Today she had a word keep

Such was the fervor,
such was the prowess,
with which she steadied along.
All alone, her steps headlong,
she embarked on the deserted moor.

Her eyes steadfast on her way,
urgency gaping from her face.
She made her way through the bogs,
reverberating with euphonious songs.
Ah! What redolent enclave was it!
Full of animals gamboling around,
enticing her to play along.
Alas! She could not stop.
No surely not today,
Today she had a word keep,
Oh! She had a promise to meet!

But her steps did falter,
Oh her mind sure did wander!
What mesmerising sight it was,
ornate with cascades, and waterfalls.
Oh how enthralled was she!
But wish only she could stop for a while!
She gave it one long wistful glance,
and promised this wasn't her last chance.
But today she had no more time to spare,
today she had a word to keep,
today she had a promise to meet!

And ahead she went along her way,
garnering the iridescent views in her head.
For one day she would be free to come,
to revel in the world she cherished so much.
Oh that day would surely come,
the day when she has no more words to keep,
the day she has no more promises to meet!

A tribute

I was grieved to read of the demise of Maqbool Fida(M F) Husain, the great patron of art that India is proud to have begotten. He started gaining recognition as a painter in early 1940s. His contributions extend beyond his paintings to films like Through the Eyes of a Painter, the much talked about Gaja Gamini, and the controversial Meenakshi, the tail of three cities. He was honored with the Padma Shri(1955), Padma Bhushan(1973) and Padma Vibhushan(1991) by the Government of India. He was offered the citizenship of Quatar in 2010, which he had accepted. It is a pity that the while the artist was being acclaimed world over, he faced rejections from his own motherland, eventually ending his life in exile. He had gone on a self-imposed exile in 2006 after the cataclysm that followed the exhibition of Bharat Mata naked(depicted here).
The newspaper went beyond the news to compare him with the erstwhile artists and painters like Picasso, whose works were also controverted like that of Mr. Hussain. Both ran common on the grounds that despite being the great artists that they were, they were exiled from their respective countries for the obscenity of their arts. This link became important to the extent that despite their different styles of painting, Mr. Hussain received the appellation The Picasso of India. He had been in controversy for long for the profanity of portraying Indian deities in nudity. But like Picasso, this never deterred him from living his passions up till the end. It is easy to appreciate such acts of audacity, but to be the one who undertakes them is difficult. To pursue your dreams, your passion, without the apprehension of how well it would be taken, requires a certain amount of dedication to the cause and belief. But more than that, it is one's zeal to live for oneself, to enjoy life doing what one loves that lets one going, oblivious to such deterrents. Where decrepitude sinks into people as early as 40, this great connoisseur was busy creating art till his last.
His life motivates me to do live and celebrate my own life in a way that I can also be cherished, not in terms of the name or recognition, but in a way that when I look back, I am inspired by my own self. Given a chance to be able to relive those years, I would be privileged to live it as myself. I am reminded of the lines from a poem titled The Seven Stages by Shakespear saying
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players
Yes, the death of the great artist is indeed a loss to us, but this player had played his part so well that it is a proud end, a culmination which has left many inceptions behind.

The best Birthday Bash

This is a tribute to my lobby gang for making yesterday the best birthday ever. You magically converted the reluctance of leaving the teens and the dreading to spend the whole day working to a beautiful, magnificent, colorful and joyous celebration. Opening the door to a dark room, lit more by ten smiling faces than the candles was indeed a pleasant surprise. The smile that the unanimous cry of happy birthday had triggered refuses to leave even now.
Every aspect had been well thought of, and perfectly executed. Be it the décor, the card, the beautiful messages, the perfect caricatures, the oooo.., and the “unknown” mermaid for which tipu had even practiced, or the ingenious thought of keeping me away from the room. Not once did I suspect the foul play in execution under my nose. Blowing those balloons, and waiting locked up in the dark room for me to come. Every bit of it was so thoughtful and touching.
Thank you for making me live the moments of the antecedent years again, when birthdays were about being the queen for the day, all eyes doting on you, people trying hard to make you feel special, celebrations, balloons, colors and sparkles. (Wish the snow spray had also worked.) It was overwhelming to see the kids again and become one myself. This has been the best thing that anyone has done for me. Putting in so much efforts to create such cherishable moments of my life.