Illuminating darkness.

Darkness

Robert’s mind wandered around his deadline, even while he rested his head on the glass window. He had to complete a week’s work in just one night. And the train was an hour away from home. If he had a list of things he hated, it’ll only be 4 words long. 

  1. Rescheduled Deadlines.
  2. Late trains.

“Dear, what’s the next station?” The woman next to him gave a mild shock. It wasn’t everyday that the commuters talked to each other and she didn’t seem like a daily commuter, either.

Robert had a look outside the glass pane and turned to her, “Wolfshire. Where do you have to get down?”

“Wolfshire.” She smiled sheepishly and fetched dark glasses from her purse and placed them neatly over her nose. “Guess I should get going.” She stood up but the train’s jerk pushed her back down.

“What happened?” Her expressions confused, just like Robert’s.

“Think the train doesn’t want you to go, just yet.” He forced a happy tone, suppressing the irritation underneath. “However, the electric supply is gone.”

“Oh dear, that’s trouble for you. Ironically, my internal lights have gone off long ago.” Her words left a trail. “Could you do me a little favor and tell me what’s going outside?”

Robert was already tired after a long day at work, but he didn’t feel like it was her fault, so he shrugged and looked around.

“​It’s almost dusk. The sky has turned plump orange and the clouds look like waves coming from the ocean.” Robert paused to check if she’s listening and continued.

Illumination

There is no residential area nearby but I can see a few people. There’s a girl, learning to skate down the tiny hill with her father. Her father is holding on to her waist so she doesn’t fall but oh- wow- he isn’t holding her anymore and she can skate on her own!” Robert smiled to himself, reminiscing his days as a child.

“A few meters away, there are two men walking with arms around each other, enjoying the Autumn’s breeze having the time of their lives. I think they’ve heard something now, they’re running towards the sound. I can’t see what’s happening, they’re possibly below the street level.” He said, trying to stand and have a good look.

“Ten to twenty meters above them, there’s a herd of parrots. They’re too tiny as they’re kissing the sky but I’m sure they are parrots because back in my hometown’s tiny forest, we had a their homes.”

“The two men and the girl who was skating with her father were the only ones on that street but now there’s a small mob gathering around something. They’re all rushing in together, happy faces everywhere.” Robert’s mind isn’t in the train, anymore, it’s with the people on the road, pushing each other to get a glance of the source of the cute noise.

“Ah, now I see it. It’s a box of puppies, and there’s another! So, there are two box of cute stray puppies who’ll be apparently finding themselves a home today.” He sat back and thought how happy puppies make him and how nostalgic the parrots are. “We’re going home, too. The train has started, ma’am.”

But the ma’am had already vanished from her seat, he leaned from his seat to check if she was anywhere in the passage but he failed to spot her. Smiling to himself he silently thanked her and dozed off to a peaceful sleep.


©The Honest Fabler – Ashutosh Gursale

©Image source- Google Images

Death’s Lullaby

No more me.

My body is in silence, yet my heart’s loud.
The glimpse of black and white flickers with extreme oscillation in my cerebral.
And my soul inside? It’s falling apart.
Drifting between memories. Trying to hold on to one, But failing every time.
The noise from everywhere can not reach me under this midnight sun.
Voids of vein and numbness in my limbs are encroaching within.
Utter pain in my ribs, yet calmness​ flowing through my skin.

Jaws are locked, tightening my teeth.
There is cry for oxygen with my every breath.
Changing into pale lips and blue neck without any sense.
It is near, I can feel it’s cold presence.
The very next second, I am free.

No more happiness or sorrow, as I was before birth,
Looking at me from above, is it someone I know?
Alas! They’re incognito beings that surround me.
The water from their eyes will not bring me back from hollow,
I Am already free from agile and grief.
I’ll reunite with Fire, Wind, Earth and Sea.
Now, I am no more me, But still I wish to reborn as me.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

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MOON BASE

I’ve heard that many people have “flying dreams”, nighttime visions of soaring through the sky like some kind of superhero or a magical human-bird; however, I doubt that the majority of those people have flying dreams akin to mine – ones that are often more frustrating than enjoyable. This type of dream is a recurring one for me. Every few weeks or so, it will pop up in my sleeping mind. I can’t decide whether I look forward to it or not, but regardless of my wishes, it’s with me for the good, it seems.

The dream always begins with me speeding across the sky. The landscape below often differs, but the one that appears most often and did so most recently closely resembles that of seaside cliffs. Flying through the air, skimming the water as a weightless, human airplane, there’s nothing I would rather be doing. It feels incredible to have the wind rushing in my face and to watch the earth pass by below me.

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”

Deeper into the dream and madness. Birds with broken wings walking on the ground were once flying high up in the sky. Finishes off with the same reflection that the Life we live is unreal. It might even be a dream; and what we see or seems to be, be nothing more than “A Dream within A Dream”.
I have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing my wings on the way down. Used the wings of the flying Universe, dreamt with open eyes; saw in darkness.

However, it never lasts. For some reason that I can never quite grasp, I land, touching down smoothly onto those cliffs above the water. As soon as my feet come to rest on solid ground, I want to become airborne again, to feel those glorious sensations some more. Nevertheless (and here’s the frustrating part), no matter how hard I try or what I do, I simply can’t take off again. The rest of the dream is generally spent doing increasingly desperate acts to get back in the air (ie. running at top speed with my arms spread wide like some crazed flightless bird, lying flat on my stomach on the ground, waiting to take off like an airplane, and eventually repeatedly jumping off the cliffs and climbing back up to try again).

Maybe one of these nights, I’ll figure out the trick to getting back among the clouds. And I’d be able to have flying dreams, again.

“Visionary builds what dreamers imagined.”


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

Inner Joy (A Happy Heart)

“Happy” is just a word. It doesn’t mean anything more than a random jumble of letters that I decide makes up a word. Happiness is a rush. It is also a slow burn. It comes all at once but it also builds up like a plotline with intense suspense. Everything builds up to one apex.

It can’t be something superficial, or something that only lasts for a day or two. It’s something that affects your entire life. It lasts. It burns inside of you and it doesn’t go out. That is happiness.

Happiness is a warm feeling. When we are happy we feel a sense of meaning and purpose in our lives. The journey to happiness is not achieving success or having enough things, it is not productivity or affirmation from others. The road to happiness is a life of purpose where our desires extend far beyond meeting our own needs and into the rich world of service to others.

How we feel about ourselves, the joy we get from living, ultimately depends directly on how the mind filters and interprets everyday experiences. Whether we are happy depends on inner harmony not on the controls we are able to exert over the great forces of the universe.

“The real happiness is to enjoy the scenery when on a detour.”

“Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.’’


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

A Mother’s Wisdom

An hour past midnight.

The cold winter winds blew in through the open window & I tightened my grip on the blanket.

My room’s door was shut, the phone placed on my ear turned static. I couldn’t believe the words I just listened to.
“It’s over. I can’t be with you.”

The sentence screamed in my mind and I realized it isn’t a dream. A sudden gasp left my mouth followed by loud sobbing. I knew everyone’s asleep so I muffled my mouth in the blanket.
10 minutes. 15… 20… 30… An hour… Two? Or more? I don’t remember how & when I fell asleep. 

A heavenly morning.

All I remember is the next day my room’s door was ajar, the sunlight warming my cold face and illuminating the room with a shade of white. Everything else stood as still as it was last night, only more brighter than ever.

I wondered if I were dreaming it.
“Good morning, Alfred.” Ah, no. Not a dream. I heived a sigh as my mother entered the room.
“Good-” I choked as I witnessed my mother levitate like a feather, her feet didn’t touch the pale ground.
A halo floated over her head.
An angel.
“Shh. Calm down, Al.”
“Am I-?”
“No, you’re not dreaming. Here, I brought you nectar, it’ll ease your wounds.”
“I have no wounds.” A little pound in my heart reminded me its state. “Except for my broken heart.”
“It is for those broken pieces.” Her smile radiated happiness. Though an angel, she’s still my naïve, caring mother. I suppressed a laugh and took the silver glass.

As I touched the liquid with my tongue, I recoiled. It’s bitterness was unbearable and everything twisted and turned like a hurricane.

A bright day.

“Easy there. Sit straight, Al.” It was my mother, again. Now in her human form. I gulped down the nectar, ignoring it’s taste and I felt better.
My body, which couldn’t stop shivering, now seemed to have finally got a grip & calmed down.
“You’ll feel better.” My humanly mother, said.
“Was it a dream?”
“I reckon you were dreaming, heard you talking in sleep. Last night, you left the window open and when I entered your room, you were burning hot with fever. Tried keeping the temperature down with a wet cloth but I think my grandma’s magic soup still works the best.” Her laugh was melodic. “I overheard you last night, sorry. But it’s going to be alright, you know.”
I gave her a puzzled look, realizing only her angelic part was a dream. The tragic call was a reality.

“If people in your life want to stay, they will stay even if they have a million reasons not to. But when they don’t want to, they’ll make reasons of their own. Don’t feel bad for what happened, Al. You couldn’t change her decision. You loved her, truly, I know. Yet you are far too young to keep mourning. As you’ll grow, people will take leave from your life at every nodes. They’ll change their paths and bid you farewell. And when they do, you can’t hold on to them or you’ll lose your own balance. Get well soon, honey. I’m always there for you, a door away.”

“Mom” I called her as she stood up to leave. “Happy mother’s day.”


Post Script:

First of all, I’d love to wish a very very Happy Mother’s Day to every angel. There’s something truly heavenly about them which is why they need to respected & loved & reminded of it, everyday. :’)

Second of all, I’d like to apologize for not posting often these days. Also, The Secret Sister of Awan Alee, is at hold due to my examinations. But I promise once the exams are done I’ll be back with daily posts as usual & complete the series!

©The Honest Fabler

©Image Source – Google Images

I’m blue, I’m beautiful!

Is that what we wake up to every day?

From time immemorial, appearance has been foremost in humans’ mind. Humans are judged by their physical appearance. Thus, it is not surprising to witness mankind, especially women from all walks of life desperately try any means possible to achieve the perfect beauty.

However, beauty provides a perceptual experience of pleasure and happiness. It has no relation to features of our face or body, but rather character traits and qualities.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly lies to the bone.

Beauty dies and fades away, but ugly holds its own! Create and cultivate inner beauty that never fades away but grows and matures with time!
Especially women in our society need to realize this fact and change our perception of the way we see beauty. What should be regarded as requisite in someone? It could be their pleasant character traits, or some might name it as the word soul.

People with inner beauty are those that love to make peace with everyone, take care of fellow beings and try to follow the path of justice and the light of wisdom.

As beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, thus it will not be defined or appraised as easily. We always have to be a first-rate version of ourself. Once an Italian painter said,

The summation of the parts working together in such a way that nothing needs to be added, taken away or altered, and that’s you.

You are beautiful.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Images

ZODIAC PROGNOSIS

The life of a being in one round chapter.

If you are frightened of dying & still holding on, you will see devils tearing your life away.
But if you have made your peace,
then the angels will retaliate and the devils will ask for mercy, freeing you from the earth.
The fact people are taking a horoscope post so serious is comical.
Horoscopes don’t determine the way a person acts and treats people.

I’m a Leo and according to “moderate believer” we are the devils.
Personally I wear my heart on my sleeve and bend over backwards for good people. It’s all about our heart and mind and the way we act within.

As mentioned by Victor Hugo:

“How can one possibly believe, that every ray of a star is a thread attached to a man’s head?”

We shall overrule our stars and have a greater influence upon planets of the firmament .
Astrology relies heavily on our “selective memory”, a tendency to remember successful “predictions” and forget missed predictions.
Play your Celestial variables, we all are angels if we act like one.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Imagess

13 Reasons Why.

There was a time when she was ashamed.

Ashamed to step out of the door.

To be judged by those eyes.

To be looked at, by those who owned the eyes.

She didn’t hate the dresses her mom chose for her, she hated wearing her own skin.

She didn’t hate being called a “slut” or a “whiny bitch”, she hated her own name.

Yet she survived.

She survived the mess her life had become, she got back up everytime she was let down.

She fought her own demons and untangled her tangled strings.

But for how long?

For how long would a heart crave for love?

For how long would a heart crave for someone to see through the window amidst the walls, built by itself?

How long….?

Post Script:

The story of Hannah Baker, live and in stereo, though a fiction, it’s the darkest and the purest one I’ve ever read/seen. It may not be your usual TV series, but it’s one that would make you re-think your world.

It’s one story that would re-shape your life.
It’s one, that would break you to millions of pieces, but only so that you’ll be prepared.
Prepared– so you know what you’ve to do when you’ve got your 13 reasons to die.


©The Honest Fabler

©Cover credits- Google Images

WOMANHOOD

|| Womanhood ||

The word which was alien to me struck in my mind. Out of curiosity, I went to search its meaning from the “Collin’s Advance Dictionary” which states —Womanhood. The state of being a woman rather than a girl.

I’m not sure whether the dictionary talks about only physical or mental status into account or not. So, the very term is baffling to me.

I remember once my father called me in the house when I was playing Holi with some guys and girls in the street, albeit, I played in the same manner last year. His strange behaviour puzzled me.

I went straight up to the terrace and watched my brother who is 10 years elder to me continue having fun with them. I was given no valid explanation for such behaviour, apart from the concrete statement that “I’m grown up now”.

I still didn’t find out what does that “grown up” meant at that time, I always wondered, “Have I attained womanhood?”

Simone de Beauvoir wrote in the ‘Second Sex‘ that “One is not born, but rather becomes a woman.” & in today’s context the quotation finds its meaning. I don’t know at what point of time I was termed as a “woman” but the world, present or past is witness to the fact that the very term has brutally mutilated the wings of independence of an individual.

Womanhood is just like a GPS chip that is installed in an experimental animal. A wild animal in a forest which help to trace out their position.
I can relate myself in ‘Oceana’ just like ‘Winston Smith‘ of 1984 being always in the radar of ‘The Big Brother’ . This Big Brother is not an individual but the society of unknown and virtuosity, which is more concerned about me than myself.

I found myself sitting beside ‘Simon de Beauvoir’ struggling to find the lost identity. I found myself among the stones in the pockets of ‘Virginia Wolf’ drowned in the river. I, too, felt suffocated with ‘Sylvia Plath’. I wander madly to search a true and divine love for ‘Kamla Das’. I’m fighting with the Government so that ‘Mary Ann Evans’ could be known by her real name & so that no woman needs the shelter of ‘Masculine Umbrella’ to prove her worth. Even after trying so hard I was lying on the roadside of Delhi and watching my end coming near.

I don’t know whether this struggle will ever end or not but I’m never going to give up. I’ll never let me fail whether Constitution grant me reservation or not.
My ‘Womanhood‘ is my territory and I am learning to reign it. I don’t fear to fight and protect it.
Despite having cropped wings, I managed to flay to the space.
I speak loud in the Parliament so that everyone can wake up.

My Womanhood makes me the creator. I am a Mother and a Nourisher. I am the deity as the holy book suggests but still I have an unending war to fight with my own people and it will continue till the time unknown. In the bottom line I would like to quote a verse in Sanskrit

यत्र नार्यस्तु पूज्यन्ते रमन्ते तत्र देवताः ।
यत्रैतास्तु न पूज्यन्ते सर्वास्तत्राफलाः क्रियाः ।।

Let you all find whether it is a satire or an irony.


©The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Images

Waiting for life

Will wait till the sun sets in the day sky,
Will wait till it rises in the night sky,
Waiting for the moment when the stems flourish from the seeds.
Waiting for the moment when that little plant touches the cold water
droplets of the night sky, for the first time.
Waiting for the moment it feels the life inside when Morning
light touches its little body.
So many lives will crawl and fly.
So many will sit under and feel their life.
Sings their wordless tune and never stops singing it:
nothing can faze it.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google images