THE LONG FLIGHT OF LIVING

In the long flight of living, it has been a tussle , a whole long transformation of ruffling feathers , plucking old ones, growing the new ,trying to still maintain the speed and focus of flying with all energy and magnitude and in this journey, many a times wounded get the   wings, bruised are ends , where hardly one gets time to repair, mend or let the wounds dry.

The journey goes on without stopping, with every bend bringing more challenges and showing more impermanence of life.

 

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Unachievable goals, difficult roads, storms , or hovering clouds, thorns pushing out of every circumstances often shred the skin in ways where one tries to protect the family keeping  them intact.

 
Hardly all these such efforts are realized , the fact is the zeal to move forward, the confidence of fighting inspite of not being acknowledged, the selfless support and patience of 24 hours extending to 7 days and 12 months a year continuously exhausts the energy of self.
There are moments when the flight seems the last , the faraway sky seems to embrace our pains and struggles, yet the closed ones near us never realize or notice.
The long exhausting journey wishes moments of understanding, some moments of realization which remain unnoticed and unheeded.
The long laps of flight turn the wings weak, which cannot hold the rough weathers now, due to continous exposure to rough weathers and because never did they been cleaned, covered, given rest .
A life too depletes such with negligence when all paths suddenly turn down and forget to let the soul breathe.

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It is a transformation to break free from all shackles, from all chains that have pulled the wings in different directions, letting the bird to forget it’s own flight and instead follow the journey of survival.

It is time ,to mend ways, to realize, to know, to understand, to see through, to accept  this struggle .

As an eagle too can live upto 70 years and for that it has to go through the painful process of transformation after 40 years.
Either one fights self, wins , overcomes and then survives as a fighter and warrior of life or else succumbs to surroundings and gets eroded in the flood of life .

This isn’t the fear of physical pain , it is the transformation that  creates turbulence within, either leading to a rebirth of self or leading to the  usual  end .

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AN INTUITIVE HEART

 

 

 

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Mind is the dwelling of our intellect and Heart is the abode to our feelings and realization.

An intuitive heart speaks of life as it feels not sees . It proclaims about love not as an emotion but as a part of its own existence. This intuitive heart grieves of the socio political situation and the conditions of the poor and destitute in our society. It shrieks when thousands watch helplessly the pitiable state of affairs in this world and still remain unaffected to selfishly cater their own greed.

It is overwhelmed when let free and dances in congruence with the clouds to cherish and absorb the beauteous nature.

An Intuitive Heart speaks about anything and everything that affects its being but  often remains unexpressed and unspoken . Such thoughts are usually left to perish inside  like the walls of a caged mansion.Intuition as known is the sixth sense which is invisible like the air we breathe and yet exists around us not appearing in any form  to the common eye and perception. This is the strength  that  works as a third eye , a kind of power make us evolve further.

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When intellects speak of the logical mind and the different levels of knowledge gathered by reading and learning, pioneers of art have proclaimed intuitiveness to be the most effective way of delving into any situation and resolving the issue , as it is one of unique and different ways than the usually calculated process.

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Story Awards

Whoever you are, wherever you are, World Pulse believes it’s time for your voice to be heard!

World Pulse publishes stories sourced directly from you, our community of changemakers. Every week, we release new calls for stories to get you talking about the issues that matter most. We believe everyone has a story to share, and that the world will be a better place when women are heard.

WorldPulse is currently running Story awards opportunities. See here : https://www.worldpulse.com/en/voices-rising/story-awards

With every contribution, real stories and new ideas rise from the ground up. New audiences are inspired to connect with you and take action, and lives are changed through the power of voice.

  • Your story stands to get featured on Time e magazine .
  • You may be selected for a $100 honorarium
  • You may become a featured storyteller on WorldPulse.

WORLDPULSE is a  growing social network connecting over 25,000 people from 190 countries with one mission: to create a world where all women thrive—one click, one comment, one connection at a time.

Read one of my stories recognized by Worldpulse about Sisterhood /mentorship.

https://www.worldpulse.com/en/community/users/soumya-vilekar/posts/69955

 

What type of artist are you??? Have you ever wondered?

Where has the ink of conscience vanished? The zeal of expressing the social injustices done on humanitarian grounds , which always found its way through the fine nib of a writer’s pen is somewhere lost.

Novels and stories spoke about the prevailing conditions of society and brought about many changes in the mindset of people ,by instigating them to think about the rights and wrongs. Often stories from such novels were considered to be of revolutionary thoughts, thereby reflecting the ideas and character of writers of those times.

Indian literature has been one of the finest and richest ,depicting true facts from the intricacies of life. Being diversified in languages and culture ,although within a single country, we had variety of literature. Besides the intense romantic poems , poetry has seen another facet ,which was revolutionary. The true replica of historical and political scenarios were expressed with precise manner , written with a flame to create an utopian world. That zest and zeal has got lost somewhere . Artists still create art, brushes move on the canvas, pens scribble much often on the blank pages,yet the essence of truth and reality is absent.

The efforts aren’t enough to create a change nor adequate to inspire the dreaded people of a nation. As artists we have the responsibility of infusing into people and society alongwith depicting the true picture of life and politics.

Controversy is the child of today , but controversies are more materialistic. There is a thin line between controversial and revolution . One attracts attention due to erratic behavior ,disposition while the other raises voice against injustice and iniquity.

What type of artist are you??? Have you ever wondered?

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ACT BEFORE EVERYTHING ENDS

Last year during autumn, when the trees over the nearby hills wore a deserted look, life too went through the dried landscape of certain situations.

Rishi had lost his job due to the adamant nature of being straightforward and true. He stood by the line of truth always and got into a mess everytime.This time it was nothing different.

Manisha confronted him ,”Why do you need to poke your nose in every matter and that too of others. “?

Who are they and for whom you invite troubles ,so often?

“But Manisha, it was really needed .You know ,that.The boss was lying .”

He cannot be just unscrupulous and let things go away so easily.

“I could not see the condition of the poor assistant.”

Manisha grumbled, “ You spoke up ,Satyavadi Harishchandra and lost the job.Guess,you ever learn to handle the social ways of living a normal life.”

“ I cannot,this is my way of living”. I cannot be blind to everything around me.

“Then we part, if you remain such , Rishi. I worry about my career and goals. I cannot risk everything like you do for others.”

As you wish, but take care of yourself in the never-ending rat race.sighed Rishi.

His watery eyes bid Manisha a warm farewell ,but she was too busy attending a business call to even look back.

The next morning had a terrible news in the headlines of the newspaper. His hands trembled and he ran out. Hurriedly, Rishi reached the premises of the City hospital and managed to locate her.

As he entered the ICU of the hospital, he found Manisha lying on the bed helpless .She was breathing her last.

The scoundrel had yet another prey to his hunting. Culprits like Mr. Shah can never amend their thoughts or actions.

Had Manisha listened to Rishi for leaving the job ,she would have not been here such. Had she realized what his assistant Vidya went through while ,Mr.Shah exploited her,Manisha could have saved herself?

Rishi sat next to her, holding her hands and said, “ I had complained against him and had  lodged an FIR then ,but you saved this wolf under the human skin by giving a false statement. Wish you could ever trust my truth and the power of being true?”

Her beats stopped ,but before leaving ,she had listened to Rishi’s words. She had left a written statement with the local police about Mr. Shah’s act. He was arrested and the fast track court ordered him life time imprisonment.

It was a lesson to be learnt, for everyone.

For the wolves that they will never get spared, for the innocents that they need to voice strongly and for the onlookers , “You could be the next victim.”

Act before everything ends.

The Mirror of Self

Some pages from the old book fluttered and reminded me of the times when I held the fanciful favourites in my hands.

While as a kid,I cherished the enchanting pictures of the fairytales where the Russian Tsar and Tsarinas flew and galloped on horses. Those tales always created a beautiful imagination in my mind and like being in the land of the princesses for quite a time.The hardcovered books ,their illustrations were so  unique that it fascinated every child’s mind.

Even though I could never buy those costlier ones,I managed to read them while on my visit to a cousin’s place.

In growing years, the choice of books changed and the tomboyish look got more inspired with the sleuth Nancy Drew series. Believe it or not, I actually dreamt of having a career as a detective for few years.

Books have this natural tendency of creating a world which is so surreal that the reader gets involved in the characters and the situation as a part of it. That is why it is often said,

“Books are the food for  mind.”

And so we should always try to select good books. Every book has a different role to play and if aptly done,it creates a positive effect on us.The kind of writing which invokes the negativism, can never contribute towards the welfare of the society. Such books are the outcome of the frustrations of a person while of that age and that particular society. As writers are always a part of society,they write what they see,feel,understand,comprehend and realize around them.Yet it is their duty to present before the world in books not a world of fantasy ,but a place of reality with motivational thoughts,the truth with a ray of hope and practical thoughts with some inspiration and depth.Such books are the real literature of that society and culture then,which for ages shall never die or perish.

Like the legendary “Gitanjali” which shall always remain the symbol of pure thoughts of the Late.Rabindranath Tagore.

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My teens had a wide range of favourites from the classics of Shakespeare,to the gorgeously written “Jane Eyre”,whether the story of “ David Copperfield”or of the innocent “Heidi”.

I got rolled over by the classical literature of that times but could hardly buy those books. Whatever I read during my childhood was all from the school library. Thanks to it,I got introduced to the variety. Fortunately or unfortunately, like every other girl,I never read Mills and Boon until marriage,neither the Sidney Sheldon’s.Even though I tried keeping rose flowers inside the books as memories ,but they faded along with the prints and writings of those books.Those were times when I tried exploring all the kinds of fictions and even liked P.G.Woodehouse for quite a long time.

The books we read mostly reflect the mindset and thought process we are in at that period of time. The level of our maturity and understanding solely can be understood seeing the type of books we are interested in. It is in these books that we try to find ourselves,our character and our nature. Every individual tries to identify himself in the characters of the book and feels strongly about it when he discovers any.

Books which often provide a sense of contentment are ones which motivate us through their characters and inspire us in times of dullness. Some infuse in us the strength of facing the real difficulties of the world while bringing a smile on our faces.

Unlike my passion, which is writing poetry, I never read poetry books in my whole lifetime.The ones which I read were those included in the school syllabus and had to be compulsorily read.

But till date two poems remained my favourite ,I remember them quite vividly for their permanent imprint on my mind, “Daffodils” by William Wordworth and  “The Highwayman”.

Nevertheless books have been the silent friends of every individual and so of mine. Today after such a long journey of life, I cherish the times when I got a book as gift from anyone or as a prize in any competition, but I am delighted that Iam  an author of four books now… and might be someday I will be the favourite of some or many ,who like me shall get inspired and cherish my books and writings.

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I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013.

Today’s prompt: Books. http://writetribe.com/books-day-3-festival-words-2/

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!.

Light is an universal and eternal source which dispels darkness of any form!!

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Ignorance is darkness and every light that shines illuminates the way!

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