The Serious Ayer

Hope is what leads to prayer and faith is what completes it.

Every punter has it, nonetheless few are not abashed of it. As for me my vicious self compels me to write about it. Once back in college, the lecturer was dictating notes in the afternoon hour regarding transformer construction, and I was multitasking with sleep and scribbling. Suddenly I paused, and just like a meerkat I raised my neck to check the guys' reaction.Everybody except me continued  with the writing. I was the aberrant one, looking around to detect the slightest flury-up of laughter. I was certain about what I had heard, but to avoid unwanted attention from the teacher due to my sudden stillness and bizarre look, I slowly lowered my head and secretly giggled. I wanted to know why no one could sense the raunchy humour in the dictated notes, or am I the only one with the dirty mind? My mind pondered. I took a quick glimpse of the last line of my friend's notes.The legible letters echoed inside my head. "THE TRANSFORMER'S WALLS ...

A ring away from my morning dew, there came the sense of a distant you. To hold the wafted warmth of two, though far away in lives and love. My days are nights for these rhombus walls, yet a visionary to hear me out, to see the dream of you and us two, in a placid world of yours, of mine. I am timid in love in safest caves, I know I loved you more than life. I could use an anchor to pull you closer, wicked instinct too, to shred the light years. With a belief to believe and at-most faith, for you to beat the whirling winds, to turn the forenoon skies cyan. One ring away and you behind, to turn to see your wayward smiles. An year had passed and yards have moved, though shall be closer ever in love! Photography - MADAPAT RAHUL NANDAN

The change begins as a thought, populates as an idea and by the time you are making money out of it, you would have changed! Picture Source : Internet

Thou who saves shall be saved, he said from raging battlefield. Twenty three lives had he saved, from war land killings looming large. He swore to Lord to save his men, to save his child in return. The army man in the ruddy fields, rushed to the hours he had saved! Twenty three hours was all he had, for the festive day of his own sweet child. A limpid child, the summer's gift, with an embrace melting the glaciers cold. He groped his child, with knight's strong arms. A fighter father to his fighter son. All his life the soldier sought, his baby riding the warrior horse. Stupefying heights, the way to glory, to liberate and love his motherland more. Yet the way had it that the son feared horses. Momentous towering war horses. When his Pa was riding war horses, the heir was making sand castles! Whilst that day he rode, a moving horse, the man made horse. On it saw the progeny, his father himself, A roaring warrior on his way to glory. He knew it...

Picture source : Internet

Amma ,  I remember that day  when I found worry myself, must be in my 4th grade, when you were late from work and I was so startled. There were no mobile phones then, I didn't even know whom to call from the landline, I was just so worried about you. I went to your room and felt an uncanny stillness in your last day's saree , touching the drapes made me wail. I was praying hard for you to be alright, waiting with tolerant eyes for the door bell to ring, to wrap my arms around your waist, to press my face on you, to smell your precious scent.  And I was never that thankful to finally hear the incessant ringing of the bell, your trademark, to let me know it's finally you at the door! But I  didn't  wrap my arms around, even when I wanted to, I was slightly embarrassed, and to conceal my newly found worry I just asked casually," Why were you late amma ?" I could see that vivid happiness on your face to hear that from me, you didn't say a word b...