! How wonderfully they shine…  

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Hinc Illac Lacrimae



There are moments of fun, moments of joy, moments of laughter, moments to cry... and then there are moments when we are supposed to tell ourselves that no more we are entitled to them. That we never owned those very valuable seconds we thought belonged to us and were to stay with us forever.  That everything would be lost with that one person away from our sight... 

Those are the moments that hurt the most and leave behind scars. Scars which herald the beginning of a new story while still cherishing the memories of old.  

This poem is the upshot of a scar, though minor, cut through 6 years ago, April 2006. It was written for a friend, a good one, as we parted our ways. This was a parting gift, for I had neither money nor a good bye card... just words... and that's all I could give...

He fares well today. Though our talks gradually declined with time. But I can tell. Whenever he must read these words, he must remember our days, and those great times we had at Oak Grove.

The fragrance of childhood haunts all... hence those tears.




Hinc Illac Lacrimae...




Today, with all my love I write
A poem to you, my friend!
 My heart lies shattered in million pieces,
… Far impossible to mend…



They say words always find their place…
But now they sulk and drown.
Why does happiness so often
Instead of smiling, frowns?



Oh! Such a good friend you were,
And such good times we had.
I shared my thoughts, my dreams with you
And memories ---now leave me sad. 



But since the time has come to part,
We part our solemn ways…
Where I’ll be lost in darkened hues,
And you’ll have your cruel days…



Don’t mind these watery eyes of mine…
For ominous they may seem;
O friend, I cry to lessen this weight
Your absence now redeems…



Hence these tears,
Hence these tears…

Saturday, 16 June 2012

Some Better Words



Do acquaint yourself with the young mint fresh author: Abiral.

I was curious about the unusual sounding name and was told that it meant "continuous" - as in "aviral dhara". And that it should have been A"v"iral (instead of A"b"iral) - but the regional influence made its presence felt. Being from the east myself, I immediately understood that bit, since we say: "abiral dhara" - for something that flows continuously, perpetually or perennially.

Now for my verdict: This is not a run-of-the-mill story and stands out among the deluge of dreck camouflaged as bestsellers - in our bookstores these days … and is light on the wallet too. Debutant author Abiral Kumar has impressed with his maiden offering and will certainly be someone to watch out for in the future.

The storyline: The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy is a story set in modern times, about something that's so much older.

Set deep in the forests of Brahmaputra, this is a story of fate, of fortune, of sacrifice, of friendship, of duty, of rage and resistance, of transformation, of courage and steadfastness; and of relationship in all its myriad shades.

It is an unusual - a hatke - tale woven with abuse, lies, compassion, tenderness, history, trickery, deception and mayhem … but is ultimately a tale of hope and survival.

A story of men and women - transcending great odds. A story of a boy and a girl - overcoming great barriers - of time, of space and geography, in some of the most interesting, enchanting … yet treacherous terrains on earth - where peace jostles with turmoil and violence fights hope and redemption.

It is full of everything; greed, love, innocence, mystery, apathy, horror, grief, et al … are in abundance on the grounds surrounding the mighty and holy Brahmaputra, and so are magic, honour, destiny and romance. And the story plays out, tying in a romantic love story in a most unique way.

But can the past save the future?

The Book Blurb: What if the religious vision of evolution of humans was not entirely true? What if the holy books, prophets and the historians neglected one small detail that is bound to prove costly?

A fragment of the most ancient civilization, surviving till date, is brutally slaughtered in the forests of Brahmaputra. Everyone is dead except for a sixteen-year-old girl who has to drink her own blood to survive. The clues left behind by her father lead her to the mountains where she was born – only to discover that her quest has just begun.

An ancient prophecy foretold of a girl, named Pari, who is destined to bring forth a goddess. Destined to lead the most ancient civilization lost in oblivion towards a new dawn.

Destined to be sacrificed…

All goes as foretold, until she meets Abiel, a small insignificant boy, a negligible dent in her destiny..that is bound to change everything!

The future of the human civilization depends vastly on its past..and the war is on the verge of happening…

The plot: The prodigal son returns … but is it for good? Why does he want the pearlthen?

Two feuding brothers - handsome but no longer young: each with a mission of his own. What is it and who wins?

Two children – innocent and pristine – meet and then part. Will their paths cross again?

A young girl - not yet out of her teens. But why is she looking for the pearl too?

An idealistic young man, son of a powerful minister, answers the call of the mountains and becomes a wanderer, shunning his destiny as his father's heir. Why is he searching for a fairy?

What makes him, a non-violent man, handsome and in the bloom of his youth, risk his all?

And will he find his fairy?

Well, don't expect me to play the spoiler. I will not reveal any more than I have already done. So if you want to know more, get hold of the book and read all you can.

Each character is a mere pawn in this bizarre game of life and death, of power and pelf, of past and future … and each with a story to tell. Or hide.

My two pence: Abiral has a way with words and is quite the storyteller. Frankly I am marveling at his caliber and also doffing my hat - at his amazing imagination. To conceive of such a fantastic plot and then weaving it in words - verse and prose - is no mean feat, even for a seasoned author. What to say of someone who was merely 15-years young!

The book jacket cover is also quite well done. And though the book blurb does give away some clues about the story resting within its pages, it still manages to withhold most of it.

The few typos could and should have been easily pruned out.

However, some sharp editing - to tighten up the plot - would have been welcome. The encounters, the conversations (especially between Pari and Abiel), the character developments - all could have been a bit more compact - in order to maintain the pace and subtlety, while guarding against some events and characters getting too predictable or over done.

The conversation bits should have come out separately, instead of being lumped together in paragraphs. Also some rearranging of the chapters/narrative would make for a smoother flow of the plot/storyline.

And I wish some more thought had been given to the choice of the titles - of each chapter. Frankly, there is great scope for innovativeness here - something Abiral is quite capable of doing justice to. The existing titles sort of rob off the charm and suspense of the following pages, somewhat diluting the interest, and given the nature of the book - that is simply not done.

All those sub-titles in caps … need to go. Time to put on the proverbial thinking cap.

This brings me to the book blurb. Umm, time to reach for the metaphorical screwdriver here as well, and a few turns of it and I firmly believe it will reveal only what it should and whet the readers appetite.

Abiral has chosen to take the road less traveled vis-à-vis the spate of new authors who have presented themselves for us to sink our teeth into. The story at the heart of this novel is most fascinating. And given the kind of events woven into the narrative: taut drama, twists, suspense, conflicts, mystery, romance, surprise elements, a few heart tugging moments, the works …  the pruning off of the deadwood - would only ensure that it continues to retain its charm till the last page has been turned, instead of having its pace and flavour interfered with.

But all said and done, this is the work of a 15-year-old schoolboy. A very promising budding author at that … whose perspective, writing style and imagination will bowl you over.

The story resting within the pages of this book is fresh and there isn't any sense of déjà vu, meaning one does not get the feeling of plodding through rehashed stuff. You know, old wine in new bottle and all that.

My rating: I'm going with a 3.5/5 - for Abiral's maiden offering: amazing concept backed by a limpid writing style. He is one author whose literary progress I'll watch with interest. I now look forward to reading the rest of the trilogy, and am quite sure that their narrative will sweep me up in its fold and keep me there.

In Ruskin's writings we come across "Pari Tibba" quite often. Hopefully someday we'll get acquainted with "Ganji Pahadi" - through Abiral's prolific pen - when the pen is not busy writing some or the other eggjam paper that is!

Details of the book: The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy/ Author: Abiral/ Publisher: Frog Books [An imprint of Leadstart Publishing Pvt. Ltd]/ Publishing Date: 2012/ ISBN-10: 9381576687/ ISBN-13: 9789381576687, 978-93-81576-68-7 / Pages: 273/ Price: Rs.195, US $8 [Rs. 184 on Flipkart].

Photograph: The book jacket cover of The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy. Picture courtesy: link.

The book can be obtained from: Flipkart

Get in touch with Abiral at: me.abiral@gmail.com

Saturday, 26 May 2012

A Thousand Fireflies…


                                            ...just another miracle.


It had been seven years. Seven long years since that sad day she had lost her friend. Seven long years of unending wait. Seven long years of solitude… and hope.  The last she had seen of him was as he turned away from her, leaving her rooted to the ground. She was a small girl then. The feelings that made way to her heart through his words and smiles meant nothing more than a friend’s promise. Somehow her innocent self had come to believe that it could last forever. That those moment could never end… but treacherous, meddling fate intervened at the turn of time and flung them away. Alone she stood at the threshold of their friendship, watching him walk away. Forever.

“Fireflies,” her uncle had told her once, “are the most wonderful creatures of all, my child. Like a thousand twinkling stars they light up the sky. They are much like God’s own fairy lights. Especially meant for li’l fairies like you!”
“But how come I never see them around!?” she had questioned with a pout on her face.
Her uncle had laughed merrily at her innocent question, “They live on the other bank of the river. They seldom cross over to our side. That is why I brought this small gift for you…” he took out his hand and placed the glowing firefly in her eager palm. Wide-eyed she stared at it, unable to say a word out of amazement.
“Whenever you’ll be sad, they’ll flock around, swirling round and round with the breeze, forming a canopy of light. That is the light of hope my child, learn to recognize it. Never give up. Believe. For miracles do happen. I wish I could keep you safe forever… but..”
She thought she saw a hint of teardrop form under his eyelid, but he turned away his head faster than she could notice anymore of it.

She didn’t know what her uncle wanted to tell her then, but the day she had watched her friend turn away from her, somehow, a flock of fireflies happened to pass that way. They flocked over her head swirling around in the breeze, making a canopy of light, a canopy of hope. Just like her uncle had said. That was the day she had decided she wouldn’t give up on him. No matter what. She would come here every evening and someday, just someday he would be waiting for her again. 

As time passes, it erodes away everything, exposing a new layer in its place. Buds give way to flowers, childhood to teen and friendship…? That is one tricky business.  In most cases it has been known to disappear completely leaving only faded memories behind. But if it doesn’t, it metamorphoses into something a lot more complex and painful, yet wondrous all the same--- love.
This evolution for her was gradual. As a result, she didn’t even realize when her innocent feelings had transpired into something much more beautiful but complicated. That too for a boy who never returned… Seven years she had waited for him, and it was beginning to tire her now.  It wasn’t her fault completely. Just another of nature’s fundamentals. Even the stormy sea is lulled at last in its rocky cradle. Even the forest fires sleeps in its own bed of ashes. She was but a human. A slave of her emotions and logic.

Today as she stood by the brook, doubt enveloped her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if she could take this any further. What good would this beget? What reason could be behind this folly? She had spent seven years of her life looking at an empty trail, waiting for him. Waiting for someone who never cared to turn around once! Why should she wait for him anymore?  Yet there was a part of her that believed in him. That hoped for another meeting. All she really needed was a reason to believe.

It had been quite some time since the fireflies had followed her that day. Out of the darkness they flew out once again in the evening twilight, twinkling away in utter bliss. First she couldn’t believe it. But then she remembered her uncle’s words. Whenever you’ll be sad, they’ll flock around, swirling round and round with the breeze, forming a canopy of light. That is the light of hope my child, learn to recognize it. Never give up. Believe. For miracles do happen.  She had never seen one of the species since that day, and now suddenly they had sought her out again. Could this be a sign?
 She didn’t know, but she wasn’t doubtful anymore. Perhaps, the luminescent light of the fireflies had washed away those dark spots. She spread out her arms and looking up at the sky, spun around with happiness. She knew that moment was special. She cried, like a child. Out of happiness. Or rather a mix of emotions. The lump in her throat was insoluble, and still gave a pleasant feeling.

She opened her eyes with a new zest in them. She knew she could hope again. And someday, someday he would show up. That was how things were supposed to be. That is how they will have to be. With a smile she looked up at the fireflies again as they disappeared just as they had arrived. Deep into the twist and turns of life.

Two years later he came. And the fireflies were there waiting for them. 

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