The Hibiscus Dream…

Let every journey be as beautiful as the flower of Hibiscus!

My admiration for the red hibiscus let me name this blog “The Hibiscus Dream”. The dream is to rise high, no matter how hard the slope, no matter how harsh the Sunshine. There is a Hibiscus tree in my backyard, and I have seen countless buds blooming into beautiful red Hibiscus in spite of the hot and cold weather. I am left wondering, if the season at all affects this little creation of HIM.

Writing for me is expression. Being an introvert, I keep emotions to myself and find expression & solace in words. My pen is my treasure, it helps me record  happiness, smiles, laments, pain, anguish, betrayal, tears and also the joy of love. Be with me in this journey, talking to my pen and I am sure, you will be responded to in this long journey called life!

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Married ….Just a note!

Hailing from a country which heavily breathes on mostly one relationship between the men and women, i.e. the fatal attraction. It is not uncommon to find parents searching for an appropriate life partner for their daughter. The times have still not changed in most parts of India, where, as a girl turns 18-23, the pressure gets more and more intense for her to be wed.

No doubt, the metros see a sea change with increasing number of live-in relationships but it’s a fact this number is not huge. So many girls are raised with thoughts that they have to beautify the life of someone else, primarily her future husband’s. How often parents are seen teaching their girls about her own happiness, about her own peace, let alone the comfort of having sex as per her wishes and agreement.

On the second front, the wedding is a huge affair. Pomp and show, give and take, the forms of ostentation are numerous. Less are the objections to this style of wedding, and more the cases where the money spent sweeps the floor under the bride’s family. Parents save all their life to have a great wedding for their daughter. Mothers often are seen collecting gold, little by little for their girls. The bride’s dress, the jewelry, the beauty, the sanskaar (values) have to be impeccable but who questions the bridegroom! Just the fact he is a boy spares him of all the horror of evaluation and embarrassment.

Once happily wed, what is the proportion of ‘happily ever after’? How happy a girl, now the daughter-in-law is, is measured by her husband’s love for her, the degree of comfort she finds in her new home. But, it is not hard to find as well not much easier to believe, a girl raised to be a future daughter-in-law can have her personality? How often she feels betrayed by just the upbringing, the norms of society, the laws of the world, the God’s categorization of man & woman….but whom can she question? Who is standing with a basket of answers which are as healthy as a basket of apples! One day, she just quits or exits the worldly affairs with a note full of questions and the ink reeks of the stench of the life she lived!

“Just a note”

Do I belong in your arms

or

in the solace of my being?

Hard to answer

easy at first may seem,

outside the window

the trees stand naked

I wonder if they knew

the greens gonna betray them?

Life’s a jungle

dense, dark and cold

you don’t stand unique

for life to rain dark clouds on

I wonder every now & then

I ask a valid question?

Harsh to predict

how innocuous that may look,

in the lines of her hand

she scratches a name

I wonder if she knew

the henna colors-on or the future bleeds?

Where do I belong?

immaterial, trivial senseless-

a question it may seem

to a whole lot,

‘cos they often think

etched in the numerous moments

your name & my being

aren’t they one?

Endless trials to find

the answer

yet standing empty-handed

with a heart hollow of love

I decide to take matters

in my custody &

I quit!