Culture: Bolloywood

Does our bollywood movies validate that your view of the world and its creatures is the only reality. That there are no parallel realities or each event or process can have several facets of realities. We are not linear so why are the movies?

Why are we not ready to view our own reality? Why is it so painful to see oneself as a victim or the perpetrator?
Why do we (some of us) want to get lost in the magnanimous depictions, when I am not there?
Why do we choose to live in the conflict rather that resolve it?

The oozing riches and well-offness in the movies, does it reflect on inverse relationship of us being sacred to face, struggle with our own reality, poverty in acceptance of our own selves, denial to know our own selves.

What is it that we keep hovering at the same point in a spiral and move away from our own selves, further away with every circle, from facing it. Why are we ready to live someone else's dream, to live in congested spaces, but walk in a trance as if this is the liberation that I always wanted.

Is it the liberation, we have been seeking?

why does what the other have, make me aspire what they have? What is it about what I have? Because I am and how much ever I try I will be....even if I move away from my own self. 

Poem with a Life

Walking through life, You scale the un-trodden
Get caught in the surprises from the known
Look the other way when it is too much
Climb when it is the hardest

What is that ..that makes the struggle rhyme
That seeps through your insides as a sunshine,
Even when you are bruised, your eyes are closed
That plays the music, finds a rhythm in every lived moment

What is it that makes you walk and walk
That makes you laugh and fill you with joy in what you have....

What is that, that hums in every moment
that sings with every beat and every turn you take

Maybe there is a poem within that is alive

People Tell You

People tell a lot of things to one...as if one is a amusing specimen....
I wonder why is there so much joy in telling, is it because
you know better
you are happy that your life is better or
you want to wipe away the sorrow for the other....

If it is the last one you are clearly underestimating them and overestimating oneself...you are crossing the line of living some one else's life...and taking the right from them to live theirs,  just because you can command

If it is the other two then... clearly...you have not seen enough...lived enough....mingled enough traveled in mind and in experiences enough the way the one you tell has

So when it is not enough... the stretch of the telling falls short just before the turn ....from where the experiences and awareness of the other start

Wait

When your limbs restlessness becomes synonymous with you
When your reasoning becomes a Phoenix,that  falls in love with its ashes
When your heart leaps where you cannot catch it
When the eyes melts the distances and looks beyond what is there
When you think the unthinkable and start building yourself around it
When you become unbearable for your own self
When the time stops and you start passing by
A good wait is when you loose sight of why were you waiting, your hearts leaps die into the uncomfortable twists inside you, your limbs give way, you see with unseeing eyes,  your soul stops speaking, drenching itself into numbness
........you make everything wait, to wait for the time to tick again for you...

Dedicated to (self) pity

When it reduces itself to nothingness...

When people are not able to see it in broad daylight

When its own soul walks all over it

When it gets placed not as a lamp stand next to the door, but as a mat outside the door

When the dust that is shooed out of the house, refuses to touch it

When the noise inside comes out with an intensity that deafens every possibility of life within it, but people dont hear it, for them its like the irritating squeals of the mice when the darkness dawns

When the eyes see and disgust at its own image, and it becomes those blurred lines in the memory

When these blurred lines get cobwebs, and entangle everything that comes its way

When it reduces itself to an object,  looses what all it has and dissolves in something so sublime as each prayer in a heartbeat around it beats a rhythm .... wish it was not there...

When the reason for what it was.... wishes with all intensity.... wish it was not there...

......and then it shrouds its evil eyes, scheming breath ....its treacherous soul in the blanket of night and disappears in the land where red, green all appear the same

After a While

After A While

©1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn

the subtle difference between

holding a hand and chaining a soul

and you learn

that love doesn't mean leaning

and company doesn't always mean security.

And you begin to learn

that kisses aren't contracts

and presents aren't promises

and you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes ahead

with the grace of woman,

not the grief of a child

and you learn

to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow's ground is

too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down

in mid-flight.

After a while you learn

that even sunshine burns

if you get too much

so you plant your own garden

and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone

to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure

you really are strong

you really do have worth

and you learn

and you learn

with every goodbye, you learn...

"One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman",The Second Sex-Simone De Beauvoir