Carry me

dear stream over a small winding path
carry me
gently over jagged rocks and moss
Un-entangle me from the roots
of the woodland tree
carry me
away from a hand that seeks me
carry me
away even as I bask in the spotlight of a under a sunray
carry me
away from the ships on a voyage
carry me
away closer to a horizon
carry me
away, farther away from mighty civilizations
carry me
away, unbeknownst to me into the surging sea
carry me
away to ride on a wave
carry me
away closer to a dawning sun
carry me away
from raging storms
carry me away
like the dusky dream
carry me away
wee as I am
Carry me away
Buoyed as I am by hope
Carry me away gently
For I am but a paper boat.

I stand...

in the eye of a storm. Surrounded by walls of thunder. I see dark grey all around me. Streaks of lightning. Desperate, I look up. To see a seemingly calm sky. Drops of water fall gently on my face, tracing paths streaked by tears. Somewhere do sweet rain and bitter tears mingle... disappearing to a nowhere. 

Rooted do I stand. In the midst of a paradox. Serenity encapsulated in mayhem, silence walled by claps of thunder. Rooted do I stand trying to hang on to the calm around me, despite the walls closing in. Deafened do I stand, unable to tell, if it is because of the thunder applauding so hard or the column of silence right above.

My heart races and blood sprints through my veins. And then, in a single epiphanic moment does it dawn on me....Just like the sunlight that chose to part the curtains of clouds and peek through... that storms raged within and not without. And the silence I ought to seek wasn't on the outside but within. 

All I see now is the silent, peaceful drizzle on a ravaged ground. Sunlight courses through. 

There is a light within. As there is light without.

A blank page

and I begin writing. With a quill. My fingers and nails stained in cobalt blue. A blue that has bled deep into my fingertips. My fingers move, forming shapes and curves, dots and dashes...forming words. Guided by a force called the heart... perhaps. Once in a while the quill stops. To dip in and write again. And then, there is a blotch of blue. A blotch that spreads into several pores of the paper, washing over a word or two on separate lines. The blotch seems to make a couple of lines meaningless. Or perhaps, they didn't have much meaning earlier either. But I followed the dictates of my heart. My fingers wrote on, guided for what seemed like an eternity. On and on I write, I believe. In my mind I had written reams, while, in reality, I had barely filled a solitary sheet. I dip the quill again. This time the pot of ink spills over. On all the words I had written. The paper is soaked. Little by little do I see my words and the intervals of ivory turning into a brilliant cobalt blue.. I watch, while the ink carries my words along, dripping on to the hard stone floor. A short journey that was, from paper to the floor. My words now rest in peace. So many of them. Or maybe, not so many. Completely contained in a few drops of cobalt blue, as they were before. More so now. And like a scar will the stain remain, containing and reminding me of words that once were, neatly arranged, on a piece of paper. 

The Marie Claire 2013 Influencers List

I have been featured in the list as one among 25 women from all over India. 

The women featured in this list are terrific achievers and I now have a few more women to look up to after this article. 

For now, I am grateful and humbled for the graces of God :)