To be truthful is to be human

"Being human" is a phrase that is being subjected to much speculation and many explanations today. What makes a Homo Sapien a HUMAN? Is it his intellect? Emotions? Morals? Certain qualities gained through nature and nurture? To be honest, a lot of factors. It is apt to say that truthfulness, a quality that should be planted and preserved in man, is prime among these.

Man, being a social being, builds his life upon his connections with others. For these connections to stay strong, they must be built with the "trust" factor. They must be preserved and strengthened by "love". When he finds himself in need, he should be able to have "faith" in others to help him. All these factors are rooted in one basic trait- truthfulness.

The ability to distinguish right and wrong gives us the duty to take the path that is right. The ability to utter a truth or a lie gives us the chance to take either path. Let us rewind time a bit. We stop at your infant days, and see you innocently stumbling, smiling and sobbing. Let us go a little further, to your school days. There might have been some sneaking off of a stray pencil or eraser. There might have been a little lie told to your teacher to get out of punishment. Going a tad bit more further, we find you not hesitating to utter little white lies to friends, parents, and teachers. Now we stop at your interview. Except for your name and resume, majority of the answers that helped you bag the job were, let's face it, lies. So ask yourself a question, are you true? The answer is most probably a "Well......." accompanied by a sheepish smile.

Now ask yourself another question, are you human? Not in the physical sense, in the moral sense? This question is harder to answer. A famous quote says "An honest man does not need to remember a lot". "A lot" here, are the lies he has told. Being truthful gives us a clean conscience and a clear mind. But it is not enough to always say the truth to others, it is more important to stay true to yourself.

An indignant answer to the previous question is "It is impossible to be truthful in today's world!" Rethink. It is not impossible. It is just inconvenient. Relationships and social bonds are deteriorating at a rapid rate. Lies are the new truths. Selfishness and greed go hand in hand in corrupting men. The modern world is, in all its facets, twisted. To mend our bonds and revive our rotting world, there is a simple and very inconvenient way. Being truthful. Anyone can get out of an unpleasant situation with a lie. But it takes courage and character to be truthful in the face of adversities.

Our pockets are full, but we are still poor. Poor in the moral sense, poor, owing to the fact that we are not truthful. Truthfulness is not only a way to God, it is also a way to finding ourselves. Being truthful is not being weak; it is being strong in character. Being truthful does not mean that the world can get the better of you; it means that you can make the make the world better. To be truthful is to be free. To be truthful is to be human.

The beach

The beach,
Hit by the waves as they rush to the shore,
lingering for a second,
hastily kissing the soft sand,
listening to their crashing cries,
as they are pulled away by an invisible hand.
The beach,
Waking up to each golden dawn,
softly yawning,
Each grain of sand glittering like diamonds
under the blazing sun at noon,
Breathing a sigh as dusk waltzes in,
her gown swishing, diffusing shades of red,
Bathing in the brilliance of the sun as he sets,
soothing the sea as she swoons.
The beach,
Reflecting the inky blue of the night sky,
grains of sand, countless like the stars.
The bed where a thousand restless souls lie,
tracing dreams in the constellations above.
Falling asleep to the wind singing
Songs of long-lost love.
The beach,
Where I find myself washed ashore,
when shattered shards of lightning
hit the stormy seas of my mind,
where I lay down my fears and woes,
when the warm sunshine soothes my soul.
Where, each day, under the weeping sky,
the waves sing me to sleep with a haunting lullaby.
Where I find myself,
in the winds and the tides,
in each grain of sand,
and in the footsteps left behind.
And where, one day, I'll lose myself,
seeking a lost role, in life's pantomime,
leaving behind just another footstep
to be washed away
by the waves of time.

 

For love to dance again

I spent endless nights staring at the sky,
Watching the moon wax and wean,
Waiting in vain, for the light to creep within,
Through the cracked walls and crumbling seams.
It was cruel,
All those dawns and dusks,
the clouds, turning red from the sun's searing kiss,
Fading into soft lilac at twilight,
blushing from the moon's gentle lips at midnight,
those infinite spectrums reminding me of you,
painting our memories in forgotten hues.
The breeze carried your name,
Humming, singing,
What once used to heal my heart,
Now ruthlessly stinging.
The first shower of monsoon,
Like our first shy kiss,
Still makes me blush,
Still leaves me crushed.
The soft grass that once tickled our feet,
Now hurts, as I walk alone,
Hand empty without yours,
Heart bare and forlorn.
I waited eternities,
For our sweet infinity.
And even now, bound by your chains,
I wait for love to dance again.

You, little sis...

your smiles, like warm morning sunshine,
words like sweet, glistening dew,
fairytales meet dreams at the ends of your eyelashes,
castles and princesses painted in soft blue.
a thousand suns lovingly kiss your blushing cheeks,
eyes twinkle like cool moonbeams kissing raindrops,
lilting giggles, a bewitching symphony,
happy laughs, and dancing locks
little fingers gripping your mother's hand,
you gingerly take a step, sometimes stop,
tripping on soft grass, tugging at cloudy curtains,
finding keys to coax open locks
everybody's a dreamer, wishin for their sweet infinity,
one of the million your little heart kindles lovingly.
you swish your magic wand, unfolding beauty in simplicity,
like conducting flickering candles to a sweet symphony.
its magic and real; almost surreal,
how your smile hides the wisdom of a thousand miles.
and how your tears never hurt the ground.
and how your joy is contagious.
its your tears and your smiles,
your innocent eyes,
you,
little sis :)

Framed

She watched the people trickle in like buzzing bees.
She watched as their number increased, filling the living room, bustling in the hallways, chatting in the courtyard.
She listened as they played condolences like a hundred broken tapes interrupting each other.
She was silent as they dabbed at their tears with their hankerchiefs, sneaking impatient glances at their watches.
She kept mum as they pronounced him to be "at rest".
She stood at the doorway and watched the cars as they sped away with hasty goodbyes and clouds of dust.
When the last bit of dust had settled, she sighed, and slowly, turned around. She smiled as a breeze wafted in. Him. He was there.
His voice. His odour. His piercing eyes and kind smile.
All in the black and white photo high up on the living room wall; garlanded, framed.
 

Something called love

What is Love?
Love is an emotion.
Love transcends individuals, species and time.
It can be found all around you, but you have to find it in yourself first.
In our extremely different but irrevocably entwined fates, it is what connects us; Love.
Love, to some, is just a concept. Some look at it, but don't quite actually see it. Some say it heals, some say it hurts. Some others find love at the end of their journey. And some, find that love is the journey.
Love is silent, love is loud, love is the most beautiful truth, and the most bewitching lie.
It is cosmic, and it is the passion which fuels us.
Love is in the smile you share with a total stranger in the street. Love is in those little thoughtful gestures we all do everyday. Love is in the sacrifice you make for your loved ones. Love is in the helping hand you lend to someone.
Love is what makes you walk in the rain, so that another person can stay dry under your umbrella. Love is when both of you walk together under the same umbrella in the pouring rain. Love is why without that person, the umbrella seems too big, too lonely.
Love is a middle-school crush, it is the magic in the wrinkled, but still entwined hands. Love is a kiss in the rain. Love is a mother's smile as she holds her child. Love is a father's emotions which he hides to be 'tough' before his children. Love is in a sister's adoring words of her brother. Love is in his protecting arm around her.
Love is the breeze which whispers that your loved one is not gone from this world, but with you.
Love is unconscious.
Love is inevitable.
Love is a drug. Love is its antidote.
Love is beautiful.
Love is the reflection of your soul. Love is the reflection of the universe on your soul.
Love plays hide and seek. Love sits beside you as you weep.
Love makes you perfect. Love embraces your imperfections.
Love is in the smiles, in the tears. Love is in you, me, him, her, them, each atom, invisible wave, molecule, cell, touch, smell, taste, sound..
Love wants to be noticed, love needs to be felt.
Love is the music to which the universe composes its eternal dance.
Love is you. Love is me.
Love is what you want it to be.


 

A penny lost, a penny found

A penny lost, A penny found


Darkness enveloped the city as night settled in. Fog hung around like a heavy blanket. Lighted windows high up on buildings shone like fireflies, winking to each other as sillhouttes passed behind them. Cars honking at red lights and the clutter of shops closing for the day ramped up the cacophony of the night's arrival.

Mathew Finn was a busy man. But today was special. He smiled a little as he stood at the window of his 10th floor office and gazed out at the foggy skyline and flickering lights below. His fingers found the little velvet ring box in his pocket and his smile grew. Switching off the light and grabbing his coat, he walked out of his office, instructing the secretary to lock up. His steps had a spring to them and his eyes held a bit of boyish nervousness as he took a deep breath and stepped into the beautiful night. He didn't grumble about the crowded pavement today, and even threw a penny and a smile an urchin's way. Stopping by the florist's shop, he had gotten a bouquet of a dozen red roses and let out a shaky laugh as he pictured himself getting down on one knee before the fair lady he was courting, Gloria Williams.

Huck was cradling Lilly in his thin arms. Her four year old frame seemed to weigh even less today, thought the nine year old boy, and his brow furrowed. Lilly squirmed in his arms and he heard her stomach grumbling. Or was it his? He wrapped the rag of a blanket around her tightly and cooed to her. As she finally settled down again, he looked at the people passing by them, trudging through the sidewalk as if two starving orphans were the least of their concerns. Huck looked disdainfully at the can in front of him, still empty. Anger, sadness and desolation surged through him as he fought to keep the tears at bay. Huck didn't like begging, and he'd work for small shops as often as he could. But he couldn't leave Lilly alone too much and he hadn't gotten work today. Stroking Lilly's soft blonde hair, he remembered how he had found her crying on the steps of their orphanage and smiled. He'd thought she was an angel, her eyes a pretty crystal blue and her blonde hair, a halo around her dirt-smeared, but beautiful face. Then he remembered the fire at the orphanage, which had thrown them out to the mercy of the streets. The smile replaced with a frown, he bent down to take the empty tin and find a warm corner in an alley to sleep. Thats when he heard the sound. A metallic clash, but it was music to his ears. He looked into the tin and found a penny. A penny! Huck could sing for joy. He searched for the blessed hand which had thrown it and found a rich gentleman smiling back at him. Huck looked at the man as he walked away with a bunch of red roses and smiled, wishing well for the kind man as only a child's innocent soul could.

Catherine sat at her desk, still wearing the damp coat from her walk, camera in hand. A young and energetic journalist, she had proven to be a natural, and had climbed the ladder at one of the prominent newspapers of the city pretty fast. Her ambitions settling like the dust on her first and faithful camera, she was yearning for something more when a sound lecture from her boss on how her work was becoming 'uninteresting' and 'too predictable' had sent her fuming to the park, where she fiddled with her camera, and finally gave up framing yet another lifeless picture. Cursing herself for spending the whole evening outside, she had made her way back to her apartment through the bustling crowds. That is when she saw a sight that warmed her heart like hot chocolate on a winter eve. A suit-clad man was throwing a penny into a beggar boy's tin can. But that wasn't what made Catherine unconciously focus her camera on the scene. It wasn't the boy's face infused with such pure joy, it wasn't how he looked at the man's retreating back with innocent gratitude, no, it was how his eyes flickered from the penny to the little angel sleeping in his thin arms with a look of tender love tinged with a sadness beyond his age, that made her capture the scene on her film. Now one hour later, she was seated at her desk, staring at the picture with a gentle smile on her face when the phone rang.
"Catherine Williams?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"I am calling from St.Mary's Hospital. Are you the sister of Gloria Williams?"
Catherine's heart sped up. "Yes I am. What happened?"
"Your sister was brought in a few minutes ago. She is in a critical condition. You are the only listed family member, so it is best if you get here as soon as possible. I'm afraid her condition is very grave."

Mathew Finn's car raced through the wet streets. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. His brow had a furious frown, but his eyes were desperate. How could he not be, when his world was tumbling down around him? The phone call from Gloria's sister had crushed his heart, which belonged to a certain woman who was dyi-No! He banished the thought from his head and slammed his foot on the accelerator once more, ignoring the rain and fog and the screeching sounds of his tyres on the slick road. But his headlights were too dim, his thoughts too frenzied, and he didn't notice the small figure of a boy crossing the road. He missed the figure at a hair's breadth but didn't slow down, for every second that passed was ticking away in a failing heart on a bed in St.Mary's Hospital.

Huck was happy. For once, he didn't mind the rain drenching his clothes or his bare feet sloshing in the puddles. He was grinning at the stars and crossing the road, for he had got two slices of bread and a shiny red apple, Lilly's favourite, with the penny. He hadn't been happy about using the penny, it wasn't his, but one look at Lilly's tired face and hungry eyes had set him off running to the grocer's. He'd told Lilly to stay in the church, at their usual spot. In his hurry to see the little angel's face as he gave her the apple, Huck didn't notice the car coming full-speed towards him. Heart in his mouth, he jumped away in the last second and the car missed him at a hair's breadth. Frozen to the spot, the ragged breath he finally drew in was let out in a sigh of disappointment when he saw one of the two slices of bread, lying crushed on the road. He felt like his little heart had been crushed too. He must have dropped the bread when he saw the speeding car and it seemed like the tyres had run over it. He took one last look at it, turned, and ran back to Lilly.

Gloria Williams was lying on the hospital bed, her blonde curls spread like a halo around her beautiful face. The fire at her apartment was unexpected, an accident. She had worn her new red dress for the special date Mathew had asked her to. She loved him, and had a hunch that he might ask for her hand tonight. Gloria was happy, yes, but guilt had made her heart heavy and her smile sad. She had wanted to tell Mathew before he proposed. And now, as she felt life slipping away, she knew she had to tell someone. "Ca-Cather-"
"Yes Gloria, what do you need? Are you in pain?"
"Cathy, I-I need to- to tell you something. Promise me you will tell Mathew..Please..."
"Of course Glow, of course, darling.."
"I-I have a child."
"A child?"
"Yes, before..before I came here..Lilly, my angel.." A loving smile graced her lips. "She is beautiful, Cathy, she.." A lone tear slid down her cheek "I...I abandoned her. An orphanage.. In the newspapers, two moths ago, the orphanage burned down, Cath...Please..Promise me you'll protect her..Oh! I love her...Lilly..."
And then those pretty blue eyes, clear as crystal, closed forever.

Huck raced up the church steps as fast as his legs could carry him. His heart fell as he saw the large wooden doors were closed. Then panic set in. "Lilly!! Lill!!!!" He raced to the doors and pounded on them with all his might. Oh, what if she was trapped inside? The thought made him pound harder and he almost didn't hear the frail little voice that called "Huck! Hucky! I'm here!!" Huck's heart soared when he heard the angelic voice. He turned around to find Lilly sitting outside, on the steps. "Lilly!! Why are ya out here, angel?" "Oh Hucky, the new pastor was closing the doors, I was afraid ya wouldn't find me in there, so I sat here. Oh Hucky, what is that?" Lilly's eyes shone as she looked at the brown paper bag Huck had kept dry, inspite of the rain. "Oh this? This is for ye, angel." Huck said, taking the apple and the slice of bread from the bag and giving it to Lilly. Her little face lit up with happiness as she tenderly touched the shiny red apple, as if she couldnt believe it was really there. Huck laughed. And as they sat there under the twinkling stars, and Lilly munched on her apple and ate her bread, Huck didn't mind that his slice of bread was lost, or feel that his stomach was empty, for his heart was full of the joy reflected in Lilly's pretty blue eyes, clear as crystal, his angel, who he swore to protect, forever.