Antarctica

If I had been a bit healthier
If my job allowed I would go
Even I wasn't about to pop, I would go.
Dreams and wishes,
All tucked behind inside our minds.
Life catches on,
Dreams remain unopened.
Antarctica moves on.

But if destiny is meant to be,
It will light for me.
Any excuses won't stop me
Every mountain,
Rivers and seas
Every soil I am meant to touch upon,
Has my name written on.
My choice, my actions are a mirage.
I do what I'm meant to do.

And a mockery it is of me,
As I am trapped too.
The mirage broke over,
And out came the truth.
I'm one of them,
A slave of my destiny,
Antarctica, a beautiful place it is.
But I wasn't meant to be.

Change is permanent

I always thought that as each generation passes on, the entire generation undergoes radical changes in it's thinking.
I thought since our ancestors were always so conservative, close-minded, careless and lacked consciousness that the current generation would be better. I thought that there will be a time one day when our thinking will be more sensitive, mindful, conscious of our actions and its impact on others and the surroundings.
Over the last few years, I have been quite disappointed with the knowledge that some things transcend across generations. Even in my age group or sometimes even younger, I see people not behaving responsibly, not being concious of the consequences of their actions. There are youngsters, millennials who still do not give environmental issues a second thought, do no recycle because they do not care to bother segregating the waste, feel entitled that since they are paying taxes, it is the responsibility of the government to do the dirty work for them on saving the environment. They do not drive responsibly despite being educated extensively on safe driving methods.

These youngsters will follow the same orthodox thinking in everyday lives. Their thoughts on religion will be radical, even if they don't say it as it is not politically correct but their actions will show it. Many still believe in caste segregation, think feminism is for women who want to dominate men and are quite rigid in their habits.

My biggest issue is when it comes to being concious of your actions and its impact on the environment. So many in our current generation of millennials, consume, produce and discard without giving a second glance to where the waste ends up. This realisation that nothing has changed over the generations, made me sad enough to write a blog on it.

There have been some positive changes as well. Even though a large part of millennials don't care for the consequences, the remaining ones care too much for the environment. They are living their lives with sustainability at its core. They are looking at reduce, reuse and recycle. They are the ones who learnt from the experiences of the previous generation and do not want to repeat the same mistakes, be it in environment, finances or relationships.

Hopefully, our future generations will radically shift in their thinking with each and every generation preceding them changing bit by bit.

Darkness

Cold, cold my feet,
A chill runs down my body.
I see misty fog around me,
A path unclear still.

Flap my wings, I
paddle my feet
As hard as can I.
Head feels heavy now,
I see no light ahead of me.

Darkness has its days,
There is so much to do
In the rainy haze.
Hope keeps me afloat,
Lest I spiral out of control.

Vacuum fills the air,
Voice is lost.
Words are all that care,
Words that shine like tiny diamonds
On my charcoal slate.

Words stay with me, through
my darkness and shine.
A humble blanket of warmth for me,
My words will shine.

Museum

Timelines are hazy,
the place a melting pot.
No land, no borders,
No cultural barriers.
Everything is merged here.

The space holds it all.

But what about its own identity?

The Brutalist and the Egyptian inspired.
They hold it all,
finding a new identity,
in a new place.

A new name hiding the old concrete,
the glass enclosing all.

(Immersive writing inside Ulster Museum, Belfast, UK)

Vivaldi's Spring

Off she goes,
taking quick strides along the river.
Look, there she goes,
crossing over that bridge.
Hopping and skipping,
Spruced up in her red hat.

The little miss Red Riding Hood
is off to meet her granny.
But there is someone watching her.
Cautious she must be,
her life is in danger.

The crafty fox
flips through the woods.

Granny is lying still in bed.
Eyes wide open.
Rigor mortis it is.
A long, peaceful sleep.

Miss Red is helpless and alone.
The fidgety fox is closeby.

I see a shining blade of steel,
suddenly leaping from the door.
His shining armour is strong.
The fox scowls and writhes in pain.

There is red everywhere and
it is peace again.

Haunting soul

She haunts the dark manor,
waiting to be free.
Walking up the stairs,
the empty soul is she.

Taking slow strides,
her white dress glistens in the moonlight.

The feathers rustle.

Haunting she is,
the empty soul.

(Immersive writing with music)

The Palm House

I bring a piece with me.
A piece of the world that belonged to me.
The Fern my uncle grew,
the Fern I didn't care about.

I smile when I see it today.
A piece it is from the world that belonged to me.
The beads of sweat on my brow,
the heat I used to run away from.
Sun beating down through the glass.
It's all here.

I see a Croton growing quietly.
Grandpa planted these.
The seeds from my land were planted here.

They are free,
from the red soil to the blue skies now.
The journey to freedom was long
but they flourish now.

These greens stand here
Witness of time.
Time that changed everything,
and nothing.

This is home now.
I take what I get.
The laughter and the chatter is happiness.
I am at peace with my home now.