What I Read is what YOU Read - Part 2

Hey All My Lovely Ones,

I know. I know its been a while. Perhaps all of you have come back here to see if I decided to get up from my blogging slumber. Well see, I finally did. Today.

This blog of mine has always been for me a medium of deeper contemplation about life and me. Thus it is almost always triggered by a present moment. A moment disruptive enough to set you in what a dear friend refers to "Thinking Mode".

The year 2013 is coming to an end. Kids are hoping Santa will leave them their favorite gifts tonight in their stockings world over(HOPE). Youngsters have their plans chalked out- where, how, when and with whom they will usher in the new year(PLAN). Some are going to merely change the digit at the end of the date string(ROUTINE). And there is a large number of those who will perhaps be thankful only to see the next year come by(SURVIVE).

Hope. Plan. Routine. Survive.
My take on this year end is summed up in the above four words. With every stage of life what we do with a particular event changes. Hope keeps us going, while planning brings us exhilaration of a possibility that our wishes will be fulfilled but then Routine sets in with its mundanity and you are only glad that you survived it. :)

That takes me to this piece of poetry that I have a print of on my office desk pin board. In my view Henley captures the essence of "going about life" so magnificently that poets in every lifetime will wonder how to transcend the benchmark set by him more than 100years ago.

Pinning it below for you all to read. Hope you like it. Leave a comment to share your views.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. 

William Ernest Henley

Have a Fantastic Day. A Magical Year End Experience.

Loads of Love to All.

Rights of Admission - RESERVED

Amongst a whole host of things that I have been contemplating in the last couple of weeks, there has been a predominant thought on my mind. I really don't know how most people manage this situation, but I am often left bewildered by the way most people receive it. The point in question is, "Saying & Accepting a NO"

Pardon me if I keep re-iterating that growing up does this, growing up does that, but I surely believe that all adult manifestations are deeply rooted some where in our childhood. And most of my writing stems from where we all were when our beliefs, characters and lifestyles were being formed. I have always maintained that parenting is a tough thing- and knowing the difference between parenting an adult from parenting a child is the toughest. I can almost hear half my audience sigh and an emphatic exclamation of how do I know anything about parenting. Well I am not challenging anyone or their ways, but I increasingly feel that there has to be an emphasis on "agreeing to disagreeing" bit.

I often get told that I rebuff at most proposals. At other times, I am told I am insensitive. I am also told that I do not care for people and their emotions and related offerings. I am told I do  not understand what others are going through. I am told my world starts and end at me. All of the above majorly guided by the fact that I do not agree to everything shoved my way all the time. When in reality I either affirm or refuse a proposal only basis what I feel like doing with the time I have on my hand. I strongly believe that once you are an adult, you are solely responsible for the things. activities, emotions and feelings you will subject yourself too. Then why this whole pandemonium about always receiving an acceptance from other people for what you want to do with your life.

I was told only last night that if I was refused a situation, I would never ever come back to ask again. And it was told to me in a manner to make me feel apologetic about it. OFCOURSE I will not come back to ask again. Not because I don't value other human beings but because I seriosuly do. Because I genuinely accept and respect one's decisions to refuse. If you are an adult I assume you have thought about a decision before expressing it. If you were a kid who needs to be coaxed into a particular experience, I will try a couple of times. But definitely not if you are above 18 years. I mention the figure not cause it testifies anything in particular, but even the world's oldest democracy gives you legal rights to get married, have sex, procreate, to be prosecuted in non-juvenile courts et al at that age. Those I consider the BIG decisions of life. So I am sure you are responsible enough to decide on things that you want to do with your time otherwise.

Thats where I feel parenting comes in. All our growing up years, we are always encouraged to say 'yes'. We are encouraged to not express our disagreement publicly. We are made to feel terrible about refusals, disapprovals, denials and rejection. What we miss out on is that these are matters of personal choices and nobody gets defined by anybody else's expressions. What we miss out on is that it is not always amicable to agree. Sometimes it takes just a push over the edge to be amicable while disagreeing.

Perseverence & persuasion are virtues definitely but as we go along our days, knowing where to draw a fence becomes irreplaceable. And like you gaurd your own boundaries, allow others to gaurd theirs. And do not corelate & confuse a series of emotions such as love, care, affection with expression of denial.

Now after all the deliberation, I feel and I urge all my readers to find yourself a rights of admission notice in life. Please say assertive "No's" when you don't want to do a particular thing. And develop an extra ba** to accept even a polite "No". Coz that is the tough part.

Oscar Wilde's "The Selfish Giant" had a beautiful garden with 12 peach trees and fragrant flowers(which is interpreted as Paradise) and that fell into perpetual winters with the wall built around and the famous words put out "TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED". May be coz of the use of a strong word as prosecution this phrase has an extreme connotation, but has still found its popularity among all generations since it was immortalised by the author. In today's world to protect the paradise inside of you and have the christ child visit you to blossom your frangrant flowers and the spring to sing in your heart- it is almost imperative to keep the noise and chaos of trespassers(my use here is indicative to the old saying and not personal to anyone) out.

Disclaimer: Some of you will feel and find resemblance of our conversations lately in the post above. BUT Any (even faint) similarity to any persons living and/or dead (especially alive & kicking ones), or events, real and/or imaginary (especially real) is purely, totally, completely and/or most probably accidentally coincidental."(#source of inspiration:jimmydumps)

Stay Well Everyone. Love to you all.

The "Bangali" in me........Quintessentially Clandestine

Almost everyday when my alarm(which incidently is a technical phone beep) goes off at 6am, there is a song playing in my head. It is so precise that it surprises me. How when I mostly do not even recall my dreams I am able to remember the lyrics and tune as if someone sang to me right then.

Well,the first thing that I do each morning is to play music anyways; and on the days when I have these unique ones playing on my mind long before I even wake up, I play those FIRST. Today I woke upto this song: Tagore's "Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare". I first heard this song on my summer vacations some 15years ago from a cousin who was comprehensively trained in what all Bangalis resonate with - 'Robindrosangeet'. As didi sang this song to all of us assembled in a north-side room of our ancestral house in Medinipore on a sultry summer night, I felt an irresistable urge to learn the song and keep it by heart. I eventually did learn the song by that fall. This song was also the first amongst choice of songs for my All India Radio show later that year. Please don't re-read that last line- coz yes I do not come across as a singer anymore. And I also only today remembered about this one-off feat of mine so many years ago. But all Bangali girls are singers in their teens(mostly) and we all sing Robindrosangeet.

At this point, I wish to bring to my reader's attention this whole connection between us Bangalis and our own Robindranath Thakur. Actually it is not exactly like you read it; not that simple. It is more deep-rooted than one can comprehend - "Aamader Nijer Robindronath".I am sorry to sound over-possesive and at times even under-mining non-bengali ideas of Tagore, but seriously(but not offensively) I feel that apart from scholars who research on his subject and even them at times, common people cannot comprehend the expanse that is Tagore. I am yet to find another parallel to Tagore's following amongst bangalis in any other community atleast in India. So sometimes I am at a loss of words and expressions to explain to friends and colleagues when they ask what is our big deal with Tagore. And yes there are enough ignorant people around us even in most evolved habitats, where we go about our days and years.

My brother and I grew up on a staple diet of Robindronath all through our childhood. Rather I would honestly claim that our love for cultural literature actually started there. And with him, we learnt the most important aspect of culture, religions, regions, caste, creed- it is acceptance & tolerance. His writings stand for everything liberal & blatantly honest, bare. His songs, poems, stories encompasses almost every situation that the human race could broadly be subjected to, in the era he lived in and beyond it too. Like the song I woke up to this morning: "Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare". The song has such a wide relevance that it has never ceased to intrigue me in the last 15years that I have been listening to it. This is not to say that his other work of literature hasn't affected me. This is only about this particular song and me. I am going to attempt to explain the song to you all(pardon me for any irregularities). This is not a translation. This is MY INTERPRETATION; and why it touches a different chord each time I listen to it.

Well, also I would urge each of you to think and express in comments what you feel. Please feel free to critique and add to mine - as that remains my quest from my own writings. I will not have a round off statement at the end of this blog and leave my readers with just Robindronath's magic. That will be the befitting culmination of my day today.

The song was written on 25th March 1922. Tagore was 60. 


Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare Gaan Geye Mor
Ketechhe Din,
Besides the path of mundane tread, my days have gone by singing my song
As the world passes by, I sit along the way and sing my song

Jabaar Bailaye Debo Kaare Buker Kaachhe
Bajlo Je Biin
The day of the departure, with whom shall I leave behind the notes closest to my chest
When the day of judgement arrives, whom should I handover my heart's tunes

Shuur Guli Taar Nana Bhaage Rekhe Jaabo
Pushpo Raage
The notes I will divide in many parts and arrange in floral notations
The notations of my heart's music I shall neatly illustrate like flowers bloom- flawlessly

MiidGuli Taar Megher Rekhaaye Swarno Lekhaaye
Korbo Biliin
The rhythm and intricacies will be drawn in golden drawings in the skyline
The highs and lows of my heart, I will draw intricately like clouds in golden lines

Kichhu Ba She MilanMalaye Jugol Golaaye
Roi Be Gaathaa
Some notes will stay strung together in garlands that young couples exchange at marriages
The notes will be carried beyond this lifetimes as they bring the right and might in youth together in a transcendental union

Kichhu Ba She Bhijiye Debe Dui Chahoniir
Chokher Pata
Some will bring tears to young lovers eyelids
Some will drench in themselves the two who have found their calling in each other

Kichhu Ba Kon Choitro Maasher
Bokul Dhaka Boner Ghaashe
Moner Kothar Tukdo Aamar
Kudiye Paabe, Kon Udashiin
Some will be found with the Bakul flowers on grass bed of this forest, with strewn pieces of my heartfelt words by an incurious person walking this path.
The rest of the notes with my heart's story/chapters/details will perhaps be discovered by lonesome soul wanderer among the Bakul flowers on this forest trail when the white of the flowers would envelope the green of the forest in all-encompassing love of all seasons. Like the flowers fall to embrace the earth in unconditional love, my heart's tunes may be embraced by this disinterested wanderer and may it resonate with his heart's tune and revert his apathetic indifferent view of the world.

Above I consider is a very brave attempt. May be it should not have been. But Now it is here for you to read. So here it goes, interpreted twice coz I could not cover even the gist in the first go. Please leave a comment with what you feel.

Thanks for dropping by. Look forward to many more visits from all of you.

Time Talks

The china cup sits on the table
Pedicured toes peep out
Of the matt gold bordered
Burnt red six yards of his favorite

Occasionally the toes wriggle
Go back and forth
Revealing the flawless white skin
The green veins almost seen through

Through the glass top of the table
The crossed legs at the knees
The polished seesham frame
Of the table accentuating the angle

The stillness of the solid wood
Framing a picture of many a moon 
The saree fluttered with the airflow
Of the table fan placed a lil away

The tinge of sunlight from the window
Refracting through the glass
Making the amber glow of the silk below
While the fragile feet swings in and out

The gap in the curtains also
Keeps changing with the swinging fan
The light keeps playing hide n seek
The eyes keep dodging the rays

The eyelids bat furiously to combat
The light that pierce the pupils
The teeth bite the corner of lips
To express the love of teasing

The finger daintly circles the cup rim
Swiftly as the hand of seconds
Going mechanically round the
Dial of a time-marker

The coffee that was steaming
Quite a few hours ago
Sat there for her still waiting
Wishing for the gale to settle

Sun was out outside the window
Nature's blizzard had passed quite soon
But there was still the winds of fury
Blowing in the grey corridors on her mind

Her life pinned on the wall behind
Plans & subsitutes always side by side
Till she took to believing promises
Till she finally looked away that day







The round stain of the coffee cup
Remains valiantly embossed
On the glass table top
Testifying the time that went by

Undaunted witness of the burning amber
Enveloped inside the favorite six yards
The storm outside & the one inside
Fury that flew & the one held back

The chapters of a day when the cup
Sat here for hours with her finger
Circling its rim again and again
Before leaving behind a part of her smudged & soiled......

Mehram..... Mehram......

Since very long time, I have  played the track from the album Aman ki Asha called Mehram by Meenal Jain for the soulful rendition of this Punjabi song(ohhhh I have an affinity for that language and get invariably attached to music from that province more than often). My love for the land of five rivers actually goes deeper with the creaminess of their lassi, richness of their curries and the crispness of their paranthas. The song continues to play on loop on my system through the entire length of most solitary nights and brings about a swaying calmness. In the foreground there has been innumerable beautiful conversations. Also there has been times when silence has spoken, interpreted and instilled some interesting and perpetual thoughts.

For many years I believed I was only a rhyme and rhythm person. Music for me was mostly about the notes; highs and lows. Music for me was about the rhythm and my love for fitting things in their designated place only accentuated this affinity to measure and tempo. Rhythm is a tricky thing and yet is what has some mathematics, so some calculations and therefore some definite logic. Somewhere deep inside of me or perhaps everyone is a strong sense of rhythm. Rhythm of how life is happening to us. Rhythm of how we see things appearing and disappearing from our lives. Rhyme is another of  those interesting parameters. We spend most of our lives believing that it will all rhyme at the end. But I feel that there is a reason why a free verse is called a free verse.

And though my mind vehemently debates- DO NOT GROW UP. Its a MYTH. And I possibly eventually did. And then my focus shifted from rhyme, rhythm, beats and feel to the most intrinsic variable of music - the LYRICS.

“Disappointment came to me, and booted me,
and bruised and hurt me, but that's how people grow up.” - Morrissey

Bringing you back to where we started. "MEHRAM". A colleague and friend of mine took the holy pilgrimage that every able-bodied Muslim endeavors to undertake at least once in their lifetime called Hajj last year. That is when I learnt many interesting details about one of the largest annual religious congregations that fellow humans participate in. What I learnt among other things is that every woman pilgrim who decides to undertake this holy journey must be accompanied by one male member of her family. This relative member with whom she is permanently forbidden to marry because of blood ties, breast-feeding or ties through an existing marriage is called a Mehram(sometimes spelt mahram). When my friend nonchalantly used the word one day, it took me back to this song that I have been listening to for a while. Took me to read up and understand the significance. Though for a person originally not of that faith, I do find some of the regulations pretty staunch and strict but growing up has taught me to exercise restraint in developing negative opinions about things I am not in complete know-how of.

But as I continue to listen to the mesmerizing Punjabi lyrics, I can't help but fall in love with the concept of "Mehram". I want to state in earnest; that may be this is conceivably my own interpretation of this term and but then so is the length and breadth of my entire blog. Read Up anyways. If you like it, leave a note. If you don't, just leave. :)

Mehram; a person so sacred and sacrosanct that is prohibitory. A bond you share that doesn't let you traverse boundaries. A person who is responsible for you. A person without whom you can't take this journey. A person who in some way validates your presence at the court of lord. A person who in all senses circumambulates the holy house of God with you- step in step.

My inquisitive self found it disappointing to learn that Only & Only Muslims can perform Hajj and Umrah. But then there are rules, I understand. So lets just for a moment, if we feasibly allow ourselves to imagine our lives as a journey where it is mandatory to have a Mehram- how would it really be? Please park the feminist sentiments aside and just think how beautiful(allow yourself to read romantic) the concept is. 

Mehram; a relationship so sacred and sacrosanct that is prohibitory to continue without. A bond doesn't let one traverse boundaries and take in infringements  A person who is responsible for you, without whom you can't take this journey of life. A person who in some way validates your presence in this universe  A person who  circumambulates the power source of all energies, the SUN with you year after year.

The post must end with what it started- a stanza from Mehram, the song

Ishaq Khumaari Laake Badla Naal Udaari
Chadhdi Jaanve Ishq Khumaari
Laake Badla Naal Udaari
Ki Gum Hai Do Toli Jaanva
Mehram Mehram Boli Jaanva

I will not even attempt to translate the above. But please feel free to ask.

P.S- look up and listen to the song. It has some magic of Its Own.

What I Read is what YOU Read

Its been a while since I last posted on this page. And it has been a sheer case of laziness or pre-occupation that I have allowed myself to be trapped in. Though there has been some significant happenings, some beginnings, some endings and some decisions not so grounded in conviction that have been made, I have not been able to get myself to share how it has been. It has also been a period marked with certain firsts- some intriguing & some not so intriguing. Days, weeks and months have continued to swoosh past and there has been innumerable drafts written & re-written in the head to be shared. But nothing eventually got published here. In my few years of orbiting around the sun I have learnt one thing more than others- when the going gets tough, the tough people are the ones who just allow the tough times to pass. To stand up and act is definitely an act of courage but to stand back and not act or react in my opinion takes equal amount of strife.

But then when these phases continue in life, one tends to turn towards lives that exemplify triumph over times. So till the time I come back with a piece of my thought strung together, here is something that I have kept a copy of in my handbag lately. I have often shared print-outs of this with many of my girlfriends but I guess if you are a guy with a sensitive mind, you could get the gist of it nevertheless. Cheers!!

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

 

Maya Angelou

Hope you enjoyed!! Do stop by again soon!!

Celebrating 29yrs....A Birthday here and there

Many years ago, I had for the first time come across, a small snippet of an interesting write-up that captured the way a child thought differently of his father at different age and stage of his life. I have often revisited that snippet, to understand if I was falling in step with the ways this particular person cited his change of imagery and its associated emotions for his parent.

Later as life progressed, I discovered that the same process of analogy can be applied to many other things. These things can range from your concept of a partner, love, expectations, celebrations and more and more. Of course it can be debated that these are things that do not happen or do not alter so frequently or objectively. But there still are somethings for each one of us, that will hold some transitional story every year. For some it can be their seeking spiritually, for some it can be their seeking more materialistically. For some it can be physical transition while for some it can be passing by of seasons.

For me, for quite a few past years, it has been my birthday(which incidently is 24 hrs away). Every year it has been different. Different in many ways. Different in the way, the preceding days went. Different in the way, I achieved certain milestones in the year that went by. Different in the way, that I celebrated the day itself. Different in the way, I woke up next day.

As a child I remember, the day started with a prep up hug from Ma and a very unique gift which my mom had discovered made me the happiest. A brand new "Towel Set". Years later I feel my knack for ironed, clean and crisp linens were formed by this practice of my mother. There was always a casual dress school day with the usual song singing and sweets distribution to be followed my a home party(I am the generation before QSRs really took over that joy). And then the gift wrappers flying all over the room and the OMGs shrieking now and then. The tradition continued right till the time we passed out of school. The thing I remember most about those years was that the moment the knife would slice the cake, the thought of the next birthday being a full 12 months away crossed my mind and saddened my heart.

Then college happened and more friends appeared on the horizon. More outdoor stuff happened. More and more in-bound stuff disappeared. Cutting the cakes continued. Sometimes up to a dozen cakes I cut, in the entire day. Everywhere I went, a group of friends put together a small party. Sometimes these impromptu parties started a day or 2 before n continued to a day or two after the actual date.

And then more serious changes started taking place in life. Professionally & Personally both. My 24th Birthday- my first one after I landed myself a proper job and a more significant personal event was celebrated by my parents at their place with much fanfare. My Best Friend Sameera was there too. My 25th Birthday- I bought my first car. It arrived on 17th; just 2 days before D-day and taught me the biggest lesson I was to learn that year. That people do and will leave. They will promise and break those promises. They will not remember what is important to you. And also that when everyone would be gone, my A-2 compact segment i-10 will keep me warm and snug. I learnt that the only thing I need to remember was to click the door lock when I was seated inside. It was perhaps the first birthday I spent alone just driving my car the length and breadth of Delhi and I learnt that I was going to be my best companion. I cut not even a single cake this year.

My 26th- was preceded with much awakening and life changing incidents. Close friends and well wishers, Swati & PK had encouraged me to now invest in a house(to make a home). The days up to my birthday, also encouraged me to break the rituals of expectations and not meeting them. Soh, do something you have never done before. Do the regular stuff, go to office, leave on a business tour and not treat your birthday any differently than any other day of the year. And that is exactly what I did. Went to office and left for a business trip to Punjab and handed over my first installment cheque to the builder representative at the railway station itself. It makes me unusually proud year after year to see the property document and the date of booking on it.

My 27th - was preceded with the diagnosis of a cervical slip disc. MRIs, scans and physiotherapy was all that I spent my 17th-18th doing. Advised bed rest for 3 weeks. Considering the same as a compulsory birthday gift, I stuck to it.

My 28th - I had just moved to Mumbai, trying to find a place for myself in this city which apparently has space which does not appear to anyone at first glance. I had found a house, a maid, a milkman, a newspaper guy and the jhing bang that makes your life go from day to day. But it is what I was to find later this year, is what leaves me baffled today. I found another Soh :).

But as I sit after midnight today,I realize I have had a great start to the birthday month, fortnight and week this year - My 29th. I went on a road trip. I learnt to ride a bullet. I drove a half truck up a hill. I tried Para-gliding. I learnt to swim. I attended an allstarrjamm session. Icaught up with quite a few friends. But what I also realized is what I miss most about my birthdays now. I miss Baba & Ma. Cause if it was not for them, I wouldn't have had a birthday to go from year to year, gaining experiences and enthusiasm. To all the things I have done, gathered, learnt and accumulated in these years between my birthdays; if there is anybody who deserves to raise a toast to, its you Baba & Ma. My dad is the less-expressive kind but my Ma always says, that this day changed her life as she held her first child in her arms. And I found the same explained beautifully in a 1997 document submitted by Koray Tanfer of Battelle Memorial Institute &Frank Mott of Ohio State University about fatherhood primarily but can be interpreted for parenthood alike. It says,"A man becomes a father when he has his first child; this status is fixed, such that, once a man becomes a father he is always a father. He may subsequently have more children, or his responsibilities and activities may change due to divorce, or children leaving home, or for other reasons, but he is always a father." 

If anyone deserves a celebration on this day, its you two; Baba & Ma. Cause now I can somehow bring myself to feel how you must have felt in these days just before I was born. As I engaged in the most exhilarating activities, it occurred to me all of a sudden; that nothing can be more exhilarating that having achieved parenthood like you both did so many years ago.

Dear Baba, Ma
This is to let you know; I miss you and I miss you a lot around me this time round. Its been a while and we deserve to celebrate this day together sometime.

Love
Me

*P.S- I love you. This year my birthday has a whole new dimension. Like every year it is renewing the bonds, values, meanings.


**And this whole piece would be incomplete without stating from where it started. A few days ago, an ex-boyfriend called unexpectedly and was beaming with excitement to break the news of fatherhood and in his exuberance he said,"Soh, if I was to have a daughter, she better be like you." To which my most natural response was, "Then you two better be like my Baba & Ma"

Captain of My Soul, Master of My Fate

Stood in the doorway

Turned around the corner

Crossed the crossings

Went Looking in the busy subway

Walked down the boulevard

Waited patiently at the bus station

Hurried down the stairway

Swung open the windows

Passed through the Access Gates

Sailed across the creek

Parked along the harbour

Pulled away the sun-binds

Turned on the lights

Pulled up at the parking lot

Held my breadth

Twitched my eyes

Turned off the music

Made my way through the Bazaar

Bent down to check under

Climbed up to see Over

Sat down to watch outside

Strolled down the walkway

Opened the box

Tore Away the packaging

Looking for you, everywhere - around n away

Inside n Outside, In n Out

Within n Without

Where are you, Thou, My Dear

The Captain of My Soul
The Master of My Fate

P.S - I am looking for YOU!!